#everything’s gone stagnant and i don’t like it

[lavendarsarepretty]

why does everything feel like shit again wtf???? it’s not even new years i can’t fucking do this

[meow-xine]

Ohhh I am so obsessed with him 😫

Shota Aizawa x Fem reader

Cw: smut, some plot… oral (F! receiving)

Background: Aizawa is your husband but you haven’t seen him in WEEKS due to him being caught up in work.

Shota has just been so busy as of late. Truth be told, with the two of you sharing so many aspectual responsibilities – many stemming from Shota’s job, you had felt a strain on your relationship. Shota rarely had time for you anymore, him spending more time now than ever at work, trying to make sense of villain attacks and dorms. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks, the only interaction being a text or a late night call. Of course you kept yourself busy, going to work during the day then occupying yourself with small things around the house; cleaning, crafts. No matter how much you distracted yourself though, there was no way to stop the yearning for your husband. You knew it was necessary, and you would in no way ever try to stop him from doing what he needed to, but you just wish he could take one day off. Life just hadn’t been the same.

“I just miss you so much.” you sobbed into the phone resting next to you, laying down curled over a pillow. This had become a sort of routine, Shota calling you up later than he should, knowing that you would be awake and expecting to hear from him. “I know, I miss you too. It’s.. it’s just been so complicated trying to balance everything. Know that if I could come home to you I would.” He sighed. It wasn’t much easier on him, and you knew that. You often found yourself getting off the phone feeling more guilty than anything. He had a lot on his plate, and you were sure your complaining wasn’t of much help. There was just something about the late night that seeped into your words, taking control and slurring your speech. You weren’t used to staying up so late.

“I’m sorry baby.. I just don’t feel good without you here. It’s too quiet and dull.” you continued your earlier recurring thought. Silence interrupted by your small hiccups filled the air. It was stagnant and dense, but not uncomfortable. “You know it breaks my heart to hear you like that honey.” He interrupted the silence, followed by a sigh. “I’ll do what I can to see you as soon as possible.” he continued. “You promise?” “I promise. Now get some sleep love, it’s late.” And with that you hung up and fell asleep, remaining in the same curled position. 

That was two weeks ago, and since then you had been carefully watching the news reports and attacks against both Shota and his students. It was scary stuff and you constantly had to remind yourself that he would be okay– that they would all be okay. Even with reminders though, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and out of control, sometimes forgetting to breathe until Shota got a break on TV. You followed up with texts and phone calls afterwards too, needing more than just a digital image showing he was safe. 

Finally, amongst the sea of phone calls you had gotten, it was your husband.

“[Name]? Baby?” it was Shota, he sounded happier than he had in a while and you swore you could feel his smile through the phone. “Hi Sho, I’m here. How are things going?” you smiled too, not being able to contain yourself after hearing him. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Things are going good, especially today. I rarely ever take time off work so it was pointed out that I am long overdue for some PTO.” “Oh yay! Do you know when exactly you might be getting some days?” You stood up from the couch you were sitting on in your shared home. “Well…” He started, but before he could finish his sentence the doorbell rang. “Oh, I’m sorry, give me one moment, someone’s at the door..” He chuckled, “Sure.”

You made your way to the door making sure to hold your phone to your chest before answering. Upon opening the door, the phone in your hand was long forgotten, falling to the floor. It was Shota on the other side, lazily holding his phone to his ear. He hung up and opened his arms, allowing you to run into them.

“You’re here! Oh I’ve missed you so much.. I wish you would have told me you were coming ,I would have worn something nicer.” You rambled feeling embarrassed for just wearing one of his shirts and PJ shorts. Not leaving enough time for you to finish a thought, Shota wrapped his arms around you, one snaking around your waist and the other rubbing your back. “Hi baby..” 

You released yourself from his embrace, taking a moment to look at his face and notice the small differences. He looked tired and weary, no thanks to the battles he had endured. Despite everything, it was still your Shota standing in front of you. Your eyes moved down to his lips and before you could think you were all over them. You pulled back, apologizing, “Oh! Sorry,” you knelt down to pick up some of his bags, “let’s let you get settled in first.” 

The two of you carried his bags to your bedroom, placing them on the floor. Before Shota made an effort to unpack, he walked over to you and brought you in for another hug, this one tighter than the last. One of his hands was wrapped warmly against your head, bringing you closer to his chest. You inhaled, making a mental note to lock his sweet musk scent away for when he inevitably had to leave again. “I missed you so much baby, you have no idea.” he spoke, his voice soft and gravelly. 

You loosely pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, one of your hands holding his cheek and his hands still lingering low around your waist. “I missed you too Sho. It felt impossible without you here. I’m just so happy you’re okay.” He smiled down at you and planted a small kiss on your lips. He deepened the kiss, disentangling your entire being yet somehow making you feel more full than you ever had all at once. His hand was now placed against the nape of your neck, all the while slowly backing you up into the nearest wall. 

Once you felt your back touch the wall you couldn’t help but break free of the kiss and gasp, being too entranced to notice the position you were in until now. Shota wasted no time in returning to the kiss, using the hand on your neck to bring you closer to him. The two of you melted into the kiss, a mix of small groans and whines left Shota’s mouth as he lost himself in you. He broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to look at you beneath his frame before speaking, “Baby I need you right now..” he groaned, searching for approval in your eyes. You displayed agreement through a nod and took a step forward. Shota, before beginning to take off your clothes, gently let his hands run across your body longer than he needed to. It had been so long since he had been able to feel your skin underneath him, he wanted to savor it. 

He took off your shirt, admiring what was underneath as he lifted it above your head. Once he discarded it to the side, he worked on removing your bra. You were now completely bare from the waist up and your dark haired husband couldn’t help but stare. “Oh I’ve missed you so much.” He lowered his earlier kisses down to the side of your neck, bending his knees as he moved down to kiss your exposed breasts, one hand massaging the other as he worked. You let out soft moans, the pleasure slowly surging through you. It was more intense than usual, it had felt like eons since you had been touched by him, yet it seemed he still knew exactly how to please you. 

‘C’mere baby,” he led you to your shared bed, sitting you on the edge. You were almost laying down, your elbows propped up stopping you from doing so. Shota got down to his knees in front of you, sliding his hands on either side of your thighs and he slid your shorts off, your panties being the only remaining article. Upon seeing your wetness seeping through the cloth, Shota chuckled  “Awh baby, you’re soaked.” He looked up at you with lust clouded eyes. “Let me touch you, please love.” It took you a moment to fully process and respond to him, you were far too distracted by the sight of your usually dominant husband kneeling before you, so undone. “Yes-yeah, of course you can.” you responded after far too long of a pause. 

He returned one of his hands to its earlier position, slid against your thigh only now massaging you slowly. His other hand moved up slowly to your clothed pussy and you gasped when you felt him touch you. He used his hands to spread your legs open and teased small traces along your inner thighs, moving his face closer. You shivered as you felt the warmth of his breath close in. He planted a trail of the most gentle kisses up your thighs, pausing once he got just close enough to make you antsy. You whimpered, “please Sho..need you..”

“You know I can’t say no when you ask like that.” he smirked, then slid your panties off, gliding a finger down your slit. He inched his face closer, attaching his mouth to your clit after a few small licks. The wave of pleasure crashed down on you all at once, “Oh Sho…” you moved your hands to grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Once his gentle demeanor faded, he was devouring you like a madman, groaning and mumbling into your arousal. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this..” he lazily groused, slipping two fingers into you. He curled them up into you, the sheer amount of unfamiliar pleasure was almost overstimulating.

Your grip on his hair tightened, indicating he must have been doing something right. He paused to look up at you, “Yeah? You like that? ‘Course you do..” he trailed off, his mouth finding you again. Your nerves heated your entire body, that combined with the growing knot in your belly was enough to push you over the edge. You bucked your hips, now riding his fingers more than anything. He pulled his face up to look at you again. “Oh baby you look so pretty coming undone f’me right now.” his fingers sped up reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. “So pretty.”

“I’m- fuck.. M’ so close Sho..” you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Rolling your hips at the same speed his fingers were fucking you, you couldn’t help but toss your head back in satisfaction, your release smashing against you. “That’s it baby.. good girl..” Shota spoke, his fingers never once slowing until you were worn out. You whined due to the absence that filled you as he removed his digits. 

He stood up, looming over your relaxed frame. He knelt down to kiss your forehead, grabbing one of your hands to help you sit upright. “You did so good baby.. So good.” He sat next to you, stroking your hair. “Oh I love you Shota, so much.” you whined into him. ”I love you too [Name].” He smiled, honestly not wanting to get up. “Now let's get you cleaned up, it’s late.”

“What about you though? I feel bad not returning anything..” You said, feeling a mix of pleasure and guilt all in one go. “Don’t worry about me, we have plenty of time.” Shota responded. He walked to the bathroom, starting a hot bath with a mix of calming oils; then returned to you and brought you to the tub.

The two of you were slipped in you got comfortable in the middle of his legs, your back resting against his chest. “I love you Shota.” you closed your eyes, feeling relaxed enough to go to sleep right in the tub.

He wrapped his arms around your torso. “I love you too, [Name].”

[val-cansalute]

Can u do a drabble or hcs on cuddling Ellie?

Ur writing is so good I love everything U write :>

WREATHE

warnings: not much, mostly fluff, basically the rq, mdni with my account tho😏

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR I KID YOU NOT LIKE HALF A YEAR IM GENUINELY SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME 😰 thank you so much for sending the rq even though i took the piss responding, also this is a drabble bc i don’t think i’d be good at doing hcs 😭 i have some shit coming up at uni so i prolly won’t put anything out for a while but i have an idea for a new fic in the drafts !!! very excited…

ramadan has started which means israel’s violence against the Palestinian people will worsen as it does every year, purely for the sake of inflicting even more psychological torture on them. please, now more than ever, pray for them if you’re religious, talk about palestine, boycott, protest, strike, donate if you can, contact the people in charge. don’t let people forget. here’s a link to some details on the situation. everybody stay safe 💗.

10:47 - you return from a strenuous day of patrol and odd jobs around Jackson. You’re slightly tipsy, a drink or two from the Tipsy Bison churning a pool of warmth within your stomach.

The place is stagnant when you push the door open, as if coming home to nobody.

Ellie must’ve gone to bed early today.

You drift to the bathroom despite the fact that the house feels apocalyptic, and sit in the gentle rush of water, scrubbing your skin weakly with aching arms.

When you enter your room, everything is still, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Ellie’s figure beneath the covers on the bed backed against the wall.

You throw the dampened towel that is slung over your shoulder carelessly and walk over to the bed, gently settling beside her.

For a while, you feel content. Sleep is lulling you in, the room is shadowy, the bed is warm, and the sound of Ellie’s deep-sleep-breaths (totally not snores at all, she swears) are soft like TV static in the back of your mind.

Your eyes are on the verge of fluttering close for the last time tonight so you turn onto your side and nestle into the crook of your shoulder.

Then, there’s a harsh jolt and the bed shifts. You can feel Ellie’s puzzled gaze raking over you, the realisation that you’re home setting, and your lips twist into a smile subconsciously. The night rarely ends without the inebriating buzz of affection.

A quiet sigh escapes the enclosure of her blush-pink lips before she reclines into the pillows once more, eyes never leaving the still curvature of your figure. Not a moment passes and her arms encircle your waist, warmth embracing your torso and pressing against your hair like a wreathe of absolute comfort.

A barely audible mumble tickles the helix of your ear,

“Hey, babe,” accompanied by the phantom touch of her lips against your cheeks in her half-asleep state. You scrunch your nose before turning into the love she offers you.

“Hey, Els.”

You begin to mumble butterfly details about the happenings of the day as you feel the surface of her skin raise with goosebumps under the delicate tracing of your fingertips - down her bare thighs, along the round of her hip, along her stomach and under her boobs - easing airy chuckles out of her.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Hm? Nothin’…”

You can already picture the smirk on her dazed face,

“Ya sure there? You want somethin’, babe?”

A playful scoff and she’s looking at you with feigned shock against the weight of tired eyelids,

“Can’t I feel you? I just wanna be close to you,”

“I’d say we’re pretty close, ya know?”

“Never close enough,” you clarify and the rasp of her laugh fades into silence and she presses a kiss onto your head, and then another, straining her neck till she’s face to flushed and grinning face, stringing a blizzard of soft, dewy kisses across it.

“Alright, alright!”

“One more- mwah,” she smacks her lips against your scrunched up mouth aggressively, leaving a gross patch of saliva, and smiles dumbly to herself, tightening the hold of her arms around you to which you groan.

Tight against her gentle sway, she mutters a quiet confirmation,

“Never close enough,” and then runs the rough pads of her fingertips along the expanse of your skin, lingering a moment on your thighs.

It’s like the rustle of a spring breeze and it draws your eyes to a close.

As you drift further from the surface, you feel the soft tingle of Ellie’s foot nudging your ankle and the distant haze of her voice whispering,

“You sure you don’t want anything, baby?” and you’re asleep.

also, absolutely no one asked for this but here are some pictures of my fat ass cat (cutest patootie evah 😆😆):

[harrowharkboygf]

it’s like. i’m your older sister and i love you and i love your mom who has become my mom. i’m your little sister and i love you and i love my mom who is also your mom because i don’t know anything else.

i’m your older sister and our mom is gone and our dad is also gone but in a different way so now i’m your mom and the only way i know how to be that is by emulating the cheeriness our mom taught us. i’m your younger sister and you think i don’t understand what’s happening but i do i just don’t know how to stop it so i’ll make myself easy to cheer up.

i’m your older sister and there is so much wrong with me but the last time i tried to fix it i took you with me and i put you in danger so now i’ll just keep that part of me separate. i’m your younger sister and now i’m old enough to process the grief our mom left behind but i can’t do that because you never share any of your grief with me.

i’m your older sister and the person i could actually turn to for help is gone and i can’t muster up the energy to help you with your trauma so i’m shutting down. i’m your younger sister and i don’t know how to help you heal because you never taught me how so the best thing i can do is keep you from being responsible for my healing by making my trauma nonexistent.

i’m your older sister and being apart from you helped me grow into myself. i’m your younger sister and being apart from you left me stagnant.

i’m your older sister and i gave up everything for you and i’ll keep giving up everything for you i’ll throw myself off a bridge and leave behind the girl i just found and healed with just so i can keep you safe. i’m your younger sister and i’ll come after you.

i’m your older sister and now i know you don’t know how to exist without me and i can’t hate you for that but i don’t know what to do. i’m your younger sister and now that you exist without me i don’t know what to do and i can’t hate you for that but i do.

[simpleeticklish]

Don’t Drink Another Man’s Liquor (Or Start A Tickle Fight With Wolverine) || Deadpool & Wolverine (2024) Tickle Fic

Summary: Logan drinks Remy’s alcohol one too many times and the mutant decides to teach the man a little lesson in manners; naturally, Wade joins in. However, things don’t go exactly to plan when Logan decides to fight back.

Warnings: Canon-typical foul language, including sexually suggestive comments, and my inability to write a Cajun accent properly.

It had taken a good, long while, but things had finally settled down after the big fight against Cassandra (and to a lesser extent, the TVA). Wade’s universe was saved, the Sacred Timeline (whatever the fuck that even was, Wade still didn’t fully understand it) was stable, and everything had gone back to normal.

Well, for the most part.

A few things WERE different now. For one, Wade had a new roommate once Logan decided to stick around. Honestly, the mercenary couldn’t have been more pumped about it! Sure, they bickered a lot, and Logan ABSOLUTELY helped Blind Al cheat at poker, but the gruff man’s presence was like a breath of fresh air being blown into his stagnant life (and newfound franchise). With Logan around, things were never boring, and Wade would never turn down a chance to see those abs Hugh worked so hard on every day.

Second, Wade could now travel to any dimension he wished at any time thanks to that nifty little portal ring he’d swiped off Cassandra and conveniently forgotten to tell the TVA about. Recently, he’d decided to use it to pay a little visit to their new allies in the Void, just to cheek that the TVA kept their word about helping them.

Lo and behold, the TVA actually HAD honored their promise, and Wade was soon dragging Logan through the portal every other day. The “Others,” as Wade liked to call them, were all fascinating in their own right. Elektra was a total bombshell, and could actually be quite fun to be around once you got to know her. Eric was still stoic and distant, and Wade could tell it was going to take a WHILE to earn the man’s trust, but he proved to be an extremely fun sparring partner. And then there was Remy...

“Damn it, couyon! That’s the third bottle this month!” The Cajun’s irritated cut through Wade’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He glanced over from his spot on the couch, eyes landing on a very frustrated Remy standing by the open fridge and glaring daggers at Logan.

“And a damn good one too.” Logan retorted, a smirk tugging at his lips as he nodded to the empty liquor bottle discarded next to the trash can. “You should have tried some, you really missed out.”

“Maybe I COULD have if you didn’ go drinkin’ it all up the second it enters the room!”

The interaction didn’t surprise Wade in the slightest. Whether they were hanging out in the Void or back at the apartment, Logan and Remy were always sure to start bickering about something, namely the “mysterious” disappearance of Remy’s alcohol whenever Logan was left unsupervised for too long. It was as usually something Wade delighted in watching, but this time things were getting HEATED. When Remy moved to take out his deck of cards, the mercenary decided it was time to step in.

“Woah, hold your horses there, the Gambit That Never Was! Marvel can’t afford to rebuild this set if you trash my apartment; have you SEEN their financial losses since Endgame?”

Remy raised a brow. "I don't know what any a' that means, but it sure as hell ain't gon' stop me from puttin' this jackass in his place!" He replied, pointing an accusatory finger at Logan. "I don' told him not to touch what ain't his, but he can't seem to get it through that thick skull a' his."

Logan let out a sharp snort of laughter. "Maybe YOU shouldn't put your liquor in the communal fridge if you don't want it drank, huh?"

Remy moved forward with a low growl of irritation, but Wade was already on his feet, wedging himself between the two before things could escalate further. "I hear you, you want revenge! I totally get it! Lets just use a method that WON'T result in big ass holes in the wall...probably." He proposed.

"Like what? You gonna teach him how to annoy me to death? Because I hate to break it to ya, but you've already done THAT ten times over all by yourself." Logan sassed, crossing his arms as he moved over to take Wade's spot on the couch.

"First, rude. Second, no Peanut, I have a MUCH better idea that will provide our dear audience with a LOT more fanservice." Wade retorted, turning back to Remy before Logan could make another comment. "You want revenge? I'll show you exactly what buttons to push to get our grumpy little honey badger BEGGING you to accept his apologies. Well, one button in PARTICULAR does that, but there's plenty of other lil' soft spots you can play with in the meantime."

Logan froze, his eyes going wide as his breath hitched. "Don't you FUCKIN' dare-" He started.

Remy looked back and forth between the two, curiosity clearly piqued. "Ooh no, I think I wanna hear what he's gotta say." His voice was a borderline purr. "Now, sha, what were you saying about his...soft spots, was it?"

Wade was positively BEAMING, practically vibrating with excitement at someone actually taking INTEREST in one of his ideas for once. “Well, it turns out that big, sexy, badass Wolverine…”

“Longwinded, but go on.”

“Wade, don’t you do it, I swear to fucking god-”

“Is TERRIBLY ticklish!” Wade finished, grin growing more by the second, especially when a look of confusion, then pure mischievous GLEE flashed across Remy’s features. “And his laugh isn’t like that fake shit you see in pornos! His is real and downright ADORABLE!”

“Is that so?” Remy purred, beginning to stalk towards Logan, almost resembling a cat zeroing in on a cornered mouse.

His prey was scrambling backwards in an attempt to jump over the back of the couch, eyes wide and a snarl ripping past his lips. “Stay back! You touch me and I’ll fuckin’ skewer you!” Logan threatened. “Wade, you better keep your trap SHUT!”

Naturally, Wade ignored Logan’s words, beginning to approach from the other side with a downright devilish gleam in his eyes. “Ooh yeah, he’s PRECIOUS when you get ahold of that tummy of his. He’ll make just about any sound you can think of! Wheezes, snorts, moans…well, I haven’t got a moan out of him yet, but I’m still workshopping that.”

“Mind showin’ me a couple a’ those soft spots you mentioned earlier?”

“I’d be honored, Mr. Tatum.”

Logan tried to make a break for it, leaping across the back of the sofa in a desperate attempt to escape, but he was too slow. A hand grabbed ahold of his ankle, wrenching him backwards and making him land face first against the cushions. In an instant, there were knees on either side of him as someone lowered themself down to sit on his lower back, and Logan knew he was fucked when Wade’s chuckle sounded off next to his ear. “Sorry, can’t have you running off before the big wrecking! Our readers would be so disappointed!”

The mutant let out another low growl, trying to struggle free as his claws slid out, burrowing themselves into the couch cushions in frustration. “Go fuck yourself, Freddy Krueger!” Logan spat.

By now, Remy had appeared beside them, crouching down next to the couch to shoot Logan a smug grin. “Seems the badger gets a little feisty when caught in a trap.” He crooned, his tone spending a shiver down Logan’s spine, not that he would ever admit it. “Don’ you worry, you’ll be put outta your misery soon enough.” Remy curled and flexed his fingers, looking at Wade expectantly. “Now, what spots get him screamin’ the fastest?”

Logan opened his mouth to protest, only for his lips to slam shut with a barely-contained snort as wiggling fingers burrowed themselves into his sides. “Weeell, as I said earlier, his lil’ tum-tum is a KILL spot. However, that also means the little baby can’t take tickles there for too long, so I like to start off with the sides or hips to get him all warned up.” Wade instructed.

Remy didn’t need to be told twice, his hands slipping underneath Logan to grab ahold of the gruff man’s hipbones. Because if Logan’s position on his stomach, the hands were effectively pressed right against their targets, allowing Remy to get a grip with ease before starting to squeeze, slow but firm.

The dual attack nearly broke Logan instantly, the man having to bite down on his lower lip so hard he could almost taste blood just to keep his chortles at bay. His eyes squeezed shut, face pressed into the cushions as his body shook with barely contained mirth. “Gehehet your hands off me! F-Fuck…” Logan gritted out.

"Come on, Wolvie! You don't want to disappoint the audience, do you? Besides, I think our friend here is entitled to a bit of revenge, don't you? I mean, alcohol is EXPENSIVE in this economy, and you're guzzling it down at a rate that would be downright concerning if you didn't literally have the metabolism of a god." Wade replied, his fingers scribbling across Logan's sides, seeking out all the little spots that made the man jump with skill that said, yes, I HAVE done this before (many, many times, as it turns out).

"You got that right." Remy chuckled, squeezing slowly at Logan's hips with a careful consideration, watching for the slightest change in reaction to indicate he'd found a good spot. Logan jumped when the Cajun's fingers slightly grazed against his lower belly, breath hitching as a wheeze escaped his list. "Oho, it seems our friend wasn' kiddin' about that tummy a' yours. Well, as temptin' as it is to dig right in and make you screech, I think I'd rather that things nice an' slow. Slowly break you down, take you apart bit by bit. Would you like that, sha?"

Logan opened his mouth to curse with indignation, a bad decision on his part as loud giggling immediately started pouring out now that the floodgates had been opened.

Wade's eyes widened comically, his stomach doing a little flip at the teasing, even though it wasn't directed at him. "Jesus Christ, have you done this before or something? That's some shit you'd see in a fanfic, bucko, though I guess that IS appropriate..."

"Mmm, once or twice." Remy grinned coyly. "Ol' Blade can be a tough nut to crack, so sometimes you gotta get a little creative with your methods."

"BLADE? You tickled BLADE? Oh man, that's a story I NEED to hear."

Somehow, the two continuing to carry out a normal conversation while tickling him to pieces was MORE flustering for Logan than their straight-up teasing. The mutant's cheeks were bright red with embarrassment, his body shaking with giggles as he clawed desperately at the sofa in an attempt to escape. A shriek tore past his lips when Wade used this opportunity to dig into his exposed underarms, continuing to ramble at Remy all the while. "Fuhuhuhuhuckin' stahahahahap! Cuhuhuhuhut it out!" Logan shook his head, grin nearly splitting his face in two. “Nohohohohot thehehehere!”

Wade looked down at their victim, grinning sadistically as he drilled his thumbs into Logan's armpits, causing the mutant's legs to kick out in desperation. "Aaw, what's the matter, Peanut? Can't take it? Come on, we both know you LIKE this." He sang.

"He does, does he?" Remy's fingers finally wormed their way underneath Logan's torso, digging into his stomach and VIBRATING. "Ain't that just precious? You like our teasin' too?" Logan screamed with laughter. "You do? Well then, I would be happy to indulge you...tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle..."

Logan would never admit it, but the combination of attacks from those two BASTARDS and downright cruel teasing wrenched a squeal out of him, his laughter going wild as snorts began to slip out every few seconds. "SHUHUHUHUHUT UP! DOHOHOHOHON'T! YOU FUHUHUHUHUCKING PRIHIHIHIHICKS!"

"Don't shut up? Why, I thought you'd never ask!" Wade cooed, his fingers wiggling under Logan's chin, which promptly snapped down with a snort. "Gitchie gitchie goooo, wittle honey badger! Does it tickle real good? Huh? Huh? Aaw, listen to all those cute little piggy snorts! Isn't that just precious?"

"I'll admit, the little couyon DOES sound pretty damn cute like this. Maybe we should keep him this way, hm? Perpetually gigglin' his ass off, squirmin' like a catfish outta water."

Logan couldn't take this. Wade by himself was bad enough, the asshole knowing exactly what to do and say to drive him WILD from his countless previous tickle attacks, but when you added in Remy's more precise touches and subdued crooning? Logan felt like he was going to combust, laughter taking on a wheezy tone as one of Remy's finger found his navel and began scratching ruthlessly at the little kill spot. He had to do something, ANYTHING! Logan's struggling kicked up a notch, his claws sliding back into his knuckles as he put all of his strength into flipping himself onto his back.

In what MUST have been an act of divine mercy, the man actually managed to buck Wade off of his back, sending the mercenary toppling onto the floor. Logan’s instincts kicked in the moment he saw an opening, slipping himself onto his back and latching onto Remy’s wrists, still shaking with giggly pants. “Y-You’re fuhucked!” Logan growled, eyes narrowing.

The Cajun’s eyes widened. “Shit…”

In the blink of an eye, Logan was sitting upright, tugging Remy down into a sitting position on the couch beside him. Sensing the immediate danger he was in, the other mutant attempted to scramble away, only to find himself trapped in a vice-like headlock. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Logan smirked. “I think whatever fucking audience Wade keeps rambling on about would LOVE to see you get a taste of your own medicine.”

Wade, who up to that point had been nursing the broken wrist and bump to the head he’d received from the fall, sat up with wild, excited eyes. “Now you’re talking, Peanut! I knew you had a funny bone somewhere in that grumpy body of yours!” He beamed, scrambling over to the couch as Remy attempted to squirm free of Logan’s hold.

“Don’t get too excited, you’re next, Bub.”

“That’s fair.”

“Now, now! Don’t go doin’ anything you might regret!” Remy forced his tone to remain calm and smooth, despite the nervous grin already quirking at the corners of his lips. “You let me up and we’ll call it even, yeah?”

“Even!” Logan snorted. “We’re nowhere close.” The mutant turned his attention to Wade. “I’ll hold him still, you fuckin’ destroy him, got it? I’d do it myself but I don’t trust this slippery motherfucker not to try anything.”

Wade saluted. “Aye, aye, Hugh!” The mercenary cracked his knuckles, smirking at the trapped Cajun with pure delight. “Alright, you beautiful angel, let’s see if you share some of your actor’s sweet spots. I’ve heard Channing is VERY ticklish here!” He crowed, hands shooting down to dig into Remy’s sides. Immediately, Remy attempted to jerk away from the touches, lips slamming shut but doing little to muffle the snickers concealed behind them. “Aaw, did I find a giggle spot already? You know you can’t hold it in for looong!”

“Do you really have to say that shit?” Logan groaned, his cheeks tinged a light pink even though the teases weren’t directed at him.

“Hey, tickling is an ART, and TEASING is like the highlights on a beautiful oil painting! It just ENHANCES things!”

Remy cracked an eye open, shaking his head stubbornly. “Y-Yohohou think THIS is tihihicklin,’ you wouldn’t be ahahable tohohooo take five seheheconds of what I could do to you!” He sassed.

“Oho, somebody’s got a mouth on him! Well, unfortunately for you, so does Logan. Do the thing, Peanut!” Wade dug his fingers in more vigorously, wiggling and prodding his fingers into the sensitive flesh as he shot the clawed mutant an expectant look.

Logan looked utterly confused. “What are you going on about now?”

“You know, the THING!” Logan continued to stare at him with raised eyebrows. A light blush spread across Wade’s cheeks as he averted his gaze, moving his fingers to begin raking over Remy’s ribs in a vain hope of distracting himself (this, dear reader, pulled a SNORT from the poor Cajun). “With your mouth…you do it to me sometimes…”

“Wade, I swear to god-”

“Raspberries, okay!” Wade groaned. By now, a few snickers had slipped past Remy’s lips, albeit mostly at Wade’s clear flusteredness.

“Ahahaw, does the bihihihig, bahahahad honey badger tihihihickle you often, shahaha?” Remy teased, wobbly grin still managing to pull off an air of smugness. “Twohoho ticklish bihihihirds of a feheheheather!”

“You shut it! In fact, I think Wade had a GREAT idea on how to shut you up just now!” Logan growled.

“Wait, did you just compliment me?!”

Remy opened his mouth to protest, but any coherency died on his tongue as the clawed mutant’s lips found his neck, a loud “PFFFBT” of ringing out. Poor Remy didn’t stand a chance, especially when Logan started rubbing his scruff against the sensitive skin, a startled shriek preceding a torrent of wild laughter from the Cajun. “SHIHIHIHIHIT! N-Nohohohoho, dohohohohon’t!” Logan, of course, ignored this demand and blew a second raspberry, then a third, slowly driving Remy deeper into hysterics.

“Fuck yeah! I knew you’d loosen up eventually, you old stick in the mud!” Wade laughed, hands latching onto Remy’s thighs and beginning to squeeze, earning a squawk of surprise from their victim.

“Glad you think so, because I think you’re in need of some attention too for that little stunt you pulled.”

“Wait, what-LOHOHOHOHOHOHOGAN!”

“SEHEHERVES YOU RIHIHIHIGHT, TRAITOROHOHOUS SNAHAKE! FUHUHUHUHUCK, NOHOHOHOT THAT DAHAHAMNED BEARD!”

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain.

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre. heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[pellucid-constellations]

Angstober 🎃

Prompt: "What's Wrong"

A/n: Hi surprise! I've decided to do some drabbles for angstober!! They won't be every day and it will be very informal, but I feel like this is a great opportunity for writing! I'll be making a masterlist for these drabbles soon. Enjoy!! :)

~~~

“What’s wrong?” 

His voice was broken, anguished. You were sure you’d never heard the tone before, the way the words cracked over each other and crumbled into a rasp. 

Nothing was wrong. Nothing felt wrong. 

“Please, what’s wrong?” he tried again, and somehow those words hit you harder than the first time. 

Nothing was wrong. Nothing hurt. But—you thought, as words refused to pass the parting of your lips—nothing was right either. You were stuck, immovable. You felt hands on your face, and there was still the ache that blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s voice echoed there, but there was nothing else. You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t move. 

“Baby, come on.” The hands on your face were moving in untraceable patterns, rushed and illogical. “Come on. Come on, please.” 

How did you get here? There wasn’t a clear path. You’d been alone, there had been darkness, and then there was this strange, stagnant air that refused to leave you. You’d been alone for such a long time. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you. We found you, baby. We finally fucking found you. Please snap out of this. Tell me how to help you.” 

You weren’t sure if this unbearable pain invading your lungs would be livable long term. You weren’t sure how to follow Bucky’s request. You were seeing him but you weren’t. He was talking to you but he was really talking to a brick wall. 

There was another light in the room, a door opening and more footsteps echoing in whatever chamber you had found yourself in. How long had that door been closed? Days? Weeks? Bucky would tell you if you had the capability to ask. 

“I love you so fucking much. Please. Please.” 

“Barnes, we can’t take her like that.” 

The deeper voice was alarming—recognizable but distant in your memory. You preferred the gentleness of Bucky’s tone. 

“To hell with whatever Shield expects me to do here,” Bucky seethed, eyes never leaving you. “We’ve been looking for her for over a year. You really expect me to leave my girl hooked up to this thing?” 

“She’s gone, Sergeant. No life signs reported on the scan. No activity.” 

That wasn’t true. You were hearing everything. Some part of your consciousness was still here. 

“Her heart’s beating. She’s there. Get someone. Help her,” Bucky demanded, the breath from his words on the skin of your face. He was so close and you could do nothing about it. 

“That’s all she has left. Hydra’s had her hooked up to this machine for months with no brain activity other than what they’ve created. We can’t bring her back to the tower, Barnes. She’s already gone.” 

A cry—no, a sob—reverberated against the stone walls.

No. No. You weren’t gone. You were screaming at them but no sounds were escaping you. You were here, you could feel Bucky’s lips as they trembled and pressed to your temple. What scan were they reading? It was wrong. 

“No,” Bucky denied with thick, heavy words. “No, Fury, you can’t say that. You don’t get to say that to me. I’ve made her my top priority since the moment she went missing and it’s been like pulling teeth getting help. I finally get someone to pay attention to me and you give up? No.” 

You were being compressed now. Bucky was wrapping himself around you, coveting you as if you were a possession he needed to protect. You wondered if it was due to the finality in Fury’s tone—if there was something you were missing. Something you couldn’t see.

“Barnes, there’s nothing we can do. She’d be a danger if we got her out of here.” 

Another kiss was pressed to your skin, damp this time, tears soaking into your cheek. They weren’t yours. You weren’t sure if you could cry anymore. 

“I’m not giving up on you,” Bucky whispered against your ear. More footsteps entered the room. “You’re gone, so am I.”

So much noise. 

The small, echoing chamber erupted into a cacophony of uninterpretable noises. 

And you couldn’t see, but something was wrong now. You would tell Bucky as soon as you woke up. 

[crustaceousfaggot]

So I've been thinking a lot about the setting of Disco Elysium. Specifically it being set in late winter/early spring. It's not something I've really seen anyone else bring up.

I mean, the symbolism seems pretty obvious right? Spring is the time of new beginnings, winter is ending and we're entering a time of potential and rebirth. Definitely nothing new. But I think it goes beyond that.

I live in one of the coldest major cities in the world. Not *the* coldest, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a city with over 1,000,000 inhabitants that gets colder than it gets here. Winters are long and brutal and difficult, and when the soil itself is frozen and covered in a foot of packed snow it's really hard to believe that the world could look any other way.

And don't get me wrong, winter is beautiful. The world is quiet and picturesque. There's none of the usual dirt and debris in the streets because it's all buried under the snow. The way that fresh snow sparkles under street lights at night is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous things I've ever seen.

It's early April right now, and the snow is melting. It's not all gone, but it's getting there. When the air starts to warm up there's this feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air. Spring is here, and any second now the world will be bursting with new life and beautiful greenery.

But it's not. Not yet.

For about a month and a half after the snow starts to melt, the world is grey. No glittering snow, no budding flowers, no swirling red leaves, just puddles of brown water and lawns of brown grass. It's like winter had ended, but the world has yet to realize that it's supposed to be spring. Until it remembers, we're all trapped in a world where there is no season at all.

Sometimes it snows, but the snow never sticks around. Sometimes it rains, but the rain never brings flowers in its wake.

That last month of winter, that first month of spring, whatever you want to call it, is my least favourite time of year. I heard it described once as "the long-preserved corpse of autumn, finally allowed to rot", and that phrase stuck with me. There are eight month old leaves on the ground, skeletal and bleached grey by a winter trapped under the ice. Without the snow to cover it, you can't ignore just how much we've let our city go to shit. The trees are bare and skeletal, and even the evergreens look washed out and grey when they're not contrasted against the snow. Most of the birds aren't back yet, so the only sound outside my window is the ever-present hum of traffic.

It's impossible to ignore the movement and the sounds of humanity, but at the same time the world has never felt so stagnant.

I think there are all sorts of comparisons you could draw here, some of which hold up better than others. The one that first comes to mind for me is sobriety- the line "Full recovery will take years, though. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. Don’t expect any further rewards or handclaps." from the "Waste Land Of Reality"o thought is one which really stuck with me on my first playthrough, and one which feels especially appropriate here. But that's just one angle.

How much of this was intentional? I don't know. Probably not most of it. Part of me just wanted to go on a little tangent about the seasonal purgatory I'm trapped in once again. But I genuinely don't think there could be a better time of year to set a game like Disco Elysium. That bleak dusty shoulder season, where all the ugliest and most honest parts of nature and civilization are on display. The time of year where I've gone through the ringer and come out the other side, but everything still looks and feels like shit. It's just a different kind of shit.

Spring isn't here. Not yet. And when it does come, it won't fix anything. There will still be garbage on the ground and pollution in the air, there will still be class inequality and senseless violence and I will still be mentally ill.

But still.

For the first time in months, I can feel the wind against my skin without it hurting.

Whatever that's worth.

[vinnoa-articles]

The Wrong Ingredient

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Rating: +18, you have been warned. If you are a minor, leave now.

Word count: 3,257

Type: Smut

Characters: reader (AFAB), Sanji, Chopper, Zoro, the Strawhats

Trigger warnings/content: Swearing, rough sex, restraining, cumming without a condom, ass-slapping, very demanding, degrading, insanity, mushrooms/kind of like drug, overstimulation,

“Oog,” the turbulence in his stomach churned like the seas they were riding. There was some uncertainty with how he consumed something so stupidly. There was no way he mixed up the red spotted mushroom over the white spotted mushroom on the counter. There was heat rushing up to his head, to his cock, and the blood pumping in his veins. “Chopper, how long will the effects last?”

“Er…well” There was a pause in the brown fur-ball’s little thought process. “The mushroom that I was going to use to cure people of high desires. Such as money, lust, and others-”

“Get to the point” Sanji finally said, tugging his tie to release some restriction from his body. The heat from his skin felt unbearable. Sweat forming on his brow, his veins pumping red hot, his erection growing more, his chest felt tight, and everything sparkled around him in his eyes. “I need to know doc; I need to know how long this will last and if there is a cure.” 

“Sanji, it will last for a day. Unless I had another mushroom, I could definitely make a cure. But-”

“But what? Spit it out!” The cook was restless now. His mind was beginning to cloud up, and his eyes were scanning around for anyone that could fulfill his needs. “God, Chopper. Please-” He nearly bit his tongue. Salivating like he was an animal. There were needs he needed to be met. His chiseled chest felt like he was going to pop out of his dress shirt, along with his cock that needed to breathe.

“That was the only mushroom I had, Sanji.” The creature looked pitiful. He tried to fiddle his fingers to ease the tension in the room. He could not look Sanji in the eye, those sparkly East Blue eyes now turning into the depths of the sea. Nearly far too gone. “But, it could end quickly if your needs are met! But I think I know what it is,” Chopper stated while sweating. They BOTH knew what it was, but they also knew that was the worst idea. How far would Sanji go was the question. He was a prince that could kick ass, yet twirl around women like a prince. “I think you should stay in one place so the symptoms don’t worsen Sanji-san.” Chopper pointed his cute hoof at the ero-cook, to make sure he was listening. However, Sanji could only comprehend part of what was said, due to the fact the only thing on his mind right now was just pounding into your dripping cunt, over and over; along with cooking dinner.

“I should get cooking though. You know how Luffy can get,” Sanji said as he lit a cigarette. The drag was long and hard, breathing was short and stagnant, his mind trying to clear the image of her in just an apron in the kitchen and- “I need to get cooking!” He jumped up, excited to see if the images in his mind were true.

“Oh, okay. Just letting you know though. Try to avoid Y/N, because at the peak it could make you go nearly nuts,” Chopper tried to explain, but Sanji was already out the door. “Ah, well he must have heard me.”

“Y/N-Swan~” Sanji screamed, bursting into his kitchen to see his dream gal in front of him in just an apron. Except, that was not what was waiting for him. All he saw were the mushrooms on the counter, side-by-side. There was a quick sigh, a puff from his cigarette; slowly unbuttoning his shirt as the heat from his body was becoming too much. “Erm, if I take off my dress shirt, and leave on my outer jacket, that should be alright.” As he slowly took off his coat, he set it down in one harsh slap. His ears perking up as if he just heard the noise of what was similar to what it would sound like if he slapped her plump ass. Alas, that was not the case. Growling as if he was a wolf, he shook his head to try and help clear his mind. Hastily unbuttoning his shirt, he chucked his shirt somewhere to just grab his jacket again. “At least I have something to wear.” As he was hyper focused on the mushrooms, he ran his fingers through his blond strands. “Ah shit, why did he have to study his mushrooms right next to mine?” Feeling his cock pulsating under his tight pants, nearly twisting his hips to make sure to ease some of the discomfort. He palmed his erection, hoping it would calm the small beast, but it only made him imagine her touching him more. “If only- No! Keep focus!” Slapping his face on both sides to wake him up. “I need to finish dinner!” Sighing and rolling up his sleeves, he started his work. Today was a tender steak with a blueberry wine redux on the side. Cracking his slender phalanges, cracking his neck to focus on his job, he was ready.

Or so he thought

Making dinner was harder than he thought. The blueberries were the size of her nipples, sweet like her juices, the steak tender like her ass, and juicy like her-

“Sanji?” Oh god no. Please no. Glancing at the door, he saw her. Of all days to be wearing something sexy, today was not that day. “Let me help you bring some of the dishes to the dining room.” Dammit, I can see her nipples through her pajama tank top. Her thighs look so thick with those shorts. I could bite them- “Sanji?” Without realizing it, picking up the dress shirt, casually turning around and taking off the tank, the bare back exposed, a map he has felt way too often when he held her in his arms; and slipping the dress shirt agonizingly slow, buttoning each and every button. Casually turning around to face him, twirling in his dress shirt. “This is much more comfortable this way. How does it look? Cute, yes?” It took everything Sanji’s power to not grab her, to bend her over on the counter, stuffing her lips with his fingers, and fucking their brains out. It crossed his mind well over a million times within the mere seconds she twirled.

“I-uh…yeah…uh, IfYouCouldGrabThePlatesAndHelpMeThatWouldBeGreatBye” Sanji said in the fastest, tongue-tied, rambling he had ever done as he was carrying majority of the plates on his hands and head. All she could do was stare at what just happened. He used to get flustered, but she thought they were well past that point. Granted, there were more platonic moments of hugs, kisses and cuddles within their relationship. There were hints of sex, but they were very rare, and when they did happen, the aroma of roses, fresh shampoo, slow moans blended with “I love you”s would mix the air. It was always so sweet, like him. Maybe, he was just falling behind on his duties and needed to get stuff done.

Dinner was no better for Sanji. Y/N sat across from him, and of all days to not sit next to him today, again, was not that day. Constantly missing the food into his mouth, which caused the bits of steak to fall back onto his plate. “Oi number 7, maybe eat properly instead of ogling at your girlfriend.” A slow urge comes up to beat his ass, but your tits were fighting that thought.

“Eh? Say that again you shitty mossheaded freak?” the table fell silent. Usually, everyone would be laughing and chuckling at this argument, but it was out of his character to get this mad. “Come now, have anything to say musclebrain? Or are you backing down because that's how you ran with your tail between your legs when fighting Mihawk, huh?” The atmosphere was suffocating, almost like no one could breathe. The smell of steak dissipated into a choking tenseness.

“S-sanji? What is up with you?” Speaking up from the table, Y/N got up, god her lips were moving but he could not comprehend what she was saying at all. Until he felt a soft touch on his thigh. “Speak to me.” There it was, her fingers on his thigh, squeezing softly to at least get an answer from him, as his hand came up to cover his mouth to stifle a low moan. “Look at me!” His head was snapped towards a face that he has kissed too many times, the pink kissable lips he could bite and fight for. 

“Uh, Sanji, did you tell her?” Chopper piped up from his seat. All heads turned towards Sanji, every worried eye and eyes were bearing holes in this pervert. Even Zoro looked concerned for once, to the point he put his hand on his chin to cover his mouth that naturally turned into a concerned frown.

“Unless he wants to fight, which he would have demanded me to fight him…”

“Ah-AH GUYS. WE NEED TO LEAVE PRONTO! EVERYONE MEET ME IN THE INFIRMARY” Chopper screamed out. The crew looked at each other trying to comprehend what was going on, almost trying to question the situation when the doctor looked at Y/N and screamed “RUN Y/N!”

“What is going on-” Luffy said, trying to continue eating the steak that was on your plate, when Zoro just grabbed his collar and dragged him.

“Not the time, but we can talk about it later!” Zoro panicked, while everyone scrambled to get out of their seats and out the door. Dispersing throughout the ship, while Y/N nearly tripped over her feet while leaving towards the resting quarters. Her scent was fading, which only meant that she was running away from Sanji, from the awakening beast from within.

The corridor didn’t feel any shorter, the lanterns swaying slowly while her feet tried to carry her to the room full of hammocks. There was an echo of shoes reverbing off the metal halls, as if it was getting faster and faster. A dark shadow of fear filled her mind, a prey being chased by a predator. Panting, some growling, and the echo of “wait, please!” It was desperate, oh so desperate. It made her slow down, wanting to help the poor soul, but the look on Chopper’s face was pure fear. The door was within her reach, swinging that door open with all her might, and nearly falling when swinging in and closing the door when the door would not close. There was a force that was keeping it from closing. It was him.

“Sanji-kun…” She looked so scared, yet so cute. The trembling rippled through her shirt, her hair was shaking as she looked at you. “W-what do you want?” He forced his way in, then locked the door to ensure nothing would come in, or leave. “You are scaring me love. Talk to me.”

“I want-” he huffed out. It was his voice, his voice at last. She reached out just to touch his jaw, when he grabbed her wrist and held it up, walking at her as she walked backwards into a pillar. “I NEED you right now, I crave you,” Sanji’s dark eyes were sporadically scanning Y/N’s figure. The dress shirt, the perked up nipples, the legs that were so luscious. 

“What do you-” Lips crashed, nearly teeth clanging against each other. A pool of heat started to grow in between her legs. Afterall, Sanji almost always wears a dress shirt on the ship. Even if it was a shortsleeve, it was always buttoned up so it didn’t show anything. This time, however, the outline of his pecs, abs and v-line emanate from the lanterns above. When was he ever like this? Aggressive? To take control of you? Never. Tongues were fighting, but she lost as he could explore her mouth, biting and tugging her lips like it was his last meal. Dragging his lips down her neck, planting the seeds for hickies to blossom later for everyone to see. 

“Ah, fuck. How could you be like that princess?” He gasped out when he pulled away. Y/N’s heart raced, she could feel it in her head. This side of him was so new, yet so hot. Tugging the dress shirt lower to feel like it was covering your dripping cunt, but it only made Sanji notice it even more. “How could you defend that green haired fuck. I have to teach you a lesson about that.” This was the side you had never seen. His leather gloves snatched both of her wrists, and gathered them with his left hand. “Why?” “I didn’t defend him!”

“Yes.You.Did” he gasped out. Twirling around the figure in front of him, he gave a quick slap against her clothed ass. A quick moan escaping those lewd lips that he had just abused a few moments ago. “You talk, yet your dirty little mouth wants me”. Smacking her ass again, which caused her to arch her back, taking a few steps back to brush up against his hard-on. He was too far gone, even Sanji knew it. I can’t do this to her, but I can’t stop myself. I need this now. His mind was racing as he subtly choked her with his right hand, teasing his fingers at the corners of her swelling mouth. “Suck it Princess.” His words were low, hot, and it shook your whole body.

“I’d rather suck on something else” she whimpered. Trying to imply that she wanted him, his cock that needed the release so badly. That wasn’t what Sanji thought.

“You wanted marimo didn’t you?” questioning your words, urging a confirmation from you. “Only I can satisfy your needs right now princess. But your cute ass is mine tonight.” Since when did he become so assertive? This soft gentleman that usually is stuttering, asking her what she wanted and her taking the lead was no more. “Well?” Rubbing her ass against his clothed member, she was shaking, anticipating what was to come. “I guess if you aren’t being obedient then-” the quick sudden movement of her body nearly being thrown onto a bed nearby surprised her. It wasn’t long before her arms were pinned above her head again, legs dangling off the edge, his legs wedged in between hers. He could smell her sweet scent of rose petals, tangerines and salt. His open hand brought up the dress shirt hem to her mouth as he put it up to her lips.

“Baby, please. I need you right now”, God she was begging for me. Dammit, I need her.

“No, I need you to hold this,” there was a hesitation before she took the shirt between her, oh so sweet lips. Backing up, taking in the sight of a goddess, her torso on full display, the blooming purples on her neck showing now, it was breathtaking. Sanji yanked off the shorts his partner had on, tugging it when it got caught on her knees and ankles. His look touched her up and down, and she could feel herself already wanting him. Instead, ripping off the only barrier between the air and her wetness, he took a dive into her deep sea. Her body bucked at the sheer pleasure of his tongue darting at her bundle of nerves.

“San-” there was an immediate pause at what he was doing. She fucked up, and she knew that. Every little feeling, the warmth was replaced with the air hitting her cunt. Without even blinking, his face was right in front of Y/N’s. Despite the lanterns being so dim, the lights could illuminate his lust-filled eyes. The glow of his personality disappeared behind the cloak of his perverted ego. The warmth of his hand was on her plump, soft, delicate thighs. A simple squeeze responded with a subtle moan from the girl.

“Did you want to be obedient?” Arms moving to put the shirt back into her own mouth, he stopped her. “You opened your pretty mouth already, so let’s put it to use.” Swiftly, mouths were crashing, as there were fingers pistoning into her core. Covered moans, creaking of the bed, cutting the silence of the room. She wanted more, feeling her shaking under his touch, he could tell she was close. A quick break from the heated kiss left her with a quick gulp of air. Panting, the taste of her sex mixed into her saliva. Sanji backed up, and the rustling of a belt and pants being discarded was the last thing that was heard when he rubbed the tip of his pulsating cock at her entrance. A whimper was all it took for him to drag his cock slowly into her. There was still a little bit of Sanji’s restraint left in him. Clearly, he had a little patience before he was fully into her body.

“Fuck,” the soft moan floated up into the room. The hilt of his cock so deep he wanted to cum right then and there. Sanji’s grip dug into the hips of Y/N, knowing it may bruise a little, yet its what she wanted to see in the mirror the next morning. Without warning, he started to quickly pound into her. There were stars in her eyes, sparkles as if she was swimming in bliss. The slapping of skin so loud, everyone on the ship probably knows what is going on at this point with the growls and grunts Sanji’s lips spewed out.

“So tight for me. Is this how you always think of me princess?” Without a warning, her hips bucked and a roar of pleasure erupted from her ribcage. “What a thing to witness, but-” he trained off, as he snaked his arm under her body to flip her over and piledrive deeper. Hitting that one sweet spot that could not allow her to think. Both, immersed in their state of craze, of lust, of love. Slaps were so wet from the sweat and the wetness meeting his balls. “I’m going to-” Sanji finally said as he pushed as deep as he could, loading his seed. There was a moan, failing to cover that she too came. Gasped breaths, and time seemed to freeze right then and there. “I-”

“Sanji!” She finally asked, her voice still shaky from the overstimulation.

“Did, I just-” his voice nearly inaudible, trying to comprehend what just unfolded within the past hour. “I am so sorry I couldn’t-” Her body flipped over, slowly but surely she was on her back. Arms outstretched for a welcoming embrace. A smile tugging the corner of her red lips, as if she was beckoning him closer. Glancing at every marking that was on Y/N’s body was because of him. “I am-”

“Stop apologizing, it was fine Sanji.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“But it was exhilarating my love,” grasping finally in his arms to bring him closer. Smiling weakly, he joined next to her. Wrapping his strong arms around her sweaty waist, tugging the sweat soaked blanket on top of the both of them. “Maybe I can get used to your perverted side more often.” Teasing his hair between her thin fingers. “You became a different lover boy.” There was a sigh of relief, followed by a soft peck on the nape of Y/N’s neck. “Give me a sign, and I’ll be there for you always love.”

“Of course, but the crew-”

“Screw the crew, I can talk to them later about this.”

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 5: viscera

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: drinking, suggestiveness, implied sexual content

series masterlist

You’re not certain how it happened, but one night you were tangled between the sheets by yourself, the next you were spending each and everyone between Nesta and Cassian. 

For a spare moment, you’d hoped that perhaps the three of you would be entangled in a mating bond together but such was not your luck. 

Still ... they’d done their best to do things right. 

It wasn’t you and them. It was you and her, you and him, you and him and her. Three new relationships formed the day you all came to that first silent agreement. There was no Nesta without Cassian and no Cassian without Nesta, and no you without Nesta. In time that turned into no Cassian without you. 

The whole thing wasn’t quite as convoluted as you expected. It just worked. 

Yes, it had been six months. But six blissful and ecstatic months. They’d wedged their way into every single part of you until you didn’t know where they ended and you began. 

If Cassian was your heart, Nesta was your lungs. 

How could you begin or even exist without them? But ... it drew pain at the same time. 

Despite collective attempts to do everything right, things were still wrong. 

Future you would look back on the moments of clarity and want to slap your past self. Good times don’t negate the bad, no matter how hard you try. 

Placing your hands on each side of the chipped cast iron tub, you pushed yourself up. Cool water streamed from you in rivulets. Using your foot, you kicked the stopper aside to let it drain and chided yourself for not doing that earlier. 

One hand now balancing yourself on the wall, you leaned half out of it to grab your towel. Thinking ahead should probably be something you attempting to do more frequently, you thought. 

‘Never thinking ahead, always stuck in the moment,’ your family used to say something along those lines. Family. The word made you wince and you shoved them from your mind. You had no family anymore - they were all gone. 

Stepping out, careful for your bare soles to hit the fluffy rug, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Since Nesta and Cassian reappeared, there’s been a certain glow about you, you would’ve sworn abysmal amounts of gold you didn’t have on it. 

Yes, there was still an ugly bite mark on the side of your neck you hadn’t quite forgiven her for yet, but the glow. 

“Am I delusional?” You murmured aloud, wiping a finger across the mirror to clear some of the mist. Cleared mist revealed light purple bags under your eyes. Lack of sleep. It’s impossible to sleep well if there’s a beautiful female and male desiring your time. They were dangerous in the sense that you absolutely knew you would sacrifice near anything they asked of you. 

Thumping on wood. Someone was at your door. 

You shrugged a robe on, tossing the towel to land over the edge of the tub, and made your way across the small apartment, barefoot. If someone like your landlord answered the door, it would only make an interesting story to tell Nesta later. 

Was it toxic of you to trigger her jealous side on purpose? Possibly, but the possessive fucking? That was a religious experience you craved to an unhealthy level. A mind healer would probably say you had abandonment issues or something of the like. Mother only knows how many of them have tried, and failed, at helping you. In your opinion, you didn’t need help. Your chaos was comfortable and you were fine in it. For now, at least. Maybe one day that would change. 

The door, you reminded yourself, realizing your footsteps had slowed. When had you become so spacey? Shaking off the stagnant energy, you pushed yourself ahead. 

The door handle shook a little from a loose screw, but it opened all the same. 

“You didn’t even look through the peep hole,” Nesta greeted you, pushing past into your apartment. 

“I don’t care,” you muttered behind her. If someone was going to kill you, they’d probably have a good shot at it regardless of whether you saw their face. Cassian’s eyes fixed on you, and you saw something like care there. It made your heart pick up, throat tighten -

“We’re going to dinner,” Nesta announced from behind you. 

You froze. She knew you loathed surprise meals. 

”How many times do I have to tell you not to surprise me like this?” You hissed. 

“You always say it’s fine,” Nesta snapped back.

“Maybe we can go another time-” Cassian tried. 

“No,” both of you interjected. Perhaps you were part of the problem, not standing up for yourself and saying no when Nesta pulled this trick each time. Was she winning or were you winning? 

There was still an inherent fear you’d disappoint her by saying no. Saying no to her has been near-impossible since she returned into her life. The last time you did, she disappeared for several months. Of course now you know that’s not why but the feeling stuck around. 

“You didn’t leave because I said that ...” It was intended as a question, but came out with wonder instead. 

“No,” Nesta said, rough promise in her voice. “I’d never leave because of something like that.” 

I’d never leave. Nesta would never leave you. 

“What do you think, love?” Cassian’s voice drew you from the memory. 

“Repeat, please,” you winced. 

Nesta let out an over-dramatic sigh. He looked amused. 

“We go to the shops, pick up some food and cook together instead,” he had the look of someone trying to hide how pleased they were with themselves. You had to remind yourself Nesta still knew you a little better than he did. You were a horrific cook, even with fifteen cookbooks lined up on your counters. Actually, those probably fooled him. 

“I’m a horrible cook,” you deadpanned. Sure enough, he looked at the cookbooks. 

“She has those for a reason,” Nesta cut in. You flipped her off. 

“Just follow my instructions then, how about that?” He winked and held out his hand. 

A shy smile, accompanied by heated cheeks, and you took it. 

Cooking with them was ... fun. Definitely preferable to a surprise dinner, in your opinion. 

You watched as Cassian stood next to the stove, hip pressed against the counter, hand wrapped around a wooden spoon. You imagined his hand wrapped around something else. Maybe your wrist, tugging you closer to him, maybe your throat, taking you even closer to him. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully, voice just carrying across the room. 

Skin burned, your mouth pressed into a tight line, a slight sense of mortification, caught in the act daydreaming about him. If anything, it only enhanced your arousal. 

“Um,” you stumbled, looking for an excuse. “Things.” 

“Things ...” Nesta shifted closer to you, her hand warm on your thigh. “What kinds of things?” She purred, her voice a sensual caress against her skin as she leaned closer, mouth brushing across her neck. She stood then, moving behind your chair, her hands resting on your shoulders. “What do you say we give him a show?” She whispered in your ear. 

“I say yes,” Cassian’s voice cut through the room this time. Your hands gripped the bottom of your tunic. A show, you could do. 

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt

[therabbitthatpostthings]

(Masterpost)

Giyuu never thought he’d grow to like the snow. Every step he took was coated in ice, the waving of his hand brought down blizzards. Icicles stabbed into the earth as they fell from his antlers, and a wind storm signified his arrival. Snow was his eternal prison. A sentence brought onto him by an evil long gone. The same that took his family and secluded him on this mountain. The earth withers and dies in the winter. The night becomes longer and the monsters more violent. There was truly nothing good about winter.

In such a dreary month, Giyuu started to find joy in the little things. He liked the way snowflakes clung to your hair. The way they dotted your eyelashes in little white specks. The rosiness of your cheeks in the cold air as you laughed. A hearty laugh that lit up the mansion in a warm ambience. You bring him towards the hearth and brush his hair back. The soft pads of your fingertips against his scalp. The way you trace the markings on his face.

The dulcet tone of your voice as you ponder over a conversation you had earlier, “I don’t think ice suits you that much.”

He scoffed at the absurdity if he wasn’t so indulged in the soft tug of the comb through his hair.

You continue, “I think water suits you better.”

“How is that different?” Giyuu sighs into his response as he tilts his head back into your lap, mindful of his antlers at your side.

“Ice doesn’t change. It keeps everything in place until spring comes. Ice is stagnant for months.”

Giyuu let out a hum to let you know he was still listening.

“Water is constantly changing. Flowing from one place to another. As harmless as rain and powerful as the ocean. Dangerous too.”

“Am I dangerous to you?”

Your lips curve into a smile as he feels a soft pressure on his face. You leisurely traced the markings on his face. “Not to me you are. You changed for me, didn’t you?”

Giyuu melts into your touch. He couldn’t answer if he wanted to. Not when you held him so tenderly. The way your fingers danced across his markings, these cursed markings of his prison and you held him with such ease. He wanted to be held closer. He wanted to be enveloped in the warmth you shared. He wanted you. That was too selfish of a desire. He was content with moments like this. Any moment with you near would be enough.

“You change me,” he murmured.

“Hmm? Giyuu? What did you say?” You gently nudged him but Giyuu stayed still. In this faux-repose, he looked gentle. Your heart softened at the sight. This was a far cry from the man that ignored you at every turn. The man that recoiled in your presence was now settling against your legs as you gently brushed his hair. Soft giggles escaped your lips at the thought.

“What?” He questioned in a hushed tone.

“A couple months ago, you would have never been this close to me.” You mused over Past-Giyuu’s short answers.

“You’re too insistent for me to ignore.” Giyuu gently tugged at your wrist. Following his lead, he pulled you to the ground with him. Your head found shelter against the inside of his shoulder, back pressed lightly into his chest. His arm gingerly wrapped around your waist. “I like it better like this.”

You yawned as you sunk into the inviting chill, “Let’s stay like this.”

“I love you.”

Barley above a whisper. Only when you could no longer hear him could he bring himself to say it. Giyuu didn’t know what scared what more, your acceptance or rejection. It was agonizing not knowing. But it would destroy him to know. He watched your breathing even out. The repetitive rise and fall of your chest. Just beyond the sunrise you would be gone. He’d lead you down the mountain and to meet a wagon that would take you through the valley and back to your home village. He trusted you to come back. Be it three days or three months, it didn’t matter. As long as you returned he would be happy. He’d never ask for anything if it meant you two would have more moments like this. He couldn’t tell you he loved you. Not when it might be the last time he saw you. He couldn’t lose you too. He made a promise to himself, an oath he etched into his heart.

“Come back to me, and I’ll tell you I love you.”

In the cold dark hours of the morning Giyuu hid in the shadows as an old man and his wooden cart pulled ahead of the path. You thanked him kindly as you climbed into the back of the wagon. The old man climbed back onto his horse. On his command the wagon began to move. You waved into the dark abyss, your figure growing smaller. Giyuu stepped further out to watch you disappear over the horizon. If the rising sun hadn’t been so cruel he would have waited there until you returned. Fate wasn’t as kind as you were. All he could was rest for the day and hope you’d be back tomorrow morning.

That was wishful thinking on his end. Something he learned from you.

[xivou]

Vestiges Of You.

Aventurine x fem! reader; not proofread, this was supposed to be a 300 words drabble lmao?? wordcount; 804.

everything i feel returns to you somehow, consuming me to the core, i'll be gone by midnight; goodbye.

There is a bit of you at the beach.

Aventurine gazes whilst the sun gradually inches down, orange in hue, it mildly kisses the horizon; two souls intertwined. Standing on top of a building in the city, a March spring breeze wafts past him, and the smell of oleanders trails it.

The scene is familiar, to a distant one on the beach. The solitude, the oleanders you used to grow, the sun cozily inching down your wall, the ripples of the waves against the shore, the medley accompanying it, as you pluck the strings with a plectrum, pressing strings against frets with your opposite hand simultaneously.

Your black cat leaps on his lap, it purrs against his stomach, and he strokes it.

‘remember when we first met?’ you pause. ‘we had plenty to discuss. Now, only silence remains…’

‘you know,’ you continue. ‘I guess, the moral of time, is that… you never became jaded by my presence; our meaningless conversations, or this comfortable silence.’

Aventurine does not reply. He merely grabs your hand, and squeezes it reassuringly, pulls it towards his lips as he plants a kiss.

There is a bit of you in April.

Your window flung open, the breeze emerging in carries a scent of peach, a warm sun beams at your back, at your oil paint-stained white shirt. The neighbourhood is extremely quiet, everyone’s inside their home, with fans nudging the cool air at their faces.

‘don’t you feel like going back inside yet? It’s hot,’ Aventurine starts. He anticipates a response from an instance, but you appeared rather too resolute on your painting—it was of an orchard of apricot trees, the leaves and branches shimmering with heat-haze.

‘I don’t think so, I’ll finish this one first,’ you mutter, cautiously painting a cloud. ‘I love April. In it, my ideas are always inventive, sharp, and tender. Do you get it?’

Aventurine hums as he nods. His gaze wanders off toward the market nearby—a mother with brown sunglasses on exits with her young child, who’s wailing. ‘Icecream?’

‘Yeah, vanilla flavour please.’

There is a bit of you in black polished heels.

‘I’ve always loved the sound of heels against the flooring,’ you mutter, bending over as you tie the ankle straps of the heels—black, polished leather; a gift from Aventurine. When you’re done, you tap continually on the floor, and it sounds akin to an exaggerated film soundtrack. ‘it sounds like learning to walk away, from what was never mine to ever have…’

Aventurine raises a brow, ‘did you have a tough past?’

‘Partially, though what am I if not a little hardship? Which reminds me, you never told me much about your past…?’

He offers a half-hearted smile, as he averts his gaze. ‘…The heels suit you, are you sure they are your size?’ ( I apologize; I don’t want to bring it up, I don’t want you to pity me. )

‘Yeah…’ you half-heartedly mutter, removing the heels. ( do you not trust me? )

There is a bit of you in his muddy teacup.

‘Regrets,’ you mumble over the counter. Aventurine stares as you fiddle with your teaspoon—like lifting the world’s edge, like unravelling its threads, apathetically, perfunctorily. His teacup simply lies before him, long cold, and muddy-looking. ‘I have many… so do you.’

A train passes over the railings nearby, quick against the steel, unlike your stagnant manoeuvres, followed by a mysterious silence of what hangs in the atmosphere, and remains unspoken. ‘are you not exhausted of lying?’

‘I never lied to you about a single thing,’ he replies.

‘But you don’t trust me, with anything, at all— regardless of who is in your life, you still seem to have the same disgusting thoughts about yourself; it never stops, it never goes away. I wish I could…’ You place the teaspoon down, the tone of your voice gradually creaking. ‘Take away your blues. I have.. many selfless wishes for you. I wish you would take care of yourself, I wish you would cherish every instant of this ephemeral lifetime, I wish you would relinquish the past; that was then, this is now. Yet you’ve always been a bitter man, and it makes me bitter, too. I hope you will understand, that is all I have to say…’

Reality begins to melt away, in the darkness, akin to a candle’s wax, in the heat of a flame. Everything feels as if it occurred a long time ago, in a far-off world, out of reach. Or, is it occurring in the future, in an alternative far-off world?

( have you seen my lover? The one that owned the beach, April’s beauty, the black leather heels I purchased, my muddy teacup, my dreams, my heart? )

There is a bit of you in all he is.

ironvy, 2024. do not copy, share, repost, or re-upload my work on any website without prior consent.

[hana-no-seiiki]

CHAINSAW & HAPPINESS

PILL 3 - GREAT GENESIS / GENESIS DEI

YANDERE! CSM! VARIOUS x STOIC! READER

“Check it out. These are my kids.”

“Oh yeah? Check out my kids.”

“That’s just Denji and Power . . .”

“Exactly.”

CAUTIONS: Spoilers for the Manga. Yandere Themes. Chainsawman Themes. Religious Themes. God uses he/him pronouns.

INGREDIENTS: You reminisce about the past and think about what lies ahead in your future. Denji gets his ass almost eaten by Batman- I mean a Bat Devil. Power.

FORMULATION: horridly unedited

[previous dose] [pillbox] [next dose]

You’ve hated humanity since the moment of your conception.

One might argue it was baked into your existence as a devil, simply etched into your heart the moment you popped out of hell, but you couldn’t agree with that notion at all.

It was just how persistent they were with survival and self-preservation that whatever your peers do to oppress them, torture their very souls, devour their physical being, they still manage to cling unto hope.

They were like cockroaches, ones with wings and the unending urge to fly towards your face like if they ever stopped they’d die.

Humans don’t hate cockroaches when they’re born, just like how you don’t hate humans when you were created. You merely saw them as pests you’d rather have gone. At least, that’s what you thought.

It was when you met Makima that you realized it wasn’t hatred you were feeling. It was envy.

You were envious of how they managed to find the grit to move forward. Of how they’re able to shake off tragedies and get stronger.

Unlike you, who had stayed stagnant for as long as you’ve remembered. Too scared to ever go out of line and potentially lose everything you already had.

As the God Devil, you were both one of the strongest and the weakest devils there existed.

Many feared your name, sure. But people found God equally, if not moreso, a comfort through trying times. God was their salvation, no matter how invisible, or inactive he was in their battles. Humanity continued to pray in his name, your name.

But slowly, but surely, faith began to disappear. And your powers began to grow.

You never believed in Makima’s goals. Nor do you believed in her feelings towards you to be genuine. You fully know that she’s using you for her desire; a family and most importantly the eradication of everything bad in this world. Her jealousy was probably based on the fact that she saw you more as a possession, a precious tool than a real partner.

You see, much like the Chainsaw Devil’s ability to erase concepts from this world, you also had a few unique abilities of your own. The ability to remember everything in the course of humanity’s life on Earth. Even the parts the “Hero of Hell” removed and bring it back to existence. Your head was akin to an infinite book, you nicknamed ‘The Bible’.

Where the Chainsaw Devil was the definition of chaos and destruction, you represented peace and life.

And you loathed that. Despised how different you were from other devils. Detested the thought that you were anything but an avatar of fear.

In any case, amalgams were one of the examples of things you’ve partly brought back to the world. It’s original name seemingly inaccessible even to your hands. Though it was mostly done as an excuse for you to use your powers whenever, you had a feeling Makima thought of Denji and Pochita when asking you to revive those mongrels. Or may be not. Makima was confusing and mysterious that way.

You didn’t pry much into her plans. Only ever preparing yourself for the shitstorms her actions cause and brave through it.

But now curiosity ate at you like leech. Why was she allowing Denji so close to you like that? Was it truly because she wants to play him like a fiddle?

Why did the thought of her hurting him hurt you so badly?

“You’re going to break it.”

Angel poked your nose. His touch, with how rare he gave out, almost broke your seemingly invincible composure.

“The weapon. Don’t. It’s such a hassle to make one.”

“My apologies.” You said, as you crushed the sword Angel made within your hands. Expression devoid from your features.

The latter sighed, you were as insufferable as ever.

“Could you stop being so polite and rigid? It’s gross.”

“You know I can’t use casual language in front of them. To the committee, you’re a demon and I’m . . . ” You were about to say ‘one of them’ but you couldn’t shake the sense of otherness you’d feel whenever you were with your colleagues. It wasn’t as if they viewed you as an outcast per se, just that they seemed so nervous all the time. Which led to you avoiding contact especially during battle. You weren’t oblivious to how humans viewed and often worshipped you, you just didn’t know the extent your powers affected them. Especially those who have known you for quite a while.

And so Makima helped by pairing you with beings who are usually unaffected by your aura. At least, on the surface.

“Still. I’d prefer if you went back to how you were before.”

You knew Angel before you even met Makima, as what the two of you represented were both closely related. Despite that, your relationship remained symbiotic at most. Angel’s weapons worked best when wielded by you, and you were capable of taking away his memories and ‘sins’ thus making the number of voices in his head less burdensome. None of you made an effort to go beyond that.

Your Bible ability allowed you to remember everything even beyond your current incarnation.

But Angel knew that while you will remember him if you ever died, the emotions attached to said memories will surely disappear.

He’ll remain that, just a memory. He was content with that. In fact, that’s why Makima trusted him enough with you.

“Charismatic? Proud? A perfect example of what it is to be a devil?”

“An asshat.” Angel munched on the human blood sausage you prepared him. Well, the sausage Makima forced you to make as to fulfill your ‘wifely’ duties, that you gave to Angel since you disliked the taste of it. “But a predictable one.” His androgynous voice came out muffled as he basically scarfed down the piece of meat

“It’s fine to admit that you’re a masochist, Angel.”

“If I’m a masochist—“ He squeezed on the barbecue stick holding the sausage, about to give you the rebuttal of the century (or so he thinks) until your husband unfortunately arrived to the scene.

Oh right! Did I mention you and Angel were atop a massive pile of human and devil corpses? I didn’t? Huh, my bad. Kinda hard remembering to say that stuff when the stench is awfully, well, awful.

“I’m sorry to cut your reunion short, but your new team requires your supervision.” Makima’s signature calm and collected voice slices viciously between your conversation. You can sense the underlying malice from a mile away at this point.

“You want me to stalk your hero from the shadows again.”

Makima didn’t reply, but her usual eerie smile said a thousand words. She didn’t like you getting too close to humans. Sure, it was fine for them to cling unto hope that you’ll ever notice them, it was fun seeing the light disappearing from their eyes as they find out such a thing will never happen. But you indulging your supposed dogs with more than a glance killed her.

In other words, if she was like that with humans, she was the worst — absolutely abhorred — you making conversation with another one of your kind.

To her, humans will never be threats. Devils on the other hand . . .

Well, she supposes even they don’t stand a chance. But she preferred knowing that even without her powers, you were all hers.

She trusted Angel, sure, but she’ll never like seeing her wife with someone else.

“Well then, underling. I will see you soon.”

“I hope not.” Angel blew a strand of hair off his face. He’s had enough of your presence already. Too much and he’ll build up an appetite for it.

“So . . . Sea Cucumber Devil, huh?” You started. Your silent appearance startled Denji and caused him to almost fall off the rooftop, if it weren’t for you catching him by the wrist in time.

Yeah, you weren’t really good at starting conversations.

“[Y-[Y-[Y/N]—! I mean —“ Denji stared at the connected skin. It had only just been a day, and he was already back to acting like hormonal teen who’d never been touched around you.

“C’mere.” You pulled him towards your form. His face landed on your chest, turning awfully red. After making sure he wasn’t falling anymore, you propped his legs over your left arm and carried him bridal style.

You landed on the ground following a single jump. Your heels (courtesy of Makima’s thinly veiled threats) clicking loudly.

You looked at Denji and smiled.

Then dropped him on the massive purple disarray.

“G-god . . ?” The girl, with peach-blonde hair and horns known as ‘Power’ from the info debriefed to you, halted her maniacal laughter. Her mouth opened up in shock and a little bit of horror? Could she sense you were . . . no she couldn’t. Makima wouldn’t allow a newbie to know.

“Close enough.” You shrugged. You had to discuss this with your spouse later. Spotting a bench behind Power, you made your way past her. A cool chill crawled up her spine, who were you? You felt like that devil but at the same time you were nothing like them at all. Not to mention you weren’t as stuck up as she remembered. . .

Nah, they wouldn’t help humans. You were probably a phony of some sort.

“So, what happened?” You sat down, holding off the cringe on your face that threatened to show from unhygienic everything is. Maybe Aki’s ways were rubbing off on you.

They began blaming eachother, clearly not aware that you were there for the latter half of your journey and only gave them an opportunity to explain themselves rather than point fingers.

“You know I can’t stop Makima if she so chooses to punish you two, right?”

“Please don’t tell her!”

“Yeah, this won’t happen again. We promise!”

“I have a feeling it will.” You sighed.

“If I’m correct . . .” You stood up from the bench, and gave your behind a few pats to relieve it of dust and whatever filthy things people have put there. You looked to Power, narrowing your eyes at the way she flinched away, “Your reason for being cooperative with humans is because you want your cat back.”

“And you, aside from being paired with me, want a chance to touch someone’s breasts, am I wrong?” You turned to Denji.

“No, you aren—“

“You were not given permission to speak, dog.” You glared at him. Though your expressions softened the moment he almost whimpered at your harsh words.

Not knowing that was him preventing a moan of pleasure.

“Why don’t we make a contract per se, right now?Denji, you get to touch Power’s boobs as long as you’re able to procure her Meowy.” You grabbed his hands, hovered it over your chest for a couple of moments, and observed his face. He was absolutely drooling.

You retracted your hold and swiveled your head to Power’s direction, taking laid-back, slow steps.

“And, if you two come back in one piece and with no casualities. I’ll join your next mission and prevent this . . . “ You bent your torso to the side in order to look past the pair and unto the purple sludge and multitude of organs on the street. “Mishap from reaching Ms. Makima’s ears. Is it a deal?”

“Deal!” Power nodded repeatedly, fist clenched in excitement. A stark contrast to her almost aloof personality with Denji.

“Good.” You flicked your finger, and in just a moment, every part of the Sea Cucumber Devil’s corpse disappeared. “Try not to disappoint. Makima has big plans for the two of you.”

Denji and Power left, not before gawking at your unintentional show of prowess.

“They’re gone. You meeting with those prunes again?” Speak of the devil and she shall come. You rotated your body to see what’s behind you, unsurprisingly spotting Makima.

“You jealous?”

“I am. Very.”

“You were listening in on us?”

“I just want to know what my husband is up to. Can’t I miss you?”

“You can.” Makima stepped in front of you, leaning close to your face to take a kiss. However, you covered the lower half of her face before she could get too close.

The two of you hear a car arrive not long after, with an Aki Hayakawa inside of it, “Ms. Makima. Mx. [Y/N].”

He escorted you and Makima to her destination and then brought you to a cafe to order some drinks.

You looked around for any pests, and checked if background noise’s volume was loud enough to drown out your voices before you began, “You’re wondering why too, aren’t you?”

“You . . . are surprisingly sharp when it comes to some things [Y/N].”

“I’m not quite adept at recognizing sentiment or intention. That doesn’t mean I’m completely unaware.”

You ordered black coffee and a few desserts and continued, “Whatever she’s planning. I don’t know. But I do know it wouldn’t be great for anyone in the division.”

You stared at the sweet confectionery’s as the workers were stressing out beyond the display, “My powers only extend up to the past. The infinite future ahead is anyone’s guess.”

Aki sighed, even you weren’t aware of what Makima was thinking.

“How did you become. . . “

“Become an amalgam?”

“. . .I’m sorry for the disrespect.”

“I don’t remember.” You finally answered. Your words barely registered above a whisper. But Aki has and will always hear it better than any other sound.

He guessed your memory of your merging was probably given away in a contract and is a sensitive subject.

The two of you return to the car in silence, waiting for Makima’s return.

Once she was back in, and you’ve given her the coffee and food, Aki started up the vehicle and began heading back to HQ.

The silence between the three of you was killing him so he decided to take a shot in the dark and ask Makima of her intentions. Surprisingly, she took the bait, somewhat.

“All Devils were born with names. The scarier the name is, the more powerful it is.” She commenced her speech.

“Take coffee for example, it doesn’t really have a scary image. If there was a coffee devil out there it must be weak.” She drew her eyes to the shaky state of the beverage and made no effort to cover the cup. Then she looked outside the window, to the cars and city scenery, “A car on the other hand, it gives you the image of being run over. That might be a stronger one.”

“Denji can turn into the chainsaw devil. I just think it’s pretty interesting.” And he could potentially erase anything she deemed unnecessary, which was infinitely more than interesting.

“He’s interesting, but he’s of no use to us. Everyone in the division has a goal or faith. He has neither of those. He’s not cut out for this. Not to mention he thinks he can befriend devils.” Aki bit his lip. Denji was nothing in comparison to the rest of the Public Safety sector. He had no experience, no sense of duty, was a slob and pervert.

And yet the stars of the workplace put their trust on him on just a whim, a flight of fancy. “He’s just a kid.”

“We shouldn’t judge a caterpillar when it hasn’t finished chrysalis, or an egg that has yet to hatch.” Taking Aki’s focus on the road as an opportunity, Makima slid her hand atop yours,“The kid. One day he’ll be a man. And he’ll be your junior to use. Yours to throw at the devils that destroyed your life.”

“Give him enough time with devils.” Her visage faced yours, and she smiled.

It terrified you.

“He’ll learn to hate them. Like every human should.”

You looked away, choosing to fill your mind with something else by checking in on Denji. Your eyes widened at the state he found himself in with just a few hours outside your supervision, “Turn on the radio.”

Aki doesn’t even think before his hands reached out to follow your command.

“Bat Devil spotted fighting with a Chainsaw Devil down at . . . “

“Hayakawa. Prepare your team to dispatch the Bat Devil immediately.” Makima downed the coffee in her hand while you basically inhaled your food.

“Understood.”

A/N: First part of my surgery is finished! Might be a week or so for the next ;u; i am in pain

Chainsaw and Happiness Taglist: @saharei @kaedescrush @epsi9099 @aradia-melinoe @sleepwillow @rolo-at-midnight @acuriousmoon @moonnotsonaa @just-some-stars @justarandomweeblol @cyn9 @that-one-simp

(please make sure you’re taggable if you reply to be added)

I’m going home after my family celebrates Ramadan and Eid so slow updates until then I’m so sorry

CHAINSAW & HAPPINESS TAGLIST: @saharei @kaedescrush @epsi9099 @aradia-melinoe @sleepwillow @nordithus @rolo-at-midnight @acuriousmoon @moonnotsonaa @just-some-stars @cyn9 @justarandomweeblol @that-one-simp @somebodyrandom-613

CHAINSAW & HAPPINESS TAGLIST:

Extra Notes: I’ll delete this in case I find better moments to showcase it in the story but to explain [Y/N]’s Bible ability more in depth, you’re basically able to know everything if it has been explicitly stated (Denji’s boob touching desires) or if it can extracted from an event that happened in a being’s life(Power’s relationship with Meowy and subsequent loss of the feline). To counteract how OP this can be, you aren’t able to read minds and are pretty dense + can’t view the future + it has to be activated rather have it on as a passive. In short, you don’t know how obsessed the sector is of you since most of them know of this ability, are pretty careful about how they act in case you decide to probe their past, and you aren’t a creep (i hope). In other words, abilities’s extent is as far as a reader of history knows not the author.

(Also you just aren’t allowed to peer into Makima’s history. We don’t poke sleeping bears, especially if they have the power to control you.)

Chainsaw and Happiness Taglist: @saharei @kaedescrush @epsi9099 @aradia-melinoe @sleepwillow @nordithus @rolo-at-midnight @acuriousmoon @moonnotsonaa @just-some-stars @cyn9 @justarandomweeblol @that-one-simp @somebodyrandom-613 @cupidlot

White names couldn’t be tagged + added a few who just commented if that’s fine?

Thanks for reading!

[wajjs]

If Hal were to get a happy ending, do you think he’d ever settle down, get married and have kids? I don’t know much about Hal, but it dosent seem like something he’d do. ( Despite some comics giving him that ending)

Off the top of my head, 3 writers gave him that ending: Geoff, Venditti (sorta) and, surprisingly enough, Miller.

Geoff and Venditti went the Hal/Carol route, with Geoff making it a certainty and Venditti turning that certainty into a possible outcome/prediction for the future.

On the opposite side, Miller in the Dark Knight universe gave Hal an alien wife and an alien kid, and Hal himself uses the ring to change his appearance so he can look just like his wife does. He also doesn't live on Earth, having ditched everything there after everyone turned on the heroes and started hunting them down, so to speak. This is a Hal who is a) disillusioned with humanity and b) also disillusioned with heroes, yet c) he still has hope and leaves a way to be contacted and to return to Earth.

And personally I think Miller's approach is the only one that would actually work long term for Hal. Because if we leave everything as is within the main Earth/universe, I do not think Hal would ever be happy settling down.

Geoff and Venditti write him as though he does want that ending for himself: the white fence, the house in the suburbs, a wife, kids. But if you pay attention, that's quite a generic wish coming from someone with such a wild imagination.

The way I see it, and this is headcanon/personal opinion, I believe Hal bought into that idea of settling down because it's what his parents did, what his brothers did, what everyone around him did. But I don't think he actually, deep down, wants that for himself.

He wants to fly, to be in space, to travel through and among stars. He loves his freedom a little too much to ever truly be content putting down roots that will keep him anchored to a place. He would feel suffocated, stagnant.

I mean, Convergence: Green Lantern Corps (2015), tackles this issue: Hal does actually marry Carol, and he lasts six days until he up and leaves. Guy hunts him down only to find Hal going crazy trying to find a way back to space.

He only married Carol because what he really wanted was taken away from him. His freedom to fly and be among the stars was gone. And he does love Carol. He does! It's just that his love for his freedom and his ability to fly is much, much stronger and important to him.

So yeah, that's my take. I think he doesn't actually want that for himself, but he also thinks that he should. Except that the only way it'll truly happen is if you take everything away from him and make him have an identity crisis, OR if you make the entire world and all of humanity turn against him to the point he literally quits Earth and quits being human to transform himself into an alien.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • XI

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loudThat we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 5.1k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter eleven - The Drain (EDITED: 09-03-24, not new new to the story!)

new? read from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

The three of us sat in silence, the trees above the courtyard singing with the autumn air. I spoke to them for a few more minutes. I tried to make it quick, knowing that if I stayed longer I wouldn't be able to leave.

“I hope you get to meet her someday,” I murmured as I stood, dusting off my pants.

“I’d like to hear about this girl.”

My stomach dropped as I whipped around in alarm, my heart thumping rapidly once I met his silver completion.

+++++

U̧̢̼̹͓͇̮͈͕̰͑͗ͭ̂̐̓̾̇̑̀̑̌̅̈͟͢͞Ń̷̙͎͍̘͈̰̫̫̭̼͇̻̱͈̝̇͐̌ͧͥ̅͑̏̈̐̉ͫ͝͡͠K̷̴̷̸͇̤̝̥͓̤̖̣̇̏ͭ̇̇̍ͨ͞_̸̸̨̡͎̭̄NͨO̅͆WͨŅ̷̢̮̣̰͚̝̮ͫ̑̾ͤ͌̉̀ͧͪͅͅ

Soon, I’ll kill my final piece of evidence… and soon, I’ll have control of Fidelio.

+++++

RUFFILO

With my phone in hand, I paced back and forth across the room. Jolly and Folio’s eyes tracked my every movement, while Juice mewed from Folio’s lap. Despite their attempts to comfort me, not even a cute cat could cheer me up right now. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

I ran my thumb across the glass to refresh the app once more. No new messages. Clicking the call button for the hundredth time I almost screamed once it rang until voicemail again.

“Noah’s been gone for hours.” I swallowed harshly, “and there’s still no trace of Y/N.”

“Nicky-” Jolly began, standing up from the couch to place a soothing hand on my shoulder, stopping my pacing briefly, “I’m sure Noah’s fine- he’s probably freaking the fuck out looking for Y/N. Maybe even went to the cafe and Sammy’s to fill her bosses in…”

My stomach sunk at his words, and my mind began to race. Something didn’t feel right. I knew Noah, and something felt wrong. He told me he was going to go to the cemetery to clear his mind- and I don’t think he wouldn’t go find Y/N by himself, not after everything that happened. He knew we were stronger in a group.

I shook my head, refreshing my phone for the hundredth time before moaning in frustration, “No. I think he’s in trouble.”

“He’s probably still at the cemetery,” Nick reassured me, standing up with Juice in his arms.

“Can we go look?” I asked, eying both of them as I pressed call, ringing Noah again. No answer.

“He took Y/N’s car so we’d have to walk…” Jolly groaned.

Nick snorted, “Walking is for plebs. Let’s just Uber.”

“Really?” I sighed, giving my brothers a look of relief that they’d come with me.

Jolly laughed, patting my back as we grabbed our shoes, “If it eases your mind seeing him talking to some headstones, then let’s go.”

I threw him a look, glaring, “You know it’s not just any headstone.”

“I know, Nicholas. I know.” Jolly reassured me and I nodded curtly.

After half an hour, we reached the cemetery and I noticed that Y/N's car was still parked in the lot. My mind filled with a glimmer of hope as we walked down the unkempt path. However, the atmosphere was stagnant and my throat tightened with anxiousness. As we approached Noah's parents' plot, my hope faded away as there was no sign of him anywhere.

“I don’t see him,” I mumbled, walking with haste down the path.

The graves were now in sight and I sucked in a breath, shaking my head. Even though the car was still there, something was wrong.

There was a fresh set of white flowers scattered across the front of the graves, the vase that normally sat between the stones lying on the drying grass.

“He could have just left,” Nick chimed in, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Without the car?” I shrugged him off, pointing at the flowers, “He wouldn’t have laid them out like that. Why is the vase knocked onto the ground?”

Squinting my eyes at something that lay a few feet away from the stone, I felt my chest warm, and my head began to shake. My limbs halted and I watched Jolly brush past me, his head tilting as he bent down, picking up the black object.

“Is this-” He began, flipping it in his hand, inspecting the singular sneaker.

“Noah’s,” I said, my stomach dropping.

Folio shrugged, “It could be anyone’s.”

I reached for the shoe, pointing to the hole that was beginning to form on the toe, “No this is one hundred percent Noah’s- the hole forming? He’s had this pair of vans for over a year. Plus, they’re a size twelve.” I peeled back the tongue, analyzing the faded tag.

“How would he lose a shoe here?” Folio asked.

“He wouldn’t,” Jolly said, looking around the cemetery, his body turning quickly as he scoped out the trees, “He would have taken it off on purpose.”

I turned around, my mind beginning to spiral. First Y/N, now Noah.

He had to have been taken.

“Do you think he’s leaving a clue?” I whispered, staring at my brothers before glancing at the grass, my feet carrying me further into the cemetery.

“Those twins must’ve taken him,” Folio spit angrily, his fists clenching.

I watched Jolly as he leaned around the headstones, his fingers tracing the rock for any signs Noah may have left, before picking up one of the flowers. He twirled it between the pad of his thumb and index finger, staring at the dishevelled petals.

“There aren’t enough flowers here to be a full bouquet, and some of the petals are ripped…” Jolly’s eyes locked with mine briefly before I scanned the ground and trees, landing on a speck of white in the distance.

I pointed as my feet carried me towards the spec, “There.”

A few petals were dispersed down the path, and as I peered ahead, another sprinkle of white caught my gaze.

“I think he’s left a trail,” I said, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes widened, fear sinking in.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Nick jogged up to me, pushing my shoulder to send me forward.

The three of us ventured deeper into the graveyard, passing various weathered tombstones, and surveying the ground every few feet for new petals. The further we walked, the more sparse the trail became. Eventually, it stopped altogether.

“Should we keep going?” Jolly asked, pointing to the gate that was open at the back of the cemetery.

Shrugging my shoulders, I kept walking, “We might as well.”

As we approached the gate, I felt a chill run down my spine. The rusted iron creaked ominously in the wind, and beyond it lay a dense thicket of trees. The forest looked dark and uninviting, but I knew we had to press on.

"I don't like this," Folio muttered, his eyes darting nervously from side to side.

"Me neither," I admitted, "but we have to find Noah."

We stepped through the gate, the gravel crunching beneath our feet. The trees loomed over us, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. I strained my eyes, searching for any sign of white petals or a clue from Noah.

Suddenly, Jolly grabbed my arm. "Look!" he hissed, pointing to a nearby tree.

There, caught on a low-hanging branch, was a scrap of fabric.

+++++

Y/N

The lights in the room flickered, casting a yellow hue that created eerie shadows against the walls and made my head spin. The air was heavy and damp, permeated by a sense of despair that seemed to cling to every surface.

I coughed, my eyes burning from tears as I lay on the bed in the motel room. My limbs were bound tightly, and I struggled against the ropes for what felt like the hundredth time. Each tug only caused the rope to dig deeper into the wound it had created.

It had only been two days since I arrived here, but it felt like an eternity. Two days of pure agony and torture.

The door of the motel room clicked open, and I reflexively tensed up. But my fear quickly faded when I saw that it was Kiean. He came in holding a bag of fast food, and the delicious smell immediately made my stomach grumble. I tried to hide my hunger by swallowing hard and pushing away the urge to eat. But my stomach betrayed me with loud noises as Kiean locked the door and glanced at me with concern. "Are you going to finally give in and have something to eat?" he asked, tossing the key onto the rickety table by the wall. I avoided eye contact, keeping my mouth shut and refusing to engage in conversation.

The blonde walked over to me, the ice in the soft drink chittering against the paper cup as he placed it on the nightstand. He then opened the brown paper bag, pulling out some fries and some chicken strips.

Kiean's attempt at a smile was met with me turning my head away. He let out another sigh and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I struggled against the rope holding me still, trying to distance myself from him, but my leg remained pressed against his back. The contact only fueled my anger.

"I even made sure to get your favourite sauce."

Old friends, same disease I'm killing myself again Old friends, same to me I can't get away from it

With a stern look, I directed my gaze towards him as my stomach grumbled once more. The tantalizing aroma of greasy food wafted in the air, making me feel even more sick with hunger. My throat was parched from lack of water. Kiean's eyes followed me with worry as he removed the wrapper from the straw and dipped it into the beverage before holding it up to my lips.

"Please drink, Y/N," he urged me.

The paper brushed against my lips and I squeezed them together, closing my eyes in resentment. He held the cup for almost a minute before I broke, taking the straw into my mouth and sucking up the liquid. I downed the entire thing, gasping for air once I stopped.

“Thank you,” Kiean murmured, opening the box of chicken strips and sauce. I tugged at the rope again before wincing as it dug into the laceration that formed.

Kiean’s brows furrowed as he stared at my wrist, before holding the strip to my mouth for me. No longer able to resist I took a bite and almost moaned at the flavour, swallowing greedily.

“Stop tugging on the rope,” He almost pleaded, “I’m sorry it’s hurting you. Kade would kill me if I took them off.”

Old friends are just a memory That I didn't need

His green eyes bore into me with unease, “You know how he is.” Yeah, I do.

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while as he fed me. I was grateful for the food nonetheless, despite them kidnapping me and tying me to a bed frame. I don’t think I could have made it much longer without eating.

One question frequented my mind, and as much as I didn’t want to talk, I knew that deep down I was safer with Kiean than his brother; and I was afraid that at any moment, he would step through the door.

“Where is Kade?”

Kiean’s head snapped toward me in shock, surprised that I finally spoke.

“Oh- he’s out right now,” Kiean shrugged, turning his gaze to the floor, “I think he’s looking for your boyfriend.”

My heart clenched in worry, mind wandering to Noah and the boys. Were they okay after the crash? Were they hurt?

Were they looking for me?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumbled, staring at the blonde. He turned to face me, eyes analyzing my expression. His pupils dilated in knowing, his stillness a telltale sign he knew something was up.

Kiean was always able to read through me.

“But you have feelings for him,” He said as we watched each other, the gaze between us speaking for me.

I tried my best to remain stiff, but I nodded, tears beginning to well in my eyes.

“I know why you left Y/N,” Kiean looked away, looking at his hands that were folded in his lap, playing with his fingers, “and I don’t blame you for leaving.”

“I couldn’t handle it anymore. So many people were hurt. So many people dead.” I whispered, my voice wavering. I blinked in an attempt to hide my tears, but that only made them fall down the skin of my cheeks.

Kiean picked at his nails, “I’m not gonna lie, you fucked us over.”

My mouth formed a straight line as I stared at the patterned bedsheets.

“The whole syndicate fell once you left. Matt followed. Then Orie, then Bryan. Our organization collapsed after you disappeared…and the Rule Maker took over. You know how much that would have pissed Kade off.”

My body stiffened at the mention of the Rule Maker. He was the biggest crime syndicate in North America other than us; always trying to take Fidelio down.

“Once business shifted and we tried building up again- but since we lost the crew it was almost impossible. We became petty dealers for a bit, but no one wanted to deal with Kade anymore. So, we’ve been working under the Rule Maker as the foxes.” Kiean sighed.

“And he’s blamed me for everything,” I laughed bitterly.

Kiean nodded, “I mean, our business fell apart once you left Y/N. We have nothing now.”

“So you blame me too?” I asked, glaring at him. Kiean didn’t say anything.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t want to be part of that shitty lifestyle anymore. I was tired of being used, and I was tired of being part of a problem,” my voice began to rise, “So many people got hurt, and I did some heinous things. I needed out, especially after everything with Kade happened.”

“Kade has issues, I know… but he loves you Y/N-”

“Oh fuck off!” I yelled, my body pulling against the restraints in frustration, “Don’t you dare say he loves me.”

My chest heaved as venomous words left my tongue, “What he did to me was not love. I wish he was dead.”

“Look-” Kiean placed a hand on my own, which caused me to flinch. I tried pulling away, but couldn’t due to the ropes grasp, “I know you’re angry. You hate him, and you hate me, but we need your help.”

“Why would I ever help you,” my teeth clenched in animosity.

Kiean watched me carefully, “You put that mask back on for your friend.”

I avoided his gaze once again.

“You knew we’d be able to find you, and you knew Kade would come in a heartbeat…So why did you risk everything you ran from, for him? If you were so done with this life, why are you willing to return for this guy?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, “He needed help.”

“Y/N,” Kiean’s green irises begged, “If you’re willing to help someone you just met, can’t you help us? Help me?”

Kiean knew he was my weakness. He had always been there to save me from Kade’s hands. He protected me and kept me safe, despite how awful life was back in Canada. He was my best friend. He was my brother.

“We’re going to take down the Rule Maker,” He said firmly, standing up from the bed now.

“Excuse me?” I scoffed, a laugh almost escaping my lips from disbelief, “What?”

Kiean turned to the closer in the motel room, pulling out three fox head masks. Kiean’s, Kade’s, and…

“Yours,” Kiean said, holding up one of the masks. The silver paint glinted slightly from the flickering yellow motel light.

“We need your help, just this one last time. I promise we’ll leave your life for good if you help us.”

I stared at the mask, almost rolling my eyes, “And if I say no?”

The motel door opened, and I sucked in an anxious breath. Kade slammed the door, his expression furious as his sweat-stained hair hung over his forehead. My limbs warmed nervously as my lungs collapsed, air unable to escape.

I can't be saved Reaching for the life we threw away

Had he been listening this whole time?

“Then I’ll kill you, and your little fuck toy,” Kade seethed, lifeless orbs glaring in my direction.

Watching as it circles in the drain With everything I loved, that's gone to waste With everything I was but couldn't change

+++++

NOAH

It was the fear of the unknown that amplified the sense of vulnerability and helplessness I felt. Being at the mercy of someone else and unable to anticipate their next move, left me terrified and completely hopeless.

The blindfold that covered my vision left me anxious as my body thrashed back and forth from the restraints that tied my arms back, the metal cold against my skin. As I attempted to wiggle free the chains that held me swung against the chair, clanging in my ears. The wind whistled around the building I must’ve been in, causing me to shiver.

I screamed angrily, swinging aimlessly before the chair toppled over and I landed on the cement ground with a thud, the side of my head smacking into the pavement.

I didn’t necessarily believe in a God- but I prayed.

I prayed that Y/N was okay and that she knew I was sorry for everything.

I prayed that whatever happened to me, my brothers knew I loved them. Knew how sorry I was that our lives were ruined because of me.

I prayed that they would be able to find the trail I left behind.

Old friends, same disease I can't get away from it Old friends, same as enemies

“There’s no way you pulled that pharmacy heist off by yourself,” Anger seeped through every word, every syllable.

“Who is she?”

I laughed, my body aching against the ground as I continued wrestling the chains, “You underestimating me?”

The man growled, pushing my face into the cement forcefully, causing me to laugh in resentment. Even through the blindfold, I could tell a snarle was embedded on his face.

“I stole your fucking car at fourteen. I can do anything I need to myself.”

“You sure about that?” I felt my body swing back up from the ground, two sets of hands sitting me upright in the chair.

“Who was wearing the Volto mask?”

I'm killing myself again I'm killing myself again I'm killing myself

“Fuck that I know,” I jeered, “What’s with the theatrics of all this?”

With my question ignored, I felt something cold and sharp press against my arm, “How do you know Y/N Y/L/N?”

I tried to not let my sarcastic smile fade at the mention of her name, “Who?”

“I’m not stupid boy,” The man yelled, a stinging warmth bolting up my arm, causing me to scream.

“Fuck!” I hollered, attempting to pull away, but I couldn’t move, nor see. Hands held my shoulders in place.

“I did some digging. You didn’t just break into her house, No,” he laughed, “No, you’ve been living there.”

I can't be saved Reaching for the life we threw away Watching as it circles in the drain

Why was he asking about the mask and Y/N?

My mind wandered back to Vincent, recalling our conversation days prior.

“Heads, you tell me about your little friend Y/N.”

My gaze narrowed and my fists clenched at the mention of her name. What did he want with Y/N?

“Tails, you tell me about your masked friend.”

Vincent said his boss wanted to know.

“So tell me,” I felt the blade dance across my skin, threatening, “Is she my missing mask?”

With everything I loved, that's gone to waste With everything I was but couldn't change

+++++

RUFFILO

As we strolled down the street, Folio turned to me with a curious expression. "Do you have any theories about who Y/N might be?" I shook my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he mused, "because two masked men chased us and kidnapped both Y/N and Noah and now she's revealed herself as a badass hacker and thief? That doesn't sound like your average barista if you ask me."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. The only thing she ever mentioned was that she was trying to escape her past and feared being judged…and that she knows some pretty dangerous people.”

“She took us in without a thought,” Jolly piped in, “She had to have had a similar lifestyle. No one would just take in a group of criminals.” He then stopped walking, reaching into his pocket.

Jolly stared at his screen confused, the device vibrating with a surprising name dancing on the screen, “Vincent?”

Putting the phone against his ear he watched us, a confused look glazing over his features. I stood closer to him, trying to listen in on the conversation. Jolly rolled his eyes, pushing me gently.

“Fuck you calling me for? I don’t have shit bro.”

“Yo, you know where Noah is? Did this asshole flake?”

“Why?” Jolly asked, “You were supposed to meet him?”

“Yea, he had more shit for me- didn’t show up at the ally. Thought that maybe I scared him off since the last time we talked.”

“Well, he didn’t show up because he’s fucking missing.”

“Missing? The hell you mean missing.”

“Missing as in we have no idea where the fuck he is, and we think he was kidnapped; so your deal’s gonna have to wait.”

“Wait- I think I know who may have taken him.”

Immediately I stepped back to share a look with Jolly and Nick. Did Vincent know the twins?

“Shit I gotta go. Meet me at the pier in 20.”

I heard the phone beep and Jolly stared at the screen in confusion, “Folio?”

Nick hummed, “What?”

“Did Noah ever use his first name when dealing with Vincent?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, shaking his head, “Pretty sure I told him to just go by Sebastian.”

Jolly shoved his phone back into his pocket, pushing past us and walking quickly down the street, “Seems to me Vincent may be more involved in this.”

+

We hurriedly made our way to the pier, trying to cover the long distance in just twenty minutes. Walking was not ideal, but it was our only option as the cemetery was too far for a quick drive. The wind picked up, sending cold droplets of water flying towards us and making me shiver. As we reached the pier, I noticed a man leaning against the wooden railing, gazing out at the water. He turned towards us with a small smile and stood up straight.

“Jolly? Folio?” He acknowledged them, and Jolly whistled in response.

“Strange seeing you unmasked.”

“Well, I’m not going to wear it where everyone can see us,” He threw his hood over his head, shielding himself from the wind.

“So what do you mean you think you know who took Noah?” I asked.

He looked at me, thick brows sitting heavily above his eyes, “Who are you?”

“Nicholas. Ruffilo.”

“Ah,” Vincent mumbled, “The one that convinced Jolly to stop selling to me in the first place all those years ago.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Jolly placed a supportive hand on my shoulder.

“It was a mutual agreement, Vince. You know why we stopped, we got a new boss.”

“Yeah, whatever,” He huffed, leaning against the railing once again, “Well speaking of bosses, I think mine took him.”

“Is your boss a set of twins that wear these stupid fox masks?” Nick asked.

Vincent laughed, raising a brow, “Uh, no. But that’s interesting.”

Jolly, Nick and I looked at each other. So who took him if it wasn’t the twins?

“Whois he?” I asked.

With a shrug, Vincent turned to look out at the water again, “I dunno. I’ve never met him before, and we only communicate through his little henchmen. We call him the Rule Maker.”

“The Rule Maker?” Jolly chuckled for a moment, but then his smile quickly faded. “Wait, are you talking about THE Rule Maker?”

“Who's that?” I asked, feeling out of the loop.

Folio ran his fingers through his hair. “Only the biggest drug lord in North America.”

“Well, why would he kidnap Noah? We haven't been involved in anything related to drugs in years, except for the last month,” I said.

Vincent shrugged. “I was interrogated by one of his henchmen the other day. He wanted information about the person who helped him with the heist since they were wearing a mask belonging to the missing member of Fidelio.”

I quickly glanced at Folio and Jolly, making eye contact with both of them.

“Fidelio- isn't that a drug syndicate in Canada?” asked Jolly.

Vincent confirmed, “Yeah, it is. That was the first time we saw that mask in months. Then my boss started asking about some woman named Y/N Y/L/N.”

My brothers and I all had the same reaction: wide eyes and physically turning to face each other.

“So you do know her,” Vincent concluded.

“I mean-” Nick scratched his neck.

“Well, my boss knows her. He has been looking for her for years,” Vincent sighed, “So, Sebastian knows Y/N, and has a connection to the Volto mask. Yada yada, the boss wants answers that I couldn’t get out of Noah the other day. So he probably took him.”

I ran a hand over my face, groaning audibly. This is bad.

Jolly stared at me concerned, “Y/N is the missing member of Fidelio. The timeline would add up.” Fuck.

“Interesting,” Vincent chimed in, “So it’s the same person. That girl is the mask.”

“Well, did your boss say how he knows her?” Nick questioned.

The dealer shook his head, “Nope. And I don’t know where Sebastian would be either- but I think that’s who took him.”

“Why are you helping us?” I said warily.

Vincent smiled, his grillz shining against the setting sun, “Well, he provided good business. I got paid well.”

“I don’t know how we are supposed to find him though,” Nick said, “We were following a trail of flowers for a bit.”

Wait… following…

“Oh my god,” I smacked my forehead in annoyance, “Our trackers!” I lifted my pant leg, showing it off to the boys.

I wasn’t sure how we didn’t realize it sooner, but Noah still had his tracker attached to his ankle. At least, I hoped.

“How are we supposed to track it? It was Y/N who had the system,” Jolly said.

“Noah’s number might still be on her laptop. It’s worth a shot.”

+++++

Y/N

Kade sat across the room and asked, "Where is your laptop?" He slumped back in his chair and gave me a cold glare.

"Why would I tell you?" I retorted.

He chuckled, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "Do you have a death wish?"

I snarled at him, "It's not my fault you didn't secure your system properly. Figure it out on your own."

"Well, I didn't expect you to betray me and erase everything." His smile was pathetic and devoid of any warmth.

“Y/N,” Kiean pleaded, and I rolled my head to look at him. He sat on the other bed, eyes begging, “Just cooperate. Like I said, if you help we will leave your life forever.”

“How am I supposed to know that’ll happen?” I mocked, “You chased me and my friends, almost killed us in a car crash with guns, and fucking kidnapped me?”

The room was silent for a moment before Kade spoke up.

“I just want my fucking business back.” He growled, “So like I said, help me, or he is dead.”

I swallowed harshly, knowing that Kade’s threats were never empty. He always followed through with them, and I know he most certainly would kill him.

I didn’t want to help them… but I didn’t want to risk Noah’s life.

“It’s at my place,” I sighed.

Kade stood up, clapping his hands together, which caused me to close my eyes and flinch, “Then let’s go.”

+

We arrived at my house in a rental car that the Twins had gotten for us. I fidgeted with the bandages on my wrists, wincing as I did so, grateful for Kiean's care to prevent infection. My stomach churned as we parked outside of my front door; part of me hoped that the boys would be there to rescue me from this mess, but another part feared for their safety if they were there.

“Are your boyfriend’s minions home?” Kade spat, turning off the engine.

"How am I supposed to know? I've been held captive," I retorted with a sneer. Kiean gave me a pointed look, and I rolled my eyes before the three of us made our way to the door. Kade had taken my key and unlocked the house, stepping inside silently. The twins listened for any signs of movement, and I scanned the area, noting that the boys' shoes were missing.

“I don’t think they’re home,” I said. The twins nodded to each other, following me up the stairs to my room. Juice mewed behind, following us.

Once we entered I went to my desk, pulling the laptop off the charger. I handed it to Kiean who opened it, prompting me to type in my password.

“So now what?” I asked just before the front door opened.

The twins glanced at each other, holding a finger to their lips and my breath quickened, listening to the voices of the boys. They were here.

“So where is her laptop?”

“Probably upstairs. C’mon.”

Was Noah here too?

The shuffle of various sets of footsteps ran up the stairs and as soon as Folio turned the corner he let out a surprised yelp when our eyes met briefly.

“Y/N!” He screamed, taking a step forward before Kade cocked his pistol, holding it straight ahead.

“What the fuck-” I heard Ruffilo and saw him peer behind the corner, his eyes widening once he saw me.

Kade grabbed my wrist tightly, causing me to wince in pain. "Move, or I'll shoot," he threatened as we passed by Folio and Ruffilo with their hands raised in surrender. He dragged me out of the room, past the boys, and into a hallway where I saw Jolly waiting. But then, my eyes locked with a stranger's gaze and I didn't see Noah anywhere nearby.

I pulled against Kade as he tried prying me down the stairs, gun still pointed toward the boys.

“Wait-” I begged, causing Kade to stop, “Where’s Noah?”

As I stared up at Ruffilo from the stairs his gaze made my heart sink.

“He was kidnapped,” Ruffilo muttered.

“C’mon,” Kade spoke through gritted teeth, giving zero fucks about Noah. We reached the bottom of the stairs and Kiean pushed me softly toward the door.

“What?” I yelled back, complete worry taking over me, “By who?”

"The Rule Maker," Jolly hollered back, his voice carrying through the hall. The twins stopped in their tracks, their faces mirroring a mix of surprise and uncertainty as they exchanged a glance with each other.

I can't be saved Reaching for the life we threw away Watching as it circles in the drain With everything I loved, that's gone to waste With everything I was but couldn't change

Chapter 12 - Coming Soon

(New story parts chapter 12+, no longer re-edited work)

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[darling-i-read-it]

Window Cracked Open

Jeff the Killer x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: god where do i start, reader is clearly deranged in the sense that she finds love in fear (yes that was a jab at me), blood, a knife, jeff lighty threatening the reader, overall scary writing?, mentions of jeff being too skinny and unhuman, descriptions of jeffs scarring (let me know if i missed any!) 

Author’s Note: i was trying to watch a romance show and it made me so deranged and sad that i wrote this because i feel more comfortable in fear than i do in love sometimes. 

Summary: Literally no plot just Jeff showing up one night 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

He always came in without warning. His limbs sprawled out, always gangly and white. Even in the dark, there was something illuminating about them. Monstrous. They moved too slow, with too much precision. Predatory. You never would have guessed he was once a human. Despite the two arms and two legs, he always seemed something otherworldly. You never knew when he would show. Sometimes it would be months without so much as a peep. Sometimes he would be gone mere days, mumbling something about the cold, pretending he felt normal feelings. 

The air coming through the window was chilly. It was crisp and comforting. Summer had finally started to dissipate. The sun had started to set sooner. The leaves started to turn. They fell to the ground, being run over by cars with the heater blasting. When the darkness fell over the night you could feel your muscles start to relax. The tenseness in your body rested when you got under warm blankets, a candle lit by your bedside. 

It had been weeks. The sticky sweat of the summer had Jeff on the run. You never knew where he went when he was gone for long periods of time. It just made you antsy. Even after plenty of time, you could never go to sleep at peace. You left the window cracked open, always prepared for someone to come climbing in, something that looked like a monster under your bed. 

You could have shut it. Locked it. Bought double locks or something, gone to the local hardware store and asked for better protection or cameras or something. It would put you at ease. Jeff would get the message. 

But God, where’s the fun in that? 

You were in between consciousness. You could still hear everything around you, make  note of the normal noises as they came and went. The fan blowing, causing your curtains to slightly move. The sound of your clock, ticking. The familiar fabric moving with the wind from the window. 

A creak on the window. 

At first, you didn’t even open your eyes. You dismissed it as something in your dreams, something you could almost touch. The comforting feeling of sleep was about to overtake you and honestly, you were ready to let it. You could ignore something that echoed far away, nothing more than a simple abnormality. 

Then a longer creak. Weight shifting on the sill. 

You opened your eyes. It was dark. You had a little night light in the corner of your room by the door. You could see the edges of it from where you were laying. Your body stayed still. Listening. Waiting. You could see your digital clock on the bedside table. Nearing the witching hour. 

Finally, there was a footstep on your carpet. You could barely hear it. If it wasn’t so quiet otherwise, you would never have noticed it. 

You put your palm against your mattress. You used it to shift your weight, sitting up. 

Jeff was standing by the window. You could see him only by his silhouette. Your eyes weren’t used to the darkness yet but you the gentle night light illuminated against his striking figure. All sharp. The connection between his limbs seemed stagnant. Holding themselves together only by the sheer need to. You recognized him by his familiar motifs. 

There was a long moment of complete stillness. Jeff stood at the window. You could imagine his eyes scanning the room, feverishly taking in his surroundings, understanding each and everything you had changed since he had been there last. You sat on the bed, watching him, breathing shallowly. You recognized that this was like a still from a horror movie. You knew that the fear in your chest was only narrowly alarming. There should have been a flight or fight guard behind it. Instead it was just a fear that was welcomed. A feeling you understood, one that you knew well. It paralyzed you from anything else. God, it was a nice feeling. 

Jeff moved. He walked towards your bed, putting both his palms on the comforter and crawling towards you. You could see more of his face as he moved, the night light flashing off his features in different ways. 

His permanent Glasgow smile was stained with dried blood. You lifted your hand towards him, putting it on his cheek. He sat criss cross applesauce in front of you. You had brought your legs towards your body to make room. You wanted to clean the wound, an innate instinct. You wondered how many times you had cleaned it. How many times he just returned it to its idle state. 

His eyes were wide. They always were. It showed no inclination of surprise, just a natural gaze. 

“Why the frown sweetface?” His voice broke the silence. It literally felt like it shattered, waking you from some sort of trance. You hadn’t realized you were frowning. How could he see your expression at all? You could hardly see his.

“You're bleeding.”

“Always.” Your hand dragged down from his cheek. It brushed over his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing. Then onto his hoodie. It looked like it had once been white but was now stained. Dirt. Blood. Guts. You left your hand against his chest. If he had a heart, it would be there. 

“Where have you been?” You wouldn’t get an answer you wanted. You asked anyway. 

“Here, there. No where.” His voice was raspy. Almost playful. “Didja miss me?” His voice remained just above a whisper. You swallowed hard.

“Yes,” you said, honestly. He smiled, as much as he could. “Do you wanna get some clean clothes?” You couldn’t even think twice about how long he had been wearing this set. 

“Sounds like a lotta work.” You half snorted. 

“Couldn’t be any more work than killing someone.”

“That has an end result.” 

“So does changing.” 

“You better watch your tongue,” he threatened, though it felt fake. He took his knife out from an unidentified face, flashing it in your face. It glistened in the night light. “You could be the next one on the other end of my knife.” 

“Is that a promise?” His version of a smile returned. You climbed off the bed, going towards your dresser. You had kept some things that looked mildly like Jeff’s size. You grabbed a different hoodie, a shirt and some slacks. He was watching you. You could feel it. 

You turned back to him. Large eyes watched your movements. 

You threw the clothes at him. He caught it, quickly, easily. 

“Get dressed.” 

“So demanding,” he muttered. He slid off the bed. His movements were always too easy. Too graceful. 

He had no qualms of getting dressed right there. He tossed his things to the side and you watched, climbing back into the bed and leaning against the wall. You watched him. His slender body, white as a sheet, moved like a ghost. He was impossibly skinny. Always cold to the touch, like a corpse. 

Once he had changed, he turned back to you. 

“Happy?” he snarled. 

“Very.” 

He crawled back onto the bed. Jeff sprawled onto the comforter. He pretended it was his, that the warmth and the safety was something he could live in. He knew it wasn’t what he wanted. But it was something he could enjoy, in small doses. 

“Do I get a space?”

“Sleep on the floor.” You scoffed. You shoved him aside, grabbing the top of the comforter and pulling it down. You climbed underneath it and he took the moment to also enjoy the warmth of the blankets. You faced him, cheek against your pillow. It was colder now that he had opened the window gap a little larger. You were going to get blood on your pillows. He likely wouldn’t be there when the sun rose. This would feel like nothing but a dream. 

He grabbed your hip, pulling you closer. He was freezing. Cold blooded, you swore. After a gasp you stifled your emotion. His hair smudged over his face, the tips of it touching your skin. He had pulled you to his chest, his grip like iron. 

Your eyes started to close. Sleep would come easily. You were still in the in-between of consciousness. 

You could feel his lips (or lack thereof) against the top of your head. He buried his face into the pillow so that his nose would remain in your hair, breathing in your shampoo. You would wake up with blood on you more than likely, the feeling of his kisses leaving you before you could comprehend them.   But you slept better with Jeff here then you did without him. All fear and anticipation dissipated. The knowing was far better than the unknown. You fell asleep in his arms, a crazy loopy reasoning in your head about the boy in your arms.