#I can FEEL the deep rooted embarrassment seeping in already

[mycological-mariner]

I’ve never done reenactment in my life. But suddenly my email about wondering if I could help out at all at the next event now includes a tent, what I need to bring in terms of plates, bed, cutlery, etc and I’m just like. I don’t object, but also. I have literally never been camping unless you count sleeping in the boot of a car when I was 11.

[miasmaghoul]

damn it I feel so fuckin embarrassed

please can u bless me with some rain nsfw? I'm so desperate for him I'm going to cry

love you and your fics <3

NEVER BE EMBARRASSED ANON

WE'RE ALL MAD HERE 💜

Enjoy this needy, wet boy getting exactly what he deserves (aka DP and the lovely combo of praise and degradation)

Rain hears nothing but the rush of his own blood as he hurries through the cramped halls of the venue. High on adrenaline and the hit of Swiss's vape he definitely shouldn't have taken, stumbling around roadies and event staff as he unsubtly palms himself through his pants.

He's been hard as diamond since Dew's slender fingers had wrapped around his throat during Year Zero, all his focus thrown out the window in favor of sudden, overwhelming arousal. Dew's words are still rattling around in his head.

"We're gonna ruin you tonight."

Rain didn't have to wonder who else was involved in "we" for long - he could feel Aether's eyes on him from across the stage. He'd have been left breathless even with out the too-firm squeeze Dew had given his neck.

He'd been drowning in lust since the end of Square Hammer, stuck at the front of the stage and engulfed in their scents - cinnamon and whisky, ozone and freezing air. They clung in his nose even now, guiding him on unsteady feet to the dressing rooms. He's panting by the time he reaches the door, already fighting with the buckles of his jacket.

"There he is." Aether's smooth voice cuts through the haze like a red hot knife, rooting Rain to the spot with his helmet dangling from his fingers. Aether is reclined on the couch with his legs crossed, Dewdrop leaning against a nearby wall with his arms folded. "We were starting to wonder where our sweet boy had gotten to."

Rain whimpers. He fucking whimpers. His hands were already shaking, but the rest of his body soon follows suit when Dew stalks over with a smirk plastered on his angular face.

"You look pathetic, wet boy," he taunts, reaching up to flick the tip of Rain's nose. "Look at him Aeth, he's blushing like a slut already." Rain whines as his cock kicks - he can feel the damp spot on his boxers, and it's not helping the way his cheeks are heating.

"Always so pretty for us," Aether croons, warm. He stands and strides to meet them, bracketing himself against Rain's back. He groans out loud at the feeling of Aether's length pressing into his ass, thick and hot even through both of their uniforms. "Aren't you, Rainy?"

Rain makes a pained sound low in his throat when Aether kisses behind his ear, a strong arm wrapping around his waist. Dew presses himself to Rain's front, fisting his jacket in both hands and grinding against Rain's thigh. Fuck, he's even hotter than Aether is. The water ghoul's head falls back against Aether's shoulder when Dew leans to lick a filthy stripe up his throat, his hands landing at the fire ghoul's waist and pulling him closer.

"Oh he wants it," Dew hums, nipping sharp at Rain's skin to hear him gasp. He's engulfed in them, in the musk of sweat and their combined scent of a bonfire on a frigid winter morning. It seeps into his veins, fills his lungs, overtaking everything that isn't the way they feel pressed against his overwarm body.

"I can tell," Aether says with a chuckle, thick fingers carding through Rain's sweat-damp hair before gently grabbing a handful. He gives a soft tug and Rain tilts his head, hips rolling against Dew's stomach as Aether catches him in a sweet, deep kiss. He moans into it, tugging insistently at Dew's waistband while the little ghoul drags his fangs over his throat.

"Please," he huffs against Aether's lips, desperation threaded so deeply into his voice, "fuck me, please fuck me, I can't -"

"Calm down," Dew scoffs, snaking a hand between their bodies to grip Rain through his pants. The water ghoul cries out as he feels himself getting slicker, the scent of sea salt and sweet citrus permeating the air. "Lucifer, what a little whore you are." Rain feels like he could cry. He thinks he probably will before they're done with him.

"We're going to take good care of you, raincloud." Aether's cock throbs against him and Rain collapses back against the larger ghoul with a choked moan.

"Hurry."

They do, Rain letting himself be moved to the center of the room. Dew is on his knees while Aether supports him with an arm around his heaving chest. They work his pants down to his thighs and Dewdrop's mouth is on him in an instant, skilled tongue lapping precum from his most sensitive spots while Aether's fingers slip between his cheeks. He can't keep the feminine whine in his throat when a thick digit slips into him with no resistance.

"So wet for us," Aether murmurs against his throat, peppering it with chaste kisses, "bet you could take both of us right now, couldn't you darling?"

Rain's knees give out at the thought, and he only remains upright thanks to the arm around him and Dew's hands splayed over his hips. He nods fervently and Dewdrop chuckles around him, sucking firm at the tip until Rain is leaking pre down his throat. He pulls back to look up at the water ghoul with a cruel grin.

"Told you we're gonna ruin you."

They have him prepped in record time, Rain not even trying to hold in the sound he makes when he straddles Aether and sinks onto him in one go. It all moved too fast for them to undress one another, so Aether's cock simply juts from his zipper, Rain's slick soaking into the other ghoul's uniform pants.

"Fuck, fuck," Rain gasps, shaking like a leaf and dizzy with the effort of not moving. Aether's strong hands hold his hips while the water ghoul adjusts, clenching around him. Rain cock spits onto Aether's jacket as he moans, and Dew snorts behind him.

"Unholy Father, you're a mess," Dew mutters, no small amount of disgust coloring his words. The tone shoots straight to Rain's gut and he cries out when a slim finger pushes at his rim, already stretched around Aether's stunningly thick cock. "You're leaking everywhere." He hooks his chin over Rain's shoulder, peering down at the ghoul laid out on the floor below. "Can you even feel anything Aeth? Or is this filthy little slut too wet for his own good?"

Rain hisses as the words go directly to his dick, hands white-knuckled in Aether's jacket. The air is thick with arousal and it's all Rain can do to keep himself upright as Dew prods at him with greater intent. As much as he wants to get a hand on himself, to soothe the ache in his balls, he can't make himself move. He twitches when Aether's cock kicks inside him, muscles fluttering as the other ghoul reaches up to hold his cheek in a large hand. Rain leans into it, nuzzling Aether's palm, licking at his rough skin. He tastes like sweat and the sharp metallic tang of guitar strings.

"He feels perfect," Aether says, voice gravelly and rich with pleasure, "nice and tight. You take us so well, rainbow." He strokes Rain's cheekbone before slipping that hand to the back of his neck, offering an apologetic smile when the water ghoul tries to follow with his tongue, whimpering at the loss. Aether rolls his hips up as he pulls Rain flush with his chest, and the sound the other ghoul makes seems to hover around them. Rain buries his face in Aether's neck as he struggles to catch his breath, and oh is that a mistake.

He's drowning in Aether's scent immediately, masculine musk and thunderclouds and morning frost. It's electric, too enticing to resist, and Rain's tongue is laving over his sweat-slick skin in a heartbeat. Aether fills his senses, overwhelming pressure in his head and chest.

"We'll see about that," comes Dew's incredulous voice from behind him, along with the rasp of a zipper. "Let's get this hole filled up properly first."

Rain yelps when a lubed finger pushes in alongside Aether's cock. Dew's other hand is at the small of his back, keeping him pinned to the larger ghoul's chest. Aether starts moving his hips when Dew adds a second finger, pushing in as Dew pulls out. The burn of the stretch is quelled somewhat by the drag of Aether's fat head over his prostate, the water ghoul melting into the rhythm they set as he drools over Aether's skin and lets himself be used.

"Please," he manages to squeak when Dew adds a third finger. He can feel the way the digits rest between his walls and the underside of Aether's dick and it makes his head spin. "Need- need you inside, please."

Dew laughs at his desperation while Aether rubs his back, pouring praise into his ear. "You're doing so well, keep breathing, that's right, such a good boy." Rain is out of his mind entirely when Dew pulls his fingers back, keening at the loss. The fire ghoul leans over his back, sandwiching Rain between their warm bodies. He can hardly breathe for how noisy he is, mewling and begging wordlessly.

"Desperation looks good on you," Dew says, and when that blunt head breaches him, opens him, all of their sinful sounds echo around the room in a debauched chorus.

When Dewdrop bottoms out Rain's world goes gray around the edges. They're everywhere - Dew's forehead rests between his shoulder blades while he catches his breath, long fingers scratching down his still-clothed sides. One of Aether's hands is buried in Rain's hair, the other squeezing his thigh just above where his pants sit.

Rain's cock throbs hard where it's trapped between his and Aether's bodies, the water ghoul crying out at the feel of the coarse fabric against its sticky head. Softened from the pain of the stretch but chubbing up again rapidly as his body adjusts. He's so full he can't believe it, a dull ache blooming in his pelvis when they finally start to move. But he needs more, he needs -

"Ruin me," he grunts into Aether's skin.

Dew growls in his ear and those deft fingers are suddenly at Rain's neck, dragging a wanton moan from the depths of his being.

"Careful what you wish for, princess."

Dewdrop snaps his hips, squeezes his throat, and Rain's pleasured tears can't fall fast enough.

[toloveawarlord]

♥ Pairing: Hiromi x Shuji Hanma

♥ Event: Kinktober

♥ Day 7: Aphrodisiac/ Sex Pollen

♥ Warnings: Smut; sex pollen; toys; riding;

♥ wc: 1.3k

"What's gotten into you, doll?"

He'd barely gotten in the door when the woman jumped him. She'd snatched the lit cigarette from his lips and kissed him like a desperate whore. Most unlike his girl, although not that he minded.

Hiromi couldn't explain what had come over her. It had taken root deep inside and was driving her absolutely mad. Nothing that she'd done on her own had satisfied her. She straddled his lap in the large recliner. "I just really need you-"

"I can see you've been busy." Golden eyes surveyed the toys scattered around the living room, abandoned on the floor and couch, some still slick from their use. Hanma wouldn't deny his lady, especially when she was so eager. "You look fuckin sexy in that baby-doll dress."

Her hands focused on getting his pants undone, to pull his cock out. After a few pumps of her hand, she raised up on her knees to align him with her cunt, sinking down on to his length easily. "Ah- shit-"

God, he felt so much better than any toy.

"I don't think I've ever seen ya so desperate."

"Shut up-" Hiromi couldn't stop herself. Desperate was an understatement. The coil wound so tight that her body moved on its own to free it. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She covered his eyes with her hand. "If you're going to be an asshole about it, then I'll go back to my toys."

As if that were an option. He felt so good, stretching her wider than any of the dildos they owned.

Hanma rested his chin on his palm, elbow on the arm of the chair, enjoying this wild, desperate side of Hiromi. The deep navy-blue lingerie was sheer over the top half of her body. Her hard nipples clearly visible through the material. Lifting his hand branded sin, he rolled one between his thumb and index finger. "Fuck, you cummin already?"

Her thighs were sore from the rapid movement of her fucking herself on his cock. Rubbing her clit with her free hand, Hiromi bit down on her lip, begging this to be the time that was satisfying enough. "Oh my- god!" Her eyes rolled back as she clamped down around him, unable to do much else but rock her hips back and forth as she came.

But it didn't. The high faded much too quickly and her body still wanted, needed more. "God fucking dammit!" Hiromi groaned, slapping her hand against his chest. How many orgasms had she had? She'd lost count. Each one was better than the last, but she was never satisfied.

"What the fuck did you take?" Hanma asked, finally getting a good glimpse of her face. He'd mistaken that wild expression as simply her being horny, but that wasn't the case. She was high out of her mind, on what he wasn't sure.

"Huh?" Hirmoi quirked an eyebrow at him, beginning to start again. Her juices staining his pants, seeping out around his thick cock stuffed deep in her pussy. "I haven't-" Her mind may be fuzzy, but she wouldn't risk taking any drugs, not as an idol.

He reached out and swiped the bit of yellow dust from the tip of her nose. It wasn't anything that he'd seen before. His hand settled on the small of her back, gaze searching the room for what could be the source. He should be enjoying the feeling of her bouncing up and down on his cock like a madwoman, but if some fuckbag had drugged her, Hanma wanted to know.

On the kitchen island, sat a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a vase.

"Where'd ya get those?" They certainly weren't chosen by him. Hiromi preferred exotic flowers, ones that were quite difficult and expensive to procure.

"I don't know- ah fuck- a fan, I guess. They were delivered this morn- mmm fuck fuck- morning-" Hiromi was very confused with his focus on the damn flowers. He was hard inside her, clearly a part of him was feeling pleasure from her. "Why do you care about the flowers so much, Shuji?"

"You really ain't putting this together, doll?"

"What?"

God, she could be so... trusting. Always seeing the good in everyone. Guess that was one of the qualities that landed him her affection. Hanma wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, Hiromi brought out the best in him. It was disgusting, really.

But he came back to her beautiful smile and charming personality every day, desiring to be in her presence. All that mushy nonsense that made his stomach churn. He didn't mind if it was her.

Hanma hooked his arm around her waist, effectively pulling her off him while standing up.

"What the fuck, Shuji!" He'd ruined her orgasm.

"Gotta show ya somethin."

"Can't it wait?"

"No." Hanma walked her over to the counter where the flowers sat. The same dust that he'd found on her was coated all over the plants, meaning that when she leaned down to smell them, she inadvertently inhaled whatever the drug was.

Hiromi whined, irritated that he was so indifferent to her advances. It was unlike him. He liked to 'corrupt' her, in his own words, introducing her to kinkier, riskier sex. "Shuji, forget about the damn flowers. I feel like I'm dying-" Her body was on fire.

The card taped to the back had a familiar handle written on it.

"This fucker again." He was grateful that Hiromi had given up on him and returned to the couch to play with herself. She wouldn't approve of his intentions. This person was obsessed with his Hiromi. Hanma was well aware that publicly, Hiromi was single.

He was the kind of man who would ruin her reputation as a sweet angel.

This stalker douchebag likely assumed that he might have a shot with her if by dosing her with an aphrodisiac. He'd stupidly left his number on the back, giving Hanma a way to hunt him down, and end him. Permanently.

Those were things Hiromi didn't need to know about.

"How many times do I haveta tell ya not to accept gifts without having 'em screened?" He tucked the card away to deal with it tomorrow. Right now, he had a sexy girlfriend begging him to rail her. He lingered at the end of the couch, watching her rub the vibrator between her legs.

"It's just flowers."

"You've been drugged, Romi."

Her head lifted, finally getting what he'd been hinting at the whole time. It never occurred to her that a fan would do something like that to her. "How long is this going to last? It's torture." She squealed when Hanma grabbed her ankle, pulling her all the way down to the end where he was.

"Serves you right for not listenin' to me." Hanma tossed his jacket aside, loosening his tie and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. His gaze turned predatory. "But I'll take good care of ya, doll. It ain't like I don't want fuck that pretty little pussy."

She melted into putty under those golden eyes. Hiromi's world turned, flipped over to be bent over the arm of the couch. "Ah! Shuji!" His palm smacking against her ass made her cry out.

Hanma chuckled, dropping his pants. "I'm the only one who gets to hear you sound like this, got it?" He rubbed his tip between her folds, amused at how wet she still was. With one hard shove, he sank his full length into her dripping cut. "Fuck, doll. I hope you can take it."

"Yes- ah- yes-" Her eyes rolled back as he thrust into her without restraint. The couch creaked beneath her small form. The coil snapped once again, sending a wave of tingly pleasure through her limbs.

"Jesus, Romi. What a fuckin orgasm-" She milked his cock so fuckin good. His fingers dug into her hips, not allowing her to squirm away from him as the pleasure became too much. “You're not goin anywhere. You said you could take it, and I'm gonna fuck you until the drug has run its course."

And he always kept his promises.

[gingersnaaps]

sandman

to be taken by sleep really isn't such a bad thing - not when osamu's the one waiting in your dreams.

wc: 3.2k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon, creampie, breeding mentions, penetration, fingering, sex dreams, sleep paralysis, incubus!osamu vibes, vaguely supernatural, you fall asleep forever at the end, fem!reader with inner genitals

a/n: written for @ultimate-astridwriting's wonderful collab and inspired by my recent stint of sleep deprivation also i feel like i may have strayed a bit from the prompt but oh well

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

You can’t recall when Miya Osamu first started appearing in your dreams.

It was a subtle thing at first: the features of strangers, normally blurred beyond recognition, melded into his half-lidded eyes and soft smile, and you’d catch glimpses of his face in the reflection of windows and out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t think too much of it. You’d read an article somewhere that mentioned how faces in one’s dreams came from the interactions in our real lives, and with how much you’d been frequenting his onigiri shop, you suppose that his appearances were to be expected.

Still felt a little strange for you to be having a dream so intimate, though.

You’re lying on top of his broad chest, one arm on your waist, the other resting gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs tender circles into your skin, stroking softly as you rise and fall with the movement of his chest.

“‘Miya?” you ask tentatively. “How did I end up here?”

He chuckles. It’s a deep, rich, sound, one that reminds you of rivers running steady and full moons in the countryside, the vibrations passing from his body to yours. When he speaks, his voice is low and a little quiet, but with his lips grazing your ear, you don’t miss a single word.

“Call me Osamu.”

The familiarity leaves your face slightly flushed, embarrassment tingling across your skin. He shifts you around in his arms, tilting your body so that you meet his warm, inviting, gaze. The hand on your thigh seems to burn red-hot, and you wonder if he can hear the heartbeat pulsing just inches away from his fingertips.

He smiles softly at you. “You’re a beautiful girl.”

Your heart seizes, malfunctions, pounds erratically-

You wake up in the dark, damp sheets clinging to your skin, heart skipping like a schoolgirl and drunk off the compliment from your dream.

There’s a bad ache in between your legs. You trail a hand down your front, fingers sliding into your pajama shorts to quell your want.

-

Dusk is falling across Tokyo when you head to Miya’s - no, Osamu’s - onigiri shop. Twilight makes giants of the pedestrians, stretches out the shadows that loom tall in the soft gray-orange of the setting sun, the darkened shapes scurrying through the city’s rush hour.

Unlike them, you’re not going home.

A busy schedule meant little time for home-cooked meals, and the food here really was excellent. When you push open the door to his shop, the jangle of a bell sounds somewhere above you, and Osamu barely looks up before a smile settles on his face.

“The usual, I suppose,” he says, beckoning you inside.

You nod gratefully. The atmosphere of the shop is comforting - there’s just a few customers trickling through, picking up their to-go order that he’s prepared. You pick a seat near the window, one that gives you an unobstructed view of the sunset outside.

The chatter dies down as the last customers leave the shop, their onigiri clutched in hand, and a peaceful silence descends on the space around you. He brings out your food just a few minutes later, setting the dish in front of you.

“As requested by my favorite customer,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “Glad to have you back tonight.”

Your stomach flutters at the closeness between the two of you, and you suddenly feel embarrassed - ashamed of how much you’d been thinking about him, of the dreams you’d been having, of the way his touch had left you wanting for more in those same dreams - but it’s a good kind of embarrassed, one that leaves excitement bubbling in your core.

It feels a bit like a crush.

“Couldn’t miss out on the food, could I?” you reply.

“So you’re only here for my onigiri.”

“I- no, of course not."

“Just teasing.”

He smiles crookedly, and for just a moment, there’s a knowing glint that flashes in his eyes - the kind of expression that makes it seem like he’s aware of more than he’s letting on - but it vanishes almost immediately, passing too quickly for you to be sure of anything.

He turns to go back inside the kitchen, lifting up a hand casually to wave goodbye. “See you soon.”

-

Upon your arrival home, the first thing you notice is how very tired you are.

It’s not too out of the ordinary - it was a Monday afternoon, after all, and that had always been your least favorite day of the week - but the minute you crash onto the couch, your eyelids seem to droop with sleep, limbs growing heavy as the room around you swirls into a half-conscious haze.

You’ve still got chores to take care of. There’s dishes from the morning to wash, laundry to fold and put away, a few work emails to respond to that were probably very important, but you just can’t seem to stave off the overwhelming fatigue that seeps through your veins and numbs your entire body.

You need to sleep.

So you let it happen. You let your eyes flutter shut, let yourself relax and melt into the soft cushions of the couch, let your mind go nice and blank and empty.

After you give up the struggle of staying awake, the dreams come quickly.

“Glad to have you back so soon.”

The warm, quiet, voice from yesterday rumbles somewhere above you. You’re laying on his chest again, ear pressed to the soft fabric of his faded black shirt. You make a small, confused, noise, but he just laughs, gently brushing aside your hair, a hand trailing down your body and creeping closer to your inner thigh.

His touch feels electric. Every brush of his fingertips against your thigh, feather-light and teasing, leaves you with your heartbeat thudding in your cunt.

“We’ve gotta get you ready,” he murmurs. “Prep you well enough so that you’ll feel good when the time is right.”

You clench around nothing at his words, and maybe he can feel it with his hand so dangerously close to your pussy, because he smiles lazily and asks, “Are you that desperate?”

You’re not sure whether you should deny it - he can probably tell you are, anyway, but the thought of nodding, of saying yes, ‘Samu, want it so fucking bad - it leaves you with your cheeks flushed hot with shame.

He doesn’t need your explicit confirmation to read the way your body twitches against his, though, and he moves his hand lower to cup around your pussy. His palm is warm, the pressure steady and constant as he holds his hand still against your throbbing cunt. You can’t help but squirm against him, sloppily grinding your clit against his waiting hand, bucking your hips back and forth for any friction you can get. You’re panting, breaths quick and shallow as you feel the drag of the cotton panties in between his skin and yours, and a lewd moan tumbles from your lips. “Touch me,” you mumble, voice thick with arousal.

You look so pretty down there, hair mussed and mouth open slack in a perfect o, getting off all by yourself - he should give you a hand, shouldn’t he?

He nudges your damp panties aside, the thin fabric creasing the fat of your pussy as he brings a thumb up to your clit. His ministrations start slow, circling your clit patiently while you writhe from the pleasure, just barely dipping his index finger into your hole, his long, dextrous fingers skilled and patient as he works to search out the sensitive spots that leave you gasping and delirious.

“I want you dripping,” he says softly, sliding his finger inside all the way to the base of his knuckle. “Want you spread out on my hand, soaking me through, wet enough for me to fuck you full.”

You shudder with anticipation at his words, hips wriggling and rutting against his stiffening cock as his finger drags along the ridges of your g-spot. Every movement of his is accompanied by an embarrassingly audible squelching noise, your cunt already swollen and hot with arousal, your slick running in a cool trail down the crease of your thigh.

He flicks his thumb against your clit, this time more harshly. “ ‘m gonna fill you up so good when you’re ready,” he whispers. “Fuck you until your pussy milks my cock dry.”

Your eyelids flutter, a rush of pleasure crashing down on you as he pops another finger inside. Your hand fists at his shirt weakly, grabbing and pawing at the fabric as he curls his fingers just right inside you.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You wake up from your dream as an orgasm ripples through your body, eyes flying wide open as you squirm and thrash on the couch. The pleasure coiling tight inside your core unwinds, pulsing in your cunt as you moan.

The room is dark and empty.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, vision bleary as you reach for your phone - it reads 7:00 AM. You’ve slept for almost twelve hours.

As you get up, swinging your legs off the couch and righting yourself, you notice one intense, overwhelming, feeling that roots you to the couch and leaves your limbs limp and loose:

You still feel so tired.

-

The rest of the week seems to pass by in a blur. You’re so exhausted you can barely think straight, stumbling from your office to your home - and sometimes to Osamu’s onigiri shop - going about your life half-dazed and barely conscious.

The only respite you get is in sleep.

Your dreams have gotten particularly intense as of late, head clouding full of visions where you’re fucked in every position: shoved up against the wall, facedown in the mattress, and even hoisted up on the counter. Through it all, there’s one constant.

Miya Osamu features in every single one of them.

You know his voice by heart now, a low, quiet, rumble that both soothes you and sets your cunt thrumming with anticipation. His silver-gray hair, his round, half-lidded eyes, the softness and the warmth of his body - they’re as familiar to you as your own features by now. You’re pretty sure you’ve even memorized the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you.

In every dream, he whispers the most tantalizing promises in your ear, breathing promises of how he’s gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart, gonna fill you up, gonna breed this pretty pussy until you’re carrying my seed inside you.

And even though you never wake up well rested anymore, you find that you don’t particularly mind. After all, there’s not much you look forward to in your waking hours. Every grating hour you spend working your stupid little job, or attending your lengthy, useless, lectures - it all feels like you’re just going through the motions, like you’re just trying to make it through so that night falls sooner and he can finally come visit you.

The week comes and goes, and soon enough, it’s already Friday.

You stumble in through the front door, a yawn itching at your throat, and you head straight for your bedroom. You pass by the ever-growing stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the stack of bills on the countertop, the laundry you’ve left in the drying machine. You’ll get to it next week.

For now, you just want to sleep.

The bedroom is gloomy and dim, grey light from an overcast twilight filtering through the blinds. The room feels stuffy in the dark, the four walls suffocating the small space, but you don’t bother with turning on the lights. Why would you, when you plan on heading straight to sleep?

You undress clumsily, almost tripping as you pull off your pants and shrug off your blouse, and stagger into the soft, warm, embrace of your bed.

A warm burst of comfort surges through you as the familiar feeling of drowsiness overtakes you. Your eyelids grow heavy, lashes fluttering slightly, the thump of your heart slowing - you’re right on the precipice between the conscious and the unconscious, straddling the border between sleep and waking -

You hear a voice sound from shadowy recesses of your room.

It’s a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“I missed you at my shop today.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no noise comes out. It’s as if your vocal cords have been plucked from your throat, your voice frozen somewhere deep inside your trachea, and the only sound you can make is that of silence. A bit belatedly, you realize that you can’t move either, your limbs settling uselessly at your side as you lie paralyzed on your back.

A head of gleaming, silver, hair emerges in front of you, and your breath catches in your throat. You’re not sure if this is a dream anymore.

You blink once, and suddenly, you find him in your bed. He’s hovering above you, arms pressed to either side of your head, gazing down with a hungry, hungry, expression. He’s waited all week for this, sweetheart - won’t you finally indulge him?

He pulls the comforter aside, large hands gliding over your body and hoisting up your hips. You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, limp and immobile, and he rearranges your limbs and positions you until he gains easy access to your ready, waiting, cunt - the same cunt that he’s been preparing all week.

He drags a finger through your slick folds, already wet and sticky from the ministrations of the previous few days. There’s no need to bother with prep. He can already feel the way your cunt pulses at his touch, can see the need etched into the gleam of your eyes even as the expression on the rest of your face remains frozen.

His hand glides over his clothed cock, strained and throbbing with need as he pulls it out and strokes slowly, eyes fixated on your body the entire time. His dick is big, flushed almost purple as cream beads at the tip, balls fat and full and heavy.

Osamu’s had enough of waiting.

With a groan, he pops his cockhead into your drooling, twitching, hole, pushing in steady, thrusting all the way into your tightening cunt until he hits your cervix.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, face scrunched with pleasure. “So tight it feels like you’re trying to milk me dry.”

He rolls his hips slowly, dragging his cock along the front of your walls, the ridge of a vein pressing right into your sweet spot. Your legs twitch uselessly as he pulls halfway out before slamming his cock back in.

“I wonder if you’d like that,” he muses. He brings a thumb to rest at your puffy, swollen, clit, pressing down in steady circles, his touch unrelenting and firm, sending spasms of pleasure that leave you clenching and gripping down onto his thick cock.

“I think you would. I think you’d love it if I filled you up, if I fucked you full of cum and bred this tight little hole,” he says, the barest hint of an amused smile tugging at his lips. His voice is calm and steady - a striking contrast to his filthy words, his brazen promises.

His slow, steady, strokes quicken, hips slamming roughly into yours, each thrust satiating the want in your cunt. Your walls pulse as if they need to be filled, squelching lewdly as he fucks you hard and deep.

He leans down. His lips hover millimeters away from your forehead, just barely grazing your skin with tender, light, kisses. “Take it,” he whispers, thumb rubbing harshly at your clit. “Take it like a good girl for me. I know you can.”

The kisses he presses to your forehead start to travel down the underside of your jaw, soft little nips and bites with his blunt teeth that leaves a trail of his glossy spit on your face. His mouth finds your ear.

“When I cum, you better not waste a single drop,” he breathes. “Wanna fill you up, make you mine. I want to own this pussy.”

He brings his hand down to pat your stomach where your womb would be, rubbing the soft surface of your skin in tender circles. His balls are aching so badly - he needs to cum, needs that release, needs to stuff your messy cunt.

“Cum with me,” he urges. “Right now.”

The pleasure pulsing inside you draws taught - snaps - and you’re pushed over the edge. If you were still capable of speaking and moving, you’re sure you’d be moaning loudly, hips twitching uselessly as he creams your pussy over and over. He fucks you through your orgasm, spent cock softening inside you as you squeeze his dick. After all, he doesn’t want any of it to leak. He wants it sloshing around in your hole, filling you up until you’re warm and wet and sticky, wants to breed you, to mark you down as his.

You look beautiful with your insides stained white, he thinks.

You can feel your cunt twitching slightly as you come down from your high. He smiles warmly, gives your pussy a little pat -

You blink and he’s gone.

Almost as if he was never there in the first place.

Sleep takes you quickly after that. You’re exhausted from being fucked, exhausted from the constant stimulation, and you quickly fall fast asleep. All is silent and still in your darkened bedroom.

-

The next day, right as the sun starts to drop over the horizon, glinting stars nestled in the sky high above, you find yourself back in front of Osamu’s onigiri shop.

It’s partly due to the hunger gnawing in your stomach, but it’s more out of curiosity than anything. You need to know if it’s real, if he’s real, if the past two weeks were nothing but a fever dream.

And you really want to see him again.

As you push open the door to his shop, you’re greeted with his friendly smile, as usual.

“Same thing again?” he asks.

“Of course.”

The exhaustion hasn’t gone anywhere. You’re still constantly tired, always drifting off during the daytime, limbs weary and worn. When you sit yourself down at the usual spot - the table near the window - that irresistible fatigue seems to creep up on you again.

It’s so calm and comforting in his little shop. The lights are warm, the view is pretty, the quiet chatter of his few customers soothing to your ears. It’s so easy to rest your head in between your hands, shoulders slumping, mind empty of every little unimportant thought, so easy to just close your eyes, so easy to fall into the rose-tinted haze of your nice, pleasurable, dreams.

Osamu comes out of the kitchen in the back of the shop, carrying your food on a plate, and finds you fast asleep with your head on his table.

He’s not surprised. In fact, he’s quite pleased.

In fact, if he has his way, you’ll never have to wake up again.

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[dreamerstreamer]

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: god!Dream / DreamXD x gn!reader

Summary: [Reincarnation!AU & Dream SMP!AU] Being a god can be especially lonely—Dream knows that better than anyone. Yet somehow, you always manage to find your way back to him in every life you live. If only it didn’t hurt so much to love you.

Warnings: tw// mention of death

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: requested by the lovely 🤡 anon, who asked for a piece based on keane’s somewhere only we know! i got rather carried away when writing this, and it’s certainly quite sad, but i hope you all enjoy it! <3

Dream blinks lazily up at the fluffy clouds drifting across the cerulean sky, his emerald eyes tracing over their soft edges. He hums to himself as one of them drifts in front of the sun, the warm light suddenly leaving his face. Frowning, he sits up a little straighter, raising his arm above his head. He snaps his fingers once, and in an instant, the clouds vanish. Warmth floods his cheeks as the sun’s brilliant rays crash over him once more. He smiles, but it’s melancholic, a forlorn look passing over his face.

Just how long has he been alone like this?

Sighing, he rises to his feet, kicking at the soft dirt beneath the soles of his boots. His viridian cloak is light atop his shoulders, his wings neatly folded underneath the soft fabric. Above his head, his halos glow with a dazzling golden hue, sending beams of amber light flashing across the nearby tree trunks. Rolling his neck, he snaps his fingers again, and his wings and halos vanish in a flash. Just like that, the weight on his back dissipates, and his lips twitch. There—that’s much lighter.

His gaze flickers over to the waterfall lying just a yard away, rushing ripples of water streaming down the short cliff face and into the pool lying at its base. He crouches down next to the small pond, brushing his hand over the soft soil beneath his feet. Sparks shoot up his arm and into his fingertips, the earth suddenly bursting to life underneath his touch.

All of a sudden, a blossom sprouts from the ground, soft and pink as it unfurls its petals and soaks up the warm sunshine. Dream grins as row after row of flowers shoot up from the ground, circling around the pond and lining the trees around the clearing until suddenly, the whole space is surrounded by breathtaking blossoms. He stands back with a satisfied hum, glancing around himself with an almost nostalgic gleam in his gaze.

It’s been ages since he last returned to this little alcove in his favourite forest. He could tell no one else had stepped foot here except for him, too. After all, there was only one other person who knew about this place—the only other person in the world he knew would be able to find it in the first place.

Had it been decades or centuries since he last visited? He’s not sure anymore, but really, he’s not sure if he cares, either. There’s a reason why he doesn’t come back here very often—one that he hesitates to even think about.

It’s far too painful of a memory to relive.

“Hello?”

Dream freezes, his eyes going wide at the sound of a new voice—a familiar voice. Slowly, he turns, his lips parting in awe as he sees a figure stepping into the clearing, a mix of caution and curiosity flitting across your cheeks.

He knows that face—knows you.

His heart aches at the thought.

“Hi,” he manages after a long moment, swallowing ever so slightly.

You flash him a sheepish smile, lowering your gaze to the ground almost bashfully as you brush a stray leaf off your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding, or anything. I was just passing by when I saw the flowers, and thought they looked really pretty, and...”

You trail off, your voice growing smaller and smaller until it fades off into silence. Dream stares at you, unmoving as his heart races a mile a minute in his chest, battering against his rib cage as your timid gaze flickers to his.

“I, um,” you squeak out, feeling the intensity of his eyes on yours. “I can go if you wa—”

“No,” Dream suddenly blurts, the word flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He can already feel the heat flooding his chest at the way you startle in front of him, and he sucks in a breath.

“Wait,” he says, calmer this time. “Please, I—you’re not intruding at all. You can stay.” He takes a shaky step forward, offering you a crooked yet earnest smile. “I’d love it if you stayed.”

In an instant, your face lights up, and his breath hitches in his throat at the sight. “O-Oh, thank you! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s [Y/N].”

In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped and would never beat, again. “What’s yours?” you ask, your eyes shining like freshly cut gemstones.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, taking in the soft panes of your cheeks and the delicate curve of your lips as your smile leaves tiny cuts in his lungs.

“Dream,” he breathes at last. “Call me Dream.”

Suddenly, your eyes curve into tiny crescent moons as you grin at him, and he feels the loneliness flowing through his veins subside the tiniest bit.

Even after all this time, he still can’t bring himself to forget your smile.

Dream hums to himself as he tosses a pebble into the pond from his spot on the fallen tree log. The stream laps at the stone once before swallowing it whole, letting it sink to the murky bottom without so much as a splash. A rustle comes from behind him, and he immediately whirls, his lips curling up into an eager smile.

“[Y/N],” he chirps, bright and keen, “welcome back.”

Your glowing face greets him in return, and he nearly combusts on the spot. He still remembers the way you had promised him you would return to see him again a week ago, when you had first stumbled upon his clearing. His head still spins at the thought, and it almost makes him forget the longing ache that sinks into his bones when his gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long.

Almost.

You wave at him as you jump over a protruding tree root, crinkles forming at the corners of your eyes. “Good morning, Dream! What are you doing here so early? The market only just opened.”

He shuffles over on the log to give you room, raising an eyebrow at you. “I could ask the same of you.”

Crouching over, you settle down onto the space next to him, not at all noticing the way he stiffens when your thigh brushes against his. “I woke up early to watch the sunrise,” you say with a half-drowsy smile.

There is a beat of silence, then Dream tilts his head at you. “The sunrise?”

You bob your head, turning to look at him. “Yeah,” you murmur wistfully, raising your arm to wave your hand up at the sky above. “I love watching all the pretty colours fill the horizon. It only lasts a few minutes, but it’s so magnificent, and I always try to watch them if I can.”

His eyes flash as he takes in your gentle expression. Then, he opens his mouth, thoughtful and slow. “Sunrises, hm? What other things do you like?”

You pause for a moment. “Other things I like?” When he nods, you hum, averting your gaze from his until you find yourself staring over at the bubbling waterfall.

“I like... I like flowers,” you begin, “but you already knew that.” He chuckles at the hint of a smile that dusts your face before you continue. “I like exploring the market every Saturday, too. They always have something new to find.”

Suddenly, your eyes flicker to life, glittering with excitement. “Oh, I also like stargazing! It’s like watching the universe paint a picture with little crystals every night, and something about looking up at the sky makes me feel so small, and I... I...” You gesture vaguely, a frustrated noise escaping your throat. “I don’t know. I just like it.”

Dream cannot help the way his heart melts in his chest at the sound you make, a certain fondness seeping into his soul. You were always so endearing—always, always, always.

“What about you, Dream?” you say suddenly, looking at him curiously. “What things do you like?”

Dream blinks at you—once, twice. Suddenly, his mind is flooded with image after image, memory after memory.

He thinks of the millennia he has lived through, the cities he has watched rise and fall. He thinks of the countless distances he has wandered, travelling far and wide with a heavy loneliness hanging in his barren heart. He thinks of soft kisses pressed to calloused fingertips and fluttering eyelids.

Then, he looks at you, with your enraptured eyes and your glorious grin.

“You,” he says, sincerity gracing his every word. “I like spending time with you.”

He watches as you stammer in reply, your eyes going wide as you gape at him in a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He laughs at you, and his heart swells in his chest.

He’s missed you—more than you would ever know.

“Say, Dream, have you ever seen the ocean?”

The sun glares harshly into your eyes from where you lie on the earth, staring up at the cobalt sky, but Dream hardly notices—his eyes are too focused on you. “I have,” he murmurs as his gaze traces over the bridge of your nose in wonder. He’s seen more of the world than he would like to admit. After all, he was the one who created it in the first place. But to you, he’s just a simple traveler with a penchant for waterfalls.

Before he can even register it, you’ve bolted upright, bending over him with an excited shout. “Really?! What’s it like?”

He jolts at the sudden movement, all too keenly aware of how close your face is to his before his shuffles into a sitting position, resting his chin on his hand. “Well,” he begins, “it’s really big. So big that you can’t see the shore on the other side no matter how hard you try. It’s blue as far as the eye can see, and the breeze kind of tastes salty if you open your mouth.”

He catches a flash of your awed expression as he waves his arm in front of him to illustrate the vast size of the ocean. “The water,” he continues, envisioning the waves as they crash onto the sand, “is nice and cold, and if you swim deep enough, you might find fish and coral. It’s relaxing to watch the tide come up into the beach. Sometimes, shells wash up onto the shore, too. You can keep those as little souvenirs.”

For a moment, you are silent as you simply stare at him, something swirling deep within your gaze. “Wow,” you say at last, sounding completely breathless. “That sounds beautiful.” You stretch your legs out in front of you, your fingers curling into the grass spread beneath your palms. “My best friend says there’s mermaids in the ocean.” You scrunch your nose. “I don’t know if I believe him, though.”

Something dark ripples through Dream, and the tiniest of frowns passes over his face. “Your best friend?” he parrots.

You nod. “Yeah—his name’s Karl. He’s really nice and likes to goof off a lot. He’s also a really good storyteller!” You look at him then, fondly and with such a kind look it almost knocks Dream right over. “I think you might like his stories.”

His lips quirk up into a coy smile, and he leans ever so slightly forward. “Would I, now?” he croons, a teasing lilt tinting his tone. “What kind of stories does he like to tell?”

You clasp your hands together, excitement brimming in your face. “Oh, wonderful ones! There’s the one about the sleepy fox, the one about the pig who could not be killed, and the one about how we all face reincarnation after death, but my favourite,” you murmur, “is about the creation of the world.”

Dream goes still at that, his smile faltering for a split second. “How does that one go?” he asks softly.

You scoot the tiniest bit closer to his side, your gaze lowering ever so slightly. “Once upon a time,” you start, your voice as smooth as velvet, “a god descended from the heavens and carved the world into the shape it is today.” You traced your finger along the soft dirt. “He made valleys and hills, oceans and rivers, decorating the land with flowers and trees. The world he made was beautiful, but it was lonely, so he filled it with people to keep him company. He was so full of joy to have friends, until one day, he fell in love.”

Your demeanour, which had been cheerful up until this point, suddenly shifted, darkening as you let out a sigh. “He fell in love so quickly and so deeply that he was blind to the nature of his own creations, as they had a mortal lifespan, unlike him. When his lover died, a part of his soul died with them. He vanished after that, never to be seen again.” You curl your knees to your chest, resting your head upon them. “Some people say he wanders the world, mourning for all of eternity. Others say he died of heartbreak. Even fewer believe that his lover lives on and he loves them still, although they’re not entirely sure. Either way, he has yet to appear, and humanity quietly awaits for his return.”

Dream is silent beside you, his lips pressed into a thin line as his chest rises and falls with the timing of his breaths. “Why is that story your favourite?” he finally asks.

You lift your head, surprise shooting across your face. “I’m not sure,” you say softly, pondering for a moment. “I just think he sounds so... sad. It’s a tragedy, what happened to him. He only wanted to not be alone anymore.” Your voice drops even lower. “He only ever wanted to love someone.”

An ache suddenly expands within his gut, digging into his sides of his skull with such ferocity he fears he may never escape it. That same, fleeting sense of solitude slinks around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing until your eyes lock into his, and they halt.

“Do you think that he lives on?” you whisper, your gaze searching his. “That he might have found someone else to keep him company, despite his sadness?”

You pause, something like hope sparking within your eyes. “Do you think... he ever loved again?”

Dream stares at you, and stares at you, and stares at you. Your lips are right there, are so dreadfully close to him as he looks at you, feeling the blood pound through his ears as the pain in his heart begins to lift. It rises higher and higher within him before sliding off his shoulders entirely, leaving nothing behind but tender affection and warmth—a warmth he had been yearning for for so, so long.

He smiles at you then, and for once, this one is real.

“Something tells me he did.”

Dream stretches his wings out behind him with a quiet groan, feeling the cool air ruffle his ivory white feathers. His cloak sits on the ground next to him while his golden halos spin rapidly atop his head from where they float, glowing faintly in the fading evening light. After a moment, he lets his wings fold back up against his back, lowering his arms with a sharp exhale. In the distance, he catches a glimpse of the setting sun just before it dips below the horizon, shrouding the world in darkness. With a bored look, he picks at his nail, curling his toes in his shoes.

He’s already waved you off and watched as you wove your way out of the clearing and between the forest’s tangled trees back to your village. Now, he has nothing left to do but wait for your return the next day, his throat aching for your arrival with every passing second.

How far I have fallen, he thinks distantly to himself, to be reduced to nothing more than a helpless admirer for a human.

A moment passes, and his heart sighs.

A lovely human, at that.

All of a sudden, he hears a stick snap behind him, and Dream immediately snaps his fingers, his wings and halos disappearing in a flash, almost as if they had never existed to begin with. Whipping around on his heel, he narrows his eyes at the clearing entrance, jaw clenched in preparation. His shoulders are raised at his side, tense with anticipation when just then...

...you stumble out of the forest, tears streaking down your face.

Dream’s shoulders fall in an instant.

“Dream,” you choke out, your voice cracking sharply.

You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth again before he’s standing in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as gently as he can manage. His eyes scan your face as his stomach churns with agony at the despair painted onto your features. “[Y/N],” he murmurs softly, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You sniffle, lifting your head to look at him through watery eyes as you open your mouth. “Karl—he’s sick. Really sick,” you babble like a winding stream. “The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, and he’s been coughing so badly that you can just tell he’s in pain. At this rate, I—I’m scared he’s not going to get any better. He... I’ve known him since forever, and I—”

The words die in your mouth as you cut yourself off with a broken sob, and Dream almost feels as though he’s been stabbed in the gut. He never wants to see you in pain, to see you as sad as this, and the fact that you are sobbing at all makes him want to wail himself.

Softly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to your chest as he rocks you gently back and forth with your head resting on his shoulder. Your tears soak his shirt, but he doesn’t mind one bit. “Shh, [Y/N],” he coos quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back with a wary gaze, fear etched into your features. “How do you know that?” you whisper. “What if he doesn’t get better? What then?”

Dropping one arm from behind you, Dream slips a hand into his pocket, quickly rubbing his fingers together. Just like that, cool glass that wasn’t there a moment earlier presses against the warmth of his palm, and he pulls out a vial filled with a pale, rosy liquid.

“Here,” he says, pressing the vial into your hand. “This is an antidote I’ve been...” He pauses for a split second, then fibs. “...holding onto for a while. For emergencies.” Slowly, he clasps your fingers until they’re closed around the glass top, sending you a reassuring smile. “Give this to Karl, and I promise you he’ll recover.”

You blink at him, your eyes glimmering underneath the light of the swirling stars overhead. “You swear?” you ask meekly, hope dancing along the edge of your lashes.

Dream swallows thickly and nods. “On my life.”

You inhale a deep, shuddering breath, then raise your hand to wipe at your eyes before smiling at him, warm and full of affection. “Okay,” you murmur as you step back from him. “I trust you, Dream.”

The next morning, you come tumbling into Dream’s arms with a gleeful cry, tears flowing freely down your face as you knock him to the ground. This time, they’re there for an entirely different reason as you ramble about Karl’s cleared airways when the doctor came to check on him after you fed him the antidote.

Beneath you, Dream relishes in the warmth of your body against his, praying you cannot feel the way his heart hammers against his chest.

There were not enough words in the world that he could use to describe how deep his devotion to you ran.

He fears there may never be enough.

Months pass in a blur, and Dream watches with knowing eyes as summer turns to autumn. Soon enough, snow coats the clearing although the waterfall continues to flow. No matter how harsh the weather, you stumble your way back to the forest to him, and each day, Dream feels himself sink deeper and deeper into the very essence that is you.

To think that there was once a time he never wanted to return here at all.

“Dream,” you say abruptly one day, “you know, I think you might be my favourite person in the world.”

He cocks a brow at you, his lips twitching up into a small smirk. “In the world?” he repeats. “I think Karl would be offended.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t stop the smile from stretching across your face. “Maybe, but it’s the truth!” You lift a hand and begin counting off on your fingers. “You’re—you’re so nice, and passionate, and bold, and bright, and...” You pause, then chuckle almost shyly. “I could go on and on, but that’s embarrassing.”

He chuckles at your words, only growing more and more enamoured with each word that falls from your lips. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says gently. “It’s cute.”

Your shoulders suddenly stiffen, and you slowly turn your head to glance up at him. “Cute? You think I’m cute?”

He doesn’t have to think twice about his response. “Very much so. I would dare say that you are even more beautiful than you are cute.”

You whine with a pout, heat crawling up the side of your neck as you dig your thumbs into your palms. “You can’t just say things like that.”

He stares at you for a second, then he flashes you a grin that is both parts wicked and affectionate. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.”

Your mouth drops open at the way he fires your own words back at you, and you gape at him a moment before you groan, reaching over to playfully bat at his arm. “Why, you!”

He laughs at you and loves the way he can tell your heart races in your chest. He loves the way you smile despite your small shouts of frustration. He loves the way you are just so endearing to him in every which way.

He laughs at you and he loves you, hopelessly and wholly.

Dream gazes up at the orange sky with a slight frown and furrowed brows, watching as the clouds coast by overhead on a distant, northern gale. The waterfall babbles restlessly at his side, and he taps his foot against the smooth stones lining the pond with abandonment. The flowers he had once grown rake this petals over the soles of his shoes as he lets out a long sigh, anxiety slowly beginning to paw at his backside.

Are you going to show up at all today? he wonders. There are some days you don’t appear at all, typically because you had to run some errands or something of the sort, but those days are few and far between. He won’t chastise you for not seeing him, of course, but he cannot simply ignore the pang of his heart when he misses you so.

His fingers drum against the cool material clutched in his hands, and a melancholic look flits over his features. It would be a shame if you didn’t appear though, especially given what he had in mind for the day.

Right then, he hears your lovely voice call out for him. “Dream!”

His frown is immediately replaced by a smile as he whirls around to see you, his hands carefully tucked behind his back. “[Y/N],” he greets, striding up to you. “It’s good to see you.”

You’ve only just made it in front of him when he opens his mouth again, excitement filling his words to the absolute brim. “I brought you a gift.”

You blink wildly at him, pointing to yourself in surprise. “For me?”

His grin only grows wider, his heart leaping into his throat. “Of course it’s for you, silly. Who else?”

You squint for a second, then smile. “Karl?”

Dream deadpans at you, and you laugh in return, not noticing the way his eyes melt fondly at your expression. “I’m kidding,” you chide, shuffling a step closer to him. “So, what is it?”

He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when he finally brings his hands out from behind him, pushing them towards you. “Ta-da! Here.”

Your breath catches at the sight of his palms, and with trembling hands, you reach up to pull the curved item from his hand. “Is this... a shell?” you whisper, your eyes as wide as saucers.

He nods, his emerald eyes gleaming with pride. “A conch shell,” he says. “From the ocean.”

You sputter as you gently turn the shell over in your hands, your fingers tracing over the solid edges with nothing short of pure shock. “H-How did you even get this? The nearest ocean is at least a week’s travel on horse away!”

Dream thinks of the wings he typically had tucked on his back and how they carried him to the ocean and back in less than a few minutes, but to you, he only smiles and shrugs. “I have my ways.”

You don’t respond for a moment, then two. All of a sudden, you sniffle, and Dream is bending before you in a heartbeat, his hands reaching for yours before just stopping short. “[Y/N]?” he asks in a soothing tone. “Is something wrong?”

Your gaze is watery, but only slightly as you raise your chin to look at him, your lower lip set with determination. “Dream,” you say with a shaky breath, “I have to tell you something.” You gulp. “It’s serious.”

Immediately, Dream’s mind runs through a million and five possibilities of what you could possibly say to him, each one increasingly worse than the last. Your family is in need of funds, or you’re about to leave on a life-threatening journey. Or maybe Karl is just sick, again.

But before he can run himself into the ground with his own worries, Dream lets out a breath and tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

Your gaze falls down to your feet, and you stare at the earth for an excruciatingly long minute. Dream simply stands in front of you, patiently and earnestly waiting for your response when you suddenly open your mouth.

“I—I love you.”

Dream’s lungs feel as though they are about to collapse in his chest. “You do?”

You bite your lip, but raise your head, your shoulders trembling at your sides. “Yes,” you whisper, the syllable steeped with emotion. With one hand clasped around the conch shell, the other reaches up to rest over your chest, palm pressed flats against your left side. “My heart is yours, all of it.”

The world is a blur of colours and sounds around him, and he can feel his head spin faster and faster as a wave of memories come crashing down over him, drowning him whole. He wants to tear his hair out and scream to the heavens above until his throat is raw and he can scream no more.

You love him. You love him back, and as much as he wants to burn your words into the back of his eyelids, something else sinks its claws into his heart and tears a hole right into the flesh.

This is not the first time you have spoken these words to him. No, not at all.

He had done his best to forget them over all those years, had tried his best to outrun the anguish with every century he lived through. After all, when you live as long as he has, it is only natural for him to forget some things. Through wandering across every land he had lovingly sculpted by hand, he had hoped to erase his suffering by engulfing himself in other worldly affairs, isolating himself entirely from others.

But no amount of time could ever truly erase the memories he had of you—the first incarnation of you, from all those years ago.

He remembers how the two of you had shared your first kiss under the light of the full moon, giggling to one another as he wrapped you up in his soft feathers. He remembers the way you would hold his hand and tell him about all the things you could not wait to do with him in the very same clearing he stood in now. He remembers the way your body went limp in his own arms, coughing until your lungs could cough no more. He remembers the agony and the torment as he wasted away, too caught up in the imprint of your skin against his before you turned to dust before his very eyes.

He remembers it all, and he cannot not let himself be shattered like that, again.

“I have to go,” he whispers, jerking his arm back from yours.

You whip your head up, pain shooting across your face. “Y-You’re leaving? What?”

He takes another step back and swallows down the lump in his throat, but it tastes like acid burning his stomach. “I—I can’t stay here.”

Before he can move back again, your hand shoots out to grab at the hem of his shirt, desperation soaking into your face: “P-Please,” you plead, “you can just say you don’t love me back. My feelings for you won’t change.”

He wants to cry. No, he thinks, it’s not that. It could never be that. Not with you.

You clutch at the cloth, hoping your feelings somehow reach him through your anguished touch. “I love you, Dream,” you begin, “I really do. I love how attentive you are, how much you always seem to care. You’re always so patient with me, so kind, so generous, and it makes me melt inside. I love the way your eyes shine so brightly, and I love your little freckles. I want to count them all, and I don’t mind if that takes the rest of eternity.”

You’re almost entirely out of breath by now, and Dream’s jaw has gone slack. He can only stare at you with a look of pure conflicting despair as your eyes search his for answers he knows he cannot possibly give. “An eternity with you would be nothing,” you breathe, your voice cracking. Your grip on his shirt suddenly goes limp, and your arm falls back to your side. “Please. Stay.”

The knife in his gut only seems to twist deeper as he takes yet another step back, his cloak feeling like a boulder upon his back. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I really can’t.”

Tears line your eyes like tiny jewels, and he wishes he could wipe them away. “Why?” you beg. “Why do you have to go?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

In front of him, a look of absolute defeat sinks into your expression, and your voice grows smaller than ever. “At least—at least tell me if I’ll ever see you again.”

Dream’s feels the back of his eyes sting, and he clenched his hands beside him. “Not in this lifetime,” he wants to say. “And hopefully not in the next, either.”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he says instead.

Just like that, he watches as the light fades from your eyes, vanishing from sight as the setting sun watches on with a sad gaze. Your lower lip trembles, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crumpling to the ground in a heap and watering the earth with your tears. You clutch the conch shell to your chest and let it dig into your chest from how tightly you press it against yourself, your vision completely blurred. In front of you, Dream holds back tears of his own, forcing himself to look away from your broken figure as he walks toward the forest away from you.

Your wails follow after him even after he unfurls his wings deep in the forest and soars up into the sky, flying high above the world below as he dries his tears with the harsh wind that bites at his face.

He will not return here for a long, long time.

He doesn’t think he would even be able to bring himself to if he tried.

Dream brushes a stray leaf off his shoulder as he steps over a root, his eyes focused on the bushes before him. A bird chirps as he strolls past a tree, nestling further into its nest as he ducks under the branch. He smiles at the sight, a deep fondness seeping into his heart as he lets his hand run over the tree’s hard bark.

He recognizes this forest—these trees. He knows this sky, has leapt over these rocks. He’s walked this path before.

It’s a shame he can’t remember how long it’s been since he last came here.

He hums a quiet melody to himself as he weaves a path between the trees, drawing nearer and nearer to the place he had been searching for with every passing second. He’s only a few steps away when a sound calls out to him—a sound that isn’t a part of the forest.

“Hello?”

Dream goes stock still, his heart coming to a screeching halt in his chest.

He knows that voice, too.

Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly steps forward, out into the entrance of the clearing. In front of the waterfall stands a silhouette he is absolutely positive he’s seen before—countless times before. Something tells him that he should leave, that he should run far, far away and disappear from view. But as he watches the silhouette take a tentative step toward him, his inhibitions fall away.

Warmth blossoms in the space between his lungs, all encompassing and full of grief as he opens his mouth.

“Hi.”

[writteninkat]

BNHA BOYS & LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

w/ Katsuki, Shoto, Kirishima

genre: fluff, fluff & fluff

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

doesn't believe in love at first sight cause he claims it's 'bullshit' until he saw you for the first time

you were wearing UA's rival's school uniform, hanging out with your own group of friends (you guys wandered a bit too far and ended up in the musutafu area

you looked so pretty in his eyes, smiling and laughing without a damn care in the world, he found it ridiculous and at the same time captivating how there's suddenly sparkles surrounding you

"I think that new cafe is somewhere here..." Mina says, scrolling through her phone, probably looking for more information about the location of the new cat cafe that opened near campus.

Katsuki didn't want to come at all, but he was dragged. His friends claimed he wasn't 'social enough' and used that as something that might block his path towards becoming the number one pro hero. And of course Katsuki didn't let them run their mouths however they want and went with them, you know, to prove a point.

"Tch. Why did I let you guys talk me into going with you? This is stupid." He grumbles, turning his head to the side, his brows furrowed. Then, his gaze is set on you.

His eyebrows and his jutted lip relaxes, he feels himself slouch and his eyes widen at the sight of you. You looked so pretty, so glowing, so happy. Katsuki wanted to shield you from all the dangers in the world, he wanted you to keep that smile forever.

"Come on, Bakubro! They finally located the-" Eijiro's smile falters at the expression of his best friend. He's never seen Katsuki so... taken aback. He follows his best friend's gaze, eyebrows raising when he sees you.

He smirks, giving Katsuki a soft nudge on the side, breaking the blond's trance. "I bet you can't even ask a cute girl out without looking like an idiot."

A vein pops on Katsuki's forehead, his devil eyes showing. "Watch me!" He yells before marching up at you.

SHOTO TODOROKI

the first time he sees you is at this soba place. your parents owned it and you were currently doing your summer job, serving and waiting tables.

"Good noon. I'm Y/N and I'll be taking your orders today." You chirp brightly at the group of UA students.

Shoto is too busy scanning through the menu to notice you. "I'll have your cold tempura soba. My drink will be..." He looks up, his train of though immediately coming to a halt. "...pretty..."

You raise your brows at him questioningly, "Oh you mean our pretty strawberry shortcake milkshake? It's a new one we have." You smile brightly, pen at the ready.

Shoto's friends all have stunned looks on their faces, they can't believe their stoic friend could oull off that kind of expression.

"I'll be having... umm..." Shoto's caught in a flustered mess, his ears and face turning into a deep shade of red as well as his head growing dizzy. You smell so good, so sweet. What kind of perfume were you using?

"Could you please repeat your order, sir?" You leaning forward at him isn't helping at all. He can feel his heart thumping widely against his chest as he scrambles for words to answer you with.

"He'll be having the cold temoura soba, a glass of iced tea and a side of your number." Denki winks at your smoothly, causing a blush to creep up on your cheek. You quickly take everyone else's orders, dashing away from their tables as soon as you were finished.

"What did you do???" Shoto panics, his head swirling with your possible thoughts on this. Were you embarrassed? Shocked? Upset? Happy?

"That, my innocent friend, was called being a wingman. Agotchu fam." Denki extends his knuckles for a fist bump to which Shoto glares at.

Great, I just lost my chances with the cutest person I've ever seen. Good job, Kaminari.

You return with their orders, Shoto's being the last. "One cold tempura soba, a glass of iced tea and..." you pull out a small piece of paper from your pocket, your cheeks turning a shade of pink. "...my number."

Shoto looks at you as if you've grown two heads. Your anxiety seeps in, wondering if you've made a mistake. "Ah- it was a joke?" You quickly take back your habd which was holding the paper, slowly bringing it to your pocket.

Denki kicks Shoto's shin from under the table, snapping him out of his daze. Shoto immediately wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling on it to take the small paper from in between your fingertips.

"I'll text you." He says softly. You nod, quickly turning around and dashing to the back room where your friends were silently rooting for you.

Shoto entends his fist towards Denki, a shocked expression still lacing his stoic features. "Good job, Kaminari."

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

the moment you walked through class 1A's doors, Eiji already has his eyes on you. They're wide, sparkling, his jaw hanging, showing off his sharp teeth.

when Aizawa introduces your name to the class, Eiji concludes that it's the prettiest name he's ever heard

when Eiji hears you speak for the first time, he defuced that it's a voice he wants to hear when he goes through good and bad times. a voice he wants to hear the words "i do" during your wedding, and a voice he wants to hear until his last breath

"You're drooling." Sero points out, making Eiji wipe the non existent drool off his chin. He raises a brow at his friend who shakes his head, sighing.

"Y/N, go take the seat beside Kirishima." The red head raises his hand for you to locate him. Your eyes light up and you smile brightly at him, giving him a soft 'thank you' as you sit on the empty seat beside him.

Kirishima lowers his hand, nodding at you before turning to Sero who still had the same displeased expression on his face. "I might just get on my knee and ask her to marry me right now."

"Do it."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"No."

"No."

Sero 'tsk's, "That usually works in TV." He mutters, "Why don't you ask her to join us for lunch?"

Eiji nods, turning to you. His palms are sweaty and his throat is dried up, the exact feeling he got during the sports festival. "Hey, Y/N?"

You turn your head a little to the side, raising your brows in question. "Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?"

The whole classroom goes dead silent.

Your eyes are wide, your eyebrows are raised and your blinking silently for a few minutes, trying to rearrange your thoughts. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that please?"

Eiji opens his mouth, and then closes it back again. He does this a few times, mentally hitting himself over the fact that he's looking like a complete idiot right now.

"I-I just-"

"He meant would you like to spend your lunch time with us?" Sero yells from behind the red head who's face is currently a deep shade of red. "Oh, yeah, sure."

Eiji lets out a relieved sigh, making you smirk and let out a chuckle. You lean over to him, your voice low and teasing. "You know, I wouldn't mind if you asked me the first question again."

navigation

[secondhand-trash]

Slip ‘n Slide

Kinktober 2020 — piss kink/watersports

A/N: matsukawa can step on me and I would say thank you

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

Description: There were a few states Matsukawa Issei liked you in. Tied up, crying, or all at the same time.

Warning: piss kink/watersports, bondage, fuck machine, overstimulation, dirty talk, vaginal penetration, creampie, degredation??dumbification??I don’t even know anymore but he’s a little shit

Word count: 2574

-

There were a few states Matsukawa Issei liked you in. Tied up, crying, or all at the same time.

It felt like a sharp pain was tugging at every inch of your organs as the dull ache seeped through every part of your body. Tears ran dry on your face, the trails leaving a damped line from the corner of your eyes down to your jaw before disappearing into the dent at the side of your neck. Your head felt heavy with the blood that was rushing up from how long you had kept your head thrown back, your body arching stiffly with your arms being stuck at the sides of your head.

You could not count how many times you had cum from the machine that was mercilessly plunging in your cunt and with your legs parted by the stone hard spreader bar that pushed your flexibility past its limits. Your hands curled aimlessly, being tied up by your wrist meant that you could not even find something to hold down on with the metal bar out of your grip. Your voice was hoarse, your throat tight from how long you had been whimpering and crying out.

Your lower stomach felt like it was about to combust at any point and you were far too numbed by your own burning sensitivity that you were not sure if it was the band in your stomach snapping or a sign that the flood gate in you was about to crack. 

There were empty plastic bottles scattered at the corner of the room and just counting the numbers was enough for you to feel the pain building up. The dildo attached to the handle of the machine sheathed in you with each extension, its rigid sides rubbing against your tight walls when it robotically retracted all the way back before repeating. It went at an agonisingly slow pace, not allowing you even the bit of comfort that would come with a quick release but built it up from the bottom each time you crashed down. 

“Issei- Issei, please...”

The man in question only cooed when he heard the broken whimpers of his name rolling off your quivering lips. Seeing you all defenseless and fucked out of your mind sent him on a power trip each time. Matsukawa sat with his back leaned against the chair, his legs spread in a languish pose that was a stark contrast to how tensed you were. He loved finding new ways to make you scream, feeling a rush of excitement when you kept saying again and again that it wasn’t possible for your body to get into all the embarrassingly pornographic positions he nonchalantly showed you but never once objected when he slowly manipulated your limbs into all sorts of poses or when he put the rim of yet another bottle of water against your plump lips, whispering praises in your ear as you poured all the liquid down your throat.

He had guessed that there was this side to you when you reported to work on your first day, your eyes darting around the room as you introduced yourself to the rest of the staff. Matsukawa thought you were the cutest thing when you thanked him again and again after he showed you around like you were so scared that you had caused him any trouble, or when he shielded you from the crowd of people that were filling up the escalator by pressed you against the wall and letting you hide against his chest. The way you failed to hide that you were flustered and did not know where to look drove him crazy and he knew that he just had to have you.

The loveliest little thing, Matsukawa hummed to himself as he fisted his cock in hand, licking his lips at the sight of how your legs were shaking as you cum once again around the ripping dildo. He licked his lips as the dildo pulled out of you, dripping with your juices that were no doubt soaking through the sheets you were on.

“Please- too much...”

He replied to your pleas with a chuckle, pulling his chair just a little closer to the edge of the bed as his large palms gripped your jaw and tilted your head towards him. He did not try to hold back the coo that slipped past his lips, rubbing his thumb mockingly gentle on your cheeks as he spread the bit of tear still staining your face. He did not like to hide your eyes, there was something about how blown up and doe like your eyes were when he had you at his mercy that sent sparks down his spine. You looked like a doll that did not have any other thought than him, staring at him through your lashes all glassy as the squelches from your sopping pussy and the buzzing of the machine blurred your senses. 

Your toes curled when a sharp pain stabbed through your core, the whimper that slipped past your lips earning you a condescending “awe” from your lover as he brushed his thumb across your bottom lips with a smile.

You were panting when he got up. The mattress dent under his weight when he climbed up with one knee, his broad frame shadowing over you when he leaned down. Your entire body shook when he placed a kiss on your lips, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth as he hushed your cries. 

“Aw,” the gravel in his voice hit you in full force when he tilted his head, his lips frowning down as he forged a pout, “does it hurt?"

He hummed like he was really giving a thought when you frantically nodded. Your breath hitched when he placed his palm flat on your neck, slowly trailing down your torso. The warmth emitting from his palm elicited goosebumps all over your skin from how deprived of touch you were. His hands were so big, like he could hold you in his hand and crushed you into pieces all at once. 

A high pitched sound ripped from the back of your throat when he stopped right on top of your bladder.

“Is it hurting here?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious. You were burning under his hand and even without applying any pressure, he could feel how tight you were under your skin. He felt the tingles ticking his scalp at the thought of how easy it would be to burst you apart when you were so fragile and exposed.

“Yes... yes- ah!”

You squeaked when he pressed down, sending jolts of electricity down from your stomach to the very tip of your limbs that were held up above your head. You whined when he let out a wolfish laugh, his grin spreading ear to ear at how helpless you looked. “Poor baby can’t even hold their own piss in,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly but the smirk was still tugging at his face. His hand was still pressed up firmly on your skin when you tried to squirm but to no avail, your hips wiggling under him but he held you in place with ease, “if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll let you...”

“Please- please I need to-”

You hissed when he pressed down harder. “Need to what?"

Your face burned in shame at how pitiful you must look right now. Your cunt fluttering around the dildo but still sucking it in and it wasn’t even something you could put your mind to comprehend with how desperate you needed to relieve yourself from the pulsing ache in your bladder with Matsukawa’s lips twitching in thrill while he watched you with intent.

“Hmph- need to piss...”

He smacked his lips in satisfaction at how embarrassed you were just from saying it. His hand that was on top of your lower stomach never once left its position, but you whined when you looked at him through the slight crack of your eyes to see him reached down. A sharp mewl leaked past your lips when he pulled the hood of your clit back with his thumb before grazing the engorged nub with the pad of his fingers.

Your arousal coated his fingers as he brushed past your fluttering folds before going back to your clit again, the silicon that was plunging deep inside of you in a steady tempo already dripping and warmed up from how many times you had cum from it. 

“Look at you,” he muttered and the sharp words made you clench, “you’re only good at getting your brains fucked out but you’re asking me to stop?”

He snickered at the moan that you made when he hand pulled away from your cunt, “or is it because your greedy cunt is not satisfied with anything that isn’t my cock?”

The sudden switch of the slow plunges to rapid drilling had you arching yourself off of the mattress, pulling your muscle taunt with your thighs flexing from the overdrive. Your brain was fogged over by the sudden increase in friction, your eyes rolling back all the way as you saw white in your vision. 

A choked shriek ripped from the back of your throat when he pressed down on your bladder with the heel of his palm. Every fiber in your being felt like they were being torn at different directions when the numbness of your skin seeped in like needles poking on you. A warm wave washed over you and your body shuddered as it was dropped down from the high of tension. You could not distinguish what the feeling was, whether it was from the clamping of your walls against the dildo or the spurts of liquid that excreted from your bladder.  You should have felt bashful that you were so hopelessly turned on by your boyfriend’s eyes being fixed on your cunt and the sight of you wetting yourself, but you could not even find the power to be ashamed when you were too drowned in the overwhelming wash of gooeyness in your guts at finally letting the weight fade. 

“Disgusting...” Matsukawa mumbled but his eyes were curled like the moon, his face twisting into a wide smirk as he raked his eyes all over your shaking frame. There was a large pattern that darkened the fabric you were laying on, beads of your piss trailing down from the root of your thighs before seeping into the sheets. 

You whimpered when he turned down the settings of the fuck machine that had been tormenting you before pulling it out of you, licking his tongue at the sight of your abused cunt clenching reflectively at the sudden emptiness. With the machine shoved to the side, he could now take a good look at your slit upfront. He groaned at the warmth that was left on the bed when he kneels right against you, not caring at all about getting your piss on him. 

“Tsk,” he sneered, his thumb parting your folds to take a good look at your muscles still spasming from the post orgasmic shock due to the stimulation he had put you through. Your hips were tainted with trails of sheen whether it be your gushing essence or piss. You wanted to moan but nothing came out when you felt his thick tip rubbing along the slit, his pelvis pressed up against your raised legs.

Even with your legs about to cramp up from the blood that could not reach your toes and your chest still heaving, you weakly lifted your hips upwards when his hands found their way to the back of your pushed up thighs. You mewled at the soreness that pulsed through you when he slid his tip in, the burn in your core apparent once again. 

Matsukawa’s groan masked over the silent whimper you let out when he sheathed in you with the help of the fluids that were over you, his tongue darting out as he eyed you from above. The way your legs were opened wide allowed him the front view of your fluttering cunt taking in his thick cock inch by inch, the drops of clear liquid from your legs getting on his pubic hair as he bottomed out inside of you.

Your voice came out as nothing but breathy pants when he thrust up without warning, the stretch from his cock and the heat that was spreading over you like wildfire from where your bodies connect a much different feeling to the lifeless machine.

“Such a good little slut,” he purred, enjoying the way your body jolted forward every time he rolled his hips, “you like getting fucked in your own piss, baby?”

You could not answer in anything but babbling “yes” again and again in slurred strings of incoherent sounds. The grumble he let out was dripping with mockery and it turned into a laugh when he picked up the pace of his hips.

“You don’t mind how and where, you’re in bliss as long as you get my cock jabbing in your filthy fuck hole,” his filthy words had you clamping down on him and earning an approving pat of his hand on your thigh, "All because you’re trained to be nothing but my cock whore...”

You threw your head back, your legs shaking against the bar as he used you to his pleasure. Each surge of his hips had your toes curling, his length pivoting against the spot right below your cervix that was just short of painful with the sparks it sent jolting down your spine with each plow.

“That’s it- that’s it, clamp down harder- fuck!”

He came with a grunt through his teeth, shooting ropes and ropes of white cum into your spasming walls. A moan rolled off of your trembling lips at yet another wave of warmth that washed over you, sighing in content at the feeling of being filled up.

Matsukawa let out a light chuckle when he pulled out, his finger pushing the leaking substance back into your pussy and earning him a soft whimper in protest. You were a complete mess, your eyes barely able to flutter open as he leaned down and gave you an approving kiss on the lips while his hand hold onto the spreader bar.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice now a genuine kind of soothing as he undid the straps that held your limbs up.

“Tired,” you said in a mutter, the smallest smile dancing on your features when he let your hands down after placing a peck at the mark around your wrist.

“Yeah?” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face, “want to get some rest before I clean you up?”

He hummed at the slight nod of your head, lifting you up gently with his hand on your back and laying you against his broad chest. You exhaled as you leaned back, feeling your breaths calming down to the steady beating underneath.

“If I tell you I love you now, would that be too cliche?”

“They say don’t trust what people say in bed...” you murmured, the smile on your face growing when you felt the vibrations from his chest tickling your face at his laugh.

“Ouch.”

You shook your head, leaning into his touch when you felt the warmth of his palm at your back.

Fine, he could be trustworthy, you supposed.

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART IV

Chapter 4

“It’s healing nicely,” Alucard hums, nimble fingers gently tracing the puckered scar on your shoulder, looking for any problematic signs. “I still get some stiffness in it,” you acknowledge with a small laugh, “but at least I can use my arm again!” It's been a long, tiring road to recovery, but you have finally completed it. Your arm is no longer useless, wrapped up in bandages. Now it’s almost as good as before. You can even use a bow, which means that you are now ready to leave the castle, and Alucard, behind.

A frown darkens your expression at the thought; you’ve become quite fond of him in the time you’ve been there and he seems to have warmed to you too. “Is something wrong?” Alucard’s voice is gentle, his brow furrowed. He’s pulled back his hand, probably assuming that he’s the source of your souring mood. “Oh,” you force a smile, waving your hand dismissively, “no, not really. It’s fine.” Alucard sees through the flimsy lie easily and embarrassment colours your cheeks a dusty pink when he fixes you with a deadpan stare. You tug your sleeve back into place, looking away from him. You press back against the counter top you’re leaning against, distracting yourself by staring at a cracked tile on the wall. Soft afternoon light filters through the kitchen window, painting him in beautiful golden light; it does nothing to help you in that moment. “You know that doesn’t work on me,” he chides, circling around to face you. He’s grown bolder around you as of late, challenging you more often, and though it forces you to confront your emotions you rather like this side of him. He’s healing just as much as you are and you feel content knowing that you’re a part of that process. Rolling your eyes at his remark you cross your arms sulkily over your chest, eyes turning to stare at the floor in one last ditch attempt to make him drop it. It could really use a scrub, you think. It only delays the inevitable as he stands unmoved, shifting in his stance to lean against the counter too. He’s in it for the long haul, so you have no choice but to give in. “What’s wrong?” He asks again when you look at him miserably. “Now that my shoulder is better, there’s no real reason for me to be here anymore,” you murmur wistfully. You knew it would come to this eventually, yet you never seemed to make peace with it. You thought you had, but it turned out to be nothing more than a silly facade to try and hide the fact you didn’t want to leave. Alucard is silent, but the look of shock on his face speaks volumes. He hadn’t even considered the idea that you would leave. Like you, he had fallen into the routine of navigating around you and your ways, as if you had always been there at the castle. It’s just so easy and even when he had tried to fight it he found himself becoming even more compelled by you. “I suppose so,” he answers finally, crestfallen. A lump forms in your throat when you look at him, seeing how dejected he appears. “I’m sorry.” It’s pitiful, but you don’t know what else to say. To impose yourself further on him and his hospitality after he had already saved your life just seemed selfish and yet it felt as equally unkind to simply abandon him. He chuckles, a sad, sardonic sound beneath its silken lilt. “There’s no need to be,” he states, oddly cold despite the softness of his voice, “after all, there’s no reason for you to stay anymore is there?” It hurts. You don’t want it to and you know that you have no right to be but it penetrates deep, twisting and taking root inside. “No,” your whisper, scared your voice will break, “I guess not.” Confused, Alucard regards your drop in mood. He had anticipated that you would be happy to finally be able to continue on with your life, no longer bound to him or the castle for care of your injury. Yet here you stand, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking. Your eyes glisten and you catch your lip between your teeth; all telltale signs. Alucard realizes with alarming clarity that he’s upset you, because you don’t want to leave. Just like he doesn’t want you to go, either. It was defensive, to lash out, and all it’s done is serve as further reasoning for you to remove yourself from his life. He’s such an idiot. “Wait,” he suddenly says and it breaks his heart, as dead as he had considered it to be, when you look at him with such a forlorn expression. You aren’t sure what to expect but you force yourself not to hope, knowing that it could and most likely would bite you. So you’re pleasantly surprised when it’s not what you anticipated at all. “Do you,” he starts, awkwardly, voice alight with

trepidation, “not want to go?” With wide eyes you regard him, startled. Hearing it out in the open so brazenly has your mind stuttering, your body stiff. Of course it was true, but that wasn’t what had you shocked. It was the fact that, for a brief moment, you saw relief flash in his eyes. But maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he was wrong. You stare at one another in silence, neither able to break the stalemate of truths exposed. In such a relatively short time you’d both grown accustomed to each other's presence and, if you were being completely honest, you were scared to leave the safety of the castle. Out there you were just one woman, no allies, no home, nothing. It’s sobering to know that your situation hadn’t changed since the first time he had asked you about leaving, what you would do and where would you go once you were healed and you’re not quite sure you’re ready to admit how pathetic it made you feel. “No,” you swallow thickly, blinking away stubborn tears, “I don’t.” You remind him of a child, afraid. You’re trying to make yourself as small as you can, no doubt hoping that the ground would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole. It stirs something in him, the memory of a feeling brought on by your plight; the night that his mother was burned alive and his father turned his back on humanity as a whole. The same feeling he felt when Sumi and Taka betrayed him. Lost. A sorrowful, imploring look flits across Alucard's face and his fingers itch, wanting to offer you comfort. His mother would run her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement to help lift his spirits. “Then you don’t have to go anywhere.” Alucard offers instead, afraid of what such tenderness may invite. Your warmth still set him on edge, but slowly and surely he was coming around to the idea of being as he once was; open and inviting without the need to guard himself. If there was anyone he could see himself opening up to again it would be you. “I have been ignorant to your situation,” he sighs, looking away in shame, “I should have known how difficult it is to pick up the pieces of one's life after they’ve been shattered, especially without help. I’m— I’m sorry.” It’s a quiet admission, shrouded in misery and mystery. He had yet to reveal much about himself, but you could fathom that he had been the receiver of much sorrow in his lifetime so far from the darkness he carried with him like a ball and chain. It tugged at your heart to see him so isolated from the very world itself, threatening to tear it apart. You quickly swipe at your eyes, trying in vain to banish the tears that broke free, warm trails lining your cheeks. “Don’t be, Alucard,” you inhale deeply, trying to ground yourself. You can’t stand the sudden look of guilt on his face for making you cry. “I should have told you about how I felt,” your voice trembles and you scowl at yourself, feeling silly, “I should have been honest instead of hiding it away like an idiot.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest you try to focus on something else, though it’s hard when all you can see blurs with your tears. You angrily wipe at them, frustrated, until your hands are gently taken away by his, the grasp warm and comforting. “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he murmurs, looking over your face with a gentle expression. Your mouth is slightly parted with shock and your eyes, rimmed red and shimmering, are wide and locked onto him. “I think you’re so very human.” The tenderness in which the words are said, and the endearing meaning behind them, sends your heart soaring and you can’t help the smile that comes to your lips. A soft, breathless laugh passes your lips with ease, the tension leaving your shoulders. Your tears start anew and for a moment Alucard thinks he’s done something wrong, but from the way your laughter mingles with your shaky breaths he knows that isn’t the case. He, too, smiles at the warmth seeping back into you, the dark melancholy that had hung over you like a veil lifting and he lets go of your hands slowly. Neither of you comment on the way

you long for the contact to return; the simple, fragile bond inspiring a sense of yearning. “Are you alright?” He asks once you seem to have regained control of yourself, your tears having stopped and your gentle peels of laughter melting away. “I am,” you hum, looking at him with an intense fondness that he had seldom seen before. You are so bright in that moment, all because he has given you a place to belong, and it gives him hope. If only his father could have had such a chance, perhaps things may have turned out differently for him.

[slashersins-abandoned]

the ones who would smoke

michael myers . big surprise here . big boy likes to get high . however , he prefers editables . if you want to smoke , that’s fine , he won’t take a hit . pass him a brownie . also , be prepared , this man gets lazy and hungry and very touchy . he’s a fucking cuddle monster when he’s high . kind of like a needy kitten who wants pets in the middle of the night and will lay across your face , only to jump off and eat food as loud as they can before coming back for more loving . michael is exactly like that . also , if you want high sex , you’re gonna have to take charge and ride him , he’s just gonna enjoy his high and pleasure while you do the work .

vincent sinclair . it’s one of his favorite ways of relaxing . he’s done it since he was a teen . bo discovered booze , he discovered weed . he’s no less intense when he’s high , still staring at you , still touching you , only his movements are slowed and less delicate . he wants you close , in his lap , against his side . he’ll play metal music in the back ground , letting smoke swirl around the both of you . expect a lot of smoky kisses and long gazes from your man . he’s high as fuck and you’re the only thing important to him right now . a living breathing work of art .

carrie white . carrie ? our sweet girl ? doing the weed ? it’s more likely than you think ! while she might take some convincing , her deep need to rebel against her mother brought on by the courage you give her has this good girl shyly taking a hit . she will cough . give her water and praise and tell her it’s all okay . it happens , you can take it slow . and please do . let the high slowly seep into her skin and lungs and let her feel light and relaxed . she’ll want to cuddle , and you should stroke her hair and just talk . you’ll smoke and talk for hours , never getting so high that you’re both far gone , but getting high enough that everything is slow and hazy . you might even get some shy kisses from your sweet girl , and she’ll giggle and hide in your chest , feeling free for once .

the ones who would rather drink

bo sinclair . everyone knew he’d be on this list . the man drinks so much he should have a beer gut and how he doesn’t is beyond everyone . whether it’s a beer after a days work , a couple after a rough day , or an entire pack after a bitch ass week , this man usually has at least one a day . he likes the buzz he feels . he likes how in some ways he can forget about shit . but mostly he just wants to get fucked up and sleep . while he can be a bastard when sober , he can be one when drunk too , running his mouth . but he also tends to get a little more emotionally open when drunk , so you might end up hearing him say things he will pretend not to remember in the morning .

lester sinclair . another beer drinker in the sinclair home , only he’s a lot more casual about it . he’s like a social drinker , only having two or three . he’s a goofy drunk , stumbling around and laughing and chattering on . vincent and bo find it hard to be upset after a rough week if they have lester over to get drunk . it’s also funny to them that their baby brother is such a light weight . he gets really embarrassed when he does get drunk enough that he’s making a little bit of a fool of himself , but he’s so cute that vincent and bo can only tease him .

thomas hewitt . while this big country boy wouldn’t mind a ice cold beer , he doesn’t drink all that much . maybe once a month or so , sometimes once every two . and he rarely if ever gets drunk . he’s seen charlie / hoyt drunk too many times , and had too many run ins with drunk as fuck bastards when the slaughterhouse was still open . he doesn’t want to be like that , so he keeps himself to no more than two beers at one time . he doesn’t mind the taste of beer , and it really is more of a social “you earned this” type of deal for him .

the ones who would do both

jesse cromeans . this man drinks only the most expensive , oldest scotch , whisky , bourbon , and wine . he drinks casually , he drinks socially . but he does not drink to get drunk . no . he tries his best not to actually . which is surprising to most , as he was considered a bit of a play boy party boy back in his earlier rich boy days . but while he doesn’t get wasted on booze , he does enjoy getting high as fuck . he’ll only do it in the comfort of his own home . relaxing and smoking and watching old videos of his . might jerk off a little , might snuggle up to you . might pull you into his lap and laugh with you as you both watch stupid videos on the internet . one time you laughed at a picture of a blurry paper bag for two hours . jesse won’t leave the house until his high has completely worn off . he doesn’t wanna be caught off his guard .

billy loomis . he’s a bad boy . what can i say ? he’ll drink , he’ll smoke . as long as it’s with you and stu and he’s having fun ? who cares . billy is a messy drunk , getting naked and wanting to bite and kiss over you and stu , even if it doesn’t lead to anything else . it’s just too hot for clothes and he wants his babes close . he’s a munchie having , giggle gremlin when he’s high , however . while its more snickers than giggles he will almost laugh at anything , wanting to be the one cuddled and coddled while he eats chips and shakes with laughter .

stu macher . loud and handsy drunk , however if he drinks too much he gets a bit violent towards others . which is why you and billy know when to cut him off . when he’s just normal drunk , he’s wanting to touch and talk and talk and talk . he won’t know he’s being too loud , just spilling out words and nonsense for fun as he lays across whoever is closer . as a high boy , he’s almost completely quiet . he’ll just lay and stare and watch with his mouth open in awe . sometimes he’ll start giggling but then he’s back to dead eye staring . he’s also gonna be cuddling things that he thinks are you and billy but aren’t . like a pillow . or his cat .

the ones who would never do either

brahms heelshire . this man will only drink sparkling grape juice . he doesn’t have the pallet for booze and he doesn’t like the smell of weed . he has no issue with you drinking , as long as it’s fancy whine , chardonnay , etc . you have to be classy , like mummy and daddy were , if you drink . he might take a sip , but he’ll prefer his juice , thank you .

jason voorhees . he’s highly against all things booze and drug related . he literally kills people who show up on his land , he makes double work of them if they do either of those things . he’s a good boy , momma raised him right . if you do either , he’s conflicted and a bit upset . you’re his special person , you’re good , why are you doing bad things ? if you explain to him that it’s just a small glass with a meal during like , thanksgiving or christmas , he might relent . and if you tell him the weed is for pain and it’s legitimate , he will be less inclined to be upset with you . but still , he doesn’t like it .

bubba sawyer . bubba doesn’t like the way booze and beer make people act . he doesn’t wanna act like that . he got drunk once , and he hated it . it’s the same with weed . he has a strong sense of smell and his little nose hates the way weed smells . which is why he babbles at chop top to call him stinky . if you drink , he might be a bit skittish , thinking you’ll try and hurt him like so many others have . it’ll take a little bit of patience to calm him down , and tell him you’d never . he would like it if you didn’t drink , but if it’s only a little and you aren’t being mean he’s okay . as for the weed , he might pout because now you smell like chop top , but the way you giggle and act is cute . so he doesn’t hate it as much .

jacob goodnight . no . just no . hard no . no drugs . no booze . not you . not him . he just can’t . years of religious abuse have ingrained some roots that are too deep to pull out . and for jacob both of those things are a no .

martin ( 1977 ) . martin doesn’t do either . he already feels off as it is when he hasn’t fed recently . and he has no need for drugs or alcohol . why would he ? besides , he doesn’t want to make any mistakes while intoxicated or high . it’s just that simple . he’ll say no politely if offered . if you drink or smoke he might make a mild complaint about how you don’t need those things , about how it makes you taste off and he likes it when you taste like you . the only drugs you should have inside of you are the ones martin gives you to sleep .

[kopikokun]

(Don't) Tell Me More༄ m.taeil

↳ Taeil's loaded, and that's a severe understatement. So, what on earth is this rich kid doing cleaning pools every Sunday? Looking for love, of course, and a little help with rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ultraviolet protection's a must; it's getting real hot in here.

pairing: (secret rich kid) pool boy!taeil x gn rich kid!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning(s): the suggestive bit is the unaddressed tension, and the one joke about bad porn taeil makes. overall, just the ~vibes~ haha

word count: 2153 words

author's note: i got... carried away. no worries, the starved taeil fans deserve a meal. idk how many years it'll take for the next one. also, please notify me if i accidentally used any gendered language. i’ve checked multiple times, but i’m human, and would sincerely appreciate if you pointed out any of my mistakes or even offered feedback ♡

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: do i wanna know (arctic monkeys) ✧ head over heels (loveleo) ✧ honey (moxie) ✧ dance with me (sir, please) ✧ doubt (hippo campus) ✧ heat waves (glass animals)

← BACK TO NAVI.

Labour isn’t Taeil’s forte. Born with a gold spoon between his lips, and six digits in his bank account at five, he’s lived a life beyond lavish.

Fridays are reserved for piano lessons and tennis, Saturdays for buttering up his father’s potential clients in country clubs, and Sundays for swimming in the five meter deep pool in his backyard. Well, at least, Sundays used to be.

Taeil’s plenty passionate about swimming–freestyle, backstroke, butterfly–but about cleaning swimming pools? Not so much.

So, why is he spending every Sunday afternoon sweaty, swathed in sunscreen, and despairing over chemical imbalances? The answer is simple, and lazing on a deck chair at this very moment: you.

You’re new–courtesy of the raise in your father’s already outrageous salary–and when Taeil first lay his eyes upon you at the park, he was enamoured. He’d actually tripped on a root in his trance, and you’d crouched beside him to ask whether he was alright. Humiliated, he’d silently hobbled after as you lead him to a bench. You’d nursed the wound he hadn’t realised he’d sustained as best you could: rinsing and dabbing it dry.

“I’ll walk you home,” he’d said. “A token of appreciation, if you will.”

You’d accepted his token. The walk wasn’t far, but it was likely because you made for such good company. Taeil would be engrossed even if you droned on about cheese for an hour, which coincidentally, is exactly what Mr. Liu’s monologue had entailed the month before. That conversation had bored him half to death however.

It felt too quick; your estate was already looming over him, auguring the end of your encounter when he’d finally recovered from his ignominy. Desperate for more, Taeil had blurted out the first thing in sight: your pool. That’s why you’d mentioned your dad needing a pool cleaner every weekend, and how, despite being clueless in the department, Taeil had wholeheartedly offered himself. You’d been elated, beaming, over the moon. How could he say no?

It had seemed appealing in the moment, but his train of thought had been superficial. Turns out, those mass-produced specially-targeted summer chick-flicks were lying! Who would’ve guessed? Pool boying was not just flaunting your washboard abs and bulging biceps as you netted a few leaves. Oh no. The first few test cleans Taeil had done with his pool… well, it became off limits for a week. And an actual expert had to be hired. Those gritty aspects aren’t the most marketable, or inherently sexy, so Taeil supposes the chick-flick deceits are partially excused.

But back to what matters: you. Your–how should he put it?–spunk, hadn’t been anticipated. Not an ounce of that pretentious reticence the local wealthy feel entitled to prevails in you. It’s refreshing. You’re adrenaline personified. Just your presence has Taeil’s heart palpitating. Since he’d been hired, every week has been more fleeting glances, yearning touches, puckish banter. And last week… well, there’s no time for that, because now you’re beckoning him over, your hand wrapped around a tube of sunscreen. Taeil prances to you, complaisant.

“Sit,” you urge, dragging a wicker stool in front of you. “You’re done for today, right?”

“Yeah, water didn’t need treatment this week. Just skimmed the surface for debris.” Taeil hesitates. He feels awkward after last week, when he’d kissed you. Yes, kissed you. You haven’t said a word about it since, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing it first. “But, it’s okay. I’m gonna go soon.”

“Aww, please, Taeil? Sit?” You pat the chair and smile, eyelashes glinting in the sun. That’s all it takes for Taeil to succumb, the rattan crackling beneath his weight. Your fingers graze his arm. “It’s a hot day, huh? A swim would be nice.”

His eyebrows crease. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

“No, no, it’s fine.” You tilt your head. “But…”

“What?”

“Do you want to go swimming with me?”

Taeil fists the material of his swim shorts, spine erect. The fabric crinkles. Whether he wants to what? “Oh, uh, well, I don’t wanna intrude. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about me swimming in their pool.”

The heat of your body seeps into his skin as your arms coil around his. “They don’t mind, and if they did, they’re not home to say so.”

This feels like the start of a trashy porn. Taeil flushes. “Oh.”

“So? What do you say?”

His adam’s apple buoys. “Sure. Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Exactly.” The sunscreen’s cap clacks open. “Here, you gotta reapply more.” Taeil extends his palm, and you squeeze some into it.

He deliberates his next move. It’s difficult to think when you’re gazing at him like that, lashes batting and lips curled into a demure smile. “You don’t mind if I”–he rubs his nape with a free hand–“uh, take off my shirt, right? I don’t wanna dirty your pool.”

“Sure! I definitely wouldn’t mind, so long as you’re okay with it.” You tuck your knees to your chest. “Why? Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” Taeil’s going to pass out, he’s betting money on it.

He doesn’t, but he does glow incandescent when he strips himself of his clammy shirt. The humid air only exacerbates his feverish blush.

Growing up, Taeil’s parents always emphasised presentability, and he’s nothing if not presentable. He’s proud of his physique, diligently maintaining it with rigorous exercise, and sure, he’s had a few self-conscious blips, but they’re transient. Taeil knows he’s attractive, yet under your keen eye, he rubs sunscreen–on his neck, chest, and abdomen–hunched forward.

“Do you need help?” You peer over his shoulder, wagging the aquamarine bottle like bait. “With your back. You know, for the spots you can’t reach?”

You’ll be the death of him. You’re going to kill him, but he honestly wouldn’t mind that. Taeil’s never had any ‘spots he can’t reach’, but, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Your fingers are ridiculously delicate, like you’re weaving gossamer across his back–sunscreen webs, if that’s a thing. Taeil’s sure someone would pay grotesquely for that. Mr. Liu would.

Neither of you speak, only the sound of skin against skin drifting alongside the scent of coconut oil and cocoa butter. At one point, your nails unintentionally trail his back, and Taeil shivers.

His body tingles with the vestige of your touch, and when he assumes you’re done, you stun him with a good, hard, satisfying squeeze to his shoulders; the ones twined rigid from graft. Taeil actually groans in relief, which had probably stunned you. Or maybe that’s what you were hoping for.

Internally, he’s broiling in mortification, but externally, his shoulders slacken, his head hangs forward, and his exhales are long and grateful. It’s embarrassing. For crying out loud, he has his own professional masseuse, yet when it’s you doing it–yeah, he needn’t elaborate further. He’s gushed about you enough.

“Feels nice, right?”

“God, yeah, it feels”–a particularly forceful squeeze elicits another groan from him–“good. Do you have any experience? You’re amazing at this.”

“Just my dad. When I was younger he used to pay me to massage his shoulders after work,” you say, fingers miraculously knowing exactly which muscle to knead at what intensity. Is this what heaven feels like? “Well, there was also the massage course I signed up for a few years ago.”

“Well”–another sigh–“it definitely paid off.”

“It better have, given how pricey it was.” Your lilt is roguish, and it sounds like you’re enjoying this as much as Taeil is.

He wants to die like this, but you’re already standing, and stretching your arms overhead before he can really soak the sensation in.

“Let’s go for that swim, huh?”

“Uh,” Taeil blinks, dazed, “yeah.”

He trails after you, facing away when you lower yourself into the water without qualms. Duh, it’s your pool. Why would you have scruples about swimming in your pool? Taeil, on the other hand, dithers, because it’s not his pool, and he can’t help but fret that your parents could walk in on you swimming with the pool boy.

“Hurry up! A little water’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he says, staring pointedly at you. He’s never felt so vehemently for someone before, and you’re so… unpredictable. It’s invigorating. It’s terrifying. Do you like him, or are you just bored?

He ventures as far as sitting on the edge of the pool’s deck, where water kisses concrete. His legs dangle, acclimating to both the temperature, and the reality that he really is about to jump into his employer’s pool. The water is cold, caressing his leg as you wade closer to stand between his knees. Your eyes sweep over him. Taeil’s stomach coils. He hopes you like what you see.

“You okay?” you ask, hand over his right knee. It’s freezing. “You look a little flushed.”

Your hand crawls further up his leg. “Yeah,” he scoffs, “I wonder why.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” you grin, upturning your palms and offering them to him. “Come on.”

Taeil should’ve thought your motives through, but how could he have denied your invitation? He’s still a guy, and well, it’s you. Regardless, he should’ve scrounged up some semblance of prudence because it was blatant what you’d needed his hands for. To pull him under. Literally.

The tug is harsh and efficient, jolting him forward into the polar depths before he can object. Taeil’s not thinking straight–the stark contrast in temperatures pummel his rationality–so he grabs the closest thing he can: you. It’s reckless of him, given the two of you are in the deep end and he could drown you. But risks evade his psyche as he loops his arms around your waist, your body pressing into his. Fortunately, he won’t be facing charges anytime soon because you do resurface, still in his arms, and strangely, you’re not pissed, you’re laughing. Laughing so hard your head’s thrown back, and your body trembles. It’s not funny–you could’ve died for God’s sake–but Taeil feels a rumble course through him; a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh. Now, he’s laughing too, though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s laughing because you’re laughing, and that’s enough of a reason for him.

“Are you okay?” you finally say, titters dissolving into a faint smile. “That was mean of me, sorry.”

Your face is inches from his, so Taeil’s voice shrinks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I grabbed onto you though. And, oh, uh”–he starts loosening his grip of you–“sorry I–”

"No, wait.” This time, it’s your arms curling around him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind this. It feels… nice.”

“Yeah… it - it does.”

The water laps at his sternum, and Taeil takes his chances by nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You let him, though neither of you know each other enough for this kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled by you. Hell, you don’t even know he’s the son of some rich socialite. To you, he’s just the pool boy. Maybe that’s why you’re playing along with him. Because there’s something exhilarating about chasing something you shouldn’t when you’ve never had to run before. Because there’s a thrill in pain when you’re unscathed. Because when you’re someone like you and Taeil, mistakes can be afforded. Anyway, what does Taeil know of pain? In fact, what does he know of you to think this? It isn’t like he knows what your intentions are with him. You’re unpredictable. That’s your whole schtick. It’s funny, because Taeil knows your pool’s pH levels better than you.

Your fingers scrape into his sopping hair.

Or maybe he likes you for you. Maybe he likes what little of you he does know. So, does he want to know more?

“What do you think of me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“You’re fun.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, then, what do you think of me?”

Taeil lifts his head from your shoulder, the strength of his embrace withering. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

You grin. “See? It’s hard to put into words, right?”

“I guess,” he smiles. You make it sound nice that you don’t know him. You make it sound like there’s just too much that you can’t express it. Maybe that’s what’s happening right now. Maybe there’s just too much Taeil likes about you to comprehend, so he thinks there’s nothing he really likes about you at all.

“You’re funny, Taeil.”

He isn’t. “Thanks.”

Taeil’s unsure how much time passes; long enough that the water’s gone tepid at least.

“Do you… like me?” he asks. Maybe if he hears you say yes, he’ll know what all the things he adores about you are.

There’s a pause.

“You’re fun, right?” you ask, thumbing a rivulet from his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I am.”

“Then, yes.” Your lips brush his. “I like you, Taeil.”

[slashersins]

You've made a few posts about getting stoned with Michael in the past,, how do you think it'd be with some of the other slashers?? And like, which ones do you think would be into it and other ones that maybe aren't sure about it but would try it if they knew you liked it? and which ones would not smoke or take anything EVER? I'm just very curious to hear your take on this !! I mean... don't think you've made any previous posts about this?

okay so , lets break this down into categories ! they’re pretty well spread out , so here we go !

the ones who would smoke

michael myers . big surprise here . big boy likes to get high . however , he prefers editables . if you want to smoke , that’s fine , he won’t take a hit . pass him a brownie . also , be prepared , this man gets lazy and hungry and very touchy . he’s a fucking cuddle monster when he’s high . kind of like a needy kitten who wants pets in the middle of the night and will lay across your face , only to jump off and eat food as loud as they can before coming back for more loving . michael is exactly like that . also , if you want high sex , you’re gonna have to take charge and ride him , he’s just gonna enjoy his high and pleasure while you do the work . 

vincent sinclair . it’s one of his favorite ways of relaxing . he’s done it since he was a teen . bo discovered booze , he discovered weed . he’s no less intense when he’s high , still staring at you , still touching you , only his movements are slowed and less delicate . he wants you close , in his lap , against his side . he’ll play metal music in the back ground , letting smoke swirl around the both of you . expect a lot of smoky kisses and long gazes from your man . he’s high as fuck and you’re the only thing important to him right now . a living breathing work of art . 

carrie white . carrie ? our sweet girl ? doing the weed ? it’s more likely than you think ! while she might take some convincing , her deep need to rebel against her mother brought on by the courage you give her has this good girl shyly taking a hit . she will cough . give her water and praise and tell her it’s all okay . it happens , you can take it slow . and please do . let the high slowly seep into her skin and lungs and let her feel light and relaxed . she’ll want to cuddle , and you should stroke her hair and just talk . you’ll smoke and talk for hours , never getting so high that you’re both far gone , but getting high enough that everything is slow and hazy . you might even get some shy kisses from your sweet girl , and she’ll giggle and hide in your chest , feeling free for once . 

the ones who would rather drink 

bo sinclair . everyone knew he’d be on this list . the man drinks so much he should have a beer gut and how he doesn’t is beyond everyone . whether it’s a beer after a days work , a couple after a rough day , or an entire pack after a bitch ass week , this man usually has at least one a day . he likes the buzz he feels . he likes how in some ways he can forget about shit . but mostly he just wants to get fucked up and sleep . while he can be a bastard when sober , he can be one when drunk too , running his mouth . but he also tends to get a little more emotionally open when drunk , so you might end up hearing him say things he will pretend not to remember in the morning .

lester sinclair . another beer drinker in the sinclair home , only he’s a lot more casual about it . he’s like a social drinker , only having two or three . he’s a goofy drunk , stumbling around and laughing and chattering on . vincent and bo find it hard to be upset after a rough week if they have lester over to get drunk . it’s also funny to them that their baby brother is such a light weight . he gets really embarrassed when he does get drunk enough that he’s making a little bit of a fool of himself , but he’s so cute that vincent and bo can only tease him . 

thomas hewitt . while this big country boy wouldn’t mind a ice cold beer , he doesn’t drink all that much . maybe once a month or so , sometimes once every two . and he rarely if ever gets drunk . he’s seen charlie / hoyt drunk too many times , and had too many run ins with drunk as fuck bastards when the slaughterhouse was still open . he doesn’t want to be like that , so he keeps himself to no more than two beers at one time . he doesn’t mind the taste of beer , and it really is more of a social “you earned this” type of deal for him . 

the ones who would do both

jesse cromeans . this man drinks only the most expensive , oldest scotch , whisky , bourbon , and wine . he drinks casually , he drinks socially . but he does not drink to get drunk . no . he tries his best not to actually . which is surprising to most , as he was considered a bit of a play boy party boy back in his earlier rich boy days . but while he doesn’t get wasted on booze , he does enjoy getting high as fuck . he’ll only do it in the comfort of his own home . relaxing and smoking and watching old videos of his . might jerk off a little , might snuggle up to you . might pull you into his lap and laugh with you as you both watch stupid videos on the internet . one time you laughed at a picture of a blurry paper bag for two hours . jesse won’t leave the house until his high has completely worn off . he doesn’t wanna be caught off his guard .

billy loomis . he’s a bad boy . what can i say ? he’ll drink , he’ll smoke . as long as it’s with you and stu and he’s having fun ? who cares . billy is a messy drunk , getting naked and wanting to bite and kiss over you and stu , even if it doesn’t lead to anything else . it’s just too hot for clothes and he wants his babes close . he’s a munchie having , giggle gremlin when he’s high , however . while its more snickers than giggles he will almost laugh at anything , wanting to be the one cuddled and coddled while he eats chips and shakes with laughter . 

stu macher . loud and handsy drunk , however if he drinks too much he gets a bit violent towards others . which is why you and billy know when to cut him off . when he’s just normal drunk , he’s wanting to touch and talk and talk and talk . he won’t know he’s being too loud , just spilling out words and nonsense for fun as he lays across whoever is closer . as a high boy , he’s almost completely quiet . he’ll just lay and stare and watch with his mouth open in awe . sometimes he’ll start giggling but then he’s back to dead eye staring . he’s also gonna be cuddling things that he thinks are you and billy but aren’t . like a pillow . or his cat . 

the ones who would never do either 

brahms heelshire . this man will only drink sparkling grape juice . he doesn’t have the pallet for booze and he doesn’t like the smell of weed . he has no issue with you drinking , as long as it’s fancy whine , chardonnay , etc . you have to be classy , like mummy and daddy were , if you drink . he might take a sip , but he’ll prefer his juice , thank you . 

jason voorhees . he’s highly against all things booze and drug related . he literally kills people who show up on his land , he makes double work of them if they do either of those things . he’s a good boy , momma raised him right . if you do either , he’s conflicted and a bit upset . you’re his special person , you’re good , why are you doing bad things ? if you explain to him that it’s just a small glass with a meal during like , thanksgiving or christmas , he might relent . and if you tell him the weed is for pain and it’s legitimate , he will be less inclined to be upset with you . but still , he doesn’t like it . 

bubba sawyer . bubba doesn’t like the way booze and beer make people act . he doesn’t wanna act like that . he got drunk once , and he hated it . it’s the same with weed . he has a strong sense of smell and his little nose hates the way weed smells . which is why he babbles at chop top to call him stinky . if you drink , he might be a bit skittish , thinking you’ll try and hurt him like so many others have . it’ll take a little bit of patience to calm him down , and tell him you’d never . he would like it if you didn’t drink , but if it’s only a little and you aren’t being mean he’s okay . as for the weed , he might pout because now you smell like chop top , but the way you giggle and act is cute . so he doesn’t hate it as much . 

jacob goodnight . no . just no . hard no . no drugs . no booze . not you . not him . he just can’t . years of religious abuse have ingrained some roots that are too deep to pull out . and for jacob both of those things are a no .

martin ( 1977 ) . martin doesn’t do either . he already feels off as it is when he hasn’t fed recently . and he has no need for drugs or alcohol . why would he ? besides , he doesn’t want to make any mistakes while intoxicated or high . it’s just that simple . he’ll say no politely if offered . if you drink or smoke he might make a mild complaint about how you don’t need those things , about how it makes you taste off and he likes it when you taste like you . the only drugs you should have inside of you are the ones martin gives you to sleep . 

[dionnaea]

Could you possibly write Mikasa x fem reader? I absolutely love that women. Also just wanted to add that your writing is amazing <3

Only Fools Fall in Love | Mikasa x Reader

pairing: mikasa ackerman x reader

warnings: hanahaki disease, angst, character death

wc: 1.9k

a/n: this turned very sad. i am sorry. (and thank you!!)

flower key: columbine: foolishness; arborvitae: unchanging friendship; heliotrope: eternal love, devotion; pink camellia: longing; carnation: women, love; yellow hyacinth: jealousy

attack on titan masterlist | general masterlist

You didn’t know how it had come to this. How a small crush had turned into an infatuation had turned into love. How you had managed to get yourself into this ongoing situation, and how you were ever going to get yourself out of it. 

But now, trapped between the forest floor and a beautiful woman, you weren’t concerned about any of that. All you had on your mind was the sensation of Mikasa’s soft lips on yours and the desire to touch her further. 

You had already been out here for at least thirty minutes, and it was well past midnight at this point, but you didn’t care. So when Mikasa began to pull away, you placed a hand in her hair and tried to bring her right back in. To both your disappointment and expectation, Mikasa sat up anyways, her thighs trapping your own between them. It wasn’t surprising that she was the one to end things. She always was. 

“I…” She looked away, not willing to face the emotion in your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.” Words escaped you, and you simply stared until she spoke again, shattering your heart with one short sentence. “It’s over.”

You were silent, knowing that this had been coming for quite some time. You had expected it, even wondered if it would happen tonight, but that didn’t keep the pain from hurting any less. You didn’t want to, God, you didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to accept that this was the end as she reached a hand down to help you up. You did your best to ignore the way her hand felt in yours, the way her warmth seeped into you and blocked out the chill of the night air. As she began to walk towards base, you stayed frozen, dreading what was about to happen. 

Mikasa glanced back for a moment, but seeing your face, she turned her head quickly and continued down the path. You knew she knew. She was well aware you had the disease, and she knew she was the cause of it. So why did she keep coming back? But then again, you asked yourself the same thing. 

As soon as Mikasa was out of sight, you dropped to your knees, coughs rippling up from your chest. You felt the petals before they left your mouth, and when they fell to the brown dirt, a part of you wanted to laugh at how pretty they looked. Columbine, marking your foolishness with purple and white. Yellow Hyacinth, reminding you of your jealousy. And pink Camellia, the one that hurt the most as it travelled up your windpipe, teasing you for the longing you so deeply felt. 

Tonight, though, you noticed another color, sprayed along the petals in droplets. Red, the color that told of your demise. You knew it had gotten worse, you could feel the roots implanting themselves in your lungs for weeks, but you didn’t expect this. You stopped and stared, holding your breath and watching as blood fell from your lips and seeped into the dirt. There was no one else to blame but yourself.

You hadn’t tried to be so obvious, but everyone was well aware of your crush on Mikasa, including the girl herself. For the most part, she kept her distance from you, attempting to be polite in her own way and let you down easily. So when she asked you to meet her behind the dining hall after curfew one night, you didn’t know what to think. 

You approached slowly, hesitantly, nervous for what Mikasa would say to you. Turning the corner, your eyes widened in shock. Mikasa was bent over, something pouring out of her mouth as she choked. Petals, you realized as you stepped closer. Petals of Arborvitae and Heliotrope flooded out of her mouth and fluttered down to the ground. 

You rushed to her side, calling out her name in a panic. Her body shook, and when she finally stopped coughing, she looked up at you with wet, desperate eyes. It was disturbing, seeing Mikasa, the strongest woman and fighter you knew, in such a pitiful state. She forced herself to stand up right, hands still trembling, and as she spoke, her voice was strained and raw.

“I need your help.” 

Easily, you agreed, knowing you would do anything for her. But as she said her next words, you froze. 

“I’m in love with Eren, and I need to be in love with you.” 

“What?” You recoiled, stepping away from her, confliction stirring in your stomach. The word love mocked you. “I… What?” 

Just as it was clear you had a crush on Mikasa, it was clear that she had a crush on Eren. She followed him around like a lost puppy, meeting his every need without concern for her own wellbeing. At first, you just felt annoyed at their interactions like pretty much every other soldier who witnessed Mikasa’s lovesick stare, but soon, that annoyance turned to jealousy, even a slight anger at Eren for not appreciating what he had rested in your mind. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shook your head, searching Mikasa’s eyes as you tried to figure out just what she was thinking. Like always, though, she was unreadable, steel grey glassy from tears but just as unrelenting. “Mikasa, I don’t understand. Of course I want to help you, but… Just, can you please explain?” 

She bit her lip, a nervous habit she had never revealed before. For a moment, you got lost in the way the skin turned from pink to red. “I’m… I’m dying. I can feel it getting worse every day, I can feel the roots and thorns piercing my lungs.” It took every ounce of strength you had to not reach out and hug her right then, instead letting her keep talking until she was done. “And Eren…” She ran a hand through her hair, gripping the strands as if to choke them out. “Well, everyone knows Eren’s not in love with me, and I know that he never will be. He doesn’t even realize that I see him as more than family.” 

She was right. Eren had always made it apparent that she was like a sister to him, usually introducing her as such to new recruits. After about the third time it happened, you had taken note of how Mikasa’s hands had clenched into fists, the only indication that it bothered her at all. There was something that always pained you about watching it occur, though, like you knew Mikasa herself was hurting, too. 

She paused to see what you would say, but your thoughts were moving too fast to actually process anything. “Um, I still don’t understand, really.” You could tell she was getting frustrated that you weren’t following, and you worried that she would take it all back if you said the wrong thing. 

“Look.” Her hand dropped from her hair as she took a deep breath in, gathering her patience as best she could. “I know you like me, Y/N. And, I think I could like you, too, with time.” Your heart stopped. “You’re pretty, smart, and talented in the field, and I really can’t find anything wrong with you.” It was blunt and lacked any sense of romanticism, but it was Mikasa saying this, so your face bloomed with heat anyways. “I think… No, I believe that you could cure me. We just need to fall in love.” 

In the moment, you didn’t really see a downside. It seemed easy enough, and you’d get to be with Mikasa which was exactly what you had been craving for months now. But what you forgot, and ultimately what turned into your fatal flaw, is that love is never easy. 

Blinded by your rose-colored glasses, you agreed without hesitation, sending you to your doom with complete confidence. 

Once she heard the ‘yes’ slip out of your mouth, Mikasa’s lips were on yours. It was awkward and clumsy, and when she pulled away, her expression was bashful, a bit embarrassed. You were sure you looked the same. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “That was my first kiss.” 

“Mine, too,” you confessed. 

It was bittersweet sharing your first kiss with Mikasa for you knew she had kissed you for a different reason than why you kissed her back. It was to prove something to herself, to force herself to jump into this so-called solution and not look back, and even though you knew that was the truth, your lovesick heart managed to convince you otherwise.

From that night on, Mikasa and you met in secret almost every night, discovering small clearings in the forest or simply sneaking into the other’s bed once the other girls were asleep. It was a dangerous game, but it was one you were happy to play. Sometimes, you even felt like you were winning. 

But on the nights that you lied in bed alone, your mind wondered if you had made the right choice. Sure, after a month or two, you noticed that Mikasa looked at Eren less and spent more time with other people, seemingly enjoying herself, but that time was never spent with you. Instead, even as you and Mikasa became closer in private, her public persona around you never changed. You were still the crushing girl staring longingly across the dining hall and never getting a glance back. Mikasa tried to tell you that she thought keeping it a secret made it more special, but you knew it was a lie. You could tell from how her eyes darted away when you whispered sweet things and how she always crawled out of bed first, preferring to be warmed by her sheets rather than you. 

Nothing brought you back to reality more, though, than when you accidentally said ‘I love you.’ It had been a couple of months since you had started this arrangement with Mikasa, and things had seemed to be going well for the most part. She appeared happy when she was with you, and that night she had brought you a carnation that she found on her trip off base. As she tucked it behind your ear with a small smile and found your eyes with her own, the words had slipped out before you could stop them. 

Even the crickets seemed to be silent as Mikasa stared at you. Her lips had parted in surprise, and her hand was stuck midair, on its way back to her side from your hair. 

You scrambled to fix the situation. “Uh, um, I don’t know why I said that.” But as you spoke the words, you knew it was a lie. You knew exactly why you told her you loved her, and it was because you did. Wholeheartedly, unabashedly, and without fear of the consequences. But now, seeing her struggle to find an acceptable expression to wear and response to speak, you wished you could take it back, swallow the words from the air and never speak them again. 

“Y/N…” She wouldn’t meet your gaze, and you suddenly began to hate yourself. 

“It’s fine,” you decided, choosing to lie to both you and her in hopes of protecting your fragile reality. “Just… just kiss me again.” 

And she did, and you kissed back. But once you were through, and Mikasa took her leave, you found yourself starting to choke, air unable to enter your lungs. In a desperate attempt to empty your chest of whatever had infected it, you coughed.

And Columbine fell to the floor. 

[vampiric-daydreams]

Revelation

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 5 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: Somewhere between the exhaustion of having your emotions literally toyed with and receiving some shocking news from Alice, you try to develop a deeper understanding of your situation. This leads to a shocking revelation about Jasper.

Word Count: 2,936

*

Something was definitely going on now, if it wasn’t already.

They sat at their table in the cafeteria, together but not interacting. Alice was looking anywhere but at Jasper, and Jasper seemed starved for her attention. He glanced at you, darting his eyes away when you noticed, almost as if he was ashamed. Alice’s gaze locked with your own mere seconds after, her gorgeous golden eyes pierced with pain. Even after spilling their secrets to you last night, they were still keeping something for themselves. You reflected on what Jasper told you before he left last night.

It’s important that you seek her when you’re ready to listen… You’ll like what she saw for you.

Jasper’s words, the distance between them both… Could it have something to do with that vision? Frowning at Alice, who was still staring back at you, you stood up and walked out of the cafeteria; knowing that she would follow behind you.

Minutes later, Alice met you by the drinking fountains outside a block of classrooms. Her hair, always styled to perfection, was slightly messy; but that in itself was enough to tell you that whatever had been going on last night had gotten worse. As she walked towards you, it was like she suffered more with every step.

“I’m sorry for freaking out last night, I-”

“Don’t apologise for that. It’s a lot to take in at once for anybody.” She forced a smile. You didn’t trust her.

“Well, I’m sorry. I’ve upset you and Jasper with my actions.” You paused. Was now the right time to ask for the rest of her vision? You took the plunge, anyway. “I hope it’s not an inconsiderate time to ask, but Jasper told me I needed to find out more of what you had to say? I shouldn’t have stormed off like that, and he made it sound like I missed something important back there.”

“(Y/N), only if you’re ready to listen, can we get away from here and go someplace a little more private?” For the first time, you noticed, Alice Cullen seemed human. No longer the paradigm of devastating perfection, Alice’s straight brows furrowed, and she toyed with her fingers. Giving her a nod in response, Alice led you away from the school and into the forest you had refused to follow Jasper into only yesterday. But this time, it was different. You knew the Cullens would not kill you, as much as they may want to. Something about Edward struck him as the hypocritical type who would campaign for your death to protect their secret, yet protect Bella at all costs in the same breath.

“He said I’d like what you saw for me. What does that mean?”

Alice halted in front of you, dwarfed by her surroundings of wide trunks and thick, mossy roots. The moist earth squelched beneath your shoes as you took your final steps before stopping behind her. She didn’t turn to face you. “I know about your arrangement with him last night—about how he’s using his gift to suppress your feelings—and (Y/N), it’s wrong.”

“It’s the only thing we can do. I can’t get over him. Even now that he’s out of range, I can feel the love seeping back into my heart.”

“It won’t work,” she spat. She turned around and glared at you. “Nothing either of you do will work and the rest of us have no choice but to accept it. Including me.”

“Alice, I-”

“I didn’t tell you about the rest of the vision I had—the one we’re living in right now.” You didn’t speak again, knowing it was probably easier for her to shoot everything at you at once. “I’ll skip how we were concerned about our secret being safe with you—I can’t afford for you to run off again. This is important. I saw you and Jasper together. I’ve done what I can to see if there’s a way around it, but it seems right. It’s like the universe keeps pushing you together in every alternate scenario,” her voice broke, “and he looked so happy with you.”

“I’m so sor-”

“I need you to hear this. It’s difficult for me to admit that Jasper and I might not be as perfect for each other as I hoped. When I first met him, I had already known we would be married and in love and with our coven. I had that vision twenty-eight years before I met him, and I shaped my entire life as a vampire around it. I practised vegetarianism long before I met him, I–” She cut herself off, almost sounding breathless. “I have to give you my blessing, because the Jasper I saw in that vision with you was a better version of himself, a happier version of himself. I thought I was meant to be with him, but I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s not like Jasper even wants to-”

“I’ve been distancing myself from him; trying to see if I might move on from him.  I had a vision and saw myself, perfectly content, with the two of you as a couple. He assumed the woman who changed him was his mate, but he was wrong. Perhaps I was wrong about him?”

“Alice! That can’t be right! He told me how long you’ve been married, there’s no way you wouldn’t have noticed sooner if that were the case!”

She gave you one last defeated expression before she left, and you were alone; your heavy heart threatening to drown you.

 *

 Two days had passed, and already your love for Jasper rising and falling like a Yo-Yo was exhausting. All of your energy had drained away. You flopped on your bed and laid there lifelessly; staring up at the ceiling you wondered why it had to be you. Why couldn’t you be a normal person with a normal crush on another normal person? You wondered if Bella ever felt that way.

We need to talk. You didn’t want your first text exchange with Jasper to be so blunt and cold, but you both needed to reassess the mood-control strategy; your body just wasn’t coping.

You went over Alice’s visions in your mind, playing them like a movie. Even through the guilt, your heart fluttered at the thought of a romance being a possibility. Had she seen you kissing?

A powerful sense of nausea hit you as your body threatened to vomit. You still wanted Jasper, and you were sure you always would—but what it was costing both of you was too much to bear. Stuck between the man you loved, who continued to discard you, and his wife who despite her own feelings was determined for you to take him from her. You were a mere human treading water in what felt like a vampire soap opera.

Lulling your head back against the soft pillows supporting you; you allowed yourself to drown, falling deeper and deeper into the sleep that consumed you. Tomorrow, you would get better answers—and you knew just where to get them. 

 *

 Bella Swan sat awkwardly beside you on the bleachers. She had gym class, but rolled her ankle; and you had a free period. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she held an ice pack to her right foot.

You watched her as she lowered her chocolate gaze. “Can Edward read your mind, too? Is it weird dating someone who can do that?”

She still didn’t look at you. “No, I’m an exception… For some reason.”

“Bella, c-can—I mean—do you think Edward would speak with me? I know he hates me, but-”

Her eyes met yours. “He doesn’t hate you, he’s just concerned for Alice. But I’ll talk to him and see if I can get him to meet you if you don’t mind telling me what this is about?”

Had Edward even bothered to mention it? “Do you know about the Jasper and Alice thing?” The face she gave you said she did, and then her eyes hardened. “After what Alice told me earlier, and what Jasper said to me last night, I need better context. Edward can read minds so maybe he could tell me what Alice and Jasper both think about everything to help me decide what to do with myself?”

Bella fumbled with the ice pack as she readjusted it on her swollen ankle. “I don’t know…”

“Please, Bella. Jasper was so hot and cold with me the other night, and the way Alice keeps looking at me… I just feel awful. I’ve wanted to be with Jasper for so long, but I never thought it would be like this. I never knew I was wishing for decades-long marriage to end just so I could get what I wanted. Please, Bella. This is insane. All I did was have a crush on a cute boy at school and suddenly I’m the catalyst for vampire divorce.” She tensed at your use of the v-word in such a public place, but you ignored her. “I’m not asking to pry into their entire lives—just the stuff that’s related to me. How truthful was Alice being about giving me her blessing—even if that blessing gave me the right to swoop in on her husband? How is Alice seeing us being together, if Jasper is so worked up and telling me he’ll never love me? I don’t want to embarrass anybody or cause any more harm than I already have. I just want clarity. That’s all. Is that too much to ask?”

Bella hesitated, her top teeth sinking slightly into her plump bottom lip. She clenched the towel wrapped around the ice pack. “It’s reasonable. Look, I’ll talk to Edward later and see what I can do. It’s no fun for the rest of us either, right now.”

You reached over and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Bella.” She pushed away from you, clutching her ankle and wincing in pain. “Sorry…”

 *

 The Cullens hadn’t been at school that day, meaning a full day without Jasper’s interventions. It was the first time since the moment you struck your deal with him that you had energy to spare. You could catch up on homework and pay attention to a movie and simply be without wanting to pass out from exhaustion. But being the glutton for punishment this whole scenario was turning you into, you called Jasper. He didn’t pick up. You tried again.

“(Y/N), I told you-” he started, but you cut through his deep voice with your own.

“I want to alter our arrangement. Can you come over?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I’ll see you soon.” You hung up. The house was empty and silent, save for the sound of a leaky tap that still needed fixing. To distract yourself as you waited, you tidied up a bit. You washed the pile of dishes in the sink and wiped down the kitchen counters. You picked up the piles of clothes on the floor in your bedroom and actually put them away, folding each garment and telling yourself; he’ll be here after I fold this one. But you remained alone. You pulled your phone out from your pocket and dialled his number again, only to hear a message tone.

Tears pricked in your eyes as you understood he wasn’t coming—that he didn’t care about you or how his gift was affecting you. Surely Alice had been teasing you; dangling your hopes and dreams right in front of your face as payback for all the trouble you had caused her. She and Edward were probably laughing about it right now; laughing at the pathetic human who thought they had a chance. You took a shaky breath and grabbed your coat.

 *

 The inside of Bella’s house was cosy. You sat together in her lounge room with a cup of hot chocolate. Chief Swan wouldn’t be home for a few hours, and you couldn’t wait any longer.

“He said no, didn’t he?”

“Edward is… old-fashioned-”

You scoffed. “He thinks I’m immoral, then. I get it.” Your grip on the warm mug tightened. Bella’s sleeves were crunched up in her palms, and her inner debate about whether to continue speaking was clear on her face.

“But we’ve talked about what’s happening with you and he mentioned some things he heard.” She gave you a knowing look.

“Words… or thoughts?” Her lack of response gave you your answer. You put the mug on the coffee table and glanced around, your voice lowering into a whisper. “Is it safe to talk here? I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t want to ruin another relationship by involving myself.”

“They’re out hunting today. They’ll find out eventually, but nothing will happen. The Cullens are good, they don’t hurt people.” It wasn’t as though you thought Jasper was planning on killing you to protect his marriage. But you let her go on, dying to receive the intel you desperately needed. “We were driving home in my truck on the first day I transferred to your English class. I knew nothing at first, but when you started asking specific questions, I told Edward. He explained the situation to me—that by that point, you were on the path to discovery no matter what they did about it. I asked him if I could do anything to help, but he said it was useless. All of their energy had to be focused on making sure you accepted the truth instead of exposing them for what they are. Right as you figured it out, he told me Alice had a new vision that was split into two parts. While they were happy you wouldn’t do anything rash, the sight of you kissing Jasper-”

“Kissing-”

“-got them a little riled up at first.” She misread the look of astonishment on your face for one of fear. “Not at you, at him.”

“Jasper won’t have anything to do with me, though. How did we even get to that point?”

“Edward didn’t mention that, but said in passing how they both feel about it. Alice is devastated. Her entire world is crumbling, but she has enough grace and trust in her gift to let it be. She’s been thinking about leaving. There’s a ‘cousin coven’ in Alaska that she’s been contemplating staying with until things blow over. Jasper won’t let her go. No matter what she says to him, he refuses to leave her. He’s hell-bent on rejecting you -… sorry. But Edward said that when he suffocates your affection for him like you agreed, he isn’t happy. Jasper doesn’t enjoy doing it. Edward said that a part of Jasper likes that you like him.”

You couldn’t speak and only stared at Bella with an open mouth. Nothing he had done had showed that he liked your attention—even a tiny shred of it. Your blood boiled within your veins as you hardened your jaw and asked Bella through clenched teeth, “In what way?”

She looked at you, the alabaster skin on her forehead creasing with concern. “Edward didn’t elaborate. It could be reciprocation, but it could also be him just missing the attention? If I ask about it now, he’ll know what I’m doing so that’s all I can tell you at the moment.” She took a sip from her own hot chocolate, her long sleeves now wrinkled, and added, “It sounds like he’s conflicted.”

Your guilty heart skipped a beat as the words left Bella’s mouth. Images of Jasper Hale dipping you into a passionate kiss took over your mind, and you started feeling warmer. Perhaps you shouldn’t have doubted Alice’s gift right off the bat. What if it was going to happen? What if Jasper was only being harsh with you to stop himself from being too tender? You sculled your hot chocolate and slammed the mug back on the coffee table a little too hard; causing Bella to jump at your sudden action. You had to see Jasper again; and no matter how hard he tried to avoid you, you would make another meeting happen. You would ask him to tell you precisely what he was feeling, even if you needed to humiliate yourself once more to do it. 

So, you thanked Bella and rushed to your car. The sound of the roaring engine gave you a rush of adrenaline as you followed the roads of Forks—from memory—to the Cullens’ house. A thousand things were going through your mind, but you pushed them aside and pressed harder on the accelerator. As the lights and buildings morphed into a thick wall of trees, you could see the bright colours of the Cullens’ house peeking through the cedars. And waiting by the front of the property, arms crossed and fists clenched, was Jasper; whose eyes were burning holes through your skin.

*

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @scuzmunkie @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oi-itsemily @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @aw0kenangel @jelly-fishy-babie @kawaiikpoplover268 @awkwardnesshabitat @salsameter @dillybuggg @awesomebooklover17 @badgirlsdeaddreams @raindancer2004 @camillapad @champagnejoker @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @starrybumbles @bubblegumcat229 @boywivlove @mauvette268 @pleasantlycrazyworld @dissatisfactionbuthuman 

[callmemythicalminx]

Of Rain and Warm Embraces- Tommy Angelo x Reader

Fandom: Mafia Definitve Edition

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, slight gore, small reference to sexual assault, language. 

Summary: You’re in desperate need of help protecting your neighbourhood from a gang of punks. In a last resort, you ask Don Salieri for his services. Tommy is picked for the job, setting into motion a night of laughter, pain and confessions. 

A/N: Okie, so... this is kinda long, which is why it’s taken so long. I started writing with this one and didn’t really stop, so grab a blankie, some snacks, put on some nice mood lighting, maybe even treat yo self to a special drink and enjoy the ride...

Dedicated to: @kaiiiiiiparkerismyhusband @lolita-wolfson @mayday1284 @xxsamanthaxx @kneelingforvillains @loutino20 @levitate-gengar @dorothynerding ​ @blackbladevika ​ @my-blog-for-me ​ @rammstein-obsession ​ @octorebel @demonsouthere ​

---

The rain pours hard as you walk across the road. You’d hoped the weather would be clear this evening, but the world seems to be against you. Usually, you take the train home as it drops off right near your street. But on this occasion, you were taking a completely different route, one that had you traversing the streets of Little Italy. 

Though there are many people around, you feel on edge as you walk. You have done for the past few weeks since you moved to this city. Every once in a while, you take a quick look over your shoulder, but nothing is amiss. You’re paranoid. They won’t be on this side of town. That’s why you’re here, remember.

You hasten your pace regardless, pulling your coat and umbrella closer to you as the biting wind forces the rain into your face. 

By the time you get to Salieri’s, you’re practically drenched through. You dressed up especially nice for work today knowing you’d be coming here after. You wanted to look attractive, make a good impression- but that’s all gone to waste now thanks to the dreadful weather. You must look an image as you quickly rush into the bar, the door slamming behind you as the wind whips against it. Your wet hair flings up into your face from the force and you cringe. Oh yeah, you’re definitely going to make an impression alright. 

You’re cheap shoes squelch against the floor as you move towards the older gentleman serving at the bar. It feels like all the eyes in the small space are on you- it’s suffocating. You blush. As you stand there, waiting for the barman to finish with a customer, you cross your fingers and desperately hope you’re not making a puddle on the floor with the water dripping from your coat. You look down. There’s practically a lake on the floor already. 

You gawk at it, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. In a feeble attempt to get rid of it slightly, you swipe at it with your foot. You nearly break your neck as your foot slips on it. Thankfully, your hands latch onto the wood bar before you fall.  

The sound of a throat clearing with badly hidden amusement brings your head up so fast, you feel like you’ve got whiplash. You open your mouth ready to speak, but you stop short. Instead of the elderly barman who has mysteriously disappeared, a man stands in front of you, a devilishly handsome one at that. Everything you were going to say slips through your mind like a sieve. You just stand there, staring at him with your mouth open. Could your night get any worse?

The handsome man raises his eyebrow at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Can I help ya, darling?” Damn, he even sounds handsome too. 

You try to speak. What you end up coming out with is a mix of a breath and a laugh. “I- I uh. I-I um.” His eyebrows raise further. 

“Salieri!” 

Fuck, did you really just do that? Shout at him?! From the slightly amused look on his face, yes, you definitely did just do that. 

“Sorry” you quietly murmur, looking down at the wood just to avoid his eyes. A deep, breathy laugh resounds in your ears, bringing your head straight back up. He’s laughing at you. Usually, you’d be annoyed at someone enjoying your obvious embarrassment, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from smiling back at him. 

“It’s alright…,” he gestures for your name “, Y/N.” He pauses, smiling slightly again. “Tommy. I’m guessing you wanna see Don Salieri then?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I’m here for. To see him… Don Salieri.” What the hell is wrong with you right now? You’ve never been this nervous talking to someone before. You forget your embarrassment for the time being though as Tommy smiles, nodding his head and pursing his lips. 

“That I can do. May I just ask why you wanna see the boss?” He leans down slightly on crossed arms, bringing his face slightly closer to yours. You swear you can feel his warm, whiskey scented breath on your face but it’s more likely the warm air seeping into your cold flushed cheeks. 

“I- I uh, need his help with something. Or his services should I say.” He nods, apparently pleased with your answer, then gestures for you to follow him. 

“I’ll show you to his office.”

As you make your way through the bar and into the back rooms, you curl into yourself unconsciously, running your hand through your wet hair in a desperate attempt to control it. You feel out of place here. The men are dressed to the nines, in expensive tailored suits. The women are just the same, smoking high-end cigarettes in dazzling dresses. You look like a drowned rat compared to them.

In a sense, you feel like you’ve walked into the viper’s den. You’ve heard the stories. Seen the newspapers- these men are criminals. The one in front of you who has enraptured your attention is no doubt one too. This isn’t the place for you. Danger and illegal activities aren’t exactly your go-to hobbies. You’re here only because you’re desperate. So why are you suddenly very interested in the gangsta in front of you?

Tommy leads you up a set of stairs and to the right, pausing at a door. He looks back at you and must notice your terrified expression, as he releases a small, wispy laugh. 

“Don’t look so petrified, yea? The Don’s only scary if you’ve done something wrong. Have you?” You shake your head hard in response. He nods. “Then you should be fine.”

He knocks and a strong voice from within grants entrance. Tommy opens the door, announcing himself.

“Boss, I’ve got a dame here to see ya. Says she’s in need of your services.” Timidly, you follow behind him, peering slightly from behind his back. You see the Don look up at you, a warm smile appearing on his face. You try to hide behind Tommy’s back again but he moves to close the door, leaving you in direct view. 

You don’t move for a beat. It feels like a million alarm bells are ringing off in your head, screaming at you to leave this room and run away. You’ve never been in a room with a man of such power and influence, so your body's fight or flight response is going wild, favouring the latter option to the first. You finally move forward when you feel a hand press against the base of your spine, leading you towards the desk gently. At that moment, you’re very thankful Tommy is here with you even though you’ve only known him for less than five minutes. 

“Don Salieri Sir!” You blurt, thrusting your hand up unceremoniously. You expect him to shake your hand but you’re shocked when he instead rises and grabs your hand with both of his own.

“Please dear, just call me Salieri. And don’t look too worried, I’m not as frightening as everyone makes me out to be.” 

You hear Tommy let out a small drawn out “Well” behind you, but it goes unnoticed by Salieri as he crosses around his desk to come before you. His hand rubs the top of yours slightly as he does so. 

“You’re freezing girl. Tommy, would you get the poor girl a coffee, please?”

“Sure thing, boss.” He leaves the room and you’re quite tempted to follow him, but you feel rooted to the spot under the Don’s intense, but intuitive gaze. He leads you to one of the couches and gestures for you to sit. You take your wet coat off as you do and he takes notice, offering his hand to take it off you. 

“That’s not necessary-”

“Please. I insist.” You give it to him, albeit with a little reluctance. You rub your palms against the fabric of your dress, smiling slightly when he turns back towards you. Thankfully Tommy then re-enters the room, easing your nerves slightly. He places a small cup down in front of you, steam rising like a beacon. The aroma is too enticing for you to handle and you immediately reach for the cup, sighing as the warmth begins seeping into your cold skin. The two men laugh slightly at your reaction, making you blush as you blow onto the hot liquid. 

Salieri sits opposite you, Tommy standing beside you. The latter must notice you shivering slightly now that your coat has been taken off as a sudden warmth envelops you, smelling like rich cologne and cigarettes. Tommy’s coat covers you like a blanket, incredibly long against your frame. You reach up and pull it around you tighter, looking up at him with a shy smile in thanks. He smiles back, this time with more softness than before. 

“Wonderful idea, Tom.” You barely register Saileri’s response as you find yourself enchanted by Tommy’s golden eyes. It’s only as he replies, that you seem to snap out of your trance. “Just tryna help the lady boss.”

“So my dear. How can I help you?” Oh yeah. Right. You actually forgot for a moment why you were here. You look back towards Salieri, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. You can feel it already beginning to warm up your body and sigh before beginning to speak. 

“Well, where do I begin?” You let out a gentle, almost soulful laugh then continue. “I moved back into the city about a month ago. I’ve been away for a while because of an old job, but I’ve returned to look after my father. He’s quite ill, you see. I don’t think he has long left and I- I just want him to feel comfortable.” Salieri nods solemnly, eyes adrift. Tommy places his hand against your shoulder, squeezing slightly and you whisper a small thank you to him. 

The Don looks at the hand on your shoulder for a second, squints, then returns his gaze back to you. You take a deep breath, sipping more of your coffee before continuing. “My father and I live in an area of mostly elderly folk. They can barely see 10 feet in front of them anymore, nevermind deal with any trouble. Because of that, there’s this little gang of goons terrorising my father and his neighbours. They know they’ll be able to get away with it.”

Salieri nods. “Have they tried anything with you?”

“Um, well. They uh. They cornered me a couple of nights ago and started,” you struggle to get the words out for a second and feel another comforting squeeze on your shoulder “, touching me, but luckily there were some police walking down the street. So they left pretty quickly. They haven’t tried anything since, but to be completely honest with you, I’m more worried about the elderly residents than myself.”

“That’s kind of you dear. Putting them before yourself.” Salieri nods to himself, lighting up a cigar as he does so. “ You’re wanting some protection then?”

“Oh please. I’d be happy to pay.” Salieri looks at Tommy again. You don’t know what passes between them, but the former nods rising from his seat. You follow him after quickly sipping the last of your drink. 

“There’s no need. I’d be happy to help get rid of those punks.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bringing your hands to your chest in thanks. It feels like a great weight has been lifted from your body. Your father will finally be safe.

“Oh, thank you, Mr Salieri! I’m truly indebted to you for this!” The man in question shakes his head as he crosses round to you and grabs your hands again. 

“Trust me, my dear, there is no price for this. These punks need to know that I run these streets and look after all who live in them,” he turns towards the door “, Tommy will drive you home. I would imagine the goons are usually out around about now?” At your nod, he moves to collect your coat.

“He will deal with them tonight then. As for you my dear, if you ever need anything else at all, whether it’s a job or some money… please don’t hesitate to come back and ask.”

“I will. Thank you, Mr Salieri!” At that, he gives you one last smile, then retreats back to his desk. Tommy ushers you out the office after collecting your coat from his boss, then leads you back down the stairs. 

Before you reach the exit, you reach up to take Tommy’s coat off but his hand reaches out and stops you before you can do so. You look up and see him gazing at you with a warmth in his eyes. 

“Please. Keep it on. You need it much more than I do right now.” You open your mouth to argue, but from the look on his face, you surrender and instead pull the coat tighter around you. 

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, looking down, then pushes open the door. He reaches behind you and ducks you slightly, then you’re suddenly out in the rain again, rushing towards a building opposite. You keep your head low, trying to shield your eyes from the bullet-like rain. Tommy ducks you more, moving his other hand over the top of your head to shield you further. You feel your heart skip a beat at the kind gesture. No one’s ever been this kind to you before. Stop it Y/N, he’s part of the goddamn Mafia. You don’t need any more trouble. 

You choose to ignore the rational part of your mind as you reach the cover of a garage, a beautiful dark blue Eckhart Elite waiting parked inside. Tommy shakes his shoulders slightly in an attempt to lose some of the rain on his jacket. He reminds you of a dog, making you giggle. 

“You laughin’ at me, darling? After I just kept you dry from the rain?” You can’t help but continue giggling at his mock hurt expression. He shakes his head at you while he leads you to the passenger side. 

“Maam.” He opens the door for you and actually bows. You try to retain a smile, but it breaks out easily on your face. You mock curtsy in return as you climb into the car. “Why thank you, good sir, you do know how to treat a lady well.”

You see his smirk as he shuts the door and jumps in the driver seat after leaving your wet coat in the back. Once the engine is on and he’s got your address, he drives out into the rain.  

As you look out onto the road, reality comes crashing down around you, reminding you that you’re now stuck in a car with a criminal for the next 20 minutes. You take in a deep breath through your nose. Instead of calming your racing mind, it instead focuses your attention more on Tommy as you get a deep whiff of his smokey scent. Why not enjoy your time with him? He has been such a gentleman. For once, you can’t help but want to agree with your inner voice. 

“Your boyfriend must be a coward if he’s not dealin’ with these punks for ya.” Your head shoots back to Tommy, confusion on your face. “What? It’s not that hard to send a message-”

“Wait, no. I’m not- I don’t have a boyfriend.” Tommy looks at you with genuine shock. 

“You’re kiddin?”

“I’m telling the truth.” You shrug your shoulders as you look back out the window “Ever since I moved back, I haven’t really had time to date, what with my father and working. Well that and the fact I haven’t really found anyone I’m interested in yet.” Tommy doesn’t say anything back. You turn to look at him and find him looking at the road, but you can tell his mind is in a completely different place. He finally seems to come to his senses as he shakes his head, looking towards you. He actually blushes when he realises you were looking at him. To save him from the embarrassment, you start the conversation again. 

“Well, what about you? Does any lucky girl have the privilege of calling you there's? Surely a man such as yourself wouldn’t be single.”

Another eyebrow raise. “A man such as myself? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Damn, you really need to think about what you’re saying around this man. “Um, well. Y’know. You’re uh… handsome. And you're very gentlemanly and kind. You’re tall too. And you have… Nice taste in cars.” Your rambling now. It’s only when you hear a deep laugh come from your driver that your embarrassment quickly disappears. Instead, you look at him incredulously, squinting at him in mock anger. He notices and laughs even harder. 

“I’m glad you find my unfiltered mouth so funny Tommy.” You say it sarcastically, but you can’t help but smile as you speak. He breathes deep, looking down at the wheel then back up to you. 

“I’m sorry. It’s cute seeing you get so flustered darling.” You know you’re blushing again, but thankfully the absence of light on the street hides your rosy cheeks. No one’s ever called you cute before. “As laughable as it sounds, I don’t have a girl right now.” Now you are in disbelief. 

“Did you not just hear what I embarrassingly said about you? How could you possibly be single?!”

“Yea, I know, I know.” He shrugs, pursing his lips slightly. “I just… Haven’t found the right girl yet. There’s also not many women who wanna be with a guy like me.”

“Now why would you say that? It’s not your job is it? No wait, I know- you have some kind of weird hobby don’t you?!” You’re really taking the piss out of him now. And he knows it- you can see him silently laughing. He answers anyway. “Apart from being one of Salieri’s soldiers, my ‘nice taste in cars’ and my handsomeness, I haven’t really got much else to offer.” 

“Oh please, there has to be more to you than just being a gangsta Tommy.”

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t- guess you’re just gonna have to find out.”

You don’t get to process his answer fully, as your mind suddenly blanks as he turns onto the main street that leads to your road. You spot the goons out of the corner of your eye immediately. 

“Tommy, there! That’s them on the side of the road!” All traces of humour leave his face. He pulls the car in just in front of them and quickly gets out, slamming the door behind him. You follow him, jumping out into the rain. The goons having already noticed the expensive car were making their way over, but now that they’ve seen you, they quicken their steps. 

“Hey sugar, haven’t seen you in a while. You been holding out on us?” 

“Piss off.” You know it’s ‘unladylike to swear’ but you couldn’t care. You’re sick of these punks and with a gangsta at your back, you also feel fearless. The leader of the gang walks closer to you when you reach the sidewalk, but Tommy steps in front of you before he can get any closer. 

“If you saps aren’t careful, you’ll end up in wooden overcoats.” The leader looks taken aback for a second. But then his confidence returns and he slowly walks towards Tommy, puffing his chest out as he does. His friends follow close behind. 

“You brought your boyfriend sugar? It’s okay, he can watch. He can even join in at the end if he wants.” That’s apparently hilarious as the rest of the goons start laughing along with their leader. Tommy just gets more rigid. You can feel the waves of anger rolling off him and you know he’s gonna go for them any moment now. His tone is clipped and harsh as he replies “You fucks clearly don’t know how to treat a lady do ya?”

The leader’s laughter immediately stops.“Listen here pal. We know who you are- you’re one of Saleri’s washed up soldiers.” He spits on the ground at Tommy’s feet. “We ain’t afraid of you.”

“I don’t need him for this. Or anyone else.”

“Well then. Let’s see what you can do.” The leader swings for Tommy, but in the blink of an eye, he’s on the ground passed out. The rest of the punks pause for a second, thinking over their options before (stupidly) running towards you both, eager to get revenge for their leader. 

Tommy quickly jumps into action, biding his time between them all as he begins taking them out one by one. You stand there shocked for a moment, disbelieving of what you’re seeing. He takes them out easily, his fists landing heavy blows that can be heard even in the roaring rain. As one of the punks tries to grab him from behind, you jump into action yourself. You reach for a brick on the ground and hurl it towards his head.

Somehow, it actually hits him with a large thud. He falls to the ground just behind Tommy, the man in question turning around to see what happened. He smiles at you in both thanks and appreciation, before ducking out of the way of another punch. From your short interaction with him, you fail to see a beefy goon run at you from the side, pushing you back into the car. You slam into the wing mirror with force, the wind rushing out of your stomach. You gasp and sputter into his face as you try to breathe, making him angrier. You attempt to push him, lifting your leg up aiming towards his crotch, but he spins you around quickly forcing you over the bonnet. As thunder belows through the sky, your answering scream can barely be heard.

You panic, flinging your legs out wildly. Somehow, you manage to kick his leg and he curses behind you. He flings you around again. You barely register a sudden sharp pain against your face before you’re falling to the ground. Agony radiates through your head, your ears ringing. Luckily, your arm blocks your head from hitting the ground, but you feel your hands and knees scrape the gravel. 

You can’t move. The pain is clouding your thoughts. You can do nothing but lie there, breathing heavily as you wait for your senses to return. You feel hands grasp your shoulders, one of them rising to your face. You shrink back from it at first, but then the hand curls around your cheek, softly rubbing against a forming bruise. You look up into golden eyes and the world freezes around you. You feel safe. Comforted. As those eyes look at you with worry, you no longer feel the water soaking into your dress or the ache from the scratches on your skin. You can’t hear the thundering rain or the whistle of the wind through your ringing ears. You can barely even register your pounding hearbeat. All you can see, hear, feel… is Tommy. Those warm hands pulling you into a strong hug. The frantic beating of his heart from his solid but warm chest. Home. It feels like home. 

“Y/N?! Y/N!? You okay, darling?!” You struggle to answer, overwhelmed by the emotions running rampant through your body. 

Tommy rises with you pressed against him, pulling you into the open again. As you feel the full force of the rain again, the world centres around you and the chaos of the weather reigns over your senses once more.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit shocked is all.” You can hear how dazed you sound. Tommy looks down at you and curses. He pulls you back from the car, quickly opening your door and ushering you in. He turns around and runs around the car, getting in himself and quickly starting the engine. His hair is soaked and he runs his hand through it, trying to tame it before driving off. You just continue to look at him, unbelieving of the experience you just had. You ignore the bodies of the punks as he goes down the road towards your street. You ignore the body of the beefy goon whose head has practically vanished underneath a bloody brick. You can only focus on him. 

“Do you have a first aid kit at your house?” You don’t hear him at first. It’s only when he looks at you again that you snap out of your reverie. He repeats the question. 

“Yeah, yeah. I have one, it’s there for my father.”

“Your father ain’t the one I’m worryin’ ‘bout right now. I need to fix you up, your cheeks’ bleeding.”

It is? Your hand reaches up, stroking lightly. You feel a sting. Lo and behold, when you move it back, there’s a smudge of blood on your fingertips. 

“That fucker was wearing rings. They cut your fuckin’ face!” Tommy is angry- really angry. Though your cheek is bleeding, you can feel that it’s nothing to worry about. You attempt to calm him down. 

“Tommy, it’s fine. It’s just a-”

“That ain’t the point darling!” His fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, his mouth a grimace. You can practically hear his teeth grinding together. “I don’t like seeing women hurt. Especially y-” He suddenly stops talking. You look at him but he refuses to meet your eyes. 

“Especially who Tommy?”

“It doesn't matter. We’re here.” He jumps out the car before you can say anything more, quickly running round to your door. You limp slightly as you get out, the grazes making your legs ache with the pain. Before you even know what’s happening, you're suddenly in Tommy’s arms as he runs up the driveway of your home. You open your mouth to protest, but his arms grip you tighter, pulling you just slightly more into his chest. Why not enjoy it?

Once you reach the door, Tommy takes your keys from you and swiftly opens the door, carrying you to the couch in your living room. He goes to retrieve the first aid kit after closing the door, while you struggle out of his now soaked coat. You leave it hanging over the side of the armchair facing you. 

Tommy re-enters the room moments later, already routing through the kit. Thankfully, you only have the minor cut on your cheek and some grazes on your hands and knees from where you fell, so they only need to be cleaned and covered. 

He falls into a crouch before you, unrolling some cloth as he does so. Neither of you speak as he adds a dab of alcohol to the material, the weight of the conversation in the car still hanging heavily between you. When he reaches up to start dabbing at your cheek, there’s no way of escaping looking at each other. 

“Thank you Tommy. Not just for helping me deal with those goons. But for looking after me too.” He breaths deep, looking away from you as he adds more alcohol. He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I’ve never really had someone look after me like this before. Apart from my father, my experience with men is little to none.”

Tommy sighs, his hand dropping from your face. “Y/N, I-”

“Please. Let me finish.” You say it softly, almost a whisper. He purses his lips, but nods at you to continue. 

“I know you don’t think you have much to offer. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a few hours. But the way you made me feel tonight Tom….” You shrug, looking down at your fidgeting hands. “I haven’t ever felt this way before- like someone cares about me.”

You pull at your fingers in your nervousness, but his hand stops you, gently holding your hands between his. He rubs slightly at your skin with his thumb. 

“I’ve never really joked with another girl, like I did with you tonight. Usually, it’s my buddies takin’ the piss outta me. It was… nice.” You let out a scoff before you can stop yourself, swinging your face back up. Tommy looks off to the side with a reminiscent smile. 

“Nice? That’s it?” He laughs quietly at your response. He looks into your eyes and you swear you can see the battle taking place in his mind through those pools of burnished gold. 

“Fine. It was better than nice.” You nod, pleased and he just sends you one of his smirks, his eyebrow raised. 

“You really impressed me when you knocked that guy out. You also scared the shit outta me when I saw you fall to the floor after that punk…” he breathes deep unable to finish his sentence. Unconsciously, your hand reaches out and cups his face. You can feel his day old stubble beneath your fingers as you slightly caress his cheek to comfort him. His own hand reaches up and covers yours. 

“I ain’t ever been that worried about a dame before. It… scared me in a way.” 

“What are you saying Tommy?” You ask, stroking his cheek gently. 

“It ain’t obvious?”

“It is. I just wanna hear you say it.” You practically beam at him. He jokingly sighs, then leans forward tilting his head slightly. 

“I’m saying Y/N, I think I wanna make you my girl.” You can’t help the wispy giddy laugh that escapes your chest. 

“I think I’d like that Tommy.”

This is really not how you thought this night was gonna go. He finishes cleaning up your wounds, then covers them. You’ll have some explaining to do to your father tomorrow no doubt. Tommy rises to dispose of the stained cloth, walking to the door after helping you up from the couch. As he opens it, you suddenly realise you’ve left his coat on the arm chair. You turn to retrieve it, but his hand quickly grabs your wrist. You look at him in confusion but he just smiles michievlosuly. 

“You can bring my coat back to Salieri’s tomorrow. I’ll return yours. Then I’ll take you out. To the pictures maybe. I might even get ya some flowers.”

Oh, he’s smooth. You shake your head and lean up, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. You can’t contain the giddy feeling that spreads through your body when you see the blush painting his cheeks. “It’s a date.”

He grabs your hand, bowing again and kissing it. “Until tomorrow then maam”. You jokingly curtsy back. “Goodnight to you sir.”

He smiles one last time, then turns, hurriedly walking back to the car. You wait under the shelter of your porch until he drives off, giddily spinning when you see him leave the road. If you neighbours can for some reason see you, you don’t have it in you to care. You’re in a bubble of happiness right now and nothing is going to burst it.

After locking your door, you walk to the couch and pick up Tommy’s coat. Even wet, his smell still clings to it and you can’t help pulling it up to your nose and taking a whiff. Just the scent alone makes you feel warm and safe. You bring it up the stairs with you, quickly checking in on your sleeping father, before going to your own room. 

You leave Tommy’s coat to dry in the bathroom, touching it every so often as you get ready to go to bed. When you finally crawl between the sheets, you can still smell cigarettes and whisky. 

As you fall into slumber, your dreams consist only of golden eyes and a warm embrace.

---

Thank you for reading minxies! If it’s too long or boring, I’m sorry. I really just wrote with this one... (Unedited)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Basketball Court Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Note: This is a cancelled date which will unlikely come to EN :’(

More from this Collection: Kiro // Lucien // Victor

The date begins with MC in the gym. She comments that it’s usually fully packed, and today is no exception. While leaving, she coincidentally meets Gavin at the entrance. 

He offers to send her home (even though he just arrived lol). He also invites her to join him for outdoor sports next time.

MC: Sure, but what are we going to do? A night run? Or our usual running?

Gavin: Let’s do something different. I’ll teach you basketball.

Basketball?!

This term leaves me shocked, and I suddenly feel like fleeing…

Even though getting smacked by the ball was something that happened back in high school, just the memory of it leaves me feeling faint.

It is nothing but a shadow of life.

MC: …but I have no idea how to play basketball...

Gavin: It’s okay, exercising is the main point.

MC: …

Gavin: Don’t worry, I’m here.

I look towards Gavin, his eyes carrying with it assurance, as though calling me to trust him.

MC: Mm… I’ll give it a try then! …don’t make fun of me if I play badly!

Gavin: Of course I wouldn’t. Are you free this weekend? I can pick you up.

I nod, agreeing to a date that I am both anticipating yet slightly worried about.

-

On Saturday afternoon, Gavin and I head to the outdoor court in Central Park. Although it is still morning, the courts already have quite a number of people.

I take in my surroundings and discover that most of the people consist of school boys, their movements bursting with energy. The sheer number of basketballs flying around the courts leave me shocked, and I unconsciously shirk backwards.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: …I don’t know how to play basketball…

I lower my head and stare at my sport shoes, unable to say the five words: “I am afraid of basketball”.

Gavin hands me the ball.

Gavin: I picked up basketball late, and only started in Junior High.

MC: ?

Gavin: Back then, I was quite short so the seniors made fun of me. A year later, they couldn’t win against me.

I’m left flabbergasted. Minor mentioned that Gavin is amazing at basketball, but I didn’t expect to hear such a story behind it.

Although Gavin only gave me a brief summary, I know that he must have gone through a lot, and put in much effort during that one year.

Gavin: MC, enjoying the process of exercising is more important than anything else.

There is a smile on Gavin’s face.

He… must really like basketball. I can almost imagine him in the court, playing to his heart’s content.

Realising how much Gavin likes basketball, it no longer seems that frightening.

I muster my courage and pat the basketball, crinkling my eyes into a smile.

MC: A goal of mine today is to throw the ball through the hoop once! I’m going to trouble Coach Gavin to teach me from now onwards!

Gavin freezes for a moment.

Gavin: All right.

Gavin does a simple dribbling demonstration. It’s as though the basketball can understand his every command, remaining entirely in Gavin’s control.

I take a deep breath, deciding not to care about the flying basketballs around me. I focus on learning how to dribble the ball.

My current standard limits me to dribbling the ball in position. With a slight movement of my foot, the ball rolls away…

MC: I didn’t think dribbling the ball would be so difficult…

Gavin: There’s no rush, I’ll help to correct your movements.

I nod, cheering myself on once again.

Although my posture is awkward and odd, it seems like… basketball isn’t that scary after all…

Standing beside me, Gavin rests his hand on the small of my back.

Gavin: Relax a little more, your movements can’t be too stiff.

The warmth from his palm seeps through the thin material of my sports outfit, finding its way onto my skin.

It is only now that I realise how close we are. Just a slight lean of my head is enough to make contact with his face.

His eyebrows are bathed in sunlight, casting him in a gentle glow.

Gavin: When doing a low dribble, let your wrist be the axis. Use your wrist and the strength in your fingers to dribble. Like this.

His other hand gently holds onto my wrist. The resulting warmth and the warmth at my back mix together, painting my face a slight tinge of red.

I find myself in a daze, and am unable to speak for a long time.

Gavin’s eyes trail from the basketball to my face. Looking at my dazed state, the seriousness in his lips turns into a smile.

Gavin: Do you know what to do now?

His low voice and warm breaths enter my ear.

I unconsciously avoid his gaze, but accidentally make contact with his arm when dribbling the ball.

With a light cough, Gavin releases his hold on me. He rubs his neck, his ears turning red.

I apply Gavin’s techniques, and find that dribbling does become much easier.

Gavin: Try taking a few steps.

I try taking a few steps forward.

After an early afternoon of “intimate contact” with basketball, I no longer have a phobia of it. However, it is still difficult to master. With a slight movement, the ball rolls to a corner.

Gavin hands me the ball, comforting me once again.

Gavin: It’d be fine after you try a few more times.

Before I can say anything, I hear a man’s voice coming from the side.

Random man: If you’re playing like that, don’t take up space on the court!

Three young men are standing at the side of the basketball court. The one who just spoke has short hair.

Gavin moves to stand in front of me:

Seeing this, the short-haired man starts laughing.

Random man: Give us the court and go elsewhere to concentrate on your date! Your girlfriend can’t play well anyway haha!

The other two men join in the laughter.

I’m a little embarrassed and at a loss for words.

Gavin sweeps his eyes over them, then pulls me towards the basketball hoop, ignoring the three men.

It seems to be the first time the short-haired man has experienced being slighted, and his expression turns ugly.

Random Man: Let’s have a match. Whoever wins will get the court! How does that sound - do you dare to take me on?

Hearing this, Gavin stops and turns to look at him. The short-haired man laughs even more exaggeratedly.

Random Man: You’d lose out if it’s a 2-on-2 though, considering how your girlfriend doesn’t know how to play haha! I’ll give you a chance, how does a 1-on-1 sound?

I tug at the corner of Gavin’s shirt, a little worried.

Gavin: It’s fine.

Gavin assures me in a low voice, and then faces the three men.

Gavin: I’ll take on all three of you.

I widen my eyes in shock, and the three men are also visibly taken aback.

MC: ?!

The three men: What?!

Gavin: If you don’t dare to, then leave.

Random Man: Hmph, don’t accuse us of bullying you later!

An unplanned match begins. The rules are simple – whoever gets the ball through the hoop first wins.

Gavin takes on a casual posture as he dribbles the ball. Although he is alone, he exudes the aura of an entire team. The three men remain in front of the hoop, defending cautiously.

I am filled with a sudden spurt of spirit, running to the court and shouting:

MC: All the best Gavin!

Gavin doesn’t look towards me, but he suddenly goes on the offensive!

He is undeterred by the attempts of the three men to block him. The wind tousles his hair, and sunlight is reflected off his earring and into my eyes.

Building momentum with his spring-like movements, he takes a large leap. The sweat on his brow slides off his face and enters the air, glistening in the light.

He has a serious look on his face, entirely focused on the ball.

With a lift of his hand, the ball leaves the palm of his hand and fingers, forming a perfect parabola in the air.

With a “thud”, the ball steadily goes through the hoop!

MC: Amazing!

The three men are rooted to the spot, their expressions betraying utter disbelief.

-

After another period of training, I finally learn the basics of dribbling.

Gavin: Very good.

MC: It’s all thanks to your good teaching… even I find myself stupid…

Thinking of Gavin’s beautiful form when he shot the ball through the hoop, my heart does a flip.

MC: Um… could you teach me how to shoot next?

He nods and takes the ball. Within the span of a breath, Gavin dribbles the ball towards the net. The ball once again goes through the hoop!

MC: You’re amazing!

I copy Gavin’s movements, but the ball I toss completely misses the mark. The ball doesn’t even touch the board, much less the hoop.

MC: This is too difficult…

No matter how many times I try, the result is still the same… the basketball is in a completely different state when in my hands and Gavin’s.

I release a sigh.

Gavin moves to stand behind me, pulling both my hands over the top of my head, correcting my posture.

Gavin: Like this.

Perhaps due to our strenuous exercise, both of our breaths are warm. The temperature of the air surrounding us rises as a result.

My hands tremble and the basketball falls to the ground, rolling away.

Gavin: [coughs lightly] …let’s try again, following the same action as before.

MC: Okay…

I take deep breaths and try shooting the ball again, with slight improvements.

The temperature rises as noon sets in. Without realizing it, my forehead is completely drenched with sweat.

At this moment, a cool and refreshing object is pressed against my cheek.

I jump at the sudden coldness, whipping my head around to see Gavin standing behind me.

His lifts his head as he drinks from his bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

The contents of the bottle refract the sunlight, morphing the white rays into a colorful, tiny rainbow.

Gavin: Drink some water.

MC: Mm!

I open the can and prepare to down several gulps, but Gavin stops me.

Gavin: Don’t drink too much. You’ve just finished exercising.

I nod, drinking a few small mouthfuls. The blazing heat of the day has left me in a slight trance.

Suddenly, a basketball comes flying towards me!

Before I can react, I find myself wrapped in a hug.

Gavin shifts us to the side quickly, avoiding the ball.

Gavin: MC, are you all right?!

MC: …

My eyes are wide. Gavin furrows his eyebrows, his expression worried.

The owner of the ball apologises profusely.

MC: I… I’m fine…

Looking at my frightened expression, Gavin holds my hand.

Gavin: That’s all for today. Let’s go.

MC: …why so sudden?

Gavin: You were really scared just now.

Gavin opens his mouth as though about to say something, but simply holds my hand tightly.

Could he have sensed that I’m afraid of basketball…

With this in mind, I summon my courage.

MC: I haven’t fulfilled my goal for today!

Seeing my smile, Gavin relaxes.

MC: Could you give me a demonstration again? I’ll definitely learn it this time!

Gavin nods, bringing me to a safer area on the court. He demonstrates how to dribble and shoot the ball.

Gavin: Try again?

MC: Okay!

Mimicking his posture, I take a leap, both arms raised over my head, exerting strength in my wrist to throw the ball…

The ball circles the hoop twice and falls through the hoop!

MC: !!!

I jump up excitedly, turning around and running to Gavin, excited to the point that I can barely form coherent sentences.

MC: Gavin, you, you saw that right! It went in, it really went in! I’m not dreaming, am I?

Gavin: You’re amazing.

He looks at me, his eyes smiling and filled with commendation.

The look in his eyes alleviates the tightness in my chest, and I finally relax.

MC: Before today, I was quite scared of basketball… I was smacked by a basketball in high school, and I’ve been scared of it ever since. I never thought that I’d be able to shoot it through a hoop today!

Gavin reaches out and rubs my head gently.

Gavin: Does it still hurt?

MC: Ah? …it stopped hurting a long time ago! It was quite strange actually – even though I’m afraid of basketball, every time I’m on duty for P.E. class, it’d always happen to be a lesson on basketball. I think I once met you in the gymnasium…

It was already very late back then. I thought the gymnasium would be empty, but I saw Gavin shooting hoops. He played for a long time, and there were several basketballs by his feet.

By the time I finished my homework and returned to the gymnasium to clean up, the floor had not a single trace of basketballs. They were all neatly returned into the basket.

MC: …at that time, I didn’t have the chance to thank you.

Gavin: Thank me for what?

MC: You might have forgotten… you helped me pack up the basketballs in the gymnasium…

Gavin doesn’t respond. He turns to look at me, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile. He takes my hand.

I look at him, not knowing what to say.

MC: You…

In the next second, Gavin embraces me gently.

His breath envelops me.

I hear the sound of steady heartbeats.

Gavin: MC, I remember everything.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (77) || atz

You hold your breath unconsciously, gazing deep into the inky depths of the sea as the waves roll beneath your feet. Your mind begins to count each heartbeat, one, two, three, four... and that’s when you see it move again.

Goosebumps creep over your skin, and you’re ready to run when it emerges, rippling against the sea, and that’s when you realise that it looks exactly like you.

A pair of vibrant blue eyes lock onto yours - and you feel its gaze deep within your soul.

You know those eyes.

Your lips part of their own volition. ��You’re m-”

“Chin Hae?”

“Captain!” Your words come out more of a startled squeak and instinctively, you whirl around and shove the coat behind your back the fastest you can, schooling your face into the most innocent expression you can muster as your captain approaches you with a mildly exasperated, but amused smile from his cabin. “You scared me!”

“Only those with something to hide would wear such a guilty look on their face.” Hongjoong raises a meaningful eyebrow at you, settling in front of you on the bulwarks, one knee drawn up to his chest and completely at ease on his perch. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he regards you, and you laugh, a little embarrassed yet set at ease.

“Well, I’ve been caught red handed. I promise I’ll confess my crimes, but not right now. Don’t peek!” You scold when he tries to glance surreptitiously around you and your captain grins mischievously at you, drawing back. “Why did you need to see me?”

At your words, Hongjoong’s previously content expression darkens slightly, worry shadowing his face with its heavy weight. A sigh leaves his lips, tired and drawn out,

“Do you know who the head commander of the Royal Navy is?”

You frown, a little surprised by such an unexpected question. “No...?”

Hongjoong’s smile is bitter, lost as he looks out to the black sea, watching as dark clouds roll in beneath the half moon.

The signs of an approaching storm.

“He’s my father.”

Your eyes widen in shock.

When he sees your speechless expression, he laughs, the sound tight in his chest. “Surprising, isn’t it? That the son of the head commander of the Royal Navy would turn out to become one of the most wanted pirates sailing the seas.” One of his hands come up to touch the eye-patch over his eye, and his expression is so forlorn you feel your own eyes sting. “Captain...”

He holds up a hand before you can say any more, smile sad. You wonder if he even knows what kind of expression he is making, that makes you want to take him into your arms and hide him from all the pain in this world. “Don’t feel sad for me. My ties with that man have been severed ever since the day he did this to me. He is nothing but an enemy to me now. What I am worried about is that the only one with the authority to approve such a ridiculous bounty would be the head commander himself, which is why I’ve been trying to think about the reason why he would possibly do such a thing.”

“Maybe he’s insane.” The words slip out before you can think them through, and immediately clap your hands over your mouth in horror. Hongjoong looks shocked for a moment, before his lips split into a smile and he laughs brightly, amused. The urge to start insulting his father suddenly wells up in your chest just to hear that sound again.

“Oh, he definitely is.” Hongjoong’s chuckles fade into a warmer smile, and you can’t help but think it much better suits his features than that bitter expression on his face earlier. “But an insane man makes a dangerous opponent, and with what’s at stake here,” his eye lingers on you and one of his hands come up to cup your cheek, an emotion far too deep to be fondness flitting across his face. “I cannot afford to take any chances.”

You recognise that expression because you’ve seen it before, in another pair of green eyes filled with anguished acceptance at your rejection. Dread fills your chest, from the tips of your toes all the way to roots of your hair. Oh no...

“Are you sure you haven’t had any encounters with the Royal Navy before meeting us?”

Your captain’s question takes you by surprise, and it takes you a long second or two to answer. “No... I don’t believe so. At least if I did, I don’t remember them.” Your mind is still swirling with tentative worry, pondering whether you should ask him outright or not.

You can’t let his feelings for you continue to grow anymore - of course, should they exist in the first place. The kindest thing to do would be to stamp them out before they bloom, for a blossom to fall would be infinitely more painful than yanking out an ungrown seedling. But how do you go about doing that?

You’re not sure if you have the strength to push yet someone else away again.

Hongjoong remains silent for a moment as he thinks on your words, his one green eye searching your face, and your heart seems to pause in your chest. “You... don’t believe that I’m telling the truth?”

“No, no, no, of course I believe you.” Hongjoong is quick to reassure you, although his gaze is still faded, lost in thought somewhere. “It’s just... a mystery to me, you see. From what I heard from the Tortuga town officials today, the Royal Navy is offering more than the entire bounty on this ship to have you taken in alive. Which brings me to the question of: why does the Royal Navy want you so badly?”

From now on, we’ll be in immense danger because of this, goes unsaid by him.

A bitter taste lodges in the back of throat when you hear the words ‘Royal Navy’, a shudder running through your body. That’s a ridiculous amount of money, you think, despair seeping into your bones. “Will the crew be in danger because of me, captain?”

Hongjoong must hear the tremble in your voice, because his expression softens, and one of his hands come up to rest on your shoulder, almost painfully gentle. “Well, it’s not like we haven’t been in danger even before you joined, so nothing’s changed there.” Still, you can hear the strain in his voice, the worry that lingers in the back of his mind that clings to him like a relentless parasite. “I promise, we’ll protect you with our lives.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Your voice sounds tiny even in your own ears, and you look down at the floorboards between your feet, unable to meet his gaze. “I wanted to know if the crew would be in even more danger because of me. Because if it ever comes down to it, captain, you should just-”

The grip on your shoulder tightens almost imperceptibly. “Chin Hae. Hey, Chin Hae, look at me.” He coaxes you to look into his eyes, his fingers lightly grasping your chin to tilt it upwards. “Don’t go getting any silly ideas now. You’re a precious crew member to me. As the captain, I would do anything in my power to keep you safe from harm, and I know the rest of the crew feels the same.”

“But is that really all there is to it?” You’re shocked at the boldness of your own words, and for a second, your captain falters, eye widening in stunned surprise. Before you can catch yourself, the words that have been dangling off the tip of your tongue finally burst out, like a dam that has crumbled in the face of his raw sincerity. “Or is it because your feelings for me extend past that of a captain and his crewmate?”

You’ve seen many sides of your captain, angry, cheerful, drunk and mad with worry, but it’s the first time you’ve seen your captain truly stunned into silence, his mouth opening as if to say something, but then closing. His hand falls from your face as the two of you stare into each others’ eyes, searching for something.

You don’t know what you hope to find.

“So... you know.” Hongjoong’s the first to break the silence, running one hand through his hair as he turns away from you, and you feel as if a musket ball has just slammed you straight in the chest, the agony there radiating outwards. Something hurts there, so badly you nearly can’t stand it, but all you can do is to continue staring at your captain in shock.

“Yes, I do confess that my motives to keep you safe are not completely pure.” When Hongjoong speaks again, his voice is steady, eyes fixed firmly on the sea, unrepentant in the least. “I’ve grown fond of you, unimaginably so, it seems to me. I will keep you safe with all the power I have, and as the captain of the Treasure, the power afforded to me includes that of the crew.”

“But they’ll be even more likely to be hurt!” You protest weakly, fingers twisting painfully in the fox fur jacket tucked behind your back. Hells, what do you say - how do you respond? “There’s no rule that demands them to be taken in alive!”

I’m already dying anyway... you want to say, but the words remain trapped in your chest. Hongjoong’s smile is tender as he rests a hand on your head.

“And that’s what I love about you. You’re too selfless.” He says gently, and you choke back a sob. Look at yourself before calling me selfless, you big fool. “I apologise for being selfish, but I keep close what I value. I am a pirate, after all.” His green eye burns near iridescent in the night. “I fight till my last breath to protect my treasure. That’s what a pirate’s life is all about. The rest of the crew know that too, the day they choose to follow me.”

“Captain-” You try to speak, but your words can’t seem to escape your throat. Hongjoong releases you from his grip. His warm gaze remains firmly fixed on you. It burns, like salt water on an open wound. “I don’t... I can’t... return those...”

“I’m already aware that Wooyoung has already propositioned to you, and that you may not return my feelings at all.” Hongjoong says easily, but you can hear how carefully he’s choosing his words in an attempt not to put you in a difficult position, and the pain in your chest only grows. “I want you to know that there is no need to, and I’m doing this completely out of my own selfish desires. Even if I did not hold any romantic feelings towards you, I would still lay down my life to keep you safe, as a captain should to his crew. That was all I wanted to say.”

The two of you stand there in silence, seemingly trapped in a single moment under the storm and the faded light of the trapped moon.

“Stupid...”

The words escape you and then before you know it, you’re pounding on his chest furiously with your hand balled up into a weak fist, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Stupid captain... stupid, idiotic, moronic captain...”

There’s no point in keeping me safe when I’m already dying, stupid...

“Don’t cry.” Hongjoong brushes your tears from your eyes as you continue hitting him weakly, before he tugs you into his chest. You wail quietly into the shoulder of his shirt, and his fingers card through your hair, a pained smile on his face as he looks down at you. “I’m sorry I’m stupid.”

“Damn right you are.” You choke out between sobs, hitting him on the shoulder with each word. “I can’t repay you with anything, and yet you’re willing to give up so much to keep me safe? You’re so idiotic, captain.”

An insincere, apologetic hum. “I’m sorry.”

“So dumb.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So foolish.”

“Yup.”

He holds you close until your sobs have subsided into quiet sniffles, before he speaks out loud once more. “But this stupid captain is the pirate king of the seas, and he’s really selfish about guarding his treasure.” He pauses for a moment, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. “So can you have some faith in him, that he’ll keep you and the crew safe to the best of his ability?”

“Stupid captain,” you sniff again, into his shoulder. “If you ask like that, how am I supposed to say no? You don’t play fair at all...”

“Good.” You feel his smile, and he slides down from the bulwarks to crush you against his chest. “Now I have the strength to think of a way to run from the Royal Navy for the rest of our lives - and the courage to face them in a battle, if necessary.”

With a final ruffle of your hair, he turns around to head for the cabin once more, tossing ‘it’s late, you should get to bed,’ over his shoulder. But you find yourself watching his retreating back, as it moves further and further from you.

Unable to take it anymore, you run after him and grab him by the wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Chin Hae, what are you-”

“It’s my turn to confess. I made a jacket for you.” The words spill out, unchecked, like a rushing river as you yank out the garment to wrap it around his shoulders. Hongjoong’s mouth parts slightly in shock, and you take the opportunity to adjust it on him. It fits him perfectly, you think, and your lower lip quivers. “More than me being safe, I want you and the entire crew to stay safe too, understood? So please...” your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket tightly. “You have to stay safe too, Hongjoong... That’s me being selfish right now.”

Before he can reply, you run for the infirmary, slamming the door behind you. Hongjoong stands there for a moment in silence, before he looks down to run a finger through the red fox fur. The stitching is a little clumsy, but it only makes it all the more precious to him.

“You called me Hongjoong.” He whispers quietly, a gentle, sad smile touching his lips.

>>>

From the depths, a pair of blue eyes watch, unfeeling as the coldest depths of the northern sea, before they ripple and vanish with the riptide.