#“see boy back in the day uncle used to look like this”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 18

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17

Steve doesn’t see much of Eddie for the next few weeks. Presumably there are still Dungeons and Dragons sessions and band practices, but Steve and Chrissy are no longer invited. Jeff flits back and forth between their two groups like a child of divorce, and Steve? He just misses Eddie.

Eddie, who even once Steve slinks back to his usual seat in the cafeteria for lunch, no longer gives his table top rants. He doesn’t say anything at all, not where Steve might overhear him. But he still has Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and that’s enough.

In his free time, he writes aimless letters destined to never be read.

Steve’s moving on—getting over it is a process, or so he tells Chrissy. He never shows her the letters, can’t bear to see the pity on her face. He doesn’t talk about it with Robin again either–just hides his notebook away and gets on with his life.

Eddie’s just a boy, and it’s just a crush. Steve can move on, he always does. He tells Eddie as much in a letter he’ll never read.

Everything changes when he opens his locker and something drops out. It’s a bright yellow envelope, sloppy sunflowers drawn on the sides with black pen, and there, dead center, is his name written in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere, is his name. Not Secret Admirer, not even Harrington, just Steve.

He shoves it into his backpack before Robin can close her own locker and notice.

It stays hidden there for the rest of the day as Steve’s heartbeat rabbits away in his chest, and his palms itch with sweat. He doesn’t open it that night either, too afraid of what he might find in it. It’s like that one story Robin had told him, where the guy goes crazy after burying someone under the floorboards or something? It’s calling to him, no matter how hard he plugs his ears.

Steve doesn’t get much sleep that night.

He still hasn’t opened it by school the next day. Might not ever have opened it if he hadn’t glanced toward Eddie during lunch and caught his eye. Eddie’s staring, gaze intense even with all the distance between them. But then, the weirdest thing happens—Eddie smiles just a little, and finger waves at him, like they’re friends.

Steve just stares, gobsmacked until Eddie’s entire face starts to turn a splotchy red and he looks down at his lunch table as if embarrassed.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks, looking behind her at whatever had caught Steve’s eye.

“I have to go,” Steve blurts, rushing out of the cafeteria before she can ask anymore questions.

His and Chrissy’s usual abandoned classroom has a teacher in it, so he ends up in his and Robin’s bathroom stall, this time alone. Still, he sits on the ground, leaving enough room for the ghost of Robin to have a seat, too.

He opens his backpack, zeroing in on the envelope instantly—as if he’d ever, for a second forgotten about it—and finally pulls it out.

He traces the sunflowers on the paper, memorizing the grooves Eddie’s pen had made before finally turning it over and sliding his fingers beneath the seal to tear it open.

The paper’s thicker than he’s used to getting from Eddie, and it’s that same, bright yellow that doesn’t fit Eddie’s aesthetic at all. But it fits Steve’s, and that’s the thought that finally gets him to bring the letter closer to his face and begin to read. 

   Steve,

   I wanted to start this out by saying that I’m sorry—it’s a phrase I’m becoming alarmingly used to saying in recent weeks. To Jeff, to Gareth, and now to you. No matter how surprised I was, I had no right to say all that shit to you. And for that, I’m sorry, okay? Really, truly sorry.

   As Chrissy and Jeff pointed out once you’d left, I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for that. And as my uncle told me when he was doing his disappointed parent shtick, I might have been projecting, just a tad.

   Eddie Munson might be gay—who knew?

   So, I’ll hope you accept my sincerest apologies for how I’ve handled this whole thing, Steve. I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Well, I can now, a bit. And it’s scary, right? But, I think it’s my turn to be brave. If I haven’t already ruined any chance I might have had, maybe we can go on a date?

   I’ll pick you up this Friday at your house, say around seven? If you don’t answer the door, I’ll understand. That’ll be my answer.

   But I really, really, really hope you do.

   Yours, always, hopefully,

   Eddie

Steve stares down at it, flummoxed. He reads it again, and again, and again. When the words on the page don’t change, he slips it delicately into the envelope, and goes to his next class, mind swirling away with the clouds.

“Can I drive you home?” Steve asks Jeff before he can climb into Chrissy’s car.

“Uh, sure?” Jeff replies just as Chrissy cuts in with a near-frantic, “are you okay?”

Steve smiles tightly at her and says, “I’ll call you tonight, okay? I just need to talk to Jeff.”

She bites her lip, looking even more worried than before, but all she says is, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Jeff and Chrissy trade an indecipherable look and then Jeff dutifully follows Steve to his car and climbs in. Before he starts the engine, he pulls the envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Jeff.

“What’s this?” Jeff asks.

“Read it,” Steve replies, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot so he doesn’t have to see whatever expression crosses Jeff’s face as he reads.

It’s silent for a few minutes aside from The Clash filtering quietly tinnily from the radio, but then Jeff says, “so, he finally did it.”

Steve’s fingers clench on the steering wheel at the vague answer to the question he hasn’t yet asked. “Is it some sort of joke?” Steve grits out, still unable to look at Jeff’s face.

“No, man,” Jeff replies, doing that same shoulder clasp thing he’d done last time he’d been in Steve’s car while he was upset. “He’s just been working through some stuff.”

“So he’s…” he finally shifts his gaze toward Jeff, hoping to convey his question without having to say it aloud.

“Seems so,” Jeff replies.

And Steve shudders, all those same feelings he’d been working so hard to suppress bubbling back to the surface, the most dangerous of all being hope.

“Are you going to go?” Jeff asks, voice even enough not to show his opinion on the decision one way or another.

Steve swallows, throat dry. “I don’t know.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive, and when he calls Chrissy later that night, she asks the same thing.

“Are you going to go?” she asks breathlessly, like she’s hanging on his every word.

Steve sighs. “He said he might be gay, Chris. What if we go out and he’s wrong?”

Left unmentioned is the niggling voice in the back of his head still insisting that the whole thing is some sort of cruel prank to get back at him. He’d lied, and strung him along, and gotten him hurt. No matter how many times Eddie apologizes, Steve knows he’s not really the one that should be.

“What if he’s right?” she asks.

Steve knows, deep down in his bones, that he’s going to go, just at the chance that Chrissy’s right, that Eddie’s right, that Jeff’s right. Steve desperately wants to be wrong. 

***

Steve doesn’t show any outward appearance of having received the letter. Eddie watches, obsessively trying to catch even the barest hint of what he thinks of the note– if, when he knocks on the Harrington’s front door, he’ll open it.

He keeps looking, and looking, and finally, blessedly, when Eddie looks, Steve’s looking back. Their eyes lock, and such a wave of relief courses through Eddie that he, like a fucking idiot, waves at him. Steve stares, mouth open, and does absolutely nothing back.

Eddie looks down at the table, whole body aflame with mortification, hair dangling messily into Doug’s mashed potatoes.

“Dude,” Doug says, shoving Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him away from his precious lunch.

“You good?” Jeff asks, leaning across the table to poke at Eddie’s bowed head like it’s potentially diseased roadkill he found on the side of the street.

“He hates me!” Eddie whines, turning his head just enough to glance towards Steve’s table, spitting a chunk of hair out of his mouth.

Steve’s not there at all anymore.

“Harrington?” Gareth questions around the bite of apple lodged in his throat. “Aren’t you trying to steal his girlfriend?”

“Of course no—not anymore!” Eddie stutters, turning his head the other direction to glare at Gareth instead.

For his part, Gareth just looks down at him, supremely unimpressed. “Uh huh,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet even when very obviously fed up. “Is this more secret bullshit you’re refusing to tell me?”

“It’s not my secret!” Eddie hisses, finally removing his head from the table so he can crouch on it instead, leaning over Gareth like a gargoyle. “And I promised!”

“Bet you told Wayne,” Gareth mutters.

“Oh my god, I told Wayne!” Eddie cries, dropping off the bench entirely to crawl under the table where he belongs. It’s not like there’s anyone in the room right now that he wants to impress—he already scared Harrington off.

“Dude,” is all Jeff says, peering under the table to look down at him judgmentally. “Chrissy is going to kill you.”

Eddie clutches his hair hard enough that it hurts. “It’s Wayne! He doesn’t count,” Eddie whines, “does he?”

Jeff snorts, kicking his foot out until the toe of his sneaker connects softly with Eddie’s kneecap. “He doesn’t count,” he starts, continuing before Eddie’s even slumped with relief, “to you.”

When Eddie slinks out from beneath the table, Steve’s spot is still empty, and Chrissy’s sitting there, glaring across the cafeteria at Eddie like she can just sense that he didn’t keep his vow of secrecy.

God, girls are scary.

He avoids looking in her direction the rest of lunch, picking at his own potatoes and mushy peas just for something to do.

Steve’s not going to open the door—he knows that. But, even still, he wakes up early on Friday morning to sneak into Mrs. Johnson’s yard to carefully cut a few of her sunflowers, ducking low enough that the bushes in front of her windows will obscure him.

When he’s done, he’s got five perfect sunflowers, tied together with the brown shoelace he’d stolen from a pair of Wayne’s old boots.

He leaves them in the kitchen, awkwardly propped into a bowl full of water since the Munson’s aren’t the kind of family to own a vase, or even a tall enough glass, apparently.

By the time Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift, Eddie’s elbow-deep in a trash bag in the back of his van. Wayne peers through the propped-open doors, eyebrows already raised as Eddie freezes, hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

“What’re ya doing, boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie stares, brain full of ants and TV static as he fumbles for an answer. What comes out of his mouth is “I asked Steve out!”

Wayne’s lips quirk up, and he’s smirking at Eddie as if to say, see? told ya, the smug bastard. But all he says is, “is that so?” drawling and easy like he’s not acting all-knowing and superior.

Eddie groans and takes his hand out of the garbage bag to run it through his hair and pull. “Or I left him a note?” he says, gut churning as Wayne’s face drops to his more customary frown. “Oh my god, he’s not going to show!”

“Then why’re you cleaning your van out?”

Eddie puffs up, glaring back at Wayne now. “Well I’m going to show up, Wayne!” he replies, voice shrill. “I’m a man of my word.”

Wayne snorts when Eddie calls himself a man, just like he always does, but his lips are quirked up again, looking almost proud as he replies, “good man,” with only a slightly mocking intonation. “Want some help?”

They get all the trash out in a matter of minutes. When it becomes clear that the vacuum cleaner can’t reach no matter how close they park the van, Wayne comes back out with the broom from the kitchen and they sweep as much debris as they can from inside before Eddie steals the comforter from his own bed and lays it across the back carpet, masking the weird stains.

Wayne finishes it off with a spritz of his own rarely-used cologne, covering up any remaining funky smells. Even so, Eddie elects to leave the windows rolled down to air it out for as long as possible.

When Wayne notices his commandeered shoelace around the sunflowers, he doesn’t say a thing.

Then, he’s forced to go to school, wiling away the hours until he’s standing in front of the Harrington’s front door, boots shined for the first time in his life, sunflowers clutched in shaking hands, van parked neatly behind him, hair brushed into submission. He’d even used his fancy conditioner, thoughts of that half-remembered first letter waxing poetic about his hair fueling his action. 

All for a boy who won’t answer the door.

But, Eddie’s a man of his word, so he knocks.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He waits such a long time that he jumps when the door opens, breath catching as he looks at Steve Harrington, face-to-face for the first time since that disastrous day in his living room. His mostly-healed eye aches with remembered pain, his ribs cold with the absence of Steve’s hands.

He’s missed looking at him.

Steve’s in light-wash jeans, hair perfectly coiffed, wearing a green sweater that makes the gold in his eyes pop, even in the dim light from the Harrington’s porch light. He looks good, put together enough for a first date, casual enough to just be his everyday clothes.

Eddie’s heartbeat flickers with something that feels alarmingly like hope.

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says, finally breaking the awkward silence.

He smiles, trying to be charming, but he’s never done this before, doesn’t know how to contort his face. He holds out the sunflowers, arm awkwardly extending, hoping desperately that his offering will be accepted.

Steve stares down at them, hand still clutching the door like he’s one second away from slamming it closed in Eddie’s face. Eddie holds his breath, heartbeat ratcheting up from the oxygen deprivation.

Steve reaches out, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he tries to take the flowers from him. Eddie’s fingers stay clenched around the stems for a second too long, hand following the flowers trajectory toward Steve’s own chest until Eddie forces his hand open and lets it drop uncomfortably back to his side.

Steve stares down at them, leaning down to take a sniff. Eddie winces—they don’t smell like much, just dirt and nebulous green things. But Steve smiles, just a tiny, little thing that hits Eddie’s body like electroshock therapy.

“Thank you.” Steve says quietly, not looking away from the sunflowers as he asks, “come inside while I put them in some water?”

Steve swings the door open wider, and Eddie slides past him and into the Harrington’s house. As Steve wanders further inside, Eddie stands in the entrance—foyer?—feeling remarkably out of place. Even from here, he can see enough negative space to house twenty-odd people, a vaulted ceiling, and is that a chandelier? Eddie doesn’t step a toe off the mat beneath his feet, afraid his very presence will stain the perfect white interior.

He shouldn’t be here. Places like this aren’t for the Munson’s of the world. They’re for royalty, kings and queens, and all the upper crust that spits down on the rest of them. But when Steve comes back, sans sunflowers, he’s smiling just a little, tromping his own shoes over the white carpet like he doesn’t give a shit.

Maybe he doesn’t belong here either. Maybe it’s possible to carve out a space for him in the Munson’s shitty trailer, however small.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, still smiling just this side of awkward. “What’re we doing?”

As Eddie holds Steve Harrington’s own front door open for him to step through, Eddie’s mind’s buzzing with maybes.

***

Eddie’s van smells like mothballs and cologne, and the radio’s quietly playing the sort of generic pop music Steve usually mumbles along to on his way to school. But, Eddie’s fingers are twitching against the wheel, and he hasn’t said a word since they’d climbed in, so Steve sits on his own hands and keeps his mouth shut.

The longer the silence drags on, the more Steve regrets ever opening the door at all. Eddie pulls into Hawkins’ drive-in, and buys their tickets and two bags of popcorn. Steve’s hand clenches in his lap, Eddie’s words to Chrissy all that time ago running through his head—we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time.

“I hope this is okay?” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence as he spins the dial to the correct channel to catch the movie. “I wasn’t sure if you liked horror, but this is all that’s playing this weekend, and I’ve been wanting to watch it so—”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and it is.

He’s never been much for horror beyond putting it on for dates so he has a built-in excuse to reach out. But, he’s not squeamish, and maybe those same thoughts are running through Eddie’s head: an excuse to reach out and touch.

But, as the title card flashes SLEEPAWAY CAMP in big, boxy font, all Eddie does is reach into his popcorn bag and stuff a handful into his mouth. Steve follows suit, the buttery kernels turning to ash on his tongue.

He watches with little enthusiasm as the stupid teenagers on screen fool around and get torn apart. Eddie makes little comments throughout the movie, but there’s nothing Steve can grasp onto.

What does one say to, “whoa, blood fountain,” or “god, that kid’s a douche,” or, “they should’ve killed him sooner.”

Steve still tries, humming and nodding along and verbalizing his own agreements. Eddie never responds, just keeps stuffing his mouth with popcorn until the bag’s empty. Steve stares down at his own mostly-full bag and wonders if the separate bags were just to make sure they didn’t accidentally brush hands. 

He hands his own popcorn over, and Eddie grabs it twitchily, muttering a “thanks, dude,” without really looking at Steve at all.

Steve just wants to go home, crawl into his own bed, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

But he just sits there, silent as the movie plays on. He doesn’t understand the end, but he missed so much of the beginning and middle that he barely questions it.

When it’s over, Eddie turns the dial back to that same, nondescript station that doesn’t fit him at all, fingers clenching hard enough on the wheel that Steve can hear it creak under the strain. Steve turns away, to look out the window, throat clogged up with feelings he doesn’t want to think about.

The longer this date drags on, the more excruciatingly clear it becomes that whatever is driving Eddie to this, it’s not him returning Steve’s feelings. This isn’t how dates go when you’re excited about them, there’s nothing clicking into place–it doesn’t even seem like Eddie’s trying.

He feels small, and sad, and every minute that passes with Eddie saying absolutely nothing at all only makes Steve feel more like a charity case that Eddie’s taken pity on. 

He never should have listened to Chrissy and Jeff’s encouragement. They’d both been so hopeful that he’d caved, but they’re not the ones stuck in the devastatingly uncomfortable moment. It’s just him and Eddie, living with the fact that Steve’s got a crush on a boy that can never like him back.

There’s no coming back from this, no matter how nice Eddie tries to be about it. Because he is nice, no matter how he’s been acting the past few weeks.

Steve’s the problem—always has been, always will be.

So, he stews in the silence, watching the same familiar buildings pass him by like it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. And maybe it will be, if Eddie decides to be not so nice. This was all so catastrophically, unbelievably stupid from that very first letter all the way to this moment, stuck in a van with a boy that won’t even look at him. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’re going the wrong way until Eddie’s pulling into a familiar clearing in the quarry. His headlights illuminate the skid marks Steve’s car had made in the dirt when he��d screeched to a halt to stop Jason Carver from rearranging his face.

Eddie slides into park much more levelly and cuts the engine. The quiet is absolute, made worse by the darkness surrounding them. Steve can hear the crinkle of Eddie shifting on his seat, the sound of his throat as he gulps like he’s about to go off to war.

 “I thought—” Eddie starts before petering off as his voice breaks. Steve listens to him take a few shuddering breaths before starting again. “I thought we could star gaze?”

Steve sighs, slumping back into his seat, so unbelievably tired. “Eddie—”

“Unless you don’t want to!” Eddie rushes out. “I just thought…”

Steve would kill to know what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, Eddie doesn’t pick up his trailing sentence, just leaves it hanging in the silence between them. Steve sighs again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, desperate to keep an even keel.

“Look, Eddie” Steve starts, turning toward Eddie. He can see the silhouette of his frame hunched over in the driver’s seat, but his face is a black void for Steve to project upon. It makes him brave. “You don’t have to do this. You, like, tried it out, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Steve—”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Steve cuts in, exhausted. “You can just drop me off at home, and we can go our separate ways.”

Eddie makes a sound like a strangled cat, and then his silhouette lunges across the distance between their seats. Steve jerks back, head banging painfully into the window as Eddie’s mouth mashes against his, more teeth than lips.

PART 19

Shoutout, once again, to my beta reader and friend @queenie-ofthe-void for this one!!! I struggled for weeks on the date, and then they said, "what if you just make it as awkward as possible," and then I wrote this entire date in a day. Truly a muse for me <3<3<3

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 35

Lady Luck by My Side

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

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10.2k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Luck Be a Lady (Dezio Rezio) ~ The Atomic Beat Ranchers | Feel So Numb ~ Rob Zombie

Summary: Buggy deals with your heavy words, while Crocodile and Mihawk fight for you in their own, desperate ways. You are making the best of your situation, and if you could avoid your uncle's wicked words, you might even end up enjoying yourself. If you're lucky, of course.

Ch. 34 Recap: I've decided to put the recap directly below the cut in case anyone sees this post before getting to the last chapter. It's a bit more detailed than usual, and I vehemently detest spoilers. I refuse to watch trailers for movies I plan to watch 😂 I don't even like writing summaries, so I keep them vague. Hope you don't mind!

Author's Note: I have missed y'all so very much, I can't begin to describe 😭💜 I won't get into my disappearing act here, but I'll share some details below the chapter if you're interested, and I'll probably make a life update post about it later. Now that I finally have the time, energy, and health, to write again, I just want to write Numbers Game!

Dark Content Warning: Dark Content is bracketed with ~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~ and summaries are bracketed with ~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~ directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scenes. Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness, episodes, treatment, or neglect could be triggering for you.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if mental illness treatment, doctors, or panic attacks, might be triggering for you.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

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

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

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

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Chapter 34 Recap: You struggled with your varied feelings for the hunters that fought for the chance to be your owner, surprised that you didn't hate them all. You discovered that Fukaboshi was a truly good man who knew that you'd be sending him away soon, and that Katakuri was far sweeter than he looked.

Mihawk discovered that his little rabbit's plight was being broadcast beyond the Oak Roots Estate, and his rage made him dirty his blade.

Former member's of Baroque Works, Zala and Marianne, reported back from Dr. Vorsan's asylum. Buggy fought against it at first, but Crocodile begged to watch the encrypted recordings they had found so that he could help his sweet girl. He saw her at fifteen years old, being restrained and drugged in that asylum after her father passed, and he demanded to see the next recording.

You lied to your sister about your feelings toward the Cross Guild, telling her that they were monsters, and you never wanted to see them again. You wanted to make her happy, so you'd keep up your smile, just like you had for your dad when you were little. You would pretend for her.

Chapter 35 ~ Lady Luck by My Side

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Had it been hours? Years since he’d started watching? 

There was nothing but the tears in her eyes, nothing but the futile sobs he could do nothing to stop. 

‘Let me see my sister!’

‘Sweetie, you’re not ready yet. You need to get well first.’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m not sick, mom,’ his sweet girl begged, strapped to a table while her mother stood too far back to comfort her. ‘Just let me see Kitty, please. I need to see her. ‘

‘You need to focus on getting better,’ Delaine’s voice shifted, expertly condescending with a loving tone. 

Crocodile did not fucking like this woman. 

‘Sweetie, do you remember what happened? Do you remember what you did,’ Delaine prodded. Y/N’s face crumpled, sobbing while her worthless mother stood in silence.

‘It was an accident,” the fifteen-year-old girl pleaded while she struggled against her restraints.

‘I found you with that snail, Y/N, and I’m certain you would have killed the poor thing if I hadn’t found you when I did,’ Delaine scolded. Crocodile was going to gut this bitch for making her daughter cry like this. ‘I’m just grateful that it was me, I can’t imagine how your... It’s not your fault, of course. Arbo was always selfish, and now he’s made you sick. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not safe for Kathryn to be around you until you get well.’

‘Please, mom. Please listen to me,’ she whimpered, her body going weak, trembling. 

‘Just listen to the doctor, alright? I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you’re sick, honey. You need to— ‘

‘I need you to fucking LISTEN!’

Delaine froze for a moment before turning away, heading toward the door. She walked closer to the cam-snail on her way out, and her eyes looked way too fucking dry. 

Crocodile’s rage-filled thoughts were swept away by that young girl’s screams. 

‘Mom, please, don’t leave me! Don’t let them— ‘

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

~~~

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

The scene above is from Crocodile’s POV while he watched a recording of the reader in the asylum when she was fifteen. 

Her mother, Delaine, was present, and the reader stated that she wasn’t sick, and begged to see her little sister. 

Delaine replied that it wasn’t safe for Kathryn to see her until she was well again and asked if the reader recalled what she did to the snail. The reader said that it was an accident, and asked Delaine to listen. 

Delaine stated that she thought the reader would have killed the snail if Delaine hadn’t found her in time, and blamed Arbo’s selfishness for making the reader sick. She denied the reader's request again. 

The reader yelled for her mother to listen, however, Delaine walked out, and Crocodile felt rage for how dry her eyes were. The reader screamed for her mother not to leave her, not to let them– (the last line cut off).

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

~~~

Y/N’s cries were cut short, the image of her teary face going blurry before the transmission cut out completely. 

Crocodile had already destroyed all the furniture, so he crawled through the debris toward the smaller snail, answering the call before he had time to make it. 

“Sir— “

“Finish the recording,” he threatened. “It wasn’t done, send it again.”

“The white snail passed out, sir,” Zala reported, her voice shaking almost as much as his fist. “I think that was too much for it all at once. It needs time to recover before we can send any more encrypted data.”

Crocodile could hear his teeth grinding together, but he kept still enough to speak a few words.

“Make sure it’s ready tomorrow.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy felt somehow empty, and too full at the same time. His mind was too full of those vicious words his star had hissed, too full of fear and guilt over what to do about them. 

“Secrets keep fucking shit up,” the clown murmured, pacing again. 

It was just a lie. Star was lying to her sister.

It had been some damn good acting though, and Buggy hated the doubts it stirred in him. He couldn’t stuff them down. 

I know she loves me, but could she really hate them? I could have sworn she… 

Why ya gotta be such a good actor, baby? 

Or maybe I’m just the selfish piece of shit that didn’t listen. I was too fucking distracted by that shithead. I wasn’t paying attention to you, Star, I just—

He gave a light yelp when the snail interrupted the constant beat of her heart, grateful to be distracted now while he floated toward Crocodile’s desk. 

“Howdy,” Buggy coughed, perking up at the low chuckle that greeted him. 

“Hello, little clown.”

“What’s up, crybaby?”

Mihawk’s voice sent chills across his skin, but all the clown could think about were those hateful words.

Murderers.

Monsters.

“Is that Crocodile,” the swordsman asked after a particularly loud crash echoed down the hall. “I have some news to report.”

“He’s watching…”

“Is he watching the feed?”

Now Mihawk’s voice chilled his blood.

“What feed?”

“I’m handling it,” his new lover tried and failed to soothe him. “Why don’t you two call me in the morning? I need to find a new room for the night anyway.”

“Why do you need— “

“How is she?”

Mihawk’s voice cracked just a bit, his desperation pushing through the relaxed front he’d clearly been holding up. 

“Same. Finally sleeping,” Buggy rasped, clenching his eyes shut at the spike of a headache. “I’m gonna read my notes again, I think she said something…  Crocodile might have something too, so we’ll call you tomorrow.”

…

“Mihawk?”

“You’ll tell me if she’s being hurt?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“And you’ll call me if she says she doesn’t want to be there? I don’t care if she whispers it in her sleep, Buggy, I’ll get her out. If she gives even the slightest opening, you’ll call me?”

…

“Bug— “

“Of course I will,” Buggy promised. It wasn’t a lie. 

“Thank you. Get some rest, little clown.”

“You too, crybaby.”

Buggy stared blankly at the snail after the call until the near constant crashing and yelling down the corridor got louder. And closer. 

His feet followed as fast as they could, but the rest of him charged into the banquet hall in time to see the terrifying sight of Sir Crocodile’s rage. The door to the conference room had been ripped off its hinges, and Buggy was caught in the other doorway, the urge to run held back only by the horror of what that frightening man might have seen.

Star… 

Crocodile was alternating between smashing through tables and chairs with his hook, and draining them with his hand, leaving waves of splinters and sand to spill across the gleaming floor.

Until he made it to the head table. 

“Hey boss, you really gonna wreck the best table in this shithole?” 

Buggy had floated his upper body slightly above the other man’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in between Crocodile and his fury, no matter how many memories that table held.

The clown almost fell from the air when those frantic, silver eyes met his. 

“Is she still crying?”

“N-no… She’s sleeping.”

Crocodile fell to his knees, the tears on his scarred face slow and unsteady, as though they’d never traveled there before. Buggy brought himself together and did what he knew had to be a stupid thing. 

He hugged the raging man, embracing this villain that had destroyed so much.

“I can’t… can’t leave her there, Buggy,” Crocodile panted into the crook of his neck. He nearly brought the clown to the floor with the amount of weight he rested on him.  

“Don’t worry,” Buggy strained through his hold, “we’ve got her.”

The larger man crushed him against his chest, sucking down his tears before he started to offer comfort instead of taking it. Buggy made a show of accepting that comfort, knowing that he’d never be a better actor than his shining star. 

Can’t tell ‘em. Can’t risk it. 

The image of Crocodile and Mihawk collapsing in defeat at the party after Y/N had thrown her cruel words burned through his mind.  

I know you’re lying, baby. You’re just a good actor. 

Don’t wanna distract these idiots. They don’t know you like I do. 

He tried to let go of his guilt, but those words played on a loop. 

‘I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again.’

It wasn’t true. 

It was a lie. 

Buggy knew it was a lie.

It was a lie. Right, baby? 

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The other men pushed and shoved each other when the scavenger hunt began, but Shanks had to hold himself back from the race. This one wouldn’t win him another date, and close contact with the other suitors had been pushing his self-control to its limit.

He’d always been able to let insults slide when it came to himself, when it was only words, but Shanks couldn’t recall this suffocating feeling.

This entire hunt was an insult, a torture made just for Y/N, and everyone here was having a lovely time using her. 

Shanks could feel himself about to snap, and only his surety that it wouldn’t help her stayed his hand. 

She couldn’t show her own rage, and it would be stupid and selfish to show his.

So, the red haired pirate sat this hunt out, staring at the old man that had weaseled his way beside her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

What was the theme today? Creating love? Finding my heart? Uncle really should have hired a showrunner for this shit. 

By gods, you were bored. And having “Gibby” at your side was only making your condition worse. 

“These young bucks sure do like to show off,” he teased, leaning his bony shoulder against yours, the scent of whiskey nearly knocking you out. “But I know what a sharp girl like you craves.”

“And what’s that, Gibby,” you flirted. 

It would be so easy to kill him, wouldn’t it? Just a good punch to the throat would probably end this old man. But that would be it. So many eyes… He’s not worth it. 

“A challenge of course,” he announced as though revealing a delightful trick. “You want to use your talents. All these little boys want is a little wife.”

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “and what do you want?”

The creep pinched your cheek. Even with your renewed determination, pretending was fucking rough. 

“I want Lady Luck by my side, of course.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

How many… Do lives or liters of blood count for more? Those lives are nothing but—

“Mihawk?”

“I’m here.”

Crocodile’s voice was off. If not for his trained sense of hearing, Mihawk would have believed that voice belonged to someone else. 

But it was him. His daddy. His brutal business partner that was too sweet on their former victims. 

“You go first, crybaby,” Buggy threatened, bringing a tiny smile to the swordsman’s lips. 

“Sylvad’s little game has an illegal broadcast,” Mihawk shared lightly, pretending it was fine. “Underground gambling rings are holding showings every night for an impressive fee. The show appears to be isolated to the surrounding island kingdoms, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

The silence was torturous for them all, holding nothing but impotent rage. 

Mihawk stretched his neck, removing his hat to keep it from scraping against the dusty walls. He’d found a lovely, little shed to lie in wait in until his prey were all lined up. 

“I’ll be attending a showing tonight, so I should be able to watch the hunt. I’ll study the layout, and hopefully I’ll see something that you aren’t able to hear.”

“So, we’re all spying on her now,” Buggy sighed. The sound was so animated; Mihawk could see those shoulders slumping in his mind. 

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so used to these men in his life. 

“Wait,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “Crocodile, if you weren’t watching the feed last night, what were you watching?”

“He can’t tell us,” Buggy said, his voice gentle, but pained. “Recordings of Y/N at the asylum. Croc’s poky, lady agent, and the scary, little girl nicked them for us. “

Mihawk’s blood froze in his veins as the memory of her flashed in his mind. His rabbit had looked so beautiful that last day. Beautiful, but wrong. 

“Crocodile?”

…

“Can you tell us anything yet, boss? Daddy?”

“Just a kill list,” Crocodile rasped, and Mihawk realized what that tone in his voice was. 

Despair. 

“I haven’t finished watching yet. Just waiting on the snail. She wouldn't want me to hurt the snail…”

“Okie dokie,” Buggy loudly redirected, the sound of awkward pats coming through. “Star said something to her sister when she was crying last night. I think Asshole Charmer was right, she’s trying to protect Kat from something.”

“What did— “

“She said, ‘I left you,” Buggy rushed before either man finished asking, the strain in his voice ramping up. “Then she lied again. Told Kat she wanted to be there.”

“They wouldn’t let her see her sister,” Crocodile breathed, a distance in his words that had nothing to do with the ocean between them. 

“So, we have to find out what Kathryn Sylvad needs protection from,” the swordsman hummed. “When our little rabbit showed us her fangs, she mentioned the Celestial— “

“Kat said Uncle LimpDick can’t sell her anymore though. She’s too old for those creeps.” 

“But Y/N didn’t know that until she got to the estate. If that’s why she left, then we can—” 

Hope had crept into Crocodile’s voice, and it was almost more painful to hear, especially when it was killed so quickly.

“She could have gotten out with the merman yesterday,” Buggy reminded him, his usual frustration seeming muted. Anger was still present, but it was wrapped up in softer, sadder things while he caught Mihawk up on the prince’s offer. “Star’s acting like a fucking martyr.”

“It’s gotta be the doctor. Sylvad said something about the fucking doctor before she left us,” Crocodile trailed off, leaving them all to sink into the memory of that night. “That’s who she fears.”

“Then that’s who dies first.” 

That dusty, little shed became a cage, the monster within him nearly tearing through it at the thought of blood. 

“Wait,” his clown commanded. 

He obeyed. 

“You can’t just run in there and kill everyone on your own now. You have to protect both of them. We need a plan.”

This silence was full of caution, but it held the taste of possibilities. 

The swordsman wanted to sever his own tongue for dashing that new hope so soon. 

“We can’t force them. If her sister wants to keep that stifled life, then Y/N won’t forgive us for ripping her from it.” 

Mihawk sighed, remembering the rage on his darling’s face so clearly. It might be the only face of hers that he’d be worthy of seeing again. 

“So, I’m still our last resort. I’ll take her hate for you, Buggy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy groaned. “We know more than we did before, so we just need to keep looking. We’re gonna get her back. You got that, shitheads?”

How strange to recognize the sound of a hug. Buggy’s little hum of surprise, followed by a soft sigh that had to be from Crocodile’s lips, hit Mihawk with a wave of heat. The sensation built up in his throat until he shook it off.

Y/N wouldn't be the only thing he’d lose if he stole her away. The World’s Greatest Swordsman would lose this strange, little home he’d found with this strange, little guild.

“You got it, boss,” Mihawk teased. 

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. President,” Crocodile joined in.

The swordsman smiled in that dusty shed, pretending for a moment that this strange, little home he’d found would still be his. 

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson never shut the fuck up, so you hadn’t caught most of the scavenger hunt, but soon enough, Uncle Cedrick was announcing the winner.

“There are no rules against hunters helping each other win,” he teased while the Vinsmoke brothers walked toward you. Ichiji was carrying a large wooden heart, a few missing pieces of the puzzle held in the losers’ hands, but he held the most. 

Apparently, the younger brothers had given their pieces to the oldest prince, flanking him as they all knelt before you. 

“I’m looking forward to showering you with many more gifts,” he smirked, smoothing his fingers over yours when he placed that wooden heart in your lap. “Gifts worthy of a princess.”

Cheesy. Cocky. His brothers’ lecherous stares weren’t helping.

But I might as well enjoy it, you thought, gifting him with a coy smile.

 

~~~

This opulent room had always been too ridiculously large to be the family game room, especially since you’d only play with your dad, or your sister, never both. Dad always had some work to take care of when Kat asked to play, and Mom never liked board games.

At least someone’s still playing games in here. 

“Come here, sugar,” Giberson pulled you along, looking healthier than you’d seen him so far. “You ever played Blackjack?”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

“Hit me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

Crocodile chuckled, feeling loose for a rare moment while he smirked at the woman across the table. Rain Dinners was as vibrant as ever, a stolen oasis that he planned to grow. The casino pulsed with greed, but a quiet air seemed to fall over the two of them.

“No orders at the table, sweetheart. You know that.”

Fuck. 

This woman’s silence always held an itching weight, that little smile making him narrow his eyes. He was the one that had slipped up. No time for that. 

Not until his work was done. 

“Hm, it looks like a bust for both of us, sir. I hope your orders don’t land us in a similar position,” she taunted in that airy voice of hers, as though her thoughts were merely floating through space, drifting by with no fault of her own. Yet her eyes sparkled.

Crocodile ignored how much he liked it when they did that. 

“Have a little faith, Miss All Sunday,” he grinned, the noise of the casino drowned out by her soft chuckle, her haunted eyes filling with a hard edge, a challenge. “Don’t you trust me? We’re gonna build a better world together.”

Her soft chuckle turned to outright laughter, the pretty sound bringing more eyes to their elevated table. That beautiful face tilted back, and the brim of her white hat shifted enough to let the glittering lights touch her skin. 

He paused to watch her, knowing that he was distracted. Knowing that she was an agent, that he couldn’t risk losing his balance until he’d met his goal. 

This girl is nothing but an asset. That’s all anyone is until I’m done. 

“Come, Crocodile, you and I both know that trust can be a fatal mistake. I know you didn’t bring me here for false promises, and I would leave if I thought you’d become such a sentimental fool.”

Soft hands sprouted from the table before him, lighting his cigar, and holding it to his lips while he gave a few gentle puffs. Those taunting eyes never strayed from his.

“You know me too well,” he laughed, taking a larger sip of scotch than he’d meant to. This asset of his had many uses, and interesting company was becoming too much of a favorite. “What kind of world do you wanna build when we get there?”

The way she stared at him… It was as though she was right there, seeing deep into the core of him, yet somehow distant. No matter how much time she spent by his side, they were always light years apart. 

“Are you feeling sentimental, boss?”

“Not at all,” Crocodile snorted before downing the rest of his drink. He motioned for another round but couldn’t shake off the sticky feeling of her knowing gaze. 

She’s right. What the fuck am I doing? Can’t think like this. Not yet. 

Nico Robin smirked while her many hands gathered the cards, dealing a fresh game. Crocodile found himself feeling proud of her practiced distance, but had to fight harder than he should have to keep from tugging at it. 

Trust is worthless in a world like this. 

“Well, boss?”

“Hit me.”

So, I’ll make a better world. 

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Everything was shining. Unlike most casinos, the shine in your family’s estate wasn’t just for show. 

It was another world. The glamor, the music, and the liquor seemed to hypnotize the crowd. Time was a commodity here, seconds falling away like the chips on the table. 

You might have been drawn in if you hadn’t been squeezed into this slinky, sequined dress. Viridian green sparkled under the lights, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be. Still fucking distracting though. 

I wonder what his casino was like. Would he have liked this dress? He did prefer scales over—

Stop.

You almost asked why Giberson had foregone his private date for this public display but decided not to risk giving him the opening to take you somewhere else. He dragged a velvet covered stool close beside him before wrapping his frail arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as possible. 

Your smile stayed pretty under the golden lights, even as the sounds of the small casino bombarded you. All the hunters, and more guests than you’d seen here before, watched your every move when they weren’t losing berry. 

“What’d ya say, darlin,” he winked, nodding toward the cards on the table. “Should I risk it?”

At least there’s something for me to focus on. 

“Hit me,” he declared when you nodded, whistling and jostling you when he hit twenty one. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“Is this why you’re here, Gibby? I’m sure you realize that my husband won’t need to gamble to be swimming in berry.”

Those words should not have left your lips. You didn’t need the nearest cam-snail’s drooping eyes to tell you that, but you couldn’t take it back. Playing up the flirtation was all you could think of to salvage it. 

The old man raised a brow at you, chuckling at your fluttering lashes.

“You are a sweet, devilish thing, aren’t you, dear?”

Your denial died on your tongue when your eyes got caught across the room, your red-haired prey staring hard at the hand Giberson had brought to your chin. 

This old man deserved your gratitude for tilting your face away from those soft, brown eyes. 

“I am many things, Gibby,” you purred. “And I am sure that you should stand.”

“I’ve gotta listen to my Lady Luck,” he laughed, wiggling your shoulders to show you off to the leeches at the table. 

“Isn’t that cheating,” one of them mumbled, earning a sickly, sweet smile from your lips. 

“All is fair in love and war,” you teased, tapping the felt-covered table with one of Giberson’s many chips. “Besides, card counters have to watch a game for longer than I’ve been at the table. It was just a lucky guess.”

Oh, how you ached to smash that entitled asshole’s face onto the shining table.

“You’re one to talk, Linus,” Giberson leaned around you to smirk at the man. The scent of liquor on his breath hit you like a train. “I believe you’re on mistress number three, aren’t you? Or what should we call this newest one, a boy toy? I suppose if Annie knows, then it’s not cheating, but either way, I’m sure she knows now.”

Linus’ face went from annoyance to horror impressively fast when he glanced at the very not-droopy snail on the table, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. 

The man snarled, barely shifting toward you before Uncle’s security guards snatched him away. 

“Poor Linus,” you sighed while you shook your head. The satisfaction that warmed your skin only proved your self-hating thoughts, but it was more entertaining than being empty. 

Everyone here is a leech. Gorging on my blood and humiliation, eating me alive so they can feel more alive for a while. Fuck them all.

“Don’t worry about him,” your date pulled you back toward the game, “Annie’s been sleeping with his mother since their wedding night, so I’m sure she won’t be too broken up over it.”

You laughed enough that when he bought a bottle and poured you both a shot, you drank the burning whiskey. 

After he drank his first, of course. 

Then you won him lots of berry and giggled while he whispered secrets about all those shining guests in your ear. 

Maybe this old man isn’t so boring after all.

Laughing, and winning, and numbing it all down felt so good. If only you could rid yourself of those stupid, brown eyes that stuck to you more than the old man’s weak hand on your sequined thigh. 

“Do you know anything about— “

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Giberson hummed, filling your glass again. He nodded toward the red-haired pirate in the corner before shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t talk about the competition. I’d like to survive long enough to see the end of this delightful game.”

~~~

The corridors were endless. You’d traveled them so many times as a kid, but never quite like this.

Never drunk, in stupid, pointy heels that got caught in the plush carpet, while annoying servants tried to grab your elbows every time you swayed. 

It was fine. 

It was stupid.

But you weren’t even mad at yourself for being so reckless. Apathy could save or ruin you in a place like this. 

All you wanted was to feel nothing. There were many kinds of numb to find, but this particular buzz was wearing off too fast.

You had kept up your smile, and the bells had rung before you lost your mind to liquor. Yet now that the wall of eyes wasn’t on you, that liquor felt thick in your veins, and you needed to scream. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sylvad, but— “

“I’ll take it from here. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we, niece?”

You blinked, and the staff had already scurried away, leaving you alone with him.

“My little smarty,” Uncle Cedrick teased, digging his fingers into your arm while he guided you toward your suite. “Finally contributing to the family, after all these years. You almost had me believing that you’d like to marry that old bastard.”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Damn it…

A different kind of numb pulled you down while your gaze trailed down his face. 

His jaw is moving a lot. It’s okay. No, not the lips. Jaw. Eyes are too much. Can’t look up. Just down. Can’t look away. 

Fuck, I’m dizzy.

“He was never in the running anyway. The nuisance learned about the hunt and asked to join, and I couldn’t risk insulting the man.”

All the words were hitting your wobbly brain, a headache building behind your brow until you gasped at his sudden touch. Your uncle gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the darkened hallway. 

“You’re going to send the old man away tomorrow, and the fishman the day after that. You may be a selfish brat, but you’re still a Sylvad. It wouldn’t do to let you get stuffed full of expired seed, or guppies, now, would it?”

His eyes flared with satisfaction when you couldn’t hide the horror and disgust that twisted your features. You were trapped, gulping down your bile while he leaned over you, gripping tighter. 

“Keep up the good work, niece,” Uncle hummed while he tilted you toward your door. “Now go wash up. Whiskey isn’t a flattering scent on a blushing bride.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

There was no point in fixing the conference room. Any replacement furniture would have been shattered the second he saw those tear-filled eyes on the screen. 

A makeshift door had been propped up for privacy, although there was no one but Buggy within range of Crocodile’s rage. 

That pathetic, useless rage that left the scarred man sitting on the floor in a pile of splinters and sand again, fighting not to drink. Not yet, at least. 

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is it ready,” Crocodile rasped, not ready for the answer.

“I believe so, sir,” Zala reported, her lovely voice too somber to be soothing. “The next cam-snail’s date is a bit smudged, so I’m not certain the timing is right. We’re trying to send them in order— “

“Just send it.”

…

“Agent?”

“Of course, sir,” the deadly woman breathed, strangely soft through the line. “Do you have orders for us when we arrive? We still have over a week, but it could be two days less if we— “

“Await your orders,” Crocodile growled, more at his own powerlessness than her questioning.

“Of course,” Zala conceded, sharing her next words in a rush before ending the call. “We’ll get her back, sir. I won’t fail again.”

~~~

For a cruel moment, Crocodile’s breath caught in hope. His sweet girl looked better. 

He should have known better. 

‘How are you feeling today, Y/N?’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m feeling well, thank you, doctor,’ she hummed softly, keeping her eyes low, although the doctor was still offscreen. A nurse guided her to sit, no restraints holding her to the table this time. 

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘Yes, doctor.’

His girl was empty. Poised and polite with nothing inside. 

They made a doll out of her.

‘Just breathe, Y/N,’ Dr. Vorsan instructed, his slippery voice making Crocodile’s fingers twitch. ‘The snail won’t hurt you, and you aren’t going to hurt it.’

‘Of course, I won’t–’

‘Soft hands, Y/N,’ he warned while she unclenched her jaw and fists. 

A transponder snail was placed on the table before her, and her eyes went slow and droopy while she stared at it. 

‘We discussed this, Y/N.’ The doctor clicked his tongue while the nurse reached for the snail. Y/N shook herself but stopped before her hand got too close to the creature.

Her eyes were wide now, her panicked breaths loud enough for him to hear all these years later. 

‘I’m sorry, please,’ Y/N strained, going empty again while she pleaded. ‘I’m okay. I want to call my sister.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready,’ Vorsan needled. That voice was so perfectly kind, yet violent. It was a syringe that promised healing, but forced too much, poisoning with what seemed like a cure. ‘Take your time, Y/N. If you push yourself too far, you might have another episode, and I know you don’t want to put your family through that. You don’t want to hurt–’

‘I want to be well, doctor.’

Wrong. So, fucking wrong. 

‘Please, let me try again,’ Y/N begged, her sweet voice placating the monster out of view. ‘I’ll breathe and go slow. I want to get better.’

The nurse brought the snail back, and Crocodile couldn’t tell how much time passed while she stared at it. Her eyes were present, yet he could see the strain, her almost-smile shaking a bit. 

“What the fuck?”

The fucking snail had started ringing, and Y/N’s scream made him choke. She struggled to swallow it down, rocking in her seat until the nurse reached out to take it. She took in a breath when she reached out instead to answer, that sickening smile on her face. 

‘Hey, smarty.’

Crocodile’s hook dug deep lines along the floor. 

‘I heard you were practicing with the snail today, so I thought I’d help out. We all want you back home, safe and sound. Although, I suppose it’s not your safety we should be worrying about.’

If not for the slow shine of unspilled tears that grew in her eyes, Crocodile would have thought the recording had paused. She was frozen, until she flinched at his next words. 

‘I should probably check on little Kathryn. I told them not to sail this close to Aqua Laguna, but you know how stubborn–’

‘You’re lying,’ she screamed, spittle flying toward the snail before nurses appeared to restrain her. ‘Let me talk to my sister!’

‘Oh dear, you don’t sound very well, niece. I hope–’

‘Fuck you! Where’s Kat? Let me see my– Get your fucking hands off of me! I’m gonna kill…’

Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter creeped through the air, the transponder snail carrying that vile sound through space and time. 

Y/N had gone still, letting the nurses entangle their arms with hers, trapping her between them while they called nonsensical orders to each other in bland voices. 

She didn’t cry. 

Didn’t apologize. 

Didn’t fight. 

She looked like she’d been defeated, and Sylvad’s gloating laughter proved the point. 

‘I hope you get well soon, niece,” her uncle taunted. ‘I’ll tell your sister you’re not ready yet, once she gets back. Hopefully she makes it before the storm hits.’

Crocodile’s sweet girl slumped, her body going limp while so many others held her up. Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter ripped through the air until she was carted away, and the wall went dark. 

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above was from Crocodile’s POV as he watched another recording of Y/N at the asylum. During this recording, Crocodile noticed that the reader appeared to be “better.” However, the prodding voice of Dr. Vorsan, and the reveal of a transponder snail showed that the reader was struggling to maintain her “doll-like” emptiness. The reader expressed a desire to speak with her sister, and was cooperating with the doctor, although he scolded her and reminded her of the potential violence she may cause. The reader remained calm and requested to try speaking with the snail again. The snail rang unexpectedly, and her uncle began to speak through it, causing the reader to become afraid, then react violently when Cedrick stated that her sister was currently sailing close to the time of the Aqua Laguna storm. The reader began to yell and threaten violence, until she looked defeated while her uncle laughed. The reader went limp while nurses restrained her and carried her away before the recording ended. 

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Leave her alone, Uncle,” Kat seethed, charging into the hall to pull you from his grasp. 

“I’m just making sure she gets home safe,” he teased, clicking his tongue before releasing you. “Looks like big sis needs your help tonight. Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to be her babysitter for much longer?”

“Fuck you— “

“It’s alright, Kitty,” you smiled, fighting your shaking muscles, and the nausea that flooded your body. “You got any snacks in your suite?”

“Ta-ta,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, thankfully walking away. 

Leaving you with her.

Fuck. I’m making her take care of me again. Selfish. Piece of shit. Stop.

“What kind of snacks do you want,” Kat frowned. Her eyes were sharp against your swaying form, but you held up your smile for her. 

“Salty. Crunchy.”

“Alright, drunky,” she rolled her eyes, “will you drink some fucking water first?”

~~~

Gods, it’s bright. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.

“Are you feeling well, niece?”

Uncle Cedrick beamed down at you, guiding you to the fallen tree in the courtyard, where the applause that greeted you made you want to chop your fucking ears off. The ungodly amount of coffee you’d inhaled during the breakfast with Giberson had been for naught, and you couldn’t recall any of the long winded stories he’d trampled you with. 

There’d be no more of his stories for you after this.

“Good afternoon, fine friends and hunters,” he addressed the crowd, and the suitors lined up along the carved bench. His practiced movements spread large across the side of the manor for all to see. You caught him glancing at his image on the projector screen enough times that you almost laughed. 

It probably would have hurt to laugh right now. 

“Before today’s hunt begins, I’m afraid that one of our contestants has missed the mark.”

Uncle pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back. He pressed the point of it to your chest, making the leeches gasp with mock fear or delight before he broke it in half.

“Go on, dear niece,” he ordered, pressing the splintered wood into your hand. “Who failed to pierce your heart?”

Don’t let it in. Nothing matters. Just her.

Fading into yourself, you put on a show, avoiding the sight of your simpering smile on the wall. Tittering noises filled the air while the wooden platform moved you from suitor to suitor, and you could hear the vultures calling out their last-minute bets.

You put on a good show, but eyes were too much. An inch below their left eye. That’s where you’d look while you paused. 

No favorites. No least favorites.

The moving platform wasn’t helping your nausea, or it might have been the scent of the Emperor whose crooked smile was almost as abhorrent to look at as his soft eyes. 

The painfully slow display finally came to a halt, the stench of whiskey still too fresh in your mind. 

The old man hadn’t been that bad though. 

“I’m sorry, Gibby. Your arrow didn’t pierce my heart.”

He took the broken arrow, before kissing your forehead, his mustache scratching along your skin. 

“Not to worry, my dear,” Giberson soothed, humming at the noises of the winners and losers in the crowd. From the sound of it, he’d been an underdog in the race anyway. “I feel lucky just to be here at all. Thank you for the lovely company.”

You needed to sit down. 

You had to keep smiling.

“Of course, Gibby,” your uncle shmoozed, gripping Giberson by the shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to the failed hunter, but his voice was too clear, his words too pointed.

Another part of the show.

“You may not be in the running to be our family, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a friend of the Sylvad’s,” Uncle Cedrick glowed as the leeches practically moaned at the implication. Everyone wanted to be in his world. “You are more than welcome to stay for the festivities as a guest, so long as you don’t act like a sore loser and ruin the fun, of course.”

The joviality in the air was too full of greed. Your future was never going to be yours, but you hadn't expected him to let so many others join in his game. 

This game that never fucking stopped.

“Our lovely doe has requested a show of love for today’s hunt,” he took your hand and spun you for the crowd, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from tripping over yourself. “Run along, hunters. In the woods you’ll find materials of all sorts, but you’re welcome to use your own. Create something to show how you’ll care for your dear wife once you catch her. Care to give them any tips, Y/N?”

Fuck you.

“The man I love will make me smile.”

Uncle Cedrick caught his frown before it fully formed, but your tiny rebellion went cold when his eyes flicked to the locket you were fidgeting with. 

“You heard the doe, hunters,” he ordered, studying your shaky hands that you dropped to your sides too fast. “Make your prey smile before you pierce her heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

He shouldn’t have been dropping his guard like this, but something about this room, this ridiculous, green couch, and that sweet girl’s flustered face, had Sir Crocodile fighting off a smile.

“But… I’ve still got work to do, and they— “

“Is my sweet girl worried about other men right now,” he threatened, patting the cushion beside him while he tried to keep his balance. 

The clown was off preparing for that gods awful show they’d have to sit through at the party, while the swordsman ran through security. Since Crocodile had already sent agents out to hunt for party favors, he had a free moment, and he chose to spend it taunting their numbers girl. 

She looked so pretty with that flash of fear in her eyes.

Especially when she gave in so quickly. 

“N-no, I…”

“You’ve been working so hard. I can help you relax. Wanna take a break, sweetheart?”

Y/N bit her lip softly, and Crocodile nearly launched himself at her. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but luckily his numbers girl got to her feet. 

“Not so fast, darlin,” he teased while she yelped in his grasp, moving through sand to carry her before she could take a step with her bare feet.

“Fuck!”

She looked so cute when he tossed her onto his desk. Y/N was shaking so much that he almost stopped, his fingers clenching against the wooden desk while he took a final puff of his cigar. The feel of smoke on his tongue only made him crave her more.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re not scared to be alone with me, are— “

“I want you, daddy,” Y/N vowed, her voice like some heavenly song, guiding him toward things he didn’t deserve. She sat up, reaching, clinging to him until he chuckled and pushed her soft fingers away. She’d tugged at his silk scarf, and he let her keep the purple fabric when he shoved her back onto the desk. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and relax for me,” he taunted. Crocodile stamped out his cigar before kneeling beside his desk, fighting his smile again at every desperate noise she made while he set her legs up on his shoulders. She nodded fast while he tore through her cheap panties with his hook, and her scent finally did him in. 

This ex-warlord, this wicked pirate, this bad man… was smiling. Smiling from pleasure and peace instead of cruelty and greed.

Sir Crocodile caught his smile as he pressed it against that sweet, swollen flesh, loving the way she tore at his hair. Her fingers went rough, then weak, again and again, as though she couldn’t help her need, but feared his reaction. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Let Daddy have it all,” he purred before shoving his tongue so deep. He moaned while he drank at her pleasure, proud of how she took what she needed, pulling his hair at the roots while she fell apart. 

“You’re doing so well,” Crocodile praised, fighting everything in him not to claim this sweet girl for himself, his own little dream. 

“Please, daddy.”

“My little girl’s so hungry,” he laughed while his fingers teased along all the wetness she spread before him. “You can have everything you want.”

Y/N had pushed onto her elbows to meet his eyes, but fell back, her body arching when he shoved two fingers into her pretty cunt. Her moans were so fucking precious that the ex-warlord’s mind went blank. Nothing but her.

“It’s still work hours, sugar. Try to keep it down.”

Fuck, she was gorgeous when her eyes rolled back, eagerly letting him shove that purple silk into her mouth. She was already crying when he undid his slacks, freeing himself to tease along that needy flesh.

Crocodile missed, pouring lube down the side of the desk before covering his leaking cock. She was too good of a girl for him to rush this, but the feel of his own lubed hand was nearly enough while he watched her begging beneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he guided her while he held himself back. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He tried to be gentle, but Y/N still cried and screamed, so he fucked himself into her until his scarf fell from her lips.

“It’s too— feels too good— fuck!!”

She spoke the truth until he shoved the silk back into her mouth. It felt too fucking good to fill her up, to feel her body stretching and fighting to hold him. So soft, so wet, so fucking tight around his cock with every thrust.

But she could take him. She could take all of him, and she looked beautifully wrecked while she did, that silk scarf dark with spit now when he tugged it from her lips again. 

“Where does my sweet girl— “

“Inside me, daddy,” Y/N cried out before her body milked his again, eyes going white while she came. “Come inside me, please!”

“Fuck, you take me so well, baby girl. Mm— so fucking perfect…”

Crocodile held her down, pressing his palm against her chest. He hadn’t realized that his hook had been tracing along her side until he started filling her, but she looked like she was enjoying it, so he didn’t bother to stop. 

She looked like she was enjoying getting fucked by a monster.

She looked so sweet when he met her eyes, pulling out slowly to keep from causing more harm. 

“Daddy…”

“Hey, sweet girl,” he hummed while he kissed her neck. Her squirms were enough, and he felt his scarred face smiling against her skin once more. “How— “

“You could have just said you wanted her to yourself for a while,” the swordsman taunted from the doorway that had opened too quietly. 

Or maybe Crocodile had let himself get too distracted. 

“I thought you didn’t like liars,” Mihawk smirked, moving close enough to snag the spit-soaked scarf from the desk. 

“We got some work done,” Crocodile told the truth, although it felt like a lie when he looked down at her. “My sweet girl just needed a break.”

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Their faces were easy to match up with the voices he’d planned to end while he listened in that dusty shed. This drab, little hole had been shined up so brightly, almost passing for a real casino, but Mihawk knew it could still use a fresh coat of red paint. 

“I suppose that only imbeciles would fail to recognize me when I walk through the door. I had assumed that was what all of you were, given your foolish choice in hobbies.”

“Hawkeye— Mr. Mihawk, sir, please,” the owner of the stale, little hall beckoned him toward the sticky, corner booth, “you’re an honored guest! Please, relax, and let us show you how we party in Majiastuka.”

The slim possibility of those words swaying the ex-warlord burned away when faraway voices filled the air.

‘You’re our little princess now.’

Their deaths would come later. For now, Mihawk kept his gaze away from the projector screen, and the flustered face of his little rabbit. 

“What a delightful invitation,” the world’s greatest swordsman sneered, drawing his black blade to hover over the filthy floorboards. “Unfortunately, I have already had my fill of your wretched squeals. Unless you can tell me how to reach Miss Sylvad, your worthless time on this planet is over.”

“Fuck thi— “

A coward off to the side stumbled while he cursed, fleeing toward the door. Mihawk didn’t even need to shift his eyes in that direction; Yoru simply flicked across the floor, the blade smacking into a chair that cracked the man’s neck when it hit.

Every movement, every breath was precise. 

A predator, and its prey.

“Hey man, I’m sorry, okay,” the pathetic kingpin begged while the ex-warlord stalked closer. “How can I help? Anything, please!”

“Such a well-mannered beast,” Mihawk growled while he dug his nails into the man’s jaw. “I’m taking your special snail, and I shall take your life if you don’t tell me where the fuck you got it from.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This might be the worst idea you’d ever had. 

“It’s a…”

“Graham cracker house. They’re usually gingerbread, but no one likes to eat that shit.”

Cracker beamed down at you, so proud of the sloppy, edible house that he’d dropped onto your lap. 

“That’s you,” he pointed toward the misshapen figure by the front door. “I know that you’re a good girl that wants to help your family. I’ll help you be happy and safe, and you’ll help our family grow.”

Oh. 

The misshapen clump finally took shape in your mind; that fucked up cracker was meant to be you. 

Barefoot and pregnant.

This is super fucking fun.

“Thank you, Cracker. It’s lovely.”

“It’s trash,” Cracker corrected with that menacing grin, and you almost yelped when he touched your face. You had to meet his eyes, and that basic, human intimacy, coupled with the scent of that sugary house, nearly had you spilling your disgust onto the floor. 

Nausea had you in a chokehold, but that didn’t stop your smile. 

This ridiculous man leaned down, and the sparks at the ends of his hair were too fucking close to your face when he purred in your ear.

“You’re the only lovely thing I see.”

~~~

How strange that the sight of such a light and precious thing could drag you down so far. 

In the place of a pearl, the shell opened to show a long-lasting bubble. The treasure had become a reminder of your selfishness and privilege, yet your heart still ached at the sight. 

Precious trees had helped create this little magic. Sabaody should have been treasured, protected.

Instead, it was hell: a humiliating torture for people that didn’t look like you. 

“It’s beautiful, Prince Fukaboshi,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“It is nowhere near as beautiful as your selfless heart.”

Smiling was harder when you had to swallow the burning bile on the back of your tongue.

~~~

“This is very nice,” you lied.

“It’s a poor rendition,” your prey laughed at his ugly drawing of what looked like a pile of fingers until you deciphered the shapes. “Starfish cling to their world, holding tight to their home… I could have stolen it for you, but it’s not right to take a star from where it belongs.”

“So, you left my star all alone,” you managed to pout; you were a selfish, spoiled, rich girl. 

Starfish were apparently too much for you to handle. 

~~~

“What do ya think, numbers girl?”

That deep voice made you shiver, shaking you out of your fog, but into the chaos of old desire. 

You knew you should hate him. You should be disgusted by his mere presence here, by all the details that would make your eyebrows raise if you heard them about a similar relationship. 

But you were too far gone to give a fuck. 

Mr. Iceburg was smiling at you. He was reaching out to rest his hand on yours before offering a gift he’d made with those same, lovely hands. The rough skin scraping against yours seemed to send you back in time, a teenage craving, still unfulfilled.  

“There wasn’t enough time, but I hope you like it,” Iceburg hummed when he placed a small, carved ship in your palm. The rough wood smelled incredible, and it was beautiful, rough as it was. 

All the details were vague, but your thumb traced across the redwood he’d carved onto the main sail. 

It wasn’t just his looks that had stolen your heart when you were younger. Mr. Iceburg had an air of kindness and wonderment about him that reminded you what those feelings could be like. 

Were you too far gone to feel that light? 

Was he too much of a leech for it to be real?

Who fucking cares? It’s Mr. Iceburg.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“So, you left my star all alone?”

Y/N’s pouting lips were too much; Shanks was horrified by her ability to lie with every part of her. 

“Well, I…”

That fallen star smiled while the bells called him away, and she chose another man, yet again.

~~~

The Great Red-Haired Shanks was fucking useless. 

He had fucked up so completely that his every step to fix things put miles and miles between them.

And he couldn’t fucking talk about it. 

The estate was literally crawling with snails, so Shanks couldn’t risk speaking openly to his first mate. He couldn’t relax for a second with how hyper aware he’d become of the low hum of their presence. 

How the fuck does she live like this?

Throughout the pain and hardships of his own life, this Emperor of the Sea had carried something with him that he was lacking here, and the discomfort of its loss felt like another phantom pain, an unreachable itch. 

Shanks was raised as a pirate.

He was raised to be free. 

No one was free on this wretched island, except for the tyrant that toyed with them all. 

Cedrick Sylvad hadn’t joined the group that flocked to his little casino for a second night. He didn’t need the cash. 

The red-haired pirate followed the leeches and did his best to shove his frustrations aside while he fought for her. 

“Still here, huh?”

“Why would I leave,” Giberson breathed noxious fumes into his face while he leaned over his cards. “This game’s only just begun.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat’s face pulled you into the moment, her quivering lips failing to hold back her disparaging smile.

You couldn’t blame her. 

“That’s a really nice cape,” she snorted, falling into laughter.

“I thought you wanted me to marry a Vinsmoke.” Your words were strained, although annoyance or laughter could have been the cause.

“Totally,” she managed to deadpan. “Definitely the number one choice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was so good to see her cackle, even if you had to wear this poofy, frilly, fire-engine red gown to make it happen. 

The cape wasn’t nearly as bad as the embroidered “ones” along the hems. 

“I want you to marry one of them if…”

“Spit it out,” you ordered, holding in your own laughs while Kat fell apart. 

“If they’re your number one choice,” she squeaked again while she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh. 

You couldn’t blame her. Not with the state your hair was in. 

~~~

“Tonight, we have lifted one of our rules for the sake of fairness to our esteemed hunters,” Uncle charmed the crowd, his fingers resting on the back of your neck. 

He looked down at you with that practiced mask of a doting uncle while he gripped your skin like you were an unruly animal that he had to control.

“My dear niece must remain within the borders of the island, but the sky’s the limit now.”

He stepped away with a smirk, and you were too drained from smiling to care what he meant. It was always a game at your expense. You were just glad that he wasn’t touching you anymore. 

Resisting the urge to scratch his eyes out like the unruly animal you were took a lot of energy, and you were going to need it tonight. 

The vultures were practically squealing while Prince Ichiji walked up the path, flanked on either side by his brothers. The ruffles on their shirts looked natural on them, and their capes just reminded you that they were royalty, even if they descended from vicious conquerors who claimed that status. From all you’d gathered, these current Vinsmokes seem to carry that violent legacy.

Except for when they looked at you. 

Ichiji held out the longest, but soon the three of them were staring at you like hungry puppies. Niji and Yonji knelt at your sides to kiss your hands, thoroughly. Ichiji leaned down, the swoops in his red hair casting distracting shadows across his face beneath the lanterns. 

“Everyone’s fighting to take home the lovely prize,” he breathed against your ear before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “But they can’t have you.”

“Oh,” you tried to tease, but the kisses still peppering your hands and fingers were too distracting. “Why is that?”

The three of them laughed, and you would have fallen if they hadn’t gripped your hands in time. The three princes had all touched their belts, and the colorful raid suits they were so famous for spread over them instantly, to roaring applause. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath before Ichiji lifted you into his arms.

“You’re our little princess now.”

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.

“Don’t be scared, pretty,” he comforted, though his pleased voice didn’t stop the world from disappearing beneath you. 

“Yeah, I’ll catch you if he drops you,” Yonji flew close to your cheek. 

“I won’t drop her.”

How does their hair stay like that in the wind, you thought, giggling to yourself while you watched the trees beneath you. 

“Can I touch the top of a tree?”

“You can touch anything you– ”

“Back off, Niji,” Ichiji growled at his blue haired brother that had flown too close this time before returning to that simpering voice. “Of course, princess. We can find every tree on the island, if you like.”

“Just one is lovely, thank you.”

Touching the top of a redwood tree had never crossed your mind, but the feel of it against your fingers gave you a moment of sweetness at the thought of telling your dad about it. He would be so excited, and he’d want to know every detail, until you both were scribbling on notepads to calculate how long it would take to touch every tree on the island. 

It was stupid. How could you stay numb when you kept reminding yourself of pain, or of something far crueler than that? 

Happiness and love would tear you apart. 

~~~

If you weren’t out of breath, you might have giggled again at how well the scene fit with your last thought. 

Another clearing on another stolen hill had come into view, during one of the brief glances you’d sent toward the ground. That ground was coming too close, too fast, but the scent hit you before your feet touched the ground.

Someone had planted a circular wall of roses that was taller than you’d thought possible for the flower. You had learned that the realm of possibility was vaster than you could imagine. What were some huge rose bushes compared to everything else in your world?

Ichiji set you down beside a gorgeous table of dark wood, with large, cushioned chairs in that matching rose-red.

He poured champagne, toasting to your beauty while you waited for him to sip first.

“Are you nervous,” the red head asked, the hint of laughter in his tone. “Don’t worry, princess, you can relax here. I made sure we’d have plenty of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Yonji called while he flew down into the tower of roses. “No one’s getting in here without catching some thorns.”

“We finished the rounds,” Niji reported. He stayed floating toward the top, lazily bouncing something in his hand. “This is the only snail left in a mile radius. Now you two can have some alone time.

“DON’T HURT IT! Please… don’t…”

Niji paused with his arm pulled back, stopping before throwing the transponder snail, cocking his head as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be so cruel, brother,” Ichiji purred beside you.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Please, don’t hurt it,” you tried to keep your voice from shaking. It was already hoarse from that scream. “I… like snails.”

“So sweet,” Yonji swooned. He flew close, with Niji and the poor snail following behind him. “You should see our— “

“It’s my turn, brothers,” the eldest prince reminded them.

Yonji kissed your cheek before he flew away, but Niji grabbed your wrist. He placed the snail in the center of your palm before tracing his fingers down the side of your face.

“Such a pretty princess,” he hummed, “I’ll make sure this thing is safe for you. We can even let some watch our date if you— “

“This is my date, Niji.”

“Right. Have fun, you two.”

Thankfully, the blue-haired brother grabbed the snail before he flew away, but another set of eyes stayed glued to your skin.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. Let’s eat, I wanna know about all the other sweet things you like.”

Still cheesy. Still cocky.

Yet somehow his guiding hand on you lower back, and his hungry eyes reminded you of another sort of numb.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy this.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Feel good, star,” Crocodile’s little clown mumbled in his sleep, the stench of liquor on Buggy’s breath rivaling his own.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to carry Buggy to bed instead of leaving him alone on that green couch. “Come on— “

“Just feel good, baby,” his clown whined softly, the sadness in his voice tearing at the scarred man even more tonight.

“Shh, Buggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

“I won’t tell, star. I know it was a— What the fuck?”

“It’s just me, little clown. Let’s go to bed,” he offered his hand. Buggy shook himself but followed him down the empty corridor to that empty bed. “Bad dreams again?”

“No— I mean, just the same bullshit,” Buggy coughed while his fingers tapped along his thigh. “Ha, I really thought the booze would help… What about you?”

Crocodile pulled the man close, and kissed that tangled, blue hair as he closed his eyes against this shitty world.

“We’re gonna get her back,” he vowed ignoring the scent of lies in the air. There had never been room for trust in this world, but Crocodile realized he didn’t care if his little lovers were lying to him. He just needed them back.

He needed to make a better world for them.

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

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

Author's Note: "I've still been disappearing from the world," is how I started my last author's note from Chapter 34. So much has changed in my life.

Personal Vent below! Mostly vague, but trigger warning for toxic, demanding work environments, and their affect on physical and mental health. Mention of bipolar and adhd.

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS unless you really want to, and have the space for it! I would rather you scroll past than to take on any of my stress.

I am okay, and I want Numbers Game to be a place for us to rest and enjoy some fictional chaos instead. This will be the last time I'll discuss this on a Numbers Game post, but I felt I had to share how much I've wanted to be here with y'all. Any future updates will be posted separately on my lynna's health updates tag.

I am free from the situation that was wrecking my physical, mental, and financial health for the past five years. That chaos sent me into an episode that landed me on medical leave last year. But that fucked up time is when I started writing, and joined this wonderful community. I wouldn't have made it though the past year without y'all. I was in full on crisis mode, and it had all come to a head over these past few months. Then I got out. I was so fucking excited to tell y'all about the new changes in my life, but I was overwhelmed with everything that I had to do to get out and prepare. Plus, my fucking thumb stopped working because I was typing the first draft of this chapter on my phone since I had no time to sit down and write, and I had to rest it for the new job that seemed perfect for me. I hope that it'll get better soon, but I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I am okay. I am safe. I am just tired as fuck, and needing to set boundaries with a new company that is even more demanding than the last. At least they are actually paying me on time, and it's less physically demanding, (unless you count a lifelong insomniac adjusting to waking up at 6am and getting home at 6pm, five days a week 🥴). The main reason I was excited for this job, besides relieving the crisis shit I was going though, was that it would have a regular schedule; I'd be able to focus on what I really want to do. Sorry it took me so long to catch my breath, but I'm fucking back, y'all. I'm not letting another company drain my soul away. I'm not working off the clock any more.

I've got smut to write 🥰📝🔥

With so much love,

~ Lynna 💜✨

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

Part 36

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

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[sanflawoah]

The way handsome Bajie jumpscare shook the soul out of me.

The mirror flew to him and I thought oh the mirror is going to shock him into consciousness isn't it?

Jokes on me I was the one getting shocked.

Well yes of course a person from the celestial court would naturally be good-looking, but I didn't expect the dev to make Bajie's Marshal Tianpeng form to be THAT(???) beautiful.

And his face model actor 胡涛 (Hu Tao) cosplaying as the character good LAWD🙏

[alexiroflife]

"first day"

fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off

Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door

to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of

WC: 1,701

Warning(s): none

"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.

His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"

"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."

"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.

"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."

"Not at all, actually," you agree.

Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"

"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."

"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.

"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.

"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."

"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.

"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."

"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."

"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.

"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."

Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.

"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"

"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."

"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"

"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."

"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.

"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.

"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.

"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.

"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.

"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.

"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."

"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."

"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."

Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"

"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."

The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."

"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."

Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.

"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."

The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"

"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."

"But-"

"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"

"We done, now?"

"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."

Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.

Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.

He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."

You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."

"I know. I will," he nods.

"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."

"I won't."

"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."

"I'll try."

You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.

"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.

"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"

"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."

"Please do."

Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."

"Don't speed, Toji."

"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.

"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.

"See ya, doll."

"Bye, mum."

The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.

You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.

You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.

Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.

"Yep."

Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.

Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."

"I'm gonna cry."

The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"

"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."

"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."

"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."

"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."

"You're being for real?"

"Of course I am."

You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."

"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"

"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."

He smirks. "Will do, doll."

[melzula]

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Tear Down My Reason

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader Warnings: Canon typical incest, dubious consent with allusions to no consent, smut. Word count: ~4.6k

Summary: When Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing to petition Lucerys's claim to Driftmark, Aemond is eager for revenge for the loss of his eye. However, what he does not anticipate is the object of his ire becoming his niece instead of his nephew.

Author's note: No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Aemond sits in his chambers, beside the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other. His eyepatch is discarded on the table in front of him, his index finger absentmindedly running the length of the scar that ravages the left side of his face.

It had itched incessantly since he had learned the news that his half sister, Rhaenyra, and her family would be arriving in King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark. His scar always grew irritated at the mention of Luke, a reminder of the boy who had permanently disfigured him and left him without an eye. It was a crime for which Luke had never been reprimanded, and so Aemond had spent almost a decade allowing his anger and resentment to fester, thinking of all of the ways he would seek revenge should he ever see him again. 

He knows exactly when they have arrived the next day as he spars in the training yard with Cole; he spots the two dark haired boys circling, and takes a moment to lean against the table of weapons before him, steeling himself. He imagines grabbing a blade and carving out one of his nephew’s eyes in exchange for his. Luke had taken his left, perhaps he’d take his right, a fair exchange.

Snapped out of his reverie by Cole beckoning him forward, he picks up his blade and advances towards him. He knows that Jace and Luke will be watching, and so he works hard to put on a display that will show he’s no longer the sullen, little boy they used to torment. He is a man grown, a warrior that they should respect and fear. He ducks and weaves against Cole’s morningstar, throwing away his shield as it splinters under impact, until finally he seizes the advantage, the point of his blade directed towards his opponent’s neck. 

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Criston tells him, “you will be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” he utters, turning to face the two dark haired boys who stare up at him in shock. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

He is unable to stop the malevolent smirk that tugs at his lips, seeing fear in their eyes as they gaze at him. There is revenge enough in knowing that while he has advanced in training with the sword, transformed himself into a foe which any man would find themselves unlucky to cross blades with upon a battlefield, they have remained frightened, sniveling little boys that still cling to their mother’s skirts for protection. It is not enough to satisfy him though. Not yet.

Having bathed and changed, he joins his family in the throne room, as the court gathers to hear the petitions for the succession of Driftmark. He stands tall and proud beside his brother, sister and mother, as his grandsire sits the throne in his father’s stead.

His eye sweeps the hall, seeing Vaemond Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen and her granddaughter, Baela, standing to one side. On the other is Rhaenyra, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, his uncle, Daemon, and his daughter, Rhaena. And then he spots her.

Aemond had utterly forgotten of her existence; born a year after Jace, and a year before Luke, his niece. She is as tall as her mother now, and has her father’s hair - her real father’s hair - long, dark curls that, despite being half pinned up, fall almost to her waist. She is soft featured, with Rhaenyra’s striking blue eyes. It baffles him that a Strong bastard could be so pleasing to look upon, and he purses his lips in disgust, forcing himself to look away as he reflects back upon what she had been like as a child.

She never joined in with the relentless teasing that Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys had subjected him to. She had spent all of her time with Helaena, from what he can remember, the two of them sat side by side, Helaena holding up insects and describing them to her, as she flicked through the pages of books trying to see if records of them already existed, so that they could learn more about them.

The night that he had lost his eye, she had remained next to his sister, looking on with concern as he had his wound stitched closed. He remembered thinking it odd at the time that she was not with Luke and Jace, but his mind was so addled from the effects of milk of the poppy that nothing is clear, beyond the image of her mother bursting into the hall of Driftmark and tugging her away, back to her own family.

As the petitions are heard, even when his own father arrives unexpectedly, announcing he will sit the throne today, he finds his attention drawn to her, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be a meek little thing, keeping her eyes downcast, seeming ashamed of her own presence in the room. A trait that all Strong bastards ought to possess, in his opinion. Yet as the moments pass by and she does not look up, he finds himself growing increasingly irritated that she won’t look at him, despite how desperately he wills her to.

“Her children are bastards!” Shouts Vaemond, before turning to Rhaenyra, his voice lowering, “and she is a whore.”

Elation spreads like a warm glow through Aemond’s body, his attention finally pulled away from his niece to look upon the horrified expressions of his nephews and half sister. Serves them right. Finally someone is saying it out loud. 

When he casts his gaze back upon his niece, her eyes are still fixed upon the floor. However, he sees the subtlety with which her bottom lip trembles, the light flush of her cheeks. She is about to cry.

Look at me.

The room falls silent as Daemon’s sword slices through Vaemond’s head, and it is only then that her head snaps up, her eyes tear filled and wide with shock, meeting Aemond’s. He finds himself smirking again, a quiet victory. Not only had the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children been brought loudly into question once more, but now he had the attention of his niece. He had forgotten her in the passing of so many years, but now she is within reach again, he will ensure she certainly never forgets him. The next time tears fill her pretty eyes he wants to be the cause of them.

Aemond groans when his mother informs him that the following evening they are to dine as a family, a request from his father to unite them all, having reestablished Luke’s inheritance. He resents the idea of breaking bread with people he does not like, that do not like him, to have to sit at the same table and make pleasantries with the boy who half blinded him.

But she would be there. He wonders where she is now. Her mother had been swift to hurry her from the throne room after the decapitation of Vaemond Velaryon, and he is unsure of which apartments within the Keep she now occupies.

He finds himself stalking the corridors of the usually unoccupied quarters of Maegor’s Holdfast, his eye scanning every closed door, wondering which is the room that she occupies. He pulls to a stop at the top of a staircase as he sees familiar long, dark curls flowing down slender shoulders, disappearing into a doorway before it closes behind her.

Her chambers are unguarded, and before he has a chance to stop himself, his feet carry him down the steps towards them, his knuckles rapping at the wooden door. It’s only when he hears the rustle of movement from the other side that his mind begins to race.

What if she is not alone?

What did he even intend to do if she was unattended?

He briefly considers turning on his heel and leaving, however, no sooner has the thought occurred to him than his niece is opening the door, startling at the sight of him, lips parting in shock. She is even prettier up close, despite her reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Aemond?”

Despite the confusion that laces her voice, it is soft and dulcet toned. He wants to hear her say his name a hundred times over, for it has never sounded sweeter than coming from her lips.

He inhales deeply through his nose, preparing himself to speak. “You are understandably upset by that business with our uncle and Vaemond. I have come to check on you, to make sure you are alright.”

Her eyebrows raise for a moment, blinking a few times as she regards him carefully. “Oh…that is…kind of you. My mother has said I ought to rest.”

“Perhaps you might welcome some company?” He offers. “It would be unwise for you to be alone after witnessing something so bloody.”

She draws back a little at the suggestion, her mouth opening to speak before closing again, her brow furrowing.

Aemond fights the urge to smile at her hesitation. Reaching forward, he crooks a finger beneath her chin. “Do I frighten you so much you cannot bear to be in the same room as me?”

Gasping, she shakes her head fervently as his hand drops away. “N–no! It is just…it has been such a long time, and the last time I saw you, you…my brother…your eye…”

He cocks his head, pushing down the resentment that bubbles to the surface at the mention of what had happened to him. “But have you not heard? My father is hosting a dinner for us all tomorrow, to unite our families once more. There is no need for you to be so cautious, allow yourself to be reacquainted with your uncle.”

Her gaze lowers for a moment, as she appears to consider his offer. “Yes, I suppose that would be nice,” she finally says, looking back up at him.

She steps to the side, allowing him to enter.

Too easy, he thinks to himself as he steps inside. There would be almost no sport in this if the fight she means to put up is so feeble.

He strides into the room, hands clasped behind his back, noting the lack of personal effects within the space, a reminder that she is a visitor. This is his home, not hers. He has the upper hand.

“Apologies, Uncle,” she utters nervously, shifting from foot to foot as she fidgets restlessly with her fingers. “I had not anticipated your visit, this room is ill equipped for guests. I have no chair to offer you.”

“That is quite alright,” he tells her amicably, forcing a soft smile before sitting upon the edge of the bed. “We are family, are we not? Such formalities are not necessary.”

He pats the space beside him. “Come, join me, we have much to catch up on.”

She hesitates a moment, before sitting next to him. There is something about the feeling of the dip in the mattress beside him, combined with the floral scent of her filling his nostrils that sends the thrill of a shiver through his body, and he turns to look at her, eyeing her much like a cat would a mouse.

Such a pretty little thing.

“I am truly sorry, for what Luke did to you,” she begins, “I—”

He waves a hand dismissively, forcing down the anger that threatens to burst forth. “Let us speak no more of it. It is in the past. Tell me, how is life upon Dragonstone treating you?”

She chews her lip, hesitating a moment before she speaks. “Truthfully, it is lonely. I miss King’s Landing. Jace and Luke have one another, and mother is preoccupied with her pregnancy and Joffrey and the babes. Daemon pays me no mind, and while I am grateful for Rhaena’s company, I can tell she misses her sister. I am a poor substitute for Baela.”

He hums with faux concern, allowing a moment of silence to present his next words as thoughtful. “You could never be a poor substitute for anything. And I expect you will soon be away from there anyway. I can imagine you have no end of suitors all vying for your hand.”

The hint of a blush turns her cheeks pink as she casts her gaze downward. “No, not yet. I have overheard Rhaenys talking with my mother. They wish to betroth Baela and Rhaena to Jace and Luke. There are no such plans for me. What about you? Are you to be married?”

“Not yet,” he says softly, meeting her eye as she looks up at him. “I have been waiting for the right woman to capture my interest. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we both find ourselves unattached?”

“What do you mean, uncle?” She asks, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Baela and Jace, Rhaena and Luke,” he shifts his hand across the bed, entwining his fingers with hers. “You and I.”

She gasps softly, though she does not wrench her hand away as he had anticipated. “Is this some sort of trick, Aemond?”

“Not at all,” he reassures her, moving closer. “What better way to unite our family once more?”

“We hardly know each other,” she utters softly.

“And yet you have scarce left my thoughts all these years,” he lies. “Let me kiss you.”

Before she has a chance to respond, he is pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens at first, taken aback by his forwardness, but soon responds, her supple mouth moving against his. He brings his hand up to her cheek, cupping it softly, the skin soft as peach fuzz beneath his calloused fingertips.

She sighs softly as he deepens the gesture, her inexperience showing as her tongue retreats from his as it slips into her mouth. It serves only to stoke the fire that rages within, tightening  his breeches as the sensation of her saliva causes his cock to swell.

Pulling away from her mouth, he moves his hand from her cheek, sinking it into her silky curls, anchoring her in place as he places hot, open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck, making his way down towards her clavicle, relishing the way her head tips back slightly and her eyes flutter closed.

Tugging down the neckline of her bodice, he fights to suppress a groan of desire at the sight of her bared breasts, the hardened peaks ruddy and inviting. She is putting up so little resistance that it emboldens him to press forward, capturing a rosy bud between his lips and suckling as his tongue flicks against it, causing her to arch and mewl.

A whore, just like her mother, he thinks, shifting his attention to the other and repeating the same motion. His blood feels like liquid fire in his veins as her breaths turn to soft pants. One hand massages the breast that he is currently not latched upon, while the other creeps beneath her skirts.

It is only when his fingertips ghost upon the top of her stocking that she suddenly pulls free of him, eyes wide and breaths ragged as she hurriedly readjusts her dress.

“We should not have…forgive me, I…” she stumbles over her words, flustered and looking on the verge of tears again, before hurrying from the room, leaving Aemond alone on the bed.

He growls in frustration, smacking his hand down upon the edge of the mattress. “Ilibītsos,” he mutters angrily. Little slut.

When he returns to his own chambers, he comes harder than he ever has before, such is the force with which he fists his cock, imagining the entire time that his niece is splayed beneath him, sighing softly with pleasure as she had for him earlier that day.

As his pleasure induced haze wears off, a feeling of shame settles over him. He does not quite understand how his infatuation with her has taken hold so quickly, but now that it is, he is unable to shake it. Worse still, when she ran from her bedchamber, what if she had gone straight to her mother and told her of what he had done to her? It would be a disgrace from which he would never recover if his own mother were to be privy to such information.

He hides himself away the next day, embarrassed to face any of his family for fear they will know of his transgressions, until finally he is summoned to the feast that he has been dreading.

Much to his surprise, the entire day has passed without angry confrontation or a tongue lashing from his mother, and as he enters the dining hall there are no looks of shock or disgust to be met with, simply the shy smile of his niece as she looks up at him from her seat between her two brothers.

She has not told anyone, and she does not appear to regret what had transpired between them.

Aemond settles into his seat at the head of the table with a smug sense of pride. The dinner is a tawdry affair, musicians playing tunes he does not care for are stationed in the corner, while endless trays and bowls of food are brought out to them all. 

He listens to his family toast to each other with a sneer, watching with barely concealed anger as Jace invites Helaena to dance. His only reprieve are the shy glances and smiles that his niece directs his way across the table. Perhaps all is not lost.

It is not until a suckling pig is brought out and settled before him that he is no longer able to contain his temper. Seeing Luke smirk at him, a reminder of the pig he had been taunted with in place of a dragon as a child, is too much. Is it not enough that his nephew has taken his eye, but now he continues to mock him too? He will not stand for such an insult.

Abruptly, he slams his first upon the table, halting the music and chatter within the room, as he rises from his chair, raising his wine cup.

“Final tribute,” he announces, eye scanning the room, careful not to include his niece in his speech, lest he foils the plans he has especially for her. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke, Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

The ensuing scuffle passes by in a blur for Aemond, resulting in him pushing Jace to the floor before they are all dismissed to their quarters. He hangs back, out of sight, waiting for Jace and Luke to disappear from sight, before striding after his niece.

She whips around, looking angrily up at him, eyes blazing with fury. “Why would you do that? You’ve ruined everything!”

“Forgive me,” he utters gently, taking her hands in his, “I lost my temper, but you have to know that my anger was never directed at you.”

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Jace and Luke’s betrothals were announced tonight. I was hoping we could announce ours too. Now my mother will never agree to it.”

Pride and satisfaction swell within his chest as he gazes down at her. He raises an eyebrow. “You wish to marry me? I had thought you were refusing my proposal, considering how quick you were to flee from me yesterday.”

“It all happened so fast. I have never been touched in that way before, and I allowed it to frighten me, I am sorry for it. But having had time to think on it, I do want to be your wife.”

He smiles down at her, seeing eye shining malevolently. “Then let the news of our betrothal be the balm that soothes all hurts upon the morrow.”

She smiles happily at him. “Then I shall bid you goodnight, Uncle.”

“So soon? I thought perhaps we might pick up where we left off yesterday.”

She flushes a delicate red. “Would it not be better to wait until we are wed?”

“I will not push you further than you wish to go,” he whispers, before kissing her deeply, walking her backwards into her bedchamber.

He is quick to cover her body with his own as she topples back against the softness of the mattress, kissing her fiercely as his hands push her skirts roughly up and over her hips.

“I thought you did not wish to push me?” She whispers breathlessly, pulling back from his lips.

“I shall not, talus,” he reassures her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking her the bare skin of her thighs, “but that does not mean I will not make you beg for it.” Niece.

Kissing her deeply once more, he shifts down her body, dragging her small clothes down and off of her leg in one fluid movement, before spreading the plushness of her thighs, his single eye drinking in the glistening sight of her cunt spread out before him.

He smiles to himself as he drags the tip of his tongue through her folds, hearing the way her breath hitches, his hands forcefully holding her down, keeping her still, as she attempts to buck her hips. He almost groans at the tart taste of her, his mouth quick to envelope her, alternating between sucking messily at her pearl and laving the flat of his tongue against her.

She writhes, pinned to the bed by her pelvis by his forceful grip, wanton sounds of pleasure escaping her as she clutches the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Lapping greedily at her as she falls apart against his tongue, he almost spends in his breeches taking in the sight of her arched back, tousled hair, ruddy cheeks and trembling thighs. But he is not finished yet.

The moment she settles back against the bed, her body spent and pliant, he begins his assault anew, this time crooking two fingers inside of her, rubbing urgently against the rough patch inside of her as his tongue focuses purposefully on her sensitive nub. The desperate sounds she makes are music to his ears. She is impossibly tight, he wonders how he will ever fit inside, but is all the more determined to find out as he sends her hurtling and crying out once more into the throes of another torturous release.

“Stop, stop!” She whines, attempting to back up the bed away from him, as he attempts to settle his face between her thighs a third time. “I cannot take it anymore.”

“If I am inside of you, it will not feel quite so intense,” he whispers, not moving an inch from where he lays between her legs, his chin shiny and sticky with her arousal.

“We are not yet married, Uncle, we should not,” she protests feebly.

“But we will be,” he insists, “so what does it matter? And I am afraid I have not had my fill of you, talus, so we shall have to continue as we are if you do not wish for me to be inside of you.”

“Gods…please…no…anything, just no more of that, it is too much.”

He smirks at her ruined state, bringing himself up towards her face, his voice dark. “Beg me for it.”

“Please, Aemond, please,” she cries, “put it inside, I cannot stand anymore.”

He grins wolfishly, as his fingers move to the lacings of his trousers, untying them and shucking the material past his hips.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he places the swollen head of his cock against the wetness of her opening, his eye flickering to her face for any signs of hesitation. She still looks utterly wrecked, her expression one of hazy bliss, her eyes glassy. Taking this as silent permission, he presses forward, hissing through his teeth at the resistance he is met with.

She whimpers softly, in clear discomfort, as he continues to push inward slowly, looking between her face, her brow furrowed and lips parted, and where their bodies are joining together.

He feels something give way, before he is fully rooted within her.

Her maidenhead.

Aemond fights the prideful grin that wants to spread itself across his face. His nephew had taken his eye, now in turn he had taken his niece’s virtue.

He stills, waiting for her to adjust, before moving slowly, dragging his hips back before pushing softly forward, repeating the motion. He desperately wants to snap his hips against hers, to make her cry out in pain, to disregard her comfort, but he is not a monster, he reasons. Her innocence soaking his length is payment enough.

Remembering how her body had responded so positively to his affections the previous day, he tugs down her plunging neckline with two fingers, freeing the softness of her breasts, leaning down to press gentle kisses against them, before suckling a nipple into his mouth.

She moans quietly, her body loosening up, becoming less tense beneath his, making it feel more pleasurable for him in turn. He means to be gentle with her, he really does, but feeling her grow wetter around him makes it impossible for him not to speed up his thrusts, driving into her faster, harder, causing her to whine and whimper as he trails his mouth across her chest. So lost in the sensation of her, he barely registers her delicate fingers clutching desperately at his hair and shoulders.

He knows he is done for when she squeezes around him, he knows he ought to pull out, to spill himself across the creamy white skin of her lower belly and thighs, but she is so warm, so wet, so tight around him that he cannot bring himself to leave her. He finds himself chasing his own end inside of her, his hips moving of their own accord, until finally, with a blinding white heat that tingles at the very base of his spine, he groans loudly, pulsating and spending inside of her in hot, powerful spurts.

Allowing himself a moment to settle against her, he basks in the warm afterglow of his peak, before pulling slowly out, disentangling his limbs from hers as his breath comes in shallow pants. He kneels up on the bed, pulling his trousers back over himself and fastening them. He allows himself to drink in the sight of her, her dress and hair in utter disarray, the sticky mess between her legs, her kiss swollen lips and faraway stare. Utter perfection.

It is not until he stands from the bed, smoothing over his clothing and hair with his hands that she finally comes back to reality and pulls herself up to rest upon her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my chambers,” he says coolly, “I have gotten what I wanted.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, worry lacing her tone, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Your bastard brother took my eye. Now I’ve taken the only thing that makes you worth a damn.”

Her voice wobbles, tears rimming her eyes as they widen in realisation, pulling at her dress to cover herself. “You said you would marry me…”

“I lied.”

“Why?! Why me?!”

He shrugs. “You made it easy. You might want to have the maester brew you a tea though, unless the bastard also wants a bastard.”

“I will tell my mother,” she whispers tearfully.

“Go ahead. I will deny it. Who will believe you? If you birth a silver haired babe, there is nothing to suggest that it is not a result of my brother forcing himself upon you, or perhaps our uncle. Your mother was younger than you, I believe, when he first started to show an interest in her. So if I were you, I would have the tea brewed and keep quiet, unless you wish to be branded a whore as well as a bastard.”

“You are a monster!” She spits, shoulders shaking as she sobs.

“Drīves, talus,” he utters, turning to leave her bedchamber. “Ñuha drīva issa.” Justice, niece. I have justice.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

[chheolie]

"when i met jeonghan, i never imagined i would have two other perfect copies of him in my life."

choi seungcheol as father of a little girl in primary school.

d/n = daughter name

you and seungcheol received a notice from your daughter's school asking that at least one of you should come to the teachers' office. normally, you are the one who attends d/n's school meetings, but since seungcheol had a day off, he offered to go.

upon arriving at the school, in front of the teachers' office, he found your daughter sitting on a bench, her head down, swinging her legs. seungcheol approached calmly but worried. he knelt down, held d/n's hands, and asked in a gentle voice, "what happened, dear?" d/n didn't respond, continuing to look at the ground.

soon, the teacher noticed seungcheol's arrival and approached. he stood up to greet her formally.

"mr. choi, sorry to make you come here, but in cases like this, we must follow protocol," the teacher said. "d/n hit a classmate, and we advise that her parents talk to her."

seungcheol was surprised by the news, as his daughter was not one to hit others; on the contrary, she was a sweet and delicate girl. he looked at d/n and felt a pang in his heart seeing her so sad.

"oh... i'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say. "this won't happen again."

the teacher nodded and asked him to sign a notice of awareness, which he did. "shall we go home?" he asked with the same gentleness, picking up the backpack beside her.

she stood up and took her father's hand. the two walked in silence to the car. seungcheol knew she was afraid of being scolded, so he preferred to respect her space.

d/n settled into the back seat. while adjusting her seatbelt, seungcheol said, "don't worry, my princess, appa won't scold you. but i need to understand what happened." he looked into her eyes, conveying reassurance.

the little girl hesitated for a moment but with sad eyes said, "i'll talk when we get home and are with omma."

seungcheol agreed in silence, patted her hair, and closed the door. he then sat in the driver's seat and started the car, glancing at his daughter from time to time in the rearview mirror.

upon arriving home, you were in the living room waiting for them. you stood up seeing the frustration in your husband's eyes and your daughter's head down.

"what happened?" you asked, worried but maintaining a calm tone.

"d/n, can you tell us now?" seungcheol asked.

"a boy spent the entire class pulling my hair," she began with a trembling voice. "so i did what uncle jeonghan told me to do."

"what did uncle jeonghan tell you to do?" seungcheol asked, raising an eyebrow, fearing the answer.

"he said that if any boy at school messed with me, i should kick his butt," she replied.

you controlled yourself as much as possible not to laugh. the situation was funny; you would definitely have done the same, and jeonghan would definitely say something like that.

seungcheol gave you a reproachful look. he knew you wanted to laugh because he knew you perfectly.

"i can't believe i have three of you in my life," cheol murmured, shaking his head.

you placed a hand on seungcheol's shoulder, trying to comfort him but unable to hide a smile.

"we're going to talk to uncle jeonghan about this, and you, little princess, need to understand that violence is not the solution, even if he started it," you said to your daughter, with a firm but loving look.

d/n nodded, understanding she had caused trouble, but feeling supported by her parents.

seungcheol decided to impose a light punishment so d/n could reflect on what she had done: no snacks for a week. after talking to d/n, he called your brother, jeonghan.

"jeonghan, we need to talk about what you told d/n," seungcheol started, serious.

"what did i say?" he asked, confused.

"you told her to kick other kids' butts," seungcheol said sternly.

on the other end of the line, jeonghan laughed.

"ah, so my little princess really did that?" jeonghan responded proudly, still laughing.

"it's not funny," seungcheol scolded. "she needs to learn to handle these situations differently."

"sorry, cheol, i didn't think she would take it so seriously," jeonghan said, still in an amused tone.

after finishing the call, seungcheol finally relaxed on the couch. he saw his daughter approaching with a sweet, bright look; she knew perfectly how to melt her appa's heart.

"appa, i'm sorry for what i did. i promise not to do it again," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

seungcheol took a deep breath, trying to maintain his resolve.

"i know, dear, but you're still punished with no snacks for a week."

d/n, however, didn't give up. she was good at this. she continued to stroke her father's face and looked at him with the most adorable eyes only she could make.

"appa, please... just one snack?" she asked, with the sweetest voice possible.

seungcheol tried to resist, but her affection was irresistible. he sighed again and finally gave in.

"alright, just one," he said, defeated.

you, watching the scene from afar, couldn't contain your laughter. "i knew you wouldn't resist her," you said, laughing.

seungcheol looked at you with an embarrassed smile.

"it's hard to say no to her," he admitted.

d/n smiled, happy to have gotten what she wanted. before taking the snack, she hugged her father again.

"i love you, appa," she said, with a mischievous smile.

seungcheol, still smiling, responded: "i love you too, my little one."

d/n then held out the snack to him, with an expectant look.

"want to share the snack with me, appa? so we can eat together!"

seungcheol hesitated for a moment, but d/n's kindness and affection were irresistible. he accepted the snack with a smile.

"sure, let's share."

you laughed to yourself, watching your mini-you in action.

"when i met jeonghan, i never imagined i would have two other perfect copies of him in my life," seungcheol commented, seeing you laugh at the situation.

[talaok]

What did daddy teach you?

Pairing: Step-dad!Joel Miller x Step-daughter!reader x Step-uncle!Tommy

Summary: Joel has decided you need to have practice with other men. Thankfully Tommy is more than happy to step up for the task.(this is part of a series but can be read alone)

Warnings: oh boy, step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence: dub-con, Perv!Joel, Perv!Tommy, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| oral sex (m receiving), face fuking, he forces you down for a bit too long, handjob, 1 slap, anal play, unprotected p in v sex (one right after the other), spanking, hair pulling, coming on face, creampie, degradation (slut, whore), praising, Tommy's mean and rough, and of course loads of daddy-kink.

This is a dark fic, so please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don't like what you see.

a/n: I should be institutionalized

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3

Mom had gone away on some kind of business trip for this weekend, and normally, that wouldn't have been a reason for you to be particularly happy, but now, with everything that happened in the past month it meant only one thing: Joel could teach you all about making love for two full days.

You were so incredibly excited it was kind of funny.

You had done all your homework already so that nothing could distract you or take time away from your lessons, and immediately once you came home you had changed into the special clothes you only wore for Joel-this time he'd bought you a little tiny dress, not the usual skirt.

It was the kind of white that was basically transparent, especially being you couldn't wear anything underneath it, and it wasn't like it covered much anyway... as always at least an inch of your ass wasn't covered by the fabric, and the top of it was very much more low cut than what you were used to,

But that's the way daddy liked it, and as he was always reminding you, it was healthier for your skin anyway,

Just as you were sitting down on the couch, the doorbell rang.

"Hi babygirl"

"H-hi"

"Hi sugar" Tommy's smirk matched Joel's, the devil lurking behind those eyes- and your heart dropped at the sight.

What is he doing here?

Why is he here?

It was supposed to be just you and Joel- You didn't know he was gonna be here- you were- oh god-

you looked down at your clothes and immediately went to cover up, your arms doing a poor job of shielding your body from their ravenous gaze.

They were eating you with their eyes, and perhaps even enjoying seeing how panicked that made you.

"I-I'm sorry" you gulped, as they stepped inside and closed the door behind them "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be coming Uncle Tommy"

Tommy's grin only widened, his eyes making little to no effort to avoid falling to your cleavage.

"is that the way to greet your uncle now?" he tsked

Joel chuckled beside him, but you were so mortified you didn't even hear him

"I-I'm sorry I just- I- I should c-change"

It seems Joel was gonna let his brother do all the talking

"why's that?" he frowned, taking a slow step towards you "you look real damn good sweets... ain't there no need to change"

"b-but" your eyes shifted to Joel only to find him already watching you

But only daddy can see me dressed like this

But it's against the rules

"c'mere sugar" was all Joel said

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel relieved to be walking away from Tommy and his gaze

"W-what's going on daddy?" you whispered, although Tommy could very well still hear,

You were only a few steps away from him, but his focus was entirely on something else as you offered him a sneak peek of your ass

"I-I thought you'd be teaching me another lesson today"

his hand found your back, pushing you flat against him, and your hands went to his chest.

"daddy" you tried to warn him, but he was already kissing you, his lips soft and rough at the same time against yours.

You heard a soft chuckle coming from your left, and you swore you squeaked in surprise.

What is he doing?

Tommy can see us!

"daddy I-" You stole a glance at his brother and found him palming the front of his jeans "he can see us"

Finally, Joel decided to explain, not wasting an opportunity to laugh softly at your naivety first.

"Uncle Tommy's here for you sweetheart"

You could only frown, looking up at him again

"He's here to help you out"

What does that even mean?

daddy's already helping you

"with what? Y-You-"

He smirked, as his thumb traced your lips

"You see baby" he murmured, "You know me well now, you're used to me, to how I do... things" he explained "but a woman needs to be prepared to make love with men even if she doesn't know how it'll be" he said " when I said men like women with experience, I meant experience with different men too, with different mouths and fingers and cocks, you understand?"

You didn't think you did, not fully, but you still nodded.

"now I'm not saying that what you and I do ain't important, because it's real important for you sugar" his eyes were so honest and kind you were starting to forget all about the shock from moments ago "You still have a lot to learn, and I'm happy to help, but today... today Uncle Tommy was kind enough to agree to help me help you out"

You swallowed thickly, focusing on his strong hands on you and your beating heart

If Joel trusts Uncle Tommy, then I trust him too, you thought

"B-but you're still gonna be here right?"

The way he stroked your cheek said everything you needed to know, but he still spoke it into kind, gentle words, as if you'd made him happy by expressing your need for him to be there.

"of course, I'll be right there the whole time baby girl" he promised, softly caressing your back as he raised his chin to point at his brother "How 'bout you show Uncle Tommy how grateful you are he's helpin' you out now?"

You looked up at Joel, your eyes wide with excitement and nervousness while your hands gripped the shirt covering his chest

"I won't bite" Tommy's amused remark startled you.

He was right beside you now, and you hadn't even noticed him moving.

Some of his curly hair had fallen to his forehead, and his hands were in the front pockets of his jeans, patiently waiting for you to accept the offer, although judging by the big bulge in his crotch, it was taking all his self-restraint

Which it definitely was.

He'd wanted to fuck you since Joel first introduced you that 4th of July of what must have been a year ago.

And when his brother had told him of what he'd managed to convince you to do this past month... he didn't think he'd ever been more jealous in his entire life.

Which is why he decided that a few other words of encouragement wouldn't have hurt.

"c'mon sweetheart" he invited "give your favorite uncle some sugar"

And it would have been a lie to say you didn't want to,

Tommy really was your favorite uncle, and it's not like you were blind... he was one hell of a good-looking man.

So glancing at Joel one last time, you turned toward his brother and took a step until you were right in front of him.

He looked even more beautiful up close.

You gingerly placed your hands on his chest, and he didn't even waste a quarter of a second that his mouth was already devouring yours and his hands were gripping your waist to get you flat against him.

Your eyes were still wide in surprise as he let out a low groan and infiltrated his tongue between your lips to taste all of you,

You let him, you let him explore you entirely before you finally recovered from the shock.

I mean you were used to this kind of hunger from Joel, but you expected Tommy to be a little... tamer.

Once you were back, you started reciprocating, whimpering into his mouth as you too, started to explore his.

"fuck, sugar" he groaned, grinning before he went back to kissing you, grabbing your ass as he did.

You squeaked, completely pliant in his hands as he grabbed at you and kissed you like you were his, like his brother wasn't right behind you, watching the whole scene.

And then you felt it- you felt Joel's hands replace his brother's on your waist, and then you felt his lips graze your neck, his soft breath fanning over your skin as his beard skimmed it, sending shivers all over you.

And then...

There was something so sinful about having two men, two brothers, kiss you at once,

but there was something spectacular about it too.

You moaned, like full-on moaned into Tommy's mouth, your knees buckling as your body turned to jelly.

Both men chuckled softly, their intoxicating mists all around you

"please" you whimpered as they pressed even closer to you, sandwiching you between their muscled bodies and the tents in their jeans.

"What was that?" Joel asked, kissing you right below your left ear as Tommy took care of the right side, making you squirm uncontrollably.

"Daddy-" you only whimpered

"I think she likes this" Tommy grinned, his smile one of a shark

"I think she does too" Joel agreed, both talking like you weren't there, "don't you, baby girl? Tell us how much you're enjoyin' this"

Tommy's hands had left your ass to find your tits now, while Joel's hands were busy stroking up and down your sides.

How could anyone ask for a girl's brain to work in this situation?

"I like it so much" you muttered, your voice a single thread of a whisper.

"yeah?" Tommy taunted "Where are you feeling how much you like it sugar?"

Heat rushed to your face, but Joel was quick to intervene at your pause.

"Don't be rude now sweetheart, answer Uncle Tommy's question" he said, continuing to leave hot kisses on your throat

"I feel it- Uhm- down... there" you whispered, your eyes falling to where your dress "covered" your heat.

"you mean, here in your lil' pussy?" Tommy spoke sultry as his hand found its way underneath your dress and cupped your cunt,

your bare, sopping cunt.

Tommy hissed as his digits connected with your slick folds

"mh-mh" you squeaked, both the men snickering again

"no panties, sugar?" Tommy growled, feeling himself harden with every passing second

"T-they're n-not allowed"

"'f course they aren't" he murmured, ghosting your mouth as he continued exploring your heat, thanking his brother in every language he knew inside his mind.

"poor baby" he cooed, faining pity "She's so wet"

"a-and tingly" you stuttered

"oh sugar" he cooed again "You want Uncle Tommy to take the tingles away?"

"y-yes- please"

but all of a sudden his hand was gone

"don't worry, I'm gonna take care of you later" he cooed, his wet fingers tracing your mouth "First you're gonna have to tell me a few things"

Before you had time to protest or question his words, Joel had already spoken

"let's get on the couch," he said, nodding behind him.

And in no time, the pair was sitting in front of you on the sofa, looking at you like both the front of their jeans weren't showing the perfect press of their hard-ons

"W-what do you want to know Uncle Tommy?"

The smile that split his face was almost feline.

He liked it when you called him that way too much.

"What did daddy teach you?" he asked without missing a beat.

"Oh" you whispered, feeling a wave of anxiety hit you

There was nothing wrong with what you did with daddy, you knew that- but it still felt so... personal.

"H-he's taught me a lot of things" you swallowed thickly, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your dress.

"like what sugar?"

Your gaze turned to Joel, who nodded, urging you to answer without having to breathe a word.

"I...uhm-" you bit your lip, trying to find the words while wondering where to even start "Daddy taught me h-how he can make me feel... good with his - uhm" you gulped, avoiding both the men's eyes "his f-fingers, a-and his mouth- and his... private part"

Tommy snorted like you'd just made a joke,

"His private part?" he mocked, his brows raising in defiance.

"I-" you stuttered looking at him

"we've talked about this sweetheart" Joel spoke now, giving you a pointed look

You had. He had spent a whole afternoon denying you the pleasure you were begging for until you were gonna spit out that word, and you certainly didn't want to go through that torture again.

"His c-cock"

It was such a crude word- you felt so out of place saying it.

Joel hummed in approval, while Tommy's smile spread.

"that's it?"

You gulped, shaking your head slowly.

"he-he's also preparing my other hole"

Tommy's growl was hungry.

"Daddy's trainin' your pretty asshole sweetie?"

"mh-mh" you could only nod

"that'll come real handy today" he grinned, only before you could voice your confusion, Joel had already spoken up

"Not today, she ain't ready"

Tommy'd disappointment lasted only so long

"take off your dress baby girl, show Tommy what he's gettin'"

"yes daddy" you nodded without hesitation, the command second nature at this point.

You got as far as starting to pull the top down when Tommy's voice interrupted

"slow sugar, I wanna enjoy it"

And so you did, you watched between them as you unhurriedly removed inch by inch of the dress from your body, only of course, they weren't looking back at you, their focus was on each piece of skin you uncovered, until your dress fell to the ground, and you were fully bare before them.

Tommy hadn't stopped touching the front of his jeans for one second.

"goddamn" he breathed, taking in every part of you "give me a lil' twirl, sweetie"

you did, and a little smile spread on your lips once you heard him let out a low whistle.

"bend over"

It was so weird having to obey someone else's commands other than Joel's, but you wanted to prove how good you were, so of course, you did: you placed your hands on the coffee table before you and lowered your torso until you could feel air hitting your core.

You couldn't see any of them, but you damn sure could feel their stare.

"look at that" Tommy purred "Such a pretty little pussy- so needy"

It was taking all of him not to stand up and taste you right now, and fuck but the urge only got stronger once Joel offered him an even better view.

"Spread your cheeks babygirl, let Uncle Tommy get a good look"

It took a bit of effort to support yourself without the help of your hands, but you were starting to feel desperate.

"fuck" Tommy growled "The pictures don't do her justice, man"

Your eyes widened at those words.

Joel had shown him the pictures!?

You stood up in a haze, turning around quickly.

"Y-you've seen the p-pictures? B-but-" your nerves were getting the better of your mouth "Daddy you said they were only for y-you-"

"I know what I said" Joel stopped you, his voice calm as ever "I only showed 'em to Tommy to show him your progress, to show him how good you've been this past few weeks" he explained, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks at the flattery "so that he could decide if he wanted to help you or not, get it babygirl?"

"O-oh- ok" you hummed, nodding shily.

Of course there was a reason.

"You looked real good in 'em baby" Tommy smiled "You should consider being a model"

You bit down a smile, embarrassed at his kindness

"Even the special kind" he smirked "I know I would pay good money to see all this" he said, gesturing roughly to your whole body.

Heat rushed to your cheek and neck as you bit your lip.

"Now" Tommy propped his elbows on his thighs "You've told me all about how daddy makes you feel good... but nothin' about how you make him feel good"

"O-Oh, I-" you stuttered, fiddling with your fingers behind your back

"My brother's taught you how to suck cock baby?"

"y-yes" you nodded "he did"

"good" he said, spreading his legs "whatcha waiting for then?"

"O-oh" you stuttered, giving Joel a quick look just to have him encourage you in the task, which is why you quickly moved to get down on your knees before your Uncle- well, step-uncle to be exact.

Your hands were the tiniest bit shaky as you started undoing his zipper, and when you looked up, saw Tommy's big hazel eyes looking down at you with such intensity and lust, you couldn't help but feel even more nervous,

Joel was right, you knew everything about him, about how he did all of this, but you didn't know absolutely anything about Tommy... about what you were going up against.

"she always this slow?" Tommy grumbled, looking over at his brother.

"'m doing my best, trust me, but she's a real slow learner" Joel sighed, joining his brother in his annoyance.

You were mumbling a soft "sorry", when with a grunt, Tommy had freed his cock.

You watched him wide-eyed, before panning over his dick- it was almost the same as Joel if it weren't that Joel's was a little girthier, and that he didn't have so much black curly hair at the base.

"what is it now, I need to feed it to ya too?"

He'd become so impatient... so mean and far from the kind man he was just five minutes ago.

"I'm sorry Uncle Tommy" you murmured, hurriedly starting to lick his tip, first the slit, then the whole head, until finally you took it in your mouth, gently massaging the start of his cock with your tongue.

Tommy only hummed, his hand going to the back of your head

"down" he ordered, so of course, you did.

You fed more of him into your mouth, tasting more and more of him, of his skin, the feel of his veins, of the subtle twitches he produced, until you were almost all the way, and an inevitable gag made its way out of your mouth.

But that was normal, it was very hard to get a cock all the way down your throat on the first try, daddy had taught you that, so you did what you knew worked, you started bobbing your head up and down... getting it all wet made it easier to go down your throat.

"faster, sugar"

You hollowed your cheeks, following orders and following the pace Tommy's hand forced on your head with his hand.

"that's it" he groaned "Now show me what daddy taught you, take it all down that pretty throat"

You wanted to tell him that you weren't quite ready yet, that his cock was a new one after all, but you had no time, he'd already forced you down, and you were already choking on his dick.

Tommy groaned, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up like there was any more space for him inside of you.

"Fuck" he breathed, looking down at you while talking to his brother "it's like she was made to suck cock"

"I know right?" Joel chuckled, admiring you too

"The trainin' really paid off"

"Don't I know it..." Joel grinned "Once a day- that's all it took"

"Once a day- fuck- lucky bastard"

And yes of course, in the meantime, you were coughing and choking and spitting on his cock, tears streaming down your face and staining your sight, so much you couldn't even make up what Tommy looked like anymore.

"you look so pretty like this baby" Tommy cooed, his hips still slowly rocking against you, worsening the situation almost as much as the hand that was keeping you down. "cryin' around your uncle's cock like a good girl" he groaned, talking to his brother again "don't she?"

"Looks almost as good as when she's cryin' around mine," Joel grinned as he freed his cock, taking your hand in his only to wrap it around it

"Can't forget about Daddy can ya?" Tommy chuckled, watching you absentmindedly starting to stroke him.

You were pretty sure you were about to faint at any moment now.

"Such an obedient girl" Tommy cooed, before abruptly releasing you "suck my balls now"

You were couching like a maniac, but he was already forcing your mouth close to his balls

"I-I've nev-"

"I didn't ask you to talk now, did I?"

You gulped, feeling the rest of some tears wet your cheeks as Joel guided your hand up and down his manhood

"N-no"

"What did I ask you to do?"

"t-to suck your balls"

"yeah?" he breathed "Then how come you ain't doing that yet?"

that's all the incentive you needed- you bent down and took one of his heavy balls into your mouth.

"Fuck- wasn't so hard, was it?" he groaned, feeling you lick and suck so very diligently.

He was saltier here, and it was kind of a weird feeling... daddy had never asked you to do this.

"That’s right look at me, baby," he groaned, "look at your uncle while you suck his balls- good girl"

Joel had stopped guiding you now, you were doing it all on your own.

"get back to my dick sugar, I wanna feel it down your throat again"

So you did, his hand going back to its previous position and keeping you down as you cried and gagged.

"'s good-fuck"

"babydoll-" joel's voice was stern.

You'd stopped stroking his cock, and you hand't even realized, you were too lost in the mess Tommy was making of you- so lost in fact you didn't even hear his reprimand.

Which is why the slap that Tommy gave your cheek took you even more by surprise, making you cry out.

"Daddy's cock ain't gonna stoke itself, honey"

You tried to blink the shield of tears covering your eyes, but it was all useless- you started stroking Joel again as Tommy taunted you.

"what, 's too hard to do two things at once for that lil' brain of yours?"

Joel laughed, his hips thrusting up to feel even better

"Shoulda seen her tryin' to do her homework with my cock in her pussy" Joel said, causing his brother to grin

"'s just what dick does to dumb lil' sluts" Tommy shook his head, admiring you still choking on his manhood "shuts their brain right off"

"Ain't that right..." Joel hummed knowingly.

They were talking like you weren't even there... although truth be told, you weren't actually able to comprehend most of it- your brain had turned into a fuzzy blob.

Tommy took decisions very quickly, you’d gathered that by now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t left dumbfounded all the same.

“As much as I like your mouth- it’s time i feel that pussy around my cock baby”

And just like that, he’d let you go- giving you a moment to slide his manhood out your mouth, and wipe the spit and tears off your face.

It was only a minute later, when you were done cleaning up, that you realized Joel’s cock was still in your hand.

“I-“ you breathed, shy underneath the men’s gazes “Do you want my mouth too daddy?”

He smiled proudly at you

“‘S alright- today’s about Uncle Tommy”

You nodded, slowly removing your hand and positioning it on your thighs, together with your right one.

You kneeled there, sitting on your heels, waiting for an order.

But you didn't need to wait long.

"You wanna fuck her here?"

Joel sounded as if he was talking about work

"Nah, wanna fuck her in her bed"

While Tommy sounded like he was talking about a hunt.

"you heard him doll" said Joel "lead the way"

It was such a strange feeling walking ahead of them, completely naked, completely wet, as you made your way to your room- and yet it was also thrilling.

Tommy was smirking as he looked around your room- it was exactly as he'd pictured it.

You were looking at him, at them, biting your lip nervously as Tommy rounded the space, while Joel decided to sit on the armchair in the corner next to the bed.

You were looking at Joel to try and grasp what you were supposed to be doing, what he wanted you to do, but he didn't let anything transpire.

Until finally, Tommy turned to you and walked right before you.

Your face was still damp when he grabbed it, squeezing your cheeks.

"You know what's gonna happen now sugar?"

"mh-mh" you nodded

He was gonna make love to you, you thought, but he was already wording it differently

"I'm gonna fuck you" he murmured, his mouth ghosting yours "and you're gonna be real good for me alright?"

"y-yes"

"yeah?" he taunted, his grip tightening

"Y-yes Uncle Tommy"

he let out a satisfied grunt as he let you go, leaving you to stand before him as he stripped of his clothes.

You felt your mouth water at the sight of him naked before you, and the feeling between your legs got much much worse.

his cock was throbbing against his stomach, still glistening from your mouth.

"ya like what you see honey?" he teased you, enjoying the blatant need in your eyes.

"I- yes" you murmured shily.

"bet you do- just can't wait to get stuffed can ya?" He smirked, watching the embarrassment creep up your face "Ain't nothin' wrong with it, 's normal for a lil' slut like you"

You gulped, watching him wide-eyed.

Daddy had called you that before, but it always confused you.

"s-slut?"

"well yeah baby" he cooed, his hands on your hips "you just took care of two cock at the same time, and now you're gonna get fucked back to back by the same two cocks" he shrugged, his lips right before yours "if that ain't what a slut does, I dunno what is"

"O-Oh"

"'s alright" he promised, his hands on your ass now "All that matters now 's that you got your daddy and me to take care of all your slutty needs"

You could only nod before he took a step back

"Now get on the bed" he spoke "face down, ass up"

You frowned then,

That's really not what you were used to doing, you liked eye contact, you liked kisses... you didn't want to be "face down, ass up"

"But Uncle Tommy- I- what if- I- want to look at you?"

he still seemed sweet as he looked at you, as he cooed "Oh baby", but then he'd grabbed your hair, pulling your head down, making you look at him.

"I see daddy hasn't taught you how it works yet" he growled "You're a slut, sweetheart- all you're good for is spreadin' your legs and followin' orders"

"You're not in charge here. If I tell you to get on all fours, you get on all fours- if I tell you to shut up and take it, you shut up and take it"

His grasp was strong, and your eyes were starting to water again, but all you could do was look at him as he spat those words at you.

"we clear?"

You nodded as much as you could given the situation

"say it"

"I-I got it"

He tugged at your hair as he growled in your face

"who's in charge?"

"You are"

And just like that, he'd let you go.

"face down, ass up" he repeated, and this time, you scurried towards the bed and complied.

You didn't dare look back, but you could feel Joel's stare right on your core, and hear Tommy's steps towards you.

"Jesus Christ"

Tommy had passed two of his digits through your folds, finding them completely soaked

"she always this fuckin' wet?" he asked his brother behind him

"You got no idea" he smirked "She leaves a stain on my pants every day she's so needy"

You'd be embarrassed by Joel's words if it weren't for Tommy's fingers plunging into you

"oh!" you moaned, your hands grabbing the sheets.

Finally

He was scissoring and curling his fingers, watching you convulse beneath him, pushing your ass back for more.

Your brain was already starting to get fuzzier when he pulled them out, forcing a whine out of your mouth.

Tommy only chuckled before popping his fingers into his mouth.

"she's sweet alright"

"yeah she is" Joel breathed, wishing he could be eating you out right then, but he'd promised his brother...

You were breathing ruggedly, peeking behind you in time to see your uncle smirk before grabbing his cock and sliding it between your folds.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan

"you want my cock baby?" he teased you, his tip gliding over your clit "You want my cock inside this sweet lil pussy?"

"y-yes" you whimpered

"beg for it"

You didn't need to be told twice, your pussy was fluttering by how much you needed it.

"please" you cried "please Uncle Tommy I- I need it"

"what do you need?"

"Your cock- I need it inside of me please"

And just then when you thought the torture was finally over, when he fisted the hair at the back of your head and positioned his cock at your entrance... he'd played you once again.

"'s alright baby, I got you" he murmured, sliding into you "there- it's inside now"

And he was- but only his tip.

Tears were in your eyes again. You were so fucking desperate.

"n-no please" you begged "more"

"more?" he mocked "this ain't enough? You want my whole cock?"

You tried to move your ass back to get more of him, but one of his hands was keeping you in place.

"Please!" you begged, holding back tears "I-I- please- need it"

A snicker rumbled behind you, and the hold on your hair tightened.

"what are you?"

You knew what you had to say, and you didn't even hesitate a second.

"I'm a slut"

A soft hum of satisfaction

"a lil' louder baby, let daddy hear too"

"I'm a slut daddy, I-I'm a slut"

Even if you couldn't see him, you could hear the smile on his face as Joel cooed "I know baby, I know you are"

But then it all stopped mattering, everything stopped existing because Tommy had thrust his cock into you, and all you could do was hide your face in the sheets as strangled mewls spilled from your lips.

"fuck- 's tight" Tommy groaned as he bottomed out, his dick easily sliding into you because of all the slickness, but stretching you out nonetheless

"told ya" Joel chirped in, making his brother grin before he referred to you again

"this enough for you, this what you wanted baby?"

"y-yes"

"yeah? 's good- now be a good slut and take everything I give you"

And that was all the warning he gave you, before he retracted his hips, and started fucking you like a man possessed.

The sound of his balls slapping against your skin, the squelch of your juices mixing with his, and your muffled cries together with his sick groans were the perfect picture of the most violent attempt at sex you'd ever seen.

He was splitting you open, and from this position, everything felt amplified ten times over, you could feel his cock even in your throat.

"oh my g-god" you were crying, actual tears and drool staining the sheets.

"I know baby, I know issa lot" he growled, one hand on your head and one on your hips "But this 's what you wanted- this is what a slut like you needs"

And then he was forcing your head even more down on the bed, somehow picking up the pace, and making you forget all about your name and what you were even thinking about.

"that's right, like that- take it" he grunted "Take it all in this tight fukin' pussy"

The slap on your ass came out of nowhere, and for some reason was followed by your moan, and your back arching, as if you were begging for more.

Your mind wasn't in control anymore, it was just your body, only your needs driving you.

Which is why when he did it again, and then again, and then again, until your ass was red and aching and your tears had formed a pool on the bed, your walls squeezed around him impossibly tight, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"Good little whore" he was grinning in the meantime "scream for your uncle baby- like that baby- now stay still-"

It didn't even come to mind to ask why, your brain was too murky, and his cock was still splitting you in half- the only thing you could do was gasp when his wet thumb probed at your asshole.

"Shhh" he shushed you, still forcing your head down "just take it"

And so you did, Daddy had trained you for this kind of stuff, so it wasn't that bad, it was just very unexpected

"she's fucking obedient when she wants huh?" he was talking to Joel again, who was palming his cock through his jeans.

"she's a real good girl when she's fucked out"

"yeah she is"

He was fingering your ass with his thumb as he fucked you, and your eyes were closed as you moaned like a madwoman into the thick air.

It felt so fucking good- it felt so fuckin-

"Oh god-"

he was going faster again, and his finger was deeper now in your ass and it felt so good now that it was... it was too much-

"T-tommy" you tried to speak, but your own moans interrupted you

"sush baby- or Imma have to tell daddy to put that mouth of yours to good use"

Fuck but that image made you tighten even more, and the chuckle leaving his lips meant he definitely noticed

"found yourself a real whore brother"

You were too overwhelmed by everything you were feeling, by your stomach squeezing as Tommy's cock hit that good spot inside you, by the foreign feeling of his thumb in your ass.

"d-daddy!" you cried, begging him for help.

Only Tommy had to come in and crush your hopes immediately.

"daddy ain't gonna help you sweetie" he cooed, your eyes on the back of your head "You just gotta take what I give you, and come on my cock like a good girl"

"can you do that f'me?" he spoke, "can you come around your favorite uncle's cock?"

And there was nothing you could do- it was inevitable

"yes" you whimpered

"I can feel it baby, c'mon " he urged, his thrust even deeper now "give it to me- give it to me like a good slut"

And just like that- your vision went white as a tsunami of sick, twisted pleasure coursed through your body, leaving you out of breath and barely awake as it died down, as you finally came back to earth to realize Tommy had been speaking you for some time.

"this pussy's beggin' me to come inside brother" Tommy was groaning, and you must have been out of it for a while because Joel was now next to his brother, standing on the side of the bed

"Tell daddy how much you want my come inside ya sweetie"

both men were looking at you with pure, glistening lust in their eyes

"I-inside" you finally whimpered

"not inside darlin'" Joel shook his head,

"b-but daddy- I- I wanna be full of him"

Tommy had a really hard time not coming right there after that.

"Yeah man, c'mon" Tommy grinned, his thumb now out of you and both his hands stroking your ass "you heard your babygirl- she wants it real bad"

Joel only needed to shoot him a glance to make him shut up

"Ass, face, or tits," he told him, and although Tommy rolled his eyes, he still chose

"y'know it's face"

Before you knew it you were kneeling on the floor and Tommy was jerking off right before you.

Your mouth was open, your tongue was out, but that didn't matter much... Uncle Tommy's aim wasn't very good.

He came with a loud groan, looking down at you and the masterpiece he was painting on your face the whole time.

"You look real fuckin' pretty like this" he grinned, his voice slightly out of breath as he grabbed your chin to inspect you better.

What he didn't expect was what you did next... Daddy had taught you manners after all.

He watched you as you started collecting his come with your index finger, and then he watched you pop it into your mouth, liking his spunk from it like it was the tastiest whipped cream.

You did it until your whole face was clean, and he couldn't stop fucking smirking.

"what do we say?" You heard Joel speak from beside you

"thank you, Uncle Tommy"

He couldn't help but reciprocate your smile "Anytime baby"

Joel didn't even wait a second before he was helping you up and onto the bed again.

You sat there as Tommy replaced his brother's spot on the armchair, while Joel took off his clothes-

Yes you were spent by all that Tommy had done to you, but you'd be lying if you said your hole didn't flutter around nothing every time you saw your step-dad naked.

"lay down babygirl"

You did, and not even a second later, Joel had pushed his cock inside of you, groaning lowly as he worked himself in to the hilt.

"daddy" you gasped, his dick stretching you out as always.

"I know darlin', I know" he cooed, remaining buried inside you as he pushed you up on the bed and then crawled on top of you "such good lil' girl, takin' it so well f'me sugar"

His words melted you as always, and then when he leaned down and crashed your lips in his... you became a doll at his mercy.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arm around his neck, keeping him impossibly close.

He smiled as he leaned away

"'m not going anywhere babydoll" he smirked, his soft mouth on the shell of your ear "not until you come for me" he murmured, sending a shiver down your spine "not until I've filled this pussy all the way up"

You moaned at his words, and he smiled as he started moving, slowly picking up his pace, until he too, just like his brother, was slamming into you at a brutal pace.

You were crying out, desperately grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck, while he was kissing your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses wherever he could.

It was then your gaze somehow settled on Tommy, on your step-uncle, sitting in the corner before you, and on his insatiable eyes fixated on you.

He smirked when he caught you.

"daddy feels good baby?"

"y-yes" you moaned

"not better than me right?"

"shut up Tommy" Joel grumbled

You wanted to smile but Joel was pounding you so hard that a whine left your throat instead

"'s alright, daddy can take it, can't ya Joel?" Tommy chuckled "I can tell you miss me already baby" he cooed "miss my cock, my thumb in that pretty ass..."

Joel grunted as he picked up his pace, leaving you breathless and all but able to answer Tommy.

"Do you, doll?"

It was Joel murmuring now, a smirk on his lips as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head, as he bashed in the feeling of having taken all common sense out of you once again.

"n-no daddy" you promised "y-you feel- so-"

But you couldn't finish the sentence, another moan had interrupted you.

"what?" he taunted, both brothers grinning at your state.

"perfect" you mumbled, eyes closing and belly tightening "s-so perfect"

"that's right" Joel smirked proudly "eyes on me darlin'"

It took a lot of effort, but you managed.

"You gonna come babydoll?"

"yes" you cried "yes daddy- please"

"'s alright, come for me darlin'"

You didn't need to be told twice- you continued looking at him as pleasure took over your body, as fireworks went off and your legs trembled desperately.

You came calling for him, and once you came back to earth, his lips were on yours, drowning the whimpers his cock was still spilling from your mouth.

"You want daddy's come, sugar?"

"yes" you begged, biting your lip as his pace got more and more irregular "Please daddy- need it deep inside me"

"All of it?"

"all of it daddy- want it all- please" you cried "fill me up"

And so he did, your moans becoming one as he shot rope after rope of his come inside of you.

He kissed you again when he was done, still buried inside you to avoid it spilling out right away- but you were in another universe, your eyes were closed and your limbs powerless.

Joel smiled then, finally sliding out of you and standing up.

You wanted to curl yourself up in a sleeping position but his hands stopped you, forcing your legs open for him and his brother to admire his work.

Tommy could only groan a low "fuck" as he took his place beside Joel.

"ain't she pretty?"

"fuckin' beautiful" Tommy murmured, mesmerized by the sight before him.

There you were, laid before him, his step-niece, completely fucked out.

"we wore her out too much" Joel's brother shook his head, his fingers caressing your thighs "I was ready for round two"

Joel's lips stretched into a soft smirk

"give her ten minutes"

"she'll fall asleep in ten minutes"

Joel's smile only widened as he shook his head

"don't worry- she's good at takin' cock even in her sleep"

[yovrnewromantic]

WHAT ONCE WAS

Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

At dinner with Jacaerys, your newly betrothed, the pair of you recount memories from your childhood. wc: 1.2k fluffy asf 💌

“We used to be friends once. Do you remember that?”

This wasn’t the conversation you were expecting to have nor wanted to have at the current moment. Sat with your newly betrothed and his family at the dinner table, you watched while your mother and father chugged down wine like it was their last night alive. From your seat, you could see your brothers’ dancing with women that were not their wives, lustful looks in each of their eyes.

You supposed your betroval could’ve been worse, a hundred times over. You could’ve been wed to someone like your brothers, promiscuous and irresponsible, or like your betrothed’s uncles, cold and cruel beyond belief.

No, Jacaerys was a proper gentleman which is why you almost felt bad sipping your wine and lying through your teeth. “Not particularly.”

Everything had changed since then, there was no point in admitting that your heart swelled at the memories of when you were young, harboring a crush on a boy you thought would never be yours. It was better to forget. To diminish the hope that he was still the lovely boy he once was.

“No?” Jacaerys repeated as if he didn’t believe you, leaning forward to rest his head in his palm. In the corner of your eye, you could see him looking at you underneath his eye lashes, his lips twitching as he fights a teasing smile. “Nothing at all?”

Sighing softly, you kept your eyes staring ahead, refusing to give him the even slightest affirmation to his question, yet he continued. His head fell off his hand as he spoke, tilting to meet his shoulder as he looked at you with endearment. “Do you remember when we played tag around the castle and you fell and scraped your knees?”

It’s like you can see it from an outsider’s perspective as he describes it, the edges of your mind blurred by nostalgia.

The sound of your laughter echoing the castle walls, the quick thumps of your feet padding the concrete floor, hands bracing against each corner to boost your momentum.

Sparing a glance behind you, you can visualize the bounces of his brown curls, baring his teeth with joy as his hands reach to grab you, but you push forward, the last of your energy— which you shouldn’t have done because it sent you tripping, missing the very last step and landing on your knees.

But you didn’t cry because of your scraped knees, even though you can remember the burn of your skin, the blood dripping down your shins as Jacaerys brought you to your mother. You sobbed into Jacaerys’ shoulder as the maidens rubbed ointments onto your cuts, your hands fumbling to grasp the mud covered edges of your dress so it wouldn’t interfere with their practice.

Your betrothed finishes your thought for you. “You started crying because you ruined your favorite dress. Although, I thought it still looked pretty.”

Jacaerys’ eyebrows jump, as if he was surprised when you turned to him. He must’ve been close to a heart attack when he saw a small smile on your lips. Nodding as you talked, you continued the memory, “It had grass stains from when we played outside. By the lake.”

He doesn’t chastise you for lying earlier, instead he just smirks at the memory. “You pushed me in.”

You suck in a small breath as you turn your body to him fully, your eyes wide— defenses ready on your tongue. He kept trying to get you to sit with him, to kick your legs in the water and reap the benefits of the cold water of the hot day. It was your brothers who waved you in, mischief dripping from the tongues as they pushed you back toward your friend. You braced your hands on his shoulders and just shoved.

Right after the deed had been done, you were overwhelmed with guilt, your brothers’ cackles ringing in your ears as your lips trembled watching Jace gasp for air.

“My brothers coerced me to! I would’ve never done that myself.”

Jacaerys shook his head, knees lightly knocking into yours as moved to match your position. He glared playfully. “You were a little devil.”

He forgave you immediately though. Pulling you into a hug, soaking your clothes, but you hadn’t mind. You were just happy he wasn’t mad at you.

Snorting at his accusation, eyes finding your dancing brothers in the crowd once more. They never did change. Still wild, crazy, and deceitful as the day they popped out your mother’s womb. The poor woman. You hope your children won’t turn out like your brothers. You hope Jacaerys hasn’t changed. In the midst of your reverie, you don’t notice how the man next to observes you. How his eyes memorize the colors in your eyes, the slope of your nose, the dip of your cupids bow. He hopes this all will become a memory one day— the quick shift between your awkwardness to your full encompassing love.

He knows he’ll love you, just as he had when you were children.

It’s Jacaerys’ voice that drawls you back from your thoughts, your eyes turned to his, but he’s focused on picking at the table cloth. “I remember, last time I saw you, I cried because I had to leave.”

Without meaning to, your smile deepens, something stirring in the pit of your stomach. Teasing, you whisper, “You cried?”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes, running a hand through his curls as he finally makes eye contact with you. “I fancied you. Of course, I got teary eyed when I was forced away.”

For a beat, it’s like your heart stopped, overwhelmed by the weight of the words he threw so nonchalantly. Like it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t make your stomach flutter and a heat to your cheeks. You’re in complete disbelief. “You fancied me?”

“Don’t rub it in,” he scoffed.

“No, it’s just…” I fancied you too.

The words are left unspoken, but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling. Throwing your head back in laughter, you sound close to ugly, but you’re happy. You haven’t been happy in a while.

“There’s the smile,” he says it like he missed it. In all fairness, he does. When he flew on his dragon and hadn’t been welcome by the familiar grin in your lips, a bit of his heart shattered in his chest. He was glad he got you smiling at him again because when he was seven years of age, that was all he wanted to do. It’s all he wants to do. For the rest of his life. “I can remember that.”

“Jacaerys—.”

“You used to call me Jace,” he says, growing the courage to connect your hands together, holding both of them just as he planned since he was child. “I liked it when you said it.”

“Would you like it if I called you Jace?”

He smiled sweetly. “Very much so.”

There’s no other way to describe it other than that it feels right; the two of you together again, smiling at each other like idiots while you reminisce, holding each other’s hands like you were already wed. Like this had been planned since the beginning.

Jace’s thumb caresses your ring finger— where his wedding ring would on the morrow.

Maybe, you two can make things the way they once were. Together. Happy. And in love.

i’ll edit and proof read later 💀 if this is shit i apologize

jacaerys velaryon, i will love you forever 💌

[yeetus-feetus]

Today my mother made me go to the beach. And while I was there I let myself enjoy the water and sand between my toes.

After a little while I felt like crying.

I felt like crying because remembered the videos I had seen of Palestinian children playing in the water of their beaches, of parents chasing children around while they laughed, of people enjoying the water and feeling the sand between their toes.

Then I thought about how these people don't get to enjoy their beaches anymore. Because Israel won't let them, because Israel is bombing the families who used to play in the sand.

When we got in the car my mum rolled all the windows down, said something about the fresh air. And as we drove I felt the cool wind against my face, in my hair.

And I wanted to cry.

Because the people in Gaza don't get to just enjoy the fresh air. Because all they're breathing in is debris from destroyed buildings and white phosphorus, and the smell of the dead.

I looked out my window and saw my old school as we passed. And I felt guilty, because I dropped out. But their are children in Palestine who are crying and begging to go back to school and they can't.

The children in Gaza can't go back to school because Israel has destroyed and bombed them.

And I think about the displaced people taking refuge in those very schools while Israel attacked them. I think about how unfair and cruel that is.

And then I see the trees. My favourite trees, Gum trees that are native to my land. And I think about how the native trees in Gaza are being destroyed and bulldozed, very important trees that mean a lot to the Palestinian people. And those trees are being taken away by Israel.

Then there are houses, homes and people going about their day. I watch them from my car window and I want to cry still. Because the people in Gaza have no homes, they don't get to go about their day.

I think about the displaced people in Gaza, who are lucky to have a tent to sleep in. Because Israel has bombed their homes, rained white phosphorus above their homes, bulldozed over their homes, forced the Palestinian people to flee from their homes.

I'm barely holding in my tears, because I'm in the car on the way to my own home and the people in Gaza don't get to do that.

We pass the shops, and my throat starts to close up because there's people buying ice cream and groceries for their families. And the people in Gaza are being starved by Israel.

The people in Gaza don't get to have ice cream, they can't do their grocery shopping. They don't even have enough food for their own children because Israel refuses to let any aid trucks in, because they control all the borders and entries into Gaza.

We pass by a chemist in particular and I think about all the children in Gaza not being able to receive medical care. Because the hospitals are being attacked by Israel. Because no medical aid can get in. Because they have doctors being killed.

And then we pass by the park. The park is empty. And I think about the empty parks in Gaza. Because there are no children to play on the swings, no children to run and laugh. Because the children are crying instead. The children have no legs to play because they've been bombed. They can't laugh because white phosphorus has burned through their faces. They can't do anything because they are frozen in fear.

Theses children who should be filling up empty parks are holding their baby siblings, trying to keep them alive because their parents, aunt's and uncles, have all been slaughtered by the IDF. These children who should be laughing are screaming out for help because members of the IDF are raping them.

These children who should be having fun at the park are prisoners of Israel for throwing rocks at tanks like the boy David who threw a rock at the giant Goliath to save his people. And these children are being tortured in these prisons because they were hopeful and brave.

These children who should be with their families at the park are dying. Are dead. A lying beneath the ruble. Are cold and limp with no air in their lungs. These children are in pieces scattered across the blood drenched ground.

They should have been at the park today.

I can hear a man talking on the radio, and he's talking about unimportant nonsense things and I feel angry. I feel frustrated. Because why is no one else talking about this!? Why is no one talking about what's happening to these people!??

We pass by the fresh water creak right before my house and I want to scream! Because I know there's no fresh water in Gaza. I know there are Palestinians dying of dehydration and yet there is fresh, drinkable water running right there! But the water in Palestine has been polluted by blood and disease, and the seawater Israel has flooded their water supply with.

And when I get to my bed I finally scream and cry and punch my mattress to get all my emotions out.

Now I'm numb and writing this so that someone will see it, hoping that someone will understand, hoping that someone will fight even harder for the people of Palestine.

I'm hoping that they can enjoy their beaches again. I hope that's sometime soon.

[sinning-23]

Hot Tatted Uncles (Uncle!SukunaAu X Teacher!Reader)

I’ve fallen victim to the unkuna/uncle sukuna au so HAVE THIS

PART 2 UP NOW!!! <------- Click the link here!

_____________________________________________________

“My uncle be fighting people.” Yuji hums, your gaze immediately shooting to the toddler.

“O-Oh really?” You gulp, knowing kids say the wildest things but after you’re first encounter with the pink-hair boy's uncle, you would put it past him.

“Yeah, he. He told me uh-um-.” The boy sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, to which you sigh and directed him to the sink as he continues his story

“Uh- he told me that he beat up this guy and he- uh he won and that the guy lost.”

You fight the urge to laugh, his sentence seeming so long and incomplete. Typical toddler.

“Well we don’t fight our friends right Yuji? You be good and keep your hands to yourself?” You encourage, ruffling the boy's hair as he smiles, one of the fronts missing.

“Yeah! We use nice hands.” Yuji repeats, leaving you with your thoughts as he grabs ahold of a car to play with.

Why would you tell a 2-year-old you beat someone up?! You sigh, scrolling through your contacts, making a note to speak with his father, even though the boy hadn't done anything, it's still concerning that he might feel as if that’s okay since his uncle does it.

It’s quiet for a moment, your other three students Nobara, Megumi, and Mahito playing together….and then it happens.

WHAM!

A still silence falls over the room and soon a roar of cries as Mahito holds the top of his head. In all honestly the child was a problem so whatever he did to get smacked over the head with a wooden block was probably warranted. But the bigger problem was that you biggest fear had come to fruition. Yuji, had hit and essentially started to fight with another child, as Mahito had hit him back. You’d definitely need to speak to his father now.

The rest of the children had gone home now, Yuji being your last child as you closed your classroom down. Your class usually ended around 6:00 and it was pushing 6:15 now. Just as you were about to make your courtesy call, the door opened with the jingle of keys and a throaty chuckle.

"Look at you, giving your teacher a hard time?" The tatted male asks, scooping up a giggling Yuji with a toothy grin. You, however, were far from pleased, giving a tight-lipped smile as he just barely glances your way.

"Hi, I'm Miss Y/n, Yuji's teacher." You announce, taking a tissue to wipe Yuji's nose one last time before he left.

"Uh huh," He responds, grimacing as you wipe the snot away.

"So, Yuji had a pretty good day today, but I did have to have a chat with him about..fighting and hitting other friends." You explain, feeling smaller under his sharp gaze. His face is tatted too, the thick dark lines running along his nose, cheeks, and jawline.

"You in here beatin people up?" He states sharply at the boy who only nods with a smile.

"Yeah! Like how you said you beat everyone up!" Yuji admits ith joy and his Uncle's face falls.

"Yes so, before Yuji hit the other child he told me that you...fight people and I told him that we use our nice hands. But right after that, he had-" "Hit another kid. The parents mad?" He asks, a bit troubled now, most likely mentally cursing himself for kinda causing this whole debacle. \

"W-well I can't really disclose that. The point is, please just chat with him and hopefully, he can learn that's not okay." You explain, feeling a bit more relieved since the convo went smoother than usual. And part of you was a little... flustered with how seriously he was looking at you. You couldn't help but look at his tatted and flexed arm as he moved Yuji to sit on his shoulders.

"Yeah, well, here have my number so if anything else happens and I'm picking up you can just let me know." He hums, pulling his phone skillfully from his sweatpants pocket and

Holy shit...

You think to yourself, seeing the print just faintly. You swallow, taking the divide and inputting yoi contact.

The pair leaves, Your heart trobbbing as you take a breath. Being any type of romantically involved with your students' parents was highly unprofessional...but the rules never said anything about hot tattooed uncles.

-in the car-

Sukuna buckled Yuji into his seat, passing the child a happy meal he'd picked up as payment for a job well done.

"Nice work. How bout next time you mention your Uncles got no girlfriend either." He laughs, backing out of the parking space with your number and a grin.

Authors Note; Ok yes i wrote this on a whim I swear I'm trying to finish the stuff I had listed on my update post lmao

Also might make a part 2 for this cause I freaking love this au

[humanityinahandbag]

Steddie Halloween

Halloween after 'Spring Break' must be such a hard time for Steve. This is the guy that regularly hosted costume parties at his house during his King Steve era. And at some point probably hosted more laid back ones for the kids and Robin.

But since the Russian bunker he just... can't.

He has regular and more frequent night terrors of torture that had him and Robin shivering and holding onto one another like buoys. He's been dragged down into the depths of lakes by unseen monsters that left all kinds of scars. He gets migraines from moving too quickly or seeing strobing lights.

He carried Eddie's body out of the upside down, hands slippery in blood. He did CPR and felt Eddie's ribs crack under his hands. He looked at Eddie handcuffed to a hospital bed while doctors said we just don't know yet. Had to watch his Uncle, his father, sit by Eddie every day, rarely leaving his side, staring at his chest like he was grateful for each breath his boy took.

So. He's not really able to do Halloween anymore. And that's hard for him.

But whatever. He'll survive. He's fine to sit on the sidelines if it means the others will have a good time.

At this point, Steve was already coming to terms with his bisexuality. He'd already done a speed run through the Coming Out stages and walked out the other side with the eerie confidence only Steve Harrington could muster. This is a dude who has decided that he's going to flirt with Eddie until the other realizes and gets with the program. He knows Eddie likes him. He's a pro at dating and relationships and crushes. He just needs Eddie to figure out that the not so subtle hints mean something.

And then came Halloween.

He'd already told Eddie during a movie night about how much he missed the spooky season.

(And yes, he did discuss it while openly combing Eddie's hair back from his face and absolutely relishing in the way the other boy was turning all kinds of pink under the glow of the TV. Yes, Eddie was taking his time to catch up but no one said Steve couldn't have fun while he waited).

"Aw man. That sucks." Eddie barely managed to boot up his brain again to answer.

"It's fine," Steve would say, even though it wasn't.

And then, on October 31st, Steve wakes up to a maze in his backyard.

It's not a very good maze. It's mostly just tipped over pallets taken from behind Melvalds as the walls and tarps as the ceiling to block out some of the light. But it's so clearly meant to be some kind of a haunted hallway.

Steve is in boxers and a ratty Hawkins Swim Team t-shirt. He didn't take time to put on shoes, so he's walking across the cold concrete and the dewy grass in tube socks.

There's a sign posted on a piece of cardboard at the entrance.

ENTER IF YOU DARE

He stands there, shifting from foot to foot in his rapidly dampening socks, not quite sure what to do but intrigued nonetheless.

There's whispering and hushed voices from inside. And then Dustin is stomping out from around one of the pallet corners dressed in a suit that's clearly too small for him.

"Come on, dude. Can't you read? You're supposed to enter."

"It says enter if I dare."

"Yeah. So enter."

"What if I don't dare?"

Dustin rolls his eyes hard enough to make them stick, and honestly this kid and his tone.

"Can you just-" He groans. "Look. Eddie set this thing up and he and Robin dragged us all out of our beds at ass o'clock in the morning to put on these stupid haunted house costumes and wait around for you to wake up. So can you please just dare?"

Steve blinks. He looks at Dustin's suit. The tie is a little crooked and he's wearing bright yellow socks with his dress shoes. "I thought haunted house costumes were supposed to be... yunno... scary?"

"Yeah," said Dustin, gesturing to himself. "I'm the corporate grind."

And Steve can't do anything but laugh.

He goes through the little haunted maze. El was apparently having the time of her life and waves at him from a dead end, decked out a dress she made out of bits of stapled paper. "I am very frightening," she assured Steve. "I am overdue bills."

"That is very frightening," Steve agreed and ruffled her hair before going down another short hallway.

No one jumps out. There are no bright lights. Will had drawn decorations that they'd taped to the inside of the recycled plywood warning him of imposter syndrome and sleeping past your alarm and girls. Lucas at least put in a little more effort as a basketball player, though he had his knee wrapped in a bandage they must have picked up at the pharmacy and explained to Steve that the true horrors were being benched all season.

Max had refused to put on a costume and declared that she was scary all on her own.

Even Robin was there, waving at him. There was a cooler besides her. "This is the checkpoint," she said. "All the best haunted houses have checkpoints."

Apparently, the checkpoint included his migraine medication that he'd coincidentally forgotten to take that morning and a takeaway cup of lukewarm coffee.

"I tried to keep it warm!" She flapped her hands, waving them at the cardboard cup. "I literally held it between my knees and everything. But I had to help Eddie out last night to start building and-" she paused. "Shit. I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Forget I said that! Just- drink your coffee! Or don't! Is it warm enough? It's probably not. Fuck."

Steve is always shocked at how much more he loves Robin every day.

"It's good," Steve assured her, taking a sip. "Much scarier this way. Nothing scarier than a cold cup of coffee."

When he finally does make it to the end of the maze, Eddie is right there waiting. He's dressed as a vampire, with the stupid fake teeth and blood drawn down his chin with lipstick.

"You escaped the haunted maze!" Eddie put on a show of acting shocked, horrified, angry. His speech comes out garbled from behind the plastic teeth so it sounded more like you ethcaped the ha'ted mathe! It was endearing. Charming. Perfect. "My evil plan is foiled!"

Steve smiled. He looked back at the tarp and plywood and cardboard and duct tape. "You put this all together?" He turned back. "You built me a haunted house?"

Eddie's posturing paused. Despite how much he tried, there was little Eddie could do to hide the way he turned almost shy. He took out the teeth. "Uh. Yeah. But it's no big deal."

"It's kind of a big deal."

"It's really not," said Eddie. "Just- yunno. Figured you should be included." He brightened. "And this isn't everything! We've got a party planned at Joyce's tonight. Low music, we'll keep the lights on. Kids even picked out a movie, but I can't attest to the quality."

"You built me a haunted house."

"I... did." Eddie cleared his throat. He shoved the teeth back in. "But just so you know, it was all part of my evil plan. Which you foiled, My Liege!"

Steve stepped forward. "What was it?"

Eddie paused.

"The evil plan. What was it?"

"Oh. Uh." Eddie swallowed. "Keep you in my evil clutches forever?"

Steve beamed.

Robin had to usher a group of jeering kids away from the Harrington house. It was apparently too much for them to see Steve grab Eddie by the edges of his stupid vampire cape and tug him into a kiss.

"Dracula doesn't swoon," Dustin shouted back at them, covering his eyes.

"This one does," said Steve happily, before going back to work on a very shocked Eddie.

In the end, it did take Eddie a minute to catch up. Once his brain rebooted and he was able to comprehend that he was kissing Steve Harrington, the boy he'd loved since long, long ago.

He spends that night at the party sitting on the couch with his face buried against Steve's chest while the movie played. "You'd been flirting with me?"

"Mmmhm," said Steve, popping a candy corn into his mouth.

"This whole time?"

"Yup," said Steve.

"I wasn't imagining it?"

"Nope," said Steve.

"This is real?"

"Yup," said Steve, and dropped a kiss onto the top of Eddie's head.

"Okay," rasped Eddie. "Just checking."

"Learning how dumb you were being was the scariest thing this entire halloween," Dustin mumbled from the floor.

[chuluoyi]

Pls I need to see reader reuniting with her baby at the hospital and reassuring him that she’s fine and not going anywhere, as a bandaid for the angst you gave us pwetty plsss 🥺🥺🥺🙏🙏

“mamaaaa!”

your son immediately runs towards you the moment he enters the your hospital room, and you crack your eyes open at the sound of his voice.

but hot in his heels is satoru, who immediately catches him with both hands, sternly reprimanding him. “no, you can’t hug mama yet, she’s still in pain.”

“mm…” your son looks down and nibbles his lip, but nods regardless. satoru ruffles his head and holds his hand as they approach you.

“how are you feeling?” your husband asks with a smile as he sits your baby on his knee.

“i’m good, just sleepy…” you press the button of the bed to help you to sit, and your attention is immediately diverted to the pair of curious eyes staring at you. “have you and papa eaten yet?”

your son nods compliantly. “yes, we ate mochis.”

“huh? just mochi?”

“and ice pops too!”

“satoru…” you give him the stink eye and he scratches his head sheepishly. “i’m telling you, you can’t feed him only sweets.”

“yeah, yeah—”

“mama, when will you go home?” your boy suddenly cuts in with hopeful expression. “if you go home, i’ll stop eating mochi.”

both you and satoru go quiet at once. you know your son loves mochi as much as his papa does, so the fact that he says it tears your heart somehow.

“baby, come here.” you signal at satoru to give him to you, and reluctantly he does.

the moment your baby is settled beside you, he carefully leans into you as though not to hurt your injury.

“oh you…” your heart melt at how gentle he is. you and satoru have certainly raised him well. “i’m going to be back soon, okay?” you pat him on the head, before kissing his cheek. “i’m getting better day by day. auntie shoko said i can be home by next week.”

he nods again albeit with a slightly disappointed expression and you poke his cheek. “and hey, aren’t you having fun spending time with big brother megumi and uncle ichiji?”

“yes but… sometimes uncle ichiji prefers leaving first.”

satoru turns to his son with a shrug. “well, he’s just like that. don’t pester him too much. he likes blending with walls actually.”

your baby glances at him with disinterest. “says you. mama, actually, papa terrorizes uncle ichiji on daily basis.”

“hey!”

“wha?”

“yes. i see it myself. that’s why he always excuses himself early.”

you shoot satoru a glare. “keep doing that and i’ll cook you when i’m home,” you threaten and he immediately turns to you in surprise.

“wha?! why do you always come and defend ichiji’s honor like that?!”

[flickering-chandelier]

Snow on the Beach

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: As soon as Cassian and Reader run into each other, she feels the bond snap into place. But feeling unworthy next to the famed Cassian, she keeps it to herself, assuming that he would never find out the truth. Before long, she finds that she was very wrong.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: insecure reader

Word Count: 4k

While walking Nyx to school on an early autumn morning, Cassian was certainly glad that the Illyrian soldiers could keep themselves in line for a day or two, giving him a respite to come home to Velaris and spend time with his nephew. It seemed to him that the boy was growing up far too fast; he could hardly believe that he was already in school. 

“So kid,” Cassian said, gently steering Nyx away from the street with a hand on his back, “tell me about school. Have you made any friends?"

Little Nyx grinned. “Yeah!”

“I bet the other kids think it’s cool that your parents are the High Lord and Lady, huh?”

He nodded, “At first, they all thought it was really cool. I think they’re getting used to it now, though. Now everyone is talking about how Astrid’s mom opened that new restaurant by the rainbow.”

Cassian laughed, unable to resist ruffling Nyx’s hair. “Well, they do have good food.”

Nyx agreed, and Cassian took the tiny hand in his own once the boy started veering toward the street again. “Do you like your teacher?” 

“She’s really nice,” he said. “She barely even gives us any homework.”

“Now, that’s a good teacher,” Cassian agreed. 

Nyx chatted idly with Cassian until they got to school.

Cassian was surprised to see a beautiful young woman standing near the front door, greeting the kids as they filtered in through the building. 

You smiled at Nyx as he and Cassian approached. “Good morning, Nyx! Who did you bring with you today?”

“This is my uncle Cassian,” Nyx said proudly, before turning back to Cassian and informing him, “This is my teacher!”

Teachers did not look like that when I was in school, Cassian thought. 

“Hi,” Cassian smiled, extending his hand. You took it, your eyes widening slightly when your hand touched his. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said. Cassian thought you sounded a bit out of breath. “Are you picking Nyx up today?”

Cassian said, “I am,” and was suddenly very glad for it. 

You nodded, still looking somewhat dazed. “Okay, we’ll see you this afternoon then.”

Nyx said goodbye and bounded into the building, but Cassian couldn’t help but feel like something was off. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look… a little pale, maybe?"

“I’m fine,” you said hurriedly. “Thank you.”

Cassian nodded. “Okay. Good.” Cauldron, why was he flustered now? “This afternoon, then. Have a good day. Good luck with the little ones.”

You laughed, thanking him, before Cassian turned away. 

---

You could hardly breathe. And he had known it too, which made everything so much worse. 

The last thing you were expecting today was to meet your mate three minutes before school started. 

Cauldron. How could the Cassian be your mate?

You were fairly sure you recognized him as he was walking up, but didn’t want to assume. The High Lord and his inner circle were well known here, of course, but you had never met any of them besides Rhysand and Feyre, and that was only because Nyx was in your class.

Cassian was unlike any male you’d ever seen before. His biceps were the size of your head. He could snap you in half like it was nothing. And yet he was holding little Nyx’s hand in his, walking him to school. 

Gods.

You were nervous enough about having the High Lord’s son in your class, but then a member of his trusted inner circle shows up, touches your hand, and the bond snaps into place?

And just like that, the commander of the High Lord’s army, the one that they’ve written entire books about, was your mate. 

Yet, here you were, teaching arithmetic to a classroom full of tiny children.

It didn’t make sense. You had never heard of the Mother making mistakes before, but surely this was one. Why would someone that powerful have a schoolteacher for a mate?

Cassian didn’t seem to feel it when you had. Surely you would have noticed if it had snapped for him at the same time. 

So, he didn’t know. And you figured it was better to keep it that way. You would sound foolish, telling this war hero that you were his mate. 

And it wasn’t likely that you would see him again after today, anyway. 

You just had to get through the day, and pretend that everything was normal. 

By the time parents were back picking up their kids, you had managed to put Cassian out of your mind. 

That is, until he showed up again, his massive wings tucked in closely behind him, his shirt spread tightly across his chest and his arms. Your heart leaped as you watched him make his way to the door. 

Your mate. He was yours. Or at least the Mother thought he should be. 

He smiled brightly when he saw you, and you immediately felt a pull on that invisible string that tied you to him. 

It was an effort to steady your breathing when he finally stood in front of you. 

Before you could say anything, one of your students ran into your legs from behind at full speed, causing you to stagger forward, into Cassian. He steadied you, his strong hands holding your waist, as your own hands involuntarily came to rest on his broad chest. 

Cassian looked into your eyes for a moment, the side of his mouth tugging up into a smile. You got lost in him for a moment, in those hazel eyes that you felt you could see the world in. 

Thankfully, you finally remembered where you were, and turned around and narrowed your eyes at your student. “Jan, buddy, we’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, taking a step back. “I forgot.”

“I know you did, it’s okay,” you said, gently patting his back. “Why don’t you go play until your dad gets here, okay?” 

You turned back to Cassian as he happily scampered off. Cassian’s eyes were bright as he smiled at you. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. 

He laughed, gesturing around, to the dozens of squealing children. “This. Stay so calm, being in charge of all these kids while they’re yelling and knocking into you.”

You shrugged, unable to keep the smile off your face, being so close to him. “It’s not that bad. It’s nothing like what you do.”

Cassian smiled, glancing around at the chaos that surrounded you both. “Well, you might be surprised.” His gaze landed back on you and you felt it like a shock down to your toes. “If you ever want to help me out with the Ilyrians, let me know. You might be better at keeping them in line than I am.”

“I highly doubt that,” you laughed. “With kids, you just need to give them a snack and they’ll love you forever.”

He pursed his lips slightly, seemingly thinking this over. “I might have to try that.”

You laughed. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Promise,” he smirked. 

In that moment, you knew you could spend all day looking at him and never get bored. It scared you, that thought. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for him. There was no possible outcome that wouldn’t break your heart.

You cleared your throat, taking half a step back. “You’ll probably want to find Nyx.”

He nodded, as if he too had forgotten why he was actually there. 

As if on cue, Nyx bounded up, throwing his arms around Cassian’s legs. “Uncle Cassian!”

Cassian grinned down at him. “Hey, kid. Were you good for your teacher today?”

Nyx smiled shyly. “Yes.”

Cassian turned back to you, raising an eyebrow in question. 

You smiled, nodding. “He was.”

“Good,” Cassian said, ruffling Nyx’s hair, before turning his attention back to you. “I’ll see you around?”

You nodded, though you doubted you would see him again. You tried not to dwell on that, on the fact that you had finally, finally found your mate, and you knew deep down that you could never have him. 

Cassian glanced back over his shoulder, smiling at you once more after he had left and your heart missed a beat. 

You desperately hoped that you would be able to go back to your real life, to forget about him.

---

Cassian couldn’t get you out of his mind after that day. The way you were looking at him… 

Maybe it was just that you recognized him. You certainly weren’t the only woman who had looked up at him with big doe eyes. 

So, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

It wasn’t just that though, he knew, as you danced around his mind once again. You were clearly incredibly kind and sweet. And you were funny. 

He found himself smiling as he thought about you, and schooled his features back into his stern, commanding expression as he focused his attention back onto the warriors training in front of him. 

But before long, he was thinking of you again, wondering what kind of snack would make the stubborn, bull headed Illyrians slightly less annoying to work with. 

He would just have to focus, he told himself, until he could see you again. 

Rhysand had given him a questioning look when he had asked to take Nyx to school again, but agreed. 

It had only been a few days, but he was already itching to see you again.

He wondered if it was possible that you felt the same way. 

---

Before school, you always took it upon yourself to usher idle children into the building, making sure they got where they needed to be while parents were busy dropping them off and making plans for pick up. 

When you caught a glimpse of massive, outstretched wings, you felt a shock spark through your entire body.

Again? He was really dropping Nyx off again? 

It had only been a few days since you had last seen him. Not nearly enough time to catch your breath, to force thoughts of him out of your mind. 

That tug in your chest, that string urging you closer to him, was relentless. 

You understood now, how people had been driven to madness after their mating bond had been rejected. It took everything you had in you to stay put, to keep yourself from running to him. 

His bright smile as he approached, his eyes locked on yours, made your heart hurt. 

“Hey,” he said, ushering Nyx into the building with a gentle nudge. 

“Hi,” you said quietly, noticing now that nearly everyone had already gone inside or left. You were alone with Cassian. 

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. Was he… nervous?

“So,” he said, then laughed lightly, turning his face to the mountains surrounding the city, scratching the back of his neck.

“Cassian?” You asked, confused, and honestly, slightly impatient. You only had a few minutes to get to your class.

He leveled his gaze back to you again, his eyes twinkling in the sun. “Do you want to get dinner?” 

That had not been what you were expecting, and you felt like your breath was completely caught in your throat. 

Cassian seemed to take your surprise for something else because he started talking again, quickly, like he couldn't get it out fast enough, “Unless you don't want to. It's not a big deal, I was just thinking --”

“Yes,” you cut him off, and he looked relieved, his taut shoulders visibly relaxing.

“You're sure?”

You couldn't keep the smile off your face. “Very sure.”

His face lit up with a grin then, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning yourself. You balled your hands into fists at your sides, worried that if you didn't, you would launch yourself at him.

The two of you agreed on a time and a place, and then he was off, and you once again, had to go teach a classroom full of kids as if nothing remarkable had just happened.

By the time dinner with Cassian rolled around, you had convinced yourself that it was definitely not a date. Probably. 

Just… casual dinner between two people who barely knew each other. Acquaintances went out for dinner all the time, right? 

You forced yourself to take a deep breath as you waited outside the restaurant, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress that you had finally decided on, after trying on nearly every piece of clothing that you owned. 

It was a habit of yours to always arrive early, and yet, you only waited a few minutes before Cassian sauntered up to you, like he didn’t have a care in the world. For about the millionth time, you wondered how it was possible that the two of you had been chosen as mates. You couldn’t be more different. 

Cassian’s smile was bright when he was finally towering over you, greeting you with the usual pleasantries before placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you inside. 

Your heart pounded in your chest at the contact. He hadn’t touched you since that first handshake, the touch that made the bond snap into place for you, like nothing you had ever felt before. 

You wondered if it would do the same for him someday. What would his reaction be if he knew?

Disappointed, surely. Confused. Upset?

It was one thing to ask someone to dinner, but to be mates? To be tethered to somebody for life? You suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out. 

Your mind was spinning by the time the two of you took your seats, and his brow furrowed in concern as his gaze settled on you. “Are you alright?”

You tried to brighten your expression, cursing your face for always being so easy to read. “Fine,” you said, and the smile became easier, more genuine, the longer that you looked at him. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, I guess. It’s hard to shut it off.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. Do you want to talk about it?” 

You winced. “Not really. It’s not that interesting, anyway,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “How are you?” you asked, before you could accidentally reveal something you would regret. 

The corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile, his gaze locked on you. “Why do you do that? Dismiss yourself so casually?”

“What do you mean?”

“You act like what you do isn’t important, or like your feelings don’t matter.” He leaned in closer, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him. “But it’s not true. You have one of the most important jobs… ever. And from what I can tell, you’re really good at it.” 

He relaxed his stance, leaning back in his chair again, his eyes never wavering from yours. “You don’t have to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you. But, I won’t let you act like it doesn’t matter, because it does.”

Stunned, you opened your mouth, completely unable to form a response. How could he read you so clearly? And why did he care so much?

Finally, all you could say was, “You don’t even know me.”

Cassian’s smile grew slowly. “I know enough. And I’d like to know more.”

The look on his face, the gravel in his voice, the words that he spoke, made heat rush to your cheeks. His smile only widened. 

“What do you want to know?”

---

Cassian couldn’t wipe the grin off his face after that date with you. You had talked for ages, the two of you, and he didn’t think he had ever been so enamored by somebody. You told him all about your family, your friends, how you grew up, your favorite hideout in Velaris, when you just needed to get away from it all. And he had done the same, admittedly, showing off a little with stories from being in Rhysand's trusted inner circle. 

But you didn’t fawn over him like some women did. You sat and listened, your eyes widening at all the right times, but it was like you really saw him. Not the version of him that people talk about in battle, but just… Cassian. 

And he really liked that. 

For weeks, you had consumed his every waking thought and, frankly, several of his dreams. The way you blushed when he smiled at you, the slight tilt of your head when you watched him animatedly tell stories, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him… all of it was driving him completely mad. He saw you as much as he could in those weeks, and though you seemed reluctant to show it, he could tell that you were excited to see him, too. 

Winter was almost upon Velaris, and the air was crisp, but the sun was bright as Cassian sauntered up to the school, hoping that your afternoon was free and he could steal you away for lunch. 

The sun's rays were shining on you like a beacon and he couldn't help but stare as you crouched down to be face to face with a kid, your smile bright as you undoubtedly said something encouraging to him. 

In that moment, he felt like the ground was swaying beneath him as the bond snapped into place.

The bond that tethered you to him, that confirmed what he had been feeling all these weeks, that proved you were meant to be his. 

For a moment, he was ecstatic, but that moment ended quickly as he suddenly remembered that first time you met, the way your eyes widened in shock as he touched you for the first time… you knew. You had known this whole time and you hadn't told him.

Did you not want to be his mate? Did you think it was a bad match? If that were the case, why on earth had you been spending so much time with him?

He stood frozen in place until the crowd of parents and kids had mostly cleared, his thoughts whirling.

Your eyes lit up when you noticed Cassian, but your face fell when you noticed his expression.

He could tell that you figured it out. That he knew. And that he knew you knew.

His heart broke as your eyes flooded with panic, and you turned from him, hurrying away without another glance.

Cassian followed, half debating flying above the city so he could see easier where you were going.

But before long, he knew your destination anyway.

You had told him weeks ago about the beach that you often went to when you needed to clear your head.

When he approached, you were sitting facing the river, your arms wrapped around yourself. The rocks beneath his boots cracked together and alerted you immediately to his presence, but you didn't turn around. 

He sat next to you, wincing a bit as a rock dug into his thigh, careful to tuck his wings in so they wouldn't brush against you.

Your eyes remained on the water for a few moments, a storm inside them. 

Finally, Cassian said, “Why didn't you tell me?”

Thinking, you bit your lip, and despite everything, it made his heart swell. 

“I didn't think you would want to know,” you said, your voice small.

It took an effort not to physically reel back like you had slapped him. He fought to keep his voice calm. “Why not?"

You let out a humorless laugh, still not so much as glancing in his direction. “Why do you think?”

Cassian furrowed his brow, wracking his brain for any indication he may have accidentally given you that would make you think he wouldn't want to be your mate, but he came up with nothing. “I don't know,” he finally said. “Did I do something?”

Your eyes finally met his then, and he felt the urge to cry for the first time in centuries. You looked so defeated, so pained. What had he done to make you react this way?

“No, it's not that, it's…” you bit your lip, your brow furrowed as you held his gaze. “Cassian, you're a warrior. You're in charge of armies, you're one of the most powerful Illyrians of all time, you've literally made history. And I'm…” you gestured to yourself, “I'm nothing compared to you.” You shook your head, facing the water again. “I hid it from you because it doesn't make sense. It must be a mistake.”

Cassian's heart pounded in his ears as he tried to make sense of it. “How could you think it's a mistake?” He said, his voice wavering, but he pushed past it. “How could you think that way about yourself?”

His heart broke when he heard you sniffle, still avoiding his gaze.

Gently, he took your chin between his fingers and urged you to look at him. “It's not a mistake,” he said quietly. “I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the moment I saw you. Do you know why?”

Your bottom lip trembled and you shook your head as much as you could while he was still holding your chin.

“You're incredible. You're endlessly kind and patient. You dedicate your life to helping kids and teaching them how to be who they're meant to be. There wouldn't be armies to lead or healers to fix us after battle, or anything else, if we didn't have teachers leading us along the way.”

Your eyes softened then, and Cassian nearly sighed with relief but he kept pushing, to be sure you would believe what he was telling you. “And gods, you're beautiful,” he smiled, stroking his thumb across your bottom lip. “You drive me crazy.”

A laugh bubbled from your throat and his heart leaped. He shifted his hands so they were cupping your face. “We're meant to be together, you and me. It's not a mistake. And I don't want to hear you talk about yourself like that again.”

You nodded, smiling, looking up at Cassian with stars in your eyes. “I just can't believe you want me.”

“Well, believe it, because it's true,” he murmured, leaning in so his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “I want you more than I've ever wanted anything.”

He felt your breath hitch, and just then it started to snow lightly, the small flakes sticking to your eyelashes and in your hair.

“I want you too, Cassian,” you said quietly before cupping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him closer, bringing your lips to his.

Cassian couldn't stop his groan as he pulled you closer, kissing you the way he'd been wanting to for weeks.

When you finally parted to catch your breath, he pulled you to his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you looked out across the water, the snow still gently drifting down.

It didn't feel real, that he had finally found his mate, the one he was meant to be with. And it was you, who had been consuming his thoughts since the moment you met.

He felt so, so unbelievably lucky and he prayed that you felt the same way about him.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @marina468 @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @azrielshadows1nger @andreperez11

[bookwormjust]

Pickup Duty (established relationship with Azriel, a little demand by your nephew)

The warm afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the townhouse, casting a soft glow across the room. You were sitting with Feyre, sipping tea and chatting about your latest projects when Nyx bounded into the room, full of energy as usual after spending the day outside.

“Mama!” Nyx called, his small wings fluttering excitedly behind him as he ran over to Feyre. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked between you and his mother, clearly with something on his mind.

Feyre smiled at him, brushing her fingers through his tousled hair. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Nyx glanced up at you, his expression bright with curiosity. “Can Auntie come take me from school tomorrow? Please?”

His request caught you by surprise, and you exchanged a quick glance with Feyre, who raised an amused eyebrow. Nyx’s innocent, hopeful expression was impossible to resist, and you could feel your heart soften at his excitement.

Feyre chuckled softly, pulling her son into her lap. “You want Auntie to pick you up from school?” she asked, teasing him gently. “Why not me or your father?”

Nyx grinned, his little wings flapping as he giggled. “Because Auntie is fun! She promised we could get sweets after school if she picked me up.”

You laughed softly, realizing you might have mentioned something along those lines during one of your previous visits. “Ah, I see. So that’s why I’m the favorite today.”

Azriel had entered the room by this point, his shadows trailing behind him as he crossed the threshold. His hazel eyes softened when he saw you, but his expression quickly shifted to one of amusement as he took in Nyx’s excited demeanor.

“What’s this about sweets?” Azriel asked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Nyx turned toward his uncle, his wings giving an extra flutter of excitement. “Auntie’s gonna pick me up from school tomorrow!”

Azriel’s brows lifted, and he shot you a look, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Oh, is she now?”

You shrugged, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Apparently, I’ve been chosen for pickup duty.”

Feyre looked between all of you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it’s all right with your aunt and uncle, then I suppose I don’t see why not.”

Nyx cheered, clapping his hands before launching himself toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you, Auntie!”

You laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. “All right, little one. But you have to behave in school tomorrow if you want those sweets, deal?”

“Deal!” Nyx agreed enthusiastically, his eyes bright with excitement.

Azriel watched the scene unfold, his shadows swirling around him in a slow, lazy dance. His gaze met yours across the room, and despite his calm demeanor, you could see the fondness in his expression. He stepped closer, gently pulling Nyx off you and hoisting him up onto his shoulder with ease. Nyx squealed with delight as Azriel’s wings flared slightly, steadying the boy as he balanced on his uncle’s broad shoulder.

“And what happens if Nyx doesn’t behave tomorrow?” Azriel asked, his voice laced with teasing.

Nyx pouted playfully, shaking his head. “I’ll be good, I promise, Uncle Az!”

Azriel chuckled, casting you a sidelong glance. “I’ll hold him to that. Though I have a feeling you’re the one spoiling him more than his parents.”

You smiled innocently, leaning back in your chair. “Well, what are aunties for if not a little spoiling?”

Feyre laughed at that, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. “Exactly. Besides, Rhys and I could use a little break sometimes.”

Azriel gave Nyx a final toss in the air before catching him again, setting him back on his feet with ease. He turned to you, one eyebrow raised as his lips quirked up into a half-smile. “Seems like you’ve got yourself a busy day tomorrow. Don’t let him con you into too many sweets.”

Nyx giggled, running back to Feyre, but not before giving you one last enthusiastic wave.

You looked up at Azriel, who was now standing beside you, his wings folded neatly behind him. His eyes were warm as he gazed down at you, the smallest smile lingering on his lips.

“I think you might be his favorite person now,” Azriel said softly, his voice laced with amusement.

You grinned, reaching up to gently touch his arm. “He knows how to work his charm, just like his father.”

Azriel chuckled at that, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. “Well, just don’t let him talk you into too many extra sweets. Otherwise, Rhys will have something to say about it.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I’ll do my best.”

As you stood there together, watching Nyx babble on to Feyre about his plans for tomorrow, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. This was your family, and moments like this—filled with warmth, love, and laughter—made you appreciate it all the more.

And tomorrow, as you picked Nyx up from school and indulged in a few treats together, you’d know that you were making memories that would last a lifetime.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hey! I saw you were accepting Feyd requests and I got so excited! Could you do something where Feyd and reader have been married for a little while, have been pretty stand-offish and just keeping up appearances. They get into a fight over something stupid, saying hurtful things because reader still believes Feyd is incapable of feelings. Turns out he’s really protective though and gets seriously injured saving her during an attack? Reader panics trying to help him and the feels super guilty, meanwhile Feyd is enjoying the attention.

Staining

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Notes/Warnings: It's slightly different, but I hope you like it anyway. Mentions of blood and death. Smut so 18+. I'm sure there's typos. I think that's it.

Words: 4100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“You’re heartless”—that’s what you spit at him after watching him rip apart another family right before your eyes. 

He slaughtered a man for a petty crime, and then you had to watch what would become of the wife and children. 

He gave them options, of course. He presents all of them with a choice: to be servants for his House or to fight for survival in the slums of Giedi Prime. For the mother, it likely means you’ll have a new handmaid. For the boys, they will be trained so they can one day face off in the arena. Either way, it's no life.

As he announced the options for their future, you couldn’t look away from her: the woman whose husband lay at her feet, the blood drained from his body as she attempted to shield her two young sons behind her small frame. You watched her kind eyes go permanently wide out of shock. She needed to answer your husband’s question, give a response to his merciful offer, but she couldn’t. Nothing on her moved save for the grip she had on her boys, which only tightened the longer she stared at her dead lover. 

You knew what would happen to them. Your husband found her silence and inability to snap out of her trace irritating. She would make a poor handmaid if she could not listen. The boys, however, could still make fine warriors—guaranteed entertainment a few years down the line. 

So he separated them. Allowed the guards to pry them away from their mother’s fingers—who left her state of shock behind only when she felt them being ripped from her hands—before dragging them to cells with tears streaming down their round cheeks. 

Their mother collapsed to the floor by her dead husband. His blood soaked her skirts. You didn’t know how a man could do this to his own people for something as simple as the theft of some food, but he does, and often. Then he had her thrown out, back to the slums where she came from. 

She’ll never see her boys again. If you know your husband, he will likely one day force the two to face off with each other in the arena. After all, that’s where his uncle finds entertainment, and your husband will do anything to please the old man. 

Long after his guards have departed with the woman, you’re still staring at the body on the floor. The red around him is congealing. If you run your finger through it, the digit will return sticky and thickly coated. He’ll stain your skin. He’ll stain through your skin onto your insides. He’ll never come off. 

He’s like your husband, you think. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stained you, and impressively, he didn’t even have to touch you to achieve that. Simply being in his presence was enough to leave his mark, and you’re in his presence plenty, just not how you imagined you would be when you married him. You imagined being in his bed. You imagined kisses and loving caresses and sweet words—that kind of staining. But you were a naive girl when your parents dropped you off on this planet, and you quickly learned how to be a woman; a woman whose husband only uses her for formality’s sake. 

You don’t know why you have to be by his side for this, though, but he always ensures that you are. The two of you…a solidified front to the world, as if you agree with the choices he makes and the punishment he doles out to those who don’t deserve it.

So that’s why you say it. Because you’re tired of this, tired of being silent, hating the idea that your silence might lead him to think the two of you are on the same page; that you’re a team. 

“You’re heartless.”

His head whips to you. “Heartless…” His voice around the word is vile; thick and rich like the blood on the floor. With a few steps in your direction he is in your space and you clasp your hands in front of you, fingers squeezing tightly to keep yourself from running off. He stares down at you, a luminous blue that you found so stunningly gorgeous when you first met him now a pair of frozen icicles stabbing into your skull. “I’m heartless?”

Your swallow is rough. Dry and scratchy. 

“I’m not the one who steals from his neighbors. I’m not the one who risks leaving his wife alone for the rest of her life,” he says. “They know the laws. They know the consequences.”

“And the woman? She deserves to be alone, rotting away in poor living conditions because of his choice? Her children deserve to die for your entertainment?”

“You take issue with how I handle things?”

“Yes.”

Feyd’s back teeth clench. His jaw sets in a sharp line. “Another reason for you to hate me then,” he grits out.

You blink. Your lips part. Another reason? You don’t have multiple reasons, and there’s certainly nothing you’ve done to indicate that you do. You used to hate that he didn’t, and doesn’t, care about you, but you’ve never said a word about it. You’ve never bothered him about sleeping in separate rooms or asked him to give you anything of himself. This—his treatment of his people in situations like this one—isn’t another reason. It’s the reason. 

“You could deal with these matters differently,” you say.

His fingers form balls at his sides. His mouth opens. It closes. He shakes his head and walks past you but pauses before he is completely out of your peripherals. “This is how things are done here,” he says. “You’ve been my wife for five months now. You need to get used to it.”

—

You don’t get used to it. You don’t get used to it because he doesn’t demand you be by his side at his executions anymore. Not after that day. 

You’d never spoken up before that moment, and it cost you what little interaction you had with your husband, which you despise to say was precious. You may not love him, and at times hate him, but he is the only thing you have on this planet. Little as you spoke to one another before, you held onto it because no one else gives a damn about you. Not that he does either, but at least he would give you a word or two. His brother and the Baron don’t bother, leaving you to Feyd to decide what to do with and when to do it. 

However, you imagine they didn’t expect that he would never touch you, and based on the way they watch you and Feyd when you’re forced to join the Harkonnen’s for dinner, you imagine they’re now aware that whatever was between you—minute as it was—is gone. He doesn’t even call on you for formal events. He no longer cares about showing a unified front to the other Great Houses. But you do.

You know what reputation means to the Harkonnens, and regardless of how you feel about the history of Feyd’s choices, you’re not willing to present your life on Giedi Prime as a failure. The two of you are too young for whispers to spread among influential families of a tainted marriage, a crack in the system. You don’t need questions floating about in regards to a unification that will not result in an heir. The end of the Harkonnen line, they’ll say, as Rabban, much older than your husband, has yet to choose a wife. How unfortunate, they’ll slyly mutter around the rims of their champagne glasses. And you’re not ready for that. 

So, with the exception of executions, you attend the events your husband does not invite you to anymore. You make sure your face is seen, especially when most vital. At his meetings, at his fights in the arena, and at Harkonnen parties such as this one. 

People enjoy themselves here. Shockingly, a few strong drinks eases the tension between Houses, and Giedi Prime has the strongest drinks of them all. It’s a tactic. A genius one, if you’re honest. The Baron invites his guests and gets them in a good mood and strikes deals one cannot go back on. Brilliant. Something you might have thought of yourself if your husband let you share your thoughts; thoughts you have plenty of. But no one cares how you would rule this planet if you had a say in its future.

You watch the Houses mingle about. You watch them laugh and dance. You watch them watch your husband. You watch them watch you. You watch the wheels turn in their alcohol-addled brains. You roll your eyes at what he doesn’t see. 

Ungluing yourself from your designated spot, you step up the staircase that leads to the Harkonnen men, your husband and his brother flanking the throne the Baron sits upon. You don’t think to speak to any of them; you didn’t break away from your assigned location for words. Instead, for all to see, you reach up to cup Feyd’s cheek and turn his head toward you for the first kiss since the day of your wedding. A gentle brush of lips. A buzz more engulfing than any drink could offer.

He freezes, and when you pull back his lips are still parted. His eyes open slowly and he stares down at you in awed confusion. How he doesn’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done is just short of bewildering, but it doesn’t seem to click. 

“You–”

“I’m going to retire for the night,” you tell him. You’ve been at this party long enough, and the guests have now seen what they needed to see. Not to mention, their tipsy state means they’ll soon forget any thoughts they have about you until morning. They’ll stop searching for your presence. 

You don’t wait for your husband’s nod of approval. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t care where you are at any given time anyway, so you descend the staircase and exit the grand room into the hall that leads to your bedroom.

The echo of footsteps follows and you’re bold enough to believe it could be Feyd before a blade is pressed against your throat from behind. For a moment, you think it still might be your husband—retaliation for the kiss that re-sparked a feeling you’ve been trying to ignore since you married him—but the voice in your ear is feminine. 

“He killed my husband, my Lady,” the voice says, and you instantly remember her. It’s been two months but nothing could make you forget the look in her eyes. “I want my sons.”

You swallow hard. The blade nicks your throat from the additional force. A droplet trickles down your neck. “I can’t return your sons to you,” you tell her, at the same time questioning how she infiltrated such a secure place. But you suppose with the number of guests, slipping in would not have been the most difficult of challenges. 

You wince at the deepening cut. Your heartbeat quickens, doing little to aid in stopping the blood seeping from your wound. “You’re the na-Baronness.”

“I have little power here.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts, her words bouncing off the walls. “I want my boys,” and you think now she’s crying. Her tone alters. Something catches in her throat. “What’s happened to them?”

You don't wish to tell her, but you’re in no position to deny her requests. “They’re alive and well,” you say, which isn’t a complete lie. The Baron prefers strong, well-fed fighters—the duels last longer that way. 

“I want them back!”

“As much as I would like to, I cannot give them back to you. It’s not my decision.”

“Then I’ll take you from him,” she spits. “The way he took mine.”

You must’ve put on a grander show than you expected with that kiss because she seems to fully believe that your death would matter to him. But you know he won’t blink an eye. He might even thank her. Reward her by reuniting her with her sons, though unlikely. 

“He won’t care,” you tell her. 

“I have seen him, my Lady. He will care,” she says, and you don’t know how she could possibly come to that conclusion or why. It’s not as if the people of Giedi Prime sense a kind capability from the Harkonnens. “He will–”

She chokes. The blade trembles then drops from your neck. You quickly glance down to find Feyd’s knife deep in her side. 

Many things are a mystery to you in that moment. Why he bothered to leave the party; why he came down this hall of all halls, especially when his room resides in another; and why he pierced her side rather than go for the neck, which would have instantly ended her. His mistake. An uncharacteristic mistake.

The woman whips around, freeing you, and you stumble out of reach. They’re a blur of battling bodies as you get your footing, but then it catches up with you—the pain. Your hand goes to your neck and you make a little noise at the sting of your fresh wound. Your mistake. 

Feyd looks away from her in search of you for a single second. Not even. A half-second. But the woman is smaller, quicker, and the distraction is enough. Her blade slides into his abdomen. He grunts. You gasp.

He regains his focus and, by her hair, he rips her head back to expose her throat and shoves the blade through her neck. Blood spurts across his chest as he removes the weapon, and she collapses to her knees before the rest of her body flops to the floor. 

Feyd takes a shaky step back, staring down at the blade in his torso. He drops his knife and his hand goes to the hilt of the other. 

“No, don’t!” you yell, but you’re too late. He jerks the blade out and it clatters on the ground. His palm does nothing to stop the flow of crimson. 

Rushing to him, you fall to the floor as he does. You press your hands on top of his to keep the pressure but it’s useless. “Don’t you know anything?” you mutter. “You should’ve kept the damn thing in.”

He chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles. Then his other hand raises and lands on top of yours. You think he’s trying to add more pressure, but his touch is gentle. His thumb runs over your knuckles. 

“It’s alright,” he says, and you’ve never heard his voice so devoid of depth and strength.

“No, it’s not,” you retort, irritated. 

“You still hate me?”

“Shut up!” you snap. “Help!” Yanking the black chiffon sleeve off your gown, it tears free and you ball the material to shove it against his wound. “Help!” 

Guards burst through the doors and run to you. You sigh with relief, but when you look down, your husband is paler than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Feyd…” 

You’re shoved out of the way in a second, flung to the side like a flicked-away ant, and then he’s taken from you. You watch them until he’s out of view. When you glance down at your hands, they’re stained with him. 

—

They bandaged your neck in mere minutes and you find it aggrivating that they couldn’t work as efficiently on him. You’ve been dead silent for hours now, expecting to hear screams of pain as they stitch him back together, but then you remember he’s a glutton for pain. He’s probably enjoying it, the sick bastard. But you’re not enjoying it—the waiting, the limbo. It’s torturous. 

You’ve never seen him hurt before. You’ve witnessed his skills in the arena, and not once in your seven months of marriage has someone gotten a decent slash on him. 

Guilt hits you hard as you recall that it’s your fault. That woman was skilled as well—you suppose she would be if she was raised to live where she did—but if you hadn’t made that noise, if you hadn’t distracted him, she would’ve been dead before she could do her damage. This wouldn’t have happened. 

Just then, a knock comes at your door. You speak for them to enter and a guard peeks into your room. “My Lady…” he says, and you pray you’re not about to be told your husband didn’t survive a single stab wound. “You can come with me.”

You don’t wait around for more. You hop to your feet and quickly follow through hall after hall until you’re at his room. 

“What will I see when I walk in there?” you ask. 

“He’s fine, my Lady,” he says, bowing his head to dismiss himself before returning to his post. 

Turning the knob, you edge the door open and step inside. The bed is in immediate view, but he’s not in it. He’s not in it and he should be. Not even the covers are pulled back. Maybe the guard misled you. If he were fine, surely he would be resting. 

You make your way in further. 

“You’re here.” 

Your head snaps to your right where he’s leaning against the lone table in his room, a lit orb on the wooden surface illuminating him from behind in a white glow. He’s less pale than he was; what little rosiness he once had returned to his skin. 

Clearing your throat, you say, “I was told to come.”

“Because I told them to bring you,” he says. 

Your heart pounds at the bareness of his torso, the thickness of his arms as they cross in front of his chest. It pounds in a different way, an off-kilter way, when you notice the dressings wrapped around his waist and the patch of blood that is seeping through three layers of it. 

He must see your distraction because he says, “It’s fine.” Your eyes flick back to his. A beat of silence passes between you. You’re unsure how to continue now that he’s seen the concern you have for him. “I suppose you’re disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you repeat. “What for?”

“I’m alive.”

Your jaw drops ever so slightly. You recover as best you can before you say, “Feyd, I don’t want you to—I’ve never wanted you to–”

He holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I’m going to listen to you.”

Your brow pinches. Why did he silence you, then? “Listen to me about what?”

He takes a deep breath, an action that lifts his shoulders and has them falling heavily back down. His eyes penetrate you as they’ve always done, but the iciness is gone. “I don’t care if the people I hurt want to kill me,” he starts. “But she didn’t come to kill me; she came to hurt me by killing you. So I will listen to your thoughts when it comes to dealing with matters like that one.” He pauses, expecting a response, but you don’t quite know what to give him, so he continues. “Your voice will make fewer enemies.”

“You care about making enemies?” Since when would a Harkonnen ever care about such a thing? Especially when they are known for doing that thing so well.

“I care when they come after my wife,” he says. Pushing off the table, he leisurely steps toward you. You’re stuck to your spot. “The men of my House do not have a history of caring about their wives. They’ve never cared if their actions bring them harm, and yet, people have used our wives as pawns for revenge for centuries. Many have died to prove a point. I’m not going to let you be one of them.”

He stops only to not collide with your body. You have to look up to maintain eye contact, and when you do, his breath brushes over your lips. “Why didn’t you kill her when you could have? You stabbed her in the side. You avoided vital organs.”

“Because you wouldn’t have wanted me to kill her if I didn’t have to,” he says. “So I didn’t kill her…until I had to.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t know he was capable of such restraint. You didn’t know he had enough fragments of a heart to glue together to keep him from doing exactly as he pleases. 

His hand lands on your hip and his thumb begins to rub up and down over the curve of it. He hasn’t touched you…ever. In fact, he’s seemed over the months to deliberately avoid it. Like your skin would burn him even through the fabric of your gowns. Anytime it looked like he would try, he’d pull back before flesh grazed flesh. 

“You hadn’t kissed me since we married,” he says, so gentle in that low voice that it’s practically a whisper. It doesn’t make the heat of his breath any less intense against your skin. 

“People were watching too intensely,” you inform him. “They were thinking something was wrong between us, I could tell, and I didn’t want to give them that power over you.”

“So that was it, then?” he asks. “That’s the only reason you did it?”

“That’s–” you swallow, debating whether or not to say it, to give him more. 

“What?”

“That’s the reason I did it,” you decide to tell him, and his face shifts; his features alter in a manner you’ve never seen. He looks down to his feet. He nods and his touch disappears, and now you feel cold and you hate it. “But that’s not the only reason I wanted to do it.”

He freezes as he did before. For a moment, his chest stops rising and falling with expected breaths. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he raises his head. 

You can’t stop staring, even though your brain is telling you to get ahold of yourself. His mouth is so plush. You’ve always known it. It’s always done something to you. And whatever that something is, it’s more potent now that he’s so close and you can see his lips glistening in the low light. 

“Will you do it again?” he asks.

Again? You didn’t imagine he wanted you to do it the first time, or the second. The first was an obligation. The second was not exactly mutually agreed upon. But as he stands in front of you, asking, you can’t bring yourself to say no. You don’t want to say no. So you say yes, and you inch up on your toes until your lips meet his. 

Immediately, he’s yanking your body flush against his. His hand goes into your hair, and he parts his lips so they can better lock with yours. He’s good at this, and you don’t want to think about why, can’t think about why without a knot of jealousy settling in your gut that only dissipates when those hands travel down your body to the back of your thighs. You’re in the air, your legs wrapped around his waist, your lips still sealed for one second more before your back hits the mattress and he’s on top of you with his leg shoving between yours, nudging your thighs open for him. 

You don’t know the exact moment it happens, but your skirts are up to your waist and he’s inside of you, moving in and out, kissing your neck and pulling gasps from your throat, and it feels right, good, like pieces falling together. A bit of you feels guilty for that. That you can know what he’s done to people and still want to feel the pleasure of every inch that he’s giving you. You’re selfish, maybe that’s it. Maybe you’ve always been and you didn’t know it. You can’t bring yourself to care as he makes those deep noises in your ear and stains your insides.

After you’re sated, you lay there for a while with him in your arms and his arms wrapped around your waist. His head rests on your chest. You think about the things you’ve done to each other in the course of an hour and it brings a blush to your cheeks. You think about how you can’t go back and that you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this from the beginning, despite what he’s done. You expected it when you married him only to be sorely disappointed at his lack, or what appeared as a lack, of interest. You’re definitely selfish, at least when it comes to him. But you refuse to be when it comes to other matters.

“I want something from you,” you say. He hums, content. “I want us to take in that woman's boys.”