#*puts down glasses* ive seen enough

[thegreeninyoureyes]

this man chose the worst person to talk about competitiveness with lmao

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

pissed tf off because 1) i have once again put on a new show thinking i could work on shit with it in the background without getting distracted (and failing miserably)(when will i learn). 2) i have a new character that i want to tear apart with my teeth which pisses me off even more because 3) it is EMBARRASSING how much i like this character i could fucking feel my pupils dilating and my prey drive activate literally immediately 4) it is even more embarrassing bc he is so embarrassingly my type that im pissed tf off that i never watched this before now or literally any time i wasnt busy. and this all leads to 5) now i have to think about killing him when i am TRYING TO GET SHIT DONE and it's making me mad it's pissing me off so bad i'm fucking enraged they should invent a way to physically harm fictional characters just for me i think

[rikas-musings]

PROJECT SHATTERCORE ☣︎

DIRECTORY

bruce wayne x reader, jason todd x reader, dick grayson x reader, damian wayne x reader, tim drake x reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only, DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT, death and blood, angst, child endangerment, alcoholism, descriptive medical abuse (not that bad but like,,,,still there)

PLAYLIST FOR THE CHAPTER: ♫ medicine - daughter, then teeth - 5 seconds of summer listen to this for ultimate immersion

A/N : hello! i am back!! this took a full day to write, forgive me if it's not the best!!! listen to the playlist above for full immersion, and go right ahead

CHAPTER ONE: NEURAL FREQUENCY

Your body curled into a fetal position; everything felt too loud. Your eyelids slowly opened to reveal a gray room. It looked clinical and pristine, unlike any of the shadowed corners of Gotham you were used to. Somehow, it’s so loud in here. 

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

You turn around to it—the machine, the source that’s grating your ears. It looks mechanical. Consistently, it beeps, a rhythm that doesn’t feel musical at all. Then the beeps begin to increase in speed, and your heart is humming against your sternum. You don’t understand why the silence in this room feels so loud; it makes you dizzy before the familiar stinging hits your sinuses. Hot tears well up in your eyes before they spill onto your cheeks, and you try to breathe, but it feels useless. Your breath feels snagged on a rib. 

Before you know it, doctors file into the room, the erratic spike in your heart rate having alerted them to check in on you. You’re so clueless, and the lights are starting to flicker and—

“I just want my Mama!” You yowl, your voice rasped in pain.

They freeze what they’re doing before hesitantly going back to injecting something through the IV line nestled in your right arm. You feel the cool liquid rush into you, and suddenly you feel calm. The tremors in your chest stop, and you breathe slowly. You feel immobile, but maybe that’s just exhaustion.

They proceed to shove the curtain beside you open, and that’s when you see her. Mama is attached to a bunch of machines and has an oxygen mask on. 

But she’s alive.

Your little heart flutters at that. You hear footsteps approaching and watch as the giant man from before walks in. He has a hard look on his face as he approaches your bedridden Mama. 

“Doctor says she has nothing of value inside her; she’s projected to become a nuisance in the future.” He speaks flatly into the air, and the other doctors solemnly nod their heads. You don’t quite understand what’s happening, you’re just so relieved Mama is here.

Your tiny hand reaches out weakly towards her, but your bed isn’t close enough. You watch her in awe; she looks so pretty, her hair is messy, but she looks clean. 

You hadn’t seen her clean in a long time.

The man caresses her head, just like she used to do when you were even tinier. You watch with content, orbs trailing his every movement.

His hand slides down to her mandible, caressing it gently. Then he grips her throat. It’s light at first, tender, but you feel a growing sense of urgency as his hands tighten, cutting off her airways. You feel a panic thrum in your chest, but whatever the doctors put in your IV seems to have you half lulled and unable to move with any real meaning.

Your tiny hand trembles as it desperately reaches out for her, just one more time. Your eyelids droop, but just before you fall victim to the drugs, you hear the shriek of the machine.

A flatline.

It’s the worst sound you think you’ve ever heard.

Sun Dokhwa lingered in his study; he tended to keep to himself when there was no work to be done. Instead, he theorized about the many things he could do. Sheets lined with unknown experiments and ripped pages from formulas that just didn’t work. His hand dragged across his face, and he felt the prickle of his stubble and sighed. Adjusting his square glasses, he pushed back from the table, rising to his feet.

Last week, he had sent for Daniel to get a job done for him; he succeeded, as he always did. His lack of presence helped in obscuring them from the vigilantes who so desperately tried to save Gotham. But he had picked up a special gift on his errand, and Dokhwa was hesitant at first, but when he saw them, I mean, really saw them. He almost foamed at the mouth from the possibilities.

This child was extraordinary— or rather, the possibility of what they could be. He felt an unholy sort of glee unfurl in his chest.

Daniel wasn’t exactly right in assuming it was electricity; it was something far more interesting than that. He wanted, no, needed to dissect it.

A few tests and blood samples confirmed what he already suspected. They had some mutation in their DNA, perhaps inherited. After some tests on the mother, he learned the anomaly in the child had nothing to do with her. Most likely passed down through their father, though who that was became irrelevant. If he were to truly uncover the scope of their capabilities— to mould this child into what he wanted, he had to get rid of the mother.

And so he sent Daniel to dispose of her. It had been after a week of testing, he’d given the go-ahead to exterminate her. He was slightly impatient; he felt a sort of chill crawl up his spine.

 Still, he would wait.

 Give the child two days to be isolated before making contact.

He’d done all the prep. How he would mould them, how he would approach like a gentle predator, offering shelter beneath his wing. Maybe, in time, he’d find a sense of family with them, though that wasn’t the goal. What mattered most was this:

 He’d haunt them forever. 

You cried for a full day when you woke up from your sedation. Tears stained the hospital gown they’d dressed you in—you were terrified. Confusedly screaming in your room, the buzz of the machines like a bee that wouldn’t leave your head. Anytime you’d get out of control, they’d pump the IV with more chemicals, and you were lulled back into nightmares of your Mama dying in front of you.

On what you thought might be the third day of being awake, the air shifted. The clean scent of alcohol laced the room. You heard footsteps once more and cowered in your bedsheets. Digits gripped the blanket tightly, knuckles white from the strain. 

A rap at the door stilled your shaking.  Your beady orbs peeked out from the covers, and you were met with the sight of another doctor.

Although this one looked… different.

He stood hesitantly at the door, almost afraid to come in. You raked your eyes over his form, and he looked non-lethal. His hair was brown and dishevelled in a nice sort of way, like your Mama’s used to be. He looked older, maybe in his 30s or 40s—you could never really tell. He adjusted his glasses, and you took note of his stubble; you scrunched your nose at the thought of how scratchy it probably felt. 

He speaks before you can, finally breaking the silence. You’re silently grateful for that.

“Hi there, little one.” His voice is fatherly but also boyish. You stare back at him.

Are they gonna kill me next?

You shudder at the thought of that. His eyebrows seem to furrow as he lets himself into your room. He approaches your bed with the caution of a rabbit. You let him, just for now. 

“I’m not here to hurt you, I hope you know that.” Something in his voice sounds real—genuine, even not like the other doctors' monotonous voices when they read your vitals. “I’m not like that scary man who hurt your mother.” He speaks calculatedly. Gauging your reactions, but all you can do is shiver at the thought of what that man did. 

“You’re not here… to hurt me?” Your voice is small, and he nearly coos at how cute you look. He clears his throat before nodding in response.

“I have something to tell you, do you know that you’re different from others?” He starts, and your beady eyes simply blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “You little one, have special abilities.” You furrow your brows at him and go to speak, your voice coming out smaller than you hoped.

“H-how?” You ask softly. He gives you a warm smile, before reaching to take your hand in his. His palms are warm. 

“Have you ever noticed the lights flicker sometimes when you’re upset? Or feel a certain buzz in your head?” he queries gently. “You actually can disrupt radio signals, too, little one. It is something we call low-level aura disruption.” You suddenly are thrown back to the day you were taken, and you can’t believe it.

“Y-you mean I did all that?” You whisper. He nods his head before planting more new information into your little head.

“A lot of people don't like people like you; they think you shouldn’t exist in this city.” His voice is fractured as he speaks. A pit forms in your stomach.

“But not me, no, I believe we can make you into something even better.” His voice is excited, almost cloying. But this idea lights a tiny match in the pit of your stomach, and you look at him expectantly.

“W-what’s your name, mister doctor, I wann’ be better,” You mumble before tightening your grip on his hand.

“I’m Doctor Sun, little one.” He beams at you, pulling you into an embrace from the nape of your neck. You let it happen; you haven’t felt something this soft in a long time. 

Dr. Sun was a nice name.

FIVE YEARS LATER

Locked in that same room again, you learned not to cry as much. The machines shook your nervous system to its core, pulsating through the padded walls. There was a deafening ringing in your ear from the overload of information; you’d been locked in isolation for weeks this time, your eyes sunken from the stress. Your entire body felt like an exposed nerve, frayed raw.

Then came a voice over the speaker, somehow, you heard it— distinct, threaded through all the noises screeching in your head. 

“You can come out now.” Suddenly, doctors file into the room, removing the egregious number of wires attached to your body. They rip out the IV faster than they should, and you feel bile aching to rush up your throat. You cradle your arms, holding yourself tightly, averting their touch. 

You were ushered out of the room and into the cold hallways, which felt haunting, reminding you of everything that had ever happened in here. There was an obscene amount of silence when you left the room. Your body swayed like the fall leaves headed towards the ground, before you could crumple to the floor, an arm grabbed you. You stumbled into whoever's arms had held you, only in necessity. You were nearly passed out.

They sat you in another room, only one wire embedded into the nape of your neck. In front of you sits a glass, clear as the window pane, looking into your room. Their watching, expectant. 

“You know what to do.” A monotone voice came through the speakers

For the past month, they’d been attempting to get you to shatter glass; you’ve already passed the tests for disabling radios, at least—most of the time. You don’t understand why they believed you could shatter glass, they said you’re powers were low-level, but you assumed all the frying your nerves was to alter your body's limits. You picked at your cuticles until they bled, and the room fell into a manufactured silence. They always played dirty. You shrank in your chair, limbs folding in on themselves. Even breathing made you feel like you took up too much space. 

Despite your position, you knew you had to comply; you didn’t wanna think about what they would do if you didn’t. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you concentrate on the glass, feeling the aura in the space surrounding it. The lights flicker more violently than they used to, and you feel a hum in the base of your skull. But you focus harder. It’s not working though, your body is straining, but all you can manage is the glass teetering on the table, your irises shift upwards to give the crew a solemn look of discouragement when you see blonde hair—

KSSSSHKK

The glass SHATTERS across the entire room.

Dread unfurls in your stomach. 

Why was he here? 

Why was he here? 

He wasn’t supposed to be in today

No, no, no—

You watch as he gives you a grin, his presence is like poison in the air. The surrounding doctors stare at him in dismay. They had been trying to get you to shatter the glass without emotional disruption. For some godforsaken reason, you always freaked out around this doctor. One of them rubbed their temples with their hand while letting out an exasperated sigh. And so they logged the outbursts, but missed the cause. 

In a small sense of remorse, one of the doctors called in a favour. Someone you hadn’t seen in a while.

Before you know it, someone’s rushing into the room, and you’re sobbing, but you look up and there you see your saviour.

“Dr. Sun!” You rasp through tears. He gently picks you up and cradles you against his sternum, as you listen to the thrum of his heartbeat. 

“You did well today, little one.” His voice ghosts the shell of your ear. Your frame goes limp as you pass out from the sheer stress.

ANOTHER FIVE YEARS LATER

Bruce was exhausted, more so than usual, for once in his life, he wished he could take a real break. He’d tried desperately to find anything about it. He had Tim pull up anything he could find, but he always came up empty-handed. He felt his blood boil. His eyebrows knitted together on his face. Mandible tightening with stress. The dreary feeling was coming back—the ache in his stomach.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice comes steady, “I think it’s high time you met with your bed, it’s been days.” His voice is gentle, like a silent nudge towards better health. Watching the man he’d helped raise come undone at the seams.

“Alfred… what am I missing here?” Bruce’s voice comes out gruff and tired. He runs his hand through his hair, disheveling it more than usual.

When Bruce was out on patrol almost a year ago, he tailed a man who wasn’t anything special. At least that’s what he’d thought. The man then managed to get in a punch to his right temple. He had grumbled something that he almost didn’t catch. Something that felt off.

“All his time is focused on Project Shattercore; he couldn’t even give me a boost.” The man then roundhouse kicked him, before jumping off the roof of the building, but Bruce, in a moment of stun, wasn’t fast enough to catch him. When he searched the pavement below, there was no sign of a body; the man had somehow evaded him.

Bruce clung onto that piece of information like a vice; it was like a ghost; he could find no trace of it.

A year later and where had he gotten? Nearly nowhere. Dick had tried to convince him otherwise.

“Maybe you heard it wrong, Bruce. Maybe it was nothing.”

But Bruce was unrelenting; he couldn’t shake the marrow-deep feeling that this wasn’t a misheard whisper.

It felt like a weapon. And by the sounds of it, it might’ve been human. It sounded dangerous, like a needle hidden in something soft. Like it was going to ruin Gotham.

After a pause, Bruce’s breath stilled, and he silently got up, pacing towards the exit. He needed to rest if he wanted to ever figure this out. Alfred let out a breath he had been holding and ushered Bruce upstairs.

It was two nights later that he got the call from Tim.

“Bruce… I think I found something.”

TAGLIST: @alishii @lalana1703 @purple-obsidian @ghosty-the-grim-fairy @shadowsingers-redhood @staarflowerr @nininehaaa @hai-there-how-are-you @cynniee @lovebug-apple @nervousalpacalady @nisarelle @lilyalone @cxcilla @cupid73 @swag13r @ninabinna @welpthisisboring @hana-no-seiiki @iminlovewithjasontodd @alisteraille @crackpeole @ujjjjkjkkkkkooo @hadesorion

[p0orbaby]

First Love

summary: you have a new admirer, alexia isn’t a fan

warnings: none

a/n: i cant remember if this was request or not so if it was i apologise but ive lost it. if not, well done me for thinking of my own plot for a change

word count: 1.2k

-

You and Alexia arrive fashionably late, because, well, it's Alexia’s family, and you’re not about to sacrifice your sanity to be early for a gathering that’s going to last an eternity anyway. She’s already stressed because she knows every cousin, uncle, and long-lost relative is going to pester her with the usual questions. How’s football? How’s the knee? When are you going to settle down and give your mother some grandchildren? Not to mention, the subtle but unmistakable scrutiny that comes with introducing you—again—like you're the new pet hamster instead of the person who’s been sleeping next to her for three years now.

You’re prepared, though. You’ve got your A-game smile, and you’re ready to nod at all the right moments while maintaining an impressive and unwavering level of small talk. You’re a pro at this by now. You can discuss the weather in ways that would make any other Briton jealous.

The event is held at a distant cousin's place—a sprawling estate that screams “we have more money than common sense.” The house is big, too big. The kind of place where you could lose a child or three and not notice until the next family reunion. The garden is a maze of strategically placed garden furniture, various expensive but uncomfortable chairs that no one sits in, and a kid's bouncy castle that looks like it was imported from the set of some cheesy Netflix original with mediocre reviews.

You’re halfway through your first glass of sangria when you notice him—a small boy, around five or six, with that messy hair that suggests he’s been on a sugar bender since eight this morning. His eyes are locked on you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s got this look that can only be described as pure, unfiltered determination, like he’s decided, at that very moment, that you’re going to be his new best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

"He's cute," you whisper to Alexia as the boy starts to waddle over, his shoes lighting up with every step. Alexia glances at him, then back at you, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Yeah, cute," she says, her tone dry enough to rival the Sahara. You can tell by the way her jaw tenses that she’s already not thrilled with this kid, which is hilarious because you’ve seen her face down a team of professional athletes without breaking a sweat. But a small child? Apparently, that’s a whole different kind of threat.

The boy—let's call him Diego, because of course his name is Diego—sidles up to you with all the subtlety of a charging bull. He stares up at you, his eyes wide and sparkling, like you’re a rock star, and he’s your biggest fan.

"Hola," he says, in that high-pitched voice only kids or cartoon characters can pull off without being annoying. Except, it’s already a little annoying, because he’s completely ignoring Alexia, and that’s a crime in and of itself.

"Hi there," you reply, keeping your tone light and friendly. You glance over at Alexia, who’s now sipping her drink with a look that suggests she’s contemplating how many more family functions she can skip without starting a feud.

Diego looks at Alexia briefly, as if she’s some sort of obstacle, then turns his attention back to you, his smile growing wider. "Wanna play?"

You blink. Play? You haven’t ‘played’ in, what, fifteen years? Maybe more? You’re more accustomed to adult games now, like “Where did I put my phone?” and “How long can I avoid doing laundry?” But Diego doesn’t seem to care. He’s already grabbed your hand, sticky fingers and all, and is pulling you toward the bouncy castle like it’s the best idea in the world.

You glance at Alexia, who’s now watching the whole thing with an expression that would be hilarious if it weren’t so serious. There’s a thin line between her eyebrows that you’ve learned means danger. You try to give her a look that says, “Help me,” but she just raises an eyebrow, as if to say, “You got yourself into this, deal with it”

Before you can protest, you’re inside the bouncy castle, surrounded by kids who are all screaming with the kind of joy only children and maniacs experience. Diego is jumping up and down, laughing like a crazy person, and you’re doing your best to stay upright, which is difficult because it’s been a while since you were five.

Outside, you can see Alexia, arms crossed, watching you with a look that’s a mix between amusement and something else—something that looks suspiciously like jealousy. You bounce awkwardly, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Diego is relentless. He’s now trying to get you to jump higher, and you’re seriously starting to consider if this is how you go—death by bouncy castle.

After what feels like an eternity (but is probably just ten minutes), you manage to escape, stumbling out of the bouncy castle like you’ve just survived a natural disaster. Diego is still inside, shrieking with laughter, blissfully unaware of the drama he’s just caused.

You make your way over to Alexia, who’s watching you with that amused, slightly irritated expression still firmly in place.

"Having fun?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, tons," you reply, wiping sweat from your brow. "Best day of my life”

"You know, I’m not the jealous type," she begins, her voice low and dangerous, "but what’s mine is mine. End of story”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course Alexia would be jealous of a five-year-old. It’s ridiculous, and yet, somehow, perfectly understandable. "I think I’ve been claimed by someone else," you say, grinning. "You might have some competition”

She rolls her eyes but you can tell she’s not really mad. At least, not in the serious way. "He’s got good taste," she admits grudgingly, "but don’t let it go to your head”

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, leaning in to kiss her cheek, because you know that’s what she wants, even if she’ll never admit it.

The rest of the party is a blur of forced smiles, endless small talk, and more sangria than you probably should’ve had. Diego pops up a few more times, always eager to drag you back to the bouncy castle or show you some new toy, but each time, Alexia is there, gently but firmly steering him back toward his actual family.

By the end of the night, you’re exhausted, and Alexia is finally starting to relax, probably because Diego has finally passed out somewhere, giving up on his quest to monopolise your attention.

As you leave, hand in hand, you glance back at the house, wondering how long it’ll be before you’re back here again, playing the role of the supportive girlfriend in a family that still doesn’t quite get it. But then Alexia squeezes your hand, and you realise it doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, what’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is yours, and that’s all there is to it.

Besides, next time, you’ll be ready. You’ll bring your own bouncy castle and show Diego who’s boss.

[snoopychris]

heart stopping

warnings: non-descriptive car crash, dry humping

in which... cheerleader!reader finds two times in the same night where her heart stops

the second that you pieced together what the sound of the crash that came behind you was, your heart stopped. in recent days, your heart had been stopping. once per day, each time for all the right reasons. there was the time where you were walking in the hallway and matt said hey to you. there was the time where it was raining and matt walked you into the school under his umbrella. there was the time when you noticed the pokemon card in matt’s phone case had changed to piplup. weirdly enough, there was the time when Mr. Harrison showed you matt’s project as an example. but this time was different. this time, your heart stopped for all the wrong reasons. 

your eyes squeeze shut for a moment as you gather your thoughts, turn off your car, and reach over to your glove box, grabbing your cars insurance and registration before exiting the vehicle. your hazards are on now, as are the hazards belonging to the other car, and you make your way over. after a brief interaction with the cars owner (grace, you learned) you assessed the damage of your car. it looked to be only a dent, and from what you could tell it was purely cosmetic. everyone was unharmed, both of you had insurance, everything was good to go. 

the second you began driving down the road, your car stopped. turns out, the bump was not purely cosmetic. pain rushes through your head when you hit yourself on the steering wheel a few times. you groan as you grab your phone from the cup holder besides you, looking through your contacts. your parents are probably the last people you want to call right now. youre scrolling for a moment or two before you make the call. 

you let out a sigh when the line rings, smiling when you hear the other end pick up. “hello?” the voice replies quietly with a crack in his voice. “hey…i-im sorry for calling so late. i got into an accident by the park on Dutch street. my car was fine but then it stopped and ive got no other friends with a license. is there any way you can come pick me up? ill owe you big time.” you whisper, crossing your fingers. 

matt hesitates but then speaks. “yeah, im on my way. stay right where you are dont worry.” if any of your friends had seen the way your face turned red, theyd never let you live it down. while youre waiting you do the responsible thing and call a tow truck. when you see a pair of headlights pull up, you instantly assume the worst. you would assume it was matt if he didnt live so far away. when the car pulls up next to you and you realize it is matt, youre okay. he rolls the window down and smiles, gesturing towards the passenger seat. you climb in with your belongs carefully, being as respectful as possible. he sends you a small smile and you take in your surroundings. theres a comfortable silence that sits between the two of you. somehow even with how much chaos you put up with when youre with your friends, you enjoy it. the silence looms for a while but then its broken.

“it smells salty in here…” you giggle, throwing your head against the headrest. matt nods slowly and shrugs, glancing over at you. “i was just at the beach, i sit there when i need more quiet than my room provides. you were at… practice i presume?” he eyes your uniform, the top half covered by your varsity jacket. you nod in response, adjusting the ponytail your hair was in. “i was. we have to come up with new routines.” you smile, licking your lips. matt adjusts the rearview mirror and then his glasses, running a finger through his hair. the small talk continues for the entirety of the car ride, but it didnt take more than 3 minutes to realize how comfortable matt was when talking to you when there werent any other people around. you swallow your spit and frown when matt turns onto your street.

 you take a leap that you never expected to and speak. “pull over here.” you whisper, matt complying while he raises his eyebrows. you take in all of his features before leaning over the center console, holding your face dangerously close to matt’s. “say the word and i stop and leave right now.” you whisper. a shaky exhale exits matts mouth as he shakes his head, cupping your face in his palms as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

 youve had a fair amount of kisses before, but there wasnt a single one that came to mind that was quite like this. not a single kiss in all of the previous ones you had shared that were so full of lust, passion, and love. no, not a single one of your previous kisses had any trace of love. you’re the first to pull away. matt couldnt find it in himself to. he was finally kissing the girl of his dreams and you expected him to pull away? no way in heaven or hell.

the two of you sit for a moment, avoiding the gaze of one another. you go to break the silence by speaking, but youre cut off when matt presses another kiss to your lips. you gasp at the sudden feeling, but not a single bone in your body cares. the hand that matt previously had sitting on his steering wheel moves to your thigh, and the hand that had been resting on the window moves to push his seat back as far as it can go. you catch on fairly quick and move to straddle matts lap, never once breaking the touching of your lips. the song that was playing on the radio is tuned out, but you make it out to be doja cat’s “Agora Hills”. this time when the kiss is broken, its due to matt. part of you thinks that he only breaks the kiss to discuss the hardness thats poking your thigh, but he surprises you when he semi-ignores it. 

he stutters as he looks away from you, face flushed with embarrassment. “im a virgin…” he whispers, the suddenness of the confession being the only thing that really shocks you- not that youd ever admit that. you nod as you kiss his neck gently, grabbing onto his hands and placing them on your hips. “thats okay. i am too.” you whisper, making matt’s ears turn red. you had always heard rumors floating around the school that you weren’t, but they didnt bother you, people would always believe whatever they wanted. you look at matt, silently asking for some sort of permission. 

you never verbally get the command, but you catch on pretty quickly when matt begins moving your hips for you. you let out a small noise at the feeling, letting your body take control. matt’s breath hitches in his throat and he lets out a moan, his grip on your hips tightening. “fuck…” he mumbles, his eyes shooting between the way your face looks as youre grinding yourself on his jeans and the way your skirt looks when your legs move. the actions continue for at most ten minutes, though for both of you it feels like an eternity. your hips only come to a stop when you let your orgasm take over your body, collapsing onto matt’s chest, his tshirt stuck to him due to all the sweat. matt only lets go of your hips when he lets his own orgasm take over, a dark, wet spot forming on his jeans and part of your skirt. the two of you gather your breaths for a few moments, a moment only ruined by matt’s phone ringing. 

he composes himself as you slide off of him, gathering your belongings from the backseat. you wait patiently for matt to hang up the phone, licking your lips. “its just chris… he wants me to bring him some ice cream when i go back home.” he whispers, to which you smile and nod. you shoot a glance of reassurance at him, looking over to your house. “guess i should go then huh…” you whisper, not wanting the moment to end so soon. matt lets out a hesitant “yeah”.

 you open the car door and begin stepping out when matt grips your wrist, sending you a smile. “this doesnt end when you walk into that door right?” he mumbles, worried about the outcome. his heart flutters when you shake your head, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “this doesnt end when i walk into that door.” and for the second time that day, your heart stops.

๋࣭⭑ a/n: :P and thats all i have to say. aside from dividers by @issysh3ll kiss kiss! -gen

๋࣭⭑ tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @isabellewhatt @st7rnioioss @yuppocarzy @mattsbrat

[rafeandonlyrafe]

girls night

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, teasing, p in v sex, semi public sex, a bit of exhibitionism, unprotected sex, clingy!rafe, established relationship

“so the girls are coming over-”

“mhm…”

“so if you want to watch a movie upstairs, or maybe see if top can hang out?” you suggest, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“hm, no.” rafe shakes his head, keeping his ass planted in the middle of the couch.

“no? it's just that we're gonna watch like a romcom and drink wine and gossip-”

“i can do all that too.” rafe shrugs.

“but do you really want to?” you question.

“no, but i don't want to be away from you. so you'll just have to put up with me.” rafe reaches his hand out, pulling you onto his lap.

“how long until they get here?” he questions, one hand wrapping around your waist, tugging you into his chest while his other hand ventures to your ass, gripping it over your pajama shorts.

it takes you a moment to remember what rafe asked you. “hayley will probably be here in like ten minutes.” 

“enough time to make out.” rafe smirks at you before connecting your lips. the minutes pass by as he holds you tight against him, mouth dominating yours until you're suddenly interrupted by the doorbell sounding out.

“shit.” you whine, legs a bit shaky and weak as you stand, rushing to let hayley in who also brought your two other friends steph and tina.

“hi girlies!” you hug each of them before moving deeper into the house. “i hope you don't mind rafey joining us.”

“no problem.” hayley shrugs. she knows the most how clingy rafe can be, and how much you love it.

“pick a movie.” you toss the remote at tina. “ill get the wine!”

you bring back glasses and two bottles under your arms, one red and one white. you pour yourself some before looking to rafe.

“ill share with you.” he smiles, not a huge fan of wine himself, so if he's going to drink it, it's going to be from the same glass as you.

“okay, i know we've all seen it before but ive really been wanting to rewatch 10 things i hate about you.” tina says as she hits play on the movie.

“oh, yes!” you squeal, sitting down next to rafe. tina is on the farthest cushion of the spot away from you while hayley and steph have taken up the armchairs.

you lean into rafe, only occasionally reaching forward to sip your wine. 

you're watching the movie when rafe ducks his head, pressing light kisses to the shell of your ear before moving lower, kissing along your jawline and neck.

“rafe…” you whisper, hand moving to grip his thigh as he pays extra attention to the spot he knows you're sensitive at.

“want you so bad.” rafe whispers, not stopping the kisses despite your hand tightening it's grip on his leg.

“and i want to enjoy girls night.” you turn to rafe so your friends don't pick up on wait your saying. “after. you know i want you to, but not when we have guests over.”

“fine, ill stop.” rafe huffs, leaning back against the couch, pulling you further into him to make up for not kissing you.

rafes focus shifts to the movie to distract him, his hand randomly petting over different parts of your body until another idea sparks in his head.

his hand drifts further up, thumb swiping over the bottom of your breast, keeping his movements slow and casual like they're not calculated as he moves up until he's cupping your chest, thumb swiping directly over your nipple.

your eyes closed the second rafe touched your breast, concentrating on not moaning out and turning the groups attention towards you.

hayley lets out a laugh at a scene and it has you jolting back to reality. you grab rafes hand and lower it back to your waist.

“come on.” rafe growls in your ear.

you ignore him as something in the movie reminds steph of an ex boyfriend as she launches into a rant about him, the same one you've all heard a million times, yet you're still happy to hear again, to make the same comments about how much of a dick he is.

rafe leans forward, slipping his arm from around you as he grabs a blanket from the basket you pulled to the center of the room for the girls.

“anyone else cold?”

tina raises her hand so rafe tosses a fluffy blanket in her direction before draping a bigger one over both of your laps, covering you up to the waist.

“i know what you're doing.” you whisper, turning to rafe and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“and do you want me to stop?” rafe asks. he already knows the answer to the question. as much as you feign not wanting to do anything until your friends leave, you find rafe just as irresistible.

it's why you don't really fight it when rafes hand disappears underneath the blanket. you even spread your legs for him, allowing his hand to cup your pussy over the cover of your shorts and underwear.

“you want to kill me.” you whisper-hiss into rafes ear, subtly covering your mouth in case you let any sounds slip.

“just can't resist that pussy, baby.” rafe presses kisses into your hair as you attempt to focus on the movie, rafes hand staying mysteriously still.

you become impatient, waiting for the inevitable, so you reach over, placing your hand on rafes thigh, slowly moving it upwards, teasing him by swiping your hand back down whenever you get close to his crotch.

rafe moves suddenly, standing up and letting the blanket fall away as he scoops you into his arms. “be right back, ladies.”

he rushes out of the room, not leaving you any other option as he presses you against his body.

“oh my god, rafe!” you squeal as he pushes you into the nearest private room, which happens to be your guest bathroom.

“i need you right now, fuck.” rafe tugs your pajamas down, revealing that you're only wearing a small thong.

“you could wait another like half hour? the movie was almost done!” you allow rafe to press your front into the wall, bending forward to stick your ass out.

“nope.” rafe opens up his shorts to pull his cock out, already hard from your teasing.

“ridiculous.” you roll your eyes, but its accompanied with a giggle. you love how rafe can never get enough of you, how his love and borderline obsession is clear to everyone.

“says the one dripping for my cock.” rafe chuckles, swiping the head of his cock through your folds before pressing against your entrance, pushing in with one quick motion.

“oh fuck!” you squeal before covering your mouth, remembering your friends aren't too far away, although they definitely know what's going on, you don't need them to hear it as well.

“god, you feel so good and warm.” rafe moans, immediately beginning to thrust, not wanting to take you away from your girls night for too long.

his hand wraps around your front, reaching down to rub at your clit while his other hand holds your hips steady, the slapping sound of your skin meeting together echoing around the bathroom walls.

“you're mine.” rafe huffs out, as if you need reminding.

his thrusts become wilder as the minutes pass by of him pressing into your cunt until you lose yourself to the high that rushes over your body.

rafe has to grab your hips to keep you upright as your pussy clenches around him, only a few more thrusts before rafe is spilling into you with a moan of your name.

“shit, i already want you again.” rafe laughs, pressing you into the wall as his cock finishes pulsing inside of you, needing to make sure hes filled you up as much as possible before he pulls your underwear and shorts back up.

“rafe, im gonna leak all over the couch-” you complain before he interrupts you.

“oh well.” the devious smile on his face tells all.

you pout as he gets redressed, opening the door like nothing at all happened.

“come on.” rafe holds his hand out to you, proudly walking you back into the living room.

“well, i can’t blame you for keeping rafe around all the time.” tina giggles as you retake your place on the couch, your face bright red.

“its me who needs her around all the time.” rafe smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while you pull the blanket up over your face in embarrassment.

[hummingbird24220]

could I please get a Luffy x Jealous fem reader (not together yet but reader has a crush on Luffy) who’s gets all jealous when Bunny starts biting Luffys ears, thank you!

Sure! Im still waaaaay behind with one piece, just finishing thriller bark - I did my best. Ive seen the rabbit character from pictures - googled her name xp. Hope you like it!

--------------------------------

Fuzzy Feelings

Luffy x Jealous!Fem Reader

You weren’t glaring.

You definitely weren’t glaring.

Okay maybe you were glaring just a little, but no one could blame you! It was right there—right there—happening in broad daylight on the damn deck.

Carrot was currently latched onto Luffy’s ear like it was a piece of meat and he was just laughing about it like she hadn’t just chomped him three times already.

“She’s biting him again,” you hissed to Nami, who was sunbathing nearby with sunglasses and absolutely zero interest in your emotional crisis.

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed lazily. “She’s a mink. That’s, like, how they bond.”

“I don’t bite people I like,” you muttered.

Nami slid her sunglasses down just enough to raise an eyebrow at you. “Don’t you?”

You turned red. “T-That’s not the point!”

“Right. Not the point.” She smirked, putting her glasses back on. “Just go tell Luffy you like him.”

You made a choking noise. “I’d rather throw myself overboard.”

“And yet,” Nami said, gesturing vaguely toward the deck, “you’d rather sit here and seethe while rabbit-girl nibbles your crush’s ear like it owes her money.”

You glanced back over just in time to see Luffy giggling as Carrot hung off him like a scarf. “Yooo, Carrot, that tickles!”

She responded with an adorable, “You taste like meat, Luffy!”

You nearly combusted.

“Disgusting,” you growled under your breath. “Flirt somewhere else, Bugs Bunny.”

You were about to stomp off when you heard Luffy’s voice call out, “Hey (Y/N)!”

You froze. Panic. What if he heard you say that? Was your jealousy that obvious?

You turned slowly. “Y-Yeah?”

He beamed at you, oblivious. “Wanna come help me catch fish off the side of the Sunny?”

Carrot was still hanging on his shoulder like a furry little parasite. Her big eyes blinked at you, smug.

You blinked.

Then smiled.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said sweetly. “I love stabbing things with hooks.”

You might have stared directly at Carrot when you said it.

-------

You sat on the edge of the Sunny, legs dangling off the side, a fishing rod in hand and murder in your heart.

Luffy was next to you, grinning like this was the best day of his life. Carrot had finally hopped off to grab some snacks, leaving you alone with the man who had unknowingly stolen your heart and your sanity.

"Ne, (Y/N), you’re real good at fishing," Luffy said, kicking his legs happily as he peeked over the side of the boat. "I never catch anything unless I jump in after it."

“That’s because you don’t wait,” you muttered, eyes on the water. “You have to be patient.”

“Hmm...” He leaned closer, squinting at your line. “So like... you wait for it to bite... then yank?”

His arm brushed yours.

You forgot what fish were.

“Y-Yeah,” you managed, trying not to combust from proximity. “Just—don’t yank too hard or you’ll snap the line.”

“Got it!” Luffy nodded enthusiastically.

He sat in silence for a moment, then tilted his head. “Hey, you were acting kinda weird earlier. When Carrot was biting me.”

You froze. Crap. Crapcrapcrap—

“Weird?” you asked, voice climbing an octave. “No way. Totally normal. Not weird. Pfft.”

He blinked at you. “You made a face like Sanji does when I eat all the meat.”

“W-What?! I did not—!”

“You looked angry... but also like you wanted to bite someone too?” he added, looking genuinely confused. “Were you hungry?”

You choked. “Luffy.”

“Yeah?”

“I will throw you into the sea.”

He burst into laughter, head thrown back, sunshine catching his hair just right, and you felt your heart do a somersault.

Why did he have to be so stupidly cute?

“You’re so funny, (Y/N),” he said with a grin. “I like hanging out with you.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Y-You do?”

“Yeah! You’re fun.” He leaned back on his hands. “You don’t bite like Carrot, but that’s okay. I like your way better.”

You blinked, stunned.

Was... was that his version of flirting?

Before you could say anything, Carrot came bounding back with a tray of sandwiches. “I brought snacks!”

Luffy lit up. “MEAT!!”

You barely resisted the urge to knock the tray into the ocean.

You plastered on a smile instead. “Wow, thanks, Carrot. That was so sweet of you.”

She beamed. “Right? I even saved the biggest one for Luffy!”

Your eye twitched.

Luffy grabbed the sandwich, already stuffing it in his face. “You’re the best, Carrot!”

You got up wordlessly, rod abandoned.

“(Y/N)? Where you goin’?” Luffy asked, cheeks full.

You turned and smiled through clenched teeth.

“I’m gonna go not bite people.”

He looked confused.

Carrot looked smug.

And you were so close to jumping overboard just to scream into the sea.

-----

You were storming down the hallway of the Sunny, fists clenched, trying very hard not to explode. If you had to hear Carrot giggle and say “Luuuffyyy~” one more time, you were going to snap and launch yourself into the sea head-first.

Was it stupid to be this jealous? Absolutely. Were you going to do something about it? Probably not.

…Unless you lost your temper.

Which you were about five seconds away from doing.

“(Y/N)!”

You froze.

Luffy’s voice rang out from behind you—cheerful, clueless, and all kinds of adorable.

You squeezed your eyes shut, took a deep breath, and turned around.

There he was. Hair messy from the sea breeze, a smudge of food on his cheek, and that goofy smile that made your chest feel like it was caving in.

“Why’d you leave?” he asked, stepping closer. “We didn’t get to fish more. And you forgot your rod!”

You stared at him. The way his eyes sparkled, the way he just had to chase after you without even knowing why.

God, it wasn’t fair.

You snapped.

“I like you, okay?!”

The words spilled out like you had zero control over them. Which, to be fair, you didn’t.

Luffy blinked. “Huh?”

“I like you, Luffy!” you said louder, throwing your arms up. “Like—not just ‘I want to fish with you’ like, but like like! Romantic! Feelings! Blushing! All that dumb stuff!”

He stared.

“I got jealous when Carrot bites your ears! And it’s not her fault, and I know you’re probably not even thinking about this kind of thing, but I can’t help it, okay?! You’re—you’re you, and I’m me, and I’m just—ugh!”

You stopped.

Silence.

Luffy tilted his head, looking at you like you’d just grown another limb.

“…You wanna bite my ear too?”

You groaned. “Luffy! That’s not what I—”

“But wait,” he interrupted, suddenly very serious. “You like me?”

You froze.

“…Y-Yeah.”

He blinked.

Then… smiled.

A soft one. Not goofy. Not wild.

Just a little quiet curve of his lips. It felt different.

“I didn’t know,” he said simply. “But… I like being around you. Like, a lot.”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I see you, I feel all… squiggly. In my chest.” He scratched his head. “I thought it was just hunger.”

You stared. “Squiggly?”

He grinned. “Like excitement! Or nerves. Or maybe meat cravings. But I don’t feel that with Carrot. I like her, but not like how I like you.”

You blinked. “So you…?”

“I dunno what it means yet,” he admitted, stepping closer. “But I wanna find out. With you.”

You were stunned silent.

“Also,” he added with a big grin, “you can bite my ear if you want.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“Yup!” he said proudly. “But I’m your weirdo now, right?”

Your cheeks flamed.

“…Yeah.”

[k-aemi]

Hi Miu!!! Hope you doing well><

May I request a Reo x collegestudent!reader where she's having trouble making money and was getting frustrated so she went to a bar to drink her frustrations and get completely drunk, all she's blabbering is about making money then went to go to the bathroom but bumps into Reo and he can't can't helped but be amused by her and proposed that he'll give her 10,000 everytime she cums.

If you're able to write this, I give my biggest thanks to you!!❤️

mikage reo ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lets make a deal.

smut, praise, overstim, unprotected sex, squirt, some bdsm :>

it was pointless. everything was really. youre broke, cant even afford to buy your supplies and the amount of work weighted heavy on you which didnt help at all. seriously what were you thinking attending college without any financial aid?

you just needed something to get your mind off of it. youre broke, but not broke for a time at the bar. you just needed to relieve some stress, what better way to do it than to get drunk? not like you had any friends at the college anyways.

you slouch at the bar with your oversized hoodie, scrolling through your cracked phone, with a cheap drink on the other hand. bills looming, assignments just piling, and sleep? nonexistent. you sigh, cheek hitting the cold bar table, not caring if anyone was judging you at the moment.

eyes hazy, just little mumbles coming from you followed by hiccups. before you get up, a voice speaks.

"rough night?" a smooth voice interrupts. a guy couple stools away from you speaks. you had to squint your eyes to really get a glance at him, and damn was he handsome.

hes striking—designer clothes, hair too perfect, like he just walked out of a magazine. he stood out from everyone in the bar, now you felt self conscious about how you dressed.

"yeah, drinking my problems away." your arm rolls on the bar table as you bump your forehead on it.

"you look like you just lost a fortune." he takes a sip of his martini glass cup as he smirked looking down at you.

"youre probably right about that. failing a class, and i think my landlord wants to fight me." you grumbled. and the handsome man can only chuckle with a curious smirk.

"i swear—if i can just do something, a favor or whatever, i can clean their house, kiss their feet, do whatever weird kinks they got, i dont care. i just need that money." you put your head down with a loud thud while the bartender refills your drink.

the purple-haired man sips his drink before spinning the glass in his hand around before your head shots up at the realization. why did he even come up to talk to you?

"wait—do you know me...or do i know you..?" you raise an eyebrow. he glances at you with an amused look again.

"nope. but looking miserable enough for me to know your entire life story." and you scoff. you sat up with you elbow hitting the bar table, taking a shot of the vodka.

"didnt mean to make you part of my downfall." and he lets out a laugh.

"kind of entertaining. ive never seen someone as miserable as you. most people here drink and flirt."

"i dont flirt with strangers who look like they own stock in hair gel." you laid your head on your palm.

"i do own stock."

"well unless youre here to give me money, i dont think youre much help." you hiccup in between your words as you took another shot in one full gulp. slamming the cup down with a sigh of refreshment.

"and if i did?" he sat on the stool next to you, leaning closer.

"right. and what, in return i sell you my soul?" he chuckled. breath tickling your earlobe. you dont push him away, this stranger intrigued you. who would give out money like its candy?

"of course not. just a little something. 10000 yen each time you finish under my touch." his hand stroked your thigh in an unexpectedly endearing way—one that made your breath hitch and your body go still. this flirt was making you feel… strange.

you said youd do anything for the money, but that was clearly so unexpected. this random was offering you money for...a weird favor and were you to accept or decline that? still, the money was tempting...maybe too tempting to walk away from.

"im sorry, what did you say your name was again...?" your gaze shifts to his purple irises. with graceful ease, his finger lifts your chin—grinning from ear to ear.

"mikage reo princess."

"o-oh my god fuck—" you pull on the restraints that were tied to the bed post. your legs and thighs quivered from the amount of stimulating he made you go through. you dont know what you had signed yourself up for.

"doing so good f'me princess." he rubbed your sides, applying more pressure to your bud. the vibrator was at its maximum and he was making sure you feel every single bit of it.

your senses were heightened, with the blindfold covering you, you couldnt see anything. thus making it hard to anticipate where hed touch you next. it was weird, but in an exciting way.

you threw your head back at the immediate touch of his fingers that curled up inside your gummy walls. he inserted in with such ease you felt like you were going to cum on the spot. his fingers were long and reached so deep, just the lewd squelching sounds and your moans echoed throughout the room, and it fueled reos drive to continue.

"feel good?" he chuckled, staring at the way your body trembled. with the stimulation of the clit vibrator and his fingers, youll be coming in no time. just make sure to keep up with him.

you nod eagerly, moving your hips in a circular like motion. he loved the way your juices spilled onto his sheets and fingers, it was so sticky and the smell was intoxicating too. probably the best pussy he ever played with, your walls were warm, and youre so fucking wet<3

unexpectedly, you come. you didnt even register you did until he drags his fingers out of your cunt, but its like sucking him back in, just wanting more and more. the vibrator just overstimulated you so much, he wouldnt take it off. its like hes a sadist and wants to see you beg for him to stop.

"thats a 10000 right there." he cooed, licking a stripe up your cheek. the wet muscle made you wince while you tried to control your breathing. it felt so intense, you dont even know if you could withstand anymore, even after coming once.

"think you can handle my cock?" he slapped the tip of his cock onto your cunt, rubbing it against the vibrator. he bit his lips, almost drawing out blood. you just looked so hot under him, he definitely would of regret it if he hadnt strike up a conversation, or else he would of missed out on best pussy of the year.

he lets out a low growl, prodding his tip at your entrance, god you were so slippery he can just insert it in now. but he wanted to hear your sweet voice beg for his cock.

"n-need it." you mumbled out. you were referring to the money he said (thats what you told yourself) hed give you every time you came, but he took it as your neediness for him.

and just like you said, he sheathed himself in your velvety walls. he bottoms out inside of you with a whine he thought he never knew could come out of him. shit, the way your walls pulsed around his cock like it had a mind of its own made him feel incredible. he feels like hes going to cum this instant.

"oh, did you cum again—?" he raised his eyebrow at your fucked out face, he felt your cunt tighten around him and the way your breathing became heavy again indicated your second time. no way you just came twice in the span of two minutes. you didnt know sex could get this good.

you grind yourself onto him, you need more. his touch was so addicting you cant get enough of it. he can feel the vibrator from the outside and it just added more to the pleasure to him and you. the smell of sweat filled the room and two horny fucks getting it on.

he leans down to your neck, marking you up and planting light kisses on the skin. your nails dug into yourself from the intensity of everything.

"shiiitt, can i come inside?" he pleaded, he wasnt going to miss this opportunity to do it inside of yours. his thrusts gradually becomes faster but sloppier, losing that rhythm he had set before. he loved the sound of your ass clapping against his balls, it was so hot.

"yes, yes please." your breath hitched as your breathing became erratic. the third time youre going to come alone from this mikage guy. you dont even know what youre saying right now, you werent on pills or anything, you just needed to feel him fill you up.

he latches his lips onto yours, tasting the drool that slipped out from the corner of your mouth. it was filthy, tongues fighting each other while you both exchange saliva, creating a string whenever you broke the kiss.

his tip kissed your cervix and your back arched at an impossible angle. youre at your breaking point by now.

"f-fuck!" you squirt on his cock, your juices flying everywhere and reo came inside, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. your thighs quivered and your toes curled.

"s-shit that was so hot. keep it up okay?" he stared in awe how his cum seeped out of your pussy even with his cock intact. you were definitely in for a long night if you wanted the money.

hi so sorry i no posttt! so busy but i will start posting more now c: i will try to get all requests done! have so many so i am sorry!

tags ✎: @rinrinniebaby @theirlimerence 

[wing-ed-thing]

… And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Finale (?)

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Extreme Angst, Slow Burn, Naive!Servant!Reader, Side/Plot Device Original Character, Name-Calling, Fire, Major Character Death, Yonji Fell Harder

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X (Finale?)

“Father,” Ichiji had said, his irises just barely visible over the tops of his glasses as he looked up with a frown, “It’s a rat.”

“I want to join!” A pitiful little thing cried. Soldiers from Germa pinned it down, and yet it continued to yell out. It was a horrible noise. Reiju quirked a slender brow, glancing up at her father. “The revolutionary army’s always looking for new recruits, aren’t you? I want to join! Please put me to work or something, anything! Just take me with you!”

The pressure that was applied to the back of the neck didn’t appear to slow the tumble of words that flooded out into the atmosphere. It was a pitiful plea, and one that hurt Ichiji’s ears even to have to endure. 

The annoying whining seared itself into Ichiji’s superior memory, although Judge hadn’t thought much of it.

”This is not the revolutionary army,” he grunted. Judge turned, no longer enchanted by the scene of death, fire, and destruction of the pathetic island in front of him. Reiju and Ichiji followed, leaving the blood-stained civilian at the coast. 

It didn’t make much sense as to why Judge was reminded of that moment now. His children were gathered at the base of his massive throne. The enormous dining table had since been vacated from the room to allow ample space for pacing and bickering. 

Yonji, Judge’s current source of angst and vexation, debated furiously with his brothers. Judge had exhausted the resources in his lab with tweaks to his youngest son. From the data he saw, there shouldn’t have been an issue. All the numbers came back normal, and all of Yonji’s responses were on par with what was expected of him. And yet, it was undeniable that something continued to be off. 

Yonji could have easily forgotten that he was in the presence of his father to begin with. His mannerisms grew aggressive as he made the most of his size to square up against Niji.

All of them were talking. Yes, even Judge’s daughter was involved in this one. Even Ichiji, whom Judge had never seen so frustrated before, was barking something. Yonji and Niji were about nose-to-nose. Reiju, having noncommittally found herself between them, had been spun into a web of annoyance. Her arms attempted to act like gates, in an effort to create some separation between her two brothers. Yonji was large enough that Reiju almost placed herself to his left, using the back of her shoulder to try to block his massive form. 

It wasn’t just Yonji. All of them appeared to have forgotten Judge’s presence. 

“Enough,” the Judge sighed, but the boom of his voice was enough for the room to fall silent. The Vinsmoke children separated, taking short steps away from each other to train their eyes on their father. “This is entirely too much commotion for… what was it?”

“The library attendant,” Ichiji spat. 

“Yes, the library attendant,” Judge repeated with a slow nod. “Yes, this is far too much commotion over the library attendant!” He stroked his chin in contemplation. The entire ordeal sounded petty, and under normal circumstances, Judge wouldn’t have thought little of it, just as he did about most things. He was, after all, far above a children’s quarrel concerning toys, especially considering that guests were present in the kingdom. 

And then Ichiji…

“Yonji’s defective,” Ichiji scowled.  

Defective.

The very words narrowed Judge’s eyes. He looked upon his four children with scrutiny, pondering to himself in silence. 

Another one of his masterpieces… defective. The very thought was insanity. The fact that his eldest, his favorite son spoke about it so blatantly nearly made Judge’s blood boil.

Judge performed a thorough examination of his youngest son personally, subjecting him to every blood test, DNA extraction exam, and cognitive testing in the Germa lab’s arsenal. Each panel yielded nothing.

“We’re seriously talking about executing the librarian over this? Do you even hear yourself?” Reiju rolled her eyes.

Ah, they were back to bickering. 

“Yes, because when a person poses a threat to your kingdom, you have to exterminate the problem—”

“Oh, so it’s your kingdom—”

“Yes, just like it’s yours, Reiju.” 

“You’re not king, yet.”

”Yet.”

“Listen to yourself!”

“If we’re taking a vote, I am all in favor of killing the librarian.”

”The fuck you say, asshole?”

“Let’s just not make the kill too quick, ya know?”

“Enough, enough,” Judge waved a hand, rising from his throne. It appeared he’d actually have to handle this situation after all. Judge continued to wave his hand as he descended just a few stairs. “Niji, Reiju, you are dismissed.”

With the final verdict from their father, Niji and Reiju departed. 

***

The fleet in its entirety docked in the harbor of a friendly nation, one that made a hefty amount of berries from selling to the nation of Germa. It was a summer island, not unlike the one you and Yonji had gone shopping on. 

“Put this on. We’re going out.” 

Yonji had impatiently pushed a neat, white box into your arms, spinning you around and sending you away. And now, draped in his color, Yonji had you by the hand as he ran through the forest. It was instantly apparent that he had far more stamina than you did. The two of you ran through town and nearly halfway across the island. 

“Yonji, please. Slow down! Where are you taking us?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a surprise?” he called, hardly looking back toward you.

The green silk of your garments whipped in the breeze. The cool air generated by your pace flew up your sleeves and around the light material you wore. The clothes Yonji gifted you were made for summer weather and fit you like a glove. 

“Walker says it’s going to storm later.” You glanced up at the blue sky above, but Yonji didn’t reply. 

Yonji turned back as he continued uphill, never letting up for a moment. He grinned a white, beaming smile. 

“We’re almost there! Don’t make me carry you the rest of the way,” he snickered. 

By the time you reached the clifftop, you were completely winded. Your lungs heaved, and your cheeks tingled with such intensity that you couldn’t even let out a gasp at the beautiful scenery in front of you. 

A sea of vast green seemed to reach for miles. Flowers littered the land, dotting the expanse with little pops of rainbow color, and the wild grass accented the rolling hills. A sparkling stream glided through the fields, hosting an array of aquatic plants and modest, trickling waterfalls. Trees grew densely on the expanse closest to you, almost as if the trees and the flowers declared their own kingdoms right next to each other. And from where you stood, you could see it all, and every green thing on the hill ran on toward the horizon. 

Yonji hooked an arm around your waist, and you didn’t realize what he was doing until he had pulled you straight back for you to sit on his right thigh. Yonji settled on a felled tree trunk, which was overgrown with wildflowers. He snickered, in higher spirits than you had ever seen him before.

His teeth formed so tight a line, even his laugh could hardly slide through. With a flick of his wrist, Yonji plucked one of the flowers from the surrounding earth— hardly having to even reach down— before sliding it behind your right ear. He immediately intertwined his fingers in yours, dwarfing your hand.

“I spoke with my father,” Yonji hummed, nose upturned in triumph. He pressed the webbing of his fingers farther against yours to the point where it almost hurt. “And I’m pleased to report that I’m allowed to keep you. You’ll live with me in my castle from now on.”

You stared at him for a moment. 

“What?” you breathed, almost like a laugh. You blinked once, then twice. 

You scanned Yonji’s expression for any hint of context. A short beat passed, and you anticipated that Yonji would burst into laughter at any moment. You were fully prepared to chuckle along, but as you looked into Yonji’s sparkling irises, no sign of a joke presented itself. You unconsciously moved to recoil, but Yonji’s firm grip around your waist and hand didn’t allow you to shift an inch. In fact, he only pulled you closer, seeming oblivious to your attempt to escape. 

“I told him everything: about how you’ve been helping me with missions. About your gift,” he continued, and at that point, your face had already begun to sink. 

You tried to crack a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yonji,” you said, a sheepish smile continuing to hold on your mouth as you glanced away. “I didn’t think that anything I ever offered you was helpful in any other way than entertainment. I mean, isn’t that why no one ever visits the library anyway?” You chuckled nervously. 

“Oh, no. You’ve given me more valuable information than you know.” Yonji pressed his forehead up to yours, closing his eyes as his hand grasped yours tighter. Perhaps his closed lids were how he missed your widened gaze. “All your favorites will be in my castle from now on. I remember all of them, you know, from when I had you show me. And then we can go through the rest together to decide what’s going to give me strength. And when we’re not there, we can go to places like this whenever we want!”

Yonji pulled back, finally letting go on your hand as he gestured to the expanse of grass and trees that littered the scenery around you. You unconsciously clenched your hand before stretching it. With the force he gripped you, you were surprised his fingerprints weren’t permanently indented on your skin. 

“It doesn’t have to be continuous blue ever again! We can go to places this green whenever we want. Did you know there were places this green?” He beamed at you, coiling his arm tighter around you. You couldn’t help but smile warily at his excitement. 

“Yonji, you’re really not making sense.” Your free hand pressed up against his forehead. Your smile faltered. “You haven’t been making sense lately.”

Yonji snatched up the wrist that you held up, his excitement completely overpowering his actions. 

“You were the reason I was able to complete my mission in Speleothem. You gave me that strategy in my room, remember? And— and the sparrows that allowed us to bypass the encryption and you knew the password to the safe—! You just… know exactly what I need. I don’t know how, but you always know the exact key to our missions. Well, we don’t know now, but I’m sure that Dad can—”

“Yonji— Please slow down—”

“You can be my strength! Or… the brains to my brawn to make me the best soldier Germa has ever seen!” Yonji gripped both sides of your face. You’re sure that with a bit of effort, he could wrap his wide grip around the whole circumference of your head. “You can be the key to making me even better. You’ve got a science that Germa hasn’t even discovered somewhere in here, and we can explore it together!”

Yonji’s hands slid to cup the sides of your face. He cocked his head almost curiously as he tried to examine your face. 

“Don’t you want to stay with me? Be with me? Be the key to my strength?” He stared you directly in the eye, offering no escape to his all too earnest gaze. Yonji’s eyes held a delicate light, and in the reflection of the summer sun, you considered for just a moment that he held streaks of blue in his honey colored eyes that you had never seen before. 

But you weren’t answering fast enough.

You weren’t matching his smile. You weren’t enthusiastically exclaiming your consent like he anticipated. You weren’t thanking him for his generosity and mercy. 

You were looking. Staring. Quiet, 

Tension left his forehead, causing his brows to droop. His gaze darted across your face.

“You do… don’t you?” he trailed, his expression sinking by the second. And by the time he reached your eyes again, you still hadn’t said anything. You stared into Yonji’s gaze, words dried up on your tongue. “Please,” he said in little more than a whisper. 

The one word. The one plea broke the resolve that you didn’t even know you were holding out. Tears spilled en masse from your eyes like open flood gates. They pooled quickly at Yonji’s palms, filling the crease where his hands met your cheeks. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, laughing lightly. He leaned closer to try to meet your eye. His hands forced up on your cheeks, urging you to look at him. “What are you cryin’ for?” Yonji let out another boyish laugh as you pressed your cheek into his left hand. “I know humans can cry when they’re, like, really happy and stuff, but don’t you think this is a tad bit dramatic?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, trying to wipe away the waterfall of tears that didn’t seem to stop falling. Yonji was already ahead of you, swiping across your cheeks to clear away the wetness. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, dummy,” he sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. “But it’s not like you haven’t already been mine, so I don’t know what’s got you all emotional about things now—”

“You’re still marrying Ursula, aren’t you?” Something about the way you asked the question made Yonji’s breath hitch. It was almost as if the words were spoken in isolation from your tears, devoid of emotion. He snapped back to reality. Even watery and puffy, your gaze pinned him down in a second. “Tonight. You’re marrying her tonight. That’s what I heard before we came here.”

Yonji physically recoiled, hands coming away from your face to hover in the limbo now created between you. He shifted, causing you to slide off his lap and onto the fallen tree below you. The slightest hint of genuine shock and confusion ghosted over his face. 

“Yeah,” he said. Breathless. “I’ve handed in my raid suit until it’s official. I have to prove myself to Germa at the wedding. Dad said he’d give you to me… as a wedding present…” 

There was a flash of something across your face. Yonji was well-acquainted with all sorts of things: cutting-edge genetic technology, war, and the look of fear. But whatever crossed your face was so unknown to him that a heavy shot reverberated through his entire body. It was a familiar sensation.

The silent tears from before instantly transformed into full sobs. Yonji grabbed you, frantic eyes darting across your face as he shook you by the shoulders. 

“Hey! Why are you doin’ that?” he asked, his voice cracking as he continued to shake you. “I told you to stop! Why aren’t you stopping?”

“Prince Yonji, I don’t think I can do this,” you whimpered. You could hardly get the words out. Your face had since been stained with tears, their trails sliding off kilter as you shook your head. 

“What is with you and all this ‘prince’ shit?” Yonji’s mouth cracked a jagged smile, his grip becoming tighter. He let out a few breathy chuckles. “I can’t keep correcting you. I can’t keep telling you to call me by my first name, you know. It makes me look bad.” 

“I didn’t belong in Germa,” you cried, voice and heart shattering like glass thrown onto stone. “I never belonged in Germa.” 

“Why do you say that?” Yonji’s eyes darted across your face frantically. “Of course you belong in Germa! You’re a dedicated servant. You’re the perfect height to knock things off your head!”

“You probably don’t remember when you did a raid in Libro,” you hiccuped, and Yonji’s brows scrunched up at the sudden change in subject. “Forces from Quill had invaded a few years before and overthrew the government… They occupied the island as a warzone for all that time.” 

You brought Yonji’s hands back to your face, closing your eyes as you nestled into one of his palms. You leaned into his touch, your hand supporting the back of his as you did. His thumb continued to swipe away your never-ending stream of tears. 

“You probably don’t even remember me. Probably don’t remember saving me,” you laughed between hiccups, “But you did, and I… I wanted to be with— be with you. I didn’t c-c-care how.” The admission only made you sob harder. You never said it out loud before. You hadn’t dared to. “I said I wanted to come with you, and you said fat chance!”

You laughed, and Yonji laughed along with you. Tentative.

“I don’t… remember you,” he said, his smile faltering. 

The cruelty you brought upon yourself should have been funny. The fact that you were crying in front of him should have been hilarious. Annoying, but hilarious. It was the goal, the reason he selected you out of all servants to torment all this time. You had never shown any indication that you were affected by his cruelty in the slightest. You were a challenge to break—a durable toy to be gnawed on. 

“I think that was the right call.” You pulled away from his touch. 

And like that, you were in his hands, and then you weren’t.

Yonji tried to reach for you, but you were already rising from where you stood. You turned to face him, a short distance now lying between the two of you. You clutched your bicep with one hand, playing nervously with the fabric. 

“What?” Yonji’s eyes were wide as he tried to calculate the ways in which you possibly couldn’t be saying what you were. 

You scrunched your face, trying not to let any more tears fall. Your lips formed a tight, disciplined line. Yes, you tried your best to still the quivering of your lip. You wished nothing more than for the tears to stop falling. 

And when you asked, “Do you love me?”, you wished that your voice wasn’t shaking. 

You wished that it was how you’d always imagined it in romance books.

A demand for truth. A plea. 

Romantic. 

Chaste. 

Yonji’s lips morphed into a hesitant smile, a breathy laugh escaping his chest. 

“The fuck?” he laughed. He twisted and contorted his face, as if the motion would make the situation in front of him any clearer. Yonji’s hand shot roughly through his hair, his fingers raking through his strands. A few more chuckles puffed from him. “What kind of question is that?”

His laughs pierced straight through your chest, dizzying your body with embarrassment and shame. 

“Please…. Just tell me yes or no—” you pleaded, the request sounding almost as pitiful as the original question. 

“I don’t experience love,” Yonji interrupted, announcing his words like a grand secret of the universe. He held his arms out wide before pointing toward his chest. He continued to smile widely, accenting his words with haughty gestures. “Machines don’t experience love; I’m not like you, I’m not human. I don’t cry like some goddam child. I don’t fall over myself and act like a jackass because of some delusional bullshit—”

“Of course you’re human, Yonji!” you blurted.  

Was there a stronger word than sobbing? Your face was puffy and ugly, ruined by the sheer amount of water that spilled from your eyes. You were beginning to feel lightheaded from the sheer tasks that was sobbing.

“I hate it when you say you’re not! Why do you all think you’re not human? I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it, Yonji! You’re the happiest when you’re normal— You’re happiest when you’re human—!”

“This is how you repay me for the freedom I’ve given you? Everything was perfect, and now it’s all gone to your head and made you greedy. A greedy little bitch just like the rest of ‘em!” Yonji began to walk toward you, and instinctively, you backed up.  

“You’re human, Yonji! You love the library! You love reading and— and—” Yonji continued to approach, his jaw and fists clenched. A severe expression washed over his face, causing your heart to beat out of your chest. “Shit— you know exactly what kind of books I like even before I do! What about that time you protected me from Ichiji?” 

Your back hit the trunk of a nearby tree. You thought about the time Yonji rescued you on your home island. You remembered the guard he beat into the ground, grinding his brains into liquid with his fists alone. 

You remembered Ichiji’s threat. Leave, or he’d kill you both. Could Ichiji really kill his brother? Could he do it just like that?

“You know, maybe I am greedy,” you laughed, the sharp bark of the tree digging into your back, “Because it used to be enough just to be near you. But I’m greedy, I want more than that!”

And maybe there was more truth in those words than either of you knew. 

Yonji was upon you. 

You thought this might happen one day. If it wasn’t Yonji, you wouldn’t have been overly surprised if one of the other Vinsmoke brothers decided to finally get rid of you for good. Ichiji had gotten close for sure. 

And perhaps that was the reason why… 

“Genes don’t make up everything about a person, and they certainly don’t make you more or less than human!” 

Yonji cocked his fist, and he didnt quite know what he expected in that moment. Because, like every other time he had taken his rage out on you, threatened you, and debased you, you looked at him with wide eyes. Wide eyes that didn’t hold an ounce of fear in them.

“You know how to love… I just want to know…” you cried softly as you closed your eyes.

Yonji’s fist struck the tree trunk behind your head, sending it crashing and skidding far into the background. 

It didn’t escape him how your closed eyes only twitched instinctively at the sound of the impact or how your body quivered with stress. But you remained, standing in such close proximity, eyes closed. 

The world enveloped the noise and the collateral. Silence overtook the two of you, suffocating Yonji’s burning rage until only smoke remained. 

His arm lowered, and his head with it. Yonji’s mouth wasn’t too far from your ear. 

“You already know what the answer is,” he hissed, fatigue dripping from his words. His chest heaved. He glanced out of the side of his eye to find that you were already staring at him with lidded eyes. Yonji shifted his head, his nose almost touching yours. 

“I want to hear you say it. I just need to hear you say that you don’t love me,” you whispered, the words spoken almost against his lips. Your eyes scrunched, almost as if you were going to cry again. Your hand found his, your fingers ghosting around each other’s as if your touch would electrify you both. Yonji could already see the tears coming back to prick at your eyes. “Please,” your voice nearly stopped his heart. It was barely above a whisper. “Let me go.”

Yonji pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. 

“I don’t experience love. I will never love you or anything else,” he said. Low. Resigned. Emotionless. Another halfhearted chuckle escaped him. “But why should that matter, huh?” He smiled. “You really thought I loved you? All this time while you’ve been embarrassing yourself and fawning over me, did you really think that you could, what? Have your selfish emotions and throw a fit… Trick a prince into loving you?”

He spoke quieter than either of you expected. 

”No,” you breathed, “I never thought anything of it because… I think I knew that I didn’t belong in Germa. I thought there might— I thought I saw, I don’t know, something that I knew didn’t make sense.”

You slowly pulled away.

“Goodbye, Master Yonji.” 

He felt you leave before he opened his eyes. 

***

It felt like the world generated around him anew, like gravity doubled in weight and settled directly on Yonji’s chest. 

You were gone, and he let you. 

He let you, and it ate at him that he let you. 

He wanted to rage. He wanted to destroy the landscape around him. He wanted to laugh at the memory of you and strut off to find a new toy to play with. He wanted to yawn, shrugging your interaction off like the minute moment it was. 

But for as much as Yonji wanted to act, the only thing his body was capable of was standing exactly where you left him. His joints felt stiff, like a bundle of hinges in need of oil. His stomach ached like a sea king had bodied him. And for all the thoughts that could have circulated his brain, Yonji was left with none. 

A heavy shot pierced through his very being as gravity pulled him down to the ground. Yonji braced both hands on the ground, clutching fistfuls of grass and weeds. 

For a moment, the thought that you had lured him out to ambush him darted across his mind. It was the quickest explanation for what must’ve been a gaping gunshot in his chest. But not only did he bring you up the hill, but he had felt this very sensation before. 

Yonji’s chest heaved in and out at an accelerated rate, his lungs desperate for air that he couldn’t seem to keep hold of. The lack of oxygen further muddled his mind, making the world around him spin. 

Raindrops hit the ground between his braced hands, and Yonji’s spinning head made little of the spotless blue sky above him. 

***

You had never bolted up the excessive flight of stairs up to your tower faster. Despite the familiar scenery, everything felt far too foreign after your latest interaction with Yonji. It was as if the walls bent down over you, peering at you with cold, stone faces to dub you no longer welcome within the library tower. 

Compared to the all-too-sunny outside, the annex seemed pitch-black. An abundance of light radiated from the window adjacent to your cot, but the sheer amount of tall bookshelves that littered the rest of the room blocked the sunlight from stretching any farther than the corner. 

You lit a match, fumbling with it for a moment before the flame took hold of the wick of a handheld candle. You scrambled around the dusty corners, fishing out a traveling pack from between a bundle of textbooks. The material was faded and old, but would serve to be sturdy enough to hold the few belongings you had amassed during your time in Germa. 

You didn’t even realize that the ship was beginning to move. 

***

By the time Yonji arrived at the docks, storm clouds were already beginning to roll in the distance. Despite the clear blue sky above him, he could practically smell the thunderstorm that was brewing in the distance. It was like you were trying to tell him earlier… and he had brushed you off. 

Yonji hurried throughout the chunk of dock where his fleet was, counting his ships like ducklings as his eyes frantically searched for the tall peak of your library. His hand shot out, stopping a passing soldier roughly, almost knocking the man off his feet.

“Where the hell did they dock the archive?” Yonji gruffed. 

“I’m not sure, Master Yonji—”

“Yonji, my dear, that ship is long gone.” 

The soldier scurried off as Yonji turned to find Ursula and her posse of soldiers and attendants blocking the way. Her hair and makeup were done up even more intricately than usual. 

Yonji instinctively grinned at the sight of her, but as his brows rose, the muscles in his face fought and twitched as confusion set in. His face contorted between a puppy-like excitement, the scrunch of his brow, and a burst of adrenaline that Yonji had never felt before.

“What do you mean?” His body moved to take a step toward her, but he came to an abrupt stop mid-step. Yonji’s wide grin twitched, jumping from a beaming smile to a furious scowl and back. 

“Yonji, honey, I set that ship to drift off hours ago,” Ursula hummed, rocking on her heels. She focused her attention on her manicured nails, completely missing the array of expressions that contorted Yonji’s face. 

Yonji’s face finally settled on an expression. His eyes narrowed, a neutral scowl settling on his lips. 

“What do you mean you set it to drift?”

Ursula strutted forward, oblivious to Yonji’s more than apparent dismay. She stood at the edge of the dock, looking down into the water.

“My mother used to say if you didn’t like something, give it to the sea,” she said, looking down into the ripples made against the supports of the dock. She turned toward Yonji, beaming a Cheshire grin. “The sharks will be more than happy to take care of it for you.”

Even with his superior eyes, Yonji could barely see the archival ship in the distance. It was a speck on the horizon, surrounded by black storm clouds. Sparks of lightning cracked in the vastness. But it was the very top of the tower that truly held Yonji’s attention—an unmistakable wisp of bright orange. 

Yonji’s hand shot to where he typically kept his raid suit, only to find the pocket empty. He did a double-take, not used to not having his suit on hand, before he remembered surrendering it. 

Ursula grabbed Yonji by the arm, yanking him backward. He hardly budged. Ursula strained to position herself to take up his attention, stepping on his foot with her heel as she did so.

“Don’t give me that look,” Ursula frowned, “That beastly rat attacked me in that ship, and I was more than happy to throw the pest out with the trap. In fact, I insisted that it be the case if this marriage was going to move forward. I knew I had a fixer-upper, sure. I didn’t mind that part, but we absolutely had to do something about this abnormal affliction you were beginning to develop. Your relationship with that pest was unnatural.”

Ursula clicked her quaint kitten heels together. They were white today with delicate, rose accents. 

“Either the wallpaper goes, or I do,” she announced triumphantly, nudging Yonji in the ribs as she wrapped her arms around his bicep. “See? I’m getting into that reading stuff already.”

Quietly and unceremoniously, Yonji removed his cape. 

“Aw, is that for me? It’s a bit breezy over here. We should go inside and prepare—”

Then, Yonji stepped back and removed his shirt and his shoes.

“We both knew this was never gonna work out. You’re not really my type,” he yawned, stretching lightly. Yonji gave Ursula a sharp swat on the ass, launching her into the sea. Her high-pitched scream seemed to grow softer the farther she went. She skipped on the water like a stone before falling into the sea altogether with a plop. 

Yonji wasted no time diving into the water, but not after Ursula. 

***

It felt like a dream as the ship felt as though it were falling. The churning mass of waves taller than buildings below played roughly with the lone snail, rocking it side to side. The books in the annex had already fallen from their shelves. Despite fixtures in place for vertical maneuvers, you neither had the time nor the help in fastening everything before your ship drifted into the oncoming storm.

The snail itself had retreated entirely back into its shell, leaving what you had deduced was just you, alone in the highest tower of the library. Your bag of belongings had been lost somewhere in the room. The candle you used to light your way fell into a nest of dust and old paper, igniting the tower in a blaze. 

You found yourself where you always seemed to be: in your usual corner, braced just under the window. The flames suffocated you from one side, and the open window above you threatened you with the existential view of the endless void of the ocean far below. 

The sea played with the snail shell like a child with a new toy, swinging you back and forth. The animal itself would be fine, but the structure built on the back of its shell would easily succumb to the sea. 

The motion of the tower felt humbling, terrifying. Celestial. Almost as if the universe itself heard your declaration that you were no longer dedicating yourself to Germa and decided that you had no other uses. Being by Yonji’s side was what gave you purpose, after all… at least you thought it did. 

It was never supposed to last. Ichiji made that much clear. Yonji himself made as much clear. 

You gripped the bottom shelf of a nearby bookshelf, closing your eyes as you tried to fight the nausea. Sea and fire closed in on you. Smoke quickly filled the annex, the open window too small an opening to keep it from building up. 

Just when you decided to live. 

So much for that…

You heard a heavy thud from somewhere in the annex, likely from shelves giving out under the weight of their books as they weakened with the fire. Things seemed to shift as the fire roared, the movement of the ship sending blazing objects sliding and flying through the smoke.

Another heavy thud and what almost sounded like your name.

The unclean air was making you dizzy, suffocating you from the inside. The sound of crashing sent a shockwave throughout your system, jolting you up as the bookshelf in front of you crumpled into the embers. 

You thought you were seeing things.

Yonji.

Disheveled. 

Frenzied. 

He called your name, his hand reaching out toward you.

It was a cruel illusion of your mind as you died… bringing him here. 

“Yonji,” you muttered, barely conscious. 

“What are you doing, dumbass? Why are you just lying there? Get up!” He was hazy… so hazy. 

“Yonji,” you groaned. “No… It can’t…”

He shot through the flames, soaking wet with soot covering his body. 

“You got no survival instinct or something? Was your big plan to leave throwing yourself onto a sinking ship?!” Yonji scooped you up by the armpits— yep, he was the real thing, alright— dragging you to your knees. He kneeled in front of you. 

“I thought I told you to let me go!” you cried. Dizzy. Delusional. 

The adjacent bookshelf, now adorned with flames, came crashing down over you. You let out a shrill scream as Yonji caught it with one hand, not taking his eyes off you for a moment. 

“Well, yeah. But you forgot one thing, and god dammit, I forgot it too!” Yonji admitted, continuing to stare at you as he forced the bookshelf the opposite way. A cocky smirk creeped onto his lips. He grabbed your shoulder, pulling you close to him as he jabbed a finger to your chest. “You forgot that I’m an asshole and I don’t listen to anyone! You hear me?!” 

It might’ve been the smoke, but Yonji’s sky-blue eyes began to water. His smile stretched wider than you had ever seen it. And it was something about it. It was something about the joy on his face. 

He had laughed before. Smiled— smirked before. But this?

But joy?

“Let’s get out of here.” 

He pulled you up to your feet, and you immediately began coughing. 

“We can’t— I can’t go that way,” you sputtered. Yonji glanced hurriedly at the blaze that engulfed nearly the entirety of the room. You wondered, in a split second of amusement amongst the terrifying experience at hand, if Yonji might have forgotten you weren’t fireproof. 

Yonji immediately dove into the debris, trying to clear a path through. 

But the waves had other plans. The ship rocked, and with the mess around you, you stumbled back toward the open window. Your widened eyes met Yonji’s for the briefest moment.

The glass had shattered a while ago from the heat, leaving nothing to catch you as you fell out through the window. 

He didn’t hesitate in leaping after you, kicking off the windowsill as he dove straight down. You could feel your momentum building against your back, fear sending shockwaves as your body twisted in the air. And yet, you extended your arms out toward Yonji. 

He shifted his mass as he fell, teeth clenched and an expression of panicked desperation on his face as he reached out toward you, shouting your name. 

Your fingers nearly slipped, nearly missing each other. But Yonji didn’t let you slip from his grasp twice, his large hands clamping onto yours like you were the last salvation on earth. He pulled you close to him. 

Time stopped for one singular moment. The universe stopped to give you just the right amount of time to touch your lips to Yonji’s and for him to kiss you with the a force greater than the waves below you. 

You separated. A singular moment stretched out into millions. 

Yonji wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head below his chin as he braced you both for impact. 

On that day, Yonji Vinsmoke, the fourth prince and another son of Germa, was declared lost at sea.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X (Finale)(????)

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI , Part VII , Part VIII

Summary: despite your last encounter with Vi, you still hope that she shows up at celebration party. And she does.

Warnings/themes : fluff, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, smut , swearing,explicit content

Word cound : 5.4k

“Look at you,” Revek greeted, his voice dripping with mockery as you stepped into the bar. His arms were crossed, an insufferable grin plastered across his face. “Never seen you like this before. Got a date or somethin’?”

“Shut up, old man,” you muttered, punching him in the shoulder—not too hard, but enough to make him wince and rub at it. “You’re the one who told me to dress up. Practically held a gun to my head about it.” Your boots echoed against the floor as you took in the place.

The bar looked… different. Not massively, but enough. Dusty garlands hung precariously over the windows, and mismatched string lights blinked lazily, casting warm yellow pools of light on the sticky bar top. The faint smell of cheap cider hung in the air. Revek tried. You had to give him that.

“It’s… nice,” you admitted with a small smile, tilting your head as you walked toward the bar. “Real festive, Rev.”

“Glad you noticed,” he said, stepping closer with a smug look. “By the way,” he added, leaning on the counter like he was about to drop some grand revelation, “I hired someone else to bartend tonight. Y’know, so you can loosen up a bit.”

You blinked, instantly suspicious. “Loosen up?” you repeated, frowning as your brows knit together. “I’m fine. I don’t need to loosen up, I can handle working and celebrating whatever this whole…”—you gestured vaguely around—“…thing is.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper.” His grin widened. “What if Vi shows up?”

The air instantly felt heavier. Her name hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you froze. That single name was enough to make your mind spin. Vi. Her. Last night flashed through your thoughts in an instant, every maddening, conflicting piece of it. The way her voice cracked when she finally opened up to you. How her words, her story, intertwined with yours so unexpectedly. Her touch. God, her touch—the warmth of her fingers sliding against your own, the way her hand lingered just a moment longer than it needed to.

But then, like cold water crashing down, the rest of it hit you: her fists, the sting of her slap, her cruel words cutting deep. Those same beautiful, icy blue eyes that stared you down like you were nothing…

No. You couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about her like that again. She wasn’t worth it.

“She’ll probably show up with some new date,” you mumbled bitterly, trying to shove the thoughts away. You leaned over the bar, grabbing a glass to wipe down just to give your hands something to do. “She always has some company, so don’t worry about it.”

Revek’s smirk didn’t fade. He saw through you, and you hated it. “Uh-huh,” he said knowingly. “Don’t tell me you two finally had a civil conversation for once.”

“Something like that,” you muttered, focusing intently on the glass in your hand as though your life depended on it. “Found her passed out outside my apartment. Turns out, she lives right below me. Great, right?” You let out a dry laugh and glanced at him. “Had to drag her to her place. And before you ask—nothing happened. We just talked for like, five seconds, and I left. Same old story.”

“Sure.” He wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “And now you’re dressed to kill, looking like you’re waiting for someone.”

You rolled your eyes. “I hope she doesn’t show up,” you muttered under your breath. But you knew it was a lie.

That tight feeling in your chest didn’t go away. You didn’t dress up for anyone—except maybe her. The way your heart had leapt at the thought of her walking in, the flicker of anticipation you felt just imagining her stepping through that door… it was maddening. That’s why you put on your best dress. That’s why you walked past her window before coming here, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, though you’d never admit it.

You wanted her here. More than anything, you wanted her to show up. And that was terrifying.

The night dragged on. The bar was packed, buzzing with life. Laughter echoed through the room, glasses clinked together, and people danced to the lively beat of the old jukebox in the corner. It was the kind of chaos that most people thrived on, but you didn’t. Not tonight. You sat on the barstool, swirling the amber liquid in your glass, feeling utterly out of place. Revek had banned you from working tonight—said something about letting you have “fun for once,” though it felt more like punishment than a gift. You were pissed at him, sure, but you couldn’t deny that the atmosphere was… kind of nice. People were happy. You could see it on their flushed, carefree faces as they danced, as they laughed, as they forgot about whatever weighed them down outside these walls. Part of you was happy for them. Really. But the other part? The restless, uneasy part of you? That part was waiting.

For her.

Every time the door creaked open, your heart jumped in your chest. Was it her? The answer was always no. Someone else walked in—a group of girls, a couple, even Revek stepping out for a smoke. But not her.

She wasn’t coming.

By your third drink, the dull ache in your chest wouldn’t leave you alone. You couldn’t blame her for not showing up, could you? You had ruined what could’ve been a real, honest moment between the two of you. You bolted, like the damn coward you were. The memory of her soft voice, her vulnerability, it twisted something inside you. You weren’t used to seeing that side of her.It had shaken you in ways you didn’t want to admit. But she didn’t owe you anything. Least of all her presence tonight. You tilted your glass to your lips, taking another slow sip. That’s when he showed up.

A tall, gangly guy in a too-tight shirt, already unbuttoned enough to show a bit more chest hair than you ever wanted to see. His steps were wobbly, his eyes glassy with a drunk sort of hunger, and you instantly knew what he wanted.

“Looks like you’d enjoy some company,” he slurred as he leaned far too close, his sour breath making you wince. “It’s a shame a beautiful girl like you’s sitting all by herself. Someone’s gotta fix that.”

“No, thanks,” you said quickly, your voice cool and dismissive. You turned your attention back to your drink, hoping he’d take the hint. But of course, he didn’t.

“Aw, c’mon,” he chuckled, moving closer. Too close. The stool creaked as you shifted away, only for him to follow like a bad shadow. “Don’t play hard to get.”

“I’m not playing,” you snapped, setting your drink down and standing up, forcing him back with a small shove. “I said go away.”

He smirked at your resistance like it was some kind of game. “Don’t be like that, pretty face. Let’s dance. Shake off that sad little mood of yours.”

You gripped your glass tighter, your fingers trembling as you debated throwing it right in his smug face. You were seconds away from following through when you felt it: a soft hand sliding around your waist, a presence so sudden and so familiar that it made your breath hitch.

“She’s not alone,” a voice cut in, steady and firm. “She’s with me.”

You froze. That voice. Her voice.

The stranger backed off slightly, his smugness faltering, but you couldn’t move. Slowly, you turned your head, and there she was.

Vi.

Her grip on your waist tightened just slightly, pulling you closer into her, almost as if she were staking some kind of claim. Her touch was warm, grounding. The fire in those icy blue eyes was unlike anything you’d seen before.The guy stammered something under his breath—an excuse or an apology, maybe—but you didn’t hear it. You didn’t care. Vi didn’t either, her gaze locking onto yours now that he was backing away.

“Vi,” you whispered, her name catching in your throat.

“Hey,” she said softly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Her hand lingered on your waist a moment longer before falling away, though you could still feel the warmth it left behind.

“you came, why?” you stammered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bar around you.

She raised a brow, that infuriatingly cocky smirk making a brief appearance. “What do you think? Making sure no one harasses you,” she teased lightly, before her voice softened. “And… maybe I just wanted to see you.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest, but you tried to play it cool. “I didn't need your help" you brushed her comment off " and you could’ve shown up earlier,” you said, your voice lacking the bite you were hoping for.

“I could’ve,” she admitted, her smirk fading, replaced by something more sincere. “But I didn’t know if I’d be welcome after… you know.”

You bit your lip, suddenly remembering every conflicting emotion from last night. The way you ran, the things she said, the feelings she stirred in you—all of it swirled in your mind like a storm.

And yet… here she was.

“Well,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face to give yourself something to do, “you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice low and steady, her gaze not leaving yours for a second. “I am.”

The rest of the bar faded away, the music, the noise, the people—it was all background to the way Vi looked at you just then, and for the first time that night, you didn’t care about anything else. She finally let you go, her hand lingering for just a second longer than it needed to, like neither of you really wanted the moment to end. But now that it did, an awkward silence filled the space between you. After everything that had happened yesterday, neither of you knew how to break it. The air was heavy with too many unspoken emotions swirling in the space between you two. You glanced at her, and she glanced at you, both searching for something, anything, to say.

“Uh, want some?” you blurted, grabbing your glass and holding it out toward her. It was the first thing that popped into your head, and you instantly regretted how awkward it sounded.

Vi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, I’m good this time,” she said, her voice lighter than you’d expected.

You blinked. That answer surprised you. She was always the one with a drink in her hand, always ordering another round, always numbing whatever storm brewed inside her. Sober Vi? That was new. And it threw you off a little, mostly because you didn’t know how to handle her like this. But, in some strange way, it made you feel lighter, too. After everything she’d said to you yesterday—how she’d opened up in ways that shocked you—it was as if she didn’t need to hide from herself right now. And maybe, just maybe, that was because of you. Your chest tightened at the thought. Maybe you weren’t as terrible for her as you sometimes felt. Maybe, like her, you were chasing off her demons just as she was chasing off yours. That realization felt… nice.

“Listen,” you started, your voice tentative as you set your glass down. You hesitated, catching her eyes before continuing. “About yesterday…”

Vi looked up at you, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours in that way that made the rest of the world disappear. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice soft. She stepped just a little closer, giving you her full attention.

“I was just…” you trailed off, taking another sip of your drink. The words felt stuck in your throat. What were you even trying to say? That she scared you? That you didn’t know how to handle whatever was happening between you? That you wanted her close, but the thought of it terrified you just as much as it excited you? You swallowed hard and looked at her again, your voice quiet as you said, “I got scared.”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

Her voice was calm, understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “It scares you,” she said, her words slow, deliberate. “This… whatever this is.” She motioned between you two, her own gaze faltering for a moment before she met yours again.

Her smile faded slightly, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. “It scares me too,” she admitted. “After going through so much shit, being close to someone—anyone—scares the hell out of me. I don’t want it. I tell myself that, over and over. Because there’s always a chance…” She took a shaky breath and looked down at her hands, fidgeting for a second. “There’s always a chance it’ll end badly. Just like it always does.”

Her words struck a chord deep inside you. You didn’t interrupt, didn’t dare speak, as she continued.

“I wasn’t even going to come tonight,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I told myself I shouldn’t. That it was better if I didn’t. That maybe it’d hurt less if I stayed away.”

You felt your heart sink at those words, but then she looked back up at you, and there was something fierce in her eyes—a softness, yes, but also resolve.

“But I’m here,” she said simply. “I’m here because… I wanted to see you.” She stepped closer now, the space between you two growing impossibly small. “Even if it scares me, even if it’s probably the worst idea in the world… I still wanted to see you.”

Her words sent a warmth spreading through you, one you didn’t know what to do with. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Every single thing she’d said described exactly how you felt. She put into words what you couldn’t. The fear, the vulnerability, the way you didn’t want to let her in but couldn’t stand the thought of her not being there.You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but all you could focus on was how close she was now, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from her. Her eyes softened, like she could sense your struggle.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, and for once, she didn’t seem like the brash, bold version of Vi that you were used to. She was just Vi—raw and human and real. “You don’t have to say anything.”

The words hung there between you, the silence no longer awkward, but instead filled with something… more.You wanted to reach out. Wanted to touch her hand or tell her that you understood, that you felt it too. That it scared you just as much, but damn it, you couldn’t imagine not trying, not when she was standing here, looking at you like that. But instead, you stayed frozen, your heart pounding as you just stared at her, the words trapped in your chest.

And for the first time, the noise in your mind—the constant whirlwind of doubt and fear and second-guessing—was quiet. Completely quiet. All that was left was her.

“Wanna dance?”Your voice cut through the hum of the crowd, soft but certain. She turned to you, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and curiosity.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” she replied, a small, playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Neither am I,” you admitted, but that didn’t stop you. Reaching out, you took her hand, warm and steady in yours, and led her toward the crowded dance floor. Blue lights flickered across the room, casting shadows and highlights on her face as laughter and music filled the air. Turning to face her, you stepped closer, letting the beat guide your movements. You weren’t trying to impress anyone; you just wanted to feel her presence, the magnetic pull between you both. At first, she hesitated, but within seconds, she was moving with you, her rhythm syncing effortlessly with yours.

And suddenly, it was like the world around you faded. The voices, the lights, the sea of people—they all melted into the background. It was just you and her, tangled in the moment, caught in something unspoken but undeniably real. You found yourself stepping even closer, your hands sliding up to rest lightly on her shoulders. Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second, and you took the chance to really see her. The way her hair framed her face like it was painted to perfection, the faint freckles scattered across her nose, the sharp, deep blue of her eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies. And then, your gaze fell to her lips—soft, inviting, impossibly tempting. You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself against the overwhelming urge to close the distance. The music shifted, one song blending seamlessly into the next, but you didn’t care. She was your only focus, the center of your universe in that moment.Then, without a word, her hand rose, brushing gently against your cheek. Her touch was light, almost hesitant, as though she was afraid to cross a line. Her eyes locked on yours, searching, reading you like an open book. She must have known—she must have seen the fear you carried, the uncertainty of being this close to someone.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, so quietly it felt like a secret meant only for you. Her voice was steady, but her expression was something else entirely—vulnerable, open, like she was baring a part of herself she rarely let anyone see.

The words hit you harder than they should have, and for a moment, all you could do was look at her. You wanted to say something, anything, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Instead, you smiled—a small, shaky thing that spoke more than words ever could—and leaned forward, letting your forehead rest gently against hers. Your hands slid down, settling lightly at her waist, and you felt her body relax under your touch. Slowly, carefully, you leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. Her body was strong beneath you, her presence grounding, and you let yourself melt into her. She smelled faintly of something warm and familiar, like the promise of comfort, and the scent wrapped around you, making the rest of the world fade even further.You closed your eyes, letting your nose graze the curve of her neck, and you felt her shiver—just barely—under your touch. She didn’t pull away, though. Instead, her arms came around you, holding you closer, her touch firm but tender. It was like she knew exactly what you needed, without you ever having to ask.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about the past or worrying about the future. You weren’t scared of the intimacy, the closeness that always felt too much to handle. You were just… here. With her.

You didn’t know how long you’d been like this—standing so close, barely breathing, lost in the rhythm of each other—but eventually, you noticed the dwindling number of people around you. The once-lively bar had grown quiet, its energy now muted as the night crept toward its end.

“Looks like we got carried away,” you mumbled, letting out a soft chuckle, your voice breaking the silence between you.

“You think so?” she teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She laughed, her voice low and husky, as you turned around to see Revek tidying up the last remnants of the night.

“One second,” you murmured to Vi, reluctant to let the moment slip away but making your way over to the big man behind the bar.

“Hey, big guy,” you said with a smile.

“Well, hello there,” he replied, smirking. “Had a good time?” he added , already knowing the answer

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a few empty glasses to help him clean. “It’s late. You should go home, rest for a bit. You’ve done all of this alone. The least I can do is help,” you said earnestly, offering him a warm smile.

“Ah, don’t worry about me,” he replied, his gaze flicking to Vi. “Looks like you’ve got better things to do right now.”

Vi must have overheard because she stepped closer, crossing her arms with that cocky smirk of hers. “I can help,” she said, her voice light. “Consider it my apology for almost killing some random asshole in your bar.”

Revek let out a genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking. “Well, if you two insist,” he said, putting down the cups he’d been holding, “I could use a bit of rest.”

With that, Vi joined you, grabbing chairs and setting them back in place. The minutes ticked by, and before long, the bar was empty, quiet—just the two of you left alone in the stillness.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you wiped down one of the tables.

“It was just an excuse to stay longer with you,” she admitted, her smirk widening as she went back to stacking chairs.

“So, you’re telling me you’re not sorry for almost killing that guy?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really. He deserved it,” she muttered.

Your gaze fell on the pink liquor bottle sitting innocently on the table. Its soft glow in the dim light pulled a sad smile from your lips. It was one of those small, unassuming moments that carried the weight of a memory, and Vi, being Vi, noticed it immediately. Her sharp eyes softened as she stepped closer, tilting her head slightly.

“What is it?” she asked gently, her voice low and cautious, like she already knew it wasn’t something light.You blinked, startled out of your thoughts by her question. For a moment, you debated brushing it off, but something about the way she looked at you—steady, patient—made you let out a small sigh.

“Um…” you began, your voice shaky as you tried to find the words. “I just remembered something.” You paused, glancing at her before returning your gaze to the bottle. “My mom used to buy this same liquor. She loved it. Every weekend, she’d pour herself a glass or two.”

Vi stepped closer, her expression unreadable but her presence grounding. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t press, just listened.

“My brother, sister, and I always wanted to taste it so bad,” you continued, a faint, bittersweet smile curling your lips. “It looked so… magical. Like it had to taste as amazing as it looked. But, of course, Mom never let us have any.” You chuckled softly, the sound trembling just enough for Vi to hear the cracks underneath it. She leaned in slightly, her hand brushing the edge of the table, her body language pulling you closer without a word. “One time,” you said, the memory blooming fresh in your mind, “after she fell asleep, we made this grand plan to sneak into the kitchen and steal it.” You smiled, the edges of your lips trembling as you spoke. “We got it—three of us, crammed behind the sofa, passing around one cup. We were so excited.” Your voice softened, your gaze falling to your hands as if they still held that cup. “It tasted awful.” You laughed again, this time with a little more warmth. “But none of us wanted to admit it. We were too proud, too happy that we’d finally gotten our hands on Mom’s ‘magic liquor.’”

Vi’s eyes never left you, her expression unreadable but heavy with something that felt like understanding. She stepped closer, now only inches from you, her presence steady and grounding. Her voice was quieter now, softer, like she didn’t want to disturb the fragility of the moment.

“What happened to them?” she asked, the sincerity in her tone cutting through the air like a blade.

The smile on your face faltered, cracking under the weight of the question. You hesitated, your lips parting but no words coming out at first. Finally, you forced yourself to meet her gaze, your voice barely above a whisper.

“My mom and sister… they’re gone. Dead.” You swallowed hard, the word catching in your throat. “As for my brother…” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “He left one day. Said he needed to ‘find himself.’ Never came back.” Your eyes flicked back to hers, raw and unfiltered. “Maybe he’s dead, too. I have no fucking clue.”

Vi stepped even closer, her body brushing against yours now. Her hand came up, hesitating for a moment before gently tilting your chin so you couldn’t look away. Her touch was careful, like she was afraid you might shatter. Her gaze locked onto yours, deep and unrelenting, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background.

Her eyes flicked to your lips, lingering just long enough for you to notice. The air between you thickened, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. Her presence was so comforting, so overwhelming, it made your chest ache. You hated it—the way she made you feel safe, the way she made you want something you’d sworn off. It terrified you.

And yet, you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Her hands found your waist, her grip firm but so incredibly gentle as she pulled you closer. The gap between you vanished, and you felt her breath on your lips, warm and unsteady. Her eyes searched yours, asking silently for permission, but you were already gone.

"Just this one time , never again" you thought to yourself.

Her lips met yours softly at first, brushing against them in a way that was almost hesitant, like she was testing the waters. The warmth of her mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but lean into her, letting your hands find their way to her shoulders. The kiss deepened slowly, her lips molding to yours with a tenderness that made your heart race. It was like she was teasing you, coaxing you to want more, and, it worked. A soft moan slipped from your lips as her hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer. Your fingers tangled in her messy pink hair, tugging gently, and she let out a low groan that sent heat pooling in your stomach. The kiss turned hungrier, more desperate, as her tongue brushed against yours, and you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into her. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face like she was memorizing every detail. Her lipstick was smudged, her breathing heavy, and that damn smirk of hers—it drove you insane.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, like the words had slipped out before she could stop them.

Her lips found yours again, stealing whatever reply you might’ve had. Her hands slid lower, gripping your waist as she guided to the bar , turning you , bending you over. Every movement, every touch, was so intentional, so consuming, it made your head spin. Her lips trailed down the back of your neck, her kisses slow and deliberate, sending waves of heat through your body. Her hands slid up your thighs, slipping under your dress as her fingers found the edge of your panties.

"You sound desperate," she mocked, her breath warm against your ear, the teasing tone sending shivers cascading down your spine. Her lips barely grazed your skin, and you groaned, half out of frustration and half from the building tension, before reaching up and gripping her wrist. With a quick motion, you spun her around, reversing your positions with a confidence you weren’t sure you even possessed. She smirked, clearly impressed, but her smirk faltered when your hands slipped beneath her shirt. You lifted the tank top slowly, savoring the way the fabric revealed inch after inch of her toned body. When it was gone, you discarded it carelessly, leaving her gloriously bare from the waist up. Your eyes roamed her figure, drinking in every detail. Her tattoos wound across her skin like artful stories, the dark ink contrasting with the golden hue of her muscles. Your gaze lingered on her breasts, the perfect curve of them, the way her nipples hardened under your attention.

She chuckled softly, but the way her chest rose and fell betrayed how your words affected her. You leaned in, placing featherlight kisses along her neck. She tilted her head, giving you full access, her breathing hitching when your lips began their slow descent. Your tongue traced the line of her collarbone before you stopped at her nipple, flicking it gently with the tip. Her gasp was sharp, her hands flying to your shoulders as if to steady herself. You didn’t stop. Your lips closed around the sensitive peak, sucking gently before swirling your tongue over it. Her moans filled the room, her head falling back as her body pressed closer to yours, seeking more. She was utterly at your mercy, and you reveled in it. Just as her breathing turned ragged, you pulled back, your lips hovering mere millimeters from hers. She leaned in for a kiss, but you smirked and pulled away.

"And who’s desperate now?" you whispered, your voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Suddenly, her strong hands gripped your waist. Effortlessly, she hoisted you off the floor like you weighed nothing. A surprised laugh escaped you, but it was cut short when she placed you down on the edge of the bar stool. Her piercing gaze locked onto yours as she slid her hands along your thighs, hiking your dress up to your hips in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, and a shiver ran through you, anticipation coiling low in your stomach. Without a word, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, the slow drag of fabric against your skin making your breath hitch.

“You’re dripping for me already,” she teased, her voice low and husky.

Before you could retort, she dropped to her knees, her hands spreading your thighs apart. Her eyes stayed locked on yours as she leaned in, the warmth of her breath making your core tighten. When her tongue finally flicked over you, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. She worked slowly at first, her tongue sliding through your folds. She circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm, before pulling away slightly to kiss the sensitive skin around it.

“Vi…” you whimpered, your hands tangling in her short hair, pulling her closer. She hummed in response, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

She buried her face deeper, her tongue lapping at you with unrelenting intensity. Her hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as your hips bucked involuntarily. She alternated between slow, teasing flicks of her tongue and firm, languid strokes that had you teetering on the edge of bliss.

“You taste so fucking good,” she groaned against you, the words sending another wave of heat pooling in your core. Her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before she slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right. Your back arched off the stool, a cry escaping your throat as the pressure built, her fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony.

“Oh, fuck—Vi, I’m—” you tried to warn her, but your words dissolved into a broken moan as the orgasm tore through you. Your thighs trembled around her head, and your vision blurred as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless. She didn’t stop, her movements slowing to help you ride out the high until you were left quivering and utterly spent.

She finally pulled away, her lips and chin glistening as she looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. She stood up, planting passionate kiss on your lips . Groaning, you pulled her even closer , as you tasted youself on her soft lips. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, a loud banging echoed through the bar doors, shattering the moment.

Both of you froze, your eyes meeting in shared surprise and frustration. “Guess we’re not alone anymore,” she muttered, standing and grabbing her tank top. But that mischievous glint in her eye told you this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Author note: Ahhhhhh !!! i can't with these two I love them too much ! it was my first time writing smut please spare me!! did you like it? do you like where story is going? please let me know!!

[pulchraa]

obsessions

parings; stalker! simon riley x reader summary; his little crush becomes something more. warnings; stalking, language, uh idk. a/n; ive been gone a while.... i had the sudden urge to write this while rewatching the movie thirteen. such a good movie btw. with that, enjoy <3 word count; 0.68k

he watched your dwindling figure linger near the bar. simon observed how you made little faces at the pestering men around you. barely noticeable, but there. you stayed within earshot of your group but also wandered, searching?

nah, what would a cute 'n too shy birdie like you be searchin' for at a place like this? simon thought to himself.

he and his own men sat at a round booth, all cackling and shouting to one another. the hunk grew tired of it at times- all the loud noise and banter made him crave peace, quiet, tranquility.

he turned his attention to his group. once again, joining the conversation. simons eyes wandered, but never too far from his new pet.

simons eyes wander to a man, seemingly headed towards your direction. he watches as the man glances back to his friends, they snicker and cheer him on.

in simons eyes, a man like that could never have good intentions with his bird.

he watches intently as the man comes up to you and introduces himself. simon is close enough within earshot to where he can hear bits and pieces of your conversation. the man introduces himself as arthur. simon continues watching as you and the man talk.

half an hour passes and he notices that you're growing uncomfortable with the man's touch after every passing minute. your eyes glass with fear as you look around for anyone who may be watching. simon would have to be crazy to not notice.

when arthur grabbed you by the arm and tried to pull you away is when simon had seen enough.

"the fucks 'ya problem? she don' want it, mate." his deep voice rumbling through the loud and clammy air. arthur looks him up and down, trying to size him up. simons presence only makes his grip on your arm tighten, causing you to let out a small wince.

your fingers gently attempt to pry his hand off, giving simon pleading looks of help.

"you know him?" arthur's eyes bore into mine, desperate to see through me.

"no... you're hurting me." you whisper to him gently. simons gritting teeth are hidden below his mask. he grabs the man's arm.

"wha'? you think m'fuckin' joking?" after another minute of sizing up one another, arthur backs down. he puts his hands up in surrender, slowly backing up.

"you okay?" he looks me up and down with a hint of concern in his eyes. i nod before thanking him and heading home for the night.

he follows you home that night. mustering up some shit excuse to the rest of the group about how hes 'had enough to drink f' the night.'

of course simon followed you home, he just couldn't leave his pet alone. he had to make sure you were okay, and that no creepy men were following you.

you always had a weird feeling to keep checking over your shoulder. it always felt like you had another set of eyes on you. i mean, it only made sense considering you found weird faint muddy boot prints on your porch. it had been raining that day. they were too big to be yours, and you didn't invite anyone over. at first, you thought it was a delivery guy, but you didn't have any packages on your mat or in your mailbox. hm, odd.

he always lurked. always around making sure you were safe and out of harm's way.

you walk through the grocery isles, pushing the cart filled lightly with items. you stop in front of the bread scanning for the one that looks the most enticing.

a light hand taps your shoulder. you turn to see a familiar face- or mask. "can i help you?" you ask softly

suddenly simon freezes up, is he actually doing this? you wait, your eyebrows raising in anticipation.

"could i get your number?"

the question was unexpected to say the least. a big and burly man like him asking for your number? this was not what you expected. but you say yes, how could his bird say no?

[billysgun]

textbook

who would've guessed the first man you would feel the burn of jealousy toward is billy the kid. you didn't know it, but for everyone else, your envy was obvious; it was textbook.

ive never been jealous before...well I'm jealous now.

|fluff with suggestive ending, reader is clueless to her feelings, loosely based on the ldr song|

your relationship with billy was unnamed. you trust each other with your lives as the others in the gang do, but you've seen more of each other than the gang has. you've both woken up next to each other, breathless and clotheless...a lot more than the gang has.

its never been talked about. it's just a stress relieving, few nights a week, come-to-my-room-lets-have-fun-type thing. nothin' else to say.

but you had a lot to say now. not very nice things to say, to the woman in front of you, sippin' drinks and sharing stories with the gang.

billy brought her back from god knows where a week ago. she was on the road and needed help, joined us. you were thrilled about another woman being here, another cowgirl. that was until you saw her eyes set on him.

the issue of...her...is a silent battle you are cursing yourself for. the word is so close on your tongue, but the whiskey you're downing is wiping it off. you won't even entertain the idea that you are acting envious of a man you're screwin'

its not because of the sparkle her eyes get when he talks, its how you're pretty damn sure his sparkle for her when she fuckin' breaths. thats what is making your insides twist right now.

"I think somethin' similar happened to y/n, right?" billy's voice snaps you out as the crowd around the crackling fire turn toward you. the girl says an excited oh?

"honestly, I didn't hear a fuckin' thing you just said" you murmur into your glass, the boys around you holler at your admission but billy glares at you before speaking up

"how about you put that glass down. think it's givin' you too much attitude" his eyes narrow

"nah, I'm being serious. can't think with all these damned hookers groanin' in there." you tilt your head toward the cabin full of women who are currently -loudly pleasuring most of the group right now. that makes billy scoff to hide his blush

"speakin' of which, Jesse, why you'd never get a man-whore for me? ya'know we're growin' in numbers now" you smile toward the girl who is leaning back, avoiding eye contact as she hides her face with her glass.

"you don't need to pay no man to fuck you darlin', just holler on me any night" Jesse says, and you roll your eyes

"yeah, thats enough out of you Jesse. Y/n, you're goin' to bed. now." Billy stands up, cutting the laughter from the group

"oh, don't get shy now, boy. just makin' moves" Jesse slaps Billy's thigh, but when he turns back at him, the look in his eye backs him off.

"whatever" you aren't gonna say for his crash out. opting to turn and walk toward the cabin as you vow to end your drink in bed, you don't notice the footsteps behind you.

as you turn to close your bedroom door, you find Billy's body doing the job, a dangerous look in his eyes.

"what was that?" he asks calmly, raging bubbling

"'was what?" you slur

"you want hookers all the fuckin' sudden? comin' onto Jesse, what, you wanted my attention, so what the fuck for?" he yells at you, you suddenly sober, and the taste of liquor on your lips sours

"you love her or what?" you whisper, you hate that your eyes burn, but they do. your throat tightens as his brows soften

"is this why you've been so cold to her? ya thought I brought her here to fuck?" he is offended, yes, but also just slightly amused.

"I don't know, why'd you bring me here?" your chest burns, almost wishing to fight. he grins at your drunken state of dramatics

"oh, I definitely brought you here to fuck" he says as your eyes widen and he slams his lips into yours.

an: shot story, short ending, had to get it off my chest to write something else hehe. sorry, its quite bad, my mind is else where and my computer keeps fucking up the text. thats why i ended it so soon to be honest lmaoo.

[uki01]

hey!! may i please request a dbbq froggy x reader romantic/fluff fic/hc piece? ive seen two others but love seeing everyones take on him.

we NEED more froggy fiction my guy is LACKING i am starved!!

no rush, and if you dont feel up to writing him for any reason, thats fine! i hope youre having a good day/night

”Get back to work!”

Froggy x Reader

Author’s Note: Froggy is a funny fella ain’t he? One of my favourites, I wish I had bros frog outfit, also he might be a bit OOC i apologise for that

Pairing: Romantic

Type: Headcanons and Fanfic

Warnings: None!

Froggy is proud to have you by your side

You first met Froggy through Ena when she convinced you to take this job since you were unemployed

It was a rough start but was worth at the end

You and Froggy work alongside together, so you two can grow an even stronger bond together

”These people can be very restless it’s frustrating! But their lucky enough to even have me and you by their side right Y/N?”

”Yeah sure”

Whenever the days over you two would go on dates, somewhere nice, or somehow in this wacky world

Whenever cuddling hours is in the works, he’s usually the bigger spoon with you guys either having you between his legs and arms or just in the couch hugging against each other and dozing off

Ena is you’re guys number one supporter

”My my! Why isn’t this such a lovely scenery, never thought that something like this would happen between you two?”

”Eh!? Stop poking around and get back to work Ena!”

I don’t see Froggy being into PDA, especially at work, so the closest thing you’ll get is holding hands with him

But inside in your guys house, hands everywhere, with consent!

He usually makes dinner and breakfast if you aren’t up early, I think he wakes up early just to get ready for work

Best cook ever

You guys switch topics really fast at home about anything really

”But seriously, I don’t think that should’ve happened anyways it could’ve gotten them in serious trouble and bad image” You said

”Yeah unlucky for them, I remember this one time I saw an pentagon helicopter” Froggy mentioned

Whenever you and Froggy have to work separately, Froggy would call you every hour just to make sure your okay

”Y/N! Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

”Froggy you said the exact same question one hour ago”

You two drink together whenever you guys are feeling down

Overall, Froggy is a funny lad and he loves to share his experiences with you because he loves you

it was you, and Froggy’s day off today, you two were just lounging about in your guys house, with Froggy bringing in some drinks

“Want some?” Froggy asked as he handed some to you

“Awh, thanks Froggy” You thanked him

“No problem” He said

You two clinked your cup of glass together and drink your drinks, you had an idea pop in your head as you settles the cup of glass on the coffee table and decided to put some music on, Michael Jackson

“Eh? What are you doing?” Froggy asked

“Putting on some music, wanna dance?” You asked as you started to walk up to him to pull him up

“Uh… I’m not much of a dancer that’s more of Ena’s style” Froggy shrugged, nervously

“Oh don’t worry! I won’t judge” You reassured hum

You two then started dancing to Michael Jackson, as the song kept progressing you can see Froggy have genuine fun and decided to take your hand and start dancing with each other, twirling and spinning around, laughter all around by your guys voices

“Froggy you’re a natural!” You laughed

“Heh! Guess that’s just my specialty huh?” Froggy grinned

With another few twirls you and Froggy laughed and kept dancing along the way, keep putting on more music and dancing along to rhythm, you didn’t care but just happy that it’s just you and Froggy

After all that, you two decide to read a book together cuddling each other with you between his grasp and him holding you and having his head on the top of your head

“This is nice… we should do this more often, wouldn’t you agree?” Froggy said looking down at you

“Of course, you didn’t even have to ask” You smiles as you looked up at him

You gave him a kiss to which it caught him off guard but just laughed and kissed you back and continued reading the book, this was heaven

Author’s Note: Hope this is good! Thanks for the request!

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 5

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 4.2k+ (Whoops!)

Note: This is less about the love triangle and more about our girl. I hope you still enjoy it!

xxx

I’ve never been good at asking for help. Even when everything gets too much, when the noise in George’s flat feels suffocating and the weight of the world presses down on me, I just keep it to myself. I smile through it, tell myself it will get better. It always does, right?

But tonight is different.

Sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop open, and the most fucked code I've ever seen. An email from my director that says "can you get this working by the 10am meeting tomorrow?".

I feel the tension building in my chest.

The noise around me, the sound of Arthur and Chris, the clinking of glasses, the sharp, jarring bursts of laughter from the living room. They all feel too loud. Too much.

I close my eyes, take a slow, deep breath, but it’s not enough. The lines of code blur, and the world outside feels distant. It’s like everything is just too big and I’m shrinking inside of it. Before I know it, tears start to spill, dripping down my cheeks and onto my laptop. I silently get up and move to my bedroom.

Its still not really a bedroom, but I do now own a bedframe and a mattress. And don’t forget a bedside table, courtesy of Reev sending me a Facebook marketplace listing. 

George and I built the bedframe last weekend. We bickered about what went where, and I got mad at him for putting the headboard on wrong. He said it gave it 'character' and it fits in with the rest of the room.

My door opens without warning. I don’t even hear him come down the hallway, I just see George standing there, frozen for a second when he notices me. His usual easy smile falters, and instead of offering some flippant joke or trying to make it better, he juat sits beside me, and stays quiet. His presence is grounding, comforting in a way that I don’t expect.

“You okay?” His voice is gentle, the teasing gone, replaced with something softer, something more real. This is the tone ive only heard from george a few times. I’ve heard it maybe three or four times since we’ve known each other, and each time, it’s been when I’m at a breaking point. When my walls are about to crack, and he’s the only one who notices before I do.

The first time was when I got dumped the first time, all the pressure of deadlines suddenly feeling unbearable. He offered me his spare room without a second thought.  Then, there was that night after I had the fight with my sister. George stayed up with me, letting me vent for hours about all the things I couldn’t say to her. The last was when I rung him to tell him my grandma passed, that I was moving back to Brisbane. He didn’t fight me on it, saying he understood.

And now, here, with me on the edge of losing it over a whole different set of things, he’s somehow aware that it’s more than just a rough day at work.

He’s a good friend like that. He knows when to stop being the joker, when to take a step back and let me be human.

I don’t answer him at first. I can’t. The weight of everything is too heavy, and there’s nowhere to put it. The flat, the constant chaos, the stress from work, It’s the kind of loneliness that has rotted my bones, turning the quiet moments into an unbearable ache. It wraps itself around my thoughts until all I can hear is the hollow echo of my own voice.

"I don’t think I can keep doing this," I whisper, the words breaking like glass on my tongue. "I don’t know how to breathe here." The weight of it all crashes down on me, and before I can stop it, my body collapses into his chest. My tears spill, unstoppable, soaking into his shirt as my chest rises and falls in frantic waves. Every breath feels like it’s being stolen from me. I'm so upset I almost don't notice how close we are.

George doesn’t say anything at first, just sits there, holding me close with one arm, the other holding my hand. It’s not urgent, not a “fix it” kind of gesture. It’s just a simple, quiet thing. His thumb rubs over my knuckles slowly, like he’s giving me the space to figure it out for myself.

After what feels like an eternity, my breathing steadies, each inhale a little deeper, a little less desperate. I pull back, wiping my face with the back of my hoodie, suddenly aware of how stupid I must look. I look back at George, my hand still in his.

"This flat’s yours too, Y/N," he says, his voice low, but steady. "You can have your space. Just say the word, and we’ll figure it out. I rally the boys into getting this room fixed up."

I blink, surprised. He’s not just saying it. He’s not offering me a quick fix to make it go away. He means it.

I sit there for a long moment, taking it in, but the words don’t feel like they’re mine to take. I can’t help but feel like a guest in a place that’s never going to feel like home, no matter how much I try to make it. I look down at my hands, a little lost in the comfort of his offer, but the weight still sits heavily in my chest.

"I’ll figure it out," I finally say, my voice barely a whisper.

George doesn’t press it, just gives my hand one more squeeze before standing up. He says he's going to make tea, and reminds me that my favourite noodles are stocked in the cupboard.

I don’t know why, but somehow, that makes me feel a little better. I’ll figure it out. Maybe.

He comes back into my room a bit later. George hands me the tea, of course he makes it just the way I like it: half a sugar, a dash of milk, tea-bag still in.

I take a slow sip, the warmth soothing against the heaviness in my chest. My eyes are still puffy and swollen from the tears I couldn’t hold back earlier. It feels like an hour ago, but really, it’s just been fifteen minutes. Still, it’s enough for everything to feel like it’s shifted in a way I can’t explain.

George doesn’t say much at first, just watching me like he knows I’m not ready to talk yet. But he’s never the type to let silence sit for long, especially with me.

"So, what’s your plan then?" he asks casually, leaning back onto my headboard, sipping his own tea like he’s got all the time in the world.

I sigh, trying to find the words. I’ve been avoiding the question of what now? since the moment I stepped into London. How do you make a place home when every corner of it feels foreign?

"Plan?" I murmur, glancing down at my tea. "Just... try to make it through the next week, I guess."

"Yeah, but that’s not a plan, is it?" He raises an eyebrow, lips curling up slightly. "You can’t live off caffeine and hangovers forever, even if you seem to be trying to make a career out of it."

I laugh bitterly, swiping a hand over my face, trying to hide the frustration building inside me. "I wasn’t thinking about a plan," I admit, looking up. "I’m just... trying to get through the day."

He takes a sip of his tea, eyes narrowing slightly, the way they do when he’s about to make an observation that feels more like a gentle nudge than advice. "Yeah, but you’re a lot better than that. You’ve got more in you than just surviving the next round of awkward small talk."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," I mutter, but I know he’s right.

He sets his tea down (on my new-but-used bedside table) with a soft thud, his gaze turning serious. "Look, you’ve been in London long enough to know it’s not all about the hustle and grind, right? You’ve got to make space for things that make you... you. You’ve always been the type to do something. Maybe it’s time to find something here."

I give him a pointed look. "Like what?"

George doesn’t even hesitate. "You used to play netball, didn’t you?" He leans forward, suddenly more animated, like he’s already envisioning the whole thing. "You were always dragging me to practice in uni. And you were great at it, even if you complained about your knees every five minutes."

I roll my eyes. "I was not great. I just knew how to not get hit by the ball."

"Same difference," he grins, his easy smile pulling me back into the comfort of our banter. "But seriously, you should try something like that here. It’s not like there aren’t social teams. Or, you know, some volunteer work?"

I blink, the suggestion hanging in the air, and for a moment, I feel something stir in mem something like hope, but also dread. The idea of finding a place to belong, to give back like I used to, makes me feel a little less like a ghost.

He looks at me, a little knowing but not pushing. "You remember, in uni, you made me volunteer with you every damn weekend." He grins like the memory’s a joke, but there’s real warmth in his eyes. "I hated it. But somehow, I always walked away feeling... better."

I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. "You hated it because you had to wake up at 8 AM on a Saturday."

He scoffs dramatically. "Yeah, well, when you’re a uni student who lives for the weekend, 8 AM on a Saturday is a criminal offense."

"Look, you weren’t the one getting up to make sandwiches and play board games with kids, okay?" I tease, taking another sip of my tea. "But you’re right, I’ve always done it. Volunteering, I mean. Since high school. Everywhere I’ve lived, I find something, even if it’s just a little part. Makes it feel like home."

He nods, watching me carefully. "See, that’s what I’m talking about. Maybe you need to start doing that here too. Just... carve out some space for yourself, you know?"

I can feel the weight of his words, like they’re sinking deep into the cracks I’ve been trying to ignore. The idea of finding a new volunteer project in London feels like the first step toward finding a new rhythm here, a new way to exist.

"Maybe," I whisper, more to myself than him. "I could do that."

"You should," he says, his voice suddenly soft again. "You’re not supposed to do this alone, Y/N. I mean, sure, you’re capable as hell, but you deserve more than just surviving. You deserve to feel like you belong somewhere."

I blink, swallowing the lump in my throat, my chest tightening. I look at George, really look at him, for the first time in a while. He’s here, steady and unwavering, and it feels like maybe I’m not as lost as I’ve been pretending to be. Maybe I don’t have to claw my way through this.

"Thanks," I say quietly, unsure of what else to say, but it feels like the right thing. "Really."

He smiles, a little crooked, a little too sincere. "Hey, don’t mention it. You’re still my volunteer project from uni, remember?"

I chuckle, shaking my head, but it feels lighter than it has in days.

xxx

A few days later, I’m hunched over my desk at work, I'm still furiously editing that damn code. I did not get it done on time, but nobody in the meeting mentioned it.  The air is thick with the hum of keyboards clacking and the low buzz of phone calls happening in the distance.  My screen flickers with the usual emails. Deadlines, pointless meetings, and some passive-aggressive notes about a report I’m still working on, but my attention drifts. I pull up a homeless outreach van’s website, something I’d bookmarked the night I talked with George.

I’ve passed one of their vans a few times when walking to the coffee shop. It’s one of those little details that stick with you. In a city that feels like it’s always in motion, it’s nice to know there are places where people can just stop for a moment, even if only for a cup of coffee or a kind word.

I click through to the volunteer section, half in a daze, my fingers typing before my mind can catch up. Maybe I’m desperate for something that makes me feel like I’m contributing, or maybe I just need to break the monotony of my day. Either way, it feels like the only decision I’ve made in ages that isn’t tied to deadlines or expectations.

Within the hour, an email pops up in my inbox, all formal and crisp, with the subject line: Volunteer Opportunity Available – Tuesday Nights. My pulse skips a beat. I stare at it for a moment before realising I’ve already clicked ‘Yes, I’ll Volunteer.’

For the first time all week, I don’t feel like I’m drowning,  pretending to understand something. I hit ‘Send’ on a few more emails, and the day continues to drag on, but in the back of my mind, I’m already thinking about Tuesday night. About doing something that feels real, that matters. For a change, it’s something I can look forward to, and that’s enough to make the workday feel a little less suffocating.

xxx

I arrive at the kitchen for The Van around 5:45 p.m., straight after work, my mind still buzzing with the humdrum of emails and meetings, but I try to push that aside. I keep my gym bag slung over my shoulder, not because I’m planning on actually working out, but because I’ve learned the hard way that dressing up for these things is a bad idea. In high school, I learned less about looking the part and more about just showing up. Now, I’ve got a change of clothes in the bag, something comfortable and something I don’t mind getting a little messy.

The kitchen smells like garlic and fresh herbs as soon as I walk in, a sharp contrast to the sterile, beige office environment I just left. I’m greeted by Matt, a guy with messy hair and a friendly smile that makes him seem about ten years younger than he probably is. He’s the one running things tonight, and he starts showing me around with a casual efficiency, as if he’s done this a thousand times before, which, judging by his comfort in the space, I’m sure he has.

“We make enough for 60 servings,” Matt explains as he leads me to a huge, industrial stove. It’s hot in here, the air thick with the smell of onions sizzling in the pan and the rhythmic clink of utensils. “You get in, you make a batch of food, pack it up, and then head to the spot. Simple as that. Tonight, we’re doing pesto pasta, so—” He hands me a wooden spoon, nodding towards the bubbling pot. “Your turn to stir.”

As we cook, Matt explains the rest of the operation. We’re not just handing out meals, though that’s obviously part of it. But it’s the connection that matters more. The van isn’t just about food or even about offering warm drinks on a cold night. It’s about offering something a little more intangible: conversation. A quiet dignity that not everyone has access to.

I don’t have the guts to tell Matt he’s preaching to the choir, so I just nod and let him talk. He’s so fired up about it, I don’t want to be the one to douse his flame, even if I’ve heard all the buzzwords before. I like the way he speaks though, like this cause isn’t just a hobby to him, it’s something he’s built his whole rhythm around.

I’m introduced to the other four volunteers, each of them as easy-going as the next, but one stands out to me. Ruth. She looks about my age, and her hands are stuffed into the oversized University of Westminster hoodie she’s wearing. Her glasses are massive, so large, in fact, that I can’t even tell if she has eyebrows. She’s the type of person who seems effortlessly cool without trying, her calm demeanour almost magnetic.

There’s no tension in the way she moves, no rush, just a kind of quiet confidence that makes me feel a little more at ease in this whirlwind of new faces. As she smiles and introduces herself, it’s like she’s already seen this all before, like she knows exactly how it feels to be on the outside, looking in.

We start packing up the van, which is an operation in itself. Jerry cans of hot water clink against each other, and the smell of instant coffee and tea bags start to fill the air as we make sure everything’s packed in tight. The pesto pasta, fresh and still steaming from the kitchen, takes up the bulk of the space, swaddled in plastic containers like treasure. It’s a weird but comforting feeling, standing there, surrounded by mismatched containers and enough food to feed an army. It’s not glamorous, but it feels right. There's something about the clink of utensils, the bustle of everyone moving in sync, that makes the chaos feel... organized. Even if it's all just a few volunteers and a handful of hot meals.

While we’re out on the street, Ruth gives me a quick rundown of how things flow. Two people serve the food, two handle the drinks, and two collect the rubbish. When the food runs out, we switch roles, and that’s when the real magic happens, conversations.

We’re on drink duty together, and Ruth is in her element, greeting the regulars like old friends. She probably knows at least 20% of their coffee orders by heart. It's honestly very impressive.

Back home, I used to be the Ruth at the Open Kitchen I volunteered at every week. I was the one who remembered the little things. like how Sarah always liked two tea bags in her tea or how Mark preferred his coffee milk first. He explained every time it was so you don’t burn the coffee. It was routine, and it felt like something I could count on.

And right now, for the first time in months, I don’t feel like I’m stumbling through a city that is allergic to me. I’m not fumbling for answers or trying to force myself into a rhythm I haven’t found yet.

Here, in this small, quiet corner of London, I don’t know all the coffee orders or the little quirks of the regulars, but damn it I'm gonna learn them. I’m just doing what I can, and for once, I don’t feel like I’m out of place.

We head back to the kitchen to clean up, and as we’re wiping down the countertops, Ruth casually mentions that they all grab McDonald’s after, and asks me to come along. I don't feel the need to point out that back home, we call it "Maccas."

She also asks me for my Insta. She says my username is funny. I accept her request and as soon as she opens my profile, she starts liking everything. All the photos, from the most recent ones down to the ancient shots from years ago. It cracks me up, and I find myself laughing as I open up hers, ready to return the favour. But then I find that Ruth’s account has one single post from like 8 years ago, a blurry picture of a concert she went to, the caption reading: “Best night ever." it's her turn to laugh.

I end up spending almost an hour at McDonald's, the conversation flowing effortlessly, filled with laughter and easy banter. It’s funny how comfortable I feel with these people already. This little group of people who somehow, already, feel like the closest thing to home I’ve had in months.

At one point, someone asks me if McDonald's is different in Australia. I can’t help but grin. Everyone always asks that.

"Oh, definitely. They’ve got this thing called a Frozen Coke, right?" I explain, "It’s basically like a slushie, but for some reason, it’s considered a completely essential part of life. And they’re only a dollar."

A couple of people raise their eyebrows. "Wait, this is a big deal?"

I laugh, nodding. "Yep, you can walk in, get a Frozen Coke for a dollar, and leave. It’s like the national pastime. But I guess you wouldn’t see it here, right? Too cold. Actually I think its just changed to $2, I've gotten about a thousand texts about it"

They all laugh, nodding in agreement, and for a second, I feel a wave of homesickness hit me, but it’s the kind of homesickness that feels warm. Familiar. The good kind.

"So, wait," Matt says, looking at me with a mischievous grin, "do you guys really have McDonald’s in the outback, or is that just a thing people say to make Australia sound more ridiculous?"

I roll my eyes. "Not quite. But we’ve got a McDonald’s in every town, even the tiny ones. You can always count on a Big Mac, no matter how far you drive."

The whole table bursts into laughter, and for the first time in ages, I feel that real, deep sense of connection. These people are so different from what I imagined when I first got here, but somehow, it’s exactly what I needed. They don’t feel like strangers anymore.

And as we continue eating, talking about everything and nothing, I feel a little lighter.

xx

When I get home, way later than I expected, I know I can't keep putting this off. It’s time to start looking for a flat seriously. I can’t keep living like this, surrounded by other people’s stuff, constantly feeling like I’m in the way. The exercise bike in the corner of my room is starting to look more like a clothes rack than a piece of fitness equipment.

I need my own space. I need a place that’s just mine. Somewhere I can breathe without the constant hum of conversation or the feeling that I’m stepping on someone else’s toes. Somewhere that’s not filled with the sense that I’m just temporarily passing through.

So, I pull up Rightmove, fingers hovering over the keys, trying to find the right words to search for. I’ve been to a few viewings here and there—flats with walls so thin I can hear people breathing in the next room. Tiny rooms with windows that look out over nothing but a wall of brick. Overpriced rent for places that might as well be shoeboxes.

And then there’s the landlords. The ones who don’t even look you in the eye when they talk, or the ones who talk like they’ve memorized a script on how to convince you that this is the perfect place, when deep down you know it’s anything but.

But I keep pushing forward. I remind myself that I have to find something. Anything. London won’t feel like home until I have a place to put down roots. Until I can fill a room with my own stuff and not just be borrowing space from someone else.

I think about George’s offer, his easy suggestion that I move into the room properly, that he’ll help clear it out for me. I could take him up on it, I guess. It’d make things easier, wouldn’t it? But then, I think of what that would mean. No matter how kind George is, no matter how much he wants to help, I can't start in someone else's space—not if I want to feel like this city is mine.

I want to feel like London is a place I’ve made my own. And that means I have to do it by myself.

So, I scroll through listings, narrowing them down, and I start mentally calculating how much I can afford to spend without feeling like I’ll drown in rent.

I sometimes find myself forgetting that the reason I moved to London was for the job, and I made the move because it was good money. I’m not a broke uni student anymore, desperately trying to find a room with only the bare minimum, maybe a roof, maybe a door, but probably not both. I up the price range slider, and start the search again.

I don’t know how long it will take. Maybe a week, maybe a month. But tonight, at least, I’ve made the decision. I’m going to find it. I’m going to find somewhere that’s just for me, no distractions, no borrowed corners, no second hand living.

[darlinglittlelemon]

Chubby yan

Warnings | noncon, insulting, kidnaping, heavy NSFW, bondage, drugging, possessiveness, 

Note: it’s a bit of a softer yan experience if that's what you're into. I was getting a little fed up with every yandere being this big buff, absolutely chiseled, bruit (if you like that, that’s totally ok. The whole point of yan fics is to self indulge). I wanted something a bit more lovely and service oriented you know?

He was so cute.

Unbelievably cute.

I mean, like; he had to be? Everyone said he was. He had a round face, kissed by freckles, a soft, kind demeanor, and a chubby, cute body. He could always be seen with white collared shirts with brown vets, or big puffy sweaters, topped off with round glasses to match. 

Everyone loved him. Treated him like he was just this piece of cake. Harmless and lovable, delicate, sugary sweet. And he just kept popping into your life. Same parties, same classes, same friends, even somehow professors would always pair you up.

It felt so… curated. 

And It’s not like you didn’t like him, you thought he was fine. But you saw the way he looked at you. The way he talked to you. Like a predator dancing around its prey. A big bad wolf so desperately trying to disappear in its sheep skin.

“Can I have your number? I would like to talk to you about the next project”

“I got some decorations for my dorm. Would you like to see them?”

“Hey! I was wondering if you could help me find my keys?”

“Could I use your sweater? I'm pretty cold”

“Would you like to study together?”

“Let’s walk to class together!” 

He sat too close to you, talked to you too much, or asked for too many favors. You changed your schedule twice, but he wouldn’t budge, neither would you. So he had to take matters into his own hands. You were easy too, just one slip up at a party and he had you all to himself.

You were gagged and bound to a bed frame. Legs free and kicking, trying desperately to keep him away. 

His grip started dinging into your sides, pushing himself further between your thighs. Expertly using his weight to put enough pressure on your body to keep you right where he wanted you.

He was practically growling his words out. Farel above you.

“I said stop fucking moving!” 

“All that work, all that time being so god damn docile”

He pressed himself further.

“You’re a tease, you know that? a slut” 

he sighed 

“and iv always hated you’re clothes”

The tears pooled from your eyes as you felt everything on you being so callously ripped off of you. A cold hand trailed up to meet the peak of your breast, kneading so so harshly. You became stiff as a board. Small pathetic sobs were audible through the gag, as you prepared for the impending sharp stretching pain of someone too eager and too quick. 

“Come on, don't be like that. You'll enjoy this, Here ill show you”

His hand left your chest exploring down your body. Slowly, oh so slowly placing themselves inside your wet needy cunt, going in and out. His mouth followed suit, trailing down biting and kissing till he settled between your thighs. Gripping your legs, his mouth enveloping your clit so wonderfully. Burying himself deeper and deeper. 

He sporadically would suck on the bud gently giving a sharp pleasurable feeling. 

And you just couldn't resist the sensation. 

Using what little freedom you had with your hands you griped the bed frame you were tethered to. Just a slutty mess, drooling, lewd sounds escaping you, bucking lightly against his tongue. You were sure if it wasn't for the cloth between your teeth, the neighbors would have heard you. And he wouldn’t stop. His fingers kept moving faster, abusing your pussy. Tongue expertly worshiping that wonderful bundle of nerves, tangling you further in your ecstasy. Until that moment where you unraveled in his hands. A needy dirty whore who couldn’t help cuming for him. Crying wonderful, amazing tears. But at the very least, your breath slowed and your body relaxed. Like it was sinking into the bed.

Unfortunately the rigid grip back onto your waist shoved you into reality.

“Oh, darling, did you think I was done? No. I've waited this long. And there is no way I'm letting a whore like you go to waste.” 

[harpsinfinity]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT - PART VI

→ Fratboy!jock!Chris X nerd!reader (afab, fem)

CHAPTER I→ CHAPTER II→ CHAPTER III→ CHAPTER IV→ CHAPTER V→ CHAPTER VI (current) → CHAPTER VII→ CHAPTER VIII

→ Taking up his offer, you lend Chris your knowledge. He uses this as an opportunity to get to know you, finding his feelings to become more confusing to the both of you.

→ other characters featured in this chapter: Claire Redfield, Leon Kennedy & Piers Nivans

→ wc: 2.8k

→ notes: I had to unlock all the shakespeare knowledge from my time at school for this one 😭

→ THEMED PLAYLIST

Here we go, a session in the school library. Something entirely new for Chris, what’s even newer for him is the fact he’s carrying textbooks for English literature.

It was already hard enough to get the textbooks from Claire without her getting suspicious of him. Though she probably was.

It was right before the both of them had to leave the house for school, they had exactly five minutes or they'd be late. And it was spent with Chris hot on Claire's tail as he nagged her to let him borrow her textbooks.

“Since when did you study, Chris? And seriously, Shakespeare?”

“C'mon Claire it's just for today!”

He practically begged her until she finally caved in and reluctantly handed over her books from her bag.

“Just…bring them back in one piece.”

She said as she handed him the books, giving up a weird, suspicious look. Claire had never seen her brother pick up a book. Especially English literature.

“Thank you, Claire, I will!”

Chris hollered towards her as he frantically stuffed them in his bag and sprinted out the front door.

The both of you had a free period after lunch, so you'd meet up at the start of it and stay until it was time for classes again.

He really didn't know…anything about Shakespeare. Guess that's why he had you. He wasn't actually taking English literature anyway.

He had a plan; get you talking for long enough, he takes notes then at some point change the subject to something much more interesting; you.

His footsteps echoed off the walls as he was on his way to the school library. For some reason he felt…nervous? His palms were a little clammy and his stomach felt queasy. Though Chris just brushed it off as nervousness to start the upcoming rugby tournament.

The sight of the door with the clear sign ‘library’ on it came into view. Chris took a deep breath, smoothing down his clothes for what seemed the millionth time before he pushed open the door.

His eyes darted around the room, looking over the rows and rows and shelves of books. The room was mostly empty, the library wasn't the most popular place.

Then his gaze landed on you. Waiting patiently for him at one of the desks, books already in front of you. You even had notebooks and multiple types of pens. And you were early.

Of course, you had all this, you were ready. And early; as always.

He stalked over towards you, awkwardly sliding into the seat in front of you, clearing his throat.

You look up, locking eyes with him through the lenses of your glasses.

“Chris.” You acknowledge as usual, sliding over a notebook and pen to him.

“Hey, smarty pants.” Chris greeted you, catching the items before they fell off the table.

“You bring your books?” You ask, watching as he unzips his bag and drops them on the table with a heavy thud.

“Yeah…my books.” He replied, knowing full well they were actually Claire's.

You knew full well too, the girl had the exact same books as the ones in front of the two of you. As well as the initials of ‘CR’ on the inside of the cover. You doubted Chris put his initials in his belongings.

“Right, okay. Let's get started.”

Taking the book on top of the small pile titled: ‘Macbeth’, you flick open the first page of the book. Before looking him square in the eyes, full of seriousness.

You were doing this for free, so you were going to make sure Chris would get the most out of your teachings.

“Get your pen ready,” gesturing to the one beside Chris' hand, he picked it up and opened the notebook.

He still had his plan ongoing: to go deep enough and then get you distracted somehow. So he wouldn't be learning Macbeth for probably over two hours.

“Alright, let's start with themes.” Setting down the book and making it clear you didn't even need them. Your mind was an open book, full of vast knowledge.

“First we have the theme of the supernatural; Lady Macbeth is thought to be a witch. This is shown in Act 1 Scene 5, she is clearly commanding, not asking the spirits to aid her in the murder of King Duncan. Furthermore ....”

Chris listened to your little lecture for what felt ages, he didn't know if time was dragging on or speeding along. His fingers were itching to check the time on his watch; but at the same time if he interrupted you he would…feel bad?

He wasn't supposed to feel bad. In fact, he wasn't even supposed to be learning English Literature. But you looked so much in your element, talking about something you were very much passionate about.

The feeling of admiration bubbles up in Chris' chest, watching as you'd move animatedly. Explaining the themes, plot and characters that you'd memorised in great detail all with practiced ease.

You had him enraptured. He wasn't listening to you lecture, but his eyes were on you. It was the way the locks of your hair framed your face, the way your glasses slid down and perched perfectly on the bridge of your nose; too caught up to adjust them.

This wasn't the sarcastic, witty side of you. This was a different one, the side of you that was passionate and enthusiastic with what you spoke about.

You really did take his mind off of all the stresses he felt: the rugby competition soon, Piers’ multiple interrogations and taunting, upholding his reputation.

It was a breather.

“Chris? Are you listening?”

Your voice snaps him out of whatever trance he was in. He caught himself thinking about you like this…again. He said it before and he'll say it again, he does not like you that way. And of course, neither would you.

“Yes! Yes…I'm listening.” He confirmed, even with the pinkish hue dusting his cheeks right now.

You cross your arms and give him a suspicious look. “Oh, really? What did I just say?”

It was like he was interrogation right now, he knew you'd be upset if he let it out that he wasn't listening to the lecture you were putting effort into. You were trying to help him.

He had to come up with something and fast, using the last thing he remembers you talking about.

“The themes of Macbeth, Y'know?” He chokes out with an awkward chuckle “Supernatural, uhm– traditional gender roles…that stuff.”

You look at him expectantly, with a little ‘hmph’ noise. Seemingly accepting his answer.

“Alright…it appears you were listening.”

Chris nodded “Of…Of course I was.” Responding with a tone that was hopefully convincing enough for you. He cleared his throat, readying to divert your attention away from the lecture you’d droned on about.

“So, smarty pants,” He started off, casually, of course. “What interests you other than…first aid.”

You huffed in amusement, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Reading of course.”

“Ah, studying? You are a real life nerd.”

You give him a weird look at his teasing “Yeah okay, shut up.”

You retort back, although there was no real bite within your words. It made Chris laugh, a smile falling upon his features. He almost looked Handsome.

It shot a little zap of warmth in your heart.

You caught yourself thinking about him like that…again.

“And yourself?” You shoot back, “Or is rugby all you've got?”

Chris scoffed, folding his arms and giving off a mock-offended look.

“No, it's not all I've got, smarty pants.”

“Whatever you say.”

The moment felt light-hearted, like the two of you were in your own little bubble, locked away from the real world.

You'd really seen another side to Chris, one that wasn't full of hubris and over confidence. It was different; not expected from someone like him.

“You're different, y'know.” You spoke, tone nearing quiet while keeping your eyes locked with his.

Chris gave you a quizzical look, quirking a brow as he leaned back in his chair.

“Different how, exactly?”

“You- You're…not like them.”

Not like them. Not like the people who decided to make your school life miserable, not like the people who would find humour in destroying your things, mocking you and insulting you with the most awful things they could think of.

‘Not like them’ You thought.

Chris didn't know what to say; he was aware of what you were referencing. But words failed him at this moment. He wanted to say something meaningful, but he couldn't.

“I…I guess so.”

Was all he could muster. Your words did come unexpectedly for him, but it was true that he'd been treating you differently. Ever since the argument, he'd been shown the errors of his ways by you.

Chris had seen you for more than just a quiet girl who had her nose stuck in a book, an awkward loser. He saw you for a person, just an ordinary girl trying to live her life.

“Come on Leon, I can't be the only one thinking this!”

Piers exclaimed, he was het up about Chris bailing on them for you.

“Piers, you are overreacting. Chris can do as he pleases.”

Leon defended, his voice was calm and managed. He was the one to stay calm, the one to keep the peace. Especially with Claire around, which was right now.

Tucked into Leon's side and holding his hand.

“Overreacting? Am I fuck!” He groans, pacing back and forth back and forth. “How can he seriously be around that bookworm?”

This caught Claire's attention, the tension pinching in-between her eyebrows. She felt compelled to defend you just as much as Leon did.

She liked you, considered you a friend. Just like Chris, Claire saw the real you. She knew you were a good person, someone lovely.

“Why must you talk about her like that? She's done nothing to you.” She spoke firmly, set on the opposing side to Piers.

“Because! She's a fuckin’ loser, and Chris is the opposite!” He exclaimed, as if that was actual logic. “They're not supposed to be together!”

“Now you're just being ridiculous, and quite frankly; an asshole.” Claire shot back, gritting her teeth.

Leon squeezed her hand, a reminder to keep calm; just like him. Even if he was beginning to lose his own rag.

“Piers, please.” Leon tries to reason with him, “She's a nice girl, so what if Chris spends time with her?”

Piers is just having a tantrum at this point, like a small child being denied a sweet before dinner.

“I'm done, I'm fucking done.”

With that, he storms off. Where to? No clue.

Leon runs a hand through his hair, chewing his bottom lip in worry.

“I think he likes her y'know.” Claire interrupts the silence.

“What?” Leon questions, his crystal blue eyes boring into her as he raises a brow and tips his head forward; asking her to continue.

“Chris.” She confirms “He's been seeing her more often, even begged me for my textbooks this morning just so she could tutor him on a subject he doesn't study.”

She lets out a light huff of humour, recalling this morning's scene. The corners of Leon's lips perk up, sharing the humour.

“As opposite as they are, they look good together. Even if they don't know it.” Leon states,

“I see it too.” His partner agrees with him, fingers twined together with his own as she pulls him along down the corridor; presumably to their next class.

. . .

It's a warm summer's day, the skies are clear, the sun is hot. It's also the weekend, time for you to unwind and relax.

And no better way to do so? A trip to your favourite bookstore, of course. It was a quaint little place, in a quiet part of town. The type of quiet where it's hidden away down a few streets away from the main attractions of the town.

You walked along the pavement, bag on your shoulder as you gazed down the familiar streets and houses you'd walked past dozens of times.

It was peaceful, a break from the usual chaos of what was mass studying and constantly watching over a flock of boys slam into each other.

The image of the old little book shop came into view, its traditional stained glass windows displaying the usual books of bestsellers and owner recommendations.

You pushed against the wooden, creaky door. A bell ringing to signal your arrival to the owner; an older woman who gave you a warm smile.

She had seen you browsing in here before, of course she had. You knew one of her regular customers.

Scanning your eyes over the countless books on the shelves, every now and then you'd tug one from its place on the shelf to read the blurb or scan through the first few pages.

Now this was your kind of scene, it had a quiet atmosphere, which people were respectful of. Their voices usually no louder than a whisper.

The scent of the books riddled your senses with feelings of what felt like nostalgia, reminding you of how you'd always pick up some sort of reading material even when you were little. Some things never changed, even with time.

You hadn't been in there long when the ring of the bell echoed once more, turning to eye the new customer.

It was none other than Claire.

The store wasn't massive, so it was easy for her to pick you out. Her face lit up with a smile as she approached you.

“Knew you'd be here.” She teased, gently bumping her shoulder with yours.

“Claire,” You greeted, tone soft and eyes softer through the lens of your glasses “What are you doing here?”

You had only told Claire about the bookshop a handful of times, mainly when she asked what book you had brought to school with you that day.

She took note of what felt like every little detail you told her, storing it in her mind for safekeeping. You appreciated it, really. That she put in the effort with you.

“I'm here for a book, of course.” She replied, making her way to the textbook section with you trailing alongside her.

“I need more English lit books, I don't think I'll get them back from Chris after the little study session you two had.”

You suppressed a snort, her tone exasperated like she was used to Chris' failure to return most things that weren't his.

“I'll bet.”

You couldn't help the rosey hue dusting the apples of your cheeks, thinking back to that moment in the library.

It didn't look like Chris was listening to your teachings; more like admiring what was Infront of him. But…maybe you were just seeing things. You glasses were still scuffed from a new weeks ago after all.

Claire scans the shelf swiftly, before leaning up on her tippy toes to retrieve a replacement to her textbooks. Letting out a groan of exertion when she did.

“I've never seen him come up with excuses to see someone you know.”

You raise a brow, confusion taking on your expression as you question her;

“What? Excuses?”

Claire chortles, nodding, her usual ponytail swishing with her movements.

“Yeah, he doesn't even do English lit.”

You tilt your head to the side, clasping your fingers together behind your back as you rolled on the balls of your feet.

“He doesn't?”

“Have you even been around him? I thought it was clear as day.” She chuckles and shakes her head, as if you'd been told the word ‘gullible’ was written on the ceiling.

“Seriously though, out of all the girls I've seen him around, you're the only one he's made excuses for.”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, Chris was making excuses for you? Maybe you were right. Chris wasn't just some dumb jock, he was capable of changing.

Maybe it wasn't your ruined glasses, maybe those soft looks he'd thrown your way were real. That small seed of hope that was inside you was beginning to bloom into something beautiful.

You had to ask;

“Really? He's been doing that?” You voice was almost quiet, too quiet. You felt coy for even asking.

Claire nods once more, the textbooks clutched in her hands as she kept her eyes locked with yours. She was being serious with you, Claire didn't lie.

‘Liar’ was not a word you'd use to describe her, at all.

“if you ask me, You two look like you'd be good together.” She returns, smile perking up as she sees your flustered form.

“Think about it, alright?” She finishes off, a gentle pat to your shoulder as she leaves to pay, approaching the cashier with her usual friendliness.

You were left there, swimming in emotions. There was feelings of anxiety, hope, fear. There was also feelings of excitement.

Maybe you could possibly open up to Chris, you already felt like he was beginning to prove himself. You hadn't seen him with another cheerleader or popular girl ever since the scuttle.

Just like Leon said, you'd possibly gotten through to him. Though the outcome of that would only come with time.

For now, you were to focus on your position as a makeshift nurse, as well as the growing relationship with Chris.