#this is easily my least favourite chapter

[gwaeddblaidd]

Feed the Wolf Chapter 6: Colours (Excerpt)

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” he says almost excitedly, prompting me to turn back to face him. “A little birdie told me the Nightshades are meeting tonight.”

He stands from his chair and walks a few steps towards me. As he does he grows taller and just a little squarer at the shoulders, his arms and legs becoming longer and his clothes adjusting seemingly by themselves to conform to his new body type. His hair grows longer and his face becomes almost blurry, his features indistinct. He appears human, yes, but my eyes can’t seem to focus on his face. It only lasts a moment, though, before suddenly everything becomes clear once again. His face has changed. His cheekbones are a little higher, his brow more pronounced, his nose ever-so-slightly crooked and his jawline bearing the slightest hint of a stubble. I hate it when he does this.

“Want me to listen in for you?” he asks, sweeping his now longer fringe from his face and to the side. The red skin on his knuckles catches my eye, letting me know that he did indeed notice the state of my hands this past week, despite him not mentioning it.

I stare at the reflection of myself, feeling just as uncomfortable as ever seeing him in this state. Back when I first started at Nevermore, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I heard I’d be boarding with a shapeshifter, but I definitely didn’t anticipate a roommate that would learn to mimic my every feature within a day of meeting me. I try my best not to let my discomfort show. I’m not giving him that satisfaction.

“I didn’t get an invite,” I say, sounding almost offended. Of course, I haven’t been invited to any of their gatherings since halfway through second year, if I remember correctly. Still, they never officially kicked me out…

My father was a Nightshade during his time at Nevermore; there’s a picture of him and my aunt up on the wall of their library somewhere. He told me about the secret society when I was young, but I never really realised the importance of the information until he was gone. I retained certain important details – how to get into the library, the existence of a safe behind the portrait of Ignatius Itt – but things like ‘how to join’ evaded me. Still, getting in by myself and proving myself a legacy was enough to convince the Nightshades to allow me to pledge. Looking back, I can’t believe how careless I was in revealing who my father was; it’s a good thing no one there recognised him or my aunt as Hydes. It didn’t take long for me to become disappointed by the group, though. It was clear after just a few gatherings that the once prestigious society had fallen so very far, becoming little more than an elitist social club full of spoiled rich kids. I stopped attending their meetings upon that realisation.

“Do you ever?” Alex asks, bringing me back to the present. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to keep my ear to the ground about this stuff.”

“It’s not as great as it’s made out to be,” I say in return. The group may be secretive, but they honestly don’t offer all that much beyond overly-serious meetings about trivial matters and the occasional private party. 

“Speak for yourself!” Alex exclaims. “I for one have greatly enjoyed the gatherings I’ve attended.”

I hesitate before speaking, my mind taking a moment to understand the implication. “Alex… Please don’t tell me you’ve been going to more of them without asking me first.”

He stiffens slightly, his eyes widening just a little as he stifles a reaction. That’s a yes, then.

“At least tell me you weren’t too… out of character.” My mind runs through so many possibilities. “I don’t need more people angry at me for reasons I don’t understand.”

“Oh no! Nothing like that!” His reassurance does little to lessen my concern. “Some of them might just think you’re… Well, let’s just say that Nightshade you is a bit less depressed, y’know?”

“Oh, well that’s fine then,” I say sarcastically. “I’m a Hyde anyway, so why not add mood swings to my repertoire?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You never go anyway, and you’re not exactly friends with any of them.” He crosses his arms defensively, betraying his knowing that what he did was wrong. “I needed stories, alright? How else is my blog meant to compete with Enid’s?”

It’s always about the blog… I guess that could probably be one of the reasons I stopped getting invites. I mean, me not showing up is reason enough to stop asking me to come, but it’s public knowledge that Alex and I are roommates. If someone was leaking information from Nightshade meetings, I’d obviously be the most likely suspect.

I sigh wearily. “Well, to answer your question: no, I don’t want you to listen in on the meeting.”

In the blink of an eye, his disguise fades and he becomes himself again. He doesn’t hide his disappointment. “Fine.”

“I might go myself, though. Tell me, when is the meeting?”

He looks shocked at that, his disappointment quickly giving way to something close to fear. “Nine o’clock,” he blurts out. “But if you’re really going to go, perhaps we should discuss your persona.”

“My persona?” I don’t like where this is going.

“Yeah, there’s a few things you should be aware of. Gotta keep consistent, right?”

I find myself pinching the bridge of my nose, the beginnings of a headache creeping up on me. It’s bad enough that Alex has been impersonating me without my consent, but for him to be doing so badly? I shouldn’t have to alter my behaviour to make up for his mistakes. Why do I even want to go to the meeting? Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe my newfound positive outlook has me more willing to engage with others, or maybe seeing so many others preparing for evening activities has me searching for a distraction of my own. Or, maybe the relatively impromptu nature of this meeting has me intrigued. Most Nightshade meetings follow a regular schedule – once every fortnight on the weekend – but this doesn’t fit that schedule. It’s probably nothing of note, but I’d regret missing out if I’m wrong.

I breathe out slowly and steadily, recentering myself in preparation for what I’m sure is about to be a painful briefing. I look at Alex for a moment then drop my gaze, shaking my head along with a slight chuckle. No use in being annoyed, if I have a choice in the matter. I raise my head to offer him my full attention along with a tired, conceding smile.

“Fine. What do I need to know?”

---

Title: Feed the Wolf

Fandom: Wednesday

Rating: T

Chapters: 7 of 12

Links: AO3, FF.net

Summary: As the dust settles on the Hyde incident, Nevermore is slowly but surely returning to a calmer, safer state. But for those involved, the scars may take a while longer to fully heal. Gelert Davies, a half-werewolf student, has always kept himself out of trouble as best he could, but a chance encounter will test his resolve and force him to face parts of himself long abandoned.

Tags: Enid Sinclair, Wednesday Addams, Original Character(s), Enid Sinclair/Original Male Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Wolf Instincts, Loss of Control, Injury Recovery, Self-Hatred, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Courting Rituals, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, POV First Person

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day! :)

[aerithisms]

FINALLY finished the way of kings. i have seen many people say "it's a slow build the payoff is worth it in the last few hundred pages." lies. the payoff IS pretty good but it's only about the last 100 pages. the book is really slow for the preceding 900 pages. and yet i still want to start the next book now.

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter One - Olivia Ricciardo

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.6K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Olivia Ricciardo came running out of daycare with a wide grin on her face. Her grandparents just wished her dad could have been there to see it as she ran into their arms. It wasn’t his fault; even once his little girl was born, he still had a job to do.

Daniel was there for half of the week at least. But for the rest of the week, his parents took care of her, feeding her, letting her sleep in the bedroom she had in their house, and transporting her to and from daycare. Every time her dad would leave, Olivia would scream and cry for at least a couple of hours. At least until her grandparents had her facetiming her father and Daniel could talk to his little girl.

This time, when Olivia came running out to her grandparents car, she immediately asked if she could call her daddy. “I wanna tell him about the new friend I made!” she said through a wide grin as she bounced in her seat.

As her grandma drove, her grandpa pulled out his phone, calling Daniel. He kept a hold of the phone until his son picked up. After saying hello to him, he passed the phone back to Olivia. “Hi daddy!” She called, but Daniel could hardly see her from how much she was moving the phone around.

“Hi, Livvy!” Daniel grinned at his daughter. He’d missed her so much this week. His short break the year before, before he had been placed in the AlphaTauri, he’d spent the entire time with Olivia. He’d only gone to the races on the weekends, and since Olivia only went to daycare on Tuesday to Friday, she went with him.

But now that Daniel was driving again, he left Olivia with his parents. He didn’t want to take her out of daycare to be at his races; that was how she socialized. And this was proof of that.

“Daddy, I made a new friend!” Olivia shouted.

Daniel couldn’t stop his grin from becoming wider at that. “That’s great news Livvy!” He shouted, telling the news to whoever was near him.  

Suddenly the phone moved away from her dad. Olivia watched as somebody else grabbed hold of the phone, holding it in front of his face. “Hi, Livia!” Said her Uncle Max as he held the phone up in front of his face. As usual, he wore his Redbull hat. This one had a number One on it. Olivia had several Redbull hats. She had several with her dad’s number and one of Max’s old ones, with the thirty-three on it. “Your dad tells me you made a new friend!”

“Yeah, uncle Max. His name is Milo and he shared his crayons with me so that I could do my colouring book.”

"That's great, Livia!" Max said.

He said his goodbyes and passed the phone back to Daniel, who was only too happy to be talking to his daughter again. "Maybe you could invite Milo round for a playdate when you're back from your mums house, Jelly Bean," he said and the smile dropped from Olivias face.

It was so secret who Olivias favourite parents was. Even though she rarely got to see him, she loved her dad more than anything. Daniel didn't know what happened at his ex's place in what made Olivia hate it so much, but he had no right to stop it.

If he tried, his ex could easily pull up the fact that Daniel was never there and his parents saw Olivia more than he did. If Olivia would tell him why she hated it, maybe he could do something that would stop her from having to spend every other week with her mother.

"But, daddy, I want to be there when you get home," Olivia said, wearing a pout.

Daniel hated seeing his little girl like that. He loved her more than anything and never wanted to see the smile drop from her face. His Olivia, he'd go to the ends of the earth for her.

The people surrounding him indicated that it was time to go, but Daniel kept smiling as he looked at the phone. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay, Jelly Bean?"

"Okay," she said and passed the phone back to her grandfather without saying goodbye.

Daniel smile turned sad as he looked at his father. "Make sure she has snuffles before she goes," he said sadly before saying goodbye to his parents. They knew what to do by now, they'd been sending her to her mother’s house for the last five years.

“What’re we having for dinner tonight, Livvy?” Her grandma asked as they pulled into the driveway.

The scowl dropped from Oliva’s face and she started bouncing in her seat, chanting ‘turkey dinosaurs!’ over and over again.

Turkey dinosaurs it was.

***

“Milo, honey, can you feed the cat please!” Y/N shouted, pulling the phone away from her ear as she turned back to the stove.

Milo came running down the stairs, already in his dinosaur pyjamas and dinosaur slippers. He ran to the front door, where the cat bowl was, and used the tiny, novelty shovel to scoop the cat food into the bowl. It was a little too much, but Poppy (the cat) wouldn’t mind.

“Wash your hands for dinner!” She shouted and placed the phone back between her shoulder and her ear.

“Mum, I don’t need your money,” she said as she plated up the Italian dish she had made. Well, it was spaghetti with carbonara, with turkey dinosaurs on the side to get Milo to eat it.

She heard her mother sigh down the phone. “Well, if you won’t take our money, your father and I are going to visit,” she said and hung up, without saying so much as a goodbye.

Placing her phone down, Y/N put the plates on the table and waited for Milo to come running in. He jumped into his chair and picked up his knives and fork. “I made a new friend today, momma!” Called Milo as he put down his knife and fork and picked up the turkey tyrannosaurus. He bit the head off and roared with the food still in his mouth, leading his mother to scold him.

“Tell me about your new friend, Mi,” she said as she ate her own dinner (like Milo, Y/N had a turkey dinosaur on her plate. It was the triceratops, Milo’s least favourite).

So, Milo told his mother all about his new friend, Olivia Ricciardo. He boasted about how he shared his pencils and Miss Green didn’t even have to ask him. Olivia sat beside him as they coloured, telling him all about her dad who drove race cars.

“Yeah, momma! Her dad is a famous race car driver! How cool is that?”

“Very cool, Milo,” Y/N answered as she picked up his plate to clear up. Of course, she didn’t believe that Milo’s new friend’s father was a famous race car driver. That was the sort of things kids said to impress each other. Just six months before Milo had told some boys that his father was a famous football player.

Milo stayed sat at the kitchen table, kicking his feet. “I can’t wait for daycare,” he said to himself as he knocked his fist against the table in time to the music.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning as Milo continued talking about daycare. It hadn’t had an easy time making friends, but now he had one and she couldn’t be happier.

As soon as she was finished with the washing up, Y/N ruffled his hair with her soapy hands. “Bedtime, little man,” she said, and Milo jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs.

He ran into his bedroom and dove under the covers. He grabbed a hold of Rexy, his tyrannosaurus teddy bear, and Spike, his Stegosaurus teddy bear, and held them close. He watched as his mum walked in and pulled a book from his shelf. “How do we feel about the magician’s nephew?” She asked as she pulled the little book from the shelf.

“Yay, Narnia!” Milo called as Y/N sat on the end of the bed and cracked open the book. Just a few months ago Milo had been complaining about picture books, since one of the boys in his class had started reading actual books. So, Y/N was working with him so that he could read ordinary books on his own.

“Momma,” Milo began, interrupting her as she read. “Can Olivia come round for a playdate?”

Y/N placed a dinosaur bookmark between the pages. “Only if Olivia’s mummy and daddy say it’s okay,” she said as she put the book back and switched on his dinosaur night light.

“Olivia doesn’t like her mummy,” Milo replied as she turned on his side, still holding Spike and Rexy.

Y/N walked over and kissed the top of his head as she tucked him in. “Well, I’ll just have to speak to her daddy then, won’t I,” she said and stood up straight. “Goodnight, Munchkin,” she said as Milo turned towards the wall, his eyes shut.

“Goodnight, momma.”

Y/N walked out of the room, leaving the door open just a little. As she left Poppy the cat ran in and jumped on his bed (a dinosaur blanket, of course), curling up by his feet.

With Milo now asleep, Y/N went back downstairs. She sat at the kitchen table, pulled out her laptop and, like she did every night, began writing.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye

[eloves-writes]

so it goes…

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: part 2 here! as dr gaul’s assistant, you find yourself alone in her laboratory bearing an unpleasant task with her other mentee, coriolanus snow, who you strongly despise. or so it goes … warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), slightly public sex, reader is wearing a skirt, think that's it but please lmk if i need to add anything! a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my last fic! and thank you anon for this request, i love and appreciate requests more than you know!!! enjoy this. will for sure write a second chapter if one singlular person expresses interest. mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

dr gaul’s lab was filled with weird and wonderful (but mostly weird) things. you sat, bored, on your side of the gamemaker’s desk staring at shelves and shelves of creatures of all shapes and sizes with various muttations. according to the clock beside you, it had been 30 minutes since gaul herself had left the room to ‘see to something’. it was often best not to ask questions when things like that happened, but you really wished she would come back soon as your work day technically ended in a few minutes and gaul’s second-favourite mentee came to visit her after hours almost every day. coriolanus snow was not necessarily an unpleasant person, not to you at least, but he was certainly unbearable. he was so up his own ass thinking he was better than everybody else that he failed to realise how much of a pompous twat he was. ‘snow lands on top’. god, those four words were practically all you heard come out of his mouth when he wasn’t sucking up to dr gaul or spewing fake niceties to any authoritative figure who would listen.

as you were thinking about how annoying he is and how pretentious his stupid hairstyle was, the door to the lab was hauled open by the peacekeepers who stood guard outside. thank god gaul was back, you couldn’t wait to get out of here. not that you weren’t grateful for this assistant’s position, because it was a highly coveted role for university students each year and you’d beat them all out for it. even snow. ha. even suck-up snow. fuck. snow.

the tall blond had entered the lab and was walking up to your desk with his usual self-assured smile and red uniform.

“y/n, good evening.”

“snow.”

his pleasant facade dropped for just a moment at your monotonous response.

“where’s dr gaul?”

you passive aggressively put down the pen you had been tapping on the desk.

“i don’t know,” you replied blandly, studying his face like you trying to read his mind. “she left like a half hour ago to ‘see to something’, but she’s not been back. i’d suggest you leave and speak to her tomorrow instead.”

coriolanus pulled a face as if thoroughly surprised that anyone could be anything less than cordial to him. it was a subtle change in expression, but you figured that’s what he was thinking.

“that’s quite alright, y/n,” he smiled mockingly, “i’ll sit right here and wait. nowhere to be tonight.”

“shocker,” you murmured, watching as snow sat in the empty chair opposite you.

the two of you stayed sat at gaul’s desk for almost 10 minutes before either of you said anything else.

“how is the apprenticeship going?” snow asked, trying to fill the awkward silence by feigning interest.

“it’s great. thanks. thrilling, actually. i’m having the time of my life. this is so much fun,” you retorted.

coriolanus raised an eyebrow and shifted in his seat. “you know, every one of gaul’s students wanted this apprenticeship. if you’re not enjoying it, i am more than certain that you could find somebody to fill the role.”

you huffed sarcastically. “oh good try, snow. i’m not giving it up that easily.”

“so i’ve heard,” he muttered.

before you could respond to that, the laboratory doors hauled open again and dr gaul finally returned.

“ah, coriolanus, good,” she welcomed, entering with purpose in her stride. “i have a small ask of the pair of you.”

there was no way in the whole of panem that this would be a ‘small’ ask, coming from her. coriolanus’ eyes widened in apprehension.

“don’t make that face at me, coriolanus snow.”

“sorry.”

“good. i must continue to deal with a situation that has arisen, i need you two to feed chupa before he gets too hungry. that’s all, then you both may leave and i shall see you," you watched her search for a rhyme, "before tomorrow’s eve.”

then she turned to leave, with you and coriolanus pulling faces of horror. ‘chupa’ was a particularly hideous and dangerous looking creature that gaul had advised you, on multiple occasions, to keep your distance from. and now she was asking you to feed him? sometimes it was like she wanted you dead.

“wait a minute,” you said hesitantly. gaul moved only her head to look at you and you regretted opening your mouth immediately. “sorry, dr gaul, you want us,” you motioned to yourself and snow, “to feed that,” you pointed at the cage where the beast appeared to be smirking.

“yes,” she replied plainly. “he will eat anything, but he most likes the small green snakes.”

with that, she left the lab again.

coriolanus looked at you, looked at chupa, then looked back at you. “what the fuck is that?”

you snorted, enjoying seeing him uncomfortable. “do you want to get the snakes, or shall i?”

“you get them,” he spoke quickly. “i don’t like snakes.”

you were suspicious at this apparently strong aversion to the slithering reptiles. perhaps they’d scared him when he was younger, and never shook it off. or perhaps one had bitten him. you imagined him flailing his arms and screaming and it made you chuckle to yourself as you took a jar half-filled with thin, forest green snakes. they weren’t venomous, in fact they were quite amiable and undeserving of being fed to the ugly brute in the cage beside you. regardless, you removed two snakes from the jar and placed it back on the shelf.

coriolanus was keeping his distance, making you do all the work. lazy asshole.

“can you open the cage?” you directed snarkily. he tentatively unfastened the top of the cage, standing closer to you than he ever had before. up close, he looked like a real person. a real person who was just as real as everybody else in the capitol, not any better. he smelt better than a lot of them though. like cologne and fresh roses. you mentally chastised yourself for noticing and tried to focus on the task at hand.

your snake-holding hand slid towards chupa’s mouth, which opened to reveal a large set of sharp fangs that seemed to be moving upwards

“be careful of the fangs,” snow warned from behind you.

“thank you coriolanus, i’m so glad you told me that. i was truly about to stick my fingers into his mouth,” you retorted sarcastically, starting to feed the snakes to the disgusting creature.

he mumbled something incoherent that sounded something like “i wish you would.”

“sorry what was that, snow? did you say something,” you asked, becoming more irritated by his unhelpful presence.

as chupa finished the tail of the second snake, he bit the air above him in an attempt to get your hand for dessert, making you rapidly withdraw your hand from the cage and leap backwards. coriolanus dropped the lid in shock and it thankfully fastened itself.

when you had leapt backwards, you had leapt backwards straight into snow’s arms that he had instinctively wrapped around you in protection. his arms were stronger than they looked through his uniform jacket, and his chest much more toned. it felt beyond strange to be this close to him. but something deep inside of you suddenly yearned to be closer, and you slowly rotated yourself in his arms to face him, hands pressed against his chest.

coriolanus was looking into your eyes like nothing else was in the room. like he had never seen a person’s eyes this close before. he was looking at you like you were most incredibly fascinating thing he had ever seen.

and maybe you were; he had grown used to the capitol women throwing themselves at him. he didn’t struggle to take them home, had no issues finding a date to all the various events he attended. then there you were- snapping at him and poking fun at him, and not even waiting until his back was turned to roll your eyes or pull faces. in what he deemed a cruel twist of fate, you were the only girl in the capitol who didn’t look at him like he was god, and you were the only girl in the capitol he truly felt something deeper than momentary lust for.

his lust for you was not momentary. it was perpetual. and having you this close to him, safe and protected in his arms, confirmed for him that you needed to be his. the world bent to the will of coriolanus snow. and so would you.

in an instant where your body no longer obeyed your better judgment, you pressed your lips to coriolanus’.

he kissed you back like you were a source of oxygen, using his advantageous hold of you to force you to walk backwards towards the rows of bookshelves behind gaul’s desk without separating your lips. he swiftly checked the door to make sure nobody had snuck in before your bodies were eclipsed by the cover of the well-stocked shelves and you were roughly pushed up against them. snow continued to kiss you, moving down to your neck to leave marks sure to raise questions the next morning, then down to your collarbone, unbuttoning your blouse as he went so that his path was clear to mark you with his mouth all the way down to the waistband of your skirt. his kneeled down before you and pushed up your skirt, looking up at you for approval. you nodded, still caught up in the moment. this was fine. this felt good. it really felt good when snow removed your panties and placed your legs over his shoulders, holding you up at the waist and running his tongue along your folds, earning a loud moan from you. he withdrew his head from you skirt to shush you, before returning his tongue to your centre and flicking it against your clit. you bit onto your knuckle to absorb the sound of the whimpers escaping you. where the fuck had he learned to do this? it felt heavenly, his mouth drawing you ever closer to release with his large hands digging into your hips to keep you in position.

“coryo,” you whispered. “coryo, i’m close.”

he began to hum in acknowledgement, sending you right over the edge. a moan slipped from your mouth as you came, feeling your slick drip onto his face. he continued to lap at your juices as you rode out your orgasm, a blissful haze washing over you. if these were the skills making snow so cocky, you couldn’t fault him for that particular trait any longer. he lifted his head and smiled at you like a man who was very aware you’d just cum on his face by his manipulation. he helped you take your legs from his shoulders with a satisfied smirk when they wobbled under the weight of your body, then he kissed you again, softer this time, to force you to taste yourself on his tongue. you reached your hand forward to his crotch, palming him through his constricting pants. he indulged you for a minute, then removed your hand and lifted it to his lips like a true gentlemen.

you felt a little disappointed to not repay the favour, finally feeling content with your formerly repressed lust for the man.

but then he leaned down to your ear and whispered in a low tone, “you can owe me one,” before giving you one last lewd kiss and leaving you stood behind the bookshelves in the head gamemaker’s office with messed up hair and a realisation that you really wanted coriolanus snow to come and visit after hours again tomorrow.

[elfiewhore]

Mommy domme elf story

Hello my dears and darlings! Finally, the long promised elf mommy domme story is here! Or at least, the first two chapters. As I began writing I realised that this idea had a firm hold on my mind and I want to write a slow, lewd and enticing tale. So that means this will be part 1 of ? - The first two chapters.

Please feel free to give me any feedback and/or tell me what you'd like to see next! This story is written from the perspective of the reader as the member of an adventuring party. The gender and name of the protagonist is purposefully left vague which, while it does mean some specific descriptions will be a little nonspecific, hopefully means that you can easily identify yourself in the story <3 This story is strictly 18+ and contains/will contain content including but not limited to: Humiliation, peeing, diapers, AB/DL, gfd, age regression, crossdressing(depending on how you identify), chastity and monsterfucking. All that out of the way, without further adieu I give you the first two chapters of my as-yet-unnamed story!

Chapter 1: An unexpected parting “I’m afraid I cannot continue along this path. To be quite frank you are all far too reckless. The strain it places upon me is far greater than any I have faced before. I wish you well, but I must depart.” That was the last words of your party’s healer, a priestess sworn to a god of healing. She was your last resort, having had to beg for the mercy of the church to provide her services free of charge. And she wasn’t wrong. Your party are notably reckless, charging headlong into combat without a second thought. This devil-may-care attitude had at first earned you some renown, as your bravado led to taking on the most dangerous of missions posted in the Adventurer’s guild. Slaying harpies, undead, and even a gryphon! The stuffed head of which is now resting within the guilds’ storage as collateral for your replacement arms and armour after the last debacle. Not that it was your fault, mind! You were always good. You listened to the numerous healers that had come and gone through your party. Standing where they wished, protecting them, ferrying potions. You were always their favourites, it wasn’t fair that the others always dragged you down. But you couldn’t leave either, the reputation stuck. You sent out subtle enquiries to other famous bands only to be rejected at each turn. Even the less reputable groups required steep entry fees as ‘insurance’ should they require costly resurrection magicks. Truly it was a terrible situation. And now here you were sitting in the foyer of the guild. The wooden walls of this esteemed establishment groaning under the weight of trophies and banners of heroes long past. They did little to inspire as you sat with your chin in your hands, waiting for a representative from the guilds’ treasury so that you can convince them not to repossess your equipment. “Just give ‘em the puppydog eyes. No one can resist those!” Your group had told you. And this was also true. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t especially strong or imposing. It was useful for fulfilling your role but unfortunately led to you often being underestimated or treated childishly. Your mind swirled in a thunderstorm. Travelling without a healer was tantamount to a death sentence. Out in the wilderness, even the smallest cut could lead to a life-threatening infection. Not to mention mummy rot, lycanthropy, wyvern stings. Everyone had a role to play and you were missing one. “Excuse me. Is this the Adventuring Guild?” Came a breathy, soft spoken voice. Airy and light. You glanced up to see a woman standing before the desk, speaking to the clerk. Your breath caught for a moment in your throat as you took her in. Long, beautiful hair the colour of spun gold and braided with gems that glittered like stars tumbled down her back like a waterfall, framing the back of this curvy, enchanting figure. Every movement, no matter how small, was performed with effortless grace as she rested a staff of living wood against the desk. Atop it rested a crystal so pure one could see right through it, and silvery threads of magicked metals intertwined with the knots and whorls of the staff. Pretty (and valuable) as that staff may be your eyes refused to be pulled away from this woman. Clad in a robe of forest greens that flowed about her as if pulled by an unfelt breeze. Trumpet sleeves made of thin, almost translucent fabrics revealed pale and unblemished skin. But most notable of all, perhaps, were her ears. An unusual thing, one might thing, to focus upon. But the tips were long and pointed. 

An elf.. you think to yourself. A rarity to be sure. These reclusive, powerful creatures lived for millennia within their enchanted forests and reclusive holds. To see one traveling the world was an unusual sight indeed, for they often cared not for the affairs of men, halflings and other mortal beings. Content to remain within their own communities and spend their time plumbing the depths of the arcane and the nature of the divine, among others. “Yes this is the Ad-” the clerk stops, their eyes widening as they look up at this woman. “H-How may I.. Help you?” “Hehe! Oh please don’t be alarmed, sweetie. I don’t bite!” The woman’s voice again, a soft whisper. The susurration of a blanket being draped around you. “I’m only here to see if any parties are in need of a.. Oh what’s the word in this era.. A physiker? No..” “A healer?” Your eyes widen. That was your voice. Why did you speak? You groaned internally. Drawing attention to yourself never ended well. The figure turns, blessing you with a radiant smile. “Yes! Oh thank you!” Her eyes regard you from above as you are given a chance to look upon her face. Flawless as the rest, her eyes were a strange cavalcade of colour. At once purple, then gold, then blue as they took you in. Though no wrinkles could be seen, for elves are forever youthful, her countenance held a certain age to it. A wisdom beyond your own. You attempted to be polite, to meet her gaze. But that was difficult at the best of times and you were somewhat distracted by the revelation that her dress did little to contain a bountiful chest. The creamy pale skin stark against the deep green dress. It did not look ill-fitting, mind. Simply.. This woman’s bust demanded attention. Her ruby-clad lips draw your eyes northward once more. “My my! Let me help you with that!” She coos, in a voice tinged deeply with maternal concern. She reaches down and cups your cheek with a touch so delicate and warm you at once wish to melt into it. Your face had been rather beaten up in the last adventure, and with none to restore your vigor now you simply had to patch them up. But now the aches subsided more swiftly than they had ever before. Not just those upon your face, as the elf whispers her magic, it travels through your body. Soothing the woes of fatigue and injury. Even old wounds you had long since accepted receded before her radiance. Her hand pulls away and you can’t stop your face from following. Unbalanced, you collapse upon the floor with an embarrassed groan as you are snapped back to reality. A sound graces your ears. Like a babbling brook meets the chime of crystals. You realise she’s giggling. Your cheeks flush red as you rush to your feet. 

Her laughter stops as she looks genuinely apologetic. “I am sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was simply.. Cute.” Normally being called such a thing enraged you, frustrated you. But now… It felt comforting. “It’s okay.” you mumble.

“A-hem!” a stuffy voice draws your attention. You see the stuffy mustache first, like a hateful caterpillar resting upon the craggy face of a mountain filled with debt. The treasurer. “You again. I told you before if your party cannot prove to this guild that you are capable of finding a consistent and reliable healer to prevent any further deaths we will be forced to repossess the equipment we have graciously provided! I shan’t hear any more arguments or delays! So I ask for a final time. Have you a member capable of sealing wounds and ensuring your survival?” their stern gaze pierces you and your words wither in your throat. You tried to muster some kind of response but all that begins to croak out is a pathetic “N-no..” “Now now!” A scolding voice rang out. “There’s no need for that! No matter how urgent you feel your issue may be there’s no excuse for snapping! Or being impolite! If you must know ‘tis I that has joined this worthy band of warriors and, personally, I believe you would scarcely find a better purveyor of magicks and mending than one of my people. Now unless you would doubt the provenance of my ability, I have matters to discuss with my noble companion!” It was the elf. When did- You didn’t ask her to join you?! You barely spoke a word to her. And yet here she was, standing beside you with an arm protectively holding you against her side. Your cheek presses against her soft, warm breast through the thin fabric as you are held with a surprisingly firm grip. 

Chapter 2: Mommy’s home

The elf, whom you learned was named Nimue, was true to her word. Requesting (or gently demanding) to be taken to where your group were staying to introduce herself. She was apparently a mage of great renown amongst her own people who had left the isolation of her home to travel amongst the younger races as, in her own words, she ‘missed the energy and vibrancy of youth’ You couldn’t very well say no. You needed a healer. Furthermore elves legendarily had little need for riches which was a source of great frustration for any trader that fancied trying to arrange a trade deal for their crafts. So payment seemed not to be an issue. Dutifully you returned to the house your party had purchased many moons ago. Now somewhat dilapidated, the garden overgrown. It made you well up with shame to bring such a perfect and ethereal figure to this place. But her face remained impassive as she was led inside not that the interior fared much better. Broken bottles, dust, overturned chairs. Too often had your party returned here either too tired or drunk to care about cleanliness and it had become simply a part of the decor. First to meet you were the leaders of your band. A pair of twins, one a swordsman named Krennan and the other a channeller of barbaric rage named Mithra. “Well now, pipsqueak. Who’s this you brought with yo-” Began the swordsman, only to be cut off. “I think that’s quite a rude nickname to give someone, don’t you think?” The elf’s voice came in clipped tones, her hands on her hips. “How would you like it if someone called you pipsqueak, hmm? Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you get to bully others you know!” The twins look stunned. Confused. They hadn’t even exchanged names and already this lady was scolding them like a schoolteacher. “Well? Not to mention the absolute state of this abode. I’m told you are the ‘leaders’ of this little group? Hmm? Well I don’t see much leading if you leave this place in such a mess!” You couldn’t help but smile, though you attempted to hide it. To see these two being taken down a peg was… Wonderful. You glanced up at this woman, this saviour and your heart leapt just a little. You clung to her side even though you technically could have left at any time. Nowhere felt safer than right here, especially after her gentle arm almost habitually draped itself around you. “Now do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?” Her voice never raised, not once. But the tone, the power, the authority. It was all that was needed. The duo mumble and hang their heads, somehow cowed by this beautiful stranger. “Now apologize.” She commands. Krennan begins to mumble but withers under her gaze. “S-Sorry for calling you a pipsqueak.” He says a little more clearly. “That’s better. Now dearies. Thanks to a certain someone here-” she announces, rubbing your arm affectionately. “-I am your new… What was the word again in this era?” She asks you. “Healer” You say back up to her, feeling an utter rush of pride that you could be helpful to her. Especially as she beams back down at you. “I am your new healer! I’ll make sure you’re all back in bed safe and sound each and every night!” Her words are accompanied with a happy giggle. “But first sweeties, I think we need to do something about this mess, don’t you? After all. Cleanliness is next to godliness! So come along, pick up a brush. No dillydallying!” She ferries you and the other two further into the house, ushering you like children.

The next few hours consisted of chores. Cleaning the house, trimming the garden, dusting every inch that could be dusted. Your other companions - A scout named Callie and a sorcerer named Ilnax, were roped into the affair with sleepy confusion. That they fucked regularly was the worst kept secret in the group and today was no exception. But Nimue had some kind of.. Allure. Power. Nothing magical, you don’t think. Simply an aura of maternal authority. You found yourself eager to please, trusting that she knew best. And before long, the house was transformed. No longer a dilapidated sty, it looked somewhat close to actually livable! “Okay sweeties! Well done! I’m so proud of you! Teehee! And now it’s bath and bedtime for all of you!” That snapped some of them out of the strange spell she had woven. “Bedtime? We’re not-” Began Callie, only to find Nimue’s smiling face gazing down at her. “I am responsible for your health and that begins with a good and consistent sleep schedule! I’m told you four are constantly staying up far too late. This won’t do, so long as I’m here you will sleep at a reasonable hour! You wouldn’t want to die because of a silly mistake you made because you were cranky, would you?” 

As usual, you were last for the bath. You were used to it. The others simply barged their way past you to take the hot water for themselves. As you stepped into the bathroom you blush as immediately you realise that Nimue is also in there, standing near-naked before the tub. You never thought you would see an ass that perfect but you could probably bounce a gold coin off that thing as silken underwear are nearly swallowed by the cheeks. She turns with a yelp, covering her bare chest but then chuckling and dropping her hands revealing perfectly pink nipples. “Oh, it’s just you! Hehe! Close the door silly.” She says with a chuckle. Your cheeks burn, not just because of her nudity but how somehow you don’t count as someone she would be embarrassed by. As if she doesn’t see you as an adult that would find such a sight enticing. But you find yourself closing the door. “It’s getting late, so I thought I would join you in the bath! That’s okay, right? No one changed the water so I did it myself and added some firestones. It should be nice and warm! C’mon!” She beckons, turning and slipping off her panties before climbing into the tub. You debated leaving, but why should you? She was inviting you in. And the water was literally steaming hot. You hadn’t had a warm bath in so long. You realise that while you had been debating internally your body had made the choice and you were already sinking into that warm, steaming water. The tub, small as it was, would only fit if you sat between her gorgeous thighs. They cushioned your hips like pillows as she wrapped her arms around your stomach, pulling you back against her to give you a hug. Her breasts squishing against the back of your head as she does so. “I’m so glad I found you, little one. This was just what I needed! Oh this is going to be a wonderful, wonderful time!” She coos, bringing some water up and beginning to wash you. Overwhelmed, you simply sit still. It was nice, finally. To have someone stand up for you, take care of you, protect you. Finally you could just relax. Just.. Relax.. “Ooop! It looks like someone’s having a bit of an accident!” She titters. Your eyes flutter open as you look down and to your utter horror you see between your legs a definite tinge of gold in the water. Did you- You pissed yourself! You immediately try to scramble out, stammering an embarrassed apology but again those powerful arms keep you still. “Shhh…” She soothes, softly petting your head. “It’s okay. I understand. You were relaxed. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She whispers into your ear. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. But for now.. We should make sure there’s nothing else in there, hmm?” Unsure of what she meant, you simply settled back into the water as her hand trailed down between your legs. You tense as she touches your most intimate place, but quickly relax as her gentle hands slowly start to rub and tease you. “W-What are you…” “Helping you relax.. Shhh..” She whispers into your ear as she continues just gently touching you. Holding you in a motherly embrace as her delicate strokes make you shiver so sweetly. You had never been touched like this. So carefully, tenderly. Not trying to simply get you off as quickly as possible. But wanting to fill your mind with a haze of pleasure. It was overwhelming. It was everything. You settle even more comfortably against her chest, half turning to nuzzle into her breast as she holds you close. “That’s my little champion. My brave heroic adventurer! You’ve done so much, such a good job! Now just relax. Let me take care of you. Let mommy take good, good care of you now…” Those words reached your ears and swirled into your mind. Soothing all worries, caressing your anxious soul. You didn’t even realise when you felt your hips lift and grind against her hand as you cum for her. She was taking care of you now. You were hers, happily and hopelessly hers. You could never have imagined how far that would go. 

[buckys-little-belle]

Chapter One - The Blue Crayon 

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW. 

Warnings - Reader cries, first meeting jitters, brief talks of Bucky’s ‘old life’, mainly fluff 

Word Count - 1,836

Note - Releasing this is really scary, and nerve wracking. I'm worried people will hate my new writing style, or won't enjoy the slight changes to the plot/pace/overall creation. Please know that this means a lot to me, and has really given me back a piece of me I thought I lost. Enjoy, and I hope you love this as much as I do <3

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★ Prologue ★ 

After years of feeling out of place no matter where he went, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter what he did to fit in, Bucky took a trip to a Cafe he remembered from his old days in Brooklyn. 

The interior looked the same as it had decades ago, the soft blue and green diner furniture was in pristine shape. The metal of the counter looked slightly more scratched and worn, but the whole place had the same feel it did when he first walked in years ago. 

While most cafes offered the same types of coffee and treats, none of them were anything like Cafe BigNSmall. Instead of being on a busy street open to just anyone, it was hidden away from prying eyes on a calm street, and was catered towards Littles and Caregivers. 

It was founded before Bucky was even born, a group of people looking for a place to meet up comfortably, but also create a safe space for other Littles and Caregivers that might also be in need of a community. 

Bucky had stumbled his way into a conversation years ago about Littles and Caregivers, at first he didn’t understand what the conversation was about, but after asking a few questions and being given the address to the hardly known, yet also famous, cafe his whole idea around the topic changed. And after a few visits with his best friend by his side the two of them realised that the community they had accidentally found was one they fit perfectly into. 

Bucky half expected the well hidden cafe to be gone, or at least moved to a different location after all these years, but as he walked along the familiar sidewalk and stopped in front of the building he used to visit weekly, a warm feeling spread along his chest. The feeling of finally finding someplace he knew, and some place that knew him, was the best feeling he had felt in a while. 

Even the ding of the welcome bell was the same, the coffee just as good as he remembered it, and the crunch of the leather covered diner booth sounded just as he had remembered it. 

The feeling of sitting at a table alone though was new, his days spent here were always spent with Steve and other people they had met along the way. But now he sat in his favourite booth with a bag full of activities, and a heart in need of a purpose. He realised that even though the building had stayed the same, he hadn’t. 

Weeks went by as he watched groups of Littles and Caregivers sit around tables and talk, colour, and laugh. He understood why people avoided him, if they knew who he was they had reason to walk away, and even if they didn’t know him as ‘The Winter Soldier” he was still dressed head to toe in black, stood at times a foot above everyone else, and always had an easily read as angry expression plastered on his face. 

It had been a month before anyone talked to him, and although he wished that he could have felt included sooner, he was happy that Y/n was the first person he met, even if it took weeks of waiting. 

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The sun was shining brightly through the wall of windows, Bucky’s booth drowning in light, the small plant that sat with a basket full of sugar and cream was no doubt enjoying the nice weather. 

Bucky’s coat sat next to him, his phone buzzing from time to time though he ignored it. Instead of calling Steve back, or making sure Sam didn’t need something he surveyed the room, making sure all exits were secure, and danger wasn’t present. 

He, in a way, had given up the idea that he would meet a Little, or even a friend, but decided that in the absence of someone he would spend his time as - unwanted, and unneeded, as well as unofficial - security for those who spent their days here with friends. 

As his eyes drifted to make sure his car parked on a side street was still in tack he heard a small shuffle next to him, then a small voice spoke. “Um, Mr?” He turned his head to see a girl with tear marks down her face staring at him. Her green shirt’s sleeves covered in wiped tears, her overalls slightly off her one shoulder. 

Bucky just stared at her for a second, waiting for her to fizzle away and reveal herself as a dream, or run in fear when she saw his face, but she didn’t. “Hi.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a neutral tone and facial expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked, shuffling in his seat slightly, his nerves evident. 

“My, um.” Her left hand covered in her sleeve came back up to her face, rubbing her eye before she continued. “My crayon broke.” The girls lower lip wobbled now, bringing up what must have happened clearly causing her distress. “The nice cash lady said you, you migh’ have some crayons?” Her voiced lowered to a whisper now. 

Bucky smiled, the warmth he felt when he first stepped inside a month ago finally coming back. His backpack was filled with Little friendly activities and supplies for this reason exactly. “I do.” He answered, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his carton of 96 crayons. “What colour do you need, Bub?” The nickname slipped out on accident, but the girl in front of him didn’t seem to notice, too awe struck by the box of crayons in front of him. 

She sniffled before answering. “I need blue.” She said with a little more confidence. “Hold on.” She whispered, jogging back to what Bucky assumed was her table. “This one, please.” She pulled out two halves of a blue crayon from her box. Her crayon box was smaller than Bucky’s, only a handful of crayons inside, unlike his though her’s had a small sticker on it that read “Y/n.” 

“Y/n?” He asked, the girl snapping her head to him, her eyes wide. Bucky tapped the sticker on her box, Y/n flipping it over and realising how he now knew her name. “There’s too many blue crayons in this box to know what one you want.” He said, hoping it didn’t come off mean or like he was showing off his ‘better’ supplies. “Why don’t you take the box back to your table and use any of the crayons I have for the day.” He offers, hoping that his generosity could help earn Y/n’s trust over time. 

“Can I jus’ sit here?” Y/n asked, her hands fiddling with the box in her hands. 

“You want to sit here?” Bucky parrots her words back to her, hardly believing that she would want to sit with him. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Her lower lip began to wobble again as she took a step back. “Unless, I’m sorry, I can go.” She said quickly, clearly taking Bucky’s surprise as anger. 

“You can sit here.” Bucky’s words were also spoken quickly, worried if he didn’t say anything right away she would run from him. “No one’s wanted to sit with me yet, I’m just surprised.” Y/n nodded her head and put her small box down on the table before walking back to hers. 

In a minute she had gathered all her things and made her way back to Bucky, her backpack now sitting on the other seat. “You sure that I can sit here?” Bucky noticed her slight change in speech, a clear sign of further regression. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, Y/n sitting down but still holding her colouring book to her chest, her back straight as a pin. “I’m glad you came over.” He says in hopes to reassure her he wants her here. “It’s nice to have a friend.” Y/n smiles at that, placing her book down, showing a half done colouring page. 

“I agree, bein’ lonely is sad.” She frowns. “Do you wanna colour with me?” Her tone is hopeful, looking at Bucky with a smile. 

“I’d love to.” He smiled back, pushing his coffee to the side and accepting the page Y/n tore out for him. The two of them colouring their respective pages in silence for an hour before Y/n sat up straight with the biggest smile Bucky had seen so far. 

“Done!” She practically yelled. Bucky had been done for a while now, adding his own doodles around the actual lines of the drawing. “Look.” She slides the book towards him, a coloured picture of a princess and her wildlife friends surrounding her staring back up at him. 

“This is really good, Bub.” Bucky coos, surprised at her ability to stay mainly in the lines of the original lines. 

“You can keep it.” She quickly squiggles something on the bottom, Bucky assuming it’s her form of a signature. 

“Thank y-” His words are cut off by the shrill of an alarm, Y/n digging her phone out of her backpack to turn it off, frowning as she places the phone on the table. 

“I have to go home now.” She frowns as she starts to pack up her bag, pausing to turn to Bucky. “Will you, can you.” She stumbles over her words. “Are you coming here tomorrow?” She eventually asks, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s. 

“Are you?” He counter asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow.” She smiles and finally looks at him. 

Y/n spends a few more minutes packing up her things before she stands. “Thank you Mr.” She holds her hand out for a handshake, Bucky’s back straightening as he realises he’ll have to shake her hand with his left. Instead of doing so he grabs her left hand with his right and shakes that one, her giggles worth the awkward situation. “Bye Mr.” She says, turning to leave, but Bucky keeps a hold of her hand. 

“Why don’t you keep these?” He says, pushing the box of crayons closer to her near the edge of the table. 

“Borrow them?” She asks. 

“No, I want you to keep them.” He nudges them her way a little more. “I think you’ll get much more use out of them than I ever would.” He smiles as he watches her’s grow bigger. Picking them up she does a little jump, her backpack jingling as she does. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She spins before whispering a ‘thank you’. 

Before Bucky could say goodbye, or ask for her phone number, she had already walked out of the building, walking down the sidewalk looking at the box of crayons in awe. The broken blue crayon still sat on the table, he smiled, picking it up and placing it in his pocket. The small thing a reminder of the best day he’s had in a long time. 

[chochuuya]

manga genres.

matsuno chifuyu x fem!reader

disclaimer/note: lots of bickering, chifuyu is a hardcore, he called you a dork and actually roasts you bad but.. finally breaks his christmas curse? (｡- .•)

wc: 1.6k [1668]

you both can never get along when it comes to your manga preferences.

“shut up.” chifuyu sneers.

“no, you shut up!” you say in return.

it’s been about 30 minutes since you first started arguing. chifuyu is a softie at heart, and enjoyed the romance genre. while you were a person of action, enjoying the thriller genre much more.

“the art style is so much better. i don’t even know how you can read a story with such bad flow!” he argued.

you scoffed, turning your head away for a second before looking back at him.

“bad story flow? how dare you. as if your fav isn’t so predictable and mundane, chifuyu. trust me, action is sooo much better than romance.”

“well at least my favourite doesn’t have bad character development! at least they have likeable characters with diverse personalities, compared to your fav show where everyone is plain and boring.” chifuyu says, clearly not going to budge.

“oh, and your fav also has shitty romance.” he adds with a smirk.

he’s getting annoying, you swear you could punch his dumb face but you decided against it.

“well, at least my manga has plot twists and actually keeps their audience wanting for more! your romance? twelve episodes and we’re done. you can just read another of the same genre and you’ll get same plot every time.”

“oh no plot twists, huh?” chifuyu retorts gleefully.

“like who died in the latest chapter or some other bullcrap like that? i rather read and watch something where i can relax and enjoy.” the blond says, “you know, something that doesn't overstimulate your brain.”

“and plus, with romance i get to enjoy some sweet and spicy scenes that i like so much.”

he adds cheekily, “besides, i hate waiting a week for the next chapter. romance is much better than that.”

you scoffed in disbelief. the audacity and ego of his is something else.

“maybe your attention span is just too short to be watching or reading action, chifuyu!”

“and maybe your brain is a bit too simple compared to mine.” he retorts snarkily, “maybe you need constant action and stimulation to keep you entertained, because you get bored too easily.”

“and, it doesn’t matter how long a manga or anime is, it’s the enjoyment and the quality of it that counts. and clearly romance does it best.” he adds smugly, knowing he’s won in his eyes.

you actually rolled your eyes at his reasoning.

“maybe your authors keep dragging the story because they know romance and slice of life is just too simple without any action in it! yeah, what about that?”

“not to mention some of your favourites are quite questionable, chifuyu. what was it again.. oshi no ko? fruits basket? yuck!” you added.

chifuyu chuckles in amusement at your annoyance.

“you know what else is funny? i bet you can’t watch a romantic comedy without feeling cringe or getting embarrassed. and i mean real romcoms, like wotakoi and kaguya-sama.”

"and yeah, they’re my favourites, the anime just elevated them more. i mean come on, they’re cute and funny! and oshi no ko’s mystery and drama, even the comedy at times! how can you hate them?!” he states, annoyed.

“you bet i do, i don’t know how you feel all giddy inside when watching or reading them. maybe you’re just a hopeless romantic!”

you laughed wholeheartedly at your own remark.

“kaguya-sama? even i know better romances than you, ao haru ride and kimi ni todoke is so much better.”

“you know nothing, (y/n).” chifuyu says, amused.

“i admit kaguya-sama has its flaws, but it’s so damn good too. and ao haru ride is nothing but a sad, slow-burn romance that is painfully boring." he says, feeling a bit annoyed at your remark.

“and kimi ni todoke? again, slow-burn that is a bit too cliché.” he adds before saying, “i’d rather read or watch wotakoi. that’s a much better romance manga.”

you sighed in defeat. just hurts your throat trying to even get your argument against him.

chifuyu laughs, “told you! you clearly don’t know enough about manga and anime. you should learn from me, (y/n)!”

“and maybe, just maybe, if you try to change your tastes in manga and anime, you’d start attracting people who like the same thing as you.” he smirks, knowing he hit a nerve with that last comment of his.

you nudged him.

“you say that as if i don’t hear you complaining every christmas that you can’t get a girl, chifuyu. shut up!”

he goes silent, a slight redness creeping into his skin, “h-hey, c’mon! you didn’t have to point that out!” he says, trying to defend himself.

“besides, one day i’ll get a girlfriend.. just you wait—” he grumbles, looking away.

“yeah, whatever. i would probably be dead before you even can get yourself a girl.”

he goes silent again. his face seems to get redder, his annoyance clear.

“what’s that supposed to mean? you think i can’t have a girlfriend?” chifuyu retorts, annoyed.

he didn’t appreciate you mocking him like that.

“um, yeah. every time a girl talks to you, you chicken out. be grateful that i stayed.”

his face turns to disbelief at your words, still red with anger.

“i chicken out? chicken out?! that’s rich coming from you, who’s too scared to ask anyone out on a date.” he says, not backing down.

“and at least i’m not an introvert who gets anxiety whenever they meet new people, scared of embarrassing themselves and avoiding any and all social situations.” he adds, being as brutal as he can be.

your jaw dropped but you quickly compose yourself. don’t let him get to you just yet!

“h-huh? what do you even know about dating?! i bet i have more chance than you do, chifuyu.”

he chuckles in amusement at your outburst.

“oh you’re just all bark, no bite, (y/n). i’ve been on a few dates, sure maybe none of them really lasted, but at least i’ve been on some. you can’t say the same, can you?”

“and i doubt anyone would wanna go out with a dork like you anyway,” he adds with a smirk.

you had enough. you stood up from the floor of his room and exited the door. wow, so much of a hangout!

“hey hey hey, where do you think you’re going, (y/n)?” chifuyu taunts, standing up and walking towards you.

“the conversation isn’t over yet, now is it?” he adds.

“i’m going home.” you said plainly as you walk down the hallway.

“no, you’re not," he says, grabbing you by the arm and stopping you from continuing your walk.

“who says you can leave now?” he asks, annoyed and determined to carry on with his argument.

you nudged your shoulder, removing your arm from his grasp as you continue to ignore him.

coincidentally, baji came and opened the door. poor guy must be confused to see you leave right after. he stepped aside as chifuyu tried to chase after you.

“hey! what gives you the right to ignore me like that?!” chifuyu shouts, watching you walk out of the front door.

“damn it!” he yells angrily at you as you walk away with your nose in the air.

“way to go, chifuyu.”

“kindly shut up, baji-san.”

the next day at school, you were not in the mood. maybe his words got to you yesterday.

you stare into the void of your locker as you got your books out slowly.

chifuyu notices something is off with you. he decides to walk up to you as he sees you get your books out slowly, looking at you with a concerned expression.

he decides not to bring up the argument you had yesterday, for he knows his words can cut deep sometimes.

“hey (y/n), are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“hm.” you simply hummed in response as you shove your books into your backpack. you adjusted the straps before closing the locker and walks towards your class.

chifuyu follows you. he decides not to follow up with his previous question, and instead makes an attempt at being friendly.

“can i walk with you?”

“sure.”

he walks alongside you, feeling quite uncomfortable with your silence.

“so, um, do you mind if i ask what’s got you so down?” he asks, as he walks with you to class.

“was it that argument we had? or something else..?” he asks again, genuinely curious.

“maybe next time don’t call me a dork when you know i dislike it, chifuyu. i get it, i’m sensitive sometimes but—”

“that was yesterday, is that why you’re pissed at me still?” he asks, not fully understanding the situation.

“besides, i wasn’t being serious, (y/n)! we’re friends, you’re no dork.. i’m sorry okay?” he says, feeling a bit saddened.

“and besides, i like it when you’re sensitive. it’s adorable.” chifuyu says with a small smile. he felt that admitting that is rather embarrassing, but he wanted to reconcile with you.

you paused on your tracks as you look up to him. “did he just.. call me adorable?”

“come again?”

“you heard me.” he smirked.

“you being overly sensitive is such an adorable trait to have. not to mention, i would prefer my future girlfriend to be somewhat sensitive, instead of being a cold and mean person.”

he said it all so boldly that makes your mouth hangs open slightly. your cheeks are betraying you already.

“what..?”

he can see your cheeks getting slightly red tinted now. he was getting flustered himself.

“i.. uh..” he stammers.

“i mean, everyone would want their future partner to be someone they like. and i like you, (y/n).”

“plus, what i said is the truth. people do think you’re cute and adorable whenever you’re overly sensitive. even your anger is adorable.” he adds, giving it his all to persuade you into admitting you like him.

he’s clearly into you now.

and, you have no choice but to answer.

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

chifuyu is so cute (i am biased) and a fluffy fluff is what he deserves (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ i hope you like this one~ all reblogs & likes are vv appreciated!

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter 5

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 6k

Chapter 5 Summary: Your husband has every intention of making this your most memorable birthday yet… And he was never one to disappoint.

Notes: This chapter will be split over a couple of parts. It was getting long (and unhinged) and I wanted to get something out sooner than later. There will be at least one follow-up chapter to this one that will be a straight continuation from where we leave off here.

Chapter Warnings (minor spoilers in the tags...): 18+ MDNI. F/M/M threesome. Cucking/Wife sharing. Semi-public sex acts (you're in the back of a car but the driver can't see or hear you). Derogatory Language. Praise kink. Soft!Dave York. Dom!Dave York. PerfectHusband!Marcus Pike. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Rough oral sex. Sensory deprivation. Use of restraints. Traffic light system. If I missed anything else lmk!

Thank you to my mutuals for talking things out with me and helping me out on a few things, you know who you are! Dedicating this chapter to @janaispunk, I hope it gives you a smile or two :)

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

You twirl your pasta around your fork as you glance across the candlelit table to Marcus on the other side, your heart warming as his gaze settles on you and a smile pulls at his lips. He’s brought you to your favorite restaurant for your birthday. Or rather, your birthday weekend, as he called it. Today was Friday and your birthday wasn’t technically until tomorrow but Marcus did always like to make a fuss.

Soft jazz music plays in the background while an opened bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket next to your table, both of you already on your second glass.

“How’s your carbonara?” He asks, nodding his head in the direction of your plate.

“To die for” you roll your eyes dramatically before taking another bite. He smiles again before digging back into his steak and you both settle back into a comfortable silence as you continue to enjoy your dinner. He has yet to tell you what his plans are for the rest of the evening, despite you desperately begging to get it out of him. He wants it to be a surprise, as usual.

You chat in hushed voices as you near the end of your meals, Marcus holding your hand in his as you tell him again how much you love him and how lucky you are that he’s yours. Your brow raises slightly in surprise when he orders another round of drinks and as the server disappears he’s quick to let you know not to worry, that he’s not driving tonight and has already made other arrangements. Of course he has. Marcus had always been meticulous in planning your birthdays.

With half a bottle of champagne already under your belts each, your next drink - your favourite wine - goes down just as easily as Marcus’ Old Fashioned does. You’re not drunk, but you’re certainly feeling good and playful enough that you stretch your right leg out under the table and gently run your foot up Marcus’ calf.

“Ready to get out of here?” He smirks at you from across the table, quickly throwing back the last swallow of amber liquid in his glass. You bite your lip and nod your head. You don’t know where you’re off to next, but at the very least maybe you can make out a little in the back of the cab.

Marcus gets your server’s attention and within minutes the bill is paid and he’s guiding you out of the restaurant, his palm a warming presence on the small of your back.

You step out into the cool night air and your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see what’s waiting for you. A black sleek, stretched Lincoln Town Car is idling at the curb with a well dressed driver standing dutifully at the back passenger door, white gloved hands folded in front of him as he tips his head to you both in greeting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Pike,” he greets as he moves slightly from the door and pulls it open, gesturing you inside with a sweep of his arm towards the open door.

“What have you done?” You giggle, looking back at your husband who just shrugs his shoulders. “I thought you meant a cab”

“Only the best for my baby on her birthday” he smiles and ushers you towards the car, gently pushing on the small of your back and you let him guide you inside before he climbs in after you and the driver gently shuts the door.

You settle into the plush interior and take in your surroundings. There are soft tiny lights all across the ceiling, giving the darkened interior a soft warm glow, small dark red velvet throw pillows on the black leather upholstered seating and another bottle of champagne chills in a bucket of ice in the middle of the floor between the two facing bench seats on either side.

The driver gets into his seat, you can see through the open car and he gives you a small nod and a smile through his rearview mirror before he clicks a button and the partition in front of you begins to raise, sealing you and Marcus away to yourselves.

“More champagne?” Marcus asks as you snuggle closer into his side.

“No” you breathe out before you’re on him, the car having barely just pulled away from the curb. Your hands on either side of his face and one leg slots in between his as you push yourself up to capture his mouth. His hand goes to your waist immediately, brushing up and down your side as you lick into his mouth and he swallows back a moan.

“How much time do we have?” You ask between desperate kisses, your hands fisting into his dress shirt now and pulling his body towards you until he’s pressing your back into the plush leather behind you.

He lets out a laugh at your eagerness. “Not that much”.

You begin to pout but it’s short lived when you feel his hand go under your dress, warm palm inching up your thigh.

“Marcus” you whimper against his lips when his fingertips ghost over your panties. You’re already wet and you know he can feel it by how he smirks against your lips.

“I’ve got you honey” he promises and then gently pulls the front of your underwear aside and presses his fingers against you.

You let out a little whine and then press your mouth to his again, letting him swallow all your little moans while his fingers make delicate work of pulling you apart. He lets them glide through your slick folds and presses one digit inside of you to gather more of your arousal before he spreads it around your lips and up to circle at your clit and your hips cant off the seat, pressing into his hand.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, mouth pulling off of him so your head can fall back against the seat. “Feels so good” you tell him, hand coming up to wrap around the back of his head as he buries his face in your throat and begins to lick and suck at your pulse point.

His fingers relent from teasing at your clit and slide lower until he’s pushing two into you and curling them just as he reaches that spongy spot deep inside that causes a low moan to spill from your lips. Within minutes he already has you on the edge and the firm press of his palm to your throbbing little bundle of nerves while his fingers crook back and forth inside you is enough to tip you over. You lurch forward and let out a strangled sob as you cum around his fingers, your hands desperately clutching and clawing at his shoulders as wave after wave of your orgasm washes over you. You feel him chuckle into your throat as his fingers slow to long, languid thrusts inside of you before he finally pulls them out and teases them around your folds and clit and your body gently jerks at how sensitive you are.

“All better?” he asks, smirking into the side of your throat before he rights your underwear again and his hand goes back to gently smoothing up and down your thigh.

“Oh my god” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. “Thank you baby” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hair. The car begins to slowly roll to a stop and you gently push away from each other, Marcus fixing your dress back down from where he’d pushed it up your hips before his hand goes to his own crotch and he slightly adjusts himself in the now tight fabric of his pants. You don’t know how far you drove but the ride seemed to be over far too quickly for your liking. You desperately wanted to take Marcus in your mouth while you kneeled before him on the carpeted floor of the limo, making sure he knew how much you appreciated everything he does for you but it seems the driver and, presumably, Marcus’ predetermined destination, had other plans for you.

Marcus notices the little pout on your lips and gently grasps at your chin before pulling you towards him for a quick kiss. “Plenty time for more of that later, baby” he promises.

You hear the driver's door open and close and a moment later there’s a tap against your window and Marcus slides over across the seat to open the door and you follow right behind him.

“Marcus!” You giggle when you step outside and realize where you are, at one of the fanciest - and not to mention most expensive - hotels in the city. You didn’t know what he had in store for tonight but now that you’re here you’re very glad he’s whisked you away to a hotel room so you can get right back to where you left off in the limo.

“I did good?” He asks, looking at you with a grin and you quickly nod your head.

“You did very good baby” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a quick kiss.

“Your bag sir” the Driver is suddenly at your side again, handing Marcus an overnight bag that you realize he must have gotten out of the trunk and you give Marcus a curious look. Clearly he had this all mapped out and had even packed you both some essentials and given it to the Driver in advance.

Marcus thanks the driver and holds his free arm out to you which you happily accept, thanking the driver yourself and wishing him a goodnight as Marcus whisks you away into the hotel. You don’t even stop at the concierge, Marcus letting you know he’s already taken care of checking in and has the keycard in his pocket. You don’t even know when he’d had time to do all this. As far as you knew he came straight home from work and quickly showered and changed and you were out the door for dinner. Your husband never failed to surprise you.

You clutch a little tighter to his arm as the elevator carries you to one of the highest floors and an excited energy thrums through your veins. You can’t wait to get him inside and show him just how grateful you are for not only tonight, but everything this man does for you.

He slides the keycard at the electronic pass at the door once the elevator has deposited you on your floor and your breath catches in your throat the moment he swings the door open. It’s just the front entry to what is apparently a multi-room suite but it’s already beautiful. The lights are dimmed and there are red rose petals on the floor leading down a narrow hallway on your right that turns off to another section of the room that you aren’t able to see yet beyond the walls. Immediately on your left is a simple bathroom complete with a large glass walk-in shower.

“C’mon” he laughs at your little gasp. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet”

He takes your hand and leads you inside, following the path of the rose petals and you turn into the next area. It’s a living room area furnished with an already lit fireplace, a couch, armchair and coffee table, as well as a small desk. On a far wall there are two sets of double french doors, one of which is opened to showcase an enormous built-in jacuzzi tub, the second set of doors still firmly closed.

“Oh my god that bathtub” you sigh. You’ve always wanted one like it at home. “Is that the best part?” You ask your husband who simply smirks but shakes his head.

“Not even close” he laughs and nods his head for you to follow his line of sight back to the rose petals still trailing across the floor that lead to the second set of closed doors.

“Oooh, and what’s behind door number two?” You ask giddily like you’re on some game show and Marcus simply shrugs, feigning ignorance.

“Go find out”

You don’t need to be told twice, your excitement barely containable, not having any idea what else he could possibly surprise you with tonight. But when you reach the doors and swing them open, he’s done it. Your husband has absolutely outdone himself yet again and given you the biggest surprise yet. You practically shriek when you see ‘your surprise’ standing there, dressed smartly in a sharp black suit with the jacket buttons open and crisp white collared shirt but no tie, holding a single long stemmed red rose in front of him.

It’s Dave.

“Oh my god!” You gasp before your feet take off, you’re practically sprinting across the room towards him and leap into his arms. He catches you easily as your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

“Happy birthday baby” he murmurs into your hair as he holds you firmly to his body and after a good long moment you finally pull back enough to press a kiss to his waiting lips.

“I can’t believe you’re here” you whisper against his mouth before capturing his lips again with your own. Not allowing the kiss to get too heated, yet, you gently extract yourself from him and he helps you back down to your feet where you run back over to Marcus and throw your arms around him next.

“You did this for me?” You whisper into his neck, unable to help the couple of tears that slip out as you hug him tighter and his arms come up to wrap around your back. Of all the possibilities that ran through your head for this evening, this one never crossed your mind and you’re so happy you literally have tears in your eyes.

“Have I ever let you down on your birthday honey?” he chuckles and that gets a little laugh out of you as well, sniffling back your tears before you pull away from him and place both hands on his face, your teary eyed gaze locked on his.

“I love you Marcus” you tell him before you surge forward and let your lips and tongue express the rest of your emotions as they collide with his. He moans into the kiss, his hands smoothing down your back to rest on your ass while yours slide up to push the jacket from his shoulders, neither of you caring that it lands in a crumpled heap on the floor at your feet and the moment his arms are free again his hands are back where they started. You're lost in the kiss for long moments until you feel another set of hands suddenly at your waist and a hot, wet mouth at the side of your throat.

“Ohhhh,” you let out a little whimper, breaking away from Marcus’ mouth as your head lolls back to rest on Dave’s shoulder where he stands behind you, his lips still sealed to your throat. Marcus leans back in, kissing and nipping at the side of your face, down your jaw and the opposite side of your neck from Dave and you let out another moan. You’ve never been sandwiched between the two of them like this before and it’s driving you insane, despite the fact that they’re barely doing anything other than kissing you. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to survive the rest of the night if it keeps going anything like this.

Your husband's large palms grope and grab at your ass while Dave’s slide up to your tits, gently kneading and palming them in his grasp and your whole body tingles with anticipation and an unprecedented excitement while the two of them focus all of their attention on worshiping your body.

“Mmmm, should we get you more comfortable baby?” Dave eventually hums into your throat, his hands leaving your breasts and fingertips now teasing up and down your sides and you can do little but nod your head. Neither of their mouths let up, but Dave’s hands do come around to your back where he gently tugs on the zipper of your dress, sliding it all the way down and only when you go to step out of it do both men finally release you and take a slight step back. The fabric pools at your feet forgotten, leaving you in only your bra and panties and Marcus smiles at you before taking your hand and leading you over to the bed.

You hadn’t noticed everything else when you first opened the doors, all coherent thought leaving your brain the moment you saw Dave standing in the middle of the room, but you see it now. There are dozens of tiny lit candles everywhere and more rose petals laid out in the shape of a heart on the King sized bed.

Everything is perfect. Truly perfect, now that you had Dave here to share it with both of you.

“On the bed honey” Marcus gestures towards the headboard with a nod of his head and you quickly clamber up onto the mattress to the middle of the bed and rest your back against the pillows at the headboard. Marcus kneels onto the bed and crawls up after you while Dave rounds to the other side and then does the same until you’re flanked by both of them as they lie on their sides next to you and both immediately bring their mouths to your throat again. They’re kissing, licking and sucking their way across and down your neck as they both bring a hand up and squeeze a breast and your back arches, pressing yourself further into their touch as they both devour you with their mouths. Daves free hand reaches behind you, unclasping your bra so they can both hastily tug either side’s strap down until you’re free from its confines and it’s tossed carelessly aside before their hands resume their earlier task; squeezing, kneading and teasing your tits with their large hands and expert fingers. They’re slowly driving you mad with their equal attentiveness and you can do little about it other than lie back and enjoy everything they give you, your hands wrapping around either of their heads and pushing through their hair as they continue to assault your throat with hungry kisses. You’re certain you’re going to be marked up to all hell come tomorrow morning but you don’t care. You’ll wear a turtleneck to work next week and try not to blush any time a coworker questions your choice of wardrobe given the time of year. Or hell, maybe you’ll show them off as badges of honour and let them gossip all they want.

It’s Marcus’ hand that eventually retreats from your chest first, leaving your breast to trail down your stomach and going between your legs to palm your sex overtop of your underwear and you can’t help but lift your hips to grind into his hand. Your panties are already soaked from your little makeout session in the limo and every brush of Marcus’ deft fingers over your lips has you aching to feel more of him, wishing he’d take them off of you.

“Oh fuck” you whine when Dave’s hand suddenly leaves your chest and is overtop of Marcus’ pressing it further into your clothed cunt. You try to lift your head a little higher so you can see their hands moving together against you but their mouths still have you basically pinned down against the headboard.

“Fucking soaked baby” Dave chuckles into your throat. “Somebody started without me”

“Couldn’t… Resist” Marcus breathes out in between kisses. “Fuck, look at her”

“Gettin Marcus here all riled up baby?” Dave tuts, his hand leaving your sex to trail upwards and gently pinch and pull at a taut nipple, causing you to bite your lip to keep the whimper of pleasant pain at bay. “Being naughty, hmmm?” he breathes into the side of your face.

“You know what we do to naughty girls, don’t you?” He asks, breath hot against your ear and you quickly shake your head.

“Show me” you breathe out, heart hammering in your chest, and the ‘be careful what you wish for’ is implied in the dark little chuckle Dave lets out at your brazen response.

His hands leave you entirely and he’s up out of the bed and your eyes trail him as he walks over and bends down to grab a small black duffel bag that was sitting next to the armchair in the room. Even Marcus seems to be distracted by Dave, his kisses and movements slowing as he watches him from his peripheral, curious to see what all Dave has in his bag of tricks this evening. He was rarely one to disappoint.

Your breath catches in your throat when you recognize what’s in his hands and he smirks as he saunters back up to you, dangling the restraints from his strong fingers.

“Been dying to do this for ages baby” he confesses and you hear a tiny whimpered ‘oh fuck’ from Marcus when he turns his head fully to see what’s going on. His hard cock twitches against your hip and you’re not sure which one of you is most excited to see you tied up; Dave, yourself, or Marcus.

The mattress dips under his weight as Dave kneels on the bed next to you and begins securing one of the restraints around the nearest bedpost. Once he’s got it looped around he lifts your hand and feeds it through the small opening at the opposite end and then wraps the velcro fastener around your wrist and tests it by giving your arm a small tug.

Satisfied that it's secure he gets up and walks around to the other side, next to Marcus and repeats the same process for your other arm and pats the back of your imprisoned hand once you’re completely subdued. Your heart is hammering in your chest with a nervous excitement and the way both men are staring at you like you are something to be devoured isn’t helping the aching throb between your legs one bit.

“Just missing one final piece” Dave muses before he turns his head towards Marcus and gestures at him with a nod of his head.

“Mind if I borrow this?” He asks, and not giving Marcus a chance to respond, brings his hands to your husbands neck and starts tugging his tie loose until he’s able to slip it over his head. “Much obliged” Dave smirks before his attention turns back towards you and suddenly your vision goes black (literally) as Dave slips the silken material over your head to cover your eyes and pulls the knot tight again.

“You know the traffic light system now, don’t you baby?” He asks, hand coming down to grip at your chin and raising your face to him, despite the fact that he knows you can’t see him, to ensure you hear him and understand. Your heart is racing and your breaths come out shallow but you dutifully nod your head.

“Let me hear it” he insists firmly.

“Green for keep going, yellow to slow down, red means stop” you recite for him and he seems pleased with your answer as he lightly shucks your chin with his knuckle and releases you.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises. “What colour are we now?”

“Green!” You let out maybe a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles.

“That’s good baby, really good” he says, rewarding you by leaning down and placing a soft kiss to your lips. “You cum for us enough times and we’ll let you loose, how’s that sound?”

“Mmmhmm” you quickly nod, not quite trusting your voice and that earns a little chuckle from Dave.

You hear the distinct snap of fingers and can only assume that’s Dave, gesturing something to Marcus and your hips wiggle slightly, your body still desperate for attention and waiting for what will come next. There’s a pair of hands at your waist, gently tugging at your panties and you lift your hips, eager to help get them off.

“Oh wait, almost forgot” Dave says suddenly and you truly don’t know what’s left that he could have in store for you at this point, already having you completely naked, chained to the bed and blindfolded. The mattress moves slightly as he moves off of it again and you wait for several agonizing seconds until it dips under his weight again and you feel the fabric of his shirt brush against your side. “The final, final piece” he amends from earlier as you feel soft foam pads rest against your ears before music immediately starts pouring in from them.

Noise canceling headphones. Of course. Dave is apparently adamant on depriving you of most of your senses this evening it would seem.

“Still green baby?” He asks, lifting one ear off momentarily for you to hear him and you nod your head.

“Still green” you affirm, knowing he needs to hear the words. He begins to re affix the headphones on your head when you suddenly blurt out “wait!”

Dave says nothing, but also doesn’t put the headphone back down on your ear so he’s apparently waiting for whatever you’re going to say.

“Do I get to make a request?” You ask bravely and you hear a little huff of laughter from Dave, but then a soft reassuring hand lands on your thigh (Marcus, you presume).

“From where I’m standing you don’t look like you’re in any position to be making requests sweetheart, but go ahead, give your request and maybe I’ll consider it”

“I want you both naked” you breathe out, wishing you could see whether or not Dave was humouring your request whatsoever as the room stays silent for several seconds.

“You can’t even see us” Dave laughs at you and you don’t need to see him to know he’s shaking his head.

“But I can… feel you” you reason, albeit weakly. “I like to feel all of you. Both of you”

You hear Dave’s sigh and your hopes are just a little up.

“What do you think, Pike?” He asks of your husband who’s hand at your thigh now gives a comforting squeeze.

“It is her birthday” he argues and a smile pulls at your lips.

Dave doesn’t verbally agree but you hear him grunt as he begins shucking off clothing and when the hand leaves your thigh you know Marcus has begun his own task of ridding himself of his suit and dress shirt. You hear articles of clothing being tossed around to different parts of the room, the metal clang of two separate belt buckles and four thuds from shoes hitting the carpeted floor next to you and you grin appreciatively at their acquiescence.

“Much better” you sigh, even though you can’t see them or even currently feel them as neither of them are touching you.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to calling any more of the shots around here” Dave tuts and a gasp leaves your lips when you feel a sudden sharp little tug at one of your nipples. “I don’t wanna hear ‘it’s my birthday Dave’ every two seconds when you want something” he says mockingly. “Only thing we wanna hear you begging for are our cocks, you understand?”

“Yes sir” you say, a teasing lilt to your tone.

The headphone closes around your ear again and you’re submerged in the sound of some heavy rock music. You’re not sure if Dave picked it or if it’s just on some random playlist station from his phone because he wanted to drown you in the loudest music possible, but you don’t care enough to ask, you just need them back on task.

Their task being, of course, you.

Thankfully you don’t wait long. Moments later there’s a mouth devouring each of your nipples at the same time and Dave is even sporting a bit of a five o’clock shadow this evening so it’s almost imperceptible to tell who is who at this point without your vision to rely on. It somehow turns you on even more, if that were possible.

A tiny whimpered ‘fuck’ leaves your lips when you feel fingers between your legs. Far too many fingers to belong to one hand. There’s one set playing with your clit while another prods their digits at your entrance which your cunt greedily sucks in with how wet and ready you are. A third hand is suddenly at your throat, lightly grasping around it while you’re being fucked and teased by their fingers below and you feel your first orgasm coming along like a freight train. You’re not only overstimulated, but with so many of your senses deprived from you it has the remaining ones so heightened that it feels like you’re experiencing every touch ten-fold.

“Oh God, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as your orgasm fastly approaches. The hand at your throat tightens and the three fingers currently plunging into you speed up as both mouths continue to suck and nip and lick at your breasts. Within seconds your back and hips arch upwards and you cum, long and hard with a strangled moan as the hand at your throat finally releases and allows you to quickly gulp down some air. The fingers between your legs thankfully slow but don’t leave you entirely. The ones inside you continue fucking into you with a torturously slow pace while the the ones at your clit draw gentle circles, easing you down from your high.

“That’s one” you hear Dave suddenly at your ear as the hand that was presumably around your throat moves to shove one side of the headphones off the side of your head. “What do you want off first baby?” He asks and it’s suddenly the hardest question you’ve ever faced in your lifetime. Part of you wants to be able to hear them, but then you think about how desperately you need to touch and feel any part of them.

“A hand!” You blurt out suddenly. By your count you only need 3 more orgasms to be completely free and at the rate you’re going, you doubt it will take long.

“Greedy” Dave chuckles but pops the earphone back against your head and gets to work untying your right hand. You grin enthusiastically the moment your hand is free and reach out blindly for one of them. Either of them. But instead you feel the mattress move slightly under you and your hand doesn’t reach anyone and you think they’ve both gotten up, maybe to move places. A moment later the bed dips again and you feel your legs being spread wider apart and shoulders brush the insides of your thighs as they settle between them and a smile graces your lips as someone’s hand captures yours that’s still extended outwards. You feel the mattress move again directly beside you on your right and the hand holding yours pulls it a little closer to them until you feel it. Your small hand instinctively wraps around the warm, hard cock and your grin widens as you give it a few practiced strokes.

“Oh fuck” you whimper when two fingers part your lower lips and a skilled tongue flicks against your still sensitive and swollen clit. You’re not given a chance to utter any further praise for the wet muscle inflicting torturous pleasure however because a strong hand suddenly grips at your cheeks, forcing your mouth open and the cock that your hand was wrapped around is suddenly shoved unceremoniously to the back of your throat. If you had to guess, it was Dave in your mouth and Marcus between your legs. The duality between your two lovers was easily perceptible, even without the use of half of your senses. Dave fucked into your throat the way he always did, with purpose and force. He knew what you could take and always pushed you to your limits but never overstepped them. A hand grips your hair to hold it away from your face as more of the hard length is shoved to the back of your throat and you’re held in position until you start to sputter and gag and he releases you, only momentarily, just to begin fucking back into your mouth again as drool dribbles down your chin. Dave likes it messy and sloppy, and if you had your hearing right now you’re certain you would be listening to him tell you how well you take him and what a good little slut you are for his cock.

You think you’ll ask for the headphones off next…

Thank god that Dave (presumably) was doing most of the work for you with your mouth because the tongue between your legs was driving you so crazy that you couldn’t possibly concentrate on anything else, only the feeling of the geyser that is your arousal about to erupt.

“Oh my god, fuck fuck fuck!” You cry out, managing to rip your mouth off of the cock in your throat as three fingers are shoved inside your needy cunt and the tongue continues its assault until you’re coming, long and hard and with a muffled cry as the dick is forced back inside your mouth to quiet your screams.

The tongue lazily swirls your clit and laps at your folds while fingers gently fuck you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and your free hand is hastily grabbing for the cock in your mouth, wrapping around it and pumping it while your tongue greedily licks away at the precum oozing from the tip, anything to distract you as your legs and thighs tremble with the attention your cunt is receiving.

Finally the mouth and fingers leave you and regretfully the cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth and you’re left for a moment to catch your breath. There’s a lot of shuffling around again as both bodies pull away and then the headphone is shoved away from your ear again.

“Such a good girl” Dave’s warm voice floods your senses immediately as he places a kiss just behind your ear. “That’s two”

To be honest, you lose count after two. You’re pretty sure by the end of the night you blacked out from the amount of orgasms both Marcus and Dave had given you with their mouths, hands and cocks. The two of them working in tandem to give your body more pleasure than you’ve literally ever experienced in your lifetime was enough to have you passed out before you even managed to mutter a ‘good night’ or a ‘thank you’ to either of them. Even both men had managed to orgasm, rally, and then orgasm a second time before all three of you passed out in a messy pile of sweaty limbs just a couple of hours before the sun was set to rise.

A content, happy little sigh escapes you as you fall asleep for the first time with both Marcus and Dave at your sides, each with a hand draped possessively over you as they too succumb to the sleep desperately calling them.

Despite all the mind-blowing orgasms that turned your brain into a pile of complete mush unable to compose even a single further coherent thought, there was one thing you were sure of. This was the best birthday you’ve ever had.

And as you faintly recall Marcus telling you earlier, “Baby, we’re just getting started”

Next Chapter

Taglist (if you want to be added, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part fifteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

this is happening.

a/n: ….I got nothing folks, my askbox is open if you wanna yell about it 😇 this is wildly unedited but it’s late so HERE U GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

word count: 6.6k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, canon typical violence/injuries/it’s all for the PLOT OKAY

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Since the moment he set foot in Boston, Joel’s been loathe to leave you.

Even when he first arrived, when his head was buried so far up his ass, when he was keeping himself awake at night convincing himself that he didn’t love you anymore, that you couldn’t love him anymore, he still worried. He paced the floor of your apartment until Tess all but forced him to get some sleep.

Those two days you were in lockup, he thought he’d go mad, with the worry. And then when you did come home, dripping blood on the floor and collapsing into Tess’s arms. He had to remove himself from the room, because he knew if he didn’t, he would have fallen at your feet, have held you close and refused to let go.

Now, things are different. He’s yours and you’re his and everything is as right as it can be to Joel, but he worries more. Every run you go on, he wants to go with you. When he doesn’t, all he does is worry. He knows full well you can handle yourself, has seen you in action often enough to know he doesn’t have to put himself between you and the line of fire. But it doesn’t matter how many times he sees you with a gun in your hand, sees you swinging the bat he gave you so many years ago, watches the gears turning in your head when things don’t go exactly as planned.

You’re a badass, and he knows it, but he loves you and he has to protect you. That’s his job. And without Sarah to—

No.

He tries to cut off the train of thought, tries to blink away the memories that threaten to form behind his eyes. Time won’t erase them, and lately, they weave with his dreams, turn them to nightmares. He sees the faces of the people he’s killed, smells the gunpowder in the air. He loses his daughter, over and over again. He loses Tommy, loses Tess.

He loses you. Over and over. Hears your screams, feels the heat of your blood on his hands. He can’t—

“Joel?”

Your voice yanks him out of his head, deposits him back on the broken road he’s standing on. You’re a few feet ahead of him, your brow raised, the bat propped on your shoulder. There’s a smear of dust on your cheek, no doubt from the path you’d taken out of the QZ, squeezing through rubble until you popped out the other side — your least favourite way out, Joel knows. There’s a handgun strapped to your thigh, a knife hanging from your belt. His shirt hangs from your torso, the top buttons undone, the bruise he’d left on your collar the night before visible from where he’s standing, knowing he put it there. Your hair is half-tucked behind your ear, but a strand flutters across your cheek in the breeze.

You’re…beautiful. There’s no other word for it.

“Take a picture, Miller,” you say with a laugh, walking back the few feet separating you. You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt, pull him forward and lean up on your toes to kiss him at the same time. His hand finds your waist automatically, fingers seeking bare skin, and you’re grinning when you lean back. “It’ll last longer.”

Joel grunts at you, unable to hide his smirk as your fingers twine with his, pulling him forward, boots shuffling across the gravel. “How much time we got?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

You glance at your — functional — watch. “An hour,” you reply, shaking out your wrist, tapping the bat against your boot. “Time to kill.”

“Gonna have to go through the museum,” he tells you, and you nod. You’d scoped things out at the hotel, like always, concern on both your faces when you saw the water that had begun to pool in the sunken lobby. An easily bypassed obstacle, but the decaying city was showing more and more wear, the Infected getting closer to the QZ. 

“Fine by me, there’s a place I wanna check out between here and there anyway.”

“A place, huh?”

You shrug, your face noncommittal. “Yup.”

The place turns out to be a jewelry store, tucked between what was once a coffee shop and a dentist’s office. The entire strip has definitely seen better days, and Joel’s instantly wary, reaching for the gun at his waist while you bee-line for the front door, barely hanging onto it’s hinges. 

You pay him no mind, using the bat to clear the jagged edges of the broken window, making a clear path into the store. You disappear through the opening and Joel follows, calling after you. “Liv, wait a sec.” 

Joel’s sure the place has been well looted, probably nothing of any value left — not that it matters anymore, what good is a diamond ring when you could have a stack of ration cards instead? He can’t even remember the last time he saw a dollar bill out in the open. He still has his wallet, tucked away in one of your drawers in the apartment, still with a twenty in it, his driver’s license, a credit card that expired in 2004. None of it means anything anymore.

“It’s clear, Joel.”

Inside, just as Joel suspected, the place is a disaster. Shards of glass crunch underfoot with every step you both take, display cases turned on their sides, velvet cushions and those creepy hands used to showcase rings scattered across the ground. There’s no light inside, save for the bit of sunlight that creeps through the broken windows, and Joel watches his step, gun still in hand.

You’ve headed straight for the back corner of the store, and it takes Joel a minute to figure out why.

You and Tess have a bet going, of sorts. Every time you go on a run, you try to find the other person something outrageous, always trying to top the last item with something more ridiculous than the last. It started when you brought back this gigantic jar of marbles, then Tess came back with a whoopee cushion. On and on it’s gone, with Tess currently winning, returning from her last run with Tommy with a mostly complete deck of Uno cards.

“Shit,” you grumble, poking through the pile of glass at your feet, pulling the sleeve of your shirt over your palm so you can lift the display case. “It’s all broken. I wanted one of those little glass animal things. Like a turtle or a deer or something?”

“Baby, they bombed the city,” Joel retorts, putting his hand on his hip. “You really think the little glass animals survived?”

You blow out a breath, pouting, and Joel stifles his chuckle. But then your eyes go wide, and you crouch down, bat dragging through the glass as you move, reaching for something in the mess. “A-ha!”

It’s not a turtle. Or a deer. In fact, Joel has no fucking clue what it is, at first glance, until you place it in his palm for further inspection. It’s a fox, no bigger than his index finger, curled up in his hand. And it’s made of crystal, a slight crack up the middle of the tail, but otherwise intact.

“What d’you think?” you ask, laughing as you take it back from him, pulling your bag off your shoulders so you can stow the thing. “Do I win?”

“For now,” Joel says, smirking at the beaming look on your face. “I’m sure Tess’ll show up with a damn giraffe next time.”

You glare at him, zipping your bag shut. “Appreciate the vote of confidence, Miller.”

He offers you his hand, pulls you to your feet, leaning in to give you a quick kiss once you’re upright. “Anytime, baby. You good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, slinging your bag back on and heading back towards the front of the store. “Y’know, I think I might have her beat for a while now.”

Joel only half hears you.

Something’s caught his eye, on the ground. Tucked partially beneath one of the overturned displays, it glints at him, catching the dim light in just the right way. Joel crouches, uses the end of his gun to move the shards of glass away before he reaches for it. Not silver, not gold, but a rosy colour, something he’s not sure he’s seen before. It’s pretty, a flat band, no gems, but flowers engraved into the metal, all the way around. It’s light, in the palm of his hand, has a few scratches but nothing serious.

Instantly, his mind wonders what it might look like on your finger. The thought nearly bowls him over, and he almost stumbles back a step, reaching up and dropping the ring into the pocket of his shirt.

He could ask…couldn’t he? He wants to ask. The feeling bubbles up, crawling up the back of his throat. It’s not the same as it was before, not that anything is. There’s no fanfare or big white dresses — though knowing you and Tess, he’s sure you could find something — or drinking until you forget how sore your feet are from dancing. It’s just a piece of paper, signatures tying your lives together, indefinitely to FEDRA’s eyes. Another note in your file, the first person to be notified should you show up dead somewhere, lucky enough to be recognizable.

But…he wants it.

Fuck, he wants it. With you. For you. You.

“Joel?” you call, your voice laced with concern, and he calls back, jogging towards the front of the store, watching his step as he goes.

“Comin’, baby.”

+

You meet Gwen in the usual spot. She’s been your go-to for some time now. Her drops are always good, always on time, and you’re always happy to give each other something extra. The first chicken you traded for didn’t last long, and you’d tried to extend the life of the second, but the clucking pissed off the neighbours, and Tess makes a mean chicken casserole.

This time is no different, at the start. There are faces amongst her crew you don’t recognize, a couple younger guys that are clearly just getting their feet wet. The trade is for first aid supplies from Gwen, produce seeds and a few boxes of ammo from you. The pharmacy in Boston has been running low on things for weeks now, with no promise of anything coming anytime soon. Deanna’s been worried as hell, grumbling at you any chance she gets, and you know this’ll help some.

“Who’re the newbies?” you ask, jutting your chin towards the two guys, your bag filled with Gwen’s supplies, zipping it shut once more. They’re young, maybe mid-twenties, and it makes you uneasy to see unsure hands on such a large gun.

“My brother, Trevor,” Gwen offers, and you lift a brow. “And the other, Noah, just arrived in Hartford a few weeks back.”

Joel glances at the men before turning to Gwen. “Not wastin’ any time, huh?”

Gwen’s face goes dark as she look between you and Joel, and it makes your stomach turn. “Hartford’s not what it used to be. I don’t…I don’t know how long it’ll be until we can make another trade, Liv. Things are changing.”

“Meaning?” you ask. From the corner of your eye, you can see Joel’s jaw go tight.

“FEDRA’s making it harder and harder for us to live in peace. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Her tone tells you you’re not getting any more information besides that, so you just nod, thanking her for the supplies. She offers a hand to shake, and you take it, nodding to her. “Stay safe, Gwen.”

“You too, Liv.”

“SHIT!”

Everyone whirls at the same time, watching as Noah goes toppling backwards. You’d met up at one of the intersections near the remaining chain link, same as always. A crater left by the bombs takes up the right half of the road, and Noah falls straight into it with a loud yelp. As he goes, his gun goes off, spraying the wall of the crater with bullets, and your heart sinks into your toes when you see where they land.

The crater is filled with cordyceps.

It’s taken a while, for FEDRA to figure out just how the fungus operates. They still don’t totally know, that much is for sure, but it’s not just in people. It’s underground, everywhere, branching out for miles in every direction, sprouting up through the earth in strange patches that you would almost think beautiful if you didn’t know firsthand the devastation they’ve brought. Disturb a patch in one place, and all you could do was pray that the Infected you’d awoken were too far away to get to you before you could get away from them.

The crater is lined with it, the cracked asphalt painted like a canvas, tufts of grass poking between, signs of nature taking back the earth. The sound of the bullets rings through your skull, the noise almost muffled as it breaks through the fungus.

Not a second later, you hear the screams.

There’s seven of you, total. You and Joel, Gwen, four of her men. Well, three, since Noah is now at the bottom of that crater, and hasn’t reappeared. You’re not optimistic.

Joel grabs your arm, pushes you behind him, towards the drugstore on the corner of the road. “Inside!” he barks, and you obey, purposeful strides carrying you towards the storefront, pulling your gun from the holster at your thigh as you go. Gwen waves her guys towards the building as well, and as soon as you’re through, Joel presses you into the wall, keeping himself between you and the outside.

Your heart is beating so hard you can hear it, your jaw solid and your grip on the bat so tight your knuckles are screaming in protest. Joel’s chest is heaving, his face a hard mask. You reach out, wrap your hand around his arm, squeeze lightly.

I’m here.

The screams echo through the city. It’s nothing new, to encounter Infected on a run. You’ve killed dozens of them at this point, bat, gun, knife. Whatever works. It’s become second nature, an unfortunate old habit. But the sound of them, no matter how many times you hear it, you still feel your spine bristle, like a cat that’s been cornered, making you want to hiss and spit.

Joel covers your hand with his, the other brandishing his gun. Slowly, he moves you back further, your back against the wall, inching away from the storefront. Maybe you could slip out the back, take the long way around back to the QZ, lose the Infected that way. 

You open your mouth to suggest it to Joel just as the swarm of Infected sprints past the front of the drugstore. It’s unnerving, how fast they are, the way their bodies move in that almost-inhuman-almost-human way. Nerves rise in the back of your throat as your boots slide backwards on the tile, Joel still leading you backward.

It all happens in one instant.

There’s a door, towards the back of the drugstore. An office, break room, you don’t know, but it swings open, and something lunges at you, knocking you to the ground with insane force that pushes all the breath from your lungs, your head smacking against the ground, bat flying from your grip, ringing when it lands beside you. You slide into a long-empty shelf, metal cutting into your shoulder.

You hear Joel shout your name.

You feel something rip into your side, tearing flesh. You scream.

You smell blood.

You see flash of Joel’s gun, the barrel bright silver. Has it always been that bright?

The gunshot rings loudly through the drugstore, and all the heads that had turned to you — Joel, Gwen, her men — all turn back towards the outside. Most of the horde had gone straight to the crater, bodies tumbling into it, but some, maybe ten of them, all turn their heads towards the drugstore.

Joel stares at you, his eyes wide as dinner plates. You shove at the now-dead Infected, ignoring the drips of blood down your shoulder and side as you scramble to your feet, pulling your handgun from it’s holster. Your arms are shaking as you lift it, cover one hand with the other to steady your shots. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening.

As the Infected start to draw into the drugstore, you all start shooting. The sound is piercing, echoing through your head, every nerve in your body pricking with pain with each shot that’s fired. Bodies drop, screams bounce off the walls, but you’re focused, picking them off one by one, ignoring the way your stomach turns with each one, the way you know what just happened, but you don’t — you can’t address it. Not yet.

This is happening.

Your clip runs out, and you drop to a knee, grabbing another from the holster, letting the empty clatter to the tile as you reload. For just a minute, Joel looks at you over his shoulder, his gun still raised, something you have no name for in his eyes.

This is happening.

Your blood is thrumming in your veins, birdsong you haven’t heard in a long time, making your ears ring, making your heart race. You keep pulling the trigger, half a mind to grab your bat off the ground and charge headfirst into the swam.

What difference would it make, anyway?

Gwen and her men move forward, brandishing knives to pick off the stragglers that climb through the broken windows. Joel lowers his gun, you shove yours back into its holster. He’s on you an instant later, turning you towards him, pulling at the fabric of your shirt. “Let me see.”

“Joel—” you start, pushing at his hands.

This is happening.

“Let me see,” he growls, and you relent, feeling your lip start to quiver as you let your arms drop, turning your head as he lifts the hem of your shirt. You hear his sharp intake of breath, see the crease between his brows deepen, and you know it’s exactly what you think. You felt it, different from the scratch Dean had given you on Outbreak Day. This was much different. Teeth, tearing, blood, saliva.

Infection.

Joel turns away, his face now pure anger. He kicks at the wall so hard his boot goes through, and you lift your shirt again, peering down at the wound. It’s a bite, no question. Teeth marks at the edge, blood seeping down your skin, turning the waist of your jeans dark.

This is happening.

Slowly, Gwen walks towards you. Joel cuts her off before she can get close, watching you inspecting your wound. “Oh god, Liv,” you hear her say, and behind her, someone cocks a gun. It makes you gasp, the sound choked, and Joel lifts his own gun.

“Get out of here,” he barks, his voice a terrifyingly deep register you’ve never heard before. “Now. I’ll deal with it. Go.”

Gwen just nods, gives you a sympathetic look before she’s herding her guys out, all of them picking their way around the bodies littering the floor. You let your shirt fall back down, the blood making the fabric cling to your skin. Your shoulder aches, blood soaking your shirt there too, but you’re too busy starting to lose your shit to really notice.

This is happening.

“Liv,” Joel says, his voice softer now, cracking around your name. Your chest aches. You just got him back. You can’t leave him, you can’t go, you can’t turn into— “Liv.”

You sink into a crouch. You bury your face in your hands, feeling the tears pour down your face. It’s done. It’s over. There’s no getting out of this. I’ll deal with it, Joel said. Meaning he’ll deal with you, meaning he’ll put you down. Knife or bullet, bullet or knife. What’s the kinder way to go? What’s the better way to let the love of your life kill you?

Which one will haunt him less, when you’re gone?

It’s not fair.

But it’s happening all the same.

Joel sinks down with you, slides his bag from his shoulders. You peek between your fingers just enough to see him pulling out bandages, a bottle of water, an alcohol wipe.

“Don’t waste it on me,” you mumble, pushing at his hands when he reaches for you. There’s blood on your hands, streaked up your forearms. “Don’t, Joel.”

“Stop it,” he says, shaking his head. His hair’s gotten longer, you notice, watching the dark curls ruffle along his scalp. “I’m gonna fix it.”

“You can’t!”

You scramble back, out of his reach, until your back hits another shelf. The metal rattles, your skull along with it, and you pull your knees to your chest, wrap your arms around them. It makes your side sing with pain, but it just adds to the mix, to the riot in your head, the ache in your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. Your voice is thick with tears, and they won’t stop. You know they can’t stop. You can’t stop.

“Liv—”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

The bottle of water slides from Joel’s hands, and your eyes track it as it rolls across the floor. You don’t want to spend the time you have like this, hiding from him, keeping your distance. It’s not fair. You just got him back, just got comfortable. Why did you let yourself get comfortable?

You want to die in his arms, to breathe your last breath with his eyes on your face, you want to—

“I saw Anna.”

The name makes you stop short, your head snapping up, eyes glued to him. Your heart skips, you’re sure of it, every drop of blood inside you freezing for one singular moment. He stares back at you, those dark eyes impossibly shiny, lined with silver tears that haven’t fallen yet. 

“Anna?” you repeat. Are you going already? Is the fungus already in you, creeping up your spine, taking over your brain? You’re supposed to have more time, you’re supposed to—

“Anna, Liv. Anna, your sister. Six months after the outbreak. I saw her, when Tommy and I were on the road. Some makeshift shelter FEDRA set up in Cincinnati. She recognized me, nearly bowled me over when she saw me and Tommy.”

Your mouth drops open. “My…sister.” My sister, my baby sister, Anna, my little sister. Your mind whirls, Cowan’s voice in your head, the radio room before the walls went up. There is no record of Anna. Your heart is shattering in your chest, you’re sure of it. “She’s alive?”

His head drops. “A few of the soldiers got infected, started turning, started biting.” Joel swallows hard, and your eyes flick down as his throat bobs. “She got caught in the chaos, fuckin’ soldier bit her ankle. I put him down. And she hid it, at first, asked me and Tommy to get her to some guy outside the city. I can’t remember the name, said it was her boyfriend or something, I can’t…it doesn’t matter.

“We were planning to leave the shelter, trying to gather supplies to get the hell out of dodge, when she got caught. Someone walked in on her changing the bandage on her ankle, saw the bite, screamed for help. I tried to stop them, but FEDRA doesn’t take chances.”

“So they killed her,” you say, the words blunt, laced with tears.

“They took her away. I never saw a body.”

You shake your head, let your eyes drop closed. “Then why tell me, Joel?”

He slides across the tile to you, pulls at your limbs until your legs are spread either side of him, your arms limp in your lap. Before you can even try to shrink away, he’s got your face in his hands, wiping at your tears, warm palms pressed to your cheeks.

“It was three days, Liv. Three days between her getting bit and FEDRA taking her away. She never showed any signs, never turned, never fuckin’ twitched. She was immune. What if…” He leans forward until his forehead touches yours. “What if there’s a chance? What if you are too?”

Your mind is racing. The pain in your side throbs with every beat of your heart. You don’t have words, you can’t bring your lips to form them. Your brain offers up images, only making your thoughts move faster. The infection running rampant through you, replacing your blood stream, clogging your veins. Your sister, bruised by the outbreak, the loss of your parents — did she even know that they were dead? — but alive, those eyes bright as you remember them. 

Her ankle, Joel had said. The soldier bit her ankle. In your head, she hides the bite beneath thick socks, cleans it and pulls her jeans down over it. Her eyes snap to yours, big and filled with tears.

“It’ll be okay, Liv. Just wait.”

Wait. Wait it out, wait to lose your mind, wait to turn into one of them. Wait to feel like you’re not in control of your body anymore. Would it still be you, buried beneath all of that? Does the fungus keep you alive, turn you into a puppet, make you watch the harm you cause, the violence that ensues?

But Joel wouldn’t let it get that far, would he?

Knife or bullet, bullet or knife. What’s the better way to go?

Your mind cycles through everyone back in Boston, Tess, Tommy, Emily, Henry, Deanna. Hell, even Cowan shows up. You see their faces, hear their voices, immediately imagining the reactions when Joel tells them what happened. And Emily, she—

Your brow goes hard, more tears slipping down your cheeks.

Emily watched her father kill her mother, after he turned. In the mall, before the wall went up, when you were still considering leaving. Contaminated food, they said, moved you to the apartments, made you wait it out. Six other people turned, FEDRA put them down without batting an eye. But you never did. You’d ate the same food as Tim, Emily’s father, the night before he turned. You both wanted Thai, Marcy and the kids had soup instead. You still remember Emily’s giggles when you slurped your noodles.

But you never turned.

Anna’s voice is in your head again. It’ll be okay, Liv.

You curl your fingers in the collar of Joel’s shirt, pushing at his chest slightly, enough that he pulls back, enough that your watery eyes can meet his. “We wait it out,” you tell him, and his brow crumples completely, a sharp sob in your ear as he collects you into his arms. “If I start to turn, Joel, I swear to god, you put me down and you don’t think twice about it, you understand?” You keep your gaze on his face, watch his eyes slip closed, and he nods. “You put me down, and then you go back to Boston. All right? You promise me. You go back, and you tell everyone I’m sorry.”

“Liv—”

“Promise me, Joel.”

He swallows so hard his throat bobs.

“I promise.”

+

You wait it out.

Joel feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off you, doesn’t want to miss anything. He’s memorizing you, all over again, trying to paint you in his mind. Something clear, something pure.

Something to remember.

In case he’s wrong. In case he has to put a bullet in your head before the sun comes up. In case he’s about to lose you. He wants to remember you as you are, not what you might become. Alive, intact, whole.

Liv.

You let him tend to your wounds, after a bit of convincing. Joel cleans the blood from your skin slowly, meticulously, tapes the gauze to your shoulder, to your side. He clears out the office your attacker had been hiding in, makes it as comfortable as he can. He can feel you watch him, just like he’s watching you, and one it’s safe — as safe as it can be — he sinks down beside you, puts his arm around your shoulders, pulls you against his chest.

And waits.

There aren’t many words. You flinch with every sound that echoes through the city, the creak of buildings, the shrieks of the Infected. Joel shushes you each time, hauls you closer until you end up across his lap, one arm banded around your back, the other hooked behind your knees, keeping you close. Closer. As close as possible.

Eventually, it gets so quiet that he can hear the thump of your heart, feel the flutter of your lashes where you face is buried in his neck. He rubs his hand up and down your arm slow, pushes his nose into your hair. You stretch out a bit in his arms, roll your head onto his shoulder, your eyes shut.

“Sleepy.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest, darlin’. M’right here.”

You blink once, and your eyes are so shiny that Joel’s heart jumps in his chests. “What if I…?”

You trial off, the rest of the question left unsaid, but Joel finishes in his mind. What if you turn? What if you bite him? What if you take him down with you? He doesn’t care, he thinks, and is suddenly acutely aware of the ring sitting in his pocket.

“You won’t. I’ll stay awake. I won’t let you…I won’t let you turn, okay?” He leans down more, brushes a kiss across your mouth. You whimper, tightening your grip on his shirt. “I’m right here, Liv. Not goin’ anywhere.”

Your brow furrows as your eyes drop shut again, and Joel lifts his hand, drags his thumb over the crease in your skin. “I love you, Joel.”

He moves his thumb again, over and over until your face softens, but keeps it up even then. “Love you.”

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep. Knows he shouldn’t, knows he should be keeping an eye on you, but as the sky outside gets darker and darker, his lids get heavier and heavier. You’re a warm weight against him, your own eyes twitching as you dream, your breath hot on his neck. Dreams take hold of him — dreams, not nightmares — and he dreams of you, in a pretty white dress, his scavenged ring on your finger, a smile on your lips. He holds you in his mind, too, keeps you impossibly close, kisses you until he’s not sure where he ends and you begin.

And then he wakes.

To you.

To you, shoving at his shoulder, climbing into his lap, curling your fingers in his shirt. You’re crying, your hair a mess about your face, and it takes a moment for him to pull himself out of the dream version of you, to the real version.

“You were supposed to stay awake, you jackass!” you’re shouting, your voice breaking on the words. Your fist thumps against his chest. “I could have killed you! I could have—”

He’s very awake, suddenly. It’s…daytime. He can see the sunlight through the little window in the office door. Joel catches your wrists, stops you from hitting him again. You suck in a breath, freezing, and your head lifts, hair falling away from your face, fresh tears on your cheeks. He can’t stop himself from smiling, and his chest explodes with warmth when your grin matches his.

“But you didn’t.”

He pulls you against him, and you kiss the air from his lungs. Your mouth is hot and insistent on his, yanking your hands from his grip so you can dive them into his hair. His own drop to your waist, curling around your hips, pulling you closer, closer, closer.

You’re alive. You’re you.

He’d sit there and let you kiss him all day, but the echo of an Infected scream makes you both freeze, and his instincts kick into gear. With one last kiss, you disentangle from each other. Joel’s back screams in protest from sleeping sat up against the wall all night, and he groans as he gets to his feet, helps you to yours. You wince at the movement, one hand gripping your side, and Joel inspects you, lifts the hem of your shirt and peels the bandage back.

He’s seen bites before. Seen the strange, spidery lines the spread from them, the infection curling beneath the skin like a raised tattoo. Your wound is still angry, still seeping blood, but not enough to soak through the bandage. You might need stitches, Joel’s not sure. You wince again as he presses it back into o place, smooths his fingers along the tape.

“We need to get you home.”

You just nod, leaning against him, and he kisses your temple. The relief in the air is palpable, unbridled joy laced with nerves and worry. You have to keep this a secret, that much Joel knows. He still remembers the terror on Anna’s face, when they took her away. He tried to fight them, tried to stop it, but they put a gun to his head, to Tommy’s. Anna told him to stand down, to let her go, and then she was gone.

He won’t let them take you. Never.

It’s slow going. He takes you out the back way of the drugstore, avoiding the bodies littered at the front. Joel’s learned the city a little more with each run, he knows your shortcuts, the long and short ways, the quickest way back to the QZ in a pinch. He knows which routes you favour, which ones are last on your list.

He keeps your fingers laced with his, lets you lean into him as you walk. The pain you’re feeling is clear, but you grit your teeth and carry on, squeezing his hand tighter every few miles. He asks you if you need to stop a few times, and each time, you just shake your head.

It’s even slower, getting back over the wall. It’s midday, by the time you’re nearing the gate, and the ideal path — the one that takes you right under the wall — is too dangerous in broad fucking daylight. So you take the same path you’d lead Joel and Tess in with. Your chest is heaving by the time you reach the top, and Joel lifts the hem of your shirt to see you’ve bled through the bandage, drops of blood sliding down your hip.

You stop inside, Joel forcing you to wait a goddamn second so he can clean you up, replace the bandage. He grits his teeth; he can’t take you to the clinic, can’t involve Deanna in this. Can’t involve anyone in this.

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Corporal Nick fucking Cowan is standing at the mouth of the alley, gun hefted in his hands as Joel lands on the pavement, holding his arms out as you climb slowly down the ladder of the fire escape. It’s a good five foot drop down, and he knows even landing on your feet isn’t gonna feel great.

Joel stumbles back as you drop, your boots sliding against the asphalt. He tries to support your weight as much as he can, and you let out a sound that’s not so much a wince as a sob. You bury your hand in your side, gripping tight as he slides his arm around your waist. 

“Nick,” you breathe out, and Joel looks up to see the soldier glance down the road before jogging towards you, concern on his face.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, and you heave a breath, your head lolling onto Joel’s shoulder. “Tess came to find me last night, asked if I’d seen you, if you’d gotten yourselves thrown in lockup.” His brow hardens as he looks at you, looks at Joel. “You were out all night?”

Joel tightens his grip on you. “Didn’t plan it like that.”

“We got cornered by a fucking horde of them,” you breathe out, hissing as you take a step forward. Cowan holds a hand out to you and you wave him off. “I got…”

You trail off, and Joel bristles, scared you’re gonna say it.

Bit.

Cowan wants answers, pressing harder, and Joel can see how he’s inspecting you, his eyes darting all over you. “You what, Liv?”

“I got hurt, asshole,” you spit through gritted teeth, trying to angle yourself away from him. “Is that really not obvious?”

“I’ll take you to the clinic,” Cowan says instantly, and reaches for you again. Joel nearly growls. He knows you made your peace or whatever, but he still doesn’t like the guy. Doesn’t like that he acts like he’s got some kind of claim on you. “Deanna’s working, she can—”

“No,” you both say at the same time, nearly shouting, and Cowan takes a step back, staring between you, trying to meet your eyes. Joel can see it, the wheels working in the soldier’s head. You straighten a bit, staring back at Cowan. “I’m fine, I just wanna get home.”

For a minute, Joel thinks Cowan will accept the answer. He pulls you tighter against him, tries to sidestep the soldier, taking you with him. But he’s still blocking your path, and everything in Joel turns over as he reaches for the handgun on his hip.

“Show me.”

You freeze, your entire body going taut in Joel’s grip. “What?”

Cowan doesn’t lift the gun, but Joel sees his thumb pull back the hammer, cocking it. He reaches for his own gun.

“Nick, what’re you—” you start, but then the soldier lifts his gun, aiming for you.

Joel steps in front of you, shielding you with his body, holding an arm out, lifting his pistol, aiming right back at Cowan. “Cowan, stop it,” Joel grits, and the soldier just stares back, his eyes wide.

“You are the last fucking person who gets to give me orders.”

“I know that,” Joel replies, and lifts both his hands, something like surrender. He points his gun at the sky, feels your hand curl around his hip. “I know you hate me. I’d hate me too, if roles were reversed, and I don’t expect you to do me any fuckin’ favours. But I know you care about her. So, please. Do this for her.”

The gun wobbles slightly, but Cowan shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“Please, Nick,” Joel hears you say, a waver in your voice, your nails biting into his skin. “Please, just let us go. We’ll leave the city, we can just—”

“No!” Cowan shouts, the sound echoing down the alley. “You know I can’t.”

“Nick, please,” you say again, and the gun wobbles again, Joel moving to put himself in front of it, to keep it away from you.

“Put the gun down, Cowan,” Joel says, his hands still in the air, trying to force reason into his voice. “Just put it down, we can fix this, we can talk this out, just—”

“Shut up!” Cowan yells, and Joel’s heart is in his throat. “You don’t deserve her, Joel. Look what you did, you put her in harm’s way, over and over and over again. You nearly got her killed, and still she chooses you over me.” 

“Nick, stop—” you cry, and Joel can hear the tears in your voice. The gun points at you again, and anger, fear, terror rises in Joel’s gut. He points his gun back at Cowan, finger twitching on the trigger.

“You don’t fucking deserve her.”

“And you do?”

Joel’s not sure which one of them fires first.

PREV | NEXT

[hyuuukais]

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES

pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader

synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.

warnings ☆ food mention, mention of stalking in an unserious way

[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

☆ mostly written chapter, 3 screenshots ☆

CHAPTER TEN ☆ THE STREAM

The stream starts off smoothly, fans of both of you trickling in during the waiting screen. You had never played Overcooked 2, but watched the gameplay of it enough times to know what to expect. At least, from the game. You had no idea what to expect when it came to playing with Felix. Jisung had tried to help resssure you, saying to think of Felix as 'just some guy'.

Kinda hard when you've been looking up to him for years.

He started his YouTube channel young, around 14. It didn't start as asmr, but with gaming. You quickly found yourself addicted to his videos, loving the way he described things. It helped that he was someone your age, someone relatable. After starting to stream, you'd stay up most nights to watch with Kai or Jisung, sometimes falling asleep to his voice.

And now here you were, five minutes away from the most anticipated moment of your life.

Another concern of yours was what the chat would be like, especially considering the initial hesitation and hate you had recieved just from being friends with Jisung. It hurt to see, but you felt secure in your friendship. No amount of hate could make you doubt it.

"Y/N?"

The interruption made you look up, seeing Felix's icon light up as he spoke.

"Y/N? You there?"

"Yes!" You cringed at your loud response. "Sorry, yes, I'm here."

He laughed. "Before we start, I just want to say I'm happy you agreed to this! I know we barely know each other still."

That was true. You had no idea what made Felix so excited to get to know you. Had Jisung said more to him than you thought? Actually, you don't even know how close those two were if you thought about it.

"Well, I've only had the biggest crush on you since I was like 14," You blurted, silently cursing yourself. Why didn't you think before speaking?! "Oh my god, that's probably the weirdest thing I could have said to you! I'm so sorry!"

"Ehh, I'm used to weird people," His smile was obvious in his voice. "You'll fit right in with my other friends."

Before you could ask what he meant, it was time to begin.

-

About an hour and a half in, you decided it be best to take a break. Both of you did what you needed, coming back with a snack. You advised the chat to grab something before reading questions or comments.

"Y/N, you can start," Felix stood suddenly, holding up his phone. "Chan is calling, I gotta take this!"

"Oh, okay!" You watched as he disappeared, your nerves coming back to you.

Most questions were for Felix, which you obviously couldn't answer, but there were a lot of comments about you both.

"'Your dynamic is so fun to watch, I'm glad I stopped in'," You smiled. "Thank you so much, aw. There's a few people who've said similar things, so thank you too."

You kept reading positive comments, laughing and feeling more at ease after expecting the worst.

"'Y/N you must be feeling pretty good with'... oh," The smile on your face faded and you looked down.

The comment read, 'Y/N you must be feeling pretty good with your success, too bad it's only because of your... 'friends'. You're so boring on your own.'

There were a few people agreeing, saying you were too quiet, that people only liked you for who you associated with, that you'd never be so popular on your own.

It hurt.

When Felix came back, you tried not to show how you were feeling, easily falling back into laughing along with him.

"Okay, last question!" He announced. "Let's see here... 'hey Lix, did you know about Y/N's old fan account?'"

You nearly choked on your drink.

"Actually yes, I did."

You blush furiously, looking wide eyed at his face in the corner, mouth hanging open. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes in embarrassment. Before you could say anything. Felix let out a big sigh and a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Fun fact about me... I love secretly interacting with my fans. I may or may not have a secret account..." It was his turn to blush with the confession. "I have a few favourite accounts and," His voice went quieter, "Y/N this is actually so embarrassing to admit to your face, but yours was one of them. When you suddenly stopped posting, I... I was honestly kinda heartbroken. Of course I didn't know it was you at the time!"

For a few moments, you were quiet. What he said came crashing down on you, and suddenly you couldn't stop laughing- no- cackling. He liked your fan account? No, you were one of his favourites?

The idea was so absurd.

"Stop laughing!" He scolded, but his face betrayed him with a wide grin. "It's not- it's not funny! I wanted the world to swallow me up when I found out you were friends with Han considering I'd been lowkey stalking you on the internet for like 3 years!"

Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, and the chat was blowing up. You could barely breathe, coughing to catch your breath.

"Is that why you were so eager to meet?" You asked once you finally calmed down.

"I wanted to put a face to the name," He shrugged, his own laughter calming down. "I mean, I already knew what you looked like I guess. But still! I never expected the chance to meet you."

The chat kept blowing up, but it was finally time to continue what you were here for -- gaming. After a few more frustrating hours, yelling at each other and attempting to be strategic on who does what (but failing horribly), the stream ended.

At the end of the night, your heart felt full. During your years of being a fan account, you worried Felix wasn't who he showed, but tonight and all the texts up until now proved he was even better.

notes ☆ FIRST WRITTEN PART !! also i'm so so excited to get more into the rising stars plotline bc as much as this is a fun fluffy felix x y/n fic, it's also just as much abt y/n on her own! the actually relationship between y/n and felix may be a bit of a slow burn friends to lovers kinda thing bc personally i eat that shit up. but dw!! there are going to be so many cute parts with the two of them. also are we glad the stream was good ?!?! y/n already needed a break LMFAO

taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @nobuttpics @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur

pink means it won't let me tag you

[khepiari]

Hyped Up Rambling: Spoilers for ONE PIECE Chapter 1104

There are many daddies in One Piece.

But there is only one person who deserves the title of FATHER!

And it’s you, sir Kuma.

As much as I have grievances with Odachii, this is an arc written by a father for his daughter.

Parental love hurts. But still, parents continue to love their children despite the pain, loss, fear, and hardship.

Again I am reminding you all. The series finale actually began exactly two years back when Luffy punched Saint Charlos.

Kuma just continued the fight that Luffy lit the fire for! As my best friend put it, “Kuma is following in Joy Boy’s footsteps. Bringing light to the world…”

Even a “slave”, stripped and robbed of all his rights, mental prowess, and dignity and abused to the point of being on the brink of death will FIGHT TO PROTECT! A slave who lost everything rose up on his two feet to protect his child and punched the man who sits on the highest seat of power, and Joyboy aka Luffy made it possible.

And do you know who the people in power fear the most?

The slave they robbed of autonomy.

The scholar they denied true knowledge.

The ethnic groups they massacred.

And the God Born Out Of People’s Despair who comes to seek vengeance.

AND KUMA IS ALL!

May I also remind you all, Borsalino is worse than Sakazuki, he is a scum without any hope in him or in anyone. He is scarier than a straight-cut villain like Sakazuki.

There is a reason idealists are easier to defeat than cynics. You can’t beat a deadbeat easily.

My favourite rascals! Franky and Sanji have no chill! They went after Saturn, without any fear or hesitation, just like they went after Saint Roswald, Doflamingo and Big Mum. Their brain operates on: we are Future Pirate King’s Crew, we will kick anyone who is a scum!

I still can’t believe so many people hate Franky! The dude has literally the least count of losses and the funniest battles! Because he doesn’t fight one one-on-one guy, and he shines in the fights when minions and their bosses are involved against lone him! In Dressrosa he ran wild; kissed a girl (yes without consent; thanks scum Odachii) to defeat her, had a hard-boiled match with Senor Pink, destroyed the SAD factory and went to support the fairies on his own! And In Wano he ran his monster bike right into Big Mom’s face and knocked her out! We need more Franky love!

And finally!

I don’t like to pit series against series, but this is how you utilize the most cliché theme in the entire world: LOVE. You have to show it with actions and gestures and not tell it to your readers. Yes, Gege, I mean you brat; do better.

Why do you think we the readers and viewers still crumble at the theme of love? It’s extremely simple.

Love is radical.

Love is unpredictable.

Love is powerful.

And time and again in One Piece—Love is an Anomaly.

Ace was born because of Rouge’s willpower born of love.

Sanji was able to retain his humanity because Sora did everything in her power to protect her kids.

Robin was saved because her teachers, mother, and Saul loved her so much that they chose to protect her.

Nojiko and Nami had a chance to live because Bellemere protected them.

Trafalgar Law made it through a life-threatening disease and nihilistic approach to living because Corazón bet his life on him.

Hiluluk’s love for Chopper pushed him to be the doctor who wanted to cure everyone.

Zoro’s love for Kuna is what pushes him to work hard.

Because Franky wants to protect his “Family” he becomes the face of criminal activities.

Shirahoshi never revealed her mother's death circumstances because she decided to protect her mom's dream.

Examples of love changing the course of history are endless in One Piece, hence we should remember: Love is the invariant.

[perseusannabeth]

Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone, and happy holidays! This is my contribution to the @acotargiftexchange for the lovely @talkfantasytome! I want to thank the organisers for this absolutely brilliant event. It's looking like this fic will be 3 chapters, so fingers crossed that the rest of the parts will come soon!

This has chef Cassian and writer Nesta, aka my favourite combo. I also have to warn you, as per usual, Cassian's Illyrian cooking is in fact how I cook as a south Asian person.

AO3 is currently down, so I won't be able to post this on there until later, but it will be added. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this!

Summary: Cassian is deeply concerned about the fact that his neighbour cannot cook at all. He decides to start cooking for her to save her from an early death, and it becomes so much more.

Cassian had lived in his current apartment for a long enough time to know most of the people in the building. It wasn't a massive building, so it wasn't hard to run into people. The only person he hadn't run into was his neighbour, who had moved in 3 months ago. 

Thankfully, there were signs of life, like the post being checked, and he could hear the door opening and closing. The most concerning thing he noticed was that his new neighbour seemed friendly with the fast food delivery drivers. Cassian didn't like judging food choices because he knew that people around him already felt self-conscious when they talked about food. Being a chef meant people assumed he knew best, but he could easily teach people he was willing to learn. Still, his neighbour was concerning him a lot. They must be on their way to a heart attack with the amount of fast food they consumed, and from Cassian's observation, they sometimes got food at least once a day or more. But Cassian had never assumed his neighbour's eating habits would affect him.

"So, have you seen her around? It's been a few days, that's all, and I'm a little worried about her," said his delivery driver, Toby. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so tired right now that my brain barely functions. Please, can you repeat yourself?" 

"Nesta, your neighbour. She orders from us daily, but I've not had any deliveries for her for 3 days. I'm just a little worried about her, that's all," Toby said, blushing now. The poor guy couldn't be more than 20 years old. At 20 years old, Cassian can't imagine he would've had the guts to do what Toby was doing, so he had to hand it to the guy. 

"I'm sorry, I haven't heard from her," Cassian replied, unwilling to admit he'd never seen her before and had just learned her name from Toby. "I'll check on her though, don't worry," Cassian said, to both reassure the man and to get him to leave because, god damn it, his food was getting cold!

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it. She seems nice, and she tips really well." Toby smiled. Cassian just nodded awkwardly and then waited for Toby to finally (finally) move from his door. 

Cassian practically inhaled his food because, yes, he had promised his delivery driver that he would check on his neighbour, but if he was going to check on a potentially dead person, he would not be doing it while he was hungry. Fuck that; he had been in the restaurant since 6am, and he had planned on eating and then collapsing in bed. Now he had to check on his potentially dead neighbour because the delivery boy liked her tips!

By the time he had finished his food, he had managed to work up some energy, mostly just the rage he had to check on his neighbour and delay his sleep. Still, before leaving his flat, he checked his attitude at the door because he didn't want to be rude. He was being neighbourly, even if he was tired. 

When he knocked on the door and didn't hear any movement on the other side of the door, he was suddenly wide awake. He had horrific visions of breaking the door down and finding a corpse as he knocked again, trying to delay the rescue mission playing out in his head. When the door flew open, Cassian nearly jumped out of his skin.

The lady in front of him looked pretty annoyed at him, especially as he gawped at her like an idiot. Her hair was pulled up in something that might have once been a bun but was now just a tangled mess. She was in a long t-shirt that had seen better days; it was stained and faded, and underneath, she wore leggings that were in a similar state. But somehow, despite all this and the deep bags under her eyes, she still was the most beautiful woman Cassian had ever seen. 

"Can I help you?" The woman said, giving him a quick once over. 

That snapped Cassian out of his trance. "Sorry, erm, I'm looking for someone called Nesta?" Cassian asked awkwardly.

The woman had gone from droll to actively suppressing a laugh. "Oh my god, did Emerie actually do it? Are you a male stripper?"

Cassian's eyes widened as he quickly stepped back to distance himself from the beautiful, crazy woman. "Woah, I have no idea who Emerie is. I'm flattered you think I could pass for a stripper, but I'm no magic Mike. I'm Cassian, and I'm your neighbour." Cassian said, pointing at the open door to his apartment.

'Oh," the woman said, now also looking awkward. 

"Look, I just need to know if you're Nesta and if you're alright. I ordered some food, and the delivery driver said he was worried because he hadn't heard from you in a few days," Cassian explained, not wanting to linger in awkward silence. 

The woman's face went bright red at that, so Cassian assumed that this was, in fact, the mysterious Nesta who tipped really well and ordered food every single day. "Listen, I'm assuming you're Cassian, the chef Mrs Culpepper mentioned. I can only imagine what you think of me since Toby felt chatty today. I'm gonna be honest with you, I can't cook. My friend said not to burn down the building, so I've not tried. Really, my takeaway habit is saving everyone, and as my neighbour, you should be grateful, so don't judge me,"

Cassian held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not judging. Just because I enjoy cooking doesn't mean I assume everyone will. I am, however, slightly concerned. Is that all you eat? That can't be good for your health," Cassian said, frowning as he calculated how expensive that must be and the calories. He wasn't the best with numbers, so he couldn't be sure, but he was pretty sure that was a bad time. 

"My friend said the same thing, so she batch-cooked me a few meals. I've got a deadline for work, so I've been even worse than usual, but that's why I haven't ordered any food. When it runs out, which will probably be tomorrow, I'll be back to ordering from Toby," she said with a shrug. 

"Okay, I said I'm not judging, but that sounds horrific. I can't let you carry on like that. I don't think my conscience can take it," Cassian said, looking at her wide-eyed. The way this woman was going, she'd be dead of a heart attack in no time.

"I'll be fine; you don't need to take pity on me," Nesta said defensively. 

"Listen, it's Nesta, right?" she nodded, eyeing him suspiciously now, which made him want to laugh. She hadn't been suspicious before, but now he was questioning her food intake; she was wary of him. "I get to take leftovers from my work. It's one of the perks, but there's sometimes a lot. I tend to bring them home and make myself something with whatever random stuff there is. It's way healthier than ordering out and helps me not waste food. It's a win-win situation for both of us, really." 

"So, you're basically offering to be my personal chef?" Nesta said, trying to figure out what the catch was. 

"Well, within reason. If there's anything you hate or won't eat, I'll consider it, and obviously, any allergies. And if you want something specific, I don't mind making that, too, as long as I have enough time to get the ingredients. And I don't really mind cooking; if I didn't love it, I wouldn't do it as my job." 

A silence lingered, and Cassian wondered if he had gone in too hard on the sales pitch. He wouldn't be shocked if she said no; it was a weird request from your neighbour, whom you'd only met. But there was something about this woman that made Cassian want to offer to cook for her outside of work. His friends knew he never shared his food, not when he was outside of work. He made traditional Illyrian dishes when he was at home. It was a way for him to stay connected with his culture and mother despite his distance. These recipes had been handed down through generations of his mother's family, but there was something private and intimate about them. But he would share them with his neighbour. 

"Are you even real?" Nesta said, staring at him in a bit of a daze. Then, she reached out and poked him in the cheek. "You feel real," she said as she continued poking his cheek.

"I- I think I'm real?" Cassian stuttered, really not sure how he should react. Cassian wasn't shy, but this woman was just something else. 

Clearly, his talking pulled her out of whatever daze she was in. "I'm so sorry; I've been working non-stop for my next deadline, so I'm losing my grip on reality right now," Nesta said, shaking her head to get rid of whatever weird thoughts were in her head. 

Cassian pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Add your number, and I'll text you so you have mine. Then, you can text me any allergies or anything you wouldn't eat. I'll probably just tell you some dishes I can make with the leftovers, and you can let me know what sounds good. Is that okay with you?" Cassian said.

Nesta nodded, handing his phone back with her number added. Cassian shot her a quick text and then put his phone away. "Thank you," Nesta said awkwardly. "You really don't need to do that, but I'm certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth," she said with a shrug and a quick smile. 

Cassian smiled back, said his goodbyes and went back to his apartment. As he shut his door, he took his neighbour in, who was watching him walk away with a contemplative look on her face. He shook his head, shutting his door. Cassian was doing a good deed for his hot neighbour, but he hoped and prayed that his friends wouldn't find out about it. 

With that, he quickly got ready for bed, practically collapsing into his bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he noticed that he was smiling and had been since he had said goodbye to his neighbour. 

***

Cassian had forgotten entirely about the events of the night before when he woke up in the morning. It was so surreal; it felt like a dream. It wasn't until he was getting ready for his morning run that he realised it was true. 

He had a strict no phones policy in the mornings, mainly because his doom-scrolling habit was an awful way to start the day. So until he was ready to leave the house, he wouldn't look at his phone. It had helped with his mental health a lot and made waking up for his job so much easier, too. 

Since he had the day off, he slept till 9, which was late for someone who left the house at 4am every day for work. When he finally looked at his phone, he froze for a second, because there was a message from his neighbour. 

Once he had processed that yesterday had, in fact, not been a dream, he quickly made a note of the things she didn't like (kale being called the devil's lettuce made him laugh way more than it should've); he had a quick glance in the fridge to see what he could make. He figured he would make a quick tuna and avocado sandwich for lunch, and then for dinner, he would make pasta. Both seemed reasonably safe first options for her meals. Then, he could also give her leftover pasta for lunch the next day. 

As he finally left and started his run, he realised this could be the perfect opportunity to work on some new recipes for the restaurant. He wanted to update the menu and add more traditional recipes, but he had been nervous to test them out on anyone. By the time he got to the point he turned back, he had a massive grin on his face. He whipped his phone out and sent Nesta a text. 

Cassian: I've just had an idea. How would you feel being my new taster for some experimental recipes?

Her reply was instant, which surprised him. 

Nesta: you're doing me a favour so if i can help then i'm good with that. Although idk if i'm the best taste tester since my own culinary skills start and end at cereal 

Cassian: All I need is your honest opinion, everyone else in my life is too biased.

Nesta: i'm not afraid of cutting a man down, so dw

Cassian laughed at her message, sending her a quick laughing emoji before he put his phone back to go back home. He was in a good mood and excited about cooking for someone new. Of course, he got to cook for new people at his job every day, but cooking for someone one-on-one was so different. He could get her reactions, and she would give him feedback. This wasn't just a faceless customer; it was his neighbour. 

When he had assembled the sandwich, he put it into a Tupperware box and then cleaned up the kitchen. Once he was done, he finally gave Nesta her sandwich, trying to ignore the excitement and nerves bubbling in his stomach as he knocked on her door. 

Nesta flung the door open with a massive smile on her face. "Well, hello there, neighbour," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "What do you have for me?" Nesta said, looking at the box with excitement. 

"I've got a tuna and avocado sandwich with red onion and some homemade sriracha mayo," Cassian said, presenting her the food with a flourish.

Nesta didn't hesitate to open the box to have a look. "Oh wow, this looks so good, like one of those fancy coffee shop sandwiches which is really over-priced. Did you make the bread, too?" she asked, tapping the sourdough. 

"Oh nah, absolutely not; I'm not much of a bread maker; it's so faffy, but I love the smell of fresh bread. There's another chef in the restaurant who makes bread, but there's never any left, so this is just some supermarket bread."

"Oh, well, I thought you used leftovers," Nesta said with a frown. 

"I do, but I like to jazz them up, so I use things I have at home, too. Don't worry about it, though."

"Nah, absolutely not. I need to pay you for this if you're using your money to feed me. That's not fair on you!" she exclaimed. "I'm not a charity case."

"I don't think you are!" Cassian said, alarmed. "You're going to help me, remember. Maybe I'll develop a new menu for the restaurant."

"I still want to contribute to this because you're saving me a lot of money. Let me pay half towards your groceries at least," Nesta said sternly. 

"I- okay if you insist, but I feel bad taking your money," Cassian said awkwardly. 

"Well, that's too bad. Text me your bank details, and I'll transfer you the money, and if you don't, I'll just have to hunt you down and hurt you," she threatened. 

"You seem like a busy woman, so I'll try to avoid that happening," Cassian winced. Changing the subject, he asked, "So I never asked, but what do you do?" 

"Oh, I'm a writer!" Nesta said excitedly.

"Oh wow, that's amazing! What kind of stuff do you write? I've not had time to read in a while, but maybe I should start that up again."

Nesta's eyes widened at that. "Do not read my books. You're not the target audience, and frankly, I would probably have to avoid you if I knew you'd read them."

Cassian frowned at her, and then it dawned on him. "Oh my god, you write porn books!" he exclaimed. 

"They're romance books! Sometimes they might have some smut, but they're not porn!" she hissed. 

"Right, of course! Well, I'm gonna get going since you've probably got some sex scene left to right or something," Cassian said with a shit-eating grin. 

Nesta froze but then smirked. "Actually, I finished writing that last night after you left. You know, since you weren't the male stripper I was hoping for," she said before turning around and slamming the door in his face. He stood there gaping for a while before eventually shaking himself out of it. My god, that woman was something else. 

***

"Cassian bheta! It's been too long since you called me," his mother said as she answered the phone. He had decided to ring her while he cooked because it was the best way to cook. He couldn't help but smile at his mother calling him son in their native language. He loved his Illyrian culture; the fact his mother had taught him so much of it gave him such pride. 

"Mama, I called you 2 days ago, and I've been texting you too!" he protested with a smile as he diced onion. 

"But you're my baby, my bacha, you don't understand. One day, when you have your own children, then you'll understand," she loved saying that line. It was one of his favourites. Now, he was nearing 30 and not even close to being married. 

 He ignored her comment, knowing no good could come from delving into that subject. "Mama, I'm making Illyrian-style pasta for my neighbour right now."

"Ohh, is your neighbour Illyrian too? Rhys's mum told me that the lady who used to live across the road from her has a daughter in the city! Her name is-"

"Mama! Velaris is a big city; you know I won't run into every Illyrian here, so stop trying to match-make! My neighbour isn't Illyrian, but she said she's happy to try different things. I'm cooking for her because she can't cook for herself."

"She can't cook?" his mother said, sounding scandalised. 

"No, and let me tell you, how I met her was crazy."

He relayed the events of yesterday evening while he sauteed the onion in some ghee, diced up some bell peppers and drained the sweetcorn. After the onions started to go soft, he added the basaar, a mix of spices that Illyrians added to almost every dish.

"Well, it's a good thing you're here to look after this girl; the poor thing has been living off those takeaways; she's in desperate need of some good, home-cooked food!" his mother said the word takeaway like it was dirty. She had always been very strict about eating out when they were younger, telling him they could make it better at home. Only as he got older did he realise they probably couldn't afford to eat out for more than the occasional treat. 

"That's why I offered mama."

"That's because you're my good bacha," she said fondly. "What's this neighbour's name anyway? And what does she do?" she asked. 

Cassian smiled. Illyrian mothers could never resist fishing for gossip, even if it was people they didn't know. "Oh, her name is Nesta, and she said she's a romance writer."

His mother gasped, making him almost drop the pasta as he drained it. "Are you cooking for the famous writer, Nesta Archeron?" his mother asked, her excitement tangible. 

"I don't actually know her surname. Why?" he asked, suspicious. 

"Oh my god, Cassian!" her mother screamed, so excited that she didn't seem to mind busting her son's eardrums. "Cassian, that woman is my favourite author!"

His eyes widened at that. "Mama! I don't want to know if you read those books!" he said, taking deep breaths and trying to clear his mind of that information.

"Pfft, why? Those books are brilliant, and you're a grown man now, stop being a baby. There are no men in my life, but those fictional men are something else," his mother sounded breathless, which was just too disturbing to think about. 

"Mama! Stop, I'll be sick if you carry on, and then how can I feed your favourite author?"

His mother was outraged at that. "Listen here, you! She's writing her next book, so you better feed her well because I've been waiting for this book for a year."

"Geez, mama, I promise I will; now I have to go. I'll give it to her now while it's warm." He said, sprinkling cheese on the pasta he had put in the two Tupperware boxes for Nesta. His mother said her goodbyes because he needed to feed Nesta, not because he said he needed to go. She made it clear her loyalties lie with Nesta, which was concerning. 

He knocked on Nesta's door, and she came quickly this time. She eagerly handed him an empty box from lunch, which had been washed, and took the pasta. 

"I'm not sure if you know this, but I can smell when you're cooking things, so I've been able to smell this for a while, and I'm starving right now. This smells absolutely amazing, so if this is what Illyrian food is like, keep it coming," Nesta said, not taking her eyes off the pasta. 

"Well, this isn't Illyrian food; this is just pasta with an Illyrian twist on it, in all fairness, but I'll keep that in mind." Nesta nodded eagerly. "By the way, my mother wanted me to check. Are you the author, Nesta Archeron?"

Nesta looked up at that. "Yes, I am," she said slowly.

"Right, well, my mother is a big fan and said I need to feed you well so you can write your book because she's very excited. She's basically gonna disown me if I don't cook well for you," he laughed. 

Nesta smiled at that. "She sounds sweet. Let her know that you're doing an excellent job."

Cassian smiled back and returned to his apartment, giving her instructions about how she needed to eat the 2nd box for lunch tomorrow because he would be at work. Nesta thanked him profusely, licking her lips as she eyed the pasta. 

Cassian got out of there quickly after that because seeing Nesta lick her lips did something weird that he didn't want to think about. He had only met the woman yesterday, so whatever he felt, he would ignore it. 

He got a text as he dug into his own pasta while watching a modern family rerun on TV. 

Nesta: this might be the best pasta i've ever had omg you're a god!!!

Nesta: i would eat this for the rest of my life if i could

Cassian: It's not too spicy for you?

Nesta: nah, this is fine, the tomatoes calm it down. Idk if i'm strong enough to handle more than this tho, my tastebuds are probs dead with everything i eat 

Cassian: Lolll, noted

Cassian cleared his dishes and got into bed since he'd have an early night the next day. Before putting his phone away, he quickly googled his neighbour, and lo and behold, a list of her books came up. She was popular, and he had to admit, he was impressed. Her fans were practically rabid for her next book. It looked like a series, so he ordered the first book before he could think about it too deeply. 

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[elia-liendy]

A little analysis about Beelzebub

I'm liking the game a lot and one of my favourite characters is Beelzebub, so I wanted to do a little analysis of his character based on the little information that we have currently of information about him.

Spoiler warning about the personal story about Beelzebub (Selfie) card (part 1 and part 2) and the comics of : Bael, Beelzebub (selfie), Amon.

Leak waring about Beelzebub butt card.

I currently never met Beelzebub in the main story, I'm on chapter 2 and stuck as I am writing this.

But I also think that we never met Beelzebub to all the 4 chapter available at the moment because if you go to 'album', you can see which GC you have and how many you missed it and of who you missed it. And there isn't yet an option about him or Abyssos/Avisos.

I think Beelzebub himself will show for the first time or at Gehenna or Tartaros, since in his description it says to spend most of his time there, but only later we will have to seriously have his "kingdom arc".

Before talking completely about Beelzebub I want first to talk about his kingdom, because I think, even minimally, that each kingdom represents/reflect it's king personality and doings.

(honestly I don't understand if his kingdom is called Abyssos or Avisos, but I will use the first to name the kingdom and the second the organisation)

In Abyssos there is an entertainment district and a casino, the existence of these things, makes me connect that Beelzebub is a party animal, and consider having fun something really important or something of his begin as a person.

In fact in the comics we see a Beelzebub that is always doing something fun such as begin on the beach/vacation (Amon comic) or hanging out whit the other kings (levithan selfie & mammon butt comics).

And seeing him in one of his many tentative of run away from his job and responsibility as king, and failing this time. (Beelzebub Selfie)

[immagini 2]

I put this last image not only cause Beelzebub looks like a fucking chad, which is hilarious to me.

But also it shows the "darker" side of him, better to say that it shows Beelzebub strength and serious side of him and the fact he actually do his job.

And made me also think about Beelzebub not using his power while he is trying to run away in his selfie comic. Could he not wanted fully to run away? Or wanted to have a little distraction before continuing to work and wanting to actually get cached? Or he just doesn't use his power to run away cause he fully believe/knows he is able to run away whitout using them?

I'm saying this cause he was catched whit s bear hug, and it's said in his description that his powers doesn't follow any kind of laws, and if he wanted really, really to "escape" he could have use it easily.

I also recently discovered that after Solomon death (B.C. 931) Beelzebub decided to completely run away from his kingdom and never stepping on it again, or at least till now.

In Bael description it says that Beelzebub is specifically targeted by angels, and since Bael takes Beelzebub identity, he have to fight all the angels that come to Beelzebub. But why he have to do so??

Not long ago I read a theory that says the reason why Beelzebub is Always on the run since B.C. 931 and targeted by angels it's because he is involved to the death of God and Solomon.

I would also add one of my personal theory: remembering Solomon death lead all the demons he made a pact whit, extremely restrained by the contract still existing.

And I believe that Beelzebub is one of the Demons that got extremely weak and/or unable to use his power, making him a really easy target for angels, reasons why Bael has taken his identity, is it to protect Beelzebub by angels since he still can use his power.

But at the same time Bael made believe to the angels he is Beelzebub, Abyssos civilians seem knows that right now, at the "throne" there is Bael replacing Beelzebub since they miss Beelzebub. (Abyssos description)

But I could completely wrong, we really don't know actually the reason why and I hope in the future we will get an answer about it.

I also think that only whit MC influence in future chapter he will return back to Abyssos, after breaking solomon contract and/or whit some persuasion.

Or not, Beelzebub is a impulsive and unpredictable person that does what he wants most of the time, like 9 time out of 10.

but I think he will return, because even very subtly it is shown that Beelzebub cares about his his people and kingdom.

He personally gives piercing all Abyssos citizens to shown that they are from Abyssos.

And I also read somewhere that Beelzebub doesn't scribble on Abyssos walls (I don't remember if this last thing is canon or a headcanon, so take this information whit a grain of salt)

But it's shown more than once his care for his friend Bael.

Bael comic is one of my favourite comic at the moment.

I love how it shows Beelzebub and Bael relationship, I love it how's it show a new side Beelzebub personality and his guilt, and I love that last panel of Bael smiling and the little drawing.

Specifying more, I want talk about Beelzebub guilt and behaviour in this comic.

The comic shows Beelzebub feelings about the situation of Bael using his identity:

Whit a flashback to, what I think is, the first time Bael impersonated Beelzebub.

It shows Beelzebub shock as he see Bael taking his identity in front of the angels and also it show Beelzebub running away from the fight as he is begin called a coward by other Devils and Beelzebub insulting himself as he is running away (and when he returns back to bael completely wounded by the angels).

I'm sure there is a specific reason to why Beelzebub acted this way, especially cause on the Amon comic there is a Beelzebub that isn't scared of fighting or is weak that it have to run away.

Here I will stand again on my theory of how Beelzebub can't use his power because of the pact he made whit solomon and his death.

I also want to talk about how at first Beelzebub was exited to talk whit Bael about a back joint therapy in Gehenna that he wanted to do at first, but taken back his words whit a "I'm not actually serious about it, I'm joking/only talking about it".

remembering to the fact how this can mean such a burden to Bael since he is impersonating him, and how they need have minimal differences.

after Bael decides to change topic whit a joke saying "if you want to change your look, why don't we dye hair together (implied of the same colour) " to lighten up Beelzebub mood.

In the comics it look like Beelzebub his a person that hide his problems behind his extroverted personality and momentarily forgets about his problems as he distract himself to wait pick his interest.

Going to the next topic, I want to talk about his description.

Free - mysterious - doesn't follow rules - hearty and lovely

Are key words on his description that catch my eyes the most and I want to analyse each one for themselves:

Free - we can see many times how much he is a free spirited person, not really linking to work and always on the run in search of entertainment and something that catches his eyes, this is also why on the same day you can see him in two different countrys.

Mysterious - more than mysterious, he is pragmatic, a bit hard to read at first, and since always on the run you never know what going on whit him and inside his head.

Doesn't follow rules - I think this is self explanatory.

Hearty and lovely - WHERE?????? BECAUSE FOR NEITHER IN HIS SELFIE CARD HE IS?? HE IS MORE OF A BITCH THAN LOVELY.

Seriously the first time I read the story (part 1) I literally wanted to punch him in the face. (I still do every time I re-read part 1)

I really don't understand this, since it's never shown this part of his personality or hinted.

Even considering Bael comic, he doesn't really look or act "hearty and lovely", he is acting more of a person that cares about his friend.

In the 2nd part of the story( still Beelzebub Selfie card), MC and Beelzebub begin to do the doings and he encourage MC as MC takes their times, but he isn't "hearty and lovely" even there.

He is for sure a flirt and kind of a bastard in the first part. While in the second, he is kind of patient, he doesn't make fun of MC "inexperience" and even encourage MC to continue and go harder.

Which I really liked, not in a horny way, but liked in "enjoying the character personality" way, and honestly before reading the second part I trough he would make fun and insults MC in a kinky way, but he didn't which surprised me in a positive way.

Maybe in the future it will show his "hearty and lovely" side, but for now that side doesn't exist or is hidden very well.

Plus at the end I wanna talk about his Butt card:

At first in the card I looked at his (ass) crying face, seeing him acting this "childish" because of a syringe, made me consider if Beelzebub have a "childish" personality. It true since he scribble everywhere, and he doesn't to his job (homework), but he doesn't really look that childish, more than acting like a kid, he acts more of late teenager that doesn't want to study and go to the disco

But then I got confused, is he scared of needles? I don't really thinks so since he have his ears pierced, and he himself pierce every Abyssos civilians, he shouldn't be scared of needles. Is he scared on needles only when it's about syringe???

Recap of Beelzebub personality:

Beelzebub is impulsive and blunt person that loves to have fun and always on the run of that fun and never following any kind of rules as he loves his own way of freedom.

But also a person that under his care free personality shows his depth as character: affection to the people he cares, even guilt and regret to his own action to even call himself as "useless" to the fact he isn't able to help his friends and even Kingdom that tries to hide by his party animal personality.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I really hope whit this Recap of his personality, I didn't watered down my whole analysis.

I finally finished my analysis and I wanted to thank you to everyone who read this and also to say sorry about:

the possible grammar errors, miss typo and repetition, I tried my best to write something that have a sense.

the possibility that this analysis may be superficial, which is something I really didn't want to do.

[misfitclassismyfreetherapy]

So chapter 308 and 309 reallly wants to make me cry huh?

In summary of 309

Misfit Class: As long as you guys aren't depressed and limbs attached who fucking cares about the future of the demon world?

Asmodeus and Iruma: But-

Misfit Class: No buts.

Momonoki-sensei: and also Kalego-sensei is in an evil cycle/wicked phase.

Jazz and Lied: Wait...he usually isn't?

Robin-sensei: Iruma come with me, to the Barbatos Clan as we make demons there suffer as well!

Iruma:..Huh?

The misfit class part warmed my heart so much. The fact they only care if all of their classmates are safe and doesn't care about the demon world is lovable at least.

Chapter 308 is not any less emotional fluff than the chapter after.

My first reaction: NONONONONONONDON'"'T CRY IF YOU CRY I CRY GUHIKHGUHKFGILKG-

Why just why. Don't put three adorable ass characters as babies and make them cry it's wrong come on dude. Nishi why are you doing this to me.

But the well executed fluff is amazing and the fact that they say they'll wait for all of their secret's answer is amazing. Not pressuring people to reveal their insecurities is again *chef kiss*

Wow, Nishi you easily dropped two of my favourite relationship aspects in the show like it's nothing? I stan a queen 🙇 .

[roalinda]

you reminded me - how it slays me actually that in swm James stopped showing off with snitch for Sirius, but he didn't stop harassing Snape for Lily. Different scales, yes, and yet. Sirius had quite a character in his youth, and James seemed to value and thrieve in this part, too - mean, arrogant. And it's not like Sirius minded James' faults like showing off - when he told James to put snitch away, it was not [stop because you irritate me], it was [stop because Wormtail' reaction irritates me].

SWM is probably one of my most favourite chapters in the whole HP series. Not just because it stars James and Sirius in their teenage days, but also because it shows the darker parts of their personality ( specially James' ), a neat contrast to Harry's usual hero worship for his father. I think this scene is what makes the reader appreciate James as a great character later, the way he matured and lived and sacrificed. (but this is completely another discussion ) 

You are completely right anon, Sirius was mean and arrogant and so was James. They were two parts of a whole, working together like a tandem, dysfunctional without each other. They were too similar yet different and that was their glue, their magnetic gravity. We have three books (POA, GOF, OOTP) to see Sirius' arrogance ( or at least traces of it ), but for James we only have less than ten pages. 

Here:

Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so. ( HP and OOTP, chapter twenty eight , page 644 )

"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you are a bit conceited, mate (James)," said Sirius. (HP and OOTP, chapter twenty-eight, page 649)

Obviously, James had been called arrogant in this chapter a lot by both Lily and Snape, but I quoted Sirius on purpose because here he shows/says:

Yes, Lily sees James as an arrogant toerag, so he should not delude himself with the fact the she doesn't. ( right now)

He himself doesn't care about James' arrogance. (He said that about Lily, he never said I think you are too arrogant as well) 

He said - a bit conceited - , both to sweeten the rejection for James and to insert a bit of sarcasm. 

James had started it all to liven up Sirius as he himself put it. I am not discussing the morality of the situation here because it is not relevant to this talk. He wanted to entertain Sirius. He wanted to show off in front of Sirius, not the girls around the lake or Lily at that moment. He wanted to show off in a way that Sirius can be indulged in as well, and not to be irritated by James' actions, be it straight from him playing with the Snitch or Peter's extreme excitement. True, he enjoyed the attention of the crowd, it is a part of his character, but at that moment it was Sirius' attention he was seeking. Sirius was easily irritated by Peter and was brilliant enough to ignore Remus when he suggested to test him for Transfiguration, so naturally it was James whom he indirectly seek entertainment from. He doesn't mention it or anything, he just says I am bored and James jumps and practically is, Yessir, yes, your majesty, your wish is my command, let me indulge and entertain you. 😂

That's the simplest approach to SWM. Sirius and James didn't care for anything as long as the other was satisfied. 

This doesn't go for Lily, even after James started dating her. James never stopped hexing Snape 🤺 , because Snape also never missed an opportunity to curse him back. 🤺 Yes, it's only one person whom he has a bad history with but the point is he does not change his ways for Lily completely if he doesn't see it fit.

He also is clearly triggered after Sirius tells him that Lily thinks he is conceited (which results in the line below), because arrogance and pride is a part of him, a part that can be either pleasant or unpleasant, depending on who is he interacting with. 

"Right," said James, who looked furious now, "right —" (HP and OOTP, chapter twenty-eight, page 649) 

This is the difference between Lily and Sirius and the types of showing off James has for them. Sirius has James on leash, be it in a positive or negative way. He says start, James starts. He says stop, James stops. This does not go for Lily. James even told her - don't make me hex you - , although it was earnest and in good humour. But let's face it, he would never say this to Sirius in a situation like that.

Sirius is fond of James as well and never minded his faults as you rightfully put it. He was fond of his arrogance and idiocy as he later told Harry. (by idiocy I don't mean the incapability of achieving brilliant magical performances and academics, I mean the way he was a jerk) 

There is a reason Sirius and James are soul mates. It is not just because they adored each other and were Quite the double act, it was also because they had accepted and were not trying to change each other. They loved each other's faults in an exclusive private way, never ashamed or worried about social etiquette in each other's company.

Gods, sorry for the long rant 🙈 thank you for the ask.

[theflagscene]

Things I’ve learned from reading The Sign novel that I’m glad they changed for the show (so far)

Singh being at training camp and being the one everyone bullied, I mean everyone! Even our heroes.

Thongthai and Khem being two of Chart’s lackeys

Tharn and Yai realizing who Phaya was the day they got to the training camp.

Singh apparently has 10 degrees? Dude’s like 26 years old, that’s a little much there babe.

Tharn blurting out that he likes women during a quiet moment with Phaya, completely unprovoked, even though for so many chapters Yai has mused about how often he has to stop Tharn from staring at hot guys, has to stop Tharn from staring at Phaya when he’s barely dressed, literally had to dump water on him to stop him from fixating on Phaya. But yeah, okay you’re super duper straight Tharn.

Phaya being in love with Dao and nearly hounding her about being in love with her until she basically puts him down like a lame dog.

A very clear case of ‘it’s not men it’s just him’ syndrome happening between Phaya/Tharn, easily my least favourite trope of all time.

Phaya having a mom and older brother in his life, Nee’s there too but we like her.

Tharn’s mom being alive

Chart becoming part of their friend group because of Thongthai and Khem.

Singh and Chart start dating after Chart breaks his leg and has to leave training. (WHAT!?)

Tharn being not only a sloppy drunk but a crying drunk, they basically made him a weeping clingy uwu teenaged girl every time he had a drink and it was borderline misogynistic.

The police captain being a ‘tall beauty queen’ of a woman that apparently leaves all men struck dumb the moment they see her. (Oh spare me the ‘jaw dropping gorgeous not like other girls’ character)

And that was just from the first like ten chapters, I’m not even close to the Garuda and Naga stuff, forget about the cop crap! Like this was just up to right after the Naga festival, so what, like 3 episodes?

What I wish they had left in!!!!

Tharn and Phaya’s beds being next to one another instead of Tharn and Yai bunking together, the pair whispering and gossiping constantly under their blankets to the point that the other guys start to think they’re into each other way sooner.

“Yes, my wife Sand is trans, a trans woman. I don’t care, I dated her when she was a man because I was in love with her. I don’t care what she is, she is she. Sand is Sand and I love her.”

YAI!!!! YOU PERFECT LITTLE HONEY BEE! I NEED A YAISAND SPIN OFF ASAP!!!

All the green flags!!!

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