#these are the tags i’ve gotten in just the last two days alone

[jessybarnes]

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation. 

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy. 

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly. 

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with. 

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically. 

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.” 

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table. 

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer. 

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes. 

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I …  well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again. 

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them. 

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence. 

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings. 

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves. 

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep. 

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted. 

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door. 

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet. 

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you. 

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit. 

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features. 

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. 

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. 

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you. 

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing. 

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were. 

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship. 

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm. 

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled. 

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued. 

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor. 

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly. 

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep. 

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement. 

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again. 

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

[fan-fantasies]

Reward

A/N: can be read as a part two of Whisper Sweet Nothings or probably read as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy; it’s pure filth!

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Warnings: semi public smut, oral f receiving, choking, use of a strap on

Part One

“And new…WWE Woman’s Tag Team Champions…”

All of the sound drowned out and all you could focus on was Rhea and that fact that you were both now champions. You had won your match at Summer Slam and adrenaline was coursing through your veins.

Rhea scooped you up in her arms and carried you up the ramp, almost more excited to get you back stage than the win itself.

Everyone backstage began to congratulate you and while you were grateful, you only had one thing on your mind- her.

You practically dragged her into the locker room where you threw yourself at her. The kiss was full of passion and heat, still riding high from the match.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I love it,” she chuckled as you kissed down her neck.

“Baby, I need you,” you whined, pulling at her gear.

“And you’ll have me, love. Do you remember what I told you your reward would be if we won?” She asked.

“Of course,” you chuckled. She went over to her bag and grabbed something out of it. She hid it behind her back and looked at you with a devilish smirk.

“You brought it?” Anticipation began to gnaw away at you, more than excited for what was to come.

“Did you really think I was going to wait until we got back to the hotel to absolutely ravage you?” She asked, stalking toward you slowly. “We better find some place private, sweetheart. Don’t want just anyone walking in while I ruin you, now do we?”

“Let’s go then,” you smirked. She stuck her strap back in her bag and took it along, following you through the corridors back stage. A few people stopped you to tell you how amazing the match was and while you appreciated all of the attention, the only person’s attention that mattered was Rhea’s.

You finally found an empty room, seemingly used for storage. There was a single chair in the corner and the rest of the room was filled with props and outfits. You quickly locked the door behind you making Rhea laugh.

“Desperate tonight, hm? Can’t wait for me to split that pussy open I bet,” she said. “Strip for me.”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. Perhaps you were overeager, but you didn’t care. She could tease you about it later, you just needed her hands on you now.

“Your turn,” you said, pulling off your last article of clothing.

“What? You don’t want me to fuck you in my gear? I know how much you like it.” She ran a finger down your face and the length of your neck. Her touch send a chill down your spine making you shiver.

“As hot as you look in it, can’t exactly do what I want to with it on,” you told her.

“And what is it you want to do?” She asked.

“I wanna taste you. Please? I’ve been craving it all night,” you begged.

“This is supposed to be about you, love,” she argued.

“I don’t care. Right now I just need you.”

As much as you loved when Rhea would throw you around and be in control, you also loved worshipping her and her amazing body. She’d never admit it, but she had never had someone make her feel as amazing as you and she loved having you between her thighs.

“Such a naughty girl, needing my pussy in that slutty little mouth of yours.”

She quickly herself of her gear and beckoned you over.

“On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed and knelt in front of her. She tossed a leg over your shoulder and grabbed onto a spare rack to balance herself.

You wasted no time in teasing your tongue through her folds. She let out a content sigh and let her eyes close so she could focus on your ministrations between her legs.

You found her clit and begin to circle it with your tongue. You had spent plenty of time going down on Rhea in the last few days that you knew what would make her tick.

You suck on her clit lightly before moving down and teasing her entrance. You switched to licking thick strips up and down her pussy and the moans quickly began to fall from her lips.

Her free hand wrapped itself in your hair as she began to guide your movements; she still needed some level of control after all. Your hands reached around, grabbing her ass and giving it a squeeze.

“You’re a cheeky little thing tonight,” she chuckled. “You’re making me feel so good.”

You quickened your pace between her legs and you swore she even began to tremble above you. Before you knew it, her grip on your hair was tightening and she was fucking your face through her orgasm.

“Fuck, baby; you’re amazing,” she moaned, finally releasing you from her grip. “Stay right there.”

She grabbed her strap from her bag and slid it on. She came back over and stood in front of you again.

“Suck it.”

“Excuse me?” You asked.

“You heard me. Suck it and get it all wet and ready for your pussy,” she said. You opened your mouth and took it in inch by inch. You bobbed your head slowly at first, getting used to the feeling. Once you got more into it, you increased your speed. Rhea was staring down at you mesmerized. You got a bit too enthusiastic with it and ended up gagging a bit.

“Shit, baby, I think we’re good,” she said, pulling away from you. “Lay down for me. I wanna watch as I ravage you.”

You did as she said, your back hitting the cold floor beneath you. She slid the strap through your folds a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“So wet for me baby; is that all just from eating me out?” She asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Of cour- oh fuck!” Rhea cut you off by sinking into your pussy until she was flush against you.

She pulled out slowly before sinking back in at the same speed. She watched as your pussy took her inch by inch. Once she was satisfied that you were completely full, she set a brutal pace. It nearly knocked the air from your lungs but you managed to praise her nonetheless.

“Look at you, pretty girl- taking my cock so well. This pussy is all mine, yeah?”

You were too far gone to answer, but her hand wrapping around your throat brought you back to reality.

“Yes, all yours!”

“That’s my girl,” she chuckled. She didn’t let her rhythm falter as she began to circle your clit with her thumb.

“I’m so close, don’t stop!” You begged.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she said, using all her remaining strength to fuck into you relentlessly. The coil inside you snapped, sending you over the edge. You swore your vision blacked out for a moment before coming back down to earth. She slowed to a stop once your orgasm had slowed to a stop. She pulled out of you and frowned as you winced.

“Was I too rough, sweetheart?” She asked, placing a soft hand on your cheek.

“Not at all! That was completely mind-blowing if I’m being honest,” you reassured her. She gave you a warm smile as she took off the strap and grabbed your clothes. She helped you off the floor and steadied you, your legs feeling like jello beneath you.

“Easy there,” she chuckled. She helped you get dressed before redressing herself.

“I’ll give twice as much effort if that’s my reward for every match we win,” you told her playfully.

“I promise I’ll reward you as much as you want,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You ready to get out there, champ?” You asked with a beaming smile.

“As long as you’re by my side, I’m ready for anything.”

—————————

Please comment and reblog!

[xmalereader]

Kylo Ren x Teen! Male Reader

☆— MASTERLIST —☆

REQUEST: I just wanted to know if you maybe could write Kylo ren x child/teen male reader. Where the reader is like his apprentice aaand he shows him the force and how to fight with a light saber. And while training he gets hurt or something and Kylo is all dad-like :3

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, slight angst, knights of ten, training, slight back story, Kylo showing his Ben side, father and son relationship, platonic, teenager reader, mentions of purrgli.

WC: 2.1K

TAGS: @justalonleyboy

NOTES: Finally! First request is up! I hope you enjoy this shot, I tried to make it as father and son relationship as possible, but other than that thank you for the request it’s been a long time since I’ve written for Kylo Ren so it feels nice writing about him again.

“Again.”

His masters voice echos in the training room. He’s standing opposite of his opponent, panting and sweating from the dueling session. He’s been training all morning nonstop and he still hasn’t managed to take down one of the knights of Ren, he can sense them smirking behind those mask as they all watched him train.

His eyes drift over to the others, inhaling some air into his lungs and shakes his head. He couldn’t go any further his body feels sore and his legs are screaming at him to sit and take a break.

“I can’t.”

He felt guilt and shame for disobeying his masters words, expecting a scolding from him as usual only this time he approached him and used the force to summon his saber into his hand. Y/n is surprised by his actions, breathing hitching as he looks up to his master who stared him down.

The masked man looks at him up and down and can clearly seen the kids fatigue. “Leave us.”

The knights respect his wishes and leave the training room, hearing them murmur amongst themselves and leaving the two alone. As the doors close behind them they are finally left alone.

“I told you not to push yourself.”

“I didn’t want to disappointment you.”

Kylo remains quiet when hearing his response, earning him a deep sigh as he reached up to remove his helmet, revealing his face and the scar that was left behind on his right cheek. It was a nasty wound that he received from the Jedi and remembers that day clearly even though he was his apprentice he stayed by his side in the medical wing while he was healing, being the one to check his face evert once an while until it healed, leaving a scar behind.

“You didn’t, but I also can’t have my apprentice draining himself when training. You could have gotten hurt.” Kylo knows how rough the Knights of Ren can be he’s trained with them before and faced the consequences of their training methods the amount of bruises and pain he went through. He wouldn’t want Y/n to go through the same and kept an eye on him during training and became strict whenever he didn’t listen to his orders.

“Go wash up and get something to eat.” Said Kylo. “Rest.” His last word was stern, ordering him.

Y/n sighs to himself. “Yes, master.”

Y/n leaves the training room, leaving Kylo on his own while he makes his way back to his own private room. Once he’s far away and alone he lets out a groan and rubs his sore hips. “Damn knights are gonna kill me.” They’ve been dropping him to the ground every time he trained with them, using the wooden sabers to smack him each time he failed.

He deeply disliked them and would prefer using the trainer droids.

When reaching his room he waves his hand, using the force to open the door and doing the same when closing it after he walks inside and gets himself undressed and towards his shower where he can finally get washed up and relax a bit before getting something in his stomach. As much as he hated the training he should be grateful if it wasn’t for Kylo he would have remained in the slums slaving away in order to survive.

Kylo had sensed him and came to him.

Before he could officially leave the slum, Kylo had given him a test in order to prove that he would be a worthy apprentice. Y/n was desperate to get off that damn planet and accepted his test, not realizing the dangerous potential he carried. Since his test he always stuck by Kylo’s side, following his orders and listening to what he had to say.

He was afraid of the man at first.

Witnessing his anger issues and the amount of troopers he had killed out of pure anger. The times when he’d grow desperate to show their power and hunting other force sensitives that they could find. Many of the generals and engineers murmured about him, saying that he wouldn’t last long and would possibly anger his master enough to get himself killed.

Only for Y/n to prove them wrong.

The first time that Y/n disobeyed orders he almost got himself killed trying to capture a rebel in order to get further information about their plans. Kylo was not happy, yelling at him for his actions. Everyone would have expected Y/n to cower away and take the scolding only to argue back with the Sith, spitting back words as the two scream at each other.

They’d think that Kylo would have killed him that day, but instead Kylo had let him win the argument and stomped away angrily.

Since then the two found a weird way of bonding with each other.

After Y/n finished washing up and getting some clothes on he made his way to the mess hall where he grabs himself something to eat and takes his tray with him. He doesn’t eat with the other troopers since no one really had the courage to speak with him, to afraid to approach him.

So instead he spent his time eating in Kylos room.

It became a regular routine between the two. When Y/n enters the room he doesn’t find Kylo anywhere which was expected and sits by one of the windows, watching them fly through hyper space as he eats his food in silence. After some time, Kylo finally returns back to his own room, door closing behind him as he removes his mask and sets it down on his bed.

“I’ve never seen a purrgil…have you?” Y/n looks away from the window and over to Kylo who removed his saber from his belt and sets it on his empty desk along with Y/n’s saber. Kylo still hasn’t given him the approval of wearing it yet and simply waited for that day.

“They are nothing but stories, no one has seen one.” Said Kylo.

Y/n hums in return and looks back out the window. The silence between them was comfortable as Kylo did his own thing by doing his daily check ups on Hux’s work and making sure that everything is going in order. After Y/n finishes his meal he leaves the tray aside and steals one of Kylos holo pads in order to read something.

“Don’t forget your training starts again in an hour.”

The teen mentally groans to himself, eyes on the holo when speaking up. “Who will I be training with this time? Cardo? Trudgen?” He’s basically trained with each Knight and already knows the routine he has with each one. He just hopes its not Vicrul he’s the most ruthless one out of all of them and never holds back.

Kylo stands from where he sits and approached Y/n, taking the pad from him. “You’ll be training with me.”

His eyes slightly widen by his words. It wasn't rare for him to train with Kylo he was the first one he trained with when he first got here. He taught him about the force and how to wield a saber before the knights of ren came in to further his training while he watched him. “I will be testing your skills today and see how well the knights have been training you.”

“Of course, Master.” He softly whispers out, growing anxious as he quickly gathers his empty tray and leaves his room, rushing out to get ready for his final training today. He’s been training for this day and shouldn’t feel nervous, but somehow he can’t help himself.

When getting ready for his training he makes sure to put on a proper training suit in case Kylo goes a little rough on him. He doesn’t need anymore bruises showing each time he looks in the mirror. He laced up his boots and makes his way to the training room once he’s done getting ready.

When entering the training room it was usual for him to find the Knights of Ren training before him. Only this time they are standing on the side, watching him carefully as he enters the room.

“Don’t kill yourself kids.” Said Cardo, obviously smirking under his helmet.

Y/n glared at him when approached the training weapons, only to be stopped when Vicrul approached him. “You will be needing this.” He holds out his saber only this one wasn’t his. It was different from the one Kylo let him use.

He takes the saber in his hand, getting adjusted to the feeling of it in his hand and walks towards the middle of the room. He doesn’t get much time to mentally prepare himself when Kylo walks into the room, wearing his own helmet and without the cape this time.

Kylo doesn’t really give him time to prepare and approached him quickly, holding out his own saber and igniting it and takes a swing at him. Y/n is surprised by the quick attack and side steps quickly, igniting his own saber in order to defend himself. He holds it with one hand, focusing on Kylo as he takes another swing at him.

He’s quick to block it with his own saber. This one felt lighter to use than the one that Kylo got for him like it belonged to him.

He moves fast with each strike, groaning by the pressure that Kylo puts on his saber with each swing he takes. He can’t back down now a Jedi could easily kill him if he doesn’t fight back properly. He doesn’t know how long he’s been fighting for, but Kylo wasn’t backing down until one of them yielded.

Y/n holds the saber in his tight hand as his eyes follow Kylos movements. Y/n makes the first attack, swinging it close to his head which Kylo quickly dodged no realizing his own misstep as his own master swings his own red saber down on him. His eyes widen and quickly thinks, thrusting his hand out and using the force to stop the saber from killing him.

He can feel the hot saber close to his face, groaning and tilting his head away as he uses his power to push back only to grow weaker and tired. His hand is shaking and the saber is getting closer the red saber burning on his shoulder as he cries at the pain.

He can feel hot tears running down his face his emotion is enough for Kylo to stop, turning off his saber as the teen falls to the ground. A hand on his shoulder as he bites his lip hard trying to contain his muffled groans.

Kylo doesn’t hesitate to drop his saber, getting down on his knees and grabbing onto the kid. “Let me see.”

Y/n sniffles and whimpers afraid to show his wounded shoulder and shakes his head.

“Y/n.” Kylos voice is stern, enough to make the kid move his hand from where it lies as he shows his wound to Kylo. It wasn’t deep but it was burnt that he’ll need a patch and some bacta spray to get it healed up. While Kylo focused on Y/n’s wellbeing the Knights stood on the side, noticing his actions.

“He is still to weak and needs further training.”

Y/n looks away as he grows ashamed by their words only for Kylo to frown under his helmet.

“He is still a kid.” Kylo speaks up while looking over his shoulder, glaring under his helmet as he comes to a stand. “Get me a medical droid.”

“Ren—“

“Now!” Kylo shouts at the knights, reminding them who they follow as they leave the training room and search for a medical droid.

Kylo puts his focus on Y/n again and touched his shoulder which makes him wince. “It hurts.” He groans out. “I know it hurts and its gonna hurt even more if you don’t let me see if properly.” Y/n whines and lets Kylo examine the wound. The two are quiet until Kylo finally speaks up in a soft tone. “I’m sorry, I overstepped and got you hurt. I was rough on you.”

Even though Kylo was the most intimidating man on the ship only Y/n had the privilege to see his soft side which was very rare. He never pointed it out and simply went along with it, accepting his apology with a small nod as he lets him tend to his wound. “Well, at least I know you can handle a rough battle.” Y/n choked out a chuckle, sniffling back his tears as he sticks close to Kylo as they wait for the medical droid.

[silveryclear]

STNAF Coraline AU

MDNI ALL CONTENT REGARDING STNAF IS 18+ AND SO IS THIS BLOG

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Pairings: Normal Friend/ GN Reader | Other Friend/ GN Reader | Carter/GN Reader

CW: NSFW, manipulation, kidnapping, torture, sexual content, obsessive behavior

A/N: Yes, this is what I’ve been working on for the whole month of October. This is my first long fic and I’ll be posting the chapters daily. I hope y’all enjoy! Happy Halloween!

Around 4-5 chapters, three different endings (for each love interest)

Friend, Carter, Scrim belongs to @stnaf-vn

Art belongs to me

Chapter 1

“So… what do you think?”

Your best friend asks as he looks at you with excitement. You look up at the looming old manor in front of you, trying to find the right words to match his enthusiasm. However, you end up blurting out the first thing that pops into your head. “Pink. Very pink.”

He snorts in amusement. “Is that all?”

“Old.” You add.

Friend rolls his eyes playfully and moves behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Those are some amazing observation skills! Would our resident caveman like to tell us anything else?” He teases.

You laugh, feeling some of your initial uneasiness slowly reaching wash away with Friend’s humor. “Hungry.” You exclaim.

Friend smiles and you feel him gently push you into the large manor. “Then let us get settled in and we’ll order some pizza, my sweet Neanderthal~”

You let yourself get pushed into the manor whilst you do your best to keep your emotions in check, feeling your face heat up. The sweet tone he uses with you along with his soft touch and penchant for nicknames leave your heart beating in the tune of a bittersweet melody.

Friend goes to a lot of trips for his clothing line and sometimes you tag along. For a lot of the time, this is the only way you get to spend any time with your super busy friend. You put up with the long hours of traveling, jet lag and uncomfortable situations because not only is he your best friend since childhood, but you’re also very in love with him and have no way of telling him how you feel. Recently, though, it feels as if the gap between your two worlds has gotten bigger and you have no way of knowing how to close it. It seems like the more you try, the farther he slips from your grasp.

This time, you stay at an old manor called “The Pink Palace”, fairly near the city, but still hidden enough to feel like you have privacy. Friend was always a sucker for old fashioned houses and architecture so this was a way for him to keep his love alive while also doing his job.

You are currently sitting in a classy living room adorned by vintage decor with your best friend by your side, ready to watch a movie on the flat screen TV that looks very out of place.

You manage to take a peek of your best friend beside you and you begin to feel butterflies in your stomach. Moments like this when the two of you are alone are the ones you treasure the most. You feel as if you are the center of his world, with no distractions from his job and the modern world to come between the two of you. You hoped this would be the best time to admit your feelings for your best friend, but every time you tried, you’d get a wave of anxiety and mental images of your best friend rejecting you, making this trip awkward.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes, effectively snapping you out of your inner turmoil.

Carter: I could sense you chickening out from a mile away.

You roll your eyes at your college friend’s ability to know exactly what you are doing. How does he do that??

You: I’m just waiting for the right moment, okay?

Carter: No, you’re waiting for the last possible moment and torturing yourself. Drag this out, and you’ll be the “best man” on his wedding day.

You: …

The thought made your stomach churn and you write back quick.

You: It won’t come to that! I swear I’m telling him this time. No take backs.

Carter: Good. You can do this. 👍

You chuckle.

You: Thanks, Carter. I’ll let you know how it goes.

The movie keeps playing as you work up the courage to finally tell him how you feel. You take a deep breath and open your mouth… and his work phone rings. You sigh. Another confession thwarted.

Friend looks at you apologetically. “I’m sorry I’m doing this during movie night. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m done with work, okay?” He kisses the top of your head and leaves in a flash, right before you barely have time to register your own fluster.

You sigh. Alone again. You don’t want to get in between him and his work, but it feels like it gets in between the only time the two of you get together. Even now, the reason you both are staying in this palace is because of work. You don’t mean to be ungrateful, but when will you be a priority?

A bolt of lightning strikes near and shakes the manor slightly, making you jump. Rain starts to pour in buckets and you chuckle dryly as you think that even the universe knows what you’re going through.

“This sucks.” You mutter, before getting on your feet and walking around the palace, exploring the multiple rooms available. You try to push your feelings for Friend and your thoughts of loneliness away while you observe your surroundings, taking in the grand building in which you’re currently staying in.

This place would almost seem isolating and scary to you if it wasn’t for the fact that it was very… pink. Or at the very least, tried to include the color in every place that it could. No wonder Friend loved this place so much.

“I wonder if something like this is where he’d like to settle down and have a family.” You blush and shake your head.

You’re getting too ahead of yourself… you haven’t even confessed!

Not paying attention, you walk into a room that looks different from the rest of the house. For one, it doesn’t have an ounce of pink. And the color motif are the primary colors, along with the color black. It sounds strange, but in person, it actually looks cohesive. A jar of buttons sat on the dresser along with many sewing materials. The room seemed to reflect this craft as you noticed that buttons where everywhere around you. Your attention is quickly robbed by the most adorable bunny plushie you have ever seen! It has cute little button eyes and it’s so soft and fluffy to the touch, you can’t help but squeeze and nuzzle into it.

You giggle softly, feeling much better now than you were before. You decide to take the plushie just during this trip since you’re the only person in the palace. No one else will miss it.

You go back to the living room to finish the movie by yourself along with your little plushie. And maybe a bottle of vodka you found in the back of a cupboard. The two of you watch the movie while you drink who knows how much, before you feel yourself begin to drift off.

A loud clap of thunder wakes you up suddenly. Lifting your head off the couch and wiping away some of the drool on your chin, you groan and massage your temples gently, doing your best to ward off the hangover that is slowly creeping up to you. You notice the credits of the movie are playing so you grab the remote and turn it off. You had fallen asleep in the middle of it. You begin to snuggle back into the couch again only to realize your little fluffy friend is missing. You look everywhere around you but it’s nowhere to be found. Strange.

You go back into the strange room and you find the rabbit sticking out from underneath the bed. You must’ve imagined you took it with you and you actually dropped it. When you go to pick it up, you notice something weird on the other wall as you peek from under the bed. You stand up again and walk towards the wall where the wallpaper protruded in some areas, almost as if it was covering up something.

You take some scissors from the desk and you crouch down to cut along the dented areas of the wallpaper. You scoot back and look at what it’s revealed.

A tiny door. Just big enough for you to fit through. You try to pry it open but it’s locked. You rummage through the key drawer that Friend had showed You previously and one caught your eye. A black key with the shape of a button.

And with one flick of your wrist, the door is opened.

You debate whether you should go in alone in the middle of the night, but you’re too curious (and drunk) to ignore this great discovery.

“I hope I don’t find a rat’s nest at the end of this…”

You crawl through the surprisingly clean tunnel, lighting the way with your phone flashlight.

You reach the end and open the door to the other side to find…

The exact same room.

“What the hell? How did I end up in the same place?” You say out loud.

Suddenly, you noticed sounds coming from downstairs. You reach for the bunny plushie and the scissors and take them with you as you slowly stalk down the stairs.

You hear the muffled sounds of people talking and sound effects in the background and you figure the TV must be on. But you distinctly remember turning it off after the movie had ended…

You clutch the scissors tighter.

You walk into the living room, the lights and TV turned on, playing an old western movie. But you barely pay any attention to it as your gaze zeroes on the figure sitting on the couch, eating popcorn. You take a step forward, but to your luck, the wooden floor panel creaks oh so loudly.

The figure stiffens, most likely aware of your presence and you gulp, raising the scissors to attack the intruder. The figure cautiously turns around and every inch of hair on your body stands up.

Once he faces you, you freeze in shock. Is that..?

“Hey sweetheart~ I was just watching this while I waited for you. Ready for movie night~?” Friend smiles sweetly at you.

However, this Friend is dressed very differently from the one you’ve known your whole life. Also, he is blonde? And it looks good on him?? You curse his ability to look good in anything. But the thing that actually made you stop in your tracks and made your skin crawl were his eyes. Gone were the eyes full of life and wonder that often sucked you in when you gazed into them. In their place stood black buttons just like the ones on the plushie you’re clutching. They were piercing and unsettling to stare at. If it weren’t for the fact that the figure was moving and breathing right now, you’d most likely think he was a model made after your best friend. With some changes of course.

Your silence made this “Friend” tilt his head to the side and look at you with concern, or you figured it was. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have no idea what I’m looking at right now…” You murmur, gaze unwavering from this doppelgänger.

“Friend” chuckles in amusement and grins at you. “I’m Friend, silly! You know, your best friend since forever?”

You raise an eyebrow, keeping the scissors clutched tightly in your hand. “I don’t know exactly what you’re playing at, but you are not Friend. Friend is not blonde, he doesn’t own clothes like yours and he definitely doesn’t have buttons for eyes.”

This so-called “Friend” grins wider, unsettling so, but quickly disappears into a charming expression. “What, can’t a person try out a new look without their best friend threatening them with a pair of scissors?” He teases.

You give him a deadpan stare.

He coughs. “What I mean to say is…” He stands up and walks around the couch, approaching you casually. You can only stare in slight fear into his soulless eyes as each step brings him closer to you. He stands in front of you and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m your Other Friend!”

“My Other Friend? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like! I’m your friend from another world. A world filled with wonder where everyone has buttons for eyes!” He says with bright smile and a glint in his button eyes. His voice sounding like a cheery animated character.

You blink. “Oh man, I must’ve drunk more than I thought…”

He laughs in amusement. “Maybe so… but why not try to enjoy this while you can? I’ve got popcorn and your favorite snacks. Aaaand we can watch any movie you want~” He sweetens the deal.

You raise your eyebrow, intrigued. “Is the popcorn extra butter?”

His grin widens. “Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if it wasn’t?”

You narrow your eyes and give him a firm nod. Before he could even attempt to come closer you point a finger at him, your expression full of suspicion. “I’m staying because I’m not fully convinced this isn’t a dream—“ You let out a loud hiccup. “…And I’m too drunk to walk back up the stairs.”

Other Friend giggles. “I understand.”

“I’m keeping the scissors, so don’t try anything funny!” You exclaim, sluggishly making your way towards the couch, slumping down on it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it~” He chuckles before sitting on the couch next to you.

While watching the movie in your drunken haze, you fail to notice your Other Friend’s grin grow possessive as you clutch the plushie he had made just for your arrival~

Chapter 2

[hydrobunny]

waiting for you to be waiting below

tags: fluff, established relationship

a/n: hi guys long time no see hahaha turns out I only write well once school is in session !! for my two requests that have been waiting for like six months I'm so sorry

“you’re being stupid,” you say for the millionth time that evening. . “i’ve shown you how to do it like, thirteen times.”

shidou ryusei frowns at you, four strands of colored thread hanging limply from his fingers. “maybe you’re just not a very good teacher.”

and you can feel your eye start to twitch. honestly, it was your own fault at this point. why did you ever think that your loud, very easily distracted, and impulsive boyfriend could ever sit still long enough to make a bracelet?

“fine,” you snap out, reaching over the pile of discarded scraps of string and beads to take the thread away from shidou. “you don’t have to do it, then.” 

his grip instantly tightens, and the two of you are caught in an awkward and silent tug of war.  you’re well aware that he could win at any point, what with his athlete strength and experience in fighting.

 it doesn’t stop you from pulling harder. and shidou has the audacity and not enough shame that he starts grinning, revealing white teeth. 

and then he lets go. you jolt backwards at the sudden lack of resistance, ass landing onto your carpeted floor. shidou cackles, head bobbing like a maniac.

you feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment, and then you’re jumping up to your feet. “fine. fuck you too!”

he doesn’t stop laughing, hot pink irises following your every movement anyway. once your hand reaches the doorknob, his laughter immediately ceases.

“come on, y/n,” he lengthens out the last syllable of your name, amusement apparent in every inch of his face. “don’t leave now! i was just about to get better.”

on another day, you likely would have listened. but today, you’re not feeling it. “go out the front door when you feel like it. or jump out the window again, i don’t really care.” 

the door closes fast, but not fast enough for you to miss shidou’s lips shifting into a frown. 

you take the stairs down to your living room two at a time, hand gripping onto the banister with just a little too much strength at times. 

you’re in front of the tv within five minutes, some shitty reality show acting as a slightly worthwhile distraction for the time being. you can hear your boyfriend thumping around above your head, and a slight pang of worry reaches your stomach. 

but hey, you did tell him to leave. shidou’s not your issue for the rest of today. maybe you’ll apologize tomorrow, once that twitch in your eye goes away for good. maybe you won’t. 

the show flashes to an all too familiar advertisement. blue lock tv is popular enough without the need for a constant stream of ads, but it hasn’t stopped their network from flooding every channel possible with them.

 you can vaguely recognize a few faces from their occasional match with shidou, but you don’t think you could put a name to their face if your life was reliant on it. maybe you should be more interested in the show at this point.

and then your boyfriend’s on the screen, bright yellow and hot pink meshing together in a constant flux of motion as the ball dances to his feet. 

it never gets old, watching him play.

there’s something captivating about it, the way everyone else on the field seems to pale in comparison to shidou ryusei. he commands the attention of the field, forces people to look at him until the crowds cheer his name.

despite yourself, you feel yourself smile.

“man, i looked good here!” 

it’s impressive how you don’t flinch at shidou’s sudden presence. maybe you’ve gotten used to him. 

“i thought you left,” you mutter. 

“and leave you to mope alone?” he leaps over the back of the couch in one easy motion, landing right besides you. “here.”

you turn your head and immediately do a double take. there, nestled in shidou’s large and calloused hand, lays a slightly pitiful bracelet, threads of bright color twined around each other.

“oh.” you say stupidly. you pick it up carefully. 

“it was not easy to tie those knots, you know that?” shidou grins, canines flashing. “stupid little things kept coming undone-”

you tackle him in a hug, arms wrapping around his neck. he jolts in surprise, his own arms reaching around you immediately.

“thank you,” you murmur into the back of his head. “i’m sorry for earlier.”

he laughs, warm breath ghosting by the side of your head. “not the first time i deserved to get yelled at.”

“i’ll wear it forever.”

shidou goes uncharacteristically quiet, if only for a moment.

“your show’s back on.”

[mrscarmenbearzatto]

mae girl! i’ve been living for your carmy stuff. k know you’re just getting back but i’ve been thinking about this idea for a while and i believe the last writer i shared with had gotten deactivated. this might be two ideas instead of one so feel free to do whatever you desire. idk why but would you be down to write some fluff and angst with maybe like married!carmy? maybe something where nat and pete legit ambush carmy and his wife to start talking again? but it like a lighthearted fluffy kinda way at the same time ? utilizing the scene carmy yells at syd as a base- i hate to use that scene as an example but it’s one that comes to mind when writing this atm. anyway, like the reader doesn’t work at the bear but’ll come in on her days off and mornings before her shift to help them open. and carm is already on edge about something going on in the resto and he yells at his wife out of overwhelming frustration. evidently, he’s mad at himself for it after he does it he apologized but she’s all like “no.” and she’s literally giving him the silent treatment. ofc her and nat are besties and loves her sil, so i totally see nat roping pete into getting carmy to come over whilst the reader is already on her way since they haven’t spoken in a while. both nat and pete are literally doing whatever they can to keep these two in separate spaces of the house because neither carm or his wife have any clue they’re there. maybe like y/n is inside with nat and pete meets carmy outside on arrival? the reader is walking towards to the door to out and nat’s still stalling like “so are things with you and my brother?” and the reader scoffs and nat’s just like “still not talking to him huh?” and while the reader grabs the handle slowly opening the door open she’s all like “look, sugar- you know i love your brother, but carmy sometimes can be a piece of shit” and then all you hear is carmy being like “oh, i’m a piece of shit- even after i apologized to you?” and i can just see carmy and the reader being like wth is going on here. idk but nat and pete will sillily have to do the most to get these two the civilly sit down inside of their house to even have anything of a talk. and then nat team tagging with pete to get to the bottom of things and then she lets it slip that y/n had mentioned that they were trying to get pregnant and camry’s just like “wait. what? and carmy already up and ready to talk to her alone. this man would be so loving the first time all like “y/nn can i talk to you in the kitchen for a second?” and then she’s tryna explain and carm out here using her FULL name “in the kitchen now.” just hearing how he’d say it makes me squirm and squeak 😂😩. and she’s just speeding over because she knows he means it when he pulls out the first name. and think with that he’s all just hurt that she told his sister and he hadn’t really said anything- since it was their thing they they were still figuring out. seriously feel free to do whatever you desire. just sharing the same idea i’ll dream about in a few moments. tysm in advance 😭.

- 🥣.

i'm so sorry this took me so long to write, my love! this has nothing to do with you i just got a bit concerned and got lost so many times lmfao, im just dumb like that

ʚɞ

naturally, carmen wants to try to keep his anger away from you. you’re his love, his angel, his everything. the idea that he blew up at you makes him wanna cry but you won’t talk to him, you refuse to in fact until you process what he said.

“why the fuck are you here?! i don’t need you messing shit up and crowding me!” he yelled at you. the memory fresh in your mind. it should be since it’s the only thing you’ve thought about for the past few days.

nat and pete, in their own ways, notice this and take charge. pete thinks you two can handle it but nat chimes in with the, “i know my brother. he can’t handle shit. If this is left up to him to resolve, nothing will happen. i love him but still.”

so they form their plan. pete invites carmy over to set up furniture, catch up, whatever and nat invites you over to talk about the baby and ask for your help with meal prepping. “so, have you and my brother talked about what happened at the restaraunt?” she asks.

you walk over to the couch, putting on your jacket and scarf. you let out a scoff as your answer. “taking that as a no.” nat answers. you put your hand on the doorknob, your back to the front lawn where carmen and pete, unknowing to you, stand.

"look, you know I love Carmen. and you know i want-" you sigh. "i want a family with him, Nat. i want a child, or children, with the guy. but your brother can be a real piece of shit sometimes." You open the door fully at that point, where carmen's now staring at you.

"i'm a piece of shit, after i apologized to you?" carmen asks. you stare at him before looking at pete, then at natalie whose got a guilty smile on her face. "okay. what the hell is this?" You question.

"oh! carmy, hi! i had no idea you were gonna be here. come on in, we'll all have some coffee and we can talk about what's happening." natalie says as she pulls you inside, motioning for carmen to come inside.

he reluctantly agrees, stepping inside as he sits at the dining room table. you stand in the kitchen, far enough away from them.

i think once nat reveals that you told her you want kids his reaction changes. maybe you two talked about it or maybe he doesnt know but either way, he wants to talk to you. that changes things in his mind. because you still want kids with him.

while you and carm work out your own issues, of course nat and pete take credit for it, even though you and carmy are both mad at her. also the idea of carmen using your full name as a way to call you stop oh my gosh

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which lunch is had, old stories are told, and a misunderstanding is cleared up.

part five of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4) if you have no idea what i'm talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that's the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus some complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i'm talking about: my intense examination of the cover to chapter 581 and frustrated googling of phrases like “oden cart curtain name” has finally paid off! also, i’d apologize for where this part ends, but that would be an enormous lie, i’ve been planning on ending this part on that line from the very beginning. >:3c enjoy!

With heavier topics taken off the table, the flow of conversation became smooth and easy.  Shanks asked about Buggy’s crew, his recent travels, his plans for the future; Buggy asked about the best places Shanks had been, who he’d met.  At Buggy’s request, Shanks devoted a full twenty minutes to a detailed description of his meeting with Rayleigh; to Buggy’s delight, it turned out Rayleigh was in Sabaody because Shakuyaku, the former Amazon empress, lived there.  Buggy had always been impressed by her, if a little privately judgy of her taste in men, so hearing that the two of them had semi-retired together made him smile.

As did the revelation that Shanks had first seen a wanted poster for Buggy the Clown—his earliest one, actually, before he’d perfected the crossbones and had still been experimenting with lip tints—when Rayleigh pulled a copy out that day.  “He keeps an eye on all the newspapers, from the four big seas and the Grand Line alike,” Shanks explained, digging his toes into the sand. (Buggy had gotten tired of his push-pull relationship with the tides and insisted they move further up the beach.) “I think he’s found and kept a copy of every one of our bounties.”

Buggy tried not to be obvious about how much that meant, but he had never been good at holding back the waterworks when he got emotional.  Sniffing thickly, he said, “That stupid old man… your bounty’s gone up so many times over the years without the picture ever looking different!  What a waste of his space.”

One of Shanks’ eyebrows went up—probably, Buggy realized a moment later, at the implication that Buggy had also been keeping track of Shanks’ bounties.  Ah, well, in for a penny… “Seriously!  It’s bad design!” Buggy insisted.  “If the only changes someone like me ever noticed are that you grew that shitty little beard—”

“Shitty?”  Shanks pouted, running his thumb along his jawline.  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s worse without the mustache,” Buggy said bluntly.  Shanks played up his shock, gasping and grabbing at his heart like an elderly man.

Buggy rolled his eyes.  “As I was saying: if all I ever noticed was the beard and that your hat disappeared at some point, your average citizen’s not going to realize the Marines have released a new poster and the bounty went up!”  Jabbing a thumb brazenly at his own face, Buggy said, “At least I had something new going on each time.”

Shanks cocked his head at Buggy.  “About that… do you change your makeup style so often for fun, or are you still searching for the perfect look?”

Buggy scoffed.  “There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to art, or fashion,” he said.  “There’s just advancing your craft.  Every time I change my look up, I’m incorporating newer and flashier techniques, and better supplies.  The makeup I had access to fifteen, even ten years ago would never have lasted a day in Impel Down, let alone weeks.”

“That’s true,” Shanks said thoughtfully, hand on his chin.  “The stuff you have these days is much—” He cut himself off, glancing over Buggy’s shoulder.  Buggy turned to see a cluster of men in ragged prison uniforms standing maybe forty feet away, staring at them and then glancing away awkwardly when they met Buggy’s eye.

“I told them not to bother me today,” Buggy grumbled, giving the group a half-hearted glare.  They visibly quaked, knees knocking, but neither moved nor explained themselves.

“I guess our presence is interfering with their shore leave,” Shanks said, slipping back into his sandals.

Looking past the men revealed the beach had gotten crowded while Buggy wasn’t paying attention—save for a fifty-foot ring of emptiness centered on him and Shanks.  These men had only approached them because there wasn’t anywhere else to be.  Sighing, Buggy stood up, brushing sand off the seat of his pants.

“Lead the way, then,” he said grimly.

With a polite smile and a wave to the former prisoners, Shanks walked back up the beach.  Buggy gave them a glare, and a threatening slice-your-throat gesture (made more emphatic by the way Buggy separated his neck as he sliced) to encourage their silence before following Shanks further inland.

The terrain got a bit jungle-like as they went on, but there were neatly trodden paths between the trees.  It was a civilized corner of nature, and Buggy found he didn’t mind walking through it with just Shanks and his questions for company, even when those questions started getting a bit specific for Buggy’s tastes. (What did Shanks need to know about his plans after he found Captain John’s treasure, anyway?  Was he trying to go after Buggy’s next prize while he was still busy with the current one?)

It was the middle of the lunch hour by the time their jungle path led them back into town, which was almost suspiciously convenient timing.  Buggy glanced at Shanks, trying to figure out if he’d planned this or was just aimlessly wandering.  Well, either way he’d better lead them somewhere soon—Buggy was hungry!  He wanted to eat the kind of food he couldn’t get back on the ship—nothing a typical chef in a typical kitchen could manage.  He wanted something that involved a deep fryer, or another equally specialized device.  Something that would be too much of a hassle to make on a ship.  Something…

“Hey!”  Shanks turned to grab Buggy’s attention, pointing at a yatai on the opposite street corner.  “What about that?”

Buggy spotted the word written in bold white letters on slate gray cloth and started to laugh. “What are we, on a themed vacation or something?”

“You’re the one who put the idea in my head!” Shanks said defensively, grinning.  “I know it’s out of season, but…”

“No, you’re right, we have to,” Buggy said, and led them to the oden-ya.  “I’m just going to look like I’m obsessed, is all.”

Ducking under the bamboo noren curtains, they found themselves in a cozy space, with three stools set up along a polished wooden table the same length as the cooktop.  A gorilla mink stood behind the partitioned oden pot, rotating skewers of fishcake in their niches within the steaming broth.  He glanced up at their entrance, a friendly customer service smile spreading across his face.

“Welcome!  Looking for oden this afternoon, or just something to drink?”  He gestured to one side, where beautiful little sake flasks and other bottles of alcohol were arranged on shelves that took up the whole side wall of the cart.  “I’d be happy to warm a flask of sake up for you on the stove if you’d like.”

“We’re looking for both, thanks,” Shanks said warmly, stepping up to the counter.  “I don’t suppose any of your sake is sourced from Wano?”

The mink wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.  “I may have some in storage, but that stuff tend to run a little pricier, given… well, if you’re asking for it, you must know.”

“Of course you have expensive tastes in booze and nothing else,” Buggy said with a smirk, bent down to inspect the sake that was actually meant for sale.  “Come on, look, they’ve got some West Blue stuff, you were always a sucker for your home ocean.”

“Oh?”  Shanks leaned over Buggy to get a better look at the stock, and a prickle of heat went up Buggy’s spine.  “Ooh, I do like that stuff.  But I really had my heart set on something from Wano…”  Turning back to the mink, he said, “Sorry to trouble you, but can you bring out what you have from Wano?  I promise the price isn’t an issue, and I won’t have any problem drinking a flask of each.”  The mink ducked around back without complaint.

“More like a couple flasks of each,” Buggy muttered, but he didn’t mean it cruelly.  Shanks liked a drink, he always had—and rumor said the last time he saw Whitebeard before all this he’d matched him cup for cup.  Whitebeard-sized cups, too, which meant he had to have a crazy tolerance these days.  Good for him.  Buggy wasn’t quite as capable, but he could hold his liquor.  He wouldn’t be any kind of ex-Roger Pirate if he couldn’t.

“Guilty,” Shanks said, sing-songy, reaching over Buggy’s shoulder to snatch one of the larger bottles of shochu.  “Can you grab a flask or two of the West Blue sake for me?”

Buggy rolled his eyes, grabbing two.  “One of them’s for me.”

“We can share,” Shanks said mildly.

Buggy snorted. “If by ‘share’ you mean I get one cup and by the time I’ve finished it the flask is empty, sure, we can share.”

Shanks laughed.  “Am I that bad?”

“You’re just too fast about it is all.  I like to linger over a drink, really savor it.”

“Oh, you like to take your time, do you?”  Shanks’ smile, already suggestively wide, spread wider still when this comment flustered Buggy.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he snapped.

“No?”

Why do you sound disappointed, Buggy was tempted to ask—except no, no he wasn’t, he did not want to know why Shanks might be disappointed Buggy hadn’t intended to be suggestive.  He had already decided he wasn’t going there.  “I just mean you rush things a bit.”

“…do I?”

Once again feeling like Shanks was reading things into what he was saying, but this time not at all sure what deeper meaning Shanks was taking from his words, Buggy averted his eyes, setting the pair of sake flasks down in front of the stove top.  “Yeah, I know you like getting drunk, but there’s such a thing as pacing yourself, you know?”

Before Shanks could respond to this—with who knows what kind of misinterpretation of Buggy’s words this time—the mink returned, a crate of sake in flasks and jugs of various sizes in hand.

“Here we are!”  With a soft grunt of effort, the mink set the crate down in front of Shanks.  “Let me know if anything catches your eye.”  He spotted the flasks of West Blue sake Buggy had set down and quickly made room in a pot of steaming water for them to sit and warm up.  “Now, were any items looking especially appealing today?”

Buggy glanced sideways; Shanks was occupied with intently inspecting the sake.  Well, if he wanted something specific he could ask for it later.  “Two bowlfuls of whatever the chef recommends, for now.”

The gorilla nodded.  “Coming right up!”  And he was as good as his word, quickly throwing together a wide, shallow bowl of savory golden-brown broth with a skewer of fishcakes, an egg, and a few slices of daikon for each of them. It looked wonderful, warm and familiar, and it smelled even better.

Before Buggy could take a sip, Shanks had flung his arm across Buggy’s chest, blocking the spoonful of broth from reaching his mouth.

“Hang on,” Shanks said, weirdly serious.  “You have to have this first.”  He held out a small flask of Wano sake, tilted just far enough to encourage Buggy to grab a cup and accept the pour.

“Not warmed up?”  Shanks expression didn’t so much as twitch.  Buggy huffed.  “Fine, fine... you and your expensive tastes.”  He accepted the cup, swirled it for a moment to breathe in the aroma—they really did make it different in Wano; was it something in the water, or the rice?—and took a sip.  Then blinked, goggled at the half-drunk cup, and slung back the rest with a warm floaty feeling in his chest.

Setting the cup down, he breathed, “Is that...?”

Shanks grinned.  “Special pure rice brew.”  He spun the flask around to reveal the maker’s mark.  “From the Kuri region of Wano.”

Buggy snatched the flask away.  Looking it over, he said, “Seriously?! From the same brewery?”

“And you wondered why I was so insistent.”

Buggy shook his head, laughing a little in disbelief, and poured Shanks a cup of the stuff.  He glanced up at their host, politely not bothering them even though he had to be confused, and said, “This exact same sake was the first drink the two of us had, back when we were—what, eleven? Twelve?”

“Something like that,” Shanks said, watching Buggy with a pleased smile.  “Stolen out of Oden’s rooms on a dare—”

“—you’re the one who dared me!” Buggy snapped.  Thinking back, he added, “And he must have let us take it, we weren’t sneaky enough at twelve to get past Oden—”

“—oh, definitely,” Shanks agreed.  “Bet he thought of it as a rite of passage, stealing your first drink from under the nose of your honored elders.”

Buggy snorted.  “Definitely,” he echoed.  Giving Shanks a look, he passed this flask along to the mink as well.  “This stuff isn’t so fancy heating it will ruin the taste, right?  Might as well try it the way it was meant to be had.”

“Of course,” the mink said with a gracious smile, adding the flask to the steaming pot on his stove.  He watched the two of them dig into their bowls—delicious, of course—without comment, but as he carefully retrieved the first of the West Blue flasks from its bath he said, “Now, I haven’t thought about this in a long time, so I’m afraid I can’t quite recall… which of you is Shanks and which is Buggy?”

Buggy blinked dumbly up at the gorilla, his mouth full of radish.  Next to him, Shanks was pulling a similar face.

Hastily swallowing his mouthful, Buggy cleared his throat and said, “You know… both of us by name? But not well enough to know which is which on sight?”

The gorilla smiled sheepishly.  “I wasn’t sure until you brought up Oden.  That’s Kozuki Oden, isn’t it?  Which means the two of you must be Shanks and Buggy, they were the only other young people on the boat in all the stories I heard.”

“What stories?”

“‘The only other young people’…” Shanks lit up.  “Do you know Dogstorm and Cat Viper?”

Buggy nearly smacked Shanks.  “Seriously?!  Not every mink knows each other, Shanks!”

“Heh, actually...”  Buggy stared up at the gorilla mink in disbelief as he shrugged, making an embarrassed expression.  “The truth is, I only learned how to prepare oden at Duke Dogstorm’s request.”

“Duke Dogstorm?”  Shanks whistled.  “Somebody’s moved up in the world.”

Buggy jabbed him in the side with a free-floating elbow.  “I don’t want to hear that from you, Emperor Shanks!”

Shanks winced—an exaggerated gesture for the benefit of their audience—and leaned away from Buggy.  “Oh, come on,” he whined, “it’s not like I meant to become an emperor or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes and shoving a piece of tsukune in his mouth.  Eyes shut, he declared, “I’ll bet I can tell you exactly how it happened, too.  You had a meal with some mediocre pirate crew and made friends. Then some shitty Marines started beating the hell out of them; they could’ve just arrested the crew, but they decided to torture them for their own amusement.  Well, you could hardly let this abuse go unchallenged, could you?  So naturally you had to step in, and sent the Marines running with their tails between their legs.  And it was only natural that the pirate crew was thankful to you, but you never dreamed they’d all vow to follow you forever, forswearing their own flag in favor of yours.  Not daring to call themselves true Red-Haired Pirates, of course, but Red-Haired Pirates adjacent.”  Rolling his wrist, Buggy concluded, “And then that happened another twenty or thirty times, because you never learn.”

Opening one eye a crack, he glanced at Shanks.  “How’d I do?”

Shanks, red-faced, his fist pressed to his mouth to hold back laughter, nodded weakly.  “Well, uh... you’re not wrong,” he wheezed out.  Taking a drink to clear his throat and calm down, he sighed.  “Though you make it sound like far more of a foregone conclusion than it felt like when it was first happening.”

“That’s the benefit of an outside perspective,” Buggy said snippily.  “And also hindsight.”  Waving a hand in Shanks’ face, he said, “But enough about you!”  Jabbing the pointer finger of that same hand at their host, Buggy said, “What’s this about you learning to make oden for Dogstorm?”

The gorilla mink smiled, his eyes wide, and Buggy suddenly remembered hearing once that gorillas didn’t actually smile, but instead bared their teeth as a threat against potential enemies.  He pulled back his hand as casually as he could manage it.

“Do you really want to hear the story?  I’m told I can be a bit long-winded,” the mink said, fishing one of the Wano flasks out of its water bath and offering it up.

“Yeah, let’s hear it!” Buggy said, pouring a cup for Shanks, then handing over the flask so Shanks could do the same for him.  “I don’t know about Shanks but I haven’t heard anything from Zou in years, I’m dying to hear what those two have gotten up to.”

Closing his eyes, Buggy took a sip of the warmed Wano sake, not knowing Shanks was doing the same thing at the same time.  They set down their cups and sighed in unpracticed unison.  Suddenly aware of their double act, Buggy scowled at Shanks, who ignored him and made an encouraging gesture to their chef.  “Please, go ahead. I’d love to hear news of Dogstorm and Cat Viper.”

A sad expression washed over the gorilla’s face.  “I’m afraid I can only give you news of Duke Dogstorm.”  At the looks on his guests’ faces, the gorilla threw out a hand and said, “Not to say—please don’t misunderstand! Lord Cat Viper still lives! It’s just that I have not met with him since he and Duke Dogstorm first returned to Zou.  They... keep separate courts, and hours, and my service has always been to the day.”

A wrinkle appeared in Shanks’ brow.  “They don’t talk anymore?”

“It always turns into a fight.  Often one with devastating consequences for their surroundings.”

Buggy frowned.  That didn’t sound right.  Well, not the destruction—that sounded like those two—but fighting so badly they couldn’t even share waking hours... “What happened?”

The gorilla sighed.  “As I understand it?  Kozuki Oden died, and neither could forgive the other for failing to save him.”  A moment later, he gave Buggy a concerned look.  “Oh, are you hurt?”

Buggy blinked.  Staring down at his hands, he realized he’d snapped his chopsticks in half.  “I... no, I’m okay.”  The gorilla carefully plucked the broken shards of wood out of Buggy’s grasp, along with a splinter or two that had tried to wedge their way into his palms.  Thankfully the Chop-Chop fruit could handle any kind of stabbing, from needles up to legendary meito, so Buggy really was fine.

While the gorilla disposed of the pieces of wood, Buggy clenched his jaw, feeling Shanks’ eyes on him.  “I can hear you thinking.”

“…it makes sense,” he said quietly.  “What else could come between those two but the loss of someone who was as important to them as Oden?”

Buggy shot Shanks a narrow look out of the corner of his eye.  “Pretty sure I told you this morning that I was done talking about sad shit,” he warned, and Shanks raised his hand in a placating gesture.  The gorilla confirmed that Buggy wasn’t hurt, pointed out the extra chopsticks sitting in a cup to his left, and at their insistence told his story while they returned to their meal.

Dogstorm’s court sounded like a sight worth seeing.  Minks of countless animal forms, musketeers and attendants! To think Oden’s retainer had retainers of his own now!  And to think that he acted like a guy with such noble dignity, after the way he used to behave.

As the gorilla reached the end of his story—having made the closest thing to oden as could be produced with ingredients native to Zou, with Dogstorm pleased by the effort but quietly unsatisfied by the taste, the gorilla had left the court making a vow to learn the secrets of the oden-preparing arts, promising not to return until he was confident he would be able to put a true smile on the duke’s face—Buggy nudged Shanks in the side.  He glanced at Buggy, a half-eaten skewer of fishcakes sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Can you believe,” Buggy said with a shit-eating grin, “that the noble, wounded Dogstorm this guy is talking about is the same one who tarred and feathered Mr. Rayleigh?”

Shanks nearly choked before starting to laugh.  “How did I forget about that?!”

“I’m sorry, Duke Dogstorm did what?” the gorilla said incredulously, staring between the two of them.

“Wait, wait,” Shanks said, before Buggy could start to tell the story.  “If we’re sharing stories of mutual friends, you have to share a drink with us too.”  He grabbed a clean cup from a stack to one side and handed it over to the mink.  Shanks gave Buggy a pleading look, and with a magnanimous smirk Buggy chop-chopped a hand to swipe another sake flask from the water bath and pour for both of them.  “So—”

“Don’t you tell it!” Buggy snapped.  With a grin and a wave of his hand, Shanks metaphorically turned over the reins to Buggy, and took the opportunity to return to his sake and his meal.  “So,” Buggy said to the mink, “the first thing you need to understand about Dogstorm and Cat Viper is that they acted like respectful little attendants when Oden was around, but when it was just the four of us?”  Glancing at Shanks, who was grinning around the skewer in his mouth, Buggy cackled.  “They were just as bad as we were.”

Buggy went on to describe the prank in loving detail, alternating bites of fishcake with the reactions of the crew (mostly hysteria, especially from Roger) and the multiple attempts to blame the prank on someone else (Dogstorm nearly succeeded in pinning it all on Buggy, but forgot himself and corrected Rayleigh on where the tar had come from).  Shanks followed this up with a reminder of another time the four of them had been absolute nightmares to the crew of the Oro Jackson, and the story Buggy told about that day brought their host to literal tears of laughter.

They went around like this for over an hour, topping off their bowls and drinks all the while, recalling old times with the golden burnish of nostalgia softening the edges, easing the hurts and offenses of youth.  Gradually, the last of the fear Buggy had been clinging to all day faded.  It was hard to think that your childhood dread mattered much when looked at from so far off, in so fond a way. It was easy to smile at someone who so readily smiled back.

Eventually the broth pooling at the bottom of their bowls grew cold, and the flasks of sake they’d bought ran dry.  Not a soul had tried to enter the yatai while they were present, and Buggy felt a fleeting burst of pity for the gorilla’s business… until he saw how well Shanks tipped. With a light heart, Buggy waved a slightly drunken farewell to the mink—he’d paced himself pretty well, but a half-dozen bottles of sake split between two men were still going to have an effect—and ducked back out into the wider world.

The air outside was not exactly cold, but it lacked the cozy warmth of the oden-ya’s atmosphere.  It set something within Buggy out of alignment—or maybe back into place?  He stood just outside the noren with a hand pressed to his chest, trying to place the feeling, when Shanks made his own exit and nearly ran into him.

The proximity of Shanks at his back, with the last traces of that soup-warmed air drifting in his wake, sent a burst of longing down Buggy’s spine so intense his knees went weak.

Shanks’ hand went to his shoulder.  “Careful,” Shanks said, hoisting Buggy fully upright, the flat of his arm firm along the breadth of his back.  “You alright, Buggy?”

Fuck.  Even though it was the wrong arm, something about Shanks putting an arm over Buggy’s shoulder made his stomach flip and his heart kick into high gear.  Stupid, loyal organs didn’t have the sense Buggy’s brain had been given, to recognize that feeling feelings for Shanks was a very bad idea.

“Fine,” Buggy croaked out, taking a few careful steps away from Shanks to confirm he was steady enough to make that lie truth.  He shook himself off.

“Your tolerance not what it used to be?” Shanks teased.

“My tolerance is normal,” Buggy insisted, not looking back at Shanks.  “Yours, on the other hand...”

“Yeah, unlike you I’m actually fine,” Shanks said, picking up his pace to match Buggy’s stride.  Glancing around, his back straightened involuntarily with recognition.  Nudging Buggy’s shoulder with his own, he said, “Here, there’s a park nearby where we won’t be bothered.  We can sit down, let you sober up a little before heading back to the ship.”

Buggy drifted in Shanks’ wake on some old instinct.  It was only mid-afternoon.  “There wasn’t anything else you wanted to do?”

Shanks glanced at Buggy over his shoulder.  “What?”

“I dunno, some... sight you thought I should see, or a shop you like or something?”

Shanks blinked.  “Buggy, I’ve never been to this island before. I asked the locals for recommendations yesterday so I could have a good time with you.”

Buggy’s face went hot.  “You—stop saying shit like that!  Don’t you know how that sounds?”

“How it sounds?” Shanks echoed. He led Buggy through a tall, metal gate, into a walled-off plot of land with very little to it, just rock-paved paths, plaques underneath oddly colored trees, and the occasional bench.  Closing the gate behind them, he spun on Buggy.  “How does it sound?”

Buggy scowled and stormed past him.  Like Shanks didn’t know.

“If it sounds like I’ve missed you—well, sorry, Buggy, but I have.  I thought I’d been pretty obvious about that.”  When Buggy turned an incredulous look on Shanks, the corner of his mouth turned up, amused.  “Obvious to everyone but you, I guess.”

“You—you didn’t miss me,” Buggy said, insistent.  “You missed—” he gestured vaguely between the two of them. “—someone knowing you, without you having to say anything.  You missed having a history with someone.”

Shanks shook his head.  “I would love to see many people from back then again, but I’ve never missed any of them like I did you.”

“Oh, come on!” Buggy spat, “what was there to miss?  A greedy little brat who couldn’t decide if he hated you more than he was jealous of you?  A coward who ran and hid from every fight?”  The memory of Shanks leaning in close, a hand on his face, shot through Buggy.  Resisting another stab of longing, he blurted out, “Some stranger’s pretty face?”

“I missed my best—” Shanks’ face screwed up in confusion.  “A pretty face?”

Buggy hadn’t meant to say that.  He grimaced.  “You know.”  Swiping a hand across his face, he chop-chopped his nose off for a moment, hiding the gap behind his free hand.  “This one, that you liked so much that time.”

Understanding lit up Shanks’ face.  “Oh, the gorgeous stranger with stunning eyes.”  A sheepish expression coming over him, Shanks looked away, askance.  “Can I tell you something embarrassing?”

Buggy blinked.  Not the response he’d expected.  “Uh, sure?”

“I only thought those eyes were so stunning because they reminded me of yours.”

Buggy’s jaw dropped.  “The hell they did!”

“They did!”  Shoving his hand over his eyes, Shanks smiled self-consciously.  “Oh, I felt so ridiculous later.  That poor guy, I thought, was deserving of more than my secondhand affections.”  Dropping his hand to look at Buggy, he said, “Though that’s nothing compared to how ridiculous I felt the other day.”

Buggy swallowed, mouth dry.

“I’m sorry, Buggy,” Shanks said after a long, silent moment.  “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Buggy blinked.

Well.  Of course he wouldn’t have.  That went without saying.

He stepped back.  “I know that.”

“You do?”  Shanks frowned.  “I… good.”  Shoulders hunched, he turned to peer down at a plaque mounted beneath a pink-leafed bush.  “That’s good.  I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between us.”

“What’s there to misunderstand?”  Buggy spotted a bench and sat down.  He immediately felt clearer-headed.  Maybe Shanks was right about his tolerance.  “I get it.  You kiss strangers, not old friends.”

Shanks paused mid-step.  “Are you…” He spun to frown at Buggy.  “Are you deliberately misunderstanding me?”

“Hm?”  Buggy had just gotten comfortable, hiking one knee over the bench’s arm.  What was Shanks talking about now?

“Buggy.”

Buggy craned his head back to look up at Shanks.  He looked tall from this angle, and taller still when he leaned over Buggy, resting his hand on the back of the bench.  Shanks’ expression was unreadable, but intense.  Buggy’s mouth felt dry again.  Oh, this was bad.

“I was not apologizing for kissing you.  I was apologizing for kissing you wrong.”

“Kissing me wrong?” Buggy echoed bewilderedly.

“If I’d known that stranger was you, I still would have kissed you, if you’d let me,” Shanks said bluntly.  “I’d kiss you now, if you’d let me.  But it wouldn’t be like that kiss, it would be different.”

Buggy blinked, dumbfounded.

Shanks… wanted to kiss him.

Not the stranger he’d taken him for back then, but Buggy himself.

Had wanted to kiss Buggy then.

Still wanted to kiss Buggy now.

Would kiss him in a different way from a stranger.

“Different how?” Buggy croaked out.

For a long, agonizing moment, Shanks stared blankly at Buggy.  A furious heat rushed into Buggy’s face—there was no way to take a sentence like that back.  He couldn’t pretend it was simple curiosity.  He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t eager to be kissed.

Slowly, Shanks grinned, infuriatingly smug.  “Would you like me to show you?”

[bullet-prooflove]

No Questions Asked: Damien Powell x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thiashazzywriting

Hitting the Romantic Meal Bingo Square

You fall for Damien within thirty seconds of meeting him. The two of you are sitting in the back of the surveillance van when he pulls the hood down from his jacket, revealing his battered face. It’s his smile that captures you, the way that boyish grin of his lights up his features despite the bruises.

It’s a couple of days later he joins the Fly Team. You walk into the office one morning to find him roughhousing on the floor with Tank and something just blossoms in your chest.

It’s when you step into the breakroom that you realise he slept on the couch last night. There’s no blanket so you assume he used his coat, there’s an indentation in one of his duffle bags from where he’s used it as a pillow. You’ve napped on that sofa before, you know exactly how uncomfortable it is, it must have been excruciating with his bruised ribs.

“You’re coming home with me tonight.” You tell him, setting a coffee mug down on the desk alongside Tank’s dog bed.

Damien’s still sitting on the floor, playing tug with Tank when his head swivels up towards you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You don’t have to do that.” He tells you, scratching behind Tank’s ears. The giant schnauzer’s tail starts to thump in response and Damien concentrates on the sound of that noise, the soothing rhythm of it.

You think of the terror attack he helped avert, the personal toll that mission had taken, not just on his body but his psyche as well. Thirteen months he had been undercover with one of the most brutal Nationalist gangs in Sweden, it had gotten to the point where even his own ASAC had thought he’d gone off the deep end. You can’t imagine how isolating that must have been, how alone he must have felt.

“Damien,” You say softly, your hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s time to come in from the cold, let me help you.”

There’s a warmth in your touch, an affection he isn’t used to. Every single exchange he’s had in the past year has resulted in agony, he’s come to expect it. However the gentle press of your fingers through his shirt reminds him that there doesn’t have to be pain, there can be kindness too and that’s something Damien isn’t accustomed to.

“Ok.” He murmurs, his attention focused on the dog. “We’ll try it for one night, see how it goes.”

***

You’ve just finished making up the bed in the spare bedroom when you realise that Damien’s cooking dinner. The sight of him in your kitchen, clad in grey sweatpants and a navy blue V-neck, his dark hair still damp from the shower he’d taken, it resonates with you.

Back at the office it had been clear from the creases in his clothing, that he had slept in them. It’s the sign of someone whose used to being alert, who needed to be ready, just in case. The fact he’s wearing something he feels comfortable in, it speaks volumes.

“My way of saying thank you for putting me up for the night.” He says as he stirs the pasta.

It’s a simple meal, sauce from a jar, thinly chopped peppers tossed in with some left over chicken you’d had in the fridge. The gesture isn’t wasted on you, you understand he’s trying to make a connection, express his gratitude. You’ve known each other for barely twenty four hours but you’ve already opened up your home to him.

You could sense he’s struggle back at the office, his displacement. It’s hard to acclimatise after being someone else, to come back to yourself. He needs time to recover from his injuries, the physical and the mental. The shit he went through with the Brotherhood, it’s etched into his psyche. He needs to learn to deal with that, to process it before he can begin to heal. He can’t do that if he’s sleeping on a couch in the office, waiting for the next threat to come over the threshold.

“You are the first person I’ve shared a meal with in a very long time.” He finds himself telling you as the two of you sit at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t count the times he’s eaten with members of the Brotherhood, he’d ate for substance back then. Always on edge, always waiting to be discovered.

“You’re the first man I’ve had stay over.” You tell him as you take a sip from your beer.

A secret for a secret.

He wants to ask but it’s not his place.

He stays for a fortnight, the two of you slipping into an easy pattern of domesticity. He enjoys cooking, you discover, prefers it to washing the dishes, which you don’t mind because he’s actually quite creative in the kitchen when he gets his hands on the right ingredients. You’ve never been so well fed. That continues well after he moves out, because he hates eating alone and he enjoys your company immensely.

Little by little the details of his time with the Brotherhood begin to filter out, the things he’s seen, the things he’s done. He has nightmares, he tells you, one’s where he wakes up breathless, scared.

“Call me when it happens.” You urge him, your hand coming to rest upon his. “You’re not alone anymore.”

It’s a couple of weeks later that he rings you. It’s two in the morning and you can hear his ragged breathing over the line as you clutch your cellphone to your ear.

“I just needed to hear your voice.” He tells you from a hotel room in Sweden, he’s there giving evidence against the Brotherhood and you’re in Budapest, finishing up a case with the rest of the Fly Team. “I just needed to know that there’s someone out there that actually gives a shit.”

“I care.” You promise him. “I give a shit about what happens to you.”

You stay on the phone for hours after that, telling him stories about your adventures with the Fly Team before he finally starts to drift back to sleep. When he returns a couple of days later you find a small wooden Dala horse on your desk, painted in bright pretty colours.

“It’s a symbol of good luck.” He tells you, setting down a cup of takeout coffee alongside of the horse. “And my way of saying how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Damien…” You say softly and he shakes his head to cut you off as he takes up residence on the corner of your desk.

“You don’t understand how much I was struggling that first morning. I was homeless, in pain…” He trails off, swallowing hard against the emotion in his chest. “You saw me for who I was from day one and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

His gaze turns distant as he looks out the window, there’s so much that he wants to say but the words they just stick in his throat.

“I have your back.” He says finally, his hand coming to rest in your shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Anytime day or night, anything you need, I’m there no questions asked.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week In Review I

So in order to try and be consistent with this, I’ve kept a running Notes page open to keep track of my week.

As I mentioned last week, I don’t expect this every week, I am me. But I am going to keep trying to make an effort to support my fellow creators.

If there’s something you’ve enjoyed this week, please feel to reblog this and tag me so I can check it out and share 💙

Also, not that I feel it needs to be said, but this is a reflection of what I have personally read and enjoyed.

B x

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

New York Part I (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Conversations with a Movie Star | Chapter 1 by @gnpwdrnwhiskey Even if you’re not a fan of Dieter Bravo, the dialogue in this alone is worth checking out this opening chapter for this new fic. Ava is an OFC down on her luck after being fired, from her families paper no less, and has stumbled across the Bravo Inn… I’ll let Lellen’s writing do the rest

Stripper Jack Trilogy | P. III by @psychedelic-ink The conclusion of maybe the definitive trilogy of trilogies? I don’t think anyone had Stripper Jack on their 2023 bingo cards, but he’s earned his space and I won’t have any arguments on it. 

Hungry Hearts | Chapter by @atinylittlepain Not many Joel AU’s I’ll jump into, but Bruce Springsteen and Joel Miller? Signed myself the fuck up for that as soon as it was announced. The unfolding of Joel and Cherry's relationship in the summer of '86 against them running back into one another 17 years later is such a great dynamic. 

Fall Apart Again | Chapter 1 + 2 by @wildemaven Heidi spoiled us this week, with not one, but TWO chapters of her new Joel fanfic. I don’t think I’ve gotten so emotional over an opening chapter to a fic before like I did with this one! Then the second chapter? Just bury me now… but actually don’t, I want to see the end of this fic first!

The Layover | Chapter 9 by @goodwithcheese How did Megan describe her fanfics? Hallmark movies with smut? She's not wrong. This whole series so far has been a rollercoaster of emotions and keeps delivering each week without fail. Not only are you rooting for Reader + Frankie, but Jules and Santiago anyone? Or maybe just Jules herself because she's just the boss.

Late Night Texts | Chapter 9 by @mvtthewmurdvck I think it's safe to say it's fanfics like Late Night Texts that have got me back in my rom-com/hopeless romantic era. I don't want to give too much away if you've not had the pleasure of reading this - but it has all the hallmarks of a good rom-com set on the backdrop of the early 2000s and with Javier Peña. If you're like me and still trying to make your way through Narcos or haven't watched it yet - please don't let it stop you, you won't be sorry!

A Little FaceTime by @stardustandskycrystals I’m still thinking about this fic days later and may have gone back to read it again. Trust me, just read this - you don’t need an explanation or reason, just read it. Even if Javi isn’t your jam (wasn’t on my list before, that’s all changed now) - it won’t disappoint!

Things I’m Looking Forward to Starting…

Decoherence by @prolix-yuy Westworld and Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels crossover, yes, please! It is also reminding me that I never finished season one and should do something about it…

Pleased to Meet You by @intheorangebedroom This is a constant on my dash and on my TBR pile for a while with so many good comments - also getting into my Frankie era, so it’s perfect timing!

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Been waiting to savour this one! So you’ve got the Last of Us and you’ve got Triple Frontier, two of my favourite things… what happens when you mush them together? You get a wild ride through the outbreak with Frankie & Reader - I cannot wait to get into this!

Visiting by @ladamedusoif This is another regular on my dash and on my TBR that I’m hoping to get stuck into this week. A college AU of Mr. Ben from the SNL sketch. Fully fleshed out and on the backdrop of New England, I’m ready to get swept away with this promise of a slow burn.

The House by @gemmahale A Jack Daniels x OFC (Best Friend) series coming soon focusing on a long-lost friendship, an inheritance, and Jack sounding like the scallion he is? Cannot wait.

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

@rhoorl’s announcement of their Triple Frontier AU, Delta Landscaping with mood board and logo! The residents of Tumblr won’t know what’s hit the neighbourhood when they roll into town! 

Thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey I will never look at baby hippos without thinking of Dieter Bravo

Everyone’s participation in the WIP poll tag game, it was so fun to see my dash just filled with so many creative people and so many amazing ideas! It was a neat peek into everyone’s draft folders!

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - FINALLY got to see it this week, and it did not disappoint. Have not stopped thinking about it since!

My rom-com era has returned, and I’m deep into embracing my forgotten love of a good rom-com. So far this week it’s been The Lake House, You’ve Got Mail & Always Be My Baby. Also it gave way to a Keanu Reeves appreciation post, come share your favourite Keanu!

This Week’s Song… Went waaaayyyy back for this one, an amazing album too - the Sterephonics are one of my favourite bands of all time 🩶

Hope everyone has a great Sunday & here's to a new week!

Please feel free to share your own favourites from the week or what you're looking forward to this week - not a tag game, so no pressure for you to share if you're not feeling it ❤️ xx

[dragons-clause]

The Dragon's Clause

Sabo x Fem Reader CW: Forced marriage, intrigue, character death, fantasy violence, blood, magic, language, smut, 18+ mdni

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @manachiichan

Chapter 9: This Tea is -

Your demonstration for Koala had turned into a spar with one of the knights, which had turned into a spar with two, three, and then all of them before the day was out. In the end you’d begun to instruct them, as you had bested each easily and felt it was only right to help them. Instruction also gave you a couple days to recover.

You’d been keeping up with your practicing, but practicing alone and sparring with actual human partners were two very different things. After the first knight had lost, the others hadn’t gone easy on you, but even by the time you had gotten to the last, you still barely had enough left to tend to yourself. It was nice to be able to push yourself like that.

The entire thing had been a good bonding exercise at the end of it all. What had been tense for a few moments turned into actual camaraderie when all was said and done. You’d even taken your meal with the other knights before returning to your quarters afterward. Koala had been there the entire time, she hadn’t stepped in to stop anything, and hadn’t even flinched when you’d decided to eat with them. The almost constant warm smile on her face made it hard to read her, but she didn’t patronize you, or speak against your decisions, so you weren’t too worried about it.

You were certain that Koala’s attentiveness to you and your needs wasn’t just a show of good manners on her part, or even an order from the Duke. She was likely keeping an eye on you, just as much as she was attending to you, and you couldn’t fault her for it. Everything surrounding your arrival was rushed and uncomfortable, and even the estate’s swift reactions weren’t enough to take the edge off how fast it was all happening.

Even to you it looked very much like the King had rushed his son off to the Northern border, understaffed and ill-prepared, specifically to drop some manner of fiance in his lap. In this case it had also served him a few other purposes as well, because now you weren’t the King’s problem anymore, and he had reason to complain to your Uncle.

You hadn’t heard anything from him since you arrived, but you weren’t expecting anything as it was. Even if he wanted to blame you for King Outlook’s reaction, there wasn’t anything you could do, and there wasn’t anything he could do to you because of it. He’d be more apt to scrawl his frustrations out on a piece of paper and light it on fire, instead of wasting money having it delivered to you, just so you could set it on fire and be rid of it.

From demonstration, to spar, to teaching, to something almost like a routine. When you were done with your morning routine, Koala met you in your quarters.

“Good morning Lady Lulusia,” she greets you same as always, but there’s something extra in her voice this morning.

“Indeed, Koala.” You reply, a smile pulling at your lips. “What has you in such a chipper mood today, if I may ask?”

“Ah, I’ve been found out.” She chimes, helping you to get cleaned up. “The Grand Duke has returned this morning. He’s currently handling some business in his office, but after breakfast I’ll have you both in the main tea room to finally meet.”

“Oh, hm.” You aren’t really sure how to react. You knew he wasn’t going to be away much longer, but you were already used to the place without him in it. “Since he has work to attend to, I’m assuming we needn’t rush?”

“Precisely.” Koala assures you. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to know?”

You consider it a moment and shake your head. “No, all the rumors I’ve heard until now haven’t stood up to what I’ve experienced since I arrived. I’ve no need to put any stock in them, but I also don’t want your loyalty to color my impression of him.” You sigh a little as Koala washes your hair. “At least no more than it already has.”

She hums positively, and the two of you continued things in relative silence. You didn’t even have to ask her to keep things simple in terms of your clothes and your hair, she was already on the same page. Whether it was because she knew it’s what you’d prefer, or because she knew it was because the Duke would prefer it, you weren’t sure.

Asking would give you more information than you wanted, so you just let it be.

After a nice breakfast you were escorted to the previously mentioned tea room. You’d seen it before when you’d gotten a tour of the estate from Hack. This one was specifically for the Duke’s use, and while he could allow others to make use of it, there were enough other tea rooms, and rooms in general, that no one had ever asked. It was a little more informal than his office, but the room was tailored to the Duke’s preferences.

How the room looked was really the only true impression you had of Duke Sabo, and it didn’t make you uncomfortable. It faced the morning sun, and was kept cooler in the afternoon by being in the shade at that point. Sheer curtains were drawn to diffuse any harsh light, but the use of lighter woods in the decorations allowed the sunlight to keep the room relatively bright. A gas glass chandelier, more function than form, helped bring more light into the room, but it was meant for tea and snacks, and wasn’t really bright like a reading desk or a room with more direct sunlight.

Still, it wasn’t so dark as to force your eyes to adjust, and it was comfortable in the sense that it wasn’t too warm or cold in the room.

A moment after Koala left you in the room, Hack came in with a tray with a teapot and cups on it, followed by a kitchen made who was pushing a small cart with some snacks on it, and hot water for the tea. You took a seat on the sofa facing the door and thanked Hack as he made a fresh pot of tea right there.

After unloading her cart, the kitchen maid left, and the Duke entered just as Hack was pouring tea for the two of you. He was tall, but not towering in his height. His clothes gave him a slender look, but you knew the illusion for what it was. Loose waves of sun-kissed hair framed his face, more so on the left side. A means for covering the scar there.

You’d heard the title Scarred Beast of the North, but there was no monster standing across from you. A young duke who carried the scars of his station, perhaps, but nothing worse than that. The way he seemed to style his very hair to limit the possible discomfort of his scar spoke of a kindness that didn’t level with a lot of the rumors you had heard.

A twist of guilt slipped softly through you, the scar had to be painful, but you didn’t feel it detracted from his looks in the least.

“Grand Duke Sabo Eldgard de Goa,” you say, inclining your head but staying seated.

“Lady A’tana Écaille de Lulusia,” he replies, thanking Hack and dismissing the butler as he seats himself across from you. For a moment you’re not sure you’re convinced he’s the biological son at all. His golden hair is similar to his mother’s, certainly, but the way he carries himself is almost at odds with the rest of the royal family. The smile on his face is kind, or at least inviting, and there’s something guarded behind it.

You’ve seen more complexity in his tone and his face in seconds than you’d seen in his family over the course of your stay with them. You’ve also certainly seen more kindness from him, given that you aren’t currently standing in the dining room watching him eat breakfast while you, yourself, are denied.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” You say as he takes a sip of tea.

“My apologies for making you wait so long.” He offers.

“Your capable staff made it feel like no time at all had passed,” you reply, after taking a sip of tea yourself. “I’m also aware of what kept you, and guarding the border is an honorable vocation.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, a smile pulling at his lips. “It seems my father has put you in quite the predicament.”

You look up into blue eyes that seem determined to pierce your soul if you’d allow it and shift your gaze away. Keeping an eye on the delicious cup of tea before you is a far safer option, lest the young Duke learn all there is to know about you from a single gaze.

“If your father’s words are true, my situation is the fault of my Uncle.” You clarify.

“Regardless, it’s an unfair position for you to be in. I’m sure I can convince my father to allow you to return to your family in Lulusia.” He offers.

You flinch despite your efforts, setting the saucer and the teacup on the table carefully. Perhaps he wasn’t so different from the rest of his family. It was possible the Duke simply had no desire to marry at all, and was pushing back against the pressure of king and country in the matter of producing an heir. However, your lineage wasn’t a secret, and you had no doubt he was aware of it from the moment news reached Goa about your journey from Lulusia to their capital.

Your father had vouched for the validity of your blood, but when you hadn’t been able to marry before his death there was no one else to speak for you. Titles and land followed fathers and sons, and with no living ties for you, there was no one honorable to speak up.

It was how you’d gone from princess to lady in waiting, and how you’d gone from that to effectively becoming a sacrifice.

You should be relieved. If the Duke meant to see you returned to Lulusia, then his father would certainly make good on his word, stripping you of your title and all things connected to it. You’d be able to head to the Dawn Kingdom and become a border knight.

Everything you wanted.

But it also felt like you were being dismissed before you’d even been given a chance. Whether it was because of your blood or something else, it didn’t matter. It twisted inside you and left a sour taste in your mouth.

 “Nobility rarely have a choice regarding their partners.” You respond evenly. “But I understand any misgivings you would have.”

“Misgivings I would have?”

“I was a lady in waiting just a few weeks ago. Hardly a -.” You stop and take a breath, you can feel yourself losing your hold on your emotions. You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked it here. The staff were friendlier than those in your own home, and leaps beyond what you’d experienced with the King of Goa. “My apologies, I just mean that I’m not in a position to provide you anything in return. There’s not an objectively good reason for this union, so I understand your misgivings.”

The silence hangs heavy between you, and even as good as Hack’s tea is, it’s not enough to smooth out the feeling in the air. You don’t know how much of it you can take, but once you finish your cup of tea you can excuse yourself without being rude.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Sabo says after a moment. “I think there’s a bit of a misunderstanding between us, and it seems to be more my fault than anything else.” The light tone of his voice causes you to pull your gaze up and catch a surprisingly sheepish look on the Duke’s face.

“Allow me a moment to clear the air, before you leave… please.” He requests, and after a beat you nod your head, sitting back in your seat.

“My father has a habit of sending fiancées to my front door who only desire the coffers within the estate, and the power that it, and the title, bestows. They are, more than not, loyal to my parents, and know little of me beyond the rumors of the court, which I can assure you are more colorful and varied than what you’ve heard in Lulusia.

“Most couldn’t even handle Koala, and left before ever even really meeting me.” He admits with a smile. “My staff do not suffer fools, nor do they take kindly to attempts of bribery.”

The look he gives you is apologetic. “When you were announced I didn’t know what to think. You were from Lulusia, and last I had heard, were to be wed to my brother. All I knew was that you were now, by my father’s decree, my fiance, and residing at my estate. But within a few days you had won over Koala and Hack, and by the time I was able to return I wasn’t sure if I was the master of my own home anymore.” The smile on his face is relaxed, and amused more than anything else.

“Especially not after seeing my supposed fiance in the training grounds, giving pointers to my guards.”

You couldn’t stop the heat that rose in your face, looking away a little and pressing your lips together. You hadn’t noticed his presence, and either he had been too far away or you had been too engrossed in your task this morning. Something inspired you to test the waters, and your admonishment turned into a smile.

“Perhaps if your Grace had invested more time in training his guard.” You offer. There’s playfulness in your tone, an expression on your face that’s far from condescending, but it’s a dangerous game to poke a Grand Duke in any kingdom.

Sabo’s face breaks completely, shock scrawled across it. He recovers quickly, clearing his throat and trying to look irritated by it. “I have, perhaps, been lax in training the estate guards, but quite frankly there’s good reason for that.”

“Oh?” You prompt, emboldened by his reaction.

“Mm,” he hums, a sly smile replacing the irritation. “That, however, is a secret, Lady Lulusia.”

“I see. Shall I cease with training your guards then?” You question, glancing up at him after you pour yourself some more tea.

“I wouldn’t dream to deny you something that is bringing you joy.” He answers evenly, his demeanor back to normal. “In light of avoiding any further misunderstandings, am I correct in assuming that it would be prudent for plans to be made for an engagement party?”

Your nose crinkles despite your efforts but you nod. “Such would be proper.” You agree. “It would also be my debut in high society, as I did not have a débutante ball when I was younger.” You admit. Most young noble girls debuted at some point between fifteen and nineteen years of age.

Factors included things like older or younger siblings, educational needs, personal development and the individual themselves. Sometimes royal events would delay someone’s debut, but the average age was seventeen for most noble children.

“I shall leave it to you then, my lady, if you desire two parties, or-.” Sabo’s question dies on his lips as you shake your head.

“One is more than sufficient, your grace.” You reply a little more hastily than was proper.

“It seems the lady is not a fan of parties.” You can hear the amusement in his voice, the slip of a smile on his lips looking far more mischievous than it has any right to.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I loathe them,” you admit, taking a sip of tea. “But they are a function of this life, and not precisely an enjoyment of it.”

“Training guards, however, is an enjoyment?” He questions.

You pause. There hasn’t been any hostility in his words when he references your enjoyment of swordplay, but you’re well-aware of the way it’s viewed for a lady to enjoy such things. Especially over more typical hobbies like embroidery and music - not that you were bad at either, but your passion was what it was.

“There is enjoyment in the art of the sword itself, your grace.” You answer honestly. “As well, there is enjoyment in teaching on its own. Being able to partake in two kinds of enjoyment at once has been a pleasure I hadn’t known before now.”

“… Is there anything else you enjoy?”

“Reading.” You answer, giving him a warm smile. “Hack has already shown me the library here, and I’ve been enjoying reading in the evenings.”

“A scholar and a warrior.” Sabo says, and there’s no hint of sarcasm in his voice. The sincerity nearly makes you blush, but instead you sit quietly for a moment. The silence this time is far more comfortable and decidedly less oppressive.

“I would, if you are amenable to it, love to spar with you myself.” He requests after a moment. “Not that you should feel required to do so, by any means.”

“Tomorrow morning, perhaps?” You prompt and he smiles.

“Tomorrow morning then.”

[cryoculus]

— guard dog 04 ⟢

pairing: thoma x assassin!reader

summary: the chance of a lifetime comes to you one quiet afternoon in the kamisato estate. except ayaka proves why she shouldn't have her blood spilled on your hands without even meaning to.

word count: 2.7k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka

tags: found family, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

warnings: allusions to past trauma, homicidal thoughts

header art cr: ueauwa on twt

masterlist

Archons, you were never drinking again.

The moment you’d woken up, you felt like your eyes had been encrusted together in your sleep, and you rubbed away the annoying gounds as you sat yourself upright on the futon. Thankfully, you didn’t have that hangover-warranted headache. But your mouth tasted as if you’ll have to get well-acquainted with the mint extract in the communal baths before speaking to anyone else.

However, the moment you’d gotten your bearings straight, you realized all the other attendants had already gone outside—leaving you alone in the room, much to your horror.

“Fuck,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet as you rolled up your futon messily. 

The feeling of responsibility that’s been gradually easing into your routine was a bit…unsettling. You were, by no means, obligated to operate under the same biorhythm as the rest of the Kamisato retainers. In fact, you were a prisoner here. The least you could do to be a thorn on your unknowing captors’ sides was to go against their pre-set routine. 

But here you were, combing the tangles out of your hair as you made your way to the lockers lining the edge of the room. 

It’s not like you had a lot of possessions to your name as Kira of Sangonomiya, really. You only stored a few gifts from Ayaka inside, namely: two sets of kimonos that you wore interchangeably with the one you’re wearing now, and a ceramic fox figurine she’d purchased from Ritou. 

But those gifts weren’t really the reason you treaded to your personal locker first thing every morning. 

Once you’d removed the complicated lock latched onto the door, the little fox figurine stared at you from where it was perched atop your clothes. You paid its beady, lazurite eyes no mind—gently setting it to the side as you lifted the neatly folded kimonos off the surface.

Kujou Sara’s feather laid inconspicuously in place.

You breathed out a sigh—of relief or lingering trepidation, you couldn’t quite decide. 

Ever since the day Ayaka had invited you out to Konda Village, carrying it around started to make you feel agitated. Like it meant that you still wished to kill the princess in cold blood, so long as it was on your person. 

Well… You did! 

You weren’t just going to turn tail and desert the Tenryou Commission. Only idiots would dare cross the shogun’s military forces like that. Besides, you’ve assassinated big-name merchants and noblemen alike in the past. Though you were taking a bit more time than usual, you’ll see the Tenryou Commission’s job done—no matter what it takes.

…But why did your chest twist so much at the idea?

In your contemplation, your eyes flickered back to the spot where you’d temporarily placed the little fox. A frown etched its way on your face when you realized something else was sitting right next to it. 

You smoothed down your kimonos once more to conceal the dark tengu feather from sight. Then, with just a hint of careful curiosity, you plucked the strange amber jar that had not been there the last time you’d checked your locker. 

A small note was tied to the lid.

Hangover meds imported straight from Liyue. They work — I promise. I’ve taken them a few times myself! Also, I told the rest not to wake you up. Consider it a treat from yours truly~

You sighed, folding the note in once again. The only sign you could ever tell it was from Thoma was the lousy doodle at the corner, depicting a cartoonish chief retainer with his tongue sticking out. 

“Treating a criminal like one of your own?” you scoffed, yet you were unable to suppress the smile that inched itself on your lips. 

“Bunch of goddamn fools…” 

The next time you saw Ayaka again, she collapsed on her way to her quarters.

Your reaction time was immediate. Though you’d been preoccupied with sorting some of the Commissioner’s books at the end of the hall—you bolted to Ayaka’s side the moment you heard the thud of her body against the floorboards.

“Milady,” you called out, slightly shaking her in your arms. “What happened?”

To your relief, she didn’t pass out unconscious. Ayaka sighed, burying her face in her hands as she leaned into your embrace. You frowned. You’ve never seen her lose composure like this. 

It took three, deep breaths before the princess slowly peeled herself away. 

“My apologies,” she sighed, yet remained in your grasp. “It seems that I lost my balance for a second. Thank you, Miss Kira.”

Today was her first day back from the Tenshukaku, and saying that Ayaka looked a bit worse for wear was an understatement. As always, not a single hair was out of place; not a wrinkle to be seen on her noble garbs despite what just happened. 

But you’ve been observing her long enough to tell that she was beyond exhausted. 

Her silver irises—normally so bright and determined—have dulled into a lethargic gray. The dark circles underneath her eyes were too conspicuous for you to not notice. And from the way she’d carelessly handled herself like this out in the halls, where no one else but you could see… 

The perfect moment to commit the perfect crime. 

It would be so easy, too. Ayaka didn’t have her sword, and whatever the higher-ups at the Tenshukaku had assigned for her to deal with, it was obviously taking a toll on her well-being. And here she was, deliberately letting her guard down like she wanted you to go in for the kill. 

You didn’t need powdered crystal marrow or a sword to kill someone. You had two hands, and Ayaka had such a pretty, fragile throat… 

“M-Miss Kira?”

The princess startled as you struggled to help her back to her feet. You sighed, hoisting one of Ayaka’s arms across your shoulder before guiding her back to her room.

“You should really learn when to take breaks, milady,” you chided, sliding the door open with your foot as she stared at you bizarrely. “If the other retainers can slack off when no one’s looking, who’s to say you’re forbidden from doing the same?” 

“But…” 

Whatever protest Ayaka was about to rebut with, it melted into a forlorn sigh. Satisfied, you managed a lopsided smile as you helped her seat herself on her low mattress. 

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” you asked. 

Ayaka bit the inside of her cheek. Then, softly:

“Yes, please.”

On the short trek to the kitchen, you found yourself in another bout of self-introspection. Naturally, the logical, more rational part of you was having an internal meltdown. She’d been right in front of you with no one else to bear witness to the crime! And you just let that opportunity slip from your fingers? Voluntarily?

“Miss Kira, hey!” 

You jolted when you heard Hina call your (fake) name. She waved you over to the little circle she and some other attendants huddled in by the entrance. 

“Uh, sorry I need to do something for Lady Kamisato,” you apologized. “Another time, maybe?” 

Hina waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, no, no. I just wanted to thank you. I’m the estate’s resident healer, yet I hadn’t the slightest clue how to effectively cure a hangover. The pills you gave me and the girls worked like a charm the morning after our get-together!”

You blinked. Right. After taking a small dose of Thoma’s little present, you’d decided to give the rest to Hina and her friends when you noticed them looking a little green the other day. 

“It’s nothing. You helped me the day I arrived, too, didn’t you?” 

“That is true,” she laughed, one eye dropping into a wink. “But we were just wondering if, when you’re not too busy, you could join us for a couple of drinks sometime?”

The other girls nodded encouragingly, smiling with a hint of anticipation. You…didn’t know how to respond. 

This was the first time someone’s invited you for drinks outside of an illegal transaction.

“I…” Just before you could let yourself mull over it, you remembered you had a princess waiting for a glass of water on the second floor. “I’ll give it some thought. Thank you for the invitation!” 

Hina nodded in understanding. “Sure! Just let us know anytime.”

As you grabbed a jug of water in the kitchen, you couldn’t help the fizzle of excitement prickling your chest. In the instances you found yourself hanging around Inazuma City, you always wondered what it would feel like. To be laughing with some girlfriends of your own as you all got wasted in an izakaya. 

You slapped your cheek a couple of times once you caught yourself daydreaming.

Relax. You hadn’t even formally accepted the invite, yet… 

When you finally got back to the Ayaka’s room with the promised drink in hand, your heart still wouldn’t stop pounding. Thankfully, the princess was too caught up in her own stress to notice.

“Thank you so much, Miss Kira,” she said, nearly gulping the entire glass in one fell swoop. Ayaka detached her lips from the rim with a satisfied sigh. 

You wondered if she'd mind if you snooped around a little.

“Do you need any, uh, help?” You felt a little sheepish for some, archons damned reason, but you pressed forward. “As you’ve probably already noticed, my assistance is quite useful around these parts, milady.”

Ayaka was silent for five whole seconds before she stifled a laugh.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” she insisted, yet her shoulders were still quaking. “It’s just…you sounded exactly like Thoma for a moment there.”

Your jaw dropped. Did she just…? 

“Hmph. I know I’m actually here for you in your time of need,” you huffed, folding your arms together. “If I may ask, milady, what are you so busy with in the first place?”

Slowly, the glee on Ayaka’s face dissipated and you almost felt bad for asking. You totally just overstepped your boundaries, didn’t you?

“Well… I’m sure you know about the Vision Hunt Decree, yes?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I, uh. Yeah. I’ve heard some…stuff.”

No good stuff, that’s for sure. 

Ayaka flashed you one of her kind, signature smiles, patting the vacant spot on her bed. Something about the gesture was oddly familiar, but you followed her lead nonetheless. 

“It’s no secret that the Yashiro Commission is the closest to both the Raiden Shogun and the people of Inazuma,” she explained. “And in that regard, we also serve as mouthpieces for each entity. What Her Excellency wishes to impart to the people, they shall hear. And what the people wish for the Raiden Shogun to know, we will deliver.” 

“The Vision Hunt has been kind to no one. Both the enforcers and victims alike suffer in their own ways because of it.” The princess clenched her hands on her lap, lip quivering with something akin to desperation. “This is why Brother and I ask for frequent audiences with the Raiden Shogun, in hopes of changing her mind about the matter. Though we’ve successfully mitigated their progress in some way, it…still won’t be enough. 

“Inazuma is the nation of eternity, but if Her Excellency believes that seizing Visions is the only path to achieve that eternity, then the Yashiro Commission won’t stand for it.”  

Ayaka looked up at you the next second—smile never wavering in spite of the expectations of hundreds, or even thousands, weighing on her lithe shoulders. 

Was…was this the person you’d been sent to kill?

“So, there’s that,” she sighed once again, letting herself fall onto the mattress. “I hope I didn’t bore you with all the gritty details, Miss Kira. I’m sure someone like you already shares the same sentiments I do…”

All of a sudden, the pieces finally started to fit. 

You never would have been able to tell that Ayaka wasn’t just some noblewoman whose poise and etiquette could put anyone else’s to shame. During your week-long stakeout of the mansion, you had assumed that’s all there was to her. A noblewoman with world-class poise and etiquette. Maybe even a snobby rich girl who had no idea what was happening to the rest of the world.

But…you never expected her to be this.  

A dignified woman who fought for what she believed was right in her own, silent ways. A public figure that might even influence the tides of the war.

A hurdle in the shogunate’s plans to seize complete control.

“Fuuuuck…” 

“Hm? What was that, Miss Kira?”

Shoving down the inner turmoil that’s beginning to blossom in your chest, you cast Ayaka a smile too tightly wrung to be real. “I’m just honored you chose to confide your troubles in me, milady. That must’ve been a pain to bottle up.”

She groaned. “If you only knew…”

Ayaka was an overflowing dam thereafter.

She told you about their parents—how they’ve always put the good of the people first before anything else, how they wished to continue their legacy. She told you about her dream to attain the Shogun’s envisioned eternity the right way, but you lost her a little on that part. Way too abstract for a commoner like you.  

“Oh!” she exclaimed all of a sudden, and you realized that the sky had already gone dark outside. “I forgot… I left Thoma in charge of the festival preparations. I promised I’d go to Amakane Island to meet him.” 

“Wait a minute,” you blanched. “On top of those peace negotiations with the Raiden Shogun, you’re…organizing a festival?”

Ayaka sighed. “It’s not as if the people of Inazuma are aware of what we’re doing behind closed doors, Miss Kira. We still have to commit to our year-long schedule to avoid suspicion.”

“But wouldn’t letting them know be easier?” 

For a moment, she considered your inquiry—finding the right words to respond with.

“I’m not very certain how Lady Sangonomiya does things in Watatsumi Island, but…” Ayaka met your eyes, and you didn’t miss how their usual glimmer was finally back in place. “I’m sure our objectives are somewhat similar.”

You craned your head in confusion, but the princess was kind enough to elaborate. 

“We rally against the decree, not because we want the praise and recognition of the citizens. Rather…we do it so they would never have to worry if Inazuma would live to see another day.” 

The princess took both of your hands in hers, and you nearly startled at the contact. 

“We fight in their stead, so they don’t have to,” she murmured. “Tell me, have you ever fought a battle close to a residential area, Miss Kira?”

“Um…no.”

“Exactly.”

You were about to tell her that you didn’t quite get it, still, but then you remembered Futaba and Takeru. How, in spite of the dreadful state Inazuma has been plunged in, they could still live peaceful lives in Konda Village. Aside from your…slip-up last year, there was no semblance of the war to be found in their humble community. 

And it was all thanks to the people fighting in the shadows. People like Ayaka.

She even thinks you’re one of them, a lone voice hissed in the back of your head. You’re horrible.

The words echoed over and over. 

Even when the princess wrapped up your impromptu heart-to-heart—

You’re horrible. 

Even when she invited you to come to Amakane Island—

You’re horrible. 

Even when you forced a grin and followed her outside—

You’re fucking horrible.

You thought of the time you spent in the estate. Of Ayaka’s wellspring of kindness. Of the fact that Ayato silently let his sister’s potential murderer live in their home. 

You didn’t belong there. You didn’t belong with them. 

Those people have done nothing but good things for you, and you still had the gall to play house? You knew the clock was still ticking even if the Tenryou Commission never gave you a deadline. 

If you take too long, they might just hunt you down.

Worse, they’ll take matters into their own hands. 

These were the thoughts that invaded every niche of your mind as you and Ayaka made the trip to the island along with a couple of her guards. If she noticed the barebones distress that you couldn’t quite mask, she didn’t speak of it. 

And you silently prayed she never did.

<- previous | next ->

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[purplevortexx]

CHECK YES OR NO

this is part of the dagger security universe but can be read as a stand-alone.

pairing: Hacker! Fanboy X Agent! Reader

warnings: none :)

a/n: it’s been a while since I’ve written anything but I’m back! Hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated and if anyone has any ideas for a little oneshot or drabble relating to any of the dagger security books- drop me an ask 💜

It’s paperwork day at work. Your mind is swimming with detailed reports of the recent missions you’ve been apart of. It always has been your least favourite part of the job with you preferring to be out in the field.

Having just had your lunch, you flop down onto your chair at your desk, mentally preparing yourself to spend the rest of the day making your eyes go square as you type up the actions of the mission you partook in last week.

Frowning, you notice there’s a window open that wasn’t there a minute ago. A small pop up has appeared on your screen. Although this is no ordinary pop up, this one looks similar to every other pop up you would get normally except the text reads ‘Date night tonight? -M’ accompanied by two checkboxes marked yes or no below the question. You scoff in disbelief and pull out your phone to text Mickey.

Shaking your head at the absurdity of your boyfriend, you click on the box marked ‘no’ out of spite. Satisfied that the pop up has disappeared, you open the document you were working on and continue to type away, the office full of agents around you unaware as to what has just occurred.

No sooner have you gotten back to work, does another pop up appear on your screen. This one saying ‘pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase’ still with the two options of yes or no.

Once again you choose no, huffing in frustration at Mickey’s persistence. You hope this time he gets the message that you’re working and don’t want to be bothered even if his annoying little pop ups are kind of cute.

Your phone buzzes with another message and you look down to see Mickey has messaged you again.

Putting your phone down once again, you take a deep breath and prepare to continue your work. However, your small hope that Mickey has got the message disappears when your computer makes a small noise and yet another pop up appears with the same question as the first time. However, this time when you go to click no, the pop up multiplies. You continue to furiously click the ’no’ box as even more of the annoyingly persistent pop ups fill your screen until all you can see are tiny windows of text asking you out.

You really don’t want to give him the satisfaction of this working but knowing Mickey, these pop ups won’t disappear unless you say yes.

Hanging your head in defeat, you hover over the yes box for a minute with your cursor before you click it dejectedly. With the speed at which all the pop ups disappear, you actually wonder if you’ve hallucinated the whole thing but when your phone buzzes with another incoming text, you know it was all real.

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[joviepog]

Puddle of tears

Where you and wilbur cry and sing the songs you made together after both of your horrid breakups. Finally reuniting.

(Part two of Jovie’s series, “Click”.)

—ᱬ-ᱬ-ᱬ-ᱬ-ᱬ-ᱬ-

Part 1 — Part 3

Warnings: cursing, angst, mention of depression, sad, signs mental abuse, signs of manipulation.

Pronouns: She / They

Who: Wilbur soot x reader

Word count: 2014 words!

Tag list: No one

Anything else: So, ive been having hard times irl and i think this was a great way for me to express them in a way you guys will love. I started writing this right after i made the first one because this was the part i was most excited to write. I put a couple of songs in there to give you the aesthetic but by all means you do not have to listen to them. They are just what i thought the mood was in that period of time. Though i do recommend to listen to the second song (at least the beginning) because that is the song they sing together. Like always, I’ve gotten almost no sleep s please excuse any errors.

This story was NOT proofread.

Listen to this as you read!

—ᱬ—

You sat on you bed, snuggled up in some blankets. You were reading, trying to get your mind off of anything and everything. Wilbur was sitting on the opposite side of your bed, sitting with his knees to his chest. He was scrolling through his phone. His eyes seemed wary and his eye bags only made them look worse. One of his arms were hugging his leg while the other held his phone.

You could only guess you looked worse. You haven’t slept in days. You haven’t showered in a good while and all you’ve eaten are a couple of ramen noodles that you got from the nearest store. You’ve been in your pajamas for days, only changing them every 4 days. You’ve barely been drinking any water and you’ve only brushed your teeth 4 times in the last 6 days. The only thing keeping your breath from smelling of garbage are a couple of packets of gum that you have lying around your flat. Your eyes were red and puffy from all the crying sessions you had the night before.

You were lucky that wilbur was even dealing with you. You felt so lucky to have your friend with you again. The fact he even drove 20 minutes away just to be with you every day is absolutely bewildering. You reunited with him the day you got broken up with. You remember it clear as day.

You had gotten a text from Josh. Someone you haven’t heard from in ages. You where in the middle of making yourself some ramen when you checked your phone. You remember feeling scared. Like he was going to yell at you for not talking to him for so long. For leaving soothouse randomly. For yelling at him the day he asked what was wrong. You where so scared. You left the text message alone for hours. Till you finally opened it up around 10 pm. Your eyes widened when you read it.

He wasn’t yelling at you, he wasn’t asking you questions, he wasn’t even talking about you. The text message was small and clear, “Wilbur got his heartbroken by some girl who used him to travel the world. I think he needs help, he’s struggling but he wont talk to any of us. He trusts you. Can you talk to him?” He was talking about wilbur. The one person you didn’t dare talk to. The one person, that you were really, really scared to talk to. You didn’t have it in you to comfort anyone. You needed to be comforted by someone…

And yet, you found yourself calling Wilbur. The first call was a let down, and yet you knew it was going to happen. You heard the phone ring and ring until it went to voicemail. You were going to give up. You really were. But something told you to try again. ‘Just one last time’

You clicked the call button once again. Expecting it to ring out. But after one ring the phone was picked up. You stayed silent, unable to speak, scared. There was a small sniffle from the other side. And you couldn’t help but sniffle back. You two sat in silence for a moment, only the sounds of soft sniffles coming through. But, when you were ready to hang up, to curse at yourself for even trying; you heard four words over the phone.

“Can I come over?” There was a silence once again. The voice was groggy, it sounded as if it was forced out. You could tell he had been crying. You wanted to cry too… “Yeah…” was all you could manage to get out. You hadn’t told anyone about the breakup. But your ex probably told everyone. Wilbur was probably one of the first people he told. He was so obsessed with wilbur, you hated him so much for it.

—ᱬ—ᱬ—ᱬ—

“YOU WERE TALKING TO WILBUR AGAIN?!? HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO?” He yelled out, pointing at the door from where you and wilbur once stood. “UGH. HE WAS PROBABLY THINKING ABOUT HOW MUCH HE WANTED YOU! CAN’T YOU TELL HOW IN LOVE HE IS? HE WANTS TO STEAL YOU AWAY. FROM ME! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT YN?” He turned toward you, his eyes flaming, “YOU KNOW WHAT? JUST TO MAKE HIM HAPPY, I’LL TELL HIM WHEN WE BREAK UP. SO HE HAS SOME SORT OF FUCKING CHANCE WITH YOU.SO THAT HE CAN FINALLY LIVE OUT HIS SHITTY FANTASY.”

This caught your attention. Tears started to form, “You- You think we are going to break up one day?” Your voice was meek, unable to bring to many words out. Tears started to flow from your face as you looked up at him from where you were seated. His gaze softened a bit, (which now that you think back on it he might have thought he had gotten caught) and worry covered his face.

“If.” He paused, “If it happens. I don’t think it will. But if it does it will be the first thing I do.” He kneeled to where you were sitting and cupped you face in his hands. With his thumb he rubbed your tears away. “See what he caused baby? He wants this to happen.” He paused as he leaned his forehead on yours, “stop talking to him baby, then none of this will ever happen again.”

You nodded, scared of what he would do if you said no. He smiled at you and pulled away from your face. He gave you a soft kiss before walking away, not looking back. Once you made sure that he left you cried. You cried so hard. Later that day he made sure you wouldn’t talk to wilbur at all. Your surprised he even let you keep his contact.

—ᱬ—ᱬ—ᱬ—

Once wilbur got there he knocked slowly. That doesn’t matter though. Because by the first knock you where already there to open the door. You opened the door quickly. It had been over a year that you hadn’t seen him. Your eyes widened when you saw him. The moment you laid eyes on him tears started to form. And by the time you took a few steps to hug him, you were already crying. Your tears soaking his sweater. He hugged you back and started to cry too. He buried his face in your hair as he did.

It was a beautiful moment. You felt so lost without him. And now that you two were together you felt complete. Like you finally gained back your missing piece. You two kept crying in each others arms. You didn’t want to let go. You wouldn’t let go. It was this beautiful, sad reunion that must have been so awkward for your neighbors.

And now, as you sat here in a comfortable silence with wilbur you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of both happiness and sadness. Wilbur was going through the same thing you were going through. He felt like someone you could really just… relax with. In these days of misery you and wilbur have made some stupid breakup songs. You both memories them by now but you stopped singing them about a week ago. You think you guys just kind of gave up. On everything. You guys barely talk on a daily. You guys just sit in a comfortable silence.

Suddenly you find yourself standing up and walking towards your cupboard, pulling out a new set of pajamas.

“What are you doing?” Asked wilbur as he looked up from his phone. “I’m going to take a shower and brush my teeth. I feel disgusting. Maybe getting myself together again will help?” I say, more of a question than a statement. He nods a yes and looks back at his phone. You sigh and walk away, cursing at yourself for even getting up. You already regretted your decision and you weren’t even to the restroom yet. You arrived to the restroom and opened the door, you walk in and lock the door behind you. You let out a sigh once again. You set your cloths aside as you turn on your shower. You quickly get your toothbrush out and you start brushing your teeth, waiting for the water to heat up. Once your done brushing your teeth and you see the mirrors start to fog up you undres and get in the shower. The hot water relaxing your body. You let out one last sigh. Letting the water calm your body for a bit more. But after a few seconds you get to work. You scrubbed your hair and your body like there was no tomorrow. And once you felt clean, you tuned off the water and grabbed the towel. You dried your body then you wrapped you hair in the towel. You stepped out of your shower and put on some lotion and cloths. You felt like a whole new person. You felt refreshed, you were surprised you even made it out of the bed.

Anyway, once you got back into the room with wilbur he had a guitar in hand. He smiled at you and you smiled back. You plopped yourself on the bed next to him. You saw as his fingers moved too were they need to go next. “Are you willing to sing a bit?” He says with a smile, it seems forced, but you nodd.

—ᱬ—

Listen to this for the next part:

—ᱬ—

“He never had cool stories. He doesn't make your heart beat.Used to love his mystery. But now he's just exhausting. Another day spent just laying in his room. The stench of incense. And some undelivered food.” You forced a smile as you heard him play. This was your song. The one that hurt you the most. Nevertheless, he continued.

“And she thought. ‘What if he thinks I'm the one?’” You sang that part with him. The memories rushing back. You felt a lump in your throat form as the two fo you continued.

“And I'll be forced to rot away, with him and his obsessions, with trivial things. Like the amount of fucking love hearts I finish a text message with.” You laughed a bit at the end, thinking about how much he cared about stupid little things. The lump I your throat grew bigger and you cursed at yourself upon how just one song could get you so emotional.

“And when you hold his hands…” Then it was your turn, “ It doesn't feel like flying.”

“And when you take his breath away…” he looked at you with a small smirk as you sang, “he might as well be dying.”

“And you're dying to breathe, You're trapped in his cage.” He paused for a moment as he looked at you, his face now covered with worry and sadness, “And its shrinking.

“And she thought, ‘What if he just never leaves?Or if he doesn't get the message?And he doesn't hear my please?‘“ You started to tear up, all the pain, and all the depression, and all the feelings came back. You felt it all. Like you were expierenceing it all over again. You looked down as you continued singing, you could already feel his nervous gaze. But once again, he proceeded.

“So she just started screaming… Why can’t he just bore me to death.” A reference to some old text with wilbur. You started to feel your pajamas becoming wet. Wilbur paused, looking at you and putting your hand on your shoulder. “YN..”

You shook your head, tears still flowing down your face. “Keep singing. It’s alright.” He sat in silence for another moment before singing another song. One of his songs. You leaned on his shoulder and you started to cry on it. You could hear his voice starting to sound choppy as well but he persisted. As you cried you found yourself drifting to sleep. His voice calming you as he went. Even if it was choppy because of his tears. You still loved it.

And soon, you found yourself asleep. Lying in a puddle of tears.

Yeah like i said before this was really nice to write. Also im working on being able to use links right so it should be up on my pinned soon.

[sheislethal]

Hey, I just saw your post about sending some suggestions so here I'm.

Could you please write about Sevika having an s/o that has been acting like a brat just bc they aren't receiving "enough attention" but one day they pass the limit and have to be punished. (Can be nsfw or sfw depending on your mood, either is good)

Thanks, hope you have a nice day ✨

SEVIKA x Bratty s/o

WARNINGS: {MDNI} : Usage of ~feminine~ body parts (but relatively gn! pronouns), NSFW, oral sex, degradation, orgasm denial, mature themes, etc.

Notes: This is my first little drabble written by suggestion, so I hope it makes a good first impression. <3

“Testing my Patience”

Days spent in Zaun were never particularly quiet. I typically enjoyed the chaos this place ensured because, at the end of the day, I knew I would get to have all the peace I needed at my apartment with my girlfriend.

Except that hasn’t been the case for the past two weeks. Sevika’s schedule has been packed as hell. Yes, she has always been a relatively busy woman, but lately, Silco has been keeping her on her feet way longer than usual. She’ll work all day to the point where once she gets home, she’ll pass out on the couch.

She’s barely given me more than a minute of her attention a day, and that just won’t fly with me. Now, I’m fine with her being busy, but going two weeks without her attention has driven me to the brink of insanity.

I’ve been doing a whole lot of stupid shit just to get a glance from her. Yesterday, I had walked around the house in nothing but a bra and a pair of panties, to which Sevika didn’t even notice. She had gotten home, huffed out a simple hello, and fell asleep in our shared bedroom.

To say I was pissed was an understatement. I’ve even attempted to pick fights with her before she left for work, but she wouldn’t give in to my desperate attempts. I couldn’t understand how she did it, to be honest.

I furrowed my brows together in frustration as I sat on the couch. The slightly broken clock on the wall read 7:56, so I knew Sevika would be here any second.

I was ready to physically fight her at this point. My fingernails dug into the fabric of my pants once I heard the front door open. Sevika’s heavy footsteps echoed throughout the apartment as she walked into the living room.

My eyes narrowed once her tall frame entered my view. I opened my mouth to start shouting at her, but I closed it once I took in the sight in front of me. She seemed a bit more chipper today, a big change from her usual irritation and tiredness.

“I’m headed to the Last Drop. I figured you’d wanna tag along.” She told me. I eyed her up and down suspiciously before nodding. “You don’t have work tomorrow?”

“Nah. Silco’s getting Jinx to handle some business, so he didn’t need me,” I smirked at the underlining anger that laced her words. If there was one thing everyone knew about Sev, it was that she did not like Jinx, and she certainly didn’t like her doing jobs Sevika knew she could handle better than Jinx. I always found it funny that this six-foot-something woman despised a girl that wasn’t even half her height.

I followed my girlfriend out the door with a hidden smile. Finally, I could have her attention tonight. Would I have preferred to spend time with her at our apartment? Yes. Was I complaining? Absolutely not. At this point, I’d take all I could get.

The walk to the Last Drop was a quick one considering we lived quite close to it. The bouncers posted by the doors didn’t spare us a glance as they allowed Sevika to push through the doors.

The atmosphere was sweaty and the lingering smell of smoke and intoxication drifted through the air. I trailed behind Sevika as she made her way over to a table that was crowded with men playing card games. I wasn’t sure why Sevika loved to play cards so much, but I didn’t care to ask.

She sat down in her usual seat and her metal hand made its way around my waist, pulling me down into her lap. Just her touch alone sent a shiver down my spine.

She started a game with the guys and simply didn’t acknowledge me for the next ten minutes. This was bullshit. She had gotten my hopes up for what? A game of cards?

I scoffed under my breath and rolled my eyes. Sevika quirked a brow at my irritation, but her eyes never left the cards in front of her. I twisted my head around to survey the bar, and something- or rather someone caught my eye.

Sevika was stubborn and could hold out when I wore scandalous clothes or picked fights, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to stand this. Everyone knew Sevika was- possessive, which led me to my next decision.

I hopped up from Sev’s lap. “Where are you going?” She muttered. “I’m thirsty.” My face appeared bored, and she nodded. I waltzed over to the bar and took a seat next to a woman. I smirked to myself as I called over to Thieram, the bartender. “Two shots, please.” I smiled as he gave me a short nod.

“I know you.” Said the girl by my side. She blew her long, blue bang out her face as she studied me. Her azure eyes trailed over my features before realization hit her.

“You’re Sevika’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” She asked me. I tilted my head with a grin. “Depends on who’s asking.” I shrugged, letting my eyes scan her slowly. Jinx’s eyes narrowed, but I could detect a sly grin on her face. Jinx would do practically anything to get under Sevika’s nerves, and if I planned on finally getting the attention I fucking deserved from my girlfriend, this was the route to take.

Thieram placed the two shots in front of me and I slid one over to the blue-haired girl. “You’re Jinx?” I feigned ignorance. Everyone in the lanes knew who Jinx was. You’d have to be living under a rock not to.

“The one and only!” She smiled and we rose our glasses, both of us downing the burning liquid quickly. Jinx wiped the residue from her plum-shaded lips. “What’s a good-lookin’ person like you doing with a troll like her?”

My lips quirked into a smile. “She’s got her moments.” My eyes slid over to the woman in question. Sevika’s eyes darted over to us every so often, and I knew she was getting angry. Her grip on the cards was tight and her jaw was tensed.

I needed to push her a little bit more. My eyes returned to Jinx’s. “Are you with anyone?” My voice hinted curiosity, but I already knew the answer. She scoffed. “Relationships don’t interest me. I’ve got better things to do with my life.”

“Hm. I assumed someone with looks like yours would be in a relationship.” Her eyes widened slightly, as did her smile. “You hittin’ on me, toots?”

I ran my tongue over my bottom lip as I inspected her. “Maybe.” I gave Sevika another glance before moving my lips to Jinx’s ear. “Truth is,” I started, my eyes meeting Sevika’s from across the room. “I’m trying to make Sevika angry.” Sevika’s eyes narrowed as she watched my lips move a mere inch from Jinx’s skin.

Her grip looked lethal as it tightened around the glass she held. Her face promised death as she glared daggers at me. Jinx chuckled once I pulled back. “I can certainly help with that.”

Her hand fell to my thigh as her painted nails lightly drug across my skin. That seemed to be the final straw for Sevika. My eyes widened as I watched her shoot up from her seat and make her way toward us.

Jinx simply chuckled and took a sip from her drink once Sevika gripped my arm and pulled me away from her. Her touch was bruising, and I winced as she dragged me into the bathroom.

“Sevika, that fucking hurts.” I attempted to pull my arm from her hold to no avail. “It should.” She growled and locked the door. Before I could respond, I was being shoved against the door. One of her hands was wrapped around my throat while the other was against the door, trapping me.

“You’ve been acting like a little bitch for days. The fuck is going on with you?” She demanded. Her lips were curled into a snarl as her eyes burned into mine. My hands were on her wrist and my eyes were narrowed. “You’ve barely looked at me for weeks! This was the most we’ve spoken in days, Sevika.”

“So that gives you the right to act like this? You’ve been behaving like a child for some attention? Is that it?” She sneered, her grip tightening around my throat.

“It worked.” I smugly told her with a smile. By the look in her steel eyes, I knew I’d regret those words. The corner of her lips rose slightly. She yanked me over to the bathroom counter and I let out a yelp at the force.

She hoisted me up by my thighs and placed me on the cold surface. “You want my attention? Here it is.” She yanked off my pants and my eyes widened. Her nails dug into my skin harshly, and I winced at the feeling of blood escaping.

She pulled me to the edge of the counter and I yelped, trying to hold on to one of the sinks for balance. “Fuck!” I shouted at her roughness. I felt my skin hit the cold counter once she had torn away my underwear as well.

Her metal hand forced my upper torso back against the counter once I tried to get up. “Nope. This is what you wanted, right?” She tilted her head at me demeaningly.

I opened my mouth to protest before her tongue abruptly licked up my slit. A sharp gasp left my parted lips as she started going down on me. She lifted my thighs onto her strong shoulders and pulled me closer against her.

My hand fell to her dark hair and I gripped it harshly. “Shit!” I panted and bit back a moan. Her human hand gathered some of the wetness that had begun to gather and used it to shove two fingers into me. I hissed in pain, causing her to laugh cruelly into my cunt. The vibrations made me shiver, and her fingers began thrusting quickly.

I could feel an orgasm approaching as my breathing got shallower and faster. She sucked harshly at my clit, and she pulled away right as I was about to peak. My eyes narrowed at her. “What the fuck, Sevika?”

Her metal hand gripped my jaw. “You think you deserve to cum?” She hissed. I grit my teeth together. “Fuck you.”

Surprise passed through her features and a small huff left her lips. Without warning, she flipped me onto my stomach and her human hand she gathered my hair. She pulled it back and my eyes met my reflection. The cold metal of her robotic arm came in contact with my entrance, and she shoved a finger inside followed by two more. I cried out in pain as she moved them as far as she could.

A mixture of pleasure and pain deliciously shrouded my senses as she fucked me mercilessly. Strangled moans left my throat as my mind clouded. She moved her hand from my hair back to my jaw as she forced me to watch her fuck me in the mirror. I gripped onto the sink as tears formed in the corner of my eyes.

“Gonna cry, slut?” Her eyes watched me hungrily. “You’re just an attention-hungry whore, aren’t you?” She lowered her lips to my neck and bit down. A groan left my lips at her touch. “Answer me, bitch!” She commanded.

“Fuck- yes!” My head fell onto the counter as I saw stars. I could feel my high approaching and I prayed she would allow me this one. I clenched around her robotic fingers and she smirked against my skin before pulling out once more. “Damn it!” I groaned against the cold tile.

She lifted my head up and I saw just how pathetic I looked. Tears stained my cheeks, black mascara leaving a trail. My hair looked wild while she looked smug. “That enough attention for you?” She asked as she released me.

I felt weak and limp while I tried regaining my breath. I could nothing but watch as she stuck her fingers into her mouth. She teasingly sucked the residue that coated her skin, her eyes never leaving mine.

I sighed and pushed strands of hair from my face. “Sorry for flirting with Jinx.” She scoffed. “I’ll let it slide. Pull that shit again and you won’t cum for a month.” She threatened.

I smiled and slid off the counter, pulling my underwear and pants up. Her arm slid around my waist as we left the bathroom together.

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Hey Mom, Dead Mom

Chapter 2: No more playing daddy’s game, I’ll go insane if things don’t change

I suffered for this chapter. it was fighting me every single step of the way but it’s finally finished. I can rest now. this isn’t as dark as the last chapter but Cole is running away in this, so it’s still not very happy. also I did indeed make a couple of random ocs because how else was I supposed to advance the plot? they’re not returning any time soon. as always, this is cross posted to ao3

~

Cole got on the plane to MOSPA at exactly eleven in the morning on a Sunday. He traveled alone — Dad was unable to come with him. Other people at the airport gave strange looks to the unaccompanied twelve-year-old, reminding him of the looks he got after Mom died. “Oh, why is that little boy all alone? So strange,” and then they’d go about their day, not giving him a second thought.

The flight attendant in front of him right now was doing just that. “No parents?” She asked, face mildly concerned. 

Cole shook his head. “I’m going to visit my grandma, but Dad couldn’t come,” he lied. Cole was good at lying. He’d done it a lot these past few years; you couldn’t take care of yourself the way Cole had without at least some lying.

The attendant gave him a small smile. Maddy, her name tag read. “Well, if you need anything, just call.”

“Okay, thanks, Ms.”

Maddy nodded and continued walking, greeting the other passengers. Cole fidgeted in his seat. The fabric covering it was itchy and the seatbelt was too tight. The man sitting next to him scrolled through his phone, music blaring loudly, and the old lady behind him was snoring. Not even off the ground yet and this flight was already torture. Cole resisted the urge to groan.

It was only a two hour flight, Cole could do this. But he hated planes so much — always had. Not being on the ground made him feel ill, and every bit of turbulence was terrifying. At least he had the window seat, though that didn’t do much to soothe his nerves. Being able to see how high up he was might make Cole feel worse. 

The crackling of a speaker interrupted his panicking. The sounds it made were loud and screechy. “Please fasten your seatbelts and put all devices on airplane mode. We will be taking off shortly,” the announcements said. 

Finally. Cole dug through his backpack and found his book. Fish in a Tree, the title read. He’d found it at the school book sale but had never gotten around to reading it. Now was his chance.

He’d barely gotten past the first chapter before they took off. Cole actually felt it when they did — it was like getting severed from a part of him. He felt sick, though throwing up wouldn’t achieve anything. It would probably make him feel worse. Cole settled for putting the book down and staring blankly at the seat in front of him instead. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the book, or anything at all, not when his stomach was lurching so badly.

Just two hours, he told himself. Then I can collapse on a bed and sleep. He repeated those words over and over like a mantra. 

~

As it turned out, Cole was not able to immediately sleep once he arrived at MOSPA, because he had to check in. Check in, as if the school was a hotel. Or maybe a prison, which would be much more accurate.

“It’s great that you’re here, Nicholas,” the secretary smiled cheerily as she typed on her computer. “I’m sure you’ll love this school. We’re all one big family.”

Yeah, right. Every time a school said that they didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it meant there was probably all sorts of bullying that went ignored. “It’s just Cole, not Nicholas. Nobody calls me that,” Cole said. He hated his full name — who agreed to let his grandfather pick it out? ‘Nicholas’ was an old-person name from at least a hundred years ago.

“Okay, then, Cole. I’ve got your dorm number and schedule here,” the secretary printed out a sheet of paper. “Do you need a map of the school?”

Cole shook his head. He had spent some of the flight looking at the floor plans and they were seared into his brain at this point. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” he hurried out before she could offer to have someone show him around. He didn’t want that kind of forced social interaction.

The dormitories were not hard to find, not with the giant sign that pointed to where they were. Cole opened the door, cursing when it was stuck, and shoved everything to the side before closing it again. He didn’t see a roommate anywhere, but it was a weekend, so everyone was probably out. That was good, it meant he had a couple hours alone; he could use the time to unpack and explore the school.

Cole shoved all his clothes into the closet and shoes under the bed. MOSPA had a strict uniform policy, so he wouldn’t be able to wear any casual clothing, nor his combat boots. That was a shame — he really liked those boots. They had served well when he got into fights. And they added another sorely needed three inches to his height, another advantage.

Any books that he’d brought were put onto the desk. Items such as stationery and notebooks were placed in drawers. Miscellaneous trinkets were placed in a box under the bed and his toiletries in another box. Cole pushed the suitcases into the corner. There wasn’t anywhere else to put them, but he’d figure it out later. Right now he wanted to take a nap and not wake up for a month. Screw exploring the school, he could do that tomorrow.

Cole closed the curtains, pulled the covers over his head, and went to sleep. 

~

MOSPA, as Cole found out in the span of a month, was its own special brand of hell. The students there hated Cole for always messing up and acting strange, as if grieving for a loved one was something to make fun of. The teachers hated him for not talking or making eye contact and always zoning out. Everybody seemed to agree that he was the weird kid who should be avoided at all costs. His roommate, a kid named John, disliked him enough that he asked to be put in a different dorm.

“Thanks for messing up again, Brookstone,” one of his classmates sneered. Brant Green, yet another asshole who existed to make Cole miserable. “You ruined the whole performance.”

It hadn’t been Cole’s fault. Another student had purposefully tripped him, causing him to fall and knock over several people. “Yeah, I did. What’s your point?” He tried not to flip off Brant. That would just cause more trouble, trouble he couldn’t risk. The teachers hated him enough already.

“How’d you even get into this school? I thought you needed to have talent to get in,” Brant spat. 

“Do I look like I want to be here? I hate this place,” Cole stood up and glared at the taller boy. Brant was a good head taller than him, unfortunately.

Brant didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Perhaps he’d thought Cole was going here willingly, though how he’d come to that conclusion was a mystery. He gave Cole another sneer and walked away.

Cole rolled his eyes and went back to his lunch. For all its faults, at least this school had good food. The chicken salad was pretty tasty.

A large group chattered next to him. One of them gave him the side eye. “That’s the Brookstone kid,” she said, loud enough for Cole to hear. “His dad’s a Royal Blacksmith. Isn’t it weird how he didn’t get any of the family talent?”

Cole scowled and looked down at the table. He stabbed his lunch with more force than was needed.

“Nicholas Brookstone to the office, Nicholas Brookstone to the office,” a speaker sounded. All eyes turned to him. Cole looked down at the floor and wondered if he could just die right there in the cafeteria. It would save everyone a lot of trouble.

A kid coughed from the table in front of him. Awkward, Cole thought. What had he done this time? There wasn’t anything recent he’d done to warrant this.

It took five minutes for the school to realise he wasn’t moving any time soon. They all went back to their conversations, and Cole snuck out the side entrance. He had always been good at going unnoticed.

Cole walked through the halls briskly and knocked on the office door. He was let in by the guidance counsellor, a lady in her forties with platinum blonde hair. “Nicholas, we need to talk about your behaviour,” she said as they sat down.

“I haven’t been in any more fights,” Cole said. It was true.

“Your teachers say that you don’t pay any attention in class and that you’re not following instructions. It has nothing to do with your peers.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Cole snapped. Why couldn’t anyone just listen for once? He was trying, he’d been trying for ages.

“Then how come your grades are so low? This is one of the top arts schools in Ninjago, Nicholas. We expect better.” The counsellor had a mask of false concern on. Cole kind of wanted to punch it off. 

“It’s not Nicholas, it’s Cole. And I am trying,” Cole gritted out. 

“Your grades are barely scraping fifty percent.”

“So?”

The counsellor frowned. “If you don’t start doing better, you may get expelled.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Cole said under his breath. Then to the counsellor, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” She might be suspicious of the sudden change of pace, but Cole couldn’t care less. He just wanted to get out of the office.

The counsellor nodded and fixed her glasses. “That’s all for today, Nicholas. You can go to class now.”

She didn’t even bother to get his name right. “Thanks,” Cole marched out the door.

~

Cole stared down at his exam results and wondered if he was dreaming. Forty percent average, the paper said. A fail. He’d managed to do so badly that his average wasn’t even fifty.

Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. Dad expected at least nineties, and this definitely wasn’t it. He’d be grounded until his thirtieth birthday, if he lived that long.

The only subject that had above sixty was visual arts. The teacher for that class was nice — he understood Cole’s struggles and gave him all the time he needed. It wouldn’t make Dad overlook all the other failures, though.

The paper crinkled under his grip. Cole blinked the tears out of his eyes and shoved the paper into his folder. His classmates were conversing all around him, comparing grades and bragging about what they’d gotten. The teacher sat at her desk on the computer. Nobody would notice if he went to the washroom and never returned, hopefully.

Cole got up and walked to the front. “Ms. Jackson, may I please go to the washroom?”

The teacher nodded distractedly and waved her hand. “Yes.”

Cole grabbed his belongings and slipped out the door. He hadn’t taken a hall pass, not when the teacher would notice it missing. She wouldn’t know he was gone, but she would notice the hall pass. The teachers here were strange like that.

He opened the door to his dorm and collapsed on the ground. How was he going to explain his grades to his dad, much less the teachers? He could already hear the lecture. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you, Cole. What happened to all that potential?”

Then again, Dad didn’t pay attention to him. Cole doubted he even remembered that he existed; Dad was too busy partying. Maybe he could burn the report card and pretend it didn’t exist.

Or… Cole’s thoughts drifted to a snide comment Brant had made a few months ago. “Why don’t you just run away? Nobody would miss you — we’d be happy to see you gone.”

Cole had ignored him at the time. It was just another uncreative insult from the stereotypical bully. But it wasn’t exactly a bad idea. As strict as the school was, Cole knew all the weak spots in its system. It was easy to sneak out and never return. And he’d been thinking about leaving and never coming back for ages. This was just the final straw.

“All right, then. Guess Brant gets his wish,” Cole said. No one responded, of course — he was all alone. But talking to himself was a habit. Cole got up and went to the closet, finding the duffel bag he used to use for camping. He blew the dust off and packed anything that seemed useful. A flashlight, multiple sets of clothes, a reusable water bottle, that box of granola bars he’d bought a month ago, all the cash he had.

More food would need to be picked up from the school cafeteria, he decided. And he’d need to find a sleeping bag somehow. But everything else was ready. Cole could leave during the night — he refused to call it running away, he wasn’t running from anything — it was easier that way. This was the best option, he told himself.

Cole snuck out as soon as it was dark. He didn’t need to avoid any roommates, thankfully — anyone who’d been placed with him had moved out. It took a few minutes for him to write a letter to Jay. His best friend didn’t deserve to have him disappearing without warning, though they hadn’t been best friends since before Mom’s death. He put it in the outgoing mail on the way out, sealed with a blue sticker. Jay would know what that meant.

He took the back exit and walked down the road to the bus stop. The city’s streets were dimly lit, people rushing past him to get home. A couple looked at him curiously but didn’t stop him. A drunk man sat down next to him on the bench as they waited. Dogs barked in the distance and a truck drove past. It was peaceful, Cole thought. The most peaceful he’d been in a while.

The bus arrived just after midnight. Cole got on and paid for a ticket to the next town over. He could find a sleeping bag and extra clothes there, and the further away he got the better. He was finally leaving MOSPA and his dad behind, and he wouldn’t be stopped by something as simple as not having basic supplies.

~

Running away wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. All the books made it seem easy — there was no mention of sleeping in alleys, or trying not to get mugged, or having to do odd jobs to get money. Thank goodness for Ninjago’s lax law enforcement; nobody would have hired a thirteen-year-old if the police were good at their job. Especially a thirteen-year-old who may or may not be on the missing persons list. Cole still wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed him missing.

Cole shouldered his backpack as he walked away from Jamanakai Village. He’d managed to find work at a local restaurant a few weeks prior and had finally saved up enough money to get somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure where his next destination would be, but for now he planned to go back to the mountain range near Ninjago City. He deserved a break, and climbing was therapeutic. The city having a lot of people to pickpocket was just a bonus.

Jamanakai was isolated, unfortunately. It would be an entire day before Cole could get to a more urban area and find a bus stop. He knew there wasn’t a lot of point in travelling so often, of course, but Cole couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t keep moving, someone would find him and bring him back to MOSPA. He couldn’t let that happen. And it kept his mind off of Mom and Dad. Nope, not thinking of that today, Cole thought. It was a good day and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

“Probably enough money for a ticket to Ninjago City,” Cole muttered. “Then it’s just some hitchhiking.”

Not a difficult journey, really. Cole continued on.

~

The mountain was tall. And windy. And probably dangerous to climb without proper gear. Cole tried not to think of that as he pulled himself up the next ledge. He’d already had a close calls today, almost fell off before he found a foothold. Cole thanked Wojira that he hadn’t fallen to his death. If he was going to die, he wanted it to at least be dignified.

Only a bit more to the top of the mountain and then he could rest. Cole planned to camp there for the night and then go back down, hopefully without any major injuries. The broken ankle  still ached, and it had been months. He hadn’t been able to walk for two weeks the last time, and Cole wasn’t eager to have a repeat.

Huffing and sweaty, Cole reached the top. He climbed over the last few rocks and stopped, feeling pretty proud of himself, when he noticed the man sitting in front of him.

“Hello there,” the man said. He looked ancient, with deep set wrinkles and a long white beard. He took a sip of his drink and smiled.

Okay, that’s creepy, Cole thought. He had thought he was the only one climbing. How had he not noticed this guy?

“Wha— who are you?” The words exited Cole’s mouth without permission. He really should work on his brain-to-mouth filter at some point.

“Maybe that is a question you should ask, but first: why do you climb the mountain?” The old man looked at Cole with something like curiosity. Curiosity about what?

“Because it’s a good way to get exercise?”

“You can tell me the truth, Cole. I don’t judge.”

“How do you know my name? I never introduced myself,” Cole took a step back. Was this man some sort of stalker? Nobody knew where he was. If he got kidnapped, or murdered, no one would be able to find him. 

“Because I know you, Cole. I was there when you were born.”

“You know my Dad? Are you going to bring me back to him? Give me another lecture on how I’m a disappointment? I don’t need to hear it,” Cole crossed his arms and prepared to make a run for it. It would be suicidal to jump off the mountain, but he was a fast climber. The old man wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.

“I knew your mother. She was one of my students,” the old man stood and held up his hands in the ‘I surrender’ gesture. 

“Student?”

“I taught her to be a hero. Did you think that all the stories she told you were made up?”

Cole hadn’t thought about his mom’s stories in years. She used to tell him about great heroes who could control the very elements themselves, who tamed dragons and fought against evil. He’d loved those stories.

“You’re telling me that all those stories about ninja and dragons were real? Yeah, and I’m a giant purple unicorn,” Cole glared at the old man. This guy had to be crazy, spouting nonsense about real-life superheroes and monsters. Mom had told him those stories for entertainment and bonding, nothing more.

“You are stubborn. Also like your mother, I suppose. I can prove to you that all the old legends are real. You just have to trust me,” the man held out his hand. His face was a mixture of hope and worry and maybe a little bit of fear. Fear of what, Cole didn’t know.

Cole hesitated for a moment. There was nothing left for him back at home, if he still had one, and no one cared if he went missing. The only people he cared about were either dead or better off without him. His life truly couldn’t get any worse, and if this man had known his mom he couldn’t be too bad. Cole took the hand.

[xocasper]

Kiss Me Through the Phone

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Three - Phone Sex Warnings: NSFW content Tags: gender-neutral reader, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, dirty talk, mega virgin!gerard Word Count: 2316 A/N: Unfortunately, this one is short! I didn't realize how long my fics had gotten until recently. There are a handful of shorter ones, but anything written after September is 3k+ or so. This one isn't too explicit--it'll give you a nice break from the last two lol. And if you like the rough stuff more, I've got more on its way. Enjoy!

When a phone rings at three in the morning, there’s always a motive behind it. No one calls that late at night to chat, for life updates and small talk, laying on their stomach and kicking their feet as they ramble about mundane topics. They can last until the early hours of the morning, sure, but when shrill ringing cracks through a silent night, worst-case scenarios flood the receiver’s head; a car accident, an arrest, a plea to talk the caller down from a permanent mistake.

Startled by the sound, you shot up, your heart anxiously pounding as you reached for the phone. You couldn’t see the clock in the dark, or really anything, blinking wearily in hopes of waking yourself up. Hardly having a grip on reality, you picked up, dreading the awful news on the other end, praying you could withstand it so early in the morning. With a churning stomach, you called out a soft, “Hello?”

What you weren’t expecting was a voice thick with sleep, sounding awkward and unsure as they mumbled your name. Both relief and confusion washed over you, though you were still too tired to grasp who was speaking to you, merely recognizing the voice.

“It’s Gerard,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he sent a new flood of emotions through you. “You said to call you, and I know it’s late, and this was probably stupid of me...”

As much as you wanted to smack him upside the head for calling you at this hour, curiosity beat aggravation by a long shot. Besides, you missed him terribly, grateful to hear his voice, even if he had woken you.

Pulling yourself together, you let out a quiet sigh. “What time is it?”

Guilt swept over him on the other side of town, shifting awkwardly in his bed as he glanced up at the clock. God, could he be any more incompetent?

“Uh, quarter-past three?” he answered, sounding more like a question than an answer. “Look, I’m sorry I woke you, you can totally go back to sleep if you want. This is really dumb, and you’re gonna hate me for it.”

He could barely make out another muffled sigh through the speaker, patiently waiting for a response and even considering hanging up, though his hard-on was screaming at him to tell you the truth already. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and laid back down, putting him on speaker and barely capable of talking. Listening, you could do, in case he wanted to babble about DnD or comic books, but that definitely wasn’t his plan for tonight.

“No, it’s alright,” you shushed him, already getting cozy again. “What’s wrong?”

There was a short pause–an opportunity, quickly flushed away by nerves, Gerard resorting to rushed explanations as he tried to compose himself. “Nothing, there’s nothing wrong, it’s just I… Fuck, I had…”

As much as you cared about him, you were growing exasperated listening to him beat around the bush, cutting him off abruptly. “Gerard, baby. Why did you call me?”

The nickname made him shiver, a soft blush dusting his cheeks on the other end, followed by a string of words, spilling from his lips before he could reconsider. “I had a dream.”

It was crystal clear, his voice cutting through your silent bedroom, ringing in your ears like a case of tinnitus. He could’ve dreamt about anything, his intentions vague as you mumbled out a response.

“Oh?”

Your answer was unfulfilling for Gerard, who was half hoping that you’d tell him to leave you alone, preventing him from admitting his shameful desires and requesting that you help him solve his problem. It was then that he really grasped his mistake, his heart hammering and mouth going dry as he realized that it probably would’ve been better to take care of himself alone. Instead, sleepy impulsivity had him dialing the phone before he had analyzed his decision.

When he didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to push further. “What’d you dream about?”

“You,” he replied, undescriptive and slowly boring you to sleep.

Despite your exhaustion, you pushed further. “Mm, what was I doing?”

“You were in my bedroom, and uh… remember that night? When we–”

The rest of his sentence cut off as you swiftly took him off speaker, much more awake than you were moments ago. By the time you had pressed the phone between your ear and the mattress, he was still rambling, a nervous habit of his that you’d noticed. Torn between letting him prattle on and asking once more why he called, you finally landed on the latter.

“Vividly, haven’t stopped thinking about it since it happened,” you said, making him squirm in his place. “Why?”

His breath shook slightly, and he cursed as shame settled in his stomach. “I had a dream about it,” he repeated. “And it felt so real, and now…”

“…And now you’re horny,” you finished as his voice trailed off.

He huffed on the other end, “Thank you, Sherlock.”

Caught off guard by his sudden candor, you let out a laugh; a genuine one, making Gerard smile despite his awkward situation.

“Jesus, you’re such a nerd.”

Gerard groaned in response, “This would totally kill my boner if you weren’t so hot.”

“About that,” you said, pausing for a moment. “Why did you call me again?”

The laughter died out, but at least it had taken the edge off of his guilt. He sucked in a breath, realizing as he spoke just how embarrassing his request was. “I was wondering if you could… Can you help me?”

You hummed in consideration, dragging out your answer as if you’d ever miss an opportunity like this. Gerard opened his mouth to object, ready to apologize and hang up, but he was caught off by a sudden response.

“Sure.”

He let out a sigh of relief, quickly regressing back to embarrassment as he realized that he had no clue what he was doing. As he started to stammer again, you interrupted with a laugh–not the malicious kind, more entertained than anything.

“Calm down,” you said, still wearing a faint smile. “I can feel your stress through the phone.” 

Gerard muttered another apology, hoping that you weren’t completely fed up with him. “I wish you were here,” he admitted, and god, you did too.

“I know, and I promise I’ll see you again soon. This will do for now though, right?”

He nodded as if you could really see him, “Right.”

“Good boy.”

It was so simple, two words and seven letters, but it was enough to make a soft moan slip past his parted lips. Otherwise, he stayed quiet, encouraging you to take the wheel.

A basic, easy question came next, “What are you wearing?”

He glanced down, struggling to see in the dark, but making do with his hands, feeling the fabric beneath his fingertips and going from there. “A shirt. It’s black, I think. I can’t really see in the dark,” he confessed, but you didn’t mind.

“What about pants? Are you wearing any, or did you take them off before you called me?”

His breath caught in his throat, brushing his hand against his thigh, meeting soft cotton. “No,” he breathed, undoubtedly turning pink again. “No, I’m wearing pants.”

“What do they look like? You don’t sleep in jeans, right?” you asked, wondering just how weird he really was.

Gerard shook his head, “No, they’re pajama pants. They’re plaid, I think?”

He racked his brain for minor details, ones that didn’t matter much to you. “Are you wearing pants?” he asked suddenly, facepalming as he heard his own question.

You snickered on the other line, “No, I’m not. I’m betting that wasn’t your question though, was it?”

Caught up in the fact that you said no, he could hardly bother to be embarrassed. “I was gonna ask what you were wearing, sorry.”

He thought hard for a moment, swallowing his nerves and persisting. “You’re… You’re not wearing pants, though?”

“Nope, just underwear and a t-shirt,” you told him. “Why? Are you picturing it?”

He couldn’t be more awkward, willing himself not to stammer. “Yeah.”

Phew.

It was a vague answer, but you took it regardless, putting the attention back on him. “You said you couldn’t see yourself, right?”

“Right.”

Pressing your lips closer to the receiver and lowering your voice a bit, you gave him an instruction. “I want you to touch yourself instead.”

His composure vanished instantly, swallowing hard as his hand drifted below his waistband. “Can you tell me what to do?”

Something in you stirred, turned on by his request as you pictured him laying in bed, desperate enough to call you the minute he woke up. Surely, he was flushed, his fingers tracing the stitching of his waistband, the same way he had done to yours. If his light were on, he’d be able to see himself, the outline of his erection pressing against his pajamas, warping the dark plaid.

“Take your pants off,” you started, Gerard holding the phone against his shoulder as he pried off his pajamas. “Touch yourself over your boxers, alright?”

Eagerly, he complied, pressing his hand to the prominent tent in his boxers, inhaling shakily as he imagined that it was you. The things he would do to have you in his bedroom, your hand stroking him through the fabric, refusing to really touch him until he was begging for it. The thought alone had him moaning, piquing your interest.

“What are you thinking about?”

His breathing shuddered for a moment, “You.”

If you were here, would you spend the night teasing him? Or would you eventually give in to his pleas, needing a good fuck just as bad as he did?

“Miss me?” you asked, receiving an affirmative hum. “I miss you. I miss the way you taste, and the way you feel. God, I miss how you fucked me that night.”

The words made him shiver, curses and shaky breaths spilling out as he resisted the urge to strip down without permission. “I miss you too,” he replied, before repeating an earlier sentiment. “I wish you were here.”

It was almost chaste the way he said it, nearly forgetting that he was hard and desperately waiting for real friction. “You can touch yourself now,” you said, gratitude washing over Gerard as he quickly pulled off his boxers.

“Go slow for me, okay?” you instructed, and figured that he must not understand what slow meant, because it was barely ten seconds before his breathing grew erratic.

Sure enough, he was doing the opposite, desperately jerking himself off as if you couldn’t tell, and doing a sloppy job at hiding it. He tugged his hand away just as quickly, hearing your sharp tone through the phone.

“Slow, Gerard.”

Swallowing thickly, he muttered a half-hearted apology, more ashamed that he was caught than anything. “Just your fingertips,” you said, Gerard reluctantly following your direction. “Go easy, the same way I would.”

It was easier for him to picture your hand, rather than his, imagining that it was out of his control. Gently, he stroked himself, his fingertips brushing over the head, grazing his cock as his eyes fluttered shut, using your voice as a guide.

“Can you feel me?” you wondered, listening to his quiet moans. “Are you picturing my hand, teasing and stroking your cock? You always look so pretty, when your eyes fall shut and your lips part, all your gasps and moans…”

He nearly choked, biting his lip to muffle the moan that tumbled out, resisting the urge to wrap his hand around himself and thrust into it, pretending it was you. Thankfully, you eased up, listening to him struggle for a moment more before giving in.

“You can use your hand now, but promise to go slow.”

Gerard let out a soft sigh, “I promise.”

Making a promise was easy enough but keeping it was a different story, and Gerard had to fight the urge to speed up as he pumped his fist. You could tell, cooing sweet praise into his ear.

“You’re doing so good, so patient.”

“I wish I could see you, suck your pretty cock, let you use me.”

He could come from your voice alone, knuckles blanching as he gripped the handset. Moans poured from his lips, and he was almost ashamed of how desperate he sounded, how badly he needed more.

“God, you sound so hot,” you breathed, listening to Gerard pant from the other side. “Faster, baby, fuck your hand and pretend it’s me.”

It was filthy, every word that dripped from your lips, and yet you said them so softly, gentle and soothing as if you weren’t spewing pure erotica. The contrast was intoxicating, Gerard bucking his hips into his fist as if it really were you, growing closer with every passing second. You could almost see him, his eyes screwed shut as he tugged his lip between his teeth, trying mightily to suppress the sounds he made for you, whiny moans that sliced through the silent air.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he said, his hips jerking off his mattress.

You couldn’t get a word in edgewise, left to listen to Gerard slur obscenities and come with your name on his tongue. He sounded absolutely wrecked, making a mess of himself as you held your breath on the other end, picturing the sight of him, ruined and staining his sheets because of you.

Neither of you spoke for a minute, Gerard slightly dazed as he stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving as he reached for the tissues on his nightstand. He wasn’t sure what to say, torn between gratitude and apologies, but once again, you filled in for him.

“Gerard?” you asked, yawning as exhaustion settled over you once more.

He hummed, “What’s up?”

“Just come over next time.”

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