#ship: you’ll be her ruin

[pitchsidestories]

One night in Ibiza II Misa Rodríguez x Hermoso!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2064

summary: you enjoy your summer vacation on Ibiza with your sister and her friends. While having a slight crush on a certain goalkeeper.

There was a slight breeze coming from the sea, it was a wonderful day to be outside, the turquoise water builds a pretty contrast to the white ship you were on with your sister Jenni and your friends.

It has been a long first half of the year, but your team and you have won everything there was to win, you managed to secure a quadruple of trophies. Your body and mind were tired out from it though, so this vacation arrived at the perfect time. Although you knew it was only a short pause from football, the Olympic games were already on the horizon.

“This season was successful but exhausting, so now it’s time to relax.”, Jenni declared solemnly while opening the bottle of champagne.

“Not everyone has won something with their club though.”, you threw a teasing smile into the direction where the goalkeeper of Real Madrid was laying.

Ay, Dios mío., you thought to yourself, she looks gorgeous in that Barbie pink bikini, why doesn’t Misa look ridiculous in it?

“Sooner or later, she’ll win something too.”, the raven-haired forward winked.

“I don’t think so.”, you disagreed with a cheeky grin.

“You’ve such a big mouth pequeña.”, Misa remarked, easily carrying you until she let you fall right into the open water.

“I’d say be careful, children. But I get the full inheritance if she’s gone.”, Jenni joked smirking.

“No, we still have a brother., you reminded her before turning your attention to the goalkeeper, Okay, Misa, come closer, I want to apologize for what I said.”

With these words you dragged her into the sea with you.

“Hey!”, she protested.

“No, you deserved it.”, you shook your head smiling confidently.

“You’ll get that back.”, Misa warned you.

“Okay, children, if you’re not getting back on board in the next five minutes I’ll start eating the delicious food without you.”, your sister announced.

“Jenni’s not joking. She’ll literally do this.”, Alexia who had stayed quiet the whole time tanning in the sun and enjoying her own peace added.

“Come on we can’t miss out on that, y/n.”, Misa decided.

“I’m coming. Wait for us, hermana.”, you told Jenni.

“You’ve to hurry then.”, she replied cheekily.

Back on the ship you tried a first slice of cheese, humming with closed eyes. “So good.”

Everything on the plate looked so aesthetically pleasing to the eye, so you took a moment to take it in and appreciate it.

“Good, huh?”, Misa lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Yes, try it.”, you nodded, while passing the snack to her.

“Not bad.”, she admitted.

“Right?”, you beamed at the tall woman.

“The strawberries are great too.”, Alexia said.

You didn’t miss how the corner of her mouth quirked upwards for a millisecond.

Misa was already chewing next to you, her lips stained red from the juicy strawberries: “They are. Try them.“

She grabbed one particularly round and luscious looking strawberry from the plate and held it in front of your face so you could get a taste.

You bit into the berry, Misas fingers almost touching your lips. You closed your eyes and hummed in contentment once the sweet sugary taste danced on your tongue. They were to die for.

“They might even be the best thing on this table.“, you agreed with the others’ judgement.

“I know what would be even better on this table.“, your sister smirked, seemingly proud of her sly innuendo.

Without missing a beat, Alexia commented: “Disgusting.“

She shot Jenni a stern look over her sunglasses.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance: “Way to ruin the vibe, Jenni.“

“Honestly. I need more alcohol to recover from that.“, Alexia said as she walked over and poured herself a drink.

You knew it was bad when even Ale had a drink.

She clinked her glass with yours: “Cheers, y/n.“

“Cheers.“, you grinned back at her, washing the taste of strawberries down with champagne.

Theatrically sighing, Jenni laid back down her towel: “You girls are so boring.“

“Honestly, a little fun never killed anyone.“, Misa agreed with your sister, sneaking another strawberry into her mouth.

You raised your eyebrows at her, surprised. “And you’re fun, Misa?“

The goalkeeper winked at you: “I’m lots of fun.“

“Prove it.“, you dared her.

She didn’t seem intimated by your challenge, she just shrugged: “Alright.“

“I’m waiting.“, you pressured her.

“Careful or I’ll push you back into the water.“, she jokingly threatened you.

You held up your finger as a warning sign: “Don’t you dare!“

She took a step towards you, her head cocked to the side as she studied your face: “Or what?“

To prove that you weren’t intimidated by her, you refused to back up and instead took another step towards her: “I’m taller than you, it won’t happen again.“

“On your tiptoes maybe.“, Misa laughed.

You rolled your eyes, you stood so close together that your noses almost touched. And this woman still tried to argue that she was taller than you.

Jennis voice seemed disruptive and out of place as it floated over to you: “Actually you’re both the same height. I’m the tallest here.“

You watched as Misa turned her attention towards your sister with a grin: “Maybe you should play in goal!“

“But scoring is so much more fun.“, the striker drawled.

“It’s only because she doesn’t know what to do with her body on the pitch. She’s just lucky that she’s tall which makes her pretty good at headers.“, Alexia joined.

You absolutely loved how she deadpanned while she roasted your sister.

“You and my sister are such football nerds, Alexia.”, Jenni noted.

“That’s why we get along so well.”, she shot back, exchanging a knowing smile with you.

“Y/n gets football. You, however..”, Alexia began.

“What? I get you too!”, your sister interrupted the midfielder, her lips formed into a pout.

“Let’s just say you know how to get the ball into the net, okay?”, the Blonde offered diplomatically.

“Okay., quickly the striker changed the topic with a dirty grin on her lips, and I’m sure we’ll have a ball tonight.”

“And your puns are horrible.”, Alexia remarked dryly.

“If someone asks later, I’ll tell them that we’re not related.”, you interjected.

“That won’t work. You two look way too similar.”, Misa stated the obvious laughing.

“Excuse me?!”, Jenni pretended to be shocked by your words ignoring her friend’s observation.

“I said what I said.”, you shrugged wearing a smug smile on your face.

With a dramatic sigh your sister turned her head to your Barcelona teammate. “So rude. Remember, when she looked up to me, Ale? All those years ago.”

Behind her playful dramatics there swung a little bit of melancholy, to the days there no one was better than your older sister. Back than she was all you ever tried to be, a successful footballer, playing for one of the greatest clubs in Europe. Sometimes Jenni missed that time. You, her little sister grew up so fast.

Alexia could see behind the cool façade of her former club teammate and decided to lighten up her mood. “I do but come on let’s get ready for the night.”

The sun was about to set when you left the boat, about to dress up for the night ahead. Some Latin pop was playing in the background, while you were putting on a red lipstick which matched your little dress in the same colour.

In the mirror you caught Misa’s stunned reaction. Her beautiful brown eyes taking everything in.  “Wow.”

“Do you like what you see?”, you asked her with a cocky grin.

“Well, I certainly didn’t know you could look like that.”, the goalkeeper stated, sounding flirty. Or are you just imaging it?

 “To be fair when we usually meet it’s rarely an occasion to dress up fancy, it’s mostly in jerseys or training clothes.”, you clarified.

“You can really pull that off. You look great.”, she blushed slightly.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad for a Madridista either.”, you admitted smiling.

With her arms folded, alexia stood impatiently in the doorway. “Are you done with your sweet nothings? We’d like to go now.”

“Yeah, hurry. Or we’re missing all the fun!” Excited, Jenni appeared next to her.

“We’re on our way.”, you assured them.

The four of you made your way to a karaoke bar. It was a bit smaller than your usual clubs on Ibiza but the atmosphere was still great.

As the night wore on, you found yourself dancing with Misa to some drunk dude trying his best to perform Mr. Brightside.

At one point, Jenni and Alexia had disappeared towards the bar. Alexia wanted to keep an eye on the two of you, Jenni wanted to be closer to the drinks.

Alexia slowly sipped her drink while she watched you take the stage with unstable steps. Misas hands wrapped around your waist, just in case.

Alexia leaned over to Jenni: “Want to bet they end up in the same bed tonight?“

“You know what could help with this? A few more drinks.“, Jenni decided and threw back her head to take a shot of tequila.

“It surely would but we need to keep it safe for them.“, Alexia reminded her.

“So boring.“, Jenni complained jokingly and ordered two more shots.

“You’re an irresponsible older sister.“, Alexia said, shaking her head with amusement. Still, she took the shot glass Jenni offered to her.

Jenni clinked glasses with her: “No, I’m the fun older sister.“

You were absolutely sure that you killed your performance of ABBA when you left the stage. You cheered like you just won a boxing match.

Misa decided to perform right after you. Same artist, different song.

You laughed as she came off stage: “Your karaoke was terrible, Misa.“

“Mine? Have your heard yourself?“, the goalkeeper responded, feigning offense in her intoxicated state.

“Still better than you!“, you replied with a teasing tone.

Misa grimaced like she felt sorry for you and shook her head: “You missed half of the words.“

“The lyrics sounded so much better that way.“, you said confidently.

“Those weren’t even real sentences anymore. At least you looked cute while ruining the song.“, Misa smiled with slightly reddened cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow and echoed: “Cute, huh?“

“Yeah“?

“You might be one of the cutest friends my sister has.“, you admitted with a grin.

Misa let out a polite laugh: “Thanks, I guess.“

“I mean it.“ You studied her face, trying to take her in fully.

She stared right back. “You do?“

You shrugged: “Yes. You might play for the wrong team but…“

“But?“, she prompted you to continue.

“But all day I thought about how it would be to kiss you.“

“To kiss… me?“

You might have been drunk enough to tell her the truth, but you were definitely not drunk enough to not recognize the hesitation in her voice.

You took as step back, trying to bring distance between the two of you: “Oh shit, sorry if that made you uncomfortable.“

To your surprise, she bridged the gap quickly: “No. I think I’d like that.“

“Really?”, you breathed.

“Yes, want to leave?”, she asked, eyes lit up with excitement.

“I do.”, you nodded eagerly as Misa took your hand to lead you to her hotel room. Forgotten were your doubts in the back of your mind if your sister would approve of it. After all, the goalkeeper was her friend too.

The night was dying, while the dawn was coming to life. Everything the light touched was tinted in a warm glow. Amazed, you watched the sunrise. “Wow this is beautiful.”

“It’s, right?” Misa agreed, but you realized that she wasn’t looking at the beautiful scenery outside, the Madrid player only had eyes for you.

“You don’t even look at the sunrise.”, you clicked your tongue

“I mean that’s nice but this right here it’s gorgeous.”, Misa muttered as her hand rested on your heated cheek. For once you were silenced. Your heartbeat too fast from the simple touch alone. From up close she was even prettier.

“Is it okay if I?”, the goalkeeper waited for your consent, searching for an answer in your eyes.

“Yes, please.”, you replied, licking your lips expectantly.

This was everything Misa needed to hear; she showered you with kisses like you were the only woman in the world, the brunette was destined to love.

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 2

2.1k | fluff You had many dinners with Simon (part 1) (part 3)

Simon Riley white-knuckled the vegetable peeler against the poor carrot in his other hand like it owed him money.

He’d knocked on your door that morning with the full intention of being helpful, but it was painfully difficult to hide the fact that he was beyond clueless as he stood there at the counter. He even dressed for the occasion, wearing a loose black shirt to not dirty his sleeves. It was his first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie, and he caught your momentary gaze on his tattooed arm.

Sure, he kept telling himself each time he came up with an excuse to have you over was for his mum’s company. It made him happy to see the smile on her face as she chatted with you, your laughter filling his otherwise quiet flat. But was it really for her company now, when it was just the two of you as he embarrassed himself?

Regretting what he thought was a brilliant idea, he glanced at you, absolutely horrified of being a hold up and ruining lunch.

You didn’t even look up from the pot you were stirring. “You know, I really don’t like doing the dishes. Would you like to help with that instead?”

A small sigh of relief escaped him as he dropped everything on the cutting board, thankful you spared the sliver of dignity he had left. He did most of the cleaning while he watched you. You said you weren’t the best cook, but your movements were serene, easy. You didn’t look like you were going to chop your fingers off, and to him, that made you far above decent.

Evidently, Melanie complimented the meal generously while Simon simply asked for a third helping. He beat you to the dishes after that, not allowing you to lift a finger after all the cooking you did.

At your door, you turned to him. “In case I don’t see you again before you ship out-“

“You will. I leave Thursday morning.”

“Oh.”

“Can I have your number?”

You handed him your phone and Simon Riley called himself from it.

“I’ll see you around, Simon.” You smiled at him.

Again, he only left when you’d closed your door. When he entered his flat, his mum looked up from wiping down the dining table.

She sighed softly. “How long am staying, Si? It’s been over two weeks now.”

“As long as you want, mum. I’d rather you here.” He walked over to her. “At least I know you’ll be safe.”

“What’s going to happen to your dad?”

“You wouldn’t let me bash his face in, and he’s not my dad. Not sure he ever was,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I just need to know you’re safe. That’s all I’m asking.”

She turned away, the discomfort evident in her eyes. Simon knew the look to well.

“You need to leave him, mum,” he said under his breath.

“I think I’m going to stay a few more weeks, two months tops,” she finally said. “Until things settle. I’ll look for a job meanwhile.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to feel useful, Si,” she reassured. “You’ve been too kind to me.”

“Never enough.”

When's the latest you can have dinner before it's not called dinner anymore? Simon texted you Monday afternoon.

Is this the premise to a joke?

He tilted his head. On second thought, it did sound like one of his dad jokes.

No, was a genuine question actually.

9, maybe. Why?

I'll be home before 7:30. Would it be okay to wait for me for dinner until then?

Who's cooking?

Takeout chef down the street. You pick who the lucky bloke is

You smiled as he stood at your door with takeout in hand. The way you looked at him made him question his clean shaven look that day. Did he look too much like an adolescent with no scruff?

Simon didn’t like making conversation, let alone with someone as sunny as you, but he was surprised to find that he wanted to put himself in a social situation with you. Still, he wasn’t used to it. He tried saying more, he really did, but the most he managed to tell was that he was an apprentice butcher back in Manchester before he enlisted, and that he was a currently a lieutenant in the SAS.

After dinner, you sat facing each other on your small couch sipping on tea, knees almost touching each other’s.

At this point, he noticed you didn’t look away as much as you did the previous instances. Either you’d got used to his unyielding stare or his attempt to appear less scary succeeded. You didn’t ask further about his job, and he hoped it was because you thought it was mostly confidential, not because you were afraid of him. That was alright though, you were far more interesting than his work anyway. He enjoyed watching the way you lit up talking about your interests.

Perhaps it was patronising how he wondered why you could be so much like sunshine in this bleak world, walking around like no one was going to break your heart. He found your generosity reckless, even foolish. Guilt pricked his heart for having these unsavoury thoughts, yet he was still utterly and shamelessly fascinated by your smile.

Despite him not wanting to leave, he excused himself for the night before it was remotely late.

“The day at the base starts early, yeah?”

He gave you a small smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Good night, luv.”

On his way to the lift, he knocked on the door of his own flat. His mum answered, clutching her cardigan close to her chest.

“Oh, Simon. I wasn’t expecting you.” She stepped aside. “Are you staying the night? I’ll get the bed-”

“No, ’m just dropping by.” He closed the door behind him.

“Did you need something? Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did, yeah.”

A knowing smile tugged on her lips. “Was it with someone I know?”

“Wanted to say good night and make sure everything’s alright.” A blush might have crept up his neck as he stepped in for a one-armed hug.

But the next night, Simon dropped by again before going back to base.

“Why are you here every day now?” Melanie looked at her son with a teasing smile. “I’m not complaining, but I thought you said you were too busy to come home.”

“Can I not want to see my own mum?”

“Sure, Si.” She gave him a playful side eye. “Let me see what ingredient I’m missing, in case you want to run to the shops.”

He groaned. “I’m shipping out Thursday. Wanted to take you somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow. Get yourself an outfit. Use my card.”

“How nice!” She beamed. “Is she coming with?”

He looked away. “I didn’t invite her.”

“Would you like to?” When he gave her an unsure look, she reassured, “I don’t mind at all. She’s sweet and I’m happy you’re meeting new people.”

Of course it didn’t take any convincing for him to invite you to his favourite steakhouse in the city. In fact, he very much looked forward to having another excuse to see you, especially dressed up. Not like you didn’t look nice, but thinking of taking you out made him giddy. He suddenly didn’t dread the med evals, trainings and briefings he usually detested before each deployment.

When he arrived at base, your reply waited.

Thank you so much for the invite. The place sounds lovely, but I don’t want to intrude. Have a nice evening you both!

His shoulders sagged. Can I at least see you after dinner?

Mrs. Riley beamed when Simon picked her up with a rose in hand. He didn’t remember ever seeing her so dressed up, and he was glad to have given her the opportunity to. She gushed over the delicious dinner, the wine and how polite the waiters were that it brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

He could tell how much the evening meant to her, and it broke his heart that no one had cared for her that much in a very long time. He held her hand as they walked back to his flat.

“You be safe, Simon. I’ll be waiting for you,” she hugged him tight at the door as her voice wavered, her eyes brimming with tears.

He gave her a squeeze, feeling the emotions rubbing off on him. “Will do, mum. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said into her hair.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before he headed to your flat.

Simon didn’t recall feeling this heavy upon shipping out in recent memory, but as you answered the door in your loose shirt and shorts, his arms ached to wrap around you. Instead, he shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I can’t,” he said. Because if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave.

You looked away, seemingly a little embarrassed by his rejection.

“May I ask why you didn’t want to come earlier?”

You stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind you. “I feel your mum would appreciate it more if it’s just the two of you, that’s all.”

“Maybe next time with you then?” he asked hopefully. “Just us?”

You nodded and a smile blossomed on his lips in return. You both lingered a few more seconds in silence.

“I’m wishing you and your unit the very best on your mission. Please take care out there.” You cast your gaze down.

He caught the wobble in your voice and the sincerity was the push he needed. You barely had time to react to him stepping in for a hug. His arms encircled your frame loosely, but tightened as soon as yours wrapped around his waist. He curled over you, inhaling your scent as your breath tickled his neck.

The lack of distance only highlighted how much he towered over you. He was sure you could feel his racing heart under his turtleneck, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hold you.

“Let me know when you’re back,” you said when he pulled away.

“’course.”

Simon very much looked forward to your texts whenever he had time to himself. While he asked you about your days, he unfortunately couldn’t say much about his. Instead, he sent you photos of the sunrise, or the shit cup of tea he was having. In return, you sent photos of the Hereford sunset and your meals. He said the kind of food he ate would ruin your appetite.

You told him his mum got a job at that bakery you loved – you knew the owner. On some days if her schedule allowed, you could walk back home with her. Simon thanked you for keeping her company, knowing how much she must have appreciated it.

The two weeks seemed to roll by a litter faster than usual. You were the first to know as soon as he was scheduled to fly back. He said he’d probably get home a late, but would love to see you if you had the time.

At his first knock, rapid footsteps came from behind your door which you swung open with a grin on your face. “You’re back!”

“May I come in?”

You made way for him, and when the door closed behind you, he stepped in, arms lifted a little. With a chuckle, you closed the gap, squeezing him tight.

“Are you available for dinner tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “No, going out with friends.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sunday then?”

“That’ll do.” You smiled, walking backwards to the kitchen. “Come, I’ll make us a cuppa. Co-worker gave me some oolong tea.”

His eyes softened. “Sorry, can’t stay long, luv. I’m going back to base.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday. I thought you stay home on weekends.”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now. I don’t want to bother my mum.”

You gestured at the couch with a chuckle. “I’d offer you this, but it’s way too small for you.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bother his mum - he wouldn’t. He could get in and out the place without a sound, nor was your couch a problem. He could sleep on the floor and it would still be better than some of the places he’d had the pleasure to sleep in.

He wasn’t ready yet, especially not when he just got back, with his mind still reeling 1000 miles an hour.

“That’s okay. I can head back.”

Your brow rose at him. He understood how silly it was now, driving all the way to you at this hour to not even stay 15 minutes. It was embarrassing, if he was honest, how much he was transfixed on seeing you that he didn’t even think of the logistics of the visit.

“Sorry, I’m not a late sleeper. I’m dead tired and always sleep like a log the first night back.” His eyes flicked to your lips as he swallowed. “I’ll pick you up Sunday?”

You smiled. “Where are we going?”

“The same place. I think you’re going to like it.”

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[promptfairy]

❥    𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒    [   𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂    ]   .

designed for ships, but can be used for a variety of relationship types. change gendered language/add context to your needs. happy roleplaying !!  ♡

❛  it feels so good to be bad.  ❜ ❛  it really makes me wonder if i ever gave a fuck about you.  ❜ ❛  give me something to believe in.  ❜ ❛  i don’t believe in you anymore.  ❜ ❛  i wonder if it even makes a difference to try.  ❜ ❛  so, this is goodbye.  ❜ ❛  one day i’ll wake up & it won’t hurt anymore.  ❜ ❛  it’s like i can’t even feel after the way you touched me.  ❜ ❛  you’re everything that i want, but you don’t want me.  ❜ ❛  am i a regret, yet?  ❜ ❛  was it worth what it costed?  ❜ ❛  you make me nauseous.  ❜ ❛  you’re overrated.  ❜ ❛  when i think of you, i just want to throw up.  ❜ ❛  all my friends say that you’re toxic.  ❜ ❛  why does love suck?  ❜ ❛  love hurts whether it’s right or wrong.  ❜ ❛  i can’t stop, i’m having too much fun.  ❜ ❛  you can’t save me, baby.  ❜ ❛  you never call or listen to me anyway.  ❜ ❛  where were you tuesday, october tenth?  ❜ ❛  how is your jacket covered in blood?  ❜ ❛  how was the party? did you have fun?  ❜ ❛  i fell in love with the warning signs.  ❜ ❛  the only time i feel alive is when i’m touching the warning signs.  ❜ ❛  if you tell me to stay away, i’m gonna dive in again.  ❜ ❛  my favorite color is red like the flags you fly overhead.  ❜ ❛  well, i should have known.  ❜ ❛  didn’t you see it coming? didn’t you see the signs?  ❜ ❛  i’ll break your pretty face.  ❜ ❛  bite your tongue & choke yourself to sleep.  ❜ ❛  you can hold my hand if no one’s home.   ❜ ❛  do you like it when i’m away?  ❜ ❛  you’re a pond & i’m an ocean.  ❜ ❛  all my emotions feel like explosions when you are around.  ❜ ❛  i am a wreck when i’m without you.  ❜ ❛  was it something i said to make you feel like you’re a burden?  ❜ ❛  tell me, is it worth it?  ❜ ❛  she’s a lady & i am just a line without a hook.  ❜ ❛  do what you want as long as you stay here.  ❜ ❛  you’ll change your name or change your mind & leave this fucked up place behind, but i’ll know.  ❜ ❛  if you ever try to leave me, i’ll find you, [name].  ❜ ❛  i’ll be the bad guy, now.  ❜ ❛  i couldn’t be there, even when i tried.  ❜ ❛  seasons changed & our love went cold.  ❜ ❛  i knew that this was doomed from the get-go.  ❜ ❛  you thought that it was special, but it was just the sex, though.  ❜ ❛  it’s only me; what have you got to lose?  ❜ ❛  you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk & made fun of the way you talk.  ❜ ❛  you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong.  ❜ ❛  you’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much.  ❜ ❛  you’ve ruined my life by not being mine.  ❜ ❛  you’re so gorgeous, i can’t say anything to your face. ’cause look at your face.  ❜ ❛  i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.  ❜ ❛  if you’ve got a girlfriend, i’m jealous of her. but if you’re single, that’s honestly worse.  ❜ ❛  you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts.  ❜ ❛  you make me so happy, it turns back to sad.  ❜ ❛  there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have.  ❜ ❛  guess i’ll just stumble on home to my cats. alone … unless you wanna come along?  ❜ ❛  you look so happy when i’m not with you.  ❜ ❛  i don’t know why i run away.  ❜ ❛  take me back, ’cause i wanna stay.  ❜ ❛  i kept my distance ’cause i know that you don’t like when i’m with somebody else.  ❜ ❛  i couldn’t help it; i put you through hell.  ❜ ❛  i realize that it’s much too late, & you deserve someone better.  ❜ ❛  i’m not the best at breaking up.  ❜ ❛  i like my alone time, but i want somebody to hold.  ❜ ❛  i get what i want. i keep it for a minute. then i let it go.  ❜ ❛  i hate it when you’re there for me, but i like it when you hit the spot.  ❜ ❛  i don’t do fake love, but i’ll take some from you tonight.  ❜ ❛  i don’t expect you to understand.  ❜ ❛  i’m ready to die holding your hand.  ❜ ❛  i can’t hide how i feel about you inside.  ❜ ❛  i’d give everything up tonight, if i could just have you be mine.  ❜ ❛  i’d give up everything for you.  ❜

[bcdwhcre]

“Paranoia,” Levi x Reader

Ship: Levi x Reader

Summary: the paranoia of not knowing where or what happened to Levi.

Warnings: spoilers if you haven’t seen or read the recent season

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Levi had promised to be back at a specific time, he promised you to not worry about what he had planned for Zeke. He told you to stay put where you were and to stick with the others.

You huffed out a breath as you watched him walk out into the distance before fully disappearing, your mind going off to different places and worrying about whether this would be the last time you’ll see him again.

You tried to get rid of the thought, knowing how capable he was of taking care of himself and always coming back home to you but there was always that lingering thought inside of your head waiting to pop and ruin the rest of your days as you wait for him to return.

You stayed with Armin and Mikasa, the importance of sticking together was evident against what was currently happening here which was the rumbling and the yeagerist.

But as days started to pass and you haven’t seen or heard any sign of Levi, you heart began to pound inside of your chest repeatedly the more time has gone by but you stayed put and followed through with the mission of escaping with everyone out of the walls and away from the brainwashed citizens.

As you sat in the back of the cart, Annie across from you, you finally released the breath you were holding in during the whole escape plan. She looked at you confused but with understanding how you can get, she’s known since joining the scouts and working with you.

You remained quiet as they talked with each other the ride out while your eyes were glued to the sky, the ache in your heart only growing more as you wondered what he could be doing at this very moment.

You didn’t know things went wrong with Zeke, you didn’t know he risked to blow himself up to kill Levi and you didn’t know just how injured he was. You knew nothing and that’s what worried you, every mission he went on worried you to death until you saw his face.

“We’ll be running into Hange soon.” Armin spoke up, causing a sigh to escape your lips and your eyes remained on the sky with your hands rested on your chest.

You didn’t know the amount of damage that was going to come in a few minutes and you didn’t know just how bad things were going to get from here on out. You thought you had seen ugly but the closer you got, the more ugly things were going to get.

As the group gotten closer to where they were supposed to meet up, the giant cart Titan hovering over the scene with the others. You were exhausted from everything that had been going on, you haven’t even gotten a chance to eat, to sleep, to shower and it was slowly eating away at you.

“Is that the captain?” One of them spoke, making your head snap up even after being stuck in your thoughts.

Your eyes scattered around looking at the group that was ahead and finally your eyes settled to a body laid out with bandages wrapped around, covering most of his face and body.

Your breath hitched, almost tripping to get to your feet and jump off the cart once they came to a full stop. Hange eyes met with yours before your feet started rushing towards where he laid fast asleep.

“Y/N,” Hange started but you didn’t pay any attention until you were in front of him, staring at his face in horror.

Your shaky hands had reached out, not knowing what to do, where to touch without causing him pain even though he was well knocked out cold. A shaky breath released from your trembling lips, trying to hold your emotions in and trying to pull yourself together.

Finally your hand softly brushed his hair back, half of his face covered in bandages while the one exposed eye remained shut.

“What happened?” You simply said, your eyes moving down to his arm covered him and the blanket pulled over his limp body.

“Zeke blown himself up next to Levi, luckily I found him still alive but it was pretty bad.” Hange sadly spoke, the guilt in her tone from not being able to help him sooner.

“How bad.”

“Y/N..” She trailed off, even she didn’t know how bad it really was, only the parts shown when she wrapped him up.

“Missing fingers, pretty sure his eye is lost and… we won’t know the serious impact it caused him until he wakes up.” She murmured, not wanting to look you in the eye, the guilt washing over her.

“Oh god, Levi.” You barely said over a whisper, the tears slowly leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks. Your heart aching inside of your chest like it was about to explode out of your skin.

Hours had passed, everyone was now camped out in a safe area inside the woods, the fire sizzling and cracking, the tents around spread out. Mostly everyone was asleep or far from the campfire talking amongst themselves.

But you stayed in the tent, looking down at Levi and his current state, paranoid about the fact that he may or may not wake up.

So, you laid down beside him, enough distance to not cause any harm or pain. Your eyes were growing heavy and you felt the drag of slumber overcoming your body.

Suddenly there was a stir beside you, a grunt leaving Levi’s throat as the pain shot through him like lightning. He felt paralyzed, in pain, and out of it.

The movement had forced you to be wide awake, your eyes shooting open and glancing over at the body beside you. You could see Levi squirming and then his one eyes had opened up, shut, then opened slowly again to look around at his surroundings.

Then his eye landed on you.

“Levi?” You asked, the worry and fear overwhelming your body once again. The fear of him forgetting who you are lingered over you.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, the pain shooting through his body, making him realize just how fucked up this situation was.

He could feel the bandages wrapped around his body, he could feel his body ache and as he looked down just a bit, he could see that he was missing a few of his fingers.

“I’m going to kill him.” Levi spoke again, muttering under his breath as the rage of Zeke overcame his mindset, the reality settling in.

“We’ll get him just.. please rest.” You whisper, your fingertips gently brushing through his dirty and matted up hair.

“I was so worried.” You admitted under a whisper, the fear of losing him was choking you, making you slowly suffocate as your eyes watered.

He noticed this, his body growing soft as his eye stared into yours. Slowly, he raised one of his hands up to brush along your cheek, being extremely gentle while doing so because he couldn’t handle the pain.

“I’m here, it’s okay.”

“I could have lost you, Levi. What were you thinking?” Your heart weighed heavy in your chest, his started to weigh down on him too as he saw the pain written across your face.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could really say, what else was there to say? He didnt mean for this to happen, all he wanted was Zeke to suffer.

“Just don’t scare me like that again.” You sighed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, his bruised face giving you a small smile.

“I promise.”

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A/N: IM BACK!!!

My first imagine back and I am also accepting REQUESTSSSS!!!

I cleared out my request box completely and want to start out fresh and new.

Please send me whatever. Maybe some more Armin requests or Eren? I would like to fill out their lists :)

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[cobaltperun]

Mabel and R spend a carefree day at the beach, building sandcastles, splashing in the waves, and sharing ice cream cones as they soak up the sun.

Sunny Day

Mabel x GN! Reader (Request)

Masterlist

Word count: 0.8k

“You are so childish!” Mabel’s laughter echoed throughout the nearly empty beach, it was a bit secluded and not a lot of people knew about it, but Charlie saw it from the ship one day, told about it to Mabel and here you were, having fun.

“So, don’t help me, miss too old to make sandcastles,” you stuck your tongue out playfully as you dug the trenches around a fairly big sandcastle you and Mabel have been making for the past hour.

“Oh, I didn’t mean the castle,” she laughed, pointing at the tiny sand monsters that looked like blobs heading toward the castle.

You snickered, proud of your creations. But more than anything, you were happy to be here with Mabel. She’s been busy with college lately, and to have a day like this, where you could just hang out and have fun, felt like a treasure you absolutely needed to cherish with all your heart. “I love being here with you,” you still weren’t sure when to say ‘I love you’ to Mabel, it was still a fairly fresh relationship, and while it didn’t feel casual, it still felt like it was just a bit too early for that.

She smiled confidently, and pecked you on the lips. “I love being here with you too,” somehow, you felt like she would be the first to say those three words, but that was topic for another day. “Oh, shit!” she grabbed your hand and pulled you back before a slightly bigger wave could splash you.

Unfortunately, nothing could be done to save the castle, as the two of you stared blankly at the ruins of an empire you have built together. In the end it wasn’t the army of blobs, but the anger of mother nature that caused the symbol of the once mighty rulers to crumble.

Oh, well, it was bound to happen.

You glanced at Mabel, then at the sea, then grinned as she smiled suggestively at you.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” you asked.

“Go for a swim?” she guessed, prompting you to nod, and since she was still holding your hand she just pulled you along to the water.

It was refreshing to be in the water after so many days of summer heat killing your mood. And Mabel was the image of grace in the water, her movements smooth and measured, it was like she was one with the water, like it was natural for her to move through it, and you were mesmerized.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out and splashed you.

You splashed right back, making her hair stick to her forehead. “Look who is childish now,” you laughed, which turned out to be a mistake, as Mabel fired back, filling your mouth with salty sea water. You coughed, trying to get rid of the taste as she laughed. “Oh, you want war? You’ll get one!” you exclaimed, chasing after her as she shrieked and swam away from you.

“I surrender, I surrender!” she laughed as you caught up with her and pulled her to your chest. Both of you breathed a bit heavily but the grins on your faces made it all worth it. “I surrender,” she cupped your cheek, kissing you much deeper this time.

“Good,” you muttered, as you separated.

“As if!” she splashed you right in the face and swam toward the beach as you just remained there, too surprised to go after her. Eventually, you just shook your head and swam back as well.

“You surrendered, just so we’re clear on who won,” you said as she lied on the towel and basked in the sun. Mabel just lifted her sunglasses from her eyes and gave you a ‘no way,’ look. “Strawberry vanilla ice cream?” you asked as you took your wallet.

“You know me,” she stretched a bit with a wide smile on her face.

You went and bought the ice cream cones and rushed back before they could melt. Mabel, surprisingly preferred softer flavors, which you found extremely cute. “Here you go,” you offered the ice cream to her and sat down on the towel next to hers. “I could eat this all day,” you sighed contently as the ice cream cooled you down.

“Agreed,” she leaned her head on your shoulder and took your free hand in hers. “You know, Y/N,” she began, looking you in the eyes.

“Hmm?” you weren’t sure what she was going to say, but judging by the look on her face it was important to her.

“I love you,” your eyes widened as she said those three words you struggled to say before.

“I love you too, Mabel,” you told her, grinning widely.

[freelancearsonist]

when the sun came up, you were looking at me

➔ Din Djarin x gn!Reader - 2.4k

➔ A bounty on your head and a bad ship wreck are just a few of the circumstances that have you questioning if you and Mando will ever be out of the woods.

➔ Rated PG-13 for curse words that are probably not canon in star wars, reader is generally able-bodied but otherwise is completely a blank slate, mando is probably ooc but we’re all a little delusional here, lots of blood, i don’t actually know how concussions work and we’re taking some broad liberties with injuries here.

➔ this is another submission to @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! (if you're reading this kel ily <3) this fic is non-linear so pls bare with me - the timeline will make more sense at the end!

You keep your head down and walk quickly, ignoring the frantic heartbeat of city noise surrounding you as your legs carry you down a dim street.

This is the last place you want to be right now. Even with your cloak’s hood drawn up around your head, you feel too exposed.

The apothecary is a very little hole-in-the-wall type place; you walk past it twice before you finally locate it. The facade looks like it’s about to crumble, and the single window is caked in a thick layer of dust. It looks like it’s been abandoned for decades, rotting with the telltale signs of neglect.

The storekeeper inside looks even worse. She’s a decrepit little woman, squat and skinny, white hair brittle and tangled. Just looking at her makes you want to slowly back away and apologize; say you have the wrong building and run away as quickly as you can.

This is the only shot you have, though; the only place that won’t immediately call the authorities when you step through the door. If you get picked up, everything is fucked.

With a deep breath, you swallow your nerves and summon Din to mind. You think of his easy, authoritative tone and you try to emulate the confidence that modulator always used to convey.

You hear the crash before it happens.

It’s unlike any sound you’ve ever heard before. A high pitched whistle in combination with the deep, metallic scrape of mechanisms working overtime.

And then you feel it. It shakes the very earth you stand on, sends tremors and shockwaves up your legs all the way to the crown of your head. Even after the ground has stopped trembling, your fingertips tingle with the sensation.

You grab a blaster and you run.

You know before you even find it that it’s Din’s ship. There’s a churning, nauseous wrench in your gut and you just know.

There’s so many thoughts swirling through your mind that it doesn’t feel like you’re thinking at all. Your body simply moves on autopilot, like you’re watching a holovid. You traipse bravely into debris and ruin, locating the crumpled remains of the cockpit.

All that beskar is a damned curse, because he blends right in amongst the crumpled and twisted metal of what used to be a functional ship. Stolen, sure, but functional all the same–and the only one either of you had. 

But you push aside your anger, because he isn’t responding. You’re calling his name and shaking his chest and he’s just laying there. Not joking about you smudging his armor, not breathing a little heavier at the sound of his name on your tongue like he always does. He just lays there, limp and unresponsive, and you’ve never been more terrified in your life.

There’s smoke and everything feels hot, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, adrenaline surges through your veins and you start dragging him. More than two hundred pounds of bulky man and armor but it doesn’t matter because if he dies like this you’ll never fucking forgive him, never fucking forgive yourself.

You drag him out of the wreckage and dump him unceremoniously on the grass, and then you get really scared. He hasn’t made a single noise, hasn’t even tried to help you with his weight.

You thump a little harder than you should on his chest, desperation outweighing any logical train of thought. “Din, wake the fuck up!”

It’s the slightest of movements–just a barely discernible turn of his helmeted head–but it’s enough. 

“Where are you hurt?” You beg, plead, cry. “You have to tell me where you’re hurt, I can help, but you have to tell me.”

His neck is just the littlest bit exposed, but it’s enough. You see scarlet red rivers tracing paths down corded muscle, and it makes your gut clench so hard you almost get sick right then and there.

“You have to take it off,” you whisper–your hand comes to rest at the side of his helmet, the only thing between living and dying at this point. “You have to take it off, Din, I can’t do it for you.”

His fingers twitch indecisively at his sides, and you realize with a gut-wrenching pang of fear that he might not be strong enough to do it himself. 

Or, even worse: that he might rather die than show you his face.

As soon as you’re back out the door, your body tremors with a sudden wave of previously repressed anxiety. You want to break out in tears, but you can’t yet. If there’s ever a time you have to be strong, it’s now.

You tuck the bag of supplies underneath your cloak and draw the fabric tightly around your torso as you walk back down the street the way you came.

You don’t think the storekeeper alerted anyone who shouldn’t know about your presence here, but you walk as quickly as you can anyway. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

The ship is old and barely functional, but it’s the best you could scrape up on short notice. It works well enough for these little in-system supply runs, even if it does shake a little more than is comfortable when you take off and land.

After what happened to Din, you swore you would never fly again. That promise went pretty short-lived.

“You’re late. Again.”

You’re used to the deep, gravelly tone of his modulated voice by now, but that doesn’t stop the shiver that works its way down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you say, as meek as you can sound. You set a bundle of herbs and vegetables down on the counter, hoping the offering will appease him at least a little bit. “I found a garden and–”

“And you shouldn’t be going that far alone.” His voice is firm, there’s no room for negotiation.

“Din, I–”

“Don’t. Argue.” And there’s just something about that authoritative tone that makes your traitorous heart seize in a way it shouldn’t. “You are in danger. I brought you here to protect you but I can’t if you keep running away.”

“I wasn’t ‘running away’, I just wanted to be helpful.”

But he’s not budging–not on this one. “You can’t be helpful if you’re captured or killed.”

He stands towering next to you, so solid and imposing. He sets his hands on his hips and you hate the disapproval radiating from him. More specifically, you hate that you’ve disappointed him.

Your voice sounds small, meek–you hate it. “I didn’t do it, Din.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a galactic fugitive with a bounty on your head.”

He’s not wrong, but it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prickle defensively anyway.

“You said we were safe here. You said we could lay low here until my name is cleared and no one would find me.”

“If you follow my orders,” he adds firmly. “You’re reckless and it’s going to get you killed.”

“I’m restless!” You correct, throwing your hands up in the air. “I hate being fucking… cooped up! I want to go out, and I want to do things, and I want to be able to take care of you the way you take care of me!”

There’s a heavy moment of silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. You know as soon as the words are out of your mouth that you’ve said too much, but you don’t know how to backtrack now.

“I can take care of both of us.” His voice is so much softer and gentler, you almost think you’ve misheard him. Surely you have, because it’s only been a few weeks since he rescued you from certain death–since he decided the price of the bounty on your head wasn’t more valuable than your innocence–and he’s been a stoic enigma the whole time. Always quiet, always imposing. You’ve never been able to get a good read of what’s going on behind that visor, so you’ve always assumed there wasn’t much.

Maybe you were wrong. You so desperately want to be wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, stepping a little closer. Approaching him like a wounded animal, terrified of scaring him off. “I’ll be more careful.”

And you hear it–the hitch in his breath through the modulator at your proximity. You’re closer than you’ve ever been before by choice, and he knows it.

“Good.”

He turns on his heel and retreats into the back room of the little cottage you’ve commandeered and fixed into somewhere livable, and you can do nothing but slump in defeat.

He barely gets the helmet over his ears before he passes out, but it’s enough. Your hands catch the heavy beskar before it can slide back down over his face and you pull it the rest of the way off to toss it safely out of the way.

You’ve seen little peeks of his skin before–mostly his hands when he tugs off those heavy leather gloves–and you know right away he’s too pale. His face is completely drained for color, and again you feel that uncomfortably sharp twist in your gut. But you tell it to fuck off and your hands spring into action, desperately trying to find what’s wrong.

There’s a small yet jagged piece of metal sticking out of his neck, right under where the helmet's protection ends but above where the neck of his shirt would normally sit. Just the smallest strip of exposed skin, but it’s enough. Luck wasn’t on his side today.

You have to pull it out to get a better idea of just how deep it is, but your fingers are so slick with his blood that you can’t get a good grip on it. That’s when the frustration kicks in and your eyes well with tears; your blurry vision only makes you more frustrated, until you’re helpless and sobbing into his stomach.

But you feel it–the slow, unsteady rise and fall of his chest. He’s fighting, but he needs your help. You need to get it together because you’re the only chance he has.

You take a deep, unsteady breath and wipe the blood from your hands–and then you reach for that jagged piece of metal again.

You have to sit in the cockpit of your rusty, scavenged ship for a moment to catch your breath after you land safely and in one piece. You’re not even scared of crashing, you’re scared of dying and leaving Din alone. Din, who believed you when you said you didn’t commit the murder you were charged with. Din, who took you to the safety of this mostly uninhabited planet and assured you that no one would find you. Din, who swore that he would protect you.

Din, who has yet to wake up since he fainted lifelessly in your arms.

The metal wasn’t imbedded that deep, thank the Maker. He lost a fair amount of blood over it, but not so much that he couldn’t recover, and it didn’t knick anything too important that you couldn’t stitch back up even with your unskilled hands. 

It’s the concussion that worries you. You’re certain it’s not the first he’s had, but it’s definitely got to be the most severe. His skull must’ve bounced around in that damned helmet like a stray pinball. You’re able to take a small amount of comfort from the way his pupils retract when you lift his eyelids, at least, but that comfort wanes with each passing day that he doesn’t wake up.

This is your third time returning from that shady little apothecary on the next planet over, but it’s the first time his eyes have been open when you come through the door.

And for one horrible, gut-turning moment, you think he’s dead. He stares so blankly at the ceiling that you want to fall to the floor and die yourself.

But he hears you approaching, and his eyes flicker over to you. Those deep, chocolatey brown eyes that you’ve come to crave meet yours for the very first time and you start to sob with relief.

You push his back firmly against the mattress when he tries to get up, and you shake your head when his lips part around unspoken words. You just need to cry right now, so he lets you.

Everything comes up all at once–days of panic and fear, days of never knowing if you would ever hear the sound of his voice again, days of tears that you haven’t cried because you haven’t allowed yourself to. It all comes to a boiling point and spills over the edge of the pot, and poor Din just lays there and lets you cry into his chest because there’s nothing else he can do.

It takes longer than you wish it did for you to regain some composure, and when you finally pull away you’re feeling a little more than self-conscious about the very apparent display of emotion.

He must sense it, and even though his face is unreadable, he catches your hand before you can retreat too far.

“H-helmet?” He croaks, throat dry with misuse.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’ll go get it. I… I didn’t see your face, as far as this is concerned. You’re safe with me.”

But he doesn’t let go of your hand when you step to retrieve the helmet–if anything, he squeezes it tighter.

“S’okay,” he whispers hoarsely. “K-kinda… feels ni-ice.”

And it makes your heart flutter in a way it shouldn’t. That not only is he letting you see his handsome face, but he might even be enjoying it.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” you murmur as you start to remove the bandage from his neck. It’s healed down to a thin line now–the bacta’s run its course, and it’s faded to a simple scar. It could be years old if you didn’t know better. “I… I was so scared.”

“M’sorry.”

And you laugh, because it’s so ridiculous that he feels the need to apologize. It’s so ridiculous that he could think you’re upset at him for getting hurt when all you feel is pure, unadulterated relief.

He takes a deep breath and catches your hand again. “Saved me.”

“You saved me, too,” you murmur–before you can think about it, you ghost your lips in a feather-light kiss over his knuckles.

His eyes flutter shut from that minimal amount of contact, but it’s enough. He’s okay, you’re okay, and it’s enough.

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[thelastofhyde]

i. sea-day 1.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. as the ship sets sail, you search for help. at the bar, you encounter a familiar stranger. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much )&lt;3 chapter warnings. alcohol, mentions of class/wealth themes, implications that the reader has underlining mental health issues, convenient plot-devices that would only ever happen in a rom-com bc this is fun silly fiction baby!, joel suffers from acute insuferable-bastarditis :( word count. 3.7k hyde’s input. let's all hold hands and agree to ignore the fact both parts so far have opened on the reader panicking in a bathroom, okay? maybe she's a stressed girlie with a flare of ibs, you don't know her life. feeling a little insecure abt this chapter and lowkey don't wanna post it, but i promise the actual fun begins in chapter two, where we finally get to see tourguide!joel in action. previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

“What time did you say you boarded?”

Your mother’s voice travels from where your phone lays, abandoned upon the bed, all the way into the decadent bathroom.

Eyes moving a mile-a-minute, as if you're rushing to take in every jaw-dropping detail.

There’s the sink area, a double-vanity that’s centred with an array of lotions and soaps, and overlooked by an overwhelmingly large mirror that makes up half the wall, lined with a golden hue of light. A shower, with glass curtains and enough room to fit your whole wardrobe in it. Then, there’s the bathtub you’re already envisioning yourself sinking into. Marble lines the floor, and the outer wall is made up of three window panes, gifting you a view of pure blue, the sea and the sky melting into one another across the horizon. It’s making you nauseous, this looming feeling of imposter syndrome the interior brings you.

You don’t belong in this, a fancy room designed for fancy people.

An iteration of your name, back on the bed, drags you away from your own troubled reflection.

“Seven,” you call out, inching your way back into the main area of the suite.

“In the morning?!” She’s just as shocked as the first time you answered her question, fifteen minutes ago, and the second time, seven minutes ago.

Humming in approval, you give a sweeping gaze over the plush carpeted floor, the wall-mounted television displaying the cruiseship’s logo, the king sized bed that’s calling out for you, seducing you with the promise of a mattress that won’t be stabbing at your back the whole night. As if on queue, there’s a sharp pain in your lower back, a lasting reminder of the hostel you’d found little rest in last night.

“Well, there goes my jealousy!” Lacklustre replies aside, your mother continues her ramblings, used to filling the void of conversation with the sound of her own voice. “Can you imagine? Me, awake at that time? You’ll be glad you’re travelling on your own, honey.” Usually, you admire the positive spin your mother tries to bring to life. Your being alone upon this trip, however, is not a topic you want her to address, much less find the good in. “I mean, I don’t think even your sister-”

“I think they’ve made a mistake,” you cut her off, eyes zeroing in on a pair of glass doors. Snatching the phone off the bed, you turn off the speaker and press it to your ear just in time to hear your mother’s confusion, questioning what you mean. Focus on those doors, you slowly make your way over to them. “The room,” you clarify, fingers curling around a handle to unlock it, prying the doors apart. A wave of salty fresh air, hits your face as you step out onto wooden decking. You find yourself upon a balcony, facing off into the deep blue distance. To your left, there’s two sun loungers and a glass coffee table, mounted by two champagne flutes and a simple welcome note sprawled out in black ink. “I think they’ve given me the wrong room.”

It’s the next best thing to a reasonable explanation you can find, no chance on earth you were ever listed to stay in such a suite. No, a room like this is meant for a wealthy businessman and his uptight wife to overindulge themselves on gold-trimmed furniture and a fur-lined bed for a week, in which they do everything but address the lipstick stains that keep lining his collars or the chauffeur who keeps himself parked between her legs.

You can already picture such a pair now, storming over to some poor, unsuspecting deckhand, red on both their faces as they begin to berate him over the fact they're in a cabin the size of a cupboard, with a communal restroom and a bunk barely fit for one person.

“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

“No,” it’s an answer you reluctantly give, more than aware of how ridiculous it sounds. “It’s… nice. Perfect. Too perfect, like I should feel lucky to stand in it, nevermind live in it for the next few days.”

It’s with caution that you glance over each shoulder, taking note of the seemingly never ending row of balconies that line the ship, a sizable gap between each one. Guts twisting a little at the thought, you peer ever so slightly over the right edge and are greeted with views of more balconies. Beyond that, there’s only blue. Waves crash into the ship’s side and bounce off in white foam. You renew the distance between you and the ledge, unable to stop yourself from glancing both ways, confirming there’s no neighbouring balcony that finds itself occupied.

Then bend down, clasping a hold of one of the champagne flutes.

You take your first sip like it’s a crime, wearily, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to be caught in the act and dragged out of this room, down to whatever poverty loft you really belonged in.

Or, maybe they’d just toss you overboard, rid themselves of any possible hassle. People go missing all the time at sea, right? People go missing all the time on cruises. You’d just be another blip in the system, an error that can be overwritten with a simple-

“I can hear you thinking through the phone, sweetie.”

You take another sip, and let a weight fall off your chest, dragging in a breath large enough to make up for the moment or two you’d stopped breathing. “I’m just… tired. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine. No big freak out on it’s way, again.”

“Honey, you know how me and your father feel about you calling it a freak-” she must be able to hear your eye roll through the phone, cutting herself off before she can keep going. “Just, try and enjoy this trip, okay? Maybe you’re in that room because where you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’ve been awarded some free upgrade, like that time your dad got bumped up to business class!”

Bless her for trying, though she may fail. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face.

You swallow back what remains of the bubbled liquid.

Through the phone, you hear a door burst open and the entrance of a loud, excited little voice. Something akin to granny rings down the line, and it’s enough to have you frozen where you stand, bones rigid and unable to move. Something seems to smack into the microphone, a rustling of fabric as you envision your mother making room for little limbs on her lap.

“Hey, my little munchkin! How was soccer?” You can’t make out what the voice tells your mother, heart too busy beating louder than any drum, inching its way further up your wind pipe and threatening to choke you on it. “Guess who I’ve got on the phone?” The tiny voice squeals out your name, bile joins your heart inside your throat. Maybe this is how you find out you get seasick. “Do you wanna say hi-”

“Mum, I, uh… I’ve gotta go,” you’re eyeing the remaining glass on the table, the rising bubbles enticing you to hurry up, drink it before it goes flat. “I should go find the help desk, get this room thing sorted out.”

“Just a second, let E-”

“I’ll call you later,” you hang up.

You’re left with just the raging waters below, a caw from seagulls up above. Eyes slipping shut, you pull in a deep breath and push out a silent plea for that sting in your eyes to be from the salt in the air, not a set of unfallen tears. A few more breaths and it feels safe enough to open your eyes again, glancing down as your phone vibrates in your hand.

Two texts, each from your mother.

09:38 - She says hi, and that you better bring her back a cool souvenir. 09:39 - Doctor Anderson says she’s showing improvement and they’re finally starting to get somewhere. Just thought you’d want to know x

Giving in to temptation, you snatch up the champagne glass, bring it up to your lips and- pause, interrupted as you make eye contact with a man one balcony over. He’s older, a well-rounded gut fit into a light blue shirt and tailored trousers. With a rolex on one wrist and set of bright white teeth smiling right at you, there’s no mistaking he belongs in one of these suites.

You wonder what he thinks of you and your frayed sweater, no jewellery on your wrists.

He nods, politely, and raises his own glass towards you. A silent cheer, a recognition that you’re both here, living life in luxury. You meet it, raise your own glass, and try to smile as brightly as him.

Then knock back your second drink and saunter back inside.

“Miss, there’s been no mistake.”

In spite of it being an excuse to hang up, you stay true to your word.

Come early noon, you’re standing within the help centre. Against all odds, accidental nap and wild goose chase upon the ship deck be damned, you’ve found what you were looking for.

Or, well, an older woman with sweet smile on her face and a squinted nametag pinned to her chest found it, pointed you in the direction of the ship’s atrium. What you’re looking for is the Purser’s Office, dear.

“See? The booking under your name lists you as part of our excelsior guests.” The desk clerk turns her screen towards you, acrylic nail pointing at your booking information. Sure enough, in bold letters, your full name accompanied by a golden badge at the end. Excelsior Status, checkmarked and approved by the cruise. “This grants you access to one of our excelsior suites and all private excelsior lounges.”

In all honesty, you’re tuning her out a little.

You don’t mean to, sincerely, but you’re just so caught up in reading both your name and excelsior suite, over and over and over again, that you forget to really listen, mind running just a few seconds behind the speed of her mouth.

When you finally process what she’s saying, all you can manage is dumbstruck look on your face and a muttered, “oh.”

Paper rustles as your hands wring, the pristine pamphlet you’d been flicking through to fill the time as she’d searched up your details now rumpled, thin white cracks of paper peaking out beneath printed ink.

“I also see that you’ve added the excelsior tour package onto your booking, though I’m willing to change that for you, if you’d prefer signing onto one of our team tours instead.” Confused by her offer, you glance down and read over the pamphlet’s title- All-Aboard Tour Trips, Fun for all the Family! “Would you like to hear what your current tour package grants you?”

“If,” as if you’ve not embarrassed yourself enough with your cluelessness towards your own booking, your voice cracks under the pressure of being used, more squeak than actual intelligible words. You swallow back the lump of shame in your throat and push through. “If you don’t mind, please. This, uh- The ticket, it was a gift, so I’m just a little out of the loop of what’s been booked for me.”

“Not at all! So, the excelsior tour package gives you access to your own private tour-guide, for all seven stops we’ll be making on this cruise!” Already, you feel a little queasy at the thought. A private tour, no one but you and some stranger. It’s not exactly your dream scenario. “Your guide’s purpose won’t just be to walk you through all the memorable sites, but to curate your visits to your liking, helping you explore foreign land with a familiar taste. Where the tours in team are restricted to allocated timeslots and a set route of sites to visit, having a private tour-guide grants you the privilege of exploring where you want, for however long you want. The private tour also provides more time for you at each stop, as your timeslot to board will be the latest available, making your whole trip less of rush and more of a thrill.”

The clerk, without a doubt in your mind, is quoting a script she’s already said hundreds of time- word for word, beat for beat. Yet her voice is animated, her smile is kind, and you admire her a little for getting through it without a single laugh at the corniness of it all.

You, however, fail the challenge, glancing off to your side and biting back a giggle that you hope she takes no note of. The last thing you want is for her to mistake the laughter as directed towards her.

Weighing your options, you nervously ask, “but, you could change me over to a team tour?”

She says of course, with a smile that doesn’t waver, and the tension in your shoulders lessens, the ice cold feeling of inconveniencing her melting away at her warmth.

Her nails clack as she types away on her keyboard. A double click and then, a hiss. She’s no longer smiling, a grimace taking it place. “I’m sorry, but all of our tours are fully booked.”

“Oh. That’s- It’s okay.”

“But, I could add you to the waiting list! If there’s any cancelations for any of the stops, you’ll be the first to know. This won’t affect your excelsior tour package, so either way you’ll have some kind of guide.”

With nothing to lose, you figure why not and let her throw your name in the metaphorical hat.

Mid-typing away, eyes glued to her screen, you watch as her brows shoot up. “Oh, while I’ve got you here, there’s one more thing. With our excelsior guides, it’s customary that they meet with you on the first night, to touch base on simple things, like your interests or any goals for this trip, and to plan out tomorrow’s official first stop, which is in Santorini. Your guide has left you this, detailing where you’ve to meet him.”

With renewed hesitation, you grab at the folded note she slips over the desk. It’s small, with half an inked fingerprint burnt into the top left corner.

As you thank her for her help and bid her goodbye, she interrupts you before you can turn to leave.

“I know private tours can seem daunting but, you’re in good hands. Joel will take care of you, he’s our top-rated guide.”

The note remains folded as long as you can control your curiosity, which appears to be only until you’re back on the deck, sun shinning directly in your eyes and forcing you to squint as you read over faded blank ink.

10 pm, the Tipsy Byson bar.

Below that, in a bolder blue ink, wear something green for me to find you, JM.

You’re awfully overdressed, and painfully aware of it.

The Tipsy Byson is nestled between the arcade and the casino, a balance of childlike shrieks harmonizing over outraged yelling of men cheated out of their hands. Brown wood lines just about every inch of the place, from the walls, to the tables, to the bar. There’s an outrageously large Stars and Stripes flag hanging on the wall, and memorabilia of all things Texas Roadhouse. The place is themed, down to the cowboy hat that sits atop the bartender’s head, and clearly everyone is aware of this, decked out in scruffed up boots and worn out denim vests.

Everyone but you, dark green silk clinging to you in the shape of a laced-back midi dress, dainty black heels tucked into the footrest of the barstool you occupy.

It’s the only green thing you brought and- wear something green for me to find you- you’d had no choice.

It was a quarter to ten when you got there, earlier than you were requested, but a gentle buzz of something shooting through your nervous system left you impatient, unable to wander the ship’s halls any longer.

It was fine, you figured, gave you a chance to get a drink, cool your nerves a little. Sticking with the theme of green, you’d yelled over the line music for a midori sour, please, and even cracked a little smile at the cute bartender.

By twenty past ten, you’re still alone, no tour-guide in sight, and your glass is empty, a sole ice-cube all that remains. You order another glass, given him another smile, and return your eyes to the entryway as you sip back the taste of the dewy melon goodness.

The doors opened, your hopes rise and- a couple walks through the door, adorably dressed in matching jackets.

Another sip.

The doors open again, this time you watch as a few women walk in, party hats and bachelorette signs dripping off them.

Half your drink, gone again.

Two, three, four more times the door opens and you watch as strangers filter in and out, pretending you don’t notice the way some of their eyes linger on you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It’s as you throw back the last sip of your cocktail, eyes catching the time- 22:36-, that you watch a grin overtake the bartender’s face.

The door shuts with a slam, buried beneath the layers of stomping feet across the dance floor and the twang of a country song, yet you hear it all the same, twisting in the stool.

A man stands by the entry, salt-and-peppered hair a little tousled and a scowl etched into his forehead. He moves like water, slipping through the cracks in the crowded bar with minimal effort. All the while, eyes seem to follow him, the occasional head turning in his direction. He spares no glances, to anyone.

Instead, he’s staring right at you.

And heading your way, frown and all.

There’s something in his face that feels familiar, and you swear that this is not the first time you’d stared into those eyes. Broad, scruffy facial hair, his irritation as some drunk girl slams into him so palpable, you almost taste it on your tongue.

You mumble something to the bartender, a request for another drink, a parched feeling stirring in your loins.

He’s inching closer, and closer, and closer- and, only as he’s a mere three bar stools away from you, do you realise who he is.

You’re in the way.

Signore Miller.

The rude man from the airport!

God, you can’t wait to see what this is about. He must recognise you, must feel the shame licking at his wounded ego, driving him to come over, apologise, beg for forgiveness to a stranger he unnecessarily berated.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” It’s not Signore Miller that speaks, nor is it you. It’s the bartender, arms crossing over his chest, smirk widening on his face. “Thought you said last season was your last!”

“You know me,” his eyes are still glued to you, an intense stare, even as he replies. There’s so little space between you now, you manage to notice the wrinkles in his flannel shirt. You choose to ignore the fact it’s green. “Ain’t no good at stayin’ away from the things I hate.”

“Wasn’t what you were saying at the staff party last year, Mr. Blubber-face. Took two whiskeys to get you crying ‘bout how you were gonna miss the cruising life.”

Another midori sour lands your way, yet you don’t even manage a single sip of it before he’s opening his mouth.

“Well look at you, all dressed up with nowhere to go,” his eyes still pierce into your own and, this time, it is you he’s talking to.

You’d have half the mind to throw your drink on him, if it weren’t for the fact you’re too busy taking a stabilizing gulp out of it, a sweetness to counter-attack his sour persona.

“Excuse me?!” You final sputter out, face burning too hot and pride too scorned to begin to feel even more out of place.

He seems unfazed by your outrage, turning away from you to acknowledge his friend behind the bar at last. “Do me a favour, Luke, don’t give her too much to drink.” Condescending tone perfectly intact, Signore Miller doubles down on your initial impression of him: an absolute asshole. “Last thing I need is to spend all day draggin’ around some prissy hungover diva.”

The man- Luke- scoffs back a laugh, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Quit teasin’ the poor girl, ‘fore she runs for the hills and ruins your five-star rating.”

An uncomfortable feeling creeps down your spine. It’s cold and alarming, and has your straightening your back, sitting a little tenser in your seat, realization rising in you like the dawn.

It can’t be.

He can’t be-

He’s stepping all in your space, face leaning down till his mouth is at the level of your ear. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even come close to it, yet there’s goosebumps littering your arms and hairs standing at the back of your neck.

Like touching a live wire, his proximity feels electric.

“Best be on that deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’ll be dockin’ without ya.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“Joel, tourguide. At your service.” He’s pulled back, just to thrust his hand in your face. By the time you reach to shake it, he’s retracting it, that grating quirk in his lips moving higher up his cheek. “Oh, and do yourself a favour. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. Santorini ain’t the place for dainty heels like those.”

You knock back the rest of your drink moments after he leaves, only to find Luke’s already placed a fourth glass at your side.

“Our little secret,” he faux-whispers, pressing a finger to his pursed lips. “Besides, you look like you could use it.”

Signore Miller.

Joel, tourguide.

Joel Miller.

He’s already making your trip unbearable, and it’s hardly begun.

+ extra hyde. sorry if that was a little boring it was a necessary part to get the ball moving, i promise chapter two gets right into it. again, updates to this fic happen every other friday! i'm bad at describing spaces, so if anyone is curious to know what reader's suite looks like, here are some reference pics:

taglist. @auteurdelabre

[ad0rechuu]

ᝰ MY OH MY. ━━ (029) balloon flowers versus roses

WORD COUNT. 1038

WARNINGS. a little timeskip from last chapter but only a couple days, yelling, arguing, just some pretty serious and mean spirited insulting, i was in really bad mood when i wrote this but let me just say again that this fictional and i know yj is better than this :]

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

SUNWOO WAS NEVER the target of the bet nor did he create it. Honestly speaking, it was never his issue at all.

Yet as he walked out of the familiar elevator, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders since the last time he'd stood in that very same spot.

The bet wasn’t technically his issue. Neither was your relationship with Yeonjun. But he could not have helped but insert himself in the very middle of it. It came down to the most important person in his life. What was he supposed to do?

Not many friends, especially best friends, would be this overjoyed that their dearest friend's relationship ended. Sunwoo, however, wasn’t like most friends. Because if it was up to him, he would lose the title of being solely your best friend as soon as humanly possible.

A smile took over his face as he turned the corner, his eyes fondly looking down at a bouquet of flowers— the very same flowers you got him too.

He hadn’t brought the balloon flowers in for any particular reason (even if he spent a greater part of the night researching the best florists near him). At first, confessing to you was on his mind. But eventually, he decided that after just coming out of a relationship like the one you had, maybe getting into another one right away wasn’t on most people’s wishlist.

And giving flowers with such a romantic meaning as a congratulatory gift for a breakup wasn’t ideal either.

So he decided that the fact that they might make you smile was enough reason for him. His own smile grew imagining your face already.

He looked up in front of him. A familiar figure making its way up to your door caught his attention.

As quick as his smile had grown, it dropped instantaneously, seeing the other visitor raise his fist to knock, roses in his free hand.

“Don’t!” Sunwoo exclaimed, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, rolling his eyes as recognition settled in.

Yeonjun straightened his back and sent a quick glance at the door before eventually facing the other man. Sunwoo walked towards him with an unreadable but dark expression on his features.

The former only chuckled, pushing his hand through his hair.

“Kim Sunwoo! Don’t you have a knack for always showing up on time to ruin the moment?”

The black, curly-haired boy move one step closer.

“I’m serious. Don’t knock. Don’t show up in front of her. Don’t attempt to get her back for the sake of a stupid bet. Don’t do that her.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do? You don’t know anything.” Yeonjun scoffed, crossing his arms.

Sunwoo paused for a few seconds, clearly in thought. He then reached into his pocket.

“Is it because of the money that you keep doing this? I was always under the impression that you were more than well off, but if you really need the money, I’ll give you everything I have. If it means you’ll stop hurting her and leave her life forever.” He said, looking down at the wallet before offering it to Yeonjun.

His expression changed from annoyance to pure anger. He roughly pushed Sunwoo’s hand down, speaking with the same rough caliber.

“Like I said, you don’t know anything. Stop talking like you do.” His hand came up to his beautifully sculpted face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about the fucking money man. I really do love her!”

“Yeah, right! How can you say that? I mean, you have done nothing but lie, cheat, and use her! You don’t love her. You just don’t want to lose the power you have over her!” Stepping even closer, the boy holding purple flowers now also raised his voice. “I bet you don’t even know what love is to her!”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes! Yes, I do! Better than you ever will.”

Both of their voices bounced off the walls. In any other context, Sunwoo would be worried about getting scolded for possibly disturbing your neighbors. But he was too busy shooting an icy glare at the boy in front of him.

As Yeonjun looked away first, a part of Sunwoo wanted to celebrate the tiny victory internally. But a sarcastic laugh took his attention.

“You think you know everything just because of your silly little crush on her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sunwoo’s eyes widened, blinking a few times as if it would make sure he heard him correctly.

“You thought I didn’t know? Ha! Everyone knows. I mean, you follow her around like a lost dog. She probably does as well.” Yeonjun smirked, at the shock at the other one’s face.

Balling his fist, he tried to recollect himself and attempted to ignore the implications of his words the best he could.

“N-None of your relationship was even real ever since the second bet! Despite that, I can give her the love you weren’t able nor deserve to give her. I truly love her!”

“None of it was real. Yet she was kissing my lips. She was going on dates with me. Despite everything, she still chose me, and she will again.” He clenched his jaw, spitting words like venom, made to burn deeply. Normally, Yeonjun wouldn’t go this far but anger took over after Sunwoo’s confirmation in form of a confession of what he knew already deep down. “But even if she doesn’t, did you truly think that you had any semblance of a chance, ever?”

“She’s never ever going to see you that way and you are never going to be worthy of her. You’ll be nothing but her friend until she inevitably gets tired of you and ditches you.”

This time, Yeonjun was the one who stepped closer, tongue as sharp as an arrow, not even stopping at the obvious nauseating heart break on Sunwoo’s face.

“Because you two are simply not on the same level like me and her are, she’ll never love you.”

Before Sunwoo get a word in, the two boys heard the door creak open, making both of them look up at the figure standing in the doorway.

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NOTES. hehehhehehehhehehehehhehehehehhehehehe

make sure to participate the ask them anything event, it’s very important to me : it’s okay if you already send an ask tho, feel free to ask as many questions as you desire whenever you think of one

TAGLIST. @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @starryunho @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @felixsramen @aapplepii @juhakutie @gyumibear @alixnsuperstxr @atinyinateezverse @nyukyusnz @ghstzzn @blueresides @shakalakaboomboo @haechology @ahnneyong @atinycafe @i-luvsang @nasangel @asherthehimbo @marvelahsobx @blue-rainydays @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @evilsailorsenshi @allisonleannn @sunkitti @koizekomi @ms-no1kpopstan @marsvillee @tubatu-wari-wari @jazminethecreator @mitchko11 @daegale @wonwootakemyheart @ksywoo @dearly-somber @hxnnibxns @luvvsnae

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Lost & Found Pt 1

Yandere Merman Jun Guevara x Princess Reader x Vampire Biscuit Oliva

……………………………………….

By the time (your name) had gotten most of the blood washed from her skirts, it was too warm to wear. The salty ocean water did little to remove the crimson stains off the once white skirts of her dress. It was hopeless to even try to remove the blood off to begin with but it helped her try to stay sane in this predicament she found herself in…

She turned her head to glance at the vast inescapable ocean she found herself surrounded by on this small island… the island he had taken her to. A bull shark merman named Jun Guevara had saved her when a wave had tipped over the ship taking her to her fiancé’s home country to be wed for the peace between their nations… a shame she never made it to him.

In a way she was thankful to the merman who had rescued her from a cold, painful death but at the same time… she wished she had died with her knights and servants since she was now trapped on this small island.

(Your name) didn’t dare enter the forest any deeper than she had to in fear of there being other fantastical creatures like Jun. she doubted they’d be as ‘friendly’ as he was.

“Meu anjo!” Speak of the devil… she turned her head to see Jun peak his head out from the sea, the merman giving her a toothy grin. His dark eyes softened when he saw her sitting on a rock. He wondered if she waited for him all day… “I’m back. I brought you some fish… are you hungry?”

Jun swam over to her in less than a second, the tan merman placed a large tuna fish in front of her with a smile. The merman then used his muscular forearms to pull his body onto the rock to sit beside her, his gray and white tail curled beside him as he leaned his upper body close to hers.

“You’ll catch a cold in those wet clothes… do you need me to find you something, querida?” Jun asked softly, his clawed fingers running over the damp fabric of her skirts. His tongue clicked in annoyance. “I hadn’t meant to ruin them… I can try to find you something-“

“It’s alright, Jun. Thank you.” (Your name) smiled at Jun, which made the merman beam brightly like the sun. His clawed fingers found themselves affectionately stroking her hair now.

“You’re so sweet, querida… I’m so happy to have saved you.” Jun brought a lock of her hair up to his lips and gave it an affectionate kiss. “I’ll do my best to be a good provider for you… I’m trying to find a way to stay on land longer so I’d be able to keep you safe.”

(Your name) did her best not to shy away from his touch. She had no idea why he was so insistent on keeping her company, but he was helpful. Perhaps Jun was lonely…

Jun ended up spending the rest of the day with her. The merman sharing tales of fighting pirates and other creatures in the sea. But then his eyes got dark when he cast a glance towards the large mountain on the island.

“Meu amor, swear to me you’ll never leave the shore where I can’t reach you.” Jun whispered softly, his hands wrapped around hers. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you if you end up in mister Unchained’s territory…”

“Mister Unchained?” (Your name) tilted her head. It seemed Jun knew another fantastical being on this island… and from the way the other creature sounded, they must be dangerous.

“He’s a vampire that resides in the castle on top of the mountain. He has gone mad since the death of his lover over a century ago.” Jun gave her hands a squeeze. “He hasn’t come out of that castle for years but even then… It’s best to avoid him.”

(Your name) frowned, a part of her feeling sympathy for the poor man. She could not imagine losing a lover and being along for a century… a part of her was curious on what kind of man this Mister Unchained fellow was.

Jun leaned forward and pressed his lips on her cheek. Despite him being on land for awhile, Jun’s lips were still as cold as a fish’s belly.

“I’ll figure something out for us… Just stay close to me.” Jun rested his head on her shoulder, his wavy locks tickling her soft, tender skin. “It’ll all be situated soon.”

(Your name) allows him to touch her in hopes of him not harming her in anyway, but from the way Jun was… she wondered if he saw her as his mate…

Hopefully not. She really wanted off this island.

.

.

.

(Your name) laid in her makeshift hut after Jun finally left, a comfortable fire burning in front of her to keep her warm. Tomorrow she’d look for more wreckage to see if she could upgrade her shelter and maybe even wear some more suitable clothes…

As her eyes fluttered shut into a deep sleep, she failed to realize the vampire bat that shifted into a man in front of her shelter. A giant, muscular man stood before her with a soft look in his eye. A large hand ran across the soft skin of her face, his brown eyes full of awe.

“Now what’s a darling thing like you doing out in a place like this… it’s not suitable for a lady at all.” The man glanced around before her carefully scooped her up into his arms like a bride. A warm smile on his face when she subconsciously snuggled into his arms. “I’ll take you back to my castle… it’s much more suitable for a princess like you…”

The man carefully carried the young woman towards his home, all while she was none the wiser…

[ginnsbaker]

A Form of Vengeance (Excerpt)

Summary: “Hold it,” you challenge, locking eyes with her, pushing her to her very limits. “Hold it or you’ll never see me again.”

Word count: 2.4k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Dubious Consent, Edging, Toxic Relationships, Oral and fingering (Wanda receiving)

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

A/N: This is basically an excerpt from Chapter 6 of In Losing Grip on Sinking Ships, just so you have an idea how extensive the edits are that's currently in progress for the final PDF version of ILGOSS.

--

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door. 

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers. 

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over the neighborhood.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the stench of alcohol that welcomes her first. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other. 

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?” 

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become? 

When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned. 

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room. 

There’s nothing gentle in the way you tug down her shorts, letting them pool around her ankles and yank her shirt up, exposing the swell of her breasts to the cool room air.

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth. 

And Wanda loves it. 

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be. 

Every pulsation from her clit echoes the tempo of her racing heart. Your mouth, slick and fervent, descends onto her nipple, and your tongue drags languidly across in deliberate, lascivious strokes. The visual–the sheen of wetness, the very sensation of your mouth on her–makes her cheeks flame, and instinctively, her eyes drift away. But you're not about to let that happen.

Gripping her jaw firmly, you force her to witness what you’re doing to her. “Watch,” you demand, voice husky and heavy with desire. “Don't you dare look away.” 

Without breaking eye contact, you shift your attention, letting your drenched tongue lavish her other nipple, ensuring every inch of her feels that same overwhelming pleasure. Wanda's arousal pools beneath her, dampening the rug and every nerve ending draws her attention downwards, craving that much-needed release.

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her. 

As her fingers hesitantly make their way towards the fastening of your jeans, you're quick to intercept, pushing them away. With assertive hands, you grab hers, lifting and pinning them over her head, leaving her deliciously vulnerable.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. But now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects. 

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers. 

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

Yet, you seem lost in your own world, utterly intoxicated by the sight of your fingers disappearing inside your ex-wife's slick folds. Despite the initial discomfort, waves of pleasure soon drown out the pain, escalating with each thrust. Wanda's left clawing at the ground beneath her as your thumb starts circling her clit, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her.

Your fingers shift inside her, seeking out the textured area that she's most sensitive to. Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing. 

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She squirms beneath you, nearly delirious from the mounting ecstasy, trying to trap your hand between her knees to still your movements. But you force her legs to stay splayed open, angling your fingers to continually target that particularly responsive spot inside her.

“Kiss me,” Wanda breathlessly begs, her words feathering over your damp forehead. But instead of meeting her lips, you trace your tongue along the shell of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her. Just as she seems to reach her peak, you pull back your fingers, halting all stimulation, leaving her teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

She groans in frustration, her chest heaving, eyes dark with need. “Why?” she manages to gasp out, her hips unconsciously seeking the lost contact.

You lean close, lips brushing her earlobe. “Because I can.”

Her breathing turns even more ragged. “Y/N,” she begins, but her plea is cut off as you slowly trail kisses down her body. Every inch you move feels like an eternity for her, every kiss you plant on her skin making her shiver and writhe beneath you. When you finally reach her core, you can see how her pussy clenches with desperate need.

Positioning yourself between her legs, you pull them apart gently but firmly, giving yourself a clear view of her glistening arousal. Without touching her, you take a moment to appreciate the sight, which elicits a whimper from her.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your voice low and dangerous, each word deliberate. “And you tell me this isn’t what you want?”

Your face inches closer to her, close enough for her to feel each exhale against her sensitive skin. She attempts to buck her hips upward, seeking your lips, but you force her down with a dominant hand, immobilizing her.

“Remember,” you whisper against her, causing her to twitch from the sensation, “You're not allowed to come... not until I say.”

This is it–your form of vengeance. But even in your cruelty, it's paradoxically centered around her pleasure.

She emits a sound that's halfway between a plea and a sob, her hands grasping the carpet for any semblance of control. “Please,” she manages to choke out, sounding more desperate than ever. You slide a finger up her slit, collecting her wetness, and then move it up to circle her clit, slowly and tantalizingly. “Hold it,” you challenge, locking eyes with her, pushing her to her very limits. “Hold it or you’ll never see me again.”

The threat almost sends her over the edge.

“I—I can't,” she stammers, tears forming in her eyes, both from the effort of holding back and the emotional weight of your words. But beneath that fear is a stubborn determination. She won't let herself fall, not when so much is at stake.

You smirk, leaning down, your breath teasing her skin. The sensation of it sends shivers down her spine, her body acutely aware of every point where your warm breath touches. You trace the softest of kisses on her inner thigh, watching her tense up in anticipation.

“Relax,” you murmur, voice dripping with false sweetness. “I'm just getting started.”

Her whimper is music to your ears, but she attempts to stifle it, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. You take your time, tracing lazy circles around her entrance with your tongue, but deliberately avoiding the place she wants you the most.

When you finally slide a finger into her, Wanda arches up, trying to chase the feeling, to get more. But you pin her hips down with your free hand, your fingers moving tantalizingly slow inside her. Her breath hitches as you curl them upwards, applying pressure to that sensitive spot.

Wanda's eyes screw shut, her moans spilling out uncontrollably now. Just as she's getting accustomed to the rhythm of your fingers, you press your tongue to her clit. Her entire body shudders, the dual assault threatening to push her over the precipice.

Her whimpers grow more frantic, “Please, Y/N... Please,” a broken mantra, pleading for mercy or release, perhaps even both. But you pull back just a fraction whenever she nears her climax, drinking in her desperation. You watch her intently, taking sadistic pleasure in every twitch, every moan, every teardrop that slips from her eyes. She's on a razor's edge, strung taut, teetering between madness and ecstasy.

She pants heavily, eyes darting around the room in pure desperation, her every nerve ending screaming for release. You can see it, the raw need in her eyes, and the way her body trembles uncontrollably. With an almost wicked grin, you dive back down between her thighs.

Her whole body tenses as your tongue works fervently against her swollen clit. Your fingers find their way back inside her, thrusting hard and fast, in sharp contrast to the tantalizing teasing you’d given her before.

“Y/N,” she moans out loudly, her voice breaking from the strain of holding back for so long. But you don’t give her any room to breathe; you press on, your motions frenzied and insistent.

“Come.”

And then, all at once, she shatters.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably, her warm essence splashing onto your chin. Her back arches off the floor, her fingers clawing at the carpet, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you. 

You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions. 

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know,” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner? 

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for. 

Lies after lies, you think bitterly. 

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again,” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most. 

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Ocean Wave Blues by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt [M, 49k, Louis/Harry]

After the gruesome death of his Alpha, Harry takes over as the Captain of the Rose Arrow. Trying his best to uphold her reputation as being the most dreadful pirate ship to sail the Seven Seas.

With the help of his alpha-quartermaster Niall, he manages to keep his secondary gender hidden from everyone except his most trusted crew, as he operates under his late Alpha’s name. Captain Payne.

Everything changes when his ship is taken hostage by Pirate Captain Louis.

To keep his crew, and himself, alive, Harry must play the part of dutiful Omega who’s waiting for his Alpha’s return.

＊ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything [T, 5k, Harry/Louis]

Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college.

Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

＊ Into the Woods by @kingsofeverything [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Whenever he hikes, Harry keeps an eye out for trees with knots and scars that resemble buttholes. What started as fodder for his silly little Instagram account has become his favorite way to masturbate.

＊ A Book in the Ruins by magpielivingforglitter / @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome [M, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Harry randomly meets Louis, they eat food and read poetry, and it’s the zombie apocalypse.

＊ now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie [T, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. There's only one slight problem -- Harry and nesting aren't exactly on familiar terms. At all.

This does not stop Harry from borrowing ("borrowing") Louis' things all throughout summer, though. Oops?

＊ just a couple of my cravings by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf [G, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Summer's just around the corner and Louis' battling his addictions... Cigarettes and Harry Styles.

＊ better latte than never by @disgruntledkittenface [M, 1k, Zayn/Harry]

Harry was looking forward to the coffee cart at work. Until the subject of the previous night's fantasies lined up next to him.

＊ I Like to Watch by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 9k, Louis/Harry, Louis/Zayn]

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

＊ Hope by @hellolovers13 [T, 2k, no pairing, Louis, Harry]

A father's desperate journey against time.

＊ On Love's Doorstep by @hellolovers13 [T, 1k, Harry/Louis]

Harry Styles: a day in the life

☑ Stuck in a dress ☑ Abandoned by his best friend ☑ Date with hot neighbour

All in all, not the worst day ever

＊ the very last drops of an ink pen by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 47k, Louis/Harry]

The spoon made a hissing sound on the rim of his cup before he put it on his napkin. Sharp eyes met Harry’s over the table and Louis said, “So, we have a lot to talk about then.”

“How do you mean?” Harry blew on the foam at the top of his latte and let the heat of it warm his hands. Anxious energy curled down his arms as he waited for Louis to speak.

“Well, what are we doing about the business?” Louis picked up his mug and with his mouth against the lip of it, added, “Or are you going to leave that too?”

Against his will, his cheeks flushed in annoyance and Harry snapped, “Of course I fucking won’t.”

Or just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

＊ don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux [E, 83k, Louis/Harry]

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.

As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.

Louis is a boy. He knows he is.

or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

＊ Pacify Her by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry's anxiety is acting up. Louis has the only thing that will soothe her.

OR Louis' pussy is the ultimate pacifier.

＊ this brokenness inside me might start healing by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [T, 29k, Louis/Harry]

Louis grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone -- or at least, they think they do. Then he left, and became a successful singer-songwriter, a star that everyone in the country knows -- or at least, they think they do.

But when Louis returns home for the birth of his first nibling, he meets a librarian who doesn't know him at all. And that's all Louis could ask for.

“I remember when you were a teenager," Miss Susan says, "telling me all the things you wanted to accomplish, the places you wanted to go. And I’ve seen a lot of kids, with a lot of big dreams – but you were different. You had this… quiet energy, this determined certainty. When you told me all you were going to do, I believed you.” She smiles, spreading her arms. “And now here you are.”

Here he is indeed, Louis thinks bitterly. Back where he started. His dreams on pause, his future uncertain. His whole identity built out of secrets and half-truths, while everyone thinks they know exactly who he is.

He left to find himself, he came home to find himself, and yet – here he is, feeling more lost than ever before.

＊ Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 [T, 26k, Harry/Louis]

Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

＊ warmth within your arms by @hsburnr [M, 1k, Louis/Harry]

when it's get too much to bear and nothing makes sense, harry seeks comfort from louis.

one shot, hurt/comfort au.

- Fic Fests -

＊ 1D Dystopian Fic Fest / @1ddystopianfest / masterpost

“Telling a story in a futuristic world gives you this freedom to explore things that bother you in contemporary times.” ~ Suzanne Collins

- Podfics -

＊ [podfic] Season 3, Episode 4: Timeless [a fic by babyhoneyhslt] by podfic_pals / @podfic-pals [G, Louis/Harry]

After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.

Based on Taylor Swift's Timeless.

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

Okay so like I’ve been talking about the connections between hope and doubt and fear and doubt. Cassandra was in a half form. She both was and wasn’t Cassandra. In this form she was fear and doubt intertwined.

The fight with the dragons went well for the bad kids, but they still could’ve died so many times especially Gorgug, Fig, and Kristen. And they’re heading straight into another fight. One that they aren’t guaranteed to survive and won’t be able to rest beforehand. If they had had to continue fighting with the half formed Cassandra/Nightmare King shit would’ve gotten reallllll bad.

Cassandra/Nightmare King was the clouds around them. They were literally surrounded by fear and doubt. But for just a moment, in the midst of all this chaos, Cassandra was reached out to, she felt hope, for just a moment she felt like she wasn’t alone. And that moment of hope was all that was needed for them to get free. A moment of hopeful doubt cleared their path from oppressive clouds of fear.

Hope, doubt, fear, they’re all such powerful emotions. And when you’re surrounded by fear it really can feel like you’re flying a ship attached to a house through the sky while being attacked by dragons and having to pretend like nothing is wrong. You can’t let anyone see how you’re struggling or everything will fall apart.

“The dog you really gotta dred / is the one that howls inside men’s heads / it’s him whose howls drive men mad / and a mind to its undoing” Y’all already know how in love I am with Hadestown and its portrayals of hope, doubt, and fear. The dog, the fear, in your mind can drive you mad. Orpheus was consumed by fear and doubt and in the end it cost him everything. He reminds me a bit of Cassandra in that way.

Except that where Cassandra was always doubt, Orpheus was the embodiment of hope. Fear corrupted them both, but Orpheus never regained hope. And so he lost. Cassandra felt hope again. All is not lost.

“I’ll tell you where the real road lies / between your ears / behind your eyes / that is the path to paradise / likewise the road to ruin” We all gotta walk that road, and though in the lyrics Hermes says it’s a lonesome road to walk, I think if we aren’t alone on that road we have a better chance of reaching paradise than of ruin. Orpheus was alone in his head with his doubts and fears. The bad kids aren’t alone, Cassandra isn’t alone, it’s the only thing keeping her alive. The only thing keeping fear from completely consuming and corrupting her once more is the fact that she isn’t alone.

Idk this was a longgggggg ass ramble and I’m very tired but I think this season of fantasy high and hadestown connect well in how they both deal with hope, doubt, fear, and conviction. And I think an important lesson to take from both is that you can’t handle the whole world by yourself, you’ll go mad, but there’s power in people and in our connection to each other

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Month 5

The Road to Love

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

This idea was sent to me by Anonymous! CW: kinda long but it's from Ace's perspective! Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 5.2k

From the moment Ace heard your name, he was intrigued. 

“It’s a crazy story,” Thatch said as everyone sat down around him. “The Clandine Incident was one of the main reasons Y/N’s bounty skyrocketed. She’s got one of the highest bounties on the ship, especially for her age.”

Blamenco chortled. “She’s only got a big bounty cuz-”

“Though she’s always been a legend,” Marco said, cutting off Blamenco and ignoring his words. “The Navy has been trying to figure out who keeps ruining their plans for years. They just never expect it to be a teenage girl. It’d be higher if they knew everything she actually did.”

“Right,” Kingdew laughed. “They underestimate her because of her reckless appearance to them. They think she improvises everything she does.”

Ace raised his eyebrow. “How so?”

Izou hummed, knowing that the crew’s praise for you would have repercussions. This new crewmember seemed a little too interested in you. Still, Izou decided to indulge him. It’d be interesting to see where this all went. 

“The Clandine Incident is the best example,” Izou said. “The Navy had captured about forty of our men. It was looking bad. However, they had captured non-devil fruit users, so they were all in metal cages for transport.”

Marco interrupted and took over the story. “Because so many of Whitebeard’s men had been captured, almost all of the Navy’s forces had been called back to escort the prisoners to ships to be hauled off to Impel Down. Which left their defenses low, and we could launch an assault on our actual target and free a royal member of an island we watched over. They didn’t even have time to call reinforcements before the prince was released.”

“She and Marco led the operation to free the prisoners.” Thatch grinned ear to ear, staring at the first division commander. “I heard things got quite messy, but they got in and out without any fatalities.”

“Messy?” Ace inquired, nudging his friend to tell him more. “How so?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marco grumbled. “Just a few messes I had to clean up.”

Thatch cackled. “If I recall, it was Y/N who did the cleaning up, not the other way around!”

Marco rolled his eyes. “She’s always the one to make the sacrifice play, and she got mad when I wouldn’t let her do it. I swear she’s careful with everyone’s life but her own. ”

Ace could relate, which only made him even more interested in meeting you. “When’s she get back?” he asked, unable to hide the enthusiasm in his voice. 

The whole table erupted into laughter at his question. 

“She’s off limits, dude,” Vista said, giving Ace an empathetic pat on the shoulder. “If you try anything, Pops will kill you.”

“Pops wouldn’t get the chance,” Thatch said. “Marco would get you first.”

“Sorry man, they’re right. I know you’re my brother-” Marco smiled and shook his head. “But she’s outta your league anyway. Don’t even try it.”

“Look at him getting all protective!” Fossa bellowed, and the table erupted in laughter again. 

Ace gave a confused smile, looking around the table. It was clear he was missing something. Something obvious that everyone else seemed to be aware of.

“Go check the bounty poster room,” Curiel whispered, giving him a little nudge. “You’ll figure it out.”

Newgate. You were a Newgate. There was no chance in hell you’d ever even look his way. And if you knew who his father was…No, Whitebeard would never allow the son of his rival to date his only daughter. 

And yet, as he stared at your old bounty poster, he couldn’t help but think there was so much more to you than a name. 

--

Months later, Whitebeard stood towering over Ace. He had been called in for a meeting with his captain, and Ace was worried that he had screwed up big this time. 

“There’s something I should probably tell you, Ace.”

His voice didn’t sound upset, and Ace relaxed a bit. “What’s up Pops?”

“My daughter is returning home soon, which is quite a joyous occasion-”

Ace nodded. “I’m excited to meet her.”

Whitebeard watched the second division commander carefully. “There’s something I should warn you about.”

“Oh, Pops, don't even worry about that.” Ace’s cheeks were hot, embarrassed where this was going. Of course he knew about Ace’s flings and flirtations on the ship. Of course Whitebeard didn’t want him anywhere near you. “I’m not like that anymore. Besides, everyone has already told me.”

Whitebeard’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Told you what?”

“That Y/N is off limits. I shouldn’t interact with her or-”

Whitebeard laughed, his jolly expression returning at the absurdity of Ace’s comment. “Ace, son. I don’t care what you do in your free time. I don’t care what she does in her free time. My daughter is an adult. She can make her own decisions. I trust her with that ability. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t be my most valuable strategist.”

“Oh.” Ace suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He had never read a situation more incorrectly than he had in this moment. “Then what did you want to talk about?”

“My daughter,” Whitebeard said, still chuckling. “She can be…intense. And unfortunately, I believe she may take out some of that intensity on you.”

It was Ace’s turn to be confused. “Why?”

“Well…” Whitebeard’s eyes flicked towards the door nervously. “I promised her the second division commander spot before she left. But clearly, that’s been filled since she’s been gone.”

“Oh!” Ace said. “I can step do-”

“No.” Whitebeard's voice was firm and final. “You are the second division commander. But I am placing her under your command.”

Ace’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had expected Whitebeard to keep you as far away from him as possible. “Are you sure?”

“I believe you are most equipped to handle her.”

Ace laughed nervously. “Surely Marco. Or Thatch. Or Izou-”

“Are you not comfortable with it? I’d prefer she stay in division two for a few days to try it out. Would you like me to move her now instead?”

“No!” Ace rushed to say. “I’m honored to take her in my division. She’ll be a major asset.”

Whitebeard chuckled. “And a major pain in the ass at first. Give her some time, as a favor to me.”

Ace gave a nervous smile, unsure what exactly he was signing up for. “Sure, Pops. Anything-”

Suddenly a young woman burst through the door, storming up to his captain. Ace tensed, unsure of who you were or what was about to go down. 

“Y/N,” Whitebeard smiled, and Ace could feel himself start to sweat. He hadn’t expected this to all happen so soon. “You’re-”

“You bastard!” You screamed, pulling out a kunai. “You promised!”

Ace could hear the hurt in your voice, and he felt sorry for you. And then he started to feel sorry for himself. You couldn’t be the girl Marco had raved about, the cute girl in pigtails, who would do anything for a piece of chocolate. You couldn’t be the girl who had the skill set of a thousand men. 

You were far too rude to be the girl he imagined. Nobody talked to his father like that, especially not some entitled girl who thought it was her birthright. 

He threw a knife at your kunai, knocking it out of your hand. When you shot him a glare, he returned one back. He wasn’t going to let you intimidate him so easily. 

“Stay out of this, newbie,” you snapped at him. If this was how mad you were about a kunai, he didn’t want to imagine how mad you’d be when you found out about the position. 

You reached into your pouch and he lunged at you, grappling your wrists. He wouldn’t let you hurt or even attempt to intimidate his father, the person who saved him and called him his own. You had no idea how selfish you were being or how good you had it, and it made Ace’s blood boil. 

“I don’t know who you are,” Ace said, trying his best to sound intimidating. “But you have no right attacking Pops the moment you get on our ship.”

“Stay out of my affairs,” you snarled back. 

His grip on you started to feel hot, and for a moment he was afraid he had let his anger get the best of him. And then it began to heat up so much that he had to pull away. You were simply too hot to hold onto. 

You gave him a wicked grin of satisfaction, as if you were boasting about your victory in the small battle you momentarily had. But Ace was confused. How had you burned him? Nobody had managed to do that in a long time. Marco and the other commanders had talked about your ability before, but he had assumed it was just another type of fire or heat ability. 

And then he remembered something Marco had said. How you had gone up against the lava vice admiral once, and you burned hotter than even him. A volcano fruit, Ace remembered. Your heat far surpassed him. 

Oh, the two of you would make an interesting dynamic indeed. He was beginning to see why Pops had placed you under his command now. Ace wanted to know everything about you, and wanted to use you and your ability to his full advantage. He couldn’t wait to see what you could do, and what he could learn from you. He just had to get you on his side. 

Which was easier said than done. You weren’t exactly thrilled to meet him.

And then the welcome party happened, and you all were stargazing when you had fallen asleep. He wanted to lay there forever, but Marco had eventually found you all. The first division commander picked you up and began to walk away before he turned back for just a moment.

“You’re going to fall in love with her, aren’t you?” Marco asked. 

Ace scoffed in return. “I don’t fall in love.”

“Good,” Marco said. “Because she’ll break your heart.”

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t break hers?”

Marco glared at him, clutching you tighter to his chest. “If you even think about it, I’ll carry you out to sea and drop you in the ocean.”

Ace gave a light laugh, but quickly realized Marco was very serious in his threat. “Noted.”

“I’m serious, Ace,” Marco whispered. “Leave her alone. It won’t end well.”

Of course, he hadn’t listened, he was too captivated by you. After the election of new subordinate captains were solidified, Marco began switching his tune from warnings to encouragement, and Ace grew hopeful that you were interested in him. Marco even encouraged Ace to invite you to a party. But Marco was still clear: just because you needed friends didn’t mean you needed Ace.  

And then Ace understood. You were about to lose most of your childhood friends, and you would need a new support system. Still, Ace got his hopes up that maybe you would feel something eventually. But for now, Ace would be okay with friends, as long as you stuck around. 

A few nights later, he had really fucked up. He had taken Marco's advice, invited you to the party, and even made a bet with you about going drink for drink. And now, you were curled up against his chest, your skin warm against his. Every time you shifted or stretched, he found himself alert. He couldn’t sleep with you so close to him, his mind racing at one hundred miles per hour. You had wanted to sleep with him. Even if you hadn’t actually wanted to sleep with him, you did feel comfortable enough to fall asleep with him next to you. He didn’t know what to do. 

He wanted you. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to only belong to you. He had never felt this way about another person before, but he knew it was good and true and that he was yours. He would find a way to tell you and hope you felt the same way. You had fallen asleep in his arms, after all. That had to count for something. 

But the next morning you woke up in an unfamiliar place, and you had made it clear that while you appreciated his gentlemanly actions, you wanted nothing more. And so he held his tongue and went to the meeting he was summoned for, sleeping through the entire thing, wishing he was still in bed. Wishing you were still in his arms. 

And then you had been offered a job by your father, one that would take you away from division two. Take you away from him. It took Ace every ounce of self-restraint not to question his captain. Why would he hurt him like this? Why would he let you and Ace get so close, just to take you away?

Instead, he went to you, begging for you to stay in the most vulnerable way he knew how. He would’ve done anything, answered any question if it meant you would stay with him just a little bit longer. The two of you had become friends. That’s how he felt, at least. He wasn’t sure how you felt, but he had to hope. And you stayed. You chose him, and his heart continued to burn only for you.

The subordinate captains’ goodbye party was a testament to your planning skills. It had mostly been for Whitey, but it wouldn’t have been obvious if he didn’t know you. And maybe he didn’t. After all, he didn’t pin you as the kind of girl to make out with just anyone after a game of shots. Not that he cared anyway. You had made it clear you didn’t want more than a professional relationship with him. 

And yet, he still felt rather irritated by it all. He found himself receding from the party, deciding to find a quiet place to lean against the railing and stare out to sea in thought. He tried not to think about you, but all he could see was that red-haired boy and your lips smashed together. It should’ve been him there doing 5 shots with you. It should’ve been him getting a victory kiss. Not that little red-haired punk. 

“Berry for your thoughts?” Whitey said, leaning on the railing next to Ace. 

Ace looked over at her, startled. Whitey hadn’t talked to him since their fallout. She hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. And yet here she was, talking to him. She had to be drunk. It was the only explanation. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Whitey griped, though she wasn’t looking at him. “I know I’ve been shitty. But I’m not here to talk about us. I’m here to talk about you.”

“I actually wanted to find you,” Ace admitted. “I’m sorry about everything I put you through. That wasn’t fair and-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Whitey let out a deep sigh and then continued. “You’re only apologizing because you know you might never see me again. And while I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t want it.”

“It’s not because you’re leaving,” Ace corrected. “It’s because-”

Ace hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be this vulnerable with Whitey for multiple reasons. He didn’t want to open old wounds. He didn’t want her passing it on to you. He didn’t want her to laugh.

“Go on,” Whitey said, finally turning at looking at Ace. She didn’t look upset or angry. In fact, she looked like she knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“It’s because I know how you feel now,” he confessed. “And it feels really shitty. And I’m sorry.”

“We both wanted different things in that moment,” Whitey said. “I’m sorry for the part I played too.”

Ace shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do.” Whitey laughed and took a long drink of her ale. “Hold on to that person that’s making you feel that way, though. She’s really special.”

Ace froze, worried she was going to tease him. But Whitey just gave him a friendly wink and left him alone.

Marco found him a few minutes later. “Commanders and Strategists. Let’s roll.”

Ace frowned. He wasn’t ready to see you again. He was still upset about your public flirtation with someone else. Maybe you were his karma, but he still hated it. 

“Come on, lover boy. It’ll be fine.” Marco chuckled, pulling Ace back to the party. He was going to have to face you sooner or later, he knew that. 

Luckily, the evening only went up from there. 

--

Less than 24 hours later, the two of you were off on an impromptu mission. It was just the two of you, really. Kala and Mihal were coming too, but you all wouldn’t be together for long. 

He would get you all to himself. Away from your father’s watchful gaze, Marco’s interference, and any boy who might have a crush on you. It would just be the two of you. 

It had been fun, until women began crowding him, asking for dances. His heart broke a little bit when you told him to dance with them, but he listened. He had come here to spend the night with you, not with these snobby women who were dressed in gowns that were worth more than all the money he ever had as a child. But every time he looked for you, you were there, looking as beautiful and radiant as he had ever seen you.

Then you disappeared, and his heart beat out of his chest as he broke off a dance to search for you. He found you being led away by some pompous asshole who had been staring at you all night, and his stomach churned at the thought of what that man would try to pull once you were alone with him. 

He hadn’t meant to make a scene. He was just so upset. He should’ve never left you sitting alone at that table. To hell with all of those women. To hell with everyone here. You were the only one who mattered to him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and the hairs on Ace’s neck stood up. 

And then you slapped him. Hard. Like you really, truly meant it. And as you began screaming at him, he slowly realized he would now have to be the decoy. 

Some Marines grabbed his arms and hauled him away, but he couldn’t take his eyes from you, burying your face in that horrible man’s coat as you sobbed fake tears. 

They set him in a chair and an official sat across from him. Ace had no idea who it was. If you were here, you would’ve been able to tell him his rank, name, weakness, and everything else he needed to know. But you were tucked away somewhere upstairs. Safe, hopefully. 

“Listen son,” the man said, and Ace gritted his teeth. The only person who could call him son was Whitebeard, but he kept his mouth shut. The man didn’t seem to notice Ace’s seething rage, thankfully, and he continued. “I’m sure there was just a miscommunication. Why don’t you give me your commanding officer and we’ll get it all sorted out.”

“Commanding officer?” Ace questioned. He didn’t know any names. How could he have forgotten to do this? He should’ve paid more attention as you were pointing people out. 

“And your name and rank.”

Ace hadn’t thought of any of those things. He hadn’t expected you all to get caught. Or at least, he had expected you to do all the lying for him. 

“Kaclin McGrought, Captain,” Ace said. It was the first thing that came to his mind. “My Commanding officer is…”

Shit. Why could he only think of Garp? That would give him away immediately. Plus, Garp was here. They could just go ask him, and his cover would immediately be blown.

“My commanding officer is Clemence,” Ace tried to sound confident, like he knew exactly what he was talking about. 

“Clemence?” 

“From the East Blue?” Ace asked, raising his eyebrow. “Sir Clemence the Second? Surely you know him?”

The man nodded at a pair of lieutenants by the door, and they swiftly exited the room. Ace didn’t have a good feeling about any of this. He could only hope they weren’t heading to find and capture you. He could only hope you had come up with a better cover story. 

A few minutes later, one of the lieutenants came back and bent down to whisper something in his interrogator's ear. 

“So McGrought…” The man stared at Ace long and hard, and he knew he had been caught. “You and your commander don’t seem to exist. Why don’t you tell us who you really are?”

Ace swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. He wasn’t so nervous for himself, but he hated not knowing about your status. “Who I really am?”

One good thing would come out of this, at least. The Navy would know his name now. At least they would know his power, and his position. He wouldn’t be some “failed rookie” amongst their conversations. 

“Son-”

“Portgas D. Ace, Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.” Ace erupted into flames, and most of the people took a few steps back from the heat. “And don't call me son.”

With that, he threw off his shirt, turned, and jumped out the stained glass window. He wanted the last thing they saw to be his father’s symbol.

As he burst through the window, he only had one thought on his mind: he had to get to you. He had to make sure you were okay. 

That was the first and last time Ace underestimated your strategy ability. Even as you all spoke to his grandfather, even as you raced through the woods and spent the night in a borrowed house, he couldn’t help but admire just how brilliant you were. 

As the two of you walked through the town and snuck onto the beach, as you changed your plan on a dime and found a way to make it work, as you taunted a Vice Admiral, he couldn’t help but smile giddily, knowing you were his. And he was yours. 

He would have to tell Whitebeard, of course. He should’ve been more concerned about his fate, but he felt invincible, watching you as you slept on the boat ride back to the ship. You were together. Nothing could stop him now. 

Standing in front of Whitebeard was a much different feeling. But he needed to tell him. Not just because it was protocol, but because Whitebeard was one of the few men Ace respected in this world. He deserved to know.

“We’re dating.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at either of your faces when he spoke the words. He didn’t want to see his initial reaction, and he didn’t want to see your wrath. 

Whitebeard sent you out immediately, which was probably the best outcome. Ace could probably handle one angry Newgate. But there was no way he’d survive two of you angry at him. 

Ace could feel Whitebeard’s eyes on him, but he refused to look back. He was afraid of the disappointment he’d see if he looked. 

He stared at his feet instead. “I like her quite a lot, Pops. I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Ace. Son. Look at me.” 

Ace looked up, and was shocked to find Whitebeard staring at him with a glimmer in his eye. He looked…proud? No, that couldn’t be. Ace was so certain that he would only be met with pushback and disgrace. 

“I told you when she first got here,” Whitebeard smiled. “My daughter makes her own decisions. She’s old enough to do that, and I’ll respect whatever decisions she makes.”

Ace couldn’t find the words he wanted to express. A part of him wanted to cry. A part of him wanted to ask a hundred questions. 

“I’ll never hurt her,” Ace swore. “I’ll always protect her, I swear.”

Whitebeard chuckled. “You can’t promise both of those things in the same breath, son. So be careful with your words. Because she will hold you to them. She never forgets a promise. So don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

“Yes sir,” Ace said, silently cursing himself for promising such grandiose things. “I will keep that in mind.”

“There’s one thing I’d like you to avoid mentioning to her, though. Just for the time being.”

“Of course, Pops! Anything!”

Whitebeard hummed and scratched at his mustache. It was clear he didn’t like what he was about to request, but it had to be done. 

“Don’t tell her about the circumstances around your birth.”

Ace blinked. He was about to respond, but Whitebeard continued. “If it comes up naturally, you can tell her about it. But don’t tell her unless she asks.”

“Sure, Pops,” Ace said. A piece of him was relieved he had a reason to keep that information from you. He knew you didn’t like Roger much, and he didn’t want your opinion of him scarred by his father’s legacy. “Can I ask why?”

“It’s dangerous for anyone who knows of your heritage. And the more people who know, the more likely it is to get to the Navy. I trust my daughter of course, but I’d rather not put her at an unnecessary risk.”

“Of course,” Ace agreed. “That’s the last thing I want. I just want her safe. And I promise to do everything in my power to keep her from harm."

Whitebeard nodded. “Very well. Now, if we could go over the mission, I’d like a full report of last night.”

Ace’s brow knitted in confusion, and he glanced back at the door. “Is that really all? You don’t want to-”

“I told you, son. I trust my daughter. Whatever decisions she’s making, she’s thought of every possibility and every outcome. I’m not going to question my best strategist about her personal life.” Whitebeard let out a laugh. “But she does tend to fabricate awkward events, and she does it very well. Which is why she’s waiting on the deck and you’re in here. So, a full report of last night.”

Ace suddenly realized what a full report would mean. His cheeks began to burn, and Whitebeard let out a roaring laugh. “See, Ace? I knew you were the right man for the job. Let’s hear it.”

The only thing that got Ace through that report was the thought of you on the other side of the door, and the embrace he could finally give you once he got out. 

--

Months went by, and you and Ace got closer every second you were together. You moved in with him in less than a month, having your own dresser and your own decorations sprinkled throughout the room soon after. He helped you hang up the flowers he had handcrafted for you, which felt like a lifetime ago, and he cleared off his desk so you had a place to work. 

The two of you got a cat, and though Jinx didn’t take much of a liking to you, the three of you were your own little strange form of a family. The Whitebeard Pirates were still his family of course, but you and Jinx were the family he had chosen to be his. The family he cared for so deeply, the people he could never bear to lose. He hated being away from you, and he never got tired of you being around. Where others found you brash and intense, he found you endearing and confident. 

--

You were in the crow’s nest, staring at the night sky when he realized it. 

“I love you.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. You turned your head to face him, but he was still staring at the stars. 

“Me?”

Ace gave a soft chuckle and then turned his head to look at you. His dark eyes reflected the stars shining above you, and you swore you could see the universe in his eyes.

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“You love me?”

A smile danced across his lips. “I love you.”

You scowled at him. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Ace-“

“I know it’s love because I think about you all the time. Every time I see you, I smile and I swear my heart feels like it’s going to burst. The moment you leave I already start to miss you. When you wake up before me and slip out of bed to get coffee, I wake up in a panic, thinking you were just a dream. Because I swear you’re too good to be real. I love you because you’re the one person who I know I can always go to, no matter what, and I know you’ll help me in the way I need. Even if I don’t know how to help myself, you know how to because you know me.”

“Oh.” He had given a pretty solid argument, but you had felt all those things too. You had never felt them with anyone else, though. Just Ace. 

Sometimes, you missed him so much your chest hurt. He was always the first person you searched for in a room. He was the person you looked to when you laughed, the person you wanted to always be near. 

“I love you too, I think.” 

Ace laughed. “You think?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.” His confession had been so poetic. Yours felt embarrassingly weak as a follow-up. 

“Me neither,” Ace admitted. “That’s how I know.”

If that was the case, his words made you certain now. Your heart quickened at the thought of confessing. You had already done it once, but the words held more weight now that you knew. 

Your fingers found his, quickly interlacing with one another. You took a deep breath, still staring into his starry eyes. 

“Then yeah, I love you. Because nobody has ever made me feel quite so happy with life as you do, Portgas D. Ace. Nobody has ever made me smile so early in the morning, or made me excited to go to bed. Nobody has ever made my life so infinitely better that I think I would probably die without them. Nobody has ever made me feel this way. Nobody but you.”

You would die for him. And you knew he would do the same. It wasn’t fair, but it was the way you were now. Every decision you made was to keep him alive. And every decision he made was to do the same for you. 

But in a pirate world, death was always around the corner. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. And every time you thought about the possibility of him being caught or killed, it made you physically nauseous. 

Little did you know, that possibility would become a reality much sooner than either of you could have ever expected. 

--

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[lambertdiary]

I’m outrageously down bad for him but can you please (if you want to) write a scenario where they’re cuddling and the readers straggling his lap but he gets a little bricked up 🙀🙀

A/N: hey sooo... i did it, i finally wrote an NSFW piece lol. this is my first time posting that type of content here so pls let me know what you think!! and if you're not comfortable reading this content feel free to exit my blog!

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: NSFW, smut, established relation ship (again, if you're not comfortable reading this please keep scrolling)

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Just Me And You

Y/N usually enjoyed rainy days, she liked the cold weather and wearing big hoodies, but not when it ruined her plans with her favorite people.

Dalton, Chris and Y/N had made plans to explore the town and find a diner that made at least decent milkshakes. But with no car and no real destination, they decided it would be the best idea to postpone it to another day.

“One of us should learn how to drive… and get a car” Chris said exiting the elevator, the other two following her.

“And that should be you” Y/N replied.

“No, it should be someone responsible”

“Then I guess we need to find a fourth member” Dalton said jokingly. 

“I know you’re joking but I vote yes to that, being the third was okay for the first few months but you two are unbearable to watch sometimes” Chris opened the door to her and Y/N’s dorm, dropping her backpack next to a pile of dirty laundry somewhere on the floor. 

“What the hell? You set us up” Dalton replied, following the girls into their room. 

“And I will have to live with that for the rest of my life” Chris went straight to her bed, getting comfortable with a bunch of blankets for the current weather “I’m gonna take a nap, it’s the only acceptable thing to do when it’s raining like that” 

“Oh-“ Y/N was getting the feeling that she was being kicked out of her own room.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to do in Dalton’s dorm” Chris said as if she was reading Y/N’s mind. 

“Thanks for the hospitality” Dalton joked, ready to walk out. 

“My pleasure”

Y/N and Dalton left the room and started walking towards the elevator “Guess it’s just me and you then” He said. 

“Yeah” Y/N smiled at her boyfriend “What should we do?”

“We could just stay in and watch a movie or something, it’s raining too much out there” 

“Let’s watch a horrible movie and regret it later” 

They agreed to buy snacks from the vending machine downstairs and stay in Dalton’s room, they didn’t wanna go out in that weather and they definitely didn’t wanna bother Chris. 

After scrolling for a bit, they chose a horrible movie they discovered to be one the lowest rated films on letterboxd, and it was horribly rated for a reason. It wasn’t the type of film that was so bad it was kind of funny, it was borderline unwatchable. They wanted to give it a chance and try to finish it, but when their brains couldn’t take it anymore, they decided to do something more fun. Kissing.

What started like any other kiss quickly became something more heated. Turning into a heavy make out session. They weren’t unusual but something about the weather made Y/N want to feel closer to him.

Y/N moved to his lap almost on instinct, resting her knees on each side of him. Barely stopping to catch their breaths and only for a couple of seconds. 

The minutes went by and eventually Y/N broke the kiss to look at him. She smirked before kissing the corner of his mouth, then leaving a trail of kisses leading to his neck. Dalton let out a shaky breath, which made Y/N stop “Is this okay?” She asked, a little concerned she overstepped his boundaries.

“Yes” He said barely above a whisper. After hearing him say that, Y/N went back to his neck, exploring new ways to pleasure him. 

Dalton was enjoying it, maybe too much. He felt his sweatpants get tighter and his body get warmer. He felt his face burn, getting worried Y/N would know what was happening to him. 

In an attempt to hide his situation he shuffled under her, which only made Y/N notice it. She let out an involuntary moan and Dalton got more worked up at the sound. They have done stuff before, but it never got to… that.

Y/N kept kissing his neck and Dalton was caressing her back, occasionally moving to her hair, while she tried really hard to stop her hips from squirming on his lap. Dalton noticed this and gripped one side of her body to steady her. But that only made her wanna shift more. His touch was almost overwhelming, but she wanted more.

Dalton’s hands moved to her thighs, holding them in their place, which sent Y/N goosebumps all over her skin warning her of another feeling. She was having a hard time focusing on anything, so once she stopped working on his neck, Dalton took the opportunity to return her neck the favor. 

She inhaled as her hands took a fistful of his shirt, quickly moving them to the hem of it. She tugged it asking him for permission to remove it, to which he hummed in response. 

Y/N removed Dalton’s shirt and the sight of her shirtless boyfriend made the feeling between her legs stronger, not being able to hold it anymore she started to rock her hips against his lap. 

“Hmmm…” Dalton hummed quietly. He kept his lips on her neck and the vibrations of her sounds made him drool. He stopped what he was doing to look at her. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked him, stopping her movements. She needed to be sure they were both okay with what was about to happen and that they would both enjoy it.

“I just- I’ve never” He stammered. 

“Me neither” Dalton’s breathing was getting heavy at this conversation “Um- Should we-“

He interrupted her “Only if you’re ready” 

Y/N admired his eyes for a few seconds, and leaned in for another kiss “Okay” She whispered. Dalton guided her to the bed, making her lay on her back and placing himself above her. They kissed again for a little while and Dalton asked her “Can I take your shirt off?” Y/N nodded and took it off herself, feeling a little self conscious, but Dalton swears he has never seen a more beautiful girl “You’re so beautiful” He breathed.

He started kissing her torso, and going down to her legs. His big palms ran up the outer sides of her thighs slowly before tugging at her sweatpants. Y/N lifted her hips allowing him to drag them down and taking them off completely “Your turn” Y/N gasped. She knew it was only a matter of time before he found out how damp she was already.

Dalton looked up at her and shyly smiled, but complied with her request. He was now standing there wearing nothing but underwear. This made Y/N squeeze her legs together, aching for some kind of relief. He noticed this and slowly pushed her thighs apart to make space between them “If you want me to stop, just let me know, please” He said looking up at her.

“Okay” She said, and a second later he had his thumb pressed against her clit, already aching for him. A small cry of relief leaving her lips at the feeling. He smirked, clearly proud of himself. He slid a finger under the fabric and smothered it over her skin a few times, eventually getting rid of her underwear too. He looked up at her waiting for consent before bringing it down all the way, and Y/N nodded.

Dalton tossed it somewhere behind him and lowered his body almost all the way, stopping only a few inches away from her “I wanna taste you” She was unable to say something at this point “Y/N?”

“Okay” She forced the words out.

“Tell me what you like” He said before breaking the distance. He was using his tongue, his hands and even his nose. Y/N feels like she’s never felt before, her mind getting dizzy and soft moans being the only sounds she can let out. Dalton would occasionally look at her, to make sure she was okay and enjoying it, and the eye contact drove him crazy.

Y/N felt something build in her tummy, knowing exactly what it was she tried to prepare herself to stay quiet, she didn’t wanna be loud in a dorm. An orgasm washed over her and her hips bucked up involuntarily. Dalton knew it was happening, so he used his big arms to pin her down to the bed. He helped her through it too (or at least tried to) and when he assumed it was over, he went back on his knees and looked at her.

She had her eyes closed as she dusted off the high “Do you have condoms?” She asked suddenly, in the haze of his lustful mind he forgot about that important detail.

“Uh- yeah” He stood up from the bed and went directly to his nightstand, opening the drawer and looking through it for a moment. He came across a sealed box of condoms he bought a few weeks ago and opened it, slowly pulling out one of them. He returned to the edge of the bed and saw Y/N holding in a laugh “What?”

She shook her head “You just happen to have condoms?” She raised her eyebrows waiting for his response.

“I- uh- I thought we might need them one day” Dalton blushed so hard he felt like he was going to explode and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Well done” She said. 

Dalton took off his briefs and slid the condom down his cock, before climbing back up and meeting her lips once again. He put her hair behind her ear before kissing her temple “I love you” He whispered softly.

“I love you” Y/N repeated. 

He slowly entered her, and Dalton reached up to her hand and intertwined their fingers, holding them against the mattress. He pushed in slowly, not wanting to get ahead of himself and hurt his girlfriend but when he heard her say “Keep going” He just went for it.

Both of them were breathing out whispered moans into his dark room, barely illuminated by his laptop with the movie still playing “Shhh, Chris is up there” He said when he remembered.

He feels incredible inside of her and it’s almost impossible to keep it down. He was rocking into her and finally found a steady pace. He managed to somehow angle his hips upwards and Y/N felt him gliding over her sensitive g-spot, pushing in and out over and over again. 

He could feel himself losing his pace with his own orgasm approaching. He tried to increase his rhythm again, as he noticed Y/N tighten around him. Feeling it get closer he forced his eyes shut “I think I’m close” He breathed out.

He groaned deeply and threw his head back when he felt the wave of euphoria hit him. Y/N was a whimpering mess below him, completely giving up on holding the sounds.

They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing deeply. Once they both calmed down, Dalton lifted his head and kissed Y/N on the lips “Was that okay?” He asked her.

Y/N was still breathing a little hard when she nodded her head and responded “Yes”

Dalton was relieved to hear that. He pulled himself out and collapsed next to her, bringing her closer to his chest. He kissed her temple again and whispered a little “I love you” Before returning their attention to the movie.

[ejunkiet]

sweeter than honey

Baldur's Gate 3: Halsin/reader, rated E for explicit sexual content.

On the eve of the assault on Moonrise Towers, your party celebrates the end of the shadow curse with the Harpers at the Last Light Inn. You wake to a new dawn in a familiar tent… only it’s not your own, and you’re not alone. - “Your scent…” he takes in another deep breath, his eyes flickering shut as a low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your skin. “It heats my blood… speaking to the animal instinct in me. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in many years.”

READ THE FULL THING ON AO3

--

sweeter than honey

“To the end of the curse, and new beginnings.”

It’s not over, as of course it isn’t. Nothing has been that easy since you woke up on the Illithid ship. Thaniel may be awake, but the lands won’t be healed until the undead commander that orchestrated the curse is dead. Moonrise towers, in all their shadowy promise, still lie ahead.

But you’ve gained another ally, and the future doesn’t look as dark and uncertain as it had before. You’ve seen enough to know to take the wins where you can.

Tonight is for celebrating.

There’s warmth in your belly, a comfortable buzz in your skin as you fall back into your chair, the gentle thrum of conversation and laughter surrounding you. The Last Light had hot water, food and a surprisingly well stocked wine cellar, and the Harpers had been gracious enough to allow your group the use of their rooms to clean up after the battle.

For the first time in what feels like months, you feel like yourself. It won’t last, but you’ll enjoy it while you can.

There’s a soft gasp at your elbow, an affronted sound, before a young voice insists, “But ser, your glass is empty-”

“-and it will remain so, while there are others still wanting drink.” You blink your eyes back open - when had they shut? - at the low, amused rumble of Halsin’s voice, a smile creasing his eyes as he covers his empty glass with a large hand. He has refused every drink tonight, you realise, just like he had before. “Go on, little one.”

The young tiefling huffs out an exasperated breath, wrinkling his nose at the druid, before turning to another of your companions at the table, and Halsin’s dark eyes meet yours.

“There’s still too much to be done,” he murmurs as an explanation, and the reminder makes you frown, glancing back at your half empty goblet. You move to place it back on the table - and his hand catches yours, staying the movement.

You glance back at him, at where he’d leaned across you, feeling the heat of his body as he gently guides the goblet back into your grip. He offers you a wry smile, the shadows playing across his features, the firelight glittering in his dark eyes.

“My choices are my own. Don’t let me ruin your celebration.”

He’s close, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek when he speaks, catch the warm, earthen scent of him, edged with lye. Small, dark braids frame his face, neater than they’d been before, and he must have redone them after bathing.

You find yourself caught on the idea of that, strong hands carefully working the dark strands, binding them back with gentle, deliberate precision. His hair looks so soft, and you wonder how it would feel to have your own hands in it, weaving your fingers through the dark tresses.

A loud, raucous laugh breaks the moment, and you glance over to see Karlach, flushed and happy, ruffling the hair of little Mol, her teeth gleaming in a brilliant grin. “I’ve got stories I can tell you, kid. Gather your friends, and listen to Auntie K…”

Halsin laughs, a warm, full sound that sends heat through you, even as he draws back, and you feel the cold of his absence. There’s another hand at your elbow - Astarion, with a cutting observation that makes you snort into your wine, much to his wicked delight - and the evening moves on.

You can still feel it though, the shadow of Halsin’s heat on your skin, the weight of his hand. And throughout the night, you find your eyes drawn to him, the golden honey of his gaze, the gentle warmth of his smile.

--

read the rest on ao3

[heedmywarnings]

Behold 3.

○\□\○

Blinded and hidden in plain sight, blood trails fall beneath the tall grass, forever to remain silent and dead.

–

You didn’t really know where to go.

You knew that Harbor held life, and you didn’t want to ruin it; the worst you had done was scare them when you suddenly emerged from the waters. But it was fine–you’ll find someplace where no life remains alive.

The skies had suddenly gone dark. What has happened? You peered up into the sky, and there were streaks of fierce violet struck through the clouds as crackles emit from the heavens.

“It’s working, it noticed it!” a female voice yelled out, a tiny human had said this, how could you hear such a small voice from where you are?

You turned your body around and saw a ship fighting courageously against the ferocious waters. They might drown, and so you picked them up as gently as you could.

You only needed your index finger and thumb to lift the whole ship, its size is akin to that of a large ant!

“It’s picking us up!”

“Captain Beidou! Should we ready the harpoons!?”

A multitude of voices rang out, quite annoying, yet one voice was able to hush all of them at once.

“Stand down! Ningguang’s orders say we shouldn’t aggravate it,” the female voice said, so this was the voice you heard? The sky started to clear as she looked at you, “Hello there friend, are you able to speak?” she asked.

You inched your face closer to the ship. Blinked once, blinked twice. What are you supposed to do again? Oh right, respond.

You open your mouth.

–

“How tall did you say it was again?” The Tsaritsa asked, her back facing the Harbinger that was kneeling before her. The Regrator, Patnalone, merely smiled, “As thrice as tall as the Zapolyarny Palace, your majesty,” he said.

“Let Childe investigate the matter.”

“But your majesty, I was the one who discovered-!” Pantalone tried to reason.

“Is that objections I hear?” She sharply asked, the temperature rose, unlike her patience.

“No… no, your majesty,” The Regrator responded, this time no longer smiling, “Go.” and with her words, the harbinger left.

–

…

No words left your mouth.

“Can’t speak, huh? That’s gonna be a problem…” she says, at this point, you had no reason to keep them on your hands, and you slowly placed them back in the water.

‘Wait- wait!” the woman said and you immediately halted your movements, “Bring us back to the Harbor, we want you to come with us… there’s somebody who’d like to speak to you.”

Seems interesting, seems trustworthy.

–

“Be safe, Captain,” Ningguang muttered under her own breath. The creature can easily grab the Jade Chamber from the sky, this time, she felt more worried than she ever was.

(I will continue this later or tomorrow lmao)