#your rational mind knows that it’s silly but you can’t help to wonder what’s out there

[dromaeotrash]

[cinnbar-bun]

The Heartless Giant Pt. 4

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW-ish (some suggestive comments wink wink)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

You can’t help but be attracted to his eyes. Those dark eyes that promise nothing but pain, that hold nothing but emptiness inside. His words repeat in your mind over and over. 

“But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.” 

His insistence that you did not need an excuse to visit him and that companionship was desirable replayed. You wonder briefly what it would be like if those eyes of his could have some light. If those eyes could ever reflect anything besides apathy, coldness, or arrogance. 

How wonderful it would be to be the reason his eyes have light again… 

To be the one to bring it back to him…

It’s shameful, wishful thinking, but in your rather boring life, he colors your mind with fascinating thoughts. Some of them are morbidly curious, but they are far more interesting and stimulating than anything from before. With only a few visits, he had imprinted himself in your mind and made you start to dream of things you never dared to before. 

One could start to get the impression you were becoming fond of Crocodile. 

Oh, Crocodile… what a strange name. But the more you say it, associate the word with him, the more it fits him. 

Big, imposing, quiet, yet so, so ferocious- his name fits him far too well. 

Violent tendencies contained within a barely held monster of a man. It’s far too dangerous but also brings a certain amount of imagination you cannot deny yourself. 

You wonder how he fought your father. What he was like in Alabasta. What he looked like when he was younger. Who gave him those scars? Who cut his hand off and made him need the hook? Just what havoc could he have wrecked upon your brothers if he was not occupied caring for you and giving them the opportunity to escape? 

These thoughts plague you, morning and night. You almost want to go ask your father directly about Crocodile, but you know the dangers of that. You know you could be inviting something awful by bringing up that man’s existence in front of your father. He’s already been suspicious of your behavior the last few days, you didn’t need to hand him the reason on a silver platter. 

That thought reminded you of just how silly you were acting over Crocodile. If you couldn’t even discuss this with your own father for fear of his reaction, you shouldn’t even be down there in the first place. 

So you waited. A few days pass, forcing you to occupy your time and acknowledge the pros and cons of seeing Crocodile again. The cons were clear and obvious, but the doubts, the ‘what-ifs’, the copious amounts of hope you were attempting to have in order to possibly justify another minute of him, always overshadowed the rational parts of you. You were already in too deep to back out now. Not when you couldn’t shove away all the questions you had wanted to ask him about. 

It was now the sixth night since you last saw Crocodile. If you went down now, would he possibly chastise you for not visiting in a while? Would he assume the worst? Or would he be grateful? 

Well, he’s a lonely prisoner, you think, it’s not like he has any other people to talk to. He would probably appreciate your presence, if anything. Although the moon is at its highest point in the sky, you can’t possibly sleep, not with these thoughts. This time, you go to your closet and quickly grab a wrap to cover your shoulders over your nightclothes. 

You do the same thing as before, taking a peek out the door before dashing to the bottom cellar. Thankfully, the freezing air is not as sharp thanks to the thicker wrap around you. You take more careful steps down the stairs towards him, before you hear a low chuckle. 

“Well, well, well… long time no see, your highness,” Crocodile’s voice reaches your ears. 

“How did you know?” You ask, seeing as he’s sitting with your back towards you and the fact that you did your best to be quiet. Crocodile motions to his ears, still refusing to turn around. 

“I can recognize your footsteps,” he answers. “You have?” 

“I don’t hear much else. Your footsteps at least mean I will see something nice for a change,” he laughs, again with that same humorless laugh. 

You nod and take a seat on the stone floor in front of the bars. An offering to him. 

He freezes then glances at you over his shoulder. 

“You’re getting comfortable,” he comments rhetorically. “So, why did you come today?” 

He still hasn’t turned around. “I felt bad.” 

“Heh. You felt bad? You felt bad for a criminal? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” “I can always just leave you alone,” you retort. “I thought you were the one talking about ‘companionship’ and what not last time.” 

“Oh please, you didn’t come down here just because you felt pity for me.” 

“I didn’t say pity-” 

“My point still stands,” he interrupts. This time, he turns around, and you notice his eyes look more exhausted while his smirk is more cold. “You weren’t really feeling bad. You desire my presence much more than you want to admit, huh?” 

His bluntness makes you red while you grimace and grip your wrap tighter. “I absolutely did not ever say or imply that.” 

“You don’t need to. You keep trying to act tough around me, dear but I’m not the kind of man you can just lie to so easily.” He leans in closer to you and tilts your chin up with his hand through the bars. “You missed me, didn’t you?” “I did not,” you huff. You internally scream at the fact he’s making you act like a petulant child. 

“Sure, sure, your highness. Just couldn’t admit the fact that you were starting to want me.” 

“Well, continue to be that way. I’m going,” you say as you begin to stand up. His right hand reaches out to grab your wrist while he shakes his head. 

“Oh no, your highness,” he tuts. “I’m not letting you go so easily now that you’re here. Come on, take a seat.” 

“With how you’re talking, I don’t think I want to sit with you,” you argue. A low rumble from his chest again makes your face heat up. 

“Don’t be so cruel… I began to miss your presence here. I don’t want to go back to that loneliness, you know?” “So you admit that you wanted companionship?” “Well, now you’re putting me in an awkward position, your highness,” he smirks. “Making me have to admit my feelings so suddenly.” 

You wait to hear what he has to say while Crocodile rubs his thumb around your hand in circles. “Well? What are your feelings?” “So demanding,” Crocodile flicks his eyes towards yours briefly. “Well, since you’re so desperate to know-” 

“I’m not desperate,” you glare. He looks deep into your eyes and chuckles. 

“My bad. But I have to admit that I’ve been missing your company. You forced your way down here and then didn’t even come see after almost a week? I thought for a moment you would have forgotten me already.” You’re taken aback by his confession and stare while he strokes your hand. 

“Prisoner got your tongue?” Crocodile flashes his hook at you while you avert your eyes. 

“No, I… I was just taken aback for a moment. I didn’t expect you to be that forward now.” “You simply forced my hand. Don’t question my feelings again if you aren’t ready to hear what I really mean. Otherwise I’ll keep having to make you squirm.” 

“You’re too much,” you groan as you take a seat on the floor again. “I don’t understand how you can say something like that with a straight face.” “Try being more honest, your highness. It might get you where you want instead of putting you on the defensive.” 

“That’s rich coming from you,” you say. “You can’t tell me to be more honest when you were busy hiding your secrets until I ‘enticed’ you enough.” 

“What can I say? I’m a hypocrite, your highness. That’s not my problem to solve.” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh. “Maybe you should take your own advice. Be more honest and open.” “I don’t think you could handle my honesty.” “I doubt that. You should just tell me.” “No, no, no, that’s not how this works. You can’t have only me admitting and spilling my life to you. You have to give something in return,” he points his index at you. 

“Fine. What would you like to know?” “Any relationship experiences?” Crocodile bluntly asks. 

“Wha- seriously? That’s your first question?” You reply, unimpressed. 

“What? I’m just curious, is all. It’s a normal thing to ask someone attractive, isn’t it?” Crocodile raises a brow at you with a smirk. 

“You-!” You cover your face with your hands. “You go first.” “Fine. Hm… relationships… can’t say I have.” “You really haven’t?” You ask in disbelief. “I mean, you seem like the type to have experience.” “Don’t mistake my words. I’ve had plenty of flings, if that’s what you’re curious about. But actually courting another? No, I have not.” “Why not?” “Why would I?” Crocodile runs a hand through his hair. “None have impressed me before. Especially not when I was so busy attempting to take over.” 

“One-track minded, huh…” 

“Hmph. You could say that. I prefer to label myself as ‘committed’ to my goals.” 

“And what are those goals?” 

“You haven’t given me your answer,” Crocodile reminds you. 

You roll your eyes at his attempt to redirect your question. “None.” 

“None, you say? Interesting,” he nods with a smile. “Not even a bed-warmer?” “You’re so crass. No. Nobody.” “Now that’s impressive. How did no one come along and attempt to woo you?” He chuckles, reaching out to hold your face in his hand. 

“Well… a few have…” you admit, avoiding the deep examination Crocodile is giving you. 

“And why have they not turned into an opportunity?” Crocodile questions. 

“I wasn’t interested. The suitors who tried were vapid and dull. I’d much rather have continued reading and studying than bother trying to keep a conversation with them.” 

“So, you’re just as ‘one-tracked minded’ as I am, hm?” Crocodile teases. 

“I think I prefer ‘hardworking’ instead of that,” you correct with a smile. 

“And what do you tend to study and read about?” “Any and everything. Whatever catches my eye at the moment, I like to read about.” 

“A good trait to have. Continue chasing more knowledge,” Crocodile replies. 

Your eyes widen. “You mean that?” “I told you before, you may be physically weak, but your brain can mean the difference between life and death. Power means nothing if you cannot effectively think for yourself,” his voice lowers, suddenly returning to their normal tone. 

“That’s definitely true. I know I’m behind my brothers and my own father when it comes to strength, but I’ve valued my mind. I may not be able to fight head on, but I can do plenty of others things,” you confess. 

“I know. They don’t appreciate and understand that, do they?” “No, not really,” you shake your head. Your brothers have teased you plenty about your tendencies to bury your face in a book. Even some of your suitors have been mortified that you knew things they didn’t- feeling threatened by that knowledge. Crocodile was the first man besides your father to encourage and be impressed by it. It made your chest feel lighter. 

“What a shame. But that’s their way of bringing you down to their level. To make you feel lesser than and to settle for less,” Crocodile looks sternly at you. “Don’t you dare let them do such a thing to you. You’re a smart person, and your worth is infinitely larger than whatever they think it is.” 

“Thank you,” you quietly reply, touched he would say such a thing to you. “Truly. I haven’t gotten support like that before.” “Heh. Don’t go thinking this makes me a saint or anything. I’m just saying the truth, so don’t accept what pathetic dogs try to tell you.” 

“I guess I shouldn’t,” you agree, a smile creeping on your face. “I know what I’m capable of.” 

“Good. And maybe you can find a more suitable partner for you then,” Crocodile chuckles. 

You look at him briefly, your mind starting to wander as you think about what he could possibly be like as a- 

You shake your head and try to remove the thoughts. It’s a crazy one that doesn’t make sense. 

His eyes opens slowly as he hums at your expression. “You look lost in thought again. What’s on your mind?” “Oh, nothing,” you lie. You don’t look at him out of fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“You’re a terrible liar, your highness. How do you expect to be diplomatic if you’re going to expose every emotion on your face?” “I don’t do that. I’m just not wanting to share that.” “Now why is that, hm?” He tilts you face to him and leans in, smirking. “You’re not thinking of me are you?” “I would never!” You shout, your face exploding with heat. “I was just thinking of… of…” “Still showing it on your face,” he pulls you closer and whispers into your ears. “If you’re that desperate to see what a man of my caliber can do, you can always just say so. I certainly wouldn’t be offended.” 

“I don’t want that,” you cover your mouth, knowing your face is exposing the truth. Especially with how hot his breath is against your ears, you can barely handle the close proximity. “Besides, even if I were to hypothetically want that, you’re still cuffed and locked away.” “Oh, your highness,” he chuckles knowingly into your ear. “I don’t need anything but my hand to show you something wonderful.” 

Your eyes drift to his right hand and you notice how large his fingers are. If they were to just- 

You shoot up and cover your face. “You are- you are a cruel man!” 

“I can’t deny that,” he shrugged, the smug look on his face not leaving. “But, when you stop playing hard to get, I can give you what you really want." “You’re frustrating. Good night!” You yell, turning around and ready to walk back to your room. 

“Wait, your highness,” Crocodile calls out to you. You look, curious of what he wants to say. 

Crocodile gives you a small grin. “Dream of me, won’t you?��� 

[yeongwonie]

STUPID CUPID! — 24

pairing. park sunghoon x f!reader

SYNOPSIS. alone on valentine’s day, you decide to sign up for the student council’s fundraiser: a matchmaking survey, hoping to at least get a few laughs out of the whole ordeal. little do you know, park sunghoon (your archenemy since junior high) has the same idea. but it’s fine! your student body president, kim sunoo, would never tamper with the matching system, right?

note. it's not glitching dw i just added white imgs for spacing!! + there are more texts nd another note at the bottom :)

masterlist

⤎ prev | 24 — a weird coincidence (written; 0.9k) | next ⤍

SUNGHOON DOESN’T HEAR A SINGLE word his coach tells the team at the end of practice.

though he tries his best to pay attention, all he can think about is his plan for talking to you. he still hasn’t decided on a good conversation starter (because what’s the best way to say “hey, here’s why i ghosted you three years ago” without sounding like an asshole?).

during the years he’d spent avoiding this conversation, he’d unknowingly let his mental image of you grow into some fierce, unsympathetic monster. now, looking at you, he feels a bit ridiculous.

how can he be this nervous to talk to someone who, a few years before, was one of the closest people to him in the world? for a moment, he questions whether or not he should go through with this plan, whether an explanation now is too little too late.

how can he be this nervous to talk to someone who, a few years before, was one of the closest people to him in the world? for a moment, he questions whether or not he should go through with this plan, whether an explanation now is too little too late.

how can he be this nervous to talk to someone who, a few years before, was one of the closest people to him in the world? for a moment, he questions whether or not he should go through with this plan, whether an explanation now is too little too late.

then, he remembers the way you’d looked at him on monday, and the promises he’d made to jungwon and jake in the weeks before. if he doesn’t do something now, he knows he won’t be able to fall asleep for the next month, at the very least.

the second sunghoon opens his mouth to finally say something, your lips curl up into a smile, and you pull your phone from the depths of your bag. you’re just about buzzing with excitement, now, and he feels a light flutter of relief in the pit of his stomach.

it’s a little conceited of him to think otherwise, he knows, but he can’t help but feel reassured that you’re doing okay without him, and that his issues aren’t affecting you too much. if he knew you’d been losing as much sleep as he had about something that had happened in junior high, he’d be overcome with guilt.

lost in thought, sunghoon lingers while you open your messages and click on a chat. as you begin typing out a message, he can’t help the pang of jealousy in his chest.

it’s silly, he knows, but he wonders who you’re texting, who you were so excited to talk to that you were frantically searching through your bag for your phone. he remembers the period of junior high when a text from you would instantly improve his mood, and he’d lay stomach down on his bed talking to your for hours, like he was in a kdrama.

ultimately, his curiosity overcomes his determination to grant you some privacy, and he tries to read the previous messages (the contact name, soulmate with an emoji, is unhelpful for everything but contributing to the suffocating feeling).

every word looks oddly familiar.

could you be the person he’d been messaging for the past few weeks? he’d suspected it earlier, but the less rational part of him still wants to forget he’d seen anything and leave.

mind clouded with confusion, he turns around and walks briskly toward his own bag. every cell in sunghoon’s body wants to get out of the room and go home. he wants some magical message to appear in the sky and confirm that, no, his match is not you, and he was only hallucinating. now, he feels nauseous too.

when he finishes gathering his things and no message arrives, sunghoon takes a breath and starts to walk once again, feeling lighter with every passing second (there’s no way you would take this long to type out a reply, right? if it was him, he would’ve gotten your reply by now). he’s ready to chalk the entire situation up to his own overthinking and get a nice, full, night of sleep.

backpack slung over one shoulder, he steps into the cool, evening air. the sweat still clinging to his hair and his clothes makes him shiver, and he winces at the though of catching a cold (and what punishments jungwon would come up with for him if he did).

he vows to talk to you tomorrow as he remembers his initial plan, maybe after class, or even on friday after the team’s rehearsal. he takes a final glance in the direction of the practice room, fully exhausted from the emotional roller-coaster of the past five minutes more than practice itself. even though he failed, he feels happy enough to skip home.

then, sunghoon feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

note. HI AGAIN HAHA how are we feeling abt this chapter T-T sorry again that it’s so late tumblr is the loml and my worst enemy we r just like y/n nd sunghoon ig

[elysianslove]

shameful lust; suna rintarō

synopsis; he’s off limits in every way, but that only makes you want him more. based off of this, this, and this. the smut is inspired by my bunny anon’s birthday idea :) bunny, you know the one :)

pairings; brother’s bsf!suna rintarō x fem!reader

genre; porn with kind of plot lmfao

word count; 5.5k what the fuck??

trigger warning; age gap (not specified, & everyone’s 18+), masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, humiliation, praise, mini panic attack, link for the lingerie (slight nsfw warning)

it started off innocent, as most things do. you were sixteen when you first felt the butterflies nestled deep in your stomach, the drop of your heart, the heat of your cheeks, only around him. you’d thought it was a natural reaction; after all, you’d known suna rintarō since, quite literally, forever, and you were a growing girl, hormones imbalanced and thoughts as confusing as ever. it was normal, completely ordinary to feel as nervous as you did whenever his hand so much brushed against yours, or whenever he’d barely glance your way to offer a small, teasing smile.

it meant nothing, of course. you were just a young girl, sixteen, desperate to lose yourself in some sort of fantasy. a silly crush on your brother’s best friend was nothing strange, and definitely inevitable.

it would go away.

you’re eighteen when the feelings don’t go away, and when they begin reshaping into more— impure thoughts. the more you see of him, the more hyperaware you grow of everything that he is. suddenly your eyes easily find the small strip of skin revealed when he stretches his arms up, and suddenly you can’t help but constantly think about the way he sits, legs spread so wide as if to... accommodate something. suddenly your thoughts always find their way back to the way he’d hugged you goodbye, arms squeezing you so tight to him, allowing you to feel every ridge and ripple of his muscles, and the way he had ruffled your hair and his hand, so large, so easily sinking into the strands— and you’re left wondering what else his fingers could do in your hair, to the rest of your body—

it’s bad. it’s really bad. every day you try and convince yourself it’s innocent, and every night you prove yourself wrong when you find yourself on your stomach, face buried in your pillow and teeth biting down on it, mouth dampening the cloth as your fingers rub harshly at your clit and sink into your dripping cunt— all with his name falling off your tongue as you heave and cry. every night you think about how much thicker his fingers are in comparison to yours, how much longer, how they’d feel inside of you, curling within you. you know he’s dexterous, insanely good with his hands. you’ve seen the way his fingers fly across a keyboard or tap urgently at a gaming console. you know it, and it in no way helps in calming your frustration.

it’s bad, of course, but you live with it. after all, he is in every way off limits. a lot older than you, and much more experienced, suna would have to lose his mind before he ever thinks of you the way you think of him. what would a girl like you have to offer a guy like him anyways? your shaky hands and clumsy mouth? your tight cunt that can barely fit two of your fingers? you’d only leave him unsatisfied, and leave yourself utterly humiliated.

worst of all, however, you can’t imagine how devastated, how betrayed, your brother would be if he’d caught you fooling around with his best friend.

so although you’re yearning to say fuck all and fuck him, you don’t, because it doesn’t make sense in the slightest for you to do so. you continue to make due with what shirtless image of him or that time he slept over and went commando, waking up at the same time you had and his — his dick was hard— you could see—

fuck.

you need to grow up.

as you sit with your back to your headboard, your knees bent up and swinging slightly, two simple knock erupt on your bedroom door. it’s late afternoon, the sun’s brightness dimming slightly, casting your room in an orange glow. in all honesty, it’s soothing.

looking up from your phone momentarily, you call out for the person knocking to come in, your eyes returning to your screen once more.

“hey.”

at the sound of the awfully familiar voice, your head snaps back up and you lock your phone, looking up with newfound excitement at the man standing at your doorway. “hi,” you return with a smile, sitting up and crossing your legs.

suna smiles back, walking into your room with one hand tucked behind his back. “your brother said i’d find you here,” he explains, walking towards you.

you quirk a brow, curiously and amusingly smiling as you ask, “whatcha got there?”

he’s quiet for a moment as he walks over to your side of the bed, maneuvering in a way that doesn’t reveal what he has hidden behind him. you twist around on your bed, leaning on your knees to face him properly, and it’s just when you lift up slightly to settle comfortably that he leans down, bends over to get close enough to whisper, “happy birthday, pretty girl.” he gives you not another moment to process how close his face is — how close his lips are to yours — before the hand behind his back comes around between you.

tucked in his hand is a medium sized bag, not related to any sort of brand, so you assume it’s a simple bag he’d gotten from a convenience store. that would really only mean one thing— that he’s gotten you more than just one gift. you can’t see what’s in it since there are colorful papers stacked within it, obstructing your view, but you’re still flustered at the mere thought he’d even considered to buy you a gift. it’s not unusual; suna, every year on your birthday, has gotten you a gift, yet it’s usually more so a gag gift than anything. some inside joke of yours, maybe he’d pay for your dinner, things like that. never a full on, thought out gift.

“you didn’t have to,” you say, settling back down on your knees and hesitantly taking the bag from him.

he waves you off, disagreeing. “course i did; you’re nineteen now.”

you roll your eyes. “wouldn’t eighteen be more special?”

“fine,” he decides, playfully taking the bag from your grasp and pulling it to him. “guess i’ll just give this to someone else then— maybe your mom—“

“suna!”

at your reaction, he laughs boisterously, and against all odds, you find yourself smiling too. quickly, you reach out for the bag again, pulling it back to you.

“open it when you’re alone,” he disclaims, almost as if in warning.

warily, you eye the bag.

“sure.”

you try to be quieter when unboxing suna’s gift, but the paper’s scrunching is just so damn loud. after cursing it out, you finally rid the bag of its first layer of paper, and are met with a scented candle and some lotion. basic, expected. there‘s a card there too, and when you open it, there’s a note in his messy handwriting, reading out a simple happy birthday— and a good couple of yens too. money, a candle, lotion.

so basic.

there’s still more paper beneath, but you don’t expect it to be for anything except decoration, not for—

what the fuck.

what the fuck.

What The Fuck?

your two hands dip into the bag, reaching out for the final gift, grabbing it by its straps and—

holy shit, he got you lingerie.

it’s so— sheer? you don’t think an inch of you will be properly covered, even with the lingerie on. it’s properly transparent, with only the intricate lace designs to modestly cover you. when you dig into the bag, you find the panties to match the bra and— well, it’s pretty, you can’t lie. there are dark, almost flowerlike designs all over, and it’s a deep black, nearly blue or green. there’s also a garter belt, but there aren’t any stockings in the bag to attach to the clips. maybe he’d expected you to take care of that?— ah no, you stand corrected. there are stockings.

fuck, he thought of everything didn’t he?

but more importantly, what the fuck does all of this mean?

burying the lingerie deep inside the bag again, and making sure to cover it up with the paper, thoroughly, you place the other gifts and the card back in and on top, before putting it aside on your bed.

and now, to gather your fucking thoughts.

you had to text him to thank him for the gift, obviously. but there was no way he’d accidentally misplaced the lingerie there. it was deliberately placed, with the way it was folded and tucked neatly, underneath an extra layer of paper above and beneath it? yeah, definitely on purpose. but— why? had he taken notice of your feelings towards him? was this his way of making fun or... reassuring you they were mutual?

god, what the hell are you thinking.

snatching your phone from your bedside table, you check the time.

2:01 a.m.

okay, everyone‘s bound to be asleep by now. hopefully. you eye the bag, so cautiously one would assume there’s some sort of killing machine within it. you contemplate. shake your head. no. the gears twist. yes.

no.

yes. no. yes. no—

fuck it, it’s yours anyways, isn’t it?

you snatch it loudly, rushing off to lock your bedroom door, then rushing to close the blinds, tightly, surely, then rushing to turn the lights off and turning the small lamp by your bedside on instead. what else are you meant to do with lingerie other than, well, put it on? it’s rational, you think, obvious.

it’s fine.

stealing one last, deep breathe, you dump the contents of the bag again, and pick out the lingerie.

it fits.

it fits perfectly.

the bra is snug against your chest, pushing at your breasts but not digging in uncomfortably. your nipples peak through what‘s revealed of the mesh, and when they stand perky and hard, you blame it on the fact that you‘re half naked. the garter belt wraps tightly around your waist, not squeezing to the point of discomfort and pain, but not loose that it’s a nuisance, and the clips that hang from it are attached to a pair of stockings that stop mid thigh, squeezing at the flesh. finally, a pair of panties rest on your cups, cupping your ass perfectly. it too is sheer, and god— you can see so much of you.

is this— what he would‘ve wanted?

you can’t deny that you do look good. it shows your figure off appealingly, and coupled with some dark lipstick, your messy hair, and the slightest smudge to your day’s eyeliner— would— would he have wanted you like this? all dolled up for him?

is this what suna likes?

doubting the fact that you’ll ever have the courage to put this set on again, you grab at your phone, clearing the area before your mirror, then sitting down at the edge of your bed. might as well enjoy it while it lasts, shouldn’t you? posing in the mirror, you appreciate the way you look, the way the dim lighting complements the atmosphere, the way the piece hugs your body and shows you off. you look so good.

so good— for him.

reveling in this surge of confidence, you snap a good amount of pictures, posing differently in each of them, taking them at different angles. your camera roll overflows with them, and as you fall back on the bed, hair splayed out on the mattress, you smile proudly at the pictures.

do you look good enough for him to see?

the thought strikes you suddenly; it tickles at the pit of your stomach, makes your knees bend and your toes curl.

should you?

the messenger app is open at the text messages between you and him before you can think, a picture of you uploaded and ready to send.

should you?

you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, mulling it over anxiously.

no, you most definitely shouldn’t.

quickly, you swipe out of the messenger app, and onto safari. porn it is.

you should‘ve turned the ac on. fuck, it’s hot.

3:10 a.m. 45 minutes since you’d put the lingerie set on and had your mini photoshoot, ten minutes since you’d started masturbating. everything’s still in place except for the garter clips, which have snapped off of your stockings at some point in the past few minutes, but you pay it barely any mind as your legs spread wider, one hand dipped beneath your panties, the other pressing hard against your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet.

it’s not that you generally had a problem keeping down your noises. your home was constantly filled with people, and you’re almost always sexually frustrated at the most inconvenient times. this time, however, it’s different. it’s different because you’re wearing a lingerie set that suna picked out, that suna bought for you, that suna gave you himself. would he have wanted to watch you touch yourself like this, dressed up so pretty? or— would he have wanted to fuck you while—

shit, you’re gonna cum.

you let out a broken moan, bleeding into a desperate son, muffled barely your hand. your fingers fuck into your cunt faster, squelching lowly as you arch your back, pressing your palm harshly against your clit.

“ugh, hngh,” you whine, squeal, wrist aching. “fuck, rin— please—“

you’re so loud, shit, shit, shit.

beside you, your phone dings! loudly, alerting you of a message received, but you can’t stop, not when you’re so close. it dings again, and again, but you continue to ignore, chasing your own high so desperately, faster, faster, faster. the coil tightens, your body tenses, mind hazing over and eyes rolling back— so close, so fucking close.

“well aren’t you a doll.”

your eyes snap open, and you only manage one second to process who the fuck and what the fuck before your hips are trembling and twisting, and your legs are shaking so awfully as your back arches deep. the moment you hear his voice, so deep and clear, looming just by the edge of your bed where you lay spread, fucking yourself, you cum— and you’re convinced you have a humiliation kink. you didn’t cum because you’d simply been close— you came because you heard him catch you.

in your post orgasmic daze, you pant deeply, chest heaving, rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. your fingers pull back from your panties, falling to the bed, sticky and wet, while your other hand falls from from your mouth, drool and spit dripping from the corner of your lips.

“aw, you ruined the set.”

you sigh. “rin.” the way you say his name isn’t in a way that’s calling out for him, but neither are you scolding him nor brushing him off for teasing you. you’re just simply trying to process the fact that he’s here.

“i like it when you call me that,” he admits, and in a second he’s falling over you, hands bracing and steadying him beside your head, keeping himself hovering at a small distance. “why do you always insist on calling me suna?” he wonders, head tilting curiously.

blinking slowly, you breathe in, and out, and ask, “what are you doing here?”

above you, he shrugs. “you were the one that sent me those—”

immediately, you’re pushing him off you, sitting up all too quickly as you reach out for your phone. you shakily unlock it, typing in your password and opening the messenger app. he’s right— shit. you could’ve sworn you’d deleted the photo, because you’d explicitly decided just how stupid sending it would’ve been. 

well, look at you now. 

“that wasn’t— oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you stutter, turning your body towards him once more, but avoiding his gaze, your body, only barely having just cooled down, heating up once more. 

“oh?” he tests. “was it not meant for me?” 

“no, i—“ 

he’s smiling all too wide for him to not be getting off on your embarrassment. at the thought of that, your eyes unintentionally snap up to him, to his crotch, where beneath his sweats is a bulge, and god, it’s like all those nights ago where you’d seen his dick through his sweats and he’s big, he’s so big—

“just where do you think you’re looking?” he sneers, hand all of a sudden gripping your chin, tilting your head back up and forcing you to finally, for the first time, meet his eyes. they’re dark, almost sinister, as they narrowly glare at you, begging you for explanation. 

your mind’s no longer clouded over, all pleasure dissipating from your veins, pathetic humiliation replacing it. “i’m sorry,” you mewl, eyes tearing up at the look on his face. of course he was disgusted. just as your stupid crush on him was natural, so was his reaction. “i’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, lower lip wobbling. 

his grip on your chin tightens as he furrows his brows. “tell anyone?” he questions. “about what?” 

had he not— heard you? 

he says your name, firmly, deeply, in a way that has you stifling your sobs and biting your bottom lip to stop its quivering. patiently, you wait for him to speak, to say anything, until finally, he asks, “do you want me to fuck you?” and your heart stops. “yeah?” he continues, his other hand reaching for your wrist, your hand, the same one that’s still sticky with the evidence of you. slowly, as he brings his lips closer to yours, fingers slipping so that he’s squishing your cheeks tightly, he leads your hand to his crotch, to where his dick is painfully hard beneath his sweats. your initial touch is featherlight, and he doesn’t fully press your hand to his clothed cock, but still, just the smallest, tiniest feel of him has the lust in your veins thrumming alive. “you think you’d look pretty—” he pauses, lips hovering by yours, eyes searching for any sign of hesitance or resistance, “sitting on my cock?” 

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again, but he swallows it by finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. his lips are so soft, softer than you’d imagined and fantasized a thousand times over, as they press against yours, managing to pull the softest moan of surprise and pleasure from you. you’d forgotten, in your moment of shame, just how much you’d craved suna rintarō. just how often you thought about him, those same fingers gripping your chin to be buried inside of you, those pretty lips sucking on your tits and clit. “want you so bad,” you hiccup, kissing him back. “so bad.” 

he hums, amused, pulling back. licking his lips with a grin, as if tasting you, his hands leave you entirely, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he lifts it up, freeing himself of the piece of clothing. “don’t you think i know, sweetheart?” he teases, daringly. at the sight of your eyes widening, he nods with a dramatized serious expression, tutting as he adds, “so dirty, thinkin’ ‘bout me like that.” 

you whine again, hands lifting up to obstruct your face from his view as you fall back on the bed, body bouncing slightly. “stop,” you plead, not for him to pull back but for him to stop reminding you of just how wrong it is to feel the way you do. still, you spread your sticky thighs for him when he presses his hands to your knees, and you shiver at the feel of his fingers tickling at your skin. “i’m sorry.” 

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he reassures you, faux sweetness dripping like honey off his tongue. he leans in, carefully slow, hands following the curve of his body and yours. “i want you too.” he smiles mischievously, leaning close once more. “so bad,” he mimics you, lips hovering right above yours before he kisses you once more. you want to pinch his arm for outright mocking you, because really, how infuriating can he be? but it’s impossible to want to do anything but desire him in every possible way at the moment, especially when he presses himself harder against you, hips slotting between your legs and clothed cock brushing against your dripping panties. 

“rin,” you plead, hands clawing at his back, grasping at his shoulders. god, his skin is so warm. 

“yes?” he drawls, wet lips kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing easily to your jaw, and down to your neck. patiently, he waits for you to speak. 

with a trembling voice, you ask, “be quick. please.” 

a little stunned, suna pauses his ministrations at your neck, but it’s barely for a second. because moments later, he’s grinning sinisterly into the crook of your neck, sucking hotly as he replies, “sure thing.” 

you do want to take your time. you want him to stuff his face between your legs and sink his fingers so deep inside of you. you want him to force your mouth down on him, want to bury your face in your lap till you’re choking and gagging on his cock. you want him to take his time stretching you for his cock before he sinks inside of you, letting you feel every single inch and ridge of his dick until he bottoms out. you wish. you wish. 

but you’re desperate, and needy, and frustrated, and most of all, you’re not even sure if this is real. you’re scared to blink and have him disappear all of a sudden. you’re scared to wake up with soaked panties and no gift from suna, no suna above you, hard cock pressing against your cunt, only the same suna from all these past years, the same suna you pine over at a distance, wanting but never having. 

so you whimper so quietly, “be quick,” again, because he’s still too slow for your liking.

his fingers grasp the sides of your panties, pulling as quick as he can, sliding them down your thighs, watching as the cloth rolls at the urgency as it slides past your knees, your shins, your ankles, legs lifted high up. at the final loop around your right ankle, as suna flings it off, he kisses at your ankle, gripping it tightly and using it to spread your legs. 

as your legs spread, your pussy, soaking from both your past orgasm and this unbelievable build up, spreads too, glistening and dripping for him. his eyes easily fall to it, and, with that same glint in his eyes, he grins, and licks his lips again. “wish i could have a taste,” he admits to you, shuffling closer and bending your legs closer to your chest with one hand. the other hand frantically pushes at the hem of his sweatpants, tugging it low, beneath his balls. “god, i’d have you sit on my face for hours.” 

he’s going to kill you. 

he’s going to fucking kill you. 

at his words, your cunt pulsates and clenches tightly, hole glistening as you moan. you hope he doesn’t notice, but he does, somehow, and he laughs, too fucking loud. “you liked that, hm? bet you’d look so cute,” he spurs you on, and your entire body trembles. 

you wish to say something, to find the courage to belittle him, degrade him, remind him that if you’re in the wrong for wanting this then so is he, but it’s so hard to find your voice. it’s like he’s stupefied you completely, reduced you to this dumb, wordless, horny mess. god, fuck, it’s embarrassing. you can only watch with wide, tearful eyes and quivering lips and trembling legs as he spits on his hand and fists his cock, quickly, getting himself all nice and slick for you. his cock is— he’s so big, fuck. if you’d been shocked feeling him beneath his sweats, well, your entire body’s rigid with anticipation now. 

just as promised, suna’s quick. with one hand pressing and steadying firmly at your lower stomach, right by your hip, he guides his cock to your cunt with the other, wasting no time by pushing in. no way, no way, no fucking way. 

how is he fitting? 

“ease up,” he orders sharply, forcing more of himself inside of you.

in response, you bring both hands up to your mouth, clasping them tightly above your lips. you remaining quiet is as impossible as ever, with the way he’s stretching you so wide for him, so you press down harder with your hands and throw your head back as he sinks in deeper, and deeper. 

“aren’t a good girl?” he praises sweetly, his other hand mirroring the one on your hip. he watches as you lower your head again, lifting it up slightly to look between the two of you at where he’s fully bottomed out, buried deep inside of you. “feel good?” he wonders, even if he knows the answer. your head falls back again and you nod with your eyes squeezing shut. “feel so full, yeah?”  you’re glad he’s speaking for you, because you doubt you could find your voice at the moment, even if you tried. 

you nod again instead, urgently, just as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you, before pressing back in quickly, thrusting into you suddenly. the sight of him above you is better than anything your mind has ever made up, hands squeezing at your hips tightly, both ensuring you keep your legs spread for him and keeping himself up, steadying himself as he fucks into you. his arms bulge and the muscles in his abdomen tighten and tense with every thrust. his chest, so flushed red; his hair, a little sweaty, a little messy; his brows, furrowed deep in concentration; his lips, wet and red, so fucking red, his tongue jutting out slightly as he picks up the pace, as he thrusts faster, harder. 

and best of all: the noises he makes. he’s shameless, fucking into you with abandon, moaning and grunting and whining for you, like he’d been the one yearning, pining, and not you. and, you suppose, with the way he’s fucking into you right now, that there might’ve been some truth in his words, that he’s wanted you just as bad, that this wasn’t some pity fuck— poor little girl, his best friend’s sister, sending him lewd and inappropriate photos because she’s so desperate, she can’t help but lust after him, every single day. 

his hands squeeze even tighter and he grunts, gritting his teeth sharply. “fuck, m’already close,” he grunts, and somehow, that makes your heart swell, pride deepening. “cunt’s so fucking tight, shit.” you’re making him say those words, you’re going to make him cum so quick, it’s you. you. 

when his hands crawl up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading through the bra, your hands fall to his forearms, gripping so tightly and digging your nails into his skin. “please, please, please, cum inside,” you beg, trying to be as quiet as you can. “please rin, please.” 

the bed creaks with the effort and speed of his thrusts, your body bouncing as his cock fucks deep into your cunt. his head bows in, smooth hair swinging forward as he curses. “are you— hm..hngh—sure?” he asks, and you nod so rapidly you feel dizzy, arching your back as much as you can to get him deeper inside of you. he’s a mess of curses and pants as he fucks you even faster, one hand remaining at your breast, grasping tightly, the other lowering to your wet clit, rubbing furiously, messily, clumsily. 

no words are exchanged as he desperately circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing and kneading your breast as he angles his hips, trying to get you to cum before he does. and just as as before, just as he’d caught you earlier, your body starts to tense up, shaking in anticipation as your orgasm draws closer and closer.

but there’s something— different. 

“rin!” you yell out, still half-whispering in an attempt to keep quiet. your eyes well up as you call out for him again, your orgasm unbearably close. “rin, feels weird— oh m—”

he only just barely manages to shove his hand against your face before you’re screaming, throat aching and scratching as you thrash beneath him. around his cock, your cunt spams and clenches down tightly, cum splashing and spraying all over his lower stomach and past his cock to his balls. you’re still thrashing, still squealing and screaming, and he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up impossibly, his cum splashing and dripping as it mixes with yours. 

“holy shit,” he breathlessly marvels, hips still rocking and grinding against yours as he helps the both of you ride out your highs. “you ever—“ he steals in a breath, steadying himself slightly, “—cum this hard?”

you’re sobbing, hiccuping and mewling and whining and crying, your body impossibly sensitive. tears stream freely down your cheeks as you sink into the mattress, feeling quite literally like jelly. slowly, suna pulls his cock out, trying not to get distracted by the way your cunt squeezes out some of his cum, and instead focuses on you, his hands cupping your cheeks softly. 

“hey, hey, eyes on me,” he encourages, kneeling above you as his thumbs brush at your tears. 

“m’sorry, ri— suna,” you heave, hands grasping his as your eyes water again, fresh tears joining ones that are yet to dry. 

“what for, sweet thing?” he asks gently. when you start to lift yourself up, he leans back, sitting on your bed, giving you space to get comfortable. he watches with worried eyes as you furiously rub at your eyes with your palms and the back of your hands, as the tears never stop flowing. shit, did he fuck up somehow? he calls your name again, cautiously reaching out for you. when you don’t reject his touch, his heart settles, just a little. “tell me what’s wrong?” he offers again, and you sniffle. 

“are you not disgusted?” you ask, voice wobbly and cracking. 

his brows furrow, and he cocks his head. “because you... squirted?”

you slap at his arm with a roll of your eyes. “no, suna.” 

“when did i lose my first name privileges?” he asks, dramatically shocked. again, you roll your eyes. well, at least the tears have ceased. softening slightly, suna sighs. he’s shit at this. he’s worse than shit at this. talking in general? awful. talking about his or someone else’s feelings? he’s sure the devil would be better comfort. still, he can’t just— leave you. he’s sure that would make things a thousand times worse.

and honestly, neither does he want to leave you. 

“i can’t read your mind, pretty girl,” he reminds you, and momentarily, you look away. 

until you inhale sharply, and meet his eyes again. “it’s okay...” you begin, trailing off as you attempt to gather your words, before continuing, “that i feel this way for you?” 

at your words, at the much needed clarity, suna sighs in relief. so that was it. “more than okay,” he promises you. 

you nod in understanding, before prodding further, “not weird?” 

he thinks it over, before answering. if he’s honest with himself, the most he’d felt with you was sexual attraction. he liked the way your tits bounced when you ran to greet him or the press of your ass against his crotch when you passed by him to get somewhere. he liked— he liked thinking about your body, your lips, your hands. it’s why he sent you that lingerie set, the one that sits so pretty on your body right now. not that he’d been expecting you to send him anything, and he’d even anticipated that you might feel disgusted, might throw it in his face and slap him too. but he knew you better. suna was observant. he knew more than he let on, more than anyone could imagine. if he hadn’t realized your eyes on him in the past years, he must be blind.

still, he’s not sure if it was ever more, or if it is more. but, he supposes, it’s not an unimaginable feat. he thinks that maybe, there is a chance. he likes you, sure; you make his belly twist and his heart jump. but is he going to risk leading you on? 

he doesn’t know. 

he settles for, “good weird.” 

your face is the definition of a question mark. “what the hell is good weird?” 

“your face is good weird,” he retorts. it’s a bad comeback, terrible actually, but his face is flushing a dark red, and he needs to get away. you’re flustering him and it’s pissing him off. 

“that’s so mean!” 

yeah, the devil would’ve been better comfort. he wasn’t around though, so he made sure suna had been sleeping over that night instead. 

worked in your favor didn’t it? 

end note; my godddddfhksfhbskjbsb ,,, sorry if you found mistakes this took me all day and im not assed to proofread <//3 but i hope you liked regardless!! 

[aminiatureworld]

Old Faces

Characters: Albedo, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,151

Warnings: None

Premise: In which the reader runs into their ex

Author’s Note: Did something a little different by changing which character perspective it was for different prompts. I found it a good way to explore this particular prompt.

Albedo

The moment Albedo walked out of his office door he felt his stomach sink a bit.

Though the alchemist liked to think that he was a man of perfect rationality, whether by nature or by will, he couldn’t help but feel a knot in his stomach as he watched you talking to your ex.

Albedo knew that things hadn’t ended well in your last relationship, knew that there had been a lot of shouting and crying done by both parties, all culminating in you getting kicked out of your shared apartment. You didn’t like to talk about it even now, focusing on your relationship with Albedo instead of dwelling on the past. If any reminder of your ex ever surfaced you usually glared it before moving on.

That knowledge made your evidently awkward conversation all the worse. As you leaned against one of the beams which held up the alchemy front, seemingly distancing yourself as much as possible from the person in front of you, Albedo felt a sudden urge to run and wedge himself between the two of you. OF course he would never act upon something so unhelpful, but the alchemist was finding more and more that he’d be seized by illogical wishes the more he opened himself up to you.

Now he curbed his thoughts and made his way over, planting himself firmly next to you and not bothering to introduce himself beyond a curt nod. Not as if he needed an introduction anyways, as Albedo had run into your former partner a few times before, and the icy coldness between him and them was completely natural, at least on Albedo’s part.

“Ah Albedo!” You turned, smiling brightening for a moment. Placing a quick kiss on the alchemist’s cheek, something which caused warmth to immediately flood his face, you turned back towards your ex. “I’m sure you know about my partner, this is Albedo.”

“So you’ve been screwing around with this runt,” you ex shook his head as if disgusted. Narrowing his eyes, Albedo felt irritation wash over him, and for a moment he wondered if there was a potion that might indispose your ex for at least a week that could be easily hidden.

“Yes I’m currently in a relationship with him,” you replied, ignoring your ex’s jeer. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“None of my business? Don’t I have the right to be worried for you?”

“Oh please,” you snorted. “If you really worried about me you wouldn’t have kicked me out. Now if you please I have something to do. I’m very glad to hear that you’re well and getting your life on track and everything, but in truth I think this is really awkward, so could you please give me at least a head’s up next time.”

“You’re still think you’re better than everyone,” your ex spat.

“No, they don’t.” Albedo heard himself say, finding himself more and more irritated by this conversation. “But though they would never admit it, they are certainly better than you. I suggest you listen to their warnings, otherwise there are a few elixirs that could certainly use a human test subject.”

Your ex’s face paled, and they let out a curse before turning away. Suddenly feeling very depleted of energy Albedo sighed.

“Hey, thanks for that.”

“Of course,” Albedo looked up at you. “You seemed uncomfortable.”

“I was,” you admitted. “They weren’t really listening to me, so thank you.”

Leaning over to kiss Albedo once more you stopped in surprise as your partner tilted his head so that your lips met his, instead of the cheek you were aiming for. Pulling back Albedo looked at the ground.

“Sorry, I realize that wasn’t what you were planning.”

“I don’t mind!” Your reply came fast. “I’m just surprised. You okay?”

“Of course I’m alright,” Albedo looked at you. “You should be more worried about yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I be also worried about you?” You tilted your head. “I know that you don’t really like conflict. And I’m sure that was awkward for you as well.”

Albedo said nothing in reply, merely leaning over to kiss you gently on the forehead. You were so quick to notice things sometimes he couldn’t fathom it.

As the afternoon drifted on Albedo found himself once more thinking about how wonderful you were. There was no one in the world like you, no one nearly so precious to him, so worthy of love. If this was beyond the intelligence of a shadow of the past, well, what did it matter.

  Xiao

“Why don’t you just go back to them?”

You stared at your partner, surprised by the words that had just come out of his mouth. All day Xiao had been as prickly as a cactus, even more standoffish than usual, and all day you’d been trying to coax some words out of the silent yaksha who had taken to standing next to you all day. Now you wondered if that hadn’t been a mistake.

“What do you mean?” You felt your voice waver slightly. “Xiao why are you telling me to go back to my ex?”

You had run into a former significant other of yours at the Inn a day ago, as they had taken up a carpentry contract for the rotting bits of stairwell that made the Inn so difficult to manage sometimes. Though you two had long since been finished, the split had been amicable, and at the time it had felt nostalgic to simply chat with an old friend, a memory of an earlier part of your life when everything had been so different.

Though you were certainly aware that Xiao might have been watching, a suspicion confirmed by the adeptus’ questions that evening, you had never thought much of it. Sure it was your former partner, but it was too long ago to even think about now. You had been a dumb kid then, and though you might not be infallible now, you were certainly different. Standing across from your partner now you realized that not everyone appeared to hold the same opinon.

“Xiao, I know that I was talking to my ex yesterday, but just because I was doing so doesn’t mean I don’t love you or care about you. That was a very long time ago for me, if not for you, and I don’t see in them a partner anyone, I haven’t for years. I understand if you might not feel the same way regarding the timeframe, but there’s no reason to, well, I don’t know what you’re doing right now.”

You stared at your partner, who appeared to be glaring at the railing right next to your hand. You loved Xiao, despite all the rumors that often circulated him and the rest of the adepti. You also knew that Xiao had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of justice and logic. He normally wouldn’t hurl something at you like a challenge. Though he wasn’t perhaps the most well-versed in the ordinary lives of humans, you would hardly call him oblivious to human customs. Partner’s weren’t always partner’s for life. Why then was Xiao acting so cagey?

Now you partner let out a small “hmph!” Shifting himself so he was facing the outside, he stared out at the inky night of Liyue. His cheeks were warmed by the flickering candles of the Inn, and in that moment he seemed oddly vulnerable.

“Xiao,” you ventured. “Is something wrong, are you, are you still uneasy about yesterday.”

For a moment Xiao said nothing, and your heart began to sink. As you turned to walk away however you heard the soft tones of your partner’s voice.

“Would you be happier with them?”

“No,” the answer came automatic and true, “though I may have been their partner once, now they’re merely a friend. There is no one like you to me Xiao, there never will be; I realized that a while ago. Even if you worry about your karma or you lack of knowledge or whatever you shouldn’t worry that I’ll ever leave you.”

You quickly found yourself enveloped in your partner’s embrace. Letting a small sigh of relief pass your lips you returned the embrace fiercely. Feeling the arms around you tighten ever so slightly you found the strangest urge to laugh. Maybe because it was so silly, the idea that you would ever leave your partner. Though it was sad that he would never know how deeply those feelings ran.

“I’ll never go back to anyone but you,” you murmured.

 Zhongli

The first thing Zhongli thought was that you two looked so right together.

Though the ex-archon did not like to admit it, the doubts that he had had at the beginning of the relationship still plagued him. Not the doubts about his love for you, oh no he could never doubt such a thing not if all the stars went out. No, his doubts lay in himself, in who he was. Perhaps it was wrong of him to still linger on his impending immortality, something that you assured him you had come to terms with. It felt disrespectful towards your decision to continuously feel this way. Yet standing at the door of the Funeral Parlor, watching as you chatted with your former partner, Zhongli could not help but feel the familiar pain.

The walk home was spent in a bit of a fog, as Zhongli half-listened to you discuss your day. Normally he found everything about you fascinating, and the things your job put you through were no different. This time though the words trickled off his back like water off a duck’s wings, the image of your and your “ex”, as you called it, pressing down upon him.

“My love?” He found himself saying, not realizing he had made up the decision to ask you something. You paused your conversation, titling your head slightly.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” It was a lie perhaps, but an understandable one. “I just wished to comment upon the fact that I saw you with your former significant other. I hope that all was well with them.”

“They’re fine,” you replied. “Doing great actually, if what they say is true. Then again then were always prone to lying.” You let out a small laugh.

“Do you miss them?” Zhongli found he could not contain his questions today.

“No, not really. To be honest, talking to them kinda sucked. They sort of half-ghosted me back in the day, and even though you have to keep up appearances and all, I mean I can’t take them to task now, it still hurt.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Oh don’t be!” You shook your head. “I’m perfectly happy where I am now. Even if that whole debacle sucked, it’s worth it if it let this happen.”

The both of you glanced down at you intertwined hands. The image was so perfect in Zhongli’s mind that for a moment all his worries went away, and the golden sun seemed to brighten just a little bit.

Later that evening however Zhongli once more found himself thinking about it. He really had been shaken by you talking with your former partner. Even if they were not the right one, they were still human. Did that not make things easier for you? Happier for you? Zhongli thought back at your hands. How fast would they age in his mind, how fast would you notice how frozen Zhongli was. As if he was carved from rock, the ex-archon could only be eroded slowly. He could not grow old with you.

“My darling?” Zhongli murmured. It was dark and the two of you were in bed. Limbs tangled together, heads nestled close, Zhongli felt as if he could ask what he so feared.

“Yes?” Your voice was heavy with sleep.

“Do you ever regret falling in love with me?”

“No,” your murmured. “I know that you might not believe me, or you might not stop worrying, but you should. I love only you, my dear. I always will. Death will not change how much I love you.”

Zhongli pondered these words as your breathing evened and you slipped off into dreams. How could you say such a thing so nonchalantly, how could you be so sure? Then again, humans always seemed to be more confident in their decisions than those who had been given immortality.

Though the ex-archon wasn’t always fond of sleep, Zhongli felt himself begin to slip away. In the in between of awake and asleep everything seemed painted over, made simple by the logic of one half-dreaming. He would never be rid of these feelings. Perhaps then he should rely on yours. He relied on your for so much already.

Kissing your cheek before finally being dragged into sleep the last coherent thought Zhongli was aware of was that he loved you so very much.

[delimeful]

Helpless (2)

the next chapter in the drider virgil fic!

warnings: spiders, slight dehumanizing language, assumptions/jumping to conclusions

-

Logan was certain that he’d tracked down his quarry.

Of course, he’d also been certain the last two times he’d found promising evidence around a swath of woods, but this time was different.

He had learned plenty while traversing through the varied lands of his kingdom, and while physical evidence was ideal, word of mouth was one of the most useful tools a researcher could use to find leads.

That was part of the reason why he’d been so careful to observe typical travelers for weeks before his departure, the reason he was wearing worn, cheap fabric and staying at the second-cheapest room at this town’s inn, despite having plenty of money still hidden on his person. He didn’t want a single rumor about a suspiciously rich noble traveling alone.

The last thing he needed was for his investigative journey to be interrupted by bandits, or worse, would-be do-gooders attempting to return the missing prince to his place in line for the throne.

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the very thought, putting aside the last half of his travel rations and stopping at the edge of town to stare into the woods beyond. He checked his compass habitually, and he was pointed firmly westward, exactly towards the point of the woods that were occupied by a dangerous monster, according to the barkeep that Logan had plied for information last night at supper.

The whole town knew of it, even the younger residents, which was a point in favor of the creature really existing rather than just being another folk tale.

There was one other potential source on the creature, a town outcast going by the way others’ noses wrinkled at the mention of him, but Logan was more than ready to begin investigating for himself, and the odds that the outcast actually knew anything were low, anyhow.

Decided, he headed into the forest, prepared for the day-long trek that was sure to follow. If he was prone to less scientific notations, he might have jotted down that he had a good feeling about this particular town.

Exactly an hour and a half later, Logan had found himself almost entirely immobilized by layers and layers of gossamer threads strewn about the trees.

Needless to say, he was ecstatic.

Even the foolish manner in which he’d landed himself stuck in such an obvious trap couldn’t dampen his spirits, not when faced with undeniable proof that there was in fact a drider in these woods. He’d been too hasty in his attempt to collect some of the biological material, and by yanking too hard, had ended up pulled forwards into the thick of the intricate spider web.

His immobility was a bit concerning, but mostly frustrating, since he couldn’t reach for his journal to note down the surprising level of the webbing’s tensile strength. Still, proper scientists had to be prepared to hold onto their observations for as long as it took for them to be able to write them down.

Besides, he could hardly complain. His current predicament practically guaranteed that he would actually get to see the creature!

-

There was a person stuck in his webs, and Virgil was freaking out about it.

It had never happened before. Virgil very specifically made the webs closer to town thick and opaque so that any passerby would see them and avoid this exact situation.

Virgil peered around the cluster of bushes he had half-flattened himself behind. The stranger didn’t seem too panicked, at least, going by the way that the web barely swayed with his presence. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, which was… admittedly sort of strange.

Skies above, what if this was a trap? Virgil turned his head sharply to scan his surroundings, wary of human hunters suddenly popping out of the undergrowth.

Several moments of silence, and even with all his senses pushed to their farthest, he couldn’t detect anything. It seemed the only one trapped here was the human.

A pang of guilt curled unpleasantly in his first stomach. He grimaced, wishing desperately that Patton was here to mitigate the utter terror Virgil was surely about to inflict on this guy.

No point in drawing it out. He rose up to his full height, grateful that the human had gotten stuck facing the opposite direction, and quietly crept up behind him. All he needed to do was announce his presence and let the human know he wasn’t going to hurt them, but he was immediately distracted at the sight of just how tangled his webs had grown.

“How does one human manage to touch every single support thread at the same time?” he asked, voice incredulous.

The human stiffened, and he couldn’t help but tense in response, cursing his big mouth.

… Really though, he spent hours crafting these, and now this one would have to be completely reconstructed!

“Are you the monster spoken of in town?”

The measured voice snapped Virgil out of his thoughts as easy as a clap of thunder, and he shuffled a bit from side to side nervously. His many steps must have been louder than he’d thought, because the human immediately attempted to twist around and see him.

He failed, naturally, because Virgil’s threads weren’t exactly easy to wriggle free of, but Virgil’s nerves only grew. “I… why do you ask?”

There was a short silence, and then, “Considering my current situation, it’s only natural I would want to know, isn’t it?”

Virgil resisted the urge to wince at his own dumbassery. “Right. Well. Yeah,” he confirmed, already bracing for the fear that nearly every human bore when confronted with him. Even Patton had been afraid at first, though Virgil really thought him braver than any other human, to be so terrified of even normal spiders and befriend a Drider of all creatures.

“Oh, excellent,” the human said with clear excitement. “Would you mind coming around so that I can see you?”

Virgil blinked, befuddled. The last thing most humans wanted was for him to come closer. Maybe it was the natural fear of him being in their blind spot? The guy certainly didn’t sound very afraid, even with Virgil’s less-than-stellar first impression.

“Do you have a weapon?” he asked warily.

“I have a knife,” the stranger offered, “but I can’t exactly reach it at the moment.”

Virgil could see the glint of it, caught bladefirst at the very edge of a web as though it had been used on the threads themselves. He slowly circled around the clearing, watching the stranger closely for any sudden movements, until he stood before him, all eight legs and thorax visible.

“Fascinating,” he breathed, eyes blown wide as they skittered from point to point as though noticing every little detail. Virgil would have thought him afraid had it not been for the prideful little grin that sat on his face. “I thought maybe you were lying to me-- I hadn’t expected you to be so fluent in the common language, living in the woods and all-- but wow!”

Virgil felt his front legs rising up a little bit in an automatic defense against the unexpected reaction. He ran his tongue over his fangs nervously, trying to figure out whether or not he should be insulted about the language thing. And what exactly did this guy mean by ‘expected’?

The stranger’s hands twitched slightly, still stuck firmly in place, and irritation briefly flitted across his face as though he’d forgotten his position. He blinked, as though remembering something.

“Oh, right. Are you planning on trying to consume me, then?” he asked, the question as politely curious as an inquiry about the weather.

Virgil recoiled physically at the idea, skittering back a few strides and baring his fangs despite the difference in size and strength and trapped-ness between the two of them. “What? No!”

The stranger managed to drag his intrigued gaze away from Virgil’s fangs, his hands twitching again almost subconsciously. “In that case, would you mind helping me down? My leg has begun to go numb, and I really would like access to my journal.”

“I-- I mean, yeah, if you aren’t-- I can--,” Virgil stumbled over his words, drawing closer with his body lowered non-threateningly and waiting for the inevitable flinch or shiver of disgust.

It never came. The stranger continued to stare at him with no trace of terror in his eyes, even as Virgil grew close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Take your time,” he offered, despite being the one trapped in a monster’s web. Virgil abruptly felt a bit silly about his obvious wariness, and lifted his front legs to rub them together at the ankles. The stranger’s head tilted to the side slightly, watching the gesture intently.

“... It’s the oils that make the webs not stick,” Virgil explained. “I produce it naturally on my feet so I don’t get, y’know, stuck. I’ll have to touch the webs that are attached to you. With my feet. The spider ones.”

Virgil didn’t have any other kinds of feet, but the stranger graciously didn’t nitpick.

“A built-in solvent… I wonder if natural spiders have similar traits,” he mused instead, and then, “Do whatever you need, I don’t mind. The opposite, really, I appreciate the assistance.”

Sure enough, he didn’t shy away when Virgil began carefully plucking at the threads entangling him, sliding the sides of his legs along them to coat them in the anti-stick oils. Bit by bit, the entanglement loosened, and Virgil had just freed both arms when the human abruptly twisted around to reach for something on his person.

Of course, now that much of the webbing holding him in midair had been removed, his weight was significantly less supported. A few threads snapped, and he dropped a few inches with a startled yelp. If he continued, he’d be in for either a rough fall or getting caught in a whole new layer of webbing, and Virgil wanted neither of those things.

He quickly reached forwards with his human arms and lifted the stranger up and away from further entanglement, batting away any stray threads with his front legs. Belatedly, he realized he had forgotten to check if it was a weapon that the human had reached for. Even more belatedly, he realized that this was the second human he’d picked up in this impromptu carry.

Weird that it had happened twice.

“Perfect, thank you,” the guy said, and then he started writing furiously in a little book, occasionally glancing up at Virgil and locking onto a feature before returning to writing. It was as though he didn’t mind at all being held aloft like a human might lift up a misbehaving cat.

Virgil took the opportunity to continue cleaning any web remnants off the guy while he was distracted, his mind whirring. A stranger who had clearly never done a day of hard labor in his life, who didn’t seem at all afraid of him, and was taking notes.

... Oh, shit.

Virgil set him carefully on the ground while he was still preoccupied with scrawling out a label for a diagram of Virgil’s teeth. He backed up, softening his steps, and by the time the stranger pulled his attention away from his book, Virgil was already well out of sight and planned to keep it that way, regardless of the confused little call the stranger made.

He was not messing with what was clearly a mage out for his parts.

[searidings]

Lena's wardrobe planning must be a nightmare. Every day she has to account for the fact that this might finally be the day she and Kara fuck in a semi-public space

*EDIT: now on ao3 for your thirsty convenience*

“Tell me again what this article’s about?”

She asks it innocently, as if she genuinely can’t remember. As if she hadn’t spent an extra 40 minutes this morning dripping in a towel in the middle of her walk-in closet, determined to select the perfect outfit for this very conversation.

The way Kara’s eyes are glued to the exposed lines of her clavicle as she sits down tells her the extra deliberation was entirely worth it.

“It’s just a puff piece,” Kara says offhandedly, taking a seat on the far side of Lena’s desk. Or at least, she tries to take a seat but misses the chair entirely, pitching forward and almost taking half the contents of Lena’s desk with her. It’s only her superspeed that saves Lena’s water jug from its collision course with the ground and Kara rights it with sweaty fingers that leave faint smudges on the glass, blushing.

“Are you alright, darling?” Lena asks gently, biting her lip to keep from smirking as Kara, redder than a fire hydrant, finally takes her seat.

“Fine,” the blonde manages, only a little strangled. “Sorry. Just— misjudged the, you know. Chair.”

“Distracted?” Lena asks coyly, voice dipping a smooth half-octave lower as she arches an eyebrow.

She watches in barely restrained delight as Kara’s throat works. “No,” the blonde manages after a moment. “Just— busy. Articles, deadlines. You know how it is.” She seems to have regained her footing now, smoothing her hands over her slacks before reaching into her purse for a pad and pen. “The article’s another clickbait piece, basically. Dress for success: the wardrobes of women in power. Andrea’s making me write it.”

Kara’s voice drips with so much disgust that Lena purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Kara. If there’s anything I can do—”

“Don’t be silly,” Kara says instantly, face breaking into a shy smile. “It means I get to spend the afternoon with you. And your wardrobe has always been very—” she breaks off, hand gesturing in the air between them as though she might be able to pluck the right word out of the ether. “—impressive,” she finishes with a small swallow, eyes delicately averted from the expanse of creamy skin on display before her.

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Kara says quickly. Her still floundering hand drifts back and forth in the air as if to encompass Lena’s general existence. “I’d ask if you dressed up specially for this interview, but honestly you always look like that.”

“Like that?” Lena repeats, a teasing lilt to her tone. She leans back in her office chair, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her dress. This piece, a deep red off-the-shoulder dress with a V-shaped neckline plunging just enough to be borderline workplace inappropriate, had cost more than a small car and been custom-made and shipped to her from an upscale boutique in Paris. Looking now at Kara’s wide eyes and pink cheeks, every last cent of import tax feels absolutely worth it. “Like what, exactly?”

Kara’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click and she stares down at the pad in her hands with such intensity that Lena absently wonders if the offending paper is about to be laser-visioned.

“Shall we start with the questions, then?” Kara says quickly, clicking her ballpoint pen with enough force that it shatters the entire casing. She stares forlornly down at the plastic shards in her palm until Lena clears her throat, passing another pen to the blonde with a wordless smile.

Kara removes the lid from the offered pen with the delicacy and focus of someone disarming a bomb. “I hope you don’t find this insulting,” she says as she turns to a fresh page, finally meeting Lena’s eyes again. “I mean, you’re one of the greatest minds in the country and I’m here to ask you about your clothes.”

“Not at all. Wardrobe planning is an extremely involved affair,” Lena deadpans, tilting her head to one side and relishing the way Kara’s eyes skate the cut of her jaw. “Quantum mechanics is nothing compared to the challenge of pairing the right shirt with the right jacket.”

“Right,” Kara says absently, her gaze fixed on the regal column of Lena’s bare throat. She’d foregone a necklace this morning and pulled her still-curly hair up into a soft bun for this exact purpose; knowing that her natural waves were Kara’s favourite, but knowing too that a dress like this deserved to be unencumbered by loose hair or jewellery to really reach its full potential.

“So, um,” Kara starts before swallowing hard, reaching for the glass of water waiting for her on the desk and downing its contents in one swift gulp. “What’s your, um, selection process? How would you describe your wardrobe requirements?”

One corner of Lena’s mouth tugs upwards. “As a woman in a male-dominated world, I’ve learned to use my wardrobe as a tool. My clothing has to be professional without appearing intimidating, project confidence without audacity. Visual impressions precede all other business dealings; I can tailor my wardrobe to my audience the way I would tailor a speech or a press release. When done correctly, it helps me get what I want.”

Kara is staring at her in rapt attention, eyes flicking rhythmically between Lena’s eyes and mouth. She hasn’t written a single thing on the pad in her lap.

“And of course, I have to be careful in the lab,” Lena continues, leaning forward to fold her hands together on the desk in front of her and squeezing her arms ever so slightly against the sides of her chest. It’s always prudent to take advantage of one’s strengths, and the plunging neckline of this particular outfit leaves no doubt in Lena’s mind as to which of her assets she should be emphasising right now. “I can’t wear anything that could prove dangerous.”

“Do you do that often?” Kara asks a little dazedly, gaze now focused a solid foot below Lena’s face. “Wear things that are d-dangerous?”

Lena smirks. Kara’s eyes are locked on Lena’s chest, following its gentle rise and fall with a tangible hunger. It lights a fire in Lena. “You tell me.”

The office falls utterly silent, the air between them leaden with tension. Kara’s eyes linger at the juncture where pale skin gives way to deep red fabric for one more aching moment before beginning a torturously slow crawl up Lena’s chest and neck to meet her gaze once more.

The blue eyes that lock back onto hers are dark and greedy, pupils blown wide. The sight sets Lena’s heart thud-thudding in her chest and damn the superhearing that has surely picked up on it, damn the owner of said superhearing whose lips quirk up in a barely-there smirk.

“You know,” Kara starts, pausing as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Lena can’t stop her own eyes from dropping heavy to take in the sight and the blonde’s smirk grows another degree. “I think if I’m going to do this piece justice, I really need to see the full picture.”

Lena can do little more than stare in silent confusion until Kara stands, dropping her pad carelessly onto the chair and rounding the desk to where Lena sits. “Stand up?” she asks in a low voice, holding out a hand. “That looks like a dress that deserves to be properly admired.”

Lena swallows hard against her suddenly dry throat, taking the proffered hand mutely and rising a little unsteadily to her feet. Kara steps closer until they’re toe to toe and Lena’s not even breathing as a tanned hand reaches up and gently releases her hair from its bun, letting dark curls fall freely across her bare shoulders.

But Kara’s hand doesn’t return to her side once it accomplishes its mission. It tugs through the curls now tickling Lena’s neck, the backs of her knuckles dragging lightly against Lena’s throat until she can’t restrain a shiver. It continues its wandering, sliding up the back of Lena’s neck to bury itself fully in her hair, thumb extended to rub at the hinge of Lena’s jaw.

“Is it?” Kara asks quietly, and Lena barely represses an honest-to-god whine at the sensation of the blonde’s breath hitting her lips.

“What?” she whispers, feeling Kara’s thumb shift against her skin.

“Is this outfit helping you get what you want?”

Lena swallows hard, the movement causing Kara’s thumb to slip down her neck until it trips to a stop directly over her thundering pulse. Lena takes a deep, decidedly un-calming breath, and tries with her last shred of rational thought to claw back the control of the situation she had at some point so thoroughly surrendered. “You tell m—”

She doesn’t even get the last word out before Kara’s lips are on hers, hot and insistent and perfect and fucking finally, and Lena just. Gives up. Gives up access to her mouth as soon as Kara’s tongue hits the seam of her lips, gives up trying to hold back her moans when Kara licks in warm and wet, starts sucking on her tongue.

Gives in to the desire, years in the making, to smooth her hands over Kara’s biceps, her broad muscular shoulders. Gives in to the urge to crush their bodies together, to finally feel the delicious press of the toned planes of Kara’s frame against every one of her own curves.

The hand not still buried in Lena’s hair begins charting an exploratory path up Lena’s side, across her ribs, and Lena is grateful for the sheerness of the skin-tight fabric that does nothing to dull the burning trail Kara’s palm is blazing against her skin.

Three things happen then in quick succession: Kara’s wandering fingers reach the underside of Lena’s breast and the sudden contact causes her other hand to tighten its grip in Lena’s hair, tugging sharply. Lena gasps, head falling backwards as a low groan rips from her throat at the slight sting. Kara’s mouth drops hot and wet to Lena’s neck, lips and teeth sucking and scraping over her rocketing pulse until Lena’s writhing against her.

“How long have you wanted this?” Kara pants, trailing kisses across Lena’s jaw and down the curve of her throat. “How long could I have been doing this?”

Lena’s eyelids flutter shut, fingers digging tight into firm shoulders as Kara sucks another mark into the skin above her collarbone. She lingers long enough that Lena knows it will bruise and in this dress, with this amount of skin on display and no way to cover it up, the thought sends a thrill through her that has her arching up into the heat of Kara’s mouth. “Oh, I don’t know,” she answers breathily, tugging Kara closer still. “How long have I been dressing like this?”

It’s Kara who moans then, reaching down to hook her hands under Lena’s thighs and lifting her onto the desk, pressing herself tight between Lena’s spread legs. In the back of her mind, Lena registers an inordinate rush of gratitude toward her past self for booking out three hours for this interview and issuing strict do not disturb instructions to her assistant.

“Gorgeous as this dress is, it’s kind of in the way,” Kara pants, one hand sliding under the hem of the offending material to skim up Lena’s bare thigh. “But it looks expensive, I don’t want to rip it—”

“Rip it,” Lena gasps immediately, tugging Kara’s mouth desperately back to her own. Preserving an item of clothing has never been further from her mind than in this exact moment. And as she’d said to Kara, her wardrobe had always functioned primarily as means to an end.

And what an end this was turning out to be.  

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 57: Text Message

As part of the Muggle Studies class, all of the 8th years received cell phones.

Draco didn't really understand all that much about it (and he hadn’t been listening especially carefully when their teacher had talked about it), but it did come with a little snake game that you steered the snake around to help it eat apples and avoid running into itself.

One of their assignments had also been to put in their peer's names in the phones with what seemed to be random coordinates. He wasn't entirely sure how that works either, if it was meant to transport you some how or something else entirely. He'd overheard Granger say something about it allowing you to essentially firecall someone, but he wasn't sure how that worked either.

He was sitting in the common room late one night (he didn't sleep well) playing around with his phone when he found a little button beside each of his classmates' names that opened up a little box that he could put words into.

It was like a little filing system for letters that Pansy would never be able to snoop through! Perfect.

Grinning, and thinking how cathartic it would be to get the words out of his head without the risk of anyone ever seeing them, he clicked on the bubble next to Potter's name and started typing.

Dear Potter, I know that you won't read this, which is why I feel like I can write it. I've wanted to say thank you for quite some time but haven't been able to work up the nerve. Thank you for saving my life, thank you for killing Voldemort, thank you for keeping me out of prison. I'm grateful, truly. And I know it's none of my business and it's not my place, but you've always gotten under my skin where you don't belong and I can't help it. You always look sad. You are always withdrawn and distant, even from your friends. It bothers me. Are you okay? I know that none of us are okay, but you know what I mean. Anyway, like I said, you won't read this but it makes me feel better to write it down. Best, Draco Malfoy

He tapped the little arrow button that would, he assumed, put it into the top part so he'd have it for later.

With that off his chest, he went back to playing his snake game until his mobile buzzed and pinged, startling him so bad that he dropped it.

Malfoy, you know i can read that, right?

Draco stared at the screen where a little box had popped up under his, uncomprehendingly.

Who is this? If this phone is even a horocrux, I'm done. Get away from me.

it's Harry. Harry Potter.

Came the reply and Draco thought for a moment that he was about to pass out.

don't freak out

Too late for that, certainly, he thought hysterically.

it's okay. this was nice, actually.

What was?

getting your text message.

What's a "text message"?

this. what we're doing right now. we're sending text messages.

But how?

that was the point of putting everyone's numbers in your phone. that way we can call and text each other.

Interesting. You must get a lot of texts since everyone has your number. How have you managed to make time for little old me?

not really, actually. no one really texts me or talks to me for that matter. killing a person makes you unapproachable, apparently.

I find this hard to believe.

you can believe what you want. but it's true. you said so yourself.

So... are you okay?

He found himself asking, afraid of the answer but Potter hadn't hexed him yet. He wondered if it was possible to hex someone via text message.

none of us are. not really. but no. no i'm not.

Of all people, it seems you should be allowed to be not okay.

i literally laughed out loud. startled my poor owl out of her sleep. of all people, i am the least likely to be allowed to not be okay. no one wants to know me. they just want me to be who they think i am.

Well, if it makes you feel better people feel that way about me, too.

i know. but i don't feel that way. i wouldn't have testified for you at your trial if i did.

I ought to say thank you for that.

you already did.

Well, I ought to say it now that I know you can hear it. or read it, rather.

your welcome you're*** i'm not an idiot, i promise

Well, I wouldn't go that far.

ha. ha.

I mean, your master plan for defeating one of the most powerful wizards of all time was to use a disarming spell.

well it worked, didn't it? i've successfully murdered someone by the age of 18. wouldn't my parents be proud?

He stared at the text for a moment, processing, trying to understand what that was supposed to mean. Did Harry feel guilty?

It bothers you. That you killed him.

don't pretend it wouldn't bother you.

Potter, I would have strangled him with my bare hands if I'd thought it would have worked. I won't pretend to understand what you're going through but self defense and saving who knows how many lives, ought to give you a little peace.

There wasn't an answer for a long moment and Draco worried he'd overstepped. He sat there, tapping his forefingers against the mobile, waiting.

it gets hard to see the big picture sometimes. like rationally, i understand what you're saying but...

It's harder when you're the one who has to live with the consequences.

yes

I don't sleep well.

neither do i which is probably obvious since I'm texting you at 2:00am

He typed and erased the starts of sentences repeatedly. 'would you like to come and not sleep well tog-' 'I'm in the common room-' 'do you want to actually talk in per-'.

I'm at the astronomy tower.

I'm in the common room. Some of us can't afford to get caught where we don't belong.

it sounds silly but do you want to sit together? just it might be nice not to be alone ?

Come back to the common room.

He sent before he could change his mind. Then he began to slowly panic; what was he thinking?

A few minutes later, the portrait that guarded the 8th year common room opened and Harry came in, looking a bit windblown. "Uh," Harry said inelegantly. "Hi."

"Hello," Draco replied carefully.

Harry stared at him for a long moment before taking a few steps closer. "Can I sit?"

"Please," Draco replied, gesturing to the couch beside him.

Harry sat and pulled his legs up to his chest. "I don't really want to talk."

"Okay," Draco affirmed.

Harry glanced over at him, "Does quiet bother you?"

He gave him a little smile and shook his head, "Maybe we would just be quiet together."

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Me too."

And that was the first of many nights sitting together quietly, and the first of many hard conversations had via text message.

-------

Day 56: Phone call | Day 58: Voicemail

[yourdeepestfathoms]

melting fire

Bela had never been so hot before.

Delirious and fever-stricken, she squirmed on her bed, desperately trying to escape the burning heat inside of her. It was like she was laying in the hot sand of a desert, slowly being fried by the sun that wasn’t there. Because she was in her bedroom, shrouded by dim shadows, and the only light was coming from a singular gas lamp on her desk, flickering faint yellow-gold across the floor. But it was so hot, the blankets like plains of fire on her skin, doing little to bring her any comfort.

A soft moan managed to escape Bela’s flaking lips. Her mouth was dry, tongue like burnt coals. She desperately needed water--not even blood, but nice, cold water--but she couldn’t get up. She could barely even move aside from her twisting and turning in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

Her breath came out thin, reedy, and too-hot. She thought she could spout flames, maybe. She had to be burning alive.

There was a squeak as her bedroom door creaked open. She pried open her heavy eyelids to see two silhouettes creeping towards her bed. She instinctively bared her teeth and spat at the trespassers, too weak to raise her claws to defend herself.

“Someone is cranky,” teased a voice.

Wait-- she knew that voice.

Bela settled as her sisters perched on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry,” she rasped, her voice weak and hoarse from illness. “I’m kinda delirious.”

“Kinda?” Cassandra raised an amused eyebrow. “Do you know what you were doing before you passed out earlier?”

“Do I want to know?” Bela asked nervously.

Daniela helpfully supplied her with details: “You were all wobbly and Mother set a hand on your shoulder and said it was to keep you from falling. Your response was, ‘It’s okay, five-second rule.’”

Bela’s face flushed red--redder than it already was than her fever. “Oh--”

Daniela didn’t relent: “And then you started stroking Mother’s arm hair and said, ‘You’d make such a good carpet.’”

“Okay, that’s enou--”

“You also said, ‘my bones feel wet, may I have a napkin?’”

“Daniela--”

“Oh, and we can’t forget, while at breakfast and you were still trying to act like you were okay: ‘Coffee doesn’t taste like coffee, but it sure does taste like brown.’”

“Okay, okay!” Bela yelped, then coughed into her blankets. “I get it. I was out of it.”

“Very out of it,” Cassandra said, stroking her claws through Bela’s sweaty hair. Bela, rationalizing that she couldn’t get any more embarrassed than she already was, leaned her head into her sister’s touch, letting out a soft purr of contentment. Cassandra’s talons were nimble and uncharacteristically gentle against her burning scalp.

“Where is Mother?” Bela asked.

“Aww, are we not good enough company for you, Beli?” Daniela teased playfully.

“I didn’t say that!” Bela squeaked. She hunched her shoulders in. “I was just wondering.”

“Somewhere around here,” Cassandra said vaguely. “She’ll probably come to check on you soon.”

Bela nodded sluggishly. Her head was beginning to fill with fog again. “Alright…” she murmured.

“Aww,” Daniela cooed. “She’s getting all silly again.” She reached out and lightly dragged her claws down one of Bela’s clammy cheeks, probably thinking she was being comforting, when really her touch was just ticklish.

Bela bared her teeth at her, though she barely opened her eyes. “Shut it.”

Daniela tittered.

“Well, we’ll let you rest,” Cassandra said, tugging on Daniela’s arm.

“Sleep well!” Daniela said as she was pulled out of the room.

“Thanks,” Bela replied.

The door shut and she was left in darkness once again.

Bela rolled onto her side and curled up in her blankets. A moment later, she rolled onto her other side, but it did little to help her discomfort. Her body was aching all over and no position was good enough.

Outside, the wind was howling. Another snowstorm was blowing in, loud and powerful. She turned over again to watch the snowfall. The snowflakes flew like dozens of little whiteflies behind the glass, twisting and twirling through the air. It made her think of her own flies, and she broke off a piece of her skin into a cluster of insects. She was desperately lonely and wanted something to interact with since she didn’t have her sisters or mother there with her.

With blurry eyes, Bela watched dazedly as her insects flew around her head. She held out a finger and they lined up on it in a perfect arrangement: blowfly, flesh fly, dogbane beetle, Spanish fly, black vine weevil, drain fly, green bottle fly, clothes moth, click beetle, room spinning, ears ringing, eyes shutting…

Bela’s head jerked back when she began to nod off, sending her bugs into a scattering cloud of frantic wingbeats. She blinked her eyes furiously, but it did little to dispel the fuzziness over everything. It was like she was looking underwater. She rubbed her heavy eyelids, and moving her arms was like trying to move solid beams of lead.

Her fever flared. She moaned weakly in pain.

Her skin was baking, boiling right off of her bones. Her limbs were sacks of heated stones and smoldering embers that she had to drag around with her, and her ears simply felt like they were lit on fire. Her cheeks felt like someone was holding hot iron to the sides of her face and wouldn’t let go, no matter how loud she screamed.

To put it simply, she was like a roasted lamb on a spit, rotating slowly above hungry flames. Sometimes, she had fallen into their orange-gold mouths. She could almost feel the flaming tongues licking at her skin…

Bela squirmed, whining faintly. She couldn’t handle this. She couldn’t take this heat. She used to think the cold was bad, but this-- this was just awful.

She had to escape it.

As though beckoning her, the blizzard howled.

Bela raised her head--which was rather difficult, as it felt like it weighed a ton--and squinted. The snow usually wasn’t very enticing, but something about it now seemed to call to her. It was inviting her to join its cool embrace, promising to soothe her raging fever. She had to oblige to it.

Sliding out of bed, Bela staggered towards the window. The glass was cool against her palms when she pressed her hands to it, but felt even better on her burning forehead. She let out a sigh of relief as the chill invaded her, but it wasn’t good enough. She needed more. She needed to be rid of this fire inside of her.

Bela pushed against the window. It didn’t budge. She whined and pushed harder. It still didn’t budge. Mother kept them locked for good reason, but Bela needed to get out now. She felt like she was being cremated and didn’t know how much longer she could handle it.

Finally, after a few moments of desperate struggling, the window relented under her assault and she was embraced by the soothing cold. It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. It felt…nice.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Bela relaxed her body and shut her eyes to rest.

--- --- ---

Alcina was alerted by the sound of glass shattering. She had been idly flipping through a book when she heard the horrendous smashing sound. Instantly, she snapped to her feet and began striding down the hallway until she got to Bela’s room. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by a blast of cold air, which was as freezing as the black ice that suddenly sprinted through her veins.

“Bela?” Alcina shouted. Stepping inside, she noticed that the window was broken open and her eldest daughter was nowhere to be seen. “Bela?!”

Alcina rushed over to the crater created in the glass and looked out. Despite the darkness of the night, she could still distinctly make out the figure of Bela in the snow below.

She didn’t look like she was moving.

“Bela!!”

Alcina ran out of the room, where she was promptly met by her other two daughters. They both instantly leaped away from the doorway with yelps when the cold wind brushed against their legs. She quickly shut the door.

“Mother, what happened?” Cassandra asked.

“Stay here,” Alcina said instead of answering. She then turned and sprinted down the hallway and outside, nearly clipping her head on the doorframe.

When she found Bela, she may have been more concerned about her falling from the second-story window if it wasn’t for how leached her skin was. Her eldest daughter was icy to the touch, her skin as brittle as weak glass in the unforgiving cold. Alcina scooped her up into her arms, holding her close to her chest to protect her from the vicious lashing of the snowstorm as she carried her back inside.

Bela had been out there for less than three minutes, but Alcina’s mind was still running in panicked circles. Was it enough to kill Bela? Was her baby girl about to die in her arms? Alcina’s heart seized at the mere thought of losing one of her daughters. She frantically went over her own notes in her head: the flies generally began hibernating at temperatures below ten degrees Celsius, and it was definitely below ten degrees Celsius out there. When that happens, their metabolism drops and they go into a state of lethargy, which then causes extreme weakness and fatigue. There was also the pain and sensitivity that came from the cold, and though Bela didn’t seem like she was in freezing agony, Alcina still couldn’t be too sure.

It was then that Bela stirred, and Alcina snapped her head down. Bela was squirming in her arms, whining ever so faintly. She didn’t seem to be in pain, she just seemed distressed and very uncomfortable.

“Mother,” Bela panted. “Please--”

“It’s alright now, my love,” Alcina said, carrying Bela over to one of the many fireplaces in the castle, swiping up a blanket folded over a cushioned chair as she went. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” She squeezed her daughter close to her chest, not quite realizing that she may have been smothering her. “It’s okay. Mother’s here now.”

“No-- no--” Bela tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but she was much too weak. “Hot-- too hot--”

Alcina frowned. She had been wondering how and why Bela got outside, but now it made sense.

Was her fever really that bad?

“You can’t be cold, darling,” Alcina said, crouching down in front of the fire, not releasing Bela from her vice. She wrapped her in the blanket, despite her wriggling. Under her touch, Bela's skin was still worryingly frigid and dry. She hoped the snow wouldn't leave blisters. “You must stay warm.”

“No--” Bela’s claws tugged feebly at Alcina’s dress. If it weren’t caused by illness, then it may have been cute. “Mother, please…”

Alcina sighed. She shifted Bela into one arm (it wasn’t exactly hard to do) and brushed her sweaty hair out of her face. Bela leaned into the touch, her eyelids fluttering shut. She purred faintly.

“You need to be warm,” Alcina told her. As hard as it was to resist her child’s begging, she couldn’t just go throw Bela out into the snow. She had to keep her near the fire, where her body could go back to its normal temperature.

Alcina cupped the back of Bela’s head and pressed her face into her neck, rocking her slowly. She should have kept a better eye on her. She should have been there, taking care of her. Now an awful chill had taken lodge in her precious daughter’s body and she was worried that it wasn’t going to come out.

“Mother?”

Alcina turned to see Cassandra and Daniela. They both looked simultaneously curious and worried.

“Is Bela okay?” Daniela asked.

“She will be,” Alcina answered, holding Bela closer until she was holding onto her like a baby koala bear. She was hoping her body heat would help dispel the ice inside of Bela’s own being. “Your sister thought it would be a good idea to break her window and go out into the snow.”

“I’m hot,” Bela whined. She quickly followed her words up with a purr as Alcina stroked her hair.

Daniela giggled. “Beli, I thought you were the smart one!”

“‘M gonna…turn you into a ceiling fan,” Bela growled without opening her eyes. “But…too tired… Maybe later…”

Daniela giggled again. Cassandra snorted into her hand. Even Alcina, despite her worry, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlings, can you get a wet rag for me?” Alcina asked her other two daughters.

Bela chuffed against her neck.

“A moderately cold one. But not too cold. Just slightly below lukewarm. Please.”

Cassandra and Daniela both nodded and raced off to retrieve the item before the other.

Slowly, the cold was draining from Bela’s body, chased away by the tag-team effort of the fire and Alcina’s body heat. Her fever, however, quickly became apparent once again, searing right through the back of her gown and into Alcina’s hand while she rubbed up and down her spine. No wonder she had broken a window just to get outside; she was burning up.

“I’m sorry for not keeping a better eye on you,” Alcina said, shifting her daughter in her arms. “I should have been watching you to make sure this never happened. Though, I never expected you to break a window…”

“Not your fault,” Bela said, her breath hot against Alcina’s neck. “I was being stupid.”

Alcina leaned her back slightly, cupping the back of her head with one hand. “Are you slightly more awake now?”

“A little,” Bela said, her eyes glassy and half-lidded. “Feel like I’m on fire, though…”

Alcina frowned and tucked Bela back against her. She worriedly ran her fingers through Bela’s hair, which was damp with a mix of sweat and melted snow.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, my darling,” Alcina said. “Damn, why did you and your sisters have to be weak to the cold? I would run you an ice bath if that didn’t put you at the risk of--” She didn’t finish that sentence. She shook her head. “Why flies? Why something that can’t survive in the cold? Why not something like-- like-- like birds!”

“Better than being hurt by heat,” Bela pointed out. “Then the fever probably would have killed me already.”

Alcina winced. “I suppose you’re right.”

“‘Course I am. ‘M the smart one.”

That got a small chuckle out of Alcina. “Your hubris is showing, darling.”

“No, yours is,” Bela mumbled, drifting off into a feverish, half-awake daze of slurring and purring.

Despite her remaining worry, Alcina couldn’t help but chuckle once again. She rocked Bela slowly until Cassandra and Daniela returned with the rag, Daniela being the one to present it to her. She thanked them, then shifted Bela in her arms so she could wipe her face down with it. Bela shuddered at the cold water on her heated skin, but let out a soft coo of pleasure.

“Thank you,” Bela whispered, cracking open her eyes slightly.

Alcina gave her a tender smile. “You’re welcome. Now, rest, my sweet girl. I will watch over you until you feel better.”

Afterward, she would make arrangements to strengthen the windows.

[buildmeafairytale]

Female Reader x Male Selkie

This is my very first commission! I was commissioned by @shy-basementchild for a birthday present for her friend, @anjhope1. They’re the sweetest and I’m so glad I got to write this for them! It was fun to write and a new experience to write for someone other than myself. I hope you guys enjoy reading it and if anyone is interested in a commission or monster match, my ko-fi is here. 

You leave your house in the afternoon and the cool air is nothing but a familiar comfort under the layers you have on. Like most days, the rocky beach beckons you to its shore. You manuvare the cliffs like you’ve done it a thousand times. You probably have by now. This place has been home for a while now. The town is more of a small fishing village but there’s a touristy block that has lots of shops that you frequent. It’s a cold and rainy place, but it just makes your house feel all the cozier for it.  

The beach is even colder, with the chill turning your nose rosie. You breathe in the crisp air, relishing in the way it stings your lungs. You gaze out towards the rolling waves only to see what looks like a head poking out of the water. It’s foggy and far enough away that you convince yourself it’s a seal, not dwelling on it while you take your walk. 

You’ve established a routine in this seaside village. You do a bit of freelance work in the mornings and leave the afternoons for your adventuring, finding the best coffee spots and shops in town. But the beach is your favorite by far. From the way the rocks crunch under your foot to the rhythmic sounds of the waves lapping the shore, this was your happy place. 

The next day is quite the same. You walk your beach, picking up stray bits of trash you find. This time when you look out to the ocean, the head that pops up looks much more like a man’s than a seal. Your breath catches in your throat and you can’t tear your eyes away. He’s still so far away, bobbing along with the waves and seemingly staring right back at you. And then he’s gone, just as quickly as he was there. As you walk the hair on the back of your neck prickles. You feel like you’re being watched but every time you turn to look no one is there. 

This goes on, but the next few times he seems to get closer. It takes some time to come to terms with the fact your mind isn’t playing tricks on you, but by the time he’s closer to the shore you can no longer deny it. You wave and he just tilts his head and stares. You’re confused and unsure about things, and feel a bit crazy. You wonder if the fishermen working the docks would know anything about the mysterious man in the water so you make a trip down there

The docks are several miles up the beach, and you always make a point to avoid it. It’s bustling with people going between boats emptying lobster traps and the air smells like fish. You're nervous and watching your feet, making sure you don’t misstep on the slippery wood underneath you. You feel like everyone is looking at you but hardly anyone has seemed to bat an eye at your presence, all of them too busy to worry about you. You keep scanning the crowd in hopes of finding someone to ask about your man in the water. You’re ready to give up when you lock eyes with a man. A man you would recognize anywhere, since you’ve seen him everyday floating in the waves.

He is a presence and something to behold. He sits high up on a fishing barrel and his feet are still firmly planted on the ground. Muscular legs connect to a thick middle wrapped in a classic fisherman’s sweater. Long chestnut hair is tied back from his face and he holds a knife and apple in his hands. You stare and he raises his hand in greeting. The noise of the docks retreats to a buzzing in the back of your mind and you hold your breath. Time stands still and butterflies build before you're being bumped into by busy workers. The spell is broken and you rush out apologies for being in the way. You turn and leave as quickly as you came, having even more questions than when you arrived. 

The next day you’re at your beach early with a book to occupy your time. You decide to stay there until you get some answers. You’re comfortable waiting and hope maybe he’ll come say hello. The grey eyes haunt you every time you close your own and you are restless. Was he some sort of creep, watching you from the water? He certainly didn’t look like the type to spy on women. He didn’t look like the type that would have to, gosh. Not that his good looks automatically made him trustworthy, but they certainly lowered your inhibitions. 

While you were lost in thought of the handsome stranger, he had materialized in the sea not a hundred feet away from you. It startled you, but you waved anyway. 

“Hi!” you yell out, tired of the voiceless staring contest that has been occurring. His lips twitch and he echoes your sentiment.

“Hi there,” he calls back, bobbing in the water.

“Isn’t it a bit too cold to swim?”

“A bit too cold for you, maybe,” he observes, his voice amused and carrying without strain despite the sound of the crashing waves.

You don’t know how to respond to this and the conversation fades when he dips under the surface, popping up a few feet away from where he was. His movements in the water are graceful and he swims in little laps not far from you. His upper body is bare to you above the black water, and he is thick corded muscle under a layer of softness that makes you want to touch him. He says nothing else to you but he doesn’t protest to your eyes on him. He seems content to be in your company and it isn’t for another while that he swims away and around the side of a cliff face, waving goodbye at you. You lose sight of him and while part of you is worried, the other part of you knows he must do this often and is obviously a practiced swimmer. 

He’s there before you the next day and chattier too. He tells you his name is Aegis and asks you for yours. He asks what you do for work and how you like living in the small town. You tell him about your house up on the cliff and how much you love it. For how brooding and intimidating you first had found him, he was quickly becoming a friend. The conversation flowed easily and was comfortable, the two of you bantering a bit too.

“There’s so much beach, too. I love to see the water.”

“Not much to do besides sit at the beach, yeah?” 

You shrug, “I like it here, it’s quiet. Or used to be, not that I oppose the company,” you jest at him, watching him take it all in stride. 

“I’d hope not,” he flashes you a grin, “can’t have my beach buddy getting sick of me so soon.” 

You give him a goofy grin back, trying to tamper down the butterflies growing in your stomach. You sit closer to him and the water, finding a comfortable seat on a washed up driftwood tree. “Maybe when it warms up I’ll join you for a swim,” you speak softly, picking at shells and rocks you like. You squeal when cold water splashes you, Aegis laughing when he has your attention.

“You ass!” you squeal out, going to splash him back. He bobs under the water again to evade you, an unmistakable grin stretched across his face. Your hand goes in the water to splash him back but it’s so cold it hurts and stings at your skin. That snaps you out of your playful game, and when Aegis comes up and sees the serious look in your eyes he tilts his head. 

“What’s that look for?”

“Aegis, seriously, how the hell are you okay to swim? You aren't even wearing a wetsuit!. I don’t know how you don’t get hypothermia! ” You’re concerned and can’t help but reprimand him, unsure how he manages to not even have red skin from the water.

“I guess I’m just built different, lovely,” he says with an easy smile, leaning into a backstroke.  

“Oh, built to withstand freezing cold water? Yeah, you’re different all right,” you tease back, retreating out of the water’s reach. 

Things go on like this for days and the two of you get familiar with each other’s schedules, seamlessly working into the other’s routine. Aegis seems down today though, and he doesn't hesitate to inform you why. 

“I have to go on a charter for a few days. I won’t be back until Tuesday,” he pouts, his pillowy lips exaggerated. You try not to let them distract you too much but he smirks like he notices you looking. You play along, pouting back.

“Aw, you’re gonna miss me too much?” you tease, despite knowing the next several days without him aren’t going to be as fun. 

“Desperately,” he says back, in an all too serious way that makes your heart race. He winks and grins, dispelling the intensity and turning things playful again, something he seemed greatly skilled at. He flirts in jokes but never leaves any tension or pressure lingering which you were grateful for. 

The days he is gone feel as if they last forever. It’s silly, really, how fond you’ve grown of him in such a short amount of time. You avoid the beach completely while he’s gone, knowing it will just make you miss your friend even more. Despite the way the time crawls by, though, Tuesday morning eventually comes around. 

Something shocking greets you when you arrive at your beach that day. Aegis is there, but is perched on a large flat boulder. Instead of the thick legs you saw filling his jeans like you did on the docks, his lower half is that of a seal. It’s longer than his legs would be and heavy with blubber. He studies your reaction and you’re fascinated. You’ve heard talk of selkies before, the legend being popular in this part of the country, but you hardly thought you would see one in real life. 

You try to look less confused than you are, not wanting to hurt aegis with an adverse reaction. You can feel his eyes on you, watching you watch him. 

“Uh, hi?” you say to him, getting a calculating ‘hello’ back.

You nod to yourself while looking at him, “Okay, this makes sense? This is a better explanation than I had, at least.”

 “Trying to rationalize my swimming habits, lovely?”

“Trying to rationalize you, lovely.” you toss back, feeling better when the same devious grin he’s worn around you makes an appearance. It’s still Aegis, and this is who he is. Or part of him, apparently. 

“I wanted to show you, but I have a rule, lovely.”

“Rule?” you ask him, confused.

“Yes, a rule. Humans have taken advantage of my kind far too many times. So if I’m showing you this, and I’m going to keep coming back to see you, I need you to listen to me,” he tells you, full intensity focused on you. He goes on to explain the history of his people, the power of the sealskin, and the way humans would steal them to control selkies. He tells you in the past someone tried to steal his sealskin, but he could feel their intentions and replaced it with a fake, catching them in the act. These stories obviously pain him, and hearing about the kind selkies being taken advantage of in such a way is enough to make your heart clench. 

“Never touch my sealskin.” He says, informing you of his rule. 

“I would never,” you vow, throat tight with emotion. He nods at you, and then smiles. “Well come on then, out with the questions.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice, beckoning you close. You sit by him and let the questions start. They pour out of your lips and he answers them readily with a gleam in his eyes. 

You’ve never been this close to him and you really soak in his appearance. His tail is mottled with creamy spots and patches, reminding you a little of your own birthmark. His lower half looks so soft and squishy but you know it must be powerful. Hair dusts his chest and other human skin, the curls making you want to run your hands over them. 

It feels like some beautiful dream. You thank him for sharing this part of him with you and head home for the day, but as soon as you’re inside you're doubting that it really happened. But it did, and you see him again and again, each time feeling less like a daydream and more like a wonderful and magical reality. 

“Your hair is going to get so tangled like that,” you tell him one day as he swims, watching his hair trail after him in the water. You wince in sympathy when you imagine him picking out the knots. 

He grunts, “You’re telling me, I go through so much conditioner getting the knots out,” he responds, peeved. 

“Well swimming with it down would do that! Why don’t you let me braid it?” you offer, instantly regretting it. The thought of sitting that close to him, of feeling the heat off of his skin as you run your hands through his hair is enough to make you feel light headed. Say no thanks, you think, unsure how you’ll handle this. Of course, he readily agrees. 

“Okay,” he smiles, and you turn to let him get out of his sealskin and cover up. He sits in front of you and his shoulders part your thick thighs. You pick up his hair and it’s a matted mess. You don’t feel like running up to your house to get any tools so you slowly part the tangles with your fingers.

“It’s a knotted mess, Aegis,” you scold, trying not to hurt his scalp. He whines and exaggerates his wincing, acting as if you’re wounding him. “Big baby,” you mutter, sectioning off chunks with your hands. By the time it’s braided and secured with your extra tie the sun is going down. He’s slumped against you, sleepy. 

“It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, pretty girl. Swim with me?” he asks, voice slurred. You’re hesitant, not because you don’t trust him, but you’re a bit embarrassed about the idea of him seeing so much of your body. 

“I have a birthmark,” you mutter, not looking at him. He turns and frowns at you with his forehead scrunched. 

“Okay, and? You don’t owe me anything, but you know I have a literal tail right?”

“Oh what, you showed me yours and now I show you mine?” you giggle at him.

“I don’t think I’ve shown you anything yet,” he winks at you, flirting back while he gets up. The two of you get ready to leave your beach, packing things away. Aegis grabs his sealskin, but instead of putting it on he neatly folds it. “Would you give me a ride home? If you don’t mind, I mean. All dried off and I don't want to get in again.”

“Of course, just let me get my keys.” 

The drive is quiet and comfortable, and his house isn’t far. To be fair though, nothing in this town is very far. When you pull into his driveway he leans over and kisses you on the cheek, eliciting a small gasp from you. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” he tells you, an easy smile on his face. You feel your own heat up and you mumble back a goodnight. Your cheek tingles with his kiss your whole drive home. 

In the morning you’re there earlier than normal and in your bathing suit trying not to look nervous about his reaction. Your birthmark stretches across and over a great deal of your skin, and while a lot of people assure you that it is unique and beautiful, you have been ridiculed plenty for it in the past. It makes you nervous to show new people and you only reveal it to those you trust. But you trust Aegis and he obviously trusts you too. 

It’s as if Aegis can sense your nerves because he doesn’t make you wait long and talks you into the water right away. He compliments you but doesn’t linger or talk about your birthmark, only pulling you in the water with him. The cold has you sucking in air and your nipples pebbling in your swimsuit but Aegis pulls you close. The heat coming off of his body works to warm you, making the swim much more doable. 

“You’re not luring me out into the ocean to drown me or anything, right?” you ask, legs bumping into his tail. 

“I’m a selkie, not a siren,” he tsks, “we’re much nicer, I might just dunk you a few times,” he retorts, swimming further out. 

“Um, are there sharks out here?” you ask him, suddenly aware of how far you are from shore.

“I’ve never had a problem with them,” he shrugs casually, doing nothing to assuage your worries. 

“Sharks eat seals, ya know,” you point out to him.

“Good thing I have you here to protect me then, huh?” he teases, curling your legs around his middle. Once you’re secure, he gives a few strong thrusts of his tail and sends the two of you back closer to shore. You play in the water most of the day and go up to your house to eat. He showers and you take him home again, only after he insists you re-braid his hair. 

You spend more time together and swimming with him quickly becomes the best part of your day. He kisses your cheek every time you drop him off at home too, his lips lingering more and more. The touches shared as you swim together have gotten less and less innocent as well. You find yourself falling for him and you think he likes you too, but one day the two of you reach a breaking point. You’re having a nice picnic after a long swim when things take a turn. 

You reach across Aegis’s lap for the pitcher of juice, rattling on about your day, when it slips out of your hand. It spills onto his seal skin, and you don’t think you’ve ever panicked so quickly. “I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh let me clean that,” you grab towels to try to dab up your mess, picking up his seal skin in the process. Apologies keep falling from your lips but then you notice that Aegis is just staring at you with a clenched jaw. You gasp and drop the sealskin, realizing what you’ve done. As soon as it falls from your grasp, Aegis has it in his own, finally able to move to do so. He stands and starts to walk towards the shore and already has the sealskin halfway wrapped around himself before you can belt out another apology. 

He wades into the water and you run to try to catch up. You get close, begging him to wait, until he finally turns to you. “I had one rule!” he barks out at you, seething. “You’re just like everyone else! How dare you!” His words are laced with venom, and you can’t help but step back as if he’s striked you. There is a block in your throat and you don’t say anything else, you only stand there and watch him leave, taking his selkie form and swimming into the depths. 

Pitiful whimpering noises start to leave you, and since you’re all alone you let yourself cry. You’re ashamed you slipped up and touched his pelt, unable to get the betrayed look on his face out of your head. You’re angry at him too for not listening or giving you the benefit of the doubt, though. Some friend he was, you pout, shakily hiking up the cliffside. 

You hope that Aegis will come around. The guilt is like rolling concrete in your stomach and you try to assure yourself that things will be okay. You just go through the motions to try to make yourself feel better, showering and taking your time brushing out your hair. Everytime you blink, though, his angry eyes are there, looking so accusatory back at you. It was an accident, you know you didn’t mean to, you tell yourself, wishing you could take back your mistake. 

You go back to your beach the next day, hoping he’ll be there. He isn’t, and he isn’t there the next either. Or the day after that. You’re getting fed up with him avoiding you. You just want to talk things out and have your friend back, but it seems as though he is  set on being stubborn about it. 

You’ve been stress cooking the last few days, and when you looked to survey the damage you realize that you made most of Aegis’s favorite foods. The plan falls together then and you package it up to bring it to him at work. This could very well be crossing some boundaries but you could deal with that if it meant Aegis would forgive you. 

Traversing the docks is just as nerve racking at it was the first time, this time maybe even more so since you’re carrying a hot dish with you. You duck under the arms of the people towering over you, and you finally get to the stretch of winding docks Aegis can usually be found dwelling on. And he is there, sitting right next to his boat like you expect him to be. What you don’t expect, however, is the stunning woman sitting next to him, stroking his arm in a too familiar way. She’s almost tall as he is with a scarf tied around her hair in an effortless way. You feel your heart sink into your stomach when they both turn and see you. 

All of the sudden you feel ridiculous and humiliated, standing on the docks with a tupperware of food for a man who has already apparently moved on from you. You’re a deer caught in the headlights, but the woman starts to stand and smile at you. You pivot on your feet and hurry back the way you came, maneuvering through the crowd with a level of ease provided by your small stature. The whole walk home your face is burning in embarrassment. This isn't some stubborn silent treatment after a fight. You had broken his one rule and now all the romantic gestures and sweet words meant nothing. 

You know there was nothing official or set in stone, hell, the two of you hadn’t even really kissed yet, but it certainly felt like things were leading that way. Your eyes burn when you think of the way his lips lingered on your cheeks and the way he let you wrap yourself around him in the water. You think of him doing those things with another woman and feel sick to your stomach. You enjoyed life just fine before you met him, and you tell yourself you will enjoy life just the same now that he wants nothing to do with you. It was an obvious lie, especially to yourself. You cry when you reach the safety of your home, wrapping yourself in a nest of blankets you refuse to leave. 

You eventually have to leave though, just to get some fresh air and try to shock yourself into feeling better. Instead of walking your shore, you end up at one of the cliffs looking down on the water. You don’t stray too close to the edge in fear of the height but it still provides you a great view of the ocean. You sit and watch the waves crash against the rocks below. 

While you’re up there, you hear a car sputtering in the distance. You watch it get close and pull into your driveway and out steps one of the friends you made in town. His name is Jamie, and he works at the touristy coffee shop you frequent. “Hey!” he waves, walking over to you on gangly legs. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by, you’re always gushing about this place and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he tells you, giving you a boyish grin. He’s sweet and you don’t mind him joining you.

It feels good to reclaim your beach like this, hanging out with a new friend. Jamie is nice and genuine and has no rules to follow when it comes to your relationship with him. He feels safe and easy. After the first day he comes by, you don’t expect him to come back. But he does, he comes back again with your favorite drink order in hand. “I got your usual,” he tells you, a bright smile on his face when you open your door to him. 

“Aw thanks, you didn’t have to do that!” you tell him, excited and flattered by the gesture. He just shrugs and smiles at you more, scratching at the back of his neck. “Let me just get my coat,” you say, ready for another walk on the beach. He is too, and you spend the day rattling on to one another. He’s a little awkward and it makes you feel awkward too, but it’s more endearing than anything. You can’t help that your gaze keeps wandering out to the sea, waiting to see Aegis between the waves. You don’t, though, even if you think you feel his eyes on you. 

“You okay?” 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, “Sorry,” you smile, “just daydreaming a bit is all.” Daydreaming about your days here spent with Aegis, the sun shining in his ocean grey eyes. You miss him and wish things had ended differently. 

Jamie sits on a rock and you follow his lead, getting comfortable and enjoying the rare moment of sunshine. Jamie suddenly clears his throat next to you, catching your attention. “Would you,” he sputters on, his cheeks pink, “would you want to go on a date sometime? I’d really love to take you on one.” Your heart is pounding and ears are ringing. This sort of thing always makes you anxious but you’re stopped before you’re able to respond. 

“No.”

A firm and angry voice sounds from behind you. If you thought you were nervous before, it was nothing compared to this. Jamie’s gaze is locked above your head and he looks confused. 

“Uh, I wasn’t asking you?” 

“She will not be going on a date with you. I’d say sorry but I’m not,” Aegis snaps out, and you stop yourself from turning to look at him. 

“Aegis, what the fuck?” The woman from before is there too then, and you finally look at them. They’re both dripping wet and carrying seal skins. The woman is a selkie too, then. Your heart drops and it makes sense he would rather be with her. She was gorgeous and surely easier to trust than a human. 

 “I’m so sorry for my brother’s behavior,” she scowls, “he can be a real dickhead sometimes.” 

“Brother?” you ask, shock lacing your voice. Aegis and his sister snap their attention to you, then, and his face morphs from a mask of fury to one of understanding and sadness. He comes closer after a pause. 

“Yes, sweet girl, my sister. You thought the worst of me, yeah?”

Jamie chimes in “Uh, sweet girl?” he asks “Oh! Oh shoot, sorry, gosh, sorry I thought you were single.” Jamie looks at you though, and sees your red cheeks and your inability to form a response and comes to your aid. “Actually, do you want to go home? You look uncomfortable.” You just nod and get your things, grateful to have a friend like him. 

“Yeah, I think I should head home. Um, I’ll talk to you later Jamie. Nice to meet you, by the way,” you say, polite and looking at Aegis’s sister.

“Were you...swimming? It’s freezing!” is the last thing you hear Jamie say before you’re rushing away.

Aegis tails you to your house, pleading with you. “Please, at least let me talk to you,” he begs, desperation clear in his voice. You’re out of breath from your quick ascent up from the beach and too flustered and embarrassed to talk to him. You’re angry that he thinks he could ignore you after blowing up on you and then come back acting like he had some sort of claim on you. 

“Not now,” is all you manage to say.

“Aegis! For fucks sake, leave her be!” his sister yells out, and you’re grateful for the intervening. You head inside your house and leave the rest of them outside. Jamie leaves and Aegis and his sister head back down towards the water, likely leaving the same way they came. Aegis looks back several times, catching your eye in the window. I’ll talk to him soon, you think. Just not right now, not until you sort out the mess of feelings you have. 

You can’t help but be conflicted. Seeing Aegis standing there dripping wet and all possessive over you stirred your desire. You have to remind yourself to be angry and stand your ground. He needs to learn how to communicate, not just act like a neanderthal and manage to win you back based on sheer attractiveness. His words still stung and he had lots of making up to do. 

As you busy yourself in your home, you see dark clouds gathering through your window. You turn on the local news and it looks like a bad storm is set to ravage your town. You’re nervous. You knew the rainy season could be bad here but the locals often discussed the occasional hurricane-eske storms that tear through. You are unsure how well your home will hold up. You try to secure what you can and get ready to hunker down for a while. 

Sure enough, thunder starts to rumble. It’s deep and shakes the earth beneath you. The wind and rain howl outside and you pray your generator holds up. You entertain yourself for a bit, curled up watching a movie, but soon enough the weather is too bad to concentrate on anything else. When an especially loud bout of thunder hits you start to feel panicky. It rattles your windows and you make a point to stay away from them. They rattle so loudly that you almost miss the pounding on your door. 

Almost, though. When you realize someone is knocking your heart beats even faster. You pick up the closest thing you could use as a weapon, unsure who could be here. You peek through and see Aegis standing outside, soaked to the bone. You’re relieved that it’s him, but not entirely happy he’s here. You wrench the door open and allow him in, the wind promptly slamming the door back into place. He settles onto a stool and you stay on the opposite side of the room, occupying yourself with looking outside.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he explains, and you nod. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to touch it, Aegis. I really didn’t! And you know that and still left,” you manage to get out past the knot in your throat. 

“Aye, I know. I made a mistake, I got angry.” His voice gets softer, “I got scared, my sweet girl.” 

You sniffle and look away, annoyed at the effect he has on you. He crumbles down your walls one word at a time. 

“I was stupid and didn’t know what to do. My sister had to come talk some sense into me.”

“I didn’t think she was your sister,” you mumble and he nods, giving you a watery smile.

“I’m sorry for that, too. After I saw you with that man on the beach I was so angry. She reminded me I had no right to be, I had no claim on you. I didn’t like hearing that,” he says. He stands then, eyes locked on your own.

You are on the other side of the room, backed up against your wall. As if the space between you could stop the pull of your heart. Your eyes are wide and flooded over and you don’t care to hold your tears back anymore. He walks towards you and he holds his sealskin in his hands. The closer he gets to you, the more you can feel your knees buckling. You feel them lock right as Aegis locks an arm around your waist, wrapping his seal skin over your shoulders at the same moment. When the pelt brushes against your skin and envelops you in its warmth, you feel more at peace than you have in days. It is like Aegis’s very being is intertwining around yours. His essence permeates through your skin and curls around your cells, and you relish it and relax into his hold. You knew the sealskin had magic to it but you didn’t realize how much it would affect you.  

“What-what are you doing?” you whimper out, making no move to stop him.

“I want you to know I trust you. I want you to trust me too. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, sweet girl,” he says. “After my tantrum and being away from you, I realized I’d give you my damn sealskin if it meant I could be yours.” He wipes away your stray tears and brushes your hair out of your face, gentling you. “Shhh, I’ve got you. No more crying, not because of me,” he pleads. 

“O-okay,” you reply, wobbly and unsure what else to say. The euphoric feeling of his sealskin is still lingering and you know he’s speaking the truth to you.  

“My love,” he cooes, “won’t you let me earn your forgiveness?”

You sniffle and nod, stretching toward him for a kiss, a real one. He obliges you, his bearch a scratchy comfort to your flushed skin, grounding you. He tastes like salt and wind, his kiss flavored by the sea. It’s chaste but perfect and when lightning strikes and sounds you break away from his lips only to curl further into his arms. A fearful noise escapes you and you bury your face into his neck. His hands rub your back and you take some deep breaths. If your house has lasted this long then it’ll be okay. You’re safe in his arms with his sealskin warm around you. 

You pull back, intent on kissing him more thoroughly this time. He is eager too and pulls you flush against him. He pulls you away from the wall and shuffles you onto the couch, not allowing a centimeter space to form between your bodies. You kiss him over and over, soft moans leaving you every time his lips mould to your own. His hands find your skin under your sweater and you are eager for more, burying your own in his hair. . 

“Let me lay you down,” he says, “let me show you how much I missed you.” 

Heat has gathered between your legs and the tingling of the sealskin on your flesh feels as though it has concentrated itself there. You pinch them together and he notices, pulling a leg over his hip to grind into your center. You whimper into his mouth, his lips pulling into a smile. He strips you of your sweater and makes sure to plant kisses across your birthmark. You lose the rest of your clothes and as his hands wander, so do your own. 

You tease his waistband, slowly slipping your hand inside. He rumbles a deep encouraging noise and you take him in hand. His cock is thick and heavy, pulsing in your grasp. It’s bigger than anything you’ve taken before and you aren’t sure that it’ll fit. You tell him as much, looking up at him with wide lust filled eyes. 

“It’ll fit sweetheart,” he whispers, his fingers tracing the crease of your labia. “I’ll make sure you’re ready for me.” 

He parts your folds and coats his fingers, your legs spreading to give him more room. He dips the tips of his fingers just barely inside of you, becoming familiar with your entrance. You aren’t good at being patient, though, and his cock is so close. You arch and moan, shifting further toward him and presenting yourself only for him to halt your movements. “Don’t tease,” you whimper out, only earning an amused laugh from your selkie. 

“Alright then,” he kisses you with a smiling mouth, “no teasing,” he says, promptly thrusting two of his thick digits into you. A surprised moan is torn from your throat and he glides through your walls easily, aided by your arousal. He scissors and curls his fingers in and out, stretching you open for him and spreading around your wetness. His thumb finds you clit and your mouth falls open, making room for his tongue to tangle with your own in a sloppy kiss that makes your cunt tighten.  

“Please,” you beg him, “I want you,”

“You beg so pretty,” he relents, fingers retreating after a final movement. 

He places himself between your legs, bending to kiss you again as he does. He kisses your cheek too before rising back up. He presses and rubs himself between your lips, making sure he’s covered in your wetness. His hips stutter when the head of his cock meets your folds but you paw at his shoulders, wordlessly pleading with him to continue. As he splits you apart underneath him a shaky breath leaves his lips. He hilts himself and stays there for a moment, soaking in the feel of your velvet cunt pulsing around him. You tighten around him in an attempt to get him to move. You try to tilt your hips up but he grabs them, forcing them in place. 

“Don’t move,” he gasps out, looking strung out above you. His head is tilted back and his eyes are closed. He’s beautiful and all yours. The magic of his pelt connects the two of you on a deeper level that has you feeling floaty and out of control, but the stretch of his cock and feel of his hands ground you.

A whine leaves you and you clench down on him, hoping to spur him into action. “Fuck,” he sputters, pushing even harder into you. You can feel him so deeply and it’s impossible to tell where one of you ends and the other begins. 

“Aegis,” you moan out, “move, please.” you cry out, nails digging into him. With a clenched jaw he follows your request. He retreats then pumps into you again, slowly but forcefully. His pace starts slow and he fully hilts himself inside of you each time. Your hips twitch up and the head of his cock notches against a spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling up into your head. He notices and makes a point to angle his hips toward it. Your legs turn to jello as he speeds up, snapping his legs against you. You reach down and rub your clit, Aegis encouraging you. 

“You take me so well. Fucking made to be wrapped around me, weren’t you?” he says, “That’s right, take your pleasure,” he whispers, his hot breath on the shell of your ear. His words have a tightness building in your gut, the coil wrapping tighter and tighter until you cry out in release. With you cumming underneath him Aegis can’t hold back any longer. He drives into you with rhythmless thrusts and moans out above you, a high pornographic sound that has aftershocks running through you as he spills inside of you. Little jerks of his hips extend your pleasure as the two of you slowly sink together.

Aegis is twitching and cooing at you as the haze clears from your mind. He wraps his arms and legs around you, the heavy limbs tangling with your own. He nuzzles into you as content as can be. Sweat is cooling on your skin and he covers the two of you with a throw blanket, the storm outside long forgotten. Your face is peppered in kisses as you drift to sleep, his pelt still a comfort underneath you. 

[pure-kirarin]

The rose left unwatered (Law x f!reader)

Heyo guys ! this is my first multi part fanfiction and I hope that you will all like it =w=.  No TW for now apart for coming smut in next chapters~  This was originally a request by @soul-stealer-reaper​ . Thanks for requesting :) originally you asked for a scenario with rough NSFW where Law has a crush on a girl that the government is afraid of and that has high bounty. As this will have some parts, everything you asked for will come in the next chapters so no worries :’) ! I won’t hide that wrote quite freely tho, I hope that it’s fine.  Synopsis : You have felt unwanted for so long that you forgot the last time you felt like you belonged. Quite paradoxical, when you are one of the most wanted “criminals” in the new world. You cross paths with Law after joining the strawhats at Fishman Island to “kill some time” and you both feel a weird connection from the moment your eyes met, curiosity, hatred or desire, did it really matter as long as feelings were involved ? ---------------------------

A rose left unwatered will wither, A heart left unloved will rot, A sweet dream left untouched will go bitter,  A love left unspoken will be forgot. Nemo -  Murder in Venice

The first time that Law saw you, he found you extremely annoying. He remembered that he saw your wanted poster somewhere, with one of the highest bounties that he has ever seen. Seeing such a high bounty made him raise an eyebrow at first, what could you have done to have the whole world on your back ? The second thought that came to his mind was that of detachement, then he flinched at that thought.

The first time that Law saw you in person was after his Allience with the strawhats. You stayed at the ship the whole time, you didn't even bother to follow others to punk Hazard or to help them with their plans. He thought that you were an extremely selfish person and you reminded him of the person that he hated most. That way you had of doing what you wanted without caring about others, the smirk you had on your lips at all times, never submitting, always acting so sure of yourself, it irritated him.

How could someone get such a strong reaction out of him ? He didn't even know, he always eyed you from afar and it was enough to know that you prfoundly, passionately got on his nerves.

You joined the strawhats in the Fishmen Island, finding your way to them and just asking to join. Luffy's simplistic demeanor meant that he accepted right away, not caring about who you were and not flinching at your high bounty.

You made it clear that you were just staying to be entertained, in fact, you didn't want to fight, you didn't want to help anyone, your curiosity was just peaked by Luffy, by that man that defied the world government, by that man that defied everyone at Marineford. You weren't impressed, but you just felt sympathy towards him and wanted to find some company.

You found what you were looking for, in fact, life with the strawhats was enjoyable, you didn't get along with Usopp or Nami. The former thought that you were « too scary » and would kill them in their sleep, the latter hated how little you were willing to cooperate.

You had your own reason, but nobody on that ship was able to grasp your personnality, you just had your own way of thinking, your own internal logic that nobody seemed to get. Who were you ? Why were you there and why was the whole world on your back ? All these questions were provoking Law, teasing him endlessly. His curiosity was growing day after day and you were always there, on a lounge chair enjoying the burn of the sun on your skin, not caring about anything else, not caring about him, not that he cared...did he ? You got on his nerves just by being there, he felt obseverd yet, he wasn't the kind of people to get flustered but your gaze was so intense, feline.

It was a soft night on the sunny, a few days before getting to Dressrosa.  On this night, the strawhats decided to gather around after dinner like always. They enjoyed socializing and spending time together, telling stories and playing silly games.  It was quite late so Momo was already sleeping. Everyone was on the deck enjoying some drinks and you were on the crow's nest, peaceful.

« Y/N-chaaawn~ » Screamed Sanji, making you look down. « Come have some fun with us, don't stay there on your own ! »

« - Yeah Y/N ! We're all having fun here. »  Said Luffy.

You jumped gracefully from the crow's nest just like a cat. You then looked around circularly before taking place between Law and Robin as she silently made some space for you. The atmosphere was light and everyone was enjoying themselves. Zoro was drinking bottle after bottle as Sanji was screaming at him. Usopp was telling you all for the tenth time about how he took down a sea king with his little finger and Luffy and Chopper were captivated by how cool that was.

You were just silently enjoying that sense of peace till Nami asked you out of nowhere

« Oh true Y/N, I actually never asked but I am curious, why is your bounty so high ? What have you done ? »

For a second your expression changed and everyone's eyes were on you. You just decided to tell them some kind of lie and you said that you killed a celestial dragon. Everyone looked at you in awe, killing a celestial dragon means that you had to escape from admirals. You excused yourself then saying you were tired, therefore going to sleep.

After hours of partying Strawhats went to sleep. You got out of the girl's quarter wearing only a night gown. Your thoughts were waltzing since earlier's events and you were looking melancolically at the ocean. The sound of the waves was so calming, you got close to the board of the sunny, placing your elbows on the wooden surface. You didn't notice it when Law came your way, he wasn't sleeping either, his sleeping schedule was always herractic. He was still intrigued by the lie you told earlier and by your overall attitude, something about you drew him towards you like a magnet.

-(Y/N)-ya...You didn't kill a celestial dragon, did you?

His voice was low and hoarse, stealing a murmur out of your lips. Your eyes met his, gray, icy. It was the first time he said your name outloud, actually, you briefly ever interacted since he got on this ship.

-Trafalgar ?..

You were wondering why did he bring this up, he never ever showed interest in you and you in him. In fact, now that you looked at him more in detail, you could say that he was an exceptionally handsome male with soft dark hair and a gloomy but all the more seductive cast of demeanor.

He could obtain any female he wanted at a snap of his fingers. You looked away and added :

-I thought that you disliked me. Why do you even ask ?

He raised an eyebrow, but got back to his stoic expression almost immediatly. He didn't know that it showed. However, you were wrong, he was starting to get intrigued by you, by your high bounty, by the detached way you acted. He was usually the one to observe and analyse people, but something about you...He couldn't put a finger on.

-I don't like lies.

-I have my own reasons...I'm sure there are a lot of things that you want to keep secret.

You hesitated then looked his side. He seemed calm still and just shrugged, ready to go back to his spot but then you added ;

-I lied because I didn't want to involve anyone in this...When I was just a child, I was a part of a dozen kids that were selected to take part into a « government experiment »...I don't want to go into details but...you clenched your fist, eyes fixed on an imaginary point in front of you I am the only survivor of that experiment...Therefore I'm being tracked... We were given power...To this day I don't know its extent...But I know that with just a blow of my fingers I could...you gasped How could a child be granted such a power ? Why did they have to choose for me ? I didn't want any of this....I never wanted to fight, I don't want to fight. I just wanted to be normal, to have a family, to feel wanted...haha...your laugh was bitter I mean, I know that I am the most wanted person you probably met, but I didn't mean it in that way. I hope that this satisfies your curiosity, Trafalgar Law.

Your eyes met, he looked in them, deep, searching for traces of honesty. You were telling the truth, there wasn't a doubt. He liked the way his name sounded out of your lips, it was the first time that he heard these three letters murmured by you. It's as if his first name sounded different, you had that way of saying it, almost like a whisper. You looked so vulnerable in your nightgown, so fragile despite your usual arrogant carapace. The fiery tigress looked like a sweet kitten and he was surprised by the way he just wanted to reassure you. He brushed that thought quickly and added, stoic ;

-I see, why did you tell me ?  

-You just asked me to, no ? I just felt like we were a bit alike...Ah. Also, quit asking me questions....This is starting to feel like a doctor examination...Now it's my turn to ask. Why do you even care ? I didn't think that the surgeon of death was such a curious person.

He scratched his chin, hesitating for a second, but then he just said bluntly ;

-The first time I saw you, I thought that you were extremely annoying.

- Ah ? you looked at him with a straight face, but still a bit offended If we're playing first impressions then...

-But I get it now.

He wasn't annoyed, in fact, he was just fascinated. It wasn't animosity that he felt but desire to know more about you. It wasn't that he was making sure that you're not endangering anyone, he wanted to look at you, it was just excuses upon excuses, rationalization for a case of irrational fascination. Now that the diagnostic was there, he could understand his emotions more clearly.

-You are talking in riddles but well...Whatever...Why did you form an alliance with Luffy by the way ? I wonder how you're able to handle all of his energy if you can't even stand mine haha.

-Let me correct you ; I don't hate you. He stops for a moment then he adds. There is a man that I would like to kill.

You turn now, back against the wooden border of the ship. You had an amused look on your face, wondering who was that man that he wanted to take down ;

-Now that's interesting ! Let me guess, who is it ?

-You are quite curious yourself, (Y/N)-ya...

He thought it was only fair, you opened up to him, he opened up to you, but telling you the details wasn't for now.

-So you are using the strawhats ?

-I am not sure who is using who. And what is your reason for joing the strawhats ?

-Luffy, you said with dreamy eyes, it's the D in his name...I have been drawn to people with this letter in their names like a magnet...I don't know...I just believe it's fate...

He was startled by your answer, so you knew about the « D » letter ? He also had this letter in his name...He just added then, with a face that didn't betray his surprise ;

-Oh , a girl like you believes in such romantic stories ?

-And what is a girl like me like ? You added, amused. I mean, apart from annoying.

-...Quit it already.

His tone was stable as always. He didn't show it but he thought that it was cute of you, how you insisted and played along. You faced him, your eyes looking right into his and you weren't one to look down, oh no. Irisis into his irisis, looking for him and digging something into him. He didn't even know what you meant by such a look, once again, feline.

The salty smell of the ocean's water mixed with the odor of your fruity perfume made that moment a bit more enjoyable and he wasn't even the type of person to enjoy chatting.

Check mate, you made up for that horrible first impression. You added then ;

-You avoided my question by the way, why wouldn't I believe in « such romantic stories » ? What do you think you know about « a girl like me » ?

You got a bit closer, amused, and he thought that it was getting a bit dangerous. You had a fake woeful look in your eyes. His limbs were filled to the brim with that ocean perfume of yours mixed with that sweet taste, and for a second it was as if that odor operated some kind of spell over him, because a surprising thought occured to his mind ; what would your lips taste like ? Certainly salty like the ocean and a tad like peaches.

Unsettled and unfocused he said ;

-Shouldn't you be sleeping ?

In reality, he didn't want these thoughts to make a nest out of his head and decided to cut the conversation quite abruptly. Your rocked your body back, almost like a child and rose your eyebrows in a semi-sarcastic semi-dramatic way.

-I'm a bit too old for a bed time don't you think, Trafalgar ?

-Just Law.

-Yes yes ! L-a-w...See you tomorrow ! You're not as uptight as I thought.

-(Y/N)-ya.

He just said your name in a strict way, probably indicating that you needed to go. His tone was firm, stop teasing already.

You looked at him with a diminishing smile, pronouncing every single letter so slowly, stretching his name on your lips so that these three tiny letters seemed endless. You tossed your hair, and something about the whole situation, about your feminine charm, something about the breeze of the night made the both of you feel unbearable tension. The type of tension that happens between a man and a woman at three in the morning, that tension that makes every little detail, every look in the eyes, every brush of the fingers feel indecent.

The eyes of a woman can't lie, his ego was stroked as he thought he had a glimpse of your hidden desire.You turned to go back to the girl's quarters, his eyes still hanged on your silhouette. ----------- I hope that you liked this first part. Please tell me what you think. It is a great motivator to know that I’m writing and being read. <3 I wish you all a nice day !

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[hanazou]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

Genre : Comfort, fluff, romance

Word Count : 1.9K

A response to this request.

— 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠, 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧, 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛?

The days when time slows down is the most dangerous, you thought to yourself, because you can feel your soul rotting away, your will and lack of passion eating your bones, and yet the mind musters no good enough reason to pull your pieces back together.

It is a common story, your own. Your days have been cut shorter and your nights lasted much longer. The desire to sleep the sluggishness away monopolizes your energy, leaving none left to have your meals, diverting your eyes from mirrors so you don’t have to be reminded of your buffering state; one that lacks the passion to even stretch an arm.

You no longer drink morning coffee ever since its sweet-bitter taste is lessened to plain, distasteful bitterness, and the smell of your favourite food no longer makes your appetite moist. The insatiable thought of letting your bed suck in your slothful body washes away each wants and needs.

All those explain why you look the way you do now. You had the chance to make your eyes less saggy and to hide the dark circles, you could have pressed cold spoons and applied some concealer, but it was a chore to even toss aside the blanket glued to your body to drag yourself to the shower. You shouldn’t have slept that long, you barely washed your hair off the filth you gathered from sleeping on the same dusty pillow.

Even the possibility of running into Chuuya today wouldn’t get you on your feet. No, that’s inaccurate—it’s because you might meet Chuuya that you don’t want him to see you in this state. Your beloved won’t leave you alone the moment he sees you like this, which in itself isn’t a bad thing, but how will you explain everything to him? This dormant state, this feeling of wanting space and time to swallow you whole?

Your deepest wish is actually to have him around your arms. Just the thought of silently letting his warmth comfort you soothe you more than any blanket could, but you can’t afford to do that today when you’re in the headquarters looking like someone who’s considering starving themselves to eternal sleep.

Your reflection in the bathroom mirror earlier made your lips twist. You did brush your hair and wash your face and yet, you are still far from looking presentable to the Boss. Unfit to see him, unfit as a mafioso, unfit to be here at all. You did pat down your shirt and pants with a pessimistic hope the Boss will only reprimand you and not send you away on a probation period.

You couldn’t recall when your automated legs brought you here, but here you stand, listening to the Boss briefing you today’s agenda. The explanation feels like hazy flowing clouds of words that blow pass you. You can’t rearrange your wandering thoughts, can’t even feel your numbness away. You simply understand that there are vermins trying to intimidate Port Mafia’s weapons dealer and that the Boss is sending you there to give them a good hit on their faces.

Only when he mentions Chuuya’s name do the wires in your brain spark.

“Chuuya?” You blink.

“Chuuya-kun insists that you will need company, he came earlier than you did to convince me that.” The Boss grins, chin on his hand. “I have the same judgement as to him, but that aside, have you looked at yourself in the mirror today?”

Barbells weigh down your shoulders. That was his way of asking, ‘what makes you think you’re fit for a job today?’ The Boss is the personification of logic. How will he accept your explanation if even you don’t know why you’re feeling the way you do, as if you’re a homeless unemployed bum without responsibilities?

“I’m sorry,” You lower your head.

“Not a problem with me, actually, as long as the job is done.” He smiles. “You can go, Chuuya-kun must be waiting for you somewhere.”

After a respectful bow, you leave through the large mahogany doors. The corridor outside, dark and orange as usual, although narrow, feels too large without Chuuya next to you.

You and Chuuya usually walk out of the Boss’s office together, you smiling at the comfort he gives, discussing what you two would be doing after the day’s job. You feel like a forlorn. An abandoned. A lone traveller whose journey is just to get to the end of the corridor when it was you who tossed away the one whose presence is sure to bring recovery.

“Not going to say hi?” The voice you’ve been craving echoes from behind. You jolt. You’re happy. You want him to bask you in his presence. But you’re afraid. How will he react to your condition?

You debate with yourself, should you turn around and face him? You don’t want to make your worry contagious, but you will have to face him either way for the job. The tips of your feet face opposite directions, unsure where to face, but before you come to a decision, Chuuya appears right in front of you.

Your conscience twists like a sponge when Chuuya’s smile abruptly turns to shock as his eyes lay on you. He gapes your name, not sure what to address, and you turn and walk some distance between you.

“I’m okay, I just slept too much,”

Like a wilting flower, you hide your face.

“Are you kidding? Nobody looks like that from sleeping in too long!” Chuuya’s voice escalates just like you feared. You wish your earlobes can curl in to push away the guilt hearing him makes you feel. Oh, alas, he’s approaching—“What the hell’s been going on?”

“Nothing.” You cower away. “I’ve been feeling slow, that’s all.”

You omit the important parts because Chuuya didn’t sign up for them. He didn’t date you for you to become a lousy, disordered sloth. He wants the smiling and comforting you, not the you who needs him to smile and comfort you.

If you could just push him away for enough time for you to put yourself together—

Chuuya seizes the hand that’s about to put some distance. “You don’t think I can help you, is that it?”

You instantaneously look at him. “I never said that!”

“You know, I hate it when people lie to me, and I don’t like being kept in the dark just the same.” He says.

The way his eyes pierce your conscience makes your head avert away but he clenches your hand tighter. When you glance back at him, slowly that is, his hold softens. “But do you know what I’m feeling right now? Something like self-disappointment. For not noticing earlier that you’re having—those kinds of days.”

“Have you had one?” You ask, interest piqued. “Days when you just, don’t know what you want?”

With a distant look, Chuuya makes a noise of affirmation. He pulls on your hand, taking you with him to a deserted corner halfway at the end of the not-so-dark corridor now. In fact, it may feel a bit... warmer. More comforting, more familiar, more grounding with the way Chuuya’s hand has been holding yours. It’s amazing how just his hand helps more than sleeping for a whole day does.

When both of you enter the hidden corner, Chuuya’s pace still pulling you with him, he yanks you onto his body. Your body crashes against his and his arms are quick to trap you in him. There’s no room for you to struggle nor any space for your anxiety to linger. Like a strong wind, his embrace dusts away the cobwebs around your soul. His hand crawls to the back of your head to push you down so your face covers his shoulder.

“If I had met you when I was going through what you’re feeling now, you could’ve given me this.” Chuuya’s voice came from behind your head. His chin presses your back, his other hand holding you still against him. “So make sure to do this with me when it’s my turn feeling down.”

You begin to feel his heartbeat, and you wonder, has it always been this therapeutic, having this much influence to thaw your continuously swirling uneasiness? But the thought of letting him do the chore of comforting you doesn’t sit right. You push to put a little distance but his hold around you tightens, trapping your arms at your sides.

“Not yet. Just another 30 seconds since we’re on the clock.”

You’re unsure where to look. The floor in front of you? His hair near your nose? The material of his coat your hands are touching?

You don’t want to think anymore. No more confusing rationalities, no more questions, not in this position, not when he’s here. You want to feel, to finally accept. So you close your eyes, bring your arms around him, and let your breaths slow down.

How you’ve missed this.

This doesn’t solve problems, you think, but why can you feel your worry melting away?

The pressure on your arms becomes lighter. Has it been 30 seconds? You can put some distance between you and Chuuya now, but not to escape or avoid him. You just want to see his face.

But your vision was suddenly obstructed by something dark. A sharp scent of comfort, Chuuya’s scent, fills your nose. Your fingers graze up and down to figure out what it is. There’s a flat surface connected with the perpendicular one, and the texture feels oddly similar as you take it off.

From the upper sides of your eye, you spot that in your hand is Chuuya’s hat as he pushes it down over your face again.

“I’m lending you the hat this once so you can cover your face for the job, then I’ll stay with you for the whole day wherever you want.” His hand lifts off you. “I can come over, bringing some of my own wine. How’s that sound?”

You adjust Chuuya’s hat to sit properly on your head, liking how it fits perfectly on you as you look at him. From the look on his face, you know he thinks so as well.

“Hey, you know what? You don’t look half bad with it.” He smirks, pocketing his hands. “You can wear it for the whole day, if you want, but just give it back and don’t scratch it.”

“What a nagging man,” You chuckle. “I’m holding this hostage till I feel better.”

Chuuya scoffs. “Hostage? Ha! My hat will be the one making you feel better.”

“It’s not just because of the hat, silly,” Your cheeks grow from your smile, giving him a meaningful look to thank him.

Chuuya’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare. He turns away, walking out to the corridor, and you follow. “W-Whatever, just keep it with you.”

“What if it’s not enough?” You pat down the hat, liking the way it presses your head. “What if I want more?”

“If you want more, then ask me! Why do you make it sound complicated?”

You lock your arm by slipping it through his. The fabric of his sleeve on your forearm feels natural as you sigh, your temple against his shoulder. “Can I really?” You mutter.

Chuuya heaves a heavy breath and releases it with a long sigh. You raise your head to apologise but he shoves down his hat to cover your eyes again, obstructing your vision. “Of course you can, stupid. I promise.”

You breathe in his scent again, feeling his hat around your head, his clothes against your skin, and his strong stature on your body.

You see light at the end of these kinds of days if he’s with you.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[kenmasangel]

Fight ; Ushijima Wakatoshi

characters : ushijima wakatoshi, f!reader

synopsis : you and ushijima had your first real lowkey hardcore fight as a couple

genre : angst, fluff

ps : i am trying my best lol, i am new at this if you any remarks my dm's are open. hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

both you and your boyfriend, ushijima play volleyball that is actually what pulled you closer and ushi couldn't be happier

you've always enjoyed playing volleyball; it wasn't your passion and you wouldn't dedicate your life for it like ushijima but you still did your best all the time and you were pretty good

you actually were captain of the team for a while but then just decided to be a normal player

you practiced really hard; you didn't want to disappoint your boyfriend who was a great volleyball player

it really stressed you out though, especially when people would compare you or make really uncalled for remarks (this was maybe even one of the reasons you quit as a captain)

anyway these last days you haven't been feeling really good, the exams were upcoming and you wanted to keep up your excellent grades so you could attend the college of your dream

and not to make things better you had a practice match with you-don't-know-what-team and you couldn't care less

even if you were attending practice you were still kind of lacking, you wouldn't give it your all as usual and your teammates noticed that, you tried conving your coach into keeping you on the bleachers but he just wouldn't give up on you and your amazing serves

so here you were, sleep deprived, stressed out about school work and volleyball and your boyfriend didn't seem to notice anything, he would ask you times to times if anything is wrong but you would brush him off since you knew he was already preoccupied with the nationals

ushijima wasn't dumb though, he knew something was off with you but since you kept telling him not to worry he thought he would give you time unil you feel completely comfortable talking about it

he would kiss your forehead and tell you that he is here anytime

i ship you guys so bad wtf 😔

and as if the universe was against you, the day before your practice match you had an important exam, “at this point i should drop out and become a stripper” you thought to yourself as you were cramming informations into your brain

after your exam you headed to the gym to practice, you and your team stayed until late night and needless to say you only had few hours of sleep because you also had to wake up early to practice your serves, you didn't even have time to see your boyfriend so he could encourage you

you were exhausted, your brain was about to explode and your coach would still not let stay on the bleachers. the only thing positive was that ushijima sent you a good luck text message the night before

the match started, you were trying so hard to stay focused and to fall asleep; your serves were not as sharp as usual, you would miss the ball many times and the coach finally decided to change you with someone else

what you were not aware of is that ushijima and tendou came to watch the match and support you, they were weirded out at the way you were playing, it clearly was not in your habits to play that way

your team won the match but you couldn't care less, you just wanted to go home and sleep for one week straight

there were still a few people in the gym, you were getting ready to leave; you didn't even notice that the trio was coming your way

“y/n!” you heard tendou call you, “oh, hi sorry i didn't notice you were here” you replied, closing your bag “what's up?” you ask

“what's up with you? are you okay?” tendou asks, “what ?” you didn't know they saw everything, you kept staring at them until it hit you “oh, so you guys watched the match”

“yes, and what was all that about?” asked ushijima. “we can't always play well, you know” you shrugged, they were staring at you kind of shocked

“what? y/n did you see your serves ? did you see how many times you missed easy balls? it was almost as if i was watching a beginner! the team almost lost because of you” ushijima replies

“okay and ? i told the coach not to put me on the field yet he did. not my fault” you answered, it stung hearing him say that but it was true and you knew it

“thank god #8 came in, she saved the game ” he adds, what started annoying you. the last thing you wanted was to fight with your boyfriend

“good for them,” you clapped back in a cold tone what sent shivers down tendou's spine. he didn't want to get in between you two and he didn't know how to react since it was his first time seeing you like that

“you are my girlfriend, you know better! you should know this isn't only about others but the whole team! i heard people say stuff i didn't want to hear when you were playing an-” he couldn't finish when you cut him off

“ i know what people say ushijima! i know i am not dumb. and what if i am your girlfriend ? does that make me obliged to be a good volleyball player like you ? volleyball isn't my dream as far as i know i also have other dreams and other goals ushijima, but do you even care ? do you even bother asking me what i am passionate about ? and if you're ashamed of me, the so-bad volleyball player why don't you just go out with other great players ?” you snapped, what made the gym go quiet and all eyes stare at you and your boyfriend.

you gave him a last glance , took your stuff and went home

him and tendou stood there, alone now that everyone have left, still trying to comprehend what just happened, “wow, i’ve never seen y/n-chan like that” tendou broke the silence between him and ushijima. he didn’t answer tho, his mind was still replaying the fight you two had

you never fought; you guys were both mature and dealt with every situation you had to go through rationally so this fight really made ushijima tense up, something that tendou noticed

“ushijima,” tendou started as they were walking back to their dorms. “did you notice that y/n wasn’t feeling good right ?”

“hm? what?” the green eyed boy looked at him confused

“y/n is definetly not feeling good, you could tell just by looking at her face,” he stopped a moment before he continued “you can’t be oblivious to your girlfriend feeling bad, can you ?”

“look, i am not one to tell you what to do ushijima, this is your relationship but take good care of y/n before you loose her. she is a wonderful person and i know people who are just waiting for the right moment to have a chance with her,” he finished, sighing

“i don’t know what to do, we’ve never had a fight like this before and i sure don’t want to loose her,” finally stated ushijima burying his face in his hands, “i know i am lucky to have her, but you know how i suck at this relationship stuff...”

“give her time to cool down, but not too much time too. anyway goodnight” tendou pats ushijima’s shoulder before getting into his dorm

the days after you tried to keep it lowkey; you didn’t go to practice, you’d spend most of your time alone in the library or at home

your friends tried to contact you but you went on ghost mode, ushijima and the vb team too but you didn’t have enough strenght to deal with anyone not even your own parents

yet one night after everyone had finsihed practice you decided to head to the gym, you had so much frustration that you wanted to get rid off and the only thing that could help you was to hit in a ball

so here you are, at 10:30 pm serving in your highschool’s gym with all the power you had

what you didn’t know is that someone was there, watching this whole time hitting them balls with all the power you had wondering if they should come and talk to you or not

saying he missed you be an understatement, he missed your touch, the sound of your voice, your silly fights with tendou over who ushijima loved the most, the way you would hold his hand with no warning, the way you came to his practices and his teammates would all want to catch your attention. he was craving you and he couldn’t do anything but blame himself on how he lacked as a boyfriend

“man up, wakatoshi,” he opened the door yet didn’t catch your attention as you were still serving your mind obviously somewhere else

“uhm, hello?” he clumsily tries to catch your attention, which he succeeded  in

you turn, kind of startled but lowkey relaxing at his sight. “hi,” looking at his face you realized how much you missed him but the fight you had was still replaying in your head. “i was leaving, i just need to clean the gym” you said shaking off your pianful thoughts

as you walked by him he held you wrist making you stop, “y/n, let’s talk it out... please” his face slowly turning around, your eyes meeting his

he was right, you couldn’t just ghost everyone for the rest of the year, you just nodded and looked away

still holding your hand he took you to sit on a bench, facing each other. both of you wondering what will come out of this conversation

“y/n, i miss you, i was a horrible boyfriend i should’ve noticed how bad you were doing and comfort you instead of being a total douchebag, it’s just that...” he stopped for a while, thinking of the right words to say. “i just want the best for you, and i should’ve known vb isn’t your dream but i know how much potential you have and i just want the best for you.”

you couldn’t help but soften and the bluntness of your boyfriend, you knew he was genuine

“i don’t want to loose you y/n, and i promise to do my best to be a better boyfriend. please accept my apology,” you couldn’t help but breakdown infront of him

that’s it, you reached your peak and here you were sobbing in your boyfriend’s arms who was rubbing your back, trying to comfort you

he sure was taken aback when he saw you crying like that, he had never seen you like that and he never dealt with this type of situation but somehow he knew you needed to let everything out

he kissed the top of your head, whispering things like “everything is gonna be fine”

“i just got so stressed out, volleyball, academics, relationships... and i wanted to be the best but i couldn’t handle this much pressure and i should’ve told you how i felt but i bottled up thinking i could handle it,” you managed to say between your sobs. “ i love you too and i don’t want to loose you toshi,” he hugged you tighter after this sentence

“it’s alright love, i should’ve been here for you that’s the point of being together, it’s to lift a certain weight on each other,” he cupped your face in his big hands, wiping your tears, “no more secrets now, we’re here for each other,” you nod and he gently presses his lips against yours

“i love you, and i am here for you, please stop crying i hate to see my s/o this way especially when i suck at comforting you,” he made you chuckle

you’ve never  seen this side of ushijima, you knew he was trying his best right now, but you were glad you saw it today; it proved that he really loved you and you felt happy to have him by your side

“i love you too, toshi,” you hugged him tight and he kissed your forehead

both of you feeling relieved to know that your relationship was strong enough and you’d be able to count on each other and go through anything by each other’s side

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Broken Down (Pt.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down on the side of the highway, you’re picked up by a kind couple who apparently have a thing for picking up hitchhikers, judging by the boy in the back seat. What started as a ride turns into a horror story. 

Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS (it’s Carl and Sandy and if you are reading this, you’re damn well aware of what they do - no full on rape though! Just noncon touching), murder/ serial killers, being held at gun point, description of blood and violence, typical Carl and Sandy stuff

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: There are parts of this that are from the movie directly and I do not claim to own those parts. All other original parts are mine though!

Part 2 out now!

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It was no secret that Sandy was unhappy with her life with Carl anymore. She wasn't quiet about it- not even to him. Any logical person would think that she'd be scared to tell her serial killer partner that she was tired of killing people but she wasn't sure if she cared about the outcome anymore. She already felt dead inside. 

"Carl, I'm done." 

"C'mon, Sandy. It's not that bad." Carl tried to convince his partner, looking over at her from behind the wheel. 

Sandy scoffed sadly, "I don't like when they cry." 

"But they take the best pictures," Carl responded insensitively. They drove on in silence for a while down the highway, ever consciously looking for their next victim. "You know what? How about we try something new, huh? We can try to make this next one a little more interesting." 

Sandy rolled her eyes and stared out at the landscape as it blurred past on their trek along the highway. That wasn’t what she meant and Carl knew it. She didn’t want to make things more interesting. She wanted out. She knew it was no use arguing, though. Carl always got his way. 

**

You stood at the edge of the road, thumb extended as the occasional car passed by, to no avail. Your car sat dead in the turn out behind you. Your duffel bag was laid down on the ground by your feet, your dark blue floral skirt blowing against the material when the breeze blew. Of all the roads to break down on, it just had to be the one in the middle of nowhere Ohio - West Virginia border where almost no cars drove past. It was beginning to get dark and your nerves were starting to fray at the thought of being stuck in the woods alone at night. 

Finally, a car drove up to you and you waved your hands to get their attention, put on your nicest smile, and stuck your thumb out. The vehicle slowed to a halt beside you and you saw three people in there, a woman driving, a man rolling his window down to talk to you, and a young man in the backseat. "What's a sweet girl like you doing out here stuck on the side of the road?" The man questioned with a smile. 

"My car broke down and I just need to get into town to call a mechanic." You gestured back to your old yellow Ford that had started acting up a little ways back. When you pulled over to take a look at it, it just wouldn't start up again. 

He looked over at the pretty blonde lady driving, giving her a look you couldn't see but she returned one that you couldn't quite read. The man turned back to you with a smile, “Well we’re dropping this fella off in Meade but I’m sure we could drop you in the next closest town. Shouldn’t be too far if you’d like a ride.” 

A smile spread across your face, “Thank you so much.” You picked up your duffel bag and hustled over to the side of the car that was bordering the road, sliding into the seat when you threw the door open. 

“What a good day for makin’ new friends, huh, honey?” The man said chipperly before turning around to look at the two of you in the back seat. “What were your names?” 

“Y/N.” You answered warmly, glancing over at the boy beside you who sat stiffly, his jaw clenched tightly. You’d assumed he was with the couple but it seemed you may have been wrong. 

He swallowed after a brief pause, his eyes widening in fear for a moment, “Arvin, sir.” 

“Well, Arvin and Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you two. I’m Carl and this is my wife Sandy.” He patted Sandy on the shoulder and she gave him a small forced smile. Trouble in paradise, you thought. “Where you from Y/N?” 

Your hands laid prim and proper in your lap, holding your skirt down from the breeze from Carl’s rolled down window, “Just a small town not too far from here actually. Barren Springs? Not many people have heard of it.” 

“Can’t say I have,” Carl shook his head. 

Arvin chimed in for the first time since you’d gotten in the car, “I've been through there for work before.” 

“Yeah? You live nearby?” You asked, looking over at him. A blush heated your cheeks at the site of the handsome young man. His curly brown locks were messily pressed down against his head from the baseball cap that he had curled up in his lap. 

Arvin just nodded a little when he made eye contact, “Coal Creek.” He swallowed hard, before his eyes darted away from yours and bounced off every moving object he could see.

“Oh, nice! I’ve only ever driven through it on the way to my grandparent’s house but it’s a cute little town.” You chipped, waiting for a response from Arvin but he only gave you a curt nod and fidgeted his hands along his legs. A thick silence settled over the car for a moment and you cast your gaze away from the attractive boy down to the mechanism that allowed the driver’s seat to adjust on the ground of the car, suddenly feeling like you overstepped with Arvin with your seemingly innocent comment. 

“Looks like you’re set for a trip. You leaving or coming home?” Sandy asked, looking at you through the rear view mirror. 

“Comin’ home,” You responded, replacing that polite smile and slightly higher voice you did when speaking to strangers, “A friend of mine from high school moved to Blacksburg with her sweetheart. I just went out there for their wedding.” You smiled at the memory of their ceremony. It was one of those marriages that you just knew was meant to be. 

“Awe, I just love weddings.” She said dreamily, gazing nostalgically out across the road. 

You smiled and made a small noise of agreement. At the thought of weddings, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the idea of marrying the man sitting beside you. It was silly, you knew, fantasizing about marrying a complete and total stranger. Barren Springs didn’t have many good suitors to pick from and you had yet to make it out on your own into the world. It had been a long time since you’d been physically attracted to anyone as strongly as you were attracted to Arvin. Besides, you weren’t fantasizing about marrying him, per se, but more so just having a wedding with him. The thought of seeing him so handsome and dressed up and the way his eyes would sparkle with adoration when he saw you walk down the aisle in your dress. It was ridiculous! You could have laughed at yourself. You just wanted to think that maybe there was some possibility that he thought you were half as beautiful as you thought he was. 

After some time driving in silence, with you sneaking many glances at the man sitting beside you, Carl spoke up, “Oh shit, my old billy don’t work like it used to. I’m gonna have to pull over and take a leak.” He trailed off, looking over at Sandy with a smile. She gave him a sharp look but slowed down. You wondered just how often of an inconvenience this must have been if she seemed so annoyed by the request. “Is that alright by you two?” He asked a little louder, directing the question at you and Arvin. 

You and Arvin both got strange looks on your face, finding it strange that he felt the need to ask if he could use the restroom. “Sure,” Arvin muttered. 

“Yeah, of course.” You added, eyes flicking between the man and woman up front. 

“There should be a road up here on the right,” Carl directed Sandy, “Little further. Little further. Slow down. Right here.” The car slowed and rolled to a stop, rocks crunching beneath the tires. “This is good.” 

You craned your head to watch the main road disappear a few dozen feet behind you and your nerves perked up. Arvin must have noticed the way you sucked a deep breath in, louder than usual, because he glanced over at you with a look in his eyes that told you that your sudden uneasiness was not unfounded. You watched as his eyes shot back and forth between the couple and then around at your surroundings. 

You began to pick at the hem of your dress. Hitchhiking was something you tried to avoid at all costs and managed to do so successfully until this very day because the idea of getting in a car with a stranger made you nervous. You knew that in all likeliness, Carl probably was just going to use the restroom and then return and you’d be on your merry way. The little indecipherable looks he and Sandy kept shooting each other didn’t escape your notice though. 

“I won’t be long.” Carl reassured, opening the door and stepping out. As he did, his jacket lifted and you saw the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants clear as day and your eyes widened in silent panic. 

A lot of people own guns out here, you tried to rationalize but it still didn’t sit right with you. None of this did. A rock the size of Texas sat heavy in your gut and you had an extreme urge to get as far from here as possible without raising suspicions. For one, it would be extremely awkward if you were wrong and you were freaking out over nothing. On the other hand, if they were planning to kill you, it could speed up the process before you could think up a way out of it. 

You glanced over at Arvin and it was clear that he had noticed the gun as well because his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes followed Carl like a hawk watching a rabbit. Your hand slid across the seat and you nudged his leg, nodding ever so slightly towards Carl with wide implying eyes. Arvin breathed deeply and nodded, having seen exactly what you had seen. It was validating to know that Arvin didn’t feel right either but it was also even more unnerving because it meant the likelihood of danger was more likely. 

Arvin rolled the window down to watch Carl more clearly and Sandy shifting up front drew your attention. You looked up to see her absentmindedly trying to light a match for the cigarette that hung between her lips. Finally, she got it lit and brought the flame to the tip of her cigarette. You watched her do this with intent, so much so that you jumped when Carl leaned through Arvin’s window and loudly announced, “Damn. That’s gonna be one fine sunset. You have to be patient with me while I get a few shots off. Hon, give me the key.” 

He must have noticed the uncomfortable looks on yours and Arvin’s faces because he reassured, “Don’t you worry none. We’ve got some hooch in the back and… well, you got two pretty ladies with ya.” Carl raised his eyebrows at you and his partner before looking back at Arvin with a wink, “And Sandy’s good company.” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably at the way Carl added that last part, not liking the way his tone implied certain things. Sandy turned around to shoot the pair of you a smile, one that both of you returned with a hard swallow in an attempt to not show that you were highly suspicious of whatever the hell this was. Your gaze went back to Carl, where the keys made a bulge in this back pocket and your heart fell at the sight. Those keys were your only chance of getting out of here. 

The back of the car opened and you turned around to watch Carl retrieve a camera and a blanket, the gun still firmly in his waistband, before walking up to the side of the car and opening the door. Arvin flinched and looked over at Carl who motioned outside, “How ‘bout we all share a drink over this beautiful sunset. What y’all think?” 

Your voice came out shaky, “Thank you but I don’t drink. It might be best if we get headin’ out sooner than later though. My ma’s expecting me home soon and I don’t wanna worry her.” Whether or not your words were lies was a moot point. Getting out of the car just felt like a bad move. 

Carl shrugged, “Well, then, you can just watch the rest of us share a drink then. And don’t you worry. We’ll be on the road soon enough- just as soon as the sun sets. Your mama shouldn’t be too worried. Now why don’t you two come join us.” This time, it didn’t sound like much of a question. 

Sandy had thrown her door open and stepped out onto the earth outside, slamming the door shut. You were surprised when she opened up your door and leaned against it, “C’mon, hon. You don’t have to drink any. Wouldn’t wanna miss such a pretty sunset, though, would you?” 

With a partner on either side of you, you and Arvin looked at each other, knowing neither of you had a choice but to get out of the car. Reluctantly, you stepped out and walked around the back of the car towards the clearing that Carl was now leading Arvin too as well. He laid out the blanket on the ground and gestured for you and Arvin to sit down. Sandy followed shortly after with a mason jar full of a light peach liquid. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig straight from the jar, “I made it myself out o’ some strawberries I grew back home.” 

“The best stuff in Ohio. My girl’s got a real gift.” Carl winked at his wife, who handed him the jar. He too took a sip before passing it to Arvin. Arvin just shook his head before murmuring a polite decline. Carl tsked, “C’mon boy. Don’t wanna hurt my wife’s feelings.” Arvin’s jaw tensed before he slowly took the strawberry hooch from your host and tilted it till the liquid touched his lips, though you couldn’t quite tell if he actually let any of the liquid enter his mouth or not. 

He handed the jar back to Carl, not offering you any and you wondered if he was trying to respect your comment about not indulging in alcohol or if he was trying to keep you safe. Regardless, you were grateful. Carl raised the jar towards you, offering it silently, but you put your hand up, “Thank you but I’ll have to pass. I’m sure it’s delicious though.” 

“Alright, suit yourself.” He said with a shrug, taking a sip himself before screwing the lid back on and setting it on the blanket. 

Sandy came to sit just beside you and Arvin on the blanket, looking up at her husband who was still standing. “Wouldn’t they make a cute couple, Carl?” She pondered out loud and you couldn’t help the blush in your cheeks at the thought. Arvin shifted beside you, most likely feeling just as weird about the comment as you did. 

“Now, Sandy, no need to make the poor kids uncomfortable,” He chided lightly, turning around, “But, y’know, this is a real nice picture. Do y’all mind if I take a few shots for posterity’s sake? I mean, seein’ as we probably won’t see each other again after today.” 

Before you could answer, Sandy was already scooting in close to Arvin and forcefully initiating a pose, “Alright, now you,” Carl pointed at you, “Scootch in just a little closer.” Your arms shook as they lifted your body enough to move a few inches closer to Arvin. “Perfect. Now everyone smile.” You tried your hardest to force a smile but you couldn’t get one out that was worth any photo. 

Carl stood up, as if he was in thought, “I’m a photographer and I would love to get some posed shots if y’all wouldn’t mind. Now, Sandy, why don’t you step back for just a moment while we get these two together. Good. Now, Arvin, you put your arm around her- good! Just like that.” 

Arvin awkwardly placed his arm on the ground behind your back, just close enough to look like the two of you were leaning into each other. Carl pulled away from the camera with a smile, “Sandy is right. You two would make a cute couple. Now, Sandy, why you don’t hop back in there. Perfect.” 

Carl paused for a moment to ponder his next pose, “Now, Arvin, why don’t you lean back and touch my wife. Y/N, I want you to kiss him while he does it.” 

The instructions slipped from his lips with such little reservation that you were convinced you misheard him for a moment. The man had been fairly polite thus far, if not a bit odd with his quips and pryingly friendly remarks, so the bluntness with which he just told you and Arvin to perform semi-sexual acts on each other and his wife took you off guard. “Excuse me?” You shrank back, ripping your body away from Arvin and Sandy with a velocity that almost jolted you.  

When you did, your hand grazed a large patch of skin that had previously been covered with her fuzzy cheetah print coat. You whipped around to see her sitting behind you in nothing but her underwear and you quickly realized that you had grazed just beneath her bare breast. “What the fuck!” You jumped, moving away from the nearly nude woman. 

Arvin jumped when her hand rested on his shoulder and moved away as well, looking between the man and woman who clearly saw nothing wrong with what they were doing. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here but we’re leaving.” Arvin pressed with a firm voice, standing up and offering his hand to you, pulling you up to almost be tucked into his side, his hand staying on your arm protectively.

Carl looked at him like he was some naive boy. “Boy, I’m giving you the opportunity to fuck my wife and that beautiful girl over there while I take pictures. You’re a damned fool if you turn this down.” 

“You guys are sick. I will not be having sex with anyone here today!” You exclaimed indignantly at Carl’s implication that you were going to be just fine with this. 

The older man looked over to you and waved his hand with a cocky knowing smirk. “I’ve seen you lookin’ at ‘im the whole drive. You’re tellin’ me you don’t want to make love to this boy right here? And what about my wife? You ever been with a woman?” Carl asked, eyes flicking back to Sandy, who wiggled her breasts and gave you a comforting look that told you she would help you through whatever experience you may have lacked.

You found yourself stepping backwards, away from Arvin even. Your head shook, a boiling mixture of terror, rage, and embarrassment burning inside you, “I-I-I already told you. I ain’t doing no-”

Words failed when Carl reached behind him and pulled out the gun you’d noticed earlier, pointing it right at your chest, “Now look, I hate pointin’ a gun at a pretty young thing like yourself but I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t start doin’ what I say. You and my wife are gonna give this boy the best time of his life and I’m gonna take pictures while you do it. That’s it. You understand?” 

The world around you seemed to freeze while you stared down the barrel of his pistol. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t talk. Sandy moved closer to you, her lips coming to your neck in a gentle kiss that made your skin crawl. A single tear rolled down your cheek while you stared at the gun that was still pointed at you, Sandy’s hand moving to brush your hair off your neck so she had more access. There was nothing you could do. If you made any move to shove her off, he’d shoot you. If you made a move to run, he’d shoot you. If you tried to knock the gun out of his hand, he’d shoot you. All you could do for the time being was let Sandy do what she would until you could find the right moment to disarm Carl and get the hell out of here. 

She looked up at Arvin with sultry eyes over your shoulder, “C’mon, Arvin. You ever thought about being with two women at once before?” 

Arvin swallowed hard as he watched how you sat with tears welling in your eyes, trying your hardest not to break in this impossible situation. He stood in seething anger and fear, his heart breaking a little when your hands snapped up to grab her wrists as her hands crept around your front and unpopped the top two buttons of your blouse. 

There was a click from Carl cocking the pistol and he took a step closer to you, “I told you I would shoot you if you don’t start playin’ along. This is your last warning. You’re testing my patience, girl.” Your legs were nearly giving out on you when Sandy popped open another two buttons, your bra clearly exposed for everyone to see. Your shirt was unbuttoned as far as it could go before disappearing into the waistband of your skirt where it was tucked in. 

 Arvin looked away from your exposed upper body, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable and violated than you already were. Suddenly, there was a small flash and the click of a camera and Arvin snapped his focus over to Carl to see him snapping pictures of you, half nude and trying not to fall apart. A coil of pure hatred had been building in Arvin since the first direction of sexual acts but now he was on the verge of tackling and killing Carl right now with his bare hands. 

When he looked at you, eyes clenched shut now and silent tears pouring out the corners, he could see Lenora. Both of you were just fearful girls being taken advantage of by someone with too much power. He couldn’t save his sister but maybe he could save you. Arvin could feel his father’s Luger in his pocket but he wasn’t sure if he could draw it and shoot Carl before he could pull the trigger on you. His father’s words came back to him. Wait for the right moment. 

Carl whipped his head over to look at Arvin and snapped at him, “I ain’t askin’ again, son. Get in there and start touchin’ those girls!” Carl took the gun off you for just a moment to point it at Arvin and encourage him to approach you and Sandy. 

Now, it wasn’t that Arvin had no regard for his own life. The last thing he wanted to do was die, especially after how hard he’d had to fight his whole life, but he was more willing to risk getting himself shot than you. His hand had been gripped around his pistol in the pocket of his denim jacket, just waiting for the right moment to get the two of you away safely. In a second, he cocked the gun and drew it quickly, firing sloppily in Carl’s direction. 

Two gunshots rang out. 

You screamed, thinking that Carl had just murdered Arvin before your eyes and that you were next. Your eyes were clenched shut until you noticed Carl seethe in anger and pain, “Fuck! Fuck you boy!” And then multiple more gunshots. 

This time, there were no more groans of pain, only the heavy thud of Carl’s body on the ground. His gun fell to the ground when his hand loosened and you dove for it, snapping out of Sandy’s grip. You landed hard, your bare chest and abdomen scraping painfully against the sticks and rocks when your body slid against the rough ground. You grabbed the gun and turned to point it at Sandy, who had also procured a gun from God knows where and had it aimed right at you. You didn’t hesitate.

Again, there were two bangs. 

You fell back after you fired off your shot and in your panicked state, you couldn’t tell if you’d been hit, your arms had given up supporting your weight on the ground, or if the recoil from the gun was that intense. 

There was the sound of another body hitting the ground. 

Arving rushed to your side, falling to his knees and inspecting you for immediate signs of physical distress. “Are you okay? Were you shot?” 

Your hands ran all over your body, trying to feel for any signs of being shot. You couldn’t feel any part of your body right now, the adrenaline distorting your perception of pain. Even the large bloody scratches on your chest, breasts, stomach, arms, and knees weren’t causing any discomfort at the moment. You shook your head, “I- I don’t think so. Were you?” 

He shook his head, helping lift you to sitting, “No-no, I’m alright. We need to get out of here though.” 

Your knees were shaky as you tried to stand up but they almost gave out on you when you saw the dead bodies on the forest floor. Carl had been shot three times, twice in the chest and once in the arm. Sandy was already pale with a bloody entrance wound in her throat. 

“Oh my God… we killed them.” You were nearly hyperventilating, stumbling backwards. Arvin walked with you, holding you up until you stopped moving. 

“They were gonna kill us. We had no choice.” He held you tightly by the shoulders, looking straight into your teary and panicked eyes. 

“The police ain't gonna believe that.” Your entire life just crumbled to pieces before your eyes, all because you hitched a ride with some strangers. 

Arvin shook his head, “That’s why we gotta get outta here. Leave ‘em. Don’t tell anybody about what happened.” 

His words sunk in and you nodded in agreement. The honest part of you wanted to tell the police. Maybe they could help you but you knew that there was an equal chance they’d lock you up for murder as well. You couldn’t risk it. Running was the only option. 

Carl’s gun was still in your hand and once you realized it, you wiped it down on your skirt before placing it back in Carl’s hand. “What’re you doin’?” Arvin asked, watching you meticulously place it as if it had just fallen in place. 

“Makin’ it look like a murder-suicide. They can’t pin it to us if it don’t look like they were just murdered.” You explained, leaving the gun in his hand and taking a few shaky steps back as you stared at the corpse. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You had never imagined yourself shooting anyone let alone fixing a crime scene to get away with murder. This was an extreme situation though. You had to shoot Sandy and Arvin had to shoot Carl. They were going to kill you two if you didn’t kill them first.  

Arvin noticed the way your face had noticeably paled and how your eyes were glued to Carl’s body and the splatters of crimson liquid that pooled on his shirt and dripped onto the earth beneath his body. He stepped between you and Carl’s body and put his hand on your shoulder, the other gently on your face. His beautiful face blocked your view but you still struggled to fight the tunnel vision. “Hey, look at me. Look at me!” He urged, his grip on your face getting ever so slightly more firm when he noticed your eyes try to dart around his frame to see the body again. Arvin wasn’t hurting you by any means, just trying to keep you focused on him. “You did what you had to do, ya hear me? They was gonna kill both of us. You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Now we just gotta get outta here, okay?” 

You swallowed hard and nodded, your eyes squeezing shut tightly for just a moment to ground yourself. In your brief moment of meditation, you tried to focus on anything to ground you but the only calming thing you could process was Arvin’s comforting hands on your shoulder and face and the way you could feel his gaze still on you with so much concern and determination, even with your eyes closed. 

When you opened them again, you breathed out, “Okay.” 

Arvin glanced down and noticed the thin trails of blood that were starting to dribble down your torso from the deeper scrapes and at first reached out to button your shirt for you but hesitated, his hands shrinking back when he realized he wasn’t sure whether that was the appropriate response. You flinched back a little when he reached for your top out of pure instinct but quickly relaxed. You glanced down, just now noticing that your shirt was still unbuttoned. “‘M sorry, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain your new reaction in light of the trauma you’d just gone through. Your fingers nimbly began to button up your shirt but you hissed when the fabric tightened around the copious lesions. 

“No, it’s alright. Here, take my jacket.” He was already shrugging off the denim jacket before he finished speaking. 

You put your hand up, clutching the opened fabric of your shirt together in your hand in front of your chest instead of buttoning it properly, finding this way you could keep the fabric from sticking to your wounds. “I can’t take your jacket. I don’t wanna get blood on it.” Arvin’s eyes followed yours until they landed on the small spots of blood already seeping through your thin blouse. 

Without allowing you to protest, he slung in over your shoulders, engulfing you arms and all. “It’s fine, really. I insist. You can’t go walkin’ ‘round all exposed like that. I can try to help you clean up if we find any rags.” 

You sighed when the fabric covered your arms and his scent engulfed your senses. Yet again, you found yourself numb to the world, if only for a second, but this time because all you could experience was Arvin Russel. Tunnel vision made him your only view and all you inhaled was the scent of clean musk, wet earth, and the faint scent of car grease. “Thank you.” You whispered, gripping onto the open sides just enough to keep the garment from slipping off your shoulders. 

Arvin just nodded reassuringly before wordlessly taking off towards Carl and Sandy’s car. You followed curiously. He searched around frantically and, while you were unsure of what he was looking for, you were curious to see what he’d find. For the most part, there was nothing out of the usual, until he came across a roll of film in the glove compartment. With trembling hands, he unrolled the small canister and looked at the negatives. “Oh my God-” He trailed off in horror. 

“What is it?” You asked, reaching for the film. The images nearly made you throw up. Even though they were difficult to see because they were only negatives, it was still fairly clear what they were. Pictures of men and Sandy filled the roll but they got progressively more violent and graphic, sexually and gorily. At first, they were just sitting together but then Sandy was topless in the next one and then they were kissing in the one after that and then the man would be naked in the following. Eventually, there’d only be a pool of what you assumed to be blood where his genitals should have been before finally just shots of a motionless bloody corpse that used to be whoever that poor man was.  

“Shit… we were next, weren’t we?” You asked, images of you and Arvin facing this same kind of torture flooding your mind and making your stomach churn. The guilt you had felt for shooting Sandy was melting away and you actually felt almost glad you and Arvin had ended this pair of monsters. They couldn’t hurt anyone else the way they had brutally slaughtered these other men. 

“I think so. Fuck, there’s a bunch of ‘em.” Arvin pulled out at least four other canisters, too scared to open them. It was safe to assume what they were photos of and you really didn’t want to see anymore. 

Your hands shook so much you could barely keep your grip on the negatives, “We need to give these to the police. If we prove they were serial killers, maybe they won’t send us to jail. It was self-defense.” 

Arvin really did appreciate the fact that you so badly wanted to be good and honest. Killing people wasn’t easy and he was pretty damn sure you’d never done it before. Hell, before today, neither had he. Maybe it would be easy for you to get off without any charges if you came clean but he was sure the police would be looking for him for killing Preston Teagarden any moment now. The note he’d left for his uncle and grandma back home was pretty much sure evidence that he was the murderer. If the two of you went to the police, he’d be practically turning himself in. He couldn’t do it. 

“I-I can’t go to the police. I can’t tell you why but I can’t. If you want to go to the police, you can’t tell ‘em I was here. Tell ‘em you was by yourself.” Arvin looked up at you from where he sat in the passenger seat. 

You looked down at him, realization dawning on your face. “You did somethin’, didn’t you? That’s why you were hitchhiking. You were runnin’ away.” 

Arvin got quiet and looked down at the ground where your white shoes, now scuffed up from the encounter, made contact with the soil and leaves that covered the ground. He shouldn’t tell you the truth but for some reason he really wanted to. There was an energy radiating off of you that felt safe and understanding and maybe he shouldn’t trust you but gosh did he want to. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he answered, still avoiding your gaze, “I- I didn’t want to but… he hurt my sister real bad.” 

Your silence scared Arvin. He shouldn’t have opened up, especially to a girl that was practically a stranger. Being nearly killed by a pair of serial killers creates a strange bond between two people though. Arvin’s heart stopped beating until you finally spoke again. “I believe you. It’s okay.” 

The surprise was clear in Arvin’s scared eyes when he finally looked back up to you. You didn’t look scared of him like he had feared. You actually looked almost sad for him. 

Inside, you were. Arvin Russell was a good man - you could just feel it. From your brief but intense experience with him today, you could tell that he was a kind, polite soul but there was clearly a fire that burned inside him, an urge to protect those he cared about. You had seen first hand that he was more than capable of protecting himself and others, even at high stakes… and now so were you. You were no different than him now so you were in no position to judge for what he may have done. 

“If you don’t want to go to the police, we won’t. We can get as far from here as possible and keep this our secret.” You assured, uncomfortable by how comfortable you were with the idea of running from the law.

Arvin took a moment to try and figure out the next step. Whatever it was, it needed to happen fast so you two had enough time to put space between you and the crime scene. He thought to the next closest town and groaned, “What’s wrong with your car?” 

“I don’t know. It just started actin’ up while I was drivin’ and when I pulled over, it wouldn’t start up again.” You thought back to the vehicle, which still sat on the side of the road no more than three miles back.

Arvin stood up from the passenger seat and you stepped aside so he could have some room. “I know a little ‘bout cars. It might not be too bad a fix. Walkin’ back and fixing up the car wouldn’t take as long as walking the next ten or fifteen miles to Falksville.” Arvin was right. You were right between Coal Creek, where apparently Arvin was on the run from, and Falksville, the next town over. It would take hours to walk there. 

“Alright,” you agreed. You walked to the backdoor and opened it to grab your duffel bag, handing Arvin his bag as well. Before the two of you started your trek back to your car, you couldn’t help but look back at the crime scene - the two dead bodies lying motionless, knowing you did that, the way that you had manipulated the scene, the way that you were running away with Arvin to literally flee the police. The weight of the situation weighed on you with a heavy sigh. 

A hand rested on your shoulder, “We did what we had to.” You tore your gaze from the scene, the image burned into your memory for the rest of your life. It was difficult to argue with those beautiful brown eyes that looked at you like you were someone he genuinely cared for, not like you were the stranger to him that you actually were.

You stood up a little straighter, cast one more look over at the scene before turning around to face the road. “I know.” 

**

The walk took almost an hour and neither of you tried to hitchhike your way there. Once you arrived, you attempted to clean your wounds with a pile of napkins you had hidden in your glove compartment and a water bottle while Arvin tinkered under the hood of your car. it didn’t take long for him to figure out the problem and with the help of the tool set your father insisted on you keeping in your trunk in case of an emergency (like this), he was able to get the car up and running. 

“Alright, try it now.” He instructed from under the hood. You sat in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition whenever Arvin instructed to see if the car would turn over. You twisted the key again and the car struggled at first, the pulsing mechanical sound of the car trying to turn over tearing through the quiet woods. Just as you were about to admit defeat this round, the roar of the engine came to life and just like that, your car ran again. 

A big smile spread across your face and you jumped out of the driver’s seat to stand beside Arvin, both of you looking down at the engine beneath the hood. “I can’t believe that worked! Thank you so much!” 

Arvin reached up and shut the hood. “It’s no problem. We should get goin’ though.” 

You nodded in agreement, “Where do you need a ride to?” 

He thought for a moment. Arvin wasn’t quite sure. He had been hitching rides to Meade so he could see his old home but you weren’t going anywhere near that way. He didn’t want to ask you to go so far out of your way but then it occurred to him…. “Where are you goin’?” 

“Back home. My parents are expectin’ me home tonight but I can give you a ride where you need.” You answered as if it were obvious. The best way to act normal was to do exactly that: act normal. 

Arvin chewed his tongue, “You don’t live too far from here. It might be easy to link you to the crime if they catch you.” He didn’t want to scare you but he also didn’t want to see you get locked up. 

You rolled your eyes, “If that were true, they’d have to suspect every person in a thirty mile radius. It’s illogical for the police to single us out. You can stay at my house for a few days, if you need.” 

Arvin just shook his head, “I got some things I gotta do. Look, I really think you should get away for a little while so they can’t connect you to the crime but I understand if not. If it’s not too much to ask, though, would you mind possibly given’ me a lift to Falksville so I can hitch a ride there? I ain’t got much money for gas but-” 

“I ain’t lettin’ you hitchhike your way to Meade. Not after what just happened. I can give you a ride there.” You leaned against the hood of your car and looked up at him sincerely. 

“You sure? What ‘bout your parents? Ain’t they expectin’ you?” 

You just shrugged, “I’ll call ‘em in Fawksville and tell ‘em I decided to head up to Meade for a few days. Shouldn’t be a problem at all. That way I can give you a ride up to Meade and then you can take the bus there to wherever you wanna go.” 

“That’s real kind of you. Thank you.” His hands twitched in his pocket, wanting to reach out and hug you but physical affection had made Arvin nervous ever since his mother got sick. 

You nodded your head back to the car, “Hop in. We can head out and get as far as we can tonight. Either find a hotel or we can switch off when we get too tired.” Arvin listened and wordlessly slid into the passenger seat. 

The two of you drove off into the night, the stars beginning to shine brightly in the lightless woods. You weren’t quite sure what your life would be like now and neither was Arvin. There was blood on your hands and there would be a constant paranoia that one day the cops would catch up with you and throw you in prison, even if you ran away like Arvin had suggested.

And then there was Arvin. Handsome, altruistic, and brave, you were bonded to this stranger by the horrors you had endured and the blood you had shed. Though the two of you were strangers, there was a closeness that you felt to him that seemed impossible to feel with anyone else- a bond between survivors that would always be there, even if you never saw each other again. Something told you that this man would be a salient figure in your life, though. 

As you drove off down the highway, the only sound being the faint crackling radio, you tried to leave the horrors of the road behind you but there was a feeling in your gut that this was far from the end.  

[thefanficmonster]

Matured

Corpse Husband & Little Sister Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Sibling Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse’s search for a roommate ends shortly after his little sister calls him, telling him she’s moving out of her high school dorm in the suburbs following her graduation to attend college in San Francisco.

Requested by @bugger2002  Hi darling! Thank you so much for this adorable request, I had such a fun time turning it into a fic! Sorry it has taken me so long to complete it but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Alright, it’s been a month since Y/N announced she’d be moving in with me - no, she didn’t ask if she could nor if I’d want her to, she straight up casually informed me she’d be moving in with me since she’s starting college. I’m lucky she even thought to tell me, knowing her it wouldn’t have been so strange for her to just show up on my doorstep with a grin like “Alright, I live here now.” Having a six years younger sister who can act both younger and older than me - sometimes both at the same time - is a bit complex. Obviously, my protective and nurturing brotherly instinct kicks in whenever she complains to me about something, but seconds later she tells me she’s taken care of it already and I feel like a fool for overreacting even if it was only internal. She’s calm and rational when she needs to be and a reckless airhead whose only goal is to have fun when she wants to be.

And judging by her and her friends’ main methods of obtaining said fun I can see how much alike we are: playing drunk video games, drunk darts, drunk pool. You see, there’s a lot of drinking involved and that’s something I’m greatly unhappy with and have scolded her on countless times just to get a fake promise, probably with fingers crossed behind her back - that she’ll cut down the alcohol. Not to mention she’s not even old enough to drink so I’ve been very insistent on her cutting her bad habit. She’s tried calling me hypocritical at times but she can’t do so rightfully since I’m, you know, of drinking age. So she’s basically bound by law to follow my advice and orders.

At least now that she’ll be staying with me I’ll be able to keep a better eye on her. A rascal high school student will either mature-up in college or go even more downhill. I aim to make her fall in the first category, but I’m making no promises - she’s very unruly, just like me. Damn, never did I think my own traits would come hitting me in the back of the head like a boomerang but here we are.

Regardless of all the crap I’ve just spewed about her, she’s a wonderful girl. She’s always been my pillar of support and never gets tired of it. She never misses a call of mine and has never not replied to a message of mine, no matter how drunk she’s been. She’s never skipped a Saturday night Skype call, no matter how busy she’s been. She’s never let herself forget she has a brother who often times needs her by his side.

Once she even talked one of her friends who has a car and a driver’s license drive her all the way to my apartment complex when I was having a really bad anxiety attack and legit couldn’t talk on the phone. She went door to door to find which apartment I live in and stayed with me the whole weekend she was supposed to spend at a music festival or something. It’s not wonder she’ll be a med student - she’s always wanted to be a nurse and has practically been my personal nurse since she was twelve. She maybe wasn’t always physically present to help me, but she’s a great instruction giver for when I need her and she’s unable to come to my aid.

Well now, we’ll both be there to aid one another.

“BEEP BEEP FUCKER!“

I nearly flip off my chair at the distinct yelling coming from directly below my window. I’d recognize that voice anywhere, and it’d always bring a smile to my face without fail.

I rush to get up from my desk chair and open the window but when I do so, she’s no longer on the sidewalk. There’s only a car I recognize to be the one of the friend that drove her here during that nightmarish episode I explained earlier.

Before I can ever back away from the window, I hear my front door swing open and a yell echo from down the hall, “Corpse! How many times do I need to tell you to lock your door, damn it!”

“The same amount of times I’ve had to tell you to cut down on the al- WHOA!“ She doesn’t let me finish the sentence and jumps me the second I step out in the hallway.

“Missed you, stupid!“ She says, her legs wrapped around my waist as she ruffles my hair, “I’ll trim your hair later. Why have you let it get so long?“ She questions, furrowing her brows at me while running both her hands through my mess of a hair - she has a point, I’ve let it get out of control. While doing so, she seems to get an idea all of a sudden so she quickly climbs down, reminding me of the huge height difference we have now that her feet are on the floor. “I know you two have met before, but I think you need to re-meet...“ she says, turning to look at her friend who’s smiling timidly at her. She sends the flustered girl a wink before turning back to look at me, “Corpse, I’d like you to meet Abbey, my girlfriend“ she says proudly, skipping over to the blue haired girl and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Y/N pushes up on her tiptoes and places a kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. It’s adorable to see her shorter than yet another person she clearly adores to annoy.

I smile at the two girls, holding back a chuckle as to not embarrass Abbey more, “Well then, nice to meet you Abbey. You should know you are one strong soul to be putting up with all that.“ I purposely don’t look at Y/N as I motion towards her, earning me a pissed off “Hey!“ as a response to my remark, “Stick around for dinner, don’t worry neither of us will be cooking.“ I point at myself and then at Y/N as if to reassure her she won’t be a victim of food poisoning.

“Actually...“ Abbey says, tilting her head to look my shortie sister in the eyes as if taunting her to say something.

She finally caves, raising her left hand as though she’s volunteering, “Ugh fine, I may or may not have taken a cooking course and may or may not know how to cook a decent meal. It’s whatever, really.”

To say I’m impressed would be an understatement. I’m impressed, shocked, surprised and flooded with joy that my sister has finally decided to start maturing. “Cooking course, huh? When did you decide living off of takeout isn’t a nice way to live?”

She rolls her eyes at me, “Oh no I still go full weeks with only takeout and cereal, I just needed a distraction because...well...” she trails off, her gaze dropping awkwardly as she fishes for words or perhaps already has them found but doesn’t want to spit them out.

Abbey huffs, taking Y/N’s hand and lifting it to show off her wrist where I catch sight of a batch of colorful handmade bracelets, “Because these aren’t gonna earn themselves.”

I raise an eyebrow, puzzled as to what exactly she’s referring to.

Y/N sighs, taking one of the bracelets, playing with it nervously, “I have one for every month I’ve spent without getting drunk - Abbey made them for me. I need a distraction to stay sober so...I took up cooking.“

I can’t remember a moment I haven’t felt proud of my sister. Y/N’s always been on top of her shit, drunk or sober she knows what she’s doing. She’s mindful even when she’s reckless, thinks soberly even when she’s been drinking heavily. She’s always proved herself to me and to the people who think of her as a lowlife without even trying. She lets the world breeze by her without thinking too much of it and yet she still mesmerizes me and many of the people she meets - Abbey has now officially joined the club.

But, all things said and considered, I think I’ve never felt as proud of her as I do right now, seeing those six bracelets on her wrist - half a year without getting drunk. I know she wouldn’t lie to Abbey, she rarely lies to me too, so those bracelets have been earned and well-deserved and that makes me feel like the Y/N I remember is not the one standing in front of me right now. That silly girl is still in the suburbs, making a shitty-ass choice of messing up her liver. A grown woman, a responsible adult has taken her place though, and I couldn’t be more glad.

“Y/N...“ I finally manage to utter her name, making her gaze meet mine, “I’m so fucking proud of you.“

A smile slowly stretches the corners of her mouth upwards, her eyes shning in a way that has nothing to do with the lighting in this hallway. She’s not a crier though, I know those tears are gonna stay right there, stubbornly refusing to escape her eyes, “Thanks, Corpse. I’m proud of you too....” she says, nodding her head slowly, “I can overlook the untrimmed hair.”

Sigh

Y/N will always be Y/N no matter what I guess. That’s a good thing - I love her just the way she is.

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