#this is all jest and in good fun to be clear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2b4st4r · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! I'm not sure what the rules are- I couldn't find them, sorry QAQ.

But I wanted to request an ASL (or just Luffy, that's fine as well!) x f!reader. Where the reader was the tallest out of them when they were all young, then as they grew up, reader became the shortest. (And if it's possible, I feel like it would be funny if reader was the youngest, because most children take pride in being tall for their age, especially if they're taller than other children older than them.)

Thanks for reading this request, and hope you have a fun time writing my request if you do so!

Tallest

ASL x f!reader

Words: 9,515

Summery: This fanfiction excerpt follows Y/n, Ace, and Sabo, who grew up together alongside Luffy in the world of One Piece. As children, Y/n, despite being the youngest, took great pride in being the tallest of the four, often teasing the boys about it. Years later, they are all accomplished pirates and revolutionaries, having set sail on their own adventures. When Ace and Y/n unexpectedly reunite, they discover they've both grown considerably, now towering over Y/n, a fact Ace enjoys teasing her about. Their reunion then leads to a heartfelt decision to seek out their other brothers, Luffy and Sabo, bringing to light a hidden, painful past from Y/n's childhood involving the Celestial Dragons, ultimately reinforcing the unbreakable bond of their unique, found family.

Warnings: Childhood Trauma/Slavery Implied, Teasing/Minor Bullying, use of y/n.

A/N: I am SO sorry, I made this a lot sadder then I thought it would/then what you requested. But I really enjoyed writing this! Also sorry about the rules thing

Masterlist

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The sun beat down on Mount Colubo, just as it always did, warming the forest and the hidden clearing that served as a makeshift training ground. A chorus of shouts and grunts echoed through the trees, punctuated by the occasional clang of lead pipes. "Ha! Missed me again, Ace!" a clear, joyful voice rang out, laced with a familiar teasing lilt. Y/n dodged another wild swing from Ace, her own pipe held casually at her side. Even at their young age, she towered over him, a fact she never let him forget. Luffy, already tangled in a tree branch he'd tried to swing from, giggled from his precarious perch, while Sabo, ever the more strategic of the three, watched intently, plotting his next move. They were an unlikely quartet, bound by sworn brotherhood and endless adventures, but in this wild, untamed corner of the world, Y/n, despite being the youngest, was undeniably the tallest, and she wore her height like a crown.

"Honestly, you guys are practically hobbits!" Y/n declared, easily stepping over a fallen log that Ace stumbled over. He grumbled, picking himself up. "It's not fair! You just keep growing!"

She flipped her (h/c) hair over her shoulder, a smug grin on her face. "Someone's gotta reach the good berries on the higher branches, right? You'd all starve without me."

Luffy, finally extricated from the tree, bounced over. "But Y/n, how come you're so tall? Are you part giant?" His eyes were wide with innocent curiosity.

Y/n laughed, a bright, clear sound that echoed through the trees. "Nope, just perfectly proportioned. Unlike some people I know." She winked at Sabo, who was trying to suppress a smile. He knew she was teasing, but even he couldn't deny the height difference. She stood at least a head taller than him, and even more so compared to Ace and Luffy.

"One day, I'll be taller than you, Y/n!" Ace declared, shaking his pipe at her. "You won't be able to tease me then!"

Y/n just chuckled, easily disarming his "threat" with a playful shove. "Dream on, shorty. By the time you catch up, I'll probably be able to high-five the clouds." She stretched her arms above her head, as if to demonstrate, her slender frame reaching further skyward. The sheer joy and pride in her height were evident in every movement, every jest. It was her signature, her unique mark amongst the three boisterous boys, and she reveled in it.

Years later

The salty spray of the Grand Line was a familiar kiss on Y/n's face as she gripped the railing of her ship, the Sea Serpent. Eighteen years old and a captain in her own right, she gazed out at the endless horizon, a faint smile playing on her lips. It had been a long four years since she and her brothers had parted ways, each setting sail on their own adventures at seventeen, just as they'd promised. Now, Ace and Sabo were 22, and Luffy, forever trailing a year behind, was 19.

A gust of wind whipped her (h/c) hair across her face, and she sighed, a small, almost imperceptible sigh of something akin to wistfulness. The truth was, Y/n hadn't exactly reached the lofty heights she'd once boasted about. She was still tall, taller than most women(barely, but she still counts that ½ of an inch.), but her childhood dreams of practically high-fiving clouds had remained just that—dreams. And somewhere out there, she knew, were three familiar figures who had undoubtedly shot up like beanstalks themselves. The thought brought a smirk to her face. She could already hear the teasing.

"Captain! Land sighted!" a crewmate called from the crow's nest, pulling Y/n from her thoughts. Her smile widened, a genuine, unburdened expression. Whatever her height, she was a captain, and the Grand Line was her playground.

The port town bustled with the usual chaos of a Grand Line stopover. Y/n navigated the crowded docks, her crew dispersing to resupply and stretch their legs. She was heading towards a local tavern, the scent of grilled fish and cheap ale already beckoning. As she pushed through a knot of sailors, a flash of orange caught her eye—a familiar hat, just visible above the heads of the crowd. Her breath hitched. No, it couldn't be. Pushing it off before continuing her way. She was just seeing things.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the busy street, Ace was enjoying a hearty meal at an outdoor stall, his signature hat tilted back. He laughed loudly at something his crewmate said, his broad shoulders shaking. He'd filled out significantly since his teenage years, a testament to the harsh realities of the New World. At 6'1", he was undeniably taller than the boy who used to swear he'd one day outgrow her. He paused mid-chew, his keen eyes scanning the throng of people. A flash of (h/c) hair, a familiar confident stride... no, it couldn't be. But then, she turned slightly, and his eyes widened. Y/n.

He watched, a slow grin spreading across his face. She was still tall, yes, but not quite the towering giant he remembered. He, on the other hand, was now nearly a head taller than her, a fact he was very eager to confirm. He swallowed the last of his food and pushed away from the stall, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. This was going to be fun.

Y/n was just about to step into the tavern when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around. Her eyes widened. It was him, unmistakably. The freckles, the grin, the familiar spark in his dark eyes that hinted at trouble.

"Ace?!" she breathed, a wide, disbelieving smile breaking across her face.

He chuckled, that deep, rich sound that always made her feel like a kid again. "Hey, Y/n. Long time no see." His smile softened, a genuine warmth replacing the playful glint. "Damn, it's good to see you. I thought I was seeing things for a second there."

"You too!" she exclaimed, her voice a little choked up. Before she knew it, she was pulling him into a tight hug, inhaling the familiar scent of sea salt, smoke, and something uniquely Ace. He returned the embrace just as fiercely, lifting her slightly off her feet for a moment before setting her down.

They pulled back, a comfortable silence settling between them for a beat, filled only with the sounds of the bustling port. His gaze swept over her, taking in the changes, the way her hair had grown, the faint scar just above her eyebrow she hadn't had before. "You look good, Captain. Being out on your own treating you well?"

"Couldn't be better," she replied, a blush rising on her cheeks at his appreciative gaze. "And you? Still burning everything you touch?"

Ace laughed, a full-bellied laugh that drew a few curious glances. "Only the things that deserve it. But seriously, Y/n… it’s been too long. I’ve missed you, ya know?" His voice was a low murmur now, almost intimate.

"I've missed you too, you idiot," she admitted, nudging his arm playfully. "More than you know." She felt a warmth spread through her, a comforting sense of belonging she hadn't realized she was missing.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Though… I gotta say. You haven't quite managed to reach those clouds yet, have you?" A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he straightened up, looking down at her with a smirk. "Last I checked, I'm pretty sure I could practically use your head as an armrest now. What happened to our little giant?"

Y/n's face immediately flushed a furious red. Her eyes narrowed. "You overgrown beanstalk! I'm still tall! You just... grew more!" She jabbed a finger at his chest, completely falling for the bait. "It's not fair! You were supposed to stay small so I could keep teasing you!"

Across the crowded street, the crew of the Sea Serpent watched, a mixture of confusion and outright terror etched on their faces. "Is that... is that Fire Fist Ace?!" whispered a trembling navigator, pointing a shaky finger. Their captain, Y/n, was currently jabbing her finger into the chest of the infamous Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, a man with a tattoo so recognizable it could make even the bravest marines break a sweat. And the scariest part? He was laughing. And she was flushing.

"Captain, what are you doing?!" one of the new recruits whimpered, clutching his sword. The older, more seasoned crewmates were equally perplexed. They'd heard whispers of Captain Y/n's past, of her "brothers," but this... this was beyond anything they'd imagined. This was the man who had faced down admirals, who sailed under the most powerful pirate in the world! Yet, their usually composed captain was acting like a schoolgirl, bickering with him like they were squabbling siblings, yet with an undeniable undercurrent of something more... something dangerously familiar.

"She's gonna get herself killed!" another gasped, eyeing the massive Whitebeard tattoo prominently displayed on Ace's broad back. It was a stark reminder of the power he wielded, the sheer force behind the man who was currently being teased by their captain. They braced themselves, expecting an explosion of fire, a casual obliteration of their beloved captain for her audacity. But instead, Ace just leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes that only deepened Y/n's blush.

"Oh, so it's my fault I kept growing?" Ace countered, stepping closer, his voice a low rumble that only she could hear over the din of the port. "Maybe you just stopped trying, Y/n. Got complacent at your… average height." He paused, his gaze lingering on her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her furious eyes. "Though, I gotta admit, it's kinda cute when you get all riled up."

Y/n’s jaw dropped, her cheeks burning even brighter. "Cute?! I'll show you cute, you giant oaf!" She lunged, not with an attack, but with a playful, yet forceful, shove that sent him stumbling back a step. The crew gasped, their fear turning into bewildered awe. No one shoved Fire Fist Ace and lived to tell the tale, let alone got a playful grin in return.

"Alright, alright, feisty as ever," Ace chuckled, easily regaining his balance. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side, a gesture so natural it made her heart thump a little faster. "How about we grab a drink and you can tell me all about how your 'average' height has been serving you, Captain?"

The crew collectively fainted, or at least, looked like they were about to.

Ace's arm remained casually slung around Y/n's shoulders as they walked towards the tavern, his presence a comforting weight she hadn't realized she’d missed so intensely. The anxious whispers of her crew faded into the background as they stepped inside, the warm glow of the lamps and the murmur of conversation enveloping them. They found a relatively secluded corner booth, sliding in across from each other.

"So," Ace began, resting his forearms on the table, a genuine, soft smile on his face. "Tell me everything. What kind of trouble have you been getting into?"

Y/n recounted her adventures, her voice animated as she described challenging a minor Warlord, navigating treacherous currents, and even a comical run-in with a giant sea king that nearly swallowed her ship whole. Ace listened intently, his eyes crinkling at the corners as she spoke, occasionally interjecting with a laugh or a surprised "No way!"

"And then," Y/n continued, leaning forward conspiratorially, "I convinced the entire crew of a rival pirate ship that my cook's burnt stew was a rare, deadly poison, and they surrendered without a fight!"

Ace threw his head back and roared with laughter, drawing a few curious glances from other patrons. "Only you, Y/n! Only you could pull something like that off!" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Sounds like you've really come into your own, Captain."

Her cheeks warmed again at his praise, but this time it was purely from pleasure. "It's been... an experience. And you? Heard you've been making quite the name for yourself."

He shrugged, a hint of pride in his demeanor. "Just doing my part for Pops. It's a good crew, Y/n. A real family." His gaze softened, a hint of melancholy flickering in his eyes before he blinked it away. "But it's not the same without you around. Or Sabo and Luffy."

Y/n reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. "I know, Ace. I know the feeling. We always said we'd sail together, didn't we?"

He turned his hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "We did. And we will. Just not in the same way we thought when we were kids." He squeezed her hand gently. "But seeing you now… it's like no time has passed at all. Still the same loud, stubborn, ridiculously brave Y/n I grew up with." His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, sending a shiver through her. "Even if I do have to crane my neck to look at you now." He winked, the teasing back, but softer this time, more affectionate.

Y/n snorted, unable to suppress a smile. "Oh, you just wait. I've got a growth spurt left in me. You'll be looking up to me again before you know it, Fire Fist."

Ace just grinned, squeezing her hand once more. "I wouldn't bet on it, Captain. But I'm looking forward to seeing you try."

Hours later, the tavern had emptied, and the stars had begun to pepper the ink-black sky. Ace and Y/n found themselves strolling through the quieter streets of the port town, their footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestones. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of the sea and the distant hum of the ocean. Their conversation had drifted from their separate adventures to shared childhood memories, punctuated by comfortable silences that only old friends—no, family—could share.

They passed a dimly lit market stall, its canvas awning rustling in the gentle breeze. Ace stopped, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know," he began, his voice a low murmur that seemed to blend with the night, "we should check on them. Luffy. Sabo."

The words hung in the air, potent and heavy with unspoken longing. Y/n felt a pang in her chest. She had thought about them, of course, constantly. Wondered if Luffy was still getting into impossible scrapes, if Sabo was still meticulously planning his every move. But hearing Ace say it aloud, giving voice to the buried desire, made it feel real, tangible.

They were both in crews they had sworn their lives to, families forged in the crucible of the Grand Line. To just… leave, even for a bit, felt almost wrong, a betrayal of the bonds they’d built. Their respective crews relied on them, looked up to them. They had responsibilities now, grander purposes than the simple, wild dreams of three boys and a girl on Mount Corvo.

But then again… it was Luffy. And Sabo.

The thought of seeing them, of hearing Luffy’s booming laugh and Sabo’s calm, steady voice, of having all four of them together again, even for a fleeting moment, was a powerful pull. The loyalty they felt to their current crews was immense, but the bond they shared, forged in blood and shared dreams, ran deeper than anything. It was a silent promise made years ago, etched into their very beings. The urge to see their brothers, to know they were safe and well, gnawed at them both.

Ace turned to her, his dark eyes reflecting the distant lamplight, a mix of conflict and yearning in their depths. "What do you say, Y/n? Think we could make it work?"

Y/n paced back and forth in the narrow alley, running a hand through her hair. "Ace, are you serious? Just 'check on them'? Do you have any idea what kind of mess that would cause? What about our crews? What about Pops? Do you really think Whitebeard is just going to wave his hand and say, 'Sure, son, go gallivanting across the Grand Line to visit your little brothers'?"

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "And my crew! They'd mutiny! I'm a captain, Ace, I can't just abandon ship to go on a sentimental little family reunion tour. There are protocols, there are responsibilities, there's the whole... you know, pirate life!"

Ace, however, remained infuriatingly calm, a confident smirk playing on his lips. He leaned back against the cool stone wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Relax, Y/n. You're overthinking it, as usual. They'll understand."

"They'll understand what?" she retorted, throwing a glare his way. "That their captain, the one they swore loyalty to, just decided to disappear on a whim?"

"That their captain is a good person who cares about her family," Ace corrected gently, his eyes serious now. "Look, my crew, they know how important Luffy is to me. They know my connection to Sabo. Pops... he gets it. He's all about family, remember? He wouldn't stand in the way of me checking on my brothers. He'd probably just tell me not to cause too much trouble." He winked. "Which, you know, I might have to ignore a little."

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to her. "And your crew? They follow you because they believe in you, Y/n. Because you're strong, and you're fair, and you're loyal. If you explain to them why this is important, they'll get it. Or at least," he added, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive tone, "they'll trust your judgment enough to let you handle it. We wouldn't be gone forever, just long enough to make sure they're alright. To see them."

He reached out, taking her hands in his. "Think about it, Y/n. Luffy, Sabo. All four of us. Even if it's just for a moment. Don't you want to see them again?"

His words chipped away at her resolve, stirring the deep-seated yearning that had been there all along. The 'ifs' and 'buts' of responsibility suddenly seemed less daunting than the thought of letting this chance slip away.

Y/n looked into Ace's earnest, hopeful eyes, the silent plea for a reunion echoing in their depths. All her carefully constructed arguments about responsibility and protocol began to crumble. The thought of seeing Luffy's boundless energy, Sabo's thoughtful smile, the sheer joy of having all four of them in one place again, even just for a fleeting moment, was an irresistible force. The pirate captain, the one who meticulously planned every move and accounted for every variable, was suddenly gone, replaced by the little girl who just wanted to see her brothers.

A slow smile spread across her face, mirroring Ace's. "You know, you're an insufferable idiot," she said, but her voice held no venom, only affection. "And completely reckless."

Ace's grin widened. "Comes with the territory."

"But," Y/n continued, a mischievous glint entering her own eyes, "you're right. They'll understand. And if they don't," she shrugged, a familiar devil-may-care attitude returning, "then they can just try to stop us."

Ace let out a triumphant laugh, pulling her into another quick, powerful hug. "That's the Y/n I know! So, what's the plan, Captain?"

Y/n pulled back, a determined glint in her eye. "First, we explain to our crews. Then, we figure out where those two knuckleheads might be. This is going to be complicated, Ace, but it's going to be worth it."

He nodded, his gaze fixed on hers, a shared understanding passing between them. The night air, once cool and crisp, now felt charged with a new kind of warmth, a renewed sense of purpose. They were pirates, yes, with crews and responsibilities, but they were also family. And family, for them, always came first.

Ace's Plea to Whitebeard

The next morning, back on the deck of the Moby Dick, Ace stood before the towering figure of Edward Newgate, the legendary Whitebeard. The air was thick with the usual bustle of the crew, but a respectful hush fell over the immediate area as Ace approached his captain.

"Pops," Ace began, his voice firm, "I need to ask for a leave of absence."

Whitebeard's massive eyes, usually twinkling with mirth or narrowed in battle, regarded him steadily. "Oh? And what grand adventure has captured my son's attention now?" His voice was a deep rumble, accustomed to commanding respect.

Ace didn't flinch. "It's not an adventure, Pops. It's… family. My brothers. Luffy and Sabo. Y/n and I ran into each other, and we realized we need to check on them. See if they're alright."

Whitebeard listened, stroking his magnificent mustache. A thoughtful silence stretched between them, broken only by the creak of the ship. Ace waited, knowing the weight of his request. Leaving his division, even temporarily, wasn't a small thing.

Finally, Whitebeard let out a hearty laugh, a booming sound that reverberated across the deck. "Gurararara! Family, you say? And my son asks to see his kin? Of course, you fool! What kind of father would I be to deny that?" He raised his gourd of sake. "Go, Ace! See your brothers. But don't you dare come back without some exciting tales for your old man! And don't cause too much trouble!"

Ace grinned, a genuine, relieved smile. "Thanks, Pops! You won't regret it!"

Y/n Addresses Her Crew

Later that day, Y/n gathered her own crew on the deck of the Sea Serpent. Their faces were a mix of curiosity and lingering apprehension after witnessing her interaction with Fire Fist Ace. She stood before them, her stance firm, her gaze sweeping over each of them.

"Alright, listen up!" she began, her voice clear and strong. "As you all saw yesterday, I ran into an old friend. More than a friend, actually. My brother, Ace."

A ripple of murmurs went through the crew, but Y/n held up a hand. "I grew up with him and two other brothers, Luffy and Sabo. We swore an oath when we were kids to set sail and find our own way, but also to always look out for each other." She paused, taking a breath. "Now, Ace and I… we've decided we need to check on them. Make sure they're safe. It's been years, and it's something we have to do."

A seasoned quartermaster stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Captain, with all due respect, leaving the ship… that's unprecedented. What about our next course? Our supplies? The dangers of the Grand Line without our captain?"

Y/n met his gaze head-on. "I'm not abandoning you. And I'm not leaving you vulnerable. We'll set a course for a safe, secluded island where you can resupply and conduct maintenance. I'll leave detailed instructions, and your chain of command will be clear. I trust each and every one of you to keep this ship sailing true until I return."

She looked at each of them, her voice softening slightly. "This isn't a whim. This is family. It's a bond that means everything to me. I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I need to do this, for them, and for myself." She took a deep breath. "Are you with me? Can you trust me on this?"

The crew exchanged hesitant glances, the fear of the unknown battling with their loyalty to their captain. The quartermaster looked at Y/n, seeing not just their captain, but the genuine emotion in her eyes. He sighed, then straightened up. "Captain, we follow you. Always have. If this is what you need to do, then we'll hold down the fort. Just… come back safe."

A wave of relief washed over Y/n. A genuine smile bloomed on her face. "Thank you. All of you. I won't be gone a day longer than necessary."

Ace and Y/n met again at the edge of the bustling port that evening, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. A shared sense of exhilaration crackled between them.

"So," Ace began, a wide grin stretching across his face, "they're good with it?"

Y/n nodded, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "Took a bit of convincing, but yeah. They're holding down the fort. What about your old man?"

"Pops gave me his blessing," Ace confirmed, his chest puffing out slightly with pride. "Said family comes first. Told me not to cause too much trouble, though." He winked, and Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

"Right, because you never cause trouble," she retorted, nudging him with her elbow. "So, the plan? Who are we tracking down first?"

They walked a little further, the last vestiges of the day's chaos fading into the quiet hum of the evening. Ace tucked his hands behind his head. "Well, Luffy's probably causing chaos wherever he is, which means he's easy to find eventually. Sabo, on the other hand… he's always been the more discreet one." He chuckled. "Always plotting, always observing. We should try to find him first. He'll probably have a better idea of where Luffy's gotten himself into trouble."

Y/n nodded in agreement. "Good call. Sabo's the brains of the outfit, even if he doesn't always act like it." She paused, then glanced at Ace. "This is really happening, isn't it? We're actually going to find them."

Ace’s grin widened, a pure, unadulterated joy radiating from him. "Damn right it is! They're gonna be so surprised." He clapped her on the back, a little harder than necessary. "Aww, and they'll see how small and cute you are, shorty!"

Whack! Y/n's hand connected sharply with the back of his head. "Shut it, you overgrown tree! I told you, I'm still tall! You just keep unfairly stretching out!" She glared at him, but her lips were twitching with a smile she couldn't quite suppress.

Ace rubbed the back of his head, feigning pain. "Hey, you used to think it was hilarious when you were taller! Now look at you, all defensive." He laughed, an easy, happy sound that filled the quiet night. "Alright, alright, Captain. Lead the way. Let's go find our brothers."

The search for Sabo proved to be a more arduous journey than either Ace or Y/n had anticipated. What they'd hoped would be a quick detour turned into a two-week odyssey across unpredictable stretches of the Grand Line. They spent their days charting courses, cross-referencing outdated maps with Ace's more recent intel from the Whitebeard network, and chasing down every whisper of a "flame-powered revolutionary" or a "top-hatted brawler."

The Grand Line, in its infinite capriciousness, threw everything it had at them. They navigated through sudden, violent thunderstorms that appeared out of nowhere, forcing them to huddle together as waves crashed over the small, borrowed vessel Ace had managed to procure. They endured sweltering, windless days that left them drifting under a relentless sun, only to be followed by bone-chilling cold fronts that had them sharing Ace's meager supply of cloaks. One memorable afternoon saw them narrowly escape the jaws of a monstrous sea king, a beast so large it dwarfed their little boat, leaving Y/n breathless with a mix of terror and exhilarating laughter.

Their nights were a stark contrast to the chaotic days. Anchored in secluded coves or drifting calmly on placid seas, they found solace in the quiet companionship. They'd share rations, often warmed by Ace's flames, and talk for hours under the vast, star-dusted sky. They recounted stories of their respective crews, shared anxieties about the paths they'd chosen, and drifted back to simpler times, reminiscing about Dadan's tough love and the endless freedom of their childhood.

Ace, surprisingly, was a decent storyteller, recounting thrilling escapades with the Whitebeard Pirates, his voice low and rich in the darkness. Y/n, in turn, found herself opening up about the challenges of being a captain, the weight of responsibility, and the moments of profound loneliness she sometimes felt. They laughed about their old dreams and shared new ones, finding a comfortable rhythm in their shared past and uncertain future. There were moments of quiet intimacy, too, as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, the warmth of Ace's body a comforting presence against the cool night air.

Just when frustration was beginning to set in, after chasing a particularly misleading lead to a small, isolated island, they saw him. A familiar figure, easily distinguishable even from a distance by his distinct top hat and pipe, was engaged in a heated discussion with a group of rather disheveled-looking individuals near a makeshift revolutionary base.

"Sabo!" Ace bellowed, his voice echoing across the clearing, laced with unadulterated joy.

Y/n felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over her so strong it almost buckled her knees. After weeks of searching, battling the elements, and countless near misses, they had finally found him.

Sabo spun around at the sound of Ace’s booming voice, his eyes widening in disbelief. His pipe nearly clattered to the ground as he took in the sight before him: Ace, undeniably larger and more imposing than he remembered, and beside him, Y/n. He hadn't seen her since they were all seventeen, and the memories of her towering over them, even as kids, were vivid.

He rushed forward, a joyous laugh bubbling from his chest. "Ace! Y/n! What are you two doing here?"

Ace met him halfway, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. "Sabo! You idiot! We came to find you, of course!"

Y/n, a wide, teary smile on her face, embraced Sabo next, a warmth spreading through her at the familiar feeling of his arms around her. "It's been too long, Sabo!"

As they pulled back, Sabo's gaze swept over Y/n, and a flicker of genuine shock crossed his face. He remembered her as the tallest, the one who constantly teased them about their height. Now, at 6'1", he found himself looking down at her, just as he did with Ace. Y/n, at 5'5", was still a good height, but she was no longer the giant of their childhood memories. The realization hit him with a surprising force, a comical twist to their reunion.

He quickly masked his surprise, a warm smile returning. "You both look… incredible! What brings you all the way out here?"

"We wanted to see you, you knucklehead," Ace interjected, clapping Sabo on the back, a playful glint in his eye as he glanced at Y/n. "And someone here," he nudged Y/n with his elbow, "was getting worried she was going to be the only short one left."

Y/n immediately flushed, jabbing him in the ribs. "Ace, shut up! I am not short! And you're just as much an overgrown beanpole as he is!" She gestured exasperatedly at Sabo.

Sabo's eyebrows shot up in amusement, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's true, Y/n, you haven't quite reached the sky like you used to threaten. I guess we finally caught up, huh?" He couldn't help but chuckle at her indignant pout, remembering how fiercely she'd clung to her height advantage as a child.

"You two are absolutely insufferable!" Y/n declared, throwing her hands up in mock surrender, a bright, genuine laugh escaping her lips despite her protests. It was exactly like old times, and the familiarity, the comfortable bickering, felt like coming home.

The small revolutionary base, a collection of makeshift shelters and tents, became the impromptu site for a long-overdue reunion. Sabo quickly introduced Ace and Y/n to his comrades, briefly explaining their shared past with a glint of pride in his eye. After the initial introductions, the three siblings found a quiet spot away from the bustling activity, settling around a small, crackling fire Sabo had built.

Hours melted away as they talked, catching up on years of missed adventures. Ace recounted his fiery escapades with the Whitebeard Pirates, his voice filled with reverence when he spoke of Pops. Y/n shared tales of cunning and leadership aboard the Sea Serpent, her crew's quirks, and the challenges of being a captain. Sabo, in turn, spoke of the burgeoning Revolutionary Army, the injustices he sought to dismantle, and the hope he carried for a better world.

"Remember that time Luffy tried to eat that entire wild boar by himself?" Y/n chuckled, poking the fire with a stick. "And ended up with a stomachache for three days?"

"And Dadan made him run laps until he nearly passed out," Ace added, a wide grin on his face. "Good times."

Sabo laughed, a soft, familiar sound. "We always had to save him from himself. Some things never change, I suppose." He looked at Y/n, a fond smile on his face. "It's good to see you, Y/n. You really haven't changed much, except maybe for your height." He ducked as Y/n aimed a playful punch at his shoulder.

"You're just jealous you're not as graceful as I am!" she retorted, though her eyes were twinkling with mirth.

As the night deepened, a comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the jungle. The air was thick with unspoken affection, a tangible warmth that transcended the years and the vast distances they had traveled. They were no longer just children on Mount Corvo, but fierce pirates and revolutionaries, yet the core of their bond remained untouched. The easy camaraderie, the shared history, and the deep, unwavering love for each other was a powerful anchor in their tumultuous lives.

The thought of Luffy, still out there, unaware of their reunion, stirred a fresh wave of excitement. Their little family, broken by circumstance and distant memories, was slowly, surely, beginning to piece itself back together.

The night deepened, wrapping the three siblings in a comfortable cocoon of shared history. The fire cast long, dancing shadows, flickering across their familiar faces. They talked of their dreams, their crews, and the endless expanse of the Grand Line that now separated and connected them. Laughter, genuine and heartfelt, often punctuated their stories, a melody of brotherhood and sisterhood that had been years in the making.

Ace tossed another piece of wood onto the embers, sending a shower of sparks upwards. He leaned back, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at Y/n, then at Sabo. "You know, it's funny," he began, his voice a little softer than usual. "We've talked about everything under the sun tonight, but we've never really talked about it, have we?"

Y/n tilted her head. "Talked about what?"

"How you even ended up with us," Ace clarified, gesturing between the three of them. "I mean, Sabo and I were together for a while, then the dork— luffy showed up at Dadan's around a few years letter, then you.. but you… you were different. You were the last one, and you were so quiet at first. Distant, even. It took you almost a year to really open up." He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. "And Garp… he was always so much gentler with you than with us. At the time, we just figured it was because you were a girl, but looking back, Garp's the last person in the world to treat someone differently just because of their gender. He always looked at you with this… pity. Or something close to it."

Sabo nodded slowly, his expression mirroring Ace's. "He's right. Garp was tough on us, but with you, it was like he was walking on eggshells sometimes. What was that about, Y/n? How did you end up with him?"

The warmth in Y/n's eyes seemed to dim, ever so slightly. The firelight flickered, making the shadows deepen around her. She didn't answer right away, her gaze drifting to the dancing flames, lost in a memory. A moment of silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions.

The crackling of the fire suddenly seemed louder, the chirping of crickets in the distance more pronounced. The easy laughter and comfortable silence of moments before had vanished, replaced by a sudden, heavy quiet. Y/n reached for a nearby waterskin, taking a slow, deliberate gulp, her eyes fixed on the inky expanse of the night sky above.

"Well," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Garp—Garp saved me."

Ace and Sabo exchanged a quick, bewildered glance, but remained silent, sensing the shift in her demeanor, the sudden fragility in her usually strong presence.

Y/n paused, her gaze still fixed on the stars, as if searching for answers in their distant glow. Then, she spoke the words that hung in the air, chilling them to the bone despite the warmth of the fire. "From the Celestial Dragons."

A heavy silence descended upon them, thicker than the deepest ocean trench. Ace's jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek, his freckled face darkening. Sabo's breath hitched, and the easy warmth that had flowed between them minutes before evaporated, replaced by a cold dread. Both knew, intimately, the unspeakable cruelty of the Celestial Dragons. They were the world's untouchables, their casual whims often leading to unimaginable horrors for anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.

The implication hung in the air, a sickening weight. A child. A child saved from them. The only way a child would be "saved" from a Celestial Dragon was if they had been... a slave. The thought was a searing brand, burning through Ace's mind. He wanted to rage, to incinerate something, anything, to extinguish the vile image that had just appeared in his head.

Sabo's hand instinctively went to his chest, where his own painful memories resided. He remembered Y/n's initial silence, her flinching at loud noises, the way she would sometimes stare blankly into the distance. He had dismissed it as shyness, as the natural caution of a child thrown into a strange new family. Now, those distant memories twisted into a horrifying new context. Garp's pity, his uncharacteristic gentleness, suddenly made chilling sense.

"Celestial Dragons?" Ace finally growled, his voice low and dangerous, laced with a raw fury. His hand, even now, instinctively reached for the hilt of a non-existent knife. "What... what did they do to you?"

Y/n offered a soft, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. It was a fragile thing, brittle around the edges. Her hand unconsciously drifted to her left side, resting gently over her ribs. "I think you know," she said, her voice a low murmur, barely a whisper in the quiet night.

As her hand settled, a horrifying jolt of memory struck Sabo. He remembered it with crystal clarity now, a vivid flash from years ago. One sweltering afternoon, during one of their countless rough-and-tumble games, her shirt had ridden up. He’d seen it then, a strange, swirling pattern branded into her skin near her ribs. He hadn't understood it at the time, dismissing it as some kind of odd scar or perhaps a peculiar birthmark. But now, the context of the Celestial Dragons snapped the puzzle pieces into place with sickening precision. It was the Hoof of the Heavenly Dragon, the mark of a slave. He’d seen it in books, read about it in hushed tones amongst revolutionaries, but to see it on Y/n… on his sister…

His blood ran cold. The rage that had been simmering in Ace suddenly ignited, a furious, silent blaze in his dark eyes. Neither of them spoke, but the air around them crackled with unspoken horror and a shared, profound grief for the little girl they had found all those years ago. The truth, finally unveiled, explained so much about the quiet, distant child she had been, and it shattered their hearts all over again.

Y/n’s soft smile returned, though it was still fragile, as if daring to break. She quickly pulled her hand from her side, as if the brief contact with the hidden mark had burned her. She saw the raw pain and anger etched on Ace and Sabo’s faces, the horror in their eyes. The shared revelation hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate the warmth of their reunion. But Y/n, ever resilient, wasn't about to let it consume them.

"Anyways, Sabo," she said, her voice a little too bright, forcing a change of subject. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, bringing an almost business-like air to her tone. "I know you have a lot to work on, being a revolutionary and all. Important stuff." She glanced quickly at Ace, who was still staring at her with a mix of fury and protectiveness. "But if you can, if you would, do you wanna come find Luffy with us? Just for a little bit."

The question hung in the air, a lifeline thrown into the sudden emotional abyss. It was an invitation back to their shared, simpler past, a distraction from the harrowing present.

Y/n didn't push for an immediate answer. She understood the weight of the request. Sabo had responsibilities, a cause he was deeply devoted to. She just held his gaze, a silent plea in her eyes that mirrored Ace's own unspoken hope.

"Think about it," she said, her voice softer now, less forced. "No pressure. We can talk about it in the morning, after we've all gotten some sleep." She glanced at Ace, who nodded in agreement, his initial fury having subsided into a quiet intensity. The night had taken a heavy turn, and the need for rest was palpable.

Sabo looked between them, a flicker of emotion in his eyes—longing, conflict, and then, a slow understanding. He knew what this meant to them, to all of them. The unaddressed pain of Y/n’s past still hung in the air, a silent testament to the resilience of their bond. He simply nodded, the weight of his decision clearly on his mind. The three of them sat in quiet contemplation for a while longer, the only sounds the crackling fire and the gentle hum of the distant jungle, each lost in their own thoughts as the vast, star-filled sky watched over their complicated reunion.

A shiver ran through Y/n, not from the cool night air, but from the raw vulnerability she'd just exposed. The sudden, stark quiet that had fallen after her confession felt too heavy, too revealing. She needed a moment, a space to breathe away from the intensity of their gazes.

"Well," she said, pushing herself up from the ground, a casualness she didn't feel in her tone. "It's been a long day. I think I'll turn in." She offered them a small, tired smile. "Don't stay up too late, you two. We've got a busy morning ahead."

She didn't wait for a reply, just offered a quick nod and turned, walking away from the flickering firelight and the heavy silence, leaving Ace and Sabo alone with the chilling truth she had finally laid bare.

The first rays of dawn painted the sky in soft hues of orange and pink, chasing away the lingering shadows of the night. The air felt lighter, fresher, though an unspoken understanding now hummed beneath the surface of their interactions. Ace and Sabo were already up when Y/n emerged from one of the revolutionary tents, rubbing sleep from her eyes. They offered her a quiet, knowing smile, devoid of the shock and horror from hours before, replaced instead with a gentle protectiveness.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Ace greeted, tossing her a piece of dried fruit he’d acquired.

"Morning," Y/n replied, taking the fruit and avoiding their gazes for a moment, still feeling a slight awkwardness about her confession. But the easy way they were acting, the lack of overt pity, was a relief.

They shared a simple breakfast with some of Sabo's comrades, the usual revolutionary base bustle resuming around them. As the last of the food was cleared, Sabo turned to his siblings, his usual composed demeanor firmly in place, but with a new sparkle in his eyes.

"Alright," he began, "I've thought about it. And yes, I'll come with you to find Luffy."

Y/n's face lit up, a genuine, unburdened smile finally breaking through. Ace let out a triumphant cheer, clapping Sabo on the back. "Yes! Knew you wouldn't let us down!"

Sabo chuckled, holding up a hand. "But," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eye, "there are a few conditions."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. "Oh? Lay 'em on us, Mr. Revolutionary."

"First," Sabo began, "this can only be for a short while. The Revolutionary Army's mission is too critical for me to be gone for an extended period. We find Luffy, we make sure he's safe and well, and then I return to my duties."

"Fair enough," Ace conceded, though a slight pout touched his lips.

"Second," Sabo continued, "no unnecessary trouble. I know that's asking a lot from you two," he glanced pointedly at Ace, then at Y/n, "but we need to be efficient. Our objective is to find Luffy, not start a war."

Y/n snorted, but nodded. "We'll do our best. No promises for when Luffy inevitably causes trouble himself, though."

"And finally," Sabo said, his voice softening as he looked at both of them, "we stick together. All of us. No splitting up, no going off on solo tangents. We do this as a team. For old times' sake." His gaze lingered on Y/n for a moment, a silent message of reassurance and protection passing between them. The promise was clear: they would be there for her, no matter what.

Ace grinned, pulling them both into a rough, heartfelt embrace. "Deal! Operation: Find Luffy, ASL style!"

On the Trail of Chaos

Finding Luffy proved to be significantly less of a logistical nightmare than locating the notoriously discreet Sabo. While Sabo moved like a shadow, Luffy left a blazing trail of chaos and good deeds wherever he went. Their journey, which took a little over a week, was marked by a series of increasingly absurd rumors and newspaper headlines.

"Heard he liberated an entire island from a tyrant just by yelling really loud," a fisherman muttered in one port, pointing vaguely eastward.

"Some giant rubber man apparently ate all the meat at a local festival," a tavern owner grumbled in another, eyeing Ace's similar appetite with suspicion.

Ace, Y/n, and Sabo listened to these tales with a growing sense of fond exasperation and nostalgic amusement. It was pure Luffy, through and through. Their week-long voyage together was a reunion in itself. On the small, swift ship Ace had commandeered, they settled into a comfortable rhythm. Days were spent poring over marine reports and newspaper clippings, tracking the most recent, most outlandish disturbances. Nights were filled with the easy camaraderie they'd missed so dearly.

Y/n found herself laughing more than she had in years, the simple joy of having her brothers by her side a balm to her soul. Ace would often spar playfully with Sabo on deck, their Haki-infused punches sending ripples through the air, while Y/n watched, offering tactical advice and occasionally joining in with her own swift moves. They shared meals, cooked simply over a small flame, reminiscing about Dadan's questionable cooking and their endless hunger as kids.

There were moments of quiet understanding too. Ace would sometimes glance at Y/n, a silent message passing between them, a shared awareness of her past. Sabo, ever observant, would subtly position himself closer to her, a comforting presence. The unspoken knowledge of Y/n's history with the Celestial Dragons added a new layer to their bond, a fierce, protective current flowing beneath their usual teasing and laughter.

As they neared their destination, the signs of Luffy's recent presence became undeniable. A distant plume of smoke, reports of a minor island's government being "reorganized," and the faint, yet unmistakable, scent of barbecued meat on the wind.

"That's him," Ace declared, a wide, excited grin splitting his face.

"No doubt about it," Sabo chuckled, adjusting his top hat.

Y/n leaned over the railing, a joyous anticipation bubbling in her chest. "Looks like our little brother hasn't changed a bit." She tightened her grip on the railing, a thrill running through her. The reunion was almost complete.

The island was a vibrant, chaotic mess, a testament to Luffy's recent visit. Buildings were half-repaired, banners of a newly liberated people flapped in the breeze, and the air was thick with the scent of festivities and, indeed, an abundance of meat.

"He's definitely here," Y/n grinned, jumping from their small boat onto the dusty shore. Ace followed, his eyes already scanning the horizon, and Sabo landed gracefully beside them.

They didn't have to search long. A booming, unmistakable laugh, followed by shouts of "Meat! More meat!" led them straight to the heart of the celebration. In the center of a bustling town square, amidst a crowd of cheering islanders and his own eclectic crew, was Monkey D. Luffy. He was just as they remembered him – boundless energy, an insatiable appetite, and a wide, beaming smile that could light up the entire Grand Line.

He was currently attempting to devour a portion of grilled sea beast nearly as big as himself, his straw hat slightly askew, surrounded by his equally unique companions. A long-nosed sniper was yelling excitedly, a green-haired swordsman was leaning against a wall looking bored but watchful, an orange-haired navigator was counting something on a paper, a blonde cook was passionately arguing with her, a tiny reindeer doctor was scurrying around, a cyborg was shouting "Super!", a skeleton musician was serenading a few islanders, and a quiet archeologist was observing the scene with a gentle smile.

"LUFFY!" Ace roared, his voice cutting through the festive din like a cannon shot.

Luffy, mid-chew, froze. His head slowly turned, his eyes widening to comical proportions. He blinked once, twice, then dropped his piece of meat with a thud.

"ACE?! SABO?! Y/N?!" he shrieked, his voice echoing across the square, completely overriding the celebration. His elastic limbs stretched, propelling him forward in a burst of rubbery speed.

He slammed into Ace first, nearly knocking the fire user off his feet, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. "ACE! You're here! I missed you!"

Before Ace could fully recover, Luffy bounced off him and launched himself at Sabo, equally ecstatic. "SABO! You too! What are you doing here?!"

Then, he turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated joy. "Y/N! You're here too! You got so tall!" he exclaimed, then paused, tilting his head. "Wait... no you didn't! I did!" He peered closer, holding his hand up to her head, then to Ace's, then to Sabo's, a puzzled look on his face. "Huh? You're all taller than Y/n now!"

Y/n simply laughed, a full, unrestrained sound, pulling him into a warm hug despite his height-related confusion. "It's good to see you, Luffy, you absolute idiot!"

Behind Luffy, his crew stood frozen, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation. They knew of Fire Fist Ace, the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. And the revolutionary Sabo. But who was this woman, who commanded such familiar affection from their notoriously reckless captain? And why were these legendary figures being embraced like long-lost brothers and sister? The sheer absurdity of the scene left them speechless.

The initial chaotic reunion slowly settled into a joyous pandemonium. Luffy, bouncing with unrestrained energy, insisted on introducing Ace, Sabo, and Y/n to his crew, each introduction punctuated by exaggerated tales and Luffy's unique brand of storytelling.

"This is Zoro! He's super strong but gets lost easily!"

"And Nami! She's a greedy witch but also our navigator!"

"Usopp is the bravest warrior of the sea! Even though he's a liar!"

His crewmates, initially bewildered, were quickly won over by the genuine warmth and camaraderie between the four siblings. Ace's booming laughter, Sabo's calm smiles, and Y/n's easygoing nature created an infectious atmosphere.

At one point, as they all gathered around a massive bonfire, sharing food and stories, Luffy suddenly pointed at Y/n, a wide, innocent grin on his face. "Shishishi! Y/n, you're short! I remember you being sooo tall!" He stretched his arms upwards, exaggerating her childhood height. "You used to be like this big!"

A wave of laughter rippled through Luffy's crew. Even Zoro cracked a small smile. Y/n, however, just rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips. "Oh, shut up, Luffy. You've just finally grown into your ridiculous rubber limbs." She playfully swatted at his straw hat. "Besides, I'm not short!" she protested, though the teasing tone in her voice betrayed her lack of genuine offense.

Ace chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, well, someone had to stay the right size so we didn't mistake her for a giant." He winked, and Y/n playfully elbowed him in the side.

Sabo, ever the diplomat, interjected with a smile. "She's plenty tall. Just… we caught up." He ruffled Y/n's hair affectionately. "It's just a bit surprising, that's all. We all remember her towering over us."

Luffy, oblivious to the subtle nuances of their childhood dynamic, just continued to grin, happily munching on another piece of meat. "Shishishi! Still good to see you, Y/n! Tall or short!" He stretched his arm out and gave her a rubbery hug, nearly knocking her off balance.

The night continued with more laughter, shared stories of their separate adventures, and the comfortable feeling of being a family, finally reunited, even amidst the chaos of the Straw Hat Pirates' world. The height difference, once a source of Y/n's childish pride, was now just another fond memory, another layer to the complex and enduring bond they shared.

The bonfire roared, casting dancing shadows on the faces of pirates and revolutionaries alike. Luffy's crew, initially wary, had fully embraced the novelty of their captain's legendary brothers and sister. Franky, the cyborg, kept exclaiming "SUPER!" at Ace's flame abilities, while Chopper, the reindeer doctor, gazed at Sabo with wide-eyed admiration. Usopp tried to out-storytell Ace, leading to a hilariously exaggerated battle of tall tales. Sanji, the cook, kept trying to woo Y/n with elaborate dishes, much to Ace's mock-chagrin and Luffy's simple delight at the extra food.

Nami, ever practical, had managed to corner Y/n, exchanging navigator tips and quietly expressing her amazement at the sheer star power of Y/n's "brothers." Robin, the archaeologist, observed the familial dynamics with a gentle smile, occasionally asking a pointed question that showed her keen understanding of their intertwined pasts.

A Quiet Moment Among Brothers

As the night wore on, the party showed no signs of truly winding down, but Ace, Sabo, and Y/n managed to slip away to a quieter spot near the edge of the square, watching Luffy's antics from a slight distance.

"He hasn't changed a bit, has he?" Y/n chuckled, leaning her head against Sabo's shoulder.

"Not one bit," Sabo agreed, a soft, fond smile on his face. "Still chasing after the next adventure, still full of dreams."

Ace nodded, his gaze fixed on Luffy, a deep warmth in his eyes. "He's amazing. Stronger than I ever imagined he'd be." He then nudged Y/n gently. "You proud of him, 'shorty'?"

Y/n snorted, playfully punching his arm. "Of course I am, you brute. And I'm proud of you two as well. Look at us. Three legends, and me, a humble pirate captain."

"Humble, huh?" Ace raised an eyebrow. "I seem to recall a certain captain boasting about her height not too long ago."

"That was then, this is now," Y/n dismissed with a wave of her hand, but a blush touched her cheeks. "Besides, you're just jealous of my superior strategic mind."

Sabo laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that reminded them both of their childhood. "Some things never change, indeed." He put an arm around each of them, pulling them closer. "It's good to have us all together. Even for a little while."

The three sat in comfortable silence, their shoulders touching, watching their youngest brother unknowingly bring joy and chaos to an entire island. The years, the dangers, the separate paths they had walked—they all faded into insignificance in that moment. All that mattered was the undeniable, unbreakable bond of family, finally reunited under the vast, star-studded sky of the Grand Line. The unspoken understanding of Y/n's past was there, a somber undertone, but it was overshadowed by the sheer, overwhelming wholesomeness of their present, together at last.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #straw hat pirates #luffy x y/n #asl brothers #asl #ace x reader #sabo x reader #found family #reader angst #happy #comfort #celestial dragons #whitebeard pirates #pirate reader

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fishnapple · 8 months ago

Text

Message from the Universe to you

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

LAPIS LAZULI

Fortune comes and goes, fickle like the wind. But it sure favours the bold. Whatever predicament you're in right now, it will come to pass. But also take notes, whatever blessing or good luck you think you're having, there will come a day it will also pass. It's the art of going with the flow of life, never expecting anything to bend to your will or to last forever. Such is life's ephemeral beauty. You lose some and then you win some.

There's a knot inside your mind, tying everything closely together. In fact, too close, to the point of rigidity and confinement. The fear of not living up to some lofty standards you have heaped upon yourself is excruciating, it cripples your ability to look forward and to step out of the shadow. You feel like you have to perform, to meet a certain criteria, to please, who do you seek to please? Is it yourself, is it a distant ghost of the past, or is it the nagging of the future? What will happen when there is displeasure? Will you be punished, or will you be free? You see yourself through the eyes of other people, yet forget the very eyes that are yours. You wear the clothes that people compliment on but forget the naked body inside feeling those clothes. If you untie the knot inside, take off the clothes (armour) and look at the mirror, see if there are tears reflecting back at you, or are they smiles? Whatever they are, they are real, they are you.

When you're free, you will realise how much you can do yet how little you have to do anything. The unexpected might happen, but you are not afraid of it, you let it wash over you, or maybe push you a little. Then you will find yourself stronger, brighter. And along the way, you will find companions, whose perception of you won't be the target of your worries, you just feel confident in knowing that you view the world with similar eyes.

JADE

So many things to do, so little time, so little energy. Your energy is so straightforward and blazing that sometimes it can be cutting or becomes a burden for you. Like carrying a lightning rod. But this energy is being stored in such a small room, it's frustrated and wants to break out. Do you find yourself lying awake, sleepless, mind buzzing with constant noise? Or do you find your stomach and your chest heating up, like a fire burning inside? A simple word or a simple shake of the head is enough to push this fire back inside, under lock and key. You could feel like bursting out at the smallest remark, taking everyone aback , yet you would show the most placid expression when someone is being emotionally open to you. This energy bursts out when you don't want it to, it stays silent when you struggle to call for it. Your energy, your enthusiasm needs grounding, it needs to be directed with a clear purpose. Only so can it become productive.

Remove superfluous things, thoughts, and objects. Don't burden yourself anymore than you already are doing. Don't take on so many projects, interests, and even people. Your inner load is already heavy as it is, don't pile more on it. Sometimes, things needn't be heavy and serious, they can be fun and lighthearted. Some connections shouldn't be labelled with heavy implications or expectations, yet. Some worth pursuing, but with a gentle reach. Keep the jest of life, you're not meant to keep yourself in the dark, you're meant to shine brightly and radiate warmth like the Sun.

MOONSTONE

I think you need a vacation, take time to pamper yourself, take time to unwind, and release all the negativity bottling up inside you. Take your life to the centre stage, don't be distracted by the so-called responsibilities and work. How can you work if you're in shambles. The body temple of yours needs lots of care and maintenance. It won't stay the same years in and out, time will chip away its vigor, a heart in pain will lose its lustre. This group is all about taking care of your physical body and the reality around you.

Take time to be alone with yourself, maybe this is a foreign feeling, you're so used to the presence of others, their noise, their energy, that you find it hollow when you're alone. It's like you're the last one to leave the room, and suddenly you find yourself in such a huge space, all alone. What will you do in that situation? Hurriedly get out of the room to catch up with people, fearing an invisible shadow will materialise itself if you stay in the room long enough? Or do you stay, take a look around the room, notice the small details that you've never noticed, play some music, and sway back and forth to the melody of it? What action is more sensible, what is more fun, you decide.

I see a waterfall, a downpour, I see you just sit there, inside the house, looking out, or holding an umbrella, being still at try to catch a look at each rain drop, let time slow down for you, work diligently at staying still and relaxing, you will find how hard they are. Make them your habits. In the stillness of the body, you find movements in your mind, amidst the rain, you hear the thunder in your heart, ideas strike like lightning and you would be wise to catch them.

MORGANITE

You have been working so hard, putting all in to get the work done, please be proud of yourself, pat yourself on the back, no one deserves it better than you do. Now it's time to reap the reward, things will fall into places, more opportunities will come. But to save your energy for those opportunities, you should take a rest first. Don't fret, don't worry, you won't miss a thing if you stop and rest a little, in fact, you will even go further into your path than you realise. Isn't it amazing how you can stay still and yet are advancing at the same time?

It's time to learn more about yourself, get to know yourself, your most earnest wishes, your brightest light, your biggest gifts, but of course, your biggest fears also. There are so many things to learn, you will never get enough of yourself. The image you hold of yourself is fuzzy and ever changing, ever elusive, always out of reach. You might feel lost when you're alone, but you also feel lonely when you're with other people. But that's just the effect of a fog draping over your eyes.

By seeing yourself better, you will also get better at seeing people. Exchanges with others will have deeper meaning for you. The words you say, the words you hear, they can contain love and affection, use them wisely, listen to them closely. From others do we find our love echoes back at us. You will see love in the most mundane thing, find it in the most unexpected manner. Then let it fuel your wishes.

AGATE

You feel like you can do it all, at the same time, you don't feel like you're doing enough. Ideas and plans swirling in your head, burning to be put into reality. One could say you're a manifestor, or more correctly, a manufacturer, in the purest sense, of ideas, inspirations, and projects. Though some of them could be better if finished before a new one starts. Be selective in what you're investing in, your energy, your time, your effort, your attention. Don't mass produce things, make bespoke things, things tailored only to a selected few. Or else you will find yourself overburdened by the stress of unproductivity and the guilt of not finishing or not starting enough projects.

The reason behind such an intense drive for productivity, besides your inherent creative power, is an emotional baggage lies deep inside you, you think it's sleeping, but it's not. It will wait and find the most opportune moment to spring out or seep out, into every social interaction of yours. Encouragement from the crowd fuels your confidence, but it also has the potential to wreck havoc on your psyche, if absent. Why do you feel you need to do so much? For whom? For what cause?

When your affection is turned inward, it has an effect of shooting and cracking the dome of the cell holding your emotional baggage. Whether it will fly out to be free or stay inside, is dependent upon how brave you think you can be. This will literally give you a makeover, a change of identity. Remember your manufacturing power. Don't wait for the orders to come in to start the lines, prepare them beforehand, and your biggest customer, you, will be satisfied.

OBSIDIAN

A short and sweet message: leave your fears at home and going enjoy life. There is something you're fighting, with or for, it seems to be both. A hollow feeling, a sense of nostalgia for bygone good things, a deep seated fear of past wounds resurfacing, making you relive the memories all over again. But with practice, you can leave those behind.

I see an arrow. There are two choices for you. One is aiming forward and let go, another is fighting back everything you encounter.

Relationships in general might be a source of headache/heartache for you. You feel everything so deeply, every interaction feels like a part of you is at stake. Your conviction can be so unmoving that every interaction feels like a battle. That you need to prove something, to protect something, to challenge something. It also makes you suspicious of people's intentions, what do their words mean? Is there a hidden meaning behind them? Are they sneering at me? You past colours your future, connections are felt through the lens of past experiences, you've become a veteran, in the war against the invasion of your inner world.

What propels you to take a step away from this habit is probably the realisation that you don't have to define yourself by your past nor your future. Let bygones be bygones, let the hereafter be uncertain. Pour yourself into the sea of shared hearts. Let yourself feel suffocated by the dense air of a crowd, your heart beating loudly while standing in front of a crowd, the agonising fear of judgement. All of these, while you feel like running away, are also those times when you're actually connected the most with life.

#pick a card #tarotblr #pick a pile #tarot #tarot community #crystal reading #tarot reading #lithomancy #astrology #astro #astro community #astroblr #divination #pick a stone #crystal #witch community #witchblr #tarot witch #occult

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temis-de-leon · 11 months ago

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Demon Brothers realizing their feelings for reader

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Dateables version

Requested by Romance Anon

A/N: just like in the dateables version, this feels like an extra to the other parts, so definitely check them out. Hope you enjoy this! Even if they're a little ooc...

Mammon

Saying that Mammon gets no respect in his own house is a given. He’s a joke amongst his brothers, a fool who only seeks metallic sheen; guilty until proven innocent.

Bluffing and throwing empty threats around is his way of maintaining at least some of his remaining dignity, even if no one buys it.

So when you, a weak dumb human, are put under his responsibility, his priority is making clear who’s in charge.

He shows his fangs and talks harshly, wasting no time in letting you know how unimportant you are to him and how many things he could and will do to you if you disobey his orders or ignore his requests.

Of course he’ll rummage through your room and see if he can sell something of yours, but soon his visits become too frequent and soon he lacks his treasure-hunting mindset.

Mammon doesn’t know what to think about the disappointment he feels when he opens the door and you’re not there, when he hears your voice in the living room talking to someone else or when you’re partnered with some faceless demon in class projects.

He keeps the insults to try and compensate for the weakness that falling in love with you carries. You have to see it, how could you not? And even if you don’t, his brothers’ little jests would give you enough hints.

It’s maddening, having you so close and so out of reach at the same time; but maybe, surely, that is his fault.

Leviathan

It’s so unfair.

Why does he have to be the Avatar of Envy when he is clearly the least everything among his brothers?

Well, perhaps he’s better than Mammon at some things, but still.

He knows he isn’t as imposing as Lucifer or as pretty as Asmo and he doesn’t even want to compare himself to Beel; he still remembers them all criticizing his hermit habits and his consequential soft tummy.

Staying inside his room is, undeniably, the best way to protect himself from his sin. It’s a sanctuary made for him, Henry and all of his prized possessions; he doesn’t need anything else.

And then he meets you.

You don’t force him out of his room, which makes it easier for him to come out on his own, and you don’t mock his interests either. You are empathetic, eager to explore, fun to be around… All in all, being close to you makes him feel lighthearted.

Levi cherishes you so much it doesn’t take him too long to want you as close to him as possible.

Where are you? With who? Why? Were you having a good time? Better than the moments you’ve shared with him? Do you miss him? He has something to show you, so hurry up!

He notices the change in his heart the moment you make him blush for the first time, heartbeat so fast it makes his chest tremble.

It is somewhat hopeless; he knows you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. Why would you?

No, he’d rather not go through that pain; he’s happy being just your friend.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Satan

You fascinate him.

Not like a book or a painting would, much less a cat, but like a mystery. He doesn’t understand you and that angers and fascinates him in equal amounts; it makes him want to investigate you further than he would with any other person.

He observes, taking you in as neutrally as possible, and marvels at the way you prove wrong everything he thinks he knows about humans and what he assumes about you based on that knowledge.

When he lashed his tail and bared his teeth, back then, in the darkness of his room when he still thought so lowly of you, you stood up to him and didn’t move an inch. Clearly afraid, but not backing up, facing him with determination.

You’d later tell him it was adrenaline, which picks his interest further.

His privacy is his own and he still enjoys spending time alone in his room or out in the city doing his own thing, but the desire to keep your company for himself every hour of the day grows stronger by the second.

Smiling at the mere sight of you, hearing the pounding of his heart in his ears and impatiently waiting for his phone to light up and show your name on the screen are just some of the many new changes your presence in his life has brought.

The more he feels, the more he sees himself in his novels. Whether the narrative is in his favour or not, he doesn’t know, but he’s enjoying every bit of it.

Asmodeus

Being called beautiful is for him as usual and natural as breathing air and drinking water, but that doesn’t mean it goes under the radar. While he lives in abundant loving words and adoring phrases, there’s never enough to satisfy him and he works hard to keep the flattery coming his way.

His body is a temple he vows to maintain and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to carry that promise.

A sleep schedule that helps his hair grow, clears his skin and makes his mind feel lighter and happier; makeup and clothes carefully selected to enhance his attractiveness; and nails perfectly filed and painted multi-coloured to express his versatility.

Of course, not all of him is based on looks. You can’t feed a fan club just solely on a picture!

He has a Deviltube channel where he engages with his beloved followers, parties to interact with them as well and other, more intimate, reunions that bring them all impossibly closer.

He thinks, rightfully so, that no one could ever come close to what he has achieved over time.

Then again, you always manage to surprise him.

While not as beautiful as him, there’s something about you that makes it impossible for him to stop admiring you and drinking in your entire presence.

It’s not just your face or your body, or the clothes you wear or how you do your makeup if you even decide to put it on. It’s your heart and your soul and the way you make him feel more loved than anyone could’ve ever done before.

There’s not a single ounce of jealousy in his eyes whenever he looks at you. You’re not competition, but part of him.

Finally, someone to share the spotlight with.

Beelzebub

A common misconception people tend to believe about him is his lack of emotional capacity, although he can understand his mostly speechless and stern demeanour and his food-driven actions don’t help at all.

His mind is usually focused on one thing and one thing only and that is filling his everlasting empty stomach. How can he concentrate on anything else when its growls are easily compared to Cerberus’s roars? When he salivates until he drools or when the aching need to consume something makes his vision turn red.

While it’s sometimes difficult for him to think straight or “read the room”, as Levi says, he’s well aware of what he feels at every moment of the day. Hunger is the usual answer, but there’s also love and protection for his family and, lately, for you as well.

It’s a different type of love, one he doesn’t feel often, but he recognizes it nonetheless and accepts it as quietly as he would with any other emotion, although his reddened cheeks and darkened glance speak volumes.

He loves you and wants you deeply, there’s no doubt about that, but he won’t act on it on impulse. As delicious as he thinks you’d be, you’re not some sort of candy ready to be chewed on in mere seconds.

Beel is impatient when it comes to his needs, yes, but he’s willing to wait for you.

Sometimes, the best meals are the ones being left to rest.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

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frostyresolve · 4 months ago

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promise of revelry ͏͏꒰ ᝬ brant

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“you’re doing that again, captain. cooking up some trouble, i see.”

his attention snaps towards your direction, and your eyes can’t help but narrow at the little quirks he’s starting to show, habits he does when he’s thinking of a plan. how he fiddles with the handle of his sword, his left hand perpetually adjusting his hat as if it were perched lopsided on his head, the way his feet shuffle on the deck of the ship. BRANT can’t ever hide anything from you, he fears; he’s whipped for you after all.

“the carnevale awaits, and it just so happens i’m looking at my partner in crime for the evening.” he’s always been dramatic, taking off his hat and bowing to you as if you were a royal in his presence, replacing the thoughtful expression with a smirk laced with charm and mischief.

“are you trying to sway me into leaving the ship under the guise of a date?” he feigns offence, placing a hand on his chest where his tacet mark is tattooed in black ink. he catches the way your eyes linger on his chest, clearing his throat as a blush blooms on your face, caught in the act. would it be embarrassing for you to admit that you’ve thought of tracing it once or twice before? “as if i need a tactic to get you to leave the ship. but i appreciate the challenge. besides, you know i’m not above trickery if it means seeing you get some well-deserved downtime. don’t you think you’ve earned it?”

“aren’t you a little too excited over a carnevale? the last one didn’t end so well over a decade ago.”

twirling a lock of your hair playfully before he flicks it away, he reaches out to you, breath hitching at the motion. his head tilts to the side as his gaze locks with yours. you know that look all too well, one that promised trouble. “that’s practically history. besides, the carnevale isn’t just about festivals. it’s about life, adventure… and maybe a few drinks too many.”

“i see, then you’ve just revealed your ulterior motive then, wine.”

he laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender like he’s been caught. the salty scent of the sea wafts in the air, blown by the breeze that ruffles his hair. you’ve preferred him without his hat, not that you’d ever admit it. “you’ve caught me. i admit, wine is in my plan, though i won’t deny that your presence is another major factor.”

“ghastly, the two things you should never be left alone with, both coming together under the harmless guise of a night of fun. i expected better from you, captain.” sighing, you clutch your chest in mock horror, feigning an air of disappointment. his title slips through your lips unconsciously, used to referring to him formally even if it’s just through jest, but he wants you to call BRANT by his name. maybe later in the evening, if his plan proves successful, with the help of alcohol, you’ll loosen your tongue. you’ll whisper the sweet nothings he’s been longing to hear.

he chuckles heartily in that laugh that does wonders in cracking your facade, byzantine eyes twinkling with mock injury. “you wound me so. i’ll have you know i have perfectly good self-control. i just…enjoy myself once in a while.”

stepping back and arms spread wide in the same gesture you’ve seen him do countless times before in front of an audience, only this time it’s just your eyes watching his every move. he’ll perform for you alright, put on the best show you’ve ever seen that’ll leave you begging for more. “and what better time to enjoy than the carnevale? where else can you find such a concentration of wine, trouble, and a pretty face all in one place?”

“i’m just looking to have a bit of fun. dance, drink, flirt…within reason, of course.” he moves closer, tone dropping to a mock confidential whisper. his warm breath ghosts your cheek, as gentle as a butterfly. tilt your head a little more, and your lips would meet. you’ve always wondered what he’d taste like, of oranges and cocktails, revelry and adventure.

his finger raises in mock warning, booping your nose playfully as he backs away, and you let go of the breath you’ve been holding in. the butterflies in your stomach don’t still; in fact, it feels like they’ve swarmed into a raging cyclone at his teasing. “you know i’m a gentleman. i would never actually cause trouble for you. it’s just harmless fun, is all.”

you knew him well enough; he wouldn’t change his mind once he’s made his decision. it would be amusing though, the captain drunk out of his wits. he could spill secrets in his dazed state, confessions that you’ve been practically waiting to hear for ages. you won’t relent so easily, maybe you’d consider accepting if he got down on his knees.

he leans casually against a nearby crate, crossing his arms with a playful shrug, pretending to be nonchalant. you see right through him; he’s probably quivering in his heeled boots right now behind the mask he wears of a fool. “besides what’s the point of hosting a carnevale when the stars of the show don’t partake in the festivities? think of it as…a reward for a job well done.”

“pleeeease?” BRANT looks at you with exaggerated pleading eyes, lips quirking in a lopsided smile. if your composure was fracturing like the ice of a clang bang, now it shatters completely. he knows he’s won the upper hand now when your eyebrows furrow and the side of your mouth twitches, gaze softening at his puppy dog eyes and little lip pucker. you’re a sucker for him too and he knows that, he’ll use that to his advantage in this game of yours. you did say you’d go if he begged after all.

“hmm, i suppose i have no choice but to indulge you, captain’s orders after all.” you sigh over-dramatically, relenting in to his pleas. it wouldn’t be so bad right? you can’t ever deny that you’ve wondered what it would be like to feel the heat of his skin, his tongue intertwined with yours, the thrilling spike of adventure like the rush of wind through the sails in a stormy sea.

he chuckles victoriously, a wide smile spreading across his face in triumph. “there it is. knew i could count on you.” you can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling the touch of his hand on yours as he practically twirls you off your feet and into his arms.

he’s close to you that it feels like he’s nuzzling your neck, causing you to shiver involuntarily. fingers on your waist as if he were dipping you in a waltz. you just needed to hold out a bit longer, you’re not sure how much of his flirting you can take anymore before you wave the white flag of surrender and confess first.

“and you’re absolutely correct, my dear. this time, you have no choice. we’re going to enjoy the carnevale, and you’re going to let yourself have a good time. no objections.”

maybe just maybe, he’ll give you the answer you’re looking for in his drunken splendour. wait too long, and you might just beat him to it. BRANT did promise that you’d have fun tonight after all.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #brant x reader #brant x you #wuwa brant #wuthering waves brant #𖦆 📼 frostyresolve ⩇ ʿ ୭

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cherrychilli · 1 year ago

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18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, established relationship, PIV sex, unprotected sex, semi- public sex, mirror sex Summary: Feeling needy at a party Eddie's taken you to in order to deal to the attendees, you steal him away and give him a different kind of show by making out with a woman to excite him. The woman? yourself. WC:1.8K

A/N: Was I drunk when I came up with this? yup. Was I drunk when I sat down and wrote it? yupx2. Am I drunk right now? honey, what do you think? anyway, enjoy!

"Show me"

He stares you down in that way that makes the guest bathroom feel much smaller than it actually was, like there might not even be enough air for the both of you to occupy it at the same time with the way he keeps stealing your breath.

You could still hear the music echo as it continued to blare outside, the beer you'd downed to give yourself the courage to whisper into Eddie's ear in the first place now sloshing around inside your belly, adding to the intensity of having his eyes roving all over you.

It all began an hour into Todd Henley's party, fed up of all the drunken bodies swaying around as they bumped right into you without apology before they passed by on unsteady legs.

But what irked you the most was that half the crowd had been spending more time with your boyfriend than you were able to all night, all of them handing him crumpled dollars in exchange for little baggies and whatever else he could fit in his pockets to keep the partygoers' spirits high.

You couldn't take it for very much longer though. Unable to help yourself, you sprang into action just before Todd himself could attempt to approach Eddie, cutting in front of the birthday boy, entirely uncaring of the scowl that twisted Todd's lips because Eddie was all you could think about. And you let the latter know as much.

"I need you" you'd whined as you'd wrapped yourself around Eddie's arm when you pull him towards a lonelier corner of the room, all sweet and clingy and then a little more quietly; "watching you made me so wet".

As you'd expected, he's quick to grin at you when he takes your hand. Gently he led you through the crowd, even turning down a few potential customers like Todd who'd tried to approach Eddie with cash in hand, a quick but firm "not now" grunted at them over the music.

It made your hopes rise, growing giddy, thinking he'd take you back to his van to fool around, away from the rest of the party only to end up pouting when he'd pulls you into a vacant guest bathroom instead.

"Go on. Show me", he'd repeated again, still soft and patient with you, standing tall over you as you grow so pliant under his stare, giving in easily as you reach under your dress to pull your panties down to your mid thighs.

He observes closely as you part your legs as much as your underwear will allow, showing off the collection of slick sitting warm and wet on the thin red cotton.

Eddie whistles low as he sees it. "Looks serious", he mused, pressing his index finger into the middle of your panties. He pulls his damp finger back, rubbing it against his thumb and pulling them apart to watch a clear web of your essence develop between them.

Hoping you've pleased him enough you try again.

"Can we, Teddie? Please?", you make sure to dial up the sweetness, all saccharine and cute as your plead.

But the thing is Eddie sometimes liked to have fun with you at times likes these, anything to work up his girl in good jest as another toothy grin develop on his face. "Sorry. Still got some dealing to do, angel face", he explains, looking the opposite of apologetic about it until he sees your face crumble and fall.

"Hey hey, I'm only teasing", he's quick to drop the suave, unwavering persona he treats his customers with for his usual rough around the edges kind of natural warmth, kissing your wobbling bottom lip hard for good measure. "You know I'd never turn you down", he makes sure to add, taking your hand and pressing it over his clothed erection to show you that he's telling the truth, feeling relieved when your lips spread into a smile.

"Tell you what. Since we're already in here why don't we just make use of it?", he offers with a cheesy grin and raising his brows in a way that comes off more cartoonish than it does suggestive but it makes you happy nonetheless. He chuckles at the way your whole face lights up at the suggestion because honestly, you couldn't wait any longer, reaching behind Eddie to lock the door shut.

You warmed up to getting led in here by Eddie even more when you noticed how the room smelled pleasantly of white jasmine thanks to a little sachet of air freshener hung up on the door handle. The living room where most of the party had congregated including yourself for that one hour was all booze and smoke and sweaty bodies barely guised by cheep perfume and cologne, and for that reason you were glad to be away from it all and not sifting through the thick crowd of people to get to the van.

But mostly, you liked getting handsy in Todd's guest bathroom because unlike Eddie's van, this had a mirror.

When you bend over the sink, you do so quickly and willingly, making Eddie huff out a small laugh through his nose. Carefully he gathers as much of your hair as he can in one hand, pulling on it to encourage you to keep your eyes on each other's reflections in front of you.

It's a filthy sight when you're made to look at yourself. Your tits are spilling out over the top of your dress, made so by when Eddie carefully pulled at it enough to free them, pinching, pulling and nipping at them before he settled you in this new position facing away from him.

With your panties drawn down a few inches above your knees, you could feel Eddie pull your dress up over your ass, eagerly pressing his turgid cock between your thighs once he's pried it out his boxers, the fat tip and length of his cock gliding between your folds and against your puffy clit perfectly.

Watching closely in the mirror, you memorize the little knit between his brows as he does it, a thrill coursing through you as his cheeks then blend from a light pink to a deep mauve while he humps between your thighs.

"Y' ready for me?" he huffs, his lips parted as he looks to your reflection for an answer.

"I'm ready. Please, Teddie. Been waiting all night", you whine back to him over your shoulder, catching the way the corner of his mouth picks up into a smirk.

He's inside you not long after that, stretching you with his thickness which even after all this time, still makes you hiss through the initial sting. But you've never complained about it, always inclined to moan with a wave of pleasure especially now when his hips connect with your ass, bouncing against him while he has both of his hands set firmly just below your waist to keep you steady.

It's not gentle the way Eddie pummels into you but it is a steady and easy climb towards your release. It's because he knows exactly what it takes to make you cum, just minutes of him thrusting into that spot inside you that only he can reach until your belly's winding tight and your toes start to curl inside your shoes.

"Eds, I'm close", you squeak, more a warning than anything else when he pulls at your hair again. Your knees are quick to wobble when he makes you watch yourself getting ruined by him, noticing the runny mascara down your cheeks and your pretty lipstick smudged near the corner of your mouth, bare tits bouncing with every thrust.

"God, you look so good. Go on baby, give yourself a kiss", he tells you through ragged grunts, his free hand landing a few spanks on your ass for good measure.

You do as you're told, leaning closer to your reflection, your lower stomach pressing against the sink in a way that in this position, makes it feel so much more intense with his cock still inside you.

Lips just centimeters away from the glass, the idea of making out with yourself didn't strike you as all that arousing at first, only going along with it because it was something Eddie had wanted and that was reason enough for you to oblige.

You begin by pressing your lips against the cold mirror, chaste at first until you see the desperation swirling behind your hooded eyes. You looked so utterly fucked out, lips parted and your tongue lolling out with a thin rivulet of drool dripping down to your chin. You liked it more than you could understand, especially with Eddie right behind you and in view too.

Finding yourself getting worked up the longer you keep at it, the fire burning inside you only burns bigger and brighter as you see Eddie's reflection while he keeps pumping into you, his bangs stuck to his forehead with a light sweat, his lips pink and full from his teeth biting down on it and the look he gives you when you eyes connect through the mirror.

"Y'like it don't you, doll?", he asks the obvious question just to see you squirm under him, his lips pulled back into a pleased smile as you muster up the strength to nod.

Your breath fogs up the mirror as you continue to pant through Eddie's thrusts, giving him a show as traces of your red lipstick are left behind from your kisses, growing more aroused at the sight of yourself taking Eddie's cock like this.

It's sloppy and oh so perfectly dirty. Eddie watches in amazement as you tongue at your own reflection, your swollen lips leaving traces of spit all over the mirror, uncaring if Todd or his family find the muddled mess of lipstick on their mirror by tomorrow.

"That's it. You see how pretty you look like this? can't help it can you? Good girl. Use your tongue a bit more for me, yeah? fucking perfect..."

It's different being fucked like this, half of you unsure of which reflection you ought to keep your eyes fixed on as you near your climax, deciding to switch from one to the other the closer you get.

Sighing and whimpering underneath Eddie, you mean to warn him just before you tipped over the edge but with your mouth so busy as you press one last kiss against the glass, Eddie can tell that you're cumming when you squeeze your walls around his cock sporadically, crying his name out with your cheek pressed against the once clean glass.

The sight of you all spent and the feeling of you clamping down on him triggers his own orgasm, creamy white spurts filling you up between your legs while he bites down on your shoulder, grunting so deeply by your ear as he thrusts through the final wave that overcomes him.

"You did so well, baby", he groans into your clammy skin during your mutual comedown, teeth grazing the place where he'd bitten down on you as you look up to smile at him lazily through the mirror. He admires you fondly through the mirror, one hand rubbing your back.

"Also", he pats his jacket pocket while he's still inside you. "Remind me to give Todd one on the house", he finishes and the both of you share a laugh, looking over the mess on the counter top and mirror as a result of your time together.

Yeah. Todd's definitely entitled to a freebie. That's for sure.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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sinisterexaggerator · 1 year ago

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John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet

Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.

3.8k words (oops).

---

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.

He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”

He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.

Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.

Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.

Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.

Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.

As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.

Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:

Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.

You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.

All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.

Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin’ it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.

Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?

Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

The Couch Surfer*

Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.

This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.

This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”

In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.

In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.

Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Oh, man. OK, here we go!

Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”

Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.

Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.

Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.

Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.

Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.

Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.

Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.

*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.

Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.

Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:

Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.

“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”

Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:

Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.

I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.

All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.

Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.

But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.

He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.

In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.

Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.

Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.

As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.

But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.

And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.

He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

I’ve got two:

1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.

“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.

2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.

Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”

It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.

Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.

In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.

Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.

If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D

P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!

****

Edit: Here’s the fic!

#John Hancock #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Ghoul #John Hancock x Reader #Fallout smut #Headcanons #x reader #x you #Hannie #FO4 #Mayor John Hancock #Fallout Ghoul #John Hancock Fallout #alphabet game #Hancock #Hancock x Reader #my writing

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mujinayokai · 15 days ago

Text

First Impressions

you take mydei and phainon on a rest day to the chrysos heirs baths. no, you aren’t a chrysos heir. of course you didn’t just want an excuse to go to their private baths! phainon then caused a whole thing by asking the two about their first impressions of him

mydei x phainon x reader (can be read as platonic, but now that I think about it is platonic so read it as platonic for now until they get freaky deeky 🤑🤑)

wc: 2014 goated year btw

cw: malnutrition, homelessness (???), racism, readers life lowkey just fucking sucks, reader is called jester and Koalemos instead of y/* as a pseudonym but has a real name that I will not name because it’s up to the reader #blessthefreakup

Phainon came to you first.

You still remember the way he nervously walked up to you, sitting in a library chair, and reading a book that he used to read when he was younger.

It is so vivid in your mind— the way he sat down, how he shifted ever so slightly in his seat (nervous but eager), to the way you looked at him and smiled politely. You remember thinking he’d make fun of you. Do the other students know that you aren’t up to par on your reading skills despite not being a child anymore? You scooted away—

“I’m— sorry, you believed I sought you out only to mock you?” The ivory haired man asks, leaning forward in the bathwater.

You shrug, smiling. “If I had been reading a children’s book so slowly I would probably tease myself too.” You carefully begin to lift your glass from the wooden tray that floats atop the warm bathwater. The fruit that was recommended to you by Mydeimos was a good decision! Aged pineapple is an incredibly refreshing addition to your drink. It isn’t too sweet, and it isn’t too rancid. It’s just right.

Mydeimos looks away from you. You wonder if such a conversation is too boring to his liking.

Phainon shakes his head with a confident expression, smiling. He raises his leg atop the stone edge of the waterlogged seats of the bathpool, bringing his elbow up to rest on his knee. He has nice arms. You don’t mean it in a strange way, by any means. The plump of his biceps fit him, and he is quite bulky now that you’ve seen him without so much clothing.

“I wouldn’t make fun of anyone for reading children’s books. They are quite fun to reminisce on, actually. I do feel sorry that your first impression of me was to assume that I attempted to taunt you.” His head lowers in something short of a bow. Does he truly feel guilty for something that isn’t his fault? After all, it is as he said. You assumed that he’d be like the other arrogant students from The Grove.

Or— well, perhaps not arrogant. Just… confident. After all, you will never reach their level of education. Why shouldn’t they boast? They have a bragging right, after all.

“No need for apologies! That was only my first impression of you. After I met you, I thought you were very kind,” You lean back into the cold, stone edge of the bath, “However! I’m quite interested in your first impression of the Deliverer, Prince Mydeimos.”

Mydeimos turns back to you and Phainon. “I thought that he was very determined. Something about him reminded me of another friend.”

“Aww… well, you’ll have to give us more than that, now!” You prod, smiling cheekily.

Mydeimos crosses his arms, his brow perking up. “Need I say more? The deliverer has proven to be a formidable fighter, and shows promise along with great skill. However, at times, he can be quite… audacious.”

Phainon tilts his head, scratching the side of his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He means to say,” you clear your throat, voice dropping low. And after a moment, “‘You are crazy, Deliverer.’”

Phainon huffs a laugh through his nose. Mydeimos scoffs, looking away in jesting disgust. “And you, Jester, are nosy and impertinent.”

Your brows raise to your hairline, jaw dropping in faux-offense. “Wha?! Oh, Prince, you surely have mistaken me for a different person!”

Mydeimos is not amused. His lips press into a thin line as he stares at you with unimpressed eyes. “Shall I remind you, including our audience, of our first meeting?”

You sigh, dramatically huffing a deep breath out. “I was quite intelligent.”

“No, you were not,” he retorts.

“Must you be such a downer?”

“There is no word for—“

You and Phainon collectively groan. You lean back once more, staring at the ceiling. “Do Kremnoans speak at all? I’m beginning to believe that the Kremnoan language is void of any vocabulary.”

Mydei grunts before he begins to recount the tale of your first encounter. Slowly, you find your muscles (oddly) relaxing at the gruff of his voice. And by the looks of it, your fellow audience member is enjoying the narration as well. Phainon sighs as he sinks his shoulders deeper into the warm water.

There were two women. You remember this also, despite your confusion at the time of the past situation. You had just come from a checkup appointment with a doctor, walking through the streets of Okhema feeling downcast with your diagnosis.

You were fed regularly as a child. In the kingdom of Aphros, you did not need to question where your next meal came from. When you fled from your home, the palace, you were forced to survive. No full meals, just a dish per day kept you from crippling starvation.

Slowly, in your adulthood, you’d grow healthier. You’d eat more, at least two meals per day.

So, when a doctor, whom you’ve never met, tells you confidently that you show signs of previously suffering from malnourishment, you are stunned. The doctor urges you to drink plenty of water, and even writes down a list of foods you should eat regularly. You cannot read as is, but this handwriting appears to be something other than the common language.

You trudge through the city, back to your home with the Troupe who are also your coworkers, your friends, your family. The reason you are able to eat everyday, and the reason you are surviving. In a corner of the city, a screaming match and laughter attracts you to look from your sandals up to the laughing crowd.

Naturally, you approach the crowd, pushing toward the front. There are two women who are screaming at each other. One is a woman dressed in tattered clothing with crimson sashes donning her torso. The red clothed people have been popping up more frequently in Okhema. It’s a nice addition, actually, compared to the abundance of blue and purple colors that fill the city.

The other woman, you also have not seen before. She is carrying a baby, wrapped in a blanket. The child is wailing and it just about pierces your ears. She is very blatantly from Okhema. Her head is carried high with arrogance, and she shields the baby from the other woman.

A city guard in the crowd holds your shoulder. They are hunched over in laughter. “Ah, Koalemos! The foolish Kremnoan believes that child is her own, the old crone,” he laughs.

You had forgotten that you are a well-known entertainer amongst the city.

“Is that so?” You pout slightly, wiping it away within seconds.

The crowd slowly begins to urge you forward, to make light of the situation.

You hesitantly step between the two women.

“Why do you two quarrel over something so foolish?” You question, holding your arms out as the old woman lunges toward the other. The city-woman grows quiet while the woman in red still yells angrily, attempting to go around you to meet the Okheman woman's eyes.

“The foolish hag thinks my baby is hers! The Kremnoans are true to the stories, they are vile and insane! Shame on Kremnos!”

You look toward the Kremnoan woman. Her eyes are flooded with tears, and you can now see clearly that she is only halfway to being elderly. Her brows are furrowed in fear and anger, and there is dirt scuffed near her cheeks. She looks toward you with disdain and desperation, and you feel guilt rouse in your stomach as a sharp feeling.

She has the same wrinkles around her mouth as your mother. Not that you’d ever seen her. Only in the painting that hung high in the courtyard of the palace. You still remember Sophias, who, at the time, was with you as your handmaiden. She would smile at the portrait of the Queen. Your mother. She always mentioned that you resemble her likeness. You can’t seem to remember what the painting even looked like.

“Bring me your sword,” you nod to the guard. You have realized who the child belongs to, by now.

The guard brings unto you his sword, unsheathed. He looks at you with nervous eyes. How shameful, to look at you like that when not only he, but the crowd, torment this old woman? All because she is Kremnoan? If only they knew whom you came from.

The old woman stares at you with wide eyes, silently crying. The other smiles confidently.

“This child will be divided in two,” you announce to the crowd. “The severed body will be distributed between the women!”

The old woman cries. She begs you to give the child to the fair lady. The woman grasps your wrists, and you drop the blade, however, she herds no mind to the fact that the sharp edge could’ve easily hurt either of you.

On the contrary, the city woman holds the baby out toward you. “So it shall be! Give me this half, and give her the torso-up.” The crowd laughs again.

You are positively disgusted.

You take the old woman’s hands to the baby, slowly pushing it close to her body. “Please, be safe, Miss.” you whisper, ushering the woman away.

Phainon baffles. “What a… interesting solution.”

“Your first impression of me, then?” You lean toward the Prince, who leans away in turn. Phainon chuckles.

Mydei thinks for a moment. You expect the usual. He’ll say something like: Hmm. Foolish. Or maybe something in Kremnoan, that he will later tell you means, ‘deluded’ or ‘crazy’.

“Okay.”

…

Huh? Okay?

As if he can see the confusion in your head, he shrugs. “You are okay. I occasionally- no, often think you’re foolish. However…” he looks up, trying to find what he’s trying to say. “In the moment, I was relieved that you handled the situation without showing prejudice toward Kremnos and its people.” He doesn’t mention the sadness he’d seen in your eyes, when he recognized that you might’ve felt connected to the woman. He knows that feeling. He sees his mother in so many places, yet, will never have the chance to get to know her personally.

You smile. “If I’m being honest, I wasn’t aware she was Kremnoan. I thought half the city decided to wear red for an Okheman holiday.”

Phainon shakes his head. “Do you pretend to be so dense?”

“Excuse me, I think I am highly intelligent.”

“Spell intelligent.”

You open your mouth, ready to spell. Until you close your mouth and slouch into a hunch.

Phainon looks at you expectantly. It might be easy if you can sound it out in your head. Intelligent. Intelligent. Intelligent.

“I-N-T,” You try.

“Uh-huh…?”

“Intelligent, I-N-T…E-L-I-G-I-N-T.”

Phainon barks out a laugh. His shoulders bounce with laughter. His eyes crinkle when he laughs, which is unfortunate, because his eyes are beautiful. They are azure, and if you look closely, they are also gold.

You smile, standing as you splash water toward the Deliverer. “Hey! I’m right, aren’t I?”

Mydeimos watches you two splash each other with water, amused.

He forgot to mention the part where, after a quick (that’s a lie, you do not know how to text) message sent to Aglaea through your newly gifted teleslate, you both sat with the old woman, who insisted that you hold her baby. Which is incredibly unwise, considering that, not even a moment ago, you had been suggesting to sever the said baby in half.

He forgot to mention the fondness and love that filled your eyes when the baby, cradled firmly and carefully in your arms, begins to smile and laugh at you once you take the theater mask off your face. You refused to scare the child, and so you took it off.

He forgot to mention that his first impression of you was that— gods you are foolish to keep that raggedy theater mask on.

He forgot to mention that he thought you were gorgeous.

Oh well. There’s no word for gorgeous in the Kremnoan language.

i have notes on my ao3. I lowkey don’t know how to use tumblr so pls forgive me

thank u for reading

#mydei x reader #phainon x reader #phaidei x reader #mydeimos x reader #I have a fic with 7k words in the works #barely even scraping the first tiny bit of Koalemos’ life

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doitforbangchan · 9 months ago

Text

La petit mort - K.S

Pairing: Non-idol!Seungmin x reader

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, death. im keeping this vague for the mystery aspect- read at your own risk. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.9k

Happy Halloween yall 🎃 masterlist

“Have you seen the news?”

“I heard they found the body in the river.”

“The cops are saying there's a serial killer on the loose.”

“Another victim was found behind a dumpster all mangled.”

“Each one is more violent and gory than the rest.”

Everywhere you turned someone was talking about the recent string of murders in your area. For weeks all anyone could talk about was this supposed ‘serial killer’, and after a fifth body was found last night the mania has only increased. Even here at work it was inescapable. The scariest part though, was that you recognized a few of the victims. Not very personally, but you had mingled with them and even flirted with one. And now they were dead.

“Hey y/n?”

You jumped as your thoughts were broken and your eyes tore away from your computer screen. Behind you leaning against the opening of your cubicle was your coworker and newly made friend Seungmin.

“Seung, you scared me!” You scrunched your face at him, then flipped him off when he laughs.

He brought his hands up and wiggled his fingers at you, “Scared I’m gonna get you like that killer? Ooooo better watch out!”

You rolled your eyes, “You know, each victim so far has been a man so I think you’re the one who better watch out or you're gonna be next.” You teased him with a giggle.

Seungmin had started working for your company a few months ago, first as a temp then he was hired on as a full company employee. You were both fast friends since you both liked to poke fun. What had started as him teasing you about the Kuromi calendar on your cubicle wall turned into a wonderful friendship and dare you say- a flirtationship.

“As if.” He scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to get caught by someone like that.”

You hummed, “Hm, could’a fooled me.” He scowled at you, causing you to laugh.

“Well I was gonna invite you to a show tonight, but if you’re gonna be an ass then forget it.”

“A show? Who’s playing?” You inquired, your interest now peaked.

Seungmins lips curled into a sinister smirk, “No one important.. Just 3Racha.”

“No way!” You shot out of your seat in excitement. The shit eating grin on his face told you he was serious. “Ahh Seung!” You launched yourself at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You had told him many times how much you loved the group and would love to see them live.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so excited, I revoked my invitation, remember?” His tone was light but still sassy as he jested and hugged you back.

“Nope! You put it out into the universe, you can’t take it back!” You squealed and hugged him tighter, then remembered you were still at work and had to act in a more professional manner. You released him quickly and took a step back, your face flush with embarrassment as you cleared your throat. “I mean, it sounds like a good time.”

Seungmin chuckled at your cute change of attitude. “They’re playing at that new venue across town, the small one with the bar. S’ not much but I figured you’d wanna go.” He shrugged in nonchalance. “I can uh, pick you up if you want.”

You nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile on your face. “That would be great!”

“Awesome.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was suddenly feeling sheepish, a faint pink creeping up his ears. “It’s a date then.”

The rest of the work day went by so slowly, the hours passing by at a snail's pace making you want to pull your hair out. You weren’t just excited for the concert but to go out with Seungmin. On a date. A real date. So far you had only hung out as friends, usually with at least another person from your friend group so this was a brand new experience. And you were beyond nervous and excited.

You had worked out the details together before you had gone home to change, deciding you would get there a few minutes early to get a drink or two before it started. After getting home you took a quick shower, then put on a pair of black ripped jeans that hugged your ass just right and a maroon colored corset crop top. Adding a red lip and a smokey eye to complete the look. You hoped Seungmin would like it, you really wanted to impress him tonight.

At exactly 8:00 there was a knock at your door. You slipped on your sneakers and opened the door. Seungmin was leaning after your doorframe with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans and boots, looking both comfortable and stylish at the same time. And so so hot.

His eyes raked over your form, making you mildly self conscious. “What are you looking at?” You said playfully to get his attention off your body.

His eyes snapped to yours, then they rolled at you, “God forbid I appreciate the outfit you clearly put some effort into. You look great, by the way.. For a gremlin.”

You smacked his arm making him laugh, then you lightly shoved him away so you could lock your door. “Says the troll.”

He leads you down to his car and even opens the door for you, making you secretly swoon. The drive over to the venue was nice, he played songs from 3Rachas latest album getting you both pumped for the performance.

The venue was small, more like a hole in the wall club with a stage in it, but it had a tiny outside area with a fire pit. Luckily it wasn’t that packed yet and the two of you were able to get to the bar pretty quickly. Seungmin paid for your drink no matter how much you had insisted since he had gotten your ticket.

As Seungmin was talking to the bartender about what drinks you wanted you felt a body come up next to you and lean on the bar. “Hey there, gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?”

You looked over to see a decently good looking guy, giving you a flirty look. You shook your head with a polite smile, “No thank yo-”

“Her boyfriend already bought her one.” Seungmins voice was a borderline growl from behind you. Your head swiveled around to see him glaring at the guy. “Get fucking lost.”

“Seung..” You said quietly.

The man put his hands up in defense, “My bad bro, didn’t know. Just trying to shoot my shot.”

“Well shoot your shot on someone else.” Seungmin handed you your drink then led you away from the bar and towards the stage area.

“What was that?” You asked in a hushed tone. “Why did you get so hostile?”

“That guy is a fucking creep, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat.” He sneered, “You don’t need that shit.” He seemed to sense how his change in temperament made you nervous so he dialed it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so possessive. I just didn’t like his vibe, it was gross.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him slightly, “I wasn’t expecting it, is all. And I definitely didn’t expect you to say my boyfriend bought me a drink.”

He was lucky it was dark or you would have seen how flushed he became. “I uh -well I mean- uhh.” You had never seen him so tongue tied and it was both alarming and adorable at the same time.

With a coo you reached up and pinched his cheek. “Aw Seung, it’s ok no need to get flustered, you can be my boyfriend if you want too. ” Seung swatted your hand away and scowled at you slightly. “No I’m serious, I do really like you and would love to have you as my boyfriend, Minnie.”

He broke into a giddy grin. “I mean, since you're practically begging I guess I could be your boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and reached up and gave his arm a swift pinch. “Ow! I see how it is, you weasel your way into my life then you abuse me? That’s just cruel.” Seungmin couldn’t help but break character at the end and let out a laugh, then pulled you into his arms.

You hugged him in return. Just as you were about to lean up and kiss him the lights in the room dimmed and the stage lights turned on. You spun around quickly to see the group run on stage. You let out a squeal and grabbed Seungmins hand. This was going to be a night you would never forget!

It was a little over an hour into the show now. You were dancing and singing along to each song, the drink in your system making you feel extra good. Seung had been beside you bopping along and laughing at your joyful antics.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” He leaned in and spoke in your ear. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “Do not go anywhere, stay right here please.” He added, his eyes giving you a serious stare.

“I promise I’ll stay right here.” You kissed his cheek then looked back at the stage. He gave you a pleased smile and left you to your devices.

It was about 15 minutes later that he returned to you. “Sorry, those lines are long. Did I miss anything good?”

“Duh it’s all good!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as a slower beat started to play. “But you made it back for my favorite song, sooo I can’t be upset.” He placed his hands on your hips, pulling your body flush against him. Being this close you could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, “are you alright, Min? You look a little.. Off.”

He shook his head, dismissing your concerns. “Yeah I’m good, s’ just hot in here, there's a lot of people in here.”

You nodded in understanding. “Well I hope you’re not too hot for a dance?”

He smirked down at you, “For you? Never too hot.”

He suddenly twirled you around, making you giggle then he pulled you back into him, his hand in yours. No one else around you was dancing like this, they were all jumping around or being crazy, and it made it feel extra romantic- that it was like the two of you were in your own little world.

You both swayed together as you looked up at him taking note of all his handsome features. With a bated breath, giving him time to pull away if he wanted, you leaned up slowly and gave him a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a deep flush to your face you gave him a shy smile. Before you could say anything he grabbed your face and pulled you into a deep kiss. You let out a gasp of surprise then melted into him, letting him run his tongue along your bottom lip.

You put your hand on his chest as you tasted his mouth, the light lingering taste of his beer making this even sweeter. Now you were certain that tonight was special. You hadn’t had this much fun or been this enamored in a very long time. It was perfect.

A loud blood curdling scream brought you out of your dreamlike state, making you quickly jump away from Seungmin.

“THERE’S A BODY IN THE ALLEYWAY”

“HELP! HE’S DEAD OH MY GOD HE’S DEAD!”

Someone screamed, causing a massive panic to spread over the crowd. Seungmin grabbed your hand before you could even react, yanking you towards the exit. “Time to go.” He said while maneuvering you both around the clusters of people.

You could hear another person yell out, “SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!”

“What the fuck is going on?” You questioned as you went out the exit, your eyes were wild as they flickered to Seungmin in terror.

“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around to find out.” He answered, remaining steadfast on getting you both the fuck out of there.

“Seung..” You clung to him as you entered the parking lot. You could faintly hear the sound of approaching sirens, as someone must have immediately called the police. “I’m scared.” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “What- what if it’s that serial killer? Oh my god, what if they were there with us?”

“Y/n, I would never let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.” There was no amusement in his voice as he spoke to you, leading you to the car and opening your door. He leaned in and buckled your shaking form, then rested a hand on your face again making you look at him. “Hey, I’m serious. I will keep you safe. Do you trust me?”

With a shaky breath you nodded, “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good. Now let me keep you safe by getting the fuck out of here.”

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car and swiftly driving away. Seungmin offered to drive you home but you really did not want to go back there alone and his house was closer. He took you to his place, keeping an arm wrapped around you the whole time as he unlocked his door until it was closed and locked again.

His house was small, and looking around it was very clean. Borderline too clean. As if it was barely even lived in. Odd, but maybe he just liked his place to be really tidy.

Seungmin led you to the couch, sitting you down. “I’ll grab you some water, help you sober up a little bit.”

You nodded and leaned back into the cushions. A minute later he returned with a glass for you. You accepted it with a quiet thank you, taking a much needed sip. It was then that you looked at the clock on the wall and noticed how late it had gotten.

“Oh shit I didn’t realize it was already almost midnight. I should call an uber or something to take me home.” You took out your phone but it was lowered by Seungs hand.

“You can stay here if you want. It’s already really late and after everything that happened I don’t think I’d trust a rando to take you home.”

Thinking about it you came to the conclusion that he was right and you also did not want to spend your night alone. “Ok, only if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. You’re my girlfriend now after all, you can stay whenever you want.” He smiled warmly then offered you his hand. “Come on, I’ll get you some pjs.”

His room was a little messier, with his bed not neatly made and a few plants by the window. Seungmin opened his dresser and grabbed some sweats and a baggy shirt, handing them to you. You thanked him and without even thinking about you began stripping. Or maybe you thought about it a little bit, glancing at him when you pulled down your pants to see him gulp then awkwardly avert his eyes.

After you were dressed in the pjs you threw yourself at his bed, then opened your arms as an invitation for him to join you. He threw his own sweats on and took off his shirt, giving you a quick view of his broad chest.

Ever since you had met him you had thought Seungmin was cute- sexy even- to an extreme degree. But seeing him tonight revved that up to a hundred. The way he had gotten you out of danger and brought you to safety, how he had stayed calm and collected during the chaos.. He was like your knight in shining armor, and you wanted to thank him personally.

Seungmin climbed in with a snicker after turning off the light, letting you wrap around him before he pulled the blankets over both your forms. After adjusting to have you resting upon his chest he let out a deep sigh of content.

“Are you alright, Seung?” You whispered into the darkness after hearing his sigh. You let your hand rest atop his chest, running softly along his skin.

“More than alright, babe.” He answered then kissed the top of your head. “What about you? That shit was pretty traumatic.”

You nodded, “Yeah, m’ alright. Happy to be here with you.” You then poked him in the chest, “Don’t let it get to your head though!”

His chest rumbled from his deep chuckles at your antics, “Never.” The hand you had on him very slowly moved down to his stomach, tracing the light trail of hair and making his breath lighty hitch. “What are you up to, little devil?”

“Nothin,” your answer was coy as you continued to lower your hand, “Just wanted to.. Thank you for keeping me safe tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” The smirk on his lips was incredibly clear in his voice. One of his own hands came up to pet along the side of your thigh. “Thank me how?”

Finally you made your way to the front of his sweats, feeling his bulge that was steadily growing under your touch. You kissed his neck tenderly as you palmed him, his whine and buck of his hips giving you the confirmation you needed that he wanted you to touch him just as much as you wanted to give it to him.

“Nnngh, so that’s how. Alright sweetheart, you can thank me in any way you want.” He groaned slightly, the husk in his voice causing a flood in your own underwear.

With tentative movements you pulled the band of his sweats down his thighs until his member was released. The man let out a slight hiss when your hand made contact with his now bare skin. From what you could tell by feeling alone he was big. Big enough that you couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him. You briefly wondered if that would even fit inside of you.

“That’a girl. Go ahead and rub the tip fo’ me.” You did as he requested, your thumb running over the slit on his tip and collecting the precum that was beginning to leak out and using it as lubricant on his dick. “Fuck, that’s it baby.”

Seungmins fingers traveled from your thigh to your own covered center, giving you a quick circle motion over the bottoms then diving his hand into them, finding your now drenched core. “Mm, Seung.” You whined when his fingers expertly found your clit.

“Jesus christ you're so wet. What made you so sopping, honey? You like using your hand to get me off, hmm?” He had a bite to his voice that was both teasing and dominating that made you flood even further. As if he could feel it he commented, “ Fuck you do like it don’t you? Bet you like my own fingers buried in your sweet cunt too huh?” Then he shoved two long digits into you, making your hips buck into him and a wanton moan escaped you.

With a rapid nod you clenched down on his fingers, “Uh huh, so good Seung.”

“I know love, I know. But you know what would feel even better?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me put my cock in you instead of my fingers.”

You clenched down on him again at the suggestion, “Yes please. Want it.” As soon as the words left your lips you were suddenly thrown onto your back with your head bouncing off his pillow, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips. The sheets were torn off of the both of you and your bottoms were yanked down and off your legs as well, until your lower half was completely bared to him.

He climbed on top of you and crashed his mouth against yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip making you squeal from the small burst of pain. You could feel him lineup his member with your hole, his tip going to push into you slowly.

Your back arched at the intrusion. You were right, he was big. So big that you could feel your walls squeezing the life out of him as he stretched you out. “Seuunnggmiiinn oh my gooooood.” You cried into his neck as he fully seated himself inside of you.

“Fuck babe, you’re so fucking tight, you might just squeeze my dick off if you don’t relax.” Seungmin groaned, the bliss clearly overtaking him as he tried not to move too much and let you adjust. After a few moments you started to get used to his size within you and began to relax a little. “There we go, sweet thing. Imma move now, alright?”

“Mmhmm.”

With your go ahead he slowly started thrusting into you. You could feel each drag of his thickness against your walls, the sensation making you throw your head back in pleasure, your eyes half open and watery. Holding himself up with one arm he used the other to rub harsh figure eights on your sensitive nub that resides between you.

“God your so fucking beautiful.” He moaned, “Can’t believe I have the most perfect woman in my bed and that you're all mine.” He picked up his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. “M’ never letting you go. Not now that I have you. Never.”

His words should have been alarming and at any other time they would have made you question what he meant- but your brain was turning to mush due to the intense amount of pleasure he was giving you. You could barely remember your own name nevermind the nonsense he was spewing.

You could feel the dam within you about to break, your high about to crash over you. “S-seungminnie, I’m gonna- gonna cum.”

“Do it. Cum all over my cock, baby. Give it to me now.”

With a scream you came, the band snapping and giving way to euphoria, his name a jumbled mess as you clung to him and shook. “Min- Seung- minnie oh my god, nnghhh.”

“Mmmm, good girl, feels so fucking good. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up and make you mine. Gonna pump you full.” He practically growled and put his face into your neck, sucking harsh dark marks onto your skin as a show of ownership. There was a sudden hotness that shot inside of you, coating your insides with his white essence. It was a good thing you were on birth control or you were sure that you would have gotten pregnant.

Seungmin trembled as he finished giving you his load, his arms threatening to give out as he lowered his body to rest atop you. The sweaty man laid gentle kisses on your now marred skin, the softness being a great comfort for you.

After a few moments he rolled off of you, curling you up into his side. You were so exhausted that as soon as he had exited you you had begun to drift off into a deep slumber, nuzzling into him until darkness took you.

You were awoken by the sun shining through the windows the next morning. Blearily opening your eyes you looked around your surroundings, seeing you were still in Seungmins bed and you were still very naked. A heat rushed to your face when you remembered what you had done last night, a giddiness filling you. The man was beside you, snoring quietly as he kept sleeping.

As much as you wanted to cuddle him and go back to sleep you could feel the remnants of your naughty activities coating your lower region. With a sigh you swung your legs over the edge, grabbing the fallen sweats and slipping them on. You noticed your phone on the nightstand and grabbed it on your way to the bathroom. You decided to go out into the hall bathroom as to not wake up Seungmin.

While you were doing your business you opened your social media. As you were scrolling you came upon the news report for what happened at the venue last night. Curiosity got the better of you so you clicked on the link.

Immediate shock filled you as you read the article. There was a picture of the victim from last night, and a deep chill rocked you when you saw that it was the man who offered to buy you a drink that had been murdered. According to the report his face was bashed in against a brick wall until his head had become mush.

You were so engrossed and mortified by the article that when you left the bathroom you hadn’t noticed you opened the wrong door, and instead of going back into Seungmins room you found yourself in an entirely different room.

A gasp of horror left you when you took in the contents of the new room. Along the walls were pictures of men- not just any men but all of the victims of the serial killer. Next to their face pictures were cut outs from news articles about their murders and graphic photographs of the crime.

What the actual fuck is this? Why would he have all this?

Your eyes scanned the contents, seeing laid out maps of homes and locations. There was a deafening beating within your chest as your brain ran a million miles a second, trying to figure out just what you were seeing. With shaking legs you backed out of the dark room, not realizing you were no longer alone until your back met a sturdy chest.

You spun around to find his hard stare, your own eyes wide with fright.

“You weren’t supposed to find this.” Seungmin spoke lowly, a sternness in his tone that sent shivers down your spine.

“S-seungmin, I-i don't understand, what is all of this?” You tried to back away from him but he grabbed you by your arms before you could, his fingers digging roughly into you making you wince. “Ow, Seungmin let me go.”

“I can’t. Don’t you see I can’t let you go? Not now when I have you. After everything I did for you, I can never let you go.”

Pure fright was the only thing that filled you as you came to realize exactly what he meant.

“Seungmin.. What did you do?”

His face never changed as he yanked you to him forcefully, his nails threatening to leave bloody crescents from how hard he gripped you. You tried to swing your arms to get him off of you but he was too strong, pinning your arms down and shoving you vehemently down the hall until he reached another room you had never been.

Seungmin swiftly opened the door then using his strength he shoved you into the room, your body falling to the hard floor. He closed it behind him quickly, his dark orbs trained on you.

You were crying now, salty tears steadily streaming down your face. With a coo Seungmin crouched in front of you, reaching his hand out to wipe your tears. You shuffled back away from him, trying to create as much distance between you as possible.

Seungmin sighed in frustration and stood up again. He began pacing and pulling at his hair, “I should have known you would have a bad reaction. I should have waited before bringing you here. But fuck I just couldn’t help myself. Stupid, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“I- I don’t.. Seungmin what is going on?” You were practically begging for answers.

“They had to go.” He said simply. “Each one of them was a threat to you- to us. I just knew if I let them live they would pursue you. They’d try to put their slimy disgusting hands on you, touch you as if they owned you. No, no I would- could never let that happen.” He crouched again, invading your space making you squeal and turn your head away. He grabbed your face and forcibly turned your head to face him. “You belong with me, not with them.”

You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t let you. “Seungmin.. This is insane. Yo-you can’t just kill someone because they talked to me.”

A borderline evil smirk overtook his face, “But that’s the thing, I can. And I did. For you.” He leaned in closer so your noses were touching. Your whole body was shaking in complete fear. You couldn’t believe that the man you were falling for was a serial killer. That the playful, sassy man who danced with you and played smash bros could possibly be this twisted and lethal.

His next words instilled terror in you that would stay with you for as long as you lived.

“Everything I do is for you. But don’t worry, babe. Now that I have you here safe with me I don’t need to kill anyone else. Because no one is ever going to come near you again. It’ll be just you and I forever.”

The deep pit within you told you exactly what he meant; you were never leaving here. He was going to keep you trapped in his web until your last breath.

©doitforbangchan 2024

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galaxiasgreen · 2 months ago

Text

🎣⛵A Fish Out of Water

Shenanigans with minor Ominis/ F!Reader [G-Rated, 4.9k]

“You’ll be back soon?” “Before sundown.” You place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Good luck. I love you.” Everything, he decides, will be okay in the end. Yes, he has to suffer a terribly awkward day out with your terribly awkward father, but for you, he would happily do it. You’re worth it to him. “I love you too.”

Ominis has an important question to ask your father. Your father, however, likes a challenge.

Or, Ominis goes on an awkward fishing trip with his hopeful Muggle father-in-law.

Tropes: humour/ romance/ drama, wizard in the Muggle world, fishing, wizard/ Muggle relations, awkward father-in-law, protective father, asking for the father's blessing, Ominis bonding with his Muggle father-in-law, posh rich boy does peasant pasttime and fails miserably for our entertainment.

AO3 | Wattpad

"He asked you to go fishing with him?"

The sheer horror in your brother Connor's voice makes the low ebb of panic in Ominis' stomach fortify like stone.

When your father first suggested it, a fishing trip in the Yorkshire lakes, Ominis had thought it a jest. A poor one, at that. It's obvious to anyone who knows him that Ominis was raised upper-class, and loath as he is to find commonality with his family, his idea of a day of fun means a fancy dinner, a concert or a spirited night of trivia and debate. Not outdoors activities. Not wrangling fish.

Clenching his wand tightly, he clears his throat and tries to appear nonchalant. "Is that bad?"

"Well, not necessarily," says your other brother Ellian, with more a thoughtful hum than Connor. "A day trip fishing with Papa means he wants to have a proper talk with you. Heart-to-heart."

Your papa insisted, so Ominis, with a furrowed brow and a niggling sense of bewilderment, agreed. Now dread brews in his stomach, a portent of bad things to come. He has no idea what to expect, of the fishing or the company.

"You've all been?" he asks, hoping to scrounge for details.

"Mama and sis have never gone," Ellian says, "but we have."

"Like when I told Papa my wife was pregnant," says Connor, and he grins. "Took me to the centre of the lake and asked me bluntly if I was ready to be a father. Went on about how it was hard work and if I was prepared to sacrifice everything for the next two decades. Obviously I said yes. Then he gave me a pat on the back and we went right back to fishing."

"My last trip with Papa," says Ellian, "was when I told him I didn't want to inherit the family business. He spent the whole time trying to convince me to change my mind. When I didn't budge, he told me he was happy I'd found my life's calling, and then spent the rest of the trip trying to catch more pike than me." He grins. "I won, obviously."

Ominis can feel their gazes on him, expectant, and flushes.

"Well?" Connor prompts. "What did you ask of him?"

Ominis swallows and composes himself. "Well..."

"Oooooh." He laughs, so magnanimous. "Best of luck, Ominis. I hope his answer is resounding."

"A resounding yes, you mean?"

Both of them chuckle, but it's Ellian who answers, "Only if you work for it."

You're fretting over him before he leaves.

"Do you have gloves? You should wear gloves. Your wand works with gloves on, right? It'll be right nippy, and you don't want to catch a chill. Oh, and you'll need something to cover your noggin! Do you have a hat?"

"Darling..."

"And— a scarf! You don't have a scarf, do you? I'll get you one."

He takes your hand to stop you fussing over the coat buttons. "I'll be fine. It's a few hours."

"Just because you're skipping the journey up doesn't mean it won't be cold. I don't want to have to nurse you when you're back."

He smiles. "Doesn't sound so bad to me."

"Hush, you."

Your father comes into the living room, and Ominis dutifully takes a step back – the man stinks of live bait, the grubs in a small bucket hooked over his arm. "Right'o. Ready to go, Ominis?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait!" you call, dancing over to the door. "I have to get you a scarf!"

"I'll be fine—"

"No exceptions!"

You leave him alone with your father for a moment, and already it feels like a lifetime. How is he supposed to survive several hours of your father's quiet company, in the middle of nowhere, doing something he absolutely hates? Already the silence swells like a tumour, and a great dread roils thinking of what to say or do to dispel the tension.

He vowed to try, even if he hates it. If he doesn't get your father's approval...

"I'm looking forward to this trip," he blurts.

"Oh?" your father grunts. "Are you now?"

Is that surprise, or suspicion? "I've read about many Mug— poets, who have written about Lake Windermere." A place just south of the Scottish border, the largest lake in England. "It is said to be famed for its beauty and magnificence."

"That it is."

"Shame I won't be able to partake."

"It ain't just the view, Ominis," says your father. "Plenty o' enjoyment to be had just being there, too."

Ominis doesn't know how to respond. You return in a flurry, flapping the chosen scarf, and he realises it's not one of his own when you loop it around his neck – it smells like the soap you wore at school, sweet like strawberry laces. Strange, you've started wearing different scents now, but on this it's all he can smell. Your papa grunts, but says nothing.

"Right!" you chirrup. "I'll Apparate Ominis first."

"Right," your father says.

From the living room Ominis reappears in a dense forest, the change of smell and sound jarring. The dirt beneath his feet is damp and uneven, and even with his wand stowed into his pocket for security, he can sense the enormity of hills and mountains that enclose around him. If London makes him feel like a cog in a machine, Windermere makes him feel completely insignificant, one leaf on an ancient grove of oaks. It seems you were right – the scarf cocooning his neck tightly, he's grateful to have something to brace the biting wind, arcing from the lake surface in the not-so-far distance. It ripples, disturbed by other fishermen on the bank.

"Not sure why Papa's asked you to do this," you say quietly, "but he only ever asks my brothers to go fishing on important occasions, so..."

"I'm not sure either," Ominis lies. He'd like to keep this little secret for now. "You'll be back soon?"

"Before sundown." You place a quick kiss on his cheek. "Good luck. I love you."

Everything, he decides, will be okay in the end. Yes, he has to suffer a terribly awkward day out with your terribly awkward father, but for you, he would happily do it. You're worth it to him.

"I love you too."

When your papa Apparates in on your arm, he hacks and lets out a garbled noise, and almost trips into a thick bush of nettle.

"Will never get used to that."

You squeeze Ominis' arm in solidarity before Disapparating away, leaving Ominis alone with the Muggle man he must try to win over.

Ominis almost falls into the lake boarding the boat.

He follows your father's lead to the dock in silence. With his wand away and their arms looped together, he relies heavily on his regular senses to picture the lake. The most prominent thing is the smell, impossible to ignore, from a recent rain, mulchy, wet grass, sharp on his nose with the cold. With the sun peering out from the clouds, the local flora have bloomed, setting off a weak bout of Ominis' hayfever. He tries not to sniffle as the pair of them reach a cluster of fishermen reeling in their boats. They bump precariously against the anchor point, rocking unsteadily on the tide.

"Mind out, now, winds are strong out there," says one of them, no doubt looking at Ominis curiously. "Forecast said it might chuck down later."

"We'll manage," your father says, but then adds, "I got an important day ahead of myself and my... ward here."

Ward, Ominis thinks bitterly. Isn't that promising.

The rental boat appears to be no more than a few planks of wood stuck together with nail. Ominis runs his hand along the surface of the hull, splintered and roughened by years of seafaring, and despairs as the paint flecks away under his touch. Is this thing even safe? When your father clambers in first, the whole thing lurches, slapping the water and spitting foam onto Ominis' boots.

"In you pop, Ominis."

There are too many Muggles nearby to risk using his wand, so he keeps it tucked in his trouser pocket – frankly, entirely useless, when he has to keep his arms out to balance him as the boat undulates beneath him. His toe catches the side – Ominis stumbles, flinging out his arms, just as your father snatches his sleeve, stopping a premature tumble.

"Steady on!" he barks. "Don' want to fall in now!"

All the hairs on his arms raised, Ominis manages to plop down without further incident. How is he meant to fish when he can't even get in the damn boat? Your papa gets to rowing, a small mercy he does it without asking for help, until they're both in the centre of the lake, and land feels torturously far away. From your explanations, the lake itself is fairly narrow but long, stretching over ten miles from north to south, and your father's favourite spot happens to be in the centre of the widest part.

"Windermere's the biggest ribbon lake in the country," he says, opening the fishing kit. "Know what that is?"

"No, sir."

"It's made through a glacial trough." At Ominis' blank face, he adds, "Thousands of years ago, the ice cut into the land, forming valleys that eventually fill with water."

Ominis nods once, even though this information is extremely irrelevant to his enjoyment. After some fussing, your father says, "Righty'o, open yer hand," and places a long, wooden rod into his waiting palm. "It ain't a wand, but it'll do the trick."

"I don't know how this works, sir."

"I'll teach ya, patience."

Ominis futilely hopes that learning the so-called art of fishing will let him appreciate it more. It's very rudimentary sport, in his opinion, that requires him to cast a line over and feed it into the water. Your father teaches him how to thread the spool, how to reel it back and forth, and how best to hook the bait.

"It's live, so they'll wriggle a bit. The pike love it. Go on. Best learn by doing."

Ominis' hand almost refuses to move. He'd rather dunk his head into the lake than stick his hand in that bucket, but with your father's eyes on him, and the question he previously asked thick in the air, Ominis begrudgingly reaches down. The moment his fingers brush the slime of the grubs, his dignity plummets to the bottom of the planet.

"That's it. Now grab one and jab it through the hook."

At this moment Ominis is somewhat thankful he can't see; the sight and feel of the grubs would probably upend his stomach. Blanking out the sensation of the squirming creature between his fingertips, he slides it onto the hook, glad at least for its quick death, something he desperately wants to experience himself, and waits expectantly for his next instruction.

"What are you waiting for? Toss 'er in."

Ominis swings the rod. It's a pathetic gesture – despite the rod's flexibility, the line isn't long enough, and the hook pendulums back and catches his arm. In his surprise, he flinches, ripping clean through his sleeve.

"Oi, now! Hold on!" Your father gets to his feet and unhooks him. "However d'you manage to do that?"

"I don't know," mutters Ominis. "I don't know how to fish."

"Give it more line, then... yes, that's it. Now a good, firm toss..."

This time, when Ominis swings, he gives the rod a bit of an abrupt flick, and the end plops satisfyingly into the water far away.

"Is it done?"

"Right it has."

"What happens if there's a bite?"

"You reel it in, fast as you can."

"What if I'm not fast enough?"

"Then you lose it."

Your father throws his own rod, and then the silence of the lake rolls over them, with only nature itself a witness to Ominis' trepidation.

"And how long will it take for a bite?"

"Could be minutes. Hours. The pike here are tricky little buggers." He settles with his back to Ominis on the opposite side of the boat. "Hope you're comfortable."

There's a breeze on his sleeve, and damp in places it ought not to be. Comfortable is the furthest thing he is.

"Sir," Ominis says instead, "about the—"

"There's plenty o' time for that later," your father cuts across, taking a breath. "For now, let's just fish. It don' need no eyesight or wand waving. Just feel, muscle, and a lot o' luck."

Ominis has only got feel, and he sorely wishes he didn't.

To call what Ominis is doing fishing is to say tripping over one's feet is dancing – blatantly obtuse. The reality of the sport is a lot less romantic than the novels; the only time the line moves is when the wind cuts across it, fanning the ripples in his direction, and each twitch makes Ominis grip harder, numbing his fingertips. He's a beginner, it's true, but he doesn't want to look like a total fool by letting the fish go – the worse he is at fishing, he figures, the less likely your father will say yes – so he keeps his mouth shut and head down, attuned to every tiniest flutter of movement. Minutes pass, or maybe it is hours. They eventually blur together in boredom.

"You've been courting a long time now, with my daugh'er."

The words instantly scatter the mist gathering in Ominis' mind. He sits upright.

"Yes, sir."

"What sorts o' things you two do when you're together?"

"Mostly exploring, sir. She enjoys going to new places."

"You've been sensible?"

"Always."

"Mmm. And d'you think I'm a coot?"

"I'm... sorry, sir?"

"Stupid. Do you think I'm stupid?"

It's so unexpected he doesn't know how to respond. "No... sir?"

Your father drags a hand through his straggled moustache. "Then d'you really think I don' know what's going on when she retires to her bedroom early and then next day comes down to breakfast lookin' like she ain't slept a wink?"

Oh no.

"We did the exact same thing when I was your age," he says, "only the ol' fashion way. Climbing out the window to see our beaus. You having your... vanishing magic doolally don' mean I don't know what's it you're both up to at night."

Embarrassment wells up his cheeks. Oh, god above, how do I answer this? "I— I promise, sir, we weren't doing anything—"

"I'm not cross with you," your father says dismissively. "I can't stop where she goes or what she does no more. I'm cross you two thought you could hide it. Even her mama cottoned on – and where'd you think my sweetling gets her obliviousness from?I don' want her pregnant before she got a ring on her."

A tumble in the lake might be easier to endure. Ominis decides to interpret him entirely by the face of his words.

"So... does that mean—?"

"Oi now, mind yer line."

Ominis withholds a sigh and squeezes his fishing rod. "Yes, sir, I am minding the line."

The water gurgles suddenly on your father's side. His line constricts, the boat jerks.

"Great Scot! Pay attention now, lad!" He pulls the rod in, frantically reeling the spool as the boat rocks with the struggle. "We've got a big one!"

Ominis cranes his neck to face the madness. With one mighty pull, the fish lands right into your father's lap, squirming and slapping around. It's about as long as Ominis' arm – water droplets and slime pelt his face.

"What a beaut'! There, now! That's a nice one!"

Then your father unhooks the fish... and lets it go.

"Sir!" Ominis cries, getting to his feet. "The fish—!"

"We ain't gonna' keep them. Just catch 'em and put 'em back."

"What?" It takes all Ominis' restraint not to snap. "But then— what's the point?"

"The point is the catch." Your father resets the line and hooks fresh bait, throwing it back into the lake again. "It's the satisfaction of doing it that's the fun."

All this time and effort just to chuck the fish back anyway? Ominis stifles the frustration that fountains up his throat. The very least he could get was a delicious, fresh fish for dinner! He grinds his teeth in an effort to shut up and not kill his chances stone-dead, plonks back down, and re-channels his efforts into keeping the rod steady.

This, he decides, is the very opposite of fun.

By the fourth hour, the sun has hidden itself behind a thicket of cloud, and a heavy tang flutters through the air. The forecast for the storm seems to be right, but no doubt whilst your father can see the fat, grey clouds rolling overhead, he doesn't budge an inch, or even mention a turn in the weather. Instead he continues to catch and release fish like no one's business – Ominis hasn't had a single bite.

Bad luck, or a sign from the universe?

"This is what I like, between the actual fishing." Your papa shifts again. "Nice, quiet moments to reflect."

I could do that perfectly well at home. "Yes, sir."

"Gives you time to think about life, and the people in it," he says gruffly. "Like I said, the lake ain't just a pretty face. Makes you really confront what you're thinking, what you want in life."

Ominis swallows a nervous lump. Right now, all he's thinking is how much he wants to get off this damn boat, along with a morbid sense of impending rejection.

"My daugh'er says your family weren't the nicest sorts. Didn't like people like me. Regular folk."

His stomach abruptly clenches. He's not sure where this conversation is going – and he's not sure he wants to find out, either. It would almost be kinder to bring back the grubs.

"That's correct, sir," Ominis says quietly. "They weren't the most compassionate."

"Tell me, then... why d'you turn out so different?"

Ominis clenches the rod, simmering on the thought.

"They always treated me poorly. Being blind is considered a disadvantage, even to wizards. I suppose, growing up, I understood what it felt like to be hated for something I couldn't control."

Your father grunts an approximation of agreement. "And there ain't no chance of reconciliation?"

"... Sir?"

"No chance they'll come around?"

It almost makes him laugh. His parents? Marvolo? Accepting? There's a greater chance of flying fish. "Absolutely not. You remember when they burnt down your house?"

"'Course I remember," your father says, with a tone that makes Ominis tighten his eyes. "Didn't get no chance to introduce myself before the flames were eatin' my pyjama bottoms."

"Then why do you ask, sir?"

Perhaps he hopes... the two sides of the family coming together...?

But your father grunts again, rolls his neck to a rain of crackles. "You meet all sorts of people in life, Ominis. Sometimes the good'uns are the people you least expect. Sometimes the bad'uns are family. You need thick skin and sharp mind to sort between the two."

"Your daughter is a good one, sir."

It's the first thing Ominis says with absolute sincerity.

"I know that," your father says. "It's you I can't decide."

Ominis would never admit, the admission angers him. All this time, all the family dinners they've shared, the small, albeit awkward, talks between, whether about you or anything else, and he still doesn't share that trust.

"You broke her heart more times than once." It's not spoken with malice. Just fact. "Will it happen again?"

Ominis quells his temper. Maybe, in a strange way, your father is right about the lake's tranquillity being the perfect vehicle for reflection. His thoughts seem clear and true, in what he imagines it must feel like staring through the water's surface.

"Judge me on my past actions if you must," he says with resolve. "What I feel for her now is absolute and unwavering."

His hand jerks suddenly, and before he can add more to emphasise his point, the rod stretches, pulled by the weight at the end of the line. A catch.

"About time!" your father cries. "Go on, lad! Pull!"

All the advice goes out of his head. He snatches the handle to wind in the spool, but now with the resisting force, it's so much harder to reel – the fish, a big one, judging by how hard it's testing Ominis' core strength, yanks back, as if it wants to pull him in. Your father grabs Ominis shoulders, sticky with grub slime.

"Pull, Ominis!"

Ominis seizes the rod with his free hand. My clothes will be ruined, he thinks distantly. The fish inches forwards, splattering scum over the lake's surface, and eventually over the side of the boat.

"Come on!" your father yells.

Ominis grabs the rod and wrenches. The fish breaks the water's surface in a crash, but the momentum is too strong— Ominis pulled too much—

The full-sized pike slams Ominis squarely in the face. He lets out a garbled cry, trips over the bench and tumbles into the lake. Water rushes over him instantly, soaking his clothes, his coat, his scarf, the rod he relinquishes in his panic. Swimming was not compulsory at Hogwarts. His arms flail. I'm going to die.

Then a hand snatches his collar and plucks him out the water, and Ominis gulps a great swell of air, spitting and expelling lake water from his lungs.

"I got you, I got you. Out you come."

Ominis flops over the boat side and desperately kicks himself over. Air has never tasted so sweet. Neither has the underside, the dry side, of this boat. He takes a few moments re-orientating himself, hyper-aware of how suddenly freezing it is, the spit of rain on his forehead, and warm, salt-laced breath, ghosting over him. Your father tugs the sodden scarf and coat off as he sits Ominis upright and slaps his back.

"There you go, get some breath back in ya. Nothing broken? Breathing aw'right?"

Ominis blinks a few times, calming his fragile, quivering heart. "Y-Yes, I'm okay."

Your father sinks down onto the bench – then has the audacity to chuckle.

"Cor, I tell you, I ain't ever seen anything funnier. Bullseye to the face!"

It burrows right through Ominis' skin, and that rage that's been building all day, stoked by every little nonsensical thing he's had to endure, crashes through every nerve until he can't take it anymore.

"Oh, almost drowning was funny, was it?"

Your father goes still.

"No, please, I insist you continue laughing at my expense!" Ominis snaps. "What a hilarious story it is to take a blind wizard out Muggle fishing!"

"Don' like it, do you?"

"Don't like? I had to sit here in silent boredom for hours! I had to touch live worms! I just got slapped in the face with a fish!"

"Funny it was, too."

Ominis seethes. "I'm wet, I'm cold, I cannot see because you have set some arbitrary rule that prevents me from using my wand, and pardon me if I don't understand this bonding trip you have forced me to go on when you won't even grace me with a proper response to the very important question I have tried to ask you!" He barely pauses for breath. "If I am to be judged by my lack of interest and acumen in fishing, then you might as well put me out of my misery now and tell me you won't allow me to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage!"

As the moment ticks on, and your father doesn't respond, the more the anger bleeds out and regret takes its place. Merlin's beard, he's just yelled at your father. Ominis reels back, struck by horror. All this work to clinch his blessing, and it's as useless as he is at fishing.

But then your father laughs. Hard. Ominis has never seen him go this crazy before. Thunderous and loud, it's only decibels away from creating soundwaves on the lake, and it sounds musically like yours – rich and belly-deep.

"There he is!"

Ominis is so confused he just blurts, "I beg your pardon?"

"You've been tiptoeing around me like I'm an eggshell since I met you, Ominis!" your father says. "My sweetling swears up and down you're the bee's knees. That you have a sharp wit and a clever mind. But I ain't never saw that in you, not a winkle. You were always very reserved with me."

"I— of course I was! You're her father!"

"I'm not asking you to be chummy. Am only asking that you be yourself. Can't judge whether you're a good one for her if I don't see the real you. It's nice to finally see the man beneath all that posh pomp."

Ominis sits down, unsettled, bewildered, still mad but...

"This fishing trip was a test?"

"Don't say it like that, lad. I ain't testing nobody. You want permission, I want conviction. My two sons – they like fishing. It was always easier for them. You, though, you don't know nowt about this world, nor me, but if you truly wanted to marry my daughter, you'd give this a real good go."

"And have I?" he asks sharply, burying his nerves. "Have I given it a real good go?"

"What do you think?"

Ominis snorts. "Putting me in this boat alone ought to be proof enough."

"Right you are. You did all this not for me, but for her. That's a good a sign as any." He clears his throat. "You were wearing her scarf. Her school one."

Ominis blinks. "Her... Hufflepuff one?"

"Yeah. That her house, right? She was wearing yours, too. Your green one."

That's a very deliberate choice on your part. It's one thing to wear a scarf of yours, but another to wear something so intimately tied to your identity. Your father must know the houses are chosen based on intrinsic personality traits – so he knows this is your way of saying, I approve, he is mine and I am his. At Hogwarts it was a sign of serious courtship when one wore the scarf of their lover, especially when that lover was in a different house. You wearing his, too...

Oh, you are clever. Now he feels guilty he got it dunked in lake water.

"I weren't ever good with heart-to-hearts." Your father fusses with his moustache again. "But fishing always let me see someone's true self. You didn't even like the idea, but you tried. That's what matters. So, after all that... yes." He sounds like he's smiling. "Yes, you got my blessing, Ominis. I'd be very proud to call you my own, even if we have nowt in common."

He holds out his hand.

Ominis takes it. Gives it a firm shake. Finds the smallest hint of a smile emerge, the first real one of the day.

"Thank you." He can't help how his voice is bathed in relief. "Thank you, sir, that means a lot. I... apologise for yelling."

"No apology necessary. You're a good lad, I know, and I trust you fine." He clears his throat. "And no more of that sir business. I ain't no sir. If you're gonna' be my son, you call me Papa."

"Thank you... Papa." It sounds awkward, but he laughs it off. "That might take some getting used to."

Your father grunts affirmatively. "Let's get you dried up. Rain's coming in hot now." It prickles the lake's surface like a dim drumbeat. "Shame the spare rod's lost, but, ah, well, what can you do."

He goes to grab the oars, but Ominis smiles and pulls out his wand.

"Actually... I believe there is something I can do."

You're waiting in the woods under an umbrella by the time Ominis and your father come trudging up the hill to meet you. After disembarking the boat with both rods safely stowed away in the fishing kit, your father treated him to tea and biscuits in the bankside fisherman's hut as he warmed beneath a blanket next to a fire. Even though there wasn't much conversation had, Ominis felt oddly at peace at the window, listening to the storm batter the lake as dusk crawled over the horizon.

"How'd it go? Did you catch many pike? Oh, no, you look wet!" You immediately fuss over Ominis with a scowl. "Are you all right? Did you fall in?"

"I'm fine, darling, don't fret."

"Now, actually, he did take a tumble." Your father scratches his neck. "My fault. Accidentally knocked him over."

"What? Papa!"

"You might want to check he's all right. Don't want him to catch a chill."

You take Ominis' lapel. "Straight to bed when you're back! I'll make you a hot chocolate. And I'll get you fresh clothes! Oh, and a hot water bottle too!"

Your father gives Ominis a friendly tap on the shoulder – one that says, there you go – and adds, "Best get him back and settled first. I'll wait, don' worry."

Back in the safety, security and blessed warmth of his home, you help Ominis out his damp clothes first before lighting the fire in the mantelpiece.

"Did it go okay? Really?"

"It was fine, darling. Really."

"What did you talk about?"

Ominis almost laughs. He's not going to tell you exactly what, but he's also not lying when he says, "How to fish."

"Well," you snort. "Sounds dull."

He takes your hand and kisses the ring finger.

"Awful."

Thanks for reading! Please like/ reblog/ comment if you enjoyed <3

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#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #gibby #my writing #my oneshots #my stuff

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sorcerersseestars · 2 years ago

Text

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

next part

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo behavior #hurt/comfort #gojo hurt/comfort #angst #jjk #best buddie shoko #sad bc utahime and shoko aren’t together in this one 😤#Gojo is a hater

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hiatuswhore · 1 year ago

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃

♕ A/N: Yeah so this hiatus has been so criminal. Honestly my “writers block” has just been insecurity. I’ve gotten into this bad habit of comparing my writing styles to others and that is such a viscous and toxic self attack. Long story short, I’m a little dummy who needs to remember why I got into fanfic writing in the first place, to have fun. If you feel like it. Please please please send feedback. There’s one final part left. Maybe some bonus chapters with the new season.

♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.

♕ WORD COUNT: 4.7K

♕ WARNINGS: None

previous — Masterlist — next

BLINK. SMILE. NOD. You remind yourself every few seconds. Edwina leads the conversation with a jubilant smile.

Meanwhile, you tally each time Kate’s gaze meets your own as she watches you walk a tightrope, waiting for an inevitable fall. You sit out of place, Kate on your right and your mother on your left. Both rubbing the mustard yellow onto Edwina’s arms, your nose scrunching at the pungent wafts of Haldi. Each time Edwina’s gaze meets your own, you smile. You tilt your head, doing what you do best, offering your unwavering support—no matter how much your chest knots.

“Didi, are you okay? You are so quiet,” Edwina says, leaning forward to capture your gaze. You smile, lying through your teeth, “You are to be wed soon. I shall miss you, is all Bon.”

“You must calm yourself, Bon. Keep still,” Kate smiles down at a jittery Edwina. Her joy practically spills out, her every move indicating pure excitement.

”It is all so strange. I have faced a thousand tomorrows, but they all have been leading to this one,” You pause. Tomorrow. Every laugh, jest, slight—all of it leading to tomorrow. The day you make a fool of yourself—the mark of your first-ever regret. Though your mother speaks, the words do not reach you. The sinking in your chest renders you silent, almost queasy.

”Oh, it has...caused you doubts?” Kate’s cautious tone has your ears perking up, and your absent gaze finds Edwina. Your mother nudges you with a gentle smile, a reminder of her presence.

”Bringing the wedding forward is a sign of genuine feeling, but...well,” Edwina pauses, a sigh leaving her lips as she finds her words. Your heart was banging against your ribcage as Edwina glanced at you. “It has unnerved me. Didi, perhaps you should truly consider Lord Beauregard’s proposal. He’s a wonderful companion to you, and he seems to care. That way, we can navigate all this together.”

”I don’t know, Bon. It’s a lot to consider,” You tilt your head, a tight-lipped smile across your lips, "but right now is not about me or Lord Beauregard. It’s about you and the Viscount.”

“Your sister is right. Rest assured, Edwina, the Viscount adores you. He has devotedly courted you and made his intentions clear from our first arrival. Even going out of his way to procure (Y/n)’s and Kate’s approval. There is no lady better suited for the Viscount,” Your mother’s adoration beams on her prized child, your expression faltering nearly imperceptibly.

“I just—I still wish that when he looks at me, I could be certain that he truly loves me. Like—like—“ Edwina looks around as though the words sit in the room with all of you. Then her gaze finds yours again, “Like how Lord Beauregard looks at (Y/n). His fondness for

her is so evident, written right on his face. I fear, in fact, that the Viscount does not look at me often enough to even tell.”

Your mother and Kate glance at each other with a collective sigh. You lower your gaze, fiddling with the top lace of your peach gown and swallowing the sizzling golf ball in your throat. Kate speaks softly, this time avoiding your direction entirely, “Looks can be powerful, Bon, but also fleeting. Displays of mere passion, perhaps. Nothing more.”

”So the Viscount feels little passion for me?” Edwina exclaims, amusement dancing in her gaze as your mother chuckles. You force a chuckle from your lips, quiet and timid, the antithesis of your very being.

Clearing your throat, forcing a smile to the surface, you grin, “What Kate is failing at saying is that true love is different. It’s complicated and unpredictable. That’s the fun of it. It’s there when you least expect it. You worry now, but fear not, Bon, when it clicks, it clicks.”

“Since when have you become so knowledgeable about love, Miss, avoiding marriage and love?” Your mother teases. Each of your giggles fills the room, and for a moment, only a moment, the dread no longer exists. For a moment you are back in India, in your childhood home.

You cringe at the sudden intrusion, turmeric overwhelming your nostrils as Edwina’s hand gently swipes the mixture across your cheek. Her saccharine giggle contrasted with your wide-eyed stare. She speaks with a whimsical glint in her eyes. One like your own but doe-eyed and hopeful, not calculated and mischievous. “It is said, when spread on an unmarried person, Haldi will help them find a worthy partner that brings the complicated and unpredictable excitement too.”

”Well, Haldi can mind their business,” You tilt your head with a sarcastic smile, earning your mother's pointed stare. Kate chuckles and shakes her. Edwina turns to Kate, who offers a warning stare.

“Now, now. You shall receive it too,” Edwina says, stroking the Haldi across Kate’s cheeks. You fail to ignore the Haldi on your cheeks. It sits like a reminder that tomorrow will come whether you are prepared or not. You shall watch him marry Edwina. Your sister, nieces, and nephews shall be his—but never you.

“Hey!” You exclaim, once again pulled from your thoughts as your mother spreads Haldi across your chest. Reaching into the mixture only takes seconds before the four of you make a mess of it. The giggles are seemingly endless.

Despite the joyous moment, it’s fleeting as the hours seem to fly. Before you know it, you stand in a lavender gown that matches Kate's. You maintain an expression void of emotion, seemingly zoning out—the subtle indicators, near imperceptible. Light sweat coated your brow, and deep sighs left you as though the air was limited. You thank every and any god above for the smokescreen that keeps your beloved family from noticing. Sitting by the window as servants help Edwina prepare, you watch as Kate retrieves the gold bracelet with emeralds dancing across the band.

Edwina stands in front of the full-length mirror. Her eyebrows pinch at the sight she catches in the reflection. Her smile was curious and of awe, “Didi? What are those?”

”I brought them with us from home. I knew this season would be a success,” Kate smiles down at Edwina as she closely inspects them with a warm gaze. You keep your gaze outside the window, willing yourself to ignore every ailment that plagues you. Far too busy pondering potential ways to avoid attending Edwina’s pending nuptials.

Edwina’s head tilts as she searches for familiarity, “they are quite beautiful. How have I never seen them before?”

“They belonged to my mother. Amma wore them on her wedding day and saved them,” Edwina asks if they were saved for Kate. Kate chuckles lightly, “I brought them for you. I insist, beautiful bangles for a beautiful bride.”

”Will you wear them with me?” Edwina asks, but Kate shakes her head, assuring Edwina she will be no bride any time soon. Edwina’s gaze shifts to you, “Well then, Didi, you may very well be a bride soon. Could you wear one with me?”

“Bon—“ You sigh, your gaze meets Kate. The pity in your eyes only furthers the stir in your chest.

“I’m so nervous, but you are the bravest person I know. I don’t know, it may be silly, but wearing this, I shall have a piece of Kate with me up at the altar and knowing you’re wearing it too,” Edwina pauses, her gaze pleading as she holds the bracelet out to you, “It’ll be like we’re in this together. Maybe I can channel some of your courage.”

At the touch of your fingertips, the metal chills against your skin as it soon shackles you to your living nightmare. As Edwina returns to getting ready, you visibly falter for the first time. While your sweet little sister fails to see it, Kate’s quickly at your side. She excuses the both of you slyly, your hands trembling in hers as you both exit the room.

“Bon—“ Kate says, but you offer her a sharp, “don’t.”

You walk with haste to the nearest glass, throwing down a quick shot, ignoring Kate’s advisory against alcohol. Your eyes are misty as your defenses crumble around you. Taking a deep breath, you quickly steel yourself, marching back into the room, rendering Kate unable to console you.

It all passes in a blur as you stare absently out of the window once more. The arriving guests. The bracelets. The wedding gown. Your mother's gushing of Edwina’s beauty in her gown only fuels the fire that slowly burns from the inside out.

“Didi,” you gaze from the window onto your approaching sister. She smiles warmly, taking both your hands. Your heart caught in your throat when she said, “You love him.”

“Wha—I—uh?” You stammer, eyes widening as you try to wrap your brain around her easygoing persona.

“You should not be afraid to tell Lord Beauregard how you feel. You have been nothing like yourself, and I’ve forgotten you have not seen Lord Beauregard in some time now, and you shall see him today. Just tell him,” Edwina says, smiling sweetly. The panic fades into a tremendous relief as your shoulders fall.

“Today is your day. Don’t worry about me, Bon,” You smile, gently squeezing her hands.

“Oh, my beautiful girls,” Your mother says, her gaze moving between you. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, her eyebrow pinching, but the door opening steals her attention away. Concurrently, your body tenses.

“Come. Let us put all the nasty gossip behind us for once and for all,” Your mother stands, taking one of your hands and Edwina’s. Kate joins, taking your own and Edwina’s free hands. She offers you a comforting squeeze. “Let us give the ton a wedding to remember and show them who we truly are.”

Outside the curtains, you stand at Kate's side as if a prisoner were standing before the guillotine. Your corset seemingly constricting as your mind fails to move your legs. You grip Kate’s hand tighter, your ears ringing so loudly you can hardly hear your whisper to her, “I fear I cannot do this, Didi.”

”You are the strongest person I know, Bon. You can. I’m with you all the way. For better or worse,” she whispers. Looking up at her, you blink back tears, and a nervous chuckle leaves you with a final quick whisper: “It sounds as if we are to be wed.”

Kate lets out a soft as she gently pulls you along with her. Servants pull the sheer curtains away as you both pass through. Your gaze finds William in seconds, sitting with Aunt the Queen. His gaze was cold and focused on the groom. You never meet the groom's gaze despite it searing a hole into your head.

You curtsy to the Queen, and William’s gaze remains behind you. As you take your place behind Kate, your gaze meets the grooms for only a second—your breath hitch as you approach the entrance, awaiting the inevitable. A smile takes your face at the sight of your mother and Edwina. Despite everything, your dear little sister always amazes you with her beautiful presence.

Archbishop begins the ceremony, but his words do not reach you. The ringing of your ears grows louder, your right hand soon fiddling at your side. Your smile falters into an absent stare as the bangle on your wrist becomes more noticeable than the gown that covers much of your skin. You let out a shaky exhale, your left hand crushing the stems of your bouquet.

Squaring your shoulders, you take a deep breath and stare forward. A weak smile on your lips as Benedict shoots you a wink—the calm brief as your gaze meets the groom. You refocus on Benedict, but it’s mere seconds, and you both return. The bobbing of his Adams apple, light sweat above his brow, his gaze unfocused, hazy—perhaps you imagine it. You are in Edwina’s place, standing before Anthony, not with a joyous smile but a smug one. A reminder that each day would be a challenge, one you’d both happily accept—a future.

“My lord,” The Archbishop shatters the fantasy with a firmness, tearing your gaze from him; you focus on Kate’s shoulder.

A brief reprieve as the wedding crashes violently with the present reality. Your left hand grips the bouquet stems so tightly it rips beneath the force of your palm as your right hand trembles at your side, the bengal sliding menacingly around your wrist. You tense as your racing heart becomes your only focus, clashing with the loud ringing in your ears.

Anthony looks around the room, and again, his gaze finds you. Edwina’s eyebrows pinch as she follows his gaze. You do not look up from Kate’s shoulder, confident that one wrong move shall bring your end. Even as Edwina turns back, prompting Anthony, his gaze flicks to your unwavering stare on Kate’s shoulder. Your trembling hand matches the pace of your raging heart as you force your tears to remain in your lids.

“I, Lord Anthony Bridgerton,” Archbishop recites, his words ringing loudly in your ears as they hit you head-on. The bengal slips from your wrist, releasing you from its confines. Your eyes close with a sigh of relief as everything quiets. Anthony stands before you when your eyes open, holding the bengal out to you. You glance at Kate, her gaze panicked as she looks between Anthony and yourself.

Lifting your hand, you falter for a second; the moment has lasted far longer than it should. Your gaze locks with his own as you reach out cautiously. His thumb brushes against your own faintly at the touch of the metal. Muttering a thank you and apology, you return to your spot with your gaze low and lips pursed, holding the bengal not placing it back on.

“I need a moment!” Edwina shouts, her voice echoing through the silence. Your eyes widen, and she’s rushing down the aisle from the altar before you can even process. A sea of indiscernible chatter fills the room as you watch your mother rush after Edwina. It all soon returns, the ringing in your ears and your chest constricting. William rises from his seat, his gaze gentle as he stares at you. You look everywhere but at Anthony. Kate grabs your hand, pulling you back down the aisle out of the ceremony.

”—we will call for tea, and once you have something in your stomach, you will be strong enough to go back out there. The Viscount—“ You stand in the doorway, Kate standing a few paces in front of you, your mother a few in front of her. Edwina paces the room, taking deep, haggard breaths. Your mother fumbles to recover the moment, “The Viscount will understand, yes Kate? (Y/n), dear, perhaps you might find that tea—“

“It is not tea that I want; it is the truth!” You freeze in place as Edwina looks at you in a way you have never seen her look at anyone. Though words enter your mind, they do not leave your parted lips. Your mother voices her confusion as you stand as a deer in headlights, teary-eyed and guilty. Edwina continues mercilessly, “Still uncharacteristically quiet, sister, how telling of your deceitful nature!”

“I don’t understand what is happening,” Your mother's gaze bounces between you. Kate sidesteps in a failed attempt to hide you from Edwina’s view, your presence only furthering her rage.

“I shall tell you what is going on, Mama. Your daughter does not love chaos, as she claims. She loves destruction! Decimation at the tips of her fingers, slowly poisoning all she touches!” You blink through your tears, unable to find the words or even begin an explanation.

“Edwina—“ Kate interjects and appears to be the only intervention that deters from her verbal assault.

“Oh, you cannot deny it now, Kate! You enable her! You always have. The two of you are constantly deceiving me. Together in your deception! You knew! Didn’t you? You knew of her feelings for him, ” Edwina narrows her eyes at Kate, the implication of her words giving your Mother much-needed clarity. Meeting your mother's gaze, your head tilts, all but pleading for comfort without words.

“Alright, that is enough. No good can come from this at present. Let us all take a moment to calm ourselves, shall we,” Your mother says, moving to Edwina’s side. She sits Edwina down, dissolving into a bundle of tears. You try to voice an apology, but your Mother turns to you, speaking sternly, “I said that is enough. You have done enough today.”

”Mama, please. I didn’t want this, please. I’m sorry,” You cry, panting softly as your words spill out. The ringing in your ears returns and grows louder steadily with each passing second. Kate interjects only to receive the same sternness, “And you. You have kept so very much from me.”

”Mama, please,” You cry; reaching out for her, she pulls away and points to the door.

“Anywhere else right now, (Y/n),” She says. Rushing out of the doors, everything splinters into a heap of colors and sounds. You pant as though you have run miles rather than mere steps. When you rush into the first set of doors you find, you rush past several faces you cannot make out. Your breathing choppy and staggered, your hand trembling without pause as you pace vehemently.

“(Y/n),” You cringe at the sound of your name, shaking your head as sobs rattle you to your core. He takes your hands, guiding you to the floor. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not William. I’ve ruined everything; I’m a terrible sister—a terrible person,” You cry, shaking your head; he places a hand on your cheek, stilling you as he wipes a tear.

“You’re far from a terrible person. Stubborn, sure, but not terrible,” He chuckles, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.

“You don’t understand—“ Panting endlessly, William keeps his gaze locked on you and takes a deep breath in and out. He continues to do so until you follow, and even then, he continues for a few moments.

”I’ve made my intentions with you—my uh, my feelings very clear. And when I realized your impact on Anthony and me, I was angry and jealous. He’s so at ease with you even when you’re annoying him, and you seem to forget anyone else is around when the two of you interact,” William says with a slight smile. Your face falls at his words.

“William, I am so sorry—“ Your voice wavers and William chuckles, shaking his head before you can continue. He nudges your side with a grin.

“No apology needed. I only wish for you to be happy (Y/n) just as I wish for Anthony, and with time, your sister will share this sentiment. Of that, I am sure. I must warn you, though, things will grow far worse before they grow better,” William says, resting your head on his shoulder; he kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes, refocusing on deep breaths.

After a few minutes you clear your throat, “I should go, the last thing I need is another scandal.”

“You’re nothing but trouble, Miss Sharma,” William grins, shaking his head. A giggle leaves you as you wrap your arms around him, squeezing his tight.

”Thank you for this,” You mutter, squeezing a little tighter as he kisses the crown of your head once more. As you head back to the room, you pause as Kate sits outside with her head in her hands. She looks up at the sound of your approaching steps, quickly rising at your sight. Neither of you says a word before silently agreeing you both must face this head-on, accomplices. You knock gently upon the door, and Edwina’s face manages to sink even further at the sight of you.

“What?” She asks coldly; before you can get a word in, Kate inquires about your mother, but Edwina cuts her off, “You seem to know all. How could I possibly offer any insight of my own?”

”Edwina, please. Your anger is with me, not Kate,” You say, earning a huff in response.

“Mother is off, getting some air,” Edwina opens the door wider before moving from it entirely. You take a cautious step inside, still lingering by the door as Kate closes it behind the two of you.

“Edwina, I never wanted to hurt you. By the time I realized, it felt far too late to say something. So, I thought that I would swallow it down to avoid this because I wanted you to

be happy. I know you wanted this badly, but I didn’t realize how deep this ran. But it does not matter; I am unfit to be Viscountess, but you, you’re perfect for it,” Your voice wavers as her teary gaze meets your own. Edwina scoffs, shaking her head.

“He said the same thing. I half expected to discover that the two of you prepared it ahead of time. Perhaps it speaks to your compatibility or your deceitful nature,” Edwina shakes her head at you, her gaze cold as ice.

“Edwina, (Y/n) has always supported. You and I both know she is not deceitful. Misguided, certainly. Stubborn almost all the time. But she’s our sister,” Kate says, eyebrows pinching as her head tilts. Edwina’s gaze bounces between the two of you. Her eyes land on Kate.

“I do not know which pains me more. Both your betrayals or your pity,” Edwina says, her head held high with a conviction you never knew her to be capable of.

“Edwina, we are sisters—“ Kate takes a step toward her, reaching out for her hands but halts at Edwina’s next words, “Half-sister, with the misfortune of having (Y/n) as a sister. I want you both to recognize that I am a grown woman and for the first time in my life, I can make a decision based on what I would like.”

Edwina glances over at you, her at ease presence furthered unraveling your nerves, “I have already imagined the life I would lead with Lord Bridgerton as Viscountess at Aubrey Hall. It lives in my mind and is mine to do with as I like. So, if I choose to marry Anthony, it will be because it pleases me and no one else. I need you both to understand that. If I go through with this wedding, it will have nothing to do with either of you.”

You swallow thickly every version of reality where you have no place in her life evident. Kate's reassurances fall victim to the high pitch. Like nails to a chalkboard in your ears. Your personalized torture.

Kate remains at your side, the silence jarring. Uncertain of an appropriate reaction, you find yourself in a hazy void. You refuse the tears pushing at the edge of your lids, no words in reach to synthesize the depths of the pit in your chest. Time fuses into a distorted blend of unrelenting dread. The footman delivers the summons, the neat handwriting familiar.

Kate hesitates as you ask her to join you. Would it fuel the fire? Further the divide? Perhaps. Even still, you both cross the silks and satins of the entryway—the wedding hall. It's still as breathtaking as you all left it.

”You sent word for me?” Your eyebrows pinch as Anthony's words linger in the air. Kate answers as your lips merely part, and no words leave you. You glance at Kate, who mirrors your visible confusion. Approaching footsteps carrying the answers to each lingering question.

Edwina enters like the calm before a storm. Her hands clasped in front of her, her gait determined, and her mindset. She passes Kate without sparing her a glance, Edwina’s gaze bouncing between you and Anthony, “I have made my decision. I thought it best that you both hear it from me.”

“Edwina, perhaps we should speak privately,” Kate suggests, earning a mirthless chuckle.

“No, and quite frankly, I am giving our sister a courtesy I was not granted,” Edwina keeps her head high, her presence delicate yet commanding. She turns to Anthony, who has not looked away from you. A rare sight of pure vulnerability in your eyes as you look at Edwina. Silently pleading for forgiveness. A soft sigh leaves Edwina as she keeps her eyes on Anthony, not continuing until she has his full attention, “I cannot marry you, Lord Bridgerton. You cannot provide me with what it is I want. What it is that I deserve. What everyone deserves. I may not know exactly what true love feels like, but I certainly know what it is not. It is not deception or, wandering eyes, or a role to be fulfilled. I cannot marry you because I cannot betray myself. You will never meet my eyes in the same manner that you met my sisters on that altar today. You will never...”

Edwina falters, a sigh escaping her as she briefly glances toward you and back to Anthony, “You will never look at me the same way. I would be your Viscountess, your wife, the mother of your children, but I would never be yours because you’ll be hers.”

Your eyes find Anthony as her words seep into your bones. Edwina addresses you and Kate with words of contempt and eyes of sorrow. Her retreating form leaves a heavy silence as Kate rushes after her. Neither of you move, Anthony at the altar and yourself a few paces down the aisle.

“I thought I taught Edwina nothing, but I fear she too shares the ability to scorch the earth in a fit of rage,” You chuckle, the tight-lipped smile dissolving into a huff, “I have ruined everything.”

”You speak as though you did it alone,” Anthony says, meeting your gaze in the same spot where he was meant to recite his vows.

“I should go,” You whisper, watching as he glances off, seemingly pondering something. Clearing your throat, you square your shoulders, “Lord Bridgerton.”

”You should stay,” He says, an odd ease to his demeanor. You can only wonder if he feels the turmoil that rages within you. He tilts his head, “Your sister is braver and wiser than us both. She had the courage to act on what she sensed between us. And here we are, you ready to flee and myself standing perfectly still. We’ve felt it for months.”

You inhale sharply, and the reality is apparent: you cannot escape this. Speaking hardly above a whisper, you fidget with the skirts of your dress, “I’ve lit more than enough fires today. If I were wise, I would go.”

”Then, only for a moment, my pyromaniac, play the fool with me. Humor me in this inevitability, a fate that cannot be. Explore the untenable depths of our desires for this moment only before we face the reality waiting for us out there,” Anthony holds out his hand to you. His smile does not reach his eyes as you stare at his hand before you.

A sigh leaves you as you chew on your bottom lip. You cross your arms, raising your head high, “If I am to play the fool, you will have to address me by my proper honorific, of course.”

”And what’s that?” Anthony’s eyebrows pinch as you turn your head.

“Viscount Bridgerton, of course,” You smirk as the realization slowly dawns upon him. A hearty laugh leaves his lips as you accept his hand with a gentle grin.

“The sky could be falling in, and you would find a way to jest,” Anthony smiles as he shakes his head. You nod, chuckling beneath his gaze, far closer than you were a few seconds prior. Neither of you, aware of when or how you got so close. The warmth brings a merriment that blurs the line between what can and cannot be.

The violins.

The flowers.

The gossip eager Ton.

The bride and groom at an altar without wedding bells. ”I fear I have destroyed my relationship with my sister.”

“And I, with my best friend.”

You give his hands a gentle squeeze on your own, gasping as he pulls you forward. The touch of your lips light at the climax of your shared fantasy. As you both pull apart, the warmth chills. You are not husband and wife; you are a scandal.

A smudge on both of your reputations.

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