#empty cube** first tag

[oatbugs]

i am actually terrified xoxo

[rafesfavgirl]

rafe cameron headcanons

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: rafe cameron as your boyfriend.

words: 466

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. daddy issues, cocaine use, attachment issues, lowkey toxic relationship, SMUT

rafe would definitely hate everyone but you.

rafe would be grumpy, you'd be sunshine.

rafe would 100% spoil you—shopping sprees, "just because" flowers. the flower vase in your room would NEVER be empty.

topper and kelce would tease him about how he's "pussy-whipped" over you, and he'd tell them to shut up.

barry calling you "mrs. country club".

whenever rafe would get into it with ward, he'd ALWAYS come knocking on your bedroom window that night.

wheezie and sarah love you. they're like your little sisters.

sarah tells you that when you're around, rafe's a more tolerable person and acts more like the big brother she knew before their mom died.

speaking of their mom, rafe opens up to you about her and talks about her quite a lot. 

rafe was definitely a "momma's boy" and that's why he was affected the most when she died.

many of rafe's issues stem from seeing his mom die.

rafe was able to stay clean for a whole month while dating you.

his favorite nicknames for you are princess, pretty girl, doll, and baby.

when he's mad at you he calls you kid. 

he can never stay mad at you for too long though.

he's always scared to tell you when he relapses because he doesn't want you to get mad at him.

when he's coked out, he says things he doesn't mean and then comes to your door to apologize the next day.

you hate how he always turns to coke instead of talking to you first. he tries to work on this, but sometimes he can't control it.

he's definitely the jealous type. can't even stand it when another guy looks at you, let alone talks to you.

if he ever saw you flirting with someone, even if it's just a joke, he'd blow up and punish you for it later.

definitely punishes you by slapping your ass and not letting you cum.

can't keep his hands off of you in ANY situation.

when you're next to him, he's always touching you—hand on your ass, arm around your shoulder, your hand in his, etc.

he's not afraid to show you off—you're his favorite girl.

absolutely AMAZING in bed. like unreal.

a dom, obviously.

KINKY as hell—will tie you up, use ice cubes, lick stuff off you, use toys, choke you, slap you, pull your hair, spit in your mouth, the works.

has a daddy kink. (are we really surprised though?)

talks you through it.

loves fucking in front of a mirror because he loves watching himself fuck you.

definitely pushes your head down when you give him head. he always returns it though and that boy KNOWS how to work his tongue.

favorite sex position is missionary and cowgirl. he absolutely LOVES seeing how good he makes you feel.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

[byuntrash101]

headache

reader x soft dom!seonghwa smut | mdni 1.7k you've been suffering from headaches recently but your boyfriend knows exactly how to get rid of them nsfw tags under the cut

very gentle and soft dom!hwa, established relationship, daddy kink, pet names (babygirl, angel), making out, oral (f), fingering (f), hwa is pussy drunk, tiny bit of possessive!hwa, praising, edging, watersports + omorashi

a/n: i stumbled on a twitter p♡rn link and it blossomed into this <3. a lot of you asked me for more ws so here it is hehe. i hope you enjoy. if it's not your thing it's okay! just dont read okay babe? i have other fics for you in the masterlist <3

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THE TAGS AND TO CLICK OFF IF ANYTHING SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING YOU WOULDN’T ENJOY.

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Recently you’ve been suffering from recurring headaches. At first you thought it was your cycle. But then you became more attentive to when the headaches occurred. And it turns out you simply were not drinking enough water! The thing is that your headaches always happened when you got home after being at your boyfriend's place for a couple of days. Simply because, well, when you were there you’re too busy cuddling and kissing to be taking your lips off him for even a second to drink a sip of water. 

The good thing is it’s an easy remedy: just drink more water.

And Seonghwa intends to ensure your good hydration this time. Out of kindness of course, out of love! Nothing more! He just hates when you get home and call him the next day with your small little voice to tell him you had to lock yourself up in the dark, because your head is ringing and he can’t even be around you to pamper you and take care of his baby, that breaks his heart. He hates to know you’re in pain.

So today your loving boyfriend makes sure you do just that: drink more water.

When you watched the latest episode of your series on Netflix he paused several times to get you a full glass of water. When you ate your take out again three full glasses of water. 

Chilling on your phone watching tiktok “don’t forget your water baby~”. Listening to his hilarious work stories “your water babe”. 

Even going as far as making you drink when he held you in his arms and you complained about not being able to reach the glass on the coffee table. 

“Here baby” he said, putting the rim of the glass against your lips. 

He couldn’t explain it but he felt himself twitch at the way your lips pursed up and opened slightly around the glass, your neck bending and following his wrist as he tilted the glass to let the water flow into your mouth. He throbbed at the way the water disappeared into your mouth as you swallowed in big gulps until the glass was completely empty, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass as he set the cup back on the coffee table. 

“Aaaaah~” you sighed in satisfaction. “Thanks Hwa”

“You’re welcome my angel” he said before pecking your lips made cool from the fresh water.

God how pretty you were like this, wrapped up in his arms like a fragile little bird, looking up at him with this bright smile and shiny wet lips. 

He planted another kiss right on your wet mouth but this time he parted his lips, his hot tongue reaching out to your cool one. Kissing you gently but deeply sharing his warmth and spit until your mouth was burning hot. Long fingers wrapping around your nape and pushing your face further into his. The gesture made you moan into his mouth making him smirk into the kiss. He loved the sounds that you made. So much so that he haphazardly reached for the TV remote to mute the device. He wanted to hear you, only you.

Then Seonghwa slipped you out of his lap to sit you on the couch. He kneeled in front of you to very carefully flip the hem of your skirt over your stomach. He couldn’t help but to smirk when his eyes finally laid on the beautiful lacey panties you were wearing today. One of his favorites. Baby pink with a pearly bow in the center. A pair he picked and gifted you.

“So fucking perfect” he breathed as you pushed your thighs together, feeling your arousal pool into the lace as he praised you. 

He bent over your legs to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, working his way up until he pressed a couple more to your pubic bone. You jerked a little as he pressed his face a little too hard on your lower stomach, given how much water you had drank.

“Now be a good girl for daddy and spread your legs” as he sat back up. You looked down at him through your lashes but still you obeyed and parted your knees as you heard your boyfriend curse under his breath. He smirked, spotting the wet patch of fabric, making the pink ever so slightly darker. 

“You’re wet already angel?” he snickered, his palm caressing your open thighs.

“Y-yeah. I got wet when daddy was tongue kissing me” you confessed before biting down on your lower lip.

“Fuck” Seonghwa swore again, his dick twiching in his pants, he could feel himself already leaking precum onto his boxers. He just loved when you were so upfront with him. You looked so innocent, covering half of your face with your back hand and breathing rapidly but your pussy was already soaked and gushing for him. And you had no shame admitting it and exposing yourself to him. To his eyes only. You were his only

He pulled on your legs to bring your ass to the edge of the couch before pulling your panties down, not even taking the time to discard them, just letting them hang on one of your ankles before he prompted you to spread your legs for him again.

The way your pussy lightly twitched and sparkled covered in your juices had his cock quivering in his sweatpants. He wanted to taste you. He needed to.

He approached his face to your sopping center and licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. Right before curling his tongue back in his mouth, scooping as much of your slick as he could, smacking his lips to fully take in your taste. Your flavor was sweeter than honey and more intoxicating than the strongest liquors.

Seonghwa wrapped his arms around your under thighs and pushed his palms on your hips. Securing you right in his hold and spreading you like a buffet.

“Fuck daddy~” you whined.

He approached his mouth once again but this time his lips wrapped around your clit as he gave you light kitten licks. He looked up at you lapping away at your bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help but to moan at the pleasure you felt. Soon you started to rock your hips, rubbing your juices onto his face as he didn’t alter his pace.

“Please Daddy” you complained, yearning for more.

“My baby girl is so eager” he said, not parting his lips from your heat.

“It’s because I love daddy’s mouth so much.” you whined. “Please let me cum on daddy’s tongue”

“Soon my baby. But daddy wants to taste you thoroughly first”

Minutes passed and Seonghwa was taking so much pleasure in edging you. Licking and sucking on your clit only to back away when he felt you twitch on his tongue just to see your precious little cunt throb around nothing and gushing out more of your juices just to be savored by him and repeat the process over and over again.

But at some point you couldn’t even focus on the pleasure anymore. The only thing you felt was how full you were. How full your bladder felt.

“Daddy” you started cautiously. 

“Yes angel?” your boyfriend replied, face still buried deep in your throbbing cunt.

“I-I think I drank too much water. I need to go to the b-bathroom” you said, shame slowly creeping under your skin.

Seonghwa smirked against your folds. Only to latch onto your clit again, this time licking more precisely on the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan loudly and arch your back.

“It’s okay baby. Daddy doesn’t mind.” he growled, eating you out like a starved man.

“No please daddy stop” you begged as you felt your pussy contract around nothing, your bladder also contracting dangerously. “It’s gross daddy” you complained, kicking your feet as the pleasure kept on rising.

“If it’s too much for you, just let go, okay angel?” He cooed against your folds.

“Please daddy…” you inhaled sharply, feeling yourself filled to the brim with piss. “Gonna p-” you whined but Seonghwa interrupted you.

“Just piss in daddy’s mouth baby” he said, pushing on your hips angling them just right. And you just couldn’t hold it in any longer. You let out your hot steamy piss right into your boyfriend's mouth. Seonghwa backed up a little and stuck his long tongue out as the powerful stream hit him right in the back of the throat letting out gurgles of satisfaction, gulping down as much piss as he could, mouth rapidly filling up to overflow and wetting his gray sweatpants.

When the stream started to slow down he wrapped his lips around your clit again and shoved two long fingers inside your cunt that he curled right into your g spot, pressing against your bladder again. The stream of hot piss picked up.

He wanted to drain you, take all of your piss for himself. 

He started to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt rapidly.

“Fuck daddy loves your piss much baby” he briefly said before sucking and licking your clit again, swallowing more of your delicious nectar.

“Daddy I'm cumming” you cried out.

“Cum for daddy baby” he allowed. And you finally leap over the edge. The orgasm is one of the most intense ones you’ve experienced. It completely rips through your body and shatters the earth beneath you as your legs tense up and your hips shake uncontrollably. Your hungry little cunt violently twitching around Seonghwa’s relentless fingers still pumping in and out of you, accompanying you on your descent, grunting and humming against your folds and he licked and sucked on your swollen bud until the pleasure died down and your legs fell limp, hanging over Seonghwa’s toned shoulders. 

Seonghwa took a moment to admire your red and swollen cunt, occasionally twitching with the remnants on the strong orgasm your felt, sticky juices still lazily oozing out your entrance. He licked out one last stripe from your entrance and parted your lips with his tongue to twirl around your pee hole one last time.

“I think you’re cured now” he beamed at you smacking his lips, relishing in the intoxicating taste of your slick and piss one last time.

What a good boyfriend he was making sure you drank enough and making you cum to prevent your headaches.

IF YOU ENJOYED DONT FORGET TO REBLOG 🖤

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a/n: im still so self conscious about publishing watersports and this one was very filthy sooo pleaseeeeee comment and tell me if you enjoyed okay? just drop an anon ask if u dont want to leave ur userid on here! i would appreciate it so much <333

[undercovercameron]

same person, same mistakes

summary: coming home from college, you see the boy you never wanted to; and he's the same as he always was.

notes: i just wrote this literally so quick it was magical... there is rough sex, cheating, a semi-choking kink (as always), and mentions of drug use and literal alcohol use in this one! i'm also yet again noticing a pattern.... what is with me and bathroom sex? anyways i hope you people enjoy! consider this a favor, i'm preparing you all for rafe to have a love interest

tags: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2929

When you walked into the country club that night, you made a beeline for the bar. Your first year of college had not been treating you well, and you needed a drink. A strong one at that. 

Your favorite bartender, a red-headed woman named Joey, was working that night. She made you a vodka soda just like how you liked ‘em: more vodka than soda and a shit ton of lime. An underage-drinking staple. But hey, you were only two years away from legality. It wasn’t that bad. 

You drank it with your younger brother Landon by your side at the bar, watching him refresh Twitter for the status reports of the hockey game happening tonight. 

“You want the NHL, Landon?” Joey asked, wiping up a ring of perspiration with a black rag at the now-empty tabletop to his right. “I can change it.”

“Yes, Joey, thank you,” Landon sighed, pocketing his phone, and swiveled around in his chair towards the TV mounted beside the bar. “Hey,” he said abruptly, and you hummed curiously in response. “Rafe is here.”

You crunched down onto the ice cube in your mouth, the easy smile on your lips hardening.

“Who is he with?” You ask, not turning to look, and focus in on the stack of paper coasters next to the mixing pads. 

“Dunno. Some girl. She has black hair.”

The grip on your drink tightens. 

“Nice,” you say through gritted teeth, gaze never wavering from the coasters. 

Yes, Rafe Cameron had a girlfriend. She was some hotshot golfer from Northern Carolina. You saw her in your communications lecture sometimes, sitting in the front row next to her posse of badly self-tanned girls with shining smiles and alcohol problems. She had sat next to you on the first day, passing you the syllabus with a snarky look on her face, and you had decided to hate her right then and there. It was a simple hatred, nothing personal, but when she came back to the Outer Banks with Rafe’s hand in hers, it got personal. 

Rafe was your highschool fling. He used to pick you up from school in his truck and you’d go out to the lighthouse or the beach by his house or his grandparents' summer home fifteen minutes away to hang out, have sex, or smoke. Usually all three. You two dated for nearly 10 months starting at the first semester of your senior year, and then he decided to break it off and focus on being a good son and good employee of his father’s. Whatever. Like he actually did anything of the sort— all he’d done while you were at college was hold his hand out to his father and snort coke with your hometown’s dealer. 

And then he has a girlfriend. A beautiful girlfriend, but you’d never admit it. You wonder if she has a cocaine problem too. 

You weren’t averse to drugs, no—in fact, you had a J with your breakfast nearly every day. But at least you weren’t dropping hundreds of dollars for fifteen minutes of a high every week. And at least you weren’t distracting yourself between the legs of a tall black-haired student athlete. 

Maybe you were bitter. 

“Two more,” says a breathless voice at the end of the bar, and you just let your eyes fall closed. Landon slaps at your arm without pulling his eyes from the TV, and you curse at him with a smack back. Asshole. 

“Y/N?”

You breathe in through your nose. Okay. Don’t act like you recognize him. 

You turn towards Rafe, a pleasantly blank look on your face, and purse your lips. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.” His perfectly tan face splits in a grin, and he comes around the corner of the bar towards you two. “Hey, Landon.” He daps up your brother, that stupid look still on his face, and just stands and looks at you for a second. He puts his hands on his hips, and your gaze follows them for a second before moving back up to his face, whip-fast. You see him catch it, the corners of his lips tugging up further. He sighs. “I see the Xanax finally caught up to you.”

“Ha!” You blurt loudly, a mocking smile on your face, and you look down to your feet. “That’s actually pretty ironic, sweetheart. You’ve got a little something.” You look him in his eyes and wipe at your nostril. The grin drops from his face. 

“Nice to see you again.” His tongue pushes at the spot between his teeth and his lip. “Just like old times. Still a bitch.”

“Still wasting your dad’s money.” You sip at your drink, lips around the straw. You catch him glance at them. Ha. Gotcha. “How’s, uh, Betsy King, over there?”

The black haired girl is sitting on the deck with her back to the bar, watching the hockey game on an outdoor TV. You watch her hair move in the wind for a moment, hating it. 

“Easier than you, believe or not.” Rafe stares at you. You snort. This is fun, you suppose. Just like old times, like he said. Biting conversation and secret glances at each others’ mouths. 

“Two whiskey sours?” Calls Joey from the end of the bar, eyebrows drawn when she doesn’t see her patron. Rafe glances back at you, chewing at his lip, but decides against whatever he was going to say. He just walks over and grabs his drinks and disappears back outside. You suck at the straw of your drink, coming up empty, and drop it onto the counter. Your head is buzzing. From the liquor, yes, but also from him. He makes you so angry—so stupidly and embarrassingly angry. That stupid face and stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid boat shoes. 

“That was nice,” says Landon, still focused on the TV, but you see his head turn slightly when you sigh. 

“Sorry.” You are, really. You’re supposed to be on your best behavior; it’s not every day your parents let you take your 16 year old brother to the country club to sit and watch you get drunker and drunker.

“Yeah.” He sounds annoyed, and you feel embarrassed.

You drain two more vodka sodas and call it a night. You spend your time staring at the array of liquors and mixers beneath you at the bar, making small talk with Joey about the island, and numbly watch the hockey players beat each other to death. Rafe comes back in for another drink an hour after your conversation, but you just ignore his eyes on your profile. 

“I’m gonna go pee, and then we’ll leave.” You heave yourself off of the stool, wincing at your sore ass, and nearly stumble. Shit. 

Landon says “okay”, eyes on his phone and texting, and you hobble towards the bathroom on steady feet. You avoid looking outside, knowing it will only aggravate you. 

The bathroom door slams behind you, too heavy for its own good, and the motion sensor lights kick on. You pee, staring up at the ceiling, and try to will away the pounding in your head and rippling vision. 

You scrub your hands after, desperate to rid them of the dirt and grime of your day, and try not to think about how you wish you could wash Rafe out of your life. You stare at yourself in the mirror with a paper towel between your hands. 

The girl in the mirror looks tired. You poke a finger at a pimple on your forehead, frowning. You just sigh. 

You turn towards the door and wrench it open, the smell of restaurant and something musky filling your nose before you step out, and you barely get a foot out the door. Two hands push at your abdomen, eerily familiar, and you stumble back into the bathroom with your eyebrows drawn in confusion. 

Rafe clouds your vision and your smell, hard chest at eye-level, and he reaches behind him to lock the door. 

You stare up at him, chest heaving and he looks down at you with those stormy eyes. 

“You’re aggravating, you know that?” He says, sounding exasperated, and seizes your waist in one large hand, pulling you to him. His mouth finds yours, familiar, and you feel his fingers on your warm cheek. You hate to admit it but your heart thumps loudly in your chest when you taste him. 

His other arm snakes around your hips and grabs at your ass. You fall into the hard counter of the sink vanity, and you hum pleasantly. 

“What about—about her?” You barely pull away to say, breathless, and he just pulls you back to him with his with strong fingers entwined in your hair. 

“Up,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you brace a hand on the sink and obey. He pushes between your legs and your arms wind around his neck. You just breathe each other in, blood pounding, pressed up against each other. 

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, and you push it up to feel his skin. He’s hot. Your fingers crawl up his abdomen and press to the center of his stomach, feeling it heave and push against your fingertips. He nearly flinches away at your cold fingers but is drawn closer when you make a noise into his mouth that reminds him of that time in the lighthouse where you had left with bruises around your neck and he with an ache in his hips. His hair is smooth when you drag a hand up to feel it, newly blunt and choppy. You like it all the same. 

His body has grown and matured while you’ve been gone. His shoulders are stronger, bulkier, and when you feel the flesh of his stomach it feels more alive. Like he’s been moving and working hard while you were gone. Maybe he has been. With her. 

You pull away at the thought. He chases you, fingers at your jaw, but you back up into the wall. He licks at his lips, a dangerous look in his eyes. He doesn’t like when he doesn’t get what he wants. 

“What’s her name?” You ask. He removes himself from your grasp, backing away. He drags a hand through his hair. When his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows are drawn and his lips screwed up as he chews at his lip. 

“Allison.”

“Do you love her?”

He barks out a laugh when you ask, hands pressed to the counter on either side of you, head bowed. 

“Love? Are you insane?” He looks back up at you, shaking his head. He heart skips a beat when he thinks of you two in high school, and then he thinks he might be insane. 

“Well, I’m currently in a family bathroom at the Island Club with you, so maybe.” You try a smile, but it falls when your eyes meet again. He thinks for a second. 

“You’d be in here with me even if I was fucking married to that girl.” He watches your expression change from somber to disbelieving. 

“You think?” Your eyebrows raise, incredulous, and watch as he nears you again and bows down to your eye level. You like to think you’re not the affair-woman. Well, you guess you might be. 

“I know so. Why do you think I told your brother to get you to come tonight?” His lips curl into a smirk. 

You just stare at him. Manipulative, psychotic, deranged, possessive. He’s all of the above and more. He slipped the idea into your goody-two-shoes 16 year old brother’s head to bring you to a bar and fuck him, and it makes your heart drop to your stomach. 

You grab at the collar of his shirt and tug him down to you. Your mouths connect with a hot breath into his mouth, and you arch up into him. His hands find your lower back and he drags you further from the wall, letting you carefully slide on the granite and fall onto your back. 

His large hands fumble with your pants, popping the buttons, and you crane your neck to watch as he tugs them down your legs, panties following with a slip of his thumb. He ducks to kiss you again and you hear his belt jingle. His fingers tug your shirt up and over your bra, and he grabs at a breast tightly as he jerks you down once more and pushes his dick into you. 

You cry out, fingers on his cheekbone, and arch up into him. He just hums into your mouth, liking the feeling of your muscles straining around him, and it feels just as good as it used to. Just as beautiful as you’ve always been. 

“Rafe,” you start, a breath caught in your throat. His nose brushes yours and he looks into your wide eyes. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Rafe’s head falls, and he groans into your neck. Fuck, you’re so hot. 

He grips your hips tight and pulls you away and then back, hips colliding with yours and prompting a pained noise from your mouth. He relishes in it. 

He slaps a hand at the wall above your head, using it as tension, and his hips move along with yours like they’re supposed to. It’s an uncoordinated dance, soft flesh rippling against hard muscle, and he pants into your mouth with the strain. 

“You feel so good,” he groans into your ear, and you squeeze around him in response. “Fuck.”

“Please,” you mumble, lips pressed haphazardly against his stubbly cheek. He smells so good. You curl an arm around his head, fingers brushing past his hair, and hold his head down by yours. 

The bathroom is loud with breaths and the sounds your bodies make, lewd and hurried. He huffs into your neck when he feels a pinch in his back and adjusts you further from the wall quickly. Nearly your entire ass is hanging off of the edge, precarious, but you know he won’t let you drop. His fingers around your back fall and he pushes his hand between your legs, seeking what you know he’s always been good at paying attention to. His large thumb finds your clit immediately, strumming you open, and your head falls back.

“You’re on the pill still?” He asks, fingers tight, and you close your eyes.

“Implant,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, but slap a hand over your mouth. His thumb strokes you in quick circles, and you’re cumming onto him embarrassingly quickly. Your abdomen tenses and you curl up into him. You feel your legs warm and you tighten them around his back, wanting him deeper as you fade into pleasure.

He grins at that, but it fades when his eyes squeeze shut and he’s bowing to touch his forehead to your chest. He bites at the bunched-up material of your shirt and pushes himself as deep as possible—so far that you can feel the flesh of your stomach move. He cums into you then, the release washing over his whole body and coating him in a sheen, and he nearly collapses on top of you. 

You two catch your breath, still connected, and he pants hot into your neck. 

“Fuck.” You struggle to swallow, nearly choking on an inhale. 

“Yeah.”

He rugs himself from you, wincing, and zips his pants back up. He offers you a hand and you take it, struggling to slide off of the counter and onto your shaky legs. He watches you slide your underwear back on, wiping his mouth, and enjoys the show. You get your pants back up but fumble with the button and zipper. 

“I hate this,” you mumble, eyebrows furrowed, and just give up with a roll of your eyes. 

“Here,” he half-chuckles, and easily zips you up and buttons you with nimble fingers. Fingers you know and love. 

Wait. 

Before you can think about that, he grabs your face in two hands and tilts you up to him, staring at your relaxed features. He admires you. And then he dips to kiss your mouth one final time, savoring how your lips move against him like they’re supposed to. Like they always have. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, breath cool on your lips, and you stare up at him with confused eyes. 

“What’s tomorrow?” 

“I’ll come over.” He shrugs, and reaches to unlock the door. It swings open, and he sweeps a hand to gesture for you to leave first. You pass the threshold, patting down your hair, and lock eyes with Allison when you emerge from the cove that has the entrance to the kitchen and the bathrooms. She looks confused. 

Guilt washes over your body, making your blood prickle at your skin, and you swallow. You walk straight past her piercing gaze, feeling Rafe pass you and go straight for the deck. You grab your jacket from next to Landon and feel for the keys. 

“Let’s go,” you say to your brother, voice quiet, and he nods. He follows you as you exit through the side door, heading for your parent’s SUV. You toss him the keys when you get to the passenger door and he secretly and silently fist pumps. 

“Did you talk to Rafe?”

Landon asks when he gets buckled and starts the engine. You sling the seatbelt over your torso and click it into place. 

“Yeah. He hasn’t changed.” You watch Rafe usher Allison out the side door, hand on her lower back, and you swallow. “Let’s go home.”

[waratah-vroom]

Question Mark (ln4)

✨ join waratah's (over) 100 follower celebration ✨ Made to order for sweet anon

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content, implied smut

Tagged: yourfriend Liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 15,481 others ynrussell00: happier than ever

Lando didn't drink during the season, he never had. Which is why you were so surprised to see him at the hotel bar the night before the race, settling himself onto the barstool next to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“A girl can’t get a drink alone?”

“She can, but she shouldn’t. What are you drinking, I’ll get you another.” He waved the bartender over and you told him your order.

“That’s awfully nice of you, Norris. They must be paying you the big bucks if you can afford to buy a $12 vodka tonic at the drop of a hat.”

He grined. You’d always liked Lando’s smile, the way it was slightly lopsided and showed the gap between his front teeth. It was the same smile he’d had since he was a kid.

“Alex told me you and Jack broke up.”

“Alex is a blabbermouth,” you didn’t look at him, too focused on stirring the ice cubes in your empty cup.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine. I broke up with him. There’s no hard feelings.”

He nudged your shoulder with his own, “I bet he has some hard feelings.” You raised your eyebrows at what must have been an intentional joke and he quickly said, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean he must have been a dick to lose you.”

“He was dick. Or at least he was sticking his dick in places where his dick didn’t belong so-”

“What a wanker.” You both thanked the bartender when he put your drink on a coaster in front of you and took away the empty glass.

“If you want to be nice then sure he was a wanker. I’d call him a cunt.”

Lando huffed, resting his chin on his hand. “Well I never liked him.”

“George said the same thing,” you took a sip of your drink and saw him watching you.

You’d known Lando for a long time, as long as George had been racing against him, but you’d never say you two were friends. He’d asked you for help getting his ex-girlfriend a present once, but that’s as far as your friendship stretched. “As much as I love talking to you, you don’t usually come to me unless you want something.”

“I feel like that’s a little unfair,” when he saw your blank expression he folded. “Okay, fine. I was thinking since we’re both single.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words inside your head before you turned your body so you’re fully facing him. “Just so I understand you correctly, you're wanting to have sex, right?”

“Yes.”

“Because we’re both single.”

“Yep.”

That was not what you had been expecting him to ask when he’d sat down next to you. “And I’m how far down the line of girls you’ve propositioned?”

“You’re the first.” When you didn't respond, he added, “I was planning on hitting up Charlotte if you didn’t work out- ow!” His lips fell into a pout and he gripped his shoulder where you’d hit him. “I’m joking, I’m joking.” He dropped his hand back onto the counter and begun twisting his bracelets. “At least tell me you’re considering it.”

You bit your lip, thinking. It’d been a couple of months since you’d had sex and you were getting frustrated. You knew Lando so it wouldn’t be awkward, and he was cute. You’d also never had any complaints when you’d seen him shirtless. “I’m considering it.”

“One night,” he said. “I promise I’ll make you come.”

As much as you’d like to have thought your standards were high, apparently that simple promise was all it took for you to say “fine.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Lando had kept his promise and then some.

When you’d come out of the shower after round three you had expected him to have gone, but instead you’d found him fast asleep in your bed.

He was still there when you woke up; his arm slung over your chest and most of the duvet covering his body. His face was pressed against the pillow as he snored softly.

You hated to break his slumber when he looked so soft, but you were cold. “You’ve stolen the duvet.”

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes still firmly shut.

“I’m freezing,” you tugged the duvet away from him and he startled, his eyes shooting open

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You pulled the blanket up to your chin. “You’re just a blanket hog.”

“Oh, sorry,” he seemed to be a bit more awake, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light streaming through the curtains. “What time is it?”

You tapped your phone on the nightstand and read “7:20.”

“Shit,” he jumped off the bed, fumbling to find his clothes. “I’m supposed to meet Carlos in ten minutes.”

“Downstairs?”

“He loves a hotel breakfast,” his laugh was shaky as he pulled his tee-shirt and hoodie over his head. He suddenly stopped when he saw you watching him. “Uh, so I had fun last night-”

You flattened your lips, trying to stop your smile. He was cute when he was flustered. “We don’t have to do this, Lando.”

“No, no, I want to. I really did have fun-”

“I mean we don’t have to do this right now. Go meet Carlos. I’ll see you after the race.”

His body relaxed. “Okay, okay. Good.” A strange look passed over his features, as if he was wrestling with an idea in his mind. He seemed to decide it was a good one because he reached across the bed and kissed you softly on the lips. “Wish me luck today?”

“Go,” you pushed his chest away, but you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. “Good luck idiot.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Lando had barely shut your hotel room door when he came face to face with George Russell.

He dug his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and hoped he looked casual and not like he’d just woken up in someone else’s bed, “hey mate.”

“Hey,” George’s eyes darted from Lando to the room number on the door. Putting two and two together he said, “that’s my sister’s room.”

There wasn't much Lando could say apart from, “yeah.”

“What were you doing in my sister’s room?” George’s voice was oddly calm, he even managed a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

There are a few ways Lando could answer George’s question. He could say he was dropping something off or he was stopping by to ask something. Instead Lando chose to confirm George’s worst suspicions. “I don’t think you wanna know.”

George’s face dropped. “What?”

“I’d love to stay and chat, mate, but I’m meeting someone so-”

“You fuck my sister and now you’re leaving? That’s so typically Lando, isn’t it. Is this your way of trying to get into my head before the race?”

Lando really shouldn’t have but he couldn't help laughing at the ridiculousness of what George was implying. “You think I slept with your sister as some sort of mind game to try and psych you out?”

George’s fists balled at his sides. “It’s not going to work.”

Lando nodded, wildly confused as to what was going through the other man’s brain, “alright.”

“My mind is an impenetrable fortress.”

“Is that a quote Lewis sent to your group chat?” When George didn't answer, Lando patted his back and said, “I’ll see you on the grid, mate.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“You fucked Norris?” Your brother didn't wait for you to answer before he pushed past you into your hotel room.

“Good morning to you too.”

“How could you do that? He’s my enemy!”

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You’d heard him complain about Lando hundreds of times, and almost every time was an overreaction. Like right now.

“You don’t understand, he’s my biggest rival. He’s always been. This is the worst thing that could happen to me-”

“Me sleeping with a driver that has less points than you is the worst thing that could happen to you?”

“It’s not about the points, it's about him trying to mess with my head! That’s the only reason he’s done this. He’s using you to get to me.”

You loved George, you really did. But it was times like this, when his ego was so overinflated, that made it difficult. “You sound insane.”

“No, listen, you don’t get it-”

“Oh I think I get it alright,” you crossed your arms, wholly unimpressed with your brother’s attitude. “You think the only reason someone would be into me is to get to you.”

“Not someone. Him!”

“You don’t think there’s a chance that Lando just likes me, without it having anything to do with you?”

He shook his head, “why would Lando like you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Wow, thanks George, thanks a lot.”

“It’s Lando!” If you weren’t fuming, you’d have found his flailing hands funny.

“Yeah, Lando. I’ve known him since you’ve been karting. We’re friends.”

“I don’t trust him.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I think you should go. Get ready for the race. I’ll see you in the paddock.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The race didn’t go in George’s favour. He blamed Lando, but you knew that George had a habit of working himself up without anyone’s help. It was a mechanical issue that led to his early retirement, but George was convinced Lando was at fault.

Lando did well, managing P6 with the help of a cascade of retirements and restarts, and he was in a great mood when he found you at the hotel restaurant later that night.

“I didn’t catch you in the paddock.”

“George has been refusing to talk to me so I left early.”

His smile dimmed and he pulled up the chair opposite you. “I didn’t think he’d react like this. I didn’t think he’d find out at all, actually.”

You fiddled with the napkin on your lap and sighed, “it’s not your fault. He’s just being childish.”

“He really hates me, huh?” Lando never thought he and George were best friends, but he never thought the other man hated him.

“He’s intimidated by you.”

“By me?”

If George wanted to have beef with Lando, the least you could do is tell Lando it existed. “Yeah, he has been for ages. I don’t know if he still does but he used to have google alerts set up for your name.”

“Really?”

You nodded, “I think it started when you got the McLaren seat and he went to Williams, even though he won F2. He thinks he deserved a better seat than you.”

“I knew he wanted the Mercedes seat earlier than he got it, but I didn’t know he was jealous of me.”

“It’s stupid. The whole thing is just this stupid rivalry he’s imagined up in his head to try and justify his shitty rookie season. I love my brother, but god he’s dramatic,” you huffed and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You know what he said to me when I left your room this morning? My mind is an impenetrable fortress.”

“That’s one of his favourites.” You both stared at each other before you burst out in laughter, only stopping when your cheeks finally started to ache.

Silence eventually fell over the table and Lando broke it with a croaky “about this morning. I had a really good time with you, but I don’t want to come between you and George-”

“I don’t care what George thinks,” you cut him off. As much as your brother’s words dug into your gut, you knew they weren't true and you definitely weren't going to let them stop you from seeing Lando again.

“Okay good,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Because it would kill me if I never got to fuck you again.”

“Romantic,” your eyes sparkled and something inside your stomach sprung to life.

“You want romantic? Let me take you on a date.” He grinned when he added, “that’d really piss George off.”

If he wanted to play, you could play. “That’s the only reason you want to take me on a date?”

His grin turned sheepish, apparently he wasn't actually as good at this as he thought. “No. I also maybe kinda like being with you.”

You nudged his foot beneath the table. Smirking, you said, “careful, Norris, someone might think you’re falling for me.”

Lando was in trouble.

“Would that be so bad?”

read more of my writing here

ﾟ｡ ⋆ mags' radio: this one got away from me girlies... way longer than I expected but I had so much fun writing it! I am actually obsessed with the Russell!reader x Lando dynamic⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

taglist: @fulla02reads @lazybot @rd14 @camillalarke @cool-ultra-nerd @xeliaaaa @azxulaa @hrlzy @ghosttwit @booksobsess @formulakay3 (if you're not highlighted I couldn't tag you. If you'd like to be removed from the tag list please send me a message.)

[ghostlytide]

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

[hyuckmov]

request #3: posessive dom!haechan smut, 18+ minors dni, some fluff wc: 4.4k content: dom haechan in general, temperature play (ice cubes), filming during sex, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstim, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, praise, light degradation (calls you doll etc), jealousy & possessiveness but ngl it wasn't that serious, marking, he slaps your ass once a/n: can't believe i was like i'm gna take a break from smut after gseb2 and immediately i wrote this...ngl this is just something silly for the dom haechan agenda </3 if i want ONE person to like this it would be that one anon who sent in that ask about dom hyuck i hope i did him justice. sorry about inconsistencies in tenses and poor transitions truly this is just something silly and fun and self indulgent. rlly hope this is hot. send me an ask/reply in tags if u liked it!

at the sound of the bedroom door opening, mark puts down his phone and thumbs lazily at the remote for the television. 

"hey, do you wanna finish that show we were talking about?" he asks, as haechan crosses the living room to head to the kitchen. 

"can't," haechan replies lightly. grabbing a waterbottle from the fridge, he takes a quick sip of water. "i'm taking care of y/n tonight." 

"oh." mark frowns, turning to look at haechan in concern. "is she feeling unwell?" 

a wry smile spreads across haechan's face as he starts to fill up an empty glass with ice. "something like that." 

"well…" mark blinks a few times, finally selecting a documentary about penguins to watch. "i hope she feels better soon." 

"don't worry about it, mark," he replies smoothly. closing the door to the fridge and strolling back to the room, he casts one more glance at mark. "i'll make sure she does."

x

haechan had been tucking you into bed, stroking your hair gently while he waited for you to fall asleep, when your hand wrapped around one of his slender fingers and tugged to get his attention. 

"haechan?" 

his movements slowed at your tone, the slightly breathy way you said his name usually a sign that you were feeling needier than usual, or slipping into a different headspace. "yes, baby?" and sure enough…

"i need you," you nuzzled your face into his chest, feeling embarrassed. "take care of me, please."

he cooed at how adorable you sounded, deciding to go easy on you tonight right then and there. "baby needs my help?" you nod, and he rubs at your shoulder gently as encouragement. "how long have you been waiting for me, angel?" 

"since dinner," you whisper. 

"good girl." he leaned down slightly to kiss the crown of your hair, when suddenly the sound of footsteps made him halt. 

outside, he could hear mark sink down into the couch in the living room. he must have left the guest room, waiting for haechan to join him after you'd fallen asleep. 

since dinner, you said you'd needed him. it made sense: haechan had been unable to keep his hands to himself the entire time, even with mark at the table — stroking your thighs, pulling you into his lap during dessert, feeding you bites off his spoon. the way he had babied you getting to your head, making you feel that familiar ache between your thighs. 

truth to be told, haechan had known exactly what he was doing, and he had done it for a clear purpose. it had been about a week since mark temporarily moved in because his apartment was getting renovated. and while it had been exciting at first to be living with both his girlfriend and best friend, he couldn't help but notice that mark liked to sneak glances at you from across the room, his voice melting with affection whenever he spoke to you. and he couldn't stop himself from pulling you closer when mark would talk to you in the kitchen, or keeping you in his arms during movie nights on the couch. 

the thought of mark, outside, oblivious to the current mood you were in, sent a thrill through haechan's body, settling deep in his gut. 

"haechan?" you look up at him, timidly, wondering what he was thinking to have this look on his face. "are you gonna…" 

"of course." 

x

taking care of you. he liked the sound of that — a sense of protectiveness swelling in his chest. you needed him to take care of you in a way that no one else could.   

now, closing the bedroom door, he takes in the sight of you on the bed. you'd taken off the shirt and sleep shorts you usually wore, leaving you in just a set of lingerie. it was the one reserved for nights when he would call you princess or angel, eating you out while you were laid up against the pillows, holding you tenderly as he praised you. 

you truly had no idea what was coming for you. 

"is mark outside?" you ask, nervously. 

annoyance flickers through haechan, causing him to straighten from where he leaned against the closed door. "why do you care?" he shoots back, tone a little harsher than you were expecting. 

you blink, surprised. "i just…" you hesitate. "so he'll just be alone tonight?" 

"would you rather he come in and join us?"

"no!" flustered, you try to get up from where you're kneeling on the bed, but haechan puts out a hand, motioning for you to stop. 

a moment passes. 

silently, he watches as you obediently rearrange yourself back into your original position, trembling slightly from your nerves. you were just so good for him. 

"no?" finally crossing over to you, he places his cup on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed next to you. reaching out a hand to play with the lace of your panties, he leans in close so you can't avoid his gaze. "you don't want mark to see you like this?" 

you shake your head. 

"but you look so pretty, baby." he frowns, mockingly, relishing the conflicted look on your face. "you don't want him to see how pretty you are?" 

"look pretty for you," you mumble, the words almost swallowed by your lips. "only want you to see." 

a genuine smile spreads across haechan's face. dipping his hand lower, his fingertips just brush the apex of your thighs, partially hidden from the way you were kneeling. "you act like such a good girl for me," he muses, watching the way your eyelashes flutter with need. 

"i am good for you," you plead, slowly inching your knees apart to give him access to your aching core. "haechan, can you please-"

he smiles at how needy you are, but even through the haze of your mind you can tell there's something sharp to it, his eyes burning you with a heavy stare. withdrawing his hand, he nods towards the pillows you'd arranged. "lie back, baby," he says, his voice quiet and controlled.

a pulse of what feels like both fear and arousal thrums through your body.

"hae-"

"i said i would take care of you, didn't i?" 

you swallow at the harshness in his voice, but you can't deny that it makes your skin feel warmer, and you're sure your lace panties are transparent by now. inching backwards, you lie down on the pillows and sigh as he finally tugs your panties down your legs, easing your knees apart and exposing you to him. 

gently, he begins to rub your clit in small circles, leaning down to suck bruises into your neck, marking you for everyone to see. gasping, your body feverish with pleasure, you roll your hips up into his hand, hoping he'll get the message and push his fingers inside you. 

"more, please," you whimper, and haechan indulges you, running a finger up and down your slit. 

"feels good?" 

slipping a finger inside you, he curls it against your walls, his thumb continuing to circle your clit. his other hand pulls down the cups of your bra, scraping his blunt nails over your nipples and pinching at them, something that never failed to make you moan out in sensitivity. 

but mark was outside. 

pushing your face into the side of your pillow, you manage to contain your sounds to a soft whine. your hips chasing his touch, you pant heavily as you try to beg haechan to bring you to your first climax. "fuck" you whisper, words punctuated by gasps as haechan adds another finger, trying to stretch you out. "i'm, fuck, haechan, i'm gonna-" 

but suddenly, haechan leans back and away from your body, his eyes narrowed. smearing your arousal on your upper thigh, he sucks off the remainder on his fingers, watching as your face falls with disappointment, movements jerky you sit up to look at him. 

"why-" 

"did that feel good, baby?" haechan tilts his head at you, eyebrows raised. 

"yes…" you try to close your legs as surreptitiously as you can, starting to rub your thighs together to relieve the feeling of achy emptiness. 

eyes downcast, he shakes his head condescendingly. "you were being so quiet, baby." he reaches out a hand to sweep your hair out of your eyes, messy from the way you were nuzzling your head into the pillow. "it made me sad," he murmurs.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, reaching out quickly to latch onto his hand. "i just… i didn't want mark to hear." 

he bristles at your words. mark this, mark that. mark will be alone tonight, don't want mark to hear. 

"you were thinking of mark as i was touching you?" he challenges. 

eyes widening, you take his words seriously, pushing yourself up and crawling into his lap. his arms come around to circle your waist as you throw yourself onto him, words tumbling from your mouth in a jumble of sounds. 

"not like that- i just- i want it to be- i didn't want him to- for you-" 

grabbing your chin, he interrupts you by kissing you heatedly, nipping at your lip. you part your lips for him, and he licks into your mouth, silencing every single one of your protests until you lose your train of thought completely. 

"don't worry, baby," he breathes, easing you back onto your back. "you're going to make it up to me now, okay?" 

your eyes focused on his, you nod. 

"good girl." reaching for the cup he'd brought over from the kitchen, he dips his fingers in and swirls them in the icy water. lifting his still dripping fingers out, he lightly brushes your inner thigh, grinning when he gets the exact reaction he wants, a loud wail tearing from your throat. 

he knew you got sensitive over cold temperatures easily, often surprising you by pressing his cold hands to the back of your neck, or freckling cool kisses on your stomach after sucking on an ice cube. it was for this reason that he rarely used ice when playing with you in bed — the way you'd squirm from his touch and the slew of sounds you would make becoming more of an inconvenience. 

but tonight, it was exactly those sounds that he wanted to hear from you. 

taking out an ice cube, he rubs it lightly on your chest and over your nipples, a hand shooting out to pin you to the bed as your back arches and your body twists. "do i need to tie you down, doll?" he muses, watching the ice cube melt against your hot skin, your muscles tense and trembling as you whine loudly at the pet name. 

you mouth words that mean nothing as he rubs a fresh ice cube on your navel, inching closer to the apex of your thighs. you buck your hips, threatening to unseat him, but he only pins you down even more firmly with his body, your sensitivity manifesting in a loud moan of his name that seems to bounce around the walls of the room. 

"so sensitive…" he muses, easing two fingers inside you, making sure you could feel the icy coldness of his fingertips. you let out another cry, choked breaths stuttering as he pumps them in and out of you, enjoying the way your arousal leaked out all over his hand. 

"louder," he demands. carefully picking a partially melted bit of ice from the cup, he presses it into your clit harshly, and you let out a scream, torn between the pleasure his fingers were giving you and the sting from the cold. 

"you think mark knows what we're doing right now?" he spits, pulling out his fingers from your core. when you don't respond, he gives your swollen clit a harsh flick, and you moan, barely able to understand what he was saying. "answer me, doll."

slowly, you try to recall his question. "n-no," you stutter, breath uneven and throat sore from screaming. 

"really?" he laughs lowly. crawling away from your grip, he pushes your legs up until your feet are planted on the bed, his arms snaking around your thighs to hold them in place. taking another piece of ice in his nimble fingers, he begins to rub your clit with it, shushing you as you start to tear up. 

"should i give you more, then? make sure he gets the message?" slowly, he starts to slip the piece lower and lower, teasing you over your slit, eyes watching for your reaction. 

you start to cry in earnest, sobs wracking through your body. "more-" you cry out, hands reaching down to grasp his arms, wanting to cling onto him. "more please, i wanna cum so bad-" 

and so haechan decides to give you exactly what you want. 

pushing the piece of ice into you, he chases it quickly with his tongue, his neck shuddering as he delights at the taste of you in his mouth, his plush lips parting so he could lap at you messily. angling his face so his nose bumped into your clit, he reaches blindly for the cup of ice, impatiently upending its contents all over your sopping wet cunt. he lets out a groan just as you scream, the feeling vibrating through you and causing your hips to lift up. 

grazing his teeth over your clit, you barely make out his command for you to cum before you're releasing all over his mouth and chin, the feeling flooding over you as he helps you ride out your climax. licking gently at your folds, he releases you from his grip the moment your body stops shaking, climbing up the bed to pull you into his arms, aware that he'd pushed you a little harder than usual this night.

he lets you curl yourself into his side, the rush of adrenaline not yet faded as you continue to sniffle quietly, your legs tangled with his. brushing your hair away from your face, he gently wipes you dry with a warm towel, apologising softly when goosebumps erupt on the surface of your skin from the residual coolness of his touch. 

"you okay, baby?" he asks, tentatively. 

dazed, you nod, holding onto him even more tightly and hoping the heat from his body would seep into yours. 

"cold?" tugging his shirt off, he pulls it gently over your head, dragging the blanket over for good measure. "you did so good for me today, baby." 

you hum in pleasure, pressing light kisses to his bare arms as you feel your heartbeat ease, content for the moment to be cuddled by your boyfriend. 

next to you, haechan continued to stroke your back as he slipped his phone from the nightstand to check the time. but the moment his lockscreen lit up, he saw that he had several unread messages sent around 20 minutes ago. 

all from mark. 

mark, 10.59pm: dude is she ok? she sounds like she's in real pain mark, 10.59pm: do you need me to go get medicine or smth  mark, 11.00pm: oh  mark, 11.00pm: fuck nevermind 

"haechan?" pushing yourself up to get his attention, you tap his shoulder lightly. 

distracted, he turned towards you, eyes still glued to the words on his phone. "hm?" 

"i…" you can feel the arousal inside you begin to mount in pressure, the sensitivity between your legs fading off into the familiar ache when you realised that he hadn't even fucked you yet. "more, please?" 

surprised, he gives you his full attention, putting his phone back on the nightstand and draping his arms over you. "you want to keep going?" 

nodding, you push yourself into his hold. "please. you don't have to be gentle, –" you cut yourself off, embarrassed. "i can take it," you mumble, hoping he wouldn't tease you. 

but haechan only smiles at you proudly. "you're perfect," he holds your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly, languidly. you feel your mind turn to mush, your body beginning to squirm in his touch, trying to push his thigh in between your legs as your whole body heats up. 

getting the message, haechan shoves the blanket away, rolling on top of you and caging you in with his arms. he surveys your neck, already littered with marks from before, and dips his head down to nip at your collarbone. you're a mess underneath him, your legs wrapping around his waist and grinding up on him, feeling his hardness through his sweatpants. 

"please," you whine, scrabbling at his back and trying to push his face out from your neck, needing him to help you. 

he groans at how fucked out you sound. "give me a second, baby. i wanna try something." 

clambering out of bed, he crosses over to the table, fumbling with something you can't see, your view obstructed by his broad shoulders. when he turns back to you, you see his new camera clutched in his hands. he'd bought it recently, excited to get into photography, taking any and every opportunity to take photos of you and whatever you were doing. it was endearing, yes, and adorable, but right now the way he's looking at you through the lens is sending shockwaves of arousal down your spine. 

"so fucking perfect," he breathes. sliding back onto the bed, he grabs your chin gently, looking at you carefully. "if i let you ride me, can i film you, baby?" 

"yes," you blurt out, a little too eagerly. tugging at his pants, you manage to free his hard cock, slapping up against his navel. the tip looking angry and red, you eagerly spit in your hand and start to stroke his shaft, relishing the weight of him in your palm. 

haechan indulges you, leaning back against the headboard as he sighs and lets out a string of pretty moans. "my little fuckdoll," he croons. "you'd do anything as long as i give you my cock, right? you'll let me film you, tease you…fuck-" his hips rut into your hand as you start rubbing at his tip, covering it with your fingers. the camera jolts, and he uses his other hand to steady his wrist. you smile down at his lap, a small look of triumph on your face. 

reaching out, he grabs your face, making you look at him. 

"had your fun, doll?" slapping your hands away, he reaches out to prod at your folds with his fingertips, laughing meanly when his fingers come away glistening. "so wet, just from touching me?" sucking on them casually, he picks up the camera again, hitting the record button this time before panning down slowly to where you hover over his cock. 

"sit" he orders, watching through the tiny screen as you rub his tip between your folds, teasing your clit before slowly sinking down on him just as he had commanded. 

as you place your hands on his chest to steady yourself, he takes a moment to thank whoever recommended him the camera, the high quality images practically dripping with sin as they take in every detail — the muscles in your thighs trembling, your shaky breathing as you feel him deep inside you. you roll your hips a few times experimentally, moaning softly at how good it feels to be filled by him. without waiting for permission, you start to slowly rise up and down on him, whimpering when you feel his tip brush your soft spot, making your legs feel weak. 

"haechan-" you plead, wondering why he wasn't moving or reacting to you, needing him to touch you like he usually did whenever you rode him. 

but haechan had his eyes fixed on the camera, resolutely pretending his cock wasn't throbbing inside your heat. he wanted to get you desperate, to put on the best show for the video. "what's the matter, doll?" slumped on the pillows, he barely flicks his eyes up from the screen, looking at you through his lashes. "you're gonna have to try harder if you want my attention." 

the words swirl around in your gut, your cheeks feeling hot. fucking yourself down harder on him, you start bouncing on him in earnest, setting a fast pace. you see his body tense, cock twitching inside you, but still he resolutely stares at the camera screen, zooming in on where your bodies connect, your arousal smearing all over his lap messily. 

your movements grow more frantic on him as you tire, pathetically moving your hips this way and that, no longer able to lift them. clumsily, you try to steady yourself with one hand, the other moving to your clit and rubbing at it jerkily. haechan hisses as your movements cause you to clench around him even harder, finally straightening up and looking at you. 

a hand darting out to grab your hip roughly, he begins to thrust upwards into you expertly, ramming his cock into the one spot he knew you liked. "got so needy for the camera, doll," he pants, barely minding how shaky the footage was getting, his brain completely focused on the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure. "did you like putting on a show? touching yourself?" 

gripping onto his shoulders, you let a moan rise from your chest, surrendering fully to his control. displeased at your lack of response, he slaps your ass to bring you to attention, rubbing the spot with his hand as you wail. 

"you gonna cum for the camera?" he coaxes, eyes checking the screen to make sure you were still in frame. 

you nod, furiously, so desperately close. haechan can feel the way you spasm around him, your movements jerky and erratic, fingernails digging in his shoulder-blades hard enough to leave marks. leaning in, he licks at one of your nipples, sucking the firm bud into his mouth and scraping it with his teeth, and it's that feeling that tips you over the edge, cumming so hard around him that black spots dance in your vision. 

underneath you, haechan lets go too, letting out a low moan as your walls hug his cock, milking him of all his cum. continuing to thrust shallowly, haechan lets go of the camera in favour of holding you in his arms, rocking you back and forth until he physically can't move his hips from the sensitivity any longer. 

"you okay?" he murmurs into your hair, arms smoothing over yours. 

"yeah," you whisper back, smiling contentedly. 

"perfect." slotting your lips with his, he gives you a gentle kiss, pushing you gently onto your back. kissing you again, you feel a slight urgency to the pressure of his lips, as his hands start to roam your body again. 

"haechan…" you sigh as he licks into your open mouth, and you feel his body lift off yours as he moves to kneel between your legs. "wait, i don't know if i-" 

but haechan is groping around the bed blindly for the discarded camera, his eyes focused on your sopping wet cunt, stuffed full of his cum. "so pretty," he mumbles to himself. "fuck. you're so hot, baby."

your breath hitches as he finally locates the device, the red blinking light indicating that it was still recording. puffy lips pouted in concentration, his tongue poking into his cheek, his eyes go dark as he zooms in on the sight, making sure the camera captured everything. suddenly flustered at the scrutiny, you shuffle your legs, trying to close them, but haechan's hand shoots out to pin your thighs exactly where they were. 

"don't be shy, baby…" he breathes, fingers straying towards your swollen and abused pussy. you grip onto his arm but it's no use, he's already dipping his fingers into your slit, pushing his cum back into you. 

"please," you beg, "'m sensitive, it's…i don't think…" but your words die on your tongue, pleasure starting to overtake the pain again as he slips in another finger, making scissoring motions, monitoring his ministrations completely through the screen. 

"sorry, fuck, sorry, i just…" his thumbs comes up to press your clit softly, applying a pressure that makes you keen. "sorry," he blurts out again, curling his fingers and pushing them deeper in, "just one more time baby, i need to see it one more time…" 

granting his wish, you cum all over his hand, a mixture of his and your juices gushing out of you, your walls fluttering around his fingers, until he could barely move them inside you. haechan's moans rival yours, his pupils blown out and curse words falling freely from his throat at the lewdness of the images on his screen, he can hardly believe his eyes.

there's a pause as the two of you are left speechless, the room filled with nothing but wet sounds and heavy breathing. switching the camera off, haechan lowers it slowly to the bed, eyes trained on you.

"so…" you reach for him, and he slumps down into your arms, pulling you close for what feels like the umpteenth time that night. 

"so…" he repeats back at you. 

"so what are you going to do with the video?" 

x

"mark, can you help me grab my camera from my room?" 

"uh, sure okay, hold on-" shuffling into haechan's bedroom, mark spots the camera on the bedside table. it still seems to be turned on, paused on the thumbnail of the last video it took.

and mark doesn't mean to look, it's just that the screen is right there. 

and it very clearly shows an image of you, sinking down on haechan's cock, one of his distinctive hands gripping your waist possessively while the other presumably holds the camera. 

"did you find it?" 

haechan breezes into the room, and mark jumps, fumbling and dropping the camera onto the bed where it bounces a few times. 

"fuck, sorry-"

"- woah, be careful. it's expensive." 

haechan picks up the camera, and takes a long exaggerated look at the still lit-up screen, eyes widening dramatically. "jeez, mark. you're such a perv" 

"i didn't-" 

"-like wow, mark. that's private." a serious look on his solemn face, haechan turns the camera off. "it'll upset y/n if she knew you were watching her." 

"i wasn't watching-"  "don't tell her you saw this video, okay?" turning and walking out of the room, he casts one more look back at mark, the slightest hint of pride tinting his voice as he adds, "it's mine." 

taglist: @91qowngus, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @matchahyuck, @prdshobi

[starberry-cupcake]

Alrighty, here we are again

previously, in harrowcita the ninth:

this happened

currently, after ch. 2 (once again, I wanted to read more but realized these notes were too long):

first off, I need to point out something very important

reading the first part of gideon, this was how the dynamic of her and harrow felt like, from gideon's pv in the first chapter or two

this is what it actually was like, now that I have harrow's pv

so, now that we've cleared that up, let me tell you about the emperor

I don't know about this guy

something's not adding up for me

I feel like he's either lying, telling half-truths that benefit him or he doesn't know what he's doing

and none of those options are very god-tier

he's also constantly going like "harrow, I'm gonna let you choose" and five minutes later he's "oh, actually, you never had a choice to begin with, I'm so sorry about that"

I don't think you're sorry if you've done it like 3 times since we've met you

maybe say what you actually mean, unless you're full of lies

he takes harrow on a walk through the clown death star ship he's got going on

and takes her to his coffin hangar

shows her coffins of the people he made to send to the ninth

the new ninth people

aiglamene is gonna have to work overtime

(I can't believe I've never forgotten her name)

and then there's coffins for all the little friends we made in canaan house

:) ♥

except there are a bunch missing people

let me just note the info we got

the second says "no human remains inside"

last we saw them, martita was KO and judith was bleeding to death

nobody from the third as well, and we already have suspicions about wtf is happening with these parsley and cilantro twins

from the sixth, one is empty because CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD GODDAMMIT

the other one has little pieces of palmolive in it

me picking up the pieces of palmolive from the decor of canaan house

there is one coffin for not!dulcinea

the emperor guy says he's taking her with the other lyctors

as long as he flushes afterwards, it's fine

we are, by the way, trying very hard to not mention gideon ever, apparently

just wanna point out real quick that THERE'S A LOT OF PEOPLE UNACCOUNTED FOR and this guy is GOD so he's doing a terrible job

or he's not saying all he knows

or both

all this time, ice cube barbie is tagging along

ice cube barbie is harrow's babadook, which I stan tbh

since she's here to stay, let me show you another pic of that doll because it's my favorite from the haunted beauty collection

so, the emperor starts telling harrow what they're fighting against (or escaping from) and where they came from

this man explains what he wants and leaves out what he wants

at one point, when harrow asks something like "how will you explain all the dead people?" he goes like

he asks harrow about death and the process of it and she says, at one point:

"In cases of apopneumatic shock, where death is sudden and violent, the energy burst can be sufficient to countermand osmotic pressure and leave the soul temporarily isolated. Whence we gain the ghost, and the revenant."

this is important for the later conversation about revenant beasts, which are the things that the emperor is having trouble with

but I highlighted it because I am adding it to my notes of "reasons why gideon could be not dead forever"

I am holding on to all the hope I can get

because if sudden violent death can leave the soul temporarily isolated and not do the due process of transitioning to the river or whatnot

and gideon isn't within harrow or whatever

maybe

maybe she's somewhere else

I don't know, let me have this, don't tell me anything, just

LET ME HAVE THIS

so yeah, basically the story is that the emperor is running away from nine revenant beasts, which were created during the resurrection, when a planet was blasted off

nine beasts like nine houses

there's three left now

I don't know about all of this, you guys

I don't have enough context and I don't trust this guy here

how do I know where we stand in all this?

what if he's not the good guy and what he did was some planetary bullshit to begin with?

what if the other side is the good guys?

what if he's killed by one of our heroes? like harrow or gideon or camilla?

because he's actually a false god jerk?

what if I kill him????

and then we have two last important things

first, barbie ice cube speaks now

love that for her

then, very crucial

the non-gideon mentioning seems to be a Thing

I don't know if I'm understanding correctly but

the emperor mentions ortus

ortus, the one we knew, our old pal from the ninth

and I got the feeling, idk if I got it, that he just assumed ortus was the cavalier she had with her

because 1) he didn't go down there and 2) no body was recovered

and then harrow also mentions ortus, but she says he "died thinking it was the only gift he was capable of giving" and that she "wasted it" and idk if she did that because she's blocking sad memories, she's confused because she's Not Doing Great Mentally Right Now, she doesn't wanna tell the emperor what actually happened, or all three

there's stuff about ortus I don't know, but that sounds to me more like what gideon said than what ortus "Got Blown To Bits With Mom In Ship" did

and then the emperor says his name again with suspicion and I'm like

I think this clown doesn't know

I think he doesn't know about gideon

I think he doesn't know about gideon or who gideon actually is

which we don't know yet either but it's probably important

because she's hercules, as previously established

I think maybe gideon is an outlier

an important planetary outlier

I have hopes

also, another day without camilla

god (not this one) I hope I can make shorter recaps but there's so much happening, I'm so sorry

[twstbookclub]

Slowly, Surely, Sadly

Summary: Who would've thought one smile could make you like someone? Of all people, you never expected to fall for Riddle—not after his overblot. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Slow Burn, Minor ADeuce Shenanigans again, Unrequited (maybe not, who knows?) Feelings, Spoilers for Book 1 if yall haven't finished it Word Count: 3, 304 This is my first time writing full-on angst. I already had this plot in mind last April, but this was my only chance to finally write it all down. I hope I did my job, and I'm sorry also not sorry for the feels. I was running on 5 hours of sleep and a hopeless romantic playlist when I wrote this. I hope yall enjoy, though 💕

Whenever you looked at Riddle, the memory of his swollen cheek and tear-brimmed eyes overlapped with his stern expression. Even with the constant lectures and helicopter parenting becoming less frequent, you could never forget his ruthless reign over Heartslabyul. His first impression was that of a tyrannical and merciless ruler, and you’d never forget that.

Yet, you could never forget how he looked like a lost child in a garden of roses when Ace punched him that day.

“Would you like to sample one of our teatime treats, Prefect?”

Riddle’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts. Your eyes darted from your teacup to the housewarden. An expectant yet patient smile curled his lips, which was a stark contrast to his natural frown. Your eyes lingered on the smile on his cherubic face.

“Sure,” you answered, somewhat in a daze. You took a sip of your tea, before your nose scrunched a little. Before Riddle noticed your grimace, you put the teacup down and dropped three sugar cubes in your drink.

You didn’t miss the amused twitch of Riddle’s lips from the corner of your eyes. This action would have earned you a reprimand and a lecture on one of hundreds of Heartslabyul’s rules. After his overblot and the incident in the rose garden, Riddle was becoming more lenient.

“You should mind your sugar intake—” Well, he’s still working on the leniency, but he’s trying— “Do you prefer a tart, a cupcake, or a cookie? Maybe you’d like to try a slice of today’s cake?”

You gave Riddle your preferred dessert, then you watched him reach over the table. Dainty, gloved fingers curled around the dish, before he brought it to you. You gave a brief nod and a mumble of thanks, before you took a bite of the treat.

“...!” You quietly moaned from the sweet taste that melted on your tongue. With a hand on your cheek, you slowly chewed to savor the sugar that graced your tastebuds. Your eyes seemed to sparkle as you dug into more of the dessert.

“It’s so good!”

You didn’t miss the satisfied smile on Riddle’s face, still cherubic and radiant. Amidst the chatter and raucous noise in this week’s Unbirthday party, you somehow heard the hint of pride in the red-haired sophomore’s words.

“Of course, that’s to be expected. Trey’s baking skills are the best in Heartslabyul—possibly in the entirety of Night Raven College.” Riddle paused, before softly adding, “I prefer his strawberry tarts, though. It’s a shame he couldn’t make any for today.”

The wistfulness in that tone of his made you pause. As Riddle took his own sip of tea, you couldn’t look away from him.

One afternoon, you marched through the silent corridors of the arcane academy. Heavy footfalls echoed in your ears, as if to mock you. The reminder of why you were wandering the halls alone made you frown.

“Where the hell are you, Grim?” You mumbled, head turning left and right, as you stomped. All the doors were closed shut, and voices could be heard through them. You doubt this area had an empty classroom at the moment.

Professor Crewel’s scowl and his whip flashed in your mind. As much as you loved Grim and his snark, you’d rather not face the wrath of the dog-loving professor. Brows furrowing, you grumbled again, “If he skips alchemy lessons again, I’m going to wring his neck and—”

“Prefect?” The gentle voice forced you to a halt, and you blinked at Heartslabyul’s warden in front of you. Riddle looked at you with a raised brow, before he crossed his arms and tapped his heel on the floor.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you, but…” He paused, eyes roaming your face. “You don’t seem to be in a good mood, and your class is about to start. I passed by Ace and Deuce heading towards Professor Crewel’s classroom earlier.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and sighed. You were already on good terms with the housewarden, and you’d rather not get collared for misdirecting your annoyance.

“Hi Riddle,” you greeted with a small, strained smile to be polite. “I’m actually looking for Grim. I lost him in the crowd during the lunch rush, and well…”

You tried so hard not to curse the lovable, annoying puffball. Another heavy sigh left your lips with a shake of your head. The strained smile became an apologetic one. Riddle stared at you, most likely scrutinizing something about you. Maybe he was judging you for letting Grim get away.

“I shouldn’t be keeping you here. It’s nice to see you, though—”

“Hold on,” Riddle stepped closer and reached for your tie, “your tie is crooked. Let me fix it for you.”

You held your breath, biting your tongue to stifle any surprised noises. The red-haired sophomore was too focused on fixing your tie to notice your reaction. His knuckles brushed your chest as he tightened the knot, and you tensed. He didn’t even ask for permission. He just took initiative, and it reminded you of a doting yet strict mother for some reason.

“You should be more conscious of your appearance,” Riddle reminded kindly while smoothing the creases of your uniform coat. He stepped back and seemed satisfied with his intervention. His lips stretched into a satisfied smile again, and you couldn’t look away.

“Now, off you go. Professor Crewel isn’t forgiving when it comes to tardiness.”

“R-right,” you stuttered with a faint warmth on your cheeks. You were tempted to slap yourself for losing composure like this, but you wanted to keep your dignity. Riddle would think you lost your mind if you did.

“Thanks, Riddle.”

His smile softened, yet it grew wider. The sharp and scrutinizing gaze melted into one of appreciation. Your heart skipped a beat. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Something fuzzy and warm filled your chest as you stared at Riddle. Your fingers twitched, as if longing to touch Riddle in some way.

It was ridiculous, but you didn’t dislike the feeling either.

“You’re welcome. If you’ll excuse me, I should be heading to my own class. I wish you luck, Prefect.”

He skirted around you in one, fluid motion. The click of his heels echoed in the empty corridor as you watched him go. His short figure carried a sense of dignity and pride, something that used to terrify and annoy his wards in Heartslabyul.

It used to intimidate you, but you couldn’t look away from him now. Even when Riddle turned a corner and disappeared, you couldn’t stop staring.

Ever since that day, you couldn’t stop noticing these things about Riddle. His entire face brightened, eyes glittering and cheeks flushing pink, when presented with a strawberry tart. Whenever he smiled, his gray irises seemed to hide behind the chub of his cheeks. He always looked red in the face whenever he was embarrassed, but the addition of a scowl and wide eyes showed his anger instead. His voice always raised in pitch, becoming less gentle and more crazed, whenever he became agitated and enraged. He even lost his formality and courteousness at that point: language becoming more crude yet still refined.

One day, while preparing for a game of croquet, you pointed out how happy Riddle seemed when he took care of the hedgehogs. Ace shot you a weird look. Deuce looked perplexed, lost even, when his eyes darted to you.

“Really?” He asked, looking between Riddle crouched on the ground and you who looked surprised. “He doesn’t look any different. How could you tell?”

Brows furrowed in confusion, you told them, “It’s not obvious, but he’s smiling. See? His eyes look brighter when he looked at the hedgehogs, too. Oh, and there’s the fact that he gently pets their heads with a finger. He’s avoiding touching their quills, and he’s trying not to agitate the tiny things.”

There was a long, uneasy stretch of silence that followed your answer. After a moment, Ace’s stunned look shifted into a mischievous grin. Deuce mirrored his expression, and it reminded you of that one time he lost his composure and beat up a pair of upperclassmen.

“Huh, really?” There was an intrigued and knowing tone in the redhead’s voice. Meanwhile, Deuce turned to look at Riddle as if to verify your observation. Although, the ravenette was still grinning, as if he knew something you didn’t.

In that moment, you realized you were screwed—so, so screwed.

Upon seeing your confusion warp into a crestfallen and horrified realization, Deuce clapped a hand on your shoulder with a snicker.

“Looks like the Prefect has a crush,” he teased, but you wanted none of it. Ace followed with an incredulous yet amused, “Really? Housewarden Riddle? Strict and overbearing Housewarden Riddle? Oh, your standards are buried six feet under, Prefect.”

A hand smacked Deuce’s own off your person, and you began to stumble over your words. Both lovable yet annoying idiots laughed it off, while you half-heartedly threatened them with a raised fist.

“Shut up, or I swear to the Seven—!”

Ace and Deuce laughed louder, nearly howling and sniggering in delight. As they clutched their stomachs and you grabbed the collars of their uniforms, Riddle’s confused and curious stare was left unnoticed.

Riddle continued to invite you to their weekly Unbirthday parties as an honorary guest. He still offered you desserts with little to no comment on your sweet tooth. He still fussed over your appearance whenever you two passed each other in the halls. He always gave you a subtle smile, despite his stern demeanor. The more you spent time around the housewarden, the more dread weighed in your stomach.

You couldn’t ignore the flutters of your heart, how it flipped and did cartwheels whenever Riddle treated you kindly. No matter what he did, you always felt like you were floating and walking on clouds.

You still longed to touch him—maybe brush back a stray strand that fell over his forehead. You wanted to know how it felt to hold his hand. Maybe even take a stroll in Heartslabyul’s rose maze with him, hand-in-hand and talking about anything. You wanted to spend teatime alone with him. You wanted to see him smile after taking a bite of a strawberry tart you made for him. You wanted to gaze at the moon and the stars with him in the comfort of Riddle’s dorm room, just sitting together in that window alcove with pillows and blankets.

You wanted to do so much more with Riddle, but the large mirror before you spelled the end of your hopes and dreams.

“Well, Prefect,” Crowley began with a jovial tone, which was a stark contrast to the despair that gripped your heart, “I found a way for you to return to your world. After long, grueling hours of searching for the solution, I fulfilled my promise to you, and I even gathered your friends here for a heartfelt farewell.”

You called bullshit on that, but you still appreciated Crowley’s effort. True to his word, all of the people you befriended surrounded you in the Mirror Chamber. The occasion was treated as a formal one, if their dorm uniforms didn’t make a statement already. Everyone had varying degrees of restrained emotion, as you stood before the mirror that led to your home dimension.

Grim stood behind you with clenched paws and glassy eyes. You spotted Ace and Deuce grinning, but there was a hint of a strain in their smiles. Kalim was close to bursting into tears. Leona stared at you with a neutral look and a hand on his hip, but the harsh dig of his fingers told you otherwise. Azul wore his usual smile, one reserved for business, and Jade had a polite smile as well. Floyd didn’t share the same sentiment. The more capricious Leech brother scowled as if he ate Lilia’s cooking after being promised a tasty meal.

You didn’t dare look at Riddle. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You can’t.

Crowley spread his arms with a self-satisfied smile that both irked and endeared you to him. “Aren’t I a magnanimous and gracious headmaster to do something like this for you?”

He made a show of spinning on his heel and walking towards the doors to the Mirror Chamber. With a flamboyant wave of his hand, he exclaimed, “I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes and well-wishes. However…”

Crowley looked at you from over his shoulder, and your throat tightened at the soft smile that curled his lips.

“It was a pleasure to have you here, Prefect. I would’ve loved for you to stay until graduation, but alas. I wish you all the best once you return home.”

The last thing you saw was a swish of his cape, before a heavy weight nearly toppled you to the ground. Tan, bejeweled arms hugged your waist as a loud bawl harshly rang in the room. You didn’t even need to look to see that it was Kalim blubbering through his tears. Jamil’s alarmed voice echoed in your ears, and that seemed to be everyone’s cue to surround you.

Tearful farewells, wistful wishes, and unfulfilled promises filled the enclosed space. Grim clung to you all this time, all the while mewling and whining about how he’d lose his henchman.  Still, he was crying his eyes out. The large mirror was obscured from your sight, as if the unusual group of friends you made during your time here intended this. You couldn’t help but laugh—a bittersweet sound—as everyone tried to get a word in with you. Even Malleus came to say his goodbyes, though he seemed more reserved than usual.

Then the dreaded moment came: Riddle approached you with that same smile, the gentle and subtle one he always graced you with. Everyone who noticed the shift in mood somehow left space for you and the Heartslabyul housewarden to talk. You almost giggled when you overheard Jade scold Floyd for whining about this.

You forced your smile to widen, even if your eyes stung and your throat tightened again. Your voice cracked at the end, but that could be mistaken for holding back tears.

“Hi, Riddle,” you whispered as you felt your throat tighten more, “I guess I’m leaving before I could have another Unbirthday party with all of you. I was so excited to try the macarons, too.”

The gentle smile became forlorn, and it reminded you of that time he lamented over not having strawberry tarts in that one Unbirthday party. A twinge in your heart made your breath hitch, but you hoped Riddle wouldn’t notice.

“It’s a shame, really,” he told you with a falter in his smile. The corners of his lips hitched up, as if that never happened in the first place. “I wanted you to try some tea from the Queendom of Roses as well, but… that may never happen now.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, finding it hard to breathe. The sting in your eyes worsened. Some invisible hand squeezed your heart, as if threatening to puncture the fragile thing with its talons. You maintained your composure as much as you can.

You couldn’t help but admit, “I wish I could have more time with all of you.”

I wish I had more time with you.

“I wish I could watch the third-years graduate. I wish I could see all of us graduate here, even if I don’t have magic.” You chuckled, and you found yourself with loose lips around Riddle.

“I want to have more Unbirthday parties with everyone in Heartslabyul. I want to have lunch with everyone in Mostro Lounge. I want to watch the next interdorm Spelldrive tournament and cheer for your guys. I want to spend Christmas and welcome the New Year with everyone. I want a lot of things, but… Well, I’m going home.”

Riddle’s smile slipped, and you watched him visibly swallow with a subtle frown. Even when he wasn’t smiling, he still had a gentle look on him.

“Who knows, Prefect? Maybe there will come a time when we find a way for you to visit and vice versa.” Riddle sounded so unsure, so hesitant, in his reassurance. Still, you appreciated it.

You ignored how much your heart hurt and your jaw clenched when he said that.

“I hope so.” Chuckling, you kept your arms to yourself as you smiled at Riddle. He was becoming a blur of red, white, and gold. Warm tears already spilled down your cheeks, before you even realized what was happening.

You couldn’t see his reaction, but you raised a hand to wipe away your tears. While the heel of your palm rubbed your cheek, you mumbled, “Sorry. I just…”

A white handkerchief was offered to you, and you took it with murmured gratitude. Your eyes were drawn to the embroidered initials of Riddle’s name on the corner. The cloth felt soft on your skin, and you found some comfort in that.

“Keep it,” Riddle told you with that smile again, “so that you would remember me every time you see it.”

Your mind blanked at his words. Riddle referred to himself rather than everyone in Heartslabyul, even everyone in NRC. Heart fluttering and throat tightening, you resisted the urge to sob. Hope came as a surge of warmth and the weight of dread in your chest.

Not now. Not when I’m leaving.

With a smile, melancholic yet bright, you dabbed away the last of your tears and tucked the handkerchief into your uniform pocket. A burst of courage let you wrap your arms around Riddle in a hug with a whispered, “Thank you. I’m going to miss you—all of you.”

I’m going to miss you more.

Normally, Riddle would be flustered at the sudden gesture of affection. You expected a loud stutter and an indignant scolding, but he simply returned the hug. His face was buried in your shoulder, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“You’re welcome.” You heard him whisper, followed by a faint sniff. Something warm and wet soaked through the coat and into your shoulder. You hugged Riddle tighter, as if to hide him from the rest of the world at that moment.

Too brief for your liking, Riddle pulled away with that same smile. His eyes appeared to be glassy, reflecting your tearful expression and wobbly grin. Your heart twinged again, and your jaw clenched.

It was that smile that damned you the moment Riddle fixed your tie for the first time.

“I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?” You asked, laughing off your dread and despair. Riddle seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to say something. Your heart stuttered as you watched him open his mouth with reluctance.

Something held him back. He shook his head and merely smiled at you again.

“Of course,” he murmured, eyes hiding behind his cheeks again. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Prefect.”

In that moment, you’d have stolen the stars from the sky if Riddle wanted to make a wish. You’d bake tarts and cakes in the Heartslabyul kitchen, even if it ended in a mess of flour, if he wanted sweets. You’d stay past curfew in his dorm room to stargaze, if he was willing to break the rules just this once. You’d shower him in kisses, hugs, and cuddles if he hesitated to spell out his desire for affection.

You’d stay in Twisted Wonderland if he asked you to.

Swallowing your heartache, you forced a smile—bright and brilliant, putting the sun to shame. Your gaze never left Riddle, while unspoken feelings laid heavy on the tip of your tongue. Reality crushed your daydreams and wishes, reduced to rubble and dust. The next words felt final and absolute.

“Goodbye, Riddle.”

What remained was the handkerchief with his stitched initials in your pocket.

[dilutedconfusion]

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 4)

HEYYYY YA’LLL i did it. I wrote the next chapter. This one is even bigger than the last and cost me at least half of my brain cells to write. I messed around with it a bunch to try and get the feeling right so hopefully it worked out in my favor (I’m not entirely sure it did but I’ve re-read it too many times so WAHHH) ALSO strap in cause there’s a bit of angst in the form of an argument in this one. As always I wish all my beautiful astounding readers a lovely day/night. Stay safe and stay rotted 💞

Summary: You just took a complete nose dive into the ocean only for Kid to watch from a distance. But the first part of this chapter leads up to the events of that happening. I need to explain just how Kid ended up on that shoreline in the first place and then we’ll see if you live or die <3

Warnings: Blood, Drowning, Vomiting

Word Count: 8.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem @ferretsqueen @thesnailus @shamblespirate @gabi-moureira

“Fuck this is good.” Kid mumbled out, mouth full of chicken as he spoke. Little blobs of spit were flying out of his mouth but Killer was used to the barrage. “That little waitress lady sure annoyed the shit out of me but at least this place has good food.”

Killer just nodded in agreement though he hadn’t taken a bite of the chicken. Not willing to remove his mask even if the back of the bar was empty.

It was late at night by now, the faint light through the windows barely masking the dark void-like sheen as the rain sprinkled down. Leaving nothing but sparkling drops of water to watch roll down the glass.

Though instead of watching that Killer watched Kid down a whole bottle of rum. Taking shot-like gulps out of his glass and using chicken as a chaser for about 10 minutes.

When Kid had walked back with the food he could sense something had happened. It was easy to spot when he noticed the slight shade of red washed over the apples of his cheeks. It was permanent at this point. But Killer couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or something else.

“You took a while to grab the food ya know. You didn’t get held up did you?” Killer asked quietly, leaning back on the booth and propping his arm up comfortably.

Kid looked up at Killer from his plate, eyes glancing over his friend's mask for just a moment before gliding back downwards. “Nah, the waitress just took her sweet time. I didn’t trust her to remember to bring the food back so I waited to do it myself.”

“So you just waited up there patiently? That’s not like you. Thought you would’ve started up one fight. Ease up a little.” Killer remarked, a quizzical glance thrown at Kid behind the space of his mask.

Kid’s mouth was occupied by the rim of his glass when his body hesitated. His eyes bore into his companion for only a moment before he swallowed loudly and set the cup down. “I wish,” was all he whispered out, which made Killer a bit more worried.

“Well, I did hear you talking to someone. Was the waitress giving you shit?” Killer leaned forward, eyeing Kid. His tone is neutral and calm as always. Trying not to fan the emotional storm that Kid could so often be.

Kid’s sharp amber eyes stared distantly at the rest of the room before he took another sip of rum and spoke. The half-melted ice cubes quietly clinking against the glass. “It…doesn’t matter. I was talking to that girl. Ya know, the one that was stalking us at the docks. She was sitting at the bar. She followed us here clearly.”

Killers eyes widened at that. Remembering the mental image of you standing there awkwardly at the dock when they first arrived. It was a bit of a shock at first but Killer just assumed you were nosy. Or at least he hoped that’s all it was was though it was starting to sound like his hopes were wrong.

“She followed us here? Are you sure she isn’t working for someone 'cause that’s suspicious as fuck Kid.” Killer leaned forward, his voice a tad bit more concerned considering they couldn’t take on another problem.

We need a break. Kid needs a break. This could be bad.

“No, it wasn’t like that. She talked to me normally. Complained about me killing people and like half-assed threatened me if I decided to pillage this town or whatever. Nothing super serious.” Kid had a certain brashness in the way he said that as if he was trying to prove that what he was saying was true. The harshness of his voice rasped out despite himself.

Killer eyed Kid, searching for something more caught on his tongue. He knew something was up, he just needed to get Kid to say it out loud. “Is that all?” He asked, placing his elbows on the table in front of him in a serious manner.

Kid tried piercing through Killer to try and break down what he was getting at. It was almost too embarrassing to even mention what happened, even to the person he trusted most. Yet with a weak little sigh he decided to give it up. “I don’t know. She like…said some stuff. Brought up my injuries like she had any right to talk about them but then she….”

Kid trailed off, scratching at the slight stubble on his chin he had meant to shave before finally responding quite gruffly. “She gave me this look. It wasn’t some useless pity or sympathy or anything like that. It felt very genuine I guess. Like she understood me.”

Killers eyes immediately widened, shocked by the fact that a mere stranger had gotten to Kid in any way, shape, or form. That barely happened. Not in all the years he knew Kid did he ever see the man connect with someone right away, even just by understanding their feelings. Kid was quite adamant that he didn’t have time for shit like that.

Staying quiet for only a moment Killer finally responded, his voice a bit more hushed. “So she…looked at you and you stopped dead in your tracks from ripping her head off?”

Kids' eyes narrowed in what Killer perceived as shame. Shame for himself and maybe even a bit of embarrassment. “Well, she deserved to get her head torn off. She kept talking shit about me the whole time. I was breathing so deeply to control myself I was nearly whistling out of my nose. White knuckled through it like a pussy.” Kid stroked a hand through his hair, tossing it a bit as his right leg started bouncing uncontrollably under the table.

Killer took note of his body language, the ground vibrating softly, and the way Kid clammed up at even mentioning what happened.

She did get to him.

Killer didn’t know what to say. Not wanting to assume anything nor agree with the fact that Kid did indeed let her off easy. Which was like his number one rule. No mercy above all else.

“It’s fine. She ain’t worth it anyway. I’d bet it would be like squashing a grape killing someone like her.” Killer conscientiously replied. Trying to smooth Kid over the best he could.

It’s strange seeing Kid like this. It almost feels…uncanny.

Kid's lips just tugged down into a frown, his brow a tight line of knots. “Well, you didn’t hear what she was saying to me. I would rip out anyone’s esophagus before that shit even left their tongue.”

Kids hand clenched tightly around his glass. Killer glanced between Kid and the glass expecting it to shatter though it didn’t. Just like Kid the glass was on the edge of caving in. The kind of glass that would cut and scar Kid’s hand if he just applied a bit more pressure. A reflection of self cast upon the transparent cup. Kid didn’t want his feelings to spill but if he kept this up, something was bound to snap. Turning both the cup and Kid into nothing but sharp shards only capable of harming himself and others.

“I know you would’ve but you didn’t. You were holding yourself back.” Killer spoke as plainly as he could. Getting to the root of the issue despite not entirely caring about Kids desire to harm you. In any other case he would’ve been more gung-ho about enacting revenge. But to Killer right now wasn’t the right time and it felt like no matter what he said, Kid would choose to be upset.

His injuries must be hurting him badly for him to back off like that. Or maybe…that girl wasn’t the kind of person to kill?

“Well I held myself back and now I’m regretting it.” Kid mumbled, shoving the last leg of a chicken in between his teeth and smacking his lips as he chewed.

“Well, it happened and you can’t change it. If you see her later and want her dead, I’m all for helping out. But for now let's stop thinking about it and get the fuck out of here.”

Kid let out a little grunt of agreement and tore the rest of the chicken off the bone in one bite. Placing the bone down on the plate, he slid it towards the middle of the table. Wiping the grease around his lips with the back of his hand he then pulled a bag of berries and placed them on the table.

So with a rough jangle of a few metal coins and some grunts later they both stood up. However, Kid’s body swayed a whole lot more than Killer's from the alcohol.

“You good? Ain’t gonna pass out on me right?” Killer asked, adjusting his jeans a bit as he spoke.

“Yep. Now get a move on.” Kid spat back short and sweet. Yet it wasn’t entirely alcohol making him sway. Surprisingly he could still feel his stump throbbing just as much as he had when sober.

What a waste of booze if I ain’t going numb. Gonna have to change these goddamn bandages too. Kid gripped his stump for a moment as he walked behind Killer. Feeling how tender his flesh was with delicate strokes. But when he breached the front portion of the bar he stopped. Trying not to pay attention to how the waitress stared at the both of them while they walked out.

The brisk chill in the air hit Kid’s sharp nose first. Traveling along the warm apexes of his cheeks and flowing softly against the center of his chest. His back stayed warm whilst the rest of him became enraptured with the descending cold.

“Good. The rain let up a bit.” Killer mumbled, stepping out in the open air and waiting for Kid to make it past the door as he held it open. There were no lights on the street except for a littering of lanterns around each building. So they walked together in half darkness. The soft clicking of their heels paired with some talkative birds finding shelter in the rain. Other than that it felt as if the whole world was silent.

“Bet the rest of the crew is back on board already,” Killer explained softly, breaking the silence between them for the second time tonight.

Kid barely glanced at Killer beside him. Grunting less in agreement and more just to mildly acknowledge what his pair had said. Because in all honesty Kid didn’t need to be told that. Heat and Wire, who usually joined the two of them on their bar trips, had been absent.

Killer had told him it was because they had other shit to do. Something involved with making sure this town had the right supplies for their restock. But Kid knew they were absent because they were hesitant to be around him right now.

So maybe they were just doing their jobs as they were told but he doubted they would be happy if he decided to give them the day off.

They probably wanted to head to the only bar in town but I was there.

Shit, they probably hit the sack early just so they didn’t have to deal with me.

Kid could feel a vein in his forehead throbbing softly. Twitching his skin and only pissing him off even more.

Maybe if I stopped yelling at them they wouldn’t back off from me.

Kid hadn’t been in the best of moods since he came face to face with Benn Beckman and a part of him had taken that anger and frustration out on his crew. He knew it was wrong, yes. But that’s why he needed to be alone for a while. This all-consuming lunging in the gut is only proof of that.

But as the two walked the cold started to relieve the pain running across Kid's body. Soaking into his thick scars and past his bandages to numb the horrendous ache he was feeling. It made his body feel a bit lighter. More manageable. For even the short amount of time that it took to walk closer and closer to the Victoria.

When the two of them reached the edge of the docks Kid started slowing down. Making Killer stop in his tracks to turn around to look back at him.

But before Killer could even speak, Kid's voice reached him. “I think…I think I’m gonna take a walk.” His voice was quiet, his eyes gliding down the shoreline of the bay off to his right. A shadow of a man standing on two rickety feet. Like a strange caricature of himself he stood.

Killer paused, willing himself to try and think of something remotely useful. His Captain, his best friend, was about to have a drunken walk at night in the rain. He could already imagine him stumbling around in the dark. Too mad to cry but too tired to punch anything till he felt better. It made Killer's fist clutch at his sides as he swiftly turned around to fully face his Captain. A deep well of emotions was getting stirred in his chest.

And yet he’s still refusing to admit anything is wrong?

With a slightly aggravated tone, Killer finally spoke, “This isn’t…because of what happened is it? You told me you were fine. You made it very clear by screaming it at me but…I’m not about to let you go sulk by yourself.” Killer took a step closer and straightened out his spine. Trying to prove just how serious he was about this.

Kid's attention snapped back to Killers the moment those words left his tongue. Glowering at him like he was trying to control him. Trying to defy his pride.

“Well, I was being serious. I’m fine and I don’t need permission from anybody to take a walk.” With that Kid started walking away, going down the edge of the docks in a stomping fashion.

“You shouldn’t be out walking in the rain. If your bandages get soaked through it could fuck up your wounds Kid.” Killer called, taking another step towards his Captain but not following him just yet.

Kid just kept on walking regardless of whatever Killer said. His coat billowed on his shoulders with each step. Like a red flag waving in the breeze and daring Killer to chase after him. But something snapped in Kids voice. Suddenly raising in volume and dripping with venom. “I fucking know that and I don’t care! So back off!”

Killer inhaled deeply through his nose. Holding his fists back from wanting to knock Kid out and just drag him back to the ship. He started briskly walking after Kid, not caring if he didn’t want him to follow or not.

“Then let me come with you. There’s a goddamn noble town up north crawling with marines. You can’t be walking around drunk if shit goes down.” Killer's tone was still controlled but became more raspy as he spoke. The pressure upon the damn of his feelings crackling and hissing at the seems.

It wasn’t a tone Kid heard often and despite knowing the worry he was causing Killer, he chose not to focus on it. Driving headfirst into a sea of pride. He wanted to lose himself. If only for one night.

“You think I can’t protect myself? Are you calling me weak Kil? Is that what you’re fucking doing right now?” Kid’s head jerked back to glare at his companion. Pausing his demonstrative walk for a moment to leave them both at a standstill. If anyone on the Victoria nearby was listening, they could most certainly feel the piles of tension stacking up between them.

Killers body hunched inwards, running a quick hand through his hair as he absentmindedly kicked at the ground. His muscles were just urging and wishing to fight.“No-that’s not…” Killer paused, letting out a low grunt and gritting his teeth.

“Shit Kid! What if someone attacks a ship? We would need our Captain here.”

Killer knew that was a bad excuse. The moment he said he knew it sounded desperate. But he couldn’t help himself from trying to convince Kid with logic.

Emotions were out the window. They always have been and always will be when it comes to open communication between these two. Killer would rather pull out his teeth with two needles than tell Kid that he hated seeing him like this. That he couldn’t stand seeing someone so strong get broken down. The yelling and the fights were haunting his brain. All he wanted to do was tie down Kid so he could rest and mend his wounds every five seconds until he got better. But Kid hadn’t been willing to rest and he still wasn’t. Killer could barely think it made him so mad.

But of course, Kid wasn’t picking up on any of Killer's true intentions. He was seeing a splattering of pity across his face and every other person he cared about. But he hated pity. That word was all he could ever think about lately. He wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted his crew to believe in him without questioning if he could handle it or not.

So both of them came to a halt. Lost between the words desperate and pity they stood as shadows of men.

“So now you’re belittling my crew huh? Don’t you think you and everyone else can handle a couple of marines? Bullshit! I’m just going for a walk Kil not leaving your asses.” Kid knew Killer was right. Shit, he could feel it in his bones. But it wasn’t a matter of what was best for him or the crew. Kid wanted what he wanted and come hell or high-water he was going to get it.

“I know that! But I don’t like this.” Killer stepped forward, only slightly closing the gap between them. Still not willing to explain himself. Still coming up with bad excuses.

I just wish for once he would just listen to me on this. Set aside his pride. This thought was imprinted in Killer's mind like mud. Getting between the crevices of his brain and washing him wry with feeling.

But today wasn’t the day Kid was going to set aside his pride. If anything, hearing Killer's voice so needy nearly broke him apart. Sadness slinked through his ears with every word and plea. So though he loved a good fight, his voice quieted down to a mumble. Losing the hope to convince Killer to trust him otherwise.

“Whatever. Go back to the ship. I’ll be back soon.” It’s like the energy was sucked right out of him. Letting out a big huff of air and biting the inside of his mouth to keep it from screaming. He turned back around towards the shoreline and started walking once more.

Killer didn’t follow him. Mask trained on his Captain as he walked off the dock and his feet sunk into the sandy shore. It was dark so Kid nearly disappeared instantly once he was out of range from the lanterns.

Like a moth to a moon, Killer wanted to follow him. But he supposed Kid’s light was gone for now.

__________

Kid had been ambling for barely 10 minutes. The waves paired with the swirling whirlwind of his mind affected him greatly. His thoughts were loud and so was the ocean. A reflection of how he felt lost in a sea of which he shouldn’t touch. The feeling of turmoil was the best way to describe it.

Kid didn’t like sulking. In his mind, he has only experienced what he considered as true sadness just a few times.

When I was abandoned as a child.

When Victoria died.

He hadn’t thought about her in a while but he supposed it was because he always felt like she was around regardless of her death. Her spirit in his ship. Her spirit in his goals. She was one of the many reasons to keep going because if he didn’t achieve his dreams then to him it was like she died for nothing.

I can’t sit in my shit and act like it isn’t my fault.

He didn’t think losing an arm was worthy of being sad over. Which in turn just made him feel worse anytime he got frustrated about it.

It's not worth it. Feeling feelings. Look what the fuck it's doing to me. To my crew.

His eyes stared blankly out in front of him. His pace was consistent as he lost himself in thoughts. The cold was still easing his pain and the rain had died down even more. But he could feel the weight of water across his skin and clothes. Soaking in just a tad bit and leaving ghostly chills up his spine.

He swept back his damp hair as it fell over his goggles before finally looking up from the sand and out onto the sea. Without even realizing it Kid had walked quite aways. Stopping in place he noticed a jetty tucked along the shore about 50 feet ahead of him.

Squinting his eyes he traced the silhouette of the dark shadowy mass. The moon hanging high up in the sky was partly covered in clouds so no real details popped out at him. This sense of the unknown peeking his curiosity enough that he decided to take a look closer at it.

He didn’t know why he cared to look. He had been staring at the sand this whole time without even considering the view around him. But something in his gut made him curious. Forced him to look even.

It's just a stupid jetty. I’ve seen a million of these things. Why do I care?

He walked up closer to it. Standing right where the boulders and sand met he looked down at the jagged heaps of rocks.

I can’t even see jack-shit.

He let out a low groan and nearly turned away to keep walking.

Maybe I should head into the forest. Get away from the water. This thought floated in and out of his head almost instantly. Because before he could fully turn around he saw something move in his peripheral vision.

“Huh?” Left his cold lips, just his head turning to stare down the jetty in quick succession. It was then he saw it.

A break in the clouds had opened for the first time in a while. A much brighter cool milky glow landed delicately across the small chunk of land and water between Kid and the jetty. The ocean came alight, letting him see the swirls of green and blue more definitively. Like a Van Gogh painting they moved, each stroke a current churning around itself.

Without a proper warning, his heart skipped in shock. A person was standing on the jetty a good bit ahead of him. He could see the outline of their figure, back cast towards him as they stood on an outcropping of rocks on the jetty line.

What the hell? Was the first thing that came to mind. Perplexed, he stared until he noticed something equally surprising.

It's that girl.

He blinked in utter disbelief. Scowling hard he turned completely towards you. Almost rubbing his eyes out of disbelief as if you were some kind of mirage made out of sea foam and moonlight. But as he watched you grip onto the edge of rocks and walk even further down the jetty it finally hit him that you were indeed, real.

Is she trying to get herself killed?

Panic struck him nearly as hard as the waves came crashing down onto the shore. His stomach sank into his gut as he swallowed hard. Fingers twitching at his side. Letting his eyes scan the area around you searching for a reason why you might be out there.

Maybe she’s trying to reach something? Maybe someone else is out there?

These thoughts floated by and all that was left was something even more confusing. From the looks of it, there was nothing substantial down the line of the jetty. No other person or object he could see in his apparent field of vision. Yet he kept looking, watching over you and expecting you to slip with each small step you took.

He didn't know why this was his instinctive reaction. To let his body tense up at the thought of you falling in and drowning. The fact that he could easily watch somebody die and just stand here idly wasn’t something that had ever bothered him in the past. He often was jealous of those who got to enact pain onto others who deserved it. Which was a part of the reason he was so quick to violence.

Yet seeing you do something as reckless as walking on a jetty during a rough storm at night irked him.

I’m seriously not in the mood to watch this stupid bitch die in front of me.

But if Kid let himself calm down he would've remembered wanting you dead. He would’ve remembered complaining about how you treated him and how he had mistakenly given you mercy. But this feeling in his gut didn’t want him to remember.

All he could think about was you.

That fucking idiot is going to get herself killed and not even in a satisfying way.

He clenched his fist as his eyes traced the line of waves. At first, he thought he saw another line of boulders. One much smoother and taller than the first. But as the moon peaked out over that portion of water he saw it fully.

It was a wall-like wave looming closer to you from the other side of the jetty. The kind that would destroy ships and drown hundreds. It rolled in, white-tipped as it churned closer and closer.

It took him a second to realize what was about to happen. You had no idea that the jetty was about to get hit by that massive thing but he did. His eyes helplessly flickering between your form and that bastardly wave.

She’s going to get hit. There’s no way she’ll survive that.

A strange feeling emerged in Kid. One he didn’t often feel and in his personal opinion felt…itchy. Like in the back of his brain something was scraping away at his thoughts and sending warm trails down to his heart. He wanted to help you. But that realization could only be described as completely and utterly disgusting.

Am I seriously about to help her? He mulled over himself for a moment. Glancing between you and the wave. Each passing second just making him more erratically nervous as he watched that wave loom closer. Clenching his jaw and rolling his eyes at his apparent sympathy before finally caving in.

“WATCH OUT!” He yelled, his voice still so quiet compared to everything else around him.

It took you a second to hear him. His eyes glided over how your body paused upon hearing his voice but you still didn’t turn around to look at him.

I’m trying to help this bitch and she doesn’t even pay attention to me?

The sass on Kid's face became almost palpable. With a quick scoff followed by wiping the rain off his face he gave it one more useless shot.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?! THERE'S A WAVE COMING!” His voice cracked a bit as he yelled. Becoming more and more frustrated that he even had to deal with any of this shit.

He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t want to run along that stupid jetty and get caught up in the wave to save some stranger.

This isn’t worth it. A dumb bitch like her deserves to die if she’s really stupid enough to try and pull whatever this is off.

But when you finally turned towards him he was struck by something.

Something that tasted like honey on his tongue and compassion in his chest.

Kid almost couldn’t believe it when he saw the halo of light surrounding you. Maybe it was the water in the air. Picking up the moonlight and reflecting it at him. But it framed your head and made your skin nearly glow. Your hair was shiny and flowing. Face round and inviting. Your soft eyes landed on him like deep hollow orbs. The kind of eyes that if he stared at them for too long would swallow him whole.

Yet of course on your lips and eyes was an expression he’d seen before. It was that same look you had given him earlier. That same look that had stopped him dead in his tracks.

But instead of annoying him everything about you drew him in. Almost unable to look away he took a meaningful step closer. Wanting to see you more despite himself. Wanting to keep that expression of yours alive because it reminded him of something.

Or moreover, of someone.

I can’t let another girl die.

I just can’t.

An image of Victoria brushed across his eyes for only a moment. A memory so supple and full of emotion it blossomed into something new.

Something that was going to keep you alive no matter what.

“TAKE FUCKING COVER YOU ASSHOLE!” Left his lips before he could even process whatever he was feeling. It made his heart beat loudly in his ears. A strange cold sweat taking hold of his body.

He pointed his arm off to the right to try and signal something was coming. But your body didn’t move. He could see the curl of your lips go downturned in confusion. The way your eyebrows knitted together softly. That image of you getting seared onto the back of his eyelids before that image inevitably disappeared.

Loud as a bomb, the wave landed against the rocks. Cascading on the jetty and swallowing your body whole. An abstract painting of water splashing against the stone. Rough paint strokes of green and blue representing the clawing current surrounding you. The wave only taking seconds before it finally bubbled down and leveled out onto the other side of the jetty.

Kid swallowed hard, a tight ball of pressure building in his throat as he looked over the spot where you once stood.

And of course, it was empty.

“FUCK! FUCK!” Kid instinctively tried to dash for the water. Forgetting for a moment that he literally couldn’t swim and throwing his coat onto the dry part of the shore. As he walked into the water a wave hit across his legs and stomach, drenching his clothes in an instant and almost knocking him off balance. He let out a little searing hiss at the cold. Urging his body to just suck it up and deal with it.

The booze, injuries, and mental despair was making this moment so much harder to process for Kid. To even realize what was happening around him. But as he tried to force himself through the first line of waves that ever dreaded feeling of complete exhaustion took hold. His muscles going soft as the curse of his powers sunk in.

“FUCKING GODDAMN IT!” He screamed as he forced himself deeper into the waters. The waves dared to suck him in as they sloshed over his chest. His feet still on the ground so he wouldn’t drown thankfully. But if he was knocked over or pulled in with the tide then it was over for both of you.

He knew that. Well aware for the most part yet that wasn’t going to stop him. He had dove in the water for his crew a few times which led them to bickering at him for ‘trying’ to save their life. And though he didn’t know you, maybe that instinct was still somehow embedded in his brain.

But his intelligence to handle the situation blew behind him with the wind. His mind now just a hollow cave of liquor and remorse. Any normal person would’ve reacted as he had.

Or at least that's what he was going to say once this was all over.

The weight of his clothes and the water sinking into his boots was making it incredibly difficult to move. He bounded backward as another wave threatened to send him under. Thrashing over his face the cold sunk deep into his skin. Drenching his hair as the salt stung his eyes and lips.

He took a deep breath of relief as the wave left, popping his head out of the water to see your head floating in the distance. Your face was only a shadow but you seemed to be trying to tread in the water. The currents pushing you closer to Kid yet another wall of waves crashed down on top of you, making you disappear once more.

“SON OF A BITCH!” Kid howled, his mouth only getting filled with water so he spat it out quickly. You were right there. Maybe 15 feet ahead of him in the water. That distance felt so insignificant he could nearly combust where he stood.

He tried to walk forward more but the water came up to his collarbone at this point, leaving him weak and defenseless as more ocean water erupted into his mouth and nose. With ragged coughs he decided to give up on chasing you into the water. Swiping his wet locks out of his eyes he bounded backwards and kept his feet on the sand below to work his way back onto the shore. The waves pushing him down so his ass hit the muddy sand hard.

“Me and my stupid devil fruit getting in the goddamn way again.” He grumbled to himself. If he wasn’t a limp bag of rocks in the water he would’ve easily swam out there to you. Scooped you up and dragged you ashore. He could almost see that version of his life playing like a VHS in his head. Though it did nothing but make him more frustrated.

His eyes never left the water even for a moment. He wanted to see you come back up for air again. He wanted to see you alive.

Though his whole body still felt deathly weak from the water he wasn’t fully submerged anymore which meant his devil fruit came back into play. Raising his arm little purple sparks of lightning started to trace his skin. Desperately trying to pull up any metal that might be submerged near you.

Maybe she could grab onto whatever is down there. I can drag her back in that way. He felt a tingly sensation ran up his humerus, a classic sign that there was indeed something hidden in the waters. A wave splashed against his legs so he dragged his ass back further onto the sand. Focusing on what little strength he had in his right arm.

What if what I pull up hits her? She hasn’t come back up for air again. I don’t know where she is.

And in truth, you didn’t know where you were either.

It was like a sensory deprivation tank under the water. Your ears felt swollen and brimming with nothing but a loud ringing and aquatic bubbles running across your skin. They tickled you as you floated and thrashed around. Eyes opening but seeing nothing but darkness in every direction.

You tried to move. Tried to swim to what you thought might be the surface one more time but something deep and gnarly was dragging you down. The sea itself clasped on your ankles like some kind of God seeking revenge. It wanted to chill you to the bone. It wanted to leak into your lungs. It wanted your flesh.

I’m going to die an idiot.

There was blood running in the water around you. Your head, side, and hands were screaming with pain yet you couldn’t remember what happened. Everything was a complete blur. It almost felt as if you were floating out in space. Barely any sound and just an endless chill numbing every inch of skin.

Did I hit something when I fell?

As your mind searched for answers you heard something else in the darkness. A clunking sound loud and scraping moved below you. Like a snake, you watched something dark slither against the ocean floor. It was deep and though you were on the precipice of blacking out you kept your eyes on it.

Great. I’m going to die an idiot and get eaten alive.

Staring distantly it slowly started to rise in the water. Caught between two currents you managed to stay near the object until eventually, you saw the definite shape of what it was. To your surprise, it wasn’t a sea king. Instead, it was a chain. Thick and crusted over with barnacles and wrapped in seaweed it rose.

It made your senses kick back in. The cold and lack of air dared to take you away but the shock kept you awake.

What in the world?

The chain rose higher and higher until it came closer to you. You kicked your feet reaching out for it. Barely making any distance towards the chain as the current sloshed you around. But eventually the tips of your fingers scraped against it. Giving you just enough hold to fully grip onto one of the chain links with weak hands.

You could feel the split-open caverns of your flesh dig into the barnacles when you grabbed on. It made you cringe hard, lungs burning and filling with water as you tried to take in an anguished breath. Round glass-like bubbles rose to the surface above. You’re once hollow lungs now brimming with seawater.

In a desperate attempt, you yanked your satchel that was still floating helplessly around your shoulders and used it to tie your hands to the chain. Wrapping the strap through the chain and feeding arms through it so it would hold.

The chain started rising higher and higher toward the surface. Your eyes blinking and fading to an even darker shade of black in your vision. You could feel the tips of your fingers down to your toes loosing their substance of life. Unable to break away from this feeling you passed out. Though the chained had finally dared to breach the briny depths, you were already gone. Your body limp and nearly lifeless as you reached the surface with a resounding splash.

Kids eyes widened when he made you out amongst the waves. He was hoping to see your face alive and well but all he saw were your hands strung to the chain he had dredged up.

“SHIT!” He yelled, clenching the taught muscles of his arm even tighter. More little sparks of lightning danced along his skin in a fury. The chain was not that heavy but the current of the ocean kept trying to pull it away from him. He finally stood up off the shore, getting a better view to see the rest of your body floating about a foot under the water.

It didn’t take long until the chain finally found its way towards him. He let it slide up on shore, your body dragging along with it. Taking a few steps into the sea he reached out and grabbed onto the strap of your satchel. His eyes were blurry and burning but he managed to undo the knot around your wrists with his one hand. After throwing the bag further onto the beach his eyes returned to you. Now that your hands had slipped free he quickly grabbed onto the soft fat of your stomach. Working his arm with a bit of difficulty around your middle to pick you up as best he could.

If I had my other fucking arm this would be a lot easier. He grumbled to himself though his complaining instantly faded as he felt your strikingly cold skin. Your hefty body should have been light work for him to carry but right now it was just plain annoying. So he hunched over and let you slump onto his forearm. Dragging you inland as your feet left lines in the sand until he finally set you down face first.

He kneeled on the ground and rolled you over on your back. Your nose and cheeks now crusted with a bit of sand along with most of your clothes. Your soft eyelashes closed against your face. He noticed the tone of your skin was a few shades lighter and slightly blue along your lips.

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath, taking two of his fingers and placing them on your neck. He almost didn’t want to know. Almost hoping you would just wake up and be fine so he didn’t have to go through this anymore. But by the looks of the bleeding gash on your forehead and side, he supposed he couldn’t just trust faith to bring you back to life.

It took a couple of seconds but he finally felt some semblance of a heartbeat. It was slow and weak against his fingers but you were alive.

Thank god. I didn’t do this shit for nothing.

Now that he finally got you back another wave of panic struck him once more. He needed to keep you alive and considering he knew next to nothing about first aid, it was going to be a struggle.

Chewing his lips he decided your wounds could wait. They weren’t bleeding out too badly. A slow drizzle of blood across your face and into your hair. The gash on your side turning the sand below red. But you weren’t breathing which meant Kid needed to administer CPR.

Which, of course, he only had a faint inclination on how to do.

“Here the fuck we go.” He told himself, trying to hype himself up despite his fear. He placed his one hand between your breasts, feeling the center of your sternum and pressing down on it.

I’m supposed to use two hands. Hopefully, this will be enough.

He thought over his rhythm for only a moment before pressing down on you as hard as he could. Keeping his large hand flat he covered up all the space between your breasts so hopefully he would cover the right area. He spastically jerked his muscles with each compression until he felt something inside of you snap.

Shit. I broke her bone. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

He paused looking at your face and chest. Hoping to see signs of something coming to life but nothing happened. So without another nervous thought, he kept the compressions going for a few minutes. Or maybe it was less than that, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Can you just wake up?! I’m done saving your ass. This shit is taking too long.” He told you, voice horse with exertion and even a bit of pain.

It bothered him having to do something like this. To have somebody's life in his hands usually meant he was the one to kill them. But right now he was trying to keep someone alive. Which made him realize keeping a human body alive was a lot harder than he would ever admit.

Getting irritated he paused, lifting his hand off your chest to hover it over your slightly agape mouth. Not a single breath of air escaping it.

“Oh my sweet fuck.” He growled, face torn and eyes almost daring to shed tears as he leaned his face towards yours. He lifted your chin towards the sky and opened your mouth a bit more.

“Pucker up.” Left his lips in a joking attempt to make this situation slightly more manageable. To calm his shaking hands and repress his urge to just shake you silly until you came back to life.

Please just wake up. Please just wake up.

He was about to kiss a woman, which he's done many times before but this one happened to be near dead and unconscious. It was less of a kiss and more of a desperate attempt to save you. Which some would argue is even more intimate than any kiss could be.

Pinching your nose he took in a deep breath before latching his lips with yours and breathing outwards. Your lips were dry and cold against his. Lacking all the warmth he wished you had.

Staring down at your chest he gave you a few deep breaths. Trying to spot your lungs heaving up and down as he filled you up like a balloon. After the first few breaths, he finally noticed your chest rise much higher. The mound of your stomach going along with it and giving him a sense of hope maybe he was doing the right thing.

So he pulled up and took another deep breath in before locking lips once more. Keeping your nose tightly shut and making sure his breath was even and long-lasting as it flooded your lungs.

The feeling of the cold slimy unconscious pool your mind lay in suddenly started sliding off as you woke up. Though you hadn’t even realized you were awake before a gush of water came rushing out of your lungs.

Kid instinctively pulled back the second he felt your muscles contract. But that didn’t stop him from getting sea water splashed over his face and even a bit in his mouth.

“Say it, don't spray it asshole.” He leaned back up and spat the water on the sand. Wiping his lips as he watched your body roll over onto its side. Your eyes blinked rapidly and filled up with tears within an instant. Loud choking and gushing noises erupting out of you while you vomited out all the sea water your lungs had taken in.

Some of it hit Kid's lap but he decided not to care. Because you were both thoroughly soaked to the bone, a little more water straight from your lungs and stomach wouldn’t hurt. So he just watched you as deeply uncomfortable feeling stabbed his chest. Runny lines of tears and snot were dripping from your face. You’re eyes barely able to stay open as they constantly blinked away those burning tears. You managed to half way propped yourself up on one arm. Your spine contracting spastically with each retch.

He didn’t like seeing you writhe for whatever reason. Though he couldn’t tell if it’s because he thought it was gross and weak or something else.

Suddenly loud gasps started escaping your mouth making it seem like you still couldn’t breathe. Your throat seemingly sewed shut. Only letting stuff out but not in. Like a fish out of water, your torso twitched even more, your weak hand reaching up and grabbing onto your throat to urge it to open again.

Kids eyes widened at this, realizing that maybe it was too soon to start acting like an uncaring asshole considering you were close to death, yet again. “Goddamn it, just breathe!” He yelled, scooping his hand under the sand and to sit you up.

His voice barely even reached you. Even if you could breathe it felt like you couldn’t. A panic attack revolted against you, making every breath you tried to take weak and small. Barely filling up your lungs and keeping you conscious by a thin thread.

Your watery eyes looked up at him desperately. Pleading him to do something. To do anything to make it stop. A frown took over his face as he drank in your desperation. His stomach sinking to the ground while the uncommon feeling of sympathy flooded his nerves.

What in the hell am I supposed to do?

He wasn’t one for comfort and he already used all the first aid tricks he knew. So he started roughly patting your back, hoping to brute force whatever was blocking your airway. “Is there water still in there? Why can’t you breathe?”

The patting made you cough once again. Dribbles of seawater spilling past your lips and stinging the soft tissue of your mouth. You closed your eyes and leaned your side against Kid's chest. Trying anything to help you calm down you started focusing on your heartbeat. Urging your muscles to relax and using Kids body to stay upwards.

Kid just stared down at you, his pats getting slower and a bit softer. He was worried that if he spoke at all it would ruin whatever sense of peace you were chasing after. He was worried that he would just make it worse.

I always make shit like this worse.

The feeling of your equally drenched and clammy body against his was a bit uncomfortable but he knew it would be a dick move just to let you fall over. So he held onto your back and cradled you slightly. Grimacing the whole time while he listened to your breaths getting deeper and deeper.

Watching you silently he ended up just looking you over. Staring at your skin covered in dewdrops glistening in the moonlight. Noticing how your blood mixed with the water and thinned out to a brisk trickle across your cheek. There were stark tear lines dragging across you skin. Even some faint snot mixed with sea water dripping out of your nose. The warmth rising back into your skin and becoming noticeable against his chest.

Eventually, your eyes opened back up, dazed but no longer flooded with tears.

“You done dying?” He mumbled out, his low voice rumbling in his chest so much you could feel it against your skin.

You slowly looked up at him, his face and body so much closer than it's ever been before. His hair was drenched and lying gently over his goggles and shoulders. Cute curly waves with little drips of water slipping them. His bandages soaked and peeling in some parts to revel the deep gashes along his chest. The ones still healing on his face were shiny and red as if they were irritated. Red-smeared lipstick around the edges of his permanently frowning mouth. His warm breath that smelled of liquor and seawater fanning over you.

Despite the cold numbness draped over your nerves you still managed to feel his chest against you. The way his skin was almost burning it was so warm compared to yours. His thick arm holding the soft space below your shoulder blades in such a delicate way.

Though you noticed all of this, a part of you felt like he wasn’t even there. That he was just a mirage or you were already dead and gone. Left with nothing but this man to ease you over into the afterlife.

“Uh-huh," Was all you could manage to get out. Your throat was now drying up as the salt took hold. Making you rasp and wheeze a bit with each breath.

Kid just rolled his eyes at that, “Well I just want you to know right now that you are a complete fucking dumbass who has no sense of self-preservation and I wish I never met you.”

You blinked slowly, a wave of drowsiness cascading upon you. “Okay.” You said with a shaky breath. Shivering deeply, your eyes closed once more. Kid watched as your head fell against his chest, letting him know that you had passed out for good.

“This bitch.” Left his mouth almost instantly. He was hoping you’d stay awake so you could walk or hold onto him if he was forced to carry you.

I don’t want to carry her. I’m tired and I’m drunk and I don’t deserve this.

He just stared at you against him. Urging his hand to let you fall onto the sand and leave you there.

This was supposed to be my break. I wanted to relax. What do I owe this random girl? I already saved her life which is way more than anyone should expect from me. So she can wake up and figure the rest of this shit out herself.

His face scrunched up as he mulled it over. He stared down at you against his chest. Feeling your soft hair against him. Your spine and arms were nearly vibrating with each deep shiver that ran through you. Like a wounded animal, you curled into him which warmed the small embers of his heart yet repulsed him beyond belief.

“God fucking damn it fine! You won this round.” He yelled at you, a loud exasperated sigh bellowing out of him. With that he softly set you down on the sand. Standing up to go grab his coat that surprisingly hadn’t flown away in the wind. He yanked it off the sand and dusted it off before noticing your bag still laying completely soaked a few feet away from him.

Am I seriously about to hold this girl's shit as well? He asked himself, staring at the green satchel vehemently before roughly picking it up and slinging the strap over his shoulder.

I guess I fucking am. He nearly slapped himself in the face with how ticked off he was. He saved your life and was a bit proud of that fact. But the amount of kindness he was providing was just down right deplorable.

He walked back over to you and kneeled back down onto the sand. Still holding onto his coat and looking between you and the fur.

Of course this bitch is visibly shaking. He just stared at you for a moment, hoping you’d stop so he could throw the coat over his shoulders instead. But your body was insistently twitching violently from head to toe. Your face naturally scrunching up in pain despite being blacked out.

It's not like I’m not cold. I got dunked in the water too. But of course your unconscious body was asking for yet another round of his sympathy.

“Whatever. Take this you greedy little shit.” Kid took his coat and started wrapping it around you. Making sure your arms were funneled through the sleeves so it wouldn’t fall off.

With a grunt, he tried to lift you onto his shoulder. Hunching over so his shoulder was close to your stomach and using his one hand to slide you onto him. He had to pick you up by the ass just a bit, feeling the fat meat of it in his hand as he pulled you up onto him until your hips were in line with his shoulder.

He tried not to think about it too much considering he was groping the ass of a half-dead woman but he managed to get you in a good position. Getting up off the ground with another loud grunt he almost instantly toppled over to one side. Your heavy body was hanging loosely off him so he gripped your legs tightly before you could slide off his shoulder.

“And you couldn’t be just a bit lighter eh? Making me put some actual effort into this shit.” He started walking towards his ship in the distance. Each step just a bit louder than usual against the sand. Your head and arms swaying upside in a half-pleasant, half horrible sensation.

“Oh and just so you know. This is the last time you’ll get a lick of kindness from me. Expect nothing but shit-talking and maybe a good gut punch from here on out.” He told you but of course this whole time you were dead asleep. So it didn’t matter if you heard his declaration or not. Kid was going to give you what he wanted to give you. He just hoped his stupid feelings wouldn’t get in the way of his prerogatives.

A/N: GEEHEE✨ GEEHEE✨I love writing Kid being a big bootyhole. It’s so sweet and endearing and nice. Would he have a soft spot for a stranger normally? No. But do you remind him of someone he cared about? Yes. Oh and just to be clear when I talk Y/N’s expression and how you remind him of Victoria I don’t mean that you look like her. You look like you of course I just view it as the aura or substance of who Y/N is relates to Victoria in a strange way. Hope that makes sense. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pretty and isn’t willing to realize it. WHAT?? WHO SAID THAT?

[five-rivers]

Bring Your Ghost To School Day

AO3

For @phantomphangphucker

Valerie felt pleased with herself.  Sure she would have preferred to catch the ghost dog, or Phantom (take him down a few pegs), but if she was being honest with herself, showing up to the Paranormal Self Defense class practicum with Phantom in tow would have raised way too many questions.  Most of her classmates would probably come in with blob ghosts.  

Although she has heard a few scheming to get the Box Ghost…

Whatever.  Finally catching that slimy, scaly, slippery giant ghost worm nicely straddled the line between what was feasible for her from an outside perspective and what she, personally, considered an accomplishment.  

She walked into the classroom with her head held high and set her Fenton Thermos mk. 10 (the only containment device approved for the class) squarely in the center of her desk.  

Star twisted in her seat to face her.  "Hey, Val, what didya get?"

"Giant ghost worm."

"Nice.  That'll be pretty unique.  Pauli and I tried to tag-team some ectopuses over the weekend but we were only able to get one.  Good thing I had a backup blob ghost, right?"  She sighed.  "They're so fat and cute.  I wonder if they can be domesticated."

Valerie doubted it, but she shrugged noncommittally.  The rest of the class dribbled in over the next fifteen minutes, with Danny sliding through the door just before the bell rang, as usual.

"Alright class," said Mr. Lancer, wheeling forward the class's Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™.  "As you all should know, today, your practicum is due.  You will be coming up one by one and releasing your ghost into the-" he sighed, then inhaled deeply, "-Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™, whereupon you will explain to the class how you located and captured the ghost in question.  When you are finished, you will recapture the ghost and place your thermoses on that shelf, to be picked up by the Fentons for, yes, Miss Manson, ethical release into the Ghost Zone.  Any questions?"

Dash raised his hand.  "Can I get an extension?"

Mr. Lancer turned his gaze briefly towards the ceiling.  "See me after class, Mr. Baxter.  Any other questions?  No?  Then, do we have any volunteers?"

All hands stayed down.  Hey, Valerie was proud, but not volunteering to present first proud.  That was crazy.

"That's fine, I'll just pick randomly, then.  Mr. Gregor, you're first."

Elliot stood up and made his way to the front of the classroom like a man made to walk the plank.  He stuck his thermos into the socket on top of the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ and hit the release button.  Blue-white light briefly filled the space.  When it cleared there was…

Nothing.

"Hey!" shouted Dash.  "It's empty!"

"No, it's not!  It's Youngblood!"

"I must confess," said Mr. Lancer, "it does look empty."

"You just can't see him because all of you are adults already, and I don't turn eighteen until July!"

Danny raised his hand.  "Neither do I."

Elliot looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but then his shoulders slumped forward.  "Aw, man.  You couldn't let me have this?"

Mr. Lancer tapped a dial on the front of the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ with his pen.  "The ecto-detector would have outed you–" 

There were a number of snickers from the jocks' side of the room.  

"--in any case, Mr. Gregor.  You can return to your seat, now."  He made a note on his clip board.  "My homework is invisible to adults is a new excuse for the books, though.  Mr. Fenton, you're next."

"'Kay," said Danny, passing Elliot on his way up.  "Prepare yourselves to be amazed!"  He slotted his thermos into place and hit the release button.  

Valerie shielded her eyes from the light and suppressed a laugh.  She was glad Danny had actually gotten something, considering how skittish he was about ghosts, but that intro was–

"Daniel!  Release me this instant!"

Wait, what the heck?

Valerie looked up to see Vlad Plasmius glaring at Danny through the walls of the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™.  Vlad Plasmius.  Better known as Vlad Masters.  Mayor of Amity Park.  Richest man in the world.  Scarily powerful ghost with a great disguise.

She felt her jaw drop.

"May I introduce to you, the Wisconsin Ghost!"

"It's Plasmius, you insufferable brat!"

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat.  "Mr. Fenton, did your parents help you catch this… Plasmius?"

"I borrowed some equipment from them, but that's within the rules, right?"

"Let me out!"

"Hey, you heard Mr. Lancer.  You'll be released into the Ghost Zone after school with everyone else."

"Speaking of which, you should start your presentation."

"Oh, right.  So, what happened was that I snuck up on him while he was monologuing in his evil lair and hit him over the head with–"

"You did not!  And I don't have an evil lair!"

"That's debatable, but you know what?  Fine," groaned Danny.  "Spoilsport.  Anyway, I started by baiting my trap with cheese–"

"Daniel!"

"I pretended to be the mayor of Green Bay and called–"

Plasmius hissed at him.  

"Okay, okay, what I really did was tell Mr. Lonely Cat Guy that I'd tell him my mom's number if he helped me with a school project."

"Mr. Fenton," started Mr. Lancer, obviously concerned.

"It was a lie, of course!  Guys and girls, the only ghost you should give digits to is Phantom."

"That is not what happened!"

"My man, I'm trying to make this less embarrassing for you.  Work with me here."

"Mr. Fenton, must I remind you that this practicum is a graduation requirement?"

"No, no, I've got it.  But it is, like, super embarrassing for him."

Honestly, Valerie didn't know why she was surprised at this point.  Danny never had normal presentations.  Not since the gorilla thing.  

“What are you talking about?” snarled Vlad.  

“Aw, it sounds like it was so traumatizing he doesn’t even remember it…”

“Mr. Fenton, please.”

Danny shrugged.  “I told him I’d be more likely to consider letting him adopt me if he could win a fight with Fright Knight, because, like, that’s something I could do in Freshman year, and he’s never beaten him, and when he showed up afterward to gloat I snuck up behind him and souped him.”

“Backstabber!”

“The worst part is that I didn’t even think he’d do it.  Like, I’ve made exactly zero attempt to hide the utter disdain I feel for this man.  It was a joke.  I said I didn’t expect him to do it, but apparently he took that as a taunt or challenge or whatever.  I was just going to bring Wade, but then he showed up this morning, so I was like, why not?”

“Wade?” asked Mr. Lancer.  

Danny reached into his hoodie’s front pocket and pulled out the teeniest tiniest blue-green blob ghost.  “This is Wade.  I call him that because I found him in a pool.”

Wade squirmed out of Danny’s grip and flew up to chew on his hair.  

“You know you aren’t supposed to bring uncaptured ghosts into the school,” said Mr. Lancer tiredly.  

“That’s what your focus on?” ranted Vlad.  “And you call yourself a teacher–” 

“And that’s enough.”  Mr. Lancer reached over to hit the capture button and disengaged the thermos.  “You can go back to your seat now, Mr. Fenton.  Mr. Ishiyama?”

Kwan bounded up to the Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ and gleefully slammed his thermos down into the socket.  “I caught the Box Ghost!”

“Oh, no,” muttered Danny.  

“BEWARE!  I AM THE BOX GHOST AND– Oh, my, this is a lovely box.  Is it for me?  I ACCEPT THIS TRIBUTE!  FEAR ME!”

The Fentonworks™ Ghost Glass™ Containment Cube™ began to levitate.  Valerie pulled her class-approved ecto-pistol from her bag.  Honestly, in retrospect, something like this was bound to happen.  At least, she noted, seeing all of her classmates pull out their approved ecto-pistols, she wouldn’t be the only one stuck fixing it this time.

[hypnoneghoul]

Sundown: Chapter 1

WC: 2,6k

Relationship: Pre-relationship SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, First Meeting, Fluff, Protectiveness, Discussion About Being Transgender, Transphobia  (warning for that if someone's sensitive to it), not from swiss tho he's supportive!!!

Swiss has been travelling for a while. He finally gets to a place he can rest in and meets an unique individual. He's immediately enamored.

Notes: comm for @jazz-bazz, first part of our au! ty bex <3

Read chapter 1 under the cut or on AO3.

He’s been sweating his ass off for three days before something resembling civilization has finally come along. He’s half dead, his chick is half dead, and all he wants is to get a pint of cold beer and a damn bed.

The town—barely big enough to be called such—is obviously sparsely populated. Swiss doubts it’s even inhabited at first, but the closer he gets the more signs of life he’s noticing and the hope in him grows. He leans down to pat his chick’s neck and sighs at the puff of dust coming off of her.

“Soon, girlie. I’m gonna give ya a good brush, you deserve it.” The mare nickers and the pair continue their slow walk toward the town. It doesn’t take that long for them to make their way into the shadow casted by the town’s buildings. It smells like cow’s shit, but the people obviously have more water and food than they really need, which means there is a chance Swiss and his horse will get some. If not given freely, he’ll take it, but he is tired and he hopes their visit in that place will go smoothly.

Swiss doesn’t see any heads peeking out of doors or windows to look at him, neither threateningly nor curiously, as he looks around searching for any sign that would indicate where he can find a bar. He really needs a beer.

His knees crack when he jumps down from his mare. The ground is dry and a cloud of dust arises as his boots touch it. He finds something that could be a spot for travelers’ horses and as he leaves his chick there he hopes nobody will shoot her off if he was mistaken. It’s a solid roof over a spot covered in a thick layer of straw, with buckets full of fresh looking water hanging off of wooden beams and cubes of hay under them. Inviting enough.

Swiss pulled the reins over the mare’s neck and pulled the bit out of her mouth before tying her to one of the beams by the water. He hopes she won't be too picky. “Drink, girlie, I’ll be back soon.”

He pats her on the ass on his way and walks away, heading into the adjoining building. The batwing doors’ hinges squeal loudly as Swiss walks into what indeed is a saloon. It’s nearly empty, only two men are sitting in a corner and talking quietly over drinks. Swiss scans the space and even though it’s empty, it seems nice. The men from the corner don’t acknowledge his presence, but he doesn’t crave attention this time, so it is fine by him. It’s a bit colder there than outside and he already feels some relief.

Swiss goes straight to the bar and just as he’s sitting down on one of the squeaky stools the barmaid walks out from behind a dark brown curtain hanging between the shelves. A gorgeous, tall wo…man? They are a very pretty man, if that's the case. He shrugs, though, it’s none of his business.

They are wearing a long, light green dress—a little old fashioned in style, but it’s a good piece. Little dirty-white apron covers the dress from their waist down to where their knees are under the skirt. The dress doesn’t have sleeves, only straps digging into their shoulders and going down to create a laced neckline that makes their tits look very compelling. Their hair is long and wavy, a beautiful shade of dark amber flowing down their back and over their shoulders.

Their eyes, though…oh, their eyes are what makes Swiss’ belly swoop and his mouth go even drier than it already was. Big—adorned by thick and long lashes—and in the color of the healthiest, most fresh, summer grass ever. Swiss haven’t seen grass as green in years.

“Anything to drink for you?” They ask, picking up a rag to wipe the bar. More to busy themself than because it’s dirty. If anything it’s dusted over from unuse. 

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing?” Swiss winks, his head tilted to the side. He knows he most definitely looks like a creep, but he can’t stop staring.

“Oh, me? Uhm–thank you?” they stutter as blush creeps up their cheeks, coloring them a light rosy pink. Gorgeous. “What…what about that drink?”

“Get me a pint of some good ole beer, sweetheart. Pretty please.” 

“Mhm,” they nod, obviously flustered, and turn to disappear behind the curtain again. Swiss sighs—he really is exhausted—as he rests his chin on his fist, his other hand scratching at his stubble. Well, more like a beard, he didn’t have much time or opportunities to take care of it, so it’s a bit unkept now.

Soon enough the bar…person returns with Swiss’ beer and hands it to him with a light smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you kindly,” he mutters, nodding, before pressing his lips against the chilly mug and tipping it back. He moans at the refreshing feeling washing over him the moment beer pours into his mouth.

“Is it that good?” the person chuckles, leaning against the wall with their hands crossed over their chest. Their beautiful, full chest and it’s–Swiss shakes his head. He ain’t seen no tits in ages but he isn’t an animal, damnit.

“Nah,” he snorts before taking another gulp. “It’s piss, but I’ve been dry as a desert, sweetheart.”

The person curls their lips into a little amused smile and turns, grabbing the rag and starting to wipe the bar again. Swiss tries to not be obvious in his staring—looking from under the rim of his hat. The stranger is so captivating, he can’t tear his eyes away. 

“Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta ask–” Swiss starts after clearing his throat, but gets cut off. The other probably expected it to go that way.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve encountered in a long time,” they say with a smirk and Swiss bows his head, grinning. “Phrase your question as nicely and there’s a chance I won’t take out the revolver from under the bar and shoot your hat off.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He recoils dramatically, raising his arms defensively. “You’re too pretty for me to offend, don’t ya worry.”

“So?”

“Are you a boy or a girl?” The question lands, but no offense shows on the person’s face. Swiss continues. “Cause if you’re a boy, then you’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot—and if you’re a girl, then…well, then you’re the prettiest one of those.”

“I’m a woman, kind sir,” she laughs, fully this time, and the melodic sound of it goest through Swiss’ ears right to his heart, “you haven’t proven yourself worthy of permission to call me a girl. Yet.”

“Understood. I'd love to try and prove my worth.” He winks and lifts the mug nodding, as if in a toast. “You’re a gorgeous woman, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I do understand the confusion, though, even my own body didn’t get the memo.” She sighs, fidgeting with her hands and worrying her lip between her teeth. Swiss gets a sudden urge to gently pull it free, lest she breaks the skin and paints her mouth with blood, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, they’ve just met. Swiss doesn’t know what possessed him.

“Huh, that’s so…” He mumbles, staring holes into the already rugged wood of the countertop. With the corner of his eye he sees the barmaid pull up a chair on the other side of the bar and sit on it, right before him.

“Unnatural?” she finishes for him, but her guess of his thoughts couldn’t be falser.

“No, I wanted to say it makes you unique. It’s amazing,” Swiss says—confident—looking up at her again. She is so much closer now and so many more details of her beauty are visible to the man, and if she’d let him he’d count all the golden freckles adorning her face a hundred times over.

“Oh…” she whispers. Swiss doesn’t count her freckles, but he does follow the path of a blush crawling up her cheeks. “Well, uhm, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel amazing most of the time.”

“That must be tough,” he replies, wondering. “Is it like…like you don’t feel right in your body? Like it’s not yours?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” she has no idea why she’s suddenly spilling her innermost thoughts to a stranger she has met not even half an hour prior. There is something about him, though, that makes her feel safe and maybe carries a chance of finally being understood. Even if just a bit. “And sometimes I just feel…wrong all around.”

Swiss hums in acknowledgement and leans down to his mug, swallowing down a few gulps. Once his mouth is unoccupied again, he asks, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Mountain,” the barmaid says, “but I prefer just Mounty.”

Swiss snorts at that, but immediately regrets it upon seeing Mounty’s brows furrow in confusion and her eyes fill with a tiny bit of hurt. “Sorry, sweetheart, I ain’t laughing at you! My horse’s name is Monty, that’s why!”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she relaxes and chuckles, too, a bit embarrassed by her immediate defensiveness. “Yeah, that is funny.”

“Nice to meet you, Mounty.”

“Won’t you give me your name?” the barmaid’s eyelashes flutter and Swiss wouldn’t be able to refuse or lie to her even if he wanted to.

“Swiss, sweetheart,” he says, lifting up the mug again. “My name’s Swiss.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Swiss,” Mounty replies, her face lighting up with a soft smile, and if Swiss was standing it would make his knees buckle. Still, his insides warm up and twist and he’s never felt like that; so stupid and…vulnerable.

Swiss feels himself blush and he quickly hides behind his mug.

“Would you–” Mounty is about to ask him something, but a squeak of the doors and heavy steps interrupt her.

“Afternoon!” a stranger calls out, walking into the saloon as if it was his own ground. Swiss looks up at the barmaid and sees her tense up—her lips turn into a thin line and her brows furrow. She knows the man and she isn't fond of him in the slightest.

Swiss doesn’t like that look on her.

“Afternoon, sir,” Mounty mutters, standing up. The man doesn’t reply, just walks over and sits down by the bar next to Swiss. He is alert after Mounty’s reaction, one of his hands close to his gun.

“Get me some whiskey, girl,” the stranger grumbles, spitting the last word out like it burns his tongue, like an insult. Swiss realizes it is supposed to be one and the knot inside him tightens, this time with something resembling anger. How can someone treat such a gorgeous, brilliant and kind creature without utmost respect?

“Hey, she ain’t your girl,” Swiss hisses as Mounty disappears to get the man’s drink. He won’t sit there and pretend he is okay with what is happening right next to him. “Bark orders at your wife like that. If you even have one, it don’t seem like you’ve got a lot to offer.”

“Why do you care?” the stranger scoffs, “he’s a freak.”

One second Swiss is sitting relaxed, sipping on his beer, and then in the next he’s up with his back straight, looming over the other man and staring down at him with fire in his eyes.

“I suggest you either apologize to her when she gets back,” he growls, reaching behind himself, to his revolver, “or get out now so neither of us have to see your ugly face any more. Or else…”

“Or else what!? Ya one of them, too, hm?” the man—clearly an idiot—snarls, craning his neck to look up at Swiss, pretending to be brave. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no balls on you.”

“Oh, I’ve got enough balls, asshole,” Swiss laughs and that seems to hit. He pulls his revolver out from behind his belt, twists it on his finger and watches the other man hesitate about his next words. “You wanna lose yours?”

The man scoffs as if there wasn’t fear in his eyes. He’s a coward and he storms out accordingly, because it’s unlikely he knows better than to actually challenge Swiss. He doubts he knows who he was.

Just as the man disappears outside, Mounty returns with a glass of whiskey intended for him. There’s no smile on her face and her rather neutral expression turns to confusion as she sees only Swiss by the bar. “Where did he go?”

“Oh, he realized he left something at home.” Swiss shrugs, returning to his stool.

“And what would that be?”

“Respect for women,” he says with a smirk and Mounty returns it, knowing and thankful. She sits again and looks at the glass in her hand before pressing it against her lips and cringing as she tips it back to drink. “Not a fan?”

“Not at all,” she coughs and Swiss chuckles. She is adorable. “All I drink is tea.”

“Tea is good,” he says and looks into his mug—there was still some beer left. He lifts it again and silence falls for a moment.

“You really are nice to talk to,” Mounty speaks after a while. “I get called a freak and other names all the time, usually the moment I come into someone’s view. It’s nice to be treated normally, have my feelings acknowledged…and be protected. You know?”

“I can only imagine.” Swiss smiles at her fondly. It must be hard living like that. Trying to live right by yourself and offending others by simply existing, just because they are too thick-skulled. If he could, he'd sit on that creaky chair every damn day and chase off every single man who'd as much as look at Mounty wrong.

It’s quiet again, Swiss finishing up his beer and Mounty drinking her whiskey—frowning at every single sip. They have just met, but the silence is comfortable. It feels like not only did they know each other for ages, but that they have a…special connection, of a kind.

Swiss snorts at his own thoughts. He’s stupid for them, for thinking this is anything more than…than what, exactly?

“A’ight, sweetheart,” he sighs after a moment, breaking the dead silence. “I should get going, find somewhere to sleep.”

“We’ve got beds,” Mounty perks up, immediately shying away as she realizes she might’ve been a bit too enthusiastic, “if you want…”

“I’d love a bed, but I don’t have much money,” the man shrugs. He’d rip anyone off without any remorse, but not her. He’s never gotten a soft spot for someone as fast as he did for her. “And I’d rather get a place for my horse than myself.”

“And if it’d all be on the house?”

“What, like me so much already you don’t want me to leave?” Swiss laughs, winking.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mounty scoffs, but her own wink says something else. “You’re clearly exhausted, who would I be if I let you go back on the road without a proper rest?”

“Will you at least accept my help in here and in the stables as a payment?”

“I can consider it,” she mumbles, smiling softly as she stares at Swiss through her lashes.

“Alright, then. I’ll stay, sweetheart.”

[honestsycrets]

HELLO, HELLO! Okay, so this drabble prompt/idea is kinda sorta in the vein of Querido (I only think about Old Western Miguel now I cannot help it pls forgive me head empty only man and hörse), so pls skip if you're not inspired or in the mood for more in this genre!

Still, I offer you this: Sheriff Miguel.

He's someone all the women have their eyes on, and he'd have his eyes on them, too, if he were younger. But he has a baby girl to worry about, a runaway wife to forget, and a town to keep an eye on, especially when a woman from the big city pays the little down a visit.

He meets her when he loses Gabriella in the market's crowd, only to find her tugging on a fine dress belonging to a fine woman.

(P.S. reading your writing has inspired me to get back into writing my own reader insert stuff 💖 really love your work, keep it up!!)

bumblebee | sheriff!miguel x dressmaker!reader

❛ pairing | sheriff-singleparent!miguel o'hara x dressmaker!reader

❛ type | extended drabble, not-explicit, wc: 2600ish

❛ summary | miguel loses his daughter-- and finds a part of himself he thought was long past dead.

❛ tags | self-edited, querido au, f!reader, sheriff!miguel, dressmaker!reader, implied parental abandonment, some mention of thievery, widowed!reader, mostly fluff, some mention of death, spanish not translated.

❛ sy's notes | i intended this to be a drabble but... it's quite a bit longer. anon, i hope you end up writing to your heart's content.

Miguel ain’t the kinda man women really need. He’s the kinda man they think they want. A big man with a big name, sure, but he’s saddled with what their fathers colloquially call baggage. A little three-year-old girl with ambitions of rolling on out of this little town by rolling on out of his fingertips. 

“Oye, Gwen,” he catches the arm of his deputy. She’s out on the town just as he was, making rounds about the grassy plain where the market was booming. With too few stalls, the marketgoers visit full wooden wagons chock-full of goods. This year, there were new boxes of small circular chocolates. Once every year, his quiet little town became a bustling fuck fest with foreigners running a muck of it all. As sheriff, he just had to deal with it. 

“What’s it, sheriff?” she asks. “Something wrong?” 

“You seen my littlin anywhere? Swore she was right here.”

This is his penance for fooling around with the hearts of pretty women: chasing him his own little girl and minding the crowd. His long, slicked-back hair was all kinds of out of place, whirling over his wrinkled forehead. He shoves a strand of grey hair back in place out of his dark eyes and scans his little town. She could’ve slipped into any creaky old building that wasn't locked up or hitched a ride on a wagon she didn’t belong on. Or, alternatively…

“Miguel! Rio saw her by the sweets.” Former Sherriff Morales tells him, standing by his son’s stall of sweet roasted corn. Ordinarily, he’d give it a begrudging visit. Miguel whirls around on his muddy leather boots, throwing him a nod of thanks with Gwen short on his tail. 

“Sounds promisin’,” she says. “Could be searchin’ for Lyla or Peter.” 

“Thank you for the help, Sheriff,” he grumbled, shoving his way past a sea of cream, brown, and black dresses. Gwen could spider her way through the groups of people with her comparatively slender frame. As a consequence of Miguel’s hulking frame, he’s markedly slower in his search.

“Ain’t here either,” Gwen hops back to his side. “You sure she wandered off?” 

"She had to."

The alternative was… well, he didn't want to think about it. Out of his periphery, he caught the glimmer of polished metal. He spots his daughter’s peachy dress, bundled up with a fat white bow complete with a bell. He put the thing on thinking that, ideally, his little girl would jingle up some hell of noise if she got lost. Some good that bell did. 

“You lost mi amor?” 

Lost. The word stands out to him first, all dressed up in a sugar cube of a voice. His Gabriella tugs on a stranger’s long gown, eyes pricked with tears streaming down her cheeks. Of all the people-- she couldn’t just pick on someone she knew? Head to Rio’s hostel, find Deputy Gwen stalking around, or even Hobie’s bum ass strumming a tune on the old stage. No, she’s with a strange woman. 

“Now don’t you cry,” you dab away the stray tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’ll find you home.” 

You’re not from here because you’re all done up like a buttercup in spring when the women here only broke out color for church. Corset sucking in the finest assets, a buttercream bustle underneath that buttercup yellow skirt. Hair up in a waterfall of curls and covered by a small slouched hat of flowers. You held a parasol for the evening sun, keeping it off your tanned skin. 

“There,” Miguel set his hands on his hips, catching his head in a shake. Gwen leans over on the ball of her feet and stares straight down the barrel of a path. 

“My my,” she says. “Ain’t she a looker. Why are you-- You look good, Miguel.” 

She’s caught on his frantic fiddling. The way Miguel straightens his tie into his waistcoat and checks the chain that drapes along his side. He checks the time on his cracked pocketwatch and spins it between his fingers. Gwen leans up to flick a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“Think so?” 

“Entirely presentable.” 

"¿De veras?" Miguel clears his throat, “Best be on my way to get her.” Miguel loops his fingers on his fine leather belt and waltzes right on up to your stall of hand-sewn dresses. 

For once in his life, he feels underdressed. A man sets some coins in your hand, plucking up a small communion dress for his daughter. With ruffles, lace, and the occasional ribbon. He’s not sure how much luck you’d have selling more than scraps of ribbon in this little town. You set the coins aside, turning your attention back to his daughter who-- somehow, got a brand new ribbon bundled in her ponytail between his fiddling and the walk over.

“Buenas tardes,” he clears his throat, whipping out his metal badge. “I’m Sherriff O’Hara.” 

“Encantada, Sheriff O’Hara. You’re looking as pretty as a penny this fine afternoon. Can’t be wanting any of my dresses. My name is… well, how can I help you?” 

“Papa,” Gabriella coos as if this whole mess wasn’t on her tiny little shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, not yet.

“Yes, mami, Sheriff O’Hara. Do you know old Sheriff O’Hara?” Miguel suppresses his delight as you lift her up onto your hip. Most days, he didn’t notice his own melancholy. Coming home to his little girl soothed all that like a good helping of booze after a bad wound. “She likes you.” 

You sure talk pretty. He clears his throat, pulling on the sloppy tie that feels a whole lot hotter all of a sudden. He shouldn't be acting like this. Has it really been that long since he’s been with a girl? He couldn't go to the saloon and pick any one of those lovesick girls. The town wouldn’t continually elect a loose man. Miguel’s eyes catch the flickering gold of a bumblebee locket on your chest. He traces the curve of its wings, wrapping around a crusted gem.

“‘Course she does, she’s my girl. I lost Gabi up in the crowd flow.” 

“You lost her? You can’t tell me you’re the kinda man that does it all. Where is your wife?”

Where is your wife? The question tormented him. He could do it all. Managing the sloppy, slow thieves and putting down the occasional drunken brawl. At the end of the night, he came home to his empty home and saw his little girl. Miguel’s gaze danced along the puffy clouds in the sky. The fluffy clouds drift the same as usual, the same old slow draw, unknowledgeable about the change in his life. He suppresses the distant melancholy in his voice in surfacing old memories. 

“Ain’t got a wife. She ran off on me with some wolf. Usually, I got a sitter for my girl but, she came down with a fever.”

“A wolf?” you repeat after him, “Why, you mean a gentleman?” 

A gentleman, he scoffs under his breath.

“If you wanna call him that. He was an outlaw.” 

“I’m mighty sorry, Sheriff.”  You looked at the little girl in your arms. Gabriella’s small fingers fiddle with the glimmering gold pendant on your chest. He throws her a look-- behave. She’s not paying attention one bit. You set your parasol down, freeing the necklace and setting it in her tiny fist. “I’m a whole widow myself. Lost my man in the war and never got the chance to have one’a my own.” 

“You don’t say. You on the market?”

“On the market like cattle?” you teased. If he’s not mistaken, that shy smile of yours was all his. Maybe you like him. It's a signal that he could keep going. 

“Coño, no. You’re too fine for that,” the words are buttery smooth, but upon discovering how the words may come off, he realizes he might be sliding into a trap on the back of those words. Your lips are slightly agape, half in shock. “Pretty. You’re too pretty.” 

“Oh, Sheriff, don’t worry your head,” you adjust Gabriella on your hip, swaying in place like it was natural. “I ain’t one to take offense to pretty words. Suppose you want your niña back?” 

There went his chance.

"That'd be best," he slides his hands underneath Gabriella’s tiny arms to pick her up. The pendant she held clattered free from her grip, nestled in the deep grass. You were about to pick it up when a scrawny thing of a man swiped it from the grass. For an instant, Miguel thought it might be Pavi, who loved to be helpful in the most annoying ways. Catching doors even when it's men, dropping his scarf on mud for girls, a charming and shy kid. It isn’t, though, it’s that weasel he seems to be throwing in the pin every damn week, bolting off in a full-on run. 

“Ay, not my locket!” you gasped, plucking your skirts over your boots. 

“Maldito niño--” Miguel stops you, sliding Gabriella back into your arms. Not that she was complaining, tiny hands slapping together in a rendition of applause as Miguel darted after him, his booming steps beating the ground. “Get back here, kid!”  

“Dios, you sure have a busy papa. I'm sure he’ll back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” You looked between the little girl nestled comfortably in your arms and the parting sea of the crowd. Gwen zooms past, eliciting another round of jovial laughter from Gabriella O’Hara. She does love a good game.

It ain’t that Miguel wants to leave his girl with any old fool that waltzed on into his town. But he knows his community, knows they’d not leave him out to dry, and knows that taking his daughter on a town-wide chase with a skinny little weasel around town is not the move. Especially not if he has a gun, which he did, because of course he did. Now, the man has a jail cell and Miguel has a crook in his neck from where the buffoon fell through the crooked second floor of the post office.

He works the sore muscle the whole way back to your wagon. It’s high time for eating. His stomach was raging after the scent of someone’s pulled pork, the roasted sweetness of corn. If we wanted to be presentable then, he sure wasn’t now. Dust was a second skin on his pants and aged boots. He walks past the platform where Hobie plays a tune with his banda. Most vendors were wrapping right on up for some proper debauchery.

He finds you there, swaying to the beat of the music with Gabriella hanging in your arms. Her tiny hands were around an ear of elote already. Guess she extorted a snack out of you. 

“One gold locket,” Miguel heaves out the words as he digs in his pocket, whirling the golden chain into your small hand. You flip it over once, then twice, examining it for any defects. “Better to keep that tucked away out here. Puts a target on your back right quick.”

“Muchísimas gracias, sheriff. You're a sweetheart,” you reach out, grazing his scratchy cheek with your supple lips. Gabriella is flatly squished between his sweaty chest and yours. She’s fallen asleep flat against your chest. “You don’t know how much this necklace means to me.” 

There are whispers from the women he’s turned down. The viejitas who have been trying to set him up for a full-on year now, those who told him he needed to find a girl as soon as possible to marry. He didn’t want to. Not unless it made sense. 

“Yes, well, you could tell me,” Miguel finally picks his daughter from your arms. She’s out like a light. “If you want.” 

“It was my mami's, once upon a time. She gave it to me on my wedding day," you explain. "It's all I got left of her. I wonder what she'd think of me these days, travelin' town to town like I got secrets."

"You ever think of settlin' down again?" He turns his gaze past Hobie’s banda, to the yellowing sky. The sun is setting out over the horizon, casting warm orange and soft pink into the air. The road is full of wagons. The clip-clop of horses running their way to the next town, some checked in to the hostel.

"A veces," you explain. "If it feels right, I think I will."

"Yeah?" He settles on the bed of your wagon. The dresses were packaged and kept in locked chests, kept away from the bed of the wagon where your blanket was. Most of the foreigners have left, but you. He doesn’t have to guess to know that it was his fault. “You off to Rio’s hostel?” 

“‘fraid I’m out of town,” you smiled at him. “She ain’t got any rooms. Next city over might.” 

“Stay with me,” he says. “The night. Bit too late to get robbed on the road with all them pretty dresses you make. Wouldn’t be right to be sheriff and let a young thing out there without company. Some'a them outlaws take wives that way, y'know.” 

“Oh, Sheriff O’Hara, ain’t no one care about widows on the road,” your hand finds your chest. It’s said with a laugh, as though someone, somewhere, made you feel less than. It wasn’t going to be Miguel.

"Ain't a widow if you're carried off." He reclines, watching the figures of couples dancing to whatever the hell Hobie was playing on his guitar. His eyes track over Hobie’s gloved fingers that prance across the strings, waiting for you to walk back on that stupid comment. You do, snapping out a fan in the waist of your heavy dress to fan yourself.

“You really sure? I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sure you got better to do than take care of company.” 

“You took care of my girl. Least I could do. Long as you go to church in the morning.” 

“Oh, now he’s askin’ me to church. When’s the wedding, Sherriff?” 

“Miguel. Soon as you want it,” he returns, half a smile pulling at a normally closed-off face. Miguel turns to set his Gabi down on your blanket, throwing you a look for permission. You nod, watching her roll on the wool thing, setting her hands under her cheek until she gets into a position that isn’t as bad as laying on her back. He tucks her hair back over the shell of her ear, exhaling a breath. Somewhere between his ex-wife’s flight from the town and today, she began to look more and more like him. He’s thankful for that. He doesn’t need more memories of her. Only needed to get through each day, and make the next better than the one before.

“She’s tuckered out,” you lean down, just by his face. “All that escapin’ papa work.” 

“Si,” Miguel hums as he massages his sore shoulder. “Tell me about it. I’m getting too old for this.” 

He lifts his head from his daughter’s tiny body, reminded of all the times someone told him to get married. If not the women chasing him around his jail at all hours of the day, then the women at church who, at the moment, were gossiping away. He could hear the prattle already: sheriff likes rich girls. The type to have a golden locket and French silk. The luxury of hopping from town to town like some no-good woman. He’d wager, your husband ain’t had the money to take care of you but for these light luxuries. Traveling town to town wasn't no small feat.

Tch. He’d deal with it tomorrow when he took you to church. Scandalous as that was.

“Fancy a dance?” he offered up his hand. 

You remove your gloves, skin is soft and supple against his, only marred by the pricks of a needle. Your gloved fingers grazed his scarred palm, tracing the long strike that marred his open palm. There’s a thought there, just behind the reach of your playful eyes. He couldn’t quite reach it. 

“I’d love to, Miguel.” 

Something tells him he has time to.

[peachesofteal]

hii!! idk if you’ve already talked about this but how did simon and soap meet darling?

p.s. dead disco has me in such a chokehold i reread it literally all the time💞

Hi! I'm so glad you like Dead Disco, I have loved writing it too and am really enjoying exploring their relationship. I love an opportunity to talk about my pairings and explore them a bit so I wrote something as an answer to your Q. Thank you so much!

How did the guys meeting darling? Ghost x Soap x female reader 1.2k words - no warnings/tags - takes place before Dead Disco This was not edited, just a brain to typing ramble. Sorry for any mistakes.

It was at a bar. Not the dive kind, that you were particularly fond of now, but an upscale, too fancy for you type place. The kind where they serve cocktails in thin rimmed glassware with crystal clear ice cubes and two ounce pours of whiskey that cost triple digits. 

You were there for a party, a bridal shower, of all things. Zipped into an uncomfortable dress, feet already crying from the too tall heels that you chose. The champagne soured your stomach, the fake smile you had plastered to your face slipping more and more as the minutes ticked on, the pressure of too many eyes, too many people, too many questions finally starting to wear you down. The bride-to-be was beautiful, and you were miserable. 

Not because she was getting married, of course. You were thrilled for her, proud of her for actually pulling the trigger on happily ever after even if it was something you’re not sure you believed in. She was happy and that’s all that matters. You’re a supportive friend, after all. But, you were tired, the social aspect of a gathering like that quickly overwhelming you, forcing you to slink to a table in the back where you could hide your bare feet under the pristine tablecloth and slump over in your chair, fixing your eyes on your phone so you could escape, if only for a moment. 

Your reprieve didn’t last long before a gaggle of aunts and well-meaning middle-aged women swarmed you, endless questions spouting from their mouths, inquiries about how you were, how your job was, if you were dating anyone being passed around between them like you were some science fair exhibit to be analyzed and dissected. 

You slipped away when they were distracted, fleeing the table out the side door of the banquet room and down the back stairs to where the brick patio of the street level bar was, which was open for regular business and customers, seeing as it was a Saturday afternoon. 

You met Johnny first, that day. You had turned the corner of the stairwell and nearly stumbled into him, your body skidding to a stop when you felt the cold brick on your bare feet and realized you had left your god damn shoes upstairs. He had been leaning against the wall with an almost empty beer in his hand, mohawk slightly grown out, t shirt accentuating his arms, soft shadow of stubble lining his jaw. You clocked him right away because he was beautiful, gorgeously handsome in the way that made you want to sidle right up next to him and take a closer look. There was something in his eyes, when he registered your presence at the bottom of the steps, something… hot, a heat that curved around your neck and across your throat, down to the very center of your stomach, the feeling of it awaking something desirous, something needy inside you. When he gave you a sweet smile, your knees felt light, and then he gestured to you, a sweeping hand motion that felt like an invitation to come over. 

So, you did. 

His name was Johnny. He was brilliantly charming and utterly funny, while also being extremely intelligent and cordial. He was easy to talk to, and the two of you struck up a conversation without hinderance, the flow of the back and forth actually enjoyable and not a drag like most interactions you had with men lately. He was interesting, and sweet, and sexy and you were trying really hard not to drool as he asked you questions about yourself, what you did, where you were from, who you were. You were so engrossed in him that you didn’t even see the other man, the one in the mask that had arrived to stand opposite him, until he was practically casting a shadow over you. 

He was huge. The width of his body, his neck, even his palms had your eyes subtly widening and your gaze tracing him from head to toe out in wonder, and confusion. Even though he was wearing a black cloth mask over his nose and mouth, you could make out his bone structure, the angles of his face and cheeks telling you that he certainly was beautiful underneath it, and he had a crop of sandy brown-blonde hair that contrasted his eyes, their copper brown hue refracting in the light and nearly startling you with how stunning they were. He pinned you with them, your body frozen where it stood like you were an animal, unable to flee, or speak, or formulate a sentence. You just stood there, blinking at him like you had suddenly gone dumb. Throat dry. Lips parted. 

And then, he handed Johnny one of the beers he was holding. Their fingers grazed, and Johnny’s thumb lifted, stroking along the back of masked man’s hand, an affectionate, soothing gesture that you couldn’t look away from. Something so small, so simple, communicated a million words between them within a second. 

There was something about them, something different that you couldn’t put your finger on that drew you in, pulling you closer and closer into their orbit, until the man in the mask looked down and said:

“Yer not wearin’ any shoes.” The deep, rough timbre of his voice scratched something in the back of your mind, and you felt butterflies thrash in your belly. Your body grew warm, embarrassment snaking up your spine and you took a step backwards, a hand nervously rising to find a piece of your hair to fidget with while you tried to manage a smile and explain. 

“I uh, left them upstairs. At the shower. I was at a bridal shower.” Masked man cocks his head like he’s considering your words. 

“Hurt your feet?” You nodded immediately, a tinge of relief cooling the heat of your embarrassment, and Johnny gave you a sympathetic smile before he turned to man in the mask and gave your name, the Scottish accent shifting the pronunciation so that it sounded all that more attractive. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just regarded you silently, like he was processing you, x-raying you, seeing you inside and out, trying to decide what to say next, before his voice softened and he said, “I’m Ghost.” Johnny tsked aloud and Ghost shifted, his shoulders tensing and relaxing, eyes narrowing above the mask before his chest deflated with a sigh. “Johnny.” He warned, to which Johnny rolled his eyes, and slung his arm around your shoulder affectionately. 

“What do you say you get your shoes, and we go find another bar?” You nodded your agreement immediately, not caring if these two were going to throw you over their shoulders and hide you away forever, or not. You already knew, you’d be going wherever they went. “Atta girl.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you high tailed it up the stairs, pausing to look back for just a second to see him placing his hand on Ghost’s ribs, the gesture reciprocated by Ghost stepping closer and lowering his forehead to Johnny’s, an intimate glimpse that had your heart rattling in your chest. 

You were a goner. 

[thisreadswhatever]

Long Time Coming

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.2k+

[summary]: each summer you come back to Charming for your fix of Jax. but this year, he decides he wants more than just a summer fling.

[cw]: 18+, heavy fluff, jealous/drunk reader, unfinished feelings, teasing, very very small amount of smut, some pet names, spelling/grammar errors throughout

[an]: started watching sons again and just had to write ab my one true love. may add another part to this if u guys want it.. so reblog/reply to let me know. also lmk if you want to be tagged if there is a part two, or in any other jax fics i write :)

You swirled the glass in your hand, watching the brown liquid twist into a cyclone in between the two cubes of ice. You had always steered clear of whisky, mostly because of the bitter after taste and the feeling of hot breath. Tonight though, it was exactly what you needed. You drank the last remaining drops, setting the cup down on the bar in front of you.

“Another please.”

Juice looked shocked, watching you pound back bourbons like it was water. You rolled your eyes, and held up the glass. “I think I can handle myself Juice.” It sounded more like you were convincing yourself than him, but he also knew you better than to try to persuade you otherwise. He filled the glass up half way, and put the bottle next to you.

“Whatever. But it Jax asks, I didn’t serve you.”

You scoffed as you turned your back to the bar, swiping the near empty bottle of bourbon and bringing it with you. “He has more important blondes to worry about.” You dropped your weight into a red leather armchair, hugging the bottle and glass to you as you fell.

The clubhouse was dim, barely alive at this time of night. Only a few members remained, some on watch, some enjoying their last drink before calling it a night. You usually enjoyed the clubhouse at these times, the quiet playing of old 80’s rock and heated discussions about club business. Jax and the other members had always made you feel welcome and safe here. And two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have ever questioned hanging out at the club. Yet now with a heavy head full of bourbon, you weren’t even sure why you were still there.

Jax and you had been through it, and it was at this point, well engrained Charming history. Nobody questioned it, because everyone knew they wouldn’t get an answer. Hell, you and Jax didn’t even have the answers.

It was like you were attached by an invisible anchor, hoisted to the depths of the ocean and inevitably pulled back into Jax’s tide no matter how much you resisted. It had been years of back and forth. Jax was vice president of the club, and you were an elementary school teacher. You had left Charming to finish your degree, and you knew it was what you were supposed to do. Charming was a rough place to be with the clubs businesses heating up, and teaching kids brought a happiness to you that was palpable. It was a purpose and you were really, really good at it.

Still, for some fucked up reason, every summer, you ended up back in Charming, back into the same never ending rip tide that was Jax Teller. It was no coincidence either that somehow he was always single by the time you came back around. It didn’t matter how many girls he fucked or how much he liked the chick he had had himself tied up into while you were gone, because by the first week of May, he was yours, and you were his, all over again.

You had to give yourself some slack though, because summers with Jax were something out of a fairytale. Fairytales that were full of bar fights, motorbikes and the best sex you had even dreamed of. Jax had a way of unravelling you, to the point where it was almost impossible to not forget where you were, how you got there, and even your own name. Knowing you as well as he did, meant it didn’t take much until he had you melted into a puddle of cum on the floor, smiling as he watched you whither in the pure pleasure created with the mere tip of his fingers. It was just that good. It was no wonder you ended up back through the doors of the club every summer, who could blame you.

Little did you know, it all would change this summer, and the last two weeks had been hell.

You drank the final drops of bourbon straight from the bottle, and felt the burning sensation as the cool liquid turned to fire down your throat. When you pulled the bottle from your mouth, Jax was standing right in front of you, giggling. “That’s not your usual, babe.”

You knew he’d show up eventually, yet you still felt sad at the ending of your one man drinking game. You braced yourself with one hand on the arm of the chair to hoist yourself up while balancing the glass and bottle in the other. “This isn’t a usual summer, babe.” You turned on your heel to him like a defiant child, ready to run for the door. That was great. You aced that. Until you stumbled on your own foot, falling forward into Jax, and the realisation hit of how incoherent you had sound. Everything at this point was a blur, and a slur.

“Alright, alright”, Jax grabbed the bottle from your hand as you fell into him, “let’s just take it slow before you puke all over Gemma’s fresh lino.” He was trying not to laugh, but the amusement on his face was impossible to hide.

“What is with you guys? You’d think a girl could drink a whiskey around here judgment free.” Juice was watching as Jax held you up by the arm, edging you back towards the bar. “A whole bottle of bourbon would have most outlaws on their ass, babe.”

“I tried to tell her Jax…”

You held one finger up to your mouth, “Shhh. Gimmie another one, Juicey.”

Jax couldn’t contain the laughter this time, as he pulled you into him. “Yeah, I think it’s time for bed.”

You pulled away and reached for the empty bottle tucked under his grasp.

“I’m not going to bed with you, Teller.”

He placed the bottle on the far end of the bar, just out of your reach.

“No, but you’re going to bed anyway.”

You felt a wave of rejection cloud over you, but you knew that it was coming. And then more drunk scoffing. “You’re so bossy.”

Jax chuckled and picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. You wanted to fight and scream for him to put you down, but the sadness was overwhelming you, and tears began welling in your eyes. Before you could cry, you felt the sensation of whiskey spinning in your stomach, so you put all your energy into focusing on not destroying Gemma’s brand new linoleum instead.

“We knew it was going to happen eventually, drinking the clubs entire bar stash isn’t going to help.“ The amusement had obviously left his tone as he spoke, closing the door to his room behind him. He edged forward and laid you on your back on his bed. All of that focus you’d built up on the journey escaped, and your hands were covering your face in a desperate attempt to hide your drunken sobs. Suddenly Jax was on his knees beside the bed, pulling you into him. “Oh fuck y/n. Don’t cry, please.” You nuzzled your face into the nape of his neck, hiding between him and your hair. “I- I- I can’t- You— and her-“ the words were failing. You felt so embarrassed, so ashamed, so rejected. He held you while you sobbed, one hand tightly pressed to the back of your head. “Babe, I know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what I want either. But how long could this go on for?” Jax lifted his hand from the back of your head to your cheek, bringing your face away from its protective shield and lining his eyes with yours. You felt so exposed. This wasn’t the first time Jax saw you cry, but it was the first time he saw you cry over him. “You know I’m yours, babe. But this isn’t what it’s supposed to be like. Look at you.” He wiped the tears streaming from your cheek with his thumb.

“I- I only look like this- because…. because I’m not what you want anymore.”

“Bullshit.” Jax gripped your cheeks between his palms, pulling your forehead onto his. “I fucking want you y/n.” He leant backwards, releasing your face from his grasp, standing up and leaving you unsteady. “But I can’t watch you leave at the end of every summer anymore. It’s too much.” Jax laid back onto the bed, staring at the decades old posters stuck to his ceiling with crusted blu-tac. He was right. You knew it too. But that didn’t stop the tears. That didn’t stop the feeling of rejection. That didn’t stop the jealousy.

“What am I supposed to think? Watching you parade around Charming with some blonde girl for the last two weeks? I don’t come here every summer for the sandy beaches and delicious food, Jax. There is nothing here for me except for you.” For a brief second, your whisky fuelled haze was overwhelmed by a sense of accomplishment. You had actually produced something more coherent than a drunken sob. “This is all just so fucking confusing!”

“You’re talking about 3 months of every year, y/n. It takes me that long to get over the fact you’re gone again before I can even look at any other chick to pretend you don’t own every inch of me. And then you come back and I have to do it all over again. It’s breaking me.” Suddenly you felt queasy again. “You could give up the city and come back to Charming. You could teach here.”

“Or you could give up the club.” The second you spoke the words, you knew they would have never come out sober.

Jax stood up from the bed, and for a moment you thought he was headed for the door. It wasn’t until he spoke that you realised he was practically pacing the stretch of his room, brushing his hands through his hair. He almost seemed like he was contemplating it. Jax leaving the club.. You knew it was just a fantasy. It’s all he’d ever known. He pulled his cut off and laid it over the one seater already piled high with dirty clothes and raunchy magazines. He knelt beside you, holding you into place on the bed by your hips, melting you with the sadness in his eyes. “You know that isn’t an option for me, babe.”

You threw your hands over your face again, bouncing back into the sheets. “I know, I know. I’m just- I’m drowning here, Jax. I cant see you with another girl. And I can’t be without you. And if I can’t come back to Charming.. if I cant see you.. and- I’m- I’m just fucked.” Before you can stop it, the drunken sobbing repeats. Jax laid next to you, pulling you close and mushing your wet, tear soaked face into his chest. You could feel the hardness of his rings against your head as his fingers intertwined in your hair.

“Maybe we don’t need to figure this out tonight babe. You’re so drunk.”

Suddenly, your sobbing turns to giggles. You bring yourself to the pillow, face matching his, before realising the room is spinning again. “I’m actually a picture of sobriety, Teller.” Jax rolls his eyes at your denial.

He moves his hand behind your ear, brushing his fingers through the loose strands of your hair. “Can’t believe I’ve missed this for the last two weeks.” You groan, a little louder than intended. “I cant believe I came back to watch you fuck around with that girl.” You didn’t want to fight anymore, but you couldn’t help it. The words had fled again before you could even consider what was leaving your mouth. Jax smiled, “that sounds a lot like jealousy, miss.” Why do you let him do this to you? What is it he even wants? Why do you bring yourself back here? You shake your head at your own thoughts interrogating your questionable decisions.

“You good?” You nod in response, and you feel as he moves his hand down the cusp of your neck and onto your shoulder, his fingers tracing along the arch of your back beneath your shirt. He circles his fingertips lower down your back, tracing waves into your skin. Your eyes close, your mind spiralling between the nausea in your head and his hands on your skin. You’d wanted this the second you got back to Charming, and you weren’t going to let the bourbon ruin it now. You take a deep breath as he moves his hand further down toward your waistband. And then it stops.

He pulls away at the sound of your gasp, and kisses you on the forehead. You didn’t want to open your eyes, as you can hear him fumbling into the chest of drawers on the bedside. Suddenly there’s a giant SAMCRO t-shirt covering your face. It smells just like him. Cigarettes and the aftershave you’re so familiar of. You pull the shirt off to find Jax hovering over you, smiling.

“Let’s get you naked babe.”

You want to be angry at him, you want to fight and scream and run away and never speak to him again. But it’s impossible when he’s looking at you that way.

“Teller, you just might be the most confusing man I’ve ever-“ cutting you off before you could finish, he lowered down, kissing you, with a ferocity that made up for every part of the last two weeks.

[holdmytesseract]

Baby Fever - Part Three

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Loki are finally becoming parents! And suddenly the world just seems to turn around the tiny baby girl - especially Loki's. He only has eyes for her...

Warnings: So much fluff! Pregnancy, child birth, more fluff!

Word Count: 3,3k

a/n: Therefore, that we all love protective dad!Loki, I couldn't help myself but to write a third part. Huge thanks to @immersed-in-mischief for giving me the ideas! :D I hope it's what you imagined! ^^ Have fun, reading, guys! I hope you like it! :)

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirlbackup @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @acefeather2002 @jennyggggrrr (If you want to be added to one of my Taglists, let me know! :D)

Links to the other parts: Part One / Part Two

Find my Masterlist here! :)

Time was passing by utterly quickly. One day, I told Loki he was going to be a dad and the next, I was almost halfway through the pregnancy... That was how the passing of time felt for me - at least in the last few months. Now, it was... Well... The opposite. Time was passing too slow. I had reached my due date now almost a week ago - and I was so tired of being pregnant. I felt like a stranded sperm whale. Every time I said that out loud and Loki heard it, he would protest, shaking his head violently and saying things like: "My love... Stop saying that. You are the most beautiful woman in all the nine realms." Or: "You couldn't look more ravishing, carrying my child." Those words made me feel slightly better. Nevertheless, being this pregnant wasn't fun...

A knock at the door woke me up, my eyes fluttering open. I tiredly looked around, realising that the sun was already high in the sky above Asgard. Yep... Loki and I were on Asgard since I reached the second trimester. He insisted that I don’t have our baby in a regular hospital, but here. He thought it was better because of his heritage. Here on Asgard were some healers who had high knowledge of the Jotun biology - and well, who was I to complain? It was probably for the best. Who knew if the baby I was going to squeeze out of body would be an adorable small ice cube or not?

Another knock at the door made me release a groan. "Princess Y/N? Are you awake?" I recognised the voice. It was our personal maid, Kára - a very kind, young woman. "Yes!" I called out, clearing my throat. "Yes, I am, just give me a moment!" "Of course, Milady." My gaze travelled over to the side, hand searching for my husband - but his bedside was cold and empty. It was a thing he often did lately. Standing up and letting me sleep as long as I needed it. I rolled over onto my side, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my lower back and abdomen, causing me to hiss. Great, I thought. Barely awake and already blessed with agonising back pain and Braxton Hicks. I slowly tried to stand up - what had gotten a really difficult task by now. I didn't always make it on my own... What felt like eternity, I finally placed both my feet on the soft fur, laying in front of the bed with a huff. "Princess Y/N?" Kára's cautious, but worried voice echoed through the door again. "Is everything alright?" Another groan left my lips, when I stood up. "Yes! I just needed a moment to get up!" I waddled over to the chair, on which my dressing gown laid and slipped into it. "You may come in now!" Seconds later, the door to our chambers got gently opened and closed again, after Kára had stepped inside. "Good morning, Princess Y/N." Kára curtsied and gave me a soft smile. This was still so odd to me... People bowing down in front of me and calling me a Princess? Hence, I wasn't even a real Princess, neither Asgardian... I just was a normal mortal woman, who had married a God. "Good morning, Kára." I gave her a smile as well. "Please... I told you already... Call me Y/N." "Like you wish, Mila- Y/N." I gave her a friendly nod, but knew exactly how this was going to be. She would call me Y/N for a day and then return to 'Princess' and 'Milady', until I would tell her to call me by my first name again. "How are you feeling today?" The young woman asked me, while helping me to get dressed. I sighed. "The same like a few days... My back hurts, my feet hurt - everything just hurts. I am so tired of being pregnant. I just want to have my baby..." "I am sorry to hear that you are in pain. I hope the baby decides to come soon." I inhaled deeply. "I hope so, too."

When Kára had helped me getting dressed, she started to clean up our chambers. "Have you seen my husband, Kára?" "Yes. I saw Prince Loki earlier this morning. As far as I know was he on his way to the training ground with Lady Sif." Ahhh... He spent a lot of time on the training ground lately - what worried me slightly, to be honest. Loki was a fighter, yes, but he actually always preferred a good book over a sweaty fight training. So, I had asked him last week, after he had sauntered completely soaked in sweat back into our chamber. His answer was heart-touching; had me cry right then and there. "Why I spent so much time on the training ground? I want to improve my skills and techniques to make sure that I can protect you and our baby properly. Against every possible enemy." Honestly, I cried like a baby...

"Thank you." I would definitely pay him a visit later, but first, I needed something to eat. "I'll go, have breakfast now. The baby is hungry, I'm afraid." The young maid lifted her head, looked up at me. "Shall I go and bring you some breakfast?" I shook my head, smiling thankfully at her. "No, thank you. I need to move a bit." With those words I left the chambers and made my way to the dining hall - which took me several minutes, because I needed a break every few meters. The Braxton Hicks contractions didn't help either...

After breakfast, I decided to go and see Loki. It was not like I had anything important to do... "Lokes!" I called out, when I approached the training ground, waving at him when he saw me. He was currently kneeling over Sif, holding her down with his leg and aiming his dagger at her. But as soon as he noticed me, he stopped the fight and stood up, literally running over to me. "Darling! What are you doing here?!" His voice was laced with worry. "Shouldn't you be laying down?!" Loki had become utterly protective since I was pregnant. I loved it. It was super sweet - but sometimes it was a tad too much. "Calm down, babe, it's okay. I can't always lay down, so I thought I am visiting you." His worried blue eyes scanned my body, hands lifting to touch my baby bump. "Are you sure about that?" "Yes." Loki sighed, but leaned in for a kiss, giving me a smile. "How are you feeling?" He asked, while tracing his thumbs softly over the clothed skin of my bump. "Same as yesterday... Back pain, feet pain, constantly Braxton Hi-" I wasn't able to finish my sentence, as another wave of pain crashed over my lower abdomen, causing me to brace myself against Loki and releasing deep breaths. "Love?!" "I'm fine, I'm fine... Just Braxton Hicks..." "Sure?" "Yes."

Thirty minutes later, I wasn't so sure anymore. The contractions got closer, came in shorter intervals - and by the Norns, they became worse... I was still at the training grounds, seated in the shadows, when I felt a contraction, stronger than every other before. I winced in pain, almost toppling over. That was the point I had to admit to myself: This was the real thing. Not just Braxton Hicks. The baby was coming… Now. "Loki!" I immediately called for my husband, both hands clasping my belly. He was at my side in no time, of course. "What is it, darling?" Loki asked, squatted down in front of me, hands on my knees. I bit my lip. "I-I, uh, I think I am in l-labour." The God's eyes widened to the size of plates. "R-Really?" I nodded - and as if on cue, I felt a gushing sensation between my legs, followed by something wet trickling down my legs. Uh.Oh. "W-What... What is that?" Loki asked, swallowing hard as he saw the wet patch on my – pardon me, Loki's grey sweatpants. (Yes, I was a Princess, on Asgard, wearing sweatpants. Crazy, right?) "Babe, I think my water just broke." Loki stared back at my face and I literally saw the panic coming up in his eyes. "Y-Your water just broke?" The God squeaked out, "Oh Norns... Oh shit…" before he stood up and started to pace up and down in front of me, hands buried in his black curls. "Lokes… Deep breaths. I need you to stay calm. Take me to the healers, okay?" Loki stopped abruptly, looking at me once again. "O-Of course, okay, yes, sure." He helped me stand and immediately swept me off my feet, carrying me bridal style. Without even saying a single word to Sif, he marched away. "Am I not too heavy? Couldn't you just… teleport us?" He quickly shook his head. "Why in Valhalla should you be too heavy? And no. Teleportation is too dangerous." "Because, oof-" Again a contraction interrupted me. I clawed my hands in the fabric of Loki's tunic and gritted my teeth. "Breathe, my love, breathe. We're almost there." Now I did what he said, took deep breaths. Minutes later, Loki had carried me through the hallways of the palace, into a big room with a large bed inside and various things you needed for a birth. It almost looked like a real maternity ward in a hospital on earth. My eyes widened at the sight. I certainly didn't expect this. "Lokes, what-" My husband cut me off immediately, as he laid me down on the bed. "I've prepared this room weeks ago, love. I hope the bed is comfortable enough?" I stared at him, jaw dropping. "You... prepared this room weeks ago?" He nodded. "Yes. I was on Midgard, looked how they do things there and decided to prepare this room like that. I hoped that this would make you feel more homely and relaxed. I wanted it to be as normal for you as possible." My heart jumped at his words. "Oh babe... Thank you so much." Loki smiled proudly and leaned down to place a kiss on my forehead. "I'll go, get the healers."

Almost four hours of excruciating pain and tons of shed tears and sweat later, one of the female healers announced with a joyful voice: "She's here, your majesties." No second later echoed a loud cry through the room, making me tear up on an instant. "She?" I sobbed up, looking over at Loki, who held my hand still in a death grip, looking like he had just seen a ghost. "Yes, my Princess. It's a little girl." The healer announced, stepping over to me. "And she looks just like her father." She said with a smile, placing the small, wrapped up bundle on my chest, before they all tended to cleaning me and everything else up and leaving the room to give us some privacy. I welcomed my child, of course immediately in my arm, looking down at her. It was true... She looked exactly like her daddy. Deep blue skin with beautiful marks and ridges all across her body, ruby eyes and a small tuft of black hair on her head. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen - beside Loki. "Lokes..." I whispered, voice trembling. "Look… You're a daddy now of a beautiful little girl." Those words, coming from my mouth seemed to let him realise what just had happened. He was a father now. His eyes welled up with tears, a sob leaving his throat and shaking his whole body, as he reached out a trembling hand to touch his daughter's head. He traced a gentle line down her small back and arms, towards her even tinier hands. She grabbed a hold of his finger immediately, when Loki placed it in her palm, holding on tightly. "I-I am a dad now..." Loki sounded utterly overwhelmed, as he looked down at his very own daughter. "You are, babe." I said, smiling at him through tears. The baby girl had stopped her crying by now, after getting used to the whole new environment she was suddenly in and the feeling of her parents being close. Soft coos were leaving those pouty lips now, eyes squeezed back shut. It took Loki a while to let the information sink fully in, but once he had really grasped it, the tears started to fall freely down his cheeks. "I am a dad now!" Loki literally screamed out, halfway laughing, halfway crying, before he stood up and paced the room like a madman - again, hands running over his face. "I can't believe it... I have a daughter..." I could tell that he was on the verge of losing it. I've never seen him that emotional before, but I absolutely adored it. A soft giggle left my lips at his reaction. Norns, I was so in love with that man. He needed another few moments to take a deep breath and calm his nerves. "May I hold her, darling? Please?" "Of course, but take off your tunic. She needs skin-to-skin contact." Loki nodded quickly and with one snap of his fingers was his green tunic gone, leaving him in his leather trousers and boots. I handed her carefully over, into Loki's arms, what caused her to whimper softly at the loss of warmth; but he was quick to give her the warmth back. Thanks to his wonderful niece, Eisa, he knew how to hold a baby. He practiced a lot. Loki placed our little girl on his broad chest, constantly supporting her head. As soon as her skin touched his, the skin of his upper body and face turned blue as well. Ridges and marks appeared all over his chest, face and arms. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of them and the deep bond they already seemed to share. It was breathtakingly beautiful. "Hello, my little Princess." He whispered, kissing her small head repeatedly, as tears still streamed down his cheeks. They remained like that for a long while, before Loki shapeshifted back into his Æesir form. Not even ten seconds later, our daughter suddenly shapeshifted as well, the blue on her skin turning into the colour of Loki's porcelain skin. He gasped at the sight. "Darling! Did you see that?! She just... shapeshifted!" I smiled broadly, already suspected that our daughter would be able to do such things. "Well, she's half her daddy, after all." "Oh my smart girl." Loki cooed, cradling her closer against his chest.

A few hours later, Y/N was back in our chambers, had fed the tiny girl for the first time and was now fast asleep. She needed to rest; I knew that of course. Therefore, I was looking after our baby. She was once again in my arms, sleeping peacefully. I wanted her close to me, wasn't able to tear my eyes off of her. A soft knock on the door caught my attention, causing me to lift my head. Carefully, I laid her back down in the crib, before I silently walked over to the door and opened it. "Mother." I gasped out, happily, still overwhelmed by my emotions. Without saying a single word, she pulled me in a tight hug. "Congratulations, my son. I am so proud of you. Look into what a wonderful man you've grown... A husband and now a father." Those words tugged at my heartstrings, bringing the tears back into my eyes. "Thank you so much, mother." She placed a soft kiss on my cheek, making me smile even brighter, "I hope I am not disturbing?" before she let go of me again. "No, of course not. Y/N's asleep, but please... Come and meet your granddaughter." I stepped aside, granting her access. My mother didn't hesitate, of course, stepped inside. I led her over to the crib. "Mother... Meet Ella." Frigga looked down at Ella with heart eyes, a gasp leaving her lips. "She is beautiful, Loki. What a sweet little angel. Again, I am so proud of you." I gave her a smile and couldn't help but to hug her again.

A week later, we were back in our apartment at the Avengers compound. It was great on Asgard, without a doubt, but… I missed my home. Loki understood that, of course and took us back as soon as the healers gave us the permission to leave. Once back home, everybody was on an instant enchanted by the tiny girl. Everyone spent at least fifteen minutes with gushing over Ella. How sweet she was, how tiny her fingers were and how much she looked like her dad. I had no problem with our friends, gushing over Ella or carrying her around. Quite the opposite… It warmed my heart, gave me the feeling that she was accepted and protected and loved. Unlike Loki. Loki was totally not amused and highly protective of Ella, his eyes never leaving her out of sight – or the person who held her… She was currently in Natasha's arms, cooing adorably, while Wanda and Pepper hunched over them, making heart eyes at the tiny girl - who visibly enjoyed all the attention she received. I saw him standing in the corner of our living room, pouting. I frowned and stepped over to him, poked his side playfully, but affectionately. "What's wrong, Lokes?" He inhaled sharply, "Too many people who have their hands all over my daughter. I don't like that." and crossed his arms over his chest. I wanted to speak up, but before a single word could leave my lips, he stomped over to the group of girls. "Excuse me, but I think Ella needs to sleep for a while now." Loki took the baby girl from Natasha's arms into his own and vanished just like that into the bedroom, leaving the three woman sitting there quite a bit flabbergasted. "Sorry, girls." I apologised immediately, walked over to them and sat down on the sofa as well, giving all three an apologetic smile. "Loki's a bit... protective." And he was that constantly. Not just around the other Avengers, no. Even around his own brother and sister-in-law... "No." Thor looked at his brother, blinking, while Jane and I stood aside, watching the scenes unfold in front of our eyes, stunned. "No?" Loki nodded, while gently rocking Ella. "Yes. I won't let you hold her. Certainly not. You're an oaf, Thor. I don't want Ella to get hurt." Thor blinked again. "Brother... I have a daughter myself, who is only a few months older than Ella, don't you remember?" "Yes, I do remember very clearly, but this is different." "How is that different?" Loki held his daughter, who was definitely a daddy's girl - I could tell that already - closer against his upper body. "Ella is my baby." That was my cue to intervene. I couldn't watch that any longer. "Our baby, Lokes! And now let your brother hold Ella!" Before the God could even start to protest, I snatched Ella from his grasp and gave her over to her uncle. "Here you go." I said, giving him a smile, which he returned. "I swear, brother…" Loki stepped dangerously close to Thor, raising a finger. "If you are going to drop her, I am going to-" "Stab me, I know, brother. Got it." Loki narrowed his eyes and gave Thor a last threatening look, before he plopped down beside me on the sofa. Yeah... That's what I was dealing with every day. Within a year, Loki had turned from a man who was not very fond of children, to an (over)protective, but loving mother hen - and I was so here for it. I loved it, because I knew that I couldn't imagine a better dad for Ella.