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dreamescapeswriting · 3 months

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Stray Kids Reaction || They're Sick

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

GN!Reader. I changed it a little just so they weren’t too similar to one another, I hope that’s alright. Please let me know and I can fix and rewrite it for you <3

Trigger warning: Mentions of throwing up as well as people being ill, please don’t read if it’s something that may upset you <3

CHAN:

As soon as you felt the weight in the bed shift you realised Chan was waking up but it wasn't his usual slow wake-up, he shot out of bed before the bathroom door slammed. You frowned sitting up in the bed and glancing over at the bedroom door that was left wide open.

"Channie?" You called out, quickly making your way toward the bathroom and peeling the door open to reveal Chan huddled over the toilet with his head lying against the seat.

"That's not hygienic." You teased softly, walking behind him and kneeling on the ground, carefully running your fingers through his hair and hissing when you felt just how hot his skin was to touch. Before Chan could say anything to you, a gag sounded and he threw up into the toilet again.

"I'll be right back." You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder before making your way toward the kitchen and reaching for everything you were going to need for him.

You came book moments later holding a small kit that you'd prepared, Chan was slumped against the wall looking pale and slightly green, if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled as you dropped in front of him, taking his temperature before handing him some tablets.

"Don't be, baby," You whispered, giving him a small bottle of water before cleaning the toilet as he took everything you gave to him.

"You don't have to do all of this," He grumbled, laying his head against the wall as he watched you clean up the mess he'd made, before sitting down in front of him once again.

"I know," You smiled warmly at him, "I want to. Did you take everything?" You noticed the tablets you'd given to him were all gone and he mumbled "yes" tiredly making you frown a little,

"Bed. Come on." You told him, gently helping him up from the floor and guiding him into the bedroom, even now he was unsteady on his feet and swaying a little.

"I'll be fine, I just need to get some food and I can go to work."

"You're going to work over my dead body." You told him, laying him down on the bed before laying a cold cloth on his forehead, his eyes finding yours as a small pout played on his lips.

"But-"

"No buts, I'll call JYPE myself and force them to put you on strict bed rest," You warned him as his cheeks began to turn pink.

"You too warm?" Concern dripped from your voice as you noticed the pink on his cheeks and he smiled, shaking his head slowly.

"Just happy to have you be so caring to me," He whined out as you gently covered him with a thin blanket, kissing his cheek.

"Try and get some sleep, there's a bucket beside the bed just in case you feel ill again." You promised him, hoping the anti-sickness tablets would help him even a little. He whimpered a little but nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he was barely able to keep them open much longer.

MINHO:

Whenever Minho knew he was getting sick he was the type to sneak away and suffer in silence, he didn't want to be a burden to anyone else and he would hide as much as humanly possible. Only this time when he'd shown up to the dorms you were already standing in the kitchen and cooking something that smelled as though it unclogged his sinuses the second he took a bite.

"Good, you're back." You smiled warmly at him, running your hands over the apron you were wearing before making your way toward him. You took the overnight bag from his arms and placed it on the sofa,

"Go and jump in the bath I made for you," You ran your hands over his cheeks and felt how hot he was running despite it being below-freezing outside.

"How did you know where I was?" He'd made sure to make the guy's promise not to tell you that he was coming to rest. They were under strict orders to tell you he was needed for practice a lot, he hated lying to you but he didn't want you to get sick and he didn't want to burden you.

"Minho, we've been together for a year, if you think I don't know where you slink off to whenever you're sick then we have a problem." You joked softly, placing a soft kiss on his jaw before making your way back to the kitchen.

As soon as he was done he was dressed in some PJs you'd laid out on the bed for him and the soup was waiting for him on the kitchen table,

"What did you make?" His voice was hoarse from how hard he'd been coughing lately,

"It's a soup, my grandmother used to make it whenever I got a cold, it's soft on your throat but it'll unclog your nose," You promised him as he sat down beside you, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"Thank you," He whispered,

"I know you hate it when people help you but I want to do this, baby, I want to help." You told him as you ran your hand over his, gently rubbing his skin as he nodded shyly at you.

"I feel like a burden when I'm sick," He admitted begrudgingly.

"Don't. I enjoy getting to pamper you, usually, it's always you that pampers me," You laughed softly, giving him a spoon and starting to eat the soup together.

CHANGBIN:

A crash sounding from the living room made you jolt awake and reach for Changbin who wasn't beside you, your eyebrows knitted together as you stared down wondering where he was. It was almost two in the morning and it wasn't like him to get home so late from work, or even from parties whenever he and the boys were celebrating.

"Shit," You heard a voice mumble before laughter sounded from the living room, followed by another crash making you head that way only to find Changbin bent down trying to clean something up from the floor. You flicked the light switch on only to find him trying to clean up glass.

"Binnie, what-"

"Shh! I can't wake Yn up," He laughed again, his body swaying slightly and you instantly knew what was wrong with him, he'd clearly been drinking too much that night.

"Lay down," You ordered, forcing him down onto the sofa and trying to get a good look at his hand, luckily he hadn't cut it on his gallant effort to clean up the broken vase that scattered the floors.

"Ynnnnn!" He yelled before he got that look on his face, his hands holding his stomach and you quickly darted to the kitchen, grabbing a bucket and running back to him, just in time before he barfed into the bucket you were holding.

"Sorry," He grumbles, his head spinning as he held onto the bucket and kept his head inside, not daring to lift it in case he threw up again. You stared at him and shook your head, you knew that they were celebrating finishing their album tonight but you had no idea he'd come back to you like this. If you had, you would have prepared everything for him already.

"Don't move, okay?" You stared at him as he held up a thumb and you began to work your magic. Cleaning up the glass from the floor as good as you could before heading into the kitchen and grabbing some water, painkillers and orange juice. Adding everything onto a tray before making sure to grab him some plain bread to eat as soon as he was done throwing up.

"You're the best," He told you as you placed the tray down on the coffee table and ran your fingers through his hair,

"I know," You teased, smirking down at him as he groaned, throwing up once again into the bucket in his hands, followed by a moan of disgust.

"I'm never drinking again," He told you, making you roll your eyes playfully,

"How many times have we been in this exact situation and you say that exact sentence?" You laughed, rubbing his back softly as he mumbled something about "meaning it this time."

HYUNJIN:

You pushed open the door to your shared apartment you had with Hyunjin and frowned a little, the usual welcoming scent of lavender you had burning was missing. Instead, a faint, unfamiliar mustiness hung in the air.

"Hyunjin?" You called out, walking further into the apartment and dropping off your bags, something was clearly wrong if there was no response from him. Hyunjin had been complaining about a headache the night before, but he brushed it off as a side effect of practising all day.

"hyunnie?" You called out again, louder this time, as you made your way through the apartment toward the bedroom where you found the door slightly ajar.

There you found Hyunjin lying sprawled on the bed, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. A pillow over his head as he grumbled something about you being too loud. You hurried to his side, kneeling beside the bed and sighing a little, you slowly peeled back the pillow to find him screwing his eyes shut. The light hurt his eyes.

"Hey," You said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "You're burning up. Why didn't you call me?" You breathed out,

"I didn't want to worry you," he mumbled, his eyes closing again as you shook your head at him, you hated when he refused to ask for help.

"I'm going to take care of you," You promised, taking in the sight of him and the bed, he did not look comfortable at all.

"Let's get you comfortable first." You carefully untangled the sheets from around him, helping him sit up enough to drink some water. He sipped gratefully, his parched lips parting for more. Next, you rushed to the windows, opening them slightly but pulling the blinds down so the light from the afternoon sun wouldn't bother him.

You spent the next few hours by his side. You changed the washcloth on his head regularly, fetched medicine, and coaxed him into drinking more fluids. You'd told the boys he wouldn't be going to work for a few days and made sure he was going to be on bed rest for a while, or at least until he was better.

"You're the best partner anyone could ever wish for." He mumbled, his voice hoarse as you carefully handed him some tea, smiling warmly at him.

"Just drink the tea, no flirting." You winked at him before he sipped on the warm drink you'd made for him.

JISUNG:

Jisung had been under a lot of stress lately at work which should have been your first hint at what sight was going to await you as you walked into the dorms one night after work. Jisung was sprawled out on the sofa, looking as though he'd been through a week of no sleep and hadn't eaten properly.

"What are you doing here?" He hadn't meant for it to come out the way it had but he hadn't expected to see you tonight, he'd been looking forward to rotting away on the sofa for the entire night.

"It's date night," You reminded him, pointing down at your outside that you'd spent hours picking before laying your bag down and kneeling beside Jisung who looked heartbroken that he had forgotten the date.

"Babe...I-I'm sorry." He stuttered out but you'd put your hand on his forehead and bit down on your lip, he was already spiking a fever and you hadn't been here to know how long or how bad he had been.

"Shh, it's fine. We can have a cosy night in." You suggested, shrugging off your jacket and going to search their cabinets in look for anything other than food. They had to have some sort of medication for when they got sick, right?

"Sit up," You whispered as you sat in front of Jisung, holding a jar of vapour rub in your hand and waiting for your boyfriend to inch forward. As soon as he did you carefully began to rub the cream into his chest, making sure your hands were warm enough so you didn't shock him.

"Thank you," He groaned, his voice sounding as though he'd been swallowing sand paper all day.

"I'll make you some tea and we can watch Howl's moving castle." You suggested, gently running your fingers through his hair and smiling at him with a warm smile.

FELIX:

You'd woken up earlier than intended this morning, went and made breakfast and came back to the bedroom to find Felix sitting up in the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to calm himself down from the wave of dizziness that had met him when he woke up.

"You look like shit," You offered as you saw the state of him, trying to tease him softly.

"Thanks, that's really nice to hear from the love of my life," He coughed out with a weak smile, his voice sounded like he'd been eating nails for days and you hated that he was getting sick.

"You should have texted me," You mumbled, running your hand over his head and checking for a fever, he was already starting to burn up which only confirmed that he was getting sick.

"I don't want to bother you," He mumbled, his body aching as he laid down in the sheets and snuggled against them. Felix hated this, he was normally the caring one in the relationship. He wanted to be the one to look after you and right now he felt as though he was failing that.

"You're never a bother, Lixie." You whined at him, his eyes struggling to stay open as he gave into the feeling of what his body was telling him.

When he woke up again, the smell of chamomile and honey filled the air and you were sitting at the edge of his bed with a tray on your lap.

"Drink." You ordered, holding up a small cup of steaming tea, Felix knew better than to fight you on it and he took a sip, the warm liquid soothing his throat,

"You didn't have to do this." He coughed out, sitting up slightly and leaning against the headboard,

"Of course I did," You smirked as you replied. "You're always taking care of me. Let me return the favour." Felix sighed at you, pouting a little as he looked down at himself, stuck in bed for god knows how long.

"I just hate being useless." You hated that he was beating himself up so much so you ran your hand over his cheek,

"You're not useless, Lix. You're just human. Everyone gets sick."

"Not you," he mumbled.

"Especially me," You corrected, scoffing a little as you remembered the last time you'd gotten so sick you couldn't leave your bed.

"Remember last winter when I had the flu? You stayed up all night making sure I was okay. It's my turn now." Felix frowned, his stubbornness warring a little since he knew you were right.

"I just want to be the one taking care of you. It makes me feel… I don’t know, like I’m doing something right." Your expression softened as you reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"You do so much right, Lixie. You don't need to prove anything to me. Let me take care of you this time, okay?" He thought about it for a moment before nodding his head, relaxing against the pillows as you spent the night looking after him. Bringing him soup, fluffing his pillows, giving him everything he could ever need and more.

SEUNGMIN:

All week long Seungmin had been giving you the brush off whenever you tried to get him to go to yours or when you suggested going to spend time with him, you began to worry a little that something was really wrong and as you stepped into his apartment your fears were confirmed.

"Kim Seungmin." You cried out seeing him lying on the sofa, sweat dripping down his forehead as he coughed into a tissue and whined at you for being too loud.

"Go home." He grumbled, a little harsher than he wanted but he couldn't risk you getting sick because of him, the last thing he wanted was for you to end up the way he was feeling right now.

"No." You laughed, dropping your jacket onto the coat hook and making your way to the kitchen where you knew he had things he needed.

"yn." He coughed up but you ignored him, preparing some tea before bringing it to him, laying it down on the coffee table and staring down at your boyfriend who appeared to be pouting at you.

"You're cute when you're pouting," You smirked, kissing his cheek softly before he moved away from you,

"You'll get sick," He moaned, shaking his head at you and covering his mouth with a tissue as if it was going to stop the germs from getting to you.

"I'll be fine, just let me take care of you." You stayed where you were standing and he sighed, knowing better than to argue with you about something since you were just as stubborn as him usually.

"Go to bed, I'll clean up and make you some soup." He nodded, sluggishly making his way to his room and getting under the sheets, shutting his eyes for a few minutes.

A few days later Seungmin finally began to feel human again and you'd cleaned up the entire apartment, opening the windows for fresh air and bringing him hot soup for every meal so he would be nursed back to health.

JEONGIN:

You always said you had a sixth sense about when those you cared about were going to get sick which was probably why you'd walked into your home after work one night already carrying everything you were going to need to help Jeongin feel better.

"How did you know?" He mumbled as he saw the pharmacy bag in your hand as well as a grocery bag that seemed to be filled to the brim with ingredients.

"Because I'm secretly magic," You smirked, hating to see him laid up on the sofa surrounded by tissues, his nose already red from blowing it so much and you smiled weakly.

"Magcially good looking." He said, trying to pass the comment off as flirty but because he was sick it just didn't work and he coughed into his hands, whining a little at the pain in his chest.

"Come on, take these baby." You offered, handing him the box of flu tablets before opening a fresh bottle of water and taking away the one he had been using.

"From now on, a fresh bottle every time or let me wash the one you're using." You instructed him, taking some of the rubs you'd gotten from the doctors and gently massaging it into his bare chest, watching as he stared at you with love in his eyes. As much as Jeongin hated being sick he adored this caring side of you, getting to be pampered by you was one of his favourite things in the world.

"Are you going to make your famous soup?" He shouldn't have sounded as excited as he did but you only ever made it when someone was sick and refused to do it any other time.

"Yes. But only if you go and get in a warm bath, let your body soak." You kissed his cheek and watched as he practically raced to the bathroom.

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thriftedtchotchkes · 11 months

Text

eyes on the monitor

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike catches something on the security cameras that really shouldn't be happening at a family-friendly pizzeria—even an abandoned one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, stranger!reader, submissive!mike, trespassing, smut, m&f masturbation, public masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, squirting, finger sucking, cum eating, looming danger

word count: 3k

Mike has seen a lot of things on the security monitors in his three short nights working at Freddy's.

Old animatronics that still roam about like they're possessed, cryptic messages written on dusty windows and mirrors. But he can honestly say he never saw this coming.

As the cameras shift from right to left, one of the screens glitches and crackles, and then there's you, tucked into a booth like you belong there. Except you don't. He's not even sure how you evaded his notice, let alone how you got into the building.

Don't you have any idea what's lurking in these halls? The dangers that patiently wait behind the curtained stage not even ten feet from where you're sitting? From where you're...

Fuck.

There's no way you possibly can because you're still lounging there without a care in the world, your legs spread wide and your jeans dangling off one ankle while you fuck yourself on your fingers. Two of them, your ring and middle, pump a steady rhythm in and out, dribbling slick all over the vinyl beneath you. You're so wet, even the camera's picking up the refracted light from the prize counter glinting off your pussy.

He should be panicked. He should be halfway to the auditorium by now to stop you, to drag you out of the pizzeria before the unthinkable happens, but—

But he can't bring himself to move or stop watching. He can't stop himself from palming his stiffening cock through his pants, either. Your head lolls back onto the booth and your body readjusts, giving him the perfect view of your languid movements. Now, it's almost like you're on display just for him.

And suddenly, he doesn't care about Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, or Foxy. He definitely doesn't care about his job or whatever else that career counselor said on the phone. The only thing Mike cares about is getting his dick out as fast as humanly possible so he can match the calculated press of your fingers and your frustratingly unhurried pace.

You're thoroughly enjoying your pleasure—that much is clear—and it would be so easy to just...join in. He'd planned on sleeping through his fourth night, but now that you're here, there's nothing else he'd rather be doing than spending his shift fucking his fist and pretending it's you.

It'd be wrong. So, so wrong, but as you continue on, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil, he can feel himself getting harder and harder. There's a growing wet patch on the front of his sweatpants that's getting difficult to ignore, and he nearly moans as he grinds the heel of his hand into his lap for relief.

His gaze trails down your figure, surprisingly clear on the aging monitors, and he watches, dry-mouthed, as your unoccupied hand snakes up your body to tweak a nipple through your shirt.

Fuck it, he can't take this anymore.

He yanks his pants down so fast, he's shocked he doesn't knock himself onto the floor, and hisses out a breath the moment his fingers wrap around himself. It aches with how good it feels, but he only allows his eyes to roll back for a split second before they're locked back on you.

And you're sexy as hell. Your shirt's been tugged up and tucked under your chin to reveal that you decided to forgo a bra, in addition to the rest of your inhibitions, and he's thanking every deity he doesn't believe in that he doesn't have to imagine the plush curve of your tits and how they'd look sucked into his mouth.

Crap. He can't keep thinking shit like that if he wants to last longer than a few minutes. Ignoring the angry pulsing against his palm, he starts to stroke himself in time with your thrusts, diligently following your lead. But you're moving so slowly like you've got all the time in the world in this abandoned wonderland you've claimed for yourself, and Mike's time is limited.

The longer this night goes on, the more restless they become, and it won't be long before those curtains open and you're interrupted. For good. There must be something seriously wrong with him, because he doesn't give a shit about that, either. They can wait. He's got another job to finish, and he needs this.

It's been so long since he last allowed himself to let go, and even longer since his body actually wanted to. He's harder than he's ever been in his life, and it's confusing and a little painful, and yet he hopes he lasts until his alarm goes off at 6 a.m., teetering on the edge of nirvana right alongside you. He wants you to make him cum so badly, and he knows you will, even if you don't know it yourself.

Tiny, hushed pleas escape him as your fingers speed up, begging you to coax him, to encourage him to be good for you and follow your every move. His office is too far from the auditorium for his words to carry, but he continues to moan them anyway, desperately. Obediently.

His eyes flutter closed as he succumbs to the fantasy of your lips grazing the shell of his ear, giving him firm instructions and praising him when he proves how well he can listen.

Such a good boy for me, Mike. A little faster, not too much. Nice and tight, just like that.

"Fuck. Like this? Is...is this okay?" he whimpers aloud, thumbing over the tip on his next upstroke.

His hips buck into his hand at the sensation, and he grits his teeth, anticipating an admonishment that never comes. He's more than a little disappointed.

That is, until he hears it, crystal clear as it filters through the cracked door and reverberates through his entire body. A needy, perfect moan, rising in pitch and volume with each passing moment. Yours.

You must've heard him, somehow. It's the only explanation. He has no idea how long he's been babbling, drunk on the tight, slick slide of skin against skin, but you're responding to it encouragingly like he's only ever imagined in his wettest dreams.

Mike's eyes shoot open, darting back to the monitor, and he has to grip the base of his cock tight to keep from cumming then and there. You're staring directly at the camera now, your chest heaving as you fuck yourself with three fingers, and he winces at how quickly his balls start to tighten.

He's going to cum. Shit. Shit.

But you didn't tell him he could. You're not even aware of the power you hold over him, and yet—

"You sound close, baby. You gonna cum for me?"

He sees your lips move and then your voice rings out a moment later, breathy and labored, and...how the fuck did you end up in this place? Who are you? He fucks into his fist frantically, leaking precum all over his fingers, and he can feel sweat matting his dark curls to his forehead, pooling where his aching wrist meets his hip bone.

Maybe it doesn't even matter how or why you're in this pizzeria, not anymore. He can't stop anyway, not when you're urging him on and calling him baby. He feels delirious, blind to the rest of the security monitors and newly flickering lights. To the purple curtain slowly opening behind you.

Right now, it's just you and him. The familiar, searing heat in the pit of his groin, and the wet squelch of your fingers stroking your convulsing walls and rubbing tight circles into your clit—you're both so close, he knows it. He just needs you to say it. He needs your permission.

"Only if—," he gasps, belatedly realizing that his other hand is cupping his balls, squeezing reflexively without his permission. "—only if you say I can."

He watches your jaw drop, and your thighs begin to quake in response. Quicker than he can process, there's a sudden shift, and your gaze darkens mischievously to match the subtle quirk of your lips. You're in control now and you know it. You like it. He does, too.

Your pace doesn't slow at all and, instead, your hips begin to swivel into your touch, grinding into the sticky vinyl bench for more friction.

So, that turns you on, huh? If he strains his ears, he swears he can just make out the squeaking of a diner booth being pushed to its limit. He's never been more jealous of furniture in his life.

That could've been him, if only he'd manned up and done his damn job. He could've had you bent over that table or bouncing on his cock; felt you gushing around him, clamping down on him. You would've wrung him dry.

Turns out you still do, just from a little further away.

"Still hanging in there?" you coo from the other room, but the teasing in your voice is undercut by something headier. You sound wrecked.

His eyebrows pinch together, his expression almost pained, and he can feel that telltale pressure building, building.

"Y-yeah, but I...fuck, I can't hold it anymore," he whimpers, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his hand. His thrusts are getting sloppier and tears are beginning to gather at the corners of his eyes. He wishes you could see him right now. "C-can I? Please."

Your fingers stutter and, for a second, he thinks he might've pushed you over the edge, but you recover just long enough to give him one final push. To tell him the one thing he's been longing to hear since he tugged down his pants and started playing your little game.

"Such a good boy," you repeat from earlier, a murmur that just barely reaches his ears, except this time it's really you and not just a fantasy. "Cum, baby. Let me hear you."

Then, his mind goes blissfully blank.

Mike doesn't just cum, he bursts. Soft whimpers taper into something guttural and animalistic as thick spurts coat his security vest and dribble down his length, soaking into the thick fabric of his sweatpants. He moans his way through it, nearly giving himself a friction burn with the intensity of his grip and speed. And he's loud, just like you told him to be. Much louder than he should be.

For a brief moment, his vision whites out, and he almost misses what he's been looking forward to all night. He blinks away the lingering spots obscuring his sight, and that's when it happens. Bathed in flashing green and yellow fluorescents, your entire body curls in on itself, shaking as your orgasm overcomes you and soaks the floor.

His cock jerks pathetically in his hand as you work yourself through it, your eyes heavy-lidded and still locked on the camera. After a few more pumps, you slump into your seat and remove your fingers from your cunt, sucking them wetly into your mouth.

He should get up. He should walk right into that auditorium with his dick still out so you can clean him up too, but he feels frozen in place. The skin at the back of his neck prickles and erupts into goosebumps and it feels like a warning, yet he still can't bring himself to look away from you.

So, he doesn't notice the purple curtain opening just a fraction more in the background, and the curved, silver hook that peeks out from behind it. The blood rushing in your ears and steady heaving of your chest masks the metallic rattling, leaving you dangerously in the dark, too.

But Mike's eyes on the monitor are just enough to keep the pirate in his cove, and you're captivating enough to ensure they stay there.

Sticky fingers twitch in his lap and, as if you can tell, you smirk around your own before pulling them free with a lewd pop. His mouth waters at the thought of what you must taste like and, unbeknownst to him, you're thinking the exact same about him. Since you're not there to help him yourself, you ask him to be good for you one last time.

"It's your turn," you laugh teasingly, swirling your tongue around your fingertips. "You should probably clean yourself up before you head home. It's almost six."

Heat curls low in his stomach and compels him to obey again. A cursory glance down at his watch tells him you're right—his alarm will go off soon, way sooner than he expected, and he's still covered in sweat and his own release. He could pop out of the office to the bathroom and be back before any real damage is done, probably. But that's not really what you're asking for.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he calls out, not bothering to hide the neediness in his voice. He's never experienced anything like this—like you—before and he's not sure he'll get the opportunity ever again.

"Lick it off. All of it," you instruct, dropping your fingers between your legs to swirl around your clit before popping them back into your mouth. Slowly, you show him exactly what you want, and he's a little horrified to realize he's getting hard again. "Can you do that for me?"

He nods quickly, forgetting you can't see his approval, but it doesn't matter, anyway. He's sucking the drying cum off his palm and fingers faster than he can reply, and his muffled responding moan tells you everything you need to know. After everything that's happened during this unexplainable night shift and everything you've made him feel, he'd likely do anything you asked.

"Such a good listener," you continue, ceasing your ministrations to lazily slip your underwear and jeans back into place.

He's hit with a sudden wave of panic. This can't be over yet. There's still so much mystery shrouding you and whatever connection you have to this place, and if you leave now, he'll be left wondering forever. He wants answers, but disappointingly, you only leave him with more questions.

"How did I get so lucky with you, huh? The other security guards weren't nearly this fun," you smirk, dropping another bomb he never saw coming.

Oh. Oh. He freezes as he finishes laving the remaining wetness between his thumb and index fingers, the reality of the situation finally making itself known. This isn't the first time you've done this. It's probably not even the second or third. This is a habit, and he's not the only unwitting participant to fall prey to your seduction.

Fuck, he knew you were too good to be true. He hates that his body's still fighting his rationality while you sit there genuinely believing you've done nothing wrong. So innocent and, yet, still such an enigma. No one's ever made him cum that hard but, thankfully, his head is finally clear enough to put a stop to all of this. It's time to do his job.

The opportunity presents itself almost immediately. The flickering lights that have progressively gotten worse since his shift started reach a fever pitch, and the familiar figure in the corner of the screen reveals itself, wrenching his attention away from you.

Mike barely has enough time to warn you before the screens start to glitch—every single one of them—and display nothing more than lines and lines of meaningless code.

"You have to go. Now," he yells, struggling to be heard over the tinny screeching and jarring sounds of children's laughter crackling violently over the intercom. "Just—get out of here. Run, you have to run!"

He doesn't wait for a response, operating on autopilot as he wrestles his pants up and shoots out of his seat to the breaker box across the room. Terror and adrenaline pump through his veins, puppeteering him through the instructions left for him by Mr. Raglan.

Pull the lever down then back up, reset the power, and wait for the monitors to reboot. All he can do now is hope the machines don't deem you a threat and let you go. The room is plunged into darkness and the speakers go eerily silent.

Then, the systems come back online just like they're supposed to. But you're gone. He frantically searches the monitors for even a trace of you, evidence that you ever existed at all, but there's nothing. The only relief he's granted is that there's no blood or pieces of you scattered across the building. There's nothing at all.

Bracing himself on the desk in front of him, he breathes in desperate lungfuls of air, crashing from his adrenaline-fueled high and giving in to exhaustion. Just one more night. One more night at Freddy's, and he'll take that paycheck and never look back.

After a while of waiting for his panic to subside, his watch starts to beep, signaling the end of this night from hell. Fighting to ignore his conflicting feelings and lingering confusion, and even more so the phantom heat still licking at the base of his spine when he lets his thoughts stray back to you, he grabs his backpack and all but speed walks to the breaker to cut the power again.

As his fingers close around the lever, the intercom suddenly crackles to life. Something akin to hope blooms in his chest, and he whips around to see your image picked up by the camera at the entrance, radiant and unharmed under the morning sun of a new day.

You're smiling, and he can't find it in himself to care that he's smiling back. You turn to leave, then think better of it.

"Same time tomorrow?"

He scoffs, shaking his head at how ridiculous his life has become since he started this gig. If not even haunted animatronic mascots and the looming threat of death can't keep you away, then who is he to try?

Yeah. He'll see you tomorrow.

thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf imagine #mike schmidt smut

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palioom · 1 year

Text

a bond formed of love

summary: ecstatic about finally being married to the love of your life, Oberyn Martell, dread consumes you at the thought of consummating your marriage. will the horrible tales of first nights told to you become reality? or will they turn out to be elaborate lies?

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 11.1k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; first times; wedding night; oral (m & f receiving); unprotected p in v; multiple orgasms; body worship; oberyn being the most devoted husband ever

author's notes: this one goes out to @aurasjournal who not only inspired a huge part of this but also kept pushing me to make this as long as it is. thank you so much <3

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

Happiness. It was all that she could feel, consuming her entirely, filling every last inch of her. Almost euphoric in nature, laughing and smiling as she moved beside him - her love, her husband.

Husband.

The sole reason why she was so happy today, unable to tear her eyes away from him, no one around her mattering in this moment. Looking even more handsome than usual, as if that was even a possibility, his dark eyes crinkling at the corner when he laughed.

Oberyn Martell, her husband.

Finally she could call him that. The love of her life had finally become her husband, making her the happiest woman, the happiest wife, in the world.

Not that she hadn’t been happy before, back when he was simply courting her, when he had asked her to marry him. She had always been happy with him at her side - he made her laugh, he entertained her, he took her out for rides into the most beautiful corners around Sunspear.

Down to the shores, into the deserts.

But she had longed to be his by title, to wear a ring which showed she was his and he was hers.

All hers.

Just dancing with him here, moving with one another, as if they were connected somehow. As if the Gods had bound a string around them so long ago, pulling it tighter and tighter as they moved towards each other on the wide floor, empty save for them. Tighter still, until they met, his hands finding her hips with a laugh, her hands resting on his broad chest, on the beautiful robe he wore for the occasion, a pale yellow, adorned with golden suns and many intricate details stitched with golden thread.

Their lips found another, pulling them even closer together, the string so tight around them that it expelled the air from her lungs, breathless from kissing and laughing and dancing all day.

The exhaustion creeped in slowly but surely, replacing the rushed emotions of excitement and euphoria she had been feeling.

“We should retire soon, my sweet dove.” Oberyn said when he parted from her lips, wishing he could just keep kissing her as they spun around. Eyes bright, sparkling with something she had seen often before but could not always place.

Mischief, perhaps. Desire.

“I wish to be with you, alone.”

She understood what he meant, a sudden nervosity replacing some of the happiness inside of her, albeit not all of it. Nothing could take this wonderful feeling from her, slowing down in their movements, slowly circling one another.

But she did feel nervous, and had felt so for a long time.

Because just as excited as she was about finally being alone with him, to be as close to him as was humanly possible, she was just as tense about it.

She knew about his past, about how often and liberally he had taken partners. The Dornish way, all while she had waited for her future husband, had waited even when she had fallen for Oberyn. When she knew she would never love anyone else but him.

Knowing deep down in her heart and deeper still, that this wasn’t just love but that he was the partner promised to her by the Gods.

Oberyn noticed the sudden change in her, saw the emotions on her face, one hand raising to cup her cheek. She could feel the cold of the ring on his thumb as it brushed over her cheekbone. His gaze intense but gentle, their movements coming to a halt.

“What has befallen you, my dove?” He asked, feeling the need to implore what seemed to cloud her mind, unable to stand the thought of her feeling bad on their wedding day. They had both waited far too long for this. “What bothers my beautiful wife?”

His wife.

Warmth spread through her at the words, smiling up at him and shaking her head. She did not want him to worry about her.

“I am just getting tired, my love.” She replied, voice as quiet as his. “Tired but thrilled. Let us go, I wish to have you to myself.”

Leaving the festivities was more difficult than she had imagined, nervousness still sitting deep inside of her as they made their rounds, saying their goodbyes to everyone who had come. Squeezing his warm hand tightly as they went, now walking along the corridors to their new chambers.

Their shared chambers.

It only filled her chest with more tension, knowing these chambers would be where she was to reside with him for the rest of their lives.

What an odd thought, to leave her childhood rooms behind to find her life with Oberyn.

They did not speak as they walked, his touch doing all the talking through squeezing her hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. His head turned to look at her with a smile so soft and loving that she could cry from joy, reciprocating it as they walked.

His smile always managed to ease her nerves, and she wished he could smile at her forever somehow. To capture it in a way that she could carry it with her, able to look at it when she was in a foul mood.

Perhaps she could ask the woman who had done their wedding portrait today if she could paint them again, and make a small copy of him for her to carry inside a locket of some sort.

So she could open it and look at his beautiful smile at all times.

She was so in thought, she didn’t notice that they had reached the huge double door, opening them while still holding her hand tightly in his, only reluctantly letting go of it once the doors had closed behind them.

Oberyn watched her take in the large room, their room.

The big, four poster bed draped in the finest dark red and orange silks and linens, curtains hanging off of it which would shroud them in a sense of privacy.

The doors leading to a spacious balcony, letting them look out into the sky from their bed. The cushions and chairs in one corner by the bookshelves and strewn throughout the room which was lit with various candles, a vanity at the other side, near the door that led to their private bath.

Walls decorated with tapestry and rugs. It all felt intimate and warm and welcoming.

She would be happy to live here with him.

“I hope everything is to your liking, my love.” Oberyn said behind her, making her jump a little as she hadn’t heard him walking up to her. Silent like a viper. “I am sure you will give it your touch in due time.”

Her eyes found the telescope standing by the door to the balcony, the books in the shelves including thick volumes about topics she loved.

All attentively picked by him.

The sweetest gift, his love apparent just by how he had asked the room to be decorated.

His fingers touched her waist when she nodded, her view suddenly blocked by his wide chest as he came to stand in front of her.

“I love it, Oberyn.” She said with a smile. Voice small, so unlike herself.

He smiled back, the gentlest, most loving smile, his hands wandering up her side, slowly and carefully, as if she could break if he was just any faster in his movements. Seeing her slight tremble, hearing it in her voice as she spoke, suddenly so quiet.

She wasn’t quiet and timid usually, not afraid to give him a piece of her mind, so this worried him, cupping her cheek with one hand, her nervous eyes finding his.

His eyes became questioning in turn, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone.

“What is ailing you, my dove?” Oberyn asked, so gently that it made her heart burst, making her feel bad suddenly. “Tell me, my sweet.”

The sigh that left her was heavy, loaded with a burden which hurt him to hear. She didn’t deserve to be burdened, no matter what it was, and he did not wish to see her upset, see her nervous and quiet.

Deserving to be carefree and loud and happy. With him to carry her burdens for her.

“I- I am scared, my Viper.” She admitted, her hands coming to rest on his chest, her gaze casting down as she couldn’t bear looking at him, afraid of what emotion his face would display. “You know I have never… I am simply nervous.”

A compassionate smile curved his lips upward, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back.

The hand on her cheek came up to the crown in her hair, carefully untangling it before he placed it on a table next to them. It shimmered in the lights of the candles, the gold and the jewels embedded in it, all for her.

“You do not have to be scared, my sweet dove.” He said, his knuckles running over her cheek. Still gentle and careful, his new wife being the most precious thing in his life at this moment, besides the daughters he already had. “I will show you nothing but tenderness, there will not be anything done that you do not explicitly wish to happen.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to slow her heart, thrumming away in her chest. A tempest of emotions settled within her.

How had she gotten so lucky with him?

“I know, Oberyn. I know, but-” She took a deep breath, trembling. “I am still so scared. I have been told it hurts, it is uncomfortable and… I apologize, my love.”

His brows furrowed, two of his fingers moving under her chin, tilting it upwards. Making her look at him, he saw the fear etched into her features, his heart breaking at the sight.

No one had prepared her properly. She had been told nightmares and nothing more than that. It hurt him, seeing the love of his life so scared. Scared of him, of what he could do to her.

Things which were supposed to be joyous only but had been tainted and marred by the tales told to her.

“There is a possibility of it hurting, my dove. That is, if we rush things.” He said, his voice quiet, soothing. Like a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her safe. “Yet, I do not wish to rush things. We do not have to consummate our marriage tonight, not in the traditional sense.”

Now her brows furrowed in confusion, her fingers running over the embroidery of his robe, feeling the golden thread. She wasn’t sure if his words unnerved her more or soothed her.

What other way was there? He was to take her, to validate their marriage.

Just like everyone had told her a husband would on their first night together.

“What other way? Won’t our marriage be invalid if we do not-” She paused, swallowing hard as tears welled up in her eyes. The pressure of it, their marriage and being good for him, when he has had many partners before, it was terrifying. “If you do not take me?”

He smiled, loving and encouraging as always when he looked at her. Melting under her gaze, her tears tearing at him and his heart.

It was a special sort of pain, to see one's wife with tears in her eyes. A pain unlike any physical one he had ever endured.

“There are many ways to pleasure, and I will not take you if you are scared. This is as much about you as it is about me, my love.” Oberyn said, bowing his head to kiss away the few tears which were rolling down her cheeks, the saltiness of them a displeasure for him tonight. “I will wait until you are ready, and if it takes all eternity to do so.”

She took another shuddering breath. How was he so calm about this? Talking about waiting until all eternity while the guilt of being too scared to give herself to him weighed heavily on her.

Not even his lips on her wet cheeks could help soothe her in this moment.

“But, Oberyn- Isn’t it your right? Isn’t it a husband’s right?” She asked, her voice thick with tears. “To take his new wife, to consummate their marriage, willing or not?”

The smile faded from his face, his expression turning stern suddenly. Only terrifying her more, thinking she had misstepped, had angered him somehow.

She had never wanted to anger the Viper.

“My dove.” He spoke, his voice firm but not cruel, conveying an importance to what he was saying. “Fuck whatever you assume to be my right. I did not marry you to fuck you, my sweet dove. I married you because I love you and my only command as your husband is to banish these thoughts of old customs from your mind.”

Raising his brow, he looked at her, so scared and small in front of him, her bottom lip quivering.

“I am not a brute. If you are too scared tonight, then I will not force you. Nor any night hereafter.”

Her hand reached out to touch his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against her palm. So handsome, so sweet. Such a stark contrast to his reputation in the Seven Kingdoms, the Red Viper. Cruel, cunning.

“But- My Viper-”

Oberyn shushed her, gentle and quiet but not lacking in firmness.

“No, my dove.” His lips found her forehead again, hoping to convey his love and his understanding through the caress of his lips. Soft and tender. “If you allow me to, I wish to show you something different. To ease you into pleasure, to ease you into me.”

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip again, feeling his calming presence soothe her nerves. As he always did, so expertly taking away her worries as if they were nothing.

“What do you wish to show me?” Her voice was as quiet as his, still shaking as she spoke.

Oberyn smiled against her skin, finding the faintest sliver of amusement in her innocence. What a wonderful thing she was, his wife. So willing and devoted and in love with him, but entirely unknowing.

Any man of less honour than him would have taken advantage of her sweetness.

But not him.

His hand went from her chin to her waist, pulling her just a little bit closer to him while his lips stayed connected to her forehead.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded, the reaction so fast as if it was innate, like there was no doubt about her answer. And she did, she trusted him with everything.

“With my life, Oberyn.”

His lips curved upward against her skin, his fingers curling into her side.

What a lucky man he was, to have married a woman like her.

“Sit down on the bed for me, please.” He said, feeling her hesitation at his gentle words.

Taking a moment to steel herself, she took another deep breath before walking away from him, just a little unsure in her footing.

Still, she made it over, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed just like he requested, the silks smooth under her hands. She watched how he followed her, slow, deliberate steps, feeling a tenseness in her abdomen at the sight of him. His gorgeous smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle, coming to stop right in front of her.

Instinctively she reached for his hand, just lightly holding onto it, needing reassurance, encouragement. The motion only made him smile more, squeezing her fingers as he slowly kneeled down in front of her.

He couldn’t hold back the chuckle which left him when he looked at her surprised face, shaking her head.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t-” She stammered out, confused by his actions. What husband kneeled before his wife? On their wedding night no less. “Shouldn’t I be the one-”

Oberyn slowly shook his head, raising her hand to his lips, giving each knuckle a kiss, dark eyes fixed only on her. His unoccupied hand touched her clothed thigh, making her jump just a little, her eyes never leaving his.

Like they were bound to him in some way.

“If I wish to kneel before my wife to show my devotion to her, then I shall do so.” He said, his voice calming her nerves, just like his lips did, turning her hand in his, kissing the tip of each finger. Each kiss lingering, an extension of his love for her.

Moving to her palm, eyes staying fixed on hers as his lips pressed against it, his beard tickling her.

She enjoyed it, watching in awe how attentive he was, feeling warm at his touch.

Then, he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own and she could feel the desire sleeping within him, holding back for her sake. She allowed herself to close her eyes and simply feel him, aware of his hand on her clothed thigh, the other intertwining their fingers, an anchor for her.

Carefully his lips wandered away from her mouth, kissing the corner of it, then peppering her jaw with fleeting touches, finally reaching her neck.

The gasp that tumbled from the depths of her chest as he made contact with the sensitive flesh excited him, the sound something he wished to preserve forever.

“Oberyn.” She whimpered, shifting in her place when his tongue darted out to taste her, breathing in the scent of oranges which always lingered with her.

A smile graced his lips, enjoying that she was easing into his ministrations, perhaps even enjoying herself as he caressed her skin.

“Do I have permission to undress you?” Oberyn asked after several more moments, pulling back to look at her face, finding it flushed and her eyes still closed.

The nervousness which had faded a little under his touch came back suddenly, turning her stomach into knots.

Undress her.

Seeing her naked, completely exposed. When he had been with so many others before her, would he even like what he saw?

She wasn’t self-conscious by any means, but in comparison to his life before her, she could not help but think about the possibilities. Being inexperienced in pleasure already weighed heavily on her shoulders, she didn’t wish to disappoint him in just about everything tonight.

He could see the emotions cross her face, her eyes spoke of all the uncertainty and fear that whirled inside of her at this moment when she opened them.

And it broke his heart.

His beautiful, stunning wife, chained up by the expectations which had been placed upon her shoulders by everyone but him.

There was nothing he expected from her, already knowing she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his dark eyes upon, the most kind and loving wife. All he would ask of her was to stay loyal to him and to love him like he loved her, with all her heart and mind and soul. Like they were bound by fate.

Bound by an invisible string which had led them to one another.

She softly squeezed his hand, taking a deep breath before nodding. Forcing the smallest smile onto her lips, small compared to the one he gifted her in return.

The hand on her thigh moved up to her shoulder, brushing back the hair which had fallen over it, then letting his fingertips wander over the material of her gown. Soft silks, embroidered and beaded with hundreds of thousands of small stones.

Making her shimmer in the candlelight, like a million stars were strewn across her body.

Never losing her eyes when he brushed one strap off of her shoulder, watching for a reaction that she didn’t want this. There was no joy in this if she wasn’t willing.

He let it glide down her arm, not yet exposing her breasts to him, simply letting the swell of one appear in the periphery of his view. Soft skin, the whisper of a sigh leaving her when he leaned forward to kiss her exposed collarbone, to press his nose against the dip above it.

Still holding onto her hand, her fingers nervously flexing against his own as he moved on to the other side, slower this time.

The beat of her heart was visible, shaking the pretty material over where it sat, hoping he would be able to make it beat as wildly for another reason soon.

And as he carefully slid the material off her other shoulder too, she took a shuddering breath looking up at the ceiling. The cool air meeting her heated flesh, nipples perked.

Oberyn repeated his earlier motion, kissing the other side but this time moving down to press his lips against the valley in between her breasts. A low hum vibrated in her chest and he could feel the noise, kissing her again and again.

“You are so beautiful, my dove.” He said, looking up at her but seeing her gaze turned away. Unable to tell if it were simply her nerves or shame. “May I touch you?”

Silence befell them for a moment as she tried to calm herself. His words were encouraging, her heart soaring and the gentleness with which he treated her made her want to cry.

She could feel his lips on her still, like she had been branded by him, hot and searing. A good feeling, a welcome one.

Longing for his touch but still too afraid to speak, her skin yearning for his lips, for his fingers. Yearning for every inch of him, still wondering just what exactly he had in mind for tonight.

“Yes.” She breathed out, shaky and barely audible even in the dead silence.

Then his hands were on her, softly cupping her breasts, feeling the velvety skin of them. Admiring them, his thumbs brushing over the peaks, making her moan quietly. She tilted her head down, taking in the way he looked at her.

With a desire she had never seen in anyone before, mesmerized and needing, but not making her feel like an object for his desires.

He made her feel like art. Like a beautiful painting.

A slight pressure built in her abdomen as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples again and again, an unfamiliar feeling she blamed on his touch. It was pleasant, watching in awe as he bowed his head to take one stiff peak into his mouth. Hot and wet on her skin, her free hand twisting into his hair, a shaky gasp leaving her.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, concentrating on his tongue repeating the motion of his thumb, a deep groan of his vibrating against her. “It feels good, fantastic. You feel fantastic.”

He looked up at her, not stopping his ministrations but a twinkle appeared in his dark eyes. She rubbed her thighs together, a motion which didn’t go unnoticed by Oberyn, finally releasing her breast with a soft pop. Surging upwards to capture her lips in another kiss, fiery this time but reigning himself in as he felt himself move too fast.

“You’re feeling it, are you not?” He asked, parting from her and staring deep into her eyes. “Pleasure, my dove?”

“I’m not sure, Oberyn.” She replied, his kiss having left her a little breathless, her head reeling. “There is a pressure…”

A soft chuckle fell from his lips, a smile stretching his mustache wide over his lips, revealing his teeth.

“Right here?” He touched her abdomen, right where the feeling appeared and she nodded. No one had ever thought to teach her a damn thing about herself. “Yes, my dove. Pleasure. Do I have permission to undress you further? I wish to give you more of this feeling.”

Her nod was eager this time, easing into his touch. It filled him with joy, pressing another kiss to her lips which made her giggle.

Oh, how he loved that sound.

“Lay down for me, my sweet.”

She did, their hands finally letting go of each other as she laid back, immediately finding his lips to be back on her sternum, kissing a path further down between her breasts, onto her stomach. Revealing more of her skin as he went.

Peeling the garment off of her like he would with a fruit, revealing the sweet flesh, tasting it, feeling it beneath his fingers.

Feeling her shaky breaths as he lingered over her stomach, her muscles twitching under the caress of his lips.

He lifted her hips, pulling the dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Exposing her entirely to him, his lips pressing against that spot on her lower belly where she felt the pressure building.

Her heart beat in her throat, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands, knowing he would just move them away. His own hands smoothed along her naked thighs, watching her face as she looked at the ceiling, lips slightly parted.

“You were made in the Gods’ image, my love.” He whispered, letting his lips trail back up her body, feeling himself become drunk on her body, on her beauty. To think she had feared this, feared showing herself to him when she truly was the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on. “No beauty compares to that of yours.”

She smiled, a sound the cross of a sob and a huff tumbling over her lips, overwhelmed by his love for her. Melting into his lips as they found hers yet again, like he couldn’t get enough of her, of the taste of wine and fruit on her tongue.

Suddenly she thought about him, still fully dressed. Shouldn’t she make him feel as good as this, too? Cover his body in kisses, worship him like he worshipped her?

She was curious to see him, wondered if he bore scars. How big they were, how deep. She wanted to see him, longed for it.

Her hands wandered to the hem of his robe, attempting to undress him but he stopped her. Gently taking her wrists in his large hands, he moved them away, shaking his head.

“My Viper-” She began in an attempt to explain before he shushed her again.

“Tonight is about you, my Princess.” Oberyn said, kissing the corner of her mouth. A small whimper escaped her, her lips chasing after his when he moved back again. “You and your pleasure only. I told you, I can wait until all eternity.”

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, hoping to get her to understand just through his eyes that his words weren’t empty promises. As he breathed with her, one calming breath after the next, he hoped she understood that he would wait a lifetime and beyond for her to be fully ready. Her pleasure alone would be enough to sustain him until the sun had shared its last rays with the world, until the world grew cold and dark.

“I wish to touch more of you, my love.” Oberyn whispered into the silence, his hands moving to her hips. “Will you allow me to?”

She nodded, more firm than at the beginning, feeling a throbbing between her thighs, an unfamiliar wetness.

“Yes, my Viper.” A whisper just as quiet as his, her eyes full of desire, even if he could still see remnants of fear in them.

Oberyn brushed the bridge of his nose along hers, an intimate gesture which made her heart burst with love and joy. Hands coming up to cup his cheeks just for a moment before he slipped away again, down her body.

Calloused hands rested on her knees, his eyes on her face as she sat up slightly, leaning onto her elbows to watch him. She bit her bottom lip, his hands slowly opening her legs, gentle and sweet in his movements.

He kissed the inside of one knee when she was fully spread for him, once again resisting the urge to close them. His beard scratched along the sensitive skin, moving to the other knee as well.

It felt good, the way he kissed her skin, the way his beard felt on the sensitive flesh. How his hands smoothed over her thighs as he inched higher, lifting his head again.

One of his hands moved upwards, ghosting over her mound and feeling the coarse curls covering it, feeling the shiver that went up her spine at the featherlight touch. He watched as he gently spread her lips apart for him, glistening from the wetness that had gathered.

His thumb just hovered over her clit, like he was unsure. All while she watched, holding her breath in anticipation of where he would touch her next, each touch better than the last.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Oberyn asked, eyes moving back up to hers. Knowing fully well that she would answer with a No. She was too responsive to his ministrations to have done so before. “Right here?”

His thumb pressed down, featherlight, like a ghost, drawing a choked gasp from her, her hips involuntarily rolling in response.

It was as if lightning had shot through her, setting her nerves ablaze at his touch. Her skin hot, she felt like she was burning up from the inside, the pressure in her abdomen only becoming worse.

“N-No.” She breathed out. Already longing for more of his touch. Needing more of that buzzing feeling it provided, pulsing faintly where his thumb rested.

His thumb swiped lower, gathering a little more wetness before ghosting over that little peak of nerves again. Carefully, trying not to overwhelm her with these new emotions, coaxing a low moan from her lungs.

It might just become his favourite sound, a sweet symphony sung only for him in this shared intimacy. Sweeter than the choirs which had sung at their marriage celebration which just now seemed so long ago already. Sweeter than the birds, than the bustle of the markets, than the rolling of the sea.

He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, kissing the inside of it as he lazily rubbed his thumb over her, watching her reactions. Her eyes were dark with nothing but lust and curiosity, only fixed on his moving digit. She tried to hold back more sounds, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her heart still thrumming against it for reasons he liked now.

No longer out of fear but out of desire.

“How does it feel, my dove?” Oberyn whispered against her skin, pressing more wet kisses against it, the hand holding her leg caressing it while his thumb moved away from her clit. Instead, it traced her outer lips, which still made her hips jerk and roll but provided a more subdued sensation. “Tell me all, I wish to know what it feels like for you.”

Her eyes snapped up to his when his thumb moved away, a whiny noise of protest leaving her.

Desperation on her face.

“It feels good, Oberyn.” She whispered, the leg over his broad shoulder trying to coax him to continue. “You feel marvellous. My blood has been replaced by molten metal, I can feel it burning and throbbing.”

Oberyn smirked, lightly nipping at her skin. “Your cunt?”

Watching her discomfort at the word, he chuckled but saw her nod still.

The urge to taste her overcame him abruptly, the urge which had been his plan when she told him she was too scared to have him tonight. Knowing he could show her the heights of pleasure on the tip of his tongue, ease her into it entirely.

“My love, you said you would trust me with your life, did you not?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. She nodded again, whispering a shaky Yes. “Please, lay back and close your eyes, I wish to surprise you.”

Her brows knitted together, having half a mind to do as he asked and not beg for more of his touch. Laying back down and closing her eyes, anticipation frightening her but trusting him in whatever he had planned.

It took a moment, a moment in which she heard him shift around, his tunic rustling, feeling him move.

And then, she felt it. Warm and wet against her, his beard scratching against her most intimate parts, her legs threatening to close at the foreign sensation but his broad hands keeping them open.

“Fu- Oh Gods, Oberyn!” She cried out, his tongue circling around her clit again and again, wet, slurping noises accompanying his motions. One of her hands threaded into his hair for purchase, not daring to open her eyes and look at him.

He hummed against her, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, eyes trained on her parted lips, face twisted in lust.

“Say it.” He commanded, finding it amusing that she did not fully give into her desires in favour of appearing proper. What was there to be proper about when he had his face buried inside her sopping cunt? “Say it, my dove.”

Her back arched, feeling him suck at the bundle of nerves which made her cry out once more.

“Fuck!” She moaned, liking how the word rolled off her tongue. “Oberyn, fuck! Oh, Gods.”

A smile crept over his lips, doubling down on his efforts, feeling her fingers tighten in his dark locks. Focusing entirely on her clit, eating her like a man starved all while he looked out for her body’s response.

She could feel something inside of her, the pressure mounting more and more as her whines and moans turned higher in pitch, his tongue driving her closer to something. And he could feel it, holding down her hips in order to lap at her, the obscene sounds in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he pressed against her.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him, the sight making her cunt clench. His head between her thighs, with a stare of lust and determination, his eyes dark and piercing.

It was a beautiful image.

Maybe she should have this painted instead.

“Let go, my dove.” He whispered, his voice slightly muffled by her, feeling himself hard against his breeches but biting back his own desires for her. Just this was better than the Seven Heavens, he was sure of it. Nothing would be sweeter than this, to bring her to the brink of pleasure and push her over for the very first time. “Let it take you, let it wash over you and just allow yourself to feel me.”

She did. Her body tensing up and expelling all air from her lungs, the cries of his name broken on her tongue as she tried to make sense of the intense feeling surging through her. The pressure releasing, her legs snapped shut around his head again but this time he did not stop her.

Oberyn wanted to see the full extent of her ecstasy, remember every sound, every little movement of her muscles beneath her skin as she shook.

Needed to memorize her expression as he brought her to completion.

He saw the tears in her eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of him, of the rush inside of her.

She felt dizzy as it faded, as he slowed down his movements until he had fully helped her through it all, pressing gentle, wet kisses against her mound and lower belly, feeling how her deep breaths let it rise and fall.

“More, please, more.” She whispered into the silence after a few moments. Quiet and breathless, his ears perking up at the sound.

Intoxicated by the way his mouth had worked her to completion, by how good it had felt. There was an understanding in her now, for why he had sought out pleasure for all these years before they had found one another.

She never wanted this to end, craving more of him, more of their unity.

“Ah, my wife is a greedy one, I see.” Oberyn chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I will give you more, my love. My wife shall have everything, I shall give you all you want for - gowns, jewellery, pleasure. I shall spoil you rotten.”

“You already do.” She moaned, his mouth back on her, hissing at the slight sting she felt. “Fuck, you do, Oberyn. You do!”

This time, his tongue wandered lower, and she threw her head back into the sheets at the feeling of his talented tongue licking around her pulsing, aching hole before he pushed inside. His nose bumped against her clit, the wet, vulgar sounds becoming louder.

Lapping at her like a thirsty man would drink from an oasis in the desert. Like she was the life to sustain him, to keep him breathing.

He groaned against her in an unabashed fashion, letting his pleasure from this be known, mingling into the perfect symphony with her cries.

That sweet pleasure coursed through her, letting tears well up in her eyes as she tried to breathe, trying to form words in between her incoherent sounds.

Delirious and intoxicated.

“Oberyn, please! I’m-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, ecstasy stealing her breath away as he expertly pushed her over again, her hands pushing and pulling at his hair. Too much, too much and yet it was just right, riding wave after wave that crashed into her, washed over her.

Her hips bucked up against him, chasing his mouth as he pulled back, giving her some reprieve, hungrily kissing along her inner thigh with a groan.

“I knew you would enjoy this, my love.” He growled, nipping at her skin with his teeth and making her squeak. There was nothing more he wanted than to be buried inside of her right now, he couldn’t deny that. But he wouldn’t, instead planning to wear her out so thoroughly with his mouth that all of her worries would simply ease away. “My sweet, wonderful wife.”

So he kissed up her thigh to her knee, letting his lips wander over every inch of her, then venturing further over her calf.

“I do, my Viper. I do.” She whispered, each kiss sending a jolt through her. Until now she couldn’t have fathomed anything to be so intense and all consuming as this. To make her feel like she was on a cloud, drifting away while her new husband worshipped her.

“I am not through with you yet. You will feel the heights of pleasure tonight, I have promised you as such.”

And before long, his mouth found her core again, coaxing another orgasm from her, her voice turning hoarse as she whispered his name over and over like he was one of the Gods.

Maybe he was.

With the way he moved about her body, his hands wandering and feeling while his tongue worked her up to another peak and another.

Holding true on his promises and leaving her spent when he finally decided that she had experienced enough bliss. The candles around them long burned down, shrouding them in darkness, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

Oberyn left her boneless on the bed, eyes closed and breathing hard, she drifted in and out of the comforts of sleep, faintly feeling his strong hands manoeuvre her under the covers.

“Oberyn…” She mumbled, hearing him shush her like he had done so often this night. The bed dipped beside her, his heavy form laying next to her body, pulling her close.

Still feeling like she was floating, embraced by his warmth, the happiness from earlier this night returning. His lips pressed against hers, so tender and gentle as if he hadn’t just taken her apart with only his tongue.

“Sleep, my dove. My sweet, wonderful and kind wife.” He whispered, kissing her forehead as she slowly drifted into slumber. Gratefulness and love sat deep inside her chest as she did. “There will be much more to discover. So much more.”

She woke before the sun had risen, her body aching in the most delicious ways as she moved. Oberyn’s arms still embraced her, turning around in his grasp to look at his peaceful form.

Her husband.

It still felt like a dream, too good to be true. Even though his strong arms around her body and his handsome face right in front of her reminded her that it was in fact real. She could still feel his hands on her body, etched into her skin like a mark. A mark she would be happy to wear until all eternity.

Her gentle fingers found the bridge of his nose, brushing over it, taking in his features. Thinking about the sight of him between her thighs, worshipping her.

How he had lapped at her, like a thirsty, starving man who had found his paradise between her legs, finally finding it after a seemingly endless journey. Drinking from her to sustain himself, taking as much as he was giving, making said paradise blossom.

She felt warm at the thought, her fingers wandering over his tanned cheek. Never had she seen him like this and she found it strange to see him without his smirk when in her presence. Always smiling, making her laugh.

Breathing in and out at a steady pace. This would be the face which would greet her until all eternity, she realized. The arms which would hold her every night, his warm, firm body pressed against hers, still clothed unlike hers. A welcome image, making her smile wider as she brushed some hair from his forehead.

“My Viper.” She whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, first on the tip of his nose, then his lips. Soft beneath hers, his beard tickling her skin.

Desire awoke in her again at the touch, the vivid feelings from last night at the forefront of her mind. His arms wrapped around her tighter, startling her as he tiredly kissed her back, awoken by her featherlight touch.

Caressing her, chuckling quietly when she drew back. His dark eyes were so beautiful, piercing even when laced with sleep. The most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, full of love and admiration for her.

“My dove, my sweet wife.” He sighed, one of his hands smoothing over her bare hip, moving to her bottom.

Squeezing it gently and making her gasp.

Fanning the flames within her, humming deeply at his ministrations. She thought about his mouth, how he had used it on her, wondering if she could do the same for him.

She wanted to, a strange eagerness to pleasure him overtaking her, her hand wandering to the opening in his robe, feeling his warm, bare chest beneath.

The thought of consummating their marriage seemed more acceptable at this moment, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully give into the idea just yet.

Oberyn saw the look in her eyes, recognizing it in an instant. How often he had seen this exact gaze in others, how often had it preceded the most wonderful sensations. Yet here, with her, it made him proud, made him more hungry than it ever had made him before.

Despite that, concern mixed into his excitement. She had been so scared last night, inexperienced and her head filled with terrible tales. The emotion in her eyes seemed real, but he couldn’t help but be worried.

“I wish to give back to you, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hand wandering lower, resting on his covered belly. The tips of their noses were touching, eyes locked onto another. “You made me feel the most incredible sensations, and I wish to pleasure you. Let me use my mouth like you used yours.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, surprised by her sudden boldness. He had always known that her soul simply needed a gentle nudge to bloom and come alive. That the fierceness he saw in her every day extended into far more facettes of her being.

It was as if a new spirit had taken over her, leaving her more confident.

“Please, Oberyn. I wish to give to you what you gave to me.” She whispered intently when he hesitated, still scared of the actual act itself, but more than willing to reciprocate his love and devotion the way he had shown it to her.

“My dove, this is about you, not me.” He whispered back, cupping her cheek in his large palm. Rough and calloused from years of training, years of fighting. “I cannot allow this in any good faith.”

“Please.”

The way she looked at him, so eager and determined. How could he say no? She wanted this, even if he wanted these glorious morning hours to be devoted to her only. Devoted to the beginning of their life together, the sun only starting to show the top of its face in the far distance of the horizon.

“Promise me that this wish is not borne out of any obligation you feel towards me.” Oberyn said, needing to rule out that the loving, kind spirit of her being drove her actions instead of her own desire. “This is borne from you, your own heart.”

She nodded, whispering a small Yes back in answer to his question.

He sighed, kissing her forehead with an affirmative hum. Feeling the excitement grow within him, his cock twitching at the thought of her mouth.

What a wonderful wife he had.

But as he watched her naked body emerge from beneath the covers, his brows furrowed, seeing her move to the side of the bed, attempting to slide off of it.

Oberyn grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks and she looked up at him, confused. Looking so beautiful, with the sun slowly painting the skies behind her a beautiful purple, driving away the darkness. Her hair tousled, shallow lines on her face from sleep.

“What are you doing, my dove?” He asked, sitting up.

Her brows knit together in confusion, mirroring his gaze.

“Getting on my knees, just like you did, Oberyn.” She answered, genuine about her intentions. Watching him shake his head, pulling her towards him.

“No.” He replied, looking at her intently. “I won’t allow you to. My wife will not kneel before me.”

“But, Oberyn-” Her attempt to argue was squashed by the look he gave her.

“I am to worship you, kneel before you on the floor to show you my devotion, to show you pleasure.” Oberyn said, looking at her kneeling on the bed in front of him. She seemed more demure again suddenly, more timid. But the lust still blazed in her eyes. “Far too many wives expect it to be their place, on the floor in front of their husbands. Not you. You will not kneel on the floor today, my dove.”

Her heart warmed at his words, smiling and leaning forward to kiss him, her hands wandering to the thin robe he still wore. His words touched her, so thoughtful of meanings she hadn’t even thought about yet.

She wanted to kneel before him, just as he had done the night before, but she cared deeply for his words.

Slowly she opened his robe as she kissed him, letting her hands wander over his toned chest, down to the soft swell of his stomach. Touching and exploring like he had, her lips mirroring the paths he had painted onto her not too long ago, kissing down his jaw, to that point which had felt so good on her, below his ear.

Revelling in the way his breath hitched when she ventured down further, kissing every inch of him.

In the way his hands threaded into her hair, moving it out of her gorgeous face to watch her.

“You are a fast learner, my dove.” He chuckled and she felt the vibrations ripple through him. A smile broke on her face, feeling encouraged by him, by the way he touched her, the way he loved her.

“I am, am I not?” She giggled, sitting back up when she had reached his navel, the patch of dark hair which travelled into his breeches. Sitting back on her legs, she admired him for a moment, his tan skin glowing in the faintest orange from the rising sun, his beautiful body on display for her, almost as naked as she was.

Littered with scars like she had thought him to be, both small and large in size, some deep and some shallow. Faint and bold, her finger tracing along some of them.

Looking like one of the Gods. Made in their image.

“You look beautiful, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hands wandering to the strings on his breeches, needing to see what lay beneath them. The outline of him was prominent, leaving little to the imagination. “May I?”

He smiled, leaning forward to gently capture her lips with his own. One of his hands smoothed up her arm, feeling her nerves well up again. Attempting to calm her.

“Of course, my dove.”

She smiled, rubbing the bridge of her nose along his just as he had done, her shaky fingers untying the string. Peeling back the dark fabric, she couldn’t hold back the gasp that left her lungs at the sight of him, springing free.

She had been right to be scared, to be nervous and while she felt a strange desire at the sight of his cock, angry and leaking, she couldn’t help but feel nervous all over again.

Oberyn just watched, slowly leaning back once more, her fingers trailing through the dark, coarse hair at the base. Just letting her explore on her own, hissing softly when she touched him, featherlight as if she was unsure.

Soft like velvet, throbbing and bouncing. The dark tip glistened with something.

She ran her finger over the prominent vein at the underside, then drew back, deciding to take his trousers off entirely first. Needing him fully exposed like she was, she tugged them down his legs, revealing his toned thighs and calves, hardened from years of training.

Like the Gods.

Wrapping her hand around him, she looked up to his face, seeing the intense gaze of his as he watched her fingers before his dark eyes met her own. Upon seeing the uncertainty in her, Oberyn gave her an encouraging smile, her touch setting him on fire unlike anyone had ever done before.

“You’re doing well, love. Keep going.” He said, his heart fluttering at her smile, his legs opening a bit wider. “Just move your hand, if you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said. Leaning down to take him in her mouth, she was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

“You best lay down on your belly for that.” He suggested, his voice growing thinner. This woman would rob him of his last sanity and he hadn’t even felt her properly just yet. “It will be easier on your body and I will be able to see your face, my love.”

“Oh.” She replied, the simple sound making him chuckle. Shifting into position between his opened legs, feeling awkward as she did. He beckoned her closer, helping her so her arms were positioned over his hips, her elbows resting on the sheets.

So close to him, her hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin. The hunger clear in her eyes as his cock was right in front of her, still gripped by nervousness.

Ducking her head, she pressed small kisses against his belly, then over his hip bones. Peering up at him through her lashes only to find him fixated on her, his hand coming up to gather her hair in a loose grip, just to get it out of the way. Watching how she teased him, his aching cock brushing along her cheek, trying to tame his hips which were squirming in anticipation.

Excruciatingly slow she moved back a little, lifting her head and taking him into one hand again. Oberyn’s breathing became heavier, seeing her lips descend and press against the head of his cock, like she was kissing it. Her tongue darted out, licking over the slit and grimacing a little at the taste of the pre-cum.

He couldn’t help the chuckle, warm and without malice, making her smile and giggle in return.

“Salty.” She remarked curiously, then resumed kissing him. Over and over, pressing her soft lips against the head, trailing them down the length of it. Just following what she thought was right, peering up at him now and then as if to ask for encouragement.

She moved so deliberately and gently that it looked like she was worshipping him. Worshipping his aching cock while laying in between his legs. Making his blood boil hotter than the sun, mesmerized by the sight of her.

“What a sight you are, my sweet dove.” He breathed out, fingers running along her scalp as she moved back up to the head. “My sweet wife. You are doing so well, simply keep kissing it.”

She felt warmth spread through her at the praise, the pressure in her abdomen returning.

But this was about him.

“Does it feel good?” She whispered in between kisses, letting her tongue dart out again, giving the sensitive tip the tiniest lick.

“Divine.” He moaned, the sight of her too much. She looked beautiful, her contours slowly being bathed in orange hues as the sun rose higher. “You may take it into your wonderful mouth, my dove. If you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said, opening her mouth just a little to take in the head, already feeling heavy on her tongue. Did she just move her tongue now as he had done with her?

Or should she take more of him?

She decided on moving her tongue, licking at the head and experimentally sucking on it like he had on her clit, the deep groan that left him making her feel proud. Proud to be able to give back what he had shown her last night.

“By the old Gods and the new, nothing will feel more divine than this, my dove.” Oberyn moaned, his fingers twitching in her hair, clearly trying to hold back. Unwilling to scare her away, just letting her explore as she saw fit. “You feel wonderful, so wonderful. My cock on your tongue, what a sight.”

She took more of him, gently bobbing her head, knowing she was doing right when he kept making those wonderful sounds above her. Groaning and moaning with every movement, ecstasy overtaking his body.

Her own, private melody, her own song.

She wanted to hear more of it, becoming more eager, more assured with her movements, lifting her head to kiss it again, her hand spreading the saliva over what she couldn’t fit into her mouth, stroking him. Liking what she was doing, the heavy feeling of when he was in her mouth, her desire growing by the second but wanting to see what pleasure looked like for him. What his face would look like when he reached the heights that she had at the mercy of his mouth.

And as she continued, alternating between kissing him and bobbing her head on him, she didn’t feel scared or nervous anymore. She wanted him, needed him. Needed to know what his cock would feel like inside of her.

Needed to be one with him, beyond what they were doing right now. She was growing impatient, feeling so safe and so loved in his presence, here between his legs, that she did not want to wait much longer.

“My viper, I want you.” She breathed out when she lifted her head, her hand stilling for a moment. Pupils blown wide, a nearly ravenous expression on her face. “Please, Oberyn, my love.”

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant, finding it difficult to form a coherent thought with how close he was to his own peak, lost in the feeling of her lips around him.

“Are you sure, my sweet?” He asked, cupping her cheeks with both hands as she rose onto her hands and knees, her face close to his. “Do not feel pressured on my behalf-”

Slotting her lips against his, she cut him off, kissing him with such vigour he knew she was firm in her words. She moaned when he kissed her back, his hands on her body as he rose, moving her to lay down onto the silk bedding, never leaving her lips, staying connected to her.

Moving to her neck again as she laid below him, kissing and sucking at that sensitive spot below her ear.

“Oberyn, please.” She moaned, eyes half-lidded, squirming beneath his broad body. Hair splayed out like a halo around her head, tinged in orange sunlight. “Do not tease me, please.”

As he hovered above her, he took a moment to take her in. All of her, all his but not owned by him. Still as free as a bird for he would never cage her, make her submit, but this sight of her only for him to enjoy. The curves of her body, the way she breathed heavily, squirmed in anticipation and desperation.

All his. His wife.

Still unbelieving that this was reality, settling himself between her spread thighs. He was able to see her heart beat against her ribcage once more, just as he had wished to see it, pumping hard because of lust and not of anxiety.

His cock rested against her thigh, heavy and leaking and aching for her, aching to fully become one with her.

“Tell me you want this, my sweet.” He breathed, positioning himself so the head of him pushed against her aching hole. Ready to have him, inviting him in. “Tell me, my love. You want this, you want to become mine in body and heart and soul the way I want to become yours.”

She cupped his cheeks, eyes only on his as she nodded. Her heart swelling with every word that tumbled from his lips in the dawn, his handsome features lined by orange hues.

“Yes, Oberyn. I want this.” Her answer was a whisper but it did not lack in fervour. Smiling up at him, tears in her eyes, knowing what she was doing was right and that she was happy for this to be her life, with him by her side. “I wish to be yours, in body and heart and soul, connected to you until all eternity, until our hair turns grey and our bodies wither with the run of time.”

It was as if they held their very own, private wedding ceremony. Just the two of them to witness their words, to witness their love and passion and pleasure.

“Until all that remains of us are two stars in the night sky, our names a whispered memory.” He said, kissing her, his hips slowly pressing forward.

It took her by surprise, her gasp swallowed by his mouth as he carefully pushed inside of her, a groan rumbling in his chest.

A feeling like no other, feeling full as he stilled inside of her, his forehead resting against hers and breathing hard. The smallest laughter shared between them before their lips met again and again, his hands wandering all over her body, grabbing and pulling at every inch.

He could remain here forever, buried inside her, their lips meeting in a fiery passion, fuelled by their love for one another, the desire to feel, to be one.

Her embrace warm and welcoming, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. She wished she could crawl inside of his skin, mentally cursing herself for having been so scared of this.

Mentally cursing everyone who had told her tales of pain and misery, of simply enduring the first night and every night thereafter. Not one had mentioned the intense love and desire, the feeling of needing another human more than she needed water to drink or air to breathe.

The feeling of completion, like she had found a piece of herself in him which made her feel whole.

No. Like an addition to herself, an extension.

“Please.” She mumbled against his lips, her hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin. “Oberyn.”

He understood, kissing her cheek when he moved his hips, pulling out of her almost entirely before sinking back in, and the sweet moan that left her was music to his ears.

Sweeter than any of the sounds he had pulled from her before, breathy and high-pitched.

Looking magnificent in her ecstasy.

“My sweet dove.” He groaned, setting a slow rhythm, trying to hold himself back. Her mouth and hands had brought him close before and her sweet cunt made him feel dizzy, too close to the edge for his own liking. He needed to savour this, drag this out, for her and for himself. Wishing to remember this forever. “Tell me what you are feeling, tell me all.”

A sloppy kiss met the corner of his mouth, trailing to his jaw.

“Complete, full and complete and ecstatic.” She moaned against his skin, her nails digging into his back. Driving in and out of her repeatedly, brushing against spots inside of her that made her feel lightheaded, her toes curling. “I never want this to end.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“This is what the Seven Heavens must feel like.” Oberyn groaned, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, overwhelmed by her. Her tightness, her embrace, her warmth. “Here, buried in your sweet cunt lies paradise, just for us.”

Nodding, her lips found his again, so close once again.

Tears running down her temples, settling in her hair. Feeling nothing but him, the world ceasing to exist while entangled with him, becoming drunk off the pleasure.

Her peak reached her so suddenly, she couldn’t do much more than whimper against his mouth, her arms pulling him into her. Breathless, her body set ablaze.

The feelings so much more intense than before, feeling him shudder and then still against her through the haze in her mind. Their lips never stopping, her name tumbling from his and right into her mouth, as if he was praying to the Gods above.

Basking in the afterglow, he kissed her cheeks, her temples wet with tears, shushing her gently as she cried. Tears of joy, of happiness unlike no other.

He could not imagine himself with anyone else, everyone that had come before her paling in contrast.

The sun warmed their skin, the sky a bright orange, fading into pinks and purples at the very edges. Dipping everything it touched into its mesmerizing hues.

“I love you, Oberyn.” She whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. Stroking his cheek, tears still in her eyes, barely open from exhaustion, from bliss. “My sweet Viper, my husband.”

Oberyn smiled, slowly pulling out of her, already missing her warmth and tightness. He rolled them over to the side, carefully guiding her spent body. Admiring the beauty of her in the rays of the sun, casting beautiful shadows across her face, making her look like a fabled creature.

Glowing like the sun itself.

His Sun.

“And I love you, my Sun.” He whispered back, brushing some hair from her forehead. Seeing her brows knit together at the new name. “My wonderful wife.”

“My Sun?” She echoed his words, finding a warmth and safety in the name.

“You are my Sun, my sweet. The centre of my being, my warmth and my light.” He said, smiling gently, cupping her cheek. “Us Dornish worship our sun. She gives us food, she gives us life. A new day in her safety and guidance. She is sacred to us, without her, there would only be darkness and coldness.”

Her heart soared at his words, a sob leaving her, overwhelmed by his gentleness and his affection.

“You are my Sun now. Without you, my life would be dark.” He continued, brushing away her tears, filled with nothing but unbridled love for her in this moment. “And I am your Moon. Shining brightly only in your light, in your presence. Cold without your warmth, without your bright smile.”

She couldn’t find words to match his, everything she thought of seeming inconsequential.

But he was not done. His heart so full for her, as she laid in the light of the rising sun, embracing each other's spent bodies.

“Before you, my life was nothing but the chase for pleasure, to forget what I have lost.” Tears welling up in his eyes as well, a sight she had never seen before, raising a hand to wipe them away as they fell. Knowing somehow he was talking about Elia. “But now, with you by my side, there is no more need for such chases. All the pleasure of the world lies within you. In the warm heart beneath your ribs, your gentle kiss and sweet embrace. In this sweet cunt between your legs.”

She giggled between her sobs. Of course he couldn’t just not mention it.

But she felt sadness, her heart breaking at the thought of his dead sister. Of this sweet, loving man drowned in darkness and sorrow, trying to find something to take away the pain her death had caused.

He hadn’t talked of her much just yet, the memory too painful.

Hoping that he would now, after he had found a light to guide him out of the darkness.

“I wish to show you the world, to experience all the world has to offer us with you by my side. To give you all the children you wish for, tiny viperlings in the image of us.” More words which brought forth more tears. Ever the poet, ever spilling his aching heart. “All that will heal my broken heart. Healing it further as you have already begun to heal it, my Sun, unbeknownst to you. Every moment spent with my daughters, treating them like your own, giving them your love, all of that put another broken piece back into place.”

“Oh, Oberyn. My Viper, my Moon.” She whispered, wiping away more tears as her own continued to spill. Leaning up to kiss them from his cheeks, brushing her nose against his. “I do not have the words to explain what I feel for you. They feel inadequate to everything you have just said.”

Oberyn chuckled, moving to kiss her lips, those sweet, soft lips.

“There is no need, my Sun. Your touch and your smile are enough to let me know just what you’re thinking, what you are feeling. Let me worship you as you ought to be worshipped in this moment.”

Pressing their foreheads together as they lay in the glowing sun, tangled limbs and tangled souls warmed by it.

Just breathing, just feeling.

Connected in their very beings, basking in each other’s presence.

The love they felt was enough to sustain them for a hundred lifetimes.

The Viper and his Sun.

In a bond formed of love.

#oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #game of thrones #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fic #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #tvats

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irishmammonagenda · 3 months

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"Mams...you okay?" You grin tiredly and teasingly ask your First Man, who is currently in the process of tearing up, his lips wobbling silently as he attempts to keep it in.

He looks up at you from where you lay exhausted in the hospital bed, attempting to blink back his tears. "Oh aye..." He replies shakily. "I-...I've never bin 'appier....Y-you should g-get some sleep...MC...get yer strength back..."

You grin stupidly at him, eyes closing sleepily as he watches you from the seat beside your bed, his attention drifts to you and his eyes water even more, the sheer lightness of the small weight in his arms making him dizzy as he leans further back into the armchair.

He looks down at the sleeping newborn in his arms. His baby girl. Her little yellow hat sitting perfectly on her little tiny head. He's sure she could fit on just on of his hands.

His bottom lip trembles, heart so full of love for the tiny thing in his arms it feels like it might burst. He holds her to his chest, bringing one finger up to gently caress her tiny tiny cheek. He sniffles, holding back happy sobs as he whispers gently. "Hiya little baby....I'm yer papa....I'm gonna take well great care of ye...I-I..I promise...Íosa Críost...yer tiny..."

Mammon looks over to your sleeping form in the hospital bed and slowly inches his chair even closer to you, so as not to jostle your daughter too much. He grabs his phone off of the nightstand and makes an order for your favourite food to be delivered for when you woke up. He chuckles softly as he texts the groupchat, telling them that you and the baby are okay.(albeit slowly seeing as he's only able to use one hand)

He asks for Lucifer to send over the cake he made with the horrible icing saying 'Congradulation COngratulations, MC, Your You're so amazing' so he could celebrate with you when you woke up from your much deserved nap. He turns off his phone and sets it back on the bedside table next to yours which is charging.

He could celebrate with you after, you could laugh at how he looked like a deer in headlights when the nurse asked him if he wanted to hold his baby for the first time. He could spoil you more than he ever has before (which isn't humanly possible considering how much he spoils you.)

But that could all wait for when you woke up, right now he was content just watching over his favouritest girls in the whole wide world, making sure you were both safe and sound.

But you should never trust a scheming scumbag, MC.

Oh no, fuckhead was already coming up with plans to spoil your daughter silly. That was his little princess, God dammit! She deserved the three worlds combined! And even then she deserved more! And don't get him started on you, you weren't going to even think about doing chores for at least 6 months. You just preformed a miracle. You get rest time. No buts.

In the softening light of the sun through the windows, Mammon holds your baby girl with so much gentleness, as if she'd crack at the smallest touch, his loving gaze flickers from you to her with so much tenderness, you would've thought he was an angel.

#idk mams being a dad is so cute to me idc this man would go to the ends of the earth for his kids (and for you)#íosa críost means jesus christ but i feel like you guys could figure that out so idk #Mammon to his daughter: Right princess; if ye ever meet a small gremlin blob who's callin' me papa tha's Lil D No.2 he is insane. run away.#this is very much self indulgent i want a baby so baf omg #but in this economy? + im 15 + childbirth and pregnancy is scary? not ever gonna happen for atleast another ten years.#ATLEAST.#unless the economy magically fixes itself + nonces stop existing + worked on myself enough to feel like im able to acutally be a good pare #okay i'll shut up now night night #cw pregnancy #cw childbirth #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #female reader #obey me x female reader #mammon x female reader

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neetily · 1 month

Note

i also do NOT want to pressure you in any sense, but when you are open to requests, i have one for you! (again, PLEASE take your time and if u don’t want to write, that’s okay too!) but i was wondering if you could do a yandere/stalker sam x afab!reafer? but the reader falls into the trap of it and stuff?

love you sm 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

— ✧ warnings: yandere, stockholm syndrome, blowjob, throatpie, dirty talk, captivity, deepthroating, face fucking, dubcon — ✧ word count: 1,930 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: mm... yandere sam... i find him difficult to characterise, just because he's so opposite of the trope in canon haha... but because of that, i thought it'd be fun to approach him as a more threatening/controlling type? not sure if it's what you were after, but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

Racing through the hallway as if he were personally wounded, scampering like a scared little lamb on the cusp of losing their mother, the front door slams shut behind him in such a rush that it still rattles in his ears despite being far from it now. Perked up and curious, scanning the house just as much as his eyes as he is with his ears, listening, stalking, running as fast as humanly possible towards your spot. Where you always are, waiting so patiently for him. Tucked away out of reach from all those nasty prying eyes he's done so well at keeping away, hidden from their dirty hands and plentiful questions. And most importantly— where you're safe.

That is, providing he locks the front fucking door like he always does— which he didn't, fucking idiot. God, he can imagine just how eager you must be to escape his hold, right? He hasn't exactly been the kindest to you of the months, has he? Even if everything he's ever done has been solely for you, to protect you, to keep you nice and secure for the rest of your life because he loves you all too much; sometimes love can look like locks and keys, don't you think?

But as the squeaks of his sneakers match the hard thump of his scared little racing heart, all he can envision is that cosy bedroom he's got you chained up in, now empty. Void of any of the light and love your fluttering lashes bring— he never could work out if they were borne out of affection, or fear. But he loves them all the same. Because it's you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" He babbles to himself as he rounds a corner and comes face to face with your door, chewing on his bottom lip out of sheer frustration and utter desperation; such a stupid fucking mistake for him to make, allowing you such easy access to the big bad scary world just like that when he's meant to be protecting you; it's only natural you'd grow curious, he knows, but he can't stop the pain of betrayal from already choking his tight chest. Life— it just wouldn't be the same, wouldn't be fucking worth it if you managed to escape his clutches, y'know? Just the thought alone is enough to leave his lips wobbly, barely allowing himself a breather by your door before he's swinging it open with a closed fist, frantically searching the immediate area that greets him and—

Oh, you sweet little thing... "Baby..." He coos, immediately switching personas the moment his eyes meet your own wide ones. Voice all soft and gentle and relieved, surprisingly so with the way you peer up at him so expectantly like that. The sweet little pout you wear when greeting him back is an immediate balm to his racing mind too, encouraging his muscles to relax just a little now that he has you in his sights once again, still yet chained to the wall, pretty, as he likes to remind you. At your prettiest when sitting pliantly down on the bedroom floor for him, so often at his feet, aren't you? "You— fuck, look at'cha," He inches closer with his words, steps careful now as opposed to his fast feet just moments earlier. Part of him still doesn't quite believe it, that you'd choose to remain where he last set you. But more than that, he's happy. Happy to see that your training is finally paying off. Big wide smile tugging at his lips, surely flashing his pointed canines at your dolly expression. "Y'didn't even try t'escape, did ya?"

Complete and utter admiration laces his tone, drips down his throat with thick swallows and extends all the way to his outstretched fingertips as he tilts your chin up at him upon reaching your side. He needn't worry at all, does he? All that hard work, months spent enduring your bratty attacks, reinforcing his training in spite of your bites and barks back at him. It was all worth it, just to see your meek submission quite literally under his thumb as you lean your face deeper against his open palm.

"Told me to stay..." You let out a dulcet sigh, as if whispering for him to draw closer. "So I stayed."

Got himself his very own little stockholm syndrome cutie, fuck. Ain't that just the sweetest thing ever? The way you cling on to his every word, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him when he tuts down at you lovingly. Makes his cock all twitchy and wet, holding a moan back with a bite of his bottom lip.

"Such a good girl, aint'cha?"

The trigger word, the highest praise he can offer you, scarcely handed out. And look at you fucking grovel immediately following, wagging that metaphorical tail happily behind your back as he barely strokes his thumb against your cheek, perching himself at the edge of your shared bed in sheer emotional exhaustion.

Half expecting you to disappear the moment his hand leaves your face, he carefully guides you to his knees. Keeps you there for a moment or two so as to offer you the admiration you rightfully deserve after such an impressive show of devotion. Of the love you hold for him, remaining right where he left you like some kind of fucked up play thing, his perfect little toy.

And isn't that love? The kind he's helped shape you into, molded it into your very being.

"And what do good girls get?" He quizzes you, raising an eyebrow at the way you balk and pause, faux thought, dumb little girl. You've shown him enough tonight already to let him know that you know the answer. But games are fun too, he likes playing with you.

Regardless of your show, he starts to unbuckle his belt anyway. Slinging it off in one swift motion, not missing the way your gaze grows hazy, or how your tongue pokes out just a little when he tugs his pants and underwear off for you too.

He'll never grow tired of the way you salivate for his cock like that, big doe eyes begging him for permission, settled so sweetly between his thighs. You can't rightly expect him to ever let go of you now, right? It's a nice contrast to how you used to act for him, how you'd turn your nose up at the mere glimpse of his erection, avoiding giving it a cute little kiss for as long as possible, until he'd inevitably smear his precum coated tip against your lips just like how he does so right now— except now, you eagerly accept his slick, right? Kitten licking it all up for him, accepting his show of thanks so cutely it's almost unfair to watch. But he is thankful, for the fact that you so patiently allowed him to show you what's good for you, for the fact that you're returning his affections without fighting back, for the fact that you simply waited for him to return because he told you to.

And given that you still haven't answered his obvious question, too busy with making sure to clean his cock off with your tongue, he hisses the answer down at you.

"That's it, atta girl— fuck. Good girls get some cock, ain't that right?"

With your mouth too full to properly answer, he still appreciates the muffled mmph! you offer him before he shoves a little more of his length between your tight lips, revelling in the way you seem to just melt before him. Drooling all over his leaking tip, pressing those tight lipped sucks right where he likes em. And he'd be a fool not to indulge in your obedience, right? To give you a reward for a job well done, God, he still can't quite believe that you just fucking sat there like he'd asked.

Obsessed with the way you let him fish hook the corner of your mouth, prying it open for him to further slide his cock down your tight little throat until he's aaaaaall the way inside and his balls rest nicely against your chin.

But not for long.

See, his love for you is a bit too much at times. Courses through him, turning his muscles all tight and taut, his teeth clenching and grinding together in utter frustration for how much he loves you. Like he can never get enough, and he knows that to be true when he feels your tongue squirm against the underside of his fully sheathed cock and he can't fucking stand not fucking your face right that very second. Driven by instinct alone, a need buried deep within him to make his mark on you—insides included—so that you know inside and out who you belong to. Who looks after you, takes care of you, loves you.

Even when you're making those awful choking sounds, half gasps and half moans, struggling to take his immediately brutal pace as his gentle touch turns harsh and you're forced into letting him hump your tongue with rushed snap thrusts; similar to when he had thought you'd left him, right? So frantic with his love, needlessly grasping and tugging on your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Standing up off the bed just enough for that little bit more leverage, to fully fuck his cock down your tight hole as a warning. Don't you ever even think about leaving, okay?

But how could you, when his grip shifts down to your neck and he holds you there tightly, bruisingly so, disallowing you room to move even an inch as he commands the room with swift fucks and hushed moans hidden behind fangs, huffing over your head as he shoves your nose towards his pelvis. Do you love him, even when he steals your air? Bet you can't formulate a single coherent thought right now, not with the way he actually chokes you. Moaning your name over and over again, an open mantra, croaking whines and babbling about just how much he loves you as if having you lay your tongue flat against him alone was what was getting him off, as opposed to the frantic thrusts he assaults your lips with.

"So good, shit— you're such a good girl, fuck me—"

And what do good girls get? That's right, a big fat load shot right down your too tight little hole, the feeling of your throat closing up around him every time his tip brushes against the back of it has him keening, rolling his hips deeper so as to make you deepthroat his rock hard cock, paired with the ever present fact that you waited in spite of such a clear escape— it's all too much for him. Has him folding over you, knees weak as he inevitably rocks his tip against that deep spot— oh, that one that makes you gargle on his seed, struggling to drink him as fast as he shoots, the feeling of your nails digging into his bare thighs only has him cumming some more baby. Making sure to milk himself thoroughly before even thinking about giving you some room to breathe, to make sure every last drop of his cum drips down your throat.

Pulling out, he's greeted to the sound of gasped coughs from your cum stained lips. A small fit, nothing to worry about. And because you're such a good girl, you don't even complain about it.

Ah, that just makes him want to go a round two, y'know?

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sam smut #sam🛹#thank you for your sweet words kind anon <3 #i appreciate your patience <3

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skribbyposts · 7 months

Text

HELLO AGAIN!!1111!!!! based off of @bidisastersanji's post about Sanji not being able to sit like a normal person (its cause hes a homo). i kind of took the hc and ran w it but thats okay hee hee

Also from Law's pov bc i love him so much and i wanted to try!! hope yall enjoy!!!!!!!!&!%@^#&^(!*#^$W yeah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Law prides himself on being a very observant person.

It seems he wasn't looking hard enough when he made the mistakes that led him here, sulking under an umbrella on the deck of Luffy's ship.

After Dressrosa, Law was never supposed to see his crew again. That plan was thrown out the window by a certain straw-hatted pirate, and now he's hitching a ride to Zou with this absolute circus that is Luffy's crew.

It's been a week since Law came aboard, and the more he looks, things get weirder and weirder. Specifically, their chef.

The first time they met, the man was well-mannered, minus his attitude towards women and cigarette habit. However, Law finds him ever more strange after every interaction they have on the Sunny.

------

The first time Law notices something off is when he happens on Sanji in the galley. He understands being awake in the wee hours of the night, but not like this.

Law finds the man still fully dressed in his three-piece at three in the morning, sitting - no, crouching - on his chair and poring over a cookbook. His cigarette dangles loosely from his mouth as he mutters something unintelligible to himself and brings his knees together to rest his chin on top of them.

What the fuck, Law thinks, and as if the chef heard his internal monologue, a blonde head whips around to face him standing at the door.

Sanji's wide-eyed, slightly disheveled face stares back at him, and his neck is uncomfortably craned so he can look directly at Law. The pair look at each other awkwardly, and after a moment of silence he just...closes the door.

This is not Law's ship. It is none of his business, and he will go back to the men's quarters to sleep.

-----

This keeps happening the longer Law stays on Luffy's ship, and every day he notices how rarely the Sunny's resident cook takes a break. In addition to that, he also can't help but notice exactly how Sanji chooses to rest.

Whether he's chatting with Robin in the library the lawn or napping with the swordsman on the lawn, it's always with one leg up on the seat, both slung over the back of a chair, or contorted into a position that shouldn't be humanly possible.

Law finds it mildly concerning, but no one else on the crew seems to mind when Sanji stops bustling for half a second and decides to perch himself somewhere (not unlike a gargoyle, Law thinks), so he leaves it alone.

---

Once, he spots the chef sleeping on deck with Zoro, but... upside down. As in, the swordsman is leaning on the mast and Sanji is resting his feet on Zoro's shoulders while his back is on the ground. It looks extremely uncomfortable. He also spots Zoro crack open his eye to peer down at the man, before closing it with a very resigned expression on his face and a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Again, this is not his ship and Law most certainly does not want to open that can of worms right now. He leaves the two in peace and hopes they figure it out by themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ik its not the best but this has been in my drafts for like a week and if i dont post it now im gonna forget about it for like three months so... you guys can have it yeah !! i didn't proofread this either so please lmk if there are mistakes

ANYWAYS Spawned a brand new hc that bc Sanji was locked up for like 5 years he had to teach himself stuff and develops the muscle memory for it wrong and just self-corrects in front of other ppl after learning the right way to do it. i might explore that in a longer fic at a later date, we'll see.

ALSO!!!! by popular demand(read: one person) im gonna start posting on my ao3 soon. you can find it here and all my zosan ficlets will be compiled into a series soon! watch out for that yall

#trafalgar law #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #nico robin #idk shes mentioned so #sanji being a strange little man #zosan if you squint #black leg sanji #ficlet #help i need sleep #sanji brainrot

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magnusbae · 1 year

Note

tfw u have a Complicated™️ Relationship With An Otherworldly Creature

First of all, I would like to point out that I DID NOT REALIZE WE HAD THAT DISCUSSION ON APRIL FOOL'S DAY.

All I remember is being delirious from lack of sleep and you indulging me by listening to my ravings about a Venom AU for dreamling aND THEN MAKING AN ACTUAL MEME FOR IT!!!

While I don't remember much of what we said that morning, and this meme being perfect for Canon AU also, I will focus my efforts on elaborating on this Venom AU no one had asked for but everybody will be getting!

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

"It's not human, but it's given me things no girlfriend ever could."

Hob Gadling is by no means a man who lacks options. He had fucked, and he had fucked a lot. He dated, he had even married once. He did all there is to be done, from casual to serious and yet... nothing comes close to this, to this bond he shares, to this otherworldly creature living within him, sustaining him, enveloping him, devouring him.

"Beloved," Hob says, feeling the instantaneous warming of his chest. Dream, (That is his name.) (Oh, what a lovely name it is.) often responds in such a manner to terms of endearment. He enjoys them more than he would ever care to admit. All the more incentive for Hob to use them as frequently as humanly possible. Which is to say, a lot.

The low frequency rumbling inside of his chest cavity lets him know that Dream is very much aware and chooses to remain silent on the matter. He is so sweet, actually the sweetest creature in the entirety of existence. It's hard to remember a time when he had thought otherwise, a time in which he was actually terrified of the creature that had decided to use his body as a free-ride.

Yes? Dream finally speaks, tired of waiting for Hob to verbalize his thoughts. His voice is a deep thunder inside of Hob's mind, closer to a loud thought than an actual audible sound. An intrusive thought he would never wish to get rid of. Hob. Strict, impatient, amused. He feels like Dream cannot decide if he's more irritated or amused by Hob's wandering thoughts. Speak.

Hob huffs out a laughter, shaking his head and opening his fist in an invitation. The empty spaces between his fingers are soon filled with claw-like ink black fingers. Dream's hand, firm and strong.

"I was just thinking," Hob closes his hand, squeezing Dream's hand in his, feeling the tightening of Dream's hand in turn. "how it's our anniversary tonight" he closes his eyes, thinking of a year ago, miserable and lost and terrified, with nothing in this world left, running into an alien that by all means was supposed to devour him long ago.

Expect for the miraculous part of them being so perfectly matched that Dream decided to preserve him instead. Tend his body, strengthen it, keep it safe. The only price being that he also gets to live in it. See humanity, learn of it, understand it. It's what he told him, however Hob suspects, knows really, that it was something far more personal.

Dream had filled spaces Hob didn't even know he had. Voids so small you don't know them but you ache them. And if Hob does even a fraction of what Dream does to him— well then, there's the reason.

Yes. Dream rambles, pleased. Anniversary, like marriage. the last word is purred so quietly it's almost like it's Hob's own thought.

"Hold your horses," Hob laughs again, cheeks warming up, he's smiling wide enough to ache "I expect to get properly proposed to, who do you think I am? I ain't cheap, you know" he feels a hand brushing his hip bone, an intimate, possessive gesture that sets a shiver down his groin.

Yes, of course. Dream's finger trace's down the 'V' lines, claw gentle but ever present. Not cheap. Proposal. Indeed. Dream is amused again, the cheeky creature is making fun of him, and that, is damn hot.

Whatever response Hob was about to give is swallowed down with a yelp when Dream takes him into his hand. Hob breathes out, mind blanking as the decidedly inhuman hand starts working on him.

Conversations about propriety can wait. After all, this is so much more interesting. Whatever else you can say about dating a formless alien who resides inside of your body, there's undeniable benefits to them literally sharing your own pleasure. Makes for a very good partner indeed.

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘

Written in one go without editing because if I allow myself even a single more hour of thinking how it needs to be PERFECT I will die LMAO.

Brief explanation of Venom for those who didn't watch it! >> under the cut.

Generally speaking, I would imagine that Dream's initial reason was to study, understand, experience a different existence than his own. He had no regard for human life (still doesn't, not in the way a human would) he was perfectly fine with riding human bodies and living their lives until they expired.

Expect Dream had found Hob, a perfect match, a human body that accepted every single cell of him with open arms, way before Hob even realized he loved Dream, his body had already accepted him.

This can have over-complicated plot, and it could be a simply fun-little au. It can have a "fish-bowl" rescue of reported Hob breaking into the Lab where Dream was being experimented on, and it could be Hob's homeless era when on top of everything else going wrong with his life, he also gotten jumped by an alien symbiote in an alley.

It can be anything you wish to imagine, but bottom line is— imagine the intimacy, the bond, the tenderness of sharing a body with a creature that envelopes you whole, who loves you whole, who cares and wants you whole. Body and Soul and Mind, literally, figuratively, everything.

A bond so close you feel like a single being, bond so close you feel you would die if separated. Hob didn't even know he needed it. Hob thought his life was complete, even if shitty at times, he didn't feel any lackings, and yet..... when Dream came into his life, he realized it was an empty shell compared to what it is.

And Dream, who had never felt a connection, only felt rejection after rejection, and then in the case of the lab-trab, the experiments and cruelty. Being loved and accepted and wanted so fully he betrays his entire species to be with Hob.

-----

Essentially, Venom is one specimen of a symbiotic life form that finds a host and bonds with it. It's not easy to find a proper host, if the host is not right, the symbiote would slowly devour the body and eventually kill the human. In the comics canon, a human named Eddie and Venom form a bond, eventually fall in love, and share a very intimate relationship. It's a VERY half-assed explanation, but basically, the symbiote literally lives inside of the human host, and it makes for some......fun dynamics. considering it's a literal alien.

#I will NOT be rereading it so unless I made some horrid mistake it IS WHAT IT IS #it's been in my inbox longer than it should have gavregbaet but i couldn't just 'post it' with a LOL and that's it! I haD TO ELABORARE.#thanks for the MEME it's pefECT !!!#dreamling #the sandman #dreamling venom au #I GUESs?#buns.w #buns.all #cuubism #msg

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theewokingdead · 1 year

Text

The Wiener of My Heart - Benjamin "Benny" Miller x Reader

Pairing: Benny x Reader (1st POV, no descriptions) Rating: T (blog is 18+) Summary: You and Benny are brought together by your mutual love of dogs. Word Count: 1.4k+ Warnings: Some cringe-worthy puns and innuendos, but it’s Benny so are you really surprised? Language. A/N: I saw a decal on a car in a grocery store parking lot that read “Sometimes I trip over my wiener.” I immediately thought “Benny would 100% have that on his car.” This is pure chaos, and I’m not sorry. Hopefully this doesn’t get lost in translation for anyone, but wiener = wiener dog = dachshund.

{Masterlist}

I fucking hate grocery shopping. It’s one of those things I can’t seem to bring myself to do until I absolutely have to. There’s something about wandering through the endless aisles, searching for the things I need, finding the best price of those things, all while avoiding small talk that I find frustrating. It’s just not worth the hassle, the time, or the stress.

Today’s trip has been a nightmare; there are people everywhere, obstructing every turn and moving in all directions, and the shelves are being emptied as if the end of the world has just been announced. I will not be surprised if I immediately hear the national alert system going off when I turn on my car.

God, please, if the world is ending let them be The Walking Dead zombies and not the fucking infected from The Last of Us.

I am on edge until I step out the doors and take a deep breath, the heavy, muggy air of Tampa somehow easier to breathe in than the air inside the stuffy store. I made it out alive, and so far, there aren’t any signs of any impending doom. I mean, no more than usual, considering Florida is a dumpster fire on a normal day.

I push the cart to my car, unlock the trunk, and rapidly load the groceries, eager to get home and pour myself a glass of much-deserved wine. I’m only halfway through when I turn and happen to catch sight of the most striking man walk out of the store, several grocery bags in each hand. He is tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms that seem to effortlessly carry the weight of the groceries. The sleeves of his jacket are rolled up enough to see his forearms flex with each step he takes. Something about him oozes rugged charm, and it’s impossible to not be captivated by him.

Fuck, he’s cute.

The man moves in my direction, and I quickly shift my focus and get back to loading my car. I watch out of the corner of my eye as the man approaches the Jeep parked beside me, shifting his bags to unlock it and and lift up the back window. My heart beats a million miles a minute, but I try to ignore it, figuring he’s too far out of my league.

He’s probably a douche anyway, I tell myself, trying to keep from being disappointed when he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence.

Unexpectedly, I hear a deep, quiet laugh, then a smooth, sultry voice speaks, “I’d rather be playing with my wiener too.”

My stomach twists, making me feel sick. The fuck did he just say?

“Excuse me?” I question, whipping toward the stranger faster than I thought humanly possible. My nose scrunches with disgust. The fucking audacity of this man. He’s not just a douche, but a fucking creep - which is a shame because up close this man is gorgeous. His blue eyes are like two pools of sapphire, glistening in the sunlight. A pair of sunglasses hang on the neck of his shirt, pulling it down just enough to reveal hair on his chest. Strands of blond hair peek out from underneath his hat, which he’s sporting backwards – a telltale sign of being a total douche.

I should’ve known.

However, the man seems to immediately regret what he said, his growing wide, cheeks as red as a traffic light.

“Oh shit! I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he exclaims, tripping over every word. “I meant…” He gestures toward my rear passenger window, which I know has a decal featuring the words “I’d rather be playing with my wiener” along with the silhouette of a dachshund. “I have one too,” he clarifies, pointing to his bumper, a sticker with a similar picture and the words “I trip over my wiener.”

My cheeks warm as realization settles over me. “Oh!” I exclaim, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. “I am so sorry! I thought you were-”

“An asshole?” he finishes for me, to which I breath out a “Yeah” with a small giggle. He chuckles awkwardly, reaching to grab the bill of his hat and pulling it off his head. While running his fingers through his tussled hair, he flips his hat around then puts it back on. “Yeah… Sorry. I didn’t exactly think that one through. Not my finest conversation starter.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, offering him a genuine smile. “Don’t worry about it, uh-” I suddenly remember that I don’t know his name.

“Benny,” he replies, offering his hand to me.

“Benny,” I reply, repeating his name aloud once while it plays in my head like a beautiful song. I give him my own name, and as I shake his large hand, my mind immediately drifts to how his touch would feel on other parts of my skin. The thought of his hands exploring every inch of my body sends shivers down my spine. As I reluctantly release his hand, I can’t help but long for a moment when his touch could be more than just a fleeting gesture.

“Do you think maybe I could see your wiener?” Though my voice sounds meet, the sly smile spreading across my face shows that I’m well aware of what I’m doing.

“Right here? Right now?” Benny questions, pretending to be appalled by the notion, clearly playing along.

“Right now,” you demand. “Show me see your wiener.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a smile.

Fuck, the things those two words make me feel.

After reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he whips out his phone and swipes across the screen with his thumb. Within seconds, he’s showing me a picture of a beautiful black and brown dog, sporting short legs and a long torso.

“This is Beanie.”

My eyes flick up to him. “Beanie the Weenie?”

“Sir Beanie the Weenie of House Teenie, actually,” he clarifies, trying to sound so matter-of-fact.

“Oh,” I gasp, trying to sound impressed. “I had no idea you know the star of Game of Bones.”

Benny lets out a boisterous laugh, sparkles in his eyes, seeming both shocked and thrilled by my parody. “Fuck! Yes! That’s exactly what I was going for!”

Smiling, I look back at his screen, watching as he swipes to another picture, then another.

“You know, I don’t show just anyone my wiener,” Benny admits after several moments of silence. “I hope he doesn’t disappoint.”

I snort. “Not at all. He’s very cute.”

Chuckling, he tucks his phone back into his pocket, then gestures to me. “I showed you mine, so why don’t you show me yours?”

“It’s only fair,” I reply, reaching for my phone. Happily, I show him a photo of my brown long-haired dachshund. “Her name is Leia”

“Like from Star Wars?” he questions, a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Well, actually…” I pull my phone back and quickly find a photo from last Halloween. I show him the picture of my dog in a Leia costume, fake buns and all, which causes Benny to bust out in a fit of laughter.

“Okay. You win! Your wiener is way cooler than mine.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “A princess does outrank a knight, so…”

He chuckles, and a giggle escapes my lips.

“Maybe we can set up a playdate?” I suggest.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Benny replies. “Maybe we can set one up for the dogs too?” He looks up from my screen to meet my gaze, the corner of his lips rising into a small smile. Fuck, his eyes are mesmerizing. They’re the kind that make you feel like you’re the only person in the room, as if he’s seeing into my soul and understanding me without even uttering a word. I could stare into them for hours, lost in their piercing blue beauty.

I smile, feeling my cheeks warm once again. “I’d like that.”

We exchange numbers and part with the promise that we’ll be in touch soon. While walking toward my car door, I feel a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold. Grabbing a hold of the handle, I pause, then look over at Benny as he climbs into his seat. Looking at him makes me feel calm, as if all my worries melt away in his presence. I almost don’t want to let him leave.

“Hey,” I call, grabbing his attention before he can close the door of his Jeep. “Make sure you play with your wiener for me when you get home.” Casting him a wink, I climb into my seat, satisfied by the pink that’s rising in his cheeks as he casts a shy smile.

I’m pretty sure a stranger just stole my heart in a Publix parking lot. But what can I say? Benny has one incredible-looking wiener, and that makes me weak.

#benny miller #benny miller x you #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfiction #benjamin miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund fanfiction #garrett hedlund characters #catie writes

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asukamood · 7 months

Text

Apology to Deaf Ears (DT Twins)

***

I was literally writing the next chapter of my Cold Front fic when I woke up on the 24th with such a good angst idea for the twins that I broke down first thing in the morning.

(Note: I am not blaming any of the twins for what happened to them, which is not the case for the twins themselves. Do keep in mind that at the time of this story, the twins were both 5 and it is normal for children like them to act immaturely and blame the wrong people, especially seeing the environment they are living in.)

With that said, enjoy your reading!

***

Warnings: Suicide (stabbing), blood, heavy angst for both twins, hints of physical abuse

Synopsis: Nightmare had never understood why the characters in his novels always felt sick at the sight of blood. He was covered in his own blood every day, yet it never made him throw up. Now he understood, he understood too well.

***

If there was someone who Nightmare particularly resented, apart from himself, it was Dream.

He hated the way people loved him so much, what did he even do to deserve all the attention anyway? What did he have that Nightmare lacked?

He hated the way protecting the Tree has fallen on his shoulders alone while Dream was playing around. Why was he allowed to slack off while Nightmare had to do both their jobs alone, as injured as one could be?

He hated how naive the other was, always falling for Nightmare’s stupid lies when he was asked about his injuries. How could he have gotten this hurt by simply falling off a branch? Was Dream just stupid or did he simply not care about Nightmare? The latter would bet the correct supposition was the second explanation.

He hated how mocking the other’s hollow ‘I love you’ sounded. He hated how he had to live in the other’s shadow. He was as good as his brother, hell, maybe he was even better! He just could not understand. Why not him?

But above all, he hated the way he nagged him by spending time with him and showing off how much happier he was than Nightmare, like he was doing currently.

“Get off.” He hissed, pushing Dream away from himself. That day, his brother had been particularly clingy and happy, for some reason determined to annoy him as long as humanly possible.

Seriously, he had even declined to spend time with his friends to annoy him more, how unhinged did he have to be to think of something like that?

The other let out a playful whine of protest but refrained from attempting to hug him again. A detail that Nightmare failed to notice at the time.

“Can we play then? It has been so long since we last played Tag You’re It!” Dream suggested, a wide grin spread across his cheeks as he seemed to reminisce about the old times. It made Nightmare sick.

With gritted teeth, he replied that he was not in the mood to play and would rather read. Dream’s bright smile did not leave his lips at the other’s refusal. If anything, it just got brighter.

Oh, there we go, something he hated and forgot to mention.

The way the other never took anything badly.

Nightmare would kill to be that way.

How foolish.

“Can you read me a story then? Last time we--”

“No.” He cut him off with a glare, making the other blink. At Nightmare’s expression, his smile turned into a worried frown.

“Did I say something wrong? Why do you look so angry?” He tilted his head to the side in confusion, somehow only managing to piss the other off even more.

“Because you’re annoying me.” He replied coldly, picking up the last book he had been reading off the ground. With his eyes fixed on the object, he could no longer see Dream’s expression. Not like it interested him. “Can’t you find someone else to bother?”

“I like spending time with you though.” A pause. “And you know I love--”

“And I hate you.” He flipped the page he was reading, noticing the way the other had stopped talking.

He looked back to him, Dream’s grin welcoming him back to reality.

He hated that lack of reaction too, he just said that he hated him, and he was smiling? He was right after all, Dream really did not care about how he saw him. Why would he? He had all those oh so wonderful friends, why would he care about that loser he called his brother?

If Nightmare had paid more attention, maybe he would have noticed how sad that smile really looked. He would have noticed how it did not reach his eyes.

“What are you still doing here?” He snapped, sending him yet another glare. “Are you going to gawk at me like that for long? I don’t want to see you anymore, just go.”

“... Okay.” He got up, making Nightmare focus back onto his book. He was most likely going to the village anyway, there was no reason for him to see where he was going.

***

A few hours later, Nightmare started to feel bad about what he said.

He had been angry at that moment, but Dream was still his brother, he could not just tell him that he hated him like that. Nightmare looked up at the sky, deducing that it was the afternoon.

Honestly, he found it odd how the villagers had yet to come bother him but for once, he allowed himself to hope that the peace would last a bit more.

He closed the book, putting it into its usual place next to him--

...

Something was under it.

Nightmare raised an eyebrow as he picked it back up, his eyes widening once he recognized Dream’s circlet. Did he forget it when he left? Nightmare shrugged; he will just give it back to him after he apologized.

He would not come back until the evening anyway, which gave him plenty of time to plan what he would say to him.

He let his head rest on the tree, slowly drifting off to sleep.

***

When he woke up, the sight of wrinkling stars in the night sky welcomed him back. He had always loved looking at the stars, it reminded him of the good days without the villagers around.

He turned to his side, expecting to see his younger brother.

He froze when there was no sign of him.

“Dream?” He called out in surprise, standing up and looking around the tree and up the branches. No one.

Nightmare frowned.

That was unusual, no matter how long Dream stayed at the village, he had always come back once the sun had set. He once said that his favorite thing was to come back home after the night began.

Maybe he was still a bit busy? Nightmare sat down against the tree, waiting to see his brother’s silhouette approach the tree.

***

All the lights in the village had gone out by now.

Yet, Dream was still nowhere to be seen.

Nightmare did not want to admit it, but he was worried, very worried. He got up from the tree again and reluctantly dragged his feet to the village. He had no want to step into that place, knowing that if he were caught, he would go through hell and back, but there was only so much he could do.

He let out a long breath as he passed the gate. No scream, that was a good sign.

A man in the tavern’s balcony was sprawled on a table, an alcohol bottle in hand. Seeing no one else around, Nightmare decided to risk talking to him.

He tapped his shoulder and the grown-up groaned as he was shaken awake, looking over to who woke him up. He glared at Nightmare once he recognized him, slurring something about killing him if he did not get out of his sight. Nightmare ignored the threat, instead asking where he had last seen Dream.

Thankfully for the child, the older man was far too wasted to bother swinging at him. So wasted, in fact he was pleasant enough to answer his question.

“How the fuck should I know?” He hiccupped, taking another sip of the beverage. “That brat did not show up today.” He hit the table with his fist, frustrated. “If it was not for him staying with your sorry ass, my other house would have been finished by now.”

Nightmare could feel his heart drop in his stomach, the rest of the man’s complaints getting lost in the wind.

Dream never went to the village?

Ditching the man, the young boy raced to the entrance of the village, his head filled with Dream’s possible whereabouts. He was neither at the tree nor at the village. Besides these two locations, there was the forest and the cliff. But if he was in those areas, why did he go there in the first place?

And more importantly, why was he still not back?

His breathing sped up.

What if he was in danger?

He shook his head, pinching his wrist. He winced but, in the end, he was able to forcefully calm down. Panicking would not help him find Dream.

These two areas were big, so he had better get started now.

The closest area to the village was the forest, he would get started there.

He ran between two trees, looking around every tree and yelling Dream’s name as he did so, hoping the other would eventually answer his calls or show up.

When he was met with no answer, he walked deeper into the forest, desperation now laced with his voice. The forest was quiet, far too quiet to be normal.

Still nothing.

He was running now, yelling his name even louder than he already was. He could feel his vocal cords straining in his throat, but he could not care less then, too focused on the task.

Eventually, as he was starting to lose hope, he finally caught a glimpse of orange behind a tree. The boy heaved out a sigh of relief before being overtaken by anger. If he was right there, why did he not answer his calls?

“Dream!” He shouted as he walked over to the tree, said one’s cape getting closer. “Why did you not come back? Do you know how worried I--”

As he finally walked around the tree, Dream’s lightless eyes and the knife planted in his chest finally came into view.

The next thing Nightmare knew was that he saw himself throw up nearby, trembling as he turned back toward Dream. There was so much blood.

Nightmare had never understood why the characters in his novels always felt sick at the sight of blood. He was covered in his own blood every day, yet it never made him throw up. Now he understood, he understood too well.

“Dream...?” He approached the other, slowly. That... he was still asleep, right? It could not be real. He crouched down next to him, his fingertips brushing his shoulder. He was cold. Why was he so cold?

“Hey, why are you not saying anything?” He shook him. “That’s not funny anymore, come on Dream, let’s go home.”

The other’s head fell awkwardly on his shoulder, a few strands of his hair covering his eyes. Apart from that, no reaction was given to Nightmare’s words or actions.

He shook him again, tears welling up in his eyes. “Stop scaring me! You said you would come back home no matter what! We even promised to never leave each other!”

“We promised!” He repeated, as if to enhance the importance of a promise.

However, he could scream as much as he wanted, there was no bringing back a dead soul.

At last, he finally broke into hysterical sobs as he held onto the corpse of his brother like his life depended on it. “We can play as much as you want, I can read you as many stories as you like! We can hug whenever you want! I won’t push you away anymore, I promise!”

“So please...” His voice broke as he cupped the other’s cold cheek, trying so hard to feel any kind of warmth coming from the other’s skin. “Say something, anything. Don’t leave me alone...”

Silence.

“I...” He hiccupped. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I didn’t mean it, I swear! I love you too. Even if I may have been frustrated at you sometimes, you’re still my brother, I could never hate you!”

He buried his face in his neck as he sobbed. “Please don’t make me bury my best friend, I’m sorry for being such a bad brother. I promise to make it up to you just give me a chance, please.”

His pleads were ignored and so were his apologies.

Oh, how cruel the gods were.

In a last attempt to get some sort of reaction out of the other, he brought his hand to his level. From it, a piece of paper fell.

With a shaky hand, he managed to retrieve what Dream was holding in his fist. He opened the ball, revealing an exact replica of a silly drawing of themselves when they were still satisfied with one another in the world.

A messy Tree of Feelings labelled “Home” stood in the background with yellow and black ovals littering the leaves to represent their respective apples. In front of it, two figures with questionable anatomies stood beside each other, holding hands.

One of them was wearing a light blue-sky outfit and a round circlet and the other a purple outfit with a crescent moon engraved on the head garment.

There was only one difference: if the original drawing had both figures smiling from ear to ear, this one had Dream smiling and Nightmare wearing an angry frown.

At that instant, with tears falling down the paper, Nigthmare wanted nothing more than to tear away that angry-looking figure from the smiling one and burn its remains.

#angst #dream sans #utmv dream #dreamtale #nightmare utmv #utmv fanfic #utmv #utmv au #nightmare sans #passive nightmare sans #dreamtale twins #pre apple incident #apple twins

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cieloclercs · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | chapter four

pairings: charles leclerc x senna!oc part: 4/? warnings: swearing, a little angsty word count: 5.9k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

04. in fair verona

author’s note: and so it begins 👀 also yes i chose verona because of romeo and juliet (noa and charles are them in modern day, interpret that how you’d like) 🫣 hope you enjoy!

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter 3 next ➜ chapter 5

5 August 2012 Zuera International Circuit, Spain WSK Euro Series, Final Round

NOA IS ON her feet the second he crosses the line, cheering until her throat is raw. She can see him raise his fist in triumph, drifting around the first turn of the track on his victory lap with one hand. Charles Leclerc, her best friend, is the WSK Euro Series champion by a landslide.

The Senna Borges family has travelled all the way from Brazil to watch this moment. Luiz, her little brother, is on her right, jumping up and down and screaming like his life depends on it. Her mother holds his hand, trying to keep him as calm as possible, but Noa can sense that underneath her serene smile, she is just as excited. To the left, her father claps with his hands above his head, a proud grin ever-present on his face as he watches the young boy he now considers as a second son lead the final victory lap around the track. Gabriel’s pride is next only to that of Charles’ family, who stand on the other side of him. Hervé is jumping around almost as excitedly as Luiz, with Arthur tucked under his arm. Pascale, who has had her head in her hands in worry for almost the entire race, now cheers louder than anyone else (although she keeps a close, wary eye on her son still, heart in her mouth as he takes sharp corners with only one hand on the wheel). They probably look a little crazy to everyone else in the garage, but none of them care. This is Charles’ time, and they’ll be damned if they can’t celebrate it properly.

Noa, Arthur and Luiz practically sprint to the front of the podium, before a crowd can gather and block them off. They save a space for their parents as best they can, though it’s a tight squeeze when the families of the other podium finishers also arrive. Still, they make room. They’re not about to let any of them miss this moment, when Charles walks out ready to take his trophy – it should be any second now. Noa looks up at her father with quite possibly the widest smile he’s ever seen. Pascale has her camera at the ready, its memory cleared so she can take as many pictures of her son as is humanly possible. No doubt, she’ll be showing them around the family all night, and Charles will groan in embarrassment each time.

The cheers go up as the three podium finishers walk out, Charles at the back waving excitedly once he sees his family at the front of the crowd. In second and third are two Italians, Felice Tiene and Antonio Fuoco, grinning just as widely to be runner ups as Charles is to have won. Noa tries to catch his eye, but he’s too focussed on his parents and brother. She doesn’t mind too much – she’ll have plenty of time to see him afterwards.

A silver, gleaming trophy is brought out and thrust into Charles’ arms by whoever has been selected to present it – presumably the owner of the track or some other hot-shot in the karting industry. He lifts it high above his head, too modest to cheer, but proud enough that he can’t fight the grin on his face as the crowd raise up to congratulate him. It’s then that his eyes find Noa’s, drifting from his family to the next person he wants to share this moment with; his best friend. She’s been watching him the whole time, of course, waiting for her opportunity. When she sees he’s finally turned to her, she cheers so loudly it could even rival the noise Pascale is making. He shakes his head, laughing, but Noa knows him well enough now to see the glint in his eye. He wants them all to cheer for him, deep down, even if he complains. When all’s said and done, Charles Leclerc simply wants to make his family proud.

The Leclerc-Borges’, as is tradition, go out to dinner at the nicest restaurant they can find to celebrate. They’d done the same just over a year ago now after Charles’ victory in the KF3 Kart World Cup, and since then, with every race win and even every disappointment, they never fail to spend the evenings together – as if they’re one family as a whole. It was natural after the world cup, in which Charles and Noa were so closely matched, forming a rivalry on-track and a friendship off it, for their parents to grow just as close. Gabriel and Hervé spend race weekends chipping in with bits of advice and talking through strategies, whilst Flávia and Pascale catch each other up on everything they may have missed over their months of separation – with the Leclercs in Monaco and the Senna-Borges’ in Brazil. Noa already has plenty of family, mostly on her father’s side (thanks to his four siblings), but Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo, Hervé and Pascale mean just as much to her.

Their group is split up when they arrive at the restaurant, adults on one table, kids on the other. The two younger Leclerc brothers are outraged as Lorenzo is allowed to join their parents, making sure to shoot them a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin before turning away. Noa sits next to Charles on their small table, set at the side of the private corner her father has booked out for the occasion, with Luiz sat across from her and Arthur to his left. Charles’ grumbles about being lumped in with the ‘kids’ (despite being almost fifteen years old) carry far enough to be heard by his parents, no doubt on purpose. Though, if Pascale and Hervé do hear anything, their only reaction is to smirk into their wine glasses.

“If you sit on the adult’s table you won’t be able to talk to me, idiota.” Noa hisses, swatting his arm playfully as he shoots another dirty look in his parent’s direction.

“Who says I want to talk to you?” Charles retorts, grinning smugly. Her eyes widen and she gasps, hitting him again with more force. He flinches away, giggling.

“I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. Noa decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, tucking readily into her food.

The Senna Borges family always say she inherited her father’s energetic personality – which is just a kinder way of saying she doesn’t know when to shut up. Luiz is similar, but when Noa hasn’t seen her best friend in over a month, she finds that she has so much to tell him about, her stream of conversation can be endless. Charles knows this better than anyone. He’s sat through many of her rants where he hardly pays attention to the actual words she says, but rather finds his attention captured by the many varying expressions on her face. Noa is at her most animated when she talks about something she’s passionate about. She also (as an incident on the beach in Monaco about six months ago taught them, when she was so engrossed in a retelling of one of her latest races that she tripped and fell face-first into the wet sand) becomes completely unaware of her surroundings. Charles has learnt to take advantage of this well. Noa doesn’t even notice him stealing her French fries as she talks. It’s only Arthur and Luiz’s giggles that alert her to his antics.

“Hey!” she exclaims, her voice climbing an octave, and Charles’ hand jumps away from where he had been about to steal another French fry from her plate, “Don’t take my food, puta.”

From the adjacent table, Noa hears her mother’s voice scolding her in Portuguese (and her father’s poorly concealed snort of amusement). She turns her attention to the former for a moment, apologising sheepishly. Then her focus is back on Charles, where he sits trying desperately to hide his smile.

“You’ve barely eaten any.” He defends, “You talk so much you don’t even have time to eat!”

Arthur and Luiz seem to find this particular comment hilarious, much to Noa’s growing annoyance. This is an instance in which she finds it difficult to focus on more than one thing at once – the first, shooting her brother and friend the dirtiest look she can manage, and the second (which she’s too preoccupied to take note of), Charles’ hand creeping over the table to pinch yet another fry from her plate. Noa’s head whirls around. She doesn’t hesitate this time to slap him away with as much force as she can muster. He yelps, dropping the fry onto the floor. ‘Well done, now no one can eat it.’ She hears Luiz quip in the background. For once, Noa pays him no mind.

“Stop being mean!” she says to Charles, her lower lip sticking out just a little involuntarily, “I haven’t seen you in a month. I’ve got a lot to tell you about.”

If there’s one thing Charles Leclerc has learned in his just over year-long friendship with Noa, it’s that she’s unapologetically loud. He supposes it’s a family trait, because all of the Senna Borges’ are like that, to varying extents – even Flávia, the calmest of the group, is known to grow pretty lively once she’s had a couple of drinks. Though Charles isn’t necessarily used to that kind of unrelenting, chaotic energy, it’s one of the things he likes most about Noa. She never runs out of enthusiasm, even if she’s telling him about something as mundane as what she had for breakfast, the way she talks has him gripping the edge of his seat, or shaking with laughter, or even simply gazing at her in wonder. Somehow, she manages to make everything seem like the adventure of a lifetime.

It hits him then that in the month they’ve been apart, he’s really missed her long-winded rants. They haven’t seen each other since the anniversary of their first meeting, the Junior Kart World Cup, where Charles and his family watched her breeze through the rest of the field to take victory. After that, they went their separate ways, Noa back to Rio with her family, and him to Monaco, all the way on the other side of the world. Charles isn’t sure why it didn’t occur to him that the dull emptiness he felt in all that time was him missing her.

“Sorry, mouse.” He replies quietly. His formerly playful grin morphs into something a little more tender. Though if Noa notices it, she’s certainly too preoccupied groaning at the use of her nickname to think too much about it.

“Mouse?” Luiz snickers from across the other side of the table.

“Yeah!” Charles nods enthusiastically, “Because her nose scrunches up when she’s angry. Like a mouse!”

Once again, Arthur and Luiz seem to find this bit of information hilarious. Noa doesn’t bother trying to shut them up – she’ll deal with her brother at least later on – so instead she turns to her best friend. She makes a show of despising the nickname he gave her a little over six months ago now. At first, it had annoyed her a little. She wants to be seen as something strong and powerful, certainly not a mouse; to her, it seems a little insulting to be likened to something so small, so insignificant. It didn’t take long for her to get over herself – it’s just a silly nickname after all, but now she’s reluctant to drop the pretence of annoyance whenever Charles uses it. Besides, she knew if Luiz ever found out, he’d tease her about it non-stop. Give him the tiniest incentive to push her buttons, and he’ll grab at it with both hands.

“See! Just like that.” Charles giggles, pointing towards Noa’s face where she is trying to give him a dirty look. Arthur and Luiz break out into peals of laughter again, and she can do nothing but throw her hands up in the air in exasperation. Annoyance is the easiest emotion to switch to, after all, and she’d never admit to Charles that maybe she doesn’t hate that stupid nickname as much as she lets on.

“I hate you.” She mutters to him when she’s sure Luiz and Arthur aren’t listening. She knows her smile is betraying her, but in all honesty, she also doesn’t see why he would ever believe it to be true – Charles is her best friend in the entire world. He can see the teasing glint in her eye as clearly as he sees his own hand waving in front of his face, “I thought we made a pact to never repeat that in front of anyone?” Noa says, arching her eyebrows.

“Sorry.” He murmurs back, his smile mirroring hers. “I can’t help it. It’s cute when you try to be intimidating.”

She has to look away then, fighting hard to stop the heat she can feel building beneath her skin from appearing on her cheeks. Charles is giggling at his own words and the memory of her expression when he looks away, immediately being pulled into a new conversation with Luiz. Noa shakes her head. One final stolen, curious glance, and everything returns to normal – no blushing, no sudden flips inside her stomach. For once, she lets her best friend talk, listening to his voice with a fondness she feels for no one else, trying to commit it to memory for the next time they are separated. It’s kept away in a little lockbox in the back of her mind – moments with him – which, in the times when she feels loneliest, are sometimes her only solace. One day, Noa swears, they’ll be able to spend every waking minute together. No more goodbyes outside airports. No more five hour time differences. From then until the rest of their lives.

26 January 2021 Verona, Italy

THERE’S A LAYER of frost covering the cobbled streets, something which Noa makes sure to keep an extra close eye on as she shuffles along. Of all the places in Italy she’s travelled to, from Milan to Venice and Rome to Maranello in her Ferrari Academy days, she’s never been to Verona. She thinks perhaps, in the summer, she’ll be able to see its beauty more clearly, but in temperatures near freezing, the Brazilian in her is too frozen stiff to pay much attention to her surroundings. Noa’s only goal is to get to the café and then get out again as quickly as is humanly possible. Both because of the weather and who she’ll be meeting inside.

Normally, convenience is greeted with relief and a muted form of happiness, especially when it comes to making plans. The fact that Noa and Charles both happen to be in Italy at the same time, within only a hundred or so miles of each other, is incredibly convenient. But it’s not the kind that makes her relieved they won’t have to bend over backwards just to find a time in their busy schedules where they’re both free to meet. This kind of convenience Noa could really do without. It feels more like the universe working against her than some form of divine miracle. She’d been hoping to put off this meeting for as long as possible after Charles suggested it at the gala, but of course, it had only taken him a day to suggest a time, and once she’d realised she was due to be in Italy at that time anyway, there really was no getting out of it.

Verona, as it turns out, is the closest place between Maranello and Vicenza where they can meet in private. Maranello itself is out of the picture of course, because it’s essentially the Holy Land for Ferrari fans, and they’re always swarming the place at every time of year – not just in the summer. Being spotted together by fans after two years of complete radio silence is not the way Noa wants to begin her Formula 1 career. Vicenza, where she is helping her brother and his girlfriend move into their temporary apartment, again is too close to where fans might spot them to be deemed safe. Besides, everyone following Luiz on Instagram already knows she’s with him (thanks to his insufferable habit of taking pictures of her sleeping on planes), and since it’s common knowledge where her brother is spending the next couple of days (again, a consequence of his over-sharing on social media), it’s not difficult to connect the dots.

Verona is the middle ground. Somewhere neither of them are expected to be, yet close enough that they can meet up for coffee for a few hours and be back in their respective hotels again before anyone even notices they’re missing. Noa just hopes the thick scarf she’s wrapped around her neck will be a good enough disguise. Her favourite pair of high-top converse slip over the icy cobbles, and she winces as she tries to steady herself. The café they’ve arranged to meet at is right across the street. She sucks in a deep breath, slowing her rapid heartbeat, trying to convince herself it will all be ok. Then she’s walking with purpose, pushing open the door. It doesn’t take long to spot him. He’s stood up already, eyes wide, arms slightly outstretched in an awkward manner as if he’s not quite sure how to greet her. Noa steels her expression and walks over to his table.

In the past, he’d have hugged her, kissed either of her cheeks, and she’d have smiled in the way that makes his heart soar. Now it’s in a pit in his stomach. She offers him nothing more than a curt nod before sliding into the seat opposite him. Charles wipes his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans. He’s been sat in the café for almost half an hour now, a little earlier than they arranged to meet, giving himself a mental pep talk. A part of him feared she wouldn’t show up at all. Yet here she is sat in front of him, eyes glued to her folded hands, posture rigid. It feels so strange. This isn’t the way their story is supposed to unfold; they’re supposed to be best friends, together until the end. Now they feel like strangers.

“Can we make this quick please?” Noa speaks first, her voice strained, unnerved by the prolonged silence. Charles realises he’s been staring, “I told my brother I’d be back by three.”

He’s quick to nod. He wants to protest, to tell her that he doesn’t think this is something that can be sorted over a twenty minute cup of coffee, but right now, it’s enough to simply have her here. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to convince her to meet again any other time; which makes it harder for him to spit out his plan for the coming season, in all honesty. But at least she’s here to listen to it, he thinks.

“Alright.” Charles croaks, immediately wincing at the sound of his voice. He can’t fathom why his heart is starting to pound now, and his skin feels like it’s trying to peel itself from his bones. He’s never been this nervous around Noa before, not his Noa. Sure, he used to feel his cheeks heat up when she complimented him, and butterflies erupt in his stomach whenever he spotted her cheering for him below the podium, but this is different. This is pure anxiety. It’s uncomfortable and it’s wrong. He should never feel this way around his best friend; not the one he remembers anyway, the one who could turn any story into an adventure, who used to brighten up his day with her laughter. But, he supposes, she isn’t really his Noa anymore. She’s changed.

They decide to order their coffees before getting down to business. She fights the look of surprise on her face when Charles orders the exact same drink that Arthur had just over a month ago: a Nutella mocha, sans chocolate flakes, because this little Italian coffee shop is a little classier than the one in London. They’ve opted for chocolate dusting instead. Noa sticks to her black coffee. She knows in another time, he’d call her choice boring, and she’d allow herself to laugh before making a quip about his sweet tooth (exactly the same as she had with Arthur – the Leclerc brothers really are carbon copies of each other, even if they’d both vehemently deny it). She also knows that Charles is thinking the same. That’s the thing about knowing someone as well as they know each other. Even though they’ve both changed, they can still read each other like open books.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat any of this for you.” Noa speaks up finally, just when the silence is beginning to grow unbearable, “I really need this deal. But I can’t and won’t accept it if you don’t co-operate with me.” She states. Her tone is hard and business-like. It’s so different to the vibrancy with which he remembers her talking. He finds it hard to believe this is the same person.

“I’m going to co-operate.” Charles responds feebly, “Look, I know how important this is. I don’t want to ruin it for you.” He says, almost pleading. He can live without this contract – God knows he already makes enough from sponsorships anyway – but if Chanel needs both of them for it to work, then he’ll sign without a moment’s hesitation. He’s done holding back Noa’s career; unintentionally or not.

“Ok.” The aforementioned blinks in surprise, “Then we’ll need to lay out some ground rules.” She carries on, seemingly unfazed. He nods his agreement immediately, “First, we can’t let our…past interfere with our jobs. That applies to Chanel and to racing. Second, we don’t talk to the media about 2018. Or any other aspects of our personal lives that we wouldn’t want getting out to the fans.”

Charles nods again. Everything she’s saying sounds perfectly reasonable so far, and more importantly doable. They’re all the things he had been hoping they could agree on when he suggested this meeting.

“Third.” Noa speaks up again, her expression falling further, “We can pretend to Chanel and the media that we’ve patched up our differences. But once the cameras are off, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Charles’ heart all but stops.

“W-What?” he stammers. He searches her face for any sign of a prank or a joke that he may have missed, but she’s perfectly stoic. Her features are still soft as he remembers: cheekbones curving perfectly, thick lashes brushing against her upper cheek, cupid’s bow lips that he knows can curve into the most beautiful smile on earth. Yet she’s cold and hardened to him in a way he never thought was possible. Naïve Charles always believed he’d be the object of her sweet smiles and golden features forever. Now he’s on the end of a look she’d only give to her worst enemy.

“I’m serious, Charles. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She repeats, as if to twist the knife in deeper. He can’t find the words in him to reply for a moment. Everything he’s feeling is so confusing. There’s despair and unwanted anger, but the latter is bubbling up quicker. He knows it’s a defence against the emotions he won’t acknowledge. Anger is easier than accepting them, even if it’s what got them into this situation in the first place.

“So you’re just going to pretend to the world that we’re friends again, but treat me like a stranger behind closed doors?” Charles hisses, “I’m not a stranger, Noa. You can’t just act like seven years never happened –“

“Can I not?” she cuts across him, eyes blazing, “You threw away those seven years pretty easily.”

So did you! He wants to yell. Charles has battled with the memory of their last conversation for years now, and he still refuses to believe that every harsh word spoken that night was entirely his fault. They both said things they didn’t mean. They both threw their friendship onto the furnace like a piece of discarded rubbish. It wasn’t just him.

But there’s no point digging all that up now. It’s not why they’re here. So Charles reins the venom on his tongue back in, stamping out the flames licking at his chest. He knows that one day they’ll have to speak about the events of that night, but today isn’t that day. They simply need to figure out how they’re going to navigate their careers around each other for the next few months. Though evidently, if Noa’s ‘ground rules’ are anything to go by, coming to an agreement isn’t going to be so easy – Charles simply can’t in good conscience fake their friendship in front of cameras and have her look at him like this whenever they’re alone; as if she hates him. His heart just can’t take that. If she wants compromise, she’s going to have to do the same for him too.

“Look,” he begins, levelling out his voice as best he can, “I understand why you don’t want to talk to me. I really do. But we’re not going to be able to convince anyone that we’re friends again unless we at least try to work through our differences.”

“Why not?” She shoots back almost immediately. The laugh that greets her is bitter and sorrowful.

“You’re very expressive, Noa.” Charles murmurs, “Even when you try to hide it. Everyone in this room right now can see that you’d rather be anywhere but here. With me.” He chuckles again. It’s completely humourless; almost jarring. She’s never heard his laugh so empty before.

“So what do you suggest?” she speaks again after a moment, her tone not quite so accusatory this time. “We can’t just move on. Pretend like nothing happened.”

“No, I know. I know.” He breathes out, a little shaky. He has an idea for how they may be able to put their differences aside – at least for a little while. Somewhere safe for the both of them, where he’ll have protection if she tries to bite his head off, and she’ll have others to turn to when she inevitably gets sick of the sight of him: family. “I think, if we spend some time together before the season starts, it’ll be easier.” He says warily. Noa’s eyes narrow.

“What are you suggesting?” she asks. Her voice is soft, but it’s low too, and dangerous. Charles isn’t sure how to approach this. He views it like ripping off a band-aid, as cliché as the phrase might be for describing uncomfortable situations. Though it absolutely applies in this case. He’s not stupid enough to believe she’ll accept his offer without putting up a fight.

“Come stay with me.” He blurts out, “In Monaco. For a while, I mean. So we can figure everything out.”

He searches her face for a reaction. She’s eerily calm, and though it feels like a warning to him, he takes it as an opportunity to further support his case. Frankly, he’s lucky she hasn’t thrown her coffee in his face yet, like some kind of cruel, scorching symbol of rejection. Charles knows when to take the win.

“I’m out of my apartment for a while, so I’m staying with maman.” He continues hastily, “I could ask her to set up your old room again? It hasn’t been used since 2018, but we kept everything in it pretty much the same.”

Still, no reaction. Nothing but an unwavering, undecipherable stare. She’s weighing up the pros and cons in her mind already, he knows she is. Despite being a deeply emotional (occasionally erratic) person, Noa rarely makes any decision without thinking it through thoroughly beforehand. She’s surprisingly methodical in that sense. Charles likens it to the way she thinks before a race. Sometimes she’ll sit in silence for hours, considering every possible factor; grid position, immediate opponents, strategy, various curveballs that are almost always thrown into the mix. It’s the mentality of a winner, he thinks. But she hasn’t quite mastered it yet – or they wouldn’t be here having this conversation right now.

“It’s not just for me.” He tries again desperately, all but begging for some kind of reaction now, “Maman misses you. She always tells me. Arthur and Lorenzo would love to see you again too –“

“I saw Arthur in London.” She says softly. Her voice cutting across him almost comes as a surprise. Though that’s mostly because she still sounds so calm…and perhaps something else as well, something familiar he can’t quite put his finger on.

“I know.” Charles nods. “He told me.”

A few days before Christmas, at their annual family get-together. Hearing her name from his brother’s mouth, breaking the unspoken rule they have to never talk about her when he’s around, woke something up inside him. Something he’d tried to bury – evidently, not deep enough.

“Of course he did.” Noa scoffs. She’d known Arthur would feed back their conversation in that little café, even though she asked him not to. Brothers stick together, after all. She shakes her head. That’s not the point of this. Back to the point.

“You can’t expect me to drop everything and come live with you for – what, a month?” she tells him. Her harsh tone is gone, but she’s exasperated now, almost defeated. This isn’t going to be a quick fix like she hoped, that’s clear now – though she knows she was deluded to believe it would be in the first place. It’s clear what Charles is asking her. Stay with him until the start of the season. A little like exposure therapy; confront her with forced proximity, and it might not be so hard to act like everything is normal when the cameras and the media come around. They’ll be pretending enough with Pascale and his brothers watching, after all. Charles knows Noa would do whatever it takes to keep them happy, especially his mother.

“I have my own family too, in case you forgot. I can’t just disappear for two months.” She reasons. He’s already shaking his head before she’s even finished her sentence.

“I’m not asking you to.” He sighs, “Obviously you don’t have to stay the whole time. We’ll both have testing and other things besides…I’m not going to be keeping you under house arrest, Noa.” He trails off, running a hand through his hair, “Just – come back to Monaco after testing and after seeing your family. For the sake of this deal, just help me try to make things normal again. Please.”

Come back to Monaco. Come back for him, is what he means. Noa can hear the undertone, hear the desperation, the pleading. Logistically, it makes sense. They’re both based in Europe for testing, within a similar range of the western hemisphere. Their schedules will overlap, leaving them with time where they’re both free of duties. Come back when he’s there. Staying with Pascale is his cover, but it’s nothing more than that – Noa will always love the rest of the Leclerc family. It’s not them she has to learn to tolerate again. Like it or not, she’s beginning to realise that Charles is right. The only way they’ll be able to work together is if they’re already used to it. Exposure therapy.

"Ok." she says simply, not meeting his eye. Charles blinks in surprise, "Give me a couple of weeks to sort everything out with Raffa and my family. How does early February sound to you? Say around…the eighth?”

“Uh –“ he stutters slightly, wracking his brain to try and remember if he has any prior commitments that might clash. He can think of none, “Yeah, that sounds good for me. I’ll have to check with maman of course…” he trails off. Noa nods in understanding. Though Charles knows that his mother will clear whatever she has in her schedule, no matter how important, to accommodate for his former best friend. Even if they’ve been estranged for two years, Pascale still considers Noa as her daughter. It’s this that makes it hard for him to face his mother sometimes – the sorrow and disappointment in her eyes, that because of his mistakes, it’s not just him that has lost her.

“Don’t think that just because I’m not complaining means I’m happy about this. I’m not.” She reiterates, the ice returning to her eyes. Charles’ heart sinks as he watches it take over her features again, features that he thought may have been beginning to soften. But then her previous words hit him again, like a head-on collision with a freight train. I don’t want anything to do with you. He has to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“I know.” He says quietly, “But I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

He can only hope that in the time they are forced to spend together, he may be able to break down some of the walls she’s clearly built up against him – to soften her eyes when she looks at him, and make her smile like he always used to. Charles doesn’t yet know how they are going to be able to move forward, but he knows he has to try before it’s too late. He’s already wasted two years. He refuses to let any more precious time slip between his fingers.

Noa doesn’t stick around long after that, and though it feels like an omen, he tries his best not to seem too downhearted. She suggests they split the bill when it’s placed in front of them. Charles is quick to shake his head at her. He insists on paying for both of them; he won’t hear otherwise, even when he can see the annoyance that flashes in her eyes at his persistence. But Noa relents soon enough, allowing the waiter that attends to them to put the bill on his card. Who is she to turn down a free coffee?

They leave separately, five minutes apart – as per Noa’s insistence. She doesn’t want to risk being seen leaving together, already aware of the many possible headlines the media would come up with even if they caught the tiniest glimpse of them. Charles has half a mind to tell her that they could just have easily been spotted together in the café, but holds his tongue just in time. She doesn’t give him enough time to say a proper goodbye. Noa waltzes out of the doors just as quickly as she had walked in; it reminds him of how abruptly she’d turned away that night in 2018. He can’t even begin to form the words of an explanation or an apology. She never waits long enough.

He sits in solitude in the café for a few more minutes, playing back their entire conversation in his head. It went much better than he had been expecting, yet there’s an empty feeling in his chest as he recalls the cold softness of her voice. His worst fear is coming true. He feels like he doesn’t really know her anymore. It’s as if the chapter in his life that centred around Noa is closing, against his will, and no matter what he does, he can’t stop the page from falling shut forever. Charles knows of course that nothing can last forever. But she is the one person he believed would always be constant.

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nowritingonthewall · 2 years

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Pspsps... Your adorable kissing headcannon with Steven ive not stopped thinking about all day and I'd really love to see one about Marc. I know he's probably not as open with his affection but I still think he'd have his own little ways to show love.

Maybe if you have time and you want to? Pleaseee

It makes me so giddy that you enjoyed Steven’s sweet lil’ kisses 🥰 (and I would like to apologize for the sprinkles of angst that I never seem to be able to go without when it comes to Marc 🥺)

A kissing/affection headcanon for Marc Spector x gn!reader

- Marc would need so much reassurance when it comes to showing any kind of affection for you. After all, the idea of the touch of a hand being caring and loving and beautiful has been more of an abstract concept to him than something he has been allowed to learn from experience. And there will always, always be a part of him that can’t help wonder whether his advances are actually welcome.

- The first shy little kiss to your hand happens almost by accident. You’ve been playing with his hands after finding out how much it soothes his anxious mind and he gets so lost in your calming touch that he can’t help but plant the softest of kisses to your fingers. The startled look he gives you afterwards, like a puppy waiting to be scolded, breaks your heart.

Even though his self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy may lessen a little further with every kiss that is met with your comforting tenderness instead of rejection, he never quite loses those puppy dog eyes whenever he goes in for a kiss. His usually tense and guarded expression will soften and give way to the warmest and gentlest eyes that melt your heart before he’s even started to lean in.

Marc’s kisses are neither casual nor meaningless nor half-hearted. He puts his whole heart and soul into every single one of them. While they are always tender and soft (as if he was afraid to hurt you), they never leave any doubt about how he feels about you.

- Marc gives the best hugs imaginable (and sometimes even better than that). It takes some time to weaken the shields he built around his soft and gentle heart over the years, but once they start to crumble, he’ll make you feel like he was born to hug you. It’s a wonderful way to act upon his deeply protective instincts without using his crescent darts and it conveys everything that he can’t find the words for (yet). He has so much love and warmth to give and somehow he manages to distil those feelings and pour them into every single one of his hugs. They don’t just make you feel loved and safe and cared for, they make you feel like nothing in the world can hurt you, as long as you are lying in his arms.

Detecting even the subtlest of shifts in the mood of people around him used to be something of a survival strategy for him, which means that he sometimes notices when you start feeling sad before you even register it yourself. Whether something goes wrong at work, a co-worker keeps driving you around the bend, you’re exhausted, or you’re just feeling a little lost. He’s simply there, carefully wrapping his arms around you, briefly hesitating until you either lay a reassuring hand on his or he can feel you relaxing into his embrace. Whatever has been troubling you begins to dissolve, as he holds you close, letting you bury your face in his shoulder, resting his cheek against yours, gently stroking your back in a soothing rhythm. Just when you think that you’re as close as humanly possible, he somehow manages to draw you even closer towards his heart. It doesn’t take long until your problems don’t appear so overwhelming any more. And he is never the first one to let go.

- You can usually tell who is fronting in the morning before even opening your eyes. Because where Steven is an adorable little Mr. Grumpypants who needs to be dragged out of bed by his feet in the morning, Marc is usually wide awake and up before your alarm clock even gets so much as a chance of thinking to disturb your dreams. On those mornings, you wake to the smell of your favourite tea (or any other morning brew) that’s been placed on your night stand. It takes a few mornings for him to work up the courage to accompany your cuppa with a soft and gentle good morning kiss. He probably would have bailed a few more times if he hadn’t suddenly found his legs being redirected to your bed by Jake with Steven giving him a pep talk on how you won’t be mad at him for waking you up because he is actually the one making the bloody business of having to get up in the morning so much better for you.

While his tender good morning kisses tend to get a little steamier as he gains more confidence, he always takes care not to hit anything too sensitive in order to prevent things from escalating and making you a few hours late for work. Which works most of the time. Sometimes. Once or twice. Okay, actually it just worked once so far, but it was a very good “once”. It’s just too tempting too pull him towards you, letting your hand glide over his back ever so tenderly, playing with his hair, gently massaging his scalp until he whimpers helplessly into your neck, slowly melting into a human pancake. He used to be way too anxious and stressed to stay in bed for even a minute after waking up. Now he wouldn’t mind lying in bed with you like that all day.

- Marc is not the type of man to run towards you in the middle of Trafalgar Square to give a public display of a kiss so passionate that it leaves the lions at Nelson’s column covered in steam. His ways of showing his affection for you in front of other people are far more subtle. Holding your hand as you walk down the streets together, squeezing it now and then as if to make sure that you are still there. Pulling you a little closer when there is a crowd or whenever he senses potential unpleasantness by strangers. When he was on his own, he didn’t think twice about wandering around the most dangerous districts of the city. Now, with you by his side, he suddenly avoids the less safe routes and tenses at the slightest signs of trouble. They never feel possessive, his hand on the small of your back or his arm around you waist. They are just a heart-warming reminder that you have someone looking out for you who would always have your back, no matter what.

If he can’t stop himself from pulling you in for a proper kiss, he’ll find a little alleyway, a hidden corner or something else to find shelter behind. Just something that makes him feel a little safer to let his guard down in public like that. The hidden alleyways always make you feel like giggly little school kids. And to be fair, he didn’t get to experience a lot of that during his actual school days, so you are more than happy to help him make up for that.

- During the colder months, he offers you his gloves and scarf as soon as you show the slightest sign of a shiver. He would give you his coat if you didn’t object vehemently to his attempts to do so. Unless you’re waiting together at a bus stop and he simply can’t take your discomfort any longer. He’ll immediately open his coat for you, inviting you to share it with him. The cold, the grey sky and the seemingly never-ending chilling London drizzle are quickly forgotten as you snuggle up to him, resting against his broad and comfy chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the comforting safety of his embrace, bathing in his endless warmth. You can’t help but being a little disappointed whenever the bus decides to choose that exact moment to arrive on time for a change.

- Marc is the most ticklish one out of the three boys. He has never had a chance to find out before because nobody has actually ever really tried to tickle him until now. You find out by pure coincidence, when Marc fronts during a pillow and tickle fight between Steve and you. After a few timid attempts by him to tickle you, you ask him whether you may show him how it is done, which results in him making the cutest little squeaky noises you’ve ever heard. Not being able to resist drawing even more of those adorable sounds from him, you immediately launch an attack that makes him squeal even louder before his squeals turn into laughter and his laughter turns into hiccups. You barely know how to contain the fuzzy warmth blooming in your chest upon seeing him so completely relaxed and at ease. He actually considers begging for mercy when he sees the look of pure happiness on your face and he decides that he would do anything to keep you looking at him like that.

- While Steven sees his little kisses as a way to emphasize his declarations of love for you, it’s the other way around for Marc. It’s the closeness and warmth and safety of countless intimate moments that finally give him the courage to put it into words without having to fear your reaction.

“I love you, too, Marc!”

#marc spector #moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector headcanons #fanfiction #marc x you #my headcanons #chrissie tries to write #chrissie gifs

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tabitha42 · 3 months

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The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 22

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

The girls returned to camp to find the tieflings ready to head off having packed everything away. The boys had got back before them, and Saff was glad to see Gale finally awake.

“Morning,” she said as she walked up to him, giving him a smile.

“Morning,” he replied, returning the smile.

“Can’t believe I was actually up before you today.”

“Ah, yes, well I confess I was nursing a worse hangover than I thought humanly possible,” he said with a laugh. “I assume you weren’t cursed with such an affliction, then?”

“Luckily not. Not as bad as you, at least.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone… especially not you.” It was a bit of a cheesy line, but it made her smile.

“I hope you’re feeling a bit better now.”

“I am, thank you,” he said with a nod. “And, um… ahem… I wanted to talk about last night. I… wanted to say that, even though the alcohol may have addled my body… it didn’t addle my mind.” He looked at her seriously, sincerity in his words. “I meant what I said. Every word. And I would still like to talk to you more tonight… if you’re interested?”

A wide smile spread across her lips.

“Of course,” she said happily, hoping she didn’t come across as too eager.

“Wonderful. I look forward to it.”

That wasn’t quite true. In fact… he was rather dreading it. He feared how she would react to finding out the truth of it all, of what he did… telling her he was an utter failure with a time bomb in his chest, that couldn’t even kiss her, who’d messed up so badly even a god was angry at him, wasn’t exactly going to paint him in the best light… but he couldn’t keep it from her any longer. He’d already hidden it for too long.

After the tieflings left it was decided it was finally time to move the camp and head north towards the mountain pass. Halsin stayed with them to help, and eventually they had everything ready to go.

Gale was taking a moment to look round the area and take it in one last time before they left when Saff walked up to him while they waited for the others to finish their last minute preparations.

“Hard to believe we’re finally leaving…” he said wistfully, looking round at what had been their home for the last few days.

“Yeah…” she agreed, looking round too. “I’m going to miss it.”

“I hope we get just as lucky with the next place.”

Soon they were off. Saff took one last look back at the camp, thinking of all they’d done here - the nights spent around the campfire with her friends, the lessons spent with Gale down by the river’s edge… she hoped, maybe, one day they’d return here once this whole ordeal was over.

The walk was even longer than normal with the heavy bags of camp supplies weighing them down. As they passed the grove Halsin stayed behind to wrap up a few last things, saying he would meet them at the mountain pass. After all, a walk that would take them several days would take him mere hours as an eagle. They arranged a day to meet and he headed into the grove while they continued on. They were all rather disappointed to have him leave the party, partly because they liked his company, and partly because he’d been able to carry so much of their equipment.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the spot they’d agreed to stop for lunch - the blighted village. They’d cleared it of goblins before so they knew it would be safe and provide plenty of shelter should they need it. Plus, Astarion was quick to point out, they didn’t stay long there before and there was probably plenty of loot to be had.

Saff followed hesitantly into one of the houses, feeling a bit unsure about looting the belongings of the goblins’ victims. Astarion had absolutely no problem with it of course, and was soon devling down into basements with Shadowheart and Lae’zel.

Saff did eventually find something she thought was worth taking - alchemy equipment. She gathered all the tools and ingredients she could find and was soon set up next to Gale where he cooked lunch for the group, brewing any potions she could out of the ingredients available to her.

“Karlach will like this one,” she commented to Gale as she watched her concoction boil. “It’ll be a potion of hill giant strength - if I got it right. She’ll be able to arm wrestle an owlbear with this in her!”

“Don’t suppose she’d be willing to give me a sip first while we cart this camp equipment around? My back is killing me,” he half-joked.

“That’s not a bad idea…” she mused with a chuckle, very much feeling the effects of carrying such a heavy bag around herself as well.

Soon they gathered for lunch, with Astarion and the others being the last to return. Their looting seemed to have been successful, given the grin on Astarion’s face.

“Good hunt?” Wyll asked as the group sat down to eat.

“Fantastic. Who’d have thought such an innocuous little village would be hiding such treasures?” Astarion said happily. “Say, I don’t suppose any of you came across a gemstone, did you? Round, about this big? Probably an amethyst?” he asked, holding his hands out to show what would be a pretty sizable gemstone.

“No…” Gale said, narrowing his eyes slightly suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. But do let me know if anyone comes across anything like that.”

They decided it was best not to question it.

They chatted together as Gale began to serve up lunch, til Astarion’s ears pricked.

“Shhh,” he hushed quickly, holding out his hand for them to stop talking as they looked at him. He paused a moment, listening. “Someone’s here…”

He grabbed his bow and began silently moving towards the noise. The others slowly, carefully, readied their weapons, staying as quiet as possible as they hid amongst the ruins. They let Astarion take the lead, watching as he silently stalked across the village square they’d been having lunch in and pressed himself up against the wall of a building. They could hear the footsteps now, crunching along the broken stone of the pathway, growing ever louder til they reached the corner…

A figure stepped out. Masculine, dressed in embroidered black and red robes, his face obscured by the shadow of a hood.

“Who goes there?” Astarion demanded, drawing his bow and pointing the arrow to the man’s face. He was so nonplussed when Astarion spoke that one might even think he’d known Astarion was there, and while he clearly wasn’t threatened, he did at least do Astarion the respect of stopping.

“You don’t want to do that,” he said calmly. “It won’t go well for you.”

It was only when she heard his voice did she recognise him.

“Malitas!”

Saff ran out from cover, smiling as she headed towards them. Astarion looked at her in surprise, then back to the man, who was now smiling too as he lowered his hood to reveal long, dark hair tucked behind the familiar pointed ears of a fellow high elf. His head was adorned with an intricate silver circlet bejewelled with jade and obsidian, and his golden skin was starting to show the first wrinkles of old age.

“Saffron! My dear, I’ve been so worried about you,” he said as he hurried towards her. The others began to emerge from their hiding places, though he paid them no mind as he looked over Saff.

“You know him?” Astarion asked, lowering his bow.

“Yes. He’s my master. Everyone, this is Malitas,” she said, turning to the rest of the group. She glanced at Gale, who was looking at Malitas slightly sceptically. Malitas looked over at the others, eyeing each of them for a moment, until Astarion spoke and pulled his attention back.

“And to think, I was about to put an arrow through your head. My apologies,” he said with a chuckle as he put his bow away.

“Oh, no harm done. I would have disintegrated you first,” Malitas replied casually, somewhat to Astarion’s annoyance, before turning to Saff with a much more concerned look. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said with a nod. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? My apprentice goes missing and you expect me to just do nothing? Of course not. I set out immediately to find you. A few divination rituals set me in the right direction, though it certainly hasn’t been an easy search. But enough about that, we have far more pressing matters. Tell me - are my fears true? Was it the Nautiloid that took you?”

She sighed slightly and nodded.

“Gods… and have they infected you?” he asked. Another nod. “Mystra save us…” he whispered, looking away in despair.

“But it’s ok!” Saff said quickly, to his surprise. “We’re going to get it cured. We’re on our way to a githyanki creche. They can cure us!” She glanced over at Lae’zel as she mentioned the creche, before turning back at Malitas, who was looking over the group.

“You’re all infected?” he asked. Lae’zel was the one to answer.

“We are. Your apprentice speaks truly - we will be rid of these parasites soon enough,” she said, confident as ever. Malitas looked curious.

“A githyanki… it’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind. Where is this creche of yours?”

“In the mountain pass,” she answered, which seemed to worry him.

“The mountain pass?? That’s days from here. Ceremorphosis doesn’t take that long. You’ll be long turned before you reach there. In fact… are you sure you’re infected? You’re all looking surprisingly… healthy,” he said sceptically.

“Yeah, that’s… the thing,” Saff started, a bit awkwardly. “We don’t have any symptoms. We all had this dream, a visitor came and said they were protecting us and stopping us transforming. We don’t know if it’s true or not, but… something seems to be protecting us.”

Malitas was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowing.

“Fascinating… I’ve never heard of anything like this…” he murmured, scratching his chin, before quickly shaking his head. “But we can’t rely on that. Saffron, listen to me,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “I believe I may be able to cure you, but we need to get back to Baldur’s Gate as soon as possible.”

“You can cure us??” she gasped excitedly, though he didn’t match her excitement.

“I can cure… you,” he said after a moment. “It is not an easy spell and I only have the materials to do it once. I cannot help your friends. I’m sorry.”

There was a long moment of silence… until she stepped back away from him.

“Then… you can go back to Baldur’s Gate, and I’ll see you when I get there,” she decided. “I’m not leaving them.” She didn’t see, but there was a look of surprise from some members of the group, to see her so loyal to them.

“What? Saffron, no, don’t throw your life away for people you’ve only known for a few days!” he argued, but she wasn’t having it.

“They’re my friends, I’m staying with them,” she said firmly, folding her arms.

“Mmph…”

He pressed his fingers to his brow and shook his head, then turned to the others, as if to assess them. As he looked at each of them, his curiosity grew.

“My my Saffron, you do keep some interesting company, don’t you?” he said, looking at them in turn. “A githyanki from the astral plane. A vampire that can walk in sunlight. A cleric of Shar, of all gods! A tiefling with an infernal engine for a heart. The Blade of Frontiers himself! With an unexpected new look. And…”

He trailed off a bit as he came to Gale. For a moment the two looked at each other, til Gale’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re looking into our minds…” he growled accusingly, clenching his fists slightly. Suddenly it became clear how he knew so much about the others, and they were none too pleased with the intrusion.

“That I am. Saffron is my apprentice, I will do what is necessary to protect her. And you were the only one who not only noticed, but was even able to stop me. I have met very few people that can do that. Which only confirms my suspicions of who you are - Gale Dekarios, the prodigy of Waterdeep! It is such an honour,” he said, taking a deep bow. Though there was something ever so slightly… off about his manner of speech.

“Wait, you know each other??” Saff gasped in surprise, but Malitas shook his head.

“Not personally. But I know of him. Of course I do, any self-respecting wizard would…” he looked over at her. “You don’t recognise him?” he asked. She shook her head, rather embarrassed. “I clearly need to keep you more up to date with wizarding news then, because his name was all over it about a year ago. Gale of Waterdeep, prodigy, archmage… Chosen of Mystra,” he said, though the tone of his voice showed that he was certainly not as impressed by those things as one might expect him to be.

Gale bristled, realising how much Malitas knew about him… and realising now how much Saff was about to find out.

“You… are one of Mystra’s Chosen?!” she gasped, turning to Gale with wide eyes. Not only her, but the rest of the group too now turned to him in surprise. He felt their eyes on him, burning into him… but how did he tell them the truth, that he was no longer her Chosen because of his own folly?

“Her Chosen, and more… if the rumours are to be believed,” Malitas continued, a slight smirk creeping onto his lips.

“What- what do you mean?” Saff asked quickly, turning to Malitas, who kept his eyes on Gale.

“The rumours are true, aren’t they Gale?” he said, watching Gale for a moment. “Mystra’s Chosen… and her lover.”

As she looked back at him, Gale couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. They heard Astarion stifle an impressed, disbelieving laugh.

“Of course, that all changed a year ago, didn’t it?” Malitas continued, then turned his speech to Saff. “They say he was cast out by Mystra and locked himself in his tower, never to emerge. No one could reach him, no one knew what happened. Plenty of speculation, but no answers. I suppose the Nautiloid plucked you from your solitary confinement, did it Gale?” he asked, but received no answer. He chuckled, and turned back to Saff. “A true mystery indeed. What do you think he could possibly have done to invoke such anger from our kind and forgiving goddess?” Saff stared at Gale with wide eyes, and still he couldn’t bring himself to look at her from the shame. Saff could hardly believe it… she wouldn’t have believed it if Gale had not effectively confirmed the truth of it himself.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to get answers today. Pity,” Malitas said, then finally turned away from Gale to Saff. “Come, Saffron. We have to go.”

At first she could barely react, her mind still reeling from the revelations. To find out he’d been keeping something so big from her… part of her believed that he had no obligation to tell her, but she thought they were closer than that. Her own words to Lae’zel came back to her. You realise they’re not like that at all, and that you’ve not actually fallen for them. You’ve fallen for this idea you had of them that isn’t actually real. Was that the case with Gale? How much more had he not told her about? And then there was the question of what he did that could have been so bad for Mystra to cast him out…

Nonetheless, she stepped back again.

“N-no. I’m staying,” she said, sounding less confident than before, but still determined.

“Gods help me…” Malitas murmured, shaking his head. “Saffron, a word? In private?”

She glanced back to the others, to Gale in particular… but he wasn’t looking at her. He couldn’t bring himself to. Trying to ignore the pang of sadness she felt, she turned and headed off with Malitas.

#gale #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav

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chenziee · 1 year

Text

Unsupervised

@lawluevents - Day 9: Reunion/Trust @onepiece-bingo: Sword

Alternate summary: "I trust you with my life but do NOT touch that knife or so help me..."

Insert obligatory "I don't have a single word for tomorrow so if you don't hear from me by 4am my time tomorrow, you know why"

[ Read on AO3 | series ]

—————

The moment he heard Straw Hat had arrived in the Land of Wano, Law knew he had to act fast. They didn’t spend weeks planning, preparing, carefully protecting their covers, and secretly gathering information and allies for it all to be destroyed by one unsupervised idiot.

He knew that if he didn’t grab Straw Hat by the neck the moment he stepped in, it was only a matter of minutes before he went and shouted he was going to kick Kaido’s ass and become the Pirate King from the roof of some building in Bakura Town. Foolishly, Law had thought that with Roronoa there, they wouldn’t straight up pick a fight with the Beast Pirates at the very least. Foolishly… he forgot that an unsupervised Roronoa was just as bad as an unsupervised Straw Hat.

Never mind the two of them being left unsupervised together.

As Law watched the people of the Okobore Town cry and celebrate at the sight of the crashed, stolen in broad daylight Treasure Ship, he sighed deeply. He really should have ignored Hawkins and just gone to drag these two idiots away.

But, what was done was done and now Law had to deal with the consequences—the Beast Pirates knowing they were there, Holdem about to run crying to Jack, and a bunch of Gifters stomping their feet and yelling about robbery just metres away.

And yet, the worst thing to happen to their plan wasn’t even there yet.

Law barely managed to finish the thought when a giant basin crashed to the ground and right on top of the aforementioned Gifters.

“Here we go! Fresh water!!”

And there it was. The greatest disaster to ever befall the Land of Wano and Law’s entire life.

Law wanted to chew him out but seeing how he grinned and told all the people of Okobore Town to blame him… Law couldn’t do anything but sigh deeply. Leave it to Straw Hat to be so selfless in the most selfish way humanly possible.

How was Law supposed to yell at him now without making himself be the asshole?

“Oh! Torao!!” Straw Hat called when he finally noticed him, his face lighting up and splitting into a grin so wide that it felt like his mouth was going to tear—an expression that made Law’s heart skip a beat at the knowledge that he was the one to put it there simply by being next to him.

Law hated how the corners of his mouth twitched in return. He was trying to be mad here, goddamn it. Not fall in love all over again just because he didn’t see that smile for a few weeks….

“Straw Hat-ya,” Law said, keeping his voice carefully measured. “You do realise this is a rebellion, right?”

“I’m just repaying a favour!” Straw Hat defended himself. “It’s not like I punched Kaido in the face. Yet.”

Law groaned. “You’re impossible.”

When Straw Hat only laughed, Law couldn’t say he was surprised. But then warm arms wrapped around his waist and a whole human body pressed against him and he blinked.

“What are you doing?” Law asked, his eyes dropping to look at Straw Hat’s face which was tilted back further than should be possible, his rubbery neck twisted back into an unnatural angle where he was resting his chin against Law’s chest.

“I missed you,” Straw Hat said happily, the grin plastered on his face widening even more.

The sight was making Law’s heart do weird things, things Law understood but refused to acknowledge. But even so… it was impossible to fight anymore.

Before he could stop himself, one of his hands cupped Luffy’s face and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Luffy’s lips. It was a simple kiss, one they’ve shared so many times before they had split up in Zou, and yet, it felt like the first time. It hadn’t even been that long since they had last seen each other. Maybe three, four weeks? How stupid.

If it was like this after so little time apart, what the hell were they going to do when the alliance fulfilled its purpose?

Law felt almost embarrassed being worried about something like that. He wasn’t a horny, pining teenager after all—never was one in the first place—so what the hell was his problem?

He should probably think about all that after they actually beat Kaido. Right now, Straw Hat was in his arms and hopefully not going anywhere unsupervised for a while. He had punched a bit too many holes into their carefully laid out plan already for Law to let him go anywhere without someone with an ounce of sense in their head. Not that that had ever stopped Luffy from ruining everything but there was this thing called damage control which Roronoa had spectacularly failed at just earlier.

Idiots, the both of them.

Law hated how that thought made him smile into the kiss, making Luffy giggle. Law huffed to himself before he finally pulled away.

“I trusted you’d come back,” he muttered quietly, his thumb tracing the scar underneath Luffy’s left eye gently.

Luffy snickered. “Of course! Got Sanji back and all!”

“Good job.” Law chuckled quietly, pressing one last peck to Luffy’s mouth.

When he tried to pull away, however, Luffy stopped him; his hand grabbed onto Law’s yukata, pulling him down and refusing to let go. And somehow… Law didn’t have the willpower to fight him.

His lips curling into a smirk, Law let Luffy lead the kiss this time, his clumsy movements making warmth spread in Law’s chest. God, he missed this idiot so much…

“Get a fucking room.”

Law clicked his tongue in annoyance at the same time as Luffy groaned as the two of them finally let go of each other. But even when Law took a step back, their hands still found each other and Law laced their fingers together, squeezing Luffy’s hand gently.

“Sorry, Zoro,” Luffy said, but it wasn’t very convincing with the happy smile that was still plastered on his face.

“Yeah, sorry Black Leg-ya’s not here,” Law added.

“Fuck off, Torao,” Zoro hissed, shooting Law a glare.

“It’s not my fault your precious soulmate ran off to get married, don’t take it out on me,” Law shrugged, a smirk pulling on his lips.

“Now, look here—” Zoro growled but before he could say any more, Luffy interrupted him.

“Zoro, you should see your face!” He laughed loudly as he pointed at his first mate.

At that, Zoro's expression twisted in annoyance even more before he snapped, "You shut up, Luffy! Also let me see that katana already."

“No,” Luffy replied immediately while sticking his tongue out to stress his point.

Law blinked. Did he hear that right? Straw Hat and… a katana?

Turning his gaze down to Luffy’s waist, Law did a double take at the sight of the purple hilt, gold, cross-shaped handguard, and dark and light purple striped scabbard. There really was a fucking katana tucked away into Straw Hat’s obi. And judging by the aura it was giving off… it wasn’t just any random, rusty katana he found lying around somewhere either.

“Are you seriously carrying around a Meito?” Law asked, the dread he felt at the very notion almost tangible in his voice.

“What kind of samurai would I be without one?” Straw Hat asked, sounding almost offended.

“I told you you’re not even using it, Luffy,” Zoro grumbled.

“Give me that thing before something happens,” Law said as he held out his hand expectantly.

At that, Straw Hat jumped away from Law and out of reach, his hands flying to hold the katana protectively. “No way! Why does everyone keep trying to take it?”

“I just want to look at it,” Zoro snapped.

Ignoring Roronoa’s frustration, Law closed his eyes momentarily, praying for patience before he looked back at Luffy. “Because you’re going to fucking trip and stab your eye out. Give it.” Law stressed his final words by gesturing with his hand once more.

Luffy gasped dramatically while his face morphed into the most upset, unhappy expression Law had ever seen. “I thought you trusted me!” he cried, pointing an accusing finger at Law who only met his glare head on, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Not when there’s a sharp object involved,” Law stated matter-of-factly.

Immediately, Zoro burst out laughing. He clutched at his stomach, doubling over in his fit as he watched the way Luffy’s mouth fell open, an almost comedic shock painted on his face, and despite himself, despite trying to be as stern as possible, Law felt laughter trying to force its way out of his own chest as well at the sight.

With a huff, Straw Hat crossed his arms over his chest, shooting another glare at Law, then the still laughing Zoro, and finally Law again. “You’re a jerk. You’re both jerks. I hate you!” he announced before turning around decisively—

—and gasping again when his eyes fell on the Treasure Ship that was now swarmed by the people of Okobore Town, all the food being carefully unloaded and divided between everyone. Immediately forgetting about either Law, Zoro, or the katana, Straw Hat ran forward, shouting at the townspeople, “Hey, the meat’s mine!! Don’t just take it all!!”

Law shook his head in disbelief. Unable to fight it anymore, a chuckle slipped past his lips as he watched Luffy jump around, stuffing his face and laughing with people he didn’t even know. Bringing smiles to everyone’s faces without even trying, just like he always did.

“And here I got made fun of because Ero-cook ran off,” Zoro muttered pointedly, amusement clear in his voice.

“Shut the fuck up, Roronoa-ya,” Law groaned.

Zoro snorted, his voice light when he replied, “You’re hopeless, Torao.”

“Says the guy who did nothing but stress-train the entire way here.”

“Touche,” Zoro laughed.

They were silent for a moment, simply watching as Luffy talked to Tama about something with a serious, determined look in his eyes. It felt like he was a completely different person now than he was a mere minute ago… but he was still Luffy even so.

And Law loved both versions of him—the bubbly, stupid one and the deadly serious, charismatic one—equally.

Oh god, how embarrassing.

Law took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed.”

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darkmermaidao3 · 11 months

Text

Clarity Chapter One (Bonten Sanzu)

Minors do not interact (18+)

WARNINGS: Gang activity, mentions of drugs, mentions of prostitution, mentions of gambling, murder/attempted murder, guns, mentions of torture. Hopefully that's it.

Aquamarine eyes narrowed in utter annoyance, the ruckus filling the air was echoing off the walls of the numerous surrounding alleyways, a loud succession of gunshots that hadn’t let up in the long seconds that had passed, he may have been used to situations like this one but he was beyond it right now; it was always one thing after another, he didn’t understand why trash didn’t know their place.

“Shit.”

Sanzu Haruchiyo was unsure just how things could have escalated to this degree when the enemy were a bunch of tactless morons, but he wasn’t internally complaining too much, he hadn’t liked these assholes from the very beginning; it was beyond time that they were put in their grave after trying his patience so many times up until now.

“Oi, you good?!”

“Tch, their accuracy sucks!”

“Says you!”

The pink-haired man arched an eyebrow, here they were getting shot at and the Haitani Brothers still argued like a couple of kids, he should’ve expected as much considering how long they’d been stuck on this assignment, which had completely blindsided them from day one. Ran was significantly more irritable with how little sleep he’d managed since they’d been constantly on the move hunting the targets down, Rindou complaining about the other executives never getting stuck with missions such as this back-to-back like the three of them, the pair going back and forth about matters that didn’t amount to jack shit. Originally, this assignment was supposed to have been short and sweet, a single hour and be nothing more than a simple conversation; needless to say, it’d been two fucking weeks of hunting these cowards down instead as they’d made a point to dodge them for as long as they were capable. They’d been all over Japan, hitting up major cities, passing through small towns, going in endless circles chasing them, all to wind back up in Tokyo, as much as he enjoyed a game of cat and mouse, this one had tested even his patience. He was more than ready to speed up this drawn-out game, not end it, he’d be dragging that part out for as long as humanly possible with the way they’d been fucked with.

“Oi Sanzu; got any bright ideas?” the younger Haitani pressed, his voice teetering on exasperation.

They’d been stuck in this shootout for a solid five minutes and as short of a time as it sounded, a fair bit had already gone down, six bodies on the ground and unconscious for the time being, three still shooting. Bonten’s number two didn’t respond, shoving a new magazine into his handgun as he considered their options. They’d already taken down over half of these low lives, but the confined space of the alley was only making it difficult to get clean shots, too many corners to hide around, the enemy could’ve already run off had they not gotten bold enough to think they could take on the three of them and live. All of this could’ve been avoided if they’d just paid their fucking dues and instead, they’d slighted Koko; this should’ve been his shit to take care of, not theirs. Regardless, they had to wrap things up quickly before the authorities showed up, a good number of them may have been in Bonten’s pocket but not all of them, keeping those uninformed about the criminal side of things would let them continue to move freely in the public eye.

A soft hum left him in thought, throwing a quick glance around the corner at the targets before easing back, those idiots weren’t bothering to watch their back and should someone just happen to come up behind them…

‘Bang.’

A wide grin formed on his lips, that would work just fine for the time being. He’d take the ringleader’s head back to Mikey after he had his fun, there were plenty of their warehouses close by where he could do so, and the Haitani Brothers could bail out no sooner did they have answers they needed. It’d been far too long since he’d had to put lower ranked scum in their place, those that had been with them for a while knew better, the new ones too starstruck by their boss that they couldn’t do jack without being given step by step instructions, but then there were those who’d become complacent, it’d be a while before another bunch got there so he’d have to enjoy this for all it was worth. His head turned to swivel between the pair briefly, giving a short sign that he’d handle it and just needed them to cover long enough for him to end things, quick nods in affirmation coming from the both of them. He had to be quick about this, find the shortest route before the enemy realized only two guns were being fired back at them, otherwise they were in for an even bigger headache. His footsteps may not have been silent, but they didn’t have to be this time around, the banging noises sounding all around kept him from blowing his cover as he sped off, ducking into another alley to begin the process of circling around to the enemy’s side.

‘What a waste of time.’

Koko had wanted them to collect what was owed to their organization, that was originally the mission, and it should’ve been a simple hour at most conversation, leaving with a duffel filled with cash and heading back to headquarters to present it to the treasurer, as was the usual routine on the twelfth of every month. Upon arrival to the location, it’d become clear relatively quickly that the trash had turned tail and bolted, taking the loan (including interest) with them which had forced the three of them into the current situation. They hadn’t had much time at all, Rindou dashing into the driver’s seat while Ran put his phone to his ear with intent to touch base with the treasurer about what had happened, himself sending a bombardment of texts to a multitude of their people in order to get a solid trail to follow and within seconds, they were speeding down the streets of Tokyo in what would wind up being the biggest headache the three of them had dealt with in four months. They hadn’t had much of a chance to avoid it, not only had they already been out but they were the best choice out of all of the executives, which had been proven time and time again over the last several years they’d all been working together.

It always seemed to be them dealing with these types of matters, Mocchi never did jack shit except complain, drone on and on about how the lack of rivalry made for a boring time, Akashi only knew how to spend money like he was some kind of aristocrat even though the fucker was useless and didn’t contribute fuck all. Koko kept them more than just afloat, he was always coming up with new ways to make money, new business ventures, the newest being the lavish hostess bar the Haitani had invested in, hiding the prostitution ring within plain sight. Kakucho was just as valuable, always taking care of the tedious tasks that he himself wasn’t interested in handling, the face aspects of Bonten for the public eye which freed him up to do what he did best. He was number two for a reason, not only was he the most loyal to their leader out of the whole organization but he’d been watching his back the longest out of everyone, well before Bonten, before Kanto Manji, and even before Tokyo Manji Gang. His memories may have been messy with the way that things had changed back then but one thing certainly had not, Sano Manjiro was and always would be, a king. The Invincible Mikey was still undefeated to this day and was awe inspiring, there wasn’t anyone else out there that would go beyond the limits for that man like he had over the years, he’d do anything if it meant supporting him; by extent, this trash had disrespected the king and that shit absolutely wasn’t going to fly.

‘Now.’

Sanzu didn’t hesitate, coming around the corner and raising his handgun with practiced ease, squeezing the trigger without regret. The loud bang that followed the first shot had the other two enemies abandoning the shootout with the Haitani Brothers and whipping their heads around, two pairs of eyes blown wide with shock while they watched the third remaining member of their group collapse after taking a bullet to the chest. He’d purposely avoided vital organs and would do so with the other two, his katana was calling to him and it’d been quite a while since he’d brought his old friend out to play, he’d have a grand ole time slicing these pricks up for the next several hours…or days. The pink-haired man didn’t waste a second nor let the enemy get the upper hand, firing another two shots without batting an eye, a crazed grin forming on his scarred lips no sooner did they hit the ground with pained howls and giggled quietly to himself, maybe he’d kill just one right now so the other two knew that he meant business before he kicked them so hard that they blacked out.

“You stood against the king.” He drawled, his voice filled with malice; his hand rose, aiming the gun at the closest piece of trash. “Thought you were more when you were nothing but pawns.”

Another dark giggle came from him, inaudible over the screams filling the filthy alley and he made to squeeze the trigger again, his aquamarine orbs gleaming sadistically with anticipation. He’d been waiting months to get rid of this filth and they’d finally opened up the door that gave him the opportunity to do so, stealing from Koko was the same as stealing from Mikey and he’d make damn sure they knew it even beyond their last wheezing breath.

“Do you have to be so dramatic every time?”

Sanzu didn’t budge a centimeter at the words, the gun still raised while he side-eyed the elder Haitani with amusement, that was rich coming from him of all people when out of all the executives, he was the definition of a drama queen and all about putting on a good show. Rindou sighed heavily, looking entirely aggravated, whether it was over the situation or Ran’s constant antagonizing he wouldn’t know, the man moved a hand through his hair leisurely, walking next to his brother while they approached. He took the brief moment to observe the state of things, each of their shots had purposely avoided vital organs but there was no guarantee that every man lying on the ground hadn’t been hit in a precarious spot with all the moving around they’d done, bleeding out was a possibility, so was being dead but they still had three that were breathing. The only thing that would be ruined if that were the case was his future fun, they’d have to check pulses before dragging all the bodies off to the closest warehouse, regardless of if every one of those men weren’t breathing, bodies would have to be disposed of, made to disappear.

“At the very least, find out where they stashed Koko’s money before you shoot them.” Ran continued with composure, his lilac eyes filled with boredom; he could’ve scoffed, he may have been impulsive but not so much that he’d fuck himself into being forced to listen to the greedy bastard bitch. “I’d rather not listen to his complaints by coming back emptyhanded.”

“Been on our ass every day for the past two weeks.” The younger added with a grumble; he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his buzzing phone and tapping at the screen with a single hand.

As much of a pain as it was, it looked like they would have to get the answers before he could indulge in his fun because there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that the treasurer had been the one to send the text Rindou was currently engrossed in. He’d been blowing them all up multiple times a day since they’d gone on the hunt, text messages, phone calls, video chats, the impatient fuck couldn’t take a hint that they were busy; if he wanted this done right, then he should’ve left them in peace to do what they had to do to wrap things up. An over-the-top sigh left him in exasperation, but the pair were right, they needed answers, Mikey would be less than pleased if he offed the enemies before they could get that six hundred thousand back and he sure as shit didn’t want to listen to Koko’s complaints; what happened nine months ago was a prime example of what would happen should he do as he pleased, rather than what was needed.

“Very well.” He agreed grudgingly; he shifted his hand just barely, redirecting the gun to point in the direction of the man’s dick rather than his head, his smile widened dangerously. “Tell us where you stashed it.”

“Shinjuku, in Shinjuku!” the man exclaimed, his voice teetering on hysterical.

“Traitor!” another voice bellowed, sounding pissed to high heaven.

“You’re a dead man!” a different voice barked.

“Fuck you, like you wouldn’t rat if there was a gun…”

He arched an eyebrow, the squabbling between the three would’ve been entertaining had they not been on the wildest goose chase of their damn lives in the past two weeks, but his patience was worn down to nothing, he was leaning towards pistol whipping the fucks into an unconscious state as soon as they gave up the location. Both his companions seemed to be on the same page, they were just as sick of this shit as he was and they needed to get a move on before the sound of sirens broke through the stillness, the Haitani Brothers could collect the money and get it back to the treasurer before the night was out. He’d use his time getting to know their new friends, he wouldn’t be making it back to headquarters until he had everything that he needed from them, and it’d take a few days at the least, he had nine new buddies to befriend and that itself would take a fair share of time; Mikey deserved a thorough and enlightening report after all.

“How unsightly.” Ran mused, his voice distasteful; the younger of the two scoffed with a roll of his eyes, his lilac eyes that matched his brother’s pair still zeroed in on his phone.

“Get on with it Sanzu.” Rindou spoke, his tone irritable; the pink-haired man hummed quietly in acknowledgement, shifting the gun again just barely. “Koko’s about to lose his damn mind so we need more than a district.”

“Yes, yes. I know.” He retorted airily, the smile dropping off his face and a deep frown replacing it.

It didn’t seem as though they had the time to drag out the fun for answers since the authorities would be approaching before long, either they press to get what they needed, or they’d have to haul nine bodies off to one of the warehouses nearby. That itself would be a pain in the sense that they’d wind up getting stuck waiting for one of the traitors to come to and it’d be a guessing game on who would give up the location, they didn’t have all the time in the world but if it came to that, they wouldn’t have much of a choice. Without a word, he squeezed the trigger, a loud bang followed that was essentially drowned out by a horrid scream, the bullet lodging itself in the man’s knee; he didn’t know why in the fuck he had to do all the work to make these fucks immobile when Rindou was the one that could easily snap bones without much effort, he’d boasted about that shit all of their teenage years just for him to get lazy.

‘How boring.’

“Where’d you stash it, you worthless fucks?” he pressed lowly, his tone dangerous; he already had a feeling he knew where, men like this didn’t know anything about discretion and were entirely clueless when it came to hiding within plain sight.

“Kabukicho.” One replied, voice teetering on panicked.

“Should’ve known.” Rindou muttered, sounding just as unimpressed as he was; the younger Haitani tapped at his phone, obviously letting Koko know that they had an answer and when to expect them back. “Traffic’s gonna be a pain this time of night.”

“The redlight district is always popular on Friday.” Ran followed up, his voice expressing he was the furthest thing from surprised; Bonten owned plenty of businesses over there, it was easier to hide the gambling rings within the hostess clubs. “Ask Koko if anyone thought to collect rent while we’ve been busy, I’d rather get it all done in one go if not.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The younger sighed heavily.

That hadn’t crossed Sanzu’s mind, the three of them were always the ones collecting “rent” and if no one had thought to do so while they’d been on this wild goose chase, it would make sense why the treasurer was so impatient for them to wrap things up. Yet again, Mocchi and Akashi were fucking useless, either of them could’ve been taking care of these things while they’d been busy. Kakucho always stayed at Mikey’s side during times like this when he had to be away to take care of various matters, he was the only one that the pink-haired man could trust to actually watch their boss’s back, he’d been disappearing a little more often than usual lately, but he’d expected as much, that day was approaching faster than anticipated. He’d be skipping out next month, as he did every year to be Mikey’s shadow for the day in question, the Haitani Brothers would have to take care of these things on their own and maybe this time, Akashi would do something to help instead of drowning himself in alcohol like he did every fucking year.

‘Worthless piece of shit, should’ve offed him myself when I had the chance.’

Thinking about that wouldn’t do him a bit of good, he hadn’t taken the opportunity and now he was stuck dealing with the prick until he kicked the bucket, zero chance that he’d be taken out since he didn’t do anything that could be seen as dangerous, the most he could hope for was alcohol poisoning. With a heavy breath, he fired the gun without so much as a glance, a different sounding scream filling the air upon the bullet’s impact, followed by another with the third shot; now they wouldn’t have to worry about the pricks running away.

“Where in Kabukicho?” Sanzu drawled, his voice demanding; again, whatever patience he’d possessed at the start of this was nonexistent, they’d been jerked around for too long and he was going to snap if they didn’t get answers. “You have three seconds before I gauge out your eyes.”

He’d do it regardless no matter what the filth chose to do, but a satisfied grin formed on his lips at the babbling answer that came from all three enemies, now all that was left to do was have the time of his life for the next few days, he’d be dragging this out for all it was worth.

“Fucking finally.” Rindou complained with a groan; the elder of the two breathed a sigh of relief, there was no doubt he was already prepared to sleep through the whole weekend after they finished this. “Shit took too long.”

“Being stubborn did nothing to help you.” Ran commented, his voice every bit of bored. “Just put off the inevitable, you were doomed from the start.”

‘Tch, and he called me dramatic.’

His aquamarine-colored eyes rolled as he lowered the pistol, mentally preparing himself for the drawn-out process of carrying (dragging) nine separate bodies to the closest warehouse and he was much too sober for how much of a pain in the ass it would be; what remained of his pills were in the car and…

“Rindou, get the car.” He instructed, his head turned to face the man in question; not only would he have his shit but transporting the bodies would be a piece of cake, it didn’t matter if the trunk was a tight fit, the trash would fit even if they had to break bones to make it happen. “Need to get a move on.”

“I’m surprised we haven’t heard sirens yet.” The elder hummed, his voice thoughtful.

“Hideki’s buying us some time.” The younger followed up with a scoff, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world; he tucked his phone back in his pocket quickly, catching the set of car keys with ease. “Don’t think they’ll all fit though Sanzu.”

“Tch, they will.” He retorted, a sadistic gleam in his eyes; he pressed his boot against a man’s elbow lightly, applying the smallest amount of pressure. “You’re the one that used to go on about snapping bones like toothpicks, can shape them however we went.”

There wasn’t any other option, he wasn’t going to make two trips and he sure as shit wasn’t carrying nine limp bodies that would be nothing but deadweight, everything had been a clusterfuck up until now and he was going to make things as easy for himself as possible. First things first, Rindou had to get the car, he and Ran could knock these bastards out while they waited, all they’d been doing was being over the top with their howling and screaming. You’d think he was skinning them alive when all he’d done was shoot them, the legs were nonvital to begin with so they were just being a bunch of pussies, overly dramatic pansies that certainly wouldn’t shut up unless they were knocked out cold, he’d be sure to gag every one of them once they were all settled in; there wasn’t a chance he could listen to this for a few days when he only had enough pills left to make it through the night and tomorrow morning. It was absurd that they were making so much noise, it wasn’t going to change anything and they were certainly going to die by his hand so it didn’t make a lick of sense why anyone would go out of their way to be so dramatic when they knew that there was no avoiding the end; why not accept it in stride and die with a little bit of honor?

‘Ridiculous, it isn’t like there’s anyone that can hear…’

His eyes went wide when it all clicked into place, the trash hadn’t had the time to actually stop to stash that cash, they’d been on the move the whole time they’d been chasing after them, they’d passed it off to someone else to do for them and led them on to protect the true ringleader of this fiasco. This extended outside of Bonten and was more complex than they’d ever thought, it hadn’t been a simple grab and go, it’d been planned out which could only mean one thing; they were about to be ambushed. No sooner had he realized just what was in the works, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and instantly whipped the gun in that direction with intent to pull the trigger.

“Ran, Rindou! It’s a-”

His words were drowned out by the heavy stream of shots being fired from multiple directions, none of which Sanzu nor his companions had time to pinpoint, they’d jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire; they were furthest thing from being prepared to combat something such as this. His adrenaline was shooting through the roof as he booked it as fast as he could, throwing himself behind the closest corner, his back meeting the wall.

‘Fucking shit.’

If he would’ve known they’d wind up in a situation like this, he would’ve brought more ammo, only half a magazine in his handgun, one full clip in his pocket, and he knew his fellow executives had to be worse off as they’d covered for him earlier. His head swiveled in all directions, finding the Haitani Brothers with relative ease, both of whom were on the far other side of the alleyway, the trash had managed to separate their group and handicap them. Rindou had taken a bullet to the leg and the shot had been the furthest thing from clean from what he could tell with the distance, the dark expression on Ran’s face told him as much as he looked over his brother, his own bleeding arm not even on his radar. He could feel a sharp sting lingering around in his side, glancing down to see red seeping through his dress shirt, he’d gotten lucky enough to only be grazed but that would only help them so much. The younger Haitani was spitting venom that couldn’t be heard over the continuous sound of fire bouncing off the walls, unable to heave himself to his feet which ultimately meant that he wouldn’t manage to make it out of the fray without support.

‘Damn pissants, fuck!’

His head was going a million miles a minute while he racked his brain on what they could do, they didn’t have the means to stand their ground, low on ammo, an injury that couldn’t be ignored nor overlooked and would only make more problems for them should they make attempts to take out the scum. Their only option was running but even that would be difficult considering that Rindou wouldn’t be able to do so on his own, Ran sure as shit wouldn’t leave his brother behind and if they were going to get the hell out of dodge, he’d have to cover long enough for the pair to make it back to the car. A limited number of bullets, no ideas on how many enemies had appeared, no clue if any of the ones they’d taken down had regained consciousness, no inclination to how many numbers he’d be stuck facing and if he ran out of bullets, they would certainly be in a rough spot. An inaudible giggle left his lips, leaning his head back against the wall.

‘Challenge accepted, pricks.’

He focused his gaze back to the pair, shots were still going strong and drowning out any chance of calling out to his companions, but it was almost as if they could tell he wanted to grab their attention, both heads turning in his direction. The younger’s face was filled with contempt towards the enemy, looking pissed to high heaven and the elder’s expression would’ve matched had he not been capable of holding composure in stressful situations, they were just as aware of how tough of a spot they were in right now. His hand rose, signaling to them that he’d cover for the time being, Ran nodding in understanding. Out of everything, covering for them wouldn’t be the hardest part, making it across the alleyway without being turned into Swiss cheese was and he’d essentially fucked himself, nothing on the other side of him except a dead end; he didn’t have anywhere to go except forward once his fellow executives made it to safety. Four minutes at most, if he could hold out that long without running out of ammo then the brothers will have made it to the car and then he could bolt, fire shots as needed and with a little luck, make it out of this mostly unscathed.

‘Tch, what a pain.’

Regardless of how much of a drag this was going to be, he didn’t have any other options, it was the only way all three of them were going to live to see the next day. Bonten’s number two gave one final nod, silently urging Ran to get a move on and sidestepped closer to the corner, waiting until the shots thinned out just enough before whipping his gun around, firing a few of his own off. Four minutes, he just had to make it four minutes, save at least five bullets for the dash across the alley and when he made it, take off full force to the car; they’d escape by the skin of their teeth, and he’d take out as many of these fools as possible. He was conscious of just how many times he squeezed the trigger, glancing every few seconds towards the other side of the alley to see just how much progress his companions continued making as the seconds ticked by, his piercing eyes narrowing when he noticed an enemy making attempts to go towards the alley in question, firing off a shot that dropped him like a fly. The short moment he was distracted bit him in the ass and he threw himself back around the corner, a slew of curses falling from his lips over the searing pain in his shoulder, red painting more of his dress shirt.

A breath of total frustration left him as he discarded the empty magazine, jamming his sole remaining clip into the gun and readied himself to return fire again, two more minutes, he just had to make it two more fucking minutes. Once they were out of this shitshow, he’d be gathering a shit ton of their people to annihilate these bastards, they wouldn’t be getting off easy, he’d torture them for weeks after what they’d pulled. He didn’t let himself hesitate, he could hear his pulse thumping in his ears and feel just how hard his heart was pounding from adrenaline as he whipped around the corner once again, returning fire with intent to drop as many enemies as possible. Thin them out, make it easier for himself for when it was time to fly like a bat out of hell, they’d regret crossing Bonten when this was all over, their betrayal wouldn’t be forgiven, and he’d make an example out of every damn one of them so no one would ever have the audacity to oppose them again. He wasn’t bothering to avoid fatal shots this time around, purposely aiming for skulls and organs with each squeeze of the trigger. Some of the trash they’d taken out at the beginning had regained consciousness and were firing back, all of whom had shit accuracy to begin with but there were already too many bullets flying, even with each body he dropped they didn’t seem to be thinning out which could only mean one thing, more were joining the shootout.

‘Shit.’

They were making attempts to back him into a corner and if they were doing so to him then there was just as high of a chance that they were already in route to pulling the same thing on the Haitani Brothers, if they hadn’t already; they’d meant to separate them and had succeeded. Four minutes he’d meant to be used for his companions to get to safety and instead, those four minutes had given the enemy the upper hand against them, if he didn’t go now then he was fucked. Seven shots left, no more clips, his other handgun in the glove compartment of the car, the odds were certainly against him, but Sanzu Haruchiyo wasn’t the type to just roll over when shit got hard, he may lose the battle, but he’d make damn sure he won the war. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t give his head time to come up with questionable scenarios and just went with it, abandoning the shootout and darting across the alley as fast as he could move. He didn’t stop nor did he slow down, not when he felt the air stir around him from bullets whizzing passed him, not when footsteps equivalent to a pack of elephants filled his ears, not even when he felt what was very clearly a bullet lodge into that same shoulder that had already been shot.

‘Fuck me!’

Faster and faster, he knew the path as they’d just come that way possibly fifteen minutes prior when they’d been chasing down the pricks, taking the turns without skepticism. His hand rose at the sight of an enemy coming out of one of the side alleys, firing off a single shot that hit him dead center. He wasn’t in a good spot; his adrenaline may have been climbing higher and higher but that wouldn’t do a damn thing for him when he ran out of ammo. A shot fired off from some distance behind him, a sharp hiss leaving him when the bullet grazed his leg but still, he didn’t stop, he was almost there, and they could get the fuck out of-

‘Fucking shit!’

Sanzu nearly lost his balance when the car came into view along with fifteen men that were very clearly enemies, the brothers nowhere in sight and if he hadn’t been in a tough spot before, he certainly was in one now. He made to duck into a side alley to avoid the bastards, a slew of curses falling from his lips when another shot rang out, pain in his thigh that was nothing like the last several times he’d been grazed or shot.

‘Damn it!’

A bullet may not have lodged itself into his leg that time and as great as that could’ve been, his phone taking the hit was the worst thing that could’ve happened, communications were down now, he wouldn’t be able to get in contact with anyone until well after he ditched these assholes. No backup, six bullets left, more enemies than he could fathom, no transportation, no ideas about Ran and Rindou’s current state.

‘Fuck!’

Fuck was right, he was fucked and unless he could ditch these losers, he’d be even worse off than he was right now because there was zero chance that he’d been shown any mercy. He had to come up with something, his stamina would eventually crash, adrenaline couldn’t keep him going forever, and if he was going to get out of this alive then-

Sanzu was almost knocked clear off his feet when he felt a bullet lodge itself into his chest and didn’t have to guess to know that it hadn’t come out the other side, it was fucking stuck, just like the one in his shoulder and had it been any further to the right then it would’ve hit-

Another hit, hardly any of these shots were clean and the next bullet had made a home in his shoulder blade.

‘Damn it, I’ll skin every one of these fuckers alive.’

If he made it out of this alive, he’d definitely make it happen, but he wasn’t naïve, things weren’t looking good for him.

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