#writing and art trade

[merbear25]

Snake bites (Monster!Law)

Despite being married to each other, there were still ways Law surprised you, not all of which were pleasant. The village had fallen on hard times, forcing him to take up being a huntsman in hopes of keeping the two of you well fed. Even with word of snake parasites lurking in the Forbidden Forest, Law took a risk only to get burned. How you wished you were welcoming your husband home that day.

a/n: This is a trade for @karusenka! It’s so exciting to do a trade like this, honestly. Thank you so much for suggesting it! I hope it lived up to your expectations!

CW: NSFW! MDNI! Monster AU, Marriage AU, fem!reader, angst, noncon, vaginal penetration, creampie, horror themes. This is based on the snake parasite from bloodborne but of course, I took some creative liberties to change some things.

The slight bite of cold nipped at your nose, reminding you that winter was creeping in. Fluttering your eyes open, they fell on Law’s sleeping form; his features were peaceful, as if the stresses of everyday life never phased him. A weak smile spread on your face as you went to brush his disheveled hair off his forehead, accidentally stirring him awake.

With a deep sigh, he lazily asked for the time. Slowly turning over to your bedside, you wanted to savor this time with him, for such sweet and gentle moments were becoming less and less common.

You watched him while he left your side. Keeping yourself from calling out to him to return to bed just so you could spend a bit more time holding him never got easier; you understood that he’d give you the same begrudging excuse of ‘There’s only so much light in the day.’ Although true, the bleak reality never stopped you from wanting to be selfish every now and then.

Despite sacrificing parts of his freedom to cherish you like you deserved, knowing that you’d have enough food during winter was his sense of purpose: the purpose that kept him from staying at your side and that led him into forests in search of prey.

Looking over his shoulder, he gave you a faint smile before coming back to place a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll be back by supper.” As his lips left the warmth of your body, he dreaded having to trek through the early onset of winter. The subtle sadness held in your eyes was making this morning particularly taxing for him. However, the thought of you going hungry snapped him back to his senses. While venturing out of the house with a brief goodbye, you were alone with your thoughts.

Even though there were supposed to be a couple of months before the first snowfall, frost had built up on the blades of grass surrounding the forest, and the leaves drooped from its added weight. Seeing a few of the other men helped relieve some of the weight they were all carrying on their shoulders: hunting in small groups would no doubt fare well for them if they crossed paths with predatory animals, or, as others whispered about behind closed doors, snake parasites.

Such rumors only poisoned the mind, though. There was no proof even alluding to some of those in neighboring villages having been picked off by these parasites. That being said, gossip or not, fear had already plagued the village which caused many men’s nerves to buckle under this added pressure. Adding this word of mouth to the threat of an early winter only made matters worse.

With a few rabbits collected and the sun already well past the midway point in the cloudy sky, many were beginning to lose faith that there’d be something of greater value hiding amongst those trees. But then, a rustling could be heard just some meters away. When a deer jolted out from behind a bush the men weren’t even facing its direction, all except Law. However, he still wasn’t quick enough; his bullets grazed the bark whenever the deer ducked and swayed out of the line of fire.

Whether it was the want of having a successful hunt or the panic of not being able to provide for the two of you, it was hard to say what drove Law to chase after the animal, but whichever it was carried his feet faster than he ever thought possible.

Single mindedness acted as a silencer, causing the group’s calls to fall on deaf ears. Deeper and deeper he journeyed into the depths of the hushed horrors that’d been passed around the surrounding villages. He knew the deer was outrunning him, so he acted fast when it ran through an opening between the trees. Taking the only chance he’d be given, he fired a bullet straight through its jugular.

Shrieks of agony sounded, calling out into the void of nature with gurgled chokes whose cries were only silenced by Law’s knife. Huffing while staring down at his much deserved prize, he looked around to think he’d catch a glimpse of the others behind him—only being faced with the tall trees. Mustering up enough strength, he slung his catch over his shoulders, clinging to the hooves on both sides of him.

Carefully backtracking, he nearly lost his footing when his attention jerked towards a snapping twig. With so much talk of monsters feasting on the disappearing villagers, one could only keep their imagination from wandering for so long. His eyes darted every which way it sounded from, trying to keep his breath calm and heart steady.

Easing up on his grip, that day’s prize slumped down to the forest floor. Pained soaked groans coupled with a large figure staggered towards Law. Gasping for air while the body swayed back and forth put Law further on edge. Not wanting to risk turning the situation into a chase, he cautiously backed away from the stranger. Slowly bringing his hand to his gun, the clarity of the risks were crystal: if he missed, there would be a slim chance of him escaping; but if he managed to hit it, it’d be severely wounded, giving him a decent enough shot at fleeing. With a sudden lurch, Law reacted by pulling the trigger—only blowing off a chunk of its shoulder.

Hysteric yelps entwined with sharp hissing seeped out of the foe while it writhed in agony. Being given such a small window of opportunity was all that he’d be offered. Turning to run from the scene, he witnessed the creature sprouting a new head—or multiple. A sudden crack and spray of blood coated his back, alarming him with the close proximity of the creature.

Piercing fangs dug into his flesh while scaly bodies swarmed him, tugging him closer to their host. His blood curdling screams were heard by no one, allowing this demonic presence to feast upon his purity in peace.

No matter how many times you looked out the window, there was no sign of him. The others returned hours ago, mentioning that he’d run off and they couldn’t keep up with him. Dread sunk in when thoughts of ‘what if’ reared their ugly heads. With dusk approaching, leaving him out there cold and alone was not an option.

Calling out his name wasn’t the safest route, but it was the only one worth trying if you had any hope in finding him. Having brought your lantern, you put off lighting it until it was completely necessary, although the falling sunlight on the trees blanketed you with unease.

Seeing something moving between the trees off in the distance, your woes momentarily subsided as you called out for your husband. Hurrying towards him, the thick leaves made it difficult to see, leading you to ignite your beacon of hope.

Holding the lantern up, it promptly fell to the forest floor as soon as you saw his clothes clinging to him, caked with crimson. Rushing to his side, your heart sank to the earth beneath your feet. You hadn’t seen his head prior. In simply panicking and dropping your source of light, you’d taken away your right to see what had been done to him, to your beloved husband.

Backing up too hastily, a tree root caught your ankle, leaving you sprawled out on the cold moist ground. Witnessing your dearly departed leer over you shattered your pained heart into pieces that could never be mended.

“Law, what happened to you?” Sobbing uncontrollably, your tears were the only things keeping your face warm.

It planted his feet on either side of you, jerking into a craned pose. Your breaths were rapid signaling to it that you were prey—too terrified to move.

When a hand hurtled to your side digging its fingers into the soil, your wince of fright irked it. Faint hissing reached your ear, leaking into your worst nightmares.

Unable to face it, you cowarded away, sealing your eyes in an attempt at imagining your loving husband being over you instead. Beaten down into submission, you were left helpless to the beast's other wandering hand: ripping at your blouse, clawing off your pants. Telling yourself that it was still Law gave you no peace of mind—the hissing and slithering bodies brushing against your exposed skin served as heinous reminders.

Pain spread across your vulnerable form only intensifying with each thrust. The audible sobs only stirred anger within the vessel, so you clamped your hands over your mouth to muffle them. With the bucking becoming rougher and more frantic, your sorrow seeped past your fingers, leaving your cries sharp and wet against your skin.

Guttural grunts that somewhat resembled Law’s could have made it easier to delude yourself into thinking that this was still him. However, when accompanied with the snakes coiling their bodies around your arms and legs and flicking their tongues against your nipples and clit, such fantasies were demolished.

Your body was being dug further into the soil, dirt sticking to your sweat kissed flesh, all the while your ability to shed any more tears was being stripped away. Risking a glance at your ill-fated lover, the glow of the lantern illuminated his human body. In spite of the fact that it was paler, sicklier and coated in blood, it still resembled him. 

With your tear stained eyes on it, the pace grew more rigid, possessive even, making you squirm underneath it. Blood beaded around the opening of your abused slit as you braced yourself for what you’d been fretting.

Each unforgiving jerk pumped you with its abominable seed, mixing with your blood to create an unholy elixir. Having finished with you, the shell of your husband reeled back, leaving you to sort through the trauma it’d just placed on you.

Swelling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, you eased yourself back up once you were sure it was far enough away. Practically crawling back to your home, you locked all the doors and windows before limping into the bathtub. The soap burned each of your cuts, having you recall the ways they’d been inflicted on you.

You knew you’d never be able to scrub that night’s events off of you. They’d be etched into your memory for as long as you lived, but you held onto that last ounce of faith that you wouldn’t be burdened with mothering a crime against nature.

[tearystarz]

Drew lil scene from @missylink 's dbh fanfic she's currently writing >:3 will link when published!!🫶

[mercymaker]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭.

This beautiful art of Maleane & Astarion was made by the wonderfully talented @tadpole-apocalypse thank you so much!!! They're open to commissions, so check them out!

[veemimis]

Seaheart for the 3 Seaheart fans out there

[cloudwhisper23]

BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly.  “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

[tastycitrus]

there's an alternate timeline where the new 52 reboot kept all three batgirls but retconned all the robins except for dick, who went back to being robin with nightwing banned from being mentioned at all

[that--unusual-person]

for @2lim3rz

thank you for your services

[stil-lindigo]

the dredger.

a comic about closure.

(buy the digital copy of the comic anthology here)

creative notes:

[capnhanbers]

for all the tension this was a pretty tender chapter so uhhh this is unlike the story it was written to be / i was riding its back when it used to ride me

(scenes from chapter 140)

[tazma-art]

Bat blob inspired au

More info under the cut

So, I remembered a post I saw a long time ago, I think it was from @broosepayne but I'm not sure, it was about Bruce being more of an Eldritch spirit of vengeance of Gotham(or something), instead of a guy in a suit, and he adopts a newly orphaned Dick by looking at the child and going "mine"

So, this AU was inspired by that.

Bruce is still kinda a human but switches between shadow horror and traumatized man. It's sorta something he developed through the years that he used to be a vigilante.

AND his condition can get passed down ( because Gotham loves making the Bat's children into its too ) So when he takes little Dick under his wings the kid starts growing red, green and yellow "feathers" with black around his eyes, and a beak later! ( Little Robin looks like an Indian robin a lil bit )

Robin is born! :D

The colorful "feathers" get replaced by black and blue overtime and dick develops into his own shadow creature. All be it smaller, less menacing, and much more bird like than Batman.

Jason's Eldritch form looks more like a puppy, but because Jason associated being robin with red yellow and green his "fur" grows with the same colors.

I won't go into too much detail rn, cuz I want that to be another post, (and I'm not completely convinced on Jason's design) but I will say that putting a resuscitated, young, and traumatized spirit of Gotham in the Lazarus Pit makes for a horrible situation for everyone involved.

[erinwantstowrite]

hi! hope your having a good day/night/timezone/etc.! u got any writing tips (like how to not lose motivation/use up as much of it as u can while u have it, any ways to get the words flowing/“get in the writing mood” that have worked for u) for any of ur fellow fic writers? (idk if this’s been asked b4 (it seems like a common question lmao), but if it has, ‘pologies, lolol ^^)

i have a few that i've been thinking up to try and post!!

remember that you aren't on a deadline to write, and to take the time you need. no one wants to read something you rushed, let alone do YOU want to read it. and it REALLY matters if you love what you're writing. you'll kill your motivation trying to keep up with something like that!! if you only had time to write 300 or you had a great day and wrote like 3000, you're doing great either way!!!

there's a lot to keep up with when you're writing, and you have to remember and understand all of it. if you're trying to write while you're tired/upset/etc, you'll likely end up with something you're not that proud of. (granted, art is art, and sometimes these emotions can create something beautiful or meaningful). take metal breaks so you can come back to your work with a fresh mind, and don't overexert yourself. you'll remember and understand more if you treat your writing time like you would when you're studying. sometimes i make flashcards to remember characters, places, events, etc.

sometimes i can get too analytical with my writing, or it starts to become flat? if that makes sense? meaning, like... i'm putting words on paper rather than delving into the story. too many "they felt this way" and not enough "Character A turns to face the man that had changed their entire life with the single shot of a bullet, careless to what damage he could have caused. It's haunting to see that the man is simply that: a man. Not a monster as they had imagined, laying awake at night and wondering what their father had seen in his final moments. He's just a man." what helps with this is putting myself into the shoes of a narrator, remembering that i am telling the story as if i already know what's happening (even if I don't know where I'm going with a scene yet). i imagine that my reader is right there next to me and i'm telling them the story in real time like we're sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories, or that i'm the quirky narrator of a book they just picked up.

During times where i'm losing inspiration or feel like i'm in a loop, i like to go back to my favorite medias and spend some time with them. i recently rewatched Gravity Falls, the Sea Beast, and the Adam Project, and it was a fun mental break that got me into the writing mood. i try to find similar media to what i'm writing at that time. if i want a scene focused on funny banter or a comedic effect, i read or watch comedy. if i want to write a scary scene, i'll watch a horror movie. etc etc. "studying" your favorite media and putting yourself into your fav writer's writing shoes is a great way to improve your own writing. think about why that joke was funny, what the set up was that made it that way, and if it would have been a different joke if another character said it (Gravity Falls is one of the best media you can use for this, but really, reading mysteries in general can help)

physical exercise, if you can. getting your blood flowing and treating your body well!! when i was in band, we used to do "body warm ups" set to music, and i still do them to this day. it gets me awake and alert while also letting me listen to fun music before i write

[merbear25]

Twisted desires (Caesar)

A budding flower of newfound interest quickly grew into full bloom the longer she spent with the man who hired her. Two damned souls with different purposes in life, and yet their paths couldn’t have entwined more perfectly, intersecting at just the right moment. Getting close to a man like Caesar Clown would require a bit of persuasion as Lucille came to realize. However, that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

a/n: This is a trade for @luci0elle. I was so excited to do this trade with you! I had a blast writing it. Thank you so, so much for suggesting it. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!OC/self-insert (name used for reader), dubcon, drug use, alcohol, vaginal penetration, pegging, cumshot

Wandering behind the buildings of the labs she couldn’t justify calling home, the alleyways paved her road to a future where she’d be offered a blank slate. No ties to the government and none to Vegapunk, instead it would be left up to her full discretion. 

The sun had long since set and the dark clouds casted over any possible navigation by starlight, meaning the pipes that ran above were her only chance of finding a way out of this maze. With residue oozing from the pipes, the dripping substances only further engrained the life she saw for herself.

Ducking out of sight, evading others, eyes set on the target as the sound of rushing water filled the air: Lucille made a break for it just as a security guard spotted her. A leap of faith sent her hurtling into the waters below where her title of government property washed away with the tides.

Since then, she stuck to the shadows and offered the lethal skills infused in her DNA as a service. Although a couple of customers made the mistake of double crossing her, the result was more or less the same—a clear message of what would happen if others tried the same.

Even with operating behind the scenes, word spread among those who were in search of such expertise. Spoiled with choice of who she deemed worthy of her time, someone only familiar by name caught her eye—Caesar Clown. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Be it led by morbid curiosity of genuine interest, the deal was made and their fates were merged if only by their signatures.

Neither of them were what the other had expected; the dashes of personality that contradicted word of mouth were both refreshing and worrisome. Finding out who they really were while being in such close proximity wasn't something to be taken lightly.

His suspicious sideways glances, countered with her playful energy sent his reservations towards her for a loop. The evident want she expressed to be around him when she wasn’t off on a mission was…unnerving. 

What did she have up her sleeve? was the question that wracked his brain more often than he cared to admit. But still, the bubbly and apparently genuine interest she took in him was received well. After all, how could he resist being fawned over by a deadly force such as herself?

“Come on! I want you to test out one of the cocktails I made!” Luci tugged at Caesar’s coat relentlessly.

His eye twitched in irritation. “I’ve already told you I’m very busy and—”

“You’re always ���very busy’!” She grumbled.

“And what? I suppose you’re going to say ‘it won’t kill you to take a break’?” He mocked her typically playful tone.

“Is that a challenge?” Luci’s face showed a glimmer of mischief as a coy smile spread on her lips.

A hue of pink dusted his face at his own slip of the tongue. He huffed at her persistent nature, reluctantly surrendering to the silver-eyed woman cocking an eyebrow at him. “Fine. Show me what attempt you’ve made.”

As she led him to the kitchen, his amusement in the confident strut she had made it difficult to suppress even the faintest grin. 

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the sofa.

“You’re going to serve me too? Seems I’m getting the royal treatment,” Caesar chuckled. She gave the concoction in the drink mixer a few more good shakes, while sticking her tongue out at him, earning herself a couple more laughs.

Gently, she placed the fuchsia alcoholic beverage in front of him. The swirls of edible glitter danced even under the fluorescent lights.

“Adding something as gaudy as glitter to the drink? Must have looked atrocious beforehand.” He teased, bringing the glass up to his lips.

“I just know how much you can’t stomach a real drink, is all,” Luci whispered. She leaned in, showing the bit of cleavage spilling out of her top.

His cheeks reddened, so he turned away from her and threw half of the drink back in one gulp. There was lust peeking behind her sultry stare, making him chug the remainder of her experimental talents.

She shifted closer to him, her leg now pressed up against his without letting up on the rising want in her demeanor. “Well?” Her voice trailed into his ear. “What's the verdict?”

The assassin's cool tone as she awaited his critiques was faintly nerve-racking. She gently brushed her chest against his arm, when he began stumbling over a response. “It was deceivingly strong…just a tad though.” He added so as not to give Lucille the satisfaction of being right about his intolerance to hard liquor. 

Clearing his throat, the feeling of her rubbing up against him was causing his mind to go fuzzy. He couldn't think straight, only being grounded by the redheaded beauty's touch. He rubbed his temple, trying to regain focus.

“Did…did you put something in that drink?” He tugged at his clothes, which were beginning to feel like they were uncomfortably snug.

Luci gave him a helping hand by unzipping the front on his body suit. Revealing his chest and slender stomach, she ran her hand over him greedily. The dampened skin heightened her longing to see more of him, to feel more. The shaky pants that passed his lips grew more and more needy as her touch became more assertive.

With no say in the matter, the drug forced his body to release pheromones laced in a nearly sickeningly intoxicating aroma. A deep sigh escaped her as the desired effect took its course on her, as well.

“You drive me wild. You know that, don't you?” Her fingers aggressively tugged down his boxers, revealing one of the side-effects. 

The sharp inhale of his throbbing cock meeting her firm grip only made him more irresistible. Her pupils dilated as she watched the subtle shifts in his facial muscles: reluctance, embarrassment, and finally surrender. The hands of a killer could do more than stomp out the light in her victims’ eyes—capable of bestowing unimaginable waves of ravishment throughout them just as skillfully.

“You want more, don't you?” Lucille nodded, coaxing the same out of him. With a dark smile, she swiftly derobed.

Standing in front of him with smug confidence, the slick arousal between her legs made his heart race. As much as he knew he shouldn’t want her, there were other forces at play, which made his better judgment take a backseat.

His cock twitched as she traced his jaw with her delicate fingers. “I’m going to let you feel every ounce of pleasure you’re burning for, don’t you worry.” A temptress in her own right, he didn’t stand a chance against her dark charm.

She guided him to her bedroom, a domain where she had home field advantage. As she climbed onto her bed, the arch in her back put her wet pussy lips on full display. A suppressed whimper could be heard behind her as she bent over in front of him. His long, lanky limbs caged her small form in. The tip of his cock pressed against her aching core. The close proximity caused the emitting side-effects of the drug to waft over her, causing her patience to wane at an alarming rate.

Unable to wait any longer, she eased herself back on him as far as she was physically able. Tingling sensations of overbearing fervor pushed her into a frenzy. Bouncing up and down his length, the leverage of her on all fours gave each of them rush after rush of pure bliss. Stretching herself out from his girth had her clawing at the bedsheets in a desperate attempt at seeking stability as she plunged him deeper and deeper inside her.

Choked sobs from above gave her more than enough encouragement to keep the fast pace. A large shaky hand gripped at her hip. “F-fuck…” Caesar moaned.

A growl rose from her throat as she slammed her dripping core roughly against him, causing his balls to slap against her clit. With the overpowering erotica flooding his senses, the room began to shift and spin. His body trembled and grew heavy, causing him to slump over on his forearms suddenly. He could barely keep his weight above her.

Cupping his tired face, an unfamiliar warmth emanated from her hand. “You shouldn’t have downed your drink so quickly,” she teased. He groaned from the way her body was still wrapped around him. “Shh, don’t worry. I’ll make things much easier on you.”

When she crawled out from under him, he collapsed on the inviting comfort of her bed. Breathing heavily, the drug's effects were making it impossible for him to ease his swarming thoughts. He watched Lucille carefully, craving more of her but unable to decipher whether it was solely due to the drug or not.

She snuck around him, letting both her hands caress the sides of his hips and waist. His body responded instantly: quaking from the unexpected tenderness in her touch and yearning for sweet release.

“You want it so badly, yeah?” She cooed at him.

He buried his face into her pillow, the scent of her driving him further into madness. A deep gravelly groan was forced into the pillow as he nodded slightly in response.

She chuckled softly. Grabbing a spare pillow, she wedged it under his hips, leaving him in the perfect position for what was soon to come.

While focusing on inhaling the faint scent of Lucille’s shampoo in the fabric of her pillow, the chilled lube caused his body to tense. Her calming voice rocked him back into a trance, and as her slender fingers pressed inside him, his eyes rolled back.

The tip of her strapon buried into him. His hands tightened their grip on the sheets, and he bit her pillow as his body was being forced to accept it at a much faster rate. Strained huffs and cries of euphoria were music to Luci’s ears.

“I didn’t think the potion would have worked this well,” she grunted, wasting no time pounding into him.

The curses dripping from his quivering lips were laced with remaining toxins of the elixir. Caesar cried out for her that further fueled her motions, making each thrust more and more intense. He was close, teetering on the edge.

She reached down to stroke him, rendering him helpless to the paradise she’d bestowed upon him. Each jolt of pleasure raptured his body. The skilled tugs of his painfully carnal urge to give into the temptress who’d successfully had her way with him ate away at every fiber of his self-control.

A wanton soaked shriek was muffled into her pillow as he spilled every last drop of fervor into her hand. The overflow of the pent-up sin cascaded onto her bed and splashed on the other pillow. Choked whimpers were soothed by the tender hand of his hired assassin. Soft hushes and light kisses along his shoulder eased him down from his high.

“If things continue this well, you’ll be ready for more soon enough.” There was a sadistic pleasure she took seeing him completely spent and knowing that she’d get her fix in due time.

He groaned and nodded. Having just experienced an explosive orgasm, there was a part of him that just couldn’t be satiated. Damn her for having made such a lascivious test subject out of him. His eyes rolled back as he began hardening again. He thrusted against the dampened pillow, groaning from the overstimulation. Damn her and the spell she casted on him.

[fanaticsnail]

It's been a while

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,900+

Synopsis: Trafalgar Law has been missing his favorite courier, so at the encouragement of his first mate, he is prompted to do something about it.

Themes: Trafalgar Law x Box "Cottontail" Mila, fluff, long distance relationships, fluff, hurt / comfort, pining, longing from afar, den-den mushi, Law is tired, Law is missing his special person.

Notes: This is my half of the trade organized through the OC Discord Server for @bloglop and her beautiful OC, Mila. She gave me such a cute art piece for my Tobiuo x Heat 'Teat' ship, and I love it. I hope you like my half for your beautiful Mila! Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

Warmth swelled within the cool heart of the dark-haired captain, his chest ignited beneath the blaze of anticipated relief. Honey eyes briefly widening, they relax as his smile illuminated his cheeks with an emotion Trafalgar Law had not allowed himself to experience in so long. He knew it; he saw it every day of his life growing up in Flevance. His parents had it when their eyes met in the early hours of the day, he saw it in his sister’s eyes when she looked at her favorite desserts. 

Love.

Trafalgar Law was in love. 

Rolling on her heels to the balls of her feet, the twitching anxiousness was demonstrated within the grip of parchment clutched against her chest. Another delivery for the Tang: likely the recipe exchange Penguin set up between Sanji and Killer at the last meeting with Strawhat crew and the Victoria Punk.

“Mila,” Law sighed, his voice feeling foggy at the edges, echoing within the halls of the Polar Tang. He shook his head, shrugging off the tension and apprehension from his mind as he picked up speed. 

Trying not to seem overeager in seeing his lover so close to him fled his thoughts, he physically couldn’t contain it any longer. He needed Mila in his arms, embraced fully against his chest and lifted up into his arms. 

He wanted her, needed her, craved her in a way that felt like a part of him was missing: a part only she could fill with her presence. That little laugh, that soft stutter when she’s trying to hold her enthusiasm back, the way her ears would extend and tail would protrude when she was nervous, the buzz of life that illuminated and vibrated with excitable static. He craved to have all of that within his arms, lips touching so intimately close: sharing breaths and heartbeats as he entwined himself against her in an encumbering embrace. 

His feet carried him closer, further and faster than he could ever dream of. Ignoring the wind-smudged faces of his crew, Law simply sprung hurriedly towards Mila like an iron ball from a cannon barrel. 

Turning slowly towards her, the orange-hue of her widened orbs lit up and rose with her smile behind it. Expending her arms towards him, Law couldn't help but spring to close the distance between them. Hoisting her into the air, and with a large twirl to expel all the parchment from her tanned satchel. The pages seemed to float beside them as if meeting with water, held in stasis beside them while Law met his eyes against hers. 

Inked hands pressed at the back of her neck, toying with the finer hair growing at the base of her scalp, he drew her into his face. Lips finally colliding, he seared into her all emotion he craved to give her through his intense kiss. Expecting the common softness to her lips, his brows furrowed where all he could feel was a coarse scratch on his skin. Parting his mouth and deepening his kiss, her lips tasted of ink blotches and black coffee stains. He shook it from his thoughts, holding on tighter and refusing to be pried from her, her embrace felt different. 

“Law?” Mila’s voice ricocheted within his mind: sounding muffled as if forced to speak with a muzzle over her lips. Shaking his head, he gripped her tighter and more intently. Hands roaming and wandering, her skin felt cool to the touch and almost like steel. 

“Law?” her voice sounded several tones too deep, prompting Law to almost break away from her lips pressed against his and look up into her eyes. But he couldn’t, he was too overwhelmed by the fact she was hare, and she was finally back, to care about anything else. 

Mila’s hand gently reached up and grasped his shoulder, pinching and rolling the flesh between her perched digits. Shaking him from her, her strength managed to pull him away from her and force his eyes to fall on hers. 

“Mila?”

All he could see in lieu of his lover was a sheet of pale paper with stains of ink and black coffee. 

He had fallen asleep at his desk once again. After too many sleepless nights of peering over the edge of the Polar Tang, hoping the figure beyond the horizon was a small blotch of pink blur, he finally fell prone to the melody of sleep. Thin, paper pages stuck to his face as he jolted upright, looking immediately to the large, white fur that clutched onto his shoulders. 

“Just me, Captain,” Bepo sighed softly, a small amount of sorrow caged at the corner of his tone, “I'm sorry I'm not Mila. It's-... It's been a while, hasn't it, sir?” The Polar bear mink gently reached for the page affixed to Law's face, peeling it from his skin and placing it back down in a neat pile in front of him. Several words from the parchment transported onto his skin, words in reverse staining his pores by marking his face with its blotches. 

“It's… it's been a while, yeah,” he chuckled dryly, drawing his thumb and index finger up to pinch his eyes in a bid to pry the sleep from them, “M’sorry, Bepo. How long was I-?”

“-You need to call her, sir,” the first-mate spoke over his Captain. Bepo’s dark eyes seemed to command him, prompting Law to feel taken aback by the notion. He was not used to the large bear giving him commands, and making a call to his lover seemed an odd thing for him to get up in arms about. 

Law sighed, smearing his hand down his face before taking his chin in his hands. Although Law seemed to raise a smile to his lips, there was no real joy in his expression. He was truly lost, a man without direction and plagued with more sleep deprivation than he was truly able to withstand. 

“Look, Bepo,” Law chuckled, drawing his hand down to the desk in front of him, “I don't even know where she is right now. She could be legions away-.”

“-She’s on Komugi Island, delivering the outcome of a contract for intention for betrothal,” Bepo stated in a matter of fact way, fishing up the slumbering transponder snail and placing it on Law’s desk, “She’s staying at an accommodation close to the Charlotte’s. Call her. Please call her, sir.”

Law groaned at the pushiness of his first mate, rolling his eyes and reaching for the transponder. Tapping the shell awake, he offered it a small piece of lettuce he kept on his desk for it in payment for being awakened so abruptly. Looking up at Bepo, he shook his head with his exhaustion hanging on the small puffs of his elevated eye-bags. 

“There a number I need to dial?” Law asked Bepo, who hastily spat the digits immediately. With a small grunt in gratitude with a hidden and flustered smile, Law waved Bepo away from the room and excused himself to the company of himself and the snail. 

Gently rolling onto her back, Mila toyed anxiously with the ends of her blush-colored hair. The accommodation on Komugi Island made her feel more dwarfed than ever, and she was relatively tall. The land of giants, with a tyrant overlord that could potentially lose their temper with the outcome of Mila’s delivery, was otherwise quite welcoming. The minister of flour ensured her safety, the room was comfortable, and the food was incredibly sweet and playful. 

The one thing that she felt truly absent from this experience was her friend and lover, the captain of the Heart Pirates. She wanted to be with him a little more often lately, but she wasn't quite sure why. There was something in the way her heart sang to him in the quiet hours.

Her body became rigid as she rolled over to her side to move within a curled position beneath the blankets. She drew up the linen material in a bid to press more weight into her. The warmth provided beneath the blankets was comforting, but it wasn't what she truly wanted. 

She wanted Law. 

Her job had her darting her lanky legs around all of the blues and beyond: hopping between ports within the grand line, and sprinting as a courier to deliver packages in a timely manner. She had formed connections, made bonds, curated an eclectic assortment of clients, and was a trusted ally to all those who depended on her services. She was good at her job, and her reputation by word of mouth shepherded her everywhere. 

But it didn't manage to take her to the Polar Tang for some time. She missed it. The yellow submarine piloted by her beloved, hat-wearing, broody captain that she hoped cherished her as much as she did him. She loved him, and wanted to stay with him and hold him within his quarters and his office until she was certain he would eventually become sick of her. 

It had been a while since Mila had experienced love in her heart, and when she met and learned about Law, it hit her like the reputable ‘gum-gum-pistol’ from their Straw-Hat ally. Love hit her so hard, she almost felt like her legs would buckle beneath its weight every time she saw him. 

But, unfortunately for the both of them, she still had a job to do. She hoped she would come across someone who was in need of a courier to deliver a package to the Tang, but for now, she lay quietly buzzing with energy beneath the weight of the heavy duvet. 

The Zoan-Fruit user always had trouble sleeping when facing a trial like this. A client may be disgruntled by a letter, and often want to keep her around to formulate an appropriate response to send back. Mila would get stuck in the crossfires often, and remind them softly: ‘I am just the courier, but I will ensure to relay your objectives when I deliver your response.’ She was nothing if not professional, and professional, she was. 

Struggling to find rest, Mila scrunched her eyes shut and focussed on the sounds of her environment. Sizzling plates from the restaurant outside, the chirp of sweet bug song, the thumping of her anxious blood flooding her face, the soft purr of her carrier snail ringing on her desk-.

-Mila jolted upright, throwing the duvet off her body with the expectation that her client was calling her into the main keep to relay her response to the outcome of the betrothal. Putting on her best ‘professional’ voice, Mila took a deep breath as her lips curled around her words. Just as she tasted those first syllables on her tongue, she halted at the voice on the other end. 

“Cottontail? You there?” 

She froze. Her skin almost buzzed with the haste her shock managed to sizzle beneath her flesh. Each follicle stood like static ignited the ends of her pink tufts as her eyes flew wide. Lip quivering, hastily split her lips up into a radiant and broad grin. 

“Law?” She almost squeaked, managing to compose herself enough to answer tastefully, “I’m here. I was just about to turn in for the night.” She heard Law gently huff out a curse alongside a subtle whisper of ‘time difference, I'm an idiot,’ which rose a flutter in her chest. 

Silence fled from the Den-Den, an awkwardness once again present between the two of them. Neither spoke, nor made a single sound to alert the other was present. The only knowledge that another person was on the end of the transceiver was the fact that it was their snails we're awake. 

As Mila plopped down on her bed once more, the snail tucked against her pillow and laying comfortably on the heavy linen, Law had managed to sneak into his personal quarters from his office, gently doing the same. 

Law’s personal Den-Den buzzed gently as he lay his head down on the pale cerulean silks of his firm pillow. Considering his earlier doze, he was still feeling groggy and lethargic while his head felt heavier than what his neck could truly carry. Rolling onto his side, he blinked his heavy eyelids and spoke softly into it. 

“What are…? What are you up to right now?” Law asked barely with a breath, his inhale and exhale softening out at the corners. He could almost feel Mila’s smile through the snail, picturing her face as his eyelids finally grew too heavy to remain open. 

“I'm in bed, talking with you,” Mila offered gently in return, lulling him into a soft tranquility with her voice. Law smiled, nuzzling against the bedsheets and drawing up his legs to become more comfortable. He hummed a small chuckle in return with a light flush rising in his dark cheeks. 

“You're right here with me, are you?” Law’s question ignited Mila’s cheeks with that rosy tint he loved to see with her fluster. 

“I'm right there,” she confessed with a little shrug in her shoulders, neatly tucking herself within her blankets and nestling them around herself. Gently rising her question in her chest, she felt the small amount of fluttering anxiety swelling her heart, truly wanting him to answer honestly and truthfully. “Are you…? Are you here with me too?” 

Not even a beat of a butterfly's wing passed between them as Law graced her with his answer. 

“I'm there. I'm right there beside you, and,” Law halted his words, taking his time to stretch his lips through a yawn of exhaustion, “I'm gonna be there with you until the morning. Are you tired?” 

“I'm not tired at all, are you?” Mila asked in response, trying to choke down the emotion at the ease his response gave to her. Through this trip, this trial of delivering such an important contract with the Charlotte's and the response they got from the recipient, it truly weighed on her. The exhaustion that came from it, the sorrow she felt at the lack of deliveries with the Tang, the way she truly wanted nothing more to be curled up in Law's quarters and listening to him talk about the latest addition to his coin collection - everything felt so raw at this moment. 

At such an innocent and easy question, and hers in return, she felt the well of emotions rise up in her chest and swell behind the closed dam of her teeth. 

Almost in a sense only captain's and doctors seemed to comprehend, and in the comfort Law truly wanted to receive from his beautiful courier, he whispered against the microphoned end of the snail. 

“Mila, I need you to talk,” he confessed to her, feeling the weight of his own release, “I need to hear your voice, I need to hear about your day, and I need to-...” He choked on his admission, feeling heavy and vulnerable as he laid in his bed, “...I haven't been able to sleep properly. I need to sleep, and you… You always seem to be able to help me switch off. Can you do that for me? I promise it won't take long-.”

“-I’ll do it, Captain,” she cut him off, her eagerness causing Law to chuckle in a low tone. “I'll talk your ear off, and I won't stop even if you beg me to.” Mila tucked herself completely in, laying on her back, and thinking where in her journey she should start her tale.

Recounting the initial retrieval of the response from the recipient of the Charlotte family’s proposal, she began spurting a relay of every event that transpired from there. Traveling the seas, running as fast as her legs could take her, meeting Charlotte Linlin and her sons: Oven, Cracker, and Katakuri, she spoke on it all. 

Every syllable the pink-haired Zoan-Fruit user was a sweet melody to the exhausted captain. Mila would ask questions to gauge where he was in his exhaustion, and Law would go from asking a question in return, to a one-worded answer, to a small grunt or moan in response. 

As Mila spoke on, the slow blinks from Law’s eyes opening a crack would reveal his Den-Den shell in one moment, before dissipating to see Mila in all her cottontail glory beside him in the next. She was there, truly there, and he felt every second of it. The scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair, the smile on her lips: she was right there as she spoke within his mind’s eye.

Smiling, his chest rose and fell with each passing moment Mila would speak to him. He was prompted to set internal reminders to order some flour and sweets from Komugi island for the crew, utilizing Mila's service and giving her a reason to be with him. His rationale dictated it would be good for morale, and Penguin would appreciate the fresh produce.

Whereas all Law wanted was Mila.  As he drempt, all he pictured was the waves of lengthy pink hair from the back of Mila, holding her close in his dreams as she spoke. 

The next morning, he woke to hearing the soft rustle of Mila’s snores from the disgruntled and sleep deprived Den-Den snail, prompting him to give it a look of softened pity. A few small gentle taps to the eyeballs of the snail seemed to cause it comfort, so he continued to do so while he moved it over to the desk in the corner of his quarters. 

He waited until she woke naturally, truly reveling in the way her little sleep sounds were truly and distinctively hers. This only spurred him on to craft a finer arrangement of items he invented to guide her home to him. He wanted her home with him.

Their home, together, right there on the Polar Tang.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[hellspawnmotel]

terranigma, a cool game

[petitelepus]

Hey In honor of our art trade…😁

Can I do a Tengen x fem!reader with slight wives x reader? Angst, fluff, happy ending.

Where reader is a hashira and has a massive crush on Tengen and has no clue about his wives. He has a crush on her too and tells his wives about her. He then confesses and him and reader start dating but Tengen still hasn’t managed to tell her about his wives until one day someone mentions Tengens wives and this causes reader to freak out and comfort Tengen at his home and ends up meeting the wives and they confront her and tell her how excited they are to meet her finally. Basically they have a girls night and reader ends up crushing on them too. Tengen comes home to them taking and they end up ignoring him because of how well they are getting along.

I hope this was clear enough please message me if you have any questions. And thank you so much! I’m excited for our trade!! 💜

Summary: You fell for the Sound Hashira when he saved you from Demon. After years of training, you became a Hashira also and you and Tengen met again. The two of you start going out, but he hadn't mentioned his wives to you... Until it was too late.

Warnings: Angst, Suggestive, A Little Naughty But Not Enough To Be Really Naughty

A/N: Tengen Uzui, Fem!Reader, Hinatsuru Uzui, Makio Uzui, Suma Uzui

EXTRA: This is an ART TRADE with wonderful writer @lovelywritinglady! I hope you enjoy this story, I worked super hard for it!

You were the brand new Hashira, making it there through hard work but not only were you a feisty Slayer, but you were also talented at it. It was only natural that you would make it to the top and join among the best there was.

However, the thing was that you weren't always a Demon Slayer.

No, you were just a simple woman living a simple life… Then one night you were attacked by a bloodthirsty flesh-eating Demon. You tried to run but to no avail… But just as you were about to be devoured, a man came to your rescue and decapitated the wicked monster.

"Right on time!" The strong man laughed and your eyes shined as you saw the kanji of Destoy on his uniform's back. The man put the twin blades he wielded down and turned to look at you.

"Are you alright, young miss?" He asked as he offered his hand to you and helped you up on your feet. You nodded, speechless as you took in his handsome face, kind smile, and warm voice.

"Great! Make sure to avoid staying up at this hour!" He laughed as he turned to leave, but you called after him, "W- wait, what's your name?"

"Me? I'm Tengen Uzui! God of Festivals! Remember it!" The man laughed boisterously and just like that, he disappeared into the night. That was the night when you became a religious person.

In a way, your old life ended that night because you made it your mission to become a Demon Slayer, save other helpless people, and better yet, properly thank the man who saved your life.

So you sought out the Demon Slaying Corps and started to train. It took a year and a half, but you were determined to become someone who people could trust their lives to. Someone who could save them from a gruesome fate you had barely avoided thanks to the mysterious Demon Slayer.

It took time, but you made it through the Final Selection and were granted the jacket and your very own Nichirin sword. You asked around and learned that the Slayer who had saved you was actually a Hashira, one of the elite Slayers and you were filled with determination to become his equal.

It took another year of training and slaying Demons, but finally, Master Oyakata invited you to his estate where he granted you the title of Hashira. That's when you were introduced to Tengen again and…

The Sound Hashira's eyes widened when he saw you. You had grown a lot since the day he had saved you. You were stronger and prettier than ever before. Not that you weren't beautiful back then, but now you were absolutely glowing.

"Hey there! I'm Tengen Uzui, the Sounds Hashira, but you may-" He greeted you, attempting to be casual, as if that was possible, but as you smiled at him, he was stunned to silence.

"God of Festival." You nodded with a sweet smile, "And I am honored to finally meet you again, my God."

And that was when he fell for you… Again.

Tengen cleared his throat as he pointed at you, "You!"

You blinked and pointed at yourself, "Me?"

"Yes! Go out with me!" He exclaimed and you blinked again, stunned, but then you smiled brightly like the sun on the sky and nodded eagerly, "I would love that!"

You should have thought it for a moment, but you couldn't bring yourself to say no. Not now! He had asked you out, so you were certain that he was a single man, looking for a possible partner!

But the reality was different, not completely, but certainly different.

As the day passed, you and Tengen had a fun time together, both of you enjoying each other's company to the fullest. As you spent actual time with him, you learned that he was a little quirky and loud about it… But it was just one of his winning qualities and you fell for him again and again that day.

As the day came to an end, you guys parted ways with promises to see each other as soon as you could, like the next day when he would take you out for some high-quality ramen. He was a gentleman and took you to the inn where you were staying instead of asking you to join him in his mansion.

However, there was another reason for that also. Three actually.

"My dearest wives who I love more than anything!" Tengen shouted as he made it to his mansion and his three wives Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma came to greet their husband, "Welcome back Lord Tengen!"

"My wives, it appears that I… I have fallen," Tengen sighed and his wives shared confused looks before Hinasturu stepped forward, "What do you mean, dear?"

"There is this new Hashira…" Tengen said, "She is the same woman I saved a couple of years ago."

"The one who you couldn't get out of your mind?" Makio asked and he nodded, "The very same one."

"That you were upset that you hadn't asked out?" Suma asked and the man nodded again, "Yeah… And when I just accepted that I wouldn't see her anymore, she suddenly became a Hashira and I asked her out!"

The three wives shared knowing smiles and then shared that smile with Tengen.

"Dearest husband." Hinatsuru smiled as she grasped her husband's hand and kissed his knuckles, "If you love her also, then we will happily welcome her to our family."

"Yeah, when can we meet her?" Makio asked excitedly and Tengen looked away as if he could have avoided the responsibility of his actions, "She… She doesn't know about you guys."

"Y- you mean you didn't tell her about us?" Suma asked and the man nodded, "I didn't-!"

The women were about to object but Tengen quickly continued, "But, I'm going to see how things go with her and if I feel like there could be something between us, I make sure to introduce you guys to her!"

"Are you sure that is the smartest way to do this?" Hinatsuru asked and Tengen nodded, buffing his chest out in pride, "Of course! I'm a genius after all!"

The three women shared very quick glances before nodding because they knew, loved, and supported their husband, no matter what. But all three of them agreed on something and turned to look at their husband.

"Alright, we are fine with this."

"But we don't sleep with you until you marry her!"

"A- And you can't sleep with her!"

"DEAL!" Tengen shouted, "I accept these terms!"

And he really did.

After the talk with his wives and with their blessing, Tengen and you started seeing each other quite frequently, spending time together during days and sometimes even hunting Demons together when the sun was down and the moon decorated the starry night sky.

The situation wasn't always the most romantic one, but you were absolutely sure you were in love… Each moment spent looking at this man or self-proclaimed God made you smile and you got butterflies in your stomach whenever he grabbed your hand to lead you somewhere, was it either to a restaurant or Demon's direction.

You were absolutely sure that he could be the one… Then one day, you were on your way to get something to eat, when suddenly-!

"Oh, Lord-Uzui!"

You and Tengen blinked as you turned and saw some random Demon Slayer approach you guys. The young man looked familiar, but you didn't bother knowing others than Tengen and Slayers with actual potential.

"It's been a while!" The Slayer said and Tengen frowned, "Right… Who are you peasant anyway?"

"Is she one of your famous wives?" The Slayer asked, ignoring the cold shoulder he was getting and both your and Hashira's eyes widened as you registered the young man's words. You were shocked as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you and Tengen felt like a cold hand had seized and was squeezing his heart, followed by anger.

"No, she is not…!" He growled, "And who exactly are you, again?"

The young Slayer looked at you and then at him again and quickly realized that he might have just said something he shouldn't have.

"I- It's not important! W- well, I better leave, see you!" The youngster said as he quickly turned and ran off at record speed, like, you swear you've never seen anyone run even from Demon at that speed.

…But the damage was already done.

You swallowed as you looked up at Tengen, "I didn't know you used to be married?"

"Well, the thing is…" He rubbed the back of his head, "I still am."

"You're…" You couldn't believe what you were hearing, "You're married?"

"Yes," Tengen nodded, "I have 3 wives that I love more than life itself!"

Maybe he shouldn't have said that last part, but it was too late to take his words back.

"Then… All this time…" You felt your heart shatter in your chest as you squeaked out, "Was all this a lie?" with such a small voice that could have belonged to a field mouse rather than a strong woman who hunted Demons for her living.

"No!" Tengen immediately objected, but the remains of that shattered heart of yours were lit on fire.

"What!? Am I your mistress or something!?" You shouted and you could tell that your shouting was attracting bystanders' attention, many looking curiously at the drama happening right in front of them in broad daylight. You couldn't take it, you had to get away immediately.

"I'm leaving!" You snapped, but before you could go Tengen grabbed you by your shoulders and held you in your place, "Just give me-!"

Your eyes stung as you raised your hand before bringing it down, fully intending to slap him with all your might, but the man grabbed your hand just before it could make contact with his cheek.

"Tch!" You frowned as you turned and tried to yank your hand back so you could run away, but the Sound Hashira held onto you hard.

"Let go!" You cried out as the fire inside you died out and all that was left was heartbreaking sorrow. Tears started to stream down your face, but Tengen didn't do so.

"Let me explain!" He shouted but when he saw your tears he felt like the biggest jerk in the history of man- and demonkind.

"Aah, shit…" He cursed as he pulled you back and hugged you tightly against his chest. You struggled against him as you cried, your tears staining his uniform but he just hushed you and petted your back, "Just… Let me explain… And after that, if you want you can leave and I won't stop you."

You were sniffling pathetically as you tried to stop the tears and control your uneven breathing, you were a Hashira for God's sake!

Finally, you managed to get control over yourself and nodded, "F- fine…"

"Alright." He sighed, "So…"

So Tengen explained everything from his past life as Shinobi to modern days. How his cruel father wanted nothing from his children but successors and that was one reason why Tengen had so many wives. But he couldn't pressure enough how unlike his younger brother and their father, he truly loved his wives…

And how he had fallen for you also that night when he had saved you. How you haunted his mind, but when he had tried to find you again you were nowhere to be found. He never expected you to follow his example and join Demon Slayer Corps, but then fate brought you together!

"That's my story," Tengen nodded as he was done saying what he wanted, "I love you, but I also love my wives and nothing can make me leave them."

"I…" You swallowed a heavy lump in your throat and nodded as you tried your hardest to keep yourself from bursting into tears again.

"I need time to think…" You muttered sadly as you turned and walked away… And like he promised, Tengen didn't stop you.

That night you didn't go out to hunt Demons, no, you spent the whole night crying into your pillow. You were sad, you were mad, but you were still in love with the Sound Hashira and that only made everything harder and more hurtful.

This went on for almost a full week. It appeared that even Gods or Master Oyakata took pity on you because you weren't sent out on a mission even once that week.

It was almost as if you had been sent to Butterfly Mansion to heal, only you were nowhere near the Mansion, but in your own room and you weren't hurt, physically at least, though, it did feel like your heart took a hard beating.

So you spent that whole week locked up until you finally deemed yourself sane enough to go and confront the man who made you into this whirlpool of unbearable feelings.

Before you could even consider going outside, you made sure to bath and prepare yourself. You didn't want to go and see Tengen while looking like you had been living on the streets for the last week, even if you felt like it.

Once done, you left the safety of your room and before you knew it, the sun was starting to set, but your Kasugai crow had taken you to what appeared to be Uzui mansion. Just looking at the huge building made your heart ache in your chest.

You hadn't been together that long, a little over a month, but he still had managed to make his way into your heart like he did all those years ago when he saved you and now there was a hole only he could fill…

You breathed in and out and you were just about to knock on the door when said door slid open and-!

"Ah-!" Your breath was taken away by this beautiful blond-haired woman before you and you realized that she must have been one of those 3 wives of Tengen's.

"I- I-!" You stuttered and then swallowed as you tried to speak without your voice wavering, "I- I'm looking for Lord Te- Uzui! I'm looking for Lord Uzui!"

"Ah, Lord Tengen had to go hunt down a Demon but he should be back by tomorrow." The woman replied and you nodded, understanding, "I see. Well, thank you-!"

"You wouldn't happen to be that new Hashira Lord Tengen is smitten by?"

You flinched and the woman gasped, "You are! Hinatsuru, Suma! Come here! It's Lord Tengen's girlfriend!"

"W- Wait- No-!" You tried to object but then two women who were just as gorgeous as this blond woman joined you two by the doorway and they smiled, "My, are you looking for Lord Tengen?"

"You- I mean-!" You didn't know what to say and the woman with the blue dress smiled as she pulled you into the building, "Don't stay out there, come on in!"

"I-!" You were about to refuse when you were pulled into the mansion and before you knew what had happened, you were seated by a table on the floor as the wives placed a bowl of rice crackers and a cup of green tea before you, like perfect hosts did.

"So?" Makio grinned as she, Hinatsuru, and Suma sat across from you on the other side of the table, "Tell us about Lord Tengen! What did the two of you do when you were together?"

You blinked as you thought about all the things you did, but you took the question in a wrong way. They must have been mad at you and thought that you were an evil mistress who tried to steal their beloved husband!

"I- I assure you three that nothing inappropriate happened between me and Tengen!" You exclaimed and the three women shared glances before giggling, "We trust your word and our husband."

"Hopefully he took you out to that nice tea house by the outskirts of the town!"

"Wait?" You raised your hand, "You believe me?"

"Of course," Hintsuru nodded and Suma continued, "Lord Tengen told us so much, but we wanted to hear how you liked being with him!"

"Well…" You frowned bitterly as you averted your gaze, the next words hurting you, "I had fun… But I fear that he was fooling with you guys all this time while we were seeing each other…"

The three wives blinked before Hinatsuru smiled gently, "Dear, that's not the case."

"Huh?" You looked at them and Makio smiled, "We made Lord Tengen promise not to sleep with anyone!"

"You and us!" Suma added, "And Lord Tengen is a man of his word!"

"I…" You swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling so flustered and not knowing how to escape this situation, you grabbed the cup of tea and drank it in one go.

The wives looked at you in shock as you finished your tea and moved to get up, "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should leave now-!"

"Please, stay here for the night." Hinatsuru smiled gently, "We will prepare a room for you and something more comfortable to wear."

"I shouldn't…" You really shouldn't, but the women were persistent.

"Please?" Suma begged, "We would like to know more about you!"

"More than Lord Tengen has told us!" Makio added and you frowned as you remembered the man behind your sorrows.

"I don't know if that's a good idea…" You muttered as you looked aside, not able to look at these gorgeous women.

"We understand that our husband has made you upset." Hinatsuru started gently, "And you have every reason to be angry at him for keeping us a secret, but please, let us make you feel better."

"But-!"

"Please?" Suma asked or more like begged again and Makio nodded, "You can leave at any point if you feel uncomfortable!"

"I…" You sighed before nodding, "Alright, I'll stay."

"Jay!" Suma cheered happily as Hinatsuru got up, "I'm going to get you something to wear. Please, have some more tea."

And you did and Makio and Suma watched you and occasionally asked about what it was like being a Hashira. Questions that you answered honestly until Hinatsuru came with a night yukata for you.

"I hope this is to your liking." She said as she handed the clothing to you and you nodded gratefully, "Thank you. Uh, where do I change?"

"Oh, forgive us." The three women stepped out of the room and shut the door behind them, granting you some privacy. You swallowed nervously as you stripped and slipped into the yukata. It was awfully soft and smelled like flowers… It was very nice.

"Are you done perhaps?" Came question from the other side of the door and you nodded, "Yes, I'm dressed!"

The door slid aside and Suma motioned you to follow them, "Come come, we will take you to your room!"

You nodded and followed them to the other side of the house where the guestroom must have been. But as you stepped into the room you were confused by the 3 extra futons on the floor.

It took you a second, but then you realized that it was most likely Tengen's and his wives' bedroom.

"Uh, I think this is not the right room-!" You were about to say when the three women started to strip suddenly.

"WHOA, HEY!" You yelped as you covered your eyes and the ladies giggled, "Don't worry, we are all women here."

"Yeah, but-!" You blushed, not knowing exactly why you were acting as shy as you were being.

"You can look you know?" Makio said and you shook your head but after a minute, Suma added, "We're dressed also now!"

You peeked between your fingers and yes, they had put on yukatas of their own. You sighed as you lowered your hands, but you were quickly grabbed and dragged to bed by the three women.

"So tell us… What made you most upset?"

"Tengen keeping us as a secret?"

"Or him being a married man?"

"I…" You frowned a little, not really understanding what the difference was, "Probably both…"

"Do you want to marry him?" Makio asked and you thought about your answer for a second or two before nodding, "The thought did go through my mind a couple of times that he could be the one…"

"Lord Tengen would love to marry you!" Suma cried out suddenly, "He told us so!"

"H- He did?" You couldn't almost believe your ears. Had he said so sweetly about you? Did he really think so? You smiled a little, as happiness spread through your body, warming you and bringing those butterflies in your tummy back to life.

The women smiled as they watched you brighten up like a flower after rain and Hinasturu asked calmly, "Do you dislike the idea of being married to women also?"

"I-!" You blinked as you fell back down to the ground from the clouds and looked at the three women, noting that they were all gorgeous and so far, so very kind and sweet to you.

"I… It's…" You blushed as you averted your gaze, too flustered to actually look at them, "It's not that I hate the idea…"

"So you swing both ways?" Makio asked and your blush grew stronger.

"It's- It's not-!" You stuttered, "I- I've never-!"

"Are you perhaps untouched?" Hinatsuru inquired with a small amused smile and her amusement just grew when she saw your reaction.

"I- I-!" Now you were blushing so hard that even your ears turned red, "I- I focused on slaying Demons! N- Not some flings!"

"So all you know is how to slay Demons?" Makio and Suma thought out loud, "How sad…"

"I- It's not like it's a hindrance! Killing Demons is far more important than keeping someone's bed warm!"

"You're so cute!" Suma cried out, "But liking both men and women isn't a hindrance."

"Yeah, after all, who knows a woman better than another one?" Makio added with a wink.

"Though, Lord Tengen knows what he is doing," Hinatsuru giggled, "After all, he can take all three of us at once."

"He-!" You swallowed as your lower tummy felt a little weird, "He can?"

"Yes." The women nodded.

"He can go on for hours!"

"And he doesn't tire out easily!"

"I…" You started to play with your fingers nervously, "I wouldn't know what to do in that situation… And even less with so many partners and women…"

"Well…" Hinatsuru shared knowing glances with her fellow wives, "I think we could help you with that uncertainty of yours."

"What do you mean-?" You were asking when suddenly all three wives bounced on you.

You gasped silently as Makio hugged you from behind, holding you against her soft breasts as Hinatsuru kissed your knuckles and Suma kissed your cheek.

"Since you are staying here for the night, we thought we could have a sleepover, just us girls together!" Makio said from behind you and Hinatsuru added. "While we are at it, we can show you some perks of being married to women too."

"If you don't want to, just tell us and we back off!" Suma said, "But we can make you feel really really good!"

You blushed and were about to object… But as you looked at these gorgeous women willing to include you in their relationship, you found yourself unable to. Instead, those same butterflies you felt every time you thought or were with Tengen resurfaced as you looked at his wives.

"I don't know what to do…" You whimpered pitifully and the three women smiled as they started to undress themselves and you, "Trust us and we will take care of you."

The next morning, as the sun was rising, Tengen finally made it home. He had taken some of his pent-up frustration out on the slippery Demon he had been hunting the whole night but he still felt frustrated with himself.

Especially when he thought about you and how he hurt you with his actions. He hadn't heard of you for a whole week, but he had promised to leave you alone if you wanted to be left so and he was a man of his word.

He did get a good scolding from his beloved wives and he deserved all of them, he didn't deny it. Still, he wanted to see you and apologize for his actions, but that had to wait as he entered the mansion he called home.

It was still early and the sun was just peeking from the horizon so he expected his wives to still be sleeping. He made his way to their shared bedroom and opened the door, fully expecting to see his beloved wives sleeping peacefully-!

"What-!?" He blinked, stunned to see you sleeping with his wives! All four of you were sleeping, hugging, and cuddling with each other and Tengen could tell that you were all naked under the blankets.

"Looks like things worked out somehow," The man thought as he carefully closed the door to let you and his wives rest peacefully. So he went to the guestroom to sleep a little and wait until your ladies would wake up.

The Sound Hashira wasn't sure how long he had been napping when he heard the room's door slide aside and someone enter the room.

"Lord Tengen…?"

It was Hinatsuru! The man groaned as he got up and turned to address his wife, "Morning Hina."

"Good morning." The woman smiled, "I take it your hunt was successful?"

"As always!" He nodded as he stretched his arms and back, and then he remembered you, "So… She was here with you?"

"Yes." The beautiful woman nodded, "She came to seek you yesterday so we invited her to stay for the night."

"I could see that. You were all comfy and nice together!" Tengen nodded back and his wife giggled, "Please join us at the breakfast table. I think she wants to talk with you."

"Yeah, I had a feeling," He said as he got up and followed his dear wife to the eating area where Makio, Suma, and you were already waiting for them.

As soon as Tengen stepped into the room, your eyes were glued to him. He looked just as handsome as always as if your little quarrel hadn't affected him at all.

"Lord Tengen, you're home!" Suma cried out happily and Makio smiled also, "Welcome back Lord Tengen!"

"Hm, morning my gorgeous wives!" Tengen greeted the women and then he looked at you, "And morning to you! I'm happy to see you!"

You gave him a small nod, "Likewise."

"Makio, Suma, can you help me get Lord Tengen some breakfast?" Hinatsuru asked and the two women quickly nodded and followed the third one out of the room, leaving you and Tengen alone.

The Sound Hashira sat on the ground opposite from you and nodded, "I take it that you are ready to talk with me since you came all the way here to see me."

"You're right," You nodded as you sipped your tea and Tengen sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, "Let me start by apologizing. My behavior was so unflashy and unfair towards you."

"Thank you… I…" You put the small teacup you were holding down on the table and looked at the man you loved, "I will both forgive and apologize to you."

"Huh?" Tengen frowned, "Oi, why are you apologizing for something stupid I did?"

"Well, I think that I might have overreacted back then…" You admitted, embarrassed, "For God's sake, I'm a Hashira yet I acted like a spoiled brat."

"My behavior wasn't exactly much better." The man admitted and then turned more serious, "But I still do love you a lot! And I have no doubt in my mind that my wives would love you also!"

"Ah, Hinatsuru, Suma, and Makio welcomed me into the family with…" You blushed as you pulled your yukata's collar down, showing the dark hickeys all over your neck and shoulders, "VERY open arms."

Tengen blinked as he realized what had happened and then he laughed out loud, nearly startling you out of your skin, "HA HA, I see my wives already accepted you as part of the family!"

"Thanks…" You pulled the collar back up and looked at the Sound Hashira from under your eyelashes, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you… Are you alright having me as one of your wives?" You asked bashfully and Tengen stared at you as a smile rose to his lips, "Yes, I would be honored to marry you into our family."

"Then…!" You were saying when the door to the room was slammed open and Suma rushed inside and jumped to hug you and cried, "I knew it, I knew Lord Tengen still loved you!", as she peppered your cheeks and forehead with quick pecks.

"Oi, Suma calm down!" Makio snapped as she moved to pull her fellow wive away, "I want to kiss her also!"

"Ah, there is plenty for you both-!" You were about to object but the two women joined forces as they started to kiss you together. You cried out as you were drowned in kisses and Tengen actually laughed as he watched his wives shower you with affection.

"We are all glad that you both managed to reconcile." Hinatsuru said as she made her way to her husband and kissed his cheek, "She is a real gem."

"Yeah," Tengen smiled as he looked at you as you blushed and tried to fight off Makio's and Suma's advantages, "And she is ours."