#this is a mess and incredibly long so maybe read it on ao3 so you can get the full thing?

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Shameless

Tags: dad!Toji x fem!reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, breeding kink, he calls himself daddy

Synopsis: You’re Toji’s live-in nanny. He wants to breed you, and he successfully does so.

An: This is my story on ao3!! You can read it here. If you’re feeling extra nice, a kudos would be cool too.

Being a single dad was hard. Toji learned quickly after his wife's death that he in fact couldn't do this alone. The way little Megumi's big eyes looked up to him for direction... him of all people. He was not cut out for this. Megumi's mom was a wonderful mother: sweet, nurturing, and patient. Toji really didn't know if he was any of those things.

Luckily, her life insurance provided Toji with a relatively comfortable life combined with his job in construction of course. Construction might be his vice. He got away from home for 12 hours a day, and he worked so hard that his brain was mush by the time he was home. Not that he didn't love his son, he did, but every time he looked at Megumi he saw his sweet late wife. He also saw his short comings as a father.

Babysitters quit on him regularly. It was always the same excuse. "Megumi's an angel, but I can't be here 7 days a week. I have a life too." It was incredibly annoying. They'd stay for Megumi but left due to another one of his shortcomings.

Another one quit. That would be the third one this month. "Listen Mr. Fushiguro, I know a friend. She does this sort of thing on a different level. Have you ever considered having a live-in nanny?"

That stupid girl's question enlightened Toji. He had completely forgotten that live-in nannies still existed. After getting her friend's number and paying her what he owed her for her time, Toji relaxed on the couch with little Megumi tucked into his side. The three-year-old was happily babbling next to him, enamored by Toji's phone that was in his hand.

Toji looked at the number dialed into his phone, and he sighed. He was tired of making cold calls to potential babysitters like he was some desperate whore, but maybe, maybe this would be different. He wouldn't mind having a live-in nanny. His house wouldn't mind it either. Toji would be able to finally breathe. No more coming home from 12 hour shifts to pop something to eat in the microwave and wash the dishes. He wouldn't even have to see this so-called nanny often. He could pick up more hours at work with all of his new freedom of not having to worry about pissing off the babysitter.

*** *** ***

Either way, that's how you ended up in Toji's house. For the past three months you had taken care of Megumi, cleaned and deep cleaned his entire house, cooked him plenty of dinners from scratch, and even did his laundry the exact way he preferred. His house has never looked better, and Megumi had never looked so happy.

Despite being here for three months, you barely saw Toji. He seemed to avoid you like the plague and only answer with one-worded answers, which was fine. This was your job, not your actual family. There was no need for extensive communications. Though, you had gushed to your friend plenty over text about how hot "Mr. Fushiguro" was. He was conventionally attractive, yes. But you also always had a thing for the brooding types, and dammit, Toji was brooding. There was also something to be said about how he came home in the evenings. A black wifebeater clinging to his skin from a long day of working out in the sun. His jeans would be dirty from the work he was doing. His skin glistening from a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was always a mess. Goddammit. It was enough to make you feel fertile.

It was early in the morning, Toji was getting ready to go to work. Megumi had woken up, crying for his papa not to leave him. He's going through an extra clingy phase. He's usually okay once Toji's gone.

"Papa!" Megumi cried as Toji entered the living room. You had Megumi in your lap, rocking him with a sleepy look on your face. His tears were wetting your shirt, but you didn't seem to mind.

"He'll be back tonight, Gumi." You shooshed him and continued to try to rock him and pat his back.

Toji's face was unreadable. He was never one to get all upset over Megumi's crying, but hearing his son cry out for him tugged on his heartstrings extra this morning. Then, there was you. You were a godsend to Toji's life. Getting a live-in nanny was one of the best decisions he had ever made. Above that, you were excellent with Megumi. You were sweet... nurturing... patient. He hated how seeing you with his son made him feel. It almost felt like maybe 2 kids wouldn't be that big of a deal. Maybe 3. One on each of your legs and another one swelling in your belly. God. He was disgusted in himself for thinking like that.

"I love you, kiddo." Toji said quickly as he leaned down, giving Megumi's forehead a quick peck. The toddler made grabby hands for him. It was almost enough to make him stay home. Almost. Toji's eyes met yours as he was still leaned over. His face was close to yours. The tension between them were palpable. The moment felt like eternity between them.

Then, a black credit card was in view. "I need new work gloves. Get the extra thick rubber ones, will ya? Also, get whatever you and the kid want. I'll be back late tonight." He handed you the card and sauntered out of the house despite Megumi's pleas for him to stay. You looked at the Amex black card and blinked a couple of times. Only the top earners in the world had cards like this. Toji was just an average blue collar dad... It made you wonder how he got a card like this.

You still spent that shit though.

*** *** ***

Toji looked at his phone on the jobsite. No one dared to tell him to put it away. Toji was the best most competent worker out on the field. He could work circles around supervisors and project managers alike, and he was damn smart. He didn't need a pencil and paper or a calculator to make quick conversions in his head. So, most people stayed out of his way.

He smirked and chuckled at the notifications rolling in from his bank. 78.97 at Target. 21.25 at McDonald's. 43.52 at Barnes and Noble. 9.24 at Starbucks. He was happy you and Megumi were getting to have a little shopping spree.

You were also great at keeping him updated. You sent him lots of pictures and videos of Megumi. He cherished each one of them, immediately getting some of them printed and hung up in his house. There was even a picture of you and Megumi proudly displayed in the living room. In his mind, you were an integral part of the family. The "family" simply would not function if it weren't for you.

A fond smile spread across his face as he opened his messages. A picture of Megumi's little hands trying to fit into his new gloves that she had bought him. Great. She got the right ones. "I think he wants to be just like daddy :)", the message read.

Oh.

Oh.

The twitch that just occurred in his pants should be punishable in a court of law. In no way should he have gotten turned on by that. You were just being nice. It was a normal thing for people to refer to him as "daddy" in that context. It never affected him in the way it was right now.

So anyways, that's how he ended up in the port-a-potty busting a load all over a picture of you that he had on his phone. After the shock of his orgasm that came quicker than ever, he looked down, disappointed in himself. He wasn't some horny teenage boy anymore. This was just downright deplorable. Begrudgingly, he wiped his phone clean from his sins. Post-nut clarity swirled his brain. He couldn't believe he just did that.

He called your number. He had to make things right.

"Hello? Is everything okay?" You immediately asked. After living with Toji for some time now, you learned that he doesn't just call people. He will absolutely decline a call to just text and ask what's up.

"Everything is fine." He replied, trying to hide his amusement. It was cute that you seemed so worried for him. "Are you still in town?"

"Yeah, Megumi and I are about to leave Starbucks and head home. Why? What's up?" You responded back to him. He could hear Megumi happily singing a song in the background.

"You know you spent 152 dollars today?" Toji asked as he popped his back up against the port-a-potty door. He had a lazy smirk on his face.

"Oh- crap. I'm sorry. You can take whatever you see fit out of my pay-" He interrupted your nonsense quickly.

"Do you think I'm poor?" His voice was amused, not angry like you expected it to be.

"What-? No.. no, sir. I was just-"

"I told you to get whatever you and the kid want. Don't come back home until your certain that you can't carry the amount of stuff you bought in one trip." He said quickly. His stomach was already coiling from how you called him sir. He grimaced as he felt another twitch. I just took care of you dammit.

"Oh... oh, okay? Are you su-" Click. He hung up on you. One too many dumb questions. You looked at Megumi as he strapped into the backseat of your car. He looked intrigued by the conversation even though you knew he realistically had no idea what was just said. "Daddy said we have to go to the toy store." You grinned at him. He was smiling and clapping over the word "toy".

234.22 at Toys-R-Us. 122.56 at Lego. 208.38 at Aerie. 88.21 at Ulta Beauty. Another 94.48 at Barnes and Noble.

The way Toji grinned each time he felt that familiar vibration of his phone go off, meaning another notification from his bank was off-putting. Workers on the jobsite never seen him so happy. It was his penance for being such a horny freaky fuck.

*** *** ***

It was later that same evening. Megumi was in the living room surrounded by toys and crafting materials. He was currently drawing all sorts of "shadow animals" as he called them. You would of course look and nod your head, congratulating him on each terribly drawn animal. You acted like that was the best damn wolf-bear-owl hybrid you ever saw.

You were in the kitchen cooking chicken and dumplings. The clock on the stove read seven p.m. You didn't expect to see Toji at all this evening. He said he was working late this morning. Usually, that meant he was dragging his feet in through the door until well past ten p.m.

Still, you made him a serving of chicken and dumpling soup. You always did. Even when he worked late, you would put him a helping of dinner in the microwave to keep warm. You never knew, but he was always delighted by that. He ate the dinners each time.

A key jingling in the door handle caught your attention while you were getting Megumi settled at the dining room table. Three-year-olds were so hard to manage: too small to eat by themselves but too big to be locked in a high chair.

Toji stepped into the living room with a small grunt. He smirked as he looked around at his destroyed living room. Toys, crayons, and pieces of "artwork" were strewn all about the place. He glanced up towards you and Megumi in the kitchen. He took note of how your face was flushed and surprised.

"Papa!" Megumi happily shouted before the little bastard ran from your grasp to go hug on Toji's legs. His dad smiled as he looked down at Megumi, and he used his hand to mess up Megumi's hair affectionately.

"Go eat your food, kiddo." Toji said warmly to his son. Megumi happily obliged and ran right back to his seat right next to you, and you fed him a spoonful of the soup.

"You're home early." You stated the obvious.

Toji would never tell you, but he left early because he missed you two.

"Don't sound too happy to see me." He remarked in a sarcastic tone.

"What-? No, I just.. would've cleaned up more had I known you would be home so soon..." You responded. Megumi was sitting beside you whining for another bite of food. You snapped out of your surprise, and you fed him another bite of chicken and dumplings.

"Why? I don't give a damn what this place looks like." Toji said with a small nonchalant shrug. He walked through the living room, carefully stepping over the toys. Before you had become his nanny, this was how his house normally looked: messy, lived in. "I've got a bowl of dinner in the microwave. My kid's happy and fed. I couldn't care less what that living room looks like."

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Toji was easy to please. He really just wanted what was best for his kid, and that was you. "I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." You replied. He looked at you with an unreadable expression. It looked like he might've wanted to say something, but he had backed out last minute. He hummed and walked towards his bedroom to shower the dirt, sweat, and grime from the day.

While Toji showered, you had finished feeding Megumi and yourself. You allowed Megumi to have about an hour of TV time before bed. He really enjoyed old X-Men cartoons. You turned them on for him and parked him on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket.

You hummed softly as you worked in the kitchen. You packed meal prep containers of soup for Toji to take for lunch for the next couple of days. Then, you were washing dishes in front of the sink.

*** *** ***

"I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." Your words repeated in Toji's head over and over like a mantra. He hadn't felt so... cared for in a long, long time. It made his heart feel full, which was an unfamiliar feeling for him. A less unfamiliar feeling was his dick standing fully erect and at attention. He groaned quietly as he leaned his head back in the shower.

Something had to be in the air recently. He was a grown man with desires, sure. But this was a new record for him. Ever since you started being a live-in nanny for him, the boners were a daily thing. Hell, twice or three times a day sometimes. He's tried everything... Well, okay, maybe not everything, but he's tried cold showers and staying away from you. Neither of those things work to soothe him.

His hand was gliding up and down his length for the second time today. He was facing the shower wall with his arm propped up on it, supporting his head. Damn you for making him feel like a slave to his desires. You wanted to make sure he had nothing to worry about? Then, you should be the one in here fixing this damn mess, not him. He pitifully rutted into his hand, imaging he's plunging deep into you. Imagining the multiple ways he'd fuck the hell out of you is the only thing that soothes the ache, but this time he didn't see an end in sight.

He gritted his teeth together, and he balled up his fist, rearing back before stopping himself. He's not a teenager anymore. He can't punch walls. He took a deep breath and turned the shower off. No, this won't do. He needs to fix this at the source.

After quickly drying off and getting dressed, he walked back into the kitchen. His eyes scanned over the house. Megumi was enthralled by the TV, and you were washing dishes. Perfect.

He slowly approached you from behind. He could tell you didn't hear him as you were still softly humming. Usually, you would stop humming if he entered the kitchen. He never understood why. The sounds of your melancholic hums were beautiful and soothing to him.

He was directly behind you, and his hands gently cupped your hips. You immediately flinched and made a soft scream that was quickly silenced by one of his hands. "Shh, we don't want to disturb the little brat, do we?" Toji said into your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Toji's eyes flicked over towards the living room. Megumi hadn't moved an inch. Perfect.

Toji slowly released your mouth. To his delight, you didn't make a sound. He could hear how your breath was slightly labored from him scaring you. A small chuckle rose from his throat. His hands went back to your hips, and he pressed himself against your voluptuous ass. A hum of approval escaped him. He could see your hands gripping the countertops.

"Nod your head. You like this? Want me to keep pressing myself against you?" Toji whispered into your ear. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, and you nodded your head eagerly, giving him consent.

"Dirty fucking girl." His voice was like a growl in your ear as he started to move his hips, dragging his length up and down along you. You could feel each inch of his length beckoning for you. "I knew you'd take whatever I gave you, but this? Letting me grind against you like a pathetic teenager while my son is in the living room? You're such a fucking slut." His hands were digging into your hips as he continued his controlled motions.

"Mnn.. fuck.." You softly whimpered out. Thank god the X-Men were currently in a loud fight scene.

You slightly frowned as you suddenly didn't feel Toji behind you anymore. You were about to turn around and ask what he was doing, but his fingers curling into the waistband of your leggings told you everything you needed to know. "Toji-" You managed to whisper out. No way could you two do this while Megumi was in the next room over.

"Shut up." Toji interrupted you. He had taken his throbbing length out of his sleeping pants, and he had a look of concentration on his face as he angled himself right at your entrance. "You have no fucking idea how long I've needed this. So just be a good girl, shut up, and take what I give you."

Direct orders from your boss. Who were you to deny the man who just spoiled you all day today?

It was a tight fit. Toji wasn't a gentleman. He didn't prep you with his fingers or mouth. This wasn't love making. It was hardly fucking. This was fulfilling a need.

"God... fuck. I didn't expect you to be that tight." He growled into your neck as he held your hips still against him. It felt like he was splitting you apart. You couldn't even respond to him.

He noticed how tightly you were gripping the counter and how you weren't responding to him. Your knuckles were turning white. He almost felt guilty. His hand came around the front of you, and he gently rubbed the swollen bundle of nerves. "Shhh... You can take it. I know you can." He whispered into your ear as it was taking every last shred of self-restraint not to fuck you into oblivion right on this counter. He slowly pulled back until just his tip was inside, and he pushed all the way back in. "That's it. There's my good girl." He praised in your ear. It was not lost on him that he felt you get wetter with each praise.

He hesitated, but he said it anyway, "You wanna be a good girl for daddy, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. That phrase made you tremble in his arms and nod your head. He slowly pulled back out and pushed right back in, taking you slowly. "That's right... hngh, fuck." He moaned into your ear. "You want to be fucked by daddy. You want to take his cock like a good girl. Take it." His hips started to move with more conviction.

You were already so out of it. This was like a dirty fantasy come true. You couldn't help but check the TV a few times to make sure X-Men was still playing. You were still worried that Megumi might run in here for whatever reason and see you bent over in front of his dad. You knew it was unlikely. Megumi could watch that TV like a zombie all day if you let him. Besides, you would be able to hear the small pitter-patter of his footsteps.

"Stop looking at the fucking TV. Trust me." Toji growled into your ear as he forced your hips down onto him roughly. A noiseless gasp escaped you. He wasn't small, and he knew that. He was using it to his advantage.

"Fuck." He groaned quietly as he rubbed you with a bit more fervor. You could already feel that familiar warm feeling coiling in your stomach. "I'm going to fuck a baby into you. You were fucking made for this. Made for raising my kids and taking my fucking load." He was spewing nonsense into your ear, but in the moment, you couldn't help but nod and moan. "You were made for me." He proclaimed as his hips continued harshly snapping into your backside. Somehow the sounds were masked.

"You want that, don't you?" He asked as he bit down on your neck then lapped at the bite mark with his tongue.

"Yes, daddy!" You quietly exclaimed. His thrusts only increased in power. Your eyes started to cross, getting lost in pleasure.

"Fuck. You're gonna look so perfect pregnant with my baby. I won't let you have a break. As soon as one comes out; I'm puttin' another one in you." He continued on yapping about how many kids he was going to pump into you. "I'll breed you again and again." His thrusts were heavy and brutal. You couldn't take it anymore.

He moaned as he felt you clenching around him, finishing all over his cock. It was enough to drive him overboard. He pumped you full of cum until you were sure some of it was seeping out.

There was a peaceful moment of dizzy highness for you two. Toji panted against your back. For the first time in while, he's felt satisfied. A soft amused laugh escaped him as he heard the iconic X-Men episode coming to an end. He swiftly pulled out of you, and he tried to ignore that little whimper of protest you let out. He tucked himself back into his pants, and he pulled your leggings and panties back up for you since you were still a trembling mess over the counter.

"Alright Kiddo, c'mon. Time for bed." Toji said as he sauntered off into the living room as if he didn't just rearrange your guts. He put Megumi to bed that night, and he cleaned up the living room for you, allowing for you to recover in his bed for round two. He was much more of a gentleman for round two.

*** *** ***

"Hey... I know I ain't been to see you in a while. I'm sorry." Toji said as he sat down on the grassy ground. "I was letting life pass me by for too damn long." He said as he took a wet washcloth and began to wash up his late wife's gravestone. "I'm doing better now, so don't worry about me."

"Megumi's growing like a weed. I'm sorry I didn't bring him to see you... I just don't know how to explain it to him." Toji's voice was full of guilt as he dragged the wet washcloth against the stone. "He's a good kid though. He looks just like you, damn bastard." He softly laughed, knowing his wife would've struck him over the side of the head for calling Megumi a damn bastard.

"Listen... I met a girl." He leaned his head over the gravestone. It had been close to three months since you and Toji started sleeping together. There wasn't a formal label to your relationship, but it didn't feel necessary. You two both knew you were sleeping exclusively with each other. "I think you'd like her, or maybe you wouldn't since she's fucking your husband. But either way... I-" He choked up a bit as he held onto the cold stone. "I feel so fucking guilty... I know you're not coming home anytime soon, but I just... I need your blessing. If you can somehow hear me, please... I never asked you for anything until I asked you to marry me. Now, I'm asking... please somehow show me you approve of this."

"She's good for me... She takes good care of Megumi. He's so damn attached to her somedays." Toji softly laughed as he remembered how a few nights ago Megumi crawled into bed with you and him because he had a nightmare. Instead of taking to Toji like he normally does, he crawled into your arms. Toji had never felt so damn proud and slighted at the same time.

"I should get going. Give me a sign though.. Something that tells me you approve." He finished his visit with his wife, and he went home.

*** *** ***

That night at dinner, Megumi sped into the kitchen with an action figure in his hand. He was pretending to be Batman. "Gumi, I've told you three times. Stop running." You said as you gave the small child a look. Toji smirked as he knew that look good and well. It was the look a mom gave as a warning. Megumi was on his last warning.

"I'm sorry, mama." Megumi apologized, causing for both you and Toji to freeze right in your tracks. Megumi had never called you mama before. He always said your name.

Your heart swelled in your chest. It was a feeling of affection and guilt. "Oh no... baby.." You said softly as you took his hand. You lead him into the living room, and you crouched down, showing him a picture of his mom to him. "That's mama." You gently corrected him.

Toji watched the scene like a hawk from the dinner table. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never been shy about telling Megumi who his mom was, but he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about how his mom passed away when he was a small baby.

Megumi pointed at the picture. "Mama." He said quietly. You nodded and patted his head.

"That's right." You praised affectionately. He then turned his attention to you. and he poked your chest with his tiny finger.

"Mama." He said, pointing at you.

"No-"

"It's alright." Toji spoke up from his seat at the dinner table.

"I don't want him to be confused..." You replied as you slowly stood back up, looking at Toji.

"He doesn't sound confused to me." He retorted with a small grin. You turned your attention back to Megumi, and Toji looked up towards the ceiling. "Thank you." He muttered so quietly before kissing the necklace that hung around his neck. He had his wife's blessing. This proved it.

After finishing his dinner, Toji joined you two in the living room. You and Megumi were curled up on each side of his while watching that old X-Men cartoon. Suddenly, Megumi rose from the couch. You and Toji watched him with a hint of confusion.

"What is he doing?" You softly asked Toji as Megumi bent over, and he looked between his legs at both you and Toji.

"I have no fucking id-" He was about to respond, but then, it hit him. "Get up." He said as he stood up from the couch. He quickly grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet like a madman.

"What? What? Is something wrong?" You asked as you had never seen Toji move this fast. You quickly got up too.

"Nothing's wrong. Come on. We're going to the store." He grunted as he swooped Megumi into his arms.

You were confused and in denial when Toji bought a pregnancy test and made you take it. Now, both of you were waiting outside of the bathroom for the five minutes to be over. "This is crazy, Toji. I'm not pregnant."

"It's an old wives' tale. When babies do that, it's supposed to mean their looking for their sibling." Toji said with a nonchalant shrug as if what he said was matter-of-fact. "My mother told me that's how she knew she was pregnant with me."

The timer went off on his phone, and both of you fought to get into the bathroom first. He eventually overpowered you and snatched the pregnancy test off the counter quickly. "Oh." He said quietly. The room went still.

Suddenly, your heart was racing. "What is it? Is it negative?" You asked a hint of disappointment hit you. You didn't know why, but a small part of you hoped for it to be positive.

"Oh, you're fucking getting it tonight." Toji smirked as he turned the pregnancy test over. Two pink lines were clear as day on the test. You're pregnant.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[tanjir0se]

As the World Caves In, pt II

Pairings: Rengiyuu (Rengoku x Giyuu) Words: 5.4k (7.8k total) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everybody Lives AU Warnings: (full fic) Graphic depictions of canon-typical violence, medical procedures, blood, bodily injury

If you let him live, I’ll tell him everything, I swear. 

It was now or ever. And now he’d gotten so close to never, closer than he’d ever thought he’d get in all his wildest nightmares, that the unbridled fear of it now carried the words unspoken up his windpipe, threatening to burst. 

“K-Kyojuro,” Giyuu began. And Kyojuro looked at him with those stunning, earnest eyes--eye--and Giyuu’s next words fell from his mouth in a huff. “Damn it,”

This is part 2/2. Read the previous part here!

You can also read the full fic on AO3!!

“You ought to be more careful, my friend!” Kyojuro chided as he unbuttoned Giyuu’s uniform. “Look, you’ve ruined another uniform shirt!” He was referring to the large slash on the shoulder of Giyuu’s uniform, courtesy of the demon they’d just taken down together. Though they’d only known each other a few months at that point, Giyuu had learned that Kyojuro apparently preferred to dress his wounds himself despite Giyuu being fully capable, and he knew Kyojuro better than to try to argue. 

He said nothing while Kyojuro frowned at his bare and bloody chest, appraising the long but superficial wound that spanned across his pale skin, coming to a stop at the hollow of his throat. He did tilt his head slightly back to allow Kyojuro to inspect the full extent of the wound, his quiet way of thanking him. Kyojuro hummed to himself. His golden eyes suddenly flicked from Giyuu’s wound to his face, stealing away Giyuu’s breath in a surprised huff. 

“Does this hurt?” he asked, abruptly serious. Giyuu shook his head. Rengoku had a habit of making him lose his train of thought when he looked at him like that. “You shouldn’t have jumped in front of me. I would have been alright!”

Giyuu stared at him. The demon they’d been fighting had prepared one vicious strike right after another, while Rengoku had been finding his footing from the previous. Rather than allow the strike to land on the Flame Hashira, Giyuu had stepped in with dead calm, both sparing Kyojuro from the attack and causing it to fall on himself. 

To Giyuu, his actions made perfect sense. Kyojuro was obviously the superior Hashira. He felt it only natural to protect the greater asset to the demon slayer corps, even if it meant putting his life on the line. 

Kyojuro raised an eyebrow and cracked a small grin. “I know that look.” He said. It was the look Giyuu did when he was about to try to argue with him on something: brows slightly furrowed, gaze steady with heavy lids, lips parted. Realizing he was caught, Giyuu relaxed into a half smile and allowed Kyojuro to gently dab dirt and debris away from his wound. 

“You may be reckless,” Kyojuro began, “But I have to admit, that eleventh form is incredible! How on earth did you learn something like that? Ah, I bet I could practice for a hundred years and never even get close!” His gaze now focused on Giyuu’s wound, he didn’t notice how bright pink his friend’s face had become. Kyojuro spoke highly of everyone, but praise of his swordsmanship coming from someone as incredible as him was still a high compliment. 

Kyojuro continued. “Such fantastic work, I’m truly lucky to be on your good side!” He laughed and patted Giyuu’s chest with one hand and retrieved a first aid kit with a suture needle with the other. His hand was rough but warm against Giyuu’s permanently cold skin. 

“For now.” Giyuu joked back. Kyojuro blinked once, surprised and a little disbelieving that Giyuu had actually cracked a joke, but after noticing the tiny upward tilt of his lips, smiled even wider and laughed even harder. 

“I’d better toe the line then! Otherwise I’ll be the one needing stitches!” He laughed at his own joke while stitching his wound and Giyuu actually smiled along. Few could melt through his icy silences like Kyojuro could. Few understood what he was trying to say even when he was silent like Kyojuro did. “Ah, you always know how to make me laugh.” Kyojuro added with a sigh that made Giyuu’s heart ache. 

Kyojuro’s half-open eyes saw white, made hazy by tears clinging to his dark lashes. White drifted above him, and for a moment he drifted with it, unaware that he was even conscious, just floating. Once his mind returned to him he tried to blink to dispel the haze but found himself unable, paralyzed, flat on his back and floating through nothingness. For a few moments he believed himself to be dead. Until the pain struck him. 

He considered himself no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything else. His entire body felt shattered. Even something as simple as breathing was a battle, as if his lungs and the walls of his chest themselves were locked in combat against one another. If he was indeed dead, this must be hell. 

He thought so, until he heard a distant voice reaching to him from beyond the endless white oblivion around him. There were gentle hands on him, as if bringing him out of the haze and back into reality. 

Someone was cradling the back of his head, tilting it slightly upward as they removed bandages from the left side of his face. The light changed slightly as they did so, though nothing came into focus. Fingers brushed lightly over his left eye. Whoever the hands belonged to, whoever was nursing him, sighed. 

The bandages were replaced. A warm rag brushed against the aching skin of his arms. A hand rested lightly against his chest, directly over his heart, feeling it beating steadily. Kyojuro still couldn’t move or speak but whoever was tending to him apparently didn’t mind. The voice was silent while they worked but the silence was as gentle as their hands. That silence, its softness, the coolness of the hands on his body reminded him of something…

The haze slowly began to lift, as if his nurse’s gentle tending was pulling him back up out of the nothingness and into reality. As his mind cleared he groped for anything to anchor him back to the present; he remembered a cold wind, a column of flames. 

“Another letter from Tanjiro today.” His nurse said quietly over the rustle of papers. “And…one from Uzui.” 

Kyojuro would have leapt out of bed, if he could move. The kids! The train! The upper rank! I’ve got to get back there!  Kyojuro wanted to reach out, tell the speaker I don’t care about a bunch of letters when Tanjiro and the others could be in danger— 

A letter from Tanjiro? He’s alright?

“Uzui’s letter first, then?” The voice said. More rustling of paper. A clearing of the throat. “Dear Rengoku, I apologize for my absence, since this damn mission is taking longer than I expected, I’m absolutely certain you’re beside yourself with grief that yours truly isn’t there with you—” the speaker scoffed, and Kyojuro would have laughed too, if he could move. “Anyways, I’ll spare you the non-flashy details and regale you with the full story when I can see you again. Please get better soon, the mansion is too boring without you. Tengen.” 

In full earnest now, and with little else to do but lie there, Kyojuro tried to remember what had happened. The last image he could conjure was the electric flashing of blue and pink, a crazed laugh, and distantly, someone crying and calling his name. 

He assumed he was recovering in the butterfly mansion, but how long had it been since he’d fallen unconscious? Long enough that he was getting letters. He wondered if he’d gotten any from Senjuro. Or Giyuu. 

Giyuu. 

He’d just been dreaming about Giyuu. One of the first times he’d noticed Giyuu blushing at him, one of the many times Giyuu had made him laugh. That’s what the silence had reminded him of. With great difficulty, with everything he had, Kyojuro managed to grunt softly. 

Halfway through Tanjiro’s letter, the voice stopped. Even unable to see, Kyojuro could feel eyes on him, knew them to be deep and indigo and discerning. He sucked in a labored breath against the pain wrapping around his ribs, and this time managed a groan. 

“Kyojuro?” 

God I’d know that voice anywhere. 

Kyojuro’s eyes slid closed, then open once again, still heavy-lidded, still teary, but open. The fog around him lifting, the first thing he saw was his nurse, pale skin, a mess of raven black hair and a set of indigo eyes. 

In spite of everything, he smiled. “Giyuu,” he murmured. 

Giyuu felt his heart stop in his chest, his relief so intense it nearly paralyzed him. Kyojuro was looking at him. Kyojuro was alive. His world had crashed back into orbit again. He grabbed his friend by the arms and held him there tightly, desperate not to let him go again. 

“Kyo! God—” Thank god, thank god you’re alright! I was so worried, I was lost without you! His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe let alone speak. “You’re awake.” He managed stupidly after a moment. Kyojuro opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out for a moment. For once, Giyuu actually spoke instead. “Kyo…” he found himself saying again. 

Kyojuro lifted his head and tried to sit up, straining against the unbelievable pain that shook his entire body. He caught a glimpse of a large, blood-shadowed bandage over his abdomen before his forehead suddenly bumped into Giyuu. He must’ve been closer than he’d thought. The unexpected bump sent him back down against the bed with a groan. Giyuu still hadn’t taken his hands off of his arms. 

“Please don’t try to get up.” Giyuu murmured. “Your depth perception is probably quite off.” 

Kyojuro frowned at him and opened his mouth to ask why he’d say that, but another bright pulse of pain behind his left eye answered the question for him. Giyuu watched him with an expression Kyojuro had never seen him wear. His eyes were wide, tearful, endless. His pale lower lip trembled along with his hands, though he didn’t say anything.  There was about a million things Kyojuro could ask: What happened? Where are the kids? How long has it been? He decided on something different. 

“Kyo, huh?” He asked, his lips turning slightly upward into a smile. Giyuu stared. “Where’d that come from? I like it.”

Leave it to Kyojuro to say something like that at a time like this. That little smile on Kyojuro’s lips made Giyuu want to smile with him, to laugh and grab him tightly and never let him go. But he remembered the feeling of those lips against his, the taste of blood as he breathed for him, and the beginnings of his smile faltered. He came so close to never seeing that smile again. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on his shoulders so heavily that Giyuu dropped his head down and pressed his forehead against Kyojuro’s arm, as if in prayer. Overcome. 

Kyojuro watched him and his heart ached. He’d never seen Giyuu this upset, or at least he’d never shown it this plainly. It seemed like a fairly strong reaction to a simple battlefield injury…there must be something more to this situation he didn’t understand. He called Giyuu’s name softly and waited for him to look up. “I’m alright.” Kyojuro said, softly for once, his throat dry and raw. “It’s alright.”

Giyuu looked up. “No, Kyo, you’re not. You were dead.” His brows fell heavily over his eyes in apparent anger. “I had to beat your heart for you, I—I had to breathe for you!” His voice was low, tightly measured because if he spoke any louder or with any more ferocity he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep tears from falling. 

There was a brief silence while Kyojuro appeared to consider what he’d said. “And the train passengers? The kids?” 

Giyuu’s eyes briefly widened in shock, but his brows were quick to pull down again. “Are you not hearing me? You were dead. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you aren’t dead now!” Kyojuro looked at him, still waiting for his answer. Giyuu’s frown deepened but the quiver in his lower lip betrayed him. “Will you worry about yourself, just for one moment?” 

Though Giyuu had pulled away, Kyojuro still found an errant strand of his hair to curl between his fingers. “Why would I do that, when you do it so well?”

“Kyojuro, please.” Giyuu begged. “You—” he dropped his gaze again and struggled to conjure the words he meant. “You’ve been in a coma for more than three months. An upper rank had his arm through your solar plexus!” Kyojuro managed to look down at that shadowed bandage on his stomach, then back up at Giyuu as he continued.

“Kyo, you may never wield a sword again. You came very close to never breathing again! And I—” he snapped his mouth shut and averted his gaze from Kyojuro’s. 

Still fighting through shockwaves of pain, Kyojuro watched as Giyuu stared at the bandage on his stomach. “Giyuu.” He said gently, cautiously. He knew Giyuu to have a temper, but he was acting differently than Kyojuro had ever seen, like there was something he needed to say but couldn’t find the words. “If I would have died, I would have done so gladly! It’s the risk we take as demon slayers—” he fell into silence as Giyuu looked back up again, his eyes filled with tears. 

“Am I supposed to have been glad, too?” He asked bitterly. “You talk about yourself like your life is not worth anything! As if—” he stopped again. His breaths were coming faster and faster now. Giyuu did not continue, so Kyojuro did. 

“My life isn’t worth any more than anyone else’s…” he began. Apparently on a roll of surprising him, Giyuu cut him off. 

“Well it isn’t worth any less, either!” He exclaimed, not shouting, but with an intensity that rivaled Kyojuro’s. “God you remind me of Sabito!” He added in a huff. 

That stopped Kyojuro dead, all attempts at argument shut down. Giyuu never mentioned his family. Not even silently. He’d only learned he’d had a sister after they’d already known each other for more than a year. Sabito and Makomo he only learned of through Urokodaki. He watched Giyuu’s face and waited for him to continue. He did, though silently. 

Giyuu looked down and shook his head, his brow furrowed. You’re making this so difficult. Kyojuro watched his jaw clench and unclench, his mouth opening for a moment before clamping shut again. I need to tell you something. Fat, heavy tears fell from his eyes and onto the backs of his hands, which tightened themselves onto the blanket near Kyojuro’s forearm. It’s killing me. 

Looking down, head bowed, Giyuu was thinking of the bargain he’d made. If you let him live, I’ll tell him everything. He felt as overwhelmed as he was when he’d first come to the horrific scene at the train crash, his world spinning. His foolish and hopeful and frightened heart cracked deeper and deeper and threatened to come apart altogether as he tried to find the words to make Kyojuro understand.   

It was a long time before Giyuu spoke aloud again, and when he did, his voice shook. 

“Kyojuro.” he finally said. “You think to be brave is to be selfless. As if you have no regard at all for your own life. That isn’t bravery. It’s self destruction.” He remembered the feeling of Kyojuro’s ribs snapping beneath his hands. He remembered feeling Sabito’s, too. He couldn’t meet Kyojuro’s gaze, knowing without trying that the look he found there would burn his resolve away in an instant.

“You may think your life isn’t worth more than anyone else’s, but—” closing his eyes, Giyuu breathed out a sigh. “It is. To me.”

That was a surprise. Kyojuro stared at him, his shaking hands and the gaze that refused to meet his. He was even more surprised to find a faint pink blush spreading over Giyuu’s cheeks and nose. 

They fell into silence while Kyojuro watched Giyuu’s blush deepen. 

He’d always loved Giyuu the same way he loved anyone or anything else: loudly. My friend, how wonderful to see you! You always know how to make me laugh! Every compliment, every smile, Kyojuro was saying it over and over without ever saying it. I love you I love you I love you. 

But Giyuu had never been the type to do anything aloud. He loved quietly, privately, almost invisibly if someone wasn’t paying attention. Knowing his order at their udon cart without asking. Stepping in front of him to spare him a strike from a demon. Gripping onto the blankets of his cot, unwilling to meet his eye, unwilling to let go. I love you I love you I love you. 

Kyojuro was more than glad to allow their I love yous to remain unsaid, unspoken but still there, always there. He had become fluent in Giyuu’s body language, the soft silence that fell between them when they were together. 

But now the silence was uneasy with tension, as if there was something aching to be said. 

If you let him live, I’ll tell him everything, I swear. 

It was now or ever. And now he’d gotten so close to never, closer than he’d ever thought he’d get in all his wildest nightmares, that the unbridled fear of it now carried the words unspoken up his windpipe, threatening to burst. 

“K-Kyojuro,” Giyuu began. And Kyojuro looked at him with those stunning, earnest eyes--eye--and Giyuu’s next words fell from his mouth in a huff. “Damn it,” he cursed, moving as he spoke, finally releasing the blanket and grabbing instead onto Kyojuro’s arm. 

Before Kyojuro could ask what he needed to say, Giyuu had closed the distance between them, taken him gently but quickly by the sides of his face, and kissed him.

Kyojuro was so surprised he didn’t have time to move or react, just let Giyuu kiss him, his hands gripping tightly onto the sore sides of his bandaged face. Eyes wide open Kyojuro watched Giyuu’s brow pull up, his eyes tightly shut as if in great pain. 

And he was. Giyuu had never felt such agony, such elation, such horror at feeling Kyojuro’s lips on his again. It had never occurred to him until that moment that Kyojuro may not feel the same as he did, that his friend—could he call him a friend?—may be shocked, or worse, disgusted. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, now that Kyojuro’s lips didn’t taste like blood anymore. 

The ecstasy of finally letting out what had been clawing up the inside of his throat since the first moment he ever laid eyes on Kyojuro, bright and beautiful in the Master’s garden, and the fear of losing him, the trauma of coming very close, raged a battle in his chest that crashed through the rest of his body until he finally was forced to pull away, gasping. 

Kyojuro didn’t dare speak, just watched as Giyuu slowly let his breath out and leaned back. 

“I can’t lose anyone else I love.” Giyuu concluded. His voice was no louder than a whisper and yet it echoed through the room as if he’d shouted it. The fear eventually coming out on top in the battle raging in his aching heart, Giyuu tried to move fully away, to stand and brush off his haori and regain whatever dignity he had left. Once again Kyojuro’s hand came down on his wrist, stopping his escape. 

Kyojuro stared into his face until Giyuu looked at him, marveling at what he’d just done. Kyojuro had known for a long time that he loved Giyuu. And he’d known that in his own, quiet way, Giyuu loved him too. But now he’d said the quiet part out loud. What bravery it must’ve taken. Kyojuro looked at Giyuu’s lips, pale and thin and pressed into a hard, nervous line. He looked down and stared at Giyuu’s wrist in his hand. He released it, but captured Giyuu’s hand instead. 

He kissed the back of Giyuu’s hand, his fingers, the inside of his wrist, the back of his forearm, pulling him down and down again until their faces were inches from each other, indigo eyes meeting gold. All those times he’d watched Giyuu flush pink at something he’d said, all the tiny moments he’d noticed the tiny changes of expression on his face, and Kyojuro had never dreamed of kissing him. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he’d accepted long ago that they would always share something unspoken, and that would be enough. 

They stared at one another, breathing heavy. Giyuu watched as Kyojuro’s eye traveled down his face and landed on his lips before Kyojuro pulled him down far enough to kiss him back. 

It was as if he’d never been injured in the first place. All the pain that had rattled his ribs just moments prior was gone and it was a hundred times worse. His chest no longer ached and it ached more intensely than ever before. In fact he’d never felt more aflame, Giyuu’s icy cold lips on his burned away any other thought besides Giyuu’s name. 

He felt Giyuu take a breath and relax against him. He felt his lips part slightly beneath his. And then in spite of himself, in spite of everything, Kyojuro smiled. 

Giyuu felt Kyojuro’s lips turn upwards against his, then felt him shake slightly as he began to laugh. Giyuu opened his eyes and found Kyojuro’s closed in joy, his head thrown back as far as he could manage while still lying in a cot, laughter beginning to peel from him like church bells. If it were anyone else, Giyuu would assume they were mocking him. But not Kyojuro. 

“What could you possibly be laughing at?” Giyuu murmured, resting his hand on Kyojuro’s cheek. Kyojuro tried to stifle his giggles and Giyuu realized how red his friend’s face had become. 

“All that time,” Kyojuro began with a sigh. “All that time I wanted to kiss you…Who knew I had to do was die!” He laughed again despite the pain in his stomach. Giyuu frowned at him, trying very hard to be serious. 

“That isn’t funny.” He chided. Kyojuro just laughed harder, louder, stronger, as if Giyuu’s kiss had healed him. Giyuu rolled his eyes, but for once he didn’t think about how close he’d come to never hearing that laugh again. He didn’t think about how Kyojuro’s eyes had been staring blankly up at nothing, how his golden skin had paled and his chest fallen still. That laugh was like the sun parting through clouds, and for once Giyuu just sighed and chuckled with him. The sound of his laughter made Kyojuro laugh even harder until they both devolved into giggles. 

Since Kyojuro’s laughter was both very distinctive and quite loud, it was bound to attract attention as other inhabitants of the butterfly mansion began to follow the sound. Giyuu leapt nearly a foot in the air when he heard a voice from behind him. 

“Mr. Rengoku?” Giyuu quickly moved back from Kyojuro, who released his hand, though both relaxed when they saw Tanjiro standing in the doorway, his eyes already filled with tears. “Mr. Rengoku!” Tanjiro shouted, and sprinted forward. 

“Young Kamado!” Kyojuro grinned at the way Giyuu moved back to allow Tanjiro in beside him. “Ah, how good to see you!” 

All Tanjiro managed to say was his name as his eyes welled with tears. Kyojuro put his hand on his head. “Don’t cry, I’m alright!” He said softly. “Besides, I don’t want you tearing that belly wound open again!” 

Tanjiro looked up, then at Giyuu, whose face was neutral and measured. “Mr. Rengoku, my stomach is all healed. It’s been three months.” 

“Ah. So it has.” Kyojuro shifted and tried to get a better look at the boy. Without speaking, or having been asked, Giyuu slid his arm beneath Kyojuro’s shoulders to help him sit up. 

Tanjiro couldn’t help but let out another sob. “I’m so glad you’re alright! Mr. Tomioka hasn’t left your side since you got here!” Though escaping Tanjiro’s notice, Giyuu went bright pink and set his jaw. Kyojuro grinned at him. 

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” He said softly, speaking to Tanjiro but looking at Giyuu as he helped him settle in the new, more upright position.  

Next to follow the sound was Shinobu herself, who was so surprised upon appearing in the doorway to find Kyojuro looking up adoringly at Giyuu, holding him by the shoulders, his face bright pink, that she actually froze for a moment. It did not take her long to realize what Giyuu had done, and she smiled, blinking away tears. Finally. 

Then she put her hands on her hips, blinked the tears away, and gave Giyuu the chiding of a lifetime for daring not to tell her that Kyojuro had awoken. Inosuke appeared next, already yelling, leaping onto the foot of Kyojuro’s bed and declaring Kyojuro the master of death itself. Zenitsu was quick to follow, carrying a half-awake and tiny Nezuko with him. Once her bright eyes fell onto Kyojuro’s she leapt from Zenitsu’s arms and joined Inosuke on the foot of Kyojuro’s bed, her delighted voice muffled by her muzzle but still clearly excited. 

Any Hashira who wasn’t on a mission joined them. Mitsuri’s bright—if shrill—sobs of joy briefly drowned out anyone else’s attempt at speech, Sanemi sternly but firmly put his hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, his jaw clenched tightly, Gyomei offered a prayer of gratitude. But the room stopped when Senjuro arrived. He stared at Kyojuro in the doorway for a long moment, as if disbelieving that he was really awake and breathing. It took both Shinobu and Giyuu to keep Kyojuro from leaping out of bed to greet him. Senjuro ended up sitting on the bed beside his brother, handing him letters that Giyuu had handed him and helping Kyojuro catch up on three months’ worth of missed correspondence. 

It was only then that Kyojuro’s attention was jarred enough from Giyuu to look around at the scene surrounding his sickbed. On a table behind Giyuu was a stack of letters, cards, and notes. Beside the letters were gifts, wrapped in colorful paper or fabric, stacks upon stacks of bento, boxes of candy, several vases of flowers, several more wilted bouquets of lying on the floor beside his table. All of it had been carefully organized; The notes had all been gently unfolded and stacked in chronological order, the bottom boxes of bento had been opened, likely emptied of their contents before they could spoil--it had been three months, after all--rinsed and replaced on the table. The flowers had clearly been traded out for fresh ones each time the previous bundle wilted. Kyojuro couldn’t help but smile even wider at Giyuu the more he noticed his work. There he was, saying it over and over without anybody but Kyojuro knowing. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Though typically Kyojuro never seemed to tire, he had just cheated death after all, and so much commotion from so many well-wishers was becoming difficult to keep up with. Shinobu was quick to pull rank even on other Hashira and clear the mansion out when she noticed his eyelids becoming heavy. Only Giyuu and Senjuro lingered while she caught Kyojuro up on his injuries. 

“I'm sure you’ve already noticed the injury to your left eye. It was ruptured. We treated it with medicinal ointments and managed to close the wound, but your pupil doesn’t react to light anymore…I’m afraid that eye will be permanently blind.” Kyojuro nodded slowly, remembering feeling Giyuu changing the bandages there before he was fully awake, remembering how he’d bumped into Giyuu’s head with his new lack of depth perception. 

Shinobu continued, though her voice became gentle and slow. “The wound to your solar plexus was the most severe. It went all the way through your torso and damaged your spinal cord.” She told Kyojuro. Senjuro and Giyuu had already heard this from her, but it hurt a little to watch Kyojuro’s reaction to the reality of his injuries. His eyes wandered down his own stomach, across the bandage, and toward his feet. “It caused damage to the nerves that control your left leg. So far it seems like it still moves, but I don’t know how strong it will ever be.”

You may never wield a sword again, Giyuu had told him. Kyojuro had breezed past the statement at first, just glad to be alive. Now, staring at his left foot and trying to wiggle his toes, finding with a strike of fear that he could only manage to move the foot a matter of millimeters, Kyojuro swallowed but set his jaw, stiff-lipped, trying to look strong in front of his brother. 

“I see.” He managed. 

Shinobu laid out an aggressive rehabilitation plan for him, to start as soon as he was ready, then parted with an oddly knowing look that made Giyuu squirm just a little. Nothing got past her. Senjuro lingered a bit longer, but as intuitive as he was, nothing really got past him either. He could see his brother’s head beginning to nod as exhaustion overtook him. And he could see the way it nodded toward Giyuu’s faithful and unwavering hand on his shoulder, his cheek falling against the back of Giyuu’s palm. Senjuro slid off of the bed and invented an excuse to leave, letting Kyojuro begin to drift. Before he left though, he met Giyuu’s eye. 

“Thank you, Mr. Tomioka.” He said quietly. Giyuu nodded silently at him; he’d been thanked by Senjuro several times before during the blur of these three months, once the boy learned how his brother had managed to survive the battlefield. Senjuro’s eyes were on Giyuu’s pale hand as Kyojuro’s cheek fell against it. “Thank you for saving my brother.” Senjuro continued in a whisper. 

Giyuu nodded again, though this time it was because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Senjuro left the two alone in the wing of the butterfly mansion, the light of evening turning gold around them. Giyuu nodded a third time, this time just to himself, because he couldn’t think of a way to say Kyojuro is the one who saved me aloud. 

He felt Kyojuro sigh against him and looked down. Kyojuro’s good eye was open again, looking down at his own feet. “What’s going to happen?” He asked, mostly to himself, trying to move his defective left leg and frowning when he failed. After a moment he looked up to meet Giyuu’s gaze. 

“I don’t know.” Giyuu admitted. With a defunct left leg and no depth perception, it was quite clear Kyojuro wouldn’t be wielding a sword any time soon, perhaps ever again. He’d be forced to retire as a Hashira. He swallowed and watched Kyojuro, who seemed to be thinking very hard. 

He’d been born a Hashira, the blood was in him from the start. He’d always thought he’d die a Hashira, too. It wasn’t just the cornerstone of his identity but the very basis of it; everything else was built up from there. His entire concept of himself was going to crumble without his sword, without the flames curling from his lips as he wielded it. Without the knowledge, the certainty that he would eventually die in service of their cause. Now, Kyojuro didn’t know what he was going to die for. 

Kyojuro looked into Giyuu’s eyes and watched them carefully as they began to shine. His ivory skin was glowing in the dying evening light, his hand was cool and soft against his cheek. He looked past Giyuu at the stacks of gifts on the table, the letters Senjuro had read for him and left for him. And he smiled. And he kissed Giyuu’s hand again and he smiled even wider, lips still against his cool skin. 

“Me neither.” He said softly. 

He did know what he was going to live for. 

Evening fell into night with Giyuu by Kyojuro’s side, where he’d been all along and would be as long as he allowed him to remain. Their hands eventually entwined again, Kyojuro every so often kissing Giyuu’s as if in awe that he could. Each time Giyuu felt a little more faint. Each time he watched Kyojuro’s chest move up and down he relaxed a little more. By the time the sun had slipped down over the horizon Giyuu was practically asleep too, leaning against Kyojuro’s cot. 

Kyojuro watched the back of Giyuu’s head, tiredly carded his hand through Giyuu’s mess of black hair, couldn’t keep from smiling. 

“I love you.” He whispered aloud to Giyuu. Because he could just say it now, because he still had breath to whisper it into the dark room, because his heart had kept beating long enough to see Giyuu turn slightly to look at him, eyes heavy. 

“I love you too.” He whispered back, aloud. The words came as easily as breathing now. He settled his head back against Kyojuro’s cot, keeping his neck craned back so he could look at him for just a little long before sleep overtook them both. I love you too, he said, silently.

[pagetsgirl]

bad day (drabble)

warnings: teeth-rotting fluff , and shitty writing

summary: Emily has a bad case, but luckily for her, she has an amazing wife who really knows how to take care of her.

a/n: english is not my native language, so i apologise for any mistakes!! also; my requests are open so don’t be afraid to reach out and request something <3

word count: 598

read on ao3 or below the cut

The case was in Texas, where the police department was filled with homophobic assholes who didn’t even know what 1+1 is. Safe to say, it wasn’t a good case for Emily, or anyone really. But now she was close to reaching home, she just wanted to dive into your arms, and let you take control.

You heard the familiar opening of the front door, followed by a heavy sigh when she took off the tight combat boots she’s been wearing all day.

You quickly made your way to the hallway, where you threw yourself into her arms, smelling the familiar perfume that you grew to love so much. The brunette wrapped her arms around you, and buried her face into the crook of your neck.

Of course you knew she had a bad case, as the two of you made sure to text the other throughout the day when the agent was away on a case.

“come on baby, how about we get you into a nice warm bath?” You say softly to your wife, knowing exactly what’ll help her wind down after a long week. “Yes please,” she replied softly, letting you take care of her.

You led her into the bathroom, never letting her go. As she undressed, you turned on the bath and let it fill with perfectly temperature water and good smelling bubbles, making sure to use the one that smells like vanilla, your go to smell, for extra comfort.

“Baby, could you maybe join me?” Her voice sounded so incredibly small, it was impossible to say no, especially paired with the puppy eyes she was giving you. You quickly undressed and slid into the tub, letting her settle between your legs. She let out a small sigh when the warm water eased the ache in her limps.

You two sat there in comfortable silence, until you started to softly massage the kinks out of her shoulders, causing her to let out a long sigh. Her eyes fell closed, and her shoulders relaxed as she laid into you even more.

You guys stayed there for around 20 more minutes, until the water started to turn incredibly cold. “Darling, we got to get out now,” you tell her. Emily softly shook her head. “I’m comfy…” she let out a soft yawn. “No babe, you’re going to freeze to death.” You softly pushed her forward, so you could get out of the tub, and grabbed a couple fluffy towels.

After both of you are wrapped into a towel, you grabbed two pairs of pj’s, making sure they’re both yours, so your wife wouldn’t complain about it. As you’ve made the mistake before, which resulted in you having to sleep on the couch (even though she’d join you about five minutes in).

Not even 5 minutes later and the both of you were wrapped in each other, limps being a tangled mess. “Baby…” She softly murmured. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for taking care of me,”

“I always will, pretty girl, I love you so much.”

She let out a soft giggle, just proving how exhausted she was. “I love you too, so incredibly much,”

“Good, now go to sleep, yeah? I’ll be there when you wake up, I promise.”

“Mmm, goodnight,” her eyes were already closed, and her breathing quickly evened out.

“Sweet dreams, my darling, I’ll always be there for you and I love you so much, I promise you,”

And just as you said that, Sergio sneaked into your bed and laid against your leg.

"I love you too Sergio," You said with a smile.

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 4160

Notes; Sincere apologies for the delay on uploading this update. Life has been truly all over the place lately. Your support has meant the most to me and keeps me encouraged to continue writing. Much love and gratitude, xx

(Not Beta Read)

For the first time in a long time, you slept through the entirety of the night. You woke up tangled in a mess of heavy arms and legs. Charlie held you so tightly against himself. You kept as still as possible, not wanting to disturb the man who laid peacefully on top of you.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of skin. His hair fell over his face so beautifully. You couldn’t help but reach a careful finger up to move a few strands behind his ear. He sighed, pulling you impossibly closer. Memories of the night before came flooding forward. You sucked in your lip, remembering the taste of Charlie against you. Your whole body grew warm as you thought back on your own actions.

He looked so incredibly calm like this. It was an image you would want to remember as long as you could. You weren’t sure where this put you in Charlie’s life. Would this end up only being a one time thing? Would you want it to be more than that?

You had never been in any proper relationship, were unsure how to be in or initiate one. Is Charlie the type of man you had ever envisioned you would be with someday? Would this even be something that he would want to pursue? You sighed, willing away the anxious knot that grew in your chest.

You were thinking about this all too critically, just over thinking things as you usually did. You had always been of the opinion that things seemed to work out in your life the way they were supposed to. Maybe it was fate, maybe by accident. There were few things you truly had control of. His feelings for you were not one of those things. Maybe there wouldn’t be anything that came from this but you decided you’d like there to be.

You found yourself frowning, holding him a bit tighter at the thought.

You stayed there for a moment, studying the features of his face and the frame of his body that was visible to you. You decided you couldn’t deny that he must truly feel something for you, whatever it was you still weren’t entirely sure.

After an amount of time, a scratch in your throat pulled you from your thoughts. You sat up as carefully as you could. Charlie groaned, face twisting uncomfortably as you slowly made your way out of bed. You worked quietly, picking his shirt up off the ground before slipping your arms into the long sleeves, buttoning a few buttons, letting it partially hang from your shoulders. It smelt so much like him, you prayed that scent would stick to your skin for a while.

You slipped out of the room and down into the kitchen, tiptoeing as softly as you could, allowing him to sleep in as long as possible. You made a pot of coffee, filling two of the souvenir mugs your aunt loved to collect in her travels. You smiled to yourself, making your way back up to your bedroom.

You stopped in the doorway, noticing the way Charlie tossed and turned in your bed. It was an entirely different sight than the one you had seen of him when you had first woken up. He looked nearly in pain, your heart picked up its pace as you sat the coffee down next to the bed.

“Charlie,” you whispered softlty, settling onto the bed beside him. You place one hand on his shoulder to nudge him awake. His eyes shot open scanning the room around him before landing on your face. Relief played over his features as he took in the sight of you.

He worked quickly, grabbing you in his arms and pulling you on top of him. He sat up, holding you against his chest. It nearly surprised you, just how strong his grip around you was. He placed fast kisses against your face and the top of your head until you were laughing, pulling yourself away from him for a moment to meet his eyes.

“Good morning,” you smiled down at him, placing your hands on his chest. Any of the worry you had first waking up steadily melted away as his expression softened.

He grabbed your face in his hands pulling you down to meet his lips. You kissed him back, reviling in the taste of him. “Good morning,” He replied against you.

You sat up again, straddling him over the duvet. You reached over grabbing the coffee, his hands found themselves running up the fabric of his shirt you wore.

“I made coffee.” You said, handing him one the mugs that had a cartoonish version of the Las Vegas strip plastered across it. You carefully adjusted yourself to sit beside him in the bed, watching him examine the mug.

“Not poisoned, promise.” You laughed, peering over at him as you took a sip.

A smile spread up to his eyes as he did the same. He exhaled deeply, resting the mug on his exposed stomach. “Thank you.” He replied softly.

You were both quiet for a moment, you were unsure what to say next. A dozen different thoughts seemed to play out in your mind at the same time.

“About last night,” Charlie began. Your heart raced in your chest as you looked him over, trying to figure out what his next words would be. Is this the moment he tells you he’d like for things to just be casual? You dreaded his next words.

“I understand-” You began to interrupt, his face fell for a moment as he looked you over, attempting to discern what you meant.

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I wanted to- I just,” your face grew warm as you watched him become flustered at his own words. He looked up to the ceiling, nervously tapping his fingers on the side of his coffee cup. “I just hope it meant something to you is all.” His words stumbled out of him, barely above a whisper.

This statement slightly shocked you. Your lips twitched upwards as he looked back over at you. His familiar trepidation and uncertain movements made your heart swell.

You reached over to set your coffee on the desk before carefully taking Charlie’s from him and setting it down as well. This gave you a moment to think about your next words. Of course it meant something to you. You think you’d like for it to all happen again. You fixed yourself on Charlie’s chest, carefully pulling the duvet over yourself. His hands were quick to intertwine themselves in your hair.

“It did, Charlie.” You replied softly. He nodded his head, relaxing into the bed a bit more.

You peered up at him, his eyes were closed, his expression soft. He was beautiful like this.

Another thought came to you then, “Was that really your first time doing…” Your words began to trail off a bit at the end. He stiffened for a moment, shifting awkwardly before meeting your eyes.

“Yeah,” he began as you traced lazy circles on his forearm. “How about you?” He asked, clearing his throat.

You nodded, flexing your fingers as he slipped his hand to hold your own. His hands were rough, calloused in places that scratched at your palm. You wondered how he could’ve gotten them. There were so many things about him that you realized you’d like to know more about.

There were healed over white scars of varying sizes across his torso and certain parts of his arm. You weren’t entirely surprised that you hadn’t noticed them in the dark last night, most were faded and barely visible. With your free hand you reached over to trace one of these scars that wove its way across a small part of his ribs. He shivered at your touch, exhaling deeply. You weren’t sure that it was your place to ask about these things.

“Can I ask you something?” He was the one to break the silence. You shifted to better look up at him, nodding your head.

He looked you over for a minute, his expression showed that he was debating on whether or not to ask his question. He decided to get it on with. “What made you decide to move to Woodsboro, with your aunt and everything?”

Your face twisted a bit, his eyes scanned over you, trying to discern the reaction you had to his question.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He quickly interjected.

You shook your head, pulling yourself up into a sitting position beside him. You let your head fall back against the headboard, trying to figure out the best way to answer him. You were terrible at explaining these kinds of things, never really had anyone ask before.

“I-” you began, carefully grabbing his hand to hold again. His thumb traced slow circles on the back of your hand. “My parents were just,” you could barely get the words out. You took a deep breath, clearing your mind as best as possible. Charlie wore a comforting expression, doing his best to urge you on.

“My parents were horrible people,” you continued. You fixated on the ceiling, trying your hardest to keep it together. “I think that they would have been much happier if I had never been born to be completely honest. I really believe they wanted to be parents at some point in time, but after a while, I don't know, they just…” You began to trail off. Your eyes flitted over to Charlie. You were unable to read his emotions, his jaw clenched and rolled as he watched you.

You sighed before continuing. “But it’s okay, my aunt was always more of a parent to me than they were. I knew I’d come to live with her once I was eighteen and had the opportunity to leave. She tries her best to support me however she can. I’m just lucky that I don’t have any siblings to worry about leaving behind with them.”

You put on your most convincing smile as you held Charlie’s gaze. You gripped his hand a bit tighter, “I’m much happier here, truly.”

Charlie returned your smile, pulling your back into him before kissing the top of your head. You were happier here, much happier.

Your next words came out of you before you could give them a second thought, you instantly regretted them. “I’m sorry about your father, Charlie.”

He tensed instantly, growing impossibly still. You scanned over features, watching his face twist up in suspected contempt.

You immediately began to back pedal, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. My aunt knew him was all. I wasn’t sure… It’s just a horrible way to lose someone close to you.”

He sneered, eyes focusing on the wall in front of him. “Close? I wasn’t close to him at all.” His expression grew increasingly dark, it was frightening just how quickly his demeanor changed. “He deserved what happened to him, if I hadn’t-” Charlie stopped his sentence quickly. As if he had just revealed something he shouldn’t have.

Your brows furrowed tightly together, “If you hadn’t what Charlie?”

He was silent for a moment. You could tell he was rolling around his next statement incredibly carefully. Part of you still wished you had never said anything in the first place. Charlie’s expression grew determined, as if he were ready to divulge a heavy secret.

“He was a horrible drunk, had put me in the hospital as a child more times than I can count.” He continued quietly. His fingers came to his side, brushing gently across one of the small scars on his chest. Your heart sunk into your stomach.

He swallowed deeply, meeting your eyes again. “He hadn’t always been that way. From what I’ve been told, he used to be a good man. But he just- changed over time.”

You nodded, trying your hardest to be understanding, unsure where he was going with all of this.

“My mother had finally worked up the nerve to separate from him a few years back.” He paused for a moment. “He would’ve killed her.” His tone was hushed as he continued, face twisting up in anger again.

A sudden realization hit you as you sat back up in bed, a horrible sinking pit began to build up inside you. You didn’t want to ask your next question, it spilled out of you before you had the chance to stop it. “He didn’t really kill himself, did he?” You shook your head, trying to conceal your disbelief.

Charlie swallowed, shaking his head. You couldn’t help but pull away further, he grimaced as you shrunk further against the wall. Your entire psyche seemed to fracture a bit as you looked wildly at the man beside you. How was this all possible? You could’ve never suspected he was capable of something so heinous as murder. But he bore the proof of his father’s abuse. If he had acted to save himself or his mother, could his actions really be considered so horrible? Could they be unforgivable?

“But, how did you-?” You began, just above a whisper. Your voice shook as you spoke.

He looked back up at the ceiling, holding his hands together to conceal the way his fingers trembled. “It wasn’t hard to make it look like he was the one who had pulled the trigger. He was an addict, everyone knew it. He had just lost another job. There were people that knew my mother was filing for divorce. It wasn’t difficult for everyone to accept that he had finally done it.” He paused for a moment, looking over at you before continuing. “If I hadn’t acted he would’ve really done it himself sooner or later, only I’m certain he would’ve taken me and my mother along with him. I couldn’t let him do it. The police were no help.”

He looked defeated, so broken. You wanted to just hold him. Tell him how sorry you were that he had been put in that situation. Your own familial issues seemed nonexistent in comparison to the hell he must have had to live through. You wondered how it would feel, to have taken another human's life. Could you have done it if you were him? If it came down to saving your own life, or Irina’s, you believed you could have.

You could tell he was growing increasingly anxious as he waited for your response, debating whether he made the right decision to tell you all of this.

You took his hand, he nearly flinched at your touch. “I’m sorry that you were put in that position Charlie.” You leaned over, brushing the hair from his face with shaking hands. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as you placed a kiss on his forehead. You hadn’t realized until that moment that there were tears in your eyes. They felt hot as they rolled down your face. You laid beside him, allowing him to drape a heavy arm across your back.

“Does anybody else know?” You asked softly. He grabbed at your hair, gently pulling it behind your shoulders.

“Yes, my mother knows what really happened. She’s been in and out of psychiatric care for the past few years but she’s doing much better. I think she finally feels safe, now that he’s gone.” He replied. “And Jill, she was the first person I called after it happened.”

“Jill Roberts?” You replied, attempting to hide your shocked tone. You weren’t sure you had ever even seen them interact before.

He nodded again. “Yeah, we used to be really close growing up. She’d witnessed the full extent of his abuse many times. I don’t know why I called her, honestly. I was just in shock after it all happened. We hardly speak anymore, but I think she was really my closest friend at one point in time.”

You nodded again. You weren’t sure why the thought of him confiding in her upset you in any way.

You both stayed there for a moment. You weren’t entirely sure what to say next, weren’t sure how to feel and process this information. You understandably saw Charlie in a new light. How you saw him was still unclear. In some sick way, it made him mean more to you. You felt special that he decided to share this part of himself with you.

“Thank you for telling me all this.” You said, kissing along the curve of his arm that hung around you. He pulled you in tightly, relaxing a bit back into the bed at your words.

“You can’t leave me now, you know?” He said pulling your face up to look at him. You laughed, taking his sentiment as a jab. Something about the way he smiled back at you told you there was a fraction of truth behind his words.

Your laughter faulted for a moment as you took in the weight of his expression. “I would never want to.” You replied, sucking in your cheek. He searched your face for any hint of sincerity. Did you mean it? Yes, you thought so. Everything seemed to be happening so fast, you couldn’t be entirely sure what it was you wanted. But, you think you could really want him. The thought of drifting apart from him after this made you feel sick in some way. That must mean something, right?

The remainder of the morning was spent in his arms. He helped you make breakfast in his underwear. His eyes never left you for more than a few moments at a time. He loved to compliment you, took any chance to brush up against you or feel you with his hands. You were surprised how much you loved the unfamiliar attention, loved that it came from him.

He was still so incredibly awkward, easily flustered, but you couldn’t help but find it all charming now. It was strange, just how much had seemingly changed over the course of a night. There was so much to think over, so much to process.

You found yourself scanning over his rough hands, the muscles that lined his arms and back. Images of him taking his father's life played over in your mind against your own will. You would’ve never found him capable of this before he divulged his secret. But as you watched him carefully, you couldn’t help but notice the hidden strength in his actions. It’d be a lie to say you weren’t terrified of him. In the same breath, you felt almost safe, almost protected, knowing how capable he was when it came to the ones he loved. Could he love you? Could you love him?

He left just before the sun began to set. You wished you could have asked him to stay, you were sure however, that Irina’s original sentiment of ‘be kind to that boy’ did not extend to countless nights of him staying over. She’d return home sometime the following morning and you couldn’t imagine her being particularly pleased to find him in bed with you.

The following morning you pulled Irina to the side before school.

“Hey, I understand if this is difficult to speak about. But if you can, I’d like to know more about Charlie’s father.” You spoke in the entryway hall after an uncomfortable silence.

Shock seemed to play plainly across Irina's features. She swallowed deeply, steadying her frame before replying. The look on her face seemed to read that she was somehow expecting and dreading this question. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her anything about the night you had spent with Charlie.

She cleared her throat before responding. “Mm, well- growing up together,” she cleared her before continuing. “He was a good man. I went out with him a few times while in high school.” She tapped her fingers anxiously at her side. “But, he got married quickly after graduation. Picked up a taxing physical labor career. He struggled immensely, mentally wise. He-“

You watched as Irinas eyes glazed over, you nodded gently, urging her on. “He became almost unrecognizable, and I lost contact with him over the years. I knew he treated his son- his wife, very poorly.”

“When he took his own life-“ Irina's gaze drifted towards the ceiling. “I can’t say that I was suprised. No one was, truly.”

You couldn’t explain why, but you felt yourself relax a bit. Charlie’s story seemed to hold more weight, it was almost more believable.

Irina looked you over, expecting an explanation as to your sudden inquiry. You couldn’t offer her any explanation without divulging too much information.

“Thank you.” You uttered breathlessly, fixing your bag on your shoulder before turning quickly, making your way to the door.

You didn’t give your aunt a moment to inquire any further. You couldn’t explain the new weight that rested upon your shoulders. The knowledge that you would have to carry Charlie’s secret, even from your beloved aunt, made your stomach twist up in knots.

The next week in school passed by rather miserably. You couldn’t explain why you now watched over Jill’s movements like a hawk. How could her and Charlie have ever been so close?

Your one relief was Charlie’s increased neediness. He took every moment he could to be close to you. You loved the attention, loved how desperate he seemed to be. It was an awkward mess the majority of the time, but you found it all so comforting now.

On that following Friday, the day you were to present your project, Robbie stopped you and Charlie in the courtyard before classes began.

“Hey, I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well this past weekend.” Your heart raced as Robbie spoke. What could he possibly mean?

Charlie tensed beside you.

“Luckily Charlie finished up the project, I finished the revisions last night. We should at least get a decent grade on it.” Robbie finished his statement with a slack grin.

You glanced between Charlie and Robbie, piecing together what had happened.

Your suspicions were confirmed when Charlie was unable to meet your eyes. Robbie smiled along unknowingly.

Charlie had doctored the entire thing. Robbie was never sick. He had told Robbie you were, finished the entire assignment and lied just to get a moment alone with you. You weren’t sure how to feel.

You choked out a response. “Yes, I’m feeling much better. Thank you for finishing everything up Robbie.” You tried to give your most convincing smile and nod, watching as Robbie nodded and turned on his heel, disappearing into the sea of students.

You were stunned, heart pounding in your chest. You peered over to the man beside you, debating on whether to be thoroughly disturbed by his scheming, or touched by the effort he went through to be alone with you.

Charlie peered up nervously then, knowing he’d been found out. “I, I’m-“ he stuttered out.

You sucked in your lip, giving him a nod. You just needed a moment alone to sort through this all.

“I just need a second, please.” You spoke softly, looking him over before slipping into the crowd on your way to your first class.

You could faintly hear him call out your name behind you. You just needed a moment. Just a single moment to yourself.

You unfortunately weren’t able to have that moment to yourself. Before you could fix your things on your desk in your first period class, Kirby began to speak beside you.

“Hey, what are you doing next weekend?” Kirby whispered, gently kicking at your feet.

You sucked in a breath, turning to face her.

“Nothing.” You answered truthfully.

A wicked smile spread across her face.

“Well, I’m throwing a party. I always host the first weekend in October. You absolutely have to come.” She said earnestly.

You threw the idea up in your mind for a moment. You weren’t exactly an ideal party goer. Truthfully, you hated subjecting yourself to the social anxiety parties caused you.

You glanced forward to Jill. She was clearing listening expectantly, though feigning disinterest in the conversation. You weren’t sure why it all made you feel nervous.

Kirby’s expectant expression urged you to answer before giving it another thought.

“Sure, I’d love to come. Thank you.” You nodded, watching Kirby’s smile grow impossibly larger.

“Good, you’ll have the best time! Promise.” She replied.

You nodded again, anxiously fixing your pen and notebook on your desk. Maybe it would be fun.

Had Charlie been invited? Could you invite him? You weren’t even sure what to say to him at the moment.

You decided in that moment to accept his gesture as endearing, albeit an overstep.

You couldn’t help but hope he wasn’t incredibly anxious waiting for a proper response from you.

You’d only attend Kirby’s party if he decided to come with you.

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!” 

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy. 

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?” 

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought. 

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear. 

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later. 

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?” 

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.” 

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive. 

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.” 

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned. 

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !” 

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not? 

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched. 

“Cool party trick.” 

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.” 

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -” 

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.” 

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long. 

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.” 

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now. 

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??” 

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.” 

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles. 

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic. 

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King. 

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice. 

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake. 

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment. 

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.” 

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky. 

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table. 

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you. 

~~~ 

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car. 

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out. 

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley. 

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself. 

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit. 

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all. 

[drewharrisonwriter]

One Day at a Time - Ch. 12: One Day at a Time

Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader

Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.

Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!

Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room cast a cold, unforgiving glow over the sterile white walls. Dave sat hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low as he stared blankly at the floor. His hands were balled into tight fists, his knuckles white with tension. The storm outside continued to rage, the sound of rain hammering against the windows echoing through the nearly empty corridor.

Resnik sat beside him, his eyes quietly observing the storm brewing within Dave. He could see the turmoil written all over his friend's face—the guilt, the fear, the uncertainty. After a long silence, Resnik finally spoke.

“You’re thinking of leaving,” Resnik said, his voice calm but firm.

Dave didn’t respond at first. He just kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his thoughts spinning in a thousand different directions. After a moment, he swallowed hard and whispered, “Maybe it would be better if I did… if I just left and never looked back.”

Resnik’s brow furrowed, and he turned slightly in his chair to face Dave. “You can’t be serious.”

Dave let out a bitter laugh, his voice thick with self-reproach. “Why not? Look at what happened. I dragged her into my mess, and now she’s lying in there fighting for her life—and our daughter’s life—because of me. Because of my past… because of who I am.”

Resnik’s eyes softened, but his tone remained steady. “Dave, you didn’t do this. McCall did. And yeah, maybe you made some mistakes in your other life, left some things unresolved, but you had no memory of it all… And if you did, you know you can’t just walk away now. That’s not who you are.”

Dave shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I should have known… When I got my memory back, I should have known. Should have anticipated this might happen… And now, I think maybe they’d be better off if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Resnik leaned forward, his voice firm but not unkind. “You know that’s not true. You technically were not in it when this happened.” He reminded him.”You can’t walk away from this, Dave. Not when she chose you when you were no one—when you had no name, no past, nothing. She saw something in you that was worth staying for. And you’re just going to walk away from her when she needs you the most?”

Dave’s jaw clenched, the weight of Resnik’s words pressing down on him. “I don’t know if I can do this… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stay, to face what I’ve done. To see the look on her face once she finds out what we truly are…”

Resnik placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Give her some credit, Dave. Don’t let fear of something you don’t know make this decision for you. You’ve faced worse odds than this and come out the other side. This is your new family. Your new start… You don’t just walk away from that.”

Dave closed his eyes, his chest heaving with the weight of everything he was feeling. Resnik was right—he knew that. But the thought of facing you, of seeing the pain he’d caused, was almost too much to bear. “I don’t know if she can forgive me,” he whispered.

“Maybe not,” Resnik replied softly. “But that’s not your call to make. You owe her the chance to decide for herself. You owe it to her, and to your daughter, to stay and fight. Don’t make the mistake of running again.”

Before Dave could respond, the door to the waiting room opened, and a doctor stepped out, her expression serious but calm. She approached them, and Dave stood up, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Mr. York?" she asked, and Dave nodded.

Dave nodded, his voice caught in his throat. “How is she? How’s the baby?”

The doctor offered a small, reassuring smile. “They’re both stable for now. Your partner is 3 centimeters dilated, and she’s only 36 weeks along. We were able to stop the contractions and control the bleeding, but we’ll need to keep her in the hospital for a few more days to monitor her and the baby closely.”

Dave exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a wave of relief washing over him, but it was tempered by the doctor’s next words.

“We’re keeping a close eye on her,” the doctor continued. “We want to avoid her water breaking suddenly. If that happens, it could lead to complications, especially given how early it would be for her to give birth. Our goal is to keep the baby in as long as possible, ideally until she reaches at least 38 weeks. At that point, we can consider inducing a natural delivery.”

Dave swallowed hard, his mind racing. “And if… if her water breaks before that?”

The doctor’s expression was grave. “If that happens, we’ll need to act quickly. The priority will be to deliver the baby safely, but it will mean a premature birth, and there could be risks involved for both her and especially the baby even with only a few weeks to go before it reaches full term.”

Dave nodded, trying to process the information. “Can I see her?”

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s resting now, but she’s been asking for you.”

Dave took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. He looked back at Resnik and nodded his thanks before making his way down the corridor toward your room.

He hesitated at the door for a moment, his hand resting on the handle as he steeled himself. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

You lay there, your face pale, but your eyes opened when you heard his footsteps. You managed a small smile, and he felt a wave of emotion crash over him, seeing you safe, but still so vulnerable.

“Hey,” he whispered, moving closer to your bedside.

“Hey, stranger,” you replied softly with a weak smile, your voice just as weak but steady.

Dave reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you… are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice filled with concern and fear.

You shook your head slowly. “Not… not physically,” you replied, your gaze meeting his. “He wanted to end you… said he’d do it if I didn’t get in the well.”

Dave’s face hardened, a mix of anger and guilt flooding him. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his grip tightening around your hand. “I should have been there… I should have known he’d come for you.”

Your eyes softened, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand. “Dave, you couldn’t have known. He was… deceiving… He was my friend.” You choked a sob. “I thought he was, but he was ruthless, and he knew exactly how to hurt us both, but he didn’t win. We’re here. We’re still here.”

Dave’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I came back because I wanted to be with you… and you weren’t home…” Dave was sobbing now, too, “I’ve never been so scared in my life.” he whispered. 

You squeezed his hand, your expression filled with understanding. “You didn’t lose me,” you whispered back. “And you won’t. But you have to promise me… you have to promise you won’t leave.”

Dave’s eyes searched yours, his guilt still gnawing at him, but he nodded. “I promise,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

You closed your eyes, relief washing over you. “Good,” you murmured, your grip on his hand tightening. “Because we still have a lot to figure out… about us, about this… about our family.”

Dave leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours. “One day at a time,” he whispered, his voice filled with a new determination.

“One day at a time,” you echoed, your voice soft but sure.

Dave stayed by your side, holding your hand, his heart filled with a mixture of hope and fear. But as he looked at you, at the strength in your eyes, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

–

It had been nearly a week since the night you were brought into the hospital, and the air in the room felt lighter today. You were sitting up in bed, a soft, warm light filtering through the window as you and Dave spoke. The tension from that night had eased, and the conversation flowed more easily now.

Dave sat beside you, a smile playing on his lips as you talked about his older daughters, Molly and Alice. “Molly was so excited when I told her about the farm,” he said, chuckling. “She asked if she could ride a horse every day. I think she pictures herself as some kind of cowgirl.”

You laughed softly, the sound bringing a smile to his face. “I’d love to see that. I bet she’d look adorable in a little hat and boots.”

“She would,” Dave agreed, his expression softening. “And Alice… she’s curious. She’s got a lot of questions, you know? About you, about us.”

You nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. “I’m glad they’re open to visiting,” you said honestly. “But… I don’t want them to think I’m trying to replace their mom. I’m not… I’m just—”

“Hey,” Dave interrupted gently, his hand finding yours. “You’re not replacing anyone. They know that. You’re adding to their lives, not taking anything away. And they’re smart kids—they’ll understand.”

You smiled, though a twinge of pain in your belly made you wince. You tried to hide it, but Dave noticed, his brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… a bit of pressure,” you admitted, trying to shrug it off. “I think I’ve been sitting too long.”

Dave watched you carefully, still worried, but he nodded. “We can walk around a bit, if you want. It might help.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He helped you off the bed, his hands steady on your arms as you found your footing. As you began to walk, he kept a slow pace beside you, his gaze never leaving your face.

“So,” he started, trying to keep things light. “What about us? I mean, after all this… I know I want to be with you, but… how do you feel?”

You chuckled softly, though the pain seemed to intensify with each step. “Well, I wouldn’t have stuck around through all of this if I didn’t want to be with you,” you replied, half-teasing, half-serious.

Dave smiled, but then his expression turned more earnest. “I mean it,” he said softly. “I want to live with you, build a life together… as your husband, if you’ll have me.”

You laughed, a little breathless. “Husband, huh? You’re still married, remember?”

Dave grinned. “Technically, I’m dead. And Carol is a widow. But we’ll figure it out.”

You shook your head, amused despite the pressure building in your lower belly. “Always so straightforward.”

“Why waste time?” he said, then his face grew more serious. “I need to ask you something… does everything McCall told you about me and Resnik still bother you?”

You hesitated, considering your words carefully. “At first, it did,” you admitted. “But I understand now—it was a job, something you had to do. It’s all in the past.”

Dave nodded, relieved but still tense. “And… do you think you can move past it?”

You paused, taking a deep breath, and then asked, “Are you leaving that job in the past, Dave? Is it really over?”

He nodded firmly. “I don’t want that life anymore. I don’t intend to go back to it. I want a quiet life with you and our children.”

You smiled, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. “Good… that’s what I want too.”

The conversation shifted back to Molly and Alice. Dave told you more about his conversations with them, how he’d described the farm and the life he hoped they could all build together. You listened intently, finding comfort in his words, but as he spoke, you felt a sharp, sudden pressure below your belly. You winced, trying to hide it, but a small gasp escaped your lips.

Dave’s eyes flickered with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, moving a bit closer.

“I think I just need to walk it off,” you replied, but your voice trembled slightly.

He helped you steady yourself, and you continued walking, though each step felt heavier, the pressure intensifying. Suddenly, a wave of pain washed over you, and you nearly cried out, gripping Dave’s arm.

“Dave…” you gasped, your voice strained. “Something… something doesn’t feel right.”

Dave’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on your arm. “We need to get you back to the bed,” he said urgently, but you shook your head.

“No… I need to… I need to walk,” you insisted, though your legs felt like they were shaking beneath you.

The pressure below grew unbearable, and you felt a sudden gush of warmth between your legs. Your eyes widened in shock. “Oh… oh God, Dave, my water just broke,” you breathed, panic creeping into your voice.

Dave’s face went pale, but he quickly composed himself. “We need help,” he said, pressing the call button repeatedly. “Stay with me, just breathe.”

The nurse rushed in, quickly assessing the situation. “Her water’s broken,” Dave explained, his voice tight with worry. “What do we do?”

“I’m paging her doctor now,” She tells them. “We need to get her back in bed and wait for your doctor’s orders, but chances are, you’ll be induced.”

They carefully helped you back onto the bed, adjusting the monitors as you struggled to breathe through the pain. The doctor arrived a moment later, quickly assessing your dilation and was surprised to see that you’re almost fully dilated.

“We have an eager baby right here,” The doctor joked, telling the nurse there’s no need for Pitocin. 

“Dave…” You whimpered. 

Dave squeezed your hand, his face filled with concern. “I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice steady. “Just keep breathing, okay?”

The contractions came hard and fast. You felt a wave of pain wash over you, and you gripped Dave’s hand tightly, your knuckles turning white. “It’s okay, just keep breathing,” he murmured, his voice a constant source of comfort.

You focused on your breathing, taking shallow, panting breaths as you felt the pressure building, the pain intensifying.

The doctor checked you once again a little while later and announced that you’re about read to push and guided you, their voice calm but firm. “Take a deep breath, and when you feel the next contraction, push.”

You nodded, bracing yourself as another contraction hit. You bore down, your body trembling with the effort, your legs shaking from the strain. You could feel the baby’s head pressing downward, the intense pressure almost too much to bear.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaimed and panted, your breaths coming in sharp, ragged bursts. The sensation was overwhelming—your body straining, your muscles burning with the effort.

“You’re doing great,” Dave whispered, his hand still holding yours tightly. 

“Your kid’s head is too big!”

Dave chuckled and kissed your temple. 

The pain was relentless, and you could feel yourself growing tired, your muscles screaming in protest. “I can’t…” you gasped, tears streaming down your face. “It’s too much… it’s too big…”

“Yes, you can,” Dave insisted, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “She’s almost here, darling. We’ll meet her soon….”

The doctor nodded in agreement. “You’re so close. Just one more big push.”

You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength left in your body. You pushed with everything you had when the next contraction came, feeling the baby’s head finally begin to crown. The pain was blinding, your body shaking with the effort, but you kept going.

“Daaaavveee!” you wailed and panted, your voice trembling, your legs quivering with the strain.

The doctor’s voice was steady, encouraging. “That’s it… you’re doing it… keep going, keep pushing.”

You bore down again, gritting your teeth against the pain, feeling the intense pressure as the baby’s head began to emerge. “Oh God… oh God…It burns!” you whimpered, your body trembling, your muscles taut.

“Just a little more,” Dave urged, his hand firm around yours. “You’ve got this… just a little more.”

With a final, desperate push, you felt the baby’s head finally slip free. A wave of relief washed over you, but the work wasn’t done yet.

“One more big push for the shoulders,” the doctor instructed. “Almost there.”

You took a deep breath, your body shaking with exhaustion, and bore down one last time. The baby’s shoulders slid out, and with a rush of fluid, the rest of the body followed. You gasped, your body collapsing back against the bed as the cries of your newborn filled the room.

Dave’s face broke into a wide, tearful smile. “She’s here!” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You did it…”

The doctor quickly wrapped the baby in a blanket, holding her up so you could see. “It’s a girl,” they announced with a smile. “A beautiful, healthy baby girl.”

Tears streamed down your face as you reached out, your heart overflowing with love and relief as Dave helped you lay the baby on your chest. Dave leaned in, his arms wrapping around both you and the baby, his tears mingling with yours.

“Hi there,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling with joy.

Dave’s hand brushed against her tiny head, his eyes filled with awe. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “Absolutely perfect.”

–

A few weeks had passed since you gave birth, and the farmhouse was filled with a new kind of energy—a blend of exhaustion, love, and the sounds of a newborn finding her place in the world. The transition had not been easy, but the small moments of peace and contentment made it all worthwhile. The baby’s cries, coos, and little sighs seemed to echo through every room, and somehow, the house felt more alive than it ever had.

Dave had taken to fatherhood with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. Almost forgetting that he’s done this twice before. You’d find him awake in the middle of the night, cradling the baby in his arms, murmuring soft words of comfort as he paced the room. He had this way of making her smile even when she was fussing, and the sight of them together made your heart swell with a quiet joy.

Today, as you sat together on the porch, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the fields, you found yourselves in a rare moment of calm. The baby slept peacefully in her bassinet beside you, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby trees.

Dave turned to you, his expression contemplative. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… about how we move forward from here.”

You smiled softly, leaning back in your chair. “And what have you decided, Mr. Technically-Dead?”

He chuckled at the nickname, but his face soon grew serious. “I want us to be together… properly. I know I told you this before but I don’t want you to worry about me disappearing again, or wondering if my past is going to catch up with us. I want to build a real life with you, but we’ll need to figure out how to deal with… all the legal stuff.”

You sighed, considering. “It’s complicated, Dave. You’re still legally dead, and Carol is technically a widow. I’m not even sure where we’d start with that.”

Dave nodded. “I’ve thought about it. There might be a way… we’d have to involve a lawyer who’s good with… creative solutions. I’d have to come back from the dead, legally speaking, which won’t be easy, but I think we can make it work.”

You bit your lip, thinking it over. “But what about your daughters? Molly and Alice?”

Dave’s expression softened. “They know I’m alive now, and they’re excited about meeting their new sister. I don’t want to be a ghost in their lives. I’ll always be their father, no matter what. And I think they’ll understand that I’m trying to be the best father I can be… for all of my children.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief at his words 

He reached over, taking your hand in his. “I want to marry you,” he said plainly, his gaze steady. “I know it’s complicated right now, but I don’t want to spend another day without you knowing how serious I am about this… about us.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “We’ll figure it out, Dave. One step at a time. For now, let’s just focus on the life we’re building here, together.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And this life… it feels right, doesn’t it?”

You leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “It does. I never thought I’d find this… but here we are.”

He kissed the top of your head, a small smile on his lips. “Here we are,” he echoed softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

–

Over the next few months, the farm slowly evolved into a new routine. You adjusted to life with a newborn, and Dave took on more responsibilities, managing the day-to-day work with a steady hand. Resnik stuck around, lending a hand wherever he could, and you began to feel a sense of community growing between you all.

Molly and Alice visited the farm for the first time a few weeks later. You were nervous at first, but the girls quickly warmed up to you and the baby. Molly immediately fell in love with the horses, while Alice asked a thousand questions about the farm and how everything worked.

Dave watched with a mixture of pride and relief, clearly grateful to see his daughters bonding with their new family. “They seem to like it here…” he said, his voice filled with affection.

You nodded, smiling. 

He looked at you, his expression softening. “That’s because they’re with us. This is where they belong.”

As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Molly and Alice grew stronger. They are at the farm every weekend and you and Dave found ways to include them in the farm’s daily activities, teaching them how to care for the animals, and letting them help with the gardening, and the baby. The girls thrived in the open air, and soon enough, the weekends were filled with laughter, chatter, and the smell of fresh-baked bread.

Dave continued to be a constant source of support, always finding ways to make you feel loved and secure. He would wake up early to tend to the farm, then help you with the baby throughout the day, always making sure you had time to rest. At night, you’d often find him sitting by the fireplace, holding the baby in his arms, whispering stories you couldn’t quite hear.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the fields, Dave took your hand, pulling you gently toward the porch swing. “Let’s sit for a bit,” he suggested.

You settled beside him, the baby nestled against your chest. “What’s on your mind?”

Dave took a deep breath, glancing out over the fields. “Nothing much… just want to sit with you… and tell you just how grateful I am that you took me in when you know nothing about me…” 

You leaned into him, chuckling, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Kinda hard not to… Loss was a constant theme in my life… and seeing you fight for yours despite what you went through, it gave me hope. Hope that I can help you have a fresh start… have a new life.” 

“And you did,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “You gave me a fresh start and more....”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I love you, Dave,” you murmured. Dave nodded, his gaze unwavering. “And I love you.” 

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I never thought I’d find peace.”

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “I never thought I’d find it either,” you replied. “But we did. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

He smiled, pulling you closer. “Neither would I. One day at a time… and look where it’s brought us.”

Fin.

[inawickedlittletown]

A/N: Although I didn't intend to, I wound up writing quite a few fics this year. Buck and Tommy grabbed me and wouldn't let me go. So, it's time for a post to hold all the links. I'm sure I'll wind up with a part two eventually. But for now this will do.

Titles are links to the post here on tumblr. On the multi-chap stories it is to the last chapter as that contains links to all chapters.

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Multi Chapter

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You Can Always Find Me Where The Skies Are Blue

Summary: Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment. Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding. Words: 31k Rating: M Chapters: 7/7

Read on Ao3

Part One

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Don't Make A Shadow Of Yourself

Summary: "A man who's pure of heart...may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright" - Howl (F+TM) Throughout most of his adult life, Tommy had dealt with what he was. The duality of being a man and also an animal…a beast. Werewolves weren’t born, they were made. Words: 58k Rating: M Chapters: 16/16

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

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Rather Be The Hunter Than The Prey

Summary: Buck doesn't tell Tommy immediately about Gerrard coming back to Captain the 118. Tommy decides he needs to do something about it. Words: 5.7k Rating: T Chapters: 3/3

Read on Ao3

Part One

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Dragon Chosen

Summary: The shadow was huge and unmistakable. Any hope that it was just a passing cloud covering up the sun was futile, especially once he felt the downdraft of air from the wings. When he finally looked up, Buck took in the dragon in all its glory. The dragon was huge, the biggest that Buck had ever seen — not that he’d seen many. - In a world where dragons exist and where they pick their riders, Buck doesn't expect his perfectly normal Tuesday to include a dragon and his rider, Tommy, showing up to ask for his help with an injured dragon...a dragon that has picked Buck as his rider. Buck doesn't know who captivates him more his new dragon or Tommy. Words: 21.8k Rating: M Chapters: 6/6

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

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One Shots

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Step Into The Light

Summary: In the aftermath of 7x04, Buck reaches out to the one person that he thinks can help him. Words: 1.2k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Take A Look At Us Now

Summary: There is a magic to finally finding your true self and maybe Tommy has a deeper understanding of what that journey is like and can see it plainly as it is happening to Buck. Words: 2.9k Rating: T

Read on Ao3

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I've Been Waiting For The Tides To Change

Summary: It was itching at him, the pull that he felt towards Evan. He hadn’t been attracted to someone that quickly in a long while and the thing was that Tommy got it. He got how scary it was to come out and the bravery it took to not only admit that to yourself, but also to everyone else. - Or 7x05 from Tommy's perspective and what happens after the coffee date. Words: 4.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Coming Out Is Easy

Summary: 7x06 coda because Buck not cleaning up the soot was a choice... Words: 500 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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You've Got The Love To See Me Through

Summary: Tommy's pov of 7x06...or just let this man get some rest. Words: 4.7k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Isn't It Ironic

Summary: 7x07 coda. Buck and Tommy are on a date...they run to Eddie who is also on a date... Words: 600 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Aftermath

Summary: 7x09 coda. In the aftermath, Chris goes where he feels safe. Words: 800 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Glasses

Summary: Buck finds out Tommy wears reading glasses...as inspired by Lou wearing a different pair of glasses in every cameo. Words: 1k Rating: T

Read on Ao3

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More Than Patience

Summary: 7x10 coda. It isn't patience, as much it's understanding. Words: 400 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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How Do I Love Thee

Summary: A sweet moment between Buck and Tommy where Buck gets to tell Tommy what he likes about him. Words: 1.3k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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What's In A Name

Summary: Buck didn't like his name and definitely didn't like other cutesy nicknames...at least not until Tommy uses them Words: 1.5 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Meeting The Parents

Summary: They liked Tommy. It was strange because Buck hadn’t expected them to. Words: 1.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Handsome Little Bookworm

Summary: In which Buck discovers how avid of a reader Tommy is. Words: 1.1k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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It's A Love Story

Summary: You saw all kinds of things working at a restaurant. First dates. Failed dates. Proposals. Arguments. Break ups. The passing of secrets. Or, the waitress at the restaurant Tommy and Buck go to for their first date likes to people watch. Words: 2.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Becoming Pawrents

Summary: Out on a call, the 118 finds a box of abandoned puppies. Words: 2.3k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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And Every String Led Me To You

Summary: It happened when Buck woke up from the coma. At first, he was absolutely sure that he was dreaming because there was no way his hospital room could be so full of string. or, Buck can suddenly see the strings of fate, including the one that connects him right to Tommy. Words: 8.6k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The green-eyed, Green-Eyed Monster

(I was sent this beautiful pic which was found on Pinterest, and we can't find the owner, if anyone knows, please let me know so I can credit them.)

Summary: Y/N decides to get back at Jensen for walking away from her, by reminding him just what he's missing out on.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Lots of smut. Unprotected P in V sex, sex in a mostly public place, sex in a slightly skeevy room, oral (m and f receiving) throat fucking, rough sex, spanking (just a bit) slight overstimulation, possessive!jensen, jealous!jensen, poor decision-making skills that would result in a much different outcome in real life - but hey fics are NOT real life, so bring on the fantasy! 😜 Oh, and some fluff to finish.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Y/N

Word Count: 2,813

A/N: So, the other day, I wrote this little tongue-in-cheek post, and got some absolutely fabulous reblogs and comments, which encouraged me to combine some teeth-rotting fluff with my reader being fucked into oblivion. I said I would try it.

Then earlier today, the beautiful @myloversgone sent me the INCREDIBLE pic above and this story pretty much materialized in my brain instantly. It turned out to be a bit more smut based than fluff based, but there's definitely fluff at the end. Hope you all enjoy it! 😊

A/N 2: As always, this is a different version of Jensen from within the Multiverse who is single. Absolute and complete fiction, of course.

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist || Tag Lists

(Dumblr is currently messing with my Masterlist at the moment, and some links aren't working, but I've contacted support, and we'll see if they can fix it? I'm also working to get all my library of fics transfered and posted on Ao3, so when that happens, I'll share a link to read them over there. ❤️)

You watch Jensen across the club floor, and feel a thrill of vindication when you see him throw back his third shot of tequila in barely ten minutes. He’s obviously pissed, but it’s no less than he deserves for walking away from you and breaking your heart. 

His eyes find you again on the dance floor, and you grind your ass back against the stranger dancing up against you. You have no idea who the guy is, and you have no interest in learning. All you know is that he’s the guy making Jensen’s eyes shoot jealousy-filled daggers your way, so you turn to face him and throw your arms around his neck. 

The guy seems happy to dance close and not ask questions, so you look to where Jensen is standing on the VIP dais, behind the velvet rope and, keeping direct eye contact with him, you nibble gently on the guy’s earlobe. Jensen’s eyes flash and narrow, and you’re reminded of just how much he used to love it when you did that to him.

He downs tequila number four, tossing the shot glass down before storming away from the group around him. He disappears towards the back of the club and without thinking about anything, not the cute guy you're dancing with, or the consequences for your heart if you follow him, you run off the dance floor to find him.

The thumping house music is slightly muted as you move through a black velvet curtain into a long, red, wallpapered hallway. The club is infamous for this back hallway and the rooms that lead off of it; the regular club patrons have dubbed it the path of sin because there are constantly devilish things happening back there. As you pass by the first door, you can hear the distinct cracking sound of leather against skin followed by cries of pain and pleasure mingling together. You watch the woman in the next room through the wide open door as she snorts a line of white powder up her nose. 

There’s no shame on the path of sin.

As you near the end of the hallway you’re beginning to think that maybe Jensen just left the club altogether. But then he casually steps out of the last room on your left - looking like walking sex, clothed entirely in black, and wearing an expression that makes your stomach clench in anticipation, desire, and just a hint of fear. Jensen’s anger can be intimidating, even if you know he’d never actually hurt you.

But nevertheless, you’d been working very hard to piss him off, and it looks like you succeeded. 

He steps close to you and you back away; he continues to walk you backwards till you hit the wall opposite the room he just exited. You raise your chin defiantly and Jensen wraps his big hand around your throat, holding you in place. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing out there?” He asks in a low growl. “Who is that fucking guy?”

You shrug your shoulders and attempt a dispassionate expression, but you know Jensen can read the pulsating desire in your body and you’re so wet and needy for him that he can probably smell your arousal. 

Still, your voice is impressively cool as you raise an eyebrow at his audacity. “I don’t think it’s any of your business who I dance with anymore, jackass. Since, you know, you took your name off my dance card.”

Jensen’s bright green eyes are dark with anger and lust, both of which make you want to start squirming, but you’re trying to hold on to a thread of dignity. Then he steps closer to you, pushing his leg between yours and it’s everything you can do not to grind down against the meaty thigh he’s purposely rubbing against your drenched pussy.

His voice is low and wicked as his delectable mouth is hovering just above yours. “I didn’t like seeing you with him.”

“Then I guess you shouldn’t have thrown me away, huh?” You say accusingly as you try to push his hand away from your throat. 

But Jensen just grabs your wrist to pin your hand above your head and tightens his grip on your throat slightly as he rocks his lower body against you, making you finally let out an involuntary groan as you feel the hard ridge of his cock through his custom-tailored, black cotton pants.

A flash of victory sparks in his juniper eyes and he bucks against you again; you bite down on your lip to stifle another heated moan. But Jensen’s voice is full of persuasion and delicious promise and you know you’re lost. “You don’t want that loser you were dancing with, do you, baby girl? You still want me. Don’t you?” 

You try to shake your head no, but he’s not buying it. You both know what you wanted when you followed him down the hallway.

Sin. You’re only here for sin.

He pushes your free hand against his cock, closing your fingers around the rock hard bulge there. “I still want you too,Y/N. Fuck, I want you so badly.” He says in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “I want to remind you what it feels like to be fucked stupid, to be ridden so hard and so good that every other guy is just a pathetic memory.”

His hand leaves your throat so he can yank down your sequined tank top, groaning at the fact that you’re wearing nothing underneath. His mouth is on you in an instant, pulling your tit into his mouth and sucking hard, making it impossible for you to stifle the cry of pleasure that tumbles from your lips.

He moves to your other breast and flicks his tongue across your nipple, making it pucker into a tight bud that he then sinks his teeth into, giving it a sharp tug.

“Jensen!” You cry out, and against your will, the fingers of your free hand push into his long, soft, honey brown locks, holding him in place as he continues to flick his tongue back and forth against your extremely sensitive skin.

He stands up straight and pulls your other wrist up to be trapped against the wall above your head. He holds them easily in one hand, using his other hand to slowly trace his forefinger over your lips.

“I missed this sweet fucking mouth, and all the filthy things you can do with it.” He clamps his hand around your jaw, forcing your mouth open so he can lick up into it “I wanna fuck down your throat till your gagging, and too full of my cock to ever think of anyone else.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and saliva dribbles out of the corner of your open mouth at the memory of his thick, smooth, delicious cock sliding across your tongue and down your throat, and the memory makes you whimper. Taking that as an invitation, Jensen pushes you down to your knees with one hand while the other keeps your hands tightly bound above your head.

He unbuckles his belt one-handed, before popping open the button on his pants and pulling down his zipper with easy dexterity. There’s a fleeting moment where you remember that for all intents and purposes, you’re on full display, in public, and you think of suggesting that you retreat to one of the rooms. But then he pulls his dick out and taps it against your lips and it’s immediately all you can think about.

“Open up, baby.” Jensen coos at you and you don’t hesitate to obey, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. He eases into your mouth slowly, giving you ample time to prepare for him, but your throat still bulges and you still gag around his giant cock as it pushes down your esophagus. Jensen fucks into your mouth unhurriedly and deliberately, sometimes sliding down your throat, and sometimes just hitting the back of it, causing a satisfying gluck, gluck sound as you choke around him.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks, and you know your mascara must be running black over your skin. He reaches out his thumb to smear the make-up further across your cheekbone.

“So fucking pretty, stuffed full of my cock. This throat is mine, this mouth is mine. Isn’t it, baby?” He asks roughly as he presses himself as far down your throat as he can. You refuse to nod, or give him the satisfaction of giving in easily. You don’t want him to think he’s won yet.

He pulls out completely and leaves you coughing, and gasping, precum and spit dripping out of your mouth. He pulls you up by the vice grip he still has on your wrists and crushes you against the wall, his big hand squeezing your breast hard. You bite down on your lip again, stifling another cry of pleasure. 

“Answer me, Y/N. This mouth is mine, these tits are mine, your throat, your cunt, every inch of this body belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

“You left, remember? I thought you weren’t interested in them anymore.” You rasp, the words coming up harshly from your abused throat.

Jensen stares into you, his forest green eyes intense and piercing. “Oh, I’m interested.” His voice is thick with need and possessiveness, but there’s a hint of regret there too. “I want all of you, every atom of you to be mine. I didn’t realize how desperately I fucked up until I saw you out there tonight pressed up against that piece of shit douchebag.”

He pushes his hand up your short skirt and rubs his thick fingers over your soaked panties. “I’m never gonna let you go again. No one else’s hands are gonna touch what’s mine.”

Panting harshly into your mouth, Jensen pushes your panties aside and slips two fingers through your slick. “Now answer me, Y/N. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your body clenches tightly around his invading fingers and you buck your hips forward as he presses easily against your g-spot again and again, tapping out a rhythm of delirious pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Is all you can manage, but Jensen seems to accept it as confirmation and he pulls his hand out of your body so he can yank you into the room across from you. He closes and locks the door and pushes you forward onto the single bed in the corner of the room.

“Hands and knees.” He orders and you comply immediately.

He steps up behind you and you expect to feel his cock push into you, but instead you feel him sink to his knees on the floor behind you and you’re suddenly speared on his hard, thick tongue. His tongue fucks you into your first orgasm, but it doesn’t end there. His mouth is heaven and hell against your throbbing cunt, his beautiful plump lips suck your clit into his mouth and he nibbles and licks at the overly sensitive nub, until you’re screaming out your second and third orgasm in quick succession. 

His fingers push into you, and he scissors you open wide, so his long, velvety tongue can reach deep into your pussy, making you push back against his face and let out inhuman noises of pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. Your fourth orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you flop forward on the bed. No longer able to hold your torso up, you bury your face into your folded arms as Jensen stands up straight behind you.

He rubs his hands soothingly down your back. “That was for me to say I’m sorry for being a jackass and hurting you.” You nod disjointedly in acceptance of his apology.

Then you jolt upright as a stinging slap connects with your right ass cheek. You let out a screech of pain and indignation as he does the same to the left. He delivers two more sharp spanks to each cheek, reddening your ass, and warming it significantly.

You scowl at him over your shoulder and he points his finger at you. “Uh uh.” He reprimands you, eyebrow raised. “That is for your little jealousy stunt that you pulled tonight. I know you only did it to piss me off. Well, this is what happens when you piss me off and make me jealous.”

His hard palms deliver one more simultaneous smack to each cheek, making you bite your lip from the sting even as your core clenches and slick drips down your thighs. He rubs his calloused palms over your skin, easing the fiery tingle he caused, and sweeps his hands down the backs of your thighs, dragging his blunt fingernails back up them and over your ass, making your whole body quiver.

After a minute, he speaks softly, but in a dark voice raging with heat. “Do you want me to fuck you now, baby girl?”

Your words are lost, but you grunt and push your hips back towards him. He chuckles softly and takes the nonverbal cue. You feel him line up at your entrance, but he just teases your hole, pushing in ever so slightly. 

“How do you want me, baby? Hard and fast, or slow and sweet?” 

You nod, because you just need him, but he waits for an answer so you bark out your request. 

“Hard. Fast. Now!”

Jensen growls and ratchets you forward on the bed as he slams into you. “Yes, Ma’am.” He says as he pulls out and slams back immediately. 

He does indeed give it to you hard and fast; his pace is unforgiving and relentless, pounding into you so fast and so powerfully that your knees are burned from sliding forward on the cheap polyester blanket covering the bed. His fingers dig into your pelvic bone, bruising you as he slams you back against him.

The guttural sounds that are coming from deep in his chest as he’s fucking you are what push you over the edge for the fifth time, and as you clench tightly around his cock, you feel him spurting hot and thick deep inside you, painting you, marking you, claiming you.

He collapses on you, and you let him crush you into the mattress. Eventually he slides out of your body and sits on the floor, pulling you into his lap and holding you close. He spreads soft kisses across your closed eyes and the bridge of your nose as his fingers trail soothingly over your breasts, teasing them softly.

“Y/N,” he says softly against your cheek, “I am sorry, you know. I never should have walked away from you. But…”

When he doesn’t immediately finish you look up at him and egg him on with your expression. “But?”

He let out a deep sigh. “You scare the shit out of me, woman. I don’t know what to do with someone like you.”

You frown, trying to decide if you’re insulted or not. “Someone like me?”

He nods.”Yes, someone who can absolutely bring me to my knees with a look, someone who drives me crazy with want, feeling like I need my hands on you 24/7, someone who makes me laugh and makes me happier than I’ve ever been.” He throws his hands up. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

You’re still frowning. “Um…sorry?”

He scoffs. “I know it’s stupid, but I got suddenly terrified that it was all too perfect, you were too perfect, we were too perfect together, everything fit, and everything was easy, and easy things scare me. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop and when it wouldn’t, I think I figured I’d help it along.”

He shakes his head and then kisses you slowly, sweetly, before dropping his forehead to yours. “Y/N, I’m a fucking idiot. Can you forgive me? If I promise to trust this, trust you, can we try again?”

You’d known from the first moment that the idiotic idea had come into your head to try and make him jealous, that this was what you were angling for; a way to show him what he was giving up, and maybe a way to try again.

So, you nod readily and throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, Jensen, we can try again. But promise me that the next time you start panicking, you’ll open your mouth and talk to me about it.”

He nods. “I will. And will you promise me something too?”

“Hmm?”

His hand cups your breast and squeezes making you gasp. “Only my hands are allowed to touch this perfection.” He tips your chin up with his forefinger to make you meet his intense green gaze. “Yes?”

“Fuck yes.” You sigh as he takes possession of your mouth once again.

Easiest promise you’ve ever made.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@deans-spinster-witch

@impalaslytherin

@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

@deanswaywardgirl

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@jensensgirl

@perpetualabsurdity

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@djs8891

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@emily-winchester

@recoveringpastaaddict

@maximumkillshot

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@lacilou

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

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[falling-star-cygnus]

Hi! I just fell on your blog a few minutes ago and then went on to read all your stories about Billy Kid (my favorite character in ZZZ) so I immediatly followed you and now dying to read more because I am starved for good Billy kid stories you have no idea. AO3 hasn't done much yet about him, there are some good ones, but they are also too few yet, maybe in a few months. Hope you don't mind if I flood your ask box with request about him. I love him being in a bad situation and the rest of the Cunning Hares immediatly going into War Mode the moment someone mess with him without their knowledge. Or him just being cared for by the rest of the girls when he's not in a good shape, or injured, or well, you get the idea. Think you could do a story where Billy suffers a blow to the head during a mission which makes him temporary lose his memories about his time with the Cunning Hares so he still thinks he's a feared enforcer in the Outer Ring and thus acts more like the old him, who is very much implied to have been much less nice and more ruthless than his present self given that in one of his trust events he actually sends a death threat to a thug, and also an entire gang of thugs running away from him the moment they recognize him. Meanwhile Nicole, Anby and Nekomata are at a loss at how to deal with a much less nice Billy who doesn't remember them and is clearly more than ready to shoot anyone or anything for just being in his way and them trying to just bring back the Billy they know by trying to show him everything he's been doing with them, and also them worried about how different he was before meeting them and them not knowing him more than that and stuff. Would be interesting, if you want to write it of course. Also, do you plan to maybe put your stories about Billy (all the asks you got about him) on AO3? There is not enough Billy Kid content yet there, and I think you would help immensely, given your stories are all incredible and they are about our favorite android. <3 <3 <3, Of course, no pressure there, I'm just curious and wondering, feels like a shame to only see those stories on tumblr, but I'll totally understand and respect whatever decision you choose. Also love the work you put for your stories about the Billy asks, I drank them faster than a thirsting man in a desert suddently having access to water, I love you so much for doing this the internet needs more Billy Kid stories the android is gonna be my death and I am so ok with that.

RAHHH YOU'RE SO SWEET, WHAT?? -> oml, you fr got me close to tears over here <333

as of right now, i don't have an AO3 account- bc it never seemed like much of a priority to make one, but i might just bite the bullet and start posting over there now that you're hyping them up so much 😭 

of course, i'll still primarily post on here methinks, and i'll definitely write that request of yours too bc i genuinely love that idea [just in a different post to keep this from getting too long] but seriously, you're so sweet. thank you so much and request away!! <3 <3 <3

HC for the Road: When Billy gets super angry, like genuinely needs to blow off some steam before he snaps at the girls, he'll just kick or punch the nearest safely destructible item -> for example: the Hares' could be in a Hollow and they get stuck or something, and Billy's already had a bit of a rough day so he just kicks one of the thick metal pipes laying around to vent and accidentally sends his foot through it [and gets stuck like a cartoon] -> the rest of the Hares' are struck yet again with the reminder of "oh yeah, he's CHOOSING not to break our bones 😃"

[finduilasclln]

lights will guide you home

Oh hey, I wrote a small 6.11 coda. \o/ I miraculously found some time to write right after seeing last night's episode this morning. This is quick and un-betad, and I'll try and tidy it up a bit before posting on AO3 but I wanted to post on Tumblr before I read any other 6.11 codas and decided this one couldn't hold a candle to those others, so... Title so very obviously taken from "Fix You" by Coldplay.

---

lights will guide you home

“A teacher, huh?” Eddie asks, bringing Buck a drink even though Buck insisted he could get it himself. But Eddie has this need to do things for Buck, even if it is just getting him a glass of water. He’s felt powerless for too long. Too long that Buck was in that coma. 

“Yeah,” Buck says, shaking his head slightly. “Not sure where that came from.” 

“It makes sense,” Eddie says as he sits down next to Buck at the dinner table instead of opposite him, needing to have Buck within arm’s reach. “You’re full of knowledge and you’re great with kids.” 

Buck preens a little at Eddie’s words. “Yeah?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments,” Eddie smiles softly because it’s easier than telling Buck all the ways in which he’s incredible. 

“I don’t know,” Buck grins, his fingers wrapped around the glass of water, leaving marks in the condensation. “Feels like maybe I earned a few after what I’ve been through the last few days?”

“Lying in a hospital bed, letting the machines do all the work for you?” Eddie teases, because Buck is fine. Buck is alive. Buck is back here with him. And if Eddie thinks too hard about it he’s going to crack and he doesn’t think Buck needs that right now. 

“Ouch,” Buck says, mock-offended. He brings his hand up to his chest, “Too soon.” 

Eddie reaches out and squeezes Buck’s arm reassuringly, desperate for that connection. 

“Besides,” Buck continues, “There was a hell of a lot more going on than me just lying there.” 

“Like being a teacher? Your brother being alive?” Eddie asks, going off of what Buck’s been saying. 

“Yeah…” Buck says, suddenly lost in thought. 

“Sounds nice though,” Eddie prods a little bit, studying Buck’s face. 

“I - ” Buck starts, then shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. Daniel - I. Yeah, I would have wanted - ” His fingers trace lines in the condensation on his glass. “But it wasn’t right. Maddie and Doug. Bobby. You.” 

“What about me?” Eddie asks carefully, because that’s the one thing Buck hasn’t quite elaborated on. It makes something inside of Eddie’s stomach twist. 

“You weren’t there,” Buck simply says, taking a sip of water. 

“I wasn’t?” Eddie asks, a sudden pang of disappointment going through him. Buck went through this life-altering thing where everything was meaningful and important and Eddie - wasn’t there? 

Buck shakes his head, pressing his lips together like there’s something he’s not quite saying. Eddie wants to push but at the same time he’s not sure he wants to know. 

“You weren’t,” Buck says, contemplative, “Everything was different and messed up. I mean, my parents were great. They were present, they cared, they - they loved me.” 

“Far be it for me to defend them,” Eddie says softly, because Buck needs to know, “But I think they do, Buck. However they choose to show it or fail to show it a lot of the time, they do love you.” 

“I know,” Buck says, nodding as he looks at Eddie. “It was just different in the dream. I thought it was what I wanted, that family, with Daniel. But - ” He takes a deep breath. “Everything else was just wrong. I knew I couldn’t stay there.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Eddie whispers. He doesn’t know to what extent he believes Buck had a conscious choice in coming back to them, in surviving. But either way he’s glad Buck made it back to them. To him. 

“I didn’t have you,” Buck says with a shrug, like he’s aiming for nonchalant but he’s missing by a mile. 

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that, by the way,” Eddie says in a manner that he hopes comes across as teasing, even though he knows there’s way too much truth in it. 

“No, but see, that’s the thing,” Buck says, his hand finding its way on top of Eddie’s on the table. “If nothing else, it wasn’t right because you weren’t there.” 

“Buck,” Eddie whispers, the warmth of Buck’s hand on his grounding him. 

“It could have been everything I wanted, and it still wouldn’t have been - ” Buck takes another deep breath. “Nothing’s right if you’re not in my life.” 

And Eddie knows how that feels, has spent days thinking about the possibility of Buck not making it out of his coma, of Buck not being in Eddie’s life anymore, and nothing about it was right. 

“I thought I lost you,” Eddie says under his breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Buck’s skin against his. “I tried to get your heart beating again, I watched you lie there on a ventilator thinking it was all over. I snuck my son into the ICU because I knew we needed to be together, even if just for one last time, and - ” When he looks up again, Buck’s looking straight at him with wet blue eyes. 

“I came back to you,” Buck says, their hands now a tangled mess of fingers clinging to each other. 

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers, leaning his forehead against Buck’s. He can feel stray tears making their way down his cheek but he just lets them flow. It’s Buck, and he doesn’t need to hide. 

They stay like that for a while, leaning into and holding onto each other. Eddie doesn’t need to know anything else about Buck’s dream if Buck is not volunteering to share. He knows all he needs to know. Buck made it back to him, and all is right with the world again. 

[ghostchems]

the devil’s damsel - cardinal secondo x female!reader - part 3

after one mistake, you end up in the belly of the beast.

warnings/tags: well, secondo has reader now. i would say that this is becoming consensual but there are still some dubious moments. still… manipulation at it's finest!this is a DARK FIC. MDNI! 18+! I MEAN IT! 1.7k words. ao3 link :3 (read part one here/part two here)

You haven’t seen him for a few days. You’d wake up each morning with a few sandwiches and some fruit on plates on the table in your dank room, but there was no sign of him. The thoughts that have swirled around your mind since the last time you had seen him are making you more confused than ever. You are feeling like maybe you miss him… that maybe you can’t wait to see him again. At first, you saw through his attempts at manipulation but now, after feeling what you had felt… he is winning. 

The way his strong hands felt on your delicate skin, his lips moving up and down your body, putting your breasts in his mouth. You bunch the comforter between your legs while you think about him and his mouth. You also think about his swollen cock and how he touched himself in front of you, only to spill his seed onto you. 

It’s sinful. 

And you can’t stop thinking about it.

Your hips start to rut against your fist that has your covers bunched up around it. It feels so wrong but you continue to imagine him as the friction of the comforter against your clit makes you whimper. This is what he wants from you and you know it but it feels too good for you to stop. 

The door swings open and Secondo slams it shut as he briskly walks into the room. The sound has you scrambling up from the bed to sit on the edge of it. You feel the anger radiating off of him but it doesn’t scare you, instead there is excitement building inside you. You hear a glass shatter in the darkness and a snarl rip from his throat. He is incredibly pissed about something, growling to himself as he removes his biretta to run a gloved finger through his hair. You haven’t gotten a good look at him yet but just hearing him has you pressing your thighs together, the ache growing between them. 

Secondo emerges from the shadows, still messing with his light brown hair, his lips drawn into a scowl. You recognize the fire in his eyes and it only makes you squirm, rubbing your thighs together and biting at your lower lip. You’ve never felt this kind of need before, your skin is flushed and you are quite literally burning for him. His eyes trace over your figure, settling on the way your thighs are squirming. His former tongue flicks out of his mouth and licks his lips slowly before he’s on his knees in front of you in an instant, his strong hands forcing your legs open.

The sound that comes out of you isn’t one you recognize, a needy, shuddering gasp as he swipes his fingers along your slick folds. Secondo eyes his now wet fingers before slipping them into his mouth, moaning lewdly at the taste of you while his eyes fall shut. Your heart is thundering in your chest and your cheeks are flushed, a small whimper falling from your lips while you watch him. His eyes open slowly, pupils blown wide as they focus on you. 

“Oh, agnellino, you’ve been lusting after me.” Secondo whispers huskily, his lips twitching into a devious grin. “This is sinful of you, si? Aren’t you not supposed to be tempted by such things?” His hand slips down between your legs again and your legs tremble just from the anticipation. A teasing swipe of his finger again, lighter this time, makes you mewl for him. He lifts his finger and this time hovers it in front of your mouth. “Taste it, puttana.” You hesitate for a moment, a moment too long by Secondo’s count, which leads to him forcefully shoving his finger in your mouth.

You gag on it as it hits the back of your throat and he offers a pleased groan. His finger swirls around your mouth, coating it in your own saliva before he pulls it from your lips. You can’t look away from his smug face, seemingly feeding off you and the way your body is reacting to him. Secondo’s hand returns to between your legs, his lubricated pointer finger pressing firmly against your entrance. He starts to work it inside you, carefully pushing it in. When your hands fly to grab into his shoulders, he pauses for a moment until you’ve relaxed around him.

His finger is all the way inside you now. You’re breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed as he starts to carefully dip it in and out of you. Secondo pushes it inside and curls it in a way that massages a sensitive spot inside you you’ve never known about before and a gasp rips from your throat. Your nails dig into his cassock as he works up to a faster pace, curling his finger with each thrust. 

“F-fuck.” You moan, the tension in your abdomen starts to become unbearable. Secondo is still grinning, his eyes focused on your face and how red it is, how your lips are parted and wet for him, how your sweet sounds are filling his ears. He starts to ease a second finger in and moves in time with the first, the devastating curl of them making you whimper. 

Your arms and legs are shaking, muscles tense as you hold onto him, trying to pull him closer to you. The sensation is becoming overwhelming and you can’t help but feel afraid of how your body is reacting to his fingers. You’ve never felt such pleasure, such need for him to keep going. You find your hips jerking against his fingers, desperate to chase the feeling despite the fear in the back of your mind. 

“That’s it, agnellino.” His voice is husky and low, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he stares into your half lidded eyes. “Let it overcome you. Let it happen, dolcezza. You deserve it — you deserve to feel pleasure.” Secondo is practically hissing at you, his heavy breath wafting against your face. 

A strangled cry screams from you as you reach your peak, your heart thundering in your chest. The way it feels is impossible to describe, the shockwaves gripping your body. Your hazy gaze falls to Secondo who carefully pulls his fingers out of you. He uses his free hand to lightly caress your cheek and then starts to trace over your lips. 

Secondo gives a soft chuckle as he slips onto your bed while you’re still sitting, coming down from the high that you are feeling. Your body is tingly in a way that you’ve never felt before and your head feels light. He’s laying behind you on the bed and his strong arm loops around your waist to pull you down next to him. The bed is small and Secondo is a rather large man, so he ends up maneuvering himself onto his side to give you room. Your head rests against his chest and he slips his knee between your legs. Your breathing has calmed and you start to relax in his arms as his fingers start to skirt underneath your shirt to gently stroke at your side.

Affection. Affection from him. It feels so wrong but in this moment, you are floating and happy to be close to him. No one has ever held you close like this. You’ve never been close enough to another person to allow them to get near to you. Your parents didn’t show you much affection as a child, always trying to direct your love to God and the church. You feel his breath on your hair and you listen to his heartbeat with your head against his chest. 

You know this is just a part of his plan. But…right now, it doesn’t feel so bad. He made you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before — that you’ve never been allowed to feel before. You were shamed and scared into thinking you’d go to hell for things like this, and maybe you will but you can’t help but feel grateful that you are able to experience it, despite the situation. He is making you comfortable with him, making you want him to do these things to you.

“Why were you so angry earlier?” You whisper, lifting your head to look up at him. Secondo’s eyes are softer than you’ve usually seen him and his gaze drifts off to the darkness.

“A-ah… I, eh, cannot remember. I have a bit of a temper, you know.” His grip on your hips tightens and he pulls you closer. You manage a soft snort, very well aware of his temper. “You have no idea, agnellino, how badly I want to take you now.” His knee presses further in between your legs, brushing up against your sex. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to fuck you in the same of Satan?” Secondo’s eyes are on you now, a gravelly growl ripping from his chest. You feel yourself start to grow hot again, your cheeks flushing as he brings his finger to press underneath your chin. “Tell me, agnellino.”

“Y-yes, Secondo.” You gasp, dragging your hands up his chest. His growl turns into more of a pure, his finger traveling along your jaw before drifting to cup your cheek. A shuddered breath leaves your lips and you leave them parted, his face so close to yours that you think he might kiss you. He’s never kissed you on the lips and you’re not sure why. You feel his breath on you and you can’t help but lean in further, your lips almost touching… until he darts his lips to connect with your cheek. 

“Not yet, agnellino. I still have more to show you first.” His voice is heavy in your ear and a shiver goes down your spine. Secondo starts to kiss at your neck sloppily before burying his face against it with a deep sigh. His arms loop around you again and he pulls you in close, his body relaxing against yours. It feels so comfortable, his warmth coursing through you and you can feel his breathing start to slow.

Is he… is he cuddling you?

Your eyes start to feel heavy and it isn’t long until you drift off to sleep. You’ve gone dreamless since you came here, your sleep consisting of nothing but darkness.

When you wake up from your nap, he’s gone and you can’t help but miss him. 

[chrisbangsbf]

Hyunjin/Jisung

Explicit | 910 words

TAGS: semi crack fic, Santa's elves! hyunsung, Christmas magic, double sided dildo, food fucking (literally), magic aphrodisiac (?), rimming, being walked in on by Santa

→ the post on AO3

"I can't believe you've done this," Hyunjin laughs, holding the candy cane dildo Jisung had just created in his hands, turning it over to examine its perfection.

The sweat on his palms is already making it stick to him a little, and he would grimace if he wasn't already so turned on. Rolling his eyes at himself for even considering Jisung's little idea in the first place, Hyunjin hands the dildo back to him.

Jisung had used a little Christmas magic to turn one of their double sided dildos into a real candy cane. All the dildo texture was still there and everything, but it was just... hard, and made of candy.

Unbelievable. He truly has an exceptional mind.

"Hey, you're the one who put the image of you fucking me with a bundle of candy canes in my head to begin with!" Jisung pouts, crossing his arms over the swell of his chest and cocking his hip, and looking positively edible doing so. The little bell on his hat jingles with the movement, and Hyunjin grins with amusement.

"Santa is gonna be pissed," Hyunjin says while pushing his pants down and kicking them off his ankles in a hurry. They probably don't have much time before the higher up elves start trying to find where they've run off to, or even worse, the jolly man himself.

Hyunjin can't even really complain though, especially not when Jisung was thoughtful enough to offer lube with a matching flavor to go along with the candied dildo.

Jisung beams as he watches the other elf strip bare and lay back on the bed, spreading his legs to toy with his own hole eagerly. "You seem more excited than me!"

"It's hot that you're so reckless," Hyunjin groans, hating to admit that the other is probably right. He's excited. "You gonna get your tasty little ass over here or not?" he teases, a mess of giggles bubbling up out of his throat without permission. The smell of peppermint always gets him excited.

Jisung doesn't have to be asked twice. He throws his clothes to the side and crawls up into the bed as well, excitement buzzing under his skin at the prospect of it all. He watches Hyunjin slip one end of the candy cane into his slippery hole with a moan, his face twisting in pleasure. He scoots as close as possible, their balls touching, and lays a sticky hand against Hyunjin's hip. The smell of peppermint is almost dizzying.

"It feels so good," Hyunjin hisses, licking his beautifully plump, glossy lips.

After a few moments of adjusting to the girth of the candy cane, he reaches forward and spreads the lube across Jisung's entrance as well before slipping a couple of long fingers inside. Jisung whimpers as Hyunjin plays with his prostate, sticky fingers stretching him open with determination and accuracy.

When the candy cane dildo finally slips into him as well, he can't help but release a needy whine in response. Hyunjin rocks against him, making the candy shift inside both of them, and it feels incredible. Jisung grabs onto one of Hyunjin's outstretched, lanky legs to ground himself, already almost overwhelmed with pleasure.

Perhaps the magic has made them extra sensitive… or maybe it's like an aphrodisiac or something. They didn't know. Jisung definitely didn't read the fine print.

"Oh fuck, Jisungie. I'm gonna cum," Hyunjin wails, throwing his head back as his hips roll and buck wildly.

The warmth of being inside them, mixed with the wetness of lube has made the candy melt significantly, red stickiness seeping out of their holes and onto their asscheeks, making them messily stick together each time their skin touches. Which is with every movement.

"Me too," Jisung cries out, feeling the candy drag against his prostate in the most perfect way. He's almost delirious with need.

Their orgasms wash over them quickly, cum dribbling out all over each other and making even more of a mess than before. The two let the candy slip out of them before sitting up to kiss each other tenderly, smearing the melted sugar against the sheets even farther.

"Do you think we are on the naughty list yet?" Hyunjin asks, hoping that maybe Santa will punish them for this if so. That man knows way too much.

"I hope so." Jisung smirks mischievously, pushing Hyunjin back against the bed again and crawling up to straddle his face. He chuckles and turns around the other way before dropping down to lick the sweetness from Hyunjin's balls, tongue dragging over his puffy rim. "But if not, we'd surely have to be after this.

Hyunjin hums in agreement and wraps his arms around Jisung's thighs before pulling him down to tongue hungrily at his hole and slurp up the melted candy, eager to continue despite their matching sensitivity.

And with Hyunjin digging his tongue inside him like this, swirling it around, Jisung feels like he could probably cum again. He grinds against his face ever so slightly and lets his own sweetened drool run down to Hyunjin's abused hole from where he's laying, open mouthed and panting, against his taint.

High on sugar and adrenaline, and also probably the magic, neither of them even react to the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer from the end of the hallway… not even paying any mind when the door knob twists and there's a familiar huff of disappointment at the door.

[virgo-dream]

dreamling / explicit / victorian soldiers au / 5 + 1 / completed

Five times Sergeant Robert Gadling woke up to Captain Morpheus Apeiron. One time Morpheus woke up to Hob. A very unlucky battalion finds itself in the command of one Captain Morpheus Apeiron. He doesn't seem particularly worried with their survival, but mostly with ending the war as soon as possible. Sergeant Robert Gadling seems to be the only thing keeping all these young and inexperienced soldiers alive. After one particularly heated fight between them, Hob ends up discovering there is much more to his Captain than meets the eye, but is he seeing Morpheus as he truly is, or through the prism of his own desire? read part one / part two / part three (4.9k+ words) here or on AO3 this fic is part of the 1st dreamling nation fic exchange. find other entries here.

a huge thank you to @littledreamling and @kydrogendragon for the incredible beta work on this chapter. this would not have been coherent without their help.

vi. 

It feels sharp, at first. Like a knife wound, but somehow worse. As it tears through the flesh of his left arm, a burning sensation hits his nerves, travelling from the wound to his whole body, sending pricking needles down his spine. He feels his back hit the ground, and the sensation of having the air punched out of his lungs immediately after. The ground is moist, freshly rained on. There's mud on his jacket.  The world around him seems to slow down; sounds are muffled, and the sunlight becomes overbearing to his eyes, now stinging as much as the…

What is it again? 

–––––

"Duck!"

–––––

"Dearest. Darling. Dove. Dream."

–––––

He can hear footsteps around him. Someone's foot lands right next to his ear, and something cold and sticky lands on his cheek. He doesn’t have it in him to wipe it away, but he still has enough brain power left to realise it’s mud sprinkled on his face. It feels cold, impossibly cold, while his abdomen burns hotter than the sun. His eyes try to focus on his surroundings; he can see pant legs covered in blood and mud, shuffling around him like cards in a deck, every move the ending of a game, the beginning of a new one. It’s hard to keep up with the mess of legs and arms and grunting sounds around him. The sky's the only fixed point in the mess surrounding him; heavy grey clouds crowd the space visible to him. 

Someone covers the sky. He blinks, confused. Someone blinks back.

They scream. 

–––––

"...when this is over. Do you have somewhere to go back to?"

Hob looked down at Morpheus, a puzzled look on his usually cheerful face. Morpheus had been resting with his head on Hob's chest for a while now. He couldn't tell just how long at that point. Could have been a few minutes, maybe a couple of hours. They'd woken up before dawn, as they'd now made a habit of, just so they could spend the early hours of the morning holding each other, pretending they were anywhere but in the middle of a war. 

"What do you mean?"

"Family… a wife? Children?"

"Family, yes. No wife. No children either."

Morpheus stretched his neck to press a kiss under Hob's jaw, a hand reaching to the back of his lover's head to direct his face to meet Morpheus', so they could lock their lips together.

–––––

"–duck! Now!"

–––––

Ringing, loud and shrieking. The awful taste of iron takes over his palate, tinting pearlescent teeth red. Coughing hurts and his nose feels stuffed.

"–stay with me, please stay with me!"

He knows that voice. Knows those eyes, in all of their loving worry. He knows the arms that hold onto him, that picked him up. Knows the sound of bullets ripping out the barrel of the bayonets, so close to him and yet so, so far. He can tell he’s being carried away from the battlefield, but his eyes can only see the one holding him, fiercely running away from the enemy. 

He's scared. They both are.

–––––

Morpheus knew fear intimately. Whether an overwhelming sensation or a slowly filling reservoir, fear was a constant in his life. He was perpetually alert, terrified of turning the wrong corner in the long corridors of his family's manor and walking in on something he shouldn't, being caught with someone, being heard or seen or just… being. Fear was an uncaring mother, a distant father. It was bickering siblings and the cold winter air when all the doors had been closed and no matter how many times he knocked and screamed, no one would open it for him. Fear was a high fever that lasted for a week, curling up in his bed on an empty stomach and hearing his mother's muffled voice outside his bedroom complaining that she couldn't possibly go to the duchess’ soiree with a sick child at home, what would they think of her? 

Fear had made a home inside his ribs, squeezing his lungs and his heart out of their space, making him too small to even breathe. Now, fear had to share its home with a bullet. 

They seemed to get along well.

–––––

"I can't lose you now. I can't lose you. Don't leave me–"

Morpheus feels a hand pressing against the wound on his abdomen, covering it with fabric he believes comes from someone else's jacket. The squeezing feels strong enough to break his ribs, and the pain is so strong it's somehow numbing. He cries out, but the effort only makes the blood rush its way up his throat, coming out in hard, painful coughs. Morpheus' eyes roll back, as if looking inward is less terrifying than facing the damage around him. Another squeeze, this time not as strong, but just as overwhelming.

"Dream. I need you– need you to stay with me, okay? Just until the doctors come to help you. Stay with me. Stay with me, Dream!"

Staying is a difficult concept. He isn’t sure what is being asked of him and before he can focus on Hob's voice or on his presence, he’s already being placed on a gurney and carried away, the safety of Hob's protection torn from him in the blink of an eye. A blur of hands move over his body, pressing and pulling and pinning and squeezing and tearing through him. The pain is nauseating. He feels the prick of a needle in the crook of his arm, followed by the sudden embrace of the god he is named after.

–––––

"You know what your problem is, my lord?"

Morpheus had his arms crossed over his chest, brows knitted close as he watched Corey pace around the little balcony outside his bedroom. It was late, much later than he should ever be allowed to have visitors over at the manor, and Corey's quickly rising voice made him wish he'd never allowed him to step into his bedroom in the first place.

"Corey, enough." Nonchalance wasn't his strong suit, and the fear of being found out made his attempt at authority fall flat, earning him a mocking smile from the boy now standing just a few inches away from him.

"You just let them walk all over you. And then, you want to walk all over me." Corey spoke with the confidence of never having been told what to do, and the arrogance of never having to own up to his actions. "I'm not like you, Morpheus."

Standing up for himself was hard, but having his pride assassinated for no reason was not something Morpheus was going to allow. Hefelt his cheeks warming up, along with the tightness in his chest, and a stinging feeling in his eyes. "You know very well where I stand with my family. If you had any regard for me or our friendship, you would not ask me to put my life at risk in the way you do." 

"Come on! Be a man for once in your life!" Corey's arm curled around Morpheus' waist, closing the little distance still between them. Morpheus was caught by surprise, and perhaps his stomach knew to react before any other part of him, because he felt nauseous at the thought of what was about to happen. As if he knew, in that moment, that Corey would inadvertently sign his death sentence. "Even a woman would have more of a spine than you do."

"Let go of me!"

"Make me."

"Morpheus."

Time stood still as his father's voice cut through the air, striking him harder than his fist could. It was terrifying. Morpheus could feel as his heartbeat picked up its pace, to come to a sudden, suffocating stop. Every blink of his eyes seemed to take longer and longer, and now he was no longer present, but a spectator to the violence of a child unloved, punished for seeking it out in strangers.

–––––

Time moves slowly.

Hob feels as if he can see the passage of time with every drip of sweat running down the nurse's forehead. He watches as soldiers are brought in on gurneys or carried by other officers, battered and bloodied, and listens to the pained screams of men losing limbs to ensure they won’t lose their lives. With every hour that goes by, time seems to stretch its legs and sit down for a nap. No matter how much Hob taps his foot or bites at his nails or curses at the wind, nothing seems to make it go faster. Nothing.

It's infuriating how scared he is. Hob saw the bullet coming from a mile away, somehow. It seemed far away and up close at the same time, like his perception of events had been divided in two; the one who acted and the one who watched. He looked in the eyes of the enemy, with his gun pointed at Morpheus and for some reason he didn't move, he didn't lift his own gun to shoot. All he was able to do was yell "duck" and Morpheus, instead of doing as he was told, turned to look at him. Morpheus' eyes were locked on Hob's the moment the bullet cut through his abdomen, lodged somewhere between his ribs, punching the air out of Morpheus' lungs, light blue eyes rolling to the back of his skull as his body fell to the ground. 

Hob stood still. Time stood still as well, like a disapproving father, with its arms crossed and brows furrowed, saying, in all its wisdom, a resounding I told you so.

Now, all that was left was to wait. Hob isn’t sure he can do it.

At that moment, a nurse comes towards him, with what seems to be a crumpled dirty envelope held in one of her hands.

"Are you Sergeant Robert Gadling?"

"That would be me, yes." Hob stands quickly, adrenaline shooting through his spine the moment his name is called. The nurse doesn’t seem upset or like the carrier of bad news. She also doesn’t seem too giddy. "So, how's the captain?"

"Captain Apeiron is out of surgery and is expected to recover." 

The relief is clear in the young nurse's voice, and Hob is able to let out the breath he'd been holding for what feels like an eternity at that point. He knows that he and she have different reasons for being relieved; for her, letting someone with the surname Apeiron die would be akin to killing royalty, with all the consequences tied to it. For him, losing Morpheus would be like a sort of living death. A life with no meaning. Now, he at least has hope. "That is wonderful news! I don't even know how to thank you–"

"Perhaps you could take this out of my hands, Sergeant Gadling." She hands over the crumpled envelope to Hob. It clearly had been opened a couple of times already, and by the way she spoke, he can tell that she is aware of its contents. "I would not want to have Captain Apeiron's personal correspondence in my possession. I believe it would be better to hand it over to you."

Hob takes the envelope, offering the nurse a gentle, knowing smile. It feels like they share a secret now, like they are partners in a crime Hob is not sure he is willing to commit. There is very little that he wouldn't do for Morpheus. "Ah, yes. Of course. I'll make sure to give it back to him as soon as he wakes." 

"You'll be able to see him soon. I'm sure he'll be delighted by your visit." She gives him a small smile, knowing in its own way. As she begins to walk away, Hob stops her, grabbing her arm gently.  

"I'm sorry I did not ask sooner, what is your name?" It would only be right to know the name of his accomplice. 

"Walker, sir. Rose Walker."

"Thank you, nurse Walker."

Hob is alone once again, now with the dirty, crumpled envelope in hands and curiosity enough to kill a thousand cats nine times over. He knows himself well enough to know that, sooner or later, he would read whatever it was that Morpheus felt was important enough to carry to battle with him. 

He opens the envelope carefully, eyes scanning through the impeccable handwriting of someone he realises Morpheus has never mentioned before. Hob doesn’t know much about his lover's family, save for the fact that they apparently don’t like him very much. As Hob reads the letter, the missing pieces of Morpheus' puzzle seem to fall into place.

Dearest Brother, 

I write with unimaginable pain in my heart. Our younger brother, Perses, has fled from home, leaving mother and father absolutely distraught. Our siblings have not taken to this news well either. Aite might be suffering the most, for mother seems to be taking out all of her frustrations with our brother’s sudden disappearance on her. Eros seems to be most unaffected, even though I know deep in my heart that they’d wished to be the one leaving and not Perses. Eris is known for thriving in the most dire of environments, so I truly don’t worry much for her at present. Pepromeno remains as removed from our family matters as usual. He is perhaps the only one of us who has retained some sanity, even if at times I must question if he even had any to begin with.

Morpheus, I wish not to burden you with this news, but only to warn you of what awaits when you return to us. Perses spoke at length of his grievances with the way mother and father treated you and I fear this might have made our parents resent you even more. Father has given away most of your belongings. I managed to save some of your books, and the box with your letters to Lucienne and Corey. Mother wishes to make your bedroom into a closet for her winter coats.

I’m sure the war is not treating you kindly. I hope you have found some solace in being away from home, at the very least. I was glad to hear of this Sergeant Gadling in your last letter. If he is anything as you describe, I am sure you are in better company there than you would be here with us. You were never the most open when it came to matters of the heart, so I am honoured you decided to confide in me.

Whatever you decide to do after the war, know that I support you, Morpheus, and that I will do whatever is in my power to not let them harm you any longer.

I miss you with all my heart, dear brother. 

Your sister, 

Teleute Apeiron

–––––

Morpheus wakes up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. The light filtering through the thin white curtains was bright enough to have him blinking a few times, and despite the rather comfortable pillow underneath his head, he still felt stiff as a board. The natural instinct was to sit up, to take in his surroundings; this was definitely not his tent. When he did try to sit up, the pain on his abdomen seemingly cut through his nerves, and he regretted the decision with a pained grunt, letting his head that had barely been lifted hit the pillow again.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to take in a slow breath. The pain was also mixed with a general soreness and a bitter taste in his mouth that he can’t quite place. He knows he'd been sleeping, but there is not an ounce of rest in his body. He manages to turn his head to face away from the window, and when he opens his eyes again, Morpheus is greeted by the image of Hob sleeping on a chair next to his bed. Maybe he has died and this is heaven. Maybe, just maybe, Morpheus will be rewarded with his happy ending in the afterlife. Away from all the pain and pressure of being a member of his own family, away from fear and needing to hide. 

His lips curl into a little smile as he watches Hob's chest rising and falling slowly. He  wants to reach out to touch, to close the distance between them. His attempt to do so causes another sharp pull of pain to run through his nerves, earning him another laboured grunt, this time loud enough to wake Hob from his slumber.

"Hm?" Hob startles, taking in a quick and sharp breath as his eyes shoot open. It takes him a moment to focus on Morpheus and it’s endearing to watch as his wary expression softens into a smile. "Dream, you're awake–"

Hob stands quickly, then kneels next to the bed to be at eye level with Morpheus. It makes his chest fill with joy, watching Hob come closer. Morpheus can’t help but smile, even if he feels like his body is falling apart from the neck down. Hob rests a hand on Morpheus cheek, thumb caressing the thin skin underneath his eye gently. Morpheus thinks there might be tears in Hob's eyes. "Dearest, darling, dove… You're okay?" There’s a parcel of fear in Hob's voice, as if he too can’t believe that they are both there, alive and (somewhat) well. Morpheus can hear the shakiness in Hob's voice, feel it on the palm resting on his cheek. It hurts to smile, but no pain is too great if it’s in service of the one he loves. 

"..m.. I'm okay." Morpheus' voice is hoarse, and his throat feels impossibly dry. It nearly sends him coughing just from speaking. He is glad that Hob is quick to reach for a glass of water left on the small table by the bed, bringing the cup to his lips carefully. The feeling of water running down his throat feels like healing, a soothing sensation he can’t get enough of. Maybe that's the reason why he isn’t crying; he doesn’t have enough fluids in him to do so.

“It’s been… a whole day, I think. You got shot in the abdomen, I was able to get you off of the battlefield in time to get us here…” Hob remains close, his hand returning to Morpheus' cheek as soon as he is done with the water. When he speaks again, it’s clear that the dam is about to break; he can’t possibly hold in the relief he's feeling anymore. "...I thought I'd lost you. Morpheus, I– Dream, I thought I'd lost you–" 

"I am not. Going anywhere." Morpheus can feel his own breath getting shaky; just the small strain that nearly crying puts on his abdomen is enough to put him in even more pain. It doesn’t matter. Hob is there with him. He'd survived. Morpheus might have been sent to war so his parents could get rid of him, but he is not going down so easily. Not when he’d found Hob. "...not without you."

Hob's smile feels like the sun. It feels warm and healing, like the entire universe is contained within it, like all the goodness in the world can be found in the crinkling in the corner of his eyes. Morpheus wants to reach out and touch, to bring Hob closer, to kiss him. Suddenly, he feels overwhelmed with emotion, and it makes him cry out, pain both physical and emotional crashing his system. He feels like a child, scared and confused, but no child could experience the feelings taking hold of him. Even with his skin torn and burned, his blood spilled and drained, he feels safer in that hospital bed than he’d ever felt in his own bedroom. And Hob is here with him, smiling and touching him gently as he is born again. No longer Morpheus. Dream.

"–Dream, please, you cannot exert yourself while you're like this. You need to rest, okay?" Hob's eyes darted to the door, checking to see if there was anyone else nearby. Morpheus concludes they are alone, for Hob leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. "Regain your strength so that we can leave here together. We'll never have to step on a battlefield ever again. I’m not risking losing you, not again.”

"What are you suggesting?" Hob must have gone mad while Morpheus was unconscious. He scans Hob’s expression for an ounce of doubt, but can’t find anything but the confidence of a man with renewed faith. It's inspiring, like they can do anything.

"I met a nurse that I think would be willing to help me fake your death."

"Excuse me?" Yes, Hob has gone mad. There was no other explanation.

"Dream, rest. Rest and we'll think of the details later."

Perhaps Dream has gone mad too, for all he does is make an attempt at nodding. As he allows sleep to take him once again, he feels Hob’s lips press a kiss to his forehead.

vii. epilogue

The streets of London are unusually busy this evening. The influx of clients coming in through the doors of the White Horse seems like a blessing after so long without a steady clientele. The morning paper has the news printed in large, bold letters on the first page: THE WAR IS OVER. Soldiers are coming home after nearly three years serving the crown in the battlefield, and it calls for celebration. Nearly every room at the Inn is booked, and the tables are filled with people, eating, drinking and singing their hearts out. Even with the gloomy weather, the city has never looked more colourful and alive.

Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms, Dream takes an afternoon nap. He’s cocooned under a couple of blankets, holding onto his pillow like his life depends on it. Ever since running away from the war, Dream allows himself the luxury of sleeping soundly, whenever he isn’t plagued by nightmares of the battlefield. 

Hob sits on the bed with the covers up to his lap, reading a book, one hand on Dream’s pillow, tangled in his wild, dark curls. He takes a glimpse at the clock on the wall, and leans down to shower Dream’s face with kisses. “It’s time to wake up, dove…” 

“mmh… not. now.” Dream scrunches up his nose, brows furrowing as he tries to pull the covers over his head. Hob is quicker, letting go of his book to pull Dream onto his lap. 

“Yes, now. You’ve slept through the afternoon. Your sister might get here any time now.” 

Dream’s eyes shoot open, and he is quick to sit up, his wild hair falling over his eyes. Hob can’t help but feel an overwhelming endearment at seeing Dream in such a vulnerable, yet comfortable state. Knowing that it's for his eyes only, and if it is up to him, it will remain that way for the rest of their lives.

“I nearly forgot— thank you, my love.” He presses a quick kiss to Hob’s lips, climbing out of bed and heading to look through his suitcase. Even though they have a wardrobe in their rented room, neither of them have ever unpacked their suitcases, in case they need to leave unexpectedly. Tonight, they’ll be leaving the Inn for good. “Are you ready to go?” 

“I’ve been ready for hours now. Couldn’t help it, I’m very excited.” Hob climbs out of bed too, walking towards Dream and taking him by the hand. “Your clothes are folded and waiting for you in the bathroom. Would you like me to run your bath?” 

Dream smiles, leaning in to kiss Hob properly. “I would like that very much, my love.” 

He’s still surprised by the little things Hob does for him. Even though they’ve been living at the Inn for nearly six months now, and his wound is considerably better, Hob hasn’t allowed him to carry anything heavy, or to do any heavier work at the Inn to help pay for the room. While Hob stocked the cellar and did most of the maintenance, Dream taught the innkeeper's daughters to read and helped his wife with the cooking, and even would work as a translator when foreigners came around. The innkeeper has begged them to stay, saying the White Horse couldn’t possibly cope with the loss of its best guests, but even though life at the Inn has treated them kindly, it is too dangerous to stay in London if they want to start over. Legally, Morpheus Apeiron is dead. Teleute will give him forged documents, and they’ll finally be able to move on. 

Dream takes a quick bath, and Hob still stays close by in case he needs help. Some days he can get around fine,  if only a little slower than usual. Other times, he needs to use a cane or even stay in bed. Dream doesn’t mind it. His life is better now than it has ever been before. After he gets ready, Hob carries their suitcases downstairs, setting them down by their usual table. They don’t need to wait for too long.

The air seems to shift inside the Inn when a woman of otherworldly beauty walks in through the door. She wears a dark grey dress, her curly, raven hair styled in the latest fashion. Her skin is as dark as the night sky, and seems to gleam in the light like stars. Her smile is like moonlight, and people can’t help but look at her, even if for a second. It would be wrong to not look at the moon when stepping outside on a clear night. It would be a greater offence to not look at the moon when she graces them with her presence.

Hob is about to make a comment, but the look on Dream’s face tells him everything he needed to know. Of course that can only be Teleute Apeiron. He’s not sure there’s a single person in that family that isn’t extremely good looking. 

“Might I join you, gentlemen?” Her voice is sweet like honey, a nice complement to the full baritone of Dream’s register. Hob stands and reaches for her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Dream remains seated.  Even though he wants to stand and hug his sister, it's best to not call too much attention to them. 

“It would be our pleasure, my Lady.” Hob pulls the chair for her, waiting for Teleute to sit down before taking the seat across from her. Dream sits in between them at the round table, and he can barely contain his happiness. The two people he loves most in the world are right there with him. 

“How have you been, dear sister? You look well.” He can’t hide the emotion in his voice, even though he tries his best to not let it show in his face. Teleute reaches to take Dream’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently. 

“I am well, dearest Daniel. You look well too. I’m glad to see Harry has been treating you well.” 

Hob and Dream look at each other for a moment. Not the names they would prefer, but they know they can still keep their real names in private. That's not a hindrance. It’s their ticket to freedom.

“Ah, yes. He’s great company, I must admit.” 

“I see. I’m sure he thinks the same of you, don’t you, Mr. Gadlen?” 

“I’ll be honest, I have my complaints.” 

–––––

Hob sits on a train booth with Dream, holding him close as Dream sleeps with his head resting on Hob’s shoulder. Teleute has found them a small farm up north, and bought it with the money of a ruby brooch she’d found among Dream’s belongings after he’d left for war. He watches as the night sky seems to clear outside the window and the landscape changes around them, the endless hills of the English countryside looking like a sea of green against the dark velvet of the sky, glittering with stars that seem to guide the way home. Hob has spent a large part of his life in London, but he can’t be more glad to be leaving. Can’t be more glad to have found Dream, to have learned what love truly is. 

“…Hob?” 

Dream’s voice breaks him out of a sort of trance. He looks to the side to find a pair of blue eyes looking up at him with a gentle, honeyed look to them, doused with both sleep and unmistakable fondness. Hob has done that, taken away the rigid, alert look from Dream’s eyes, taken away the fear and replaced it with love. 

“Yes, duck?” 

“…I love you.” 

It still strikes Hob dumb to hear Dream say it, even more when it's completely unprompted. “I love you too, Dream. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life.” 

Dream’s hand reaches for the back of Hob’s neck, guiding him down for a sleepy kiss. “…then get some sleep, for me? We’ll be home soon. Don’t want you falling asleep on me the moment we get there.” 

“Sorry, old habit. I… can’t help but feel like I have to keep watch.” 

Dream knows better than to argue. “I’ll keep watch then. I’ve slept enough today, you did a lot of work at the Inn.” 

Hob also knows better than to argue, and he can't help but feel his cheeks warm up a little at the thought of Dream keeping watch, of Dream taking care of him. “Promise me something then?” 

“Anything, my love.” 

“That from this day on, when I wake up, there will be only your eyes to greet mine.” 

Dream leans in to press another kiss to Hob’s lips.

“I promise.” 

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Til the Cals Come Home (Mini Series) Chapter III: Semen

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Master List: Mini Series

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Summary

You finally speak with the other cows.

Rating: 18+ Words: 3.4K

Trigger Warnings:  Dead Dove: Don't Eat, Non-Con, Drugging, Lactation, Hucow, Kidnapping, Physical Violence, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Beating, Abuse

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The guilt gnaws at you as you lie in your stall, waiting for your breakfast. You feel dirty, used, and disgusted at having enjoyed the milking; something must be horribly wrong with you. 

After a few minutes, a four-armed Latero man approaches your stall. He watches you, a frown on his face, before kneeling to push a metal tray under the stall door. He says nothing, but shakes his head as he walks away. 

You approach the gift, a bowl sits atop, filled with a white liquid, milk. You’re disgusted but starving, eagerly picking up and slurping from the edge of the bowl. It’s more filling than you expected, leaving you quite full and drowsy. 

You assume there are additives to the milk to sustain your nutritional needs. Sleepiness overtakes you, and you move to the piled hay to nap for an hour. 

You wake to Cal placing a rope around your neck, smiling at you. You don’t question it, instead climbing to your hands and knees and following him down the hall to an indoor pasture. Grow lights sit overhead, imitating the brightness of the sun, and nurturing the soft grass growing beneath. 

Cal unties you and shuts the gate behind him, leaving you alone in the decent sized field. It’s hard to believe this entire operation runs so easily in the belly of a yacht. There’s room for probably ten more women between the availability of stalls and milking accommodations. 

You crawl towards the center of the field, basking under the warmth of the lamps, enjoying the contrast of the stall’s cold metal. As you lay back in the grass, you hear footsteps approaching. Cal is walking behind the two other women you saw earlier. 

They crawl obediently, no rope attached to their necks, towards the pasture, avoiding your gaze. Cal opens the gate and they pass through before he closes it again and leaves. Your pulse quickens at the prospect of speaking with the women. Hopeful that they will work with you to escape this strange fate. 

You crawl towards them as they find a spot in the pasture, staying together. “Hey, I’m guessing you don’t want to be here anymore than me.” 

They ignore you, but you don’t give up, hoping they didn’t hear you. “Maybe we can help each other out.” 

The darker skinned woman looks at you and shakes her head, turning to follow the gray-skinned woman. You try to remember what race has gray skin and intricate tattoos, but it alludes you. Both women disregard your efforts, moving further from you. 

“No wait, please, I’m sorry.” They don’t acknowledge you, and desperation causes your voice to break. “Don’t go.” 

They keep their distance for the rest of the day. Every time you move near them, they move further away. It’s heartbreaking and you feel so incredibly alone, leaving you lying in the grass, missing the kindness of your friends at home. 

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Days pass slow and steady as you move through the motions without question. The women are frigid to you, refusing to engage with each nicety you offer, leaving you longing for your time with Cal. He is warm, always smiling and happy to see you. It makes you feel special, almost loved. 

Each day, he milks you, allowing you to pleasure yourself while he touches you gently, offering words of encouragement. Telling you how pretty you are, how good you are when he milks you, always making such a mess on your thighs. 

He still milks you separate from the other women, saying he’ll stop once you fully acclimate, but he’ll miss the time alone together. You aren’t sure what he means by “acclimate” but you assume it’s when the herd accepts you. He’s good to you, but something eats at your insides, a feeling of disgust and repulsion. 

You miss your freedom, when happiness was plentiful and not only found in the precious moments of one person. You hate that the other women won’t accept you, won’t support you with this terrible transition. At least Cal is kind and generous with his affection, making up for the missing safety of friends. 

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Days pass uneventfully and during pasture time, the women rest near you; easily within speaking distance, but you don’t push it. Cal enters the pasture, approaching the herd, leaving the gate open, a symbol of his trust. “Making friends?” 

He kneels, placing an affectionate hand on the tattooed woman’s back, and she flinches, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. “Glad to see it.” 

He shoots you a familiar and charming smile, easing your concern. “I’ve had these girls for a while now. I hope they’ve been showing you the ropes.” 

His hand strokes along her spine, almost looking lovesick. She grimaces, and he ignores her distaste of being touched until she pulls away entirely. Cal’s smile drops; a stern look on his face, turning quick to look at her. She drops her head, no longer resisting his touch. 

“Don’t be like that. There was a time you loved me.” 

There is an obvious aura of tension, and you and the bald woman leave, headed in opposite directions. Cal speaks low and threatening, and you crawl to sit by the open gate. 

You aren’t trying to escape, only wanting to be near the gate so that Cal will give you a special goodbye when he leaves. You’d rather not be a part of whatever disagreement is happening and hope the short walk to the gate will improve his mood enough to give you attention. 

Cal’s loud voice rings out in your direction. “Hey!” 

You turn in a panic to see Cal charging in your direction, your mouth open, trying to explain that you were waiting for him, but he speaks first. “You think you can outrun me? Please! I used to be a Jedi. I am stronger and faster than you.” 

You shake your head, eyes wide in terror, a deep fear of the wild look in his eyes as he closes the distance. He reaches out, grabbing you by your hair, dragging you far from the gate, back into the center of the field. A horrible tearing sensation stretches across your scalp as he drags you, your hands pathetically clawing at his one massive hand. You hear someone screaming but can’t discern who as white hot pain shoots through your body. 

Relief only comes when he throws you to the ground. You lie there, clutching your head, crying and mumbling an apology, trying to explain what your intentions were. 

He ignores you. “You would be wise to stay on my good side.” 

He isn’t listening; he doesn’t understand that you weren’t disobeying him. He’s so mad, and you did nothing wrong. The overwhelm of emotions and pain causes you to scream in his direction. 

“You’re a monster!” 

The moment the words are out, you wish you could take them back. His face makes you tremble, his eyes wide and furious, a sick smile plastered under the hateful expression. He balls his fist and you throw your arms up, trying to protect your face. 

The fist connects with your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. Your hands dropping guard, trying to find the ground to run from the attacker. 

Cal doesn’t hesitate. Another punch lands on the left side of your face, knocking you prone, stunning you. A sickening crack follows as his other hand swings at the right side of your face, splitting your lip. 

Your hands weakly raise to protect from further damage, so Cal releases his rage on your body. Repeatedly striking your stomach until you curl into a ball for more protection. It doesn’t deter him as he strikes your thighs and sides as you sob and scream, begging for him to stop. 

He doesn’t oblige, damaging your body until his fury has passed. Then he stops, looks at his hands, spits on you, and leaves. You lie there, sobbing, a panic attack overtaking you, but breathing so hard hurts and you try to calm your breath. 

Minutes pass after the sound of Cal’s footsteps fades. You don’t move from your spot on the ground, staring blankly at the bright lights overhead. 

Rustling sounds as two bodies near yours, the faces of the nameless women coming into your peripheral. The younger one speaks first. “That is why we do not try to escape.” 

The older woman looks disgusted. “Merrin…” 

“Cere! Do not chide me! She had to learn. We all did.” 

Merrin huffs and leaves the immediate area, taking an air of tension with her. You struggle to sit up, the pain of the beating making you ache everywhere. 

Cere speaks, still looking in Merrin’s direction. “Don’t mind her. This has been hard on us all. Cal did more damage to her than anyone.” 

She places a hand gently on your thigh, and you wince. “Let me check for broken bones. He’ll give you medical treatment if there are any. He always does.” 

You wipe the trickling blood and tears from your face. “He does this a lot?” 

She examines you carefully, taking care to avoid poking at the developing bruises. 

“No, just at the beginning, when our spirit was not yet broken.” 

You allow the examination, grateful for her gentle touch after facing the worst experience of your life. “How long have you been trapped here?” 

“I’m not sure anymore, at least a year, maybe longer.” 

You say nothing, wincing as she presses on your ribs. “Nothing appears broken, but you will have some painful bruising for a few weeks.” 

You nod, wiping your face again. “How did he capture you?”

“It’s a long story.” 

“I’ve got nothing else going on. It’s a distraction from the pain.” 

She sighs and presses her lips together before speaking. “We were like a family once. I brought him on board this ship, rescued him from one of the Inquisitors.” 

You scowl. 

“He dehumanized you and stole your ship?” 

“Yes and no, this isn’t my ship. It belongs to an old friend. The one who keeps our food full of tranquilizers.” 

Merrin’s back is turned, but her head is sideways, her ear aimed at the conversation. “So he turned on you, too?” 

“No, he’s just trying to stay alive.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s an awkward silence, but Cere continues speaking. “Cal brought Merrin on board a few months later. They were quite the pair.” 

Merrin interjects, spitting the words like a curse. “That was before he tricked me!” 

You turn to speak to her. 

“You were…with him?” 

“He did not deserve it. Another Jedi, lying and using my kind for his own benefit.” 

“Another?” 

She ignores your question and continues her story. “He pretended to love me-” 

Cere interrupts. 

“He did love you, Merrin.” 

“No! He did not! This is not love!” 

Cere looks at the all too green grass. “No, it’s not, he was consumed by the Dark Side. By power and greed. That mission was a mistake.” 

You turn back to Cere, trying to keep up with the story they both know. “You fought against the Empire?” 

“Yes, I have seen the allure of the Dark Side, and barely resisted. I understand why Cal fell.” 

Merrin laughs. “I don’t!” 

“You’re a Jedi?” 

Cere returns your eye contact. “Yes, and Merrin is a Nightsister. Our power put us in this position.” 

“How did he manage to overpower both of you?” 

Cere looks at Merrin, who shakes her head. The pair silently agreeing to not disclose the tale, leaving Cere to improvise. “It’s painful to discuss, but ultimately, the same way he overpowered you. Compliments and tranquilizers.” 

“But you have access to the Force, both of you!” 

“The tranquilizers dull our abilities. He had been feeding us small amounts for months before we realized we were losing power. By then, it took one big dose to bring us quite literally to our knees. We are no more powerful than you.” 

Merrin snarls. “He did more than just steal our access to the Force! He stole-” 

A surprising sob escapes her lips. “He put the gift of life in my body.” 

Cere puts a hand up. “Merrin… you don’t have to-” 

“It’s fine!” She takes a deep breath, steadying her breathing. “He sold my child. A few months back. A daughter, a Nightsister… auctioned to the highest bidder.” 

Your jaw falls open, blood running cold at the new information. “Oh! I- I’m so sorry! That’s horrible, it’s evil!” 

Cere nods, eyes glazing over. “It is…” 

“Why? How could he? It was his child, too?” 

“She was…it’s another disgusting way for him to exploit us for money.” 

“What happened to the baby?” 

“We don’t know exactly, but Cal had enough decency to ensure she went to a home. Giving the powerful and wealthy a child when they cannot conceive.” 

Merrin looks distressed, tears welling up in her eyes as she crawls to collapse into the grass, no longer conversing. “I can’t imagine what she’s been through…” 

“You won’t have to imagine much longer. He’ll do it to you, too.” 

“What? Why? She was his…they were…I’m not…” 

“At this point, your relationship with him means nothing. He will breed you.” 

You swallow hard. “Has he bred you?” 

“Ha! I am too old to safely carry a child. He won’t risk losing a cow for one sale.” 

Fury fills your belly at hearing this woman refer to herself as cattle. “We’re not cows!” 

She gives you a funny look, challenging your argument. “Aren’t we?” 

“We can fight back! There’s more of us than him!” 

“Wishful thinking. You’ll learn to let go of hope.” 

Cere also crawls away, leaving you alone, suffering with your fresh injuries. 

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Sleep is an impossible task when every position causes agony. The bruises are a reminder of Cal’s extensive cruelty, and Cere’s words providing a glimpse of your future. You almost cry when you fall asleep and immediately wake from a loud explosion, stealing relief from the pain. 

The ship rocks and tosses you sideways, damaging your aching body further. You rise to your knees, shaking, looking around in confusion, Cere and Merrin joining the search for answers. 

There is yelling from above, gunfire, forcing you to cover your ears. The yelling increases in volume as a slew of armored men descend the ladder at the rear. You can’t see, blinded by the flashlights strobing around the stalls. 

It’s difficult to understand the men, but you hear “daughter” and “found her” and your heart leaps. Your father sent someone to rescue you from this horrible fate. 

The stall doors are unlocked and a pair of muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you, careful to not hurt your delicate body. You see Cere and Merrin being saved as well, both crying tears of joy at being freed from this hell. 

The man jostles your body to climb the ladder with you, an irritating sensation. He keeps repositioning you, and you grow frustrated, hissing at him to stop. 

He doesn’t stop, instead forcing you back on all fours, not logical for climbing.You whine and he shushes you. 

Your eyes flutter open, a thin layer of hay separating you from the metal floor as your body positions against your will. The room is still dark, no flashlights, or yelling, or explosions, just the roar of the ship’s engine. 

Muscular arms still envelop you, mounting your body, holding you up. “Baby, I messed up. You didn’t deserve what happened earlier.” 

The sleep is fogging your brain, nothing makes sense. “What- Why are you here?” 

Cal’s low voice responds. “Shh, I felt so bad. I needed to see you.” 

You shake your head, trying to rationalize the dream. “I was free…” 

Cal rubs his nose in your hair at the back of your neck, his arms still holding you steady. “Gonna make you feel good, feel better.” 

The devastation of realizing it was all a dream hits you like a brick wall. “No-” 

A hand disappears from your body, and you feel him fidgeting with his clothes. “Yes, you’re so soft. So young.” 

The engines muffle the dull sound of vibrations and you jump as Cal presses the familiar vibrator to your clit. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist, forcing pleasure. Despite your resistance, your body responds, remembering how much it enjoys this device, how you always feel good when it is on. 

“Cal…” 

His other hand holds you steady, his nose digging into your hair to inhale your scent as he mounts you. “Good girl. Always so wet for me. I wanna make you feel so good.” 

He continues to nuzzle your neck, whispering desperately into your ear. “This night and many nights to come. Do you want that?” 

He rhythmically rubs the vibrator on you, just as he has seen you do while being milked. You let out a low moan, trying to remember what he did to you earlier. But the pleasure shoots through your body, begging you to forget. 

Cal interrupts the war in your head. “Let me hear you, baby.” 

Your body wins. “Yes.” 

Cal lets out a soft chuckle, grinding against your rear, his movements needy. “Good…good…fuck,…good girl. I need you to forgive me for earlier. Do you think you can do that for me? Please, baby.” 

You freeze at the request. Forgive him? Not possible. What he did was absolutely unforgivable. 

He continues to rub the vibrator against you, humping your body against it. You whimper at the heat of the moment, reveling in his touch and desire. “Please, I need to hear you say you forgive me. I won’t do it again. I promise.” 

He needs you; he wants you; he feels bad for the mistake. It was a misunderstanding, your fault for moving too close to the gate. You’re still so new here. No wonder he thought you were trying to escape. 

You need to build more trust with him, then he won’t accuse you of betraying him. He even came to you tonight to apologize. He didn’t wait until tomorrow, allowing you to wake afraid of him. This is an attempt to do better. If you can’t forgive him for this, how can you expect forgiveness for what you did to Allory? It’s the right thing to do.

“I forgive you.” 

Cal lets out a sigh of relief, his humping becoming more tender as he places a series of kisses onto your shoulder blade. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m gonna fuck you tonight. I want you to hold my cum for me.” 

A lump forms in your throat, remembering Cere’s words, that Call will breed you. His pants slip down and his firm erection presses against your ass. 

“Cal…I don’t know.” 

You can forgive him for earlier, but you don’t want to lose a baby. His desperation makes you feel drunk, and you want to hear him praise you more by being obedient. 

Cal breathes heavily, his low voice rumbling in your ear. “You can do it, gonna take my seed so good, make us a baby. I know you can do it. I want to see you all swollen because of me.” 

You feel the tip of his cock press at your entrance. Your soaking hole allows him to press forward, stretching your cunt until he takes up every inch. “Yeah, fuck, that’s it baby, tell me you want this. Tell me you want to be full of my cum. Doesn’t it feel good?” 

You whine, the fullness exposing your clit to the vibrator, shooting sparks of pleasure through your body. “Yeah…” 

He ruts into you, claiming your body under his. “Say it again baby, I need to hear that you wanna be full of my seed.” 

You are struggling to resist, high on the sensation of being fucked after weeks of cumming around nothing. He’s so big and you’ve never had a fucking like this. The stretch is perfect and you want more, knowing that if you say yes, he’ll fill you like this every night while trying to get you pregnant. An orgasm builds in your belly and you want to squeeze the cum from his cock. 

“Cal, please, fuck me, fill me.” 

His thrusts become harder, slamming into your cervix and breathing heavy in your ear. “Fuck. Good girl. Gonna get you pregnant.” 

It’s animalistic, the way he takes you, fucking you hard against the vibrator. Pressure builds and you cum, squeezing everything tight, pain leaving your body from the earlier beating. Your tight pussy sends Cal over the edge. He cums deep into your womb, filling you, praising you. Once he collects himself, he lays you down in the hay and leaves, locking the stall door behind him. 

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Next Chapter

[naughtyneganjdm]

Arcadia - Chapter 12

Summary: With Joel being injured, Negan works with him to try to get him better, but it's not working the way he planned. Y/N tries getting romantic with both Negan and Joel again, but when something happens, she starts to realize that they might have an unexpected problem on their hands.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Joel, Lucy, Nolan, etc.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut, etc.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29577489/chapters/110970990

Notes:  This may not be my most popular story and I understand that, but I really loved this story and had this planned out very extensively. I know it's been a very long time since I wrote it, but life got really busy and I had to drop a lot of my stories for quite some time. I'm sorry for that. If you read this, thank you. If not, that's okay because this story is important to me and that's really what matters. I promise I will try to start giving attention to my stories again so I can hopefully finish a majority of my stories before the end of Dead City. Sorry I kind of just dropped my stories for a while.

While Negan had been a gym teacher and a sports star himself in the past, those two jobs were nothing in comparison to the work he had to put in while trying to help Joel get better from his injuries. Complicated was an understatement. It had been a few months since they had found Joel and while most things were healing with Joel, his leg was still a mess. The fractures he had gotten with his leg were still healing and he was still having all kinds of trouble with moving his leg. Every day, Negan attempted to do exercises with Joel to help get the feeling back in his leg, but it didn’t seem to be helping. It didn’t stop them from trying though.

“I don’t get this,” Negan huffed while he helped to try to work out Joel’s leg. Joel was stretched out on the ground, his arms covering his eyes while Negan kept up with the same routine he would do daily. “I feel like by now you should have some kind of feeling back in here. Are you stopping yourself mentally?”

“I could have this for the rest of my life Negan,” Joel grumbled, his southern drawl thicker than normal showing that he was frustrated with Negan’s comments. “I think it’s time we just start to acknowledge that I’m probably not going to be able to feel or move my leg again without your help. I reckon the sooner we realize that, the better. I’m going to be gimpy for the rest of my life beating people with my cane.”

“While the imagery is fucking amusing, that’s not going to be the case,” Negan grunted, his hand squeezing over the fleshy part of Joel’s thigh making Joel growl. “You feel something?”

“Yeah, I fucking ache everywhere Negan. That hasn’t changed. I pretty much feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and I’m just doing my best to pull myself back together,” Joel explained with a heavy sigh knowing that while he may have not been able to feel his leg, his body was incredibly stressed and worn out after his workouts with Negan so he reckoned they hurt. “Maybe you just need to give up.”

“Maybe you just need to shut the fuck up and work harder,” Negan’s hand smacked firmly over Joel’s thigh making Joel cry out in agony and he swiftly moved away from Joel watching Joel’s back arch up. “I am so fucking sorry. I’m sorry.”

Faint snickers started to fall from Joel’s throat when Negan tried to tend to him and help him making Negan’s face twist in confusion, “What’s so funny?”

“I can’t feel my leg Negan. I was fucking with you,” Joel lifted up on his elbows reminding Negan of their general problem that they were having right now. Negan’s eyebrows furrowed when Joel confessed he was just faking Negan out. “You could probably stab me in the leg and I wouldn’t feel you.”

“You fucker,” Negan hit Joel in the gut making Joel wince this time when he curled up and wrapped his arm around his ribs.

“Why would you do that? I actually broke my ribs,” Joel reminded Negan making Negan swiftly lower down in attempts to help Joel making Joel laugh again with how worried Negan seemed to get over him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m fucking with you again. The ribs healed after like two months. I still get sore, but they are…”

“What the fuck Joel,” Negan this time gave a pretty firm hit to the center of Joel’s stomach making him groan out for real this time. “I hope that one hurt because the next one is going to be me punching you in the balls.”

“Nope, definitely felt this one,” Joel rolled onto his side, his eyes closing tightly while Negan paced before him. Joel took a few minutes to gain back his breath that had left his lungs after Negan had hit him that last time. “You would never hit me in the balls…”

“You wanna bet?” Negan’s eyebrow arched up, resting his hands on his hips when his pacing came to a stop. “I don’t need your dick to work in order to have sex with you. I may like being the bottom, but I can make do with what we have.”

“Point taken,” Joel covered his groin making Negan laugh when Joel protected the goods from getting injured.

“You know, you were my favorite until the last few weeks. You were the nice one and now you’re fucking grumpy all the time,” Negan blurt out making Joel roll his eyes and drop his head back against the ground. “Your sassy all the time now.”

“First of all, I might be the nice guy, but I’ve always been grumpy,” Joel reminded Negan, lifting his head up from the ground to stare out at Negan with his thick jawline flexed. “And stop talking about favorites. You’re going to be the one losing your balls if Y/N hears you. It makes her feel bad and you know that.”

“She’s not here,” Negan lowered down pressing in over Joel, balancing his weight over his lover making Joel sigh loudly. “You pretend like you don’t like to hear stuff like that, but you fucking do. You know it. You want to be the person that everyone loves the most. You like being the rock in this family. You want everyone to love you the most.”

“Oh, I do?” Joel’s eyebrow arched in curiosity with the warmth of Negan’s breath over his lips. “Tell me more about what I want.”

“Well,” Negan’s palm lowered between them to cup Joel making Joel let out a tense breath. “I’m sure right now you would much rather your cock in my mouth than doing this physical therapy session with me.”

“Well no shit Sherlock,” Joel teased, his hips arching up toward Negan’s touch making a rumble of a laugh fall from Negan’s throat. “I guess I should be thankful it’s only my leg and foot I can’t feel. I think it enhances the feeling on my co…”

The sound of the door starting to pull open was heard and Joel swiftly slid back on the ground to get away from Negan knowing that it could have been one of the kids at the door. When it was Y/N that was there, Joel let out a relieved breath and dropped his head back on the grass.

“Negan, did you move the peppermint for the tea?” Y/N called out to Negan who got up on his knees, resting back while he thought things over. “I’m just not feeling great and I can’t find it.”

“I think it’s in the furthest cabinet on the right on the top shelf babe,” Negan winked seeing her smile and give him a thumbs up when she headed back into the house. Negan took a minute to think about what she had just said while Joel raised up on his elbows.

“What?” Joel realized that there was something on Negan’s mind after she had mentioned needing the peppermint tea. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Negan shook his head and cleared his throat, getting up slowly from the ground. Patting his hands off on his pants, Joel was giving Negan the side eye and Negan shrugged his shoulders. “What?”

“I know that look. Something is wrong,” Joel responded with a shake of his head, trying to brace himself up. “What is it?”

“I mean, she’s feeling sick a lot lately. I see her hiding it, but she’s dizzy a lot and I just…” Negan took in a long sigh, pressing his hands in over his hips. “I’m worried about her.”

“It might just be the stress of me,” Joel suggested making Negan frown and shrug his shoulders again dramatically. “If it keeps happening, I’ll try to convince her to see the doctor. Just pay attention and if it keeps happening, we will say something. You are right though. On Lucy’s birthday, she didn’t really want to eat anything. Usually, we all love her cake and you were there to make some good food.”

“Right?” Negan breathed feeling a bit worried when he thought about everything that had been going on. In the months that Joel had been injured, they had Lucy’s birthday and Nolan’s. Those were two of the really good days that all of them had, but Joel wasn’t wrong. Shaking his head, Negan didn’t want his fears getting the worst of him when he looked down at Joel again. “We need to get you moving again because it was Nolan’s birthday wish to get you better.”

“We have to be realistic Negan, I’m trying, but if my body isn’t capable…” Joel frowned looking down to his injured leg showing that he could roll it a bit because he still have movement in his hip, but other than that there wasn’t much more that he could do. “I would do anything for that boy, y’know that.”

“I do, but I still don’t feel like you’re trying hard enough,” Negan reached for Joel to help him up from the ground. Giving Joel his cane, Negan stretched out his lengthy body and groaned. “We need to get you to start trying to not count on that cane to move Joel.”

“Oh yeah? How do you suggest we do that?” Joel balanced his weight, a loud grunt falling from his throat when he hit the ground hard. Negan had kicked his cane out from underneath him. This time Joel was actually hurt and Negan realized he could have done that better after he let out an uncomfortable breath. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well, what are you going to do if I’m not here? How are you going to get up?” Negan reached for Joel’s cane making Joel hiss out when he pushed himself up into a seated position showing that he had actually scratched himself up a bit in the fall.

“You do realize my leg is still healing, right?” Joel was actually frustrated this time and Negan could see it. “That was really stupid. It could have hurt my leg more.”

“After I did it, I realized how fucking idiotic it was. Yes,” Negan swung Joel’s cane about watching Joel reach out for the cane as if demanding it from Negan. “Nope. You have to get up on your own Joel.”

“Damn it Negan, give it back,” Joel snapped from where he was laid out on the ground, his face angry and his southern drawl full of venom. The sound of the door opening was heard again and it was obvious that Y/N had seen Joel’s fall which drew her outside, but Negan held his hand up to make her wait. A disappointed breath fell from her throat when she realized this was one of Negan’s ploys. “I can’t move without the fucking thing.”

“At some point, we’re going to have to get you to try to put some strength back on that leg so you won’t need this,” Negan spun the cane around watching Joel trying to pull himself up, his face turning red when he did it. “Try and get up on your own.”

“I can’t move my fucking leg,” Joel snarled and Negan looked to his injured leg making Negan shrug his shoulders dramatically and hold his arms up in the air. Trying to pull himself up again, Joel let out a sound that made it seem like he was in excruciating pain when he dropped back in the grass and covered his face with his large hands. “You are the worst physical therapist. Who the hell takes away a disabled man’s cane so he will fall on the fucking ground?”

“Listen, you’re dropping a whole lot of fuck bombs on me, but you’re not trying to get up here,” Negan pointed out making Joel’s hands drag down over his face to glare out at Negan. “What happened to the master of meditation. Most people would have not lived through what you did out there Joel. You taught me that meditation helps you turn your brain off to the pain. You got hurt and I know you’re in pain, but you’re the one that was so big on meditation. Turn off those pain receptors and get up.”

“I can’t even meditate right now Negan. I can’t move my leg like that,” Joel threw his hands up in defeat before shaking his head. “I don’t even know how I lived through that attack Negan. Twice I should have died and I didn’t.”

“No, I don’t like that attitude. You fought. You showed me where you were on the map. Remember? We marked the areas for people to avoid The Empty when they went out on future runs. I know how far you made it on death’s door Joel. Your leg didn’t work then, but you made it miles on your own bleeding out,” Negan reminded Joel how he had found him originally when he was injured. “Do you remember what you told me when I found you? I couldn’t believe you made it that far and you told me that you kept thinking of one thing.”

“My family,” Joel grumbled under his breath, his cheeks flushing over with red when he felt bad about himself and the person he had become. He went from being potentially the strongest person in Arcadia to being disabled because of his leg. “I wish I could control this Negan.”

“I think your brain is holding you back,” Negan pointed at his head, clearing his throat with an uneven breath. “You don’t think you deserve to be happy. We talked about this. You think because of what you did to escape that you don’t deserve to be here. You’re depressed. You’re letting that control your mind. But you did what you had to in order to survive and get back to your family. Now, we just have to get you back to somewhat normal so you can continue to protect your family.”

“They still have you Negan,” Joel reminded Negan with a frown, lowering his head to look down at his leg. Hitting at his leg made Joel let out a frustrated sound while Negan lowered down to stare out at Joel with a shake of his head. “I have been trying Negan. I’m trying.”

“I am nowhere near as strong as you are. I would have died out there if it happened to me,” Negan suggested, his hazel eyes suddenly very serious seeing that Joel was getting emotional over the fact that he felt useless. “I know you better than anyone Joel. You still have nightmares about what you did. I can tell because every night you shake. Y/N might think your nightmares are about what happened to you, but it’s what you did to those people. Those people who wanted to kill you and your family. Stop letting them control you.”

“Negan,” Joel went to say something, but his emotions were still high and he lowered his head. “I wish I could blame that when it comes to my leg.”

“It’s part of it. You aren’t allowing yourself to get better. Think about your family. Think about Lucy, Nolan, Y/N, me…” Negan slowly stood up watching Joel’s forehead crease while his eyes followed Negan’s movements. There was a sadness and a sense of anger in Joel’s eyes while he stared up at Negan. “You can be mad at me all you want, but you know I’m right. So, get up.”

“I can’t you dumbass,” Joel snarled at his husband managing to slide back on the grass trying to pull himself up, grimacing while he struggled to even get himself up to his good knee. “What part of I can’t move my leg doesn’t register in that brain of yours?”

“You’re being very fucking cranky,” Negan pointed his finger out spinning it in the direction of Joel noticing the way that Joel’s green-hazel eyes were locked on him with a sense of rage. “If you’re not going to be able to use that leg again, then you are going to have to learn to make yourself useful without it.”

“Give him his cane back Negan,” Y/N finally called out from where she was standing on the steps making both men turn their heads to look at her. Joel lowered his head embarrassed that she was there and he stroked his fingers through his short hair. Although it was amusing that both men had the same haircut previously, Joel had cut his hair on his own after a few people called him Negan. Now he had a similar haircut that was close to what he had when she had first met him.

“No,” Negan shook his head, making Y/N walk out to them and he kept a firm hold of the cane. “He doesn’t have faith that he will get better so he never will. If he has a reason to keep moving then he will start having faith.”

“You know just as well as I do that the doctor said there was that chance that my leg would never move again,” Joel reminded Negan who continued to wait for Joel to try to move. Bracing himself, Joel started trying to pull himself up attempting to pull his leg with him to use it as a brace. “Negan, give me the damn cane.”

“Come take it from me,” Negan held it out for Joel watching Joel’s face scrunch up in frustration. Joel’s face was turning red while he tried using his arm strength to pull himself up, but ultimately Joel just fell back on the ground in defeat. After giving up, Nolan had obviously spotted him on the ground when he was passing the front door and Negan’s son stepped out on the porch with a sense of worry flooding his features.

“Dad?” Nolan muttered from the stairs seeing that Joel moved his arm that was resting over his eyes to see the worried expression over Nolan’s features. “Do you need help?”

“Shit,” Joel let out a saddened breath knowing that having his son seeing him fail was not something that he wanted Nolan to see. “I just needed a breather, Nolan. I’ll be okay.”

“I can come help you,” Nolan stepped down the steps, his concerned eyes gazing over Joel. Joel looked conflicted now that he had both Nolan and Y/N watching him ultimately be a failure and not being able to help himself. “I know you can do this, but I know that it also has to hurt. So I understand if you can’t.”

Joel gave Negan one final glare before grabbing his injured leg to place it a certain way before groaning out pushing himself up onto one knee. Using his strength, Joel shakily stammered to his feet, falling forward only to be caught by Negan who gave him a proud smile, “See, I told you that you could get up.”

“That hurt like hell,” Joel whispered trying to grimace through the pain when he reached for the cane that was in Negan’s hand. Bopping Negan on the head with the cane he heard Negan huff out when Joel limped over toward Nolan. “I’m sorry buddy.”

“He really just hit me with his cane like a ninety-year-old man,” Negan pointed out with a surprised expression when Y/N moved in beside him. Nolan was helping Joel toward the steps of the porch to get him to sit down.

“Probably the best use he’s found with that cane,” Y/N declared with a frown when she reached out to stroke her hands in over the center of Negan’s chest. “You kind of deserved worse than that. That was quite malicious what you had done.”

“He was able to get up, wasn’t he?” Negan whispered, pulling her in closer to him so he could wrap her up in his arms. Negan nuzzled his nose in against the side of Y/N’s neck before lifting his stare to see that Nolan was hugging Joel who seemed lost inside of himself. “He needs to be persuaded the hard way to fix himself Y/N. A lot of what is going on with him is mental.”

“What does that mean?” Y/N lifted her head to look up at him with a worried stare.

“It means…” Negan knew that Joel told him everything about what happened with those in The Empty that Joel killed, but Joel never told Y/N about it. There was no way that he could just blurt it out to Y/N because that wasn’t his place to tell anyone what Joel told him in confidence. “He just thinks a lot about what happened when The Empty took him. He needs to think about his family. Family is the one thing that persuades Joel to do things. You saw how he reacted when Nolan came out. He did it for him. Joel needs family to help him get strong. It was an asshole thing for me to do and I know that, but it worked. The power of persuasion when it comes to things you love is really big.”

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N saw the way Joel was cuddling Nolan in close to him and it was visible that Joel was emotional about what he had just done, but she didn’t know if what Negan had just done actually helped him or not.

----

“Hey you,” Y/N moved into the bedroom after Joel had asked Negan for help going up the stairs to rest for a while. Joel was laid out at the center of the bed, his arms folded behind his head while he stared up at the ceiling. It was obvious that he was deep in thought. When he heard her, his head lowered and his green-hazel eyes met hers. “You okay?”

“Where are Negan and the kids?” Joel used his arm strength to pull himself up into a seated position on the bed, pressing his back against the headboard.

“Negan is doing some work around the farm and they wanted to help him,” she informed Joel, closing the door behind her and heading over toward the bed to sit beside Joel. It was the first time she had really gotten to have some alone time with Joel in quite some time so she took it. Negan asked if she wanted to help with the farm work, but her mind was on Joel and how he had been feeling lately. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m here,” Joel responded with a sigh, shrugging with his answer. “I’m kind of a mess.”

“You’re my favorite mess,” she reached out to brush her fingers into Joel’s short hair, letting out an amused breath that made him tip his head to the side. “I miss your longer hair.”

“You actually liked that side sweep, huh?” Joel lifted his hand up to wrap his fingers loosely around Y/N’s wrist, caressing the pad of his thumb over her pulse point. “I’ll try and let it grow out. I just didn’t like the cut that Negan gave me. Him and I are completely different sizes, but people were always calling me Negan because of the hair. I’m okay with him and Nolan having the same haircut, but it just feels weird with me having it. It was an edgy cut and I’ve never been…like that. Negan and I are very different…”

“No shit…” she breathed out with a wink making Joel laugh before sighing and hooking his fingers with hers. “Are you okay with Negan doing physical therapy with you? I realize he’s a bit of a brute and things would probably be better if the doctors were actually making time for you instead.”

“Negan is perfect, he just gets on my nerves and that’s probably a good thing,” Joel informed her with a simple shake of his head. Joel knew that Y/N was nervous about how things were and he didn’t blame her, but he couldn’t help getting angry with Negan sometimes just because he wasn’t used to that kind of behavior. Joel knew Negan was good for him though. “I need someone to give me shit and give me a hard time. Not someone who is going to baby me. Someone who coddles me isn’t going to help me. Negan understands that, which is why he is perfect. He wants me better. I know that. I just get grumpy sometimes, especially when I’m in pain.”

“Oh, you get grumpy sometimes?” she teased him with a mischievous smile that made Joel roll his eyes and snicker. “I wouldn’t know that. It’s not like I’ve been married to you for over twelve years or anything.”

“Oh hush,” Joel waved his free hand about. “I agree that some of Negan’s choices are questionable, but they are effective.”  

“Lay down,” she instructed making Joel tip his head to the side and she spun her finger in the air multiple times. “You listen to Negan, now listen to me. I’m going to give you a massage. I think you deserve it after everything you’ve gone through today.”

“Oh, well then I’m okay with that,” Joel declared sliding down in the bed, letting out an awkward breath when she crawled in over him. Swallowing down hard, Joel’s lips parted and he let out a sigh when she started rubbing his shoulders. There was definitely some pain in the shoulder he had been shot in, but he assumed it would be sore for a majority of his life. “You know, I didn’t think you would be mounting me in order to give me a massage.”

“Typical male,” she rolled her eyes while caressing down over the center of his chest before back toward his shoulders again. It made Joel’s eyebrows bounce up and he looked down between them to see that her hips were hovering over his. “Turn off the horny for a minute.”

“Right…like you didn’t know that crawling in over me like this wouldn’t get my mind thinking things,” Joel snorted, his eyebrow arching in curiosity while her caress slid down over his abdomen. A frown tugged at his lips when she adjusted her positioning so she was no longer over him and she was caressing over his injured leg. “That was rude.”

“I was actually just trying to make you feel better,” her nose wrinkled and she smirked while she caressed over his body trying to work out the tight muscles. “I think he’s working you too hard.”

“Sometimes I think he should work me harder because I need to progress better. It’s been a few months, I should be better off than this. If I don’t start to get some feeling in my leg, there is a strong chance that I may never get it back. I don’t want that,” Joel acknowledged with a wince when she slid her fingers further up over toward his hip making him smirk. “That’s where I was stabbed and I do feel that.”

“I’m sorry,” she pulled back, pushing at the material of his sweatpants that he was wearing to look at the healing flesh that was there from where he had been stabbed. At this point it was mostly just a scar, but she could imagine that it was definitely sensitive for him. “It looks okay.”

“I’m scarred to high hell,” Joel frowned knowing that he had already had that major scar on his abdomen and back from before, but now he was covered in them. “Might as well just label me as Scar because I probably have more than anyone here.”

“And you’re still incredibly sexy,” she hushed him continuing to rub down over his injured leg. After a while, she started to notice that there was a tent at the center of Joel’s sweatpants and her eyes lifted to his. “Are you sure you don’t feel anything?”

“I don’t,” Joel was honest, his chest rising and falling heavily when he saw that her eyes were focused over the center of his pants. “Yeah, we found out that my dick still works and I’m really sorry, but I see you caressing my leg like that after you were just mounting me…the blood just started flowing there. I’m sorry. I might not be feeling you touching my leg, but my mind is thinking…things and I’m so sorry dear. I’m a man and I’ve not really had a lot of sex in the last few months. Not that that’s a good excuse.”

“No, please don’t say I’m sorry. I’m glad that I can still, well…” she smirked continuing to caress over Joel’s thigh making him grumble and cover his eyes. “I’m glad that I can still make you hard. The two of us haven’t slept together since that night at the apartments. So I wasn’t sure if I could still make you get an erection.”

“Obviously,” Joel chuckled pulling his hands away from his eyes, raising up on his elbows. The facial expression he had made it seem like he thought she was insane for even thinking that he wouldn’t be turned on by her. “The day before I got hurt you rode the hell out of me. I mean, that was some of the best sex I’ve had in a very long time. You took control, you knew what you wanted and shit it was incredible. Why wouldn’t you get me hard?”

“I don’t know, I have bad self-esteem sometimes,” she shrugged, caressing her hands up and over Joel’s hips making him suck in a sharp breath. It had been an exceedingly long time since she had slept with either Negan or Joel. They were all just so busy that by the end of the day they were all so exhausted and they just crashed once they finally had alone time. “You know me.”

“I do know you. You are the sexiest woman I have ever known, you should never feel bad about yourself. You are the best mother, the biggest badass and so beautiful,” Joel growled noticing the way that her fingertips slid in underneath the waistband of his sweatpants to caress at the flesh that was right beneath it. “I guess I should be happy that part of me still works. I was worried at first that I wouldn’t be able to feel things or get it up.”

“Sit up,” she ordered Joel and without question he did what she asked of him. Reaching for the t-shirt that he was wearing, she pulled it up his body and tossed it aside on the floor. Placing her hand at the center of his chest, she urged him to lean back against the bed. Joel’s breathing grew louder while she palmed down over the center of his chest and over his lower abdomen. Joel’s eyebrow arched when she focused on the scars that were left over his chiseled form.

“You feel bad for me when you see my scars,” Joel pointed out with a loud swallow knowing that he was still self-conscious about them. “I’ve lost some of my muscle definition and now I’m covered in scars. You and Negan always loved my chest and my arms.”

“I love every part of you,” she hushed him, lowering down to kiss over the scars that were left over his flesh. Taking her time, she could feel Joel caressing over her shoulders and it made her smile. “You act like you’ve got a dad bod and you don’t. If anything, your chest and arms are still exceedingly nice because you are bracing the entirety of your strength on them. But even if you had a bit of a belly, which you don’t, I would still find you crazy sexy.”

“You’re too good to me,” Joel lifted his fingers, to caress over her jawline when taking in a sharp breath.

“And you’re too good for me, yet…here we are,” she dragged her fingers through the dark hair covering his torso. Getting on her knees, she hovered over him for a moment before depositing a kiss over his lips making him hum in the moment. The placement of her kisses lowered from his lips, down over his jawline following the lengths of his body down over the center of his chest and toward his lower abdomen. Wet kisses continued at the waistband of his sweatpants before she reached for the top of his pants. Covering his hips with faint, tender kisses had him taking in a sharp breath before moaning out.

“Y/N, you don’t have to feel empathy for me you know,” Joel noticed the way she was pampering the certain areas of his torso that would make him a shuddering mess.

“I don’t,” she breathed hearing Joel chuckle when she said it so blatantly like that. Lifting her head, a wicked smirk was pressed in over her features as she shrugged her shoulders. “What I mean is that I’m more so turned on by the idea of you getting a hard on over this. It has nothing to do with empathy.”

“Oh, I see,” Joel nodded, his head tipping back when he laughed and he felt her tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants making him groan when the warmth of her fingers wrapped around his solid length. “I think you and Negan just like the idea of taking advantage of a disabled man.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” she teased him placing soft kisses over his rigid manhood making Joel’s brow line crease. Licking his lips, Joel reached out with his hand to stroke over the side of Y/N’s face. “It does have a certain appeal to it.”

“The two of you are crazy,” Joel breathed letting out a sigh when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and brought him to her lips. When she parted her wet lips and took him in her mouth, Joel let out a moan and did his best to keep his eyes focused on her. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to get better between you and Negan. Not that I’m going to want to if the two of you are going to keep pampering me like this.”

Joel let out an immediate groan when he felt her taking him back in her throat. The motion had his hips arching up toward her involuntarily and a wet sound filled the air. Looking down, he enjoyed the sight of his wife pleasuring him and bit down on his bottom lip. It felt like both Negan and Y/N were out to pamper him and he didn’t know if it was because they felt bad for him, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Y/N,” Joel panted lifting up on his elbows while he watched her pleasuring him. Closing his eyes, Joel felt his jaw tensing up and he shook his head. “Stop, stop.”

“What’s wrong?” she pulled her mouth from his body with a wet sound watching the way that he pulled himself up against the headboard again.

“Take your pants off,” Joel instructed seeing her smirk before getting up from the bed. Joel cleared his throat when he watched her head over to the door to lock it. Joel felt his heart skip a beat when she stripped off her pants and her panties before crawling in over him. “I wish we had more interesting positions we could do here, but I’m kind of limited at the moment.”

“You know I like being in control,” she hushed him, letting out a tense sound when Joel reached for her shirt and tugged it up over the lengths of her body when she lowered her hips in closer to him.

“Oh, I’m very aware,” Joel slurred, his eyebrows bouncing up when she reached between the two of them to lead him into her making them both release a moan when he entered her. Taking some time to lower herself down over him, she got used to the feeling again while she felt Joel’s hands caressing up and over the sides of her body. Fumbling with the back of her bra, Joel had some issues getting her bra open making her laugh. “I’m trying here…”

“Right,” she started confidently moving her hips over his, meeting his lips in a fervent kiss. Joel finally got the material pulled apart before pulling it from her arms to toss it beside the bed.

“Fuck,” Joel buried his nose against the side of Y/N’s neck while she rolled her hips over his body causing desperate moans to fall from his throat. “I hate to say this…but being injured hasn’t been that bad. I mean, it’s bad, but I’ve like some of the benefits.”

“What?” she chuckled with a chill flooding her spine when Joel’s fingers dug firmly into her hips. “Why would you say something like that?”

“You and Negan have been pampering the fuck out of me and this whole being controlled thing? I’m all for it,” Joel nipped a the side of her neck, moaning loudly when she used his body in a way that made her feel good. “It makes me not want to get better.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she purred, tugging at his hair making him growl out. Joel’s right arm slid firmly around her waist, helping her movements over his manhood before his head dropped down to kiss over the side of her neck, toward her collarbone and down between the valley of her breasts. The pampered kisses had her tipping her head back while she continued to roll her hips over his enjoying the way that he felt inside of her. A whimper escaped her throat when she felt his tongue lapping at her nipple before suckling tenderly at it. Sliding his left hand up her body, he cupped her breast in his palm making her wince. “Jesus Joel!”

“What’d I do?” Joel jumped, his head pulling back and away when he saw her reaching for her breast to touch it. “What is it?”

“It’s just…tender,” she explained, blowing it off watching his hands settle at her hips. Joel’s eyes were staring at her breasts, his lips parted while he looked her over. After a while, she noticed the way he was looking at her. “What?”

“Are you pregnant?” Joel blurt out making Y/N let out an offended sound and immediately he regretted asking it. “Oh, I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“Am I looking fat?” she questioned making Joel shake his head. It seemed like he was at a loss for words, trying to not offend her, but he couldn’t help letting out an anxious laugh. “Why would you even ask me that?”

“Well…” Joel felt her movements stop over him and he groaned out, dropping his head back against the headboard. “Please…please don’t stop.”

“Joel!” she hit at the center of his chest hearing him groan, biting into his bottom lip while she stayed stagnant over him.

“Negan said you’ve been feeling dizzy, you’re nauseous, your breasts are tender…I’ve been with you every time you’ve been pregnant,” Joel suggested, gazing over her breasts and offering up a wicked smirk. “And your breasts look…bigger. Not that they aren’t looking incredible all the time because they do, but…”

“I’m not pregnant Joel,” she snorted watching Joel throw his hands up in the air almost in a defensive position. “I’m not.”

“Okay, I was wrong. I’m sorry,” Joel apologized, caressing in over the side of her neck leaning up to kiss her over and over again. It drew her to wrap her arms around his shoulders so she had some advantage in the power of her movements over him. When things felt good, she would add more strength to her movements making Joel moan out. Digging her fingers into his hair, she felt her own heart racing while she worked to bring the both of them to an orgasm. “I love you so much.”

While having Joel hold her in his arms, she knew that she was breathless while she tried to think about what he had mentioned. Trying to recall the last time she had her period, she really couldn’t think about it. She had been so focused on the town and everything happening that she wasn’t really thinking about her period. Then again, it wouldn’t have been the first time that she had gone a few months without having her period. It’s just since Arcadia had been properly established, she had noticed she was pretty regular.

Kissing at the side of Joel’s neck, she stroked her fingers through Joel’s short beard and took her time to gather herself. There was no way that she would have been pregnant. The last time she had sex was months ago with Negan and Joel. She’d be bigger than this by now. Right?

----

After Joel had fallen asleep, Y/N had headed back downstairs where she knew that Negan was with the children. The sounds of giggling was heard making her head toward the office to stand at the partially opened doorway. Leaning against the door frame, she watched Negan read a story to both Lucy and Nolan who were cuddled up with him. Negan was reading to them in silly voices making them both laugh at his antics which brought her extreme amounts of happiness.

Watching them together made her think about what Joel had asked her earlier. It made her think back on how she didn’t want to have another child because worrying about Nolan and Lucy was more than enough for her. When Negan kept pushing for them to have another child, she wasn’t very pro that decision because she thought having one son and one daughter was more than enough. So what if she was pregnant? Right now really wasn’t the time for that. Joel and Negan were both great fathers, but Joel was injured and could barely move on his own without his cane.

There was so much going on. The Empty was still out there. Joel was trying to get better. She was in charge of the community. A pregnancy just wasn’t in the playing cards right now, so she hoped that maybe it was a thought of Joel’s that may have just been brought about by him maybe not realizing his own power in the way that he touched her breast. At least, that was the most she could hope for.

As Negan finished up with the story, Lucy cuddled in closer beside Negan and looked up at him, “You should read us another story.”

“It’s bedtime Sunshine,” Negan closed up the book and set it down in his lap before curling his arms around both Nolan and Lucy’s shoulder to bring them in for a big group hug. “We have a busy day tomorrow. I promise I will read another story to you tomorrow.”

“Dad, come on,” Nolan tried to push his father for another story making Negan let out a long exhale.

“Just read them another one, you know they are going to sucker you into it,” Y/N muttered surprising the three of them that she was there watching them. Negan smirked and pointed over toward the shelves of the books that Joel had collected in his time being at Arcadia. “You’re a sucker. I hope you know that.”

“Runs in the family,” Negan joked watching Y/N head over toward the shelves to look for a certain book. When she found it, she handed it over to Negan watching the way he eyed over the book.

“This was Nolan’s favorite when he was Lucy’s age. You don’t mind if Negan reads this one, do you?” Y/N questioned her son and immediately Nolan shook his head. Sitting beside Nolan, she pulled him into her arms and heard her son laughing when she kissed at the side of his face. “I love you so much. You know that?”

“I love you too mom,” Nolan got comfortable in her arms allowing her to hold onto him while they all got comfortable on the couch together. It wasn’t a short story and Y/N knew that, but she wanted to spend some time with her family. The last few months were so busy that she didn’t really feel like she had a lot of down time with her children. So this was something that she was going to enjoy.

It was already late into the night, so by the time that they were done, Lucy had fallen asleep against Negan’s chest and Nolan was still awake, but just barely. Negan finished with the book and set it aside on the couch.

“You want to take the little one and I’ll get the big guy?” Negan looked down at Lucy, caressing over her shoulders with a smile.

“Deal,” Y/N gave a wink, carefully standing up before picking Lucy up in her arms. Lucy wrapped her arms around Y/N’s shoulders. Lucy’s tired eyes opened and she waved with a yawn.

“Goodnight Ne…daddy,” Lucy had to correct herself making Negan smile that she was trying so hard to remember to call him dad now. He told her that she didn’t have to, but she kept at it. “Goodnight Nolan.”

“Goodnight Lucy,” Nolan waved to his little sister, laughing when he felt Negan picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Nolan’s laughter filled the air when Negan spun him around. Clutching to his father tightly, he heard Negan snickering as well before carrying Nolan up the stairs like this. “You’re not going to drop me, are you?”

“Of course not,” Negan stammered following Y/N up the stairs keeping a strong hold of Nolan. “Dang kiddo. You are super fucking tall and you’re just twelve. You’re going to be taller than me when you’re fully grown.”

“Dad,” Nolan gasped when Negan pulled him forward to hold Nolan in his arms making Negan smile. “I’m never going to forgive you if you drop me.”

“I would never drop you,” Negan assure his son heading toward Nolan’s bedroom to carefully lower Nolan into his bed. With a wink, Negan reached for Nolan’s covers to start pulling them up and over his son’s body. “I love you kiddo. See, no dropping.”

“One day, I’m going to carry you like that. I hope you know that,” Nolan pushed Negan in the chest playfully before Negan lowered down to press a kiss over Nolan’s forehead.

“I have no doubts about that. You’re going to be a strong little man,” Negan gave his son a wink before rubbing his fingers through his son’s matching haircut. Tipping his head to the side, Negan couldn’t help but find himself happy while he stared down at his son. “Get some sleep. I need your help around the farm tomorrow.”

“You got it,” Nolan offered up a big smile to his father before looking to his bedroom door to see that Y/N was standing there waiting for Negan. “Goodnight mom.”

“Goodnight baby,” Y/N moved into the room to lower down to press a kiss over Nolan’s forehead making Nolan smile happily. “You’re always going to be my baby, no matter how big you get. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” Nolan reached up to place his hand in over Y/N’s seeing the way that she was staring down at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just really love you,” Y/N muttered with a whisper, stroking her fingers through Nolan’s hair. “You and your sister mean everything to me.”

“We know that,” Nolan insisted with a nod of his head, reaching for the teddy bear that was his that he still kept with him in bed. “I love you and both of my dads very much.”

“We know you do buddy,” Negan assured his son with a sigh, getting up from the bed and heading for the door. Y/N gave Nolan another kiss on the head before heading for the door. Negan smiled, waving to Nolan who waved back and cuddled into his bed. “Goodnight little man.”

When they closed the door, Negan and Y/N stood in the hallway. It was silent, Negan’s hazel eyes staring into hers when he looked over toward their bedroom, “How is Joel?”

“He’s in better spirits,” she didn’t exactly want to elaborate what that meant considering what went down between them. “I told him I thought you were being too hard on him, but he thinks you’re the best possible physical therapist he can get. He doesn’t want to have someone who is going to baby him. He thinks your way of doing things actually helps him more than anyone else could.”

“Ah, see, I know how to work with him,” Negan smirked, reaching up to stroke at the back of his neck letting out a long sigh. “It took a while to figure it out but getting him angry is the best way to make him do things. Either that or using his family. I really do think sometimes it’s more so a lock in his mind. Sometimes I notice him moving even if it’s not much. We’ve been working a lot together and it’s not me just being hopeful.”

“I wish that was true,” she looked toward the door with a worried expression. “Negan, what’s going on with him?”

“I…” Negan swallowed down hard, motioning her to follow him down the stairs again. When they headed to the office, he picked up the book he had left on the couch and returned it to its former position. Y/N took a seat on the couch and waited for Negan to say something, but when he turned to face her, he folded his arms out in front of his chest. “I can’t tell you.”

“What do you mean that you can’t tell me?” she tipped her head to the side, stroking down over the side of her face. “Joel is my husband you know. He was for over twelve years.”

“And he’s been my husband for about a half a year, I understand that you have that over me, but if you tell me something in confidence, I wouldn’t tell his ass either,” Negan explained, throwing his right hand up in the air. It was clear that he was conflicted with what he wanted to say to her, but ultimately, he sighed. “Just…some dark shit happened when he was taken by The Empty and it really bothers him. I think it’s blocking him from healing.”

“Are you suddenly a priest? He told you something in confidence?” she repeated what he said making Negan snort. “That’s not the Negan that I know.”

“The Negan you knew is not the same man that stands before you,” Negan insisted with a firm shake of his head. “I know I was a certain way for a long time, but I’m trying to be better. For you, for Joel…for the kids. I want to be the best version of me that I can be.”

“God, I want to be mad at you and then you go and say shit like that,” she sighed, lowering her head to bury her head into her hands. Negan sighed and headed to sit down beside her on the couch to caress over her shoulders in a supportive sweep. “I’m just really worried about him Negan. I don’t know what to do to help him.”

“Leave that bit to me,” Negan whispered, resting his head in against her shoulder while he took his time to caress over her back. “You both are so stressed. When all you really need to realize right now is that we are here. We are together. Family is the thing that keeps us all fighting. We need to cherish every moment of that.”

Lifting her head, Y/N’s eyes searched Negan’s before she swiftly move forward to wrap her fingers around the back of Negan’s neck to pull him into a kiss. It surprised Negan at first, but he eagerly kissed her back, his tongue brushing between her lips making her whimper. Gasping out, she felt Negan reaching for her leg to pull her in over his lap. Caressing up and over the sides of her body, Negan dropped his head back against the couch and cleared his throat.

“What was that for?” Negan’s fingers pushed underneath her shirt to stroke at her flesh at her lower back.

“I’m just very emotional lately,” she explained with a frown, cupping his face in her hands while stroking her thumbs over the sides of his face. “There is a lot going on and my brain is just…”

“It’s okay to get emotional sometimes,” Negan whispered, lifting up enough to press faint kisses all over her face before finally meeting her lips in another passionate kiss that took her breath away. “You’ve gone through a lot and I don’t think you’ve even had time to register. We found Joel and you had to just go straight into working again. You never take a break.”

“I’d be lost without you,” she whispered, dragging her thumb out over Negan’s bottom lip and he kissed at the pad of it. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here. I don’t think I could have been the leader and taken care of Joel at the same time. You don’t think he is upset with me for not having a lot of time to be with him, do you?”

“If anything, I think he feels bad that the weight of everything has fallen on your shoulders. He loves you so very much,” Negan informed her, dragging his thumb over her jawline making her lean into his touch. Lifting up, he pressed wet kisses down over the side of her neck and growled against her flesh. “We both do, you have to know that.”

“I slept with Joel today,” she blurt out making Negan snort and chuckle against the side of her neck making chills run down her spine. Pulling back, Negan’s thick eyebrows arched up and he shrugged. “I just thought I should tell you.”

“Good, do you want to sleep with me today too?” Negan offered making her half laugh before looking down between them. “Did you think I would get upset if you slept with Joel…or…? We’re all together. I want you two to still be as close as you were before I got here. But I don’t mind sleeping with you or him if you two already got it on earlier in the day.”

“I just don’t want to keep things from you,” she whispered watching Negan shrug his shoulders and let out another deep, raspy laugh.

“Thank you for telling me?” Negan bobbed his head about before adjusting her to lean her back against the couch. Reaching for her pants, he tugged them from her body and tossed them aside. “Just makes me hotter thinking about the two of you together. You never have to worry about that.”

“Negan,” she breathed out feeling him hooking his fingers into her panties to get them from her body as well before reaching for his belt to undo it. Licking her lips, she watched Negan pull down his zipper before opening his pants fully to reach inside to pull out his hard cock. Watching Negan stroke his fingers over his erection made her mouth go dry before letting out a nervous breath when Negan lowered in over her. Negan traced the tip of his length through her sensitive folds before leading his body to her entrance and pushing forward. A gasp fell from her throat before Negan’s lips claimed hers. This time Negan was in control of things and it was vastly different from what she had experienced with Joel, but she assumed that’s why Negan was doing it this way.

“Did you still like riding his hard cock?” Negan growled against her earlobe, taking his time to roll his hips against hers again and again. The soft smacks of their skin together filled the small office along with their faint moans. “Did he enjoy it?”

“He told me he never wants to get better if you and I keep pampering him like we do,” she informed Negan hearing him chuckle against the side of her neck. It made her shudder at the sensation before Negan started peppering kisses over her jawline. “Negan…”

Trying to silence her moans, she hooked her fingers into Negan’s hair and buried her head against the side of his neck knowing that she wasn’t very good at staying quiet. Pants filled the air and she could feel Negan slide his left hand up underneath her shirt, his large palm caressing in over her breast making her immediately wince.

“Fuck,” she hissed making Negan pull his hand back immediately, his eyes staring down at her wondering if he had done something to hurt her. After she had been so sensitive both times, she let out a long exhale and sighed. “Shit.”

“What’d I do?” Negan searched her eyes, his movements had stopped completely and he waited to make sure that everything was okay. “Y/N?”

“It’s nothing,” she pulled him down closer to her knowing that in her mind something was going on, but she didn’t want to throw it on him right now. “Just keep going.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan agreed, lowering back in over her and taking his time to thrust over her. This was drawn out extensively and by the time they were done, they both were laying on the couch together with Negan having her wrapped up in his arms.

“I sometimes wonder if this whole thing happened because I was a bad person,” she informed Negan, drawing circles at his lower abdomen just under his navel from where his shirt was lifted up revealing his slender abdomen.

“Say what?” Negan grunted, his facial expression clearly confused when she lifted her head to look up at him.

“I don’t know Negan. I think sometimes my punishment for this was all of the shit we went through. I knew you were married when I was younger and I continued to see you. What we did to Lucille was awful. Maybe I deserved all the pain and suffering I went through,” she thought aloud making Negan immediately shake his head and let out a huff. “I was so hooked on the idea of you leaving Lucille for me because I loved you so fucking much that I never thought about how horrible I was actually being. Looking back on it now, I don’t blame Lucille for doing what she did to me. I was awful. If there is such a thing as the afterlife, Lucille deserves to knock me out with a right hook once I reach it.”

“To be fair, it’s all my fault that it was happening. I knew what I needed to do to keep you there,” Negan insisted with a grunt, his eyebrows showing an array of emotion while he tried to take in what she said. “Y/N, that’s all on me. You tried to leave me multiple times, but I always kept you there because I knew what to say and what to do. And even at that, this happened to the whole world Y/N. If this is your punishment, I’d say you lucked out. You got married to the nicest guy on the planet and he’s pretty fucking hot. You have two incredible fucking kids. You both are the leaders of this really nice community…”

“But I’ve almost lost Joel twice and to get to this point was rough. You and I were separated for twelve years Negan. I thought you were dead that whole time,” she lifted up to stroke down over the side of his face. “I loved you so much when I was younger, I would have done anything to be with you.”

“And you’re with me. And we have a beautiful son,” Negan hushed her, curling his finger in underneath her jaw and caressing tenderly over her flesh. “You are right here with me. Nothing is taking me away from you anytime soon. I’ve been trying to spend every day of my life making up on the missed time. That’s why I do what I do with you, Joel and the kids. I want to be there for you. And same with Ghost. He's around here somewhere just lounging around. I missed out on so much and I don’t want to regret the past or think about what could be. I like what we have right here and right now. Joel is still alive. You’re alive. I’m alive. We need to focus on that and be happy. We found our own little miracle in each other. And I’m not letting go of that.”

“I love you so much,” she whispered meeting his lips in a loving sweep. When she pulled away, she couldn’t help but feel her heart racing.

“I love you too,” Negan declared with a big smile and a wink before hearing the door creaking making Negan lift his head when he saw Ghost walking into the room to check in on them. It made Negan thankful that they had pulled their clothes back on. “There is the little man.”

Reaching out to stroke over Ghost’s ears, Negan couldn’t help but smile with the way their dog enjoyed the petting he was getting. After a few minutes, Ghost groaned and lowered down to the ground to get comfortable by the couch with them, “Ghost and I have the same attitude. We’re old, we’re tired and we love our family.”

“Negan,” she looked down at the dog they had gotten together, reaching her hand down to pet over Ghost’s fur. “You’re right about a lot of things you know. We’re lucky to be here. And family is the thing that makes Joel fight. I have a feeling he’s going to have a boost for that soon.”

----

“See, you made a lot of progress today,” Negan helped get Joel to the kitchen table once they had done Joel’s exercises outside. “And we didn’t even have to kick the cane out from you. You did it all on your own.”

“Thanks for not doing that,” Joel rest his cane against the table with a half-smile, accepting the glass of water that Negan brought to him. After they started to get comfortable at the table, they heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Hey?” Y/N called out making Negan look back over his shoulder. “Anyone home?”

“In the kitchen,” Negan hollered out hearing her swiftly moving through the house. When she realized it was just the two of them, she tipped her head to the side. “They are doing their homework upstairs because I promised them if they did, we would go get ice cream tonight and camp outside again.”

“What’s wrong?” Joel noticed the way that Y/N was breathing heavily. There was some color in her cheeks and he shifted forward in the chair that he was in. “Y/N?”

“I think this is something that you both need to hear,” Y/N began seeing the way that Joel stared out at her with big eyes. “I know it’s horrible timing. I know it’s wrong to have this happen now, but…”

“But?” Joel pulled himself up with a groan and wrapped his fingers firmly around the cane that helped to keep him balanced. “You’re making me nervous darlin’.”

“I’m pregnant,” she stammered making the glass that was in Negan’s hand drop to the ground and shatter. A moment later Negan was picking her up in his arms and spinning her around making her laugh. That was a pretty immediate reaction that had impressed Y/N. She knew this was everything that Negan had wanted and he proved that in his response. “You might want to be careful with that. I’m very nauseated right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan set her down on her feet and cupped her face in his hands. Negan let out a happy sound and Y/N turned her head to see Joel limping across the room to her. Pulling from Negan she headed over to Joel feeling his arm hooking around her shoulders to pull her into a hug and bury his nose against the side of her neck when he hugged her. “When did you find out?”

“Well I wasn’t feeling very good,” she answered noticing that Joel was holding her longer than normal, but she knew it was a special moment as she stroked her fingers through his hair. “I threw up a few times and just thought it was from the stress, but the other day when I was with Joel and he touched my breast, it hurt like hell. Originally, I thought it was Joel just unaware of his strength because he was injured, but he mentioned that he thought I was pregnant. I blew it off because I didn’t…I didn’t think things were good for that right now. But then when you touched my breast later in the day, it was still incredibly sensitive and that’s when I knew that Joel was right when you put things together.”

“See, sometimes I know what I’m talking about,” Joel grunted against the side of her neck, pressing a quick kiss there before pulling back enough to look her over. “Next time, don’t think I’m trying to call you fat or anything like that.”

“You thought she was pregnant and you didn’t say anything?” Negan grumbled making Joel’s face twist with confusion. “I thought she was pregnant, but I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want to assume things.”

“Well congratulations you were both right,” she tossed her hands up in the air, seeing the way that Joel leaned against the edge of the table to help balance himself before reaching for her hand.  

“How far along?” Joel’s deep, raspy southern drawl questioned, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. Negan moved forward and reached for her other hand making her let out a nervous breath.

“I think we all know the answer to that. It has to be from the week that everything fell to shit. The other day is the first time I slept with you both since then,” Y/N announced, sliding her palm in over her stomach making the both of them nod. “The doc is going to get the ultrasound up and running. We’re going to be able to see it soon. I thought I would be bigger by now since that was months ago, but the doctor told me this is normal, so I guess…he thinks everything is okay right now.”

“Well then you definitely don’t know who the father is because you slept with Joel and I within a twenty-four-hour time-span,” Negan concluded making her nod slowly as he let out a tense breath.

“We weren’t going to care who the father was if she ended up getting pregnant,” Joel reminded Negan of what they had said previously, his green-hazel eyes locked on his lover when Negan mentioned it. “Remember? As long as she was pregnant the both of us would act accordingly. We are both the father. It doesn’t matter who the biological father is.”

“Of course it doesn’t matter,” Negan took a minute to agree with Joel, a half smirk pressing in over his features when Joel wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders to give her a hug again before allowing her to go to Negan. Negan’s thick eyebrows bounced up when he reached out to caress the back of his palm over her abdomen. “I can’t believe I finally get to be here for this…”

“We’re going to have to figure some stuff out here because this is going to be hard,” she spoke up enough to get Negan’s attention. “Having a baby isn’t easy. Especially with everything that has been going on. It’s going to be hard. We have to tell the kids and it’s going to take a shit load of planning. I hope you know that.”

“I’m ready,” Negan nodded his head, visibly the most excited of the three of them. “I’ll do whatever I have to make this whole thing work because I’ve never wanted something more than this in my whole life.”

[theskeletonprior]

This Tav Tale was commissioned by a lovely client. Thank you for trusting me with Infamy! Read it here on AO3!

From time to time, in an attempt to appeal to his better nature, some poor supplicant might ask of Enver Gortash, “How do you sleep at night?” It’s intended to prick his conscience, but the fact of the matter is, the higher he climbs, the sweeter the dreams. With all of Baldur’s Gate securely in his grasp, Enver sleeps more soundly than he ever has. A little too soundly, even, given who warms his bed. The Chosen of Bhaal. His deadly Left Hand. Enver Gortash sleeps like a child in a loving home, and he does it to the sound of the softly rattling chains that keep his beloved Infamy from gutting him in the night. Of course, Infamy’s urges are vented well, and vented often, but ever since that mess with Orin, it’s best to be just a little too careful. Bhaal, besides, can be demanding, and nothing thrills that bloodstained divinity like asking for the blood his supplicants are least willing to spend. Infamy tells him that it isn’t the right time, but Enver is less certain. After all, when better to kill a man than at the most dizzying height of his power? And not just any man. The Chosen of Bane. So he keeps Infamy well fed, and chains their gorgeous, bloodthirsty self to the bedpost at night, and every morning is a surprise and a delight. A new thrill.

Sometimes Enver wakes up first, and pricks his tongue to wake Infamy with the taste of fresh blood. Those are his favorite mornings. When the chains hold fast through the night. They can indulge in some laziness without interference. No riots at the gates to put down, and he can take his time undoing the restraints, needling the assassin into impatience, into struggling. Infamy’s wild sorcery is as vicious and beautiful as they are, and it bends around Enver, always at the last moment. It’s an incredible rush, and there’s only one outcome that makes his heart beat faster. There is no sight he’s ever witnessed that comes close to the Slayer as it rips into being. Usually this means the hasty requisition of a new bed, and just sometimes it means the incredible experience of waking up completely naked with the great and terrible true shape of Bhaal’s chosen hovering over him. So far, his contingencies for the Slayer’s particular viciousness haven’t been put to the test. Infamy tells him that this is because when they finally kill him, they want to take their time. It will take weeks to finish killing him. Maybe longer. Enver knows that Infamy’s dark rituals are more like experiments. How long can they suspend some poor soul in agony. It’s touching, in a way, to know that all of this is for him. The most enduring subject so far has lived a wretched seventeen days. The morning, Enver is lucky enough to have pants on. The Slayer snaps his chains as it comes screaming into the daylight, barrelling out of the bed. The force of Infamy’s awakening sends Enver rolling onto the floor, narrowly missing being crushed by the bedframe. He’s tangled in their sheets, and already lamenting that they’ll need to be replaced. This silk had come all the way from Waterdeep. That’s his first thought, even with his heart pounding in his ears. He struggles to free himself, but the Slayer isn’t coming for him. There’s the acrid smell of half-cast sorcery, and then the screaming starts. When something warm and wet splashes onto him, soaking through the sheets, Enver hopes it’s blood. The crunching of bones and the smell of bright copper gives him a little hope that it’s not something worse. It wouldn’t be the first time a would be assassin emptied their stomach or their bowels in terror before the Slayer. Enver unrolls himself at last, leaning back on his elbows to enjoy the show, even as the blood—and thank goodness it is blood—soaks through his nice sheets. The mess quite nearly defies description. The Slayer’s claws part flesh from bone as cleanly as a fileting knife, and it eats its prey alive. There are pieces of intruder from the bed to the doorway. If he hasn’t swallowed them, Enver knows that Infamy will want the hands for their collection. Enver picks himself up, thinking he might freshen up while Infamy has his fun, but the Slayer sees him, serrated tail flicking back and forth. The red ring around Infamy’s pupil never glows as brightly as when they are in this shape, and it focuses on Enver. “Kirnha...” Best to do away with the formality of the virtue name, in a moment like this. Enver slips on his gauntlet, the Netherstone gleaming. He cannot show a moment of fear, and he lets the feeling shift to excitement. Enver Gortash smiles in the face of this monstrosity, and takes its fearsome face in both his hands. “Good morning, my sweet assassin. Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Infamy growls, mandibles twitching. Their tongue extends, laving blood from Enver’s cheek. It’s rough, like a cat’s, a tongue that strips flesh from bone. Every part of the Slayer can kill. Every part. Enver laughs softly, even when Infamy puts all four of his clawed hands on him. “Don’t tell me you’re still hungry.” When Infamy lifts him up, his feet come off the ground so gently it’s almost like levitation. He hums amusedly. What’s a little mortal danger first thing in the morning? “I’ll postpone my audiences,” Enver says softly, “so why don’t we make the most of this little mess you’ve made?”

It’s quite the undertaking to have one’s rooms set right again after an incident like that one, but that’s why Enver has climbed so high. He has a veritable army of doting servants, tadpole-riddled and otherwise, to take care of this for him. This frees him and Infamy up for a leisurely bath, and a less bloody breakfast. Enver stretches out his legs, brushing the tip of his boot against Infamy’s ankle under the table. “Overall, not the most productive morning,” Enver says, pouring himself a second cup of blisteringly hot coffee.

“I’d apologize for the late start,” Infamy drawls, “but I don’t feel like lying to you... And I enjoyed myself.” Enver knows precisely how much Infamy had enjoyed himself. He’ll be feeling it for a few days yet. He blows at his coffee and takes a self-satisfied sip.

“Let it not be said that I do not reward your good work. Although the next time someone tries to kill us in our sleep, it’d be nice to leave a little something for our necromancers to work with, hm?” Their would-be killer is being scraped up, still, no doubt. A touch troubling that an intruder had gotten so close to them. The downside to having Bhaalists on payroll.

“Next time, perhaps,” Infamy agrees, but Enver knows better than to believe him. There’s a certain stony quality to those pale eyes of his when he’s making a commitment he doesn’t intend at all to keep. “I’ll call on Minthara. She’s quite proficient at rooting out dissidents. And I enjoy her company.”

“Send Sceleritas to fetch her, will you? We’ve had a strenuous morning.” Enver chuckles, even though his back feels more earnestly about the day’s exercise. The strange old butler has his uses, he must admit, even if he privately finds his presence unsettling. All the more reason to orchestrate excuses to send him away. Far, far away. Not that Minthara Baenre is all that far from Baldur’s Gate in the grand scheme of things. Infamy’s hand twitches to conjure his butler, and Enver reaches out, stopping him.

“Let me finish my coffee. Then we’ll take a walk, and then you can send Sceleritas to retrieve our favorite paladin of vengeance.”

“Your favorite too?” Infamy cocks his head, eyes too wide with mock curiosity.

“Why?”

“We still have a third Netherstone to bestow.” Infamy’s lip curls into a grin. “She is incredible, Enver. How long must Baldur’s Gate tremble beneath our feet?”

“Oh, forever.” He gives a playfully dismissive flick of his fingers. “Metaphorically, at any rate. I was thinking Sarevok might make a decent option. Since we’re sticking each other with pins.” Infamy gets very handsome when he’s annoyed, and Enver takes his time basking in it. “No, my darling mankiller, we must find your equal, mustn’t we? And who else can stand next to you?” He drains his cup and sets it aside, crossing to Infamy’s side of the table. “Let’s go walking. It’s best practices to let the people see us from time to time. And after that, I’m sure we both have work to do.”

After Infamy, Enver’s truest love is schematics. It’s remarkable how many problems can be solved with the right device. The Steel Watch isn’t perfect. It has vulnerabilities. The Gondians are not perfectly easy to control, and their political entanglement with the Iron Hand gnomes has other potential problems. That runepowder... Magnificent. But the hostages are the weak point in maintaining the Steel Watch. True, the illithid tadpoles have been instrumental in securing loyalty, but he’s certainly learned that they can be compromised. And this is the problem. How does one manufacture loyalty? Gods, he’d even settle for plain obedience. So he spends his afternoon pouring over the current design of the Gondians’ collars. Much as Infamy might debate its virtues, perhaps killing them all at the first sign of dissent does not protect their interests particularly well, overall. He only notices the time going by when it becomes dark enough that he needs to light a candle to see by—he doesn’t allow servants in his workroom. It doesn’t distract him for long. He’s onto something; a new way to use the collars in tandem with tadpole infestation. If he could control his own form of the Elder Brain’s hivemind... He doesn’t hear it when Infamy slips into the room, he doesn’t even see their shadow, feel their body heat. What he does feel is their teeth, which he knows so well by now that he doesn’t think for a moment that he’s in any danger.

“Kirnha,” he mumbles, his voice strained ever so slightly. The juncture between his neck and shoulder throbs in time with his heartbeat. Infamy chuckles.

“It isn’t my fault,” they say. “Your neck is too inviting.” They suckle at the bite mark, licking the punctures clean. “It’s for your own good. You’d still be here at dawn, if I left you.”

“And you claim your rewards all on your own, do you?” Enver turns, catching Infamy’s chin in his gauntleted hand. He drags them into a lingering kiss, tasting his own blood on the lips of Bhaal’s chosen. “I’m hungry,” he murmurs. “Take me to dinner. Then to bed.” Infamy chuckles again.

“As it pleases you, my Tyranny.” Enver has to admit, if only to himself, that the virtue name fits him like a glove. He takes Infamy by their deadly hands and lets them lead him away from his workbench, regaling him with their day’s exploits. Infamy’s knack for human suffering is truly commendable, and his relish in it... They are a force of nature, truly. Enver loves this ritual of theirs. The catching up, the fine food. He can even tolerate the intrusion of Sceleritas Fel, come to tell them that Minthara is returning to the Gate to help their ‘lugubrious selves’ root out the rebels behind this morning’s assassination attempt. But best of all is returning to their freshly furnished bedroom, everything new, and testing the thick chains around Infamy’s wrists and ankles.

“These will not hold the Slayer,” Infamy tells him as he sets the ensorcelled clasps.

“That ferocious form of yours has done quite a lot for me, lately,” Enver says. “So I can’t say that I mind. Although, next time, you could try to leave a more intact body for us to inspect the next time we wake up with a murderer in the room.”

“Aside from you and I.” Infamy’s grin shows those lovely sharp teeth, and Enver leans down, pressing a kiss to the intersection of the y-shaped scar on their chest.

“Yes, yes, present company excepted.” There’s a familiar susurration of chains as Infamy draws him in close.

“If we ever have a visitor who can stay alive long enough to make things interesting, we might have found our third,” they say.

“Oh, hush!” Enver likes to play the scold from time to time. “Lie back. I’m ready for bed.” Infamy can yield this small obedience. Together they sink into the luxury their cunning and ruthlessness has bought, a contented tiredness spreading over them.

“Good night, Enver.”

“Good night, Kirnha.” Enver closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, but Infamy speaks again. “Good night, Sceleritas.” His body goes rigid when he hears the butler crooning in response.

“Good night, my darling Lord of Bloodshed and Murder.” Enver sits bolt upright in bed, looking around them in the dim. How many nights had he slept here while Sceleritas watched? Has that freakish little imp been watching the other things they do in here? Infamy looks at him without an instant of confusion, and then that beautiful, scarred face crinkles, and they begin to laugh. It’s not quite perfect, their life together, but in that moment, Enver couldn’t dream of complaining; though perhaps he sleeps too well at night, after all.