#writing that last line nearly made me ill

[house-of-lovin]

love language

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | safety net (3)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loves to play games with you. (inspired by love language by SZA)

Warnings: sexual themes implied, mature language. toxic!tara, jealous!tara.

Note: this was originally going to be a two-parter, but I wanted to keep writing about this dynamic. So I made it into three parts! Sorry for the long wait, I've been deathly ill the last few days, so it's been hard to do anything but sleep :/ but the last part will be posted tomorrow! (idk how i feel abt this but i tried my best lol)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Tara: ‘Last night was fun ;) but had to run!’

At least she had the decency to leave you a text as she left you to wake up in your bed, alone.

Sighing, you sit up; cracks and pops reverberate through the empty room as you stretch your stiff muscles. You run a tired hand on your face and glance at the spot beside you where Tara was just hours ago. 

You should have known she would leave.

You weren’t sure if she even bothered to stay after you had passed from exhaustion after the fourth round. Tara rarely stayed over, her sister’s overprotectiveness made the occasion scarce. Coupled with the fact that the smaller girl thought it crossed boundaries to stay the night. So, the only time she had ever slept was when you fucked her senselessly she physically couldn’t make it home. 

“Morning!” A loud voice interrupts the quietness in your dorm. “I bought the three of us some coffee. By the way, I didn’t appreciate coming home to you and Tara naked. You do you, but at least send a text – or hang a sock on the door… where’d Tara go?”

“Left…” You flush embarrassed, grabbing the shirt on your headboard to slip on, and stepping off your bed. Shivers run through your bare feet as you step on the cold floor. 

“Oh…”

“Yeah… Oh.” You replied bitterly, moving to gather some clothes to start your day; even if it started off on the wrong foot already. 

“...How does that make you feel?” She says after a few moments of silence.

“You’re not gonna therapize me right now, Minds.” You laugh, trying to avoid her probing tone. “It’s too early and I’m nearly naked.”

“You’re really gonna stand there and tell me it doesn’t bother you how she’s acting?” She crosses her arms, fed up with you and her childhood friend’s immature antics. 

“Why would it bother me?” You say as evenly as you can. “We’re just hooking up.”

She scoffs, “Yeah right, Chad told me what happened at the coffee shop last night.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, he did.”

“Point is… she’s playing games with you and you say that you’re fine with it because you're just hooking up but I can tell it bothers you, Y/N."

You stand rigid, unmoving and slightly uncomfortable. Talking about your feelings has never been your strong suit, maybe that’s why you fell so easily into this routine with Tara. It was all physical and lust-driven; no words have to be uttered when you two are tangled in each other’s sheets. But maybe, somewhere along the way lines began to blur the longer you got to know the Carpenter. The more your lives began to intertwine the harder it became to separate feelings during sex.

It grows increasingly difficult to ignore that thought, when she acts affectionately toward you around your friends. During movie nights, she’d scare off anyone else who dared to sit beside you; sharing a blanket and linking your fingers underneath. And in the classes you had together, she always made sure to save a seat for you beside her, leaning into you as close as she can.

“I promise… I’m fine. Tara can do whatever she wants.” You maintain eye contact with your roommate; trying to remain unbothered.

“I can’t deal with you two.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying… you two have danced around each other long enough, maybe it's time you really talk to each other. Before someone gets hurt.”

You stay silent thinking over her words.

“Look... I really didn’t want to like you when I first moved here – getting stabbed makes people paranoid, you know.” She chuckles dryly. “But I guess the odds are finally in my favour 'cause I got a roommate I actually like… so figure your shit out because I’d like to keep hanging out together as a group please.”

You chuckle, breaking out of your trance. You send her a lopsided smile, appreciating her words. “I like being your roommate too, Minds.” 

“Gross, this is too much for me now… go take a shower, you reek of sex.” She purposefully avoids your eyes, turning to grab her now lukewarm coffee. 

You roll your eyes, laughing at Mindy's antics but grab some clothes anyway to start your day.

●●●

“So I just handed in my last assignment, which means it’s officially spring break for me… and everyone’s gonna be out tonight. Wanna come over?” Tara slides into your booth out of nowhere.

You flinch, slightly startled; dropping the pen you were using with a clang. You were currently in the common room on campus attempting to get some studying in before your final exam. “What?”

She rolls her eyes but smiles fondly at you. “I said, everyone’s out for the night. Come over… I miss you.” 

Your cheeks flush as your heart darts wildly in your chest at her words. “We were just together last night…”

“Yeah, but I had to leave so soon cause Sam was coming home early.” She pouted, moving closer to you to swing her leg over yours. 

You clear your throat, glancing down. “I still have to study for my exam tomorrow.” 

“Come over after you study then…” She places a hand on your inner thigh, swiping her thumb on the fabric of your pants.

“Tara…” You were trying your hardest to gather some sort of self-control but it was becoming increasingly difficult when she started leaving light kisses on your shoulder. “Tara there are other people around.”

You were lucky you had chosen a booth that was tucked in the corner of the room, facing away from possible wandering eyes. Even still, this was definitely not the time nor the place, no matter how much you wanted to give in. 

“Don’t care…” Her kisses on your clothed shoulder move upward toward your neck. You grab at her waist, trying to push her back. “Tara, seriously.”

She simply wraps her free arm around your shoulder, moving closer to you. “I’ll only stop if you promise to come over…” 

You feel her bite down on the bruise you tried to cover up with your hoodie; you wince. “Ow… okay, okay. I’ll come over, now stop before someone reports us for public indecency.”

She rolls her eyes, but smirks smugly, unwrapping herself from you. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t immediately feel cold from the lack of contact. “You’re no fun… but I’ll see you tonight.”

The Carpenter doesn’t say anything else. Just slides out of the booth, gathers her things and walks away from you.

You drop your head against the headrest of the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh. You feel like the most pathetic person in the world for giving in so easily, especially since Mindy’s words kept ringing in your ears all morning.

Later that night, you found yourself standing in front of the Carpenter’s apartment, contemplating if it wasn’t too late to turn around and run away. This is a bad idea and you knew it. You should have padlocked yourself in your dorm and not left until the weekend was over. But Mindy had convinced you this was the best chance for you to finally talk to Tara.

So here you were rooted dumbly in front of her door. Unable to bring yourself to knock.

The door opening makes the decision for you. “I heard you stomping down the hall, were you not gonna to knock?”

She has a smirk planted across her lips as she leans against the doorframe. 

“Uh… I was just about to...”

You see her brow raise in amusement but doesn’t question your awkwardness; electing to pull you into her apartment with a tug on your wrist. “Come on… I have a movie on and popcorn waiting for us.”

You allow her to lead you through the apartment and then to the couch, pushing you to sit down. Upon sitting, you take a moment to scan the living room; taking note of the one light coming from the kitchen, casting darkness to the rest of the room. She has candles lit up on the coffee table across from you, with bowls of an assortment of snacks. 

This suddenly felt more… intimate. You felt a pang of guilt for thinking she had only invited you over as a booty call.

“Um… what is this?” You ask dumbly.

“What’s it look like? Movie night.” She chuckles before plopping down beside you and draping a blanket over your legs. You feel her move closer, pressing your thighs together. 

The two of you haven’t had a movie night since before you had fallen into this friends-with-benefits situation. They were actually the reason how you and Tara became closer in the early stages of your friendship. 

Two months ago, she had invited you over for a movie night under the guise of simply being bored, but when she had opened the door you saw the slight redness in her irises and the tear-stained marks on her cheeks. You said nothing and just allowed her to pull you inside. In your attempts to cheer her up, you may have made a trip to the liquor store around the corner and drank away your sorrows with the Carpenter. That was the first night you and Tara had ever slept together.

“Oh… I just thought–never mind. Movie night sounds nice.” You smile, appreciating her efforts. Maybe that talk can wait another time. You didn’t want to ruin the night when she was clearly trying.

“Good.” She returns your grin, settling in to lean against you as she entangles your legs. “No talking this is my favourite part.”

“The movie just started.”

“Hush.”

●●●

Thirty minutes must have passed when you felt a hand run up and down your thigh. Your eyes snap away from the TV, looking down atop Tara’s head as she leans on your chest. You couldn’t see her face from this angle but you can tell she was enjoying how you tensed in her touch.

You ignore the movements, turning back to face the screen. But Tara doesn’t seem satisfied as she tilts her head up. The feeling of her soft lips brushing against your neck makes you stiffen even more in her hold. And like earlier, she begins to leave a litter of light pecks on your still-bruised neck. 

“Tara…”

She hums, scooting up to reach your jaw. Her fingers tickle your sides as she slips her fingers under your shirt to grab your waist, shuffling to sit on your lap. Tara kisses that spot just under your ear that always makes you cave – marking you. She has you now and she knew it. 

A part of you wants to bang your head against the wall because of course this movie night would eventually lead to sex. It always leads to sex with Tara. It was like a vicious cycle you couldn’t get off of. But the way she touches you feels so heavenly that you couldn’t even think clearly enough to stop her.

“Take this off…” She mutters, bunching up your shirt in a fist as she pushes it up. You pull back to obey her request, hastily yanking the fabric off your head and connecting your mouths in a harsh kiss. You slip your hand under her shirt, tracing your fingers dangerously close to the waistband of her shorts. She whines under the cold touch. 

“No teasing…” She whispers before grabbing at your cheeks to pull you impossibly closer; the feeling of her tongue brushing against yours feels sinful.

You wrap an arm around her waist, ready to flip her on her back and take her on this couch when suddenly a frantic knock startles you both. 

“What the fuck?” Tara mutters, pulling away from you but keeping a firm grip on your shoulders. She was panting heavily, lips already beginning to bruise. 

“I thought you said everyone was out for the night?” You heave, also trying to catch your breath. 

“They were…” She mutters, sliding off your lap to toss you your shirt. You slip it over your head swiftly, following the smaller girl as she walks to the door. 

She takes a look through the peephole and the scowl on her face was an indication that she was less than pleased. Then she moves to unlock the numerous amounts of locks on her door, yanking it open.

The twins, Anika and Ethan stood on the other side of the door.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tara says unamused, crossing her arms over her chest. You move to stand behind her, connecting eyes with your roommate. 

“Mindy said it’s movie night, so we came over,” Chad answers from behind his twin, holding up a plastic bag with a large smile on his face. “Don’t worry, we brought snacks!”

You send your roommate a glare, grateful Tara had her back to you. Slightly irritated because Mindy had been the one insisting you go see Tara.

Tara sighs, dropping her crossed arms. She glances at you for a brief moment, before opening the door wider to let the others in. 

“I’m gonna make some more popcorn…” The Carpenter mutters, leaving the room. 

You immediately corner Mindy. “What the hell, man? You told me to talk to her, what are you doing here?”

She raises an unimpressed brow, pointing at your neck. “Did she leave that hickey on your neck when you guys were talking too?”

You slap a hand on the spot she’s pointing at, attempting to hide it. “Shut up… I was going to talk to her later.”

“No, you weren’t.” She whispers, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “You two were going to have sex and ignore the talking part… like you always do.”

You cross your arms, scowling, “So you gathered the entire village to cockblock me instead?” 

“Yes.” She responds unapologetically. You stare at your roommate for a few seconds. Eventually, you groan lowly, knowing she’s right. You were about to give in to Tara and until you two have talked about what this is, that probably wasn’t the best idea. 

Ultimately, that chance to talk with Tara never came as the friend group all settled back in the living room to watch a plethora of movies for the rest of the evening. And when Sam came home, everyone knew to call it a night.

Maybe you dodged a bullet by not confronting Tara tonight. Not quite sure what you even wanted to say to her, yet.

Hey Tara, remember when we agreed to just be friends with benefits? Yeah well I caught feelings... actually I may be in love with you. And it hurts when you run off with other people. Ha. Sorry.

She would run away from you. Tara was like a deer, you needed to be cautious upon approach. But even then, it was getting increasingly difficult to just remain friends with her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Tara leans against the doorframe; watching as you slip on your jacket to leave. 

“I have my exam in the morning, but maybe after.” You stand unmoving for a few moments, wanting nothing more than to leave a kiss on her cheek but her sister was standing right there, watching the two of you with an observant gaze. So instead, you squeeze her shoulder, send her a tight-lipped smile and catch up with the rest of the group down the hall. 

You missed Tara’s disappointed frown. 

●●●

“What’s wrong with you?” Anika asks over the loud music.

Since it was officially spring break for everyone; students who decided to stay on campus have been throwing parties non-stop. And currently, that's where Tara found herself; huddled on a couch on a Thursday night beside Anika and Mindy, sipping on a red-solo cup as she watches people drunkenly dance around the room. 

“What? There’s wrong with me.” She glances at her friend, confused. 

“You’ve been staring holes at the front door for the last ten minutes.” Mindy counters, peering over her girlfriend to look at her childhood friend. 

“You can just say you’re waiting for Y/N.” Anika teases, bumping her shoulder. "We all know."

Tara rolls her eyes, “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

The Carpenter hears a scoff, “You didn’t even wanna go to this party until you heard she might be coming.” 

You’ve been…distant with her lately. 

Giving half-excuses as to why you can’t hang out, cancelling last minute on group activities or taking hours to respond through texts.

She hasn’t seen you since your friends crashed movie night and that was already a few days ago. You never did meet up with her the next day, and since then you’ve made yourself scarce; not hanging out with the friend group, always seemingly busy. 

She had confronted Chad on your whereabouts, she figured he would know where you have been spending your time, given your… close friendship with the boy. But Chad had merely said you were helping your uncle with his shop uptown during the break, hence why you haven’t been around.

Tara was hoping she can get a chance to be alone with you tonight and ask why you have been so closed off with her when she caught wind that Chad might be dragging you to the party.

“Shut up.” She mutters, sipping on the cheap alcohol. “She’s been acting weird lately, I just want answers.” 

The two girls nodded, unconvinced. For the amount of times, you two say you’re just ‘hooking up’ Tara sure played the part of the concerned girlfriend perfectly. 

Eventually, Tara’s wandering eyes snap to the door, catching a glimpse of the top of your head as push past the crowd with Chad and Ethan trailing behind you. You seem tense, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else than here. 

Before she can even think about it, she’s standing, about to stomp over to you but a hand on her wrist stops her.

“What?” She glances over at Mindy.

“At least, let Y/N grab a drink before you ambush her.” She reasons, glancing over at you from across the room.

Tara turns to find you, Chad and Ethan greeting a group of people, smiling and laughing. The group eventually trickles over to the kitchen, no doubt grabbing some drinks.

“Fine…” She mutters, sitting back down in her spot as you disappear from her sight.

Tara waits for you to come out of the kitchen for the next ten minutes; patience thinning by the second. This was ridiculous, you were literally another room away. Why is she waiting for you to come back? 

As the smaller girl's eyes remain unmoving from the kitchen door, she eventually sees you walking out with an unfamiliar girl beside you. You were smiling, clearly entertained by the conversation. Tara feels an uncomfortable pang in her chest at your undivided attention towards the girl. 

The Carpenter can’t help her moving legs as she stands, abandoning her cup on a random table; stalking toward you with an unrelenting gaze. Before you can even step into the living room, Tara is dragging you upstairs by the wrist; leaving the girl you were conversing with confused.

“What the hell— Tara!” You stumble behind her, desperately trying not to trip on the steps as she tugs you along with an unabated grip. 

She pushes you through a random door, slamming it shut behind her. Tara crosses her arms just glaring at you.

“What’d you do that for?” You huff, feeling slightly irritated. 

She raises a brow at your tone, “Wanna tell me why you’ve been distant with me lately?”

You stand straighter, “I’m not… I’ve just been busy.” 

Tara chuckles dryly, “Busy enough to ignore my texts?"

You didn't answer and the scoff Tara lets out tells you it was the wrong choice to make.

"You didn't seem busy enough when you were entertaining that girl downstairs.” Tara couldn't stop the words from leaving her mouth, fed up with the silence.

She sees a flash of irritation in your eyes as you cross your arms, defensive. “Are you serious? Why do you even care? You’re not my girlfriend.”

Tara’s brows raise in surprise. For a brief moment, you regretted your words as she looked slightly hurt before her face drops impassively. “I didn’t know it was a crime to be worried about your friends.” 

You scoff, “Yeah friends…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She stares at you, not believing that for a minute. 

“What is going on with you?” Tara steps forward, but you take a step back. This time, the Carpenter can’t hide the frown on her lips. 

“I think we should stop this…us.” You gesture between you two. 

“What?” Tara's forehead creases in confusion, unsure if she heard you correctly. 

“I can’t do it anymore.” You mutter, eyes trained to your shoes; unable to look her in the eyes. 

“Why?” She takes a step forward, reaching for your arm but you yank back.

“Cause I caught feelings!” You shout making Tara flinch; the repressed feelings you've been hopelessly trying to bury come hurling out; unable to keep them at bay. You knew this situation would only end in heartbreak the longer it continued. So you made the decision to break your heart first before she got the chance to. “I can’t do the games anymore… I-I'm tired, Tara. I think we should stop.”

“I–I…” Tara stutters, taken aback by your confession. "Y/N... we agreed we're just hooking up."

You laugh solemnly, roughly rubbing your eyes. Was it possible to feel your own heartbreak? That's really all she had to say? "Yeah... well too late for that."

"Y/N..."

“You don’t have to say anything else. You made your feelings clear. But I caught feelings, okay? I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but it just happened. So I’m sorry, but I just need some space at the moment.”

Without waiting for a response, you brush past the smaller girl, slamming the door behind you. 

Tara stands rooted in her spot, unable to move as you leave her to process what you just said. 

●●●

Reader:

:)

[uranometrias]

my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

────────────────────────

The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 33

Keep Me Warm

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10,625

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Tainted Love ~ Holy Wars | Hatef--k ~ The Bravery

Summary: You're finding ways to cope, Shanks is finding ways to win, and the truth is finding its way out.

Recap: Emperor Shanks won the first hunt, and the first private date. The Cross Guild learned how you feel about about your red haired suitor, and the swordsman declared his plan to leave.

Author's Note: Hi friends! Just want to say that sharing this story with you means so much to me. I wish I had some Cross Guild backup in my life right now, but having y'all reading my obsession makes me so grateful! I'm trying to get back to interacting, I'm just having a hard time doing anything that's not writing this right now, but all of your words make me so happy, thank you!! 💜🙏🏼✨

Dark Content Warning: It's not the reader, but within this chapter there are references to suicide through engaging in dangerous and destructive behavior. The violent activities are mentioned within canon, but the emotional motivations are added. The situation ends well, but I'll bracket those sections with ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ in case that topic is triggering. Please, take care of yourselves, and know that you are not alone! 💜

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Splinters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

“That’s one creepy ass boat.”

“Excuse me?”

Mihawk couldn’t be annoyed with his clown when that observation had their much taller lover nearly buckling beside him. Those large fingers dug into his shoulder while Crocodile laughed at his expense, his voice even rougher than usual at the early hour.

“Hitsugibune is a fine ship, and has carried me across the Grand Line for years,” Mihawk countered. 

Crocodile took the luggage from his hands to toss onto the one-man vessel. 

“It does have a certain flare,” Crocodile hummed, leaving a quick kiss to his temple. 

“It’s just your aesthetic, though, right,” Buggy shook as he prowled closer. “It’s not a real coffin?”

“Not yet,” Mihawk teased. It earned him an adorable frown that made him laugh, and the movement reminded him of all the delightful things they’d done to him last night. 

“Sure you’re gonna be alright all cooped up in your coffin so soon,” Buggy taunted with a few prods and pokes along the swordsman’s healing chest. 

Moans left those cruel lips, and he tried to back away, but ran into a wall made of muscle and heat, and wrapped in a purple, velvet smoking jacket.

“Promise you’ll be a good boy for me?”

Mihawk almost buckled then, loving the satisfied noise Crocodile made when he reacted to him. The three lovers kissed goodbye, until he was alone again. 

The World’s Greatest Swordsman drifted alone on his one-man boat, and wondered how long it would take for Crocodile to realize that he hadn’t answered his question.

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~ 

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“King of Diamonds,” Shanks beamed at her, mesmerized by her every move, and getting caught on the gentle sway of her locket while she laid out the trick for him again and again. 

It was Buggy’s trick. Buggy’s locket.

The Emperor of the Sea didn’t realize how much he‘d needed this. Seeing Y/N’s enduring love for their lovely clown gave him a burst of hope that clouded his mind, but he kept up the front.

Maybe playing the villain won’t be so bad.

“I’m afraid you missed this one, Shanks,” she breathed, eyes fluttering a bit as they darted back to her hands. Her movements had to be practiced in front of a crowd like this, but he found himself drawn into her orbit, yet again. 

“That’s alright,” he teased, snatching the card from her. He huffed a laugh as he dropped the Ace of Hearts before taking her hand in his. Y/N’s lips parted in a soft exhale, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from them.

“I always win when it counts.”

The sound of bells filled the air.

“Do I count,” she teased, pressing those lips into a subtle, biteable pout for him. 

Hope and greed brought his lips to her skin, just a press against her wrist while he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and run. 

“I think she likes you, Chief.”

“What can I say,” Shanks smirked as he plopped down beside his first mate. Y/N’s eyes were following him so clearly on the huge screen that he didn’t need to glance back to check. “I think I might just win this little game.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

“I hear you’re the best there is!”

“That’s correct,” Dracule Mihawk deadpanned. He was only twenty-two years old, but the brightness shining off of the boy that had invaded his corner table made him feel aged and weary. 

Shanks didn’t think his eyes could get any wider. This dangerous, infamous man was so… pretty!

“Run along now.”

“No way,” Shanks laughed, leaning over the table. He froze for a moment under the glare of the strangest eyes he’d ever seen. “Come on, Hawk Eyes, I’m challenging you to a duel!”

The Marine Hunter didn’t spare him another glance, just returned to his book as though Shanks didn’t exist. 

“Come ooon, I bet you’re bored on this little island. I’m only here so my sniper can visit his wife, and they’re not open for company right now. Plus, my first mate already left me for the barmaid so I’m...”

Rambling. Why am I rambling?

Shanks didn't know why he couldn’t let it go, but he had to try. The young captain saw the chance to test himself sitting before him with a beautifully bored look on his face. 

“I wanna fight you.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for slaughtering children today.”

“I’m eighteen, and my sword is ready, so let’s—“

“Let me see your sword,” Mihawk ordered. He had to stifle a smirk when the redhead obeyed him instantly. 

The saber was longer than was typical for that type, with an extended, green hilt that showed a subtle, but elegant artistry in its craftsmanship. Mihawk was tracing his fingers around the pommel before he remembered that he should have killed the idiot for handing his blade to an enemy. 

“Where did you get this,” he asked instead of stabbing the rookie, letting the young man take the exquisite weapon back. 

“Oh, uh…” Shanks’ cheeks almost matched his hair while he decided what to say. The image of this man laughing him off made sharing the full truth unappealing. “I’ve always had it. My mentor taught me how to use it. So, will you fight me?”

“You’ve piqued my interest. That’s often a fatal mistake, so if you choose to walk away now, I’ll let you go.”

“No one gets away from Red Haired Shanks that easily,” he winked, holding out his hand. 

Mihawk offered his own, and Shanks grinned as they clasped each other’s forearms for a moment. 

“I like your jacket.”

The swordsman narrowed his eyes at the compliment, but followed the young captain out of the tavern, and into the lightly wooded area outside of town. 

He could have sworn he’d seen that ugly, straw hat somewhere before.

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

You weren’t supposed to think about him. 

How could you hold up that perfect, doll face in front of all the leeches if they smelled any hint of weakness?

How could you keep yourself from crying when you remembered Buggy’s laugh that made you laugh, his touch that made you his, or his pain that broke your heart? 

Yet you kept surrounding yourself with every tiny piece you had left, a masochistic challenge to spice up this auction for your life. 

And here was the man that had hurt Buggy. The asshole that had left him wounded for decades. You had to convince him to apologize to the man he claimed to love, only for the traitor to abandon him when he needed him most. 

I hope they take care of him…

You didn’t have room for too much hope. Not when you could end up trapped with this viper, especially if Uncle caught a whiff of your disdain. 

He’s staring at my lips like he did that first day. Like I’m just something sweet for him to taste. 

“I always win when it counts.”

The sound of the ending bells felt like applause, and another smiling face filled your mind. Blood had dripped onto that stage like scattered petals, all for you. 

Pouting for the Emperor gave you a thrill of pride over how easy it was to make his eyes flash with heat. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, and you didn’t have to fake the shivers it caused. 

The red headed pirate sauntered off, but your eyes were drawn to him again and again. 

The prey had its own target now. 

I’d rather die than marry that traitor, but if he traps me…

I’ll fucking kill him.

I’ll kill him for you, Buggy.

 ~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🔴🗡️⏰~~~

“Holy shit,” Shanks panted as he narrowly avoided being cleaved in two by that tiny fucking dagger.

“Ha, already lost your confidence, boy?”

Mihawk hadn’t lied. He hadn’t planned on killing anyone on this boring, little island, but fresh blood on his blade had him losing himself. He’d had a few moments of hope for a real challenge, but the building disappointment was about to quicken his opponent’s death.

“Nope! Just– fuck!”

The red haired youth dodged too late, collapsing to the dirt. He clutched at his side, hardly doing a thing to staunch the blood that was slowly staining the forest floor. 

I can’t die yet. He didn’t even draw his sword… 

“You’re the strongest fighter I’ve met in awhile, yet you’re still such a pitiful creature,” Mihawk scowled, kicking the saber from the rookie’s weak grasp. “And here, I was almost having fun. What a waste of time…”

“W-wait, Hawk Eyes,” Shanks coughed, spreading more blood around. “You’re bored, aren’t you? You like fighting?”

“People can be so perceptive in their final moments,” he drawled. Mihawk brought Kogatana to the boy’s throat, the small blade poised to cease his blubbering.

“You said you almost had f-fun,” Shanks bargained, his eyes wider than ever while beautiful death loomed over him. “I'll make you a deal, alright?”

Golden eyes seemed to sharpen, just as the blade pressed into his neck a bit more.

“Don’t waste any more of my time,” came his vicious, yet waiting voice. 

“I won’t,” Shanks panicked, smiling under that cold glare. “It's too early for me to die, friend. There's so much for me to learn. I promise that if you give me a chance, I'll get stronger! Let me live, and I'll get strong enough to give you a real fun fight, I swear!”

One of the longest moments Shanks had ever experienced dragged on, while the unreadable swordsman above him hardly moved at all, until his head cocked to the side.

“Intriguing,” Mihawk frowned, still holding steel against that young throat. “I suppose I can hold off on killing you for now.”

“You can– ow!”

Mihawk removed the blade that Shanks had leaned into in excitement, and rolled his eyes with instant regret. 

“Don’t challenge me again until you’re ready. I’ll kill you slowly for making me wait.”

“No problem,” Shanks waved to the man’s back. Dracule Mihawk had already left him bleeding in the dirt. “I’ll get you back, Hawk Eyes.”

~~~⏰🔴🗡️⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

It felt so quiet with just the two of them, even with all the hustle and bustle of the guild getting to work.

He’s like a big, scary teddy bear.

“You alright little clown,” Crocodile soothed, rubbing softly between Buggy’s shoulder blades while he had a coughing fit. 

The clown gave a thumbs up, grateful that he hadn’t spoken the thought out loud. 

Mihawk had been gone for hours, and the afternoon was aging fast, but neither of the men on the couch had cared about dressing for the day. That soft smoking jacket made Crocodile’s warm body almost too soothing to lean against, especially while the clown listened to his star do their card trick again and again.

When the coughing stopped, Crocodile’s large hand pulled gently, guiding the clown back into that comfortable position. 

Buggy didn’t fight it. He knew he might be an idiot for getting used to this strange reality where Sir Crocodile cuddled with him, but he needed it right now.

Maybe he needs it too.

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

I’ll skin him. Boil him alive. 

“You look amazing,” Kat muttered, avoiding your death-filled gaze in the mirror. 

“Tell me,” you growled at the nearest staff, “why the fuck do I need to wear a swimsuit on a first date?”

They’d given you a variety of options, all of which were as red as that stupid hair. You’d chosen the one that came with a tiny bit of cloth to wrap around your hips, so you could at least pretend you were wearing some fucking clothes. 

“I’m so sorry you weren’t given more notice, Miss Sylvad,” she hurried, her empty words already draining your resolve. 

It’s not their fault. It’s his. 

“As you know, the hun– suitors, excuse me,” she coughed nervously, and you saw Kat’s eyes widen over her shoulder while you shoved down the manic laughter in your gut. “The suitors get to choose the themes of the first dates, and the Emperor stated that he enjoys long walks on the beach, so–”

“I can walk fine without–”

“There’s my lovely nieces,” Cedrick beamed, nearly hitting one of the staff with the door when he barged in. “Everyone out, even you, sweetheart.”

Kat stepped back from his touch on her shoulder, but you told her it was fine before her fruitless argument could leave her lips. 

He was going to get what he wanted, so she might as well save the energy, though she scowled at him all the way out the door.

“Nice pick,” he taunted, gesturing at your swimsuit. “I preferred the little, frilly one, but I’m sure the pirate can tear into this one just fine, even one handed.”

Nothing. Give him nothing.

“Did you have something to tell me, Uncle? I have a date to prepare for.”

“Atta girl,” your uncle laughed, lounging in the nearest chair. “Just wanted to check in on who your favorites are.”

“It’s too early to tell,” you reported, fighting to keep your voice even. 

“Well, be sure to keep me posted,” he ordered with a smirk. “Unfortunately there’s already one name that needs to be crossed off the list. I want him to have his little date though, and we should send someone else home before him. The last thing the family needs are accusations of racism if we boot the only Fishman first. Inclusivity bullshit is always a fucking headache.”

“Why…” 

Fukaboshi was overwhelming. He was two stories tall, and you couldn’t imagine leaving your whole world behind, or how any of that would even work.

Yet, he’d seemed truly kind. The prince had almost put himself, and his people, in danger with his earnest questions about your captivity. 

He’d come to this land of leeches looking for allies, but only cruelty lived here. Only gluttonous, selfish, hateful—

“Who would you like to send home first,” Uncle Cedrick asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’ll be rigging tomorrow's game so the Fishman should win the next date, then we can send him off with no worries. So who’s your least favorite?”

“I really don’t know, Uncle. I haven’t spent enough time with them to be sure.”

A little movement around his eyes, a little smirk. You weren’t going to fall for it. 

“Let’s remedy that, dear niece,” he declared as he moved toward you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He turned you toward the mirror, and his reflection was frightening. 

He was gleeful.

“I have put quite a bit of berry on your red haired date becoming the next King of the Pirates. Make sure you treat him like royalty tonight.” He left you there to wince while he called over his shoulder. “I know how much you enjoyed whoring for those pirates, Y/N. Now you could be their little whore queen!”

~~~

You were carted around like royalty in your uncle’s obnoxious carriage, already feeling the cool, gentle breeze through the wood paneling as you neared one of the only sandy beaches on the small island. The rest of the coastlines were rimmed with craggy cliffs at the edge of forests, and perching on those rocks was your preferred way to enjoy the ocean. 

Not shivering in a swimsuit at dusk, with sand already creeping up your legs.

“Wow, you look…”

All the staff scurried to the little trailers nearby, leaving you face to face with him while he scanned over your mostly bare skin. 

Shanks looked right at home on the beach. 

He’d managed to find a dark green version of his hardly-buttoned shirts that looked unfairly good against his skin, but his loose fitting pants were still covered in a headache inducing pattern. They were gathered below the knees, presumably to make his long walks on the beach in those lame sandals that much easier. 

And his cape. How could you forget the cape? 

He was still gawking at you while you tried not to fume at how fucking stunning he looked in his stupid clothes. 

“Why are you dressed like this?”

“You don’t like it, Emperor,” you pouted, playing pretend with a wobble of hurt in your voice. “I heard you wanted a beach date.”

“I like it very much,” he purred, bringing a gasp to your lips when he was suddenly inches from you. He trailed his fingers down your neck and chest, following the chain of your locket until he smiled. “I just don’t want my little bunny getting cold tonight.”

Shivering under the weight of his warm cape, you thanked the charming villain while he led you to a little table by the fire. Staff rushed up to serve you, but Shanks snagged the open bottle, and waved them off while you tried not to let your mouth water at the platter of hors d’oeuvres between you. 

He poured the sake, but said nothing while you toasted. Just stared at you, his little half-smile growing deeper when you accepted a bite of food from his hand.

At least you didn’t have to worry about your food with Shanks tasting everything along with you. No one would dare spike the Emperor’s drink.

I might. If I have to.

You faded in and out of daydreaming his murder, and nearly forgetting. 

Shanks was the perfect predator, luring in his prey with such playful joy and power. He was pure light, drawing in the moths until they burned to a crisp in his cruel, selfish flames. 

You knew this, yet there were moments when he made you truly laugh, and you clutched at your locket, silently vowing again and again that you would destroy this man. 

If he didn’t kill you while you made him pay, then his crew surely would. It was a last resort. 

You didn’t want to die, and it felt nice knowing that.

Yet if the only options you had left were being owned by this monster, or dying while you took him down, then you’d get him drunk and happy on your honeymoon, and gut him like a pig. 

Until then though…

“You feeling alright, gorgeous,” your prey checked in, guiding you to a trailer to wash up. The staff disappeared again, scattering like cockroaches, but the illusion of privacy never fooled you. 

“I feel good.” Your hum made his eyes glint for you, and he pulled you down the shore, away from the staff, and their snail-covered equipment. 

“Wanna dip your toes in,” Shanks ginned, wrapping his arm around your waist. It felt like he wouldn’t give you a choice either way. His strong fingers curled around your hip, teasing along the edge of your swimsuit, and your body ached when you remembered what they could do to you. 

You wanted to forget for a while. You wanted to pretend. 

Might as well enjoy myself before I kill him. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

He’d almost forgotten where they were. 

It doesn’t matter. I’ve got her, Buggy. Your shining star.

When she laughed, the Emperor of the Sea forgot everything. 

It was a perfect sound, a beautiful movement of her body, her head thrown back just a bit, as though he’d shocked the laughter out of her. 

She didn’t look like a wounded star tonight. There was fire beneath all of her flirting, and he had to feel it.

Greed crept back into his heart the longer he spent by her side, and he couldn’t help but reach for her, pulling her toward the gentle sea. 

He wanted her. He wanted all of them. 

Shanks wanted everything, and that sweet, little pout of hers seemed to promise it. 

“It’s too cold,” Y/N shivered, avoiding the soft waves that lapped along the shore.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

She snorted, clamping a hand over her lips when he cocked a brow at her. His lovely date dipped her toes in, then took off up the beach, her laughter filling every bit of his mind until he joined in, chasing after her.

“How are you going to— oh,” she panted, gasping when she turned to find him so close. 

“Bunny,” he laughed as she tripped on his cloak trying to run backwards. He caught her just in time to fall with her, bracing with his elbow to keep his full weight from pressing her beneath him.

Shanks forgot. 

That shining star was still gasping as she laid on his cloak, a perfect blanket spread out to watch the night sky she must have fallen from. The soft tint of the night made her skin seem unreal, intoxicating. 

He had to touch her.

She touched him first.

Y/N’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into his hair when she pulled him in for a kiss. He couldn’t hold in a low growl that grew when she drank it hungrily from his lips. 

Nothing else existed when she pulled him closer, tugging at his shirt to tease her nails along his back. She moaned so sweetly around his tongue when he grinded himself against her, barely any cloth to keep them apart. 

He almost forgot.

“Mmm… Hey, bunny,” Shanks purred, his eyes heavy lidded to match the lovely ones beneath him. “Are you sure—“

“Aren’t you going to keep me warm?”

Y/N was pouting, teasing, begging, her fingers still trailing over his skin.

Everything about her was giving heat. 

Everything was perfect. 

Everything except for a flash in her eyes that plunged Shanks’ heart into the icy depths of the ocean at his back. 

“Is something wrong,” beautiful death asked softly, her mask so exquisitely crafted. 

“No, not at all,” Shanks cleared his throat, pushing himself away. “I just… It would be a shame to have my first time with such a beauty in front of an audience.” 

The sound of bells saved him.

She tilted her head back, sighing when she saw the vehicles approaching. 

“Bunny, I—“

“Thank you for the lovely date, Emperor. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He helped her up, brushing the sand from her skin while he tried to figure out what to say. 

He didn’t think fast enough, and soon the staff had swarmed her, wrapping her in a fluffy robe before whisking her away.

The red haired pirate declined a ride back to the estate, waving the people, and their watching snails away. 

It was a long walk. 

There would never be enough distance for Shanks to cross to get away from the sickness that had seeped into his bones, into his every organ. 

Y/N’s empty eyes had branded guilt onto his heart before, and he couldn’t stand his arrogance. He thought he’d already made it all better, that his greedy heart was going to take everything it wanted. 

I wanted to own her, just like the leeches.

Tonight, Y/N’s eyes hadn’t been empty, but she was so good at hiding.

Or I just saw what I wanted to see. Until she…

What Shanks had seen in that flash, in that glimpse beneath her mask, was evil. It was frightening, sick, manic.

It was hate. 

I did that. I filled that lovely girl’s heart with hatred. 

The walk wasn’t long enough to shake off his self loathing, but Shanks knew what he needed if he was going to make things right. 

He needed one more chance. 

One more private date. 

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Look, I’ll taste it,” your mother sighed before taking a drink from the steaming mug she kept brandishing at you. “Now please, drink it, sweetie. You look…”

“I look like death,” you drawled, wishing the coffee would cool down so you could chug it. 

“Not at all, Miss Sylvad, you just need some brightening up! We’ll take good care of you,” chirped your mom’s favorite makeup artist. You couldn’t remember his name this early in the morning, but you were fighting not to throw the hot coffee at him so he’d stop being so fucking cheerful. 

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep last night. 

The scent of him had lingered around you, even after you’d tried to scrub him off of you in the shower. 

The whole night had replayed in your mind, making you dizzy with guilt over every moment when you relaxed, when you forgot.

Then it would cycle through again, rage building until you chewed your tongue to keep from snarling to the empty air around you. 

But your body…

Frustration nearly clawed itself out of you, and you’d had to hold your breath to fight the screams and tears it would have left in its wake. You’d been so fucking close to having something to turn your brain off for a minute, even if it was him.

All of your attempts to take care of that need on your own left you defeated, your guilty hunger twisting every image you tried to cling to.

You couldn’t imagine his fingers without picturing the gloved ones you missed so much. 

Couldn’t picture Shanks fucking you without remembering him making love to Buggy. You were trapped in silence on the edge of that bed again, but there was no one to rescue you this time. 

Last night, you’d fallen apart. It had to be it. You couldn’t afford these emotions. 

You’d bitten your pillow to stifle the wracking sobs while your mind tore you down, forcing you to mourn more than just Buggy. 

It felt like you were choking on their names, all the men you’d left behind. 

If loneliness alone could kill, you would have died there in that luxurious bed, aching to be smothered in the heat of bodies you’d never feel again.

Shanks was torturing you. His very presence was a reminder of the daydream you had fooled yourself into thinking you could keep. 

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

“What? Oh, I’m… I’m fine.”

The sound of tears in your voice was enough to drag you back. 

You let yourself fall away. 

Empty.

Empty’s good.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

Benn literally kicked his ass out of bed this morning, ripping the expensive bedding off of his captain while he scolded him out of the dream world. 

“Quit complaining,” his first mate commanded him, rolling his eyes at the pathetic groans. “You’ve got a beautiful girl to win, Chief. You can sleep when she’s yours.”

Shanks’ morning mind was still soaked in last night's attempt to drown it in sake, so he couldn’t tell if he’d thanked or cussed out the older man for his help. Regardless, the red haired pirate was dressed for breakfast, luckily remembering his appointment.

After the first dates, the suitors got to have breakfast with the Sylvads. 

Maybe I’ll get a moment alone with her.

“There’s our favorite Emperor,” Cedrick called through the door, gesturing for Shanks to join them. “Make yourself at home!”

“Home” was strangely sterile, more of a conference room than a dining area. Cedrick sat at the head of the table, offering the empty seat beside him, opposite Y/N, and her practiced smile. 

I can do this. I can convince her I’m on her side.

I have to.

“I thought this was gonna be a family breakfast. You’ve got a little sister out there, don’t you, gorgeous?”

“I—“

“Don’t worry, Shanks,” Cedrick waved off the question. “There will be plenty of time for family get-togethers. Since you joined our game at the last minute, I figured we should have a little business talk before you get back to all the pleasure.”

Shanks almost shoved his fork through the man’s throat. 

The taunting glance he’d given his niece at the last word tested Shanks’ self control, and he couldn’t believe how calm she seemed. 

“Of course. I understand it’s not just love we’re fighting for.”

“Not love. Family,” Cedrick vowed. He emphasized his words with a firm grip on Shanks’ shoulder, and the pirate had to hold his breath to keep from shaking him off.

How does she do this all day?

“Whoever marries my dear niece will be family, and Sylvads take care of their own. I know there’s a lot we could do for each other.”

“It’s an honor to be considered,” Shanks toasted them both, aching to see anything real behind her polite mask. 

“You know, Shanks, it’s a real shame you went to the wrong brother all those years ago,” Cedrick mused, shifting his tone just enough to suck all the air from the room. “You might have been King of the Pirates by now if you’d asked me instead.”

“What do you mean?”

Shanks mumbled those loathsome words while the ground disappeared beneath him. The question in her eyes sparked his panic, but it was too late. 

“Please, Arbo loved to brag about drinking with Roger’s apprentice. I could never understand how he let a little girl spook him out of the deal of a lifetime.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes were wide when she asked, but Y/N wasn’t looking at either of them. She was slipping further and further away with every word her uncle spewed, and Shanks had no idea how to stop it. 

“You know the family stories, niece, and you’re smart enough to figure out which ones are true,” he chided. 

Cedrick would have lost his hand when he tapped the tip of her nose, but Shanks was frozen. 

“Your daddy turned down the chance to help the Pirate King’s apprentice build the next ship to conquer the Grand Line. Arbo could have made history, but he decided not to because his ‘widdle numbers girl’ cried about some gods damned tree.”

…

“Wha-what?”

She was so good at hiding, so it felt like his soul cracked when her voice did. Horror and shame filled the Emperor of the Sea when a daughter’s grief shone in those beautiful eyes. 

“It had to be fifteen, nearly twenty years ago now, wasn’t it?”

He sounded fucking jolly while he ripped both of their hearts out. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Shanks coughed, caving when the man gripped his shoulder a bit harder. 

“Well, I don’t have the same qualms as my dear brother, so I might be willing to butcher an Adam Tree. Only for family, of course.”

Unshed tears were balanced in her eyes, and she seemed to be turning herself into a statue before she’d let them fall. 

There had been time to tell her. Shanks’ mind flew through a list of excuses for why he hadn’t, why it wasn’t a good time, how she’d been going through too much to tell her a story about her dead father. Yet this whirlwind of a woman had cleared away his old disguises, so he could no longer believe his own lies. 

I didn’t even think about telling her. All I cared about was getting what I wanted.

I’m no hero.

“I was wondering if that’s why you joined the game,” Cedrick smirked. He squeezed Shanks’ shoulder one last time before releasing him, but the relief was lost when the next words spilled from that evil mouth. 

Shanks watched every bit of movement on her face now. He watched his selfishness curdle around her, poisoning any slim chance he still had to gain her trust. 

“All the players are going for the One Piece, so Red Haired Shanks is back to get his miracle ship,” Cedrick taunted, his eyes glued on his niece. “And now he can finally teach the little brat that cost him his boat a lesson. I wonder if my sentimental brother would have chopped down that tree if he knew his favorite daughter would have to spread her—“

“What about you?”

“Excuse me,” Cedrick turned toward the growl, his brows raised a bit. 

He’s not nearly fucking scared enough.

Shanks paused too long, but the second the asshole started to tilt back toward her, the pirate started talking. He had no idea what to say, but he knew he had to keep that piece of shit from looking at her again. 

“Families help each other out,” Shanks flirted, feeling like he was swallowing venom with every moment he smiled at this monster. “So, what about you? How could I help out my new family, if I were so lucky?”

“I have a few ideas,” Cedrick purred as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes were relaxed, and slow while they scanned over him, as though he had all the time in the world to make an Emperor of the Sea wait on his every word. “I think that’s enough business for today, though. Let’s get back to pleasure.”

Cedrick Sylvad forced them to toast at that, and Shanks couldn’t understand how his niece had kept all of those tears from falling. Y/N’s cheeks were dry, and she smiled at him when their glasses touched. It was a perfect smile, welcoming, alluring, and sweet. 

It was a death trap. 

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

Every time Shanks walked into a tavern, he knew he might meet his death. Would it be with his weight in alcohol, or with the slim hope for a golden eyed grim reaper tucked into a corner booth?

Shanks had gotten stronger before, but since a few stupid words had taken all the joy from his life last year, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Beautiful death sounded pretty good, but all he kept finding was booze. 

Until tonight.

“Hey, Hawk Eyes.”

“Hmm? Here to interrupt my lunch,” Mihawk noted, boredom radiating from him. “How delightful.”

The new Warlord of the Sea could feel the difference in power in his former opponent. He could see the muscles born of years of holding a sword in the redhead’s forearms while he carried two heaping mugs, invading his table again after four years. 

Mihawk could see the dim light of this sticky tavern glinting off of that lovely sword.

“I prefer wine,” he drawled, returning his gaze to his book while he tried to catch the man’s heartbeat over the noise. He’d have to get closer for that, but it was an unnecessary risk.

That sword deserved a true fight. 

“More for me then,” Shanks shrugged, gulping down one of the beers while his enemy sighed.

“If you’re not serious about challenging me, then kindly leave me to my reading.”

Shanks reached for the hand that held the book, but it withdrew so fast, danger in those golden eyes now as they narrowed on him. 

“There’s the monster I remember," Shanks raised his mug, drinking in the sight before him. 

Dracule Mihawk pulled his feet down from the table, and set his book aside, never taking his eyes off the pirate. Adjusting his jacket looked like an instinctual habit, the maroon fabric and floral patterns seeming out of place on a killer’s skin. 

“Do you shave your sideburns all pointy like that, or–”

“Are you suicidal, rookie?”

“What do you care,” Shanks scoffed. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to. “You’ve been looking forward to killing me, haven’t you? And I don’t see any blood on that big sword of yours, so you must be bored here.”

Mihawk wanted to stay bored, but this pretty pirate, and his ugly hat were getting on his nerves. 

“I’m sure one of the local drunkards could grant your death wish in a back alley brawl. I don’t need to dirty my blade on weak blood like yours.”

Oh, but he wanted to. 

And the red haired captain could see it. Just the slightest curve of those cruel lips, a faint intake of breath when he stretched his arms above his head, that dangerous gaze caught on every mark of training on his body. 

Shanks was fucking high on it, and he wasn’t going to let it end so soon.

“I’m here to challenge you, Hawk Eye Mihawk,” he smirked, finally free of thoughts as thrills shot through him. “I’m here to end you.” 

“You’re here to try.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

It’s okay. You’re okay.

Soothing words were bad.

Not real. It’s all pretend. 

Uncle Cedrick was talking again, lording over the lunch that had been laid out along the beach today. 

The beach where you’d begged him to touch you last night. 

Not real. 

Nothing matters. 

Fake is fine.

Not real. Can’t feel. 

“Come now, niece, don’t keep the hunters waiting!”

He handed you bit of cloth, and you had no idea what the fuck to do with it. Reality reformed around you, and you found your suitors lined up on the sand, watching your every movement. 

You held up the flag and dropped it down, grateful that you’d guessed right when most of the men started running toward the waves. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” came a deep, deep voice that almost pulled you free. 

“Hi, uh… Hello, Katakuri,” you shook beneath his gaze.

Oh yeah. Maybe this gentle giant will crush me to death tonight. That might make things easier.

“I was hoping that since it’s our night tonight, I might be able to sit with you today?”

“There’s no rule against it,” your uncle shrugged, snagging his drink to raise it toward the crimson haired man above. “Don’t ignore your other suitors though, niece. They’re putting in a lot of work to win you today.”

The portable screen that had been set up between some of the larger vehicles caught your eye. It showed Giberson lounging with a cocktail, sticking his pasty toes in the sand while he waved at the younger men running past.

Thankfully, the cam snails shifted their focus to your other suitors, their powerful bodies gleaming while most of them tore their shirts off before diving into the waves.

It was hard to enjoy the view with that glaring, red hair always hogging the screen. 

I bet he’s a fan favorite, that fucking—“

“Do you like sweets, Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked, head twisting to meet those stunning eyes. 

“I’ve noticed that you don’t seem to like the food they’ve been serving here, and since I was hoping to make something with you during our date tonight, I want to be sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Katakuri was shielding his eyes from the sun to look down at you, and you felt a stupid bit of guilt for ignoring this seemingly sweet man that came here to own you. 

“I love sweets, I’ve just been so nervous,” came another lie that was true. “It’s hard to eat when I’m nervous, but if you promise to share with me, then I can’t wait to—”

“Well, Emperor, that’s not quite what we were looking for,” Uncle Cedrick teased as he followed Shanks back to your table. 

“I found what I was looking for,” he rasped, going to a knee beside you. Your image on the screen held you prisoner, just as he planned to do.

Shanks’ title had never suited him so well. The Emperor of the Sea was drenched, his red hair gone dark, clinging to his face and neck. Drops of the ocean fell from the ends to pour down his body in hypnotizing lines. His chest was almost always bare, but the way his skin glowed under all that salt and sun turned his body into a work of art, something to gaze upon and enjoy, and you fucking hated him for it. 

Monsters should look as ugly as their souls. 

“I realized I didn’t bring you a gift last night, and I had to make it right.”

You heard the sand shifting as Katakuri moved closer, but Shanks held your gaze. 

Those soft, brown eyes held nothing but lies. 

“A beautiful shell for a beautiful girl,” he breathed, wincing slightly when your uncle joked for the crowd, lamenting how “lovey dovey” things might get if all the hunters tried to spoil you. 

You had to accept his gift.

It was a large conch shell, and it was beautiful, with spirals and spikes laid out in gentle colors. 

“Listen to it, Y/N. Can you hear the ocean?”

“I… Yeah, I can,” you nodded, holding the shell up to your ear. Distant music filled your mind, and you shoved the memories down. Luckily, a trail of dripping suitors was headed toward you, and you were grateful for any excuse to stop looking at him. 

You were so fucking close to smashing that spiky shell into his face.

“The deep, blue sea loves its creatures so much that it sends its ears along with them.”

“Uh, thank you? I–“

“And the winner of today’s hunt is Prince Fukaboshi!”

Shanks had no choice but to move when Uncle Cedrick grabbed your elbow to guide you to another small stage, riding it into the air beside you. 

The merman prince looked like the God of the Sea. 

His spotted tail made giant patterns in the sand as he floated toward you, shaking out his light blue hair before you came close to his glinting smile. His teeth.

Shark. He’s like a shark.

“For you, Miss Sylvad. I hope that whatever this treasure is brings you as much pleasure as your company brings me.”

So very carefully, Fukaboshi’s massive fingers placed an ornate wooden chest on the platform in front of you, and a look from your uncle sent you to your knees to open it up.

Salt water and seaweed poured out, sending chills over your skin before you reached inside. The treasure was hard to identify in the soggy container, but soon you held it up for everyone to see. 

Everyone could see you while you stared at the intricate ship in a bottle, your dad’s signature redwood still painted on one of the sails. 

“Thank you for finding this for me, Prince Fukaboshi,” you praised, teetering on the edge of tears again. “I… I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

You hadn’t seen one of his little ships since you’d smashed a few of them to pieces ten years ago. The rest had been hidden away before the spoiled heiress could destroy them all during another tantrum. 

More of dad’s perfect creations that he’d lovingly stuffed into a pretty cage.

The world swerved, and by some miracle, your shaky hands placed the bottle back into the chest, closing the lid with a soft thud.

“Are you feeling well, niece,” Unce Cedrick crooned as he laid his hand on your back, painting the picture of a loving family.

“Yes, uncle, thank you,” came your soft, gracious voice. Your Sylvad smile was the only armor you had against the onslaught of eyes.

“I feel perfect.” 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

It was the perfect fight. The perfect dance.

“Where was this fire back then, Red Hair? This rage?”

“You trying to distract me, Hawk Eyes?”

Shanks pressed all of his weight against that powerful blade, their swords scraping against each other like deadly instruments. Mihawk had that huge weapon tilted down for an attack he couldn’t finish, and the younger pirate laughed as he caged him in against a tree. 

“There’s no need,” Mihawk growled, his body singing with the first true challenge he’d faced in years. “You’re still an overconfident, little boy.”

“Well, this— gods damn it, really,” Shanks groaned, unable to rub the pain off of his face with all of his strength holding his sword against the other. “Aren’t you a fucking swordsman? Head butts don’t seem that honorable.”

“A true fighter knows when to be flexible,” Mihawk taunted, finally slipping from Shanks’ hold. 

Perfect. 

Any of his previous opponents would have been sliced in half by his quick recovery, Yoru gliding through the air like a bird of prey.

Yet this man parried the attack with hardly a second to shift after Mihawk’s escape. 

And he was smiling. 

“I told you we’d be having fun.”

“That’s what you’ve been training for all this time, Red Hair? You’re willing to die for a bit of fun?”

“Aren’t you?”

Their taunts grew breathier as the clash of blades went on, but soon they both carried feral grins, laughing at every near miss. They didn’t notice all the trees they knocked down, or the creatures of the forest that fled into the golden glow of the coming sunset.

This perfect dance had lasted for hours, but it could have been seconds or days to them. 

The dancers lost themselves in the sounds of bodies and blades, in the strength and will of their beautiful enemy, and in the sweat, blood, and dirt that only made them seem more like beasts, hungry for more. 

Until the end. 

“Do it.”

Mihawk couldn’t believe it. 

He’d slipped. Hours and hours of sweat and blood dripping through his fingers made him slip just enough for his enemy to slip through.

I should have wrapped the handle better. 

The swordsman huffed a laugh at his own arrogance. He hadn’t had to worry about sweating through that fabric in years. 

“Laughing in the face of death, huh,” Shanks asked, holding Gryphon to the Warlord’s throat. He’d pinned the man down, his weight pressing his enemy into the rough ground. 

“I’m waiting for death, Red Hair,” he sneered, stretching his neck to give the man a clearer target. “Get on with it.”

“Now why would I wanna do that,” Shanks rasped. The chaos in those pretty eyes was hypnotizing. 

Shame and fury almost broke the man loose, but all he could do was seethe while blood started to trickle down his throat from his movements. 

“If you don’t finish this I’ll—“

“Make a deal with me,” Shanks purred, leaning close to breathe his bargain over those snarling lips. “I want you to live, and get stronger, so we can have even more fun next time.”

“If you don’t end this now, I will kill you sl—“

“Slowly, right? Sounds like fun to me.”

He freed the monster, collapsing onto the ground beside him to laugh, and wince with the pain of their dance.

This feels good.

“Tomorrow. You die tomorrow, Red Hair.”

The Warlord felt pathetic spitting the threat from his back, but he tilted his head to find that shiny, bloody smile again. 

“Tomorrow it is,” Shanks agreed, before diving into even more dangerous distractions. “What about tonight, Hawk Eyes? You got any plans?”

“You are truly magnificent, you suicidal fool,” Mihawk laughed, a lovely sound from those cruel lips. The redhead wouldn’t stop beaming at him, and something in him snapped. 

Mihawk couldn’t stop laughing, even through the soreness, even when his ridiculous enemy joined in. 

“What do you say, swordsman, wanna go grab a beer?”

“I prefer wine.”

“Whatever you want, loser—mmnf.”

“I will kill you tomorrow,” Mihawk sneered, rolling to hold Kogatana to that pretty throat.

“Let’s go celebrate your victory then,” Shanks winked, his jaw shifting in playful challenge. “Do you prefer red or— It’s red, isn’t it?”

“So perceptive in your final moments,” Mihawk drawled after too long a pause, but he helped his enemy off the ground. 

He walked beside the man that could have killed him. That should have killed him. 

This isn’t safe. 

Mihawk tried to listen to his instincts, every muscle in his body screaming for him to take down the smiling threat at his side. 

Yet all he could do was follow that red, unable to look at anything else. 

~~~

“What are you doing,” Mihawk growled, shrugging off Shanks’ touch when they entered the tavern.

“Don’t you wanna clean your pretty clothes first,” he teased, before nodding his head toward the hallway he’d tried to pull his enemy down. “My room’s this way, and it’s got a nice bathroom we can use. We look pretty fucked up, Hawk Eyes.”

Shanks leaned in again, his lip scraping through his teeth just a bit. Just enough.

Fuck being safe. 

“Getting cleaned up is going to take awhile,” Mihawk gave in, returning that heated stare. “How many bottles can you carry?”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

Shanks had finally figured it out, but the weight of nausea wouldn’t leave. Buggy knew she’d wanted him, he knew that breathing, but listening to Shanks touch her when he didn’t know how she felt was… 

“You need to get some sleep, little clown. Do you… Did you wanna sleep somewhere else?”

Crocodile tried to sound light, as though he’d be fine with an empty bed knowing that his clown would be whimpering in his sleep like he had every night since she left. There was a growing awkwardness in the air since that private date started, and he didn’t know how to quash it, or if he had any right to.

“No, I don't,” Buggy admitted. That scarred face seemed so careful, as though the man were holding still so he wouldn’t spook him. With a sigh, Buggy knew it was probably true. He let himself be swallowed by that comfortable, deadly warmth again. 

Holding him close, Crocodile fell through his own mind.

At some point, he had lost sight of his goals. The greed of how to reach them made him lose the vision, and ultimately lose it all. How many other things should he have protected instead of destroyed? How could he ever balance the scales with those he wanted to keep?

“Hey, boss,” Buggy cleared his throat, lips twitching nervously when he turned to look at that frightening face, unreadable as stone. The tension in his body was pretty readable though, and it didn’t seem like either of them would be falling asleep anytime soon.

“I know it’s late, but do you, uh… wanna call him?”

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

They set their swords down. 

Mihawk had almost walked away, but Shanks tossed his sword out of reach first before backing into the bathroom with a crooked grin, and an open bottle of wine in each hand. 

“You comin’?”

The Warlord followed, not knowing if he could see the other man as anything but an enemy, even for a night. 

The bottle of red helped. 

“Here, let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve— fu-uck!”

An absurdly large splinter had pierced into Mihawk’s lower back sometime during the fight, and although the two men had been staring at each other while they showered, they hadn’t touched until Shanks saw him struggling with that invasive bit of wood. 

“This little thing hurt that bad, huh,” Shanks teased as he tossed the splinter, reaching for the first aid supplies the bartender had shoved at them when they walked in dripping with blood. 

He soaked a swab in alcohol, and pressed it to the small wound before the swordsman could dodge him, and the desperate noise he let out made Shanks’ jaw drop. 

Mihawk turned away, grabbing a towel to tie down his body's reaction before leaving the redhead in the bathroom with his mouth still hanging wide. 

“I’ve got some extra pants you can—“

“I’m not wearing your ugly pants. They look like an old lady’s couch.”

Shanks snorted, admiring the sulking Warlord that was cleaning his already clean blade. 

“No pants then. I can live with that.”

“Is this what you wanted all along, Red Hair? I would have have fucked you on the tavern table if you’d just asked nicely.”

Shanks had left his towel in the bathroom, and his body’s reaction to those words was on full display while he leaned against the doorframe. 

“I don’t think losers get to be on top, Hawk Eyes.”

Rage was back. 

“And I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow to kill you.”

“Come on, friend,” Shanks dared, taking another swig while the hissing monster held that tiny blade to his throat again. “Let’s have some more fun.”

Who moved first? Neither could tell, but however it started, nothing in the world could stop them now. 

That kiss between rivals sparked another dance that would last for hours. 

Another fight that left them snarling and breathless, throwing taunts back and forth while they tore each other apart. 

Another battle of strength and will to see which man would fall to the other. 

“You truly believe you can take me,” Mihawk laughed, shoving his opponent against the wall hard enough for the wood to groan, and the dust to shake loose from the shelves beside them. 

“I believe you want me to,” the redhead taunted. It felt so good to be lost. “You keep hunting for someone who can. I bet you’re just dying to get fucked into the ground, aren’t you? Want me to hurt you?”

He fisted into that soft, black hair, yanking the man’s head back. That pathetic moan was music to his ears, and his cock was dripping with the need to shove it into the swordsman already. 

“And what about you,” Mihawk growled. He grabbed onto Shanks’ pulsing cock, and laughed when his knees nearly buckled. “You’re so obsessed with fighting me, trying so hard to fuck me. Willing to die for some fun? I’ve never met such a desperate whore.”

And they were kissing again, with Mihawk laughing into Shanks’ mouth while his cruel fingers made his enemy whine.

“Gods, if you’re gonna be such a sore loser, I guess you can take the win,” caved the redhead, breathless and aching to let this man clear his mind for as long as he could. He stumbled over to his bag, and tossed his rival a bottle of lube.

“Knew this was what you wanted,” Mihawk purred, already fisting the cool liquid over his swollen cock before bringing the bottle to his opponent’s waiting body. “You even came prepared.”

“Never know who you might run into at a— ooh, f-fuck. Mm, you’re so good at that.”

Mihawk smirked while his fingers tore so many noises from this gorgeous man, adding and stretching while he taunted him.

“I’ve never fucked someone I planned to kill the next day,” he threatened. That tiny smirk on the redhead’s lips was a challenge, and he needed to make this smug, little pirate beg.

Gods, he’s so pretty. He—

Shanks’ eyes rolled back, whatever he’d planned to say disappearing when the swordsman pierced him. Rough, angry, owning. Exactly what he needed.

“Hawk Eye— Hawk. Fuuck, you feel so fucking good, baby.”

“This it, huh,” he snarled, shoving Shanks’ thigh toward him with one hand, and grabbing that whining throat with the other. “Are you a little toy made just for me? Following me around until I sink my blade in you?”

Oh, those golden eyes. Shanks could have died right then, letting this man have him, but he didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want him to leave. 

And he just couldn’t help himself.

Mihawk had never made that sound before. He had his prey beneath him, flushed and desperate, those soft, brown eyes almost broken. 

Then there was pain.

He didn’t know what was happening until he saw that fucking smirk, but it was too late.

Shanks had found that little wound on his back, and dug his nails in. 

He looked so fucking smug before he followed his lover, arching his back while he came across his chest and stomach. It didn’t stop him from making Mihawk twitch and moan with sharp pleasure from the pain he kept twisting into his skin. 

They both whimpered and gasped while Mihawk kept fucking his come even deeper. Shanks’ nails in his skin were the strings of a marionette, controlling him, owning him.

It felt unreal.

The Warlord wanted to be angry, wanted to punish the grinning lover he still pierced, but he couldn’t think. 

Just a little while. A little while longer without thinking, until the enemies were taunting and teasing again, another round of showers to clean a different kind of mess away.

It felt…

It wasn’t safe.

“Where ya going, loser?”

Shanks’ high dropped fast, almost as fast as Mihawk climbed back into his fancy clothes. 

He didn’t want it to end.

“Sleep well, rookie. Tomorrow’s your last day.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

“Can’t sleep without me, clown?”

“No, shithead,” Buggy sneered, and Crocodile’s deep laughter poured through the transponder snail until Mihawk felt an almost smile touch his lips. “You’re an agent now, and we’d like an update.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” he teased, though he felt heavier with every breath. “This very late night update is that I’m floating on the sea.”

“Where did you end up heading first,” Crocodile interrupted Buggy’s grumbles, and his lovely voice sent guilt coursing through Mihawk’s veins.

“With these conditions, I should make it to Majiatsuka by this time tomorrow.”

“That’s the, uh,” Buggy groaned in thought, with the sound of rustling paper accompanying his noises. 

“That’s one of the island kingdoms around Dress Rosa, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Buggy answered Crocodile’s question, while Mihawk stared into nothing. “It’s right here, but that’s– You’re not gonna check out Whole Cake first? And Germa’s creepy boats are parked to the east. Which suitor lives–”

“Mihawk.”

He couldn’t speak.

“What’s wrong,” Buggy asked, quiet after Crocodile’s rage. 

Until he found his own. 

“Are you fucking STUPID? We don’t have a plan! I can’t believe you, you BATSHIT CRAZY fucking asshole. I’m gonna–”

“Explain,” Crocodile ordered, that dangerous purr ending Buggy’s rant. “Why are you going to the estate?”

“I’m going near the estate,” the swordsman cleared his throat, grateful that there was just enough room on his boat to pace. “I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful, but I didn’t quite lie. I’ll still try to gather intel to thin the crowd, bloodlessly if possible.”

“You do realize the sheer amount of manpower between you, right? The fucking surveillance?” Crocodile’s voice was edged with that dangerous disappointment, that waiting rage. “Hells, he probably already knows where you are with how much the Marines–”

“I can’t take it! I can’t take another fucking second of this!”

Nothing but the wind in the sails. 

Nothing but his ragged breathing, and his heart that was too fucking loud.

“Mihawk,” Buggy asked softly. True softness for the man that had tortured him, tormented him, taken and used his lover like a fucking whore. Mihawk couldn’t understand the forgiveness he’d been given.

He didn’t need it anymore.

“I’ll try, I will, I swear,” the swordsman vowed, not sure if he was telling the truth. “But I need her!”

“Little prince–”

“I don’t want to force her. I don't ever want to force her again. I want to respect her wishes, and wait until we know what she needs, what she wants… but I don’t want that. Not really.”

Mihawk gave a hateful laugh, nearly choking on his self loathing, but his rage would stop spilling out.

“I want to go in there, and grab her, and slaughter everyone on that island! I want to kill everyone that’s ever fucking looked at her! I want–”

“Hey, crybaby, you think I don’t fucking want that,” Buggy fumed, death in his voice.

“That’s why I’m doing this,” Mihawk slumped, not knowing when the tears began. “You deserve her. I’ll try not to go in there unless there’s no other way, but I need to be close.”

“What are you talking about,” Crocodile breathed. 

There wasn’t enough room on this boat to have these emotions, and Mihawk had to clench his fists to keep from tearing it to pieces.

“I need her, but I’d rather she hate me than… I’ll be the monster, so you don’t have to. I think I can live with her hate if I know she’s with you. With someone she loves.”

Nothing but the waves. 

“The security is still fucking vicious,” Crocodile rasped, anger draining from his voice. “And with the suitors’ people, and Sylvad’s pet Marines… That’s a lot of armies to fight.”

“I’ll be fine, and she already hates Shanks, so he can do whatever he has to,” Mihawk sighed as visions of violence soothed him. “The two of us should be able to tear the place asunder. The Cross Guild will need to relocate if it comes to that though. Probably disband, and go into hiding. You can take her somewhere. You can take care of her.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not doing this! She wouldn’t want—“

“Buggy, I’ll try to wait,” Mihawk pleaded, surprised that he still wanted permission. “Please, let me be the last resort. Call me if something happens, and I’ll bring her back to you. I’ll be the monster. Let me… please.”

The swordsman could hear his silent clown, those desperate breaths echoing through the night air.

That silence dragged on too long, and he couldn’t get her broken laughter out of his mind. Her uncle’s threats that Buggy had scrawled and crumpled in his rage and despair. The wound she had dealt him when she left. How perfectly cold her eyes had been. 

Until she wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

“I think she was telling the truth,” Buggy whispered, hardly breaking the silence. “She wanted to go, even though... I don’t think she’ll forgive you.” 

“I know. She shouldn’t.”

“Are you trying to be selfish, or selfless, little prince? Because either way, you’re fucking doing it wrong.”

The swordsman let out his own broken laughter, ducking into the small cabin to find a bottle of red. 

“Listen to me, bright eyes,” his business partner urged. “If you need to be out there, then do it, but don’t do this.”

“Don’t drink and sail,” Mihawk asked, popping the cork to pour the fine wine down his throat. 

He didn’t want to taste it. To observe the colors. He didn't want to notice the hint of plums, or the lack of his little bloodhound that he had wanted to taste the world with. 

“No, don’t be a fucking idiot,” Crocodile sighed. “Don’t act like you’ve already lost her. You don’t know what you’ll be able to do yet, or how she’s gonna feel. Our sweet girl is fierce.”

“Of course she is,” Buggy agreed, a steady faith in his voice that Mihawk envied. 

He had changed too late.

“Don’t throw your heart away because you don’t think you deserve it.” 

His scarred lover had touched the truth too close, as though the grief in those words wasn’t just for him. 

“You’re not gonna find a way if you think you’ve already lost, so if you’re gonna do this, then quit fucking around. Find out what our girl wants. Get her back. Convince her to stay.”

“But—“

“And you’re gonna work with us,” Buggy cut in, sounding brighter, his rage shifted back to annoyance. “We’re getting my star back, and I’m not gonna let you take all the credit, asshole.”

The World’s Greatest Swordsman was drifting alone on his one-man boat again. 

Not so alone. 

“You’ll call me if…”

“If we need a monster, you’ll be the first one I’ll call,” his clown promised, bringing a wave of sick relief at the thought. “But this whole sacrificing yourself for our happiness shit is fucking lame. Can you try not to be so dramatic?”

Silence. Nothing but the water. 

Nothing until the laughter started. Warm, deep laughter at their tearful swordsman, and their dramatic clown that joined in with a snort before they all forgot what they were laughing about. 

“I’m sorry I lied, daddy,” Mihawk breathed, suddenly cold at the thought of sleeping. 

“You’ll get your punishment. Just fly back home, little bird.”

“And stop being such a dumbass, please,” Buggy groaned, sounding squished as though a massive arm had curled around him. 

“No promises,” Mihawk laughed, “but I will try… Thank you.”

The Cross Guild said their slow goodnights, leaving the swordsman on that quiet sea.

He drifted alone on his one-man boat, but this time he floated between his distant lovers, knowing that he had always been right. Love isn’t safe. 

Fuck being safe. 

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: So I went a little wild here. Writing Mishanks' backstory felt like utter self indulgence, so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! I love all of our fucked up boys so very much 😭 Who's ready to make some sweets with Katakuri though? 🍩😏

Fic Updates & Extras:

Special thanks to the commenter who referred to Shanks' pants as "grandma couch patterned" a few months ago, it has lived in my brain rent free. I can't find the comment on tumblr or Ao3, but you have my eternal gratitude for making me snort every time I see him and his stupid fucking pants now 😅🙏🏼

I've included a timeline below with OP Canon and Numbers Game events in case y'all would like to see where all the flashbacks line up. I left out any events that gave away the Reader's age for those that don't want to see that, but I'll make a separate post with more details for those that do.

You have no idea how much I reduced this timeline, lol. My actual timeline is full of a ton of canon details since I plan to reuse it for other fics, and I of course left out the Numbers Game spoilers. I only brought this version up to six years before the current time because I'm still cleaning up the rest of my notes, but I'm happy to share more later if you're interested.

I apologize that I don't have the timeline in text format yet. I will be adding that soon since images aren't accessible for everyone. Please let me know if you'd like that so that my adhd brain doesn't forget!!

The vast majority of the canon details were compiled by the sweet, glorious, super heroes at the One Piece Wiki, and The Library of Ohara. I would be lost without them!!!! 🙌😭🙏🏼

I'm basing the Numbers Game geography off of This Map by xads181 on Reddit. It is absolutely stunning, holy wowzers! 😍

Do you know how little fucking time it takes to get between most of these islands? I thought my timeline was going too fast, but Oda really just had them speedrun their adventure while we take 25+ years to watch it. I love him so much 😅💜

Numbers Game Abbreviated Timeline ~ 6-52ish years ago:

I made this timeline using Miro if you're interested. It's got a free or paid version, and it's been helping me so much. (I completely ignore the AI (🤢) and collaborative features, but the mindmapping and such is just so good!) Writing this long of a fic with so much to keep track of was wild in my messy, poorly titled google docs list 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 34

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Can I request something with Daemon and Alicent sister.

She always thought she was second choice to Rhaenyra and tries not to show her sadness but her sons that they have together can see it and ask there father why is there mother second choice. And he finally relises that she feels like second choice.

Happy ending though.

Second Choice || D. Targaryen x Hightower!oc

GIF by @buffysummers DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the request! I added my own little twists to this but it’s still along the lines of your request so I hope you don’t mind! Also this is oc btw, and enjoy!! also this is a long one! ALSO MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE IT <33 i live in aus so xmas is today!

warning: big age gap, oc starts of as 15 in the beginning and is 18 in the end, otto gaslighting and being manipulative

“You will marry the Prince” Otto had his back turned to his daughter. Leyla’s eyes widen at her father’s words, she looks to her older sister Alicent who wears a sad expression on her face.

“But father- he’s nearly three times my age! Why must I marry him” She pleads, she had no feelings for Daemon. And the terrible stories she had heard about him made her avoid him even more.

“Because you are my youngest child, I want you to live in royalty. The Prince has his eyes on the Princess but the King would never allow it-“ Leyla scoffed. “So you force me to marry him so that the King would thank you?! Do you love the power you have so much? So much that you would marry me off to that vile man!” She yelled, infuriated at her father.

“Do you have no respect child!” Both Leyla and Alicent flinch at the sound of everything on the table being pushed to the ground. “I am doing you good by marrying you to Daemon. You will have a high spot in court and you will, without a doubt live in luxury. Your children would be of royalty” Otto steps closer to Leyla, taking her face in his hands in a rough manner.

“You will give him children. You will marry him. Do you hear me” He yells the last bit as he shakes her, her jaw clenching as tears form in her eyes. Leyla pushes herself off of him as he leaves the room.

“I am so sorry sister” Alicent quietly says before giving her a sympathetic look and leaving the room. Leyla stood there for god knows how long, her mind clouded with thoughts.

She was only 15, how could her father marry her off to a man nearly three times her age and bear his children? Leyla knew there was nothing that could be done to get out of this so instead, she held a strong front.

~

She laid motionless on the bed. Her whole body was aching, particularly her womanhood. “You did well, sweet child” Daemon kissed her cheek before he laid beside her. “Did you enjoy the show my lords?” He called out in a humorous manner as they stayed silent, Alicent only coughing before they all left the room.

Embarrassed, Leyla turned on her side, her naked back facing Daemon. She felt so many things at that moment. She did not expect to lose her maidenhood so early and to a man that she did not love.

Daemon turns his head to only see the back of his wife’s head. He too did not love Leyla, his eyes were on someone else. He did not know her very well, only that she was the youngest offspring of that cunt, Otto.

But nonetheless, he refused to treat Leyla in an ill manner. Throughout their very short courtship, he had grown to be protective of her, he didn’t understand why, maybe because it was the fact that he was nearly three times older than the girl.

He nearly choked the old fool who offered his youngest daughter to him. He couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes when he heard the offer and her age. Daemon knew that they were doing this so that he couldn’t marry Rhaenyra. Pathetic really, he thought.

~

Leyla smiled at Daemon as he places his hand atop her swollen belly, caressing it slowly before taking her hand off of his to place a gentle kiss on it. “How is the pregnancy going Lady Leyla?” Viserys looks up from his plate sending her a smile.

She grins back as Daemon and her look at each other before she replies, “Very well your Grace, though she’s been quite active recently, kicking and moving around constantly” Leyla says as they all chuckle. “A true Targaryen she is” Daemon adds with a huge grin.

“She?” Rhaenyra asks as she looks at the two across from her. Leyla awkwardly lookd at her, a tight smile on her lips. It has always been quite awkward around Rhaenyra. Ever since Leyla and Daemon married, there had been an awkward atmosphere around.

“Yes Princess, Daemon is adamant that the babe is a girl” Leyla squeezes his hand as she nods with a smile before looking at Daemon, something only Leyla notices. She watches Daemon from the corner of her eye as he looks at Rhaenyra, a subtle smile on his lips before he looks back down to his plate.

“Princess,” Ser Criston calls out from the door, without uttering another word, Viserys gives Rhaenyra a smile and nods his head as she stands up. “Please excuse me” She says before leaving the room.

“I do hope that you are able to attend the wedding then, hopefully you won’t be in labour” Leyla’s sister looks up to her as she nods, “What wedding?” Daemon questioned, raising an eyebrow at his sister-in-law.

“Rhaenyra’s wedding to Prince Laenor, husband” Leyla placed her hand on top of his to which he shoves it off, “Rhaenyra is marrying and no one has told me?” Daemon says frustratedly, banging the table making everyone jump.

“Well I was going tell you-“ Leyla was interrupted once Daemon sat up from his seat making it fall to the ground. “Daemon-“ Leyla tried but she was turned down, “Don’t.” He glares at her as she looks at him in bewilderment.

Her eyes followed his figure leave the room, the door closing with a loud slam. Leyla sighed in defeat, massaging her forehead with her fingers. “Excuse me your Grace” She apologetically smiles and leaves the room to find her husband.

“Daemon?” Leyla slowly opened the door to their shared bedchambers. She stepped in seeing Daemon sat on a chair infront of the firepit. Her feet move to the chair, her hands placing themselves on his tense shoulders.

“Were you going to tell me or did I have to wait until the day she marries him” He mutters, “I was going to tell you okay? I-It just slipped out of my head” She sighed,!moving infront of him.

Leyla could see his feature’s immediately softening when he looks at her. He looks at her swollen belly before grinning up at her, Daemon takes her hands in his moving her closer to him as he gently leans his head on her belly.

She liked to think that he was over Rhaenyra—even the slightest bit over her—ever since they found out they were expecting a child. And during those months together, Leyla was undeniably falling for Daemon.

“Why do you worry about it so much, my love?” Leyla says in a hushed voice, careful to not anger him, Daemon only ignores her, placing kisses on her covered belly. Leyla sighs in defeat, running her hands through his hair.

~

3 years later….

“Mumma!” Alyssa, Leyla’s eldest child, ran up to her on the bed, followed by Baelon, the second oldest. She jumped onto the bed making Leyla giggle. “Careful Alyssa” Daemon warned as he lifts Baelon onto the bed.

He places a kiss on Leyla’s forehead before nestling himself beside her who was holding their third child in her arms. “Meet your baby brother” Leyla smiled at her children as they move closer to look at him.

“You are amazing, sweetling” He whispered against her hair, she tiredly smiles before leaning her head on his chest. A knock at the door makes the couple pause.

The handmaiden rushes to the door, the handmaiden curtsying before letting out a quiet “Princess”. Leyla slightly leaned up, wondering why Rhaenyra was here.

“Who is it?” Daemon calls out, his gaze on the child in Leyla’s arms. “Princess Rhaenyra, my Prince” She replied. Leyla felt his body slightly shift. She watched as he gazes at her intensely.

“Uncle, Lady Leyla” Rhaenyra smiled as she steps closer to the family. “Princess” Leyla politely bows her head as Daemon’s eyes still fixate themselves on her. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Leyla speaks up.

“I just arrived this morning for a visit when I heard you gave birth to your third child, I wanted to know how you were” She smiles as she looks to Daemon, then to her, then to the child in Leyla’s arms.

“That is very kind of you, Princess, isn’t it Husband?” Leyla turns her head to look at Daemon. He still had his eyes on Rhaenyra with a subtle smile. And that was when it hit her, the reality that Daemon still had feelings for Rhaenyra.

~

1 year later…

Ever since Rhaenyra moved back to the castle, the same tension that Leyla felt nearly 4 years ago was back, more than ever. She couldn’t help but notice the subtle looks they would exchange whenever they were in the same room.

Or how Daemon would never be paying attention to her or their children whenever Rhaenyra was close by. At one point, their youngest son who had just started to walk, Aegon, was one step away from falling down the stairs. That night, the two had a huge argument, the room was left in pieces.

Leyla watched with a sadden gaze as her husband dances with his niece. It was her sister’s name day. She had Aegon on her lap, bouncing him to usher his cries. Alyssa and Baelon to her left playing with their wet nurse.

Daemon was still so sweet and caring to Leyla but she could feel it deep inside. The feeling that she would always be second choice to Rhaenyra. She tried accepting it, she really did, she knew that he married her when he was inlove with another.

But in those 4 years, she liked to think he loved her. She gave him everything, her childhood, her maidenhood, children, her nonstop love and care, but sometimes she felt as if it was going all to waste.

Leyla couldn’t bare watching the two dance knowing that there was—or still is—something between the two. Leyla raised her hand to beckon the wet nurse. “Take Aegon to the children so that they may play together” She smiles to the women. “Of course, my lady”

She stood from her seat walking towards her sister. “I apologise sister, I feel as if I should retire to my bedchambers” She says to her, kissing her cheek as Alicent smiles. “Of course, rest up well” She holds her hand as Leyla nods walking to her three children.

“I am going to go rest my darlings, Alyssa, take care of your brothers for me” Leyla kisses their foreheads as she stands and leaves the bustling room. God was Leyla tired. Mentally and physically drained.

She had no rest. The last 4 years was nothing but Leyla going through another pregnancy. She was only 18 and she already has three children—4 maybe because she hadn’t bled in a month—but nonetheless she loved her children very much.

When she arrived at her bedchambers, she immediately laid herself on the bed. A loud sigh leaves her lips, before she could even close her eyes to get some much needed sleep, a knock erupts from the door.

Groaning, she takes heavy footsteps to the door. Opening it, she was surprised to see her father. “Father-“ “What are you doing here? You should be celebrating with your sister” He utters as he invites himself in.

“I’m not feeling well, I already told his Grace and Alicent” She mutters as Otto turns to her, “Are you expecting again? The handmaidens have told me you haven’t bled this month-“ “Why are you associating yourself with my handmaidens father? Are you that interested in my life” Leyla scoffs.

Otto slightly smiles, “Just making sure my daughter is being a dutiful wife and producing the Prince heirs, that is all” He shrugs. This made Leyla absolutely fume.

Grabbing the closest vase, she throws it on the ground, shards flying everywhere. “Is that what you think I am? A pawn?Someone who can just pop out babies for the Prince!” She yells, “I have wasted my childhood on the birthing bed! Because of you and your stupid arrangement for me to marry Daemon, he doesn’t even love me!”

“Why would you do that to me! I was only 15…” Leyla sobbed, her legs giving up on her as she released all her pent up emotions. What surprised her was the feeling of her father’s arms wrapped around her shaking body. “Silly girl, love doesn’t exist in arranged marriages”

“This was what you were made to do, my dear. Produce heirs, be married off to a noble man, in this case, married to a Prince and producing royalty. You are giving our family, our house, great honour” He says as Leyla listens.

“Get out” She quietly says, “I’m sorry?” Otto says confused, “I said, get out!” Leyla raises her voice as she shrugs his hands off of her. “Get out now!” She screams, her face red from all the crying.

Otto chuckles, “You should be thanking me, my child. I have built this for you, this extravagant life you have and for your children-“ “Get the fuck out of my chambers father” She loudly says, fed up with all his words that tried to give her some sort of comfort and reassurance that this what all she was made to do, produce heirs.

~

“Darlings, where’s mother?” Daemon had finished dancing with his niece and searched for his wife, but she was nowhere to be found. He sat down on the ground with his three children, something that made the nearby lady and lords gossip.

“Alyssa?” Daemon questions, taking baby Aegon from the arms of the wet nurse. “Mumma is not feeling well, she’s resting in her room” The little girl responds, her attention still on the toys.

Daemon looks towards their wet nurse who briefly nods in confirmation. He was worried for Leyla, she had been feeling more tired and was quiet in the past few weeks.

He knocks on the door, “Darling, it’s me” He waits for a few minutes before he could hear Leyla’s footsteps approaching. “Are you-“ He cut off mid sentence when he saw her face. Red eyes and wet cheeks.

Daemon furrows his eyebrows before stepping in and wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she sniffles. “What happened? Are you okay?” He says, concern in his voice as he cups his lover’s cheeks in his big hands.

Leyla says nothing, keeping her gaze on the floor before taking his hands off of her face. This made Daemon even more confused, she would usually cave in and tell him what bothered her. “Leyla?” He quietly calls out as she makes her way to the balcony.

Daemon follows her outside where they both lean against the railing in silence, overlooking King’s Landing. “What’s bothering you, my love?” He says softly, his face turned to her as he waits patiently for her response.

“Did you enjoy your dance with Rhaenyra?” She quietly says, catching Daemon off guard with the sudden topic of Rhaenyra. “Yes, I was going to ask to ask you for a dance but-“ Leyla laughs at this.

“I am so stupid,” She groans as Daemon looks at her confused, “I was right all along” A scoff emits from her lips as Daemon takes ahold of her forearm. “Right about what Leyla?”

“Right about the fact that I am and will always be the second choice to Rhaenyra!” She bursts out, “What?” Daemon furrows his eyebrow, confused.

“You still love her don’t you? I can see it! The way you treat me and your own children Daemon! I-I thought that finally after all those years of me giving you my everything, you would love me back” She ranted as Daemon quietly listens.

“Are you done?” He mutters, Leyla looks at him, “What?” “I said, are you done?” Daemon says a bit louder. “Who is married to me, mother to my children, Leyla?” He asks.

She was confused at the sudden questions, “Me?” “Exactly, and who do I love?” Leyla ponders for a minute, “Rhaenyra.” She deadpan says, a small giggle leaving her lips soon after, her anger leaving her slowly.

Daemon chuckles too, turning his body towards her, he pulls her hand before wrapping themselves around his torso. “You, silly. I love you and I love our beautiful children, not Rhaenyra.” He clarifies, looking down at her.

“But-“ “When I look at her, I laugh at myself thinking how much of an idiot I was trying to chase her when I realised the only person I love was right infront of me. Thank you for everything you have given me” He smiles, kissing her forehead as Leyla listens intently.

“Though I would like to choke your cunt of a father for giving you to me at such a young age” Daemon mutters under his breath as Leyla laughs.

“Your are my wife, mother to our children. You will always be my first choice, Leyla.” This brought comfort to her, her lover finally reassuring that she was not second choice, “You will always be the most important person to me” Daemon squeezes Leyla as he brings his face down to hers for a kiss.

Their lips touch and all of Leyla’s pent up emotions and worries left her. She hummed in the kiss, the feeling never boring her. The two pull away when they hear the door suddenly opening.

Alyssa and Baelon came running in searching them before spotting the two on the balcony. “Alyssa, Baelon, come back here!” The poor women ran in out of breath, Aegon in her arms. She finally looks to Leyla and Daemon before curtsying, “My apologies my Prince, my Lady, they insisted on coming to see you” She sheepishly says.

Leyla and Daemon look at each other before letting out giggles. “It is alright, go rest, We’d like to spend time with our children” Leyla smiles at the women as Alyssa and Baelon cling to her dress. She engulfs the two in a hug as Daemon walks to the women to take Aegon.

Aegon cooed once in his father’s arms as Daemon smiles at the boy, “Looks quite like me doesn’t he?” He cheekily says as Aegon gently touches Daemon’s face with his small hands. “You wish, I think he looks awfully quite like me, disregarding the blonde hair” Leyla replies as she starts playing with Alyssa and Baelon.

Soon enough, Daemon sits beside Leyla, Aegon on his feet as he stands in between Daemon’s legs, holding his thigh for support. Leyla watched the scene infront of her, the children happily playing and Daemon infatuated with Aegon who was babbling.

Daemon takes Leyla’s hand bringing it closer to his lips. Placing a soft kiss on it, he speaks, “I love you, so so much” He murmurs against her soft hand as Leyla smiles. She was happy and content with what she had. “Daemon?” Leyla starts, “Hmm?” Daemon hums, busy with peppering your hand with kisses. “I’m pregnant.”

[dokoni-mo]

Crave: Part Three || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: Your first time with him.

NSFW // smut

word count: 8,088

warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 20 while William is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, allusions to dysfunctional parent-child relationships, talks of divorce and custody battles, smoking, will is a bit delusional, will has scars, corruption kink, usage of pet names, Will is a bit of a creep, obsessive behavior like REALLY obsessive, and possessive, sensual touching, swearing, Michael is briefly in this too, kissing, brief and faint sir kink, breeding kink, aftercare, also yandere vibes for a very little tiny bit, praise, body worship, fingering, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, dom/sub undertones, general smut lol

minors dni // please read warnings!!

a/n: omg omg my first fic back!! I had to polish off the rust (esp with writing smut) but i got so many requests for part three of this I just had to!! anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Ive tagged a few people whom I thought would like to read this, but if you'd like me to not tag you pls let me know! enjoy! (also just a little disclaimer, i do NOT condone this type of relationship irl!! this is just my take on being with Willy)

part one // part two // part four

~~

William could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembered it as plain as day and recounted it often.

In fact, it was probably one of the most solidified memories in his mind. Even more so than the birth of his children, or even the day he married his ex-wife. He could recall every single little detail; what clothes you and him wore, what you smelled like that day, how you styled your hair. Every last little bit, he remembered. The first meeting is always important, yes. But this one was much more important to William. In a way in which he doubted anyone but you would understand.

For it was the first time in nearly all his life that William wasn't faking.

From very early on, William knew he wasn't normal. Or, at the very least, what everyone else deemed as normal. Even as a boy, William was hard to excite, or even get some sort of reaction out of. Toys, games, new friends, holidays; none of it was ever appealing to him. He found it all boring. It caused his mother great worry too. William could see the way she looked at him. Even as a boy, he knew what that look meant.

Perhaps that's why he began to lash out in his early years. That's why he was labeled a "problem child".

William had thought that if conventional means of joy and excitement couldn't elicit a response out of him, perhaps other means would. Lying, cheating, getting into trouble. It had some effect, he had to admit. The thrill of it all. He had gotten pretty good at not being caught, too. But, of course he would slip up some times. That's when the trouble arose. William was emotive, at last, sure. But no one liked it. At least, no one liked how it came about. His mother often scolded him. Teachers too. And, if William had a father that gave two shits, he was sure he would've received punishment from the man as well.

It was confusing. Terribly, terribly confusing. Couldn't he finally be happy doing what he loved? That's all his mother wanted, wasn't it? What everyone else wanted, too? For William to find himself, and be emotive?

Then why were they mad at him. Every. Single. Time.

It was frustrating. And, the more frustrated William grew, the more he acted out.

It was a balancing match made in hell. And William grew tired of it all. William accepted that in order for him to have peace, he must comply. Mr. Afton would have to wear a mask of his own face, and be what everyone wanted him to be.

Charming. Handsome. Intelligent. Charismatic. Great husband. Better father. Businessman. Inventor. Successful. Approachable.

William played these charades for nearly 40 years now. Enough to where the lines on his face grew deeper, and the roots of his hair turned grey. He played it through the unpleasant surprise that was his eldest, Michael. Then again at his wedding to that bitch Clara. Again though Elizabeth and Evan's births. Then continued after the divorce. And on through the custody battle. And on and on all the way to now.

Every. Single. Day. For 40 years.

William was tired of it but found no avenue to stop. If he dropped the act now, he couldn't even imagine the headache that would be the fallout of it all.

He had to keep it up. He had to. This was the life he made for himself. He made his bed long ago, and now he had to sleep in it. William was in a prison of his own making. That no one even knew was constructed. He hated that he got Michael out of all of his kids. He hated his business. He hated his neighbors. He hated his friends that weren't Henry. He hated his fancy house, expensive car, and clothes.

This life was his fate, and how unfortunate he was.

Or so he thought.

He didn't want to pay for Michael's college. William would never admit it out loud, but he thought that boy trying to make something of himself other than a minimum-wage employee was a joke. That's why he forced Michael to pay his own way. In reality, he told Michael it was to "make him more of a man", but William knew his son saw right through it. Michael could be smart, sometimes.

Sometimes.

Because Michael was, in fact, a minimum-wage employee at his father's diner, the young man couldn't afford much else than the local community college. Not that that was a bad thing to the young man; Michael didn't care that much. William wouldn't have cared either way, but Michael's compliance made things easier. And, being around other people his age, Michael was out of the house more often. This meant less fights that William would have to deal with weekly. It was a win-win all around.

And, when Michael was home, he would often be accompanied by one or two of his friends. William didn't mind, as long as his house was kept tidy, and no one made too much noise. Any distraction that would take his idiot of a son away from him was welcome.

If William was around when Michael showed up with a friend, William was polite enough to them. A smile and a how are you, perhaps even a question or two. Just small talk, enough to keep up his façade of good dad, better person.

That was until, years into his university, Michael brought you over.

William was in his house that day, doing paperwork at the kitchen table with a cigarette pluming smoke in the ashtray nearby. The Diner was closed whilst the state was doing their bi-annual health inspection. While Mr. Afton preferred to keep himself occupied to his workshop in the basement, he thought that perhaps a change of scenery could do him some good. Smoking in the basement made it stuffy down there, anyway.

He would later be so, so grateful for this decision.

From the opposite end of the house, William heard Michael's keys in the door, twisting the lock to let the young man in. Listening a second longer, William could discern two sets of feet walking along the wooden lining of his foyer, along with two hushed whispers bantering amongst themselves.

Mr. Afton breathed a quiet sigh through his nose.

Great. Michael was home. And dragged some other runt along the way.

William knew that in order to reach Michael's room, his son and his friend would have to go upstairs. And, much to William's dismay, the entrance to the stairs was positioned in such a way that his son and his friend would have to go through the kitchen.

Great.

Hearing the footsteps grow closer and the whispers louder, Mr. Afton leaned back in his chair, tamping out his cigarette in the process. Grey eyes situated on the paperwork in front of him, William put on his well-rehearsed soft, friendly smile, waiting for his son to show himself.

Michael was the first to round the corner, the care-free smile slowly fading off the young man's face as he saw his father sitting in the kitchen. Sensing Michael's presence in the doorway, William looked up from his work and to his son, his fake smile growing to make up for the disgust he felt.

"Dad..." Michael groaned, "What are you doing here? I thought you had work today..."

William chuckled, "Michael, I told you this morning. Inspection, remember?"

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed, looking around the corner of the door and saying a few more hushed words. Whoever his son's friend was, they must be shy. William couldn't blame them too much. Mr. Afton was probably the most popular guy in town these days, with the amount of business the Diner had brought in.

Michael turned his attention back to his father, "I have a friend over. Is that alright? Or are you gonna throw another fit?"

William clenched his jaw, "Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all! Just keep it quiet upstairs, yeah?"

Rolling his eyes again, Michael said a few more words around the corner before making his way to the stairs. William had dropped his gaze for a moment to fill in a few of his signatures. When he sensed that his son's friend had finally shown themselves around the corner, William looked up to give them a friendly smile.

Oh, and there you were.

Adorable, precious, beautiful, darling you.

The world around him seemed to fade away when William laid his pale grey eyes on you for the first time. Instantly, he knew you were the single most breathtaking creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You put his ex-wife to shame ten times over. A hundred times, even. All of his past flings as well. They were nothing compared to you.

You were a timid little thing. William could tell by the pink on your cheeks and your hands clasped in front of you. You had a small, soft little smile; your lips so perfectly round and plump. The way your hair had framed your face made you look as if you were hung in the Louvre itself. Your eyes were kind, looking at the older man with a warmth William didn't know possible. Genuine warmth, too.

The way you looked at him. The way you carried yourself. The way you smelled, even halfway across the room. The way you smiled. The way those clothes hugged you in all the right places. The way your body curved and bent...

William swallowed the saliva building up the back of his throat. Without noticing, his lips had begun to part, but he was quick to fix it with a smile.

You gave Mr. Afton a tiny little wave as you shuffled awkwardly towards the stairs behind his son, your voice barely above a peep.

"Hi, Mr. Afton." You had said, "Sorry to interrupt you..."

Shit. Your little voice saying his name like that. It matched you so well.

William's smile grew as he leaned forward in his chair, setting his paperwork to the side.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, love." He said in his thickly accented voice, "At least you're getting that one out of my hair for a while, yeah?"

William almost never made jokes at the expense of others. At least, not around everyone else. He kept his true feelings in his mind most of the time. He knew most folk wouldn't react too kindly to what he really thought of them. But you...

You didn't seem the type to need such filters. He could see it already. You were the type of person to tell it how it is, and not apologize for it. Just like how he wanted to be.

How interesting.

You let out a little giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. William could feel his jaw clench again. Why were you hiding yourself from him? He wanted to see your smile. Your laugh was so cute, surely your smile is too.

William felt himself still. William wanted to see it. Your smile. That was the first time he had ever wanted someone's smile. And the fact you laughed at his joke about his son...

"Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to, but someone's gotta do it!" You responded with sarcasm, Michael's groan making you giggle to yourself again.

Without even having to force it, William felt a laugh bubble up from the bottom of his chest. He heard it reverberate off the walls of his shiny, sleek kitchen, and it surprised him greatly. Mr. Afton couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to force a laugh. Let alone a smile. All attempts from others just made him cringe on the inside.

Idiots.

Michael had dragged you up the stairs after your little joke, annoyed by the banter between you and his father. William's eyes were fixated on you as you disappeared from sight, watching as your cute little legs carried you up his staircase.

From your height compared to his kitchen counter, William could deduce that you were much shorter than him. If he had to guess, you'd probably only about come up to his shoulder. From the lingering smell in the air too, he could tell that you took good care of yourself. You were clean. Fresh. Supple. And, from the tiny bit of your personality he saw that afternoon, William already knew he liked you. In fact, it was from that moment on that William would think of you.

He encouraged Michael to bring over more friends in hopes that you'd come back. If you weren't in his house, William found himself wondering where you were. What you were up to. What your routine was. What he assumed to be an infatuation quickly grew. He begun to think of you more frequently. When sitting down for a meal, he would wonder if you would like what he had made. William wondered what such a cute little thing like you was doing in this nowhere town. Did you have dreams away from here? Is this were you wanted to be? He had never seen you in his diner before, he was sure of it. He would've surely remembered such a pretty little thing. Although, his diner was the talk of the town. For both adults like yourself and for children. So where were you?

You became illusive to him. You were full of mystery, and he had to know more. It would never be enough. He wanted more. William began drilling Michael about who you were. This was met by some animosity by the young man, but William didn't fucking care. Eventually, when Michael became obsolete of information, William took to other means. He would eavesdrop around the diner on the security cameras, hoping one of the other college kids in there would utter your name. It was slim pickings, but the thrill of it is what got to William.

Every single little thing he learned about you was priceless to him. He committed it all to memory, as if you would vanish if he had not. You were a plague to him. It was your name he thought of first thing in the morning, and it was the last thing he moaned quietly into the night. His fantasies grew dirtier by the day. He had imagined you in oh so many different scenarios. Different positions. Places. Outfits.

Everything about you was perfect to William. From the very top of your head to the very bottom of your feet. You were his soulmate. He just knew it. Every single little thing about you had been crafted just for him. Everything you did, said, perfection. He could be so, so good for you, just as you'd be so good for him. He made more than enough money to spoil you rotten. His house was big enough for you to move in. Not that you'd need the extra space. Of course you'd be sharing a bed with him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Couldn't you see it? How you and him were meant to be? Couldn't you picture your budding life together with him? This is what all those years of suffering were for. To lead him to you. You were his everything. His sun, moon and stars. The oxygen he breathed. The food he ate. The ground he walked on. All of it.

You.

His precious, precious little bunny.

~~

William already knew he loved you. He did, he really did. He didn't have to fake that part about him. Loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. And with you pinned underneath him, Mr. Afton felt as if he was on cloud 9.

Sure, this isn't exactly how he'd plan things to go. He didn't want to have his first time with you on his couch. You were better than that. You deserved all the nice things he had to offer. But William wasn't too sure he could contain himself long enough to carry you to his bedroom. He had already waited so long to have you. Surely you wouldn't mind, right?

You didn't seem to, at the very least. As the man continued to grope and squeeze at your chest, his other hand ripping his tie off, he studied your face carefully. His pale eyes never left your pretty little face, not even for a moment. Your cute little hands were gripping the fabric of his couch, and soft little moans escaped past your puffy lips every so often. Your eyes were focused on his arm rather than his face.

He found this to be a shame. He understood that you were probably embarrassed, perhaps even overwhelmed. This was your first time with him, after all. Oh, but it just wouldn't do, little bunny. He wanted your eyes on him.

Where they should be.

After finally getting his black tie off, William used his free hand to slip underneath your chin, using his pointer finger and thumb to tilt it up towards him. Your glossy doe eyes met his, and he could feel an uncontrollable grin creep across his handsome features.

Just look at you. Not even five minutes in, and already so eager to please him. William could see how much you were enjoying yourself already, the pleasure of it all making the ache in his pants all the more tighter.

Patience, William, patience. The night is still young.

You are something to be savored. Not just a quick fix.

"(Y/N), my darling," Mr. Afton said to you, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks, "keep your eyes on me. I want to see you, love."

William leaned down to kiss you again, feeling how your hands gently found a spot on his chest before he could do so.

"W-wait..." you peeped out, making William still his movements. He pulled away from you for a moment, his smile falling as he looked into your worried eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked, "Please, tell me. Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "N-No! It's just-"

William removed his hands from you, clasping your little fingers around his own, "Please, my bunny. Whatever it is, I'll fix it immediately. Please tell me."

Mr. Afton watched you like a hawk a you looked over your shoulder towards his door, the heat on your cheeks creeping down your pretty little neck at his words.

"It's just..." you whispered to him, "What if Michael walks in on us? He should be back any minute, right?"

Oh, that. The lie he told you. He had forgotten all about that, actually. William was glad you reminded him.

Mr. Afton pressed a small kiss to your fingers to ease your worries.

"Don't worry about him, my love." He said, admiring your features as if they were fine art, "It's all taken care of, I promise. Keep your focus on me, darling. On us. You can do that for me, hm?"

After studying his face for a moment, William watched as you nodded in response, making his smile widen as he kissed your fingers once again.

"Can we maybe just move, erm... this, somewhere else then?" You asked, "Please?"

Oh. So you did mind. William mentally kicked himself. Stupid fool. Of course you would mind. How could he have overlooked that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

William leaned in and kissed your sweet lips one more time.

"Of course, bunny." He whispered to you, finally letting go of your hands. William got off from on top of you and planted his feet on the ground. Once he was secure, he leaned down to you again and slipped you into his strong arms, holding you bridal-style close to his toned chest. He felt his heart swell inside of him as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck, nuzzling your cute face into his neck. Gently, the older man carried you through his house and into his dark bedroom, using one of his legs to push the door open.

Once inside, William gently laid you down on top of his bed, giving you a kiss before leaving breifly to shut his door. After he was sure that it was shut tightly, William turned his attention back to you.

Heat creeped down his face and neck when he saw his precious bunny on top of his bed. Oh, little one. If only you knew how many times he had pictured you there. How many times your name was repeated over and over like a mantra within these very walls. Even with all the fantasies William had played over and over in his mind, none of them compared to the real thing. Just look at you. So so cute.

And just for him.

Walking back over to you, William was sure to drink in the sight of you on his bed, and commit it to memory. His hands on autopilot, William unbuttoned his purple dress-shirt as he neared closer, exposing his chest to you.

You must've felt awkward being the only one with all your clothes still on. He saw how you went to shrug off your jacket, but was quick to stop you as he took his place on top of you once again.

Silly bunny. That was his job.

"Ah, ah, my darling." He whispered to you, gently taking your hands away from yourself, "No need to worry about that. Just let me do all the work, yeah? Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Mr. Afton saw that his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Your eyes weren't on him. Instead, they were lain gently on the expanse of his chest, going up and down over and over. The dim lighting made it a little hard to see exactly, but William knew what you were doing. Ogling him.

William wasn't sure how much harder he could get. Look at you. Precious little you, drooling over his chest. What a good little bunny. That's exactly where your eyes should be, little one. On him. And only him. He only had eyes for you, so wouldn't you do the same for him? Of course you would, bunny, of course. By the end of the night, you will. Mr. Afton is gonna show you so many levels of burning hot pleasure you didn't even know existed. Why? Because you'll be his. His bunny. No one else's. And if anyone dared try take you away, then well-

"How did you get these?" William heard you peep out to him, snapping him out of his trance.

He felt one of your little hands pull out of his grip, and gently trace lines up and down his chest and stomach, earning a shudder out of him. Elation ran through his veins, knowing this was the first time you had ever touched him. Touched a man like that, too. Slowly, whilst coming down from his high, William could recognize the patterns you were tracing.

Ah, yes. Those. He had forgotten about those, too. His scars. He hadn't even remembered to warn you first. He knew that at first glance, they did look rather gnarly.

But, still. You didn't seem to mind. You were his good bunny, after all. Of course you'd be good for him. Love him no matter what he looked like. Just like how he loved you.

While you continued to feel up his chest, William shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. He subsequently leaned down close to you, capturing your lips in another kiss. The following ones trailed down the side of your face and to your exposed neck, earning another whimper of pleasure out of you.

"It's nothing to worry about, love." He whispered to you, pressing more kisses to your skin, "Let's just say the early designs of my spring-lock suits weren't without their... flaws."

"Do they hurt?" You asked him, your little fingers finding a place on his shoulders.

William's breath fanned across your heated skin as he chuckled, "You ask far too many questions, bunny."

William gently bit down against the swell of your neck, earning another gasp out of you.

"Just, relax, little one." He said, his hands slowly working your jacket off of you and discarding it to the floor, "Do you want to stop?"

"N-no! I just..." you trailed off, your voice fading to a whisper "I just want you to be okay."

Mr. Afton picked his gaze up from your neck to look into your eyes, committing to memory the pink on your cheeks. Oh, precious, darling little bunny. If only you knew just how much he loved you. If only you knew just how you made him feel; the gravity of your presence around him.

The older man leaned forward to kiss your neck again, his large hand gently slipping underneath your shirt.

"My darling bunny," William whispered, "you're far too kind. So, so good for me. My bunny. Mine."

The brit's movements begun to get more frantic and passionate as his hand crept up to your chest, groping and squeezing from under your shirt. Your moans became more frequent in conjunction, along with the sheer amount of bruises and marks he was sucking into your soft, warm skin. Your hands found their way across his bare shoulders, one eventually travelling up to tussle into his dark brown hair. William rumbled out a groan from the back of his throat as he continued attacking your neck.

Once he was certain that you'd have plenty of hickeys in the morning, William detached himself from you and sat back slightly. His hand ran further up your chest, pulling your shirt along with it. Once your garment was halfway up your torso, William brought his other large, calloused to the base.

"May I remove this for you, my sweet?" He asked through half-lidded eyes, the tent in his pants growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. His mind told him over and over to just cut to the chase and pound you into the mattress already, but he dismissed the thought. He needed patience. William had waited for this day far too long to piss it away. He wanted to savor it. Stretch it out as long as possible. Not only for his selfish reasons, but for your sake too. You were a virgin, after all. He didn't want to scare you away, oh no. Eventually you'll get the hang of it, anyway. Don't worry about that, little one. William promises to show you how all of it is done. Show you just how amazing he can make you feel, and spoil you rotten in the process. Give you the treatment that only his bunny gets to have.

But, for now, slow and steady it is.

You looked him in his eyes as you gave him a timid nod, making another grin stretch across his face.

"Let me hear your words, darling." He said.

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton. Please... take it off." you responded.

Fucking hell you were so goddamned cute. Sweet bunny if only you knew just how many times he imagined your cute little voice saying those exact words to him. How long he dreamt of it.

Another shudder ran through the man's veins as he pulled your shirt off of you, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.

"Please, love," he whispered, "Call me William."

The tips of his fingers ghosted over the expanse of your chest and stomach, earning a shudder of your own under his touch. Leaning down, the older man pressed more open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest and his hands crept down further, stopping at the hem of your pants.

"Though, if you're up for it," he continued, "I'm quite fond of sir as well."

Before you could babble out any sort of response, William gave a few more open-mouthed kisses to the space right above your pants, your hands finding a home in his hair again. Your soft whimpers underneath the brit made his kisses all the more violent, and his hands all the more wandering. They traveled underneath you, coping a few feels at your butt before slowly trailing down your thighs.

It was getting harder by the second for the brit to control himself. He wanted to go slow, he really did, for you. But he wasn't too sure how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you as his. Here you were, right where he had wanted you for so long. Moaning and whimpering underneath him just like he wanted you to. You were already so good for him, even without him having to coach you on what to do. You truly were made for him.

So, perhaps you would forgive him for picking up the pace a little bit.

Could you do that for him, bunny?

"How about we remove these next, yeah?" He asked you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, his fingers picking at the hem of your pants.

You nodded in response again. Embarrassed and bashful.

Oh, naughty naughty bunny. Didn't he tell you to use your voice?

"Words, darling." He reminded you, his tone soft yet laced with firmness. He didn't want to punish you, no. Not yet, at the very least. It was your first time, and William was a generous man. He could let you off the hook this time, bunny.

This time.

"William, please..." you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Afton had to take a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, a cold, sharp shudder running down his body. Begging him already? Oh, sweet little one, you were made for him. You were you were you were. You were what he was put on this earth for. Not his stupid fucking business, or being a father. No. Not at all. It was for you. He was put on this earth for you. To be your man. To give you every single little thing your precious heart desired. Money. Fame. Love. Pleasure. All of it. All of it for you. And oh did he have plenty to give you. You were his soulmate, he was sure of it. How else could you be here now? How else would he have happened to find you in this small, puny town? Amongst all these fucking idiots? You and him were meant to be, little bunny. Couldn't you see it too? Just look at you. William fits so perfectly on top of you, doesn't he? And you look so adorable underneath him with that blushy face of yours. His sweet little rabbit. His darling beloved. His sweet angel. His treasure. His love. His. His. HIS. HIS. HI-

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Pressing a few more kisses to your belly, he snuck one of his hands down to feel around his crotch. The tips of his fingers were greeted by a small wet patch.

Damn. He really got carried away that time. First on his phone call with you, and again now? Could you notice? No, surely not. It was too dim in his room. His pants were dark too, so that made it all the more unlikely. You probably wouldn't care either way.

He was still plenty hard for you.

Composure, William, composure. Don't ruin all the fun before it even begins.

Making sure to settle down the many thoughts in his head, William gently lifted your legs and cute little butt off of his bed. Slowly, he was able to discard your pants off of you, giving your shins and thighs a few small kisses as his hands returned to the hem of your underwear.

"This too, love?" He asked.

Out of instinct, you nodded again, "Yes, but... what about you?"

William breathed out a chuckle. Silly bunny. Don't tell him you're becoming the impatient one now. As adorable as it was, William had to still go slow on you. Patience, little one.

"That'll be soon, rabbit." He told you, one of his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, "You are a virgin, yes?"

He already knew the answer to that. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yeah, I am... Is that a proble-"

"No, no, little bunny, no." He said in response, gently sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding it on the floor, "I just have to make sure you're prepared. Besides..."

William shifted his weight down so he was face-to-face with your lower half, guiding your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Looking up at you, he pressed his kisses into your soft flesh, throwing in a few bites for good measure as he cupped your heated sex in his palm.

"Your body is so beautiful, my love." He said, "I want to savor every part of you. My needs can come later."

William watched as your whined and squirmed underneath him as his hand made contact with your lower half, his cock aching inside of his pants yet again.

"I will warn you bunny," the brit said, "It may sting a little to start with, yeah? Are you okay with that?"

You swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in the back of your throat, "Y-Yes, that's okay. I trust you."

William let out a satisfied hum, "Good bunny."

Slowly, William trailed his hand downwards, the tip of his middle finger inching close to your hole. Mr. Afton had to swallow the saliva that invaded his mouth at the sight, worried about drooling on you and making a fool of himself. If he could focus, he would be able to tell that his hands were trembling with excitement. Oh if only you knew how long he had dreamed of this day. He was already halfway there. Halfway to making you his. He just had to make sure his precious bunny was ready first.

He didn't want you in any pain when he filled you up with his love.

William gave you a few seconds to get ready before he pushed his finger inside of you, immediately making your back arch and your hands find his shoulders and hair. The grip you had on his grey-brown locks was tight, but compared to the elation he felt while inside of you, it was nothing. A pitiful drop in the bucket of his ecstasy. You were so warm around him. So so warm and tight. A million times better than what his fantasies made him believe. And a trillion times better than those sex toys he bought.

Mr. Afton let his excitement get the better of him just a touch as he begun to pump his long, bony finger in and out of you. His other hand gripped as your thigh, squeezing it as his lips placing gentle kisses on the flesh of it as a form of silent praise.

The noises his finger made going in and out of you were sinful, and echoed off of the walls of his room. Or perhaps, his shared room now. It'd only be a matter of time now before he'd ask you to move in, if all went according to plan. He was pleased to see that you eventually loosened up around his digit and you started to become more comfortable, once all the residual pain had subsided. This is when you started to moan for him. Quiet at first, but gradually got louder and louder as he found the more tender parts of your insides.

William's eyes would often flutter shut as he heard his sweet bunny's sounds underneath him. He was elated that you were enjoying yourself. If William knew he did one thing right in his life, he knew he was pleasing you like you wanted. He could die happy knowing that. That he got one chance with you; got to hear his bunny's sweet songs just once.

But, no, no.

William was a greedy man.

He wanted more.

And he would get more.

"That's it, my beautiful little bunny," he praised you, his deep accented voiced husked with his lust, "Just like that. You're doing so amazing, my darling. So perfect for me..."

William forgot to give you a warning as he inserted another finger into you. But, with the moan that escaped your lips as he did so, he was pleased to see you didn't mind. And, he was even more pleased with the way you found your own rhythm with his fingers, helping him to finger-fuck you all the better.

"Ah- Ahh! Oh my god, Mr. A-Af- William..!" you cried out to him, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as he found the most tender part of your insides.

You were playing with fire, little one. Did you want him to have another accident?

"Oh, my sweet bunny," he groaned, trying to shift his weight to relieve some pressure off of his crotch, "yeah, that's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, love. Make them for me."

"W-William, I-I feel-"

"Shh, my darling, it's alright. Let it happen. Make a mess all over me, my love. I want you to. I want it, bunny. Cum all over my fingers, goregous. Don't dare hold back on me. So, so good... my precious bunny. My bunny."

The pace of William's fingers quickened the more he said, until he felt you spasm around you and a flurry of moans escaped your lips.

He did it.

He finally did it.

William has waited for so long, and he had finally done it.

Halfway there.

Halfway to go.

Mr. Afton helped you to ride out your orgasm by pressing his fingers into you a few more times. Once you had settled down, and your moans had turned into soft, breathy pants, William took his fingers out of you, pressing reassuring kisses into the plush of your thighs.

"So good, little one," he whispered to you, "You did so well, my love. Perfect, absolutely perfect."

After a few more kisses, to allow you to catch your breath, William sat up again on his knees, looking down at your sweat-gleamed, adorable little face. You were still breathing pretty hard as his hands found his belt buckle, the clink of the metal making you look up at him again.

"William... please, I need you so bad..." you breathed.

Mr. Afton's breath hitched in his throat, "I know, love, I know. And you'll have me. You've been such a good bunny for me... 'Gonna make you feel so good, my adorable little rabbit."

A rush of relief washed over William as his belt was shed to the floor, along with his sleek black trousers, making him groan. He watched as you little eyes kept flickering between his tented crotch and his face, not sure of where to look to be polite.

Silly bunny. You were allowed to look anywhere you wanted.

As William finally was able to pull off his boxers, he breathed a sigh of relief. His cock had been aching for what felt like hours now, and he was finally able to give it some relief. He could feel how he throbbed against the cold air of his room as he looked down at you once again, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

William knew he was a well-endowed man. Hell, that's probably why he was so popular to begin with, at least amongst the women. None of that ever mattered to him before. He didn't care. Yeah, he had a big dick. So what?

It never mattered to him, that is, until now. He could see how scared you were when you looked at him. See it in your eyes, how you worried how something like that would fit into you.

You needn't worry, sweet bunny. William would never try to hurt you. Not ever. It'll fit, sweet one, don't worry.

Don't you trust him?

Mr. Afton gave a few pumps to his length, coating it in the slick of his pre-cum as he lined up at your entrance. He could feel waves of excitement and need wash through him as the tip made contact with your flesh, making him let out another shaky breath. Though in the past the brit found missionary to be rather boring, he found himself to not mind it with you. It allowed him to be close to you. To see your face, and hear you well. All he ever wanted.

Besides, he could always try new positions next time. If you were ready.

"It might sting a little again, bunny." He warned you, "But it won't for long."

"O-Okay..." you said, "Just... Can you hold my hand? Please?"

William felt his lips part, "Yes, my love. Yes, of course."

Shifting his weight briefly onto one arm, William slipped one of his large hands into your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand was firmly situated next to your head, careful to avoid pulling on your hair.

"Good?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes.. I'm ready now. Please, William..."

"As you wish, darling."

Excitement bubbling in his veins, William gently pushed his hips forwards, the tip of his cock entering inside of you. Along with your gasp, the man above you let out a low, breathy groan of pure, raw pleasure, a shudder making its way down his spine.

Holy fuck. It was so much better than he had imagined. You were so much better than he imagined. He was sure of it now, more than ever. You were made for him. You were pure perfection.

And all the more reason to make you his.

Get to work, William. His bunny is waiting for him.

Careful not to squeeze your hand too tightly, William let out another breathy groan as he slowly pushed the rest of his length into you. At the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of your hole, William felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to save-face. You were breathing rather hard underneath him, your other arm having come up to drape across his bare, scarred shoulders for extra support.

As you he felt you slowly start to relax around him, Mr. Afton pressed soft, loving kisses to your jaw and neck, the hand next to your hair stroking it softly.

"Th-That's it, love..." he whispered to you, "So good for me... My adorable bunny."

You whimpered underneath his touch, "William, I... i-it's okay to move now. Please..."

Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, William gently pulled his hips back, then thrusted up into you. He watched as you bounced slightly underneath him, a low moan escaping your lips. With all the conformation he needed, William was quick to find a steady rhythm inside of you. He never found himself to be that vocal in the bedroom from past experiences, so the brit continued to surprise himself with every groan and sigh that escaped past his lips. But, then again, it was quite different now. This was you.

And damn did you make him feel amazing.

After finding a good pace, William was able to angle himself better, trying to find the most sensitive part inside you. With one lucky guess, he was able to see how you threw your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you moaned for him.

"Ohh goddd, William..! F-Fuck, right there!" you cried out for him, your encouragement making him pick up the pace.

"Yeah, bunny?" he goaded you, "Does that feel good? You're so fucking cute. You- hahh - you feel so fucking amazing, my love, fuck..."

The brit could feel your peak drawing nearer with every clench of your walls around him, his cock twitching back in response as it continued its barrage of your most sensitive parts. This only made him snap his hips into you all the more sharply.

"(Y/N)..." he cried out to you, "(Y/N), my love. So fucking good for me. So, so good... You're perfect, (Y/N). Perfect, my bunny. Perfect."

"W-William, I-I'm gonna-"

"Me too, bunny, me too. Please, bunny - fuck - please, together, my love. Let me fill you up, my darling. With my love. Let me show you how much I adore you. Will you, my love? Please, please."

"Yes, Will! Oh my god, yes please!"

With your sweet words ringing in his ears, William made one final push inside of you, sinking in as deep as possible. Mr. Afton groaned loudly as he could feel your orgasm around him, his following not long after. He was able to manage a few tiny, sloppy thrusts inside of you as you both rode out your high, feeling as how your insides became coated with his orgasm; no, with his love.

So, so much love.

And, you, finally

were now

his.

At long, long last. He finally had you.

Happy was an understatement. Overjoyed even more so. No, William was a new man. He was now yours. Your man to protect and take care of you. And no one else's. Just as you were his now, and no one else's.

His.

It took a good while for William to catch his breath again, as well as you. Once he did so, William found the strength to pull out of you, one last ripple of pleasure washing over him. You were looking up at him through your glossy eyes and heated face, a small, dumb smile on your face as you breathed heavily. He was able to get one more kiss on your lips before he shifted his weight off of you.

"Wait here, love." He said, "I'll get something to help you clean up."

As much as it pained him to leave you without him, William knew that aftercare was important. Especially to the inexperienced. In the past, he was never fond of doing too much of it, but with you, it came naturally to him. You were such a good bunny for him, it's the least he can do to show his appreciation.

The brit was quick to disappear into his bathroom and grab a towel, feeling the cold air around him in the dark. By the time he returned, he saw that you had already turned on your side, and had wrapped yourself in nearly all the covers on his bed. Creeping closer to you, William saw that your eyes were closed; soft, steady breaths escaping past your little lips.

Damn. You were asleep already. William knew tonight would wear you out, but damn.

Looks like he still has it.

And you were far too cute to wake up now. It would just be mean if he did so. Very well. You win, bunny.

Placing the towel on his nightstand, William peeled back the last little bit of blankets you allotted him and slipped into bed behind you. You being much shorter than him, he found it easy to meld his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your little waist and pulling you close to his chest. You were so warm, and he couldn't help but take a long inhale of your scent. He was hoping to talk to you a little more after, and tell you how amazing you did, but this was fine. He could do all the in the morning. You were too cozy for now.

But that couldn't stop him from giving you some praise.

"You are perfect, my darling." He whispered into your air, as soft as he could as not to wake you, "Just as I knew you would be. You're going to learn just how much better I can make you feel, sweet thing. This is only the beginning."

William pressed a few soft kisses to your hair.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you here. I just couldn't think of any other way to get us alone. But, you'll forgive me, right?"

You didn't answer, of course.

"Oh, I know you will. If you ever find out, that is, bunny."

There's some things you're better off not knowing, anyway.

"Get plenty of rest, love. I'll be right here, I promise. I promise."

How could he ever leave you now?

"I love you."

Goodnight, little bunny.

~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

[bad268]

Could u write a princess of Monaco and Arthur lecrelc , I see this being written so much for Charles and none for Arthur

thank you :)

Queen of Monaco (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha we have the same mind bc I was already drafting this before you requested it)

Warnings: death of parents and brother (mentioned), google translate, the Monaco curse is affecting Arthur now and that's a warning itself bro. I am in denial about the race results today, so I made this to make me happy.

Pronouns: She/Her

W.C. 4108

Summary: The beginning of the relationship between Arthur Leclerc and the Queen of Monaco.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Arthur's insta from January 29, 2023)

It was a normal day in Monaco. It was not a race week, and there were no pressing matters to attend. I had just returned to Monaco last week after attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the United States, but I just received my Bachelor's degree and wanted to return home before starting my Master's. I decided to take my first semester online, so I could go home and spend time with my family.

When I got back, my parents urgently began to train me for the throne even though I was not next in line. Despite having an older brother who was scheduled to become the King of Monaco after my parents, he had to serve in the military before he could move forward. They wanted to have me prepare in the event that something happened to him in battle. 

I had never really been in the public eye due to my brother being the next in line. He was always the one attending meetings, trainings, and keeping up appearances. I was free to do as I pleased for the most part, but in 2015, they sent me to a training school in London. It taught the basics of monarchy and the foundations of how to run a country. It was the same one my brother attended. Even in my spare time, I found my passion in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics. It took some persuasion, but my parents allowed me to attend MIT after my graduation because they were so sure that I would not be needed. My brother is in the final stages of the training. All he needed to do was finish the last few months of military training, and then he would be crowned. 

Upon my return, I learned that my mother was ill, so they wanted to get my brother crowned quickly. However, they practically had to start from square one since I was provided very minimal training in London. My father was furious, not at me, but at the situation they had been placed in. They told me the best thing I could do while they prepare the training is to memorize Monaco as it had been nearly seven years since I had been here. 

I was walking down the pier, looking at all of the little shops that lined the pavement and the boats at the dock. There was a small ice cream shop, a couple of clothing stores, a few restaurants, and a salon. I realized that I had not had my hair professionally done since before college, so I thought it would be a good idea to treat myself.

“Bonjour, comment puis-je vou aider? (Hello, how can I help you?)” A lady greeted me as I stepped through the door. It was a small shop, no one else was in there, but it was cute and welcoming other than the fact that I could not remember French for the life of me.

“I’m sorry, my French is no good,” I replied sheepishly, fully prepared to leave, but the woman stopped me.

“Oh, not a problem, dear. My name is Pascale, what can I help you with?” She smiled, kindly, leading me over to one of the chairs. 

“Well, I haven’t gotten my hair done in almost four years, so I think it’s time to freshen up,” I explained. 

“Oh perfect, I can most certainly help with that,” She laughed, placing an apron around my shoulders. “Are you thinking about dye, highlights, trim, cutting…” She started listing more but I couldn't follow along with all of the terminology. 

“Uh, probably just a trim,” I chuckled, “my parents would kill me if I showed up with short, dyed hair.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grinned and began cutting the ends, little by little, as we made small conversations. “What do you do for work?”

“I actually don’t have a job at the moment,” technically, “but I just came back from the United States. I was at MIT for the last four years, getting my bachelors in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics, and before that, I attended boarding school in London.”

“That’s interesting,” she hummed, “Sounds like you like Formula 1?”

“Not so much the races. I just like the cars,” I laughed in response. “I like learning what could make the cars better, faster, stronger, and safer, but the actual races aren't something for me. I watched one too many accidents end badly, so I can never find enjoyment in it anymore. The last race I went to was in Japan, and I lost my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, dear. If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” Pascale consoled. I looked at her confused through the mirror. She just set the scissors down just as her phone got a notification. She pulled out her phone and opened the notification. It was a text message with a picture. “That is my son, Charles, and his best friend, Pierre. They’re in Formula 1. They went out karting today, and he just sent me this.”

“Oh, Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly! I know them,” I recognized immediately. “That’s your son?”

“Yeah, he’s always had this passion for driving, so I’m proud to see him living his dreams,” She smiled, putting her phone back, and resumed cutting my hair.

“Well, I’m proud of him too, and I don’t even know him.” I laughed. 

“Maybe, if you’d ever change your mind, you could join us for a race,” Pascale offered. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“I’ll have to see, but probably not,” I declined nervously. 

“It’s not a problem, dear,” She said, patting my shoulders. “But you are all done. How do you like it?”

My hair was shorter by a couple of inches, but it felt so much lighter and healthier than it did earlier today. “I love it so much, Pascale! Thank you so much! How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, just promise you’ll think about joining us? It would do you some good to get to know more people, and you could even check out the cars before the race! If you’re not comfortable staying for the race, you can always leave. Just promise you’ll think about it before immediately rejecting it?” She pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” I laughed, “but only because you were so persuasive!”

–

The next time I was out in the streets was nearly a week later. My time was being packed with different trainings and attending private events, but nothing public yet so as to not stir up controversy. I decided to go to a local bakery and get some tea and some food. The food in the castle just did not compare to my favorite bakery. Not by a long shot. 

When I walked in, there were not a lot of people in there. It was a small shop with only two tables and a counter. There was the person behind the counter, Ella, and three people at the tables. One sat by himself and the other two occupied the second table. I approached Ella and ordered a tea and sandwich. She said she would bring it right over once it was finished, and I approached the man sitting by himself.

“Bonjour,” I greeted, my French was slowly coming back to me but not enough to carry a full conversation. The man looked up from his phone at me. He had blue eyes and shady blonde hair. He had airpods in and took one out as I approached the table. “My name is Y/n. Would it be alright if I sit with you? The other table is filled.”

 “Of course,” He responded immediately, moving the bag that was hanging on the other chair to the floor. “I’m Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur. Thank you for letting me sit with you,” I laughed, taking the seat that he pulled out for me. “I really appreciate that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He chuckled along, “It was just empty anyway.”

~

That was the start of an inseparable bond. It was strange having someone so close again because even though I had some friends in school, they were never as close as Arthur was. For the first couple of months, any time that was not filled with training was spent with each other. Whether it be chilling in his apartment, driving around Monaco, boat rides, and random trips around France and Italy, we were content with doing random acts of entertainment. It didn’t take long before he asked me to be his girlfriend.

One thing we knew would be difficult is the time commitments. With his recent change from Formula 3 to Formula 2 and more royal training for me, we knew it was going to be more time-consuming. That didn’t stop us, however. Tuesdays were the most random day of the week, but neither of us had any responsibilities.

One day in particular, the day before he was set to go to Australia, we were at his apartment, and I was helping him pack since he *conveniently* forgot. We had gone to get smoothies and acai bowls earlier that morning before heading to his apartment. Then, after we ate, we put on some music as background noise while we packed and conversed back and forth.

“Would you ever come to a race with me?” He asked as he pulled a couple of shirts out of his closet. “I know you didn’t have a good experience at the last one, but would you be willing to give it another time?”

“I don’t know, A. I get anxiety just knowing you’re racing,” I explained. Moving to fold the shirts he’s pulling out. 

“That sound like an improvement!” He laughed, jumping over and wrapping his arms around my shoulders as I put the folded clothes in the suitcase. “When we first started talking, you said no immediately. Now, you’re saying you don’t know.”

“What can I say?” I leaned back into his embrace, “You are pretty persuasive.”

“What are the chances of you coming to the Monaco Grand Prix with me?”

“The odds are in your favor since I don’t go anywhere,” I laughed in response. He turned me around in his arms. He was pouting and had his head tilted slightly. “No, don’t do the puppy face. You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Please?”

With a heavy sigh and a joking eye roll, I caved. I was about to vocalize my decision, but my phone started ringing. This time, my sigh was out of annoyance after seeing it was from Mila, my personal guard and trainer.  “I need to answer that, but yes, I promise to go to the Monaco Grand Prix with you.”

“Of course,” He exclaimed, kissing me all over my face. “I will take care of everything. You go take the call, and I’ll finish packing in here.”

With a small smile, I walked out of his bedroom to the living room and stepped out onto the balcony before answering the phone. “Hi, Mila. What did I forget?”

“Nothing, but are you near the palace?” She responded. Just the tone of her voice made me nervous.

“Not really, I’m about 20 minutes away. Do I need to head back?” 

“Yes, let me know when you get here.” And with that, she hung up. I walked back in to see Arthur with his suitcase fully packed by the door.

“I need to head home,” I started. “Something’s not right.”

“That’s fine,” He reassured, pulling me into a hug. “I’ll need to head out for my flight soon anyway, so I’ll walk you to your car.” 

During the drive back, my mind wandered. Was there a meeting I missed? I couldn’t remember having anything scheduled on a Tuesday. Most meetings were on Mondays or Wednesdays and policy training sessions were Thursdays and Fridays. Maybe there was a last-minute meeting.

Pulling through the gates, I texted Mila once I parked in our car park, and a few guards were waiting for me. “Hi, what did I miss?”

“Y/n, we need to talk,”  one of the guards, Chris, said, and right then, I knew things were worse than I thought. We walked through the corridors to reach one of the meeting rooms, but the only person in there was Mila. The guards immediately turned around and left the room.

“Mila-”

“Have a seat,” She cut me off, gesturing to the seat next to her. I took it hesitantly as I looked at her skeptically. “So, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. As you know, your mother, the queen, was sick.”

“I assume she died then? That’s what this was for?” I cut her short. However, there was something on her face that said she wasn’t finished. “Okay, I’ll let you continue.”

She shook her head dismissively, “No, it’s fine, but you’re right. She passed away early this morning.”

“So my brother will be crowned when he comes back?”

“That’s the next news,” Mila paused. I encouraged her to just rip the bandaid off because I was getting impatient. “Your father went to the base to get your brother, but there was an explosion. There was a gas leak, and somehow the building they were in exploded. We’re still waiting on the details.”

“Wait, so my entire family…” I trailed off, but she knew where I was going. She just nodded solemnly as she pulled me into her side. “So that means…”

“It means you are to be the queen.”

~

Third POV

Ever since the Melbourne Grand Prix, Arthur has been talking about how his girlfriend was going to join him on the paddock for the Monaco Grand Prix. To say that his friends and brothers teased him would be putting it lightly. Any chance they could, they asked questions about this “girlfriend” of his that they had never heard of, and Arthur was willing to spill all of the details. On the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix when he was driving to the track with Charles, he accidentally let it slip that he actually had not heard from her recently. He asked Charles to check his phone to see if she had texted him recently.

“Wait, you haven't heard from her in over a month and you’re not at all worried?” Charles asked, very concerned for someone he’s never met.

“No, we’ve definitely texted recently,” Arthur responded in disbelief. When they pulled up to a red light, Charles showed him that the last message from her was April 1. “No, we’ve definitely talked.”

“Here, pull over. We’ll switch, so you can call her, and I’ll drive us the rest of the way to the track,” Charles said, already getting out of the car as soon as they were on the shoulder. He immediately dialed her number, and after a few rings, it went to voicemail. He thought about leaving her a voice message, but she was already calling him back before he could start.

“Hey, traffic is hideous, but I’m almost there,” She started her explanation. She was sitting in the backseat with a couple of guards, and Mila as her driver took them to the track. “Are you already there?”

“No, we’re not there yet,” he laughed. “Charles and I are still stuck in traffic, but we noticed that I hadn’t messaged you since the Australian Grand Prix. Thought I would call to see if you were still coming.” Charles was half listening to the conversation, but he was smiling to himself, hearing how lovestruck his younger brother sounded.

“Oh, definitely,” She chuckled. Mila nudged the girl with a knowing grin. “I’ve just been insanely busy recently, but I promised. On the bright side, I finished my training!”

“No way, I’m so proud of you, ma chéri!” Arthur cheered. Charles was a little confused as he pulled into the track, but let it go, knowing Arthur would explain it later. “Does that mean there will be a ceremony or something?”

“You could call it a ceremony, yes,” She giggled. She noticed that they were only a few blocks away from the car park of the track, so she turned her phone away toward her shoulder as she directed a question to Mila, “Could I jump out and meet up with Arthur before the race? I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll be in the box before it starts.” Mila turned to discuss it with one of the guards who was entirely against it. “Please, I won’t leave Arthur’s side, and you know he’s trustworthy.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight, Mila!” Arthur’s voice could be heard through the phone despite it not being on speaker. She gestured to the phone at her shoulder as Mila tried to reason with the guard.

“I’ll go with you,” Mila said as she started collecting their passes and jumping out of the car that was stopped in the traffic going into the parking lot. Y/n immediately climbed out of the back, pulling her phone back up to her ear.

“Alright, Arthur, where do you want us to meet you?”

~~

First POV

“You seem to have gotten shorter since Melbourne,” I laughed as I ran into Arthur’s arms from where he was waiting at the Dams garage. 

“You’re wearing heels,” he pointed out after we pulled away. “What are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“You say that like you don’t like me in heels,” I teased back.

“Ok, lovebirds,” Mila pulled our attention away from each other, “I am going to head up to our seats. Don’t tell anyone I left.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Thank you, Mila,” I responded as she started walking away.

“You have seats?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to rely on you for the passes for Mila, so she bought us hospitality seats,” I explain. It wasn’t the whole truth, but I could not just tell him that in the open. “Is it possible to talk somewhere away from the cameras?”

“You’re not breaking up with me, right?” He immediately jumped to conclusions.

“No, no, no, no,” I quickly shut down. “Je t’aime trop pour partir, mon amour. I just want to tell you something. (I love you too much to leave, my love)”

“Je t’aime, ma belle, (I love you, my beauty)” He whispered, pulling me in for a light kiss before leading me back towards the driver’s room he shares with Ayumu. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I took a seat on one of the beanbags as Arthur sat right next to me. I took a deep breath before deciding the best way to tell him was just to say it fast. “Arthur, I need to tell you about my family.”

“Are you trying to have me meet your family already? You could meet my brothers and maman today if you want,” He rambled.

“I can meet them, but you won’t be able to meet my family. That day you left for Australia was the day I found out they passed away.” I paused looking at his reactions. He looked sorrowful as he grasped my hands and ran his thumbs across the backs of my hands. “Maman had an illness, and papa went to get my brother from the base.”

“Your brother’s in the military?” He asked.

“Was,” I answered. He looked even more confused at that before I continued. “He was serving in the military as his last stage of training. Kind of like my trainings, he had to serve in the military.”

“What kind of training did you need to do? Was this part of your degree or something?”

“No, that’s the big secret I haven’t been able to tell you,” I whispered, putting my head down as I felt guilty for not explaining this sooner.

“Anything you have to say, I will accept you either way,” He reassured me as he pulled me into his chest and kissed my head. “I understand that you have your reasons for hiding some things, so whatever this is, it is not going to stop me from loving you.”

“What if it is complex with more spotlight than you already have?” I asked, throwing my head to rest on his shoulder and looking into his blue eyes. “What if it’s a big change?”

“When we go public, it will be a big change, but I’m willing to do anything for you, ma princesse.”

“Reine, (Queen)” I whispered.

“Quoi? (What)” He responded just as fast.

“What if I told you my parents were the king and queen of Monaco? And my older brother was the prince of Monaco? And now that they’re gone, I will be the queen of Monaco? What would you do?” 

He went silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you serious?” My silence was enough of an answer for him to jump up, pulling me with him as he starts laughing and spinning us in circles. He set me down after a couple of spins before holding me at arm's length,  “I would completely understand. I mean you probably didn’t plan on taking the throne because of your brother, and you’d just come back from studying. I only tell people who need to know, and when we met, I wasn’t someone who needed to know. We haven't talked since you found out, so I could never be upset with something like that.”

“But now, if we tell people, you will be heavily scrutinized as people will see you as a potential king,” I signed, happy to know he isn’t upset with me, but still wanting him to see all sides before completely agreeing to move forward. “You’d have more on your list.”

“The only question I would have is if it would interfere with racing,” He turned serious.

“I would never let them keep you from your passions,” I laughed. “They have to respect it by order of the queen.”

“Well, then I would see no issues against continuing to be by your side, ma reine,” he chuckled with a mocking bow.

“Merci mon beau prince, (Thank you my handsome prince)” I mocked back, “now by order of the queen, go win this race.”

~~

“And Arthur Leclerc passes Fredrik Vesti in the final turn of the race,” Crofty shouted over the radio during the final lap of the race. I was up in the hospitality seats with Mila and the guards but headed down to the pitlane a couple of laps before since I was going to be presenting the trophies. I was standing at the pit wall with Charles, Lorenzo, and Pascale, who I met (again) just before the race. “The Monaco Curse is broken for Arthur Leclerc as he wins his first Monaco Grand Prix!”

 I left the pit wall to meet everyone at the podium and stopped to meet up with Mila on my way over. She and the guards escorted me through the crowds. “I’ll tell you now, one of you will need to tell Arthur not to out our relationship when I give him his trophy.”

At the podium, I stood behind the steps as Alice announces the winners. “In third place, we have Théo Pourchaire! In second place, we have Frederik Vesti! And in first place, breaking the Monaco Curse, the home favorite, Arthur Leclerc! Presenting the trophies today is the future Queen of Monaco, Y/n.”

“I’m proud of you,” I said to Arthur as I handed him the trophy.

“Merci, now if only Charles could win,” He joked, taking the trophy and posing with it.

“I’ll tell him you’re talking crap about him,” I teased back, moving away to grab the next trophy for Dams. I handed them all out and expressed my congratulations to the other two drivers before posing for the picture and immediately ducking back as I knew Arthur would try to spray me. I walked down the stairs to meet up with Charles before he heads back to Ferrari for his own race. “Arthur’s talking shit about you. You better win.”

“I’m starting sixth, so we have hope,” Charles responded as he rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t box for hards at the last lap again and you’ll be fine,” I laughed as if it were really that simple. 

“Maybe I broke the curse for both of us or maybe I just had some good luck today,” Arthur said, coming up behind us and throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh yeah, what good luck did you have?” Charles teased, punching Arthur into me.

“Maybe just the future queen of Monaco.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[eileenslibrary]

Big Enough Bedroll For The Two Of Us

Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Rain, Not The Greatest Writing, Hypothermia (Mentioned x2), Nudity, Sharing A Bed Trope But A Bit Different, Fluff

It’s raining, water pours down on all fifteen of you cold to the bones, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit try to catch up to you “Stop walking so damn fast with your long legs” Fili cusses nearly slipping on the mud “I have a reason to walk fast! I am more susceptible to hypothermia than all of you don’t you remember!” You shout back turning around and huddling your blue cloak around you trying to stay warm. Fili and Kili grumble in frustration as the other dwarves start catching up with you, Thorin quickly finding his place next to you, his hair sticking to his face. His blue eyes calculate the scenery “What’s the layout?” You hum shivering letting out a shaky breath as water starts dripping down your neck into your shirt, your armor doing nothing to stop it. “I think I see a cave over there, we can set camp until the rain clears” He sighs, Thorin shouts the order to the others, and a series of “at last” and “finally” can be heard from Kili, Fili, and Bilbo. You all hurry over to the place Thorin says he sighted the cave.

You see it and sigh in happiness. It is a cave, and it’s dry, you begin unpacking and check if your bedroll made it out dry, to your luck it did. You place it on the ground keeping your boots off of it, you strip your cloak off and undo all of your armor throwing it in a pile, and you dig in your pack to grab some dry clothing. You hum in frustration at the open wide cave giving you no privacy to change, you feel a presence behind you and a big blanket suddenly be thrown in front of you. “I’ll hold it up, get changed” Your eyes widen surprised that it is Thorin of all people saying that. “Thank you, Thorin” You hush slipping off your boots and socks and putting them next to your cloak. Thorin picks up the blanket holding it in front of you as you change out of your wet clothes and into your dry ones “I’m done” Thorin drops the blanket down at that “You are still in your wet clothes, you should have changed” You scold noticing his tunic sticking to his torso in what seems to be an uncomforting way “I also change in privacy (Name)” He says quickly looking down at you “Oh, well would you like me to return the favor?” You stand offering to hold the blanket, Thoring stays quiet for a moment thinking of a response “I would yes” He sighs handing the blanket to you. He leads you to his pack, his dry clothes on the ground, you notice his bedroll didn’t make it out dry due to the harsh rain “Thorin, Where are you to sleep?” you sigh as you turn around holding the blanket up giving him privacy, he does not give you an answer. You shake your head, at least this blanket is dry “Are you planning to sleep only with this blanket?” You ask, seething when more cold beads of water drip down your shirt from your head. “I was, why?” He grumbles “Because I will not allow it!” You fuss your eyebrows creasing in worry. He chuckles, only you can hear it “And where am I to sleep?” He presses. You listen to him clasping a cloak around his shoulders “I have enough room in my bedroll. It will benefit me as well, I will have a lower chance of getting sick if I have another person to keep me warm, due to my body temperature being significantly lower I am more susceptible to catching an illness that can end up in death or amputation” You point out to him. You hear him sigh and the both of you fall into silence, you feel anxiety rise “Did I overstep?” you think biting your lip at the silence.

 “I am dressed,” He says after a while of silence. You fold the blanket and turn around looking at him handing it back, you turn and go back to your bedroll, unrolling the wool-lined fabric and slipping into it, you pull it around yourself, still shivering. Kili and Fili gather as much dry wood as they can from outside pilling it up for a fire, You watch Bofur tear a few pages from his notebook as kindling, they finally get a fire going, Balin and Dwalin start cooking up some dinner for all of you. 

You sip down the hot soup quickly feeling the warmth flow through your system. You were huddling between Fili and Balin trying to find more warmth “I hate how the cold wind blows right through me” You grumble in protest of the weather, some of the dwarves chuckle at your statement. Bilbo agrees with you happily making you cheer up slightly at not being completely alone in this horrid freezing state. You look across from you and see Thorin staring at you, his hair beginning to frizz up as it dries. You nod toward him in acknowledgment before finding interest in your stew sipping it up hungrily. Supper comes to an end and the dwarves all start going to bed, you move back to your original place, pulling on another tunic and an extra pair of socks to stay warm. You hear someone approaching you, Thorin you realize, he stares down at you “May I still take you up on that offer?” He asks, you nod and hold up one side of your bedroll for him to slide into. He willingly slots himself next to you throwing the blanket from earlier over you both. You shift to lay on your side so he has more room, he thanks you quietly and lays down next to you, turns on his side facing you, and shuffles closer to you. To your surprise he offers his arm as a pillow for you “Rest your head, it will warm you up” This Is all you get from him. You nod and lay on his arm, your cheeks heat as he pulls you flush to his chest tucking your head in his neck, the moment becoming intimate quickly, Thorin's soft breathing calms you, his body heat quickly warming you up. Your eyes flutter closed and you begin slipping into the land of dreams, but you faintly feel a pair of lips pressing quickly to your forehead. 

.

.

.

[idkaguyorsomething]

Two personal preferences for the Jojolands: it does not end on a downer note and that the author does not play Jodio's mental illness for horror.

definitely gonna agree with you on the second one, though slight disagreement on the first one. part nine could very well be the last jojo’s we’re ever gonna get, so it makes a lot of sense that people are gonna want it to end on a happy note. and traditionally, every part has ended with the characters at least reaching some level of satisfaction and personal fulfillment, but there has ALWAYS been casualties along the way, ranging from that one side character to the entire core cast minus a literal child. the happiest ending we got was in part four, which definitely had a more relaxed slice-of-life vibe to it than part nine, which already parallels part five, a story where literally half the cast gets killed off as they brutally slaughter all their enemies. having everyone in the main cast survive to the end seems unlikely, and tbh, i do enjoy the fact that in a lot of jojo stories, anyone can die. even if i love these characters with all my heart, it is an effective narrative choice to kill them off in order to raise the stakes. nearly every death in this series feels like an emotional gut punch without sidelining the actual agency of the character being killed (rip george jr, the least important joestar). depending on what kind of story araki wants to tell, a bittersweet ending could be more effective than an unconditionally happy one. but hey, if it’s his final outing in the world he created, ¡he might actually feel like being merciful to his characters for once! and if it’s not, well, i’ll look forward to all the fix fics everyone writes where everyone lives.

as for jodio’s mental illness, this one has me a bit worried. araki has made a lot of dubious writing decisions in the past on sensitive topics like this (overuse of sa, “curing” johnny’s disability, side characters that come off as dated ethnic caricatures) but he has made a consistent effort to include a lot of demographics that don’t show up in a lot of manga, and his writing of characters from said demographics has considerably improved over time. tracking the women in his stories, from erina to lisa lisa to trish to jolyne to yasuho, and how they’re treated tells a fascinating story in and of itself. johnny has a lot of emotional depth and character beyond his disability. this series honestly has more black characters than any other manga/anime i can think of (though i haven’t watched afro samurai yet). there are absolutely problematic elements here to critique and pick apart, but i kinda prefer this flawed approach to representation than the nonexistent state of it in other similar stories. but getting back on track, araki has written a lot of shit in the past, so he could definitely fumble the ball again here. however, i personally think there’s currently more setup in the story for jodio to become more of an antihero in line with giorno or johnny. he’s on good terms with at least two of his family members, an achievement hitherto unheard of in this series, and he’s depicted as more of a goofy teen who makes bad decisions somewhat in line with the criteria for antisocial personality disorder than an irredeemable monster. it’s far too early in the story to tell where this is headed, though, so overall we just have to cross our fingers and hope that araki goes for a more sensitive, nuanced portrayal of a protagonist with aspd instead of going all “lol he’s joDIO what did you expect”

[prettyandsarcastic]

heart on the stage

Seven (@infamous-if)/MC

≈2,300 words

Mentions of substance/alcohol abuse

EDIT: I had to repost this because I noticed I got Avina's pronouns wrong. Also added some things.

Music to read by: "Euclid" by Sleep Token 

The whiskey sears down her throat as Munroe throws back the shot, so used to it now that it no longer comes with the full body shiver as it settles in her empty stomach. For courage, she tells herself, has to tell herself. Not to dull the ache in her chest or the pounding between her ears, or burn out the sharp pain in the back of her throat. And that’s definitely why she’s taking shots in the bathroom of the green room because she’s not hiding it. No, of course not. 

Her eyes drag upwards to meet her reflection in the dirty mirror and she nearly laughs. The stage makeup just barely hides the dark circles, and the contour only draws more attention to how hollow her cheeks have become in the last months. Despite the wild, manic brightness behind her eyes, she can’t help but think how threadbare she looks. 

Munroe takes a deep, steadying breath and steps out into the green room as her bandmates all turn to her with varying degrees of concern. And why wouldn’t they? These last months they’ve seen her fall farther than she ever thought she would trying to chase away an unspeakable heartbreak, while she tried to keep the fracturing pieces of herself together long enough to get them through to the winner’s circle. And with all their eyes on her, Munroe has never been more aware of the fact that she’s become their weakest link. 

Especially after their last gig landed them in the bottom two and so close to elimination. She knows it was her fault, so out of her mind that she barely remembers performing. When she watched the performance back, saw how she staggered around the stage and skipped whole lines in the lyrics it made her physically ill. 

Her vision fills suddenly with Orion as he steps up to her. His warm hands cup her face and draw her eyes to meet his. Munroe sees herself as he sees her in the reflection of his dark eyes - blown pupils, clammy and flushed with the hint of whiskey on her breath. 

“Munroe…” he trails off, his expression crumpling in disappointment and worry. Because she promised him she’d ease up. Orion didn’t want to see her burn out, collapse on herself like a dying star and leave just as much devastation in her wake. 

Munroe appreciates Orion and everything he does, more than she could ever say, but this isn’t what she needs from him right now. She needs the man who has helped take care of her, promised to get her through this, who has kept her on just this side of breaking. She needs the calm, steady presence that she’s come to rely on - the eye in the center of the storm she's become.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, twisting her head from his hands. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We’ve never played this song live before,” Devyn pipes up. Beside them Iris anxiously gnaws on her thumb, and by the look on her face she agrees. 

Munroe sighs. “Look, I know this hasn’t exactly been the experience we expected and I know I fucked up last gig, but I need you guys to just… keep trusting me.”

She knows she’s asking a lot, but Devyn’s right. The song they have lined up for their performance has never seen the light of day. And while Munroe puts a piece of herself into every song she writes and bares herself for the world to judge with every performance, this song will be the equivalent of pulling her heart from her chest for a live audience. 

Rowan rises from his seat, nervous energy obvious in the way his fingers twitch at his side - pantomiming his chords. He’s unusually serious because he knows what this song means to her, knows what singing it is going to do to her. But he smiles wide and confident as he cups her face in much the same way Orion had. 

“We’re gonna fucking kill it,” he says, taking over Munroe’s usual task of assuring them that their performance is going to be amazing because she’s not sure she could muster her optimism. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“We’ve got your back, Munroe,” August says with a nod.

Her phone vibrates in her hand as Rowan steps away and Munroe finds a text from Sebastian: 

‘Good luck!’ 

Quickly followed by another:

‘Oh crap, I’m not supposed to say that… Break a leg! Maya and I managed to get second row! She’s practically vibrating with excitement!’

Despite herself, Munroe smiles. She can only imagine how excited Maya is going to be when she realizes the song they play is one she’s never heard. Munroe wouldn’t be surprised to see the girl combust from the stage. 

The speaker in the green room crackles to life before a tinny voice filters through: “Wanderer please make your way to the stage. Wanderer, to the stage!” 

The crowd doesn’t know it, but they’re about to witness a performance that they’re going to talk about for the rest of their lives.

.

.

Seven can’t stop smiling as the band stumbles, laughing and hollering into their green room. They gave, hands down, their best performance thus far. There’s no doubt in any of them that they’re going to make it through to the next round. One step closer to the finale. 

He feels too big for his body as he grabs and chugs a water, like he wants to run in every direction at once just to expend the pent up energy. Although he always gives everything he has into every performance, tonight feels different and his throat is on fire from singing, adrenaline bitter in the back of his throat and he can hear his blood in his ears. Nothing could kill this high. 

Not even when Avina turns on the TV and switches to the channel featuring Battle of the Bands and he hears: “Stay tuned! Up next are everyone’s favorite underdogs: Wanderer! Can they claw their way out of being in the bottom two from last show?” 

“God, turn it off,” Kieran moans, “We don’t need to watch them this time - we won this round!”

Avina turns and gives Kieran a look. Their hair is sweat-damp mess, cheeks rosy. “I want to watch it, thank you very much.”

Kieran gapes at them before turning to him, “C’mon man, I know you agree with me. Besides, after their last gig, ain’t no way they’re staying after this week.” 

Part of him wants to agree with Kieran. Wanderer bombed their last gig so badly Seven's surprised that they weren't eliminated. And it wasn't even the band's fault - it was Munroe. She'd been such a mess, so clearly not in her right mind, her voice wrecked and thready, even forgetting her own lyrics.  

But Seven’s on cloud nine, his ex could walk into their green room right now and he wouldn’t give a shit. He shrugs, “Let 'em watch it.”

The commercial break ends, the camera pans along the audience before Munroe’s band is introduced and then the lights on the stage go out completely. Seven resists the urge to roll his eyes - always with the theatrics. 

A single spotlight comes to life on the stage. Munroe is seated at a keyboard with no sign of her bandmates. Seven watches as she takes a deep breath before raising her hands to the keys and starts to play - something slower and emotional so unlike Wanderer’s previous, high energy performances. Did she really think a ballad was a good idea? 

It feels like a bucket of ice water gets upturned over his head when she begins to sing - no back up, just Munroe and the keyboard for the opening lines of the song. It’s been so long since he’s heard her play, he had almost forgotten how good she was. It feels like a lifetime ago when it was just her and her keyboard and him and his guitar writing together, falling together between chords and lyrics. 

“Turn it up,” Seven says, ignoring the surprised looks from his band. 

As the lights dim once again, the rest of the band’s vocals rise like a choir in the dark for the refrain, which surprises him because Rowan and Iris don’t usually provide backup vocals. He sees Munroe’s shadow take her mic and make its way to the front of the stage, place the mic in its stand. The rise of the band’s instruments finally coming in takes his breath away as the lights come back up and Munroe, now joined by the band, is backlit by the stage lights, her too thin silhouette outlined in the short, sheer black kaftan-like dress she’s wearing. 

These months on tour have worn her thin, broken her down in a way Seven never thought possible. Munroe is an eternal optimist, she's not like him, she pushes aside her anger, her hurt, holds it quietly inside herself and puts a smile on her face, always, because she never wants anyone to worry about her. But this tour has dulled her light, turned her into something Seven never, no matter how he felt about her, wanted to see. 

Munroe has thrown herself into self-destruction as she is wont to do. Into the parties, the hookups, and the glamor of it all - anything to avoid facing herself. She’s tried to hide the effects, but Seven notices more than he’d like - the drinking, the erratic behavior, the insomnia, the bloody noses. 

Something in his chest kicks watching her and it suddenly occurs to him - he’s never heard this song before. This is new, or at least unreleased… and then it dawns on him: This is for me. And Munroe’s singing with her entire being, all her rage and pain and heartbreak displayed on live television for someone who has barely shown her any kindness these last few months. 

And she had endured it all, his snide comments, his attutude, his disdain for her with such grace. While there were moments when Munroe seemed to reach the end of her long suffering patience, she still smiled at him, always had a kind word for most everyone, hid behind her laugh. Now, a shadow lurked behind her eyes, and Seven is forced to face the uncomfortable fact that he's, at least in part, responsible.

The camera pans to the audience that seems to be held in a daze as they watch her. And Seven understands, he really does. At her best, Munroe is magnificent on stage, something divine - a goddess demanding devotion and supplication from the masses. 

They bring Munroe in close up - there are tears lining her cheeks, but her voice is strong as ever, ringing clear throughout the venue as the song comes into the denouement. It’s as soft as the beginning of the song, with the band slowly fading out until - 

"You will never be mine…"

The lyric hits like a punch in the gut as, for a moment, the crowd is quiet in awe and then erupts into uproarious applause. He watches as Rowan sets his guitar aside and rushes Munroe, enveloping her in his arms. To the crowd and the people at home, it’s a happy hug - a celebration of just how amazing their set was, but it’s not. It’s to keep Munroe from crumpling right there on stage - he saw how her knees went weak.  

Seven’s on his feet before he even realizes he’s moved, propelled by a sudden gripping panic. He hears the questioning of his bandmates, but can’t make out the words over the roar in his ears, the way his heart wants to escape the prison of his ribs. He rips off his mic, then he’s over the back of the couch and out the door of the green room, sprinting full tilt down the hallway. 

The song wasn’t just for him. It was good-bye. It was letting him know, in the only way he’d listen, the only way he'd hear, that Munroe was letting him go. And Seven realizes he doesn’t accept it, can’t accept it. Once, not even very long ago, it was what he wanted, a freedom from the grip she's always had on his heart and soul. But he didn't realize until now just how much he unintentionally let her light and warmth back into himself because despite his behavior toward her, Munroe still tried. Tried until she was fractured and hopeless and worn. It was something he loved and loathed about her in equal measure, her refusal to give up even when she should. 

Seven bursts through the door to backstage, dodging stage crew and members of other bands. He’s managed to make it backstage in time for Wanderer to come off the stage. He has to get to Munroe before she’s mic’d up again, before the after-performance confessional. 

His body collides with hers with a surprised grunt, and for once he doesn’t care about the cameras and the people as he gathers her against his chest. 

“Seven?” Munroe chokes out. But he feels her cling to him, her hands under his vest, nails in the back of his shirt. Then she's trembling, crying softly into his chest. Finally shattering apart as he tries to hold her together.

“I’m sorry,” he says, into the damp of her hair. He has so much to apologize for, so much to make up to her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as he angles her face up to his, thumbing away fresh tears. And the awe on her face breaks something in him in turn, because he knows she doesn't believe he's there. 

“I’m sorry,” he says against her lips. They have so much lost time to make up. 

And kissing Munroe feels like a sun rising in his chest, like being found, like coming home. 

[something-tofightfor]

Smutsgiving Feast 2023: Honeybaked Ham - Nick Caldwel

Pairing: Nick Caldwel x Female Reader (It's Dangerous To Fall In Love pairing)

Word Count: 1,637

Rating: M-ish. The end's a little spicy.

Author's Note: I truly miss these two, but I definitely made myself sad writing this. This is the same pairing as It's Dangerous To Fall In Love, but takes place before that story begins.

Warnings: mentions of terminally ill parent.

Summary: The holiday has to be special, and you and Nick are determined to make it happen.

“We need to stop here.” He was nervous, even though he knew that there was no reason to be. “I wanted to do it before, but we need to be at my place early tomorrow, and they’re only open until like 6:30 today, so -”

“Nick.” Reaching over, you settled your hand on his arm. “Why do you sound like we’re about to walk into a battle?” 

“Because we are.” He put the car into park, turning his head to look at you. “We need to bring a ham to Thanksgiving, and my dad loves Honeybaked Ham, so…” He watched your face fall, both eyes closing as you winced. “I know. I’m sorry. I just -” 

“The parking lot is full.” You groaned, leaning forward in your seat. “Nick, there’s a line. Did you order ahead?” 

“That’s what happens when you wait until the last minute.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “And I didn’t. So if you want me to wait in line by myself and go somewhere else, that’s fine. I -”

“Hell no.” Your frown turned into a grin, and you leaned over, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek. “We’re going to go across the street to Jack In The Box and get those energy drink infused things or iced coffee, because if I’m waiting in that line, I need caffeine.” You kissed him again, mouth moving closer to his. “And then we are going to park this car in the middle of the landscaping if we have to and go stand in line and get your dad his ham.” 

He felt a surge of affection for you, Nick’s head turning so that you weren’t kissing his cheek and he could instead press his lips to yours, your left hand rising to cradle the side of his face. “Thank you.” He mumbled the words, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. “This means -”

“I know, Nick.” You kissed him again, nodding. “I know how important it is.” 

— 

Three hours later, you were back at your house, empty handed. You were on the phone in the living room while he was in the bedroom, laying on his back with a forearm over his eyes. 

It hadn’t been a hard wait in line, but it had been a slow one, the two of you joining nearly a hundred others that had waited until the very last minute to pick up the final dish for dinner the following day. You hadn’t complained once, instead sipping at your drink and occasionally leaning over to whisper something into his ear. 

The comments had started out simply, with observations about the others in line. But as more time passed and the woman behind you felt it was necessary to have a 35 minute conversation on speakerphone, your comments turned in a different direction. 

“I think we deserve a reward for standing in this line.” 

“After this we’ll have the rest of the night to do whatever we want.” 

“We’ll have to stay off of our feet until tomorrow.” 

He knew exactly what you were implying, and even though he agreed, a massive line in a public parking lot was not the place to act on it. 

So he’d hummed with each comment as they became more suggestive, flashing you a smile and a wink and leaning closer to kiss your temple, but that was as far as he’d let it go. 

… Until you’d brushed your hand against the front of his jeans when you moved to stand in front of him, stepping through the door at the same time you turned and looked back at him. His eyes were wide at the feel of your hand and when you winked at him, it took everything in him not to reach for you and pull you close right next to the condiment shelves. 

But all the joking had ended a few minutes later when one of the employees announced that unless you had a preorder in, they were sold out. He’d frozen in disbelief, registering that you did the same next to him, though you swore audibly, your voice joining a chorus of others. 

A short conversation with the obviously frazzled cashier hadn’t proven fruitful, either. Not only was their store out, but so was the shop across town. And so the entire drive back to your place, he’d stayed quiet, trying not to cry. 

Any other year, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But after his father’s diagnosis, he’d made it his mission to fulfill as many of the man’s requests as possible. And a damn ham is about as simple as it could be, and … 

“Nick?” You spoke quietly from the doorway, and when he removed his arm from his eyes, he saw that you were chewing on your lower lip, arms crossed almost defensively over your chest. “I just got off the phone with my mom.” 

He pushed himself into a sitting position, eyes on your face. “And?” Sighing, you entered the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“My aunt’s stopping over later tonight, and she’s giving us the ham she bought for her dinner.” He froze again, but that time it was in relief, Nick watching as your expression turned into a small smile. No way. “I explained to my mom what happened, and she immediately hung up to call my aunt.” Placing one hand on his knee, you nodded. “I’ve got no idea how big it’ll be because she only buys for the three of them, but -”

“It doesn’t matter.” Nick swallowed back a lump in his throat, shaking his head. “Fuck, are you serious? You’re not joking with me right now?”

“I wouldn’t. Not about this.” He saw that your eyes were glittering, and Nick reached up to thumb away an unshed tear. “So you can stop worrying. Everything’s taken care of for tomorrow.” He didn’t know what to say, and “thanks” didn’t seem to be enough. “I’ll give you a couple minutes. Meet me downstairs for dinner?” 

You spoke again a minute or so later, moving to get up and off of the bed, but Nick didn’t let you. He encircled your wrist with his fingers, urging you to stay in place. “Don’t go.” There was still adrenaline coursing through his veins, but there was also a sense of calm and relief, right there alongside something else. “You said something earlier… about staying off of our feet?” 

Nick dragged the tip of his tongue over his lip, his grip on your arm loosening and that hand sliding down to rest on your hip while he waited for your response. “I did.” He saw your shoulders droop before you replied, the relief you felt at his response apparent. “I also said we had the entire night to ourselves.” 

He scooted back, opening up more space on the mattress and you followed, climbing in and curling your legs beneath your body. “I think I’ve got a few ideas about how we can spend it.” Arching a brow in question, he watched as you repositioned your shoulders, tipping your head to the side. 

“I’d like to hear them.” Your chest was rising and falling a little more rapidly than was typical, and at the sight, Nick finally exhaled deeply, closing his eyes and widening his smile into a full-blown grin. It’s all going to be fine. “Or, even better yet?” You leaned closer, hands sliding up Nick’s legs and settling on his thighs. “You could show me.” 

He moved as you were still speaking, Nick’s arms winding around your body to pull you close before the two of you collapsed against the mattress. Nick was flat on his back and you were sprawled out over his chest, surprised laughter tumbling from your lips. “I’d be happy to.” Murmuring the words, he leaned closer to kiss you, Nick catching your mouth mid-laugh. 

You adjusted quickly, kissing him back and moving so that your angle was better, but Nick had plans for you. He used both hands to urge you to move - the message received and acted on without you breaking the kiss. 

With a sigh, you swung your leg over his so that you could straddle his waist.The new position made it easier for you to get even closer, his hands moving up and down over your back while yours slid up the mattress, allowing you to settle your forearms on either side of his head. 

It was you that rocked your hips forward the first time, Nick’s body responding in kind with an immediate upward thrust. But wait. Wait though, before… “Hey.” He backed off, taking a long breath and then saying your name. “Before we …” Nick licked his lips and made sure to meet your gaze, the man’s chest constricting at the look in your eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so -”

“You’re welcome.” It came out simply, and he was thankful that you weren’t downplaying his sentiment. She wouldn’t. You blinked down at him, wrinkling your nose. “I love you, Nick.” 

“Love you more.” Lifting his head from the pillow, he kissed you again, though that one was gentler. So goddamn much more. You pulled away first that time, looking down at him without speaking. You were waiting for him - waiting on his confirmation that it was alright to return to the previous activity. And it’s more than alright. He hummed and moved his hands to your hips, his smile slipping into a smirk. 

You moaned quietly when he rocked upward and against you, the evidence of just how much more than alright it really was pressed against your inner thigh. Nick swallowed the sound down, his grip on you tightening. I’m gonna make her make that noise all night. 

— 

[ronearoundblindly]

I've been working on the finale of Dignity of His Choice for over a year now.

That's hard to say. It's hard to admit that this story I feel such excitement and passion for is just *not coming to the page* like so many others have with less excitement and passion. The Stark Legacy has been the same way, except it's been a year and a half.

I have...responsibilities that aren't writing though. I own my business and have no employees. I live alone now and pay for everything, clean everything, maintain everything. It's just me. I think I used to write Fools Rush In with the hope that having to think of both perspectives in a relationship would somehow change mine, if only shift my thoughts to why my marriage was probably fine and I was making too big a deal.

But it wasn't fine.

I don't mean this is a dramatic way (because a relationship between two people will always be evolving and have growing pains, even when everyone is communicating and moving towards the same goal with mutual respect), but I was being lied to. It was a simple lie, sure, something that wouldn't and didn't fully impact our entire lives until the tiny friction point snapped like two tectonic plates, and then in an instant, rattled and confused, we were gone. The layout of my world just *changed* and wasn't going to go back to normal. Normal never existed. It was just then and this is just now.

It's been so difficult to feel that happen in my real life and not fear for my characters--which I get is projection at its finest, but still--how do I protect them? How do I make their life seem real without snapping it in half and then lying about putting it back together? I couldn't do that. I'm alone. What do I know?

Except...I've been writing Fools Rush In for nearly two years, and I never actually knew what communicating and moving towards the same goal with mutual respect really looked like. I was wrong. I've been wrong the whole time. My life, exactly like my art, was fiction. I fabricated happiness in my home and on the page, and in one of those places, I already failed.

There was no finish line or last sentence; the whole story just vanished with an unhappy ending that proved the entire thing was some sort of fever dream. I had put a decade of effort into absolutely nothing. Worse. I worked for that long on hope when there was none.

I've often thought that I relate to Steve/Sketch as much as Reader/Keeps in the FRI series because I play more of a narrator role in life. Steve had a story to go through: survive illness, become a soldier, lead others to victory and safety. In canon, we often see him...not living his own life, and it's even commented on frequently. I think I've been taking on a similar role. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to consider myself the protagonist; things happen to other people, I want good things to happen to other people, but I am not the one who experiences them.

I didn't expect to ever be in the same place as this character when I imagined the 'fake death' story two springs ago, but my life is in tatters after I made the wrong decision for all the right reasons. I struggle to read comments like "how could Steve do this?" and "I could never forgive him" without taking them very personally. Of course, I know that no reader means them that way, but it's still painful to write Sketch and Keeps the happy ending I know they deserve when me...? What the hell is gonna happen to me? Who do I return to after this death-of-the-life-I-had?

I don't know the answer.

I just wanted to say I'm sorry to those who are waiting for Dignity's very happy ending (which I promise it very much is happy). The narrator is just lost at the moment, stuck on all the stories and none of the stories at once, wondering which of the fiction she told herself led to this ending, and...truly unable to trust in 'hope' again.

[bamfoftheundead]

Beach Stuff [revised]

Was cleaning up and found my little beach drabble from about a year ago or so. Did some editing to smooth out the wrinkles. Hope it sounds better

it feels too short to post to ao3 so I'll keep it here. for anyone new its the revised version of this

@dannybagpipesarecalling @kurtty-drabbles

______________________________________________________________

  Dusting the sand from his backside, which only spread it further into his fur, Kurt was beginning to regret choosing the beach. He loved the ocean and all it had to reveal but the sand, he just couldn’t do it. Huffing, he kicks out a leg as the micro pieces of itchy hell scrape terribly between his legs- leaving a sand-rash sure to last. He normally loved the beach, when he was sitting in a chair preferably away from the sand in a temperature controlled environment with a sweet alcoholic beverage to enjoy.

 Settling back into place he reranged his towel to hopefully give better protection from the harsh elements, which didn’t change his predicament in the slightest. Irritated and yearning to leave the wretched place he glanced outwards, towards the waves that lapped gently against the colorful shore. There, in the shallows he could see her. Haloed by blinding sunlight like some sort of sea nymph rising from the depths. For a moment he thinks of the birth of Venus and how fitting it is for her. 

 Kitty stomped around calf-deep in the clear water atop a sandbar, leaning down to examine a baby cuttlefish zooming by. Stepping around carefully to avoid cutting her foot open on some broken shells, Kitty crouches and dips a sun-screened hand into the water. Since coming here Kitty had found Krakoa’s beach to be full of rich ecosystems of all manner of sea life, it felt odd that one of the worst places could host such vibrant life. Looking back at the sandy shore she stifles a laugh, her blue lover wrestles with the towel below him in an attempt to keep the wind from blowing more sand onto his nearly beige fur. By the time they'd get home he'd be nothing more than a piece of human sandpaper. Her sight eventually drifted back to the shimmering ocean line. Kitty wondered where it ended, no other ocean in their hemisphere had such pure water with all the oil spills and general pollution. Giving Kurt a final glance she turns and wades deeper, letting the cool, strong current pull her away from the shore, away from everything. 

As she dipped further out, waves lapping at her cheeks a line of thought she’d tried to avoid since her arrival surfaced, If she looked far enough below would she see herself? Would she be able to discern the burnt corpse her ‘friends’ had so lovingly discarded to the ocean rather then give her the proper funeral she deserved? Probably not. The idea of coming face to face without her previous body made her ill. Still the curiosity never wavered. What was she wearing when they shipped her off to sea? The boots her mother gifted her before the ultimate mass death-suicide ressurection? Maybe her old self was still wearing her grandmother's ring, she hadn’t been able to find it since awaking. Luckily, Kurt had saved her star of david. A small beam of light in her otherwise cloudy mindstorm. She’d made it a priority not to let herself sink back into the what-iffing, to not give into the existential dread. But something about the cool, empty ocean seemed to draw the memories right out of her head.

 Letting another large wave sweep her under the deep blue she let her mind clear and sank. Her hands tense as she dove deeper, maybe she’d see herself down below? Maybe her ashes had spread into the never ending waves for all eternity, never given the respect or rest she’d thought she earned. It was probably stupid anyway, right? She came back in the end! But… still, looking into the empty sandbanks below she still felt the bitter ache deep in her gut, it wasn’t fair. 

A sharp, jerky movement catches in her peripheral vision, kicking back up; she's greeted by a plume of violet smoke spread far and wide into the waves above. Painting the waves briefly deep indigo. Through the purple cloud a face peeks out, he sees her and smiles. Waving, Kitty kicks back to the surface. Breaking the water barrier and gasping for air she hadn’t noticed she needed. Kurt smiles as his wet curls fall into his eyes. Kitty laughs, reaching to push the black tendrils away.

 Spitting out more water he shakes his head sheepishly, the same roguish grin held high and happily. From a distance Kitty could see the sun begin the set, the evening light disappearing beneath the now darkening tides. Tilting his head Kurt looks down at her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her close to him, somewhat easing that now enshrouded them. Kitty holds him close, fingers gripping handfuls of soaking fur in an effort to rest her sore arms and enjoy the sunset here, with him. Reaching forward he runs a wet, velvet-soft palm along her temple, then her cheek as his thumb pressed thoughtfully against her lips. His eyes brighten the dimness around the two, lighting for her. Pushing against the rough waves she closes the gap, pushing his hand down she kisses him. He kisses her back eagerly and doesn’t let go, he holds her close and he doesn’t let go. Her arms tense and tighten around his broad, sopping figure.

 Sighing, she pulls back and lays her face onto his wet shoulder to stare off into the dark emptiness, a new feeling of contentment washing over her. His presence always seemed to fix away the darkness that crept in. 

“Are you alright? ” Looking down at her with loving golden eyes.

“ I am now “ she mumbles tiredly. He holds her closer and laughs, using a free hand to push back wet strands of curled hair that had shaken loose from its bun.

“ Come then, let's go home “

[twistmusings]

Hi! I’m new to making request so I’m sorry if it’s like, messy. I have seen like no Twst boysxChubby!Reader anywhere and as a chubby person I think their should be at least a few. So, I was wondering if I could get the First or second years,you can chose ofc,with a chubby partner! I don’t care if it’s fluff,nsfw or whatever I just feel like it would be cute :)

Ps: I absolutely love your writing and Jade on the last post,the tits,ass, or thighs post, made me so euphoric <3

No worries, it's not messy at all! Since I'm a little strapped for time I'm just gonna do the first years for now but I definitely have added the second years for down the line when I have the spoons because chubby partners are cute asf. 😤

If you want some more I've written a post with the tweels in the past with a chubby partner (nsfw) but I always love getting chubby!reader requests.

Fluffy headcanons for first years asking out a Chubby!Reader.

CW: Some mentions of internalized fat phobia on the part of Cater and Vil (in Ace and Epel's parts respectively.)

Ace Trappola

When Ace first started crushing on his partner, is was both cute and so annoying. Literally like puppy love at first, always wanting to be near them and his friends kept catching him staring at them. He would lose his focus on conversation the moment he saw them and more than a few times Riddle had to snap his fingers at him to get his attention back.

Truthfully he kind of had a crisis about it? He is the only one of the froshes who's really been in a relationship and it went badly and he's afraid of screwing up royally. He cares about them a lot and they're so cute and he, on the other hand, would be appropriately described as an "asshole". It was a lot of him screaming into his bedsheets and Deuce giving him a pat on the shoulder and saying "That's rough, buddy."

They gave him a hug once and he thought he was going to die. They were so soft and warm and he's pretty sure he went to heaven for a minute and he had to physically restrain himself from nuzzling up against them and asking to just stay the rest of the day.

They're nice to him and they take his jokes in stride. They're so fucking cute that he has to look away when their shirt rides up a bit during PE. Their laugh is the best sound he's ever heard and he keeps having intrusive thoughts about kissing them. It's like they're perfect. He refuses to admit he's in love with them, though, because he thinks back to that first relationship he had and... God he doesn't ever want to do that to them even accidentally.

Cater caught on to his crush and supported and teased him in equal measure. Though Cater called him a 'chubby chaser' (he didn't have ill intent, but it was definitely a not good joke as he realized in hindsight). Ace snapped and went off on him and if it weren't for some quick reflexes would have punched him in the nose. Ace and Cater both ended up collared by Riddle for the rest of the day, and when asked Ace brushes it off as being 'over something stupid'. He gets a but withdrawn afterward in his sulking because it's easier than admitting that he has feelings.

After nearly decking Cater, his seniors were well aware of his crush and after some discussion, Trey decides to step up and give some encouragement by cornering him in the kitchen.

"You're in love with them, aren't you?"

"Huh? Don't joke around about stuff like that Trey. You know I'm not like that..." Ace trails off as he rubs at the back of his neck, a miserable frown creasing his face.

"I don't think that's true."

"Well it is, so drop it."

"It's okay to be afraid of rejection, you know. Everyone is, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try it." Trey says, not looking up from the fruit that he's cutting.

"And what the hell do you know!? You're about as romantic as a box of rocks!" Ace's frustration rises, and he stands, already in fight mode. But Trey doesn't match his energy-- instead he glances up at Ace with a look that seems to see right through him and Ace ends up slumping back into the kitchen chair and resting both his hands on the back of his neck as he stares at the counter.

There's a long silence that's cut only by the sound of Trey's knife coring apples. Long enough that Trey begins to wonder if this was the wrong time to bring it up and Ace still needed more time.

But, eventually, with a heaving sigh, Ace continues.

"If I hurt them I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." He thunks his head down against the counter. Normally Trey might be more upset that he did since he just cleaned it, but he supposes he can let it slide. Just this once.

"Do you want to hurt them?"

"What? Of course not!"

"So, what's the issue? Are you afraid you won't be able to communicate well? Or that they won't like you back?" Ace grunts, shrugging. Trey takes it to mean both. "You know you can learn to communicate if you try. You're doing it right now."

Ace responds with another sigh.

"Do you trust them?" Trey asks.

Ace lifts his head enough to glare at him.

"Answer the question, Ace. Do you trust them?"

"Yes. Of course I trust them. They're like one of my best friends."

"So why are you holding yourself back? I doubt they're going to hold it against you if you have feelings for them."

There is another long silence, and eventually Ace stands, the scrape of chair legs the only thing signaling his exit as he turns to leave.

Ace ruminates on it for a while, and is encouraged by the others in his dorm too. And Floyd and Jamil. And professor Crewel. (THAT one was embarrassing.)

Eventually he manages to work up the nerve to try asking them out. He has a plan for it: he's going to pull them aside at lunch and ask if they want to go get food with him off campus. (Thanks, Crewel.) After that maybe they could get a slice of cake or ice cream or something and he could ask them out there. Then, he could get them a cute little gift or something and they would be dating before the day was out.... Hopefully.

It all goes to hell immediately. Apparently, since his lesson had run over, they had already gotten lunch and were sitting with everyone. Deuce shoots him a sympathetic look from across the table. Not to mention Grim was being a menace. He gets his food and sits next to them, but his appetite is ruined so he just lets Grim steal his lunch and lays his head down on the table. When they ask if he's alright, he just silently shakes his head where it rests on his crossed arms.

He goes through the rest of his classes and his club meeting in a terrible mood. He, Deuce and them had already planned to hang out for a study group after clubs today and he's dreading it.

He still meets up with the two of them, but his mood is so low he barely speaks. Eventually he says he's not feeling it and says he's just going to head back to the dorms.

MC catches up to him, though, and asks him if they can talk. He catches Deuce from where he stands down the road giving him a thumbs up and nodding his head. He's never quite wanted to strangle him as much as he did in that moment. Clearly he wasn't in the mood for this.

They ask him if he's okay again. He grunts, but then they ask him to please not shut them out. They tell him he's been acting distant and they can't tell if they've done anything wrong, and Ace's heart breaks a little hearing them say that to him. He's been kind of a terrible friend, hasn't he... Well, Trey said he should learn to communicate, and there's no way he's going to dig this hole deeper, right?

"You didn't do anything wrong. I've just been in a bad mood lately." Ace inwardly cringes at the slight lie. It doesn't feel good to be untruthful with them, but he's scared.

"Really? Because you have been avoiding me."

Ace winces, outwardly this time. They seem to immediately get more upset, and Ace can already feel his gut starting to drop. God he fucking sucks at this emotions stuff!

"It's not you. I'm... Going through something right now and it's not going well."

"So you can talk to Deuce about it but not me? He specifically told me I should talk to you because he thought I was the one causing the problem."

Ace is going to kill him. He gapes at them a little, trying to grasp for words, but they cut him off.

"Look, if it's something you can't tell me that's fine--" it's clearly not fine, they're upset and he desperately wants to fix it. "-- but at least don't shut me out entirely. Please? I want to help you, Ace."

"It's not that I can't tell you, I'm just..." God, what words is he supposed to use? Now they look sad and angry and he's floundering.

"You're just what, Ace? Because I'm really starting to think you're lying to me to get out of this conversa--"

"I've been trying to figure out a way to ask you out, alright!?" He spits in a moment of blind panic, just wanting to stop the escalation of this. He doesn't want this to be a fight, but once he realizes what he said he claps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening and face already starting to go red. How fucking embarassing.

They're staring at him silently, and he's quickly adding Trey's name to the list of people he's going to throw hands with the moment he stops mourning this situation.

"You're kidding right?" God that's the worst thing he's ever heard them say.

"I... No." Ace wishes he could shrink into the ground right now. "I like you."

They start laughing and the humiliation is going to kill him. He wants to turn and start walking and only stop once he's under the sea. His face burns.

"Oh my god, Ace, you suck at this." They're still laughing, but before he actually can tuck his tail between his legs and run, they grab him by the wrist and pull him into a tight hug. He's getting very mixed signals, all of a sudden. And now he's trapped.

In spite of it all, he still wants to pull them closer. As if they can read his mind, they squeeze him tighter. He gives up his hopes of escape, and he wants to hide, so he hides his face against their shoulder.

"Of course I'll go out with you, Ace." They say, finally, now that their laughing has ebbed enough. Ace jerks his head up from their shoulder, giving them a wide-eyed, owlish look.

"Wh-- Why'd you start laughing!?" He sputters, pouting. He's relieved and nervous in a new way, now, but he can hardly believe what he's hearing.

"Because the last time I tried to ask you out, you invited Deuce to our study date." They smirk at him.

"You-- well, I-- it's--"

"And the time before that you--"

He stops them by clasping a hand over their mouth, already seeing where this is going. He can feel their grin by the rise in their cheeks and the way their eyes crinkle and glitter with mischief.

"I get it, alright? I'm an idiot. Give me a break, I've already heard it from, like, eight people this week." He sighs, and finally he lets himself do something he's wanted to do for so long. His hand that was covering their mouth shifts to cup the soft slope of their jawline and he leans in to kiss them-- fucking finally!!-- his thumb gliding along their cheek to feel how soft they are. They meet him halfway, and their lips feel so nice against his.

It's quick and chaste, but it's a promise of more. Ace's face still feels hot as he leans their foreheads together. He hears a distant cheer from Deuce.

Finally, he laughs, and says:

"You know if you let me go kick his ass, it could still be a study date."

Deuce Spade

Deuce doesn't even realize he's developing a crush until he starts to find himself getting a little flustered when he tries to talk to them. His words keep coming out wrong, and when they start to laugh and gently correct him his heart starts pounding in his chest. Oh god, is he dying? He's pretty sure he's dying.

It isn't until Ace pokes fun at him one day that he realizes Oh. He's not dying, he's just got a crush on them.

"Deuce, seriously, if you stare at them any harder you're going to burn a hole in the back of their head." Ace snorts, flicking Deuce's arm with his finger rather roughly. It makes Deuce jump, apparently not having heard any of what he said.

"Huh!?" Deuce practically barks it, looking at him with wide eyes as if he'd been entirely unaware of him the entire time. Ace sighs, shaking his head.

"Your crush is getting out of hand. You never even listen to me when they're around. Talk about single-minded..."

"Crush?" Deuce repeats, brows furrowing. "They're not my... not my... oh. Oh. They are aren't they?" There's a litany of emotions that cross his face in those few moments, and Ace simply stares at him like he's dumb.

"You're joking right? You seriously didn't realize you have a huge crush on them? Even you're not that dense!"

Deuce looks back at him, this time wide-eyed with panic, like he's looking at him for answers.

"What... do I do?"

"Huh? What do you mean what do you do? How should I know?"

"Well you've dated someone before. What did you do?"

"I asked them out. And we all know how peachy that turned out." Ace grumbles. "Seriously, I can't help you with this one, bud."

Deuce asks Trey if he can help him to learn how to make some simple sweets so he can bring some over to them. Of course Trey catches on that he might be feeling something for them, so he tries not to rib too hard.

He goes out of his way to include them in things if he can. If he's going out for a morning run, they're invited if they want to. Or, if he's staying in and studying and then watching a movie, they're invited to that too. He's not nearly as bad as Ace at inviting other people along on their 'dates' but there are definitely a few that Ace jumps in on simply by virtue of being his roommate. He's a little more touchy that he used to be, often letting them lay against his shoulder or across his stomach if they're super vegged out.

He has a really hard time actually asking them to date him, though. He just can't ever seem to get the words to come out how he wants them to, and whenever he starts thinking about it he trips on his words and can't quite get them out.

Eventually, he makes a plan on the advice of his mother.

All he tells them is that they will need to dress nicely. Of course, he ends up helping them look for something that will suit them. They seem to be so much more picky than he is, though, because he really thinks they look pretty amazing in everything. They have such nice figure, how could they ever look bad in anything. It takes a while but they seem to find something they like and Deuce feels a little short of breath at how well it accentuates their soft curves. God, is he blushing?

He gives them a date and time and says it's a surprise... and it certainly is quite the surprise.

They smooth out their outfit one final time as they stand up to answer the knock at their door. No sooner do they open it than they have a bouquet thrust toward them.

They jump, and they follow the arm up to where Deuce's face is, pouting slightly and looking away from them with a brilliant red blush tinting his skin. They can't help but to laugh, and Deuce's head whips toward them, looking a little mortified. Before he can run, they wrap their hand around the one holding the bouquet.

"Are you taking me to prom?" They ask, grinning. Deuce opens his mouth but only ends up sputtering ineffectively for several seconds. They wait patiently, and when they see he's frustrated to the point of giving up, they nod their head encouragingly. Deuce sucks in a large breath and begins again, slowly.

"I... I wanted to ask if you would go out with me?" he manages this time, almost painfully earnest.

"Of course Deuce... Uh... forgive me for assuming but... I kind of thought we already were?"

There is a long, long silence.

"HUH?!" Deuce, once again, barks.

As it turns out, him asking them for "study dates" was what had made them assume they were already together. Except he calls them study dates with everyone..... does he have to clear things up with Ace now, too!? (He doesn't, Ace is well aware of what he meant.)

He is super giddy but also extremely flustered. Even so, dinner is nice, and they end up falling asleep curled up together on the couch after watching a movie. Their head is on his chest and Deuce had wrapped a protective arm around them in his sleep.

Jack Howl

Jack starts to realize that he's developing a crush during PE. They are on the same team and he notices how protective he feels over them when he see someone charge at them or them come too close to getting hit by a spelldrive disc. He has never had those sort of feelings for someone outside of his own family, and he realizes almost immediately that it probably means there's something more there.

He has asked his parents and grandparents about what it felt like when they met each other, and they had described a similar feeling. This was a tricky situation, though, because it was super rare for wolf beastmen to develop feelings and rarer for it to be a sign of a true bond. There's a big significance to it since wolf beastmen are largely monogamous and mate for life.

He doesn't ask his parents what to do about it because he thinks it would work them up, not to mention how embarrassing it would be for them to try and talk to him about romance. And he can't really ask anyone else his age-- the only other freshman who's dated has been Ace and he doesn't think he wants his advice on a relationship... So he asks the only other person he can think of.

Jack can see his breath on the air as he jogs, the air is incredibly crisp and refreshingly cold this morning. He sighs, and he suspects that's what prompts what happens next.

"Something on your mind, Jack?" Vil asks, glancing briefly over his shoulder as he keeps the comfortable pace of his run, his ponytail swaying with each movement. "You've been more quiet than you usually are this morning."

Jack grunts.

"First of all, I'm not quiet." Jack protests, and Vil laughs easily at that. Rude. "And it's not... something I really know how to talk about. I don't think you'd know what to do anyway."

"You could give it a shot, you know. I'm more wise than I look." Vil says mirthfully. Jack appreciates that he's gotten better at picking up on his particular brand of bluntness, but he could really do without the teasing that has taken the place of his offence.

"I think I might be in love."

Jack nearly plows into the back of Vil as he stops short. Ah. Right. He's nosy. Jack should have known, honestly.

"With who?"

"MC." Vil clicks his tongue in response and Jack has no idea what that's supposed to mean. Vil turns, examining him carefully, a manicured eyebrow raised, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against his own bicep considering.

"I could see it." He hums.

"... That's all?"

"Well, what were you hoping I'd tell you?"

"... How to go about this? Or what you think, I suppose." Jack huffs, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away. "I was hoping you'd know more about how to handle this than I do."

"Well, unfortunately for you, I'm not all that well versed in dating." Vil hums, but before Jack can sink too low into disappointment, he continues. "But I can tell you what I know from other people."

"Alright."

"I've heard it's best to just be upfront about it. Direct, even. That way there's not questioning your intentions and you don't end up dancing around each other."

"You think I should just... ask to date them?"

"You're trying to figure out if you think this is something that will last, right?"

"Yes."

"Then it can't hurt anything to try, right? There's no beastman rule that says you have to get it 100% right the first time, at least as far as I know. You can still experiment and see if it works out. The worst that could happen would be that things don't work out."

Jack is... a pretty direct person, so he can't really find a reason not to just be direct like Vil suggested. Of course, he knows that his version of direct might be a little much-- there's a time and place for everything.

He decides to wait until they are together alone... which is easier said than done when they're always with a variety of the freshmen. It takes a couple of weeks and he has to sneak it in while the others are distracted, but he sees his opportunity and he takes it.

"MC." Jack calls.

They stop, letting Ace and Deuce to charge forward in their own little world-- in an apparent competition to see who can find something the fastest. It's silly, and Jack wasn't paying attention to them. Hadn't been since they'd gotten into the library.

"I've been meaning to ask you." Jack takes a deep breath, feeling the way his chest knots nervously as he tries to push through it to say what he wants to say.

"Are you ok?"

"I was wondering if you would like to try dating." He says, finally able to get it out of his mouth and into the air.

They give him a shocked look, and their face twinges a little red. Jack doesn't look away, needing to know the answer in spite of the urge to look away.

"Us?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Yes, of course I'd be interested in taking a shot at dating you, Jack." They smile rather shyly. Jack can't help himself, feeling his mouth curl up into a smile and his tail wagging at his back. "Like... today? Did you want this to be a date."

"I was thinking we could get dinner--" Jack is cut off by the sound of a loud crash, and then Ace and Deuce bickering. Sensing they were imminently about to be thrown out of the library, he corrects himself. "I was thinking we could get dinner alone, with just the two of us. Maybe this weekend?"

They smile at him and nod.

"Sounds great."

Epel Felmier

Epel has never really been much of a romantic. Sure, he conceptually knows what people want out of a relationship-- what is ideally romantic. But that's never really been his idea of romance-- he's always just wanted to have someone who looked at him and saw him the way that he wanted to be seen. Sure, he might be learning how to use his cuteness as a weapon, but that doesn't mean he doesn't still want to be perceived as being strong and capable. So, when they do exactly that, he really doesn't find it hard at all to accept his crush.

Epel also thinks they're super attractive. To be quite honest, he's never really found people who were super thin attractive, and he thinks them being chubby suits them so well. It makes them look healthy and strong. Sometimes he (embarrassingly) catches himself staring at them.

With as observant as Vil and Rook are, it takes practically no time for them to pick up on his crush. Vil makes it known that he finds them to be pretty plain, honestly, and he makes an offhand remark criticizing their lifestyle.

"It's really a shame-- it seems like they probably indulge too much. They have such potential to look amazing."

Epel moves before he can even think beyond the blind rage he feels. Epel has never, ever managed to get the upper hand on Vil in a magic fight one on one, but...

His right hook collides solidly with Vil, sending him reeling backward as he reaches up to clutch at his cheek. It's far from his usual grace as he stumbles and lands on his rump, looking up at Epel with shock.

"You shut your mouth." Epel says it so coldly that Vil looks taken aback all over again, eyebrows arching toward his hair line as he rubs at the place where Epel made contact with his face. "I don't ever wanna hear you say nothin' about their lifestyle ever again. I'll deal with you sayin' whatever you want to say about me but you leave them out of this. Nobody asked fer your goddamned opinion anyway and not everyone wants to look as twiggy as you do anyway."

Epel takes another, single step toward Vil, fist already clenched to swing again as he seethes with rage. Were Rook not quick on his feet, it would have likely continued to escalate. Instead, Rook catches Epel under both arms and bodily pulls him back.

"Monsieur Poison Apple, compose yourself!" Despite Rook's hold on him, he jerks against him like he's been possessed with the spirit of a badger. It's not until he is fully dragged out of the room and away that he seems to calm down, and all the while Vil sits on the ground in stunned silence.

Of course, things get a little strained between Vil and Epel for a while after that. Moreso than usual, even. However, Vil would eventually realize he has been the one in the wrong in the situation, and will apologize. Likewise, Epel will apologize for throwing a punch. They do manage to smooth things over, but they don't talk about the crush much beyond that-- likely because Vil is concerned that he might accidentally push some buttons without meaning to.

Epel ends up getting them tickets to see a new movie when it releases and also manages to get permission to do so off campus in one of the small town districts of Sage's Island. He invites them to go along and plans to ask them to be his significant other after the movie during a nice stroll along one of the beaches of Sage's Island.

Vil and Rook might not talk to him or give him unsolicited advice, but they cannot in good conscience let him wear what he was going to wear on the date. Absolutely not, he looked like he was ready to plow a farm field. Instead they managed to dress him up pretty smartly in a nice suit jacket and slacks that are cut to make him look taller than he is. Epel feels a bit like he's being fussed over for school picture day the entire time, though.

"You can see the moon reflecting on the water it's so calm."

"Yep. I think it's my favorite part of the island." Epel admits, as he watches them look out over the water. He isn't sure which one of them instigated it, but at some point they linked hands and haven't seemed to find it in them to drop them yet. It's nice. Pretty and quiet out, and he hopes that they're as relaxed as he is. "I wanted to ask you..."

"Mm?" They glance back at him, their smile bright.

"I... was thinking maybe we should try... us. Being together." They stop short, blinking at him.

"Are you asking me out?"

Epel flushes, but he laughs regardless.

"I think I already did, didn't I?" He feels his nerves twist a little bit, but they're smiling at him and it's what he's holding on to. "What do you say?"

"Yes, of course. What do you take me for?" They say, and then grin at him like it's a challenge, and Epel can't help but to feel like he's falling a little more in love with them from the sight alone.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek could never ever understand what his mother saw in his father, and didn't think he ever would until one day, surprise, you're in love with a human, Sebek. They had somehow managed to worm their way into his heart our of sheer obstinance alone. He'd never quite met someone other than Master Malleus or Master Lilia that commanded quite so much power over him-- that they would speak and he would shut up and listen. That he admired so thoroughly.

His other dormmates pick up on it instantly. As does anyone else remotely familiar with Sebek. He doesn't act like a braggart around them, and he doesn't even talk exclusively about Malleus around them. It's a very easy thing to pick up on.

Lilia starts ruminating about young love aloud during a meal one day, and Sebek praises his wisdom... but also admits that he's confused why the subject even came up.

Silence. Sebek watches Lilia's eyes widen, then glances to Silver to see him giving him a similar owlish look. Had he said something wrong?

When he sees Malleus is also giving him that same look, he can't help but to feel himself starting to blush, shame starting to creep in from his apparent social faux pas.

"I... apologize." He hesitates shrinking into himself ever so slightly, still not truly knowing what he's said wrong. It seems to be what breaks Lilia, and he starts laughing. Hard. It takes him several seconds of agonizing embarrassment on Sebek's part before he manages to calm himself enough to speak.

"No, Sebek..." Lilia smiles fondly, dabbing a tear from the corner of his eye. "It was about you. You're in love with them."

It washes over him like a rush of cold water.

"I'm WHAT!?" His volume skyrockets, making Malleus and Silver wince slightly.

It becomes a whole crisis for him. After all, he's spent his whole like knowing that he was better than humans, and that his mother was a fool for falling in love with his father when she could have had any fae she wanted with as strong as she was. And... now here he is, suddenly realizing he's harboring feelings for a human.

Initially he tries to force it out of his head. Not thinking about it at all was surely the most rational course of action. It would only really serve to frustrate him because he kept thinking about them. Thinking about how they would command his attention so easily-- about how they looked amazing when they would dress up and how it would command respect-- how they had those stupid, perfect, kissable lips and if he was any weaker a man he would be cursing Lilia for making him realize it. He hadn't thought about kissing them before, and now he can't seem to get the thought out of his mind.

His second approach is to let himself indulge in thoughts... and thoughts alone. It won't hurt anyone if he just thinks about them and his pride can remain intact. Or... well, it remains intact until he catches himself laying on his stomach and kicking his legs in the air like a schoolgirl while he imagines what it must be like to hold them in his arms. Embarrassing. Utterly devastating.

When there is nothing else he can think to do himself to avoid or ignore it... he decides to use his secret last resort.

"... Master Lilia, what should I do if I'm in love with them?" Sebek hangs his head as he says it through gritted teeth.

"You're still hung up on that?" Lilia asks haltingly, as if he hadn't been the person to bring it to Sebek's attention to begin with! "You shouldn't sound so unappreciative, Sebek. Love is a wonderful thing."

"Yes but--" Sebek sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face as Lilia watches him search for his words. It's rare to see him so flustered as this. "They're... they're a human."

"Yep. Sure as the sky is blue and that Malleus loves ice cream. And?"

"And??"

"What about it? Does that change how you feel?"

"... No... Should it?" Lilia tuts at him, crossing to where he's seated and resting a hand on either side of his chin and encouraging him to look up at him. Sebek doesn't want to, but complies anyway because he can't find it in himself to refuse Master Lilia, not when he's already being so gracious.

"Sebek. You need to let go of those antiquated ideas. Life is too short. For us and for humans." It's scolding, but it's gentle. Somehow, Sebek still feels like he wants to cry. "If you are in love with them, and it's not hurting anyone, then be in love with them. I think you should give it your all to chase what makes you happiest."

After Lilia's pep-talk, Sebek vows with renewed enthusiasm that he's going to change his approach. This time... he wants them. He wants to tackle the hurdles to see where this road with the human is leading. And it all starts with a declaration!

"Sebek... I... Please!" They are bright red, and they are hiding their face in their hands and the collar of their uniform the best they can. There are a few snickers from throughout the hall, and quite a crowd is starting to gather. Sebek doesn't pay it any mind, instead singing their praises as he recites the poem he made for them the night before.

"And you have eyes that could rival the king of Briar Valley himself!"

"God..." He's so loud, and they really, really don't have the heart to tell him that the poem is the single cringiest thing that they have ever heard in their lives. "Sebek!"

Ace and Deuce are standing behind them, barely containing their laughter. They hear Ace repeat a line to Deuce in a mocking tone under his break and the barely restrained snort that leaves Deuce. Traitors. Both of them.

"And you have lips that--"

"That's enough!" They yelp, and in a moment of panic, they shut him up the only way that they can think to-- by hauling up by the lapels of his uniform jacket and kissing him. Sebek is cut-off mid-sentence, but his eyes flutter closed. It's more gentle than they ever expected he could be, softly returning the kiss as he lifts his hands to rest on each of their elbows. They linger for several seconds, long enough that they're sure he's no longer going to keep reciting godawful poetry at them, and then they let him go. He looks dazed and giddy in equal measure as he opens his eyes again, a deeply pleased smile gracing his features. "Yes, I will go out with you. Please just... just stop doing all of that. It's kind of embarrassing with everyone here."

Sebek blinks at them a bit lost, and then looks around, only now seeming to notice the crowd that had formed around the two of them. He frowns deeply, shooting a sharp glare at those in his immediate gaze.

"Alright, that's enough, there's nothing to see here." He grouses, and ah there's the Sebek that everyone knows. Thankfully him being so forceful seems to encourage them to scatter. The only one who remains is Lilia, who is standing there, beaming like a proud father. He claps, delightedly.

"Wonderful show, Sebek."

God, what were they getting themself into?

[lake-archive]

Chapter 10 - Action?

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Series: Alte Liebe Rostet Nicht

Characters: Anja-Sophia 'Ann' Wolff (OC), Izumi Sena, Leo Tsukinaga, Ritsu Sakuma

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‘How have you been dear?’

‘Hi Mami. Sorry for not texting. Been busy.’

‘That’s alright. Have you met Sena by any chance yet?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’

‘You’re curious…’

‘Haha, you don’t want to tell me about him?’

‘I leave you in the ‘he is a fine man’ delusion.’

‘Language!’

‘Sorry, sorry. But seriously, I don’t wanna talk about it.’

‘You’re just saying that now…’

‘I’m being serious Mom. I don’t know what to think about him anymore.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s a long story. Don’t wanna bore you with it. Back to work.’

‘You’re going to leave me hanging? Pops would like to know too!’

‘Maybe some other time…’

The last few days… Torture, pure torture. Almost. In a way. In a sense. It was just confusing honestly and their brain started hurting. What were they supposed to do? How were they supposed to figure things out? Honestly, things started to make less and less sense to Ann when it came to Izumi himself. Reports varied from their own perception of him, and even that part started to crumble. First Sora’s words seemed so empty to them but the more they got the chance to observe him from afar, the more they were questioning him. Things became so complicated over time, they couldn’t believe it.

One time they came across him while talking to one of the idols of StarPro. To not be noticed they hid, wanting to see something for themselves. A different side they hoped. Something which would justify the pity they felt in this weird nightmare. And they were kind of surprised. Actually, had they ever seen him smile in any way before? No, even if it had become off putting at points. A smile was a smile however. ‘That guy can actually smile!?’ they thought, observing the conversation with… Uhm… Well… Maybe someone close to Izumi. After all, they referred to the blonde male with glasses as ‘Yuu–Kun’, a rather affectionate nickname. And he loved talking every second to ‘Yuu–Kun’, as mundane as it was. In fact, if they didn’t know any better, he knew how to tease… If one wants to call it teasing.

Regardless, the treatment Ann experienced was the total opposite from Yuu–Kun’s. Even if they felt sorry at points, given Izumi had nearly crossed a line here and there from their own observations Regardless, there was no… Ill intentions. He just really liked this fellow idol from another agency and seemed to care. Not in a ‘oh we are working in the same industry so I pretend to care for you’ kind of way, but… Actually caring. Actually enjoying the chat. It was a bizarre side of Izumi’s, something Ann was arguably not used to seeing. It took a bit until they could even accept that this was Izumi and not some clone. Seriously, they were stubborn enough to make themselves believe such absurd things. As long as there was no hint that Izumi had some redeemable qualities. It made them question if they were not just trying to tell themselves all sorts of things just to be able to bash on Izumi. Maybe no one could blame them but when seeing this, they felt a little stupid. Though it would be an easy one if it had been just that. Big deal if it happens towards one person after all.

“Did you seriously forget to eat lunch again!?”

“Haha, sorry Sena~ But in my defense, this melody didn’t want to get out of my head! It was begging me to get out! ‘Grr! Write me down Leo! Write me!’ You could say that it was threatening me before I would forget it!”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes… Listen, you come with me! Right now! You will catch up on your lunch!”

“Huh? But—”

“Right now! Urgh, that’s exactly why leaving you on your own is risky… You forget everything sometimes.”

“Haha, I can’t exactly help it you know!”

“Why am I your caretaker?”

“You tell me~”

“I wouldn’t do this if you weren’t so forgetful!”

This was a part of a conversation between Izumi and Leo, or rather one of them. The scolding of skipping a meal, something Ann noticed wasn’t a rarity. They had seen it by chance when they were outside, eating on their own, nibbling on their uncooked ramen straight from the plastic bag. It was convenient and quick to eat on the go, so they did not mind.

Back to the topic at hand: Izumi loved to scold, it may as well be a part time hobby of his. However, it was not really scolding for the sake of scolding. No, it was rather because… Well, he was worried. Leo was forgetful and loved dropping everything for a composition. They had figured out the hard way when he scribbled on a document because he needed some paper to scribble down his latest ‘masterpiece’, Ann having to explain how that happened. Luckily not alone… So this didn’t seem too far off. Sometimes they had the impression that Leo needed some help, given his forgetfulness. They had no idea of the extent of course until they witnessed a conversation about Leo’s schedule, something which seemed to be in Izumi’s control. It was… A lot, too far maybe, but was it out of malicious intent? Uhm… As twisted as it sounds, not really…

And again, Leo is forgetful so there was a reason, Though he could slow it down of course. The two guys smelled the same sometimes, literally. Something was up with that. And this was what made it conflicting. He didn’t mean harm and was concerned, but the way… It was hard to put it in words, hard for Ann to describe. They couldn’t describe it properly in the end.

“Secchan? Hmm… He can be a lot to handle. But I don’t hate him to be honest. He isn’t always wrong. Why do you ask Ann–Chan?”

“Just… Curious. Your opinion.”

“My opinion? Did something—”

“No! Just curious! Ahem… You… Mean he isn’t bad?”

“Secchan has his moments but… That’s about it~ Plus, he isn’t that guy…”

“That— Oh, right…”

Even when asking Ritsu it wasn’t all negative, not all black and white. Of course their friend was confused where their questions suddenly came from, why they were so curious about Izumi out of nowhere yet he had answered them regardless, giving them his unfiltered thoughts. And it sent them more into a spiral, giving them stuff they didn’t want to hear in the end but forced themselves to do so. They had to hear it, for their own curiosity, their own weird sake. To summarize, it lined up with their observations. And it was a help in one way, but on the other it just confused them more, shattering their previous image of Izumi altogether.

Now of course that didn’t mean it completely changed. No one can change their image of someone this quickly, not even close. This was not something happening just like that. But… Well… It gave them some questions. And given the nightmare they had, which still made them shake in their very own boots, they had planted their face onto the table when back in their office alone and having worked through a pile of papers. Everytime they were not working they wasted their thoughts on this. It only changed some things but the initial question they had that morning? They were not much closer. Because none of these answered what was up with Nyeli. What does he have to do with any of this? Then again, it might only answer why the cat didn’t hate that jerk completely and portrayed him in one of the images.

But that was it. They were not much closer to anything else… ‘ Taking pity on the lowest of the low ’, the line haunted them even now. It was all so weird, they didn’t get it. The more they dug up about Izumi, the more confusing of a person he became to them. An Arschloch , they would still not deny that. But at the same time he was… Also not one? Ugh, this was confusing. More than it should have been. It made their head hurt… It led to nothing. Being an observer didn’t solve anything! It didn’t answer anything! Third hand reports were useless at that point! If they wanted to get a clue they had to get it over themselves… They might have to do it. They didn’t want to, and it would come off as weird, but…

“What choice do I have? If I want to get a clue and see if it is worth it or not… I have to ask him myself, don't I?”

The mere thought made them face the surface of the table. Luckily no one had seen them in this miserable state, how they were wasting their thoughts and energy on a person they initially hated and thought would be not worth anything. But now they were just in some weird spiral of self doubt…

Then again, they could always excuse that it was for Nyeli’s sake. Something was going on and they had to figure it out. As Ritsu had told them… ‘ We both can tell Nyeli behaves differently when just hearing Secchan’s name. ’

‘You don’t have an odd feeling about this? At all? ’

It was odd alright. They were starting to see what he meant, starting to understand why this was a complicated matter. Sitting around and doing nothing while also trying to make sure the cat no longer faces the so-called ‘Arsch’ would not solve any of this… It just wouldn't.

But it would be up to them. They had to decide to approach Izumi. And once they do… It will be hard to back out from this.

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[nicoathogwarts]

The massive clock chimed, waking Nico from his nap in the grass and he sat up. He had defense against the dark arts and Umbridge had threatened him with more detention if he was late again. 

The stairs would be too slow, but there was another way.

Grabbing his bag he made a dash towards the castle.

Hermione was looking out the window, ignoring everything Umbridge was saying, having finished the reading they were supposed to do last month. She watched someone fling a bag onto one of the ledges and pull themself up.

Nico di Angelo waited for Umbridge’s back to be turned before using his wand to open the window and slip in, silently making his way to his seat and sitting down with his book out.

Umbridge turned around “Mr. di Angelo, how wonderful for you to join us today.” her lips were in a thin line of displeasure.

“Of course professor, I’d never disrespect my elders.” Nico held up his hand to show off the scar, grinning.

At the end of class nearly everyone wanted to know why Nico had climbed the side of the castle.

“I didn’t want to be late.” was the only explanation given.

McGonagall caught him in the halls “Mr. di Angelo, if you could spare a moment.”

The Slytherins that’d been walking by all slowed their waking or stopped, eager to hear Nico get in trouble.

“What do you need, professor?”

“I saw your little… Shortcut, if you are to get hurt then I would need to send a letter to your father, and we don’t want that do we?”

“Of course not professor, I’ll make sure to be careful and stay out of the hospital wing.”

She nodded and Nico walked with Neville to their next class. “That was close, she didn’t even take point off.”

Nico nodded “you heard her, I just need to not get hurt and it’ll be fine. There’s not even lava so it’ll be a piece of cake.” 

“Lava?? Why would there be lava?”

“The climbing wall at camp has lava. And no one’s died because of it yet.”

“Do all Americans have a death wish or just you?” 

“Most of us, yeah.”

Nico had made a habit out of climbing the side of the castle to get where he needed to go. In his defense it really was faster then taking the stairs.

Ginny had started to run a gambling ring centered around him and his climbing abilities. “How long will it take you to get to the top of the astronomy tower?”

Nico shrugged “seven minutes? Why.”

“I bet you could climb it in five. I’ll split the money with you if you do.”

“I’ll give you double if I lose.” Nico said. He started climbing, a crowd had gathered by the time he was halfway up.

He made it to the top in just under five minutes. “Fuck yeah!”

McGonagall cleared her throat and Nico whirled around. “Oh, hi professor.”

“Mr. Di Angelo, this is completely inexcusable reckless behavior. Twenty points from Slytherin and I will be writing a letter to your father and stepmother.”

“Sorry professor.”

Come dinner time Nico was looking even more like a walking corpse then usual. Along with his dinner being served a vulture flew into the great hall, dropping a howler and a single mint leaf in front of him.

“Thanatos take me now,” he muttered before opening the howler.

It roared to life, yelling in a strange language as Nico listened to the words of his stepmother. At one point it almost looked like he wanted to laugh before the howler said something that made his face drop. After several minutes of lecturing it shriveled up into petals and Nico was much worse for wear then before.

“Come on, it’s so nice, let's go out by the lake!” Ginny said, sitting next to Neville in the courtyard.

Nico made a face “yeah no, I don’t want to be turned into a plant again so grass is a no go for awhile.”

Luna nodded in agreement as if she understood what the fuck Nico was talking about.

“Your mum’s transfigured you into a plant? That’s illegal practically everywhere because it’s so dangerous to transfigure another person” Neville said, looking a little ill.

Nico backtracked “stepmom, and I’m fine. Tell the asshole that turned me into corn it’s illegal without dying and then talk to me.”

Ginny changed the subject to the upcoming quidditch game.

Maybe it was better they didn’t know everything about Nico di Angelo.

[generation1point5]

Having wrote nearly 40k words on a fanfic between Chase and Leo, which is highly unusual for me both for the subject matter and the genre (romance and horror), the question of why I bothered is certainly worth asking, considering my own personal approach to both topics. For now, I'll limit these thoughts to the former subject.

Love as a theme and as a force, whether in the romantic or even in the familial or fraternal forms, is a compelling one; it is as human emotions go it is universally understood at an intuitive level and yet infinitely complex such that it is never a topic that becomes stale. Whether the romance succeeds or fails, romance strikes at the heart of who we are as people, as human beings. It is passionate, wild but discriminate; it chooses partners on an individual basis. It is easy to be mistaken for infatuation, but true romance is not in the power of the initial highs but in the enduring of one's lifespan, enjoying the peaks but lasting through all the darkest valleys. There is also something to be said about the material conditions that allows a romance to succeed also, an oft-neglected fact that it is easier for a relationship to succeed when there are no aggravating factors that force a couple to compromise on goals they share together. These are integral to the human experience.

I think the thing that compelled me the most about that particular example of romance was more than just the relationship. It was also an examination of the past, about growing up and losing parts of yourself, becoming somebody that you aren't necessarily happy with being, and wanting to become somebody that is. Sometimes that is understood as being with someone you believe to be perfect for you, and then coming to the understanding that notion be false, idealized and impossible.

Part of my compulsion to write on the subject (and the Echo pair) has to do with the material conditions as well; understanding that Chase and Leo's own place in life made their romance difficult, even ill-fated from the beginning, and that even in choosing it again there are (if not even moreso) greater risks to what had been attempted before. This is of course not limited to Chase and Leo, but to just about all of the Echo cast in some way or form.

But beyond Echo and going back to romance as a whole, I've been struck by a line in Disco Elysium that I've been wrestling with for many months now, one that Echo illustrated perfectly:

True Love is possible Only in the next world - for new people It is too late for us

Wreak havoc on the middle class

That last line is of course extremely politically charged, and seemingly irrelevant to the subject, but in fact provides the lynchpin of the context behind all my thoughts on the topic of romance. It demonstrates how material conditions impact our social lives, our very existence as human beings and where we derive so much happiness and suffering from.

It is an argument for dialectical materialism made into poetry, the rawest, most concise argument for all leftist thought distilled into one compelling, prescient line of words. It contextualizes romance, and indeed the human experience, within a broader, existential reality. We are what we make of ourselves and the world, but we have made a world where some people are better positioned to shape it to their own satisfaction than others.