#because it is not The Best- I feel like it's still Nothing and not worth celebrating for

[dailyadventureprompts]

hey! was wondering if you have some ideas/tips for running a dark fantasy campaign? ive been running one for about a year now and while ive included horror elements im a naturally silly person and i feel like i go a couple sessions without including something strange and off-putting. i do wanna be distinct from grimdark, i want my story to have hope and moments of levity, but still feel scary and like the world is against the pcs.

hope ur day is well :]

Genretalk: Dark Fantasy

Maintaining a consistent tone at our d&d table is a notoriously hard thing to accomplish. Partially it's because it's a collaborative game and not all of our players might be as dictatorially inclined as we are, there's also the dice to contend with and those little polyhedral bastards don't care about dramatic consistency or the wrath of god.

So it falls to us as dungeon masters to do most of the work, but luckily I've found that evoking a specific genre can be pretty easily done through keeping a few ideas in mind while we're running scenes and building out our worlds.

First, a meditation on loss :.|:;

What makes dark fantasy dark? The surface level is aesthetics; dirt covered fauxmedivalism, horror imagery, gritty "realism", a lack of smiles and rainbows and happiness. These are all too common but they only reflect the feelings the genre exists to convey, specifically ones related to both the fear of loss and the suffering caused by it.

If people are going to lose something (whether they be players or npcs), you're going to need them and your audience to care about it, which means learning to build connections and evoke sympathy. Having those moments of levity is SO important because they're the point of attachment for your players, the thing that makes them care about this sometimes rotten world you've crated that they've taken on the responsibility of saving. If you skipped this step you'd be going into grimdark, which is one of the reasons I dislike the genre: death and suffering lose all meaning if there's no alternative.

Likewise, as easy as it is to lose hope, people are going to try to make the best of bad times. There's good food and the warmth of a fire and the company of friends and the chance of something better happening tomorrow. People are going to want these things no matter how turbulent circumstances get, so it's important to focus on them to give contrast to the darkness of your story.

Bad things happen to good people and there's (probably) nothing you can do about it

One of the central conceits of playing D&D is that the players are heroes, characters with a unique power and agency in the world and the ability to shape the outcome of events, specifically to beat the odds and save the day. However we can still lean into the dark side of dark fantasy by highlighting that while the players are privileged by their protagonist status, most other people aren't.

Most NPCS the party end up getting to know should have something tragic in their backstory; a war, a famine, a plague, a loved one's death. This will have affected them deeply and have coloured their outlook on the world and will set up their later dramatic arc. The town magistrate is going to have opinions about adventurers after her sister befriended a passing gang of sellswords and ended up dying in childbirth after being seduced by their charismatic leader. The townspeople are unlikely to rebel against their petty and sadistic baron since they remember his military acumen that saved them during the last border war. This also sets up the unexpected moments where the party can fight against the darkness of the world by getting people to see past the lifetime of cruelty they've been forced to endure.

A centeral part of the players having agency is making choices, but sometimes things go wrong, and sometimes there's no good options. Innocent people get hurt, there are costs that we end up having to pay that may or may not be worth the price. Keeping the young lovers apart and letting the unpleasant political marriage go through is the only way to avert war. There's a murder demon stalking town and the only way to banish it is for someone innocent to be ritually sacrificed, none of the heroes count, they've all got blood on their hands.

One of the best tricks I've learned to highlight the "no good options" approach is to present the party with a status quo that needs to change, but characters they like who are reliant upon it. It's easy to justify toppling the evil empire, those guys are jerks and are actively making life worse for everyone, but things get messy when doing what needs to be done involves making life worse for a lot of generally good people.

Messy decisions are what we want in dark fantasy because it really gives the party agency over the story. Are they willing to give up something they care about to perform an act of heroism? Are they willing to let the world tip further into chaos for the sake of seeing justice done? If there is no right choice, then what choice will you make?

The universe trends towards darkness

Worldbuilding is an important part of establishing your tone, and while you don't need to constantly keep ratcheting up how dreadful things are it pays to be mindful while thinking up new details for your setting.

Living in the world is a bloody business and people are all too often accepting of awful things if it makes their lives easier. On the base level it's the "kill people who are different monsters take their stuff" angle of self enrichment, but it gets more abstract as you venture into the non-adventuring levels of society. It's stuff like religions venerating painful martyrdoms as miracles, joyous feast days and festivals to commemorate some bloody event, national or family pride over participation in historic slaughter. A dark fantasy world is one that celebrates it's hypocrisy and compromises because it has long given up on good actually winning out.

To really hammer in that "fighting against the odds" feeling, stories/legends/songs about other heroes should either be tragedies or well known falsehoods.

Change (to say nothing of actual improvement) comes at terrible cost. It isn't fair that the world/narrative/universe is set up this way, but now the heroes have to deal with it.

Artsource

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XIX)

Chapter 19: Ascent

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

We only have two chapters left, including this one :(

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 5157

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew was never more aware that he was getting older.

The hangover that was stabbing his temples with daggers was the best reminder of all.

Details from the end of the night were fuzzy, at best. He wasn’t certain how he got home, but he had somehow managed to reach his bed. He was still wearing his shirt and pants from the wedding, his hair was a mess, but that was nothing compared to the fog that clogged his brain.

He made a stop by the kitchen first to drink some water, prepared some strong coffee. He splashed some cold water on his face to clear his head. Christ… he needed a shower. Maybe two.

He could recall a cab driver, some very loud music, jumping up and down with the beat, Sam and Daphne laughing, getting drunk on purpose…

… and then there was you lying in bed, fast asleep, him kissing your forehead in a chaste kiss, tucking you in, helping you through the mansion, finding you in the park, the fear of not knowing where you were, him singing that song to you even if the dance was meant for the married couple…

He could hear your voice ringing in his ears, echoing through his head, beating in his heart. Words that rang again and again. Words that he had dreamt of hearing.

He took a couple of deep breaths, and let the unkind voice in his head take over. You were drunk. You didn’t mean it. You said it yourself you didn’t want to be in a relationship, and especially not with him. You were scared, you didn’t want to take the risk, didn’t want to make the sacrifices that a long-distance relationship would require, not for him, at least, because he wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t enough and you didn’t love him, you were just drunk, you didn’t mean it…

He turned on his phone, checked the time. It was already 1pm.

Messages from his friends, from Sam and Daphne, one from his mom, a few from his label…

… and then 10 from you.

He swallowed thickly, but touched your name first anyway.

Hi! I hope you got home safely last night.

First, thank you for taking care of me. I was drunk… obviously

A true gentleman, as usual.

I’m so sorry you had to see that. I was hammered. I wasn’t myself and I said things I shouldn’t have.

Andrew had to stop reading. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, bracing for the rejection that was sure to come… again.

Still, he read on.

I know that I’ve fucked up, and that you don’t want to see me anymore. Which is perfectly understandable, and I completely respect your decision. I had no intention to contact you again. It was completely out of line for me to confess my feelings.

Andrew read that last sentence several times, before rushing to the next text.

I’m sorry about what happened. I know you don’t want to see me anymore, and again, I completely understand. I was an idiot and I’ve fucked up everything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it. At this point, I just hope that what I said last night didn’t make things even worse.

I know that you’ve probably moved on by now, and I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t even expect an answer to these texts, and I will simply not contact you again if you choose not to answer. I guess that alcohol simply made me reveal things I would rather not have confessed. I trust you not to tell anyone about this, even if you don’t want to talk to me ever again.

I reckon that I should make it clear, although I expect that you don’t feel the same anymore, that I meant what I said last night. And I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, and told you how I felt while I still could.

His eyes ran through your words again and again, but they remained unchanged, no matter how many times he read them. He let out a long exhale, unable to believe what he was reading was true.

You couldn’t be meaning that… you couldn’t…

I’ll see you this afternoon at our cute couple’s get-together for post-wedding day, before they enjoy their well-deserved honeymoon. Don’t worry though, I won’t initiate a conversation, and will completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again. Also, I’ll stay sober this time, just in case I do something stupid.

If I never hear from you again, know that I wish you the best. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

Andrew struggled to breathe for a moment. He dropped his phone on the counter next to him, buried his face in his hands.

What the fuck was going on?

Andrew hadn’t texted you back. He didn’t want to have this conversation with you over a phone. There were too many things to be told, too many things to be discussed.

He was a ball of nerves by the time three o’clock arrived and he stepped in his friends’ house. Some help was needed to make sure that the rented mansion was in good shape, to take care of the rest of the food and drinks, and obviously, to have another party to celebrate the newlyweds.

And you were there. Standing in the kitchen, making tea, your demeanour perfectly calm, as if you hadn’t dropped a bomb that had shattered his life in a million possibilities the night before…

“Andy!”

You turned to him at the sound of his name, he noticed the way your lips parted, before you looked away in a hurry…

The next second, he was engulfed in Sam’s strong embrace.

“How are you, Mr. Married-man?” Andrew joked, returning the tight hug.

“Ecstatic. Not realising what’s going on…”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Daphne’s gone with her mother to deal with something… don’t remember what… but somebody has to go to the venue to check that everything is fine before we leave for good. Can you do that?”

“Sure, I’ll go.”

“You want some tea first?”

“No, no… I’m fine. I’ll deal with that.”

“Y/N can go with you, you might need help. The caterer left some food there apparently, even if they were supposed to deal with that and pack it up. Also, check that no one has broken anything, we were all quite drunk last night.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

Andrew looked at you, but you didn’t move towards him. You remained standing there, in the kitchen, the kettle in your hand. You looked almost afraid, definitely uncomfortable.

“You’re coming, Y/N?” he asked, making sure his voice was neutral but still soft. He didn’t want you to believe that he was angry.

You jumped, surprised that he would talk to you. Still, you nodded in a hurry, putting the kettle down.

“Yeah… yeah…”

You offered him a smile, and he reciprocated the gesture. You seemed appeased by it.

You both hurried outside, greeting some other friends who were coming and going, set on different errands. It was merry despite the grey sky and the threat of some new rain.

“I’ll drive,” Andrew said as you reached his car.

“My car is right over there, I’ll follow you.”

“No need, I’ll drop you here after we’re done. Come on.”

You remained staring at him for a moment, clearly trying to gauge his actions.

“I’m not angry,” he said, reading your mind too easily. “You can come in.”

Slowly, you nodded, and opened the car door.

It was silent as Andrew started to drive. An awkward kind of silence that Andrew tried to alleviate by turning on the radio. Van Morrison filled up the empty spaces of the car, while you tried to discreetly look at him, failing miserably. He wanted to laugh at you for being so obvious about it.

It was a short drive to the venue, but he couldn’t find anything to say to you. His throat was dry, he could feel his palms getting clammy at the mere thought of speaking to you. There was too much that needed to be said…

“Andy…” you finally broke the heavy silence, while he was waiting at a red light. “About last night…”

“Can we… can we not do that now?”

When he looked at you, you were clenching your jaw and looking away in a hurry.

“I’m not angry,” he repeated, his voice soft but neutral still.

He didn’t want to let himself get emotional now. There was too much to say and too little time before reaching the venue. Besides, he didn’t want to speak about this in his car, this wasn’t either the right place nor the right time.

“But we should talk about all this after we’re done with the venue and everything… like… when we’re alone and we have time to discuss things.”

“So… you… you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah… I reckon we should.”

“We don’t have to. I understand that you hate me, that you don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again. You don’t have to be this kind to me.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. Christ, you were so wrong… about everything…

“I could never hate you, Y/N. I don’t have that in me.”

“I hurt you. A lot.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You should hate me.”

But he slowly shook his head, eyes still fixed on the road, and he hoped you wouldn’t notice the way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“That’s not how love works, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, but he could feel your stare upon him. He didn’t know what he could add, so he let the rest of the drive pass in a silent haze, his mind swarming with thoughts and feelings and trying to figure out what he wanted, what he should do, what was reasonable…

More than anything else, he thought about how nice it was to smell your perfume in his car again.

Andrew had taken care of the caterer and the food while you were going around the bedrooms to make sure nothing was wrong. He was looking for you to give you a hand, the mansion was rather large, and the keys needed to be returned after everything had been cleaned and put in order, or fees might be added. Andrew had offered to pay for everything, but Sam and Daphne had refused, and seemed offended by the idea, so the best Andrew could do now was to make sure they wouldn’t pay anything extra. A few other friends and family members were also helping out, and everything was ready.

He found you in one of the bedrooms. You were checking the room quickly, but everything seemed to be in order, except for something that seemed to have been forgotten on top of an old wooden wardrobe. Andrew looked at you for a few seconds as you went on your tiptoes to try and grab whatever object was up there, but you were too small. An amused smile was drawn to his lips when you huffed in annoyance.

You turned around in a jolt when you heard the floor creaking under his weight. He said nothing, stopped only when he was close to you, so close he would only have to bend to kiss you… And then he reached up, and grabbed the forgotten object.

You both exploded with laughter as Andrew revealed a green bra.

“Somebody had fun here last night,” Andrew laughed.

“They definitely got lucky!”

He handed it to you, but you shook your head.

“I’m not taking this, I have no clue who it belongs to!”

“I can’t walk out of here holding a bra!”

“Why not? Is it better if it’s me?”

“Y/N… They’ll think I had sex with someone!”

“And if I walk out with this they’ll think I had sex with someone…”

He rolled his eyes.

“What do we do, then?”

“Can’t you hide it in your jacket?”

“Can’t you?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, grabbing the piece of garment and stuffing it in the pocket of your vest.

“Alright, crisis averted for our famous diva.”

“A diva? Me?”

You both chuckled at that.

“No, not at all… I don’t know why I joked about that.”

“Because you’re mean.”

He was joking, but your face fell, and the next second you were taking a step back and clearing your throat. And the moment had passed.

“It was the last room. Everybody behaved, apparently.”

“Good… that’s grand… let’s go, then.”

But when he turned towards the door, you held onto his hand.

He lost himself in your eyes… in their shade that he saw at night still, despite the long weeks you had spent apart, and they looked begging now, soft and vulnerable.

“Can we… can we talk before you take me back to my car?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“We can go to my place.”

“Your place?”

“Or yours.”

“You’re sure?”

“We should be alone for this. Alone, and undisturbed.”

You nodded in agreement, letting go of his hand again. He hated the cold of the air that replaced your skin.

You walked out in silence, managed to discreetly get rid of the bra in a bin, stopped to chat with a few friends, but Andrew could hardly be patient anymore. He was careful not to be rude when he pulled you away from the conversation so you could walk back to his car. Still, when you looked at him before climbing in his car, you seemed to read right through him, through the mix of emotions in his hazel eyes, from the impatience to the fear.

“Let’s go to my place,” you said softly as Andrew turned on the engines.

He nodded in silence, struggling to regulate his breathing. There was so much hope and bitterness mingling in his heart now, being injected to his veins, preventing his lungs from functioning properly.

Why had you acted like you didn’t care if you loved him? Did you even love him? Really? Would you be ready to give him a chance? Had you dated anyone since that night?

The drive to your house was made in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. There was music playing on the radio, but Andrew couldn’t notice it. It started to rain at one point, heavy and cold droplets that made it harder to see the road.

Not a word as you both climbed out of his car and hurried to your door, fleeing the rain. It was cold as it dropped on his face, the contrast stark when you let him in your house that was so much warmer.

“Tea?” you merely asked, but didn’t wait for his answer to go prepare a kettle.

He remained frozen in your hallway. All of a sudden, that evening was playing over and over in his head. He looked at the doorknob, and thought about leaving. Just… running away. Never see you again. Then what?

He would spend the next months, or most probably years, trying to forget you, trying to move on. He would bury himself in work so he could numb the pain. Eventually, he’d find someone new, build a life for himself without you in it. He’d avoid you at gatherings with your common friends. He would sing the songs he had written about you, trying to forget that you were the muse behind every note played and every rime spoken. You would find someone else too, get married, build yourself a home and a family with another person joining you in bed every night. Not him. He would never kiss you again, never hold you again, never hear your laughter, never giggle at your snarky remarks, never make love to you ever again…

“Andy?”

He spun around, facing you.

The choice was his. He could still tell you that he never wanted to see you again. That you had hurt him too much and that he didn’t want the two of you to stay in touch.

Or he could walk into your kitchen and talk with you until he was certain about the nature of your feelings for him. And then he’d decide if you were worth putting his heart on the line again or not.

He could run away, or stay.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, voice gentle, head slightly tilted to the side.

He nodded, took a deep breath, and walked over to you.

“Yeah… just… lost in thought.”

You handed him a cup of tea. No sugar nor milk. Two teabags. He recognized the tag of his favourite brand.

“We should sit down,” you offered, voice hesitant, but he nodded, and you smiled as you took a seat in your living room, around your wooden table.

He sat across from you, silently measured the distance that separated you. You were resting your hands on the wooden surface, and he ached to reach out, hold your fingers tight.

You didn’t seem willing to start the conversation, and after a couple of minutes of both of you silently staring at your cups of tea, Andrew exhaled deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, and finally broke the heavy silence that had entered the room.

“So… last night… when you were drunk…”

“Hmm…”

“I reckon we should start from there.”

“Thank you again, for helping me.”

“There’s no need to thank me for that.”

“Sam said you were worried about me.”

He finally looked up at you, gaze getting caught in your stare, and he couldn’t look away after that. He struggled to swallow.

“Of course, I was worried. You were alone, no one knew where, and you didn’t have your phone with you.”

“But you hate me.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“After what happened, you should hate me.”

He heaved a sigh, shook his head, his shoulders bent under an invisible weight. The burden of loving you despite everything…

“I don’t hate you. I’m just… hurt.”

“It’s not exactly better.”

“No, I guess not… But it’s not aimed at you. It’s aimed at myself.”

You blinked a couple of times, a pained expression on your features.

“Yesterday… you said…”

You looked away, setting your gaze on your tea, on the steam that was rising from the porcelain, on the coloured liquid inside.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Because you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I know you didn’t want to hear me say that. Because you want me out of your life, and I understand why. Because I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Andrew clenched his jaw, struggled to keep his heartbeat regular.

“Did you mean it?”

You brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, still avoiding his stare.

“Y/N, look at me. Please, look at me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, but then you complied, looked up at him.

“After everything that has happened, I just need the truth. I just need answers. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay…”

“Just answer me.”

You nodded, waiting for him to speak.

“Did you mean it?”

You blinked tears away, but slowly nodded still.

“When you said…”

His voice broke, he had to clear it to gather words on his tongue once more.

“When you said that you loved me… did you mean it?”

But you nodded again.

“I did mean it. I shouldn’t have said it, though…”

You fell silent when Andrew buried his face in his hands. He was struggling to breathe, struggling not to cry…

“I’m sorry, Andy… I’m so sorry…”

“Why the fuck did you reject me then?” he interrupted you, looking at you once more, his hands falling loudly on the table. “Why did you keep on pushing me away? On making me feel fucking miserable? If you loved me, why would you hurt me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to… I just….”

Your lips trembled, but you went on anyway, voice calm and a little cold.

“My life was a mess… still kind of is, to be fair. I had a new job, and then… then you kissed me that night at the bar and… old feelings came back. Feelings I had been very good at burying and forgetting. And I just… I didn’t want us to remain just friends, but… I was fucking terrified, Andy. I still am, to be honest. And so, I convinced myself that I could… have you while protecting my heart, which was the worst idea ever thought since the beginning of mankind, clearly…”

You heaved a tired sigh, rubbed your forehead as you tightly closed your eyes.

Andrew was remaining perfectly still, utterly quiet. Waiting for you to continue.

“I just thought… I thought that if we didn’t act like a couple, if we didn’t date, I would be able to control how I feel for you. I thought that it could be casual. And you accepted, and I thought… I thought that it meant that you were just attracted to me, and it helped me ignore my own feelings to believe that you just wanted sex.”

“I didn’t want you just for sex. I never did,” he interrupted you, and you stared at him with pain twisting your features.

“I’m sorry, Andy…”

“You said that it didn’t mean anything to you. You said that you didn’t have feelings for me, that… that you felt nothing when we were intimate. You said it was just about fucking…”

“I didn’t say any of that...”

“That’s how you behaved, though.”

“I didn’t say it was just about fucking…”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“It wasn’t about fucking. I always had feelings for you.”

He clenched his jaw, heaved a sigh.

“Why did you pretend it didn’t mean a thing then?”

“Because I was scared. And I didn’t feel ready to have a relationship with you.”

“Because I have to go on tours?”

“Yeah… not just that but… mostly, yes. Because you won’t be here. Dating you means signing up for a long-distance relationship, and I don’t know how to deal with that kind of situation.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“I understand that,” he mumbled.

“You’ll never be around… you’re always off to somewhere else. Our lives are so different…”

“But this is my home. It’s always gonna be my home. I’ll always come back.”

“How do you handle not seeing your partner for months?”

He let out a bitter chuckle.

“Badly,” he truthfully answered, and the two of you shared a sad smile.

“I was afraid to open up to you, to be vulnerable, to let myself feel this way… for you to disappear and break up with me because you’d have found someone better on the other side of the globe…”

“Y/N… I understand why my career can seem like a giant obstacle, because it is one. It’s… so fucking hard to not be with the person you love for months, and I’m so goddamn busy when touring that I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to give you the quality time that you deserve. It’s a nightmare to get our schedules to match, to plan everything out, and that’s without counting all the things that are added along the way that weren’t planned at the beginning of touring… And then there’s the press, and the writing, and the recording, and… and I understand, okay? I understand that you would reject me because of that. But Y/N… if you’re just afraid that I might fall for someone else because we’re apart for a few weeks… that is literally the least probable scenario that could ever happen.”

“Why would it be?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” he answered simply, earnestly, like it was the most obvious truth on earth. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years. And no one has ever replaced you, even when I thought you felt nothing for me, even when we both were dating other people. Trust me, you’re the only woman I want on this planet. The only one I really want.”

He watched as you took his words in, your lower lip trembling, blinking tears away.

“You should have told me,” he went on. “Instead of inventing this fucking arrangement, you should have just told me.”

“I know. But I wasn’t ready to try and be with you…”

“I would have waited. I would have waited for you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It was fucked up, Y/N… you… it just… it was so painful to me,” Andrew admitted, trying not to let his voice shake too much. “I felt… I felt like you were just using me. I’ve never felt so terrible about myself… cause I… I was just enough for you to fuck me, and nothing more…”

“No, that wasn’t that at all...”

“That’s how it made me feel. Not all the time, of course. There were so many times when I felt… loved. When I felt like you felt more for me than simple physical attraction; most of the time it was the case. And that… it kind of messed with my brain, made me feel like you wanted more; but every time we were getting closer to an actual relationship, you rejected me. And you kept on doing it, over and over, and sometimes it was so fucking painful. Almost mean. And more than unloved, it made me feel… unlovable. Undesirable. And I know that you deserve better than what I can give you with my career, but…”

“Don’t say that. God, Andy don’t say that…”

You heaved a sigh, and Andrew was taken aback when you suddenly stood up, walked around the table and held him close. He didn’t think as he wrapped his arms around you too, though.

“I love you,” you whispered as you held him close, and felt his entire body relax at your words, tears rising back to his eyes. “God, Andrew… I love you so much. I was just scared. It was just bad timing. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I acted like the worst piece of shit, but you are everything but unlovable, okay? How could you think that?”

“Say it again,” he whispered into your neck, noticing the way goosebumps erupted across your skin under his breath. “Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you, Andy…”

Before you could say anything else, he was standing up as well, catching your lips with his in the process.

He heard the shock in your breath, but then your hands were in his hair, and you were pulling him closer, until you were leaning back against the table. His hands on your face to make sure you would stay close. And Christ… the relief of kissing you again, of feeling your lips move perfectly against his at long last, of tasting you once more…

You held him so tightly when you pulled away, arms wrapping around his neck while you rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asked, voice hoarser than usual.

“No…”

“Have you? Since we’ve stopped seeing each other?”

But you shook your head.

“No, nothing. You?”

“No one.”

“Really?”

“You broke my heart… it does take more than a few weeks to get over that,” he chuckled, but you didn’t laugh, merely holding him closer, so close he could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was so scared. I tried fooling myself into thinking I didn’t love you, but I do. I love you…”

“I’ll wait for you,” Andrew whispered into your hair. “If you’re not ready but you’d be willing to give me a chance, I would still wait for you…”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t know about that. But I know that I love you, despite everything that happened. And besides… it wasn’t all bad. Most of it was good.”

“When I didn’t act like an arse, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“I loved it so much, you know? Whenever I let myself get closer to you… whenever I let myself love you… Christ, I was so happy then…”

“I was too. Whenever you let me in, I was happy with you. We could still be happy together, if you give us a chance.”

“I was breaking my own heart every time, you know? Every time, Andy… It was so fucking hard… but I was so scared…”

He pulled away, took your hands in his. He stared at you with begging eyes.

“If you want to try this, long-distance is going to be hard. It’ll be rough. Real rough.”

“I know.”

“I can’t… I can’t go through this again, Y/N.”

“Me neither. It was awful for me too.”

“So… if we try this… we give it a real try: I take you on a proper date, and we don’t hold back.”

“Are you sure you still want me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I still want you. Do you want me?”

You answered by kissing him, slow and passionate, making him melt against you, wrap his arms around your frame.

“I’m all in for the date,” you whispered against his lips. “But… can we still go to my bedroom now?”

“Before the first date? What about giving me a proper wine-and-dine treatment before taking me to bed, huh?” he playfully answered, grinning into your lips, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

“I’ll give you wining and dining and everything in between for our first date, but I really want you, right now…”

You fell silent when he let his lips fall to your neck and his hands rise to your breasts.

Little words were exchanged while you left a trail of clothes on the path to your bedroom, staggering now and then as your lips remained sealed to his most of the way.

Except when you were lying on your bed, head against your pillows, looking up at Andrew with adoring eyes as he hovered over you, staring at you like you had hung up the stars and moon in the sky. While he was trembling at the feeling of your naked skin against his, you raised your hands to hold his face, your thumbs gently brushing his cheeks, and his heart stumbled against his ribcage under your tender touch.

“I love you,” you whispered in the softest voice he had ever heard, adoration oozing from your sweet tone. “I love you, Andy.”

He rested his forehead against yours, lowering his body onto yours to feel as much of your skin against his as he could.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured with the same devotion and worship in his deep voice. “I love you so fucking much…”

And when he kissed you again, there was no doubt in either of your minds that this was what love was supposed to feel like.

[silent-stories]

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑... 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: a silly game leads to some confessions (jj's version of this)

You dangled your legs off your house's roof as the sun slowly sank on the horizon, painting the sky different shades of pink and orange.

The boy sitting next to you brought the cigarette he was holding between his fingers to his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke from his nose, which the cool but not excessively cold breeze of that evening immediately blew away.

The shirt he'd refused to put on after the shower he'd taken before going up there lay beside him, even though you'd insisted that if he didn't put on clothes he'd catch a cold, and his bare chest rose and fell as he let smoke in and out of his mouth.

"Never have I ever…hurt myself trying to be funny." You said.

You always found it fun to play that game with JJ, every time you discovered new things about each other even though it's been several years since you've been playing it.

The rule was to always tell the truth, as if you were using one of those lie detectors they only used on criminals you saw on TV but sometimes you found yourself wondering if JJ had ever told you a lie during that game that maybe you had become too old for playing.

JJ chuckled. "I bet you already know the answer."

The light from the day's last rays of sunlight reflected off his ocean eyes, making them appear to be a hundred different shades of blue.

"Oh I know, but I want to hear it from you." You laughed, thinking about what had happened that morning several years ago when you were both little more than children.

"That tree was obviously unstable, it wasn't my fault!"

"That tree was unstable but you tried to climb it anyway."

"Tried? I did it!"

"Yeah and then you fell. And you broke your wrist."

"Yeah but you took good care of by me afterwards. That's when I knew I wanted to keep you."

"Wait, you wanted to keep me? I wanted to keep you so you didn't end up in other similar situations and risk your life every two days."

JJ laughed as he stubbed out his cigarette butt on the roof.

"It's your turn." You said.

"I don't know...I feel like I already know everything about you."

"Then ask me something you don't know."

He didn't say anything, as if he was carefully choosing his next question and after a few moments of silence you wondered if he had decided that the game wasn't worth playing anymore.

The birds had stopped chirping and the kids who usually played outside had gone back to their homes.

"Never have I ever...been in love."

Your head spontaneously turned to him but he was staring straight ahead, where the sun was now almost completely gone. His hair still damp from the shower clung to his neck and forehead and there hadn't been a moment since he'd stepped out of the bathroom that you hadn't repressed the urge to reach over to brush the dripping blonde strands from his forehead.

He was pretty, and there was never a moment in your life when you didn't think it.

And you absolutely were in love, probably not from the first moment you saw him because you were too young to know what love even was.

Now you knew.

But he was your best friend.

"No" You lied, "no, I don't think so."

JJ didn't answer, continuing to stare at an indefinite point in front of him. No funny or sarcastic comments, no jokes.

"It's your turn." He didn't turn to you.

"Never have I ever..." you thought about it for a moment, you had nothing to lose, right? "been in love."

"It's not fair. That's what I asked." He chuckled under his breath.

"I don't think there's a rule against asking the same question." You shrugged.

JJ rolled his eyes, then stayed silent for a few moments, as if thinking about it.

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his damp locks, "still am."

You have felt a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach and in your belly. I was a weird mix of fear and hope that you couldn't quite identify.

"Does she know?" You just wanted JJ to be happy, you didn't care if he would break your heart.

"Nah."

"Why?"

He snorted. "Because she doesn't like me that way."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because she's never even been in love."

Oh

JJ turned to you, finding your surprised expression.

"Yeah." He chuckled, his laughter was colder and less genuine than usual, "Hella embarrassing isn't it? I've been waiting for days if not months for the right moment to ask that stupid question during this game and when I finally work up the courage, she tells me she's never been in love. I almost wish you'd told me you were head over heels for that kook who always sits next to you and flirts all the time at every history class. Someone who deserves you. But like this? You make things even more hard because every time I'm around you I can't help but think about what it would be like-"

It was a way to stop his rambling, it was a way to tell him he was wrong, it was a way to tell him you had lied for the first time during the game.

Your lips were on his and your hand was finally in his still damp hair. It was short, a few seconds and it was already ended as if it had never been there.

"I thought... you said..." He stammered, surprised. On his lips the ghost of a smile.

"I lied. I'm sorry, I fucking lied. It's you. It's always been you."

In no time his lips were on yours for a second kiss.

[ch4mpagnedrought]

scope out the competition

[full series]

mdni ! patrick zweig (warning: public sex)

summary: feeling out your opponents, the ins and outs, is always important when improving your game.

tashi duncan’s tennis games thrive from her being the most self she can be. her strengths entirely come from improving herself, wanting to be the very best player she can be leaves no room for her to blame losses on lack of technique. she puts in everything she has to get everything back. you, however, consider yourself a team player; you like to analyse your opponent and play to their style. why would you exhaust yourself trying your hardest when you can pray on your competition’s weaknesses? it makes for an overall more fluid experience—to see them slip out of concentration and into panic, you inhaling their exhaled breath, giving you a perfect opening to land a winning shot.

tashi’s stubbornness for greatness makes her a strict player, with regimes and schedules that nothing is worth skipping for. except maybe you sometimes.

“where are you going?” she asks, stepping behind you to check herself out in the mirror in your dorm, cramping to fit into the reflection while you strip yourself of your shorts to put on a pair of grey sweats. “i told you, ITF tournament today.” you switch between a black cami and white tee in the mirror, then tie the drawstring of your pants. “i think you should come.” you add and tashi meets the eyes of your reflection, her brows lowering, “i have training.”

you sigh out, nodding and turning to your desk to grab a perfume bottle, giving it a couple spritzes. “patrick is playing today.” you say but tashi doesn’t seem to care, continuing to tie the laces of her shoes, soles scuffed black from the sheer amount of play they get, “i told you i have training.” it doesn’t even seem to register in her head that maybe she should be there, or that he might want her there, “he’s you’re boyfriend.”

it’s hard not to feel some sympathy for patrick who has no clue that putting him above tennis in tashi’s head is equivalent to trying to find some space in a room where an open flame is sucking up all the oxygen. “im training.” she says again and her carelessness begins to bother you, relaxed expression on her face as she runs a hand through her hair before tying it back. “why do you even care whether i go see patrick or not?” tashi turns around for a moment to read your expression whilst she pulls a black hair tie from around her wrist and to her hair. there’s a playful smile on her lips, a gentle calmness that makes it seem like you’re the crazy one for even suggesting seeing her boyfriend may be nice.

“i dont.”

“seems like you’re excited to see him.” she hums to you, a glint in her eyes. it’s not a warning sign or a threat, but more amusement. she wants you to be eager and she doesn’t care that it’s her boyfriend you’re eager about. you hadn’t even thought of patrick that way since they started dating, but your cheeks run hot at the feeling that she’s seen right through you.

you walk out without saying goodbye to her, it’s belittling to think that she can see you as another one of the pawns in her game too. after nearly fourteen years of friendship you’ve learnt to read her well, and there isn’t a doubt in your mind that she’s waiting for a competition to unfold. to have you both try and win patrick over to see who the better seducer is, because if tashi can’t beat you in tennis she’s going to try and give everything else a shot. you may play for the team, but you still play to win and tashi’s stupid ways of entertainment aren’t any different.

sitting at the side of the court in the stands like patrick did once for you, and meeting his eyes from your seat, watching him stretching his limbs, you wonder whether he had expected to see tashi, and not you. a smile spreads across his face, a pleasantly surprised one that shows no underlying desire to see her. you raise your hand to wave to him and he waves back, the sun hitting his face until he’s forced to squint.

his opponent didn’t actually stand a chance, even the way that he walked out with a meek hold on his bag told you and patrick everything that you needed to know. his serves were shy, barely making it past the net and his returns were even worse. the whole thing was unruly, like a battlefield where patrick has a sword and gun and his opponent lost all his armour. patrick was ferocious, the swing of his racket making a shrilling sound at every contact and his glistening arms straightening out to reach it, pulsating the veins in his hands. his biceps throbbed beneath the shirt sleeves that were blown upwards from the light breeze and your eyes seemed to burn into them. his dark hair swept away from his forehead every time he launched for the ball then falling back down to his face perfectly. and between the sets when he’d sit down at near the baseline and glance up at you with a smirk, hoping to get a small nod of approval, it felt like he knew exactly to what extent he’d been stirring up the feelings inside your stomach.

he leaned back into his seat after sucking up an energy gel and let the sun cast on his skin arrogantly while his opponent tried not to have a panic attack, seeing any chances of a professional career slip away from his calloused fingertips. patrick played it cool, he didn’t have to know his opponent to feel that he looked up to you, and every time you cheered for patrick, an endearing clap, it would take all his might not to throw his racket across the court at him.

the game was a blow out, of course, and patrick looked up at you once more before exiting the court, leaving his opponent to writhe in the loss.

you knew that after his game patrick would be out somewhere, lighting up a victory cigarette, and you purposefully glanced to every fire exit of the sports club and dark alleyway hoping you’d see him there until you found the one. he leans against the bricked wall cooly and his hair is still slightly damp, being dried by the gusts of wind when he takes a drag of the cigarette you knew he’d have.

“you did good today.” you call out to him, approaching his frame that pushes itself off the wall to take in your presence fully. you smile kindly and he scoffs, you knew that was what patrick wanted to hear, and you gave it to him. the one thing that tashi can’t bring herself to do—support someone else’s game other her own. he breaks the eye contact you’ve been holding, glancing away abashedly, “coming from ‘ESPN Tennis number one upcoming female tennis star?’ im flattered.” he quotes an article written about you that he’s read more times than he’d admit to anyone.

your arms fold across across your chest and he hums a teasing note. “okay fuck you. i was being nice.” you say and he chuckles, his fingers grazing the skin of your arm when he leans forward. he looks down at you, trying to piece together your presence and why he’s never felt that kind of appreciation from tashi. “what are you even doing here?” he questions and you shrug your shoulders that he can’t stop himself from looking at, loathing the straps of your tank top that keep him from indulging into a further fantasy, “research. have to see how my competition is doing before my game at the open.”

he nods, taking another inhale of his cigarette and intentionally blowing the smoke away from your face. he continues to look away for a moment, seemingly lost in thought about what you’d presume was his game that in reality is nothing short of the ways that sleeping with you may be different than with tashi. it had been overwhelming his head since he had been with her, and he has been trying to stop himself from asking art every single minute detail of whatever exactly went down between you two. even in the dead of night when he’d jerk himself off and think of his girlfriend, it would often slip into the few moments that he’s had with you; the softness of your lips in the hotel room and the embarrassed look on your face when he’d caught you out with art.

“yeah whatever. or maybe you just missed me.”

you laugh but his face keeps the serious expression, lips that hold the cigarette between them turning up into a smirk. you look away from him, suddenly feeling shy as he remains looking at you from above, a heat circulating beneath your skin, reddening your cheeks and a heaviness in your chest.

he waits silently for the moment that you flick your eyes back to him, and from the glimmer within them he knows that you want him just as bad as he wants you. his two fingers take the butt of his cigarette and throw it to the ground to free up his lips that lean down to yours. he kisses you hard like he hasn’t felt the touch of a woman for a while, and you kiss him back.

there’s a smokiness to his lips that move passionately with yours, pushing themselves into you and immediately making them swell with a lustful redness. he hums into the kiss, vibrating against your lips and taking a handful of your hair into his hand to pull at it gently. however the guilt catches up to you quickly and you pull away from him, “what about tashi—your girlfriend?” he presses his lips together briefly at the absence of you, then chuckles, “you mean the one that isn’t here?” he doesn’t give you the time to respond before pressing his lips back to yours, his tongue pressing gently into your mouth. softly, his fingertips skim across the sun kissed surface of your arms, to feel the softness of your skin against his that he’s been having wet dreams about.

you let slip a soft whine, your hands that are cupped around his cheeks suddenly travelling to his chest to push him away again, “you know she has her own matches to train for.” his lips have a reddish tint from your desperate aggressiveness to have as much of him as possible and he sticks his tongue out to his bottom lip to taste the flavour of you while you defend tashi.

patrick has to lean backward, breathing heavily in your direction with a disbelieving look. his eyes scan your face to see if you’re being serious and his brows twitch upwards, hand already wrapping around your jaw delicately, “and you don’t?” he pulls your face towards him, leaning down to meet you in the middle.

he moves his firm grasp around your hips, each hand outlined with a paleness from the pressure, steadily drawing you into him until his stiff crotch is pressed against your front. the exchange of heat hazes his mind and the alleyway environment no longer becomes a concern as he twists you until you’re leant against the cold wall.

his fingers tediously untie the drawstring of your sweats, the real gift that he won the tournament for, eyes peering up at you for a green light. he had known since spotting you in the audience that he wanted to find out the way your eyes squint together in anticipation and your bottom lip is pierced by your teeth to beg more of him. to get the full experience art did and to give you what he may have missed out on. fingertips dancing around the hem of your trousers, and curling around it to give him the bit of space he needs to fully slip his hand into them, the heat inside leaking the precum out of him.

one of his fingers slides down between your folds over the top of your panties, sending the sensation to spread across your whole lower half. momentarily, he circles his index finger around the area of your clit to alert you of his presence and listen to your breath hitch.

you press your mouth shut, squeaking out high whines into the alleyway, patrick’s whole body positioned close enough to you that you can feel the expanding of his lungs. he shimmies your trousers a little further down until he can see the bareness of your legs and your fingers reach into his dark locks when he lowers himself down onto his knees. “what are you doing?” you ask, the cold cobblestone sends a shiver down his spine and his hands push you into the wall. he looks up at you, a reassuring smile on his face, cheeks rosy with excitement and brows lowered, “im thanking you for turning up to watch my game.” he says matter-of-factly, you can feel the hotness of his breath against your legs and it makes the rest of them feel numb. you want to tell him to stand back up, to not risk the both of you being kicked out of the court for the rest of your lives and ruining your careers, but the closer patrick inches to your soaking wet panties the less the thought is present in your head.

he presses his lips onto your core over the fabric, only for you to jerk your hips upwards into his face at the sensation, sighing out loudly. he’s wanted to watch the way you react to his every touch, imagining this very moment when the tip of his finger pulls to get rid of the barrier between him and your entrance, where he can spread your own slick across your slit. he finds a pleasure that sends blood pumping into his cock knowing he’s the one to do this to you, and nobody else.

his tongue presses flat against your centre, lapping around the area only for a moment before you grasp onto his shoulders, spreading your legs open a little wider to adhere to his touch. his every single movement is calculated and deliberate, circling his tongue around your clit then pulling away to have you gasp for air; kneading the flesh of your thighs with his hands to soothe.

when you cup his cheek with your hand he moans into your pussy, feeling the warmth of your fingertips and his own cum that dribbles out prematurely into the shorts he changed into only half an hour earlier. although he’s the one to slide his index finger into you while his chin is dripping with your juices and his saliva, your slight touches enrapture him until every cell in his body is hypnotised and he knows nothing other than to keep ushering whimpers out of you. he glances up to your face, taking a mental image of your breath-taking frame that he has all to himself to devour.

the more his mouth works, nose deep into wetly sucking on your clit, the more intense the lustful fluttering in your bottom half grows, his tongue shamefully savouring you the faster he glides it across your slit and the finger that pumps into you turning into two.

patrick’s hair curls loosely across his forehead, eyes twinkling up at you with a drunk arousal that he’s only just discovered, taking the involuntary bucking of your hips into his face with a content smile of which the sensation is felt across your whole core. he notices how close you’re getting, hearing your heaving and sobs, and thoughts of art seem to frequent his mind, about how quickly he was able to make you come and if it was faster than him. it works him up until he holds you still against the wall, circling his tongue around your clit and plunging his fingers into you in a frenzied state, curling against every ridge of your g-spot until all the air out of your lungs in blown out.

you inhale back again to spread the feeling of climax across your whole body, hips twitching under his grip and eyes squeezing shut. patrick presses short pecks to your inner thigh, and stands up to watch the last few moments of your lips being parted open and hands reaching out to use him to balance before you come back down from your high. he looks down at your lips that are red from the way you’ve bit them, and the tears that well up at the corners of your eyes with a small smile, bringing himself down to kiss you with the remnants of your own orgasm. his lips are slow and meaningful, to share the flavour and let you remember it was his doing, while his hands gently pull your panties up your thighs, then your sweats.

“thanks again.” he says, pulling away to tie your drawstring again like it had never been undone, and you nod.

he smirks down at you again, the lingering taste of you in his mouth; chuckling out and bringing the strap of your top back over your shoulder innocently,

“you’re a terrible friend.” he says.

“you’re a worse boyfriend.”

he watches the way your legs move parallel to each other when you leave him in the alleyway, his mind not being able to get rid of this image of him being between them. he had taken in your expression at every moment, and he would do the same thing over a thousand times more to watch it again. and later that evening when he promised to call tashi, he instead stares at the ceiling of his room and replays the whole ordeal in his head; while tashi lets herself into your dorm room out of boredom and slips under the covers.

[one-idea]

I just realized that I misswrote something on the post the other day about the whitebeards assuming that fem ace was pregnant.

But it gave me another idea:

The whitebeards assuming that Ace and Deuce are married due to their antics.

(Mainly because of Deuce having that fond and kind of gleeful expression whenever ace destroys things and them sleeping together all the time)

Listen!!!! Everyone knows Deuce is in love with Ace. There is no secret there.

No if we are staying in the Whitebread mistaking Ace for being pregnant after she meets Sabo again (see post here)

Deuce is being super sweet and supportive. He’s trying his best (along with the other spades) to shut down any rumors about their former captain.

Until one day he goes to drop of Ace’s dinner and he tries to talking to her again. “You know I’m always here for you. No matter what. I know we’re on a new crew but you will always be my captain and I will always be YOUR 1st mate. I will be by our side no matter what.” Deuce trying to be comforting even though Ace hasn’t looked at him in weeks.

Ace, who has spent the past month think about her brother what was supposed dead for years only to be alive and forgotten their bond. Questioning if she’s even worth remembering. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Even the strongest bonds fade over time. No matter how strong they were or how much they promised.”

Deuce, for the first time wondering if the rumors are true and his best friend/crush did fall in love and get pregnant only to be abandoned. What else could make her feel this way? She always believed in her bonds with people. Her younger sibling Luffy being the most important. And as far as Deuce knew Luffy was fine. “bonds might change but my loyalty to you never will. If you need me I’ll be there. No matter what.”

Ace actually turns to look at him. She’s crying again and she wants so badly not to cry anymore but Sabo is alive and wants nothing to do with her and it’s been so long since she’s felt this worthless. “Stay with me?”

Deuce stays. They’re not doing anything just taking and sleeping. But the rumor mill goes crazy. People talking about how Deuce finally got the girl. How he’s stepping up for Ace and they’re proud of him. Some wonder if it was a lovers spat all along.

But some a ruder about it. And one poor soul, probably Teach because he sucks. Says something about Deuce being so pathetically in love that he’d take a ruined woman and her bastard. Deuce hears it and it’s the first time he’s ever punched a crew mate before. Not because of what they said about him but because of the disrespect and latent sexism towards Ace. (Who again is not pregnant)

Whitebeard is big stressed. He’s got so many rumors flying. A possible grandchild on the way. A possible father as a revolutionary to hunt down. And one of his doctors just broke his hand from punching another one of his son’s in the face. (He proud once the whole story is explained but why him)

When Sabo shows up everyone one of the gossipers is ready for a show down only to be slack jawed because 1) that’s Ace’s brother! 2) she’s not pregnant!

And somehow Deuce and Marcos get roped in (Ace asked them) to giving Sabo a full exam (he was just tackled to the ground) main to insure he’s memories are all right.

Once again quite a confusing day for all.

On the other hand if we’re talking about another story entirely when fem Ace and Deuce are assumed to be married.

The Whitebeard’s are the biggest gossips. You do not have a crew that big that’s all “family” and not get into each others business.

And deuce is so obviously in love with his formal captain. He watches he burn down enemies (a terrifying thing to witness) like it’s a work of art. He is warm to her and goes out of his way to make sure they still see each other as much as possible.

But Ace does to. Their stand offish little sister is warm to her former crew in general but it’s obvious that Deuce is special. She goes out of her way to see him. Even hang out in the infirmary when he can’t leave. A place most commanders avoid like the plague.

The two used to share a room on their old ship and it’s not uncommon for Deuce to spend the night in Ace’s quarters now.

All the Whitebeard’s think they’re married. Heck most of the Spades think they’re married. It’s only the original crew that knows they’re not. They don’t correct anyone because they have so many bets on when the two idiots will actually get together and refuse to have any of these idiots speed up their time tables.

It isn’t until Ace is hanging out with the other commanders on night and Izou asks Ace if she’d like to invite her husband to join them. (They wouldn’t mind him joining them, sure it’s normally commanders only but they can make an exception for the only married pair.)

Ace looks are him supper confused, but before she can speak Marco does. “My fault. I scheduled Deuce to work tonight so I could join you. Next time I’ll put someone else in charge.” He directs the second point to Ace almost as if he’s apologizing for incovining her.

Now Ace is very confused because “I’m not married to Deuce.”

“You’re not!” They all yell at once before looking between each other.

“Do you want to be?” Thatch asked and Ace started sputtering. And that’s it. The commanders are looking between each other. It’s game on. You ever gets Ace and Deuce together wins.

Once Ace leaves they establish rules. They can have help from their divisions. So if one of the nurses convinces Deuce to propose then Marco wins. What do they win. Being Whitebeard’s current favorite. He’s not a man who ranks his children but he was there for the whole conversation. If Ace and Deuce aren’t married and decide to get married guess who is marrying them! Thats right Whitebeard. He’s pumped. The winner gets unofficial title of favorite plus a week off.

The game is on.

Meanwhile Ace is now looking at Deuce completely differently. She had never thought of him in that light before but now… her whole world view has shifted.

She’s trying to navigate this monumental shift while getting pushed into increasingly crazy scenarios with Deuce.

Meanwhile Deuce has always known he had a crush on her. He knew Ace didn’t see him that way so he had decided to ignore it and be friends. Ace’s friendship was enough. But now Ace is acting weird around him and they keep getting stuck together and the nurse and doctors have started telling him how cute they would be together and he feels like he’s losing his mind a bit. It’s not going to happen and he’s okay with that.

It’s a lot of shenanigans

[freakartack]

HOUSEKEEPING THINGS

1. MESSAGE TO OLD FOLLOWERS: so sorry that took so damn long. Normally i try not to treat this blog like a job but that was kind of ridiculous so i feel like an apology is in order. I fully overestimated just how much stuff i wanted to draw for this bit and i did not expect my blog to be held ransom by cartoon characters for two months but here we are. Thank you guys for being cool and patient about my hubris! I hope it was worth the wait. And if not, here is your money back. (placing imaginary money in your hand)

2. MESSAGE TO NEW FOLLOWERS: hi. Welcome to my blog! Thank you for taking an interest in my jokes. Because my blog has been held ransom by cartoon characters for two months i should probably emphasize that this is not an ask blog and is in fact just a regular blog, that happened to be held ransom by cartoon characters for two months. I do still draw wario comics though! A lot! So if you're into that, then you're in the right place.

3. THE ASKBOX SITUATION: So prior to mona stealing my login info this april you may have noticed that i shut down my askbox and turned off the lights. There was a couple reasons for that

3a. I accidentally got addicted to the internet

3b. I accidentally got so addicted to the internet that tumblr thought i was a premier hashtag super mario poster presumably solely based on the fact that i did not shut up for five days straight and so for several weeks it redirected every new person that said they liked mario to my blog and i thoguht they were all spam bots so i freaked it

4. WHAT I'M GOING TO DO NOW

4a. Freak it

4b. Just kidding

4c. WARIOWARE CAMPING!!! Currently I am in a tight spot Schedule wise however the next page is well on its way (had been put on pause due to april fools fiasco) and so it should be ready soon. If nothing else this experience has taught me how to pump out a fucking lot of comics so although i intend to make these drawings much higher in quality i will do my best to get the ball rolling!

4c. RANDO DRAWINGS: Also soemthing that I have to work on is not dropping off the face of the earth when I don't have a comic to post so I will be posting some fun little extras in between comics. I sometimes feel guilty when i do that cause i'm like "that doesn't count as a post" which is kind of dumb if you ask me. So i will be posting some art on my art blog going forward

4d. THE ASKBOX SITUATION: THE SQUEAKUEL: So you see my issue is I don't want to get addicted to the internet or overwhelmed or attacked by droves of spam bots and/or innocent civilians BUT i still want to have asks open because i like talking to you guys and i miss it. SO, i will compromise by opening my askbox on weekends, so that way i can have the best of both worlds. Maybe i will expand the ask window later on if i can behave myself but we'll see how it goes.

4e. FIXING MY BLOG THEME: Idk if i'm going to change it back to the pitcher plant pic but i do want to make it not be this. I might make a slightly updated theme that matches my content better so i might put a different warioware banner up there but idk i feel bad kicking out the plant. How are we feeling. The brave little toaster thing in my icon is staying no matter what though sorry.

5. OK THAT'S ALL BYE: Bye

[biolumien]

hi omg your hoshina fics are so *word vomit* i just checked your acc and all and im not sure if you do reqs or something but ill give my best shot... do you think you could do a hoshina x reader angst/pining especially in hoshina's pov,,, something AAAA hahaha thanks you then again mad work i love it keep it coming hhehehehehehehehehehehhehe !!! 💖💖💖

notes: hihi tysm for liking my work <3<3;; im still coming off my fever rn so i'm doing some drabbles for now; i hope that's okay...!

in the wake of your leave

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader angst for sure. gomen :pray: word count: 558

love’s a dangerous thing. there’s no one that knows it better than hoshina–or that’s the kind of thing he tells himself, to stay jaded. you can dedicate yourself to as much of a cause as you want–dedicate yourself to people, to anything–but it might never amount to anything. he kept it realistic, or so he told himself. he’d locked his heart away, covered it in layers of charm and casual retorts, and tried not to think about the feeling of getting closer to someone.

he couldn’t fall for you. that was explicitly prohibited. 

so he had to resort to watching over you from afar. he was sure you didn’t know–or at the very least, you were as bad at communication as he was, so the two of you never really confessed to each other. you’d spend time around each other–talking about the next mission, training together, and sometimes he wondered if it could be more. if he’d let his walls down just enough to allow more. to let you see just how irredeemable and wretched he thought he was.

but he didn’t.

he couldn’t. how could he ever be worth even a fraction of your grace?

he wouldn’t fall in love. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t regret not getting close to you. 

that’s what he said to himself the day he found your body, your eyes glassy and blank. there was nothing to it, is what he told himself, as he pushed the rubble off your body and pulled you close, desperately trying to feel for your pulse and finding nothing. there was nothing to it, is what he reminded himself, even as something burned at his eyes.

he would regret nothing, because he hadn’t loved you.

he hadn’t, had he? had his hands not shaken as they brushed blood from your face, his heart cracking at fragile edges as he closed your eyes as they dully reflected his expression? had he stood there as cleanup evaluated the bodies, pushed one of the crew away as they tried to take you away? he hadn’t. had he? that would mean he cared. that would mean you weren’t just a statistic to him–that, oh god, the weight of your body–your cold body, devoid of all its warmth–it was real. all too goddamn real.

what was he supposed to do at your funeral? what was he supposed to say? what was he supposed to do, really? he wasn’t close to you. that’s what he told himself. he wasn’t close to you, and yet he remembered the shape of your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. he wasn’t close to you, but didn’t he want to be? didn’t he hate himself for wanting it in the first place? 

“is there anything you want to say, hoshina?”

he hates that mina’s eyes are filled with pity. 

it makes something in him recoil, deep within his gut–a nasty, chewing feeling that makes his hands tighten, digs crescent-shaped indents into his palms. 

“i never even told them how i felt,” hoshina says.

and his voice cracks at the last word, and he leans forward, pressing hard against his eyes.

“i never even told them how i felt, so why…” hoshina whispers, his voice cracking.

he wasn’t in love.

he’d never be.

and as angry tears flowed down his cheeks, he tried to believe it.

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[widevibratobitch]

.

[strwbrymlkshake]

you lied to me, and ruined everything, and ruined how I approach almost any romantic feeling at all. and all you can describe it as is having fucking beef with me. and you don't even recognize your own actions. you don't even fucking remember them. you aren't phased by it at all. I agonized, had meltdowns over it. losing me, ruining me was just a regular fucking day for you.

[feluka]

this 🤏 close to doing the cha cha slide in traffic

[shinayashipper]

Also getting emotional over how I'm surrounded with very beautiful and loving friends I am just very Grateful <3

[not-the-grave]

the depth of abandonment trauma i'm discovering i have is kind of insane

[azurune]

Sigh I really hope that’s the end of it. I just want to be able to post on here without worrying about my ex. Apologies to friends that may have to witness the tags below

[the-cooler-king]

Oh yeah..... midnight gospel be hitting.... sitting in my bed fuckin. Crying. Get a grip girl

[sukunasweetheart]

oh, to fit him like a glove...

WARNINGS; ooc sukuna, virgin!reader (well... not for long), size kink, BREEDING, vaginal fingering, sukuna only has one dick here cuz i wanted to make it less complicated, COCKWARMING, stomach bulge, degradation, praise, sukuna is a four armed king, overstimulation, mouth-hands, EXCESSIVE CUM

based on this anon's ask! dividers credit; @/cafekitsune

word count; 3k

imagine being sukuna's precious princess of a wife-- whom he spoils and dotes on because its in his interests to do so. like any other woman, youre tiny compared to him, so having you take his cock eventually will be very tedious work, and sukuna will need a lot of patience.

and we all know, sukuna is the most patient man in the world... at least when it means that it'll be worth it for him at the end. and to him, you are worth everything.

he's proud and pleased to be your first... sukuna can't help but feel keen about the idea that he will be the only one ever to have had the pleasure of being so intimate with you.

he watches you intently, as you struggle to take even two of his thick fingers in your tight hole, tearing up and whimpering as he tampers with those delicate spots inside you.

"nngh.. sukuna... that feels so good..." you whimper his name delightfully, it almost makes his enduring patience snap.

outwardly, his face looks calm as he looks down at you with soft lust that takes the form of an almost blank expression.

"does it?" he asks, with a certain playfulness in his voice.

his fingers move a little faster, scissoring you inside and pressing in an upwards manner, where it makes you gasp the most. you're producing so much slick, but your hole is still so tight and unrelenting, clenching around his thick digits even more. sukuna thinks about good it'd feel if his dick was inside instead, and he feels himself aching with desire, twitching and leaking precum from his hidden erection.

...not yet.

he dutifully touches you to your orgasm, and watches with a hitched breath as you tremble on his fingers, walls fluttering against them. your sighs and soft moans reach his ears like nothing else.

his extra hands grope at your breasts, finding solace in them.

"do you think i'm ready yet?" you ask tenderly, after your breath returns to normal.

"... hardly, my love. that was only two of my fingers," sukuna tells you languidly, as he feeds your slick on his digits to the mouth on his stomach.

"only two? oh dear..." you sigh with sorrow, "will i ever be able to take you whole one day?"

he smirks at the question, and leans down into your chest while holding ahold of your hand.

"well of course. i'll make it happen no matter what. i promise."

the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

when it does happen, you best be ready for him to breed you full every night.

however, on some days, the urge gets unbearable, even for himself. he's been saving himself up a little, so he could pour everything inside you when the time comes, but the lust gets overwhelming, clouding his sight and judgement.

one night, you gesture towards the bulge in his pants, with a shaking hand.

"what about you? isn't it painful to always withhold yourself like that?" you ask, wanting for him to feel good as well, instead of just yourself.

sukuna grows silent, sweating bullets as his dick throbs upon your mention of it.

the next minute, he's taking it out and slotting it between your thighs, rubbing up against your slit and seeing how the size compares to your stomach.

the temptation is too great.

not. yet.

this was the whole reason he was avoiding using his cock with your body in the first place - because he was afraid he'd cave in and attempt to deflower you when you weren't ready yet, still too tight for him to squeeze in, causing you pain only.

if it were anyone else, he wouldn't bother... but you're one that he cherishes too much... he wants to work to make the end result even tastier. the moment where he'll finally claim you entirely.

the bed creaks as he thrusts in and out between your thighs, rubbing his twitching dick against your hole oozing with slick, also brushing up onto your clit that's swollen from arousal.

" 'm sorry... i wish... there was more i could do..." you whimper sweetly, squeezing one of his large hands.

"there's no need for that. whatever i can't put inside you now... i'll pump in twice as much, once you're ready for me," sukuna whispers gently, holding your hand back, a groan resounding in the back of his throat.

rewards become so much sweeter after restraint. like how you wouldn't pick and eat an unripe fruit from a tree.

"you're doing plenty enough for me... for now," he tells you breathlessly. he adores the glossy look in your eyes.

his cock continues to glide back and forth, and he feels so hot between your thighs.

"i... i want your tip inside when you cum, please," you say, eyeing his dick with a certain neediness.

"are you sure, love?" he asks, hoping you'll say yes. you nod fervently.

sukuna feels lightheaded at the thought of it, all the while his dick gets more and more sensitive against your thighs... his balls feel so heavy and full, all those times he held himself back coming to catch up on him.

you squeeze your legs around him harder, making him groan, cock pulsing for all it's worth. he thinks about how tightly your walls would clamp around him. the heat from your insides, and your slick covering his shaft. he's close.

he suddenly spreads your legs.

at this stage, he's only barely able to get his tip past your entrance. it's possible when he does it slowly enough. you whine beneath him, doing your best to not go against his arms that are pinning your legs down.

a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. sukuna uses an extra hand to stroke the rest of his dick as his tip remains snug inside your puckering hole. when it comes, he gives a choked-off gasp from how good his first-in-a-while release feels.

he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from burying himself any further.

the ropes of cum seep and trickle into your womb in thick, heavy spurts, and the hotness of it gets you breathing unevenly, being so aroused by this sensation. there's a copious amount. he continues jerking himself off to get every last droplet out, and his own hand can feel the intense twitches of the veins on his erection.

it's not nearly enough to satisfy him, but it's enough to keep him patient.

once his tip pops out from your wet hole again, his spend come out of it in large globs, and sukuna can't help but admire the sight, his dick twitching weakly in his hand.

he abstains from cumming all over again for another few weeks- another few weeks of stretching you out with his fingers, and prepping you to perfection.

when the day finally creeps up, where he believes you're ready to take him whole, sukuna hears and feels his heartbeat in his own ears.

ever so slowly. he's sitting down on the edge of the bed, and he has you lower yourself on his throbbing cock as he's face to face with you, ever so slowly. your body trembles lightly and he feels it on his hands and fingers as they're placed against your hips. sukuna senses your anxiousness that flows from you in large waves.

your hole is so tight, trying to push the intrusion out, but the wetness from your slick helps his cock slip inside easier, and sukuna's breath is kept within the back of his throat as you swallow him up deeper and deeper.

he's sweating. you're sweating. but soon enough, you're sat on his lap completely, having gotten all of him inside you at last. you can barely breathe with how tightly you enclose around him. how his cock is nudged up snugly against your cervix, pushing the literal air out of your lungs. and the way you feel it twitching inside.

sukuna has never been more patient, more self disciplined, more repressed than in this moment. one wrong movement and he feels like he could snap and start thrusting in without concern for you in any moment. no. he shouldn't do that. it would ruin all everything he's done to build you up for this moment.. but your walls keep tauntingly squeezing around him...

"i- i can finally fit all of you inside..." you say with glee, tears on your lashes, but looking very proud of yourself. it snaps him back to sanity, a little bit.

"of course... you were made for me, after all. so perfectly mine, fitting me like a glove," sukuna mumbles, as his bigger tongue licks against your clit, arousing you more so that you could loosen up for him. his praise gets to your head and makes you feel sheepish, wanting to do more to please him. but you don't think you can do that, just yet.

"can we stay like this for a bit, please?"

"that would be...for the best. can't have my wife splitting in half, can i?" sukuna jests rather sinisterly.

"oh, you..." you pout at him. the larger tongue rubs against you more persistently to distract you, and he smirks as it does the trick. you whimper, and your walls pulse gently around him making him groan. your eyes get half lidded, already feeling somewhat exhausted, and you lean your face against the large man's chest.

veins are bulging out of his arms, and one on his forehead. you seem so relaxed, unbeknownst to the fact that he's currently doing everything to keep himself together. you're like a tiny mouse trapped in the claws of a tiger.

sukuna starts to bite and kiss down your neck and shoulder to satiate himself.

few minutes after you've calmed yourself a little, your eyes start wandering down, taking notice of the bump on your stomach, from having him inside you.

"it goes without saying, but you're so big..." you press against it without thinking, and you feel him throb inside you intensely. sukuna grabs your wrist with a growl.

"are you trying to test my patience right now?"

you look at him with wide eyes, from how unusually on edge he is... something about him being all restless makes you feel aroused. you're doing that to him. a man who rarely ever feels. but you've gotten him all sensitive.

" 'm sorry. kiss me?" you ask sweetly, lips curling up in a foxy way.

his gaze softens.

"when you ask me so sweetly... i can't deny you, can i?"

and he leans down to press his lips onto yours, despite seeing the mischief in your eyes. your arms go around his neck, and as he's kissing you, his hands go for your breasts.

you tighten up on his leaking dick, making him moan into your mouth. his grip on your hips squeeze harder, but he doesn't stop kissing you.

you want to make him cum. you want him to lose control from being inside you.

sukuna breaks the kiss with a little choked off heave, when you begin to roll your hips around him slightly.

"you're getting awfully ahead of yourself-"

you cut him off by latching your mouth to the side of his neck, suckling and running your tongue against his skin while your hips keep moving.

he'd call you cute, but it's working. sukuna grits his teeth and his eyes get heavy lidded, dick getting impossibly harder. his heavy breathing adds to your excitement.

"i never knew my wife was such a whore. i'll be sure to return this favour later," sukuna tells you with a low voice, his hands now guiding your hips against him.

you're wordless, as you continue running your lips and tongue up his skin, moving onto his jawline, only giving a whine in response, feeling his tip press into the entrance of your womb.

such lousy movement usually wouldn't be near enough for him, but...

his head lulls back, exposing the way his adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows thickly, getting close... your little kitten thrusts and the way you're tonguing the sensitive area under his jaw...

sukuna's hips jolt into you for the last time.

" 'm cumming-"

his mouth hangs open as he releases - dumping weeks' worth of seed into your cunt. his body jerks against you and you bite into his shoulder.

his cock throbs erotically in your clamping walls, and you milk him effortlessly, and you moan on his neck, while still suckling and tonguing the same area, feeling the hotness of his cum as it thickly pours into you, making your belly swell a bit from it.

sukuna groans as he seeds your womb properly for the first time, two hands on your hips, one against the back of your neck, and the remaining arm wrapped around your waist to keep you still as his dick pulses inside you.

your head is whirring from the tense situation, being creampied so lewdly for the first time, to think that he's released inside, and the feeling of his every breath as he orgasms, is enough to make you feel so exhilarated.

suddenly, he stills.

it makes you a little nervous, so you detach your upper body from him and aim to look at his expression. but before you can make any further movement, you're suddenly thrown onto your back against the soft mattress of the bed in the speed of light. he keeps himself buried in you, making sure to plug you up nicely.

when you meet his eyes after a shocked gasp, you see his darkened expression, his eyebrows furrowed, but his mouth curved up in a toothy, sinister grin.

"you really tested me back there, didn't you?" he rasps, grabbing your face and forcing you to keep your gaze on him.

"i hope you're aware that i'm not letting you get a wink of sleep tonight."

not a word gets out of your mouth, before sukuna pulls his dick back, and slams his hips into you, his thick cock dragging against your tight walls.

your voicebox makes a noise that you never thought was possible, a noise that's mixed with both a moan and a scream.

"oh, fuck..." sukuna mumbles gutturally, beginning to thrust in and out of you the way he's always wanted to. your hands fist the sheets behind your head, and his hands keep your legs spread apart for him, while the other two pinch at your breasts roughly, groping at your flesh so brazenly.

his heavy balls slap against your ass as his hips rut into you, making sure to drive himself in to the hilt, before pulling out to the tip and doing that all over again.

you squeal and mewl under him, eyes watering from pleasure and already getting overstimulated as he fucks you senseless. to think that only a few weeks ago, you were only able to fit two of his fingers. it all feels like a fever dream.

sukuna breathes heavily, his muscles glistening from his own sweat as he indulges in his reward, his reward of you, and your cunt that is finally nice and loose for him, sheathing him so nicely, coating his dick with your slick like the harlot you are. his laboured breaths stutter when your walls pulse around him as you reach your orgasm-- your head tilting back into the mattress.

cock leaking more precum into you, sukuna's eyes become half lidded again as he gets close to his second release.

"you're gonna drive me crazy," he grunts, as his tip reaches your cervix again and again and again.

his thrusts become erratic, and then halts as he busts another thick load into you, making you cry out pitifully.

"fuuck, fuck, fuck...." sukuna shudders, leaning down on his forearms, getting so close that you feel his breath ghosting against your skin, while his other two hands grip onto the sides of your hips. his pecs rub up into your tits and the tongue from his stomach messily laps away at your clit as he empties his balls into you, your pussy seemingly trying to squeeze him dry.

all of his eyes close up as he then kisses you like he's trying to swallow up your tongue. you whimper against his lips, doing your best to reciprocate, struggling to keep up with the pace of this kiss.

he breaks away from your lips.

"c'mon, not good enough. put your tongue into it more," he instructs breathlessly, with somewhat of a disappointed expression. your mind is too hazy from the intense lust but you give a short nod with teary eyes, which makes him smirk before pushing his lips onto you again.

you kiss him back the most you can, and he hums in pleasure, your tongue finally intertwining with his. it distracts you from how full you feel right now, even with only two of his loads in you.

his thrusts slowly start back up again.

"s-sukuna-!" you gasp, breaking the kiss.

"i warned you... it's gonna be a long night," sukuna tells you. he seems to have become more sound of mind after that second orgasm.

"give me more..." he mutters, leaning against the crook of your neck, and licking a stripe up against it, "my precious wife."

your arms wrap around his neck, holding him tight. he grins, and you feel it on your skin.

... eventually when his third load fills you up, he's running his tongue against the shell of your ear, two mouths sucking at each of your nipples, from the way he clasped his palms over your breasts at the last second.

you're trembling beneath him, tears now running down the side of your face, babbling nonsensical words at him.

sukuna leans back to run his third hand through his disheveled hair to slick it up again, and he grins at your state of overstimulation. he feels so good inside you. it was worth waiting and preparing you for so long.

once your orgasm subsides a bit, he finally detaches his mouth-hands away from your tits, making a line of saliva stretch between in the process. then, the mouths disappear. your body relaxes. but sukuna's cock is still inside you.

"you alright, my love?" he asks smugly, looking down at your state of fatigue caused by intense pleasure.

you mumble out something of a 'yes', and he chuckles. his eyes trail down to your now slightly pudgy stomach.

"you're so full with me, my dear wife. haha, it's quite the lovely sight," sukuna tells you softly, pressing his hand down softly against the swell of your tummy. you jolt a little, whining.

"sukuna... too full..."

he leans down closer to your face and wipes the sweat off your forehead, before bringing his lips to the same area gently.

"we can stay like this for a few minutes. rest up. but we're not done yet."

he hasn't even had the chance to sink his teeth into you yet. just a little more. you can do that for him, can't you?

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