#Dusk would be invited to Day

[leynaeithnea]

What if the story starts out with a trojan horse situation

[no-psi-nan]

When people think they can “only” talk to me for an hour:

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, doggy style, creampie, blowjob, rough s*x

Summary: you and Bakugo went camping, and you couldn’t believe your new shorts were enough to turn the big guy on so quickly

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

As the golden hues of dusk began to settle over the campsite, the thrill of a shared adventure coursed through your body, amplified by the excitement that Katsuki, your usually so gruff boyfriend, had agreed to this escapade into the wild. 

It wasn't his idea of a perfect getaway, but the hint of adventure and the rugged trails appealed to his untamed spirit, and that was enough to tilt his decision.

Preparations for the trip unfolded over several days. You meticulously selected a new tent, sleeping bags, and all the essentials needed for survival in the embrace of nature. The excitement bubbled within you, and each item was a promise of the memories you were about to create together.

Upon arrival at the campground, a place chosen for its variety of trails, Bakugo’s eyes - those intense, crimson orbs - surveyed the land with a tactical gaze, as if plotting each step he would conquer on the morrow. 

You began setting up the tent, fumbling slightly with the steel profiles. "Kats, could you help me with these?" you asked, trying not to get distracted by his scrutinizing look.

With a gruff nod, Bakugo joined you, his hands adept and sure as he assisted with the tent. "Why don't you start on the fire?" he suggested, his tone brusque but not unkind. "Seems like something you can handle, babe."

You set about gathering dry wood, arranging stones in a careful circle to cradle the fledgling flames you would soon coax to life.

When Bakugo watched you light the fire with practiced ease, a rare smile broke across his face. "Well, well, look at you. I'm starting to think you're a pro at this," he remarked, the rough pad of his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from your cheek as he approached you.

His compliment warmed you more than the fire, and soon you were searching through your backpack for marshmallows, a sweet treat to end the day. "Hungry?" you asked, glancing back at him.

Bakugo's eyes lingered on you, particularly drawn to the curve of your hips and ass accentuated by your new shorts. “I like your new shorts,” he commented casually, completely skipping the question you asked.

Your cheeks heated under his gaze, and you turned to face him fully. "Do you? They're just material shorts."

"Which hug your ass so nicely," he growled softly, his hand finding its way to your lower back and pulling you closer. 

You gasped, turning fully to face him, arms looping around his neck as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips for stability. "Did my shorts turn you on that much, babe?" you teased, feeling his breath against your ear.

His only response was a husky, affirmative grunt as he carried you towards the tent. 

Soon, you lay back on the sleeping bag, Bakugo hovering above, his lips tracing a path along your neck. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, discovering with a pleased murmur that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. "Aren't you being a naughty little shit today?" His voice was rough with arousal.

"You know I like it when you put me in my place," you murmured back, rolling your hips against his, your hands deftly working to remove his clothes.

Bakugo responded with equal fervor, his movements urgent as he shed his layers. 

Overwhelmed by a primal urge, you found yourself driven by raw desire, pushing him off yourself and kneeling between his spread thighs. Your tongue darted out, tracing fervent circles around the swollen tip of his penis, the taste of the faint bitterness of your boyfriend’s arousal causing you to moan in delight.

Katsuki began to guide the rhythm, his hips gently grinding forward. The motion coaxed your lips apart, accommodating him fully as he nudged against the welcoming gate of your throat. With each advance, you adjusted, your throat opening to invite him deeper, your initial gag reflex swiftly giving way to a consuming need to take him all in. The feel of his throbbing length, coupled with your swirling tongue, sent vibrations along his shaft, and Katsuki rolled his head back.

You yanked one leg around his one leg to improve your position and started grinding your slick pussy against his knee.

“Fuck, yeah,” the man growled. The sensation was nearly unbearable. Known for his fiery temperament and fierce control, here he was, surrendering to the pleasure you elicited with your little expert ministrations. His pace quickened. The sensation of sliding in and out of your snuggly throat, the slick, rhythmic tightness you provided, pushed him to the edge.

The build-up was intense, his body tightening, a crescendo of raw energy that demanded release. With a guttural cry, he reached the brink. Bakugo’s release was rich, a surge of warmth that he felt from the base of his spine to the tip of his cock while his creamy essence spilled forth in a rush of exhilarating release, filling your mouth and dripping from its corners to your naked neckline.

With a swift motion, he yanked your head off him by your hair and pushed you flat against the sleeping bag. He knelt behind you, spanked your ass a few times, and cupped your cheeks, spreading them to watch your gaping hole, slick with your juices. “Such a whore you are,” Bakugo mused, and aligned himself with your entrance, and the world fell away as he entered you with a single powerful thrust. His presence inside you was overwhelming, a perfect fit that stretched you deliciously.

Your breath caught in your throat, the sensation overwhelming. "Katsuki..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the sleeping bag.

He set a rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, his groans mixing with your gasps. "I love fucking my sexy girl raw," he confessed, his voice barely above a growl as his hips pistoned in yours. His rock hard cock plunged deep into you with a relentless rhythm. 

You met each of his thrusts with an eager push back, your vaginal muscles clenching around his cock in a delicious squeeze that drew a low groan from his lips. Each movement you made was synchronized with his, a dance of desire that had you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You played with the limits of sensation, allowing the tip of his dick to nearly escape your snuggly pussy before sliding back down, pressing your ass against his abdomen tightly. Your hips gave a gentle, teasing twerk, enhancing the friction and intensifying the pleasure that thrummed through every nerve of his.

Each powerful thrust forced a sharp gasp from your lips, his rhythm unabating, as if he were carving his desire into your very being. His movements weren't just fervent - they were meticulously measured to break down every barrier you possessed. Each retreat was only a brief prelude to another overwhelming advance, sending ripples through you. The slick, warm precum trickled out of your abused, swollen pussy whenever he pushed back.

Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs, reducing your voice to ragged gasps and involuntary whimpers, as you were rendered pliant under his commanding touch, your body moving with his like a leaf caught in a storm.

“Fuck yeah, just like that, I’m gonna cream your sweet cunt, bitch,” Bakugo's voice was a husky growl, vibrating through the dense air of the tent. His hand landed with a resounding smack against your ass, the sting blooming across your skin.

His words were crude but thrilling, spoken with the certainty of a man on the brink of conquering, his every word as impactful as his movements, promising a culmination that would leave you both shattered.

When the climax overtook you, it was with a shout of his name, your world bursting into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Even as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you, a part of your mind remained acutely aware, sensing the potent surges of Katsuki's climax deep within your abused pussy. You discovered muscles you never knew you had - working on your boyfriend’s cock, pulsing, squeezing and milking him dry.

His muscles ripped and his thrusts became sloppy. Soon, Katsuki shuddered and expelled bolts of thick, warm semen, giving you one of the best creampies you had ever had. “Take all of my seed, bitch,” the man growled, massaging the meat of your ass. “Such a good, little whore.”

After he withdrew, he once again spread your ass, observing your mixed cums leak out of your reddened, swollen entrance. A satisfied, almost wicked grin spread across his face, reflecting a raw, triumphant pleasure.

Afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, Bakugo's arm wrapped protectively around you, his voice was tender. "I love you, Y/N."

"Love you too, Kats. I think I should wear these shorts more often if this is how you react."

Bakugo’s laugh was a sound you’d treasure forever. “Just wait until I get my hands on you again. You’re mine, Y/N, and I'll show you just how wild I can get.”

@pixelcafe-network

[earthtooz]

earth do you have any spare alhaitham thoughts 🥺 thinking ab him a little extra hard tonight 😵

nothing but fluff, reader and al-haitham are engaged, so much banter.

"What do you think about inviting Nahida to our wedding?"

Al-Haitham looks at you incredulously, blinking slowly to register your question. You know a lengthy discussion is imminent when he uncrosses his leg, a habit of his whenever he needs to prepare for a conversation that requires most of his attention.

"You don't mean Lesser Lord Kusanali, do you?" He asks and you nod, as if it is typical to invite a god to one's wedding. "Dear, do you understand what you are asking right now?"

"I do," you sit down beside him, Zaytun peach in one hand and a small knife in the other, cutting up slices that you feed him.

"Then do you realise how ludicrous your question is?"

"I think you are overcomplicating it."

His book snaps shut. "Am I? Or is it appropriate because you just suggested inviting an archon to our very ordinary wedding?"

"You still think you're ordinary after overthrowing a corrupt government and being promoted by said archon?"

"You're crazy," Al-Haitham murmurs, shaking his head with an affectionate smile, one that he always likes to conceal by pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You poke his side gently. "Then we are cut from the same cloth."

"That does not diminish your madness."

Still, you persist. "Well, you haven't said anything in response to my suggestion."

"I called you crazy."

"You haven't said anything I want to hear."

Once again, he sighs, but the noise is too airy to hold any true malice. "Even if I reject your idea, you would personally go to the Sanctuary of Surasthana and deliver the invite yourself."

Instead of answering, you merely feed him another slice of the Zaytun peach, smile growing more and more mischievous.

There is a reason Al-Haitham wants to spend the rest of his life with you. The bouts of delightful juvenility paints endless blotches of colour on his plain canvas, carving a certain feeling of warmth and admiration in his chest that no one else has managed to recreate.

No one compares to you, and he's certain no one ever will because even after all these years of knowing and loving you, every moment he spends with you is as priceless as divine knowledge. Even when you ask ridiculous questions that perplex him greatly.

"How do you even deliver messages to the Sanctuary of Surasthana?" You wonder.

A kiss to your temple halts your thinking. "Let's find out another time. How did this idea of inviting Nahida spring about?"

You shrug. "I was merely thinking back. She's always been so thoughtful and kind to her subjects, even when the Akademiya hid her from us. Then the idea of inviting her made itself quite at home."

"I see," he hums. "Ever so thoughtful."

"Maybe it's a good omen for our partnership to invite an archon. She won't have to bring a present, her presence alone is enough."

Al-Haitham huffs. "My faith in our relationship exceeds that of a good omen, but I agree."

"Aww, you love me that much?"

"Do you still doubt me?"

"Still?" You parrot. "Darling, I've never doubted you."

"I'd like to contest that. Remember when you were vehemently against me resigning as the Acting Grand Sage?"

You feed him another slice. "It gave me bragging rights! Who else could claim that their hot boyfriend-now-fiancé was the Grand Sage?"

"So you prefer when I'm away at the Akademiya working tirelessly from dawn to dusk?"

"Well, no," you set the knife and pit of the peach down before throwing your arms around his neck, pressing yourself close to him. "I prefer having you all to myself."

Al-Haitham huffs triumphantly and you stay pressed close to him for a while, watching as he returns to his novel. He flips back to his exact page despite the lack of a bookmark.

"I'll be sure to send the invite to Nahida tomorrow."

"Alright."

Two days later, you wake to a message written in beautifully precise handwriting on Al-Haitham's blackboard.

'Can Wanderer be invited too? - Nahida'

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[seoulmatez]

𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎

rin’s routine takes a turn when a stray cat inserts itself into the equation.

itoshi rin x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ allusions to abandonment issues

There’s a cat that follows Rin on his walk home from practice.

The first time, he simply took notice. A small bundle of black fur seemed to curve at every turn he made, stopping every time he paused. Its light eyes almost glowed in the darkness accompanying dusk. And, as if the creature knew it was time to part ways, it didn’t bother following Rin to the door of his apartment.

The second time caught Rin by surprise. Did the stray remember him? The walk was much the same, Rin leading the way while the cat acted as his shadow. Maybe the man tricked himself into thinking so, but it felt like the cat met his eye every time he looked over his shoulder to check if it was in tow.

This time, Rin crouched down to pet it. His hand hovered tentatively over its head, waiting for some adverse reaction to his proximity—a hiss, or perhaps it would dart off. But it didn’t come. He gently scratched the cat’s head. It purred, leaning into his touch.

The days that followed were much the same—Rin’s initial surprise at his companion’s return, his hesitancy to reach out for fear of an unpleasant reaction, the short moment of comfort the both of them shared before Rin had to go inside. They grew on each other with each scheduled meeting. The cat began to walk closer—beside the man instead of behind him. Rin left a little earlier in the morning to pick up treats for his new friend.

Rin has lost track of how long this has been going on. What he has taken note of, though, is how the cat no longer lingers at the start of the pathway leading to his apartment—it has taken to joining him at the door.

Yours and Rin’s schedules don’t always align the best. It makes taking advantage of the days the both of you are free a given and today happens to be one of those days. It’s bright and early and with the bag of pastries you picked up in hand, you make your way to Rin’s apartment.

“Knock knock,” you verbalize in addition to tapping your knuckles against his door.

You only have to wait a moment before his voice sounds from the other side. “It’s open.”

With his invitation, you turn the doorknob and let yourself inside. As you kick off your shoes at the doorway, you catch sight of Rin lying on the couch. The piece of furniture isn’t quite long enough given his height, so his legs are propped up on the arm. It’s enough to make you chuckle under your breath. Rin doesn’t seem to mind you finding humor in the situation. He simply offers you a lazy wave and a, “Hey.”

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile. You hold up the paper bag in your hand. “I brought breakfast.”

Rin hums in satisfaction before getting up to join you in the kitchen. You’re just about to set everything on the counter when something beats you to the spot. It’s black and furry and entirely unexpected—so much so that you flinch, clutching the bag to your chest. “Oh!”

You can hear Rin sigh behind you, though, when he appears beside you, he doesn’t look nearly as startled as you do. He picks up what you now realize is a cat from in front of you, holding it up in the air level with his face. “I told you, you’re not allowed on the counters.”

Two pairs of eyes—one aquamarine, the other a pale green—stare at each other in silence. Rin almost looks as if he’s expecting a response and he earns one in the form of an innocent meow.

Rin’s eyes narrow. “Stay off the counters.”

“When did you get a cat?” You suppose you should have noticed sooner. Now that you’re paying attention, there are signs all over the place—the food and water bowls placed on a mat that you walked past to get into the kitchen, the cat tower tucked away in the corner of the living room just a few feet away from the couch Rin was lounging on, there’s even a feather wand toy under the coffee table.

He finally puts the cat down on the floor. Despite being released, it doesn’t wander far. “Last week. She kept following me home.”

“Cute…” The thought of this darling trailing behind Rin during his commute is almost too adorable for you to handle. You kneel down to get a better look at her. She’s idly licking her fur like she’s grown bored of this conversation. You look up at Rin. “What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Huh?” You stand up once more, frowning in confusion. “How do you get her attention then?”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to. She’s always nearby anyway.”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s pondered the idea of naming her but shied away. It’s better this way—not getting too attached and making things too real. Because if it’s real, that means she can leave him—cast him aside—too.

“She needs a name, Rin,” you tell him, finally setting down the bag from the bakery and pulling out its contents. You shoot him a smile. “We can come up with one while we eat.”

Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. Your gaze falls to the floor to find the cat rubbing against Rin’s leg.

Your smile widens. “See, she likes the idea.”

He’s still wary but he considers it for a moment, his stare never straying from your face. He reminds himself that you’re very real—standing right in front of him, close enough to touch. You’re real and you’ve stuck around. That should be all the evidence he needs.

“Fine,” Rin concedes. 

He glances down at the cat he took in. Strangely enough, her presence since the start has had an impact on Rin, made him feel a little less lonely.

He supposes she deserves a name.

manon here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[soundlessdreamss]

Can I have a Lucifer vs Alastor fighting for the reader romantically, please if possible yanderes...

Lovely riddance

part two

pairings: y!alastor x reader & y!lucifer x reader

Note: reader will be a fallen angel for this! (Also this is prolly ooc)

You were a normal sinner (totally a sinner and not a fallen angel) living in hell you were in hell because of you questioning heaven which led to them throwing you down here… but you realized how different the other people in hell were compared to you. it just made you feel very weird, a total standout!

it made you miss heaven. A lot. Since you had made so many friends there and now you just lost it all. Well not all of it to be exact, your old friend Lucifer is the king of hell because he was the first one to rebel against heaven. You admired him for being so fearless against heaven themselves.

as you were in your own thoughts on the street of hell suddenly you passed by a poster that snapped you back to your senses. You suddenly scooted back to the poster and read it “want to be redeemed so you can live a gorgeous life in heaven? Well visit the hazbin hotel and let yourself be purified!” Oh my god. This could be your chance to meet other people like you! You decided to fly over there since the other angels didn’t rip off your wings when you fell down.

after like 69 minutes of flying (lol) you finally made it to the hotel! You couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious though, what would they think about you? Would they make fun of you? Would they humiliate you if you did one thing wrong- no you couldn’t let that stop you. This could be your chance to find your friends in heaven again. You knocked on the hotel door and waited for a response. It felt like it was taking forever until a blonde haired girl opened the door. (It only took 3 seconds for them to open the door but okay.)

she nearly screamed out of joy when she realized someone actually came to the hotel to be redeemed. She gave you a hug and welcomed you into the hotel where all the people there introduced themselves. There was Charlie, Vaggie, Angel dusk, Husk, Nifty, (nifty is a cutie) and a snake who you didn’t bother remembering his name cause it was too long. (Totally not an excuse to not have to write his name)

you almost choked though when Charlie said her last name was Morningstar, like Morningstar as in Lucifer Morningstar? She was his daughter?! You had no idea him and Lilith had a child but you felt happy for them. Not until she told you her mom left her 7 years ago. (Lol)

To your surprise (and relief) they accepted you and treated you nicely. And you recognized Vaggie but didn’t out her because you had a feeling that she didn’t want that to happen and you respected her.

All of a sudden a man just teleported out of the floor and tapped you on your back which made you scream so loud. He chuckled and said not to worry as it was him, the radio demon! And he also introduced himself as Alastor. He grabbed your hand and kissed it which made you a bit confused but you rolled with it. Over the couple of days you had spent there you bonded really well with all of them, but alastor specifically wanted to spend a lot of time with you.

he often invited you to brunch, dinner, and to help him work on the hotel. Had you caught his eye? Maybe… maybe you had caught his eye more than you thought you did. (He also may or may not be planning to make a deal for your soul.)

timeskip to when Charlie invited her dad over. ——————————————————————————————————————

you had all prepared for the place to look nice since the king of hell was coming to visit! Aka Charlie’s dad, and you wanted to make a good impression on him after you haven’t seen eachother for such a long time. He seemed happy that his daughter was inviting him over based on the tone of his voice when Charlie called.

You guys all got in position and Charlie was about to open the door until Lucifer barged in and greeted his daughter with a bear hug! He looked around the place awkwardly after and Charlie introduced him to everyone in the hotel. He stared at you for a couple of seconds not knowing if it was really you. He was about to speak to you until alastor teleported right next to you.

Alastor put his hand on your shoulder and had a death grip on it. Like he didn’t want Lucifer to even be near you. They both introduced themselves to each other and as they were talking about the hotel ideas, Alastor pointed out a thing you did for the hotel which helped them a lot. He brought your face to his as he put his hand around your neck pulling you closer. Your face was squished with his. He only did this though to simply piss Lucifer off and trick him into thinking that he had got to you first and that you guys have a deep connection.

as you pulled yourself away from him and looked at the two it suddenly felt as if there was an intense aura in the room all of a sudden. You laughed nervously and tried to excuse yourself before Lucifer grabbed your hand.

he was nervous and tried to compose himself to talk to you as it had been so long since you two had talked. Wtf was he even suppose to say? He decided to finally speak after an agonizing 5 seconds.

Lucifer: “oh [reader]… it’s been so long since we’ve last seen eachother! How have you been doll?”

[reader] : “oh I’ve been just fine. Well despite the fact that heaven kicked me out, it feels better here. Like I can actually breathe in this place.”

Lucifer: “good to hear. Would you mind visiting my palace sometime? Id like to show you some of my latest creations, especially one I made just for you!”

his smile became wider and his eyes seemed more sincere like he really wanted you to visit. I mean after all you guys haven’t seen eachother in eons!

before you could reply to his offer, Alastor grabbed your other hand and yanked you away as he chuckled.

Alastor: “I’m sure they would love to visit you sometime, but they’re busy with me today as I invited her to dinner and they accepted. Didn’t you dear?”

you suddenly remembered that you and Alastor were gonna go out for dinner tonight and you nodded your head.

[reader] : oh that’s actually right! I totally forgot about that for a minute. Well Lucifer would you like me to visit anytime I’m free if that’s okay?

Lucifer: oh, that’s just fine! Just try to make it soon cause I can not wait to spend time with you again!

his smile faded a bit and he seemed to give a glare to Alastor. In response Alastor simply had a wide smile as he continued to hold your hand after yanking away Lucifer’s.

After the argument with Lucifer and Alastor over Charlie was done.

───────────────────────

Finally everyone calmed down after they argued over who Charlie preferred as a dad. Thank god Mimzy barged through the door before another fight broke loose. After a couple minutes Alastor decided to tell everyone you and him would be leaving for dinner about now, you thought it was later but alright!

as you guys left through the door to go to your favorite restaurant, Alastor couldn’t help but giggle feeling Lucifer’s eyes burning a hole through him. He knew it pissed him off and he was glad that it did. And little did you or Lucifer know the Alastor was making more and more progress to his plan. His plan was to woo you enough so that you’d made a deal with him for your soul.

of course you’d get benefits aswell! Alastor would be at your every beck and call and you would do the same for him. It would just be a matter of time before he proposed the idea to you. He just hopes a certain someone wouldn’t mess it up.

part two coming soon…

note: hiii to everyone who read this, I’d like to thank you all for all the likes on my previous two posts! I’m going to be working on part two sooner or later. Also sorry is this is a bit ooc, I’m new to writing fanfics and tried to make alastor manipulative like he is in the show. :)

[asterias-record-shop]

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

— come over

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

Ethan’s such a virgin, he gets a boner every time he sees you.

**made up colors for the school, also, this was supposed to be short but now it’s a whole thing-

You weren’t like those other cheerleaders, you were smart and everyone knew it. With every tube top and every mini skirt you wore, there was ten times the knowledge anyone else had on quite literally anything else in the world.

He liked to study on the bleachers when you practiced your routine, the pretty red and white fabric of your cheerleading uniform. You would pause the music, bending down and showing off those pretty red shorts that were under your skirt. “Girls!” You scolded, groaning. “We’re not even close to being done! Or ready! You don’t know how to pop your hip, you don’t know how to do the splits, you- agh!”

You yelled out in frustration as Tara slowly came down the sidewalk, laughing. “Calm down, Y/N, you’re going insane.”

You turned, gasping. “Tara! Honey, you’re here!”

“Not for practice,” she dismissed quickly making you whine. “I think your stalker is here.”

You turned, Ethan quickly looking down at his notebook and fixing it over his lap to hide his hard on. “Oh, no! Ethan’s going to help me study when I’m done with practice, he’s harmless, you know that.”

Tara sighed. “Are you sure? I just… I don’t want you to be alone with him, I can come with you? And Chad?”

You shook your head. “No, I want to be alone with him,” you say with a smile. “I want to see what I can get out of him. See if I can find out if he knows anything about that new psycho.”

Tara rose a brow. “How are you going to do that? Hm?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“He’s infatuated with you, you know,” she says, raising a brow. “I’m sure you can take that a little… farther, if you’d like.”

Your face scrunched as you looked back at Ethan, who again looked back down at his notebook. “I didn’t think I was his type. I don’t know if I’m someone he actually likes, y’know?”

Tara laughed. “Oh he likes you, alright,” she looks at Ethan who’s eyes flicked up before going back down. “Think he likes you more than you think.”

Two hours later, you still weren’t done with practice. It was getting dark, and the only reason why you ended practice was because you didn’t want any girl to go home with a psychopath on the loose. “If you girls don’t work on this, I swear I’ll put you all to work from dusk till… a few minutes before dawn! Go, get home safe! I want everyone in groups! And texts when you get home!”

The girls yelled out okays and good byes as you gather your stuff, Ethan quickly disappearing from the bleachers making you sigh. When you stand, you could feel someone way too close to you making you rush to turn around, gasping. “Oh! Ethan, you scared me!”

He jumped back, gasping. “Oh, I’m s-so sorry, I just-”

You giggled. “Oh, don’t worry,” you say with a smile. “Do you mind walking me home? I don’t know if we’ll be able to study tonight, but you can stop by early tomorrow and we can have breakfast and review! Sounds good?”

Ethan nods automatically, head bobbing up and down. Any moment spent with you was worth it. “Yeah, that sounds good, I-I just… nothing, is your apartment far?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It’s just off campus. I promise, it’s not a long walk. And it’s not too far from your apartment, either, so you’re not walking alone.”

He tilts his head slightly, confused. “How do you know that?”

You giggle. “I see you walking home some days,” you explained, offering your hand. “Walk me home?”

He nods immediately, fixing his bag and slowly taking your hand. He fixes it to cover his lower waist, his hand slightly sweaty in yours as you squeezed slightly. “I-I uhm… I wanted to ask if you would like to… h-have breakfast with me in the morning?”

You look over, confused. “That’s what I invited you over for, Ethan.”

“What do you sleep in?” It came out quick, his hand covering his mouth. “I didn’t- that wasn’t what I was-”

“It depends on the night,” you hummed, your hand squeezing his as you look up at him. “If it’s super hot, I don’t sleep in anything. If it’s not, it’s shorts and a tank top, sometimes one is missing.”

Ethan hides his smile. As smart as you were academically, he loved how oblivious — maybe stupid — you were in things like this.

The rest of the time was silent, Ethan’s hand warm and not sweaty as he stood in front of your apartment. “I uhm… I hope you have a good night.”

You smile, nodding. “Thank you, honey, I appreciate it,” you giggle, fixing your skirt. “Well uhm… I’ll see you in the morning!”

Ethan nods, hand holding yours tightly. “W-Wait. We should… if you don’t mind, can I have y-your number?”

You nod. “Right! Here, call me when you get home, alright?”

He nods. “Yes, y-yeah I will.”

You smiled, giggling. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He all but ran home, quickly saying hi to Chad before calling you. It took you a few rings to pick up, your groggy voice saying you had just woken up. “Hello?”

“Y/N? It’s Ethan.”

You smiled, turning as you pull the blanket closer to your bare body. “Hey E, did you get home okay? Can I call you that?”

He was already pushing down his pants and underwear, grunting as he laid down. “Y-Yeah, of course, you can call me whatever you want.”

You giggled as he starts pumping himself, fast and hard making his eyes roll back. “Whatever I want?”

He whimpers out a hum, nodding. “Y-Yes. Yes, whatever you want.”

You couldn’t hear him as you hummed, falling into sleep. He was pumping himself, no need for lube with how much precum was leaking out of his tip. “Y-Y/N,” he moaned out, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Hm? Sorry, I was falling asleep.”

“N-No, don’t… I-I want to hear your voice. Can you keep talking, please?” His voice was high pitched, whiny as you giggle, not noticing the difference in his voice.

“Oh… well, what do you want to hear?”

“A-Anything,” he whines, inhaling sharply. He swiped his thumb over his tip, head tilting back. “Anything.”

“Well… I think I’m going to change up some of the routine. The girls aren’t getting it and the game is soon,” you exhaled, humming. “But I was having a lot of fun with it.”

Just the thought of you dropping down to the ground, legs spread as you threw your head back, quickly being helped up by two other girls to take your position as captain and jump up, tits bouncing made him hold back a whimper, hand pumping fast. “I could see that, Y-Y/N. You w-were doing really good, looked like you were having fun.”

You giggle, smiling as you fixed yourself on the bed. “I was having a lot of fun, but the girls couldn’t keep up.”

“Th-They don’t deserve you,” he says, grunting. Your voice at night was so gritty, full of tiredness, the epitome of what he thought you’d sound like after he fucked you so hard and made the mascara run down your pretty face. “N-None of them do.”

They didn’t, you were his. He didn’t deserve you either, but he needed you like a person needed food and water, just the sound of your voice made him hold back cumming. He would call you every night from now on just to get off to your voice.

“Oh, Ethan,” you groaned, laughing. His eyes rolled back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard to hold back moans. “You’re so sweet, honey.”

“D-Did you take off your makeup?” If he was fucking you right now, would your lipstick be smeared? Would your mascara be running down your cheeks, would your eyeshadow be all fucked up?

“Oh yeah,” you smiled. It was sweet that he cared. “I take it off every night, even if I’m tired. Don’t want to break out.”

He groaned, head thrown back. He loved seeing you with or without makeup, as long as you felt pretty, he didn’t care. He was going to make you sob either way from how much he’d fuck you. “A-And what are you wearing?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” you shrugged, sighing. “It’s really hot.”

Nothing. Oh the thought made him cum just by your words, choking making your brows ruffle in concern.

“Ethan? You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” he groaned. He was so good, cock twitching as he continued to pump himself. “J-Just don’t feel good.”

“Do you want to come over? Come over, I have medicine,” you start to stand, inhaling deeply. “Please? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

He groaned, nodding. Pass up an opportunity to go to your house? Hell no.

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

part 2

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A VICTOR, part two - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: small scene of violence towards reader (not by commodus) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

Days turned into a week, and then another, and another – blending everything. It had been almost a month since your invitation to Commodus’ chambers. The morning after you had feared the inevitable. Like all the other women he sent away, you would go too. However, such was not the case. Not only had you remained at the palace, but it had now become a nightly routine. 

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of the day, you would hastily make your way to his chambers. There, he would have you eat; knowing that you had little during your day of work. In the beginning, he would speak to you about random topics all in what you concluded was an effort to distract himself. Over time, he would begin to speak about his duties and frustrations regarding the senate. You understood that all he wanted was someone to listen.

All that was required of you was to offer words of comfort. You learned quickly that if you were to even slightly defend the senate and any of the senator's words, he would grow cold and become shut off for the rest of the evening; yet still did not wish for you to leave.

You still had no idea of his intentions, but had decided that for now, you were safe. At least, as safe as you could be – given Commodus’ well-known tendency to lash out. You had not been on the receiving end, nor would you ever try and bring it on. You were not stupid. The day after you told Commodus the identity of the servant that hurt your arm, that servant was never seen again. Simply, you provided him company which appeared to please and soothe him. 

Unfortunately, your duties had begun to slip. He had started to demand attention outside of the times of dusk until dawn. He wanted more attention and more of your focus. A natural consequence was rushing to finish your work. Scrubbing would be abandoned, some dishes would not be cleaned, and candles in other chambers would not be lit. If the other servants noticed it, they did not vocalize it. 

At first, some of the women wanted information regarding your first night with the emperor. They poked and prodded for any ounce of knowledge, but you remained steadfast in guarding the emperor’s secret. They all drew their own conclusions that you had slept with him, which was far from the truth, but a surprising event was the fact that you were not shunned and cast aside. Instead of a single night, they watched you go back every night since; now watching the emperor himself seek you out during the day. Whispers carried, but none wanted to be caught gossiping about the emperor. Should they choose to, their life could be forfeit. 

And so, your life carried on as though this was normal – as though this has been routine for years. 

You had been in one of the many spare rooms, wiping up some dust that had accumulated on a ledge with a small cloth when the door to the side opened. Before you could turn around, you felt arms come and wrap around your stomach. The sudden touch almost made you drop the cloth. The familiar scent of parchment and burning wood entered your senses and you immediately knew it was Commodus. 

He buried his head into your exposed neck and let out a long sigh. You felt his muscles relax as he leaned closer to you. By the sound of his sigh, he was in one of his irritated moods; often brought on by a difficult time with his duties. You made a move to turn around, but his grip got tighter and his lips brushed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder causing you to freeze. He had, in passing a few times, gently kissed your shoulders or cheek, but never had he been so bold in his movements. 

“Is everything all right, Caesar?” You questioned. 

Commodus shook his head against you and murmured, “What have we talked about?” 

“Of course,” You responded, “Is everything alright, Commodus?” Still, even a month in, it was sometimes difficult to address him by his name. However, his insistence was what brought you to heel. 

“No,” He breathed out on your skin, the action sending warmth from the area straight to your stomach, “They undermine me again.” 

“It is likely because they feel inferior to you,” One time, you had tried to defend the senators, but that only worsened his mood. You had learned the words that pleased him the most and gradually began to believe them as fact; an inner displeasure towards the senators you had never even met started to take root. 

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Very slowly, he began to place featherlight kisses on your neck with one of his hands reaching up to gently pull back the fabric on your shoulder to give him more access, “What are you up to?” 

He often wished to hear you speak of monotonous things, letting himself sink into your presence and voice. It calmed him and in a sense, it calmed you as well. 

“I am only cleaning,” You began to speak, but found it difficult to focus on thinking when his hand that was wrapped around your stomach began to move in massaging patterns and his lips continued to assail your neck and only got more intense. 

“Cleaning?” Commodus spoke between his kisses. His voice was disconnected, entirely focused on his current task, “Sounds interesting,” He joked as he nipped at your skin. The action caused you to drop the cloth in your hand and let out a gasp. 

Commodus lifted his head and looked at the ground where the cloth fell, “Ah, it appears you have finished and are no longer busy,” Despite not seeing his face, you could tell there was a faint smile on his lips. He quickly spun you around in his arms, letting out a laugh at your dishevelled state. Red had made its way from your face to your upper chest, a sight that always amused him. 

“Commodus,” You scolded. 

His gaze darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, “Say it again.” You paused for a moment, wondering if that had angered him, but found no trace of annoyance on his face. However, the heavy look he had in his eye was like a man starved. It caught you off guard. 

“Commodus,” You whispered. That seemed to please him and he pulled you flush against his chest and began to kiss your jaw. His lips trailed down your jaw and towards your chin before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was greedy and raw, but stirred unknown feelings in the pit of your stomach; a frantic flutter that would not go away. He had only ever given you gentle pecks on the cheek or shoulder, this was entirely new and you wondered what brought on such a craving. 

He pushed you backwards until your back hit one of the pillars. The marble was cold, shocking you for a moment due to the contrast of the heat of Commodus’ body. Yet, there was something about this that felt good; felt oddly right despite its unholy nature. He continued to kiss you, a mix of hunger and impatience wrapped in heated excitement. It made your knees feel weak and had your mind go fuzzy until all it could focus on was him. 

A small moan clawed its way from your throat that quickly made a groan fall from his lips. Commodus pulled away abruptly and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. You recognized the look of calculation on his face. It was the same one he got when he came to moments of clarity; the slight widening of his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows crease, and his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. He had thought of something in that moment and it appeared to shake him.

As if burned, Commodus pulled away. The contrast between his now reserved nature to his openness just seconds before nearly whipped your head into a frenzy. He looked almost… unsure. 

“There are duties I must tend to.” He cut your meeting off short, giving a curt nod and speeding out of the room. His clothing billowed as he moved and you could do nothing but stand there and watch his back as he left. 

As he fled from your presence, disappointment flooded your body and you could not help but wonder what it was in that moment that shocked him so greatly.

You had been making your way to your room to finish weaving a carpet for one of the guest rooms when your master, Attius, turned down onto the corridor you were in. Upon spotting you, he lifted his hand to command you to stop. Instantly, your body ceased its movements, eyes flickering like the torches that lined the space. You waited as Attius got closer and held your mouth shut; he hated when spoken to first. 

He stopped short just in front of you, “You have been neglectful in your duties.” It was not a question to wonder what was happening, but a statement. He did not care about any excuse, but you tried to plead your case anyway. 

“The Caesar has been wishing for more of my attention-” He cut you off. 

“So it’s the emperor’s fault that you have failed your work?” Attius crossed his arms and stood closer to you, towering over your figure. 

“N-no, master, that is not what I meant-”

“Then why do you bring it up?” His tone came across as condescending and rhetorical. You sucked in a breath at his growing aggressive posture and chose to submit, lest you incur his wrath. 

“I will try and do better, master.” You bowed your head in submission. 

“You will not try, you will do better.” He used his forefinger to lift your chin so you could look right at him and he lowered his voice, “It would be a displeasure to hurt such a pretty face.” He quickly retracted his hand and continued down the corridor, casually as if the threat was a regular occurrence. It was, but you had largely managed to dodge it for most of your life. Unfortunately, it appears patience for you has worn thin. You gulped some air into your mouth, just noticing that you had held your breath through his threat. 

It was not until he turned down at the end of the hallway and left your sight that you felt you could move. It was as if released from a spell. You shook off the fear and moved in the opposite direction to your room. It was only a few doors down. 

Entering the room, your eyes saw a small space. It was all stone and had some open-air windows at the upper parts of the wall, as the rest was underground, that cast some golden light from the sun into the space. In the corner was a woven mat that you slept on. Thankfully, despite your status as a slave, you and your mother were able to keep some items when going into servitude – a privilege not afforded to most. Because of that, there were pillows and animal skins that lined the space, making the floor mat more comfortable to sleep on. 

It was where you sat down to continue the final details of finishing up the carpet you had been working on for one of the guest apartments. Time passed in a way that was unknown to you. The light got brighter, signalling that the sun was setting and the angle hit just the right spot to come flooding into your room. It was fairly warm, given that the cool ground normally fended most of the heat off. 

You were lost in your work, singing to yourself gently as you were trying off some pieces of fabric when your door opened. Looking up, you saw Commodus standing there. He had never come down to the lower levels of the palace before. His eyes scanned your room, taking note of what little possessions you were granted. 

“Commodus,” You spoke and got his attention. Seeing the tired look on his face, you became sympathetic, “What has happened?” What you really wanted to ask was what happened when he left you so abruptly earlier that day, but knew it was an answer you would have to wait for. 

“Damn the senate,” He mumbled as he closed your door and made his way to where you sat. You scooted over to make room and he settled amongst the pillows and animal furs behind you. Commodus placed his chin on your shoulder, looking over and down at the work you were doing. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to be flush against his chest while his legs lay bent at the knees on either side of you. 

Being cocooned in his warmth was something you had begun to get used to and dreaded the day it would go away. That negative voice in your head always reminded you that soon he will get tired of this, of you. 

Commodus looked at the various details on the carpet, spotting a small image, “A tiger?” 

“Yes,” You affirmed and ran your hand along the woven design, “I like tigers.” He moved his chin from your shoulder and replaced it with his mouth, his nose peeking over. He inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“Have you ever seen my tigers in the games?” He asked. You could feel his lips moving against your shoulder as he spoke.

“Once. I’m always too busy with my duties that I never have much spare time.” Your fingers tied off two pieces of fabric and moved on to the next bit of work. Commodus focused his attention on you, his hand brushing away your hair behind your ear and down your back, exposing your neck. 

He rested his head back on your shoulder and watched as you skillfully continued your work. Minutes passed in silence and you decided to hum a tune knowing it would make him happy. His fingers traced patterns on your stomach and you tried with all your might not to focus on it or you would melt into his arms. You had to finish this piece soon or Attius may use it as an excuse to reign down on you with anger. 

In the haze of relaxation, Commodus spoke gently, “Do you ever think about doing other things with your life?” 

His question came out of nowhere and left you wondering about his true intentions to ask such a thing. It was not something you ever thought about, nor cared to think about. This was your life, always and forever. There was no freedom given to a servant and such wishful thinking would only worsen your state. 

“I am good at what I do and I am honoured to serve the empire.” You responded. Yet, your answer did not seem to fully please him and he sighed. 

“What if there were other ways you could serve?” You did not understand Commodus’ mode of thinking, nor would you ever begin to try. In the time spent together, you learned he can often be unpredictable. 

“There is no other way I would wish to serve.” You reasoned. He hummed at that answer and brushed your shoulder before leaving a quick kiss over the fabric. His hand reached out to grip your chin gently, his thumb brushing over the skin in calm movements. Commodus looked you in the eyes. 

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you desire. State it.” You caught on to his unspoken words. Commodus wished for you to confess something you were not entirely sure of; confess you felt for him beyond a silly companionship. There were two paths set out for you. 

The first path was to deny. Deny that you have feelings for him and continue these little trysts. Hope that they continue for as long as they can and pray for mercy should he get bored of you. If you were lucky, you would end up like the previous women who shared a night with him and lose your position at the palace and be moved somewhere else – to some other rich person’s dwellings. It would not be so bad at the end of it all and you would have shared something special with someone; a moment of shared camaraderie on a level you never expected to have in your life. 

The second path was the one you wished to run down. You could say it there. Confess that your heart beats faster when he walks into a room. That now your favourite time of the day was visiting him in his chambers, talking, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. You wanted to say that each time he kissed you, it was like you were tasting Elysium. There was nothing else you wished to spend your days than in his arms. 

But that second path was even more unpredictable and greater than that; nothing but a stupid fantasy. 

Your place was as a servant, a slave. You were worth less than a single buckle on his clothing. 

That was why you gave him a soft smile to pretend everything was okay and recite words that felt like a stab in your heart, “I am content with my life. I would wish for nothing to change.” 

His face remained neutral, not giving away the same feeling you were experiencing: the sheer weight of his heart being crushed. He nodded and looked back at the carpet on the floor. His chin balanced on your shoulder and he appeared done with this conversation. 

You immediately wanted to take back your words. You wanted to scream out an answer, shout out the feelings that had been brewing in your body since he first summoned you into his room. You cared for him, you yearned for him. In some insane, unpredictable way, you believed you were beginning to love him. 

However it was futile, it was all too unlikely to end up well. 

And so you worked in silence with nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and the rhythmic movements of your hands as they crafted; wishing, hoping, dreaming it could all be different.

The day had ended quickly with the beautiful soft glow of a setting sun. That evening you had dived into your work in the kitchens, cooking and forgetting about your troubles. For a brief time, it worked. However, every little thing began to remind you of him. The food that would be served to him, the colour of the olives not even coming close to the vibrancy of his eyes, even the taste of figs did not come close to the sweetness of his lips. Upon that realization, you had the urge to throw the bowl of figs at a wall but resisted. 

Commodus was so frustratingly consuming. He had made a home in you, wedged his way into the crevices of your skin and stuck to your bones until it was him that made your body move; made your body get up in the morning and decide to continue. 

That damned man. Why did he ever invite you into his room in the first place? 

The kitchen had long cleared out and you were now calm and eager to finish the last of the cleanup. You moved around the space on nothing but muscle memory, totally focused on the tasks that needed to be done. You were so focused, that you failed to see Attius lingering in the doorway, observing your movements. 

A few pots you were balancing fell to the ground and you moved to pick them up. Your knees hit the ground and you began to stack them. Sandaled feet moved into your vision and you halted your movements. Gradually, your vision moved upwards from your crouched position and you saw Attius staring down at you. His face was set into a scowl and his eyes were full of scrutiny. 

“You have failed me,” His voice broke you from your shock. You made a move to get up, but he held his hand out as a command for you to stay down, “You said you would get better, but your work has slacked more. That makes me angry… and you know what happens to those that make me angry.” 

“I’m sorry, master, truly. I-”

“I wish not to hear your excuses. How do you think such actions should be punished, hm?” Attius leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. 

The thought of begging made you want to hurl. You would sooner wish to spit at his feet than plead for mercy, but there was no other way for you to get out of this. Your head hung low, bowed towards him.

“Master, I humbly ask for mercy for my transgressions,” You put on the kindest tone you could, voice dripping in false sincerity. 

He bent over and gripped your chin to look up at him. He slowly made you rise to your feet, giving you a soft expression – a stark contrast to his personality just seconds ago. Once you had stood up, he still kept your chin in his hand. 

“You have always been such a good worker, just like your mother.” His words reassured you, if only for a moment, “Which is why this will hurt me just as much as it hurts you, but nothing must go unpunished.” 

The momentary ounce of relief you had washed away immediately. Before you could respond, a sharp stinging sensation hit your cheek and almost knocked you over. You hunched slightly and raised a hand to cover your cheek and recognized that he had hit you. 

You tried to back up and get away, but his hand reached out and gripped your tunic. He pulled you close to his face and whispered with unconcealed anger, “You will learn to obey.”

Each light dab against your cheekbone felt like needles piercing skin. You had endured Attius’ rage and had now spent the last hour in a small room where the slave healer lived. Cassius was an aging and withered man, unable to participate in heavy labour and had since taken it upon himself to aid the other servants when they became injured. He was kind and attentive to everyone and you remembered him healing your mother many times as a girl. 

After Attius had beaten you, you managed to crawl on your hands and knees down the hall and towards Cassius’ room. He immediately took you in and began assessing the damage. A large bruise had begun to form on your face that spanned from your cheekbone to the top of your temple on your right side. Your arms and legs were littered with other matching bruises, but what hurt most of all was your stomach which had been kicked multiple times. 

All of your wounds had been treated, save for a split lip and the bruise on your face which was now being assessed. 

“Some of the bruises should only take two weeks to heal, as they are not too terrible. The one on your stomach will likely take longer.” Cassius informed you as he pulled away from cleaning your face and put his blood-stained rag down. 

You let out a sigh, brain overwhelmed with information. Yet, all you could think about was Commodus and what he would think. You were already worried that any day he could grow bored and send you away – this would only solidify it. If you were covered in bruises, why would he ever find you attractive enough to keep? He would become tired of you before you could heal. 

Deep down, you wanted to think it would be different, but insecurities had always held a vice-like grip on your heart.  

“He can’t know,” You whispered to yourself.

“Who can’t know?” Cassius questioned. 

You rested your hands on your knees, “The emperor. He cannot know or he will send me away.” For a moment, you two were silent with nothing but a single flickering torch lighting the room. You knew you needed to bide time to heal. If there was a good enough explanation, a proper excuse, you could heal and pretend nothing had happened. 

That night, you were supposed to visit Commodus like every night prior. Except you could not this time and needed to figure out a plan. 

“Say that I am sick,” You got Cassius’ attention, “Inform him that I am ill and can not be visited by anyone out of risk of spread.” 

“You are asking me to lie to the emperor,” He confirmed. The way he framed it like that had you understanding the severity of it all. You were asking him to risk possibly his own life to cover up your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I should have never suggested it.” You let out a low sigh and stared off into the corner of the small room. You needed to come up with another plan quickly before Commodus began to wonder where you were. 

“I will do it,” He broke the silence, “I only hope you know what you are doing.” 

You wanted to leap out of your chair and hug him but restrained yourself. It would only make your body hurt more. You nodded in thanks to him. The pain had begun to set in as the adrenaline wore off and you found it difficult to move without causing enough pain to nearly immobilize your body. 

“Stay here for a while and rest. I will go and inform him of your absence.” Cassius opened his door and closed it gently, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

Your life, in only a few short weeks, had changed drastically from the regular routine you had come to love. The world you had grown up in was blending with a world you never should have touched in the first place. Yet you could not imagine it any other way, nor wanted to forget the memories you had made. 

Deeply, you wanted to think that your time with Commodus was more than temporary, but the lingering thoughts in your brain forced you to look at it negatively. With your feigned sickness, you could perhaps hope he forgets about you and does not have you sent away. Already you could barely handle severing your life from his – it hurt your heart more than the bruises on your body. Perhaps, if he forgot about you, you could still remain in the palace and not lose everything you had ever known. 

You leaned back in the chair and stared into the open flame of the torch, seemingly wishing that the fire could consume you whole. It would not hurt as nearly as the cracks deepening in your heart.

taglist: @scrumptiousloser

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

A "The Picture of Dorian Gray"!- inspired Nanami fic in two acts (From my Jjk Penny Dreadful Series-here)

*°࿐ Synopsis: After a harrowing escape from the hell of Shibuya, Nanami Kento finds a dark, twisted method to conceal the deep wounds forever etched on his flesh and spirit. He relocates to Malaysia, shedding his former identity in search of s fresh start, driven by the allure of an hedonistic lifestyle. He quickly resigns himself to a solitary existence, prioritising secrecy above all else's -that is, until one evening at the theatre, when your paths fatefully cross. What will happen next in this unfolding tale of tragedy and rebirth?

*°࿐Tags: Act 2- Nsfw + dark content (Katoptronophilia- mirror kink, softdom!nanami, fem! masturbation, pinv, breeding kink, graphic description of scar and injuries)

This work is part of the SPOOKINKY 2024 event hosted by @tsukimefuku 🖤

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic (...)Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." -Oscar Wilde

࿐✧˖*° Fic Moodboard here✧˖*°࿐

Beneath the dim, flickering glow of the bakery where you work everyday, you move like a shadow, wiping the counter where the day’s sweet offerings linger—croissants, chocolate éclairs—fragrant remnants of a life half-lived. The scent clings to you, comforting yet oppressive, as you linger on the past. A year has passed since you fled into this quiet corner of Malaysia, seeking escape, yearning for the hum of the ocean outside your window. Here, in the solitude of this bakery, you’ve become a ghost—part of the background, invisible to all but the clock and the empty tables.

Yet tonight, something stirs deep within you. At the end of your shift, you return to your cozy apartment, heading to your bedroom to let your fingers graze the golden ticket on your nightstand, a silent promise of a dream that has been lingering in your personal space for weeks: The Tempest. Tonight, the magic of Shakespeare’s world will finally become your own. You slip into the emerald night dress you bought for this occasion, catching a fleeting glimpse of a brand new woman reborn in the mirror, staring back with a defiant gaze.

…

The air of the theater hums with electricity as you step inside, your dress shimmering like a forest at dusk. Eyes turn, glances linger. The crowd falls into a hush, a soft murmur ripples through the room. You feel their gaze—a strange, unknown sensation, both exhilarating and disquieting- you’re definitely not used to being the focus of the attention around you. As you navigate the rows to your seat, eager to find yours and hide among the crowd of faces, a chill runs down your spine. There, across the balcony, a familiar figure watches you—a tall, elegant man, poised in a timeless black tuxedo.The tailored jacket hugs his athletic frame,  the deep midnight black fabric contrasting strikingly with his fair complexion. A white pocket square elegantly peeks out from the breast pocket, while a finely knotted bow tie adds a sophisticated touch. His reserved nature, shadowed by a hint of intrigue, seems to enchant every woman in the auditorium, inviting curiosity from all who cross his path. With an air of mystery that surrounds him, he garners attention effortlessly, embodying both charm and enigma in every subtle movement.

It’s him—Mr. Nanami, the enigmatic man who has haunted the bakery for months. Always at his corner table, always with a book in hand, always distant, as though carved from some distant age. His gaze is now fixed on you, unblinking, his caramel eyes drinking in every movement you make. Even among the crowd, he is a statue, an artifact of mystery, his blonde hair gleaming under the theater’s lights, his presence too immense to ignore.

«If by your Art, my dearest father, you have

put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,

Dashes the fire out.»

The character of Miranda finally speaks, signalling the start of the play. Lights go off, the world fading into darkness around you, but his gaze never wavers. It pulses between you, an electric current that thrums in your chest. Even as the actors bring the stage to life, Nanami’s attention is all on you. His eyes trace the delicate curve of your neck, they notice the way the silk of your dress clings to your feminine figure—every movement, every breath amplified. In the silence between the scenes, memories of brief encounters in the bakery flood both of your minds—small gestures, the fleeting brush of hands as you served his command. Every mundane act now seems to acquire a deeper meaning, hinting at the long buried electricity now resurfacing in all of its power.

The actors' words echo in your mind, their tale of rediscovery mirroring your own. You feel the thread between you and Nanami tighten with each passing scene. Your heartrate is accelerates inexplicably, his hands itch imperceptibly. By the play's end, the applause is drowned by the weight of his gaze, a fleeting glance that feels like an unspoken invitation. The crowd fades, and you are lost in the depths of his eyes—amber pools that seem to hold unspeakable secrets. What darkness lingers behind them? What truths lie hidden beneath his composed exterior?

In that moment, you are both spectator and part of the story, caught between the stage and the gaze of the man who watches you from the shadows, as if you are both part of the same forgotten tale.

The applause swells, a rising tide of sound that drowns everything around you. The faces blur, the claps echo like thunder, and your senses are swept into the frenzy. Yet, goosebumps rise along your exposed back, a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. In the midst of chaos, your consciousness fails to identify the tall figure slipping quietly behind you, a shadow stretching long across your seat. But your body doesn't: every fiber of your being tenses in alert, time stretching as if waiting for something to happen at any moment.

Nanami’s hand lingers for a heartbeat before resting on your shoulder, a firm, yet gentle touch. The unexpected pressure makes you gasp, the sound barely a whisper.

"Mr. Nanami... What a surprise," you murmur, turning to face him, your voice trembling like a prayer as you feign surprise. His name spills from your lips, the remnants of the performance still thick in the air.

"Good evening, Mrs... I apologize for the intrusion," he says, his tone softer than you expected. "I saw you in the crowd and... I couldn't resist."

His apology is followed by a smile—small, sincere, and unlike the elusive stranger you’ve come to know. You blink in disbelief, caught off guard by this sudden warmth.

"Good evening," you reply, your words stammered. "No need to apologize. I’m glad you noticed me." Beneath the surface, you are deeply surprised by the fact that he did really recognize you, a simple waitress, a face everyone easily forgets.

He chuckles softly, eyes flickering with interest as he watches you. "The actors were amazing tonight, weren't they?" he continues, easing into the conversation. " Yes, indeed” you answer “I've always been fond of drama... the way music, scenery, poetry, and dance all blend into one living thing."

He catches the spark igniting your eyes as you speak, lost in your own enthusiasm. "Yes, I think it's the perfect kind of art... a fusion of all forms. A single experience woven from many threads."

He watches you, entranced by your remarkable passion for arts. Nanami always secretly thought you looked beautiful, admiring your kind nature from afar while you served tables at the bakey. But tonight he can't help feeling drawn to your every movement, noticing every detail of you, the most attractive woman he has ever laid eyes on in a while. Suddenly a low chuckle escapes him, catching you by surprise: "A real aesthete, aren’t you? I think I’ve finally found a worthy companion for my abstract musings." He muses.

You smile back, amused by the compliment. "So…you are... an ‘aesthete’ too?" you ask playfully.

"Ah... I prefer the term hedonist. There's a difference. An aesthete merely appreciates beauty for its own sake. A hedonist seeks to immerse themselves in it, to live for the pleasure it brings. Do you understand?" He smiles wryly.

You nod, half-missing the full meaning. "It makes sense to me... though 'hedonism' isn't a word you hear much these days."

At your remark, something flickers in his eyes—a momentary hesitation. His gaze drifts away, as though lost in a distant thought. Then he snaps back,as shaken from a dream.

"I have a question for you," he says, his voice now heavier. "Since you’re so drawn to this kind of topic... what do you think? Does life imitate art, or is it art that imitates life?"

You blink, caught off guard. His question is as profound as it is unsettling. Sensing your confusion, he continues, voice tightening with a quiet vulnerability.

"I know it sounds tautological... contradictory, even. But these thoughts are born from years of reflection, of trying to make sense of life."

He pauses, and for a moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken tension. The weight of his words settles around you, and you sense his inner battle—fear of revealing too much.

"Life is indeed the most intricate of masterpieces," you say softly, your voice soothing the strain in his words. "But I believe we create it. We choose the colors, the shapes, the shadows of our existence."

His eyes soften, a long, silent moment passing between you. Then, as though the walls around him have cracked, he sighs, and his words spill out.

"I’ve always had a special sensitivity... but my past... it hardened me, consumed me. I spent years hiding from it, burying my feelings beneath logic and calculation. And when I finally faced those demons, I realized..." He trails off, the confession hanging between you.

You wait, breath held, as he collects his thoughts. "I thought the pleasures of art and literature were gone forever. I thought I had lost them. But then..." He falters again, lost in the depths of his own emotions.

You try to simplify his cryptic confession. "So... you retired early and moved to Malaysia, didn't you? It's not something to be ashamed of, it's common practice here, Malaysia is such a dreamy place. I myself have left everything behind and fled here…" You try to make him feel at ease, failing to notice the deeper meaning behind his words.

His lips curled up in a faint smile, a touch of sadness in his eyes. How could such a pure soul like yours grasp the horrors hidden behind his elegant appearance? "Yes... escaping a life I didn’t recognize anymore seemed the only choice I had a year ago."

You smile back, unaware of the weight of his past, yet moved by his vulnerability. "It seems like we both needed to escape something,then" you say gently.

He watches you intensely, and for a moment, the shadows of his past flicker in his gaze, along if something else- quiet admiration for your spontaneous genuineness. Then, without warning, he clears his throat, inviting you to continue your discussion elsewhere:

"I hope you won’t misunderstand," he says, his voice low and hesitant. "But...would you join me for a drink tonight? I’d love to continue this conversation... and perhaps share a book with you. If you'd allow me."

You accept without hesitation, the thrill of the unknown surging through you. Walking side by side along the moonlit shore, your steps are light, the air thick with possibility. The evening unfolds before you, a path leading to an unseen discovery, your heart fluttering, unaware of the darkness that lurks just beyond the light of the moon, reflected inside his golden irises.

The ebony door creaks open, a haunting sound that reverberates through the dimly lit corridor as Nanami, with an air of quiet dignity, unlocks the entrance to his home, his quiet sanctuary. Leaning forward, he flicks the light switch, and with a courteous gesture, steps aside, allowing you to cross the threshold. Click. A warm, golden light floods the space, spilling like liquid amber into the darkness, inviting you into the treasure trove that is Nanami's home.

As you step inside, the musty scent of aged books mingles with a faint undertone of turpentine, whisking you away to a distant realm where art and literature reign supreme. The air is thick with stories untold, whispers of creativity echoing off the walls. Each available inch of wall space is claimed by an eclectic mix of paintings, their colors vibrant against the deep shadows. Books of every genre crowd every angle of the refined, tastefully furnished open space that stretches before you. Your eyes widen, your jaw drops; you are mesmerized, trying to absorb every intricate detail of this artistic sanctuary.

"I hope this is to your liking," Nanami's amused chuckle pulls you from your reverie, his voice like a gentle breeze stirring the still air.

"This... all of this... is yours? The paintings, the books, the antiques? How...?" You stammer, incredulous, as you survey the vast collection that feels both intimate and monumental.

"Yes," he replies, a contemplative smile gracing his lips as he leans against the doorframe, the shadows dancing across his features. "This collection is my legacy, the thing I’m most proud of..." His voice trails off, and as you admire his possessions, you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you, filled with a blend of longing and admiration. In his mind, your figure blurs with the contours of the most graceful of Aphrodites, the missing piece of his collection, the first soul to step into his sanctuary after a long, lonely stretch of time. He watches you spin around his living room, a vision of grace in a flowing dress that clings to your curves like a delicate drapery on a marble statue.

He could grow accustomed to this sight, to you... And in that fateful moment, he lowers his guard, granting you access to the most secluded part of his soul, a realm he has shielded jealously over the years. "Why don’t you take a tour of the house while I pour us a drink? What do you prefer: Cabernet or Whiskey?" he asks, his genuine smile like a rare gem in the dim light.

"Thank you, I’d like to explore your collection further… as for the drink… you choose, surprise me," you reply chuckling mischievously, a thrilling tension crackling in the air as your eyes lock with his, an electric connection that sends shivers down your spine.

The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you venture deeper into the labyrinthine layout, navigating narrow corridors flanked by towering shelves that groan under the weight of Nanami's extensive collection. Each step draws you further into his world, a place where dreams and memories intertwine.

As you explore, you ascend the stairs to the first floor, stumbling upon a cozy library. A plush, crimson armchair beckons you, piled high with dog-eared paperbacks and a precarious tower of art monographs. The adjacent bookshelf stands as a shrine to literary giants—Austen, Dickens, Joyce—their timeless works nestled alongside a first edition of Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea."

You are about to descend when something catches your eye: A door at the end of the corridor is slightly ajar, challenges you, invites your curiosity. A thrill courses through you, an all-consuming desire to uncover the mystery hidden within. Drawn by an unseen force, you approach, your heart racing as your trembling hand hovers over the doorknob. With a gentle push, you swing the door open, and a sudden burst of light slices through the darkness, momentarily blinding you. As your vision clears, you find yourself staring at your own reflection, an astonished figure in a green dress, caught in the web of shadows.

Stepping further into the room, you realize you’ve entered Nanami's peculiar bedroom. A quilted round bed dominates the space, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mirrors that create a dizzying effect, reflecting your image endlessly in the dim light. Your gaze travels, and you find a portrait hanging on the wall—a blond man who looks strikingly like Nanami, but marred by burn scars that crisscross his body like a roadmap of pain, telling a story of flames that once ravaged his skin. His eyes, a deep, piercing gold, seem to harbor the weight of those infernos, a flicker of fire still smoldering within.

“Is this... Nanami?” you whisper to yourself, disbelief coursing through you.

"So you found out..." a faint, emotionless voice emerges from the shadows, and you immediately turn: Nanami stands on the threshold, his attractive features marred by a mask of suffering and resignation. He holds a single book in his hands: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

"Nanami... I didn’t mean to intrude. The door was slightly open, and I..." you stammer, searching for an excuse. " But…What is this? Who is the man in the portrait?" you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling with confusion.

His gaze drops to the floor, a deep sadness enveloping him. "I wanted to lend you this book…maybe it would have helped you better comprehend this situation of mine. I’ve always related to Wilde’s work…and its Preface holds everything I’ve painfully learnt about life” his words ring hollow in your ears, emptied of any meaning. “This portrait... It represents the state of my soul. This... is what I really look like." His voice is heavy with truth, and the weight of his words hangs in the air like a dark cloud.

A storm of questions swirls in your mind, casting you into a sea of panic, while your gaze flashes between him and the man of the picture "This...  it can't be real. Nanami, what really happened? What is this story about?"

"Please, listen to me..." he interrupts, his tone now urgent, demanding your full attention. "Over a year ago, I was involved in an accident in Shibuya,on the night of Halloween and got severely injured. I barely managed to survive, but half of my body was burned, damaged irreparably..."

He takes a step closer, his expression lost as he struggles to share his truth. "When I woke up in a hospital bed, I took a look in the mirror, and realized I would have never been the same man I was.” He pauses, trying to steady his accelerated breath “ seeing my condition, an old friend of mine decided to set off, travelling the world for weeks in search of a way to restore my appearance. And I thought he had returned victorious at first, when he proposed to me an ancient curse allowing me to channel all of my pain and ugliness into that portrait. So I ended up switching places with the man now hanging above my bed. My friend helped me escape to start anew in this secluded place of Earth, but the truth is that this was never meant to be a blessing…with time I fell prey of the illusion of my appearance, trapping myself in a cage of mirrors, constantly afraid to see my real aspect resurfacing…I’ve been such a fool to forget the real nature of this expedient: a curse will always be always a curse"

He retreats, hiding behind a wall of shame and guilt. "I don’t expect you to understand. You know nothing of the world of sorcery from which I came... and...I wouldn't blame you if you turned your back at me now, pointing at me like a devil…"

As he fights to suppress the lump in his throat, you stand in front of him, your knees threatening to give in at every word spilling from his mouth. But it's in this moment that you see his true nature for the first time—a broken man, whose defenses are now crumbling under the weight of his long-buried secrets. "I’ve missed my chance with you, I cannot hide from the monster I’ve become," he whispers, his voice cracking with guilt and regret.

Without thinking, you step forward, closing the distance between you. Nanami's breath hitches as your hesitant hand cups his chiseled jaw, grounding him in the moment. It is high time to free him from the demons of his past.  "Destroy the picture, Nanami... don’t let that portrait weigh down your soul any longer." 

Your words provoke an earthquake into Nanami's world: his eyes widen, meeting the compassionate determination in your gaze. "And this doesn't change anything, I’m not leaving…You don’t have to hide anymore, not from me," you say softly, knowing in your heart that this moment could be the key to unlocking the darkness that has held him captive for far too long.

…

His resolve wavers as he gazes upon your lips, mere inches away from his, a tantalizing promise lingering in the air. The last thread of self-control snaps when you pull him closer, pressing your curves against his sculpted form. In that intoxicating moment, he crashes his mouth to yours, a desperate kiss that spills forth your insecurities in a breathless plea for understanding. Lips collide, and the world fades, leaving just the two of you suspended in a cocoon of time and space. 

Fingers roam restlessly, exploring, dancing over each other’s bodies in a fervent embrace, like lightning illuminating a starless sky with passion's raw energy. The kiss deepens, heats, igniting flames of longing as he pins you against the cool surface of the mirror, your bare back shivering at the sudden chill. He looms over you, strong and commanding, tension rippling through his broad shoulders before he seizes the lower edge of a golden-framed picture, throwing it to the ground with a shattering crash. 

The echo reverberates through the room, breaking the spell that held you. As the cursed image lies in shards, you blink to find the real Nanami before you, a man sculpted by both fire and fate, his scars merely facets of a twisted charm. He holds his breath, waiting for your response, his vulnerability laid bare in the depths of his eyes. 

You stay silent at first. Your trembling fingers deftly start to unbutton his shirt, tracing a path from fine fabric to the rough, fibrous tissue of his burned skin. “You look even more handsome in my eyes now,Nanami... ripped at every edge but still holding your original charm, like the finest masterpiece” you finally speak, voice thick with emotion “you’re strong, you can heal. Let me help you, please... let me…” The weight of your invitation hangs in the air, a siren's call that stirs something deep within him. He hesitantly captures your wandering hand, “Are you sure?” he asks, his forehead resting against yours, a silent confession of both uncertainty and deep care. 

In answer, you push his shirt off his shoulders, your hands gliding over the contours of his biceps, igniting a wildfire in his chest long thought extinguished. You offer him compassion and heartfelt affection, and in that moment, he feels worthy of love again. “I am sure, Nanami… give me all of you without restraints tonight…show me you’re willing to start anew” 

“Fuck,” he gasps, his hands gripping your waist, spinning you around to face the mirror. “See how stunning you look? You are too much for me now,do you understand it?” He desperately spits out through gritted teeth “but if you choose to give yourself to me tonight, know that there will be no turning back. I won’t accept being left alone tomorrow...” His breath tickles your neck as he nibbles at your soft skin, pulling back to meet your gaze with a gravity that sends shivers down your spine. “What do you say? Do you accept my condition?” 

“Yes,” you simply breathe out, eyes locked on the reflection before you, feeling small yet cherished in his powerful embrace. “I guess I am the luckiest of  men, then…” His warm breath cascades over the delicate flesh behind your ear, a relieved smile curling against your skin as you tremble between his arms. 

“I could hold you like this forever…” he whispers, tracing the line of your spine with his index finger. His hands find the thin straps of your dress, gently coaxing them down your shoulders. The silky fabric slips away, pooling at your feet, revealing you in all your glory. “You are a masterpiece here, the most exquisite work of art I have ever seen.”

His gaze drifts to the mirror, breathless as he drinks in the sight of your curves, fingers exploring the valley between your breasts, brushing against your hardened nipples with a soft touch that ignites a deep groan from his throat. “Look at you; I’m going to worship every inch of your delicious body tonight, just like a painter brushing the pure canvas in front of him, I will paint your body with pleasure and reverence” With a confident caress, his hand glides down, cupping your sex, igniting a spark of longing that makes your breath hitch. 

“Nanami,” your voice is a prayer, each syllable infused with need as he parts your folds, cool air colliding with your now exposed clit. His experienced fingers start to explore your womanhood and a shiver dances along your spine “So soft,so wet for me already… keep those beautiful eyes open for me,I want you to watch as we create a work of art of pleasure tonight.” his other hand cups your chin, preventing you from looking away from your entwined image.

He moves with purpose, fingers drawing delicate circles on your sensitive nub, escalating your breaths into gasps. “You know, I’ve always believed that sex is a form of art—the highest, perhaps. The sensations it creates, the way bodies merge in a symphony of unbridled passion…” His rhythm quickens, pressure mounting until you scream his name, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

“Let it happen, just like that, give in to it, feel the way your body yearns for mine” he encourages you, guiding you throughout your climax with his confident ministrations. “Look at you now,” he cups your jaw, tilting your head to see the beauty of your flushed cheeks and wild hair. “You are alive… the essence of beauty.” His kisses scatter across your skin, igniting every nerve, his hardness pressing against your plush curves, a testament to his hunger. 

His veiny hands unfasten his belt, pulling down his elegant pants to reveal himself to you: a glorious display of manhood, standing proud and ready in the mirror facing you. The base is girthy, the long shaft crossed by a single bluish vein up to the swollen tip, already for glistening with precum “look what your beauty does to me” his hips jacks forward instinctively as he notices the hunger in your eyes “Ready?” he asks once more, searching your gaze for any hint of doubt before entering you slowly from behind, his eyes locked on yours in the reflective surface, watching as pleasure and pain intertwine on your face. 

He’s barely halfway in but you already feel him everywhere, a melding of flesh and desire driving you mad as he fills you completely. A strangled groan escapes him. “fuck, you're too tight… "His eyes flutter shut as he revels in the sensation of your snug channel stretching apart for him, sweaty pearls coaxes his forehead, brows furrowed in concentration “you were made for me.” He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he stills for a moment, savoring the connection of your entwined bodies. 

When his hips begin to move, there is no gentleness—only a primal need. He slams against you, each thrust sending you gasping against the mirror, fingers clutching the golden frame for support. Your body turned into a canvas painted with pleasure: head tilted back, throat exposed, breasts heaving with each  fervent thrust, trembling legs on the brink of surrender.  The smacking sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberates, a wild melody echoing in the room as you surrender to the rhythm of ecstasy, bodies swaying in perfect synchronicity. 

Together, you reach the precipice of bliss. The mirror captures the art of your union, an abstract painting of two entwined souls—calling out each other’s names, your bodies slick and sticky, pressed together in a tender embrace. In that moment, you know that this is more than just a union of bodies; it is a celebration of art, love, and the unyielding spirit of desire.

 Nanami’s eyes roll back as he feels you envelop him in a fierce grip, but he forces his gaze open, eager to witness the masterpiece unfolding before him. “I'm almost there…” He announces, grunting in your ear as he surrenders to your magic. Warm spurts of his very essence paint your walls white, making you his in the most primal of ways. He groans in pride and delight when the glass reflects the lewd sight of his overflowing seed dripping down your leg. Turning to face him, a loving smile dances upon both of your lips, the calm after a storm. “That was incredible, my diamond… thank you for sharing this masterpiece with me,” he murmurs, placing gentle kisses upon your closed eyelids, the warmth of his damp hair brushing against your forehead. “You’ve shown me that with you, I can finally find my way back to beauty.” He nuzzles your noses together, laughter bubbling forth as he regards you with a playful glint in his eye. “But I fear I need more from you tonight… are you ready for another round?”

You nod, a spark reigniting within you, a shared yearning to delve deeper into the connection that has blossomed between you in the stillness of the night. Without warning, he lifts you off the ground, effortlessly cradling you in his arms, bridal-style, and carries you toward his round bed, laying you down upon the luxurious velvet sheets. The sensation takes your breath away, and you gaze up at him, wide-eyed with wonder.

He kneels at your feet, crawling onto the bed, leaving a trail of kisses along your calves, thighs, and stomach, until he reaches your lips. For a moment, he pauses, studying your moonlit features, before pushing himself into your inviting warmth once more. This time, there is no urgency; instead, he makes love to you with a tenderness that transcends flesh, his thrusts slow and deep, punctuated by soft kisses and feather-light caresses. You gaze upward at the mirror hanging from the ceiling, capturing your supine figure beneath his muscled torso, tensing with every intimate movement.

In that sacred moment of Epiphany, the truth unfurls before you: together, you and Nanami create a beauty that has always eluded you both, a beauty that defies the boundaries of time and space, a masterpiece beyond convention. You were each other’s missing piece. Each creak of the bed beneath you resonates with magic, a spell binding you to this moment of bliss and rebirth, witnessed by every mirror surrounding you.

“We are art,” you lean in and whisper into his ear, your voice filled with newfound conviction, as the night wraps around you like a cloak, and the shadows dance in celebration of your fateful union.

Thanks for reading this far!🙏

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[featherandferns]

daylight - one

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 1 of the daylight series | read prologue here

content warnings: none

word count: 3.5k.

blurb: when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a stranger stops to help. It isn't until later that you realise why he seems so familiar.

It’s dusk, around eight at night, when you’re driving home. The dying sunlight is compensated by sparse street lamps. There weren’t many people in this area: houses or shops or anything of the sort. You glance down at your satnav. Still new to the area, all the streets look the same. All the houses do too, for that matter - at least those on the Cut. You’d ventured into Figure Eight last week on foot, camera in hand, and promptly turned back around. The Kooks were far from inviting; eyed you up like bait, practically snarling under breath at the sight of you. The houses were huge, stupid things compared to the two bedroom shack you and your parents had moved into. No, the Cut felt more welcoming. The people were genuine and real. Friendly and helpful, even if they had an edge.

“So…” Your friend Mimsy’s voice through the hands-free speakerphone brings you out of your daydreams. “How is it? Found any hot surfer bros yet?”

You laugh. “Sorry to break your heart but no, not yet.”

“Girl! What the hell have you been doing?” Mimsy scolds. 

“I’ve been busy!”

“With what? Wallowing in self pity? Pining after my company?”

“Oh my God, how did you know?” you sarcastically return. “My life is just empty without you around, Mimsy.”

“Damn straight it is,” she mumbles. 

Rolling your eyes, you continue down the street. “I’m looking for a side hustle to get some extra cash.”

“God, you’re so boring sometimes, you know that?”

You snigger. “How else do you want me to afford flights to Vancouver? It’s my only way to get back there and see you again. Unless you want me to hitchhike.”

“Nuh-uh! I just listened to the craziest story about hitchhiking! It's this guy called the ‘Glove Guy’ who roams Halifax and–”

“Mimsy,” you interrupt, “what’s our agreement?”

She’s quiet a moment, sighs and says, “one true crime story a day.”

“Mhm. And didn’t we already talk about Ted Bundy?”

“...yes.”

“I rest my case,” you say. 

“Look, I’m just saying that if you have to get a job, maybe try and be the official photographer for the lifeguards or something.”

“Mimsy…”

“Then you can ogle at hot guys all day, catch a tan and get paid for it!”

Through Mimsy’s chatter and your stifled laughter, the engine makes a troubling rumble. With that, the whole car shudders. The steering wheel shivers in your grip and your stomach drops, panic rising. Smoke pummels out the hood. Clouds your vision. 

“Oh fuck!”

“What? What is it?”

“I gotta call you back!” you blurt, hanging up in a hurry.

You take a fleeting glance in the mirrors and swerve off the road, shutting off the engine. The smoke makes you cough, catching in your lungs. 

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” you continue to cuss, grabbing your phone, scrambling to get your keys out the ignition. Swinging the door open, you throw yourself out of the car and run away, scared it might catch on fire or even explode. 

As you gape at it, chest heaving, you’re relieved to see the smoke is dying down with the engine shut off. Sighing, you plant your hands on your hips and look up and down. Nobody. Nothing. Not a gas station or a shop you can dash in for help. Hell, any shops would probably be closed either way. You reply to Mimsy’s frantic texts with a brief explanation and then contemplate calling your parents. Before you can, the sound of another car approaching catches your attention. It’s a campervan. Brown paint which is mostly chipped and peeling; stickers decorate the sides and windows. It’s well-loved and well-worn. There’s a guy driving, about your age from the looks, and he’s slowing down at the sight of you and your abandoned car.

He pulls up. Your skin prickles nervously. It’s lonely around here. The engine shuts off and you watch as he jumps out the car and saunters over, hands in his short pockets. 

“You a’right?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

He quirks a brow and glances at your still steaming vehicle. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“I, uh,” you follow his line of sight and flail your arm uselessly at it. “Well, no. I kinda broke down.”

“Ah.” He wanders over to your car and whistles. “She’s smokin’, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nervously laugh, following. You keep a comfortable distance between the two of you. 

He heads to the car hood. Glancing at you, he asks, “you mind?” whilst gesturing down to it. You shrug yes. He pops the hood and laughs through his coughs, fanning his face free of the smoke. 

“Goddamn. The hell happened?”

“I don’t know. It just blew up on me out of nowhere,” you reply, coming over. 

He pulls a rag out of one of his pockets and wafts it over the engine. As he checks out the engine, you do the same to him.

Donned in a grey t-shirt, graphic decal on the back mostly faded, and a pair of black cargo shorts and boots, he looks the image of Kildare County. His dark blonde hair is kept under a red cap. It’s fraying on the lip. A shark tooth necklace hangs around his neck, rings decorate a few of his fingers, and several string and beaded bracelets adorn his left hand. He’s good looking, even in the low visibility of the night. There’s also something strangely familiar about him. Almost like you’ve seen him before. 

He meddles with something, nodding. You snap your eyes back up to his face from his well-kept figure just in time as he looks at you. “It’s the radiator. Seems to have overheated or detached or some shit. I mean, whatever happened has completely busted the thing.”

You raise your brows. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

Laughing, he shrugs and gestures at the mechanics. “In simple terms? The thing’s a goner. You’re gonna need a new part on it.”

“So I can’t drive it?”

“Nope. Not ‘til you get it fixed,” he replies. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale deeply. “Fucking great.”

“I mean, there’s a garage not far from here. They’ll probably fix her up for you no problem. Have her good to go for Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!? I thought you said it just needs a new part?”

He takes off his cap, revealing a head of messy hair. Raking a hand through it, he says, “well, yeah, but you’re gonna need the part first. They might have to order it in and stuff.”

“Well, great,” you grumble. You pace away from the car and take your frustrations out by kicking the tyre. “That’s just great.”

“Look, if you want I can give you a tow.” Looking at him, he shrugs. “The garage ain’t far so it’ll be fine to take it using the Twinkie.”

“The who?”

He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, uh, that’s what we call the campervan.”

“Oh. Right.”

You look around and take in the situation. It’s dark, isolated, and your phone is on 5% (thanks for that, Mimsy). Calling insurance and a tow company is only going to bump up your bill. Besides, this guy seems genuine. Non-threatening. You can practically hear Mimsy screaming at you from across the continent: so was Ted Bundy! Eyeing him up, you assure yourself you could probably take him if you really had to, and trust your female intuition and gut. 

“Alright. Only if it’s close.”

“It is, I swear. I know the owner, Barry," he says. He pulls out his phone and types something on the screen. Then, he approaches with maps open, showing the garage. It’s true: it is nearby. Ten minutes max. “I mean, if you prefer I can just call you a tow or a cab or something.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say. You close the hood shut and shake your head, laughing. “Can’t believe my Goddamn luck.”

The guy laughs too. In your peripheral, you see him extend a hand to you. “I’m JJ.”

Shaking his hand, you introduce yourself. Then the two of you spend the next five or so minutes sorting out attaching your car to his van. He does most of the heavy lifting, almost jumping at the chance to flex his strength (not that you were complaining) and you do as he asks. Fasten this here; steer this whilst I push. Eventually, you’re good to go. He offers you the front or the back and you opt for the front. Mimsy is probably having an aneurysm about now. 

The campervan smells of weed, damp and a dying air freshener. The front seats are red leather. It’s soft and supple and comfortable, and you hitch a leg up and rest one arm on the window ledge, watching the world pass by as JJ drives. The radio is humming out a Mac Miller song and it fills the semi-awkward silence. 

“So, what’s with the accent?” JJ asks. 

“What’d you mean?”

“I mean, you ain’t from round here, right?” JJ asks, glancing between yourself and the road. 

Smiling, you reply, “Yeah, I’m not.”

“Where you from then? Midwest? East Coast?”

“Vancouver.”

“Vancouver? As in Canada Vancouver?” JJ checks, eyes growing wide. 

You laugh quietly and nod. “Yep. As in Canada Vancouver.”

“God damn. You’re pretty far from home,” he laughs. 

“Well, not anymore,” you reply, voice turning sombre. “We moved here.”

“In May? Pretty shitty time to move.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumble, looking back out the window. It hadn’t been your idea. In fact, you’d protested loudly against it. 

“So, how you finding Kildare so far? Wait, scratch that - how you finding North Carolina?”

“Um…alright. You guys have pretty good waves here and the weed’s pretty good so at least there’s that.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” JJ grins.

You laugh at that, feeling yourself relax more and more as the conversation continues. “Yeah, I think it’s the only thing getting me through.”

Love Lost fills the quiet that comes. You glance at JJ. He drives with one hand on the wheel, holding it by the top in his fist. The streetlamps sneak through the windows and highlight his features in flashes. And it’s in one of those flashes, when his handsome profile is illuminated, that you suddenly realise why you recognise him. 

The kegger. 

You quickly look away. Your eyes grow wide. Did he recognise you? Did he even remember that? 

“I heard Vancouver’s pretty as fuck though,” JJ says, unaware of your quiet panic. “Pretty gorgeous scenery and shit, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, heart ticking nervously. “You ever been?”

“Nah. Never left the States before.”

“Not even Canada?”

“Too far,” he shrugs. “Couldn’t dish out that kinda cash.”

“I hear you,” you say. “My friend Mimsy really wants me to go back this summer but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make enough in time to afford flights and stuff.”

“That blows,” JJ mumbles. 

The conversation comes to a natural close when the garage comes into sight. Its neon sign shines bright in the dark like the beacon of a lighthouse. JJ pulls in and shuts off the engine. You linger in the car a moment to catch your breath whilst he looks at unhooking the tow gear. 

It doesn’t seem he remembered you or that mortifying moment at the kegger. At least, if he did, he’s acting like he didn’t. So…That’s good, right? You can just move past the whole thing. Besides, it’s not like you were doing anything that weird. You took plenty of pictures that night (though everyone else was in pairs or groups) and it was a public get-together. It wasn’t like you were halfway up a tree and peeping through his window. 

You jump at the sound of rapping on the passenger window. JJ’s stood there, frowning in confusion. 

“You comin’?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out the van. You follow him into the shop. 

A burly man sits behind the counter. He’s watching a sports game on a crackling television, drinking a beer shamelessly on the job. At the sound of the bell chiming above the door, he glances over. He seems to recognise JJ. 

“Hey, Barry,” JJ grins. 

“Hey there, kid,” Barry's gruff voice returns. 

They share a bro-style hug and you awkwardly side by him near the counter. JJ plants a friendly hand on your shoulder.

“My friend here had her radiator blow-up on her just now. She needs it fixing up stat. Any chance you could get a push on it?”

“Just the radiator?” Barry checks, glancing between yourself and JJ. 

JJ nods. “Yes, sir. I checked it out and it’s just overheated or some crap. A new one and I swear it’ll be good as new.”

“Hm…” Barry contemplates. He glances at the clock and the sports game and cringes. “I don’t know, kid. It’s late and I’ve had a long day. It’s a lot of extra work that I could just get done tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Barry,” JJ argues cordially. “How many times have me and my old man helped you out?”

“Your old man stole fifty bucks from me,” Barry grunts. 

Your eyes dart down to the floor, lips pursing. Yikes. 

JJ falters for only a moment. “Alright, well, forget that then. How many times have I helped out? I mean, I’ll pick up a shift or two if you want? Get you some new parts or something?”

Barry sighs. He looks to you again and you smile politely, hoping your nerves don’t show. He’s a scary looking guy. He could probably crush you with one fist. Both his arms are covered in sleeves of tattoos. He’s missing several teeth and there’s a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. 

“She’s new to the County,” JJ feels the need to add. “Gotta show some good hospitality, right?”

With that, Barry relents. He gets to his feet and trudges to the window to eye up your car. 

“What kinda car is it?”

You tell him, reeling off as much information as you can recall. He nods, back to you, and sighs again. 

“Well, I think I do got a part back here for that, actually. I ain’t making any promises though,” Barry says. He heads into the back with that, leaving you and JJ in the store. The moment the older man is out of sight, JJ grins at you. 

“Am I good or what?”

“Why are you helping me so much?” you find yourself asking. 

JJ seems surprised by the question but not offended. “Dunno, really. You seem nice. And I always kinda wanted to be a knight in shining armour.”

“So that makes me, what? The damsel in distress?” you joke. 

He paces the store leisurely, eyeing up car parts and accessories. “Suppose so. You’re from a far away land so you’re already half way there.”

You laugh. Glancing around the store, you find yourself drawn to the pinboard behind the counter. It’s cluttered with posters, deals, business cards, receipts, reminders and a calendar. Amidst it is pictures and thank you notes from children. One picture catches your eye. It’s of Barry, a few years younger, with a little girl. 

“She’s cute,” you smile. 

JJ joins you and follows your gaze. He smiles too, though it seems sad. “Yeah, that was his kid. She died about a year back now.”

“Wait, really?” you frown. 

Sighing, JJ nods and looks to you. “Freak car accident. Poor kid drowned. Her mom too. Lost his wife and kid in the same day.”

“Shit,” you whisper, looking back at the photo. Your heart tugs at the thought and you feel guilty for judging him by his cover. You had your problems with your parents but you couldn’t imagine them gone from your life. 

Barry returns to the store, car part in hand. JJ clasps his hands and tosses them above his head. 

“Barry, you fucking g.”

“Alright. Alright, don’t kiss my ass too much, Maybank,” Barry quips. He heads for the door. “There’s soda in the fridge. You kids help yourself.”

With that, he grabs his toolkit and heads out to your car. JJ doesn’t need to be told twice. Whilst you feel rude for intruding on this man’s evening, JJ is happy to revel in the hospitality. He tosses a can at you before grabbing one for himself. You follow him out the back. The light from the store overflows onto the sheltered concrete. There’s two plastic garden chairs back here with a busy ashtray on the floor. JJ relaxes in one of the seats and you copy. 

“You known Barry long?”

“Him and my dad go way back,” JJ replies, sipping his soda. “I used to come here all the time as a kid.”

“Sounds like they’re not on great terms right now, huh?” you say. 

JJ sips his drink and shrugs, looking out to the abyss of greenery surrounding the garage. “Pretty standard for my dad. Kinda his M.O.”

You get the feeling that you hit a sensitive spot. Sipping your soda, you switch topics. 

“So what do you guys do for fun around here, then?”

“Surf. Fish. Smoke,” JJ lists. “Sometimes we go to a kegger at the beach and stuff. You been to one yet?”

You wonder if he’s trying to rat you out but when you look at him, you see no sign. “Yeah, I went to one. I didn’t stick around very long though. Didn’t know anyone and felt kinda awkward.”

“That’s fair,” JJ says. He pulls a vape out of his pocket and takes a hit, and it’s like the nicotine gives him an idea. He turns to you, renewed energy. “Oh shit! You should come with my lot!”

“Hm?”

“My friends. You’d get along great with them, swear down,” JJ tells you. “You fish?”

“I can but I don’t exactly relish the opportunity.”

“Alright, well, that’s gonna change,” JJ says, making you laugh. “You surf too, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Vancouver had a good surf scene. You and Mimsy used to spend hours on the beach and in the waves, although part of the appeal for your friend was the surfer bros. They were her kryptonite. 

“Well, it’s settled. You’re coming to the next hang we have,” JJ tells you with a grin.

He relaxes back in his chair and takes another hit of his vape. It smells like blue raspberry. As you watch him, you find yourself laughing. 

“Alright, seriously,” you say. “Why the hell are you being so nice to me?”

“I told you: you seem nice.”

“Okay, but seriously,” you repeat. 

JJ studies his vape for a moment and a knowing smile comes to his face. Chuckling, he sighs and relents, looking back to you. “Alright. You’re fuckin' hot. Sue me.”

You bark out a laugh. JJ cracks up too. 

“What!? You asked!”

“No, no, I did,” you laugh, catching your breath. “That’s fair. I had that coming.”

“It’s just like you’re exactly my type. Kinda freaky really,” JJ continues. It seems that now the cat is out of the bag, he might as well let it roam free. “Like you’re smokin' hot and you surf and shit. And you got a dope accent, it's kinda exotic.”

“Since when was Canada exotic?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

JJ shrugs with a boyish grin. His eyes stay trained on you. “I dunno. Since I met you, I guess.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected. JJ’s attraction hadn’t passed you by and, in truth, he was just your type as well. Confidence that borders on cocky: handy and hunky, but not in a steroid-style way…Maybe Mimsy wasn’t the only one who had a thing for surfer boys. To cool yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you take a sip of your soda. 

“I just weren’t gonna say anything cause, you know, I didn’t wanna freak you out,” JJ admits. 

“Freak me out? How so?”

“Random guy, random area. Alone?” he replies. Sheepish, he shrugs. “Might be kinda creepy.”

You catch his drift. Shrugging, you flash him a smile. “Nah, you didn’t freak me out. You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”

“Gee, don’t hold back,” JJ sarcastically returns. You laugh. “Look, you ain’t gotta say anythin' about it. I think you should still come hang with me and my friends, whether you’re madly in love with me or not.”

“Wow, are you confident?” you chuckle incredulously. 

JJ grins. “Charming, ain’t it?”

“One word for it,” you return. You debate his offer and come to a conclusion pretty quick. Lord knows you could do with some friends, and if his gang were anything like himself, you could see yourself getting along just fine. “But yeah, I’d be down to hang with you and your friends.”

“Sweet.” JJ holds his can out for a toast. “Then let me be the first to say, welcome to Kildare.”

You clink your can against his with a small laugh and the two of you drink. Maybe your new life won’t be as boring as you first thought. 

read part two here!

taglist:

princesssuki21 |

[fishbonex]

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

Elphaba Thropp x fem!reader x Glinda Upland

Summary: Your heart breaks when you hear the news about Elphaba. It breaks even more when Glinda returns without her to see you.

Word Count: 1,3K

Warning: ANGST, mentions of spells (don't tell me), prejudice.

note: reader is a witch too.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

"I insist that you should come with me." Elphaba's deep, calm voice sounded from beside you, making you turn your head towards her.

You snorted lightly. She had been insisting on this ever since the Wizard's invitation arrived. And you kept refusing, this was her moment. Elphaba deserved this. She deserved the whole world.

"No, Elphaba." you turned on the grass, your body facing hers. "Seriously, it's going to be great. You're going to do amazingly well, as always. And he's going to love you, everyone loves you."

You had dragged Elphaba out to the field after Shiz after school ended, wanting to have a moment alone with her before she left the next day. You would have called Galinda, but she seemed too busy with Fiyero, so you just shrugged.

Your friendship with Elphaba seemed like something that was destined not to happen, since you weren't exactly outgoing and she was very closed off, always on the defensive. You didn't blame her, it was all the prejudice she had suffered throughout her life that was to blame.

"I wish someone important was with me at this... such an important moment." she smiled slightly. "Are you really sure?"

Before answering, you looked at the field around you and bent down to pluck a delicate white flower that was lying near your feet. Holding it, you turned to Elphaba and stared at her for a moment, feeling your heart swell. With a delicate movement, you took her hand and turned it over, placing the flower in her green palm.

Holding her hand gently in yours, you closed your eyes for a moment and then released her.

"Did you make a wish on the flower?" she asked, lifting one corner of her lips, her gaze falling to the small flower in her hand.

"I put my best thoughts and wishes into it." you replied, bringing your hand to her chin to tap it with your index finger. "The flower knows I wish you the best, take it with you and return it to me when you return to Shiz."

Elphaba smiled the big smile that warmed your heart and leaned in, wrapping her arms around you.

At dusk you saw Galinda's small figure open her arms towards you in the middle of Shiz's courtyard and automatically opened yours before running towards her, feeling her lift you off the ground lightly.

"Galinda! I told you not to do that, you'll end up hurting yourself." you scolded as she lowered you again.

"It never gets old for me," she hummed. "I haven't seen you since the classes ended, where was my dearest friend?"

"Your dearest friend?" you giggled and she started walking, pulling your hand.

"Don't let anyone hear." she spoke almost singing again. "I was with Fiyero, and you? Where? And with whom."

She turned to you with big, expectant eyes, squeezing your hands tightly.

"With Elphaba, I wish I had more time to say goodbye." you said simply, shrugging.

"Oh! Elphie. I wish the same, having more time to say goodbye." she said and clung to you dramatically, hiding her face in your shoulder. "My roommate is leaving."

Galinda's dramatic and over-the-top ways had previously driven you away from her, but she ended up becoming your friend when she saw you talking to Elphaba. The arrangement worked out, somehow.

"I just had a magnificent idea!" she suddenly shouted, releasing you.

"What?"

"You can live with me while Elphie is away!" she put both hands on your shoulders. "It'll be perfect! That way we won't suffer so much when she's gone."

"She's not going to die, Galinda." you laughed. "But if it makes you happy, fine, I'll live with you."

You knew it wasn't going to happen. Just like you knew Galinda would get on the train with Elphaba. Your vision was clear this time.

You saw them both walking hand in hand down the emerald green corridor, heard the wizard's voice and then your vision ended. You couldn't interfere, even though you had seen very little.

Hence the flower. A protection spell might not be enough, but it was the most you could do without interfering with future events.

Galinda let out an excited squeal that snapped you out of your thoughts and her heels began to click on the floor as she pulled you up and started running towards your dorm.

The day in Shiz was overcast after the green train had left to Emerald City. You were writing one of your sorcery lessons when your head buzzed, forcing you to groan and squint. The vision was blurry at first, and the voices were muffled, but slowly it began to make sense.

Elphaba's irritated voice rang out, followed shortly by Galinda's calm request for something from her. Her vision blurred for a moment before focusing again, this time clearer. The outlines of Elphaba and Galinda stood in front of a large glass window.

When your head buzzed again, the image that appeared was that of your friend flying in front of a group of people, who were pointing guns at her. Galinda had her back to it, hugging Madame Morrible tightly.

With a groan of pain, you opened your eyes, looking around your dorm desperately, not really looking for anything. It wasn't supposed to be this way, why were they threatening Elphaba with weapons? Why wasn't Galinda helping her? Letting those people point their guns at her?

She managed to cast a spell to fly. In the midst of the whirlwind of negative thoughts, this one at least left a hint of pride in you.

Your despair did not pass with the hours of the day and to make matters worse, Madame Morrible's announcement of Elphaba's capture only made everything worse. Your stomach ached with worry, your head throbbed with agony.

None of it was true. Elphaba was not an enemy, she was not. And there was no evil in her either. You shivered when Madame Morrible's sophisticated voice called your best friend the Wicked Witch.

Some students who were unable to contact their families remained in Shiz until the next day, and you were among them, your eyes heavy with sadness, your chest heavy with a pain you could not explain.

Sitting on one of the fancy benches in the courtyard, you didn’t bother to look up when you heard the familiar click of Galinda’s heels approaching.

"You-you couldn't go home?" her soft voice rang out in the heavy silence present. "You can go to my-"

"Get out of here, Galinda." your voice sounded hoarse, perhaps from the hours you spent crying without knowing what to do.

"Did you know that you're the only one who calls me that now? It's just that I changed my name, now it's Glinda." she tried to sound optimistic, approaching with hesitant steps. "But you can keep calling me Galinda, I don't mind."

At another time, you would have laughed and thought she was silly and funny. But not now, not after what she did.

Encouraged by your silence, she spoke again, now almost standing in front of you.

"I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to anger her. And also Madame Morrible-"

"You already have everything, Galinda!" you snapped, standing up. "You have money, you have beauty, and everyone loves you. What do you lack?! Elphaba means so little that at the first opportunity to have the attention of someone who doesn't care about you, you trade her?"

"Don't yell..." she tried to take your hand, but you pulled it away abruptly. "I don't like seeing you sad."

"How do you want me to feel? What do you think Elphie is feeling right now?" your voice broke as tears began to threaten to spill over. "You're a terrible friend."

This seemed to shock Galinda and she staggered back a few steps, her large eyes widening even further.

"You didn't really mean it." she spoke even more softly.

"I meant." you ran your hands over your face and looked at her. "I don't want you to come near me anymore. Or even speak to me."

"No..." Galinda's broken voice made you sadder, but you started walking quickly away from her anyway.

[zhenne]

snowy escapade

— dr.zayne + f.reader

sum. when zayne invites you to join him on the slopes, you take it as an opportunity to better your skills (and maybe impress the astute doctor). however, what was supposed to be an active day of fun in the snow turns into a lecture after you get injured on the last run of the day.

wc. 2.6k

warnings. fem reader, use of y/n, mentions of injury (reader fractures her elbow), not proofread

a/n. this is based off a very real scenario that happened to me a few years ago lol, hope you enjoy!

Perched on the mountainside, the weathered wood lodge stood like a rustic sentinel hidden in the biting cold. Strings of twinkling golden lights adorned the eaves, casting a warm glow in the wintry afternoon light.

Inside, the air was a mix of rich pine and the faint sweetness of hot chocolate. A hearth of natural rock kept the cozy interior thrumming with a comfortable warmth, and plush armchairs and overstuffed sofas invited guests to relax after a day on the slopes. Several small groups of skiers and snowboarders mingled about the central lounge, the occasional bout of hearty laughter bubbling from one of the ongoing conversations. A few more helmeted heads trickle into the room as some step out, intent on using every last bit of daylight to make the most out of the fresh powder snow.

Your jacket was hung against the side of your chair—gloves, helmet, and goggles precariously piled atop the small coffee table. The chair across from you remained empty, gear similarly displaced to your own. The lodge’s wide windows offered a panoramic view of the slopes outside. Although it was only four in the afternoon, the winter left little respite and dusk would begin to fall within the next couple hours. You watch as a group of skiers trudge past the equipment racks, their laughter echoing faintly through the frosty air as they make their way to the lift.

The faint clatter in front of you draws your attention back. First to the mug of steaming hot chocolate being placed on the small table. Then, to the hazel green eyes peering down at you.

“That turn you did on the last run? Far too risky.” Despite the obvious heed of concern, Zayne’s voice held a distinct mirth you’ve come to quickly identify.

He sits in the seat across from you, pushing some of his gear aside in favor of making room for his own hot chocolate, a handful of miniature marshmallows halfway melted on the top. His dark hair was still damp from the melted snow, sticking up in messy peaks. You giggle to yourself at the rare sight. Even now, the (sometimes overly) composed doctor managed to look ruggedly handsome with his tussled hair and wind burned cheeks.

You pick up the cup in front of you, relishing in the warmth that encases your hands. You take a small sip, grinning over the rim at him. “I was just trying to mimic my teacher. That’s how we learn, is it not?”

“I only did that because you said you wanted to see something cool.”

“I meant something I could learn,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as if it were obvious enough.

“You’ll get there,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I don’t need my star pupil getting injured before she even makes it off the bunny slopes.”

The ‘bunny slopes’ he was referring to was actually a Blue slope, one that acted as the pre-qualifier for the Red and Black slopes. And, in your defense, the route got a bit crowded, and you ended up getting bottlenecked on one of the more precarious turns. Did you end up taking the turn a little too fast and end up propelling yourself into the rougher terrain? Yes. Did this result in you eating absolute shit and lodging yourself in a wide bank of snow? Also yes.

Zayne, who had said he was going to follow behind you, watched with alarming anxiety as you neglected to slow down and go careening straight into the bank, and you were sure you won’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night.

As if to add fuel to the already smoldering fire, you voice your new goal. “I think I want to try to hit one of the Red slopes next, one with some jumps.”

Zayne is mid-drink when his brows quirk up at your words. You bite back the grin when you notice the small patch of melted marshmallow on his upper lip. He seems to notice anyway and quickly swipes it off with the pad of his thumb. Then his brows crease with a wary glance, “You realize you could’ve been seriously hurt on this last run, right?”

“Well, yea-“

“Then you should know not to push your luck.” He coolly takes another sip of the sweet hot chocolate, shooting you a look that boasted ‘listen to your doctor’s advice’.

You frown, scowling slightly as your cheeks puff with indignation. You hold your tongue for a moment before your grin seeps back onto your face. Flattery oozes from your soft voice like a well aged wine, fragrant and sweet, “That’s why I have the best teacher, right? I’d only trust Dr. Zayne to show me how to navigate something like this.”

The silence is long. You both stare at each other—you, with your pleading doe eyes, and Zayne, with a hardened resolve. Then finally, he sighed, reaching for his half empty mug. “And I suppose you want to start working on this new goal of yours soon?”

Another cheshire grin from you has him sighing again, as if he predicted the words about to leave your lips, “how do you feel about making one last run today?”

In hindsight, you probably should have actually taken Zayne’s advice. Adorning all your gear, with one foot secured to the snowboard, you made the trek with Zayne to the lift that would take you to the entry-level Red slope. You felt giddy sitting next to him as the five o-clock shadows of the encroaching evening loomed.

You both wore your goggles and balaclavas, so you had to practically lean into him as you spoke. “One jump, and I promise we can be done for the night.”Seeming to take you at your word, Zayne only nodded.

Now you stood at the top of the route, your boots latched into the bindings, and your heart thrumming with anticipatory adrenaline. The wind was weak, but bitingly cold, the tip of your nose burning. Zayne was next to you, secured to his own board as he raised his voice a bit to reaffirm the plan.

“You remember what to do?” He continued before you could nod, “Keep a moderate speed. Bend your knees, stay balanced, and pop off the lip when you hit the jump. And don’t forget to land with your knees bent.”

You gave him a gloved thumbs up, your small smile hidden by your mask. You edge closer to the start of the slope. As if one cue, the mountain side became illuminated as the dusk to dawn lights switched on. You glance at Zayne.

“And remember,” his voice was definitive, “only go for a small jump. If you don’t feel you can hit it right, don’t try to force it.” Then, reassuringly, like he always reminded you before each run, “I’ll be right behind you.”

You nod, lining up your board and adjusting your stance. With a steadying breath, you lean into the sloped descent.

You’d never grow tired of the rush that came with snowboarding. Each run, even if it was a hill you’d done a hundred times, made your body feel alight with energy—the cold wind that seeped into the gaps between your mask and goggles, the way you felt both weightless and demanding at the same time—like a ballerina poised in elegance as her muscles screamed with the exertion to remain on pointe.

You carved your way down the slope, fresh powder rising in thick waves as you board cleaved through. Then you saw it, a perfect mound to try and get some air. You adjust yourself slightly, slowing your trajectory just enough so Zayne won’t berate you later for ‘unnecessary recklessness’.

You closed in on the jump fast, bending your knees, and extending your legs just as you popped off the jump. Your landing was a little shaky, but you managed to stay upright as you quickly rebalanced yourself.

You cheered yourself on, adrenaline pumping like hot blood in your veins. You catch sight of Zayne in your peripheral, clapping as he gracefully carved his own trail through the snow. You felt like you were on cloud nine. And perhaps that is where you should have stopped and called it a night.

But pride in a new skill is such a tempting allurement. The wind bit at your cheeks as you carved further down the slope, snowboard slicing through the snow with satisfying ease. Your heart thudded in anticipation. You knew what awaited at the end of the trail—a daunting jump that seemed to dare anyone brave enough to tackle it.

‘You’ve got this, Y/N,’ you told yourself, though your nerves began to betrayed your confidence.

You crouched lower, picking up speed. The icy air stung your face, and your breath came in quick bursts. The jump loomed ahead, larger and more intimidating with every second. Your instincts screamed at you to slow down or swerve out of the way, but you pushed the thoughts aside. Don’t overthink it. Just go.

You hit the lip of the jump at full speed, launching into the air. For a split second, it was exhilarating—the rush of weightlessness, the world tilting as you soared above the slope. But then you became all too aware of your hubris. You had gone too fast and your balance was just slightly off.

The board tilted awkwardly as you descended, and your stomach dropped.

The landing came hard and unforgiving. Your board’s edge caught the snow wrong, and you were thrown forward, your body hitting the ground with a brutal thud. One moment you had the perfect view of the lodge down the mountain, all lit up and welcoming in the dimming light, and the next your vision was filled with tiny specks of stars against a black backdrop. It took you a moment and several quick blinks for you to realize you were on your back, and that the stars weren’t out yet.

Then you felt it. Pain, hot and dizzying, shot from your right elbow, radiating all the way into the bend of your shoulder.

You must have rolled to a stop, snow covered you like a patchwork quilt, your balaclava pull down your face from the impact.

“Y/N!” Through the incessant ringing in your ears, you managed to pick out Zayne’s voice, sharp with panic.

You groaned as you sat up, trying to drag yourself onto your knees, but the sharp, searing pain in your arm stopped you cold. Your left hand instinctively cradled it as you winced.

“Hey, hey—don’t move,” Zayne chided, suddenly at your side. He knelt in the snow, his board abandoned a few feet away. His goggles were lifted atop his helmet as his eyes searched yours. His usual calm was edged with concern. “Where does it hurt?”

“My arm,” you manage through gritted teeth. “Elbow.”

Zayne’s hands hovered over yours, his doctor instincts kicking in. “Okay. Let me take a look.” His eyes flicked from your arm to your face, “Tell me if it hurts too much.”

Your head was swimming. You nodded, though the thought of moving your arm made your stomach churn. His touch was careful as he checked for obvious breaks, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Doesn’t feel like anything’s out of place,” he muttered after a moment, his voice steady but still laced with worry. “Probably a bad sprain or a fracture. We’ll need to get you off the slope and to the clinic to be sure.”

“Great,” you muttered, your attempt at humor reduced to a pained groan, “I’m definitely in for a scolding from Dr. Zayne.”

“We can discuss your scolding later, “Zayne said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “But now we’re going to get you some help, okay?”

You nodded again, biting your lip against the pain. As Zayne helped you to your feet, his arm carefully supporting your injured side, you couldn’t help but notice how steady he was.

“Guess I owe you one,” you said, your voice a little softer now.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. “Perhaps except for a ‘you were right, Zayne’.

Despite the ache in your arm, you couldn’t help but smile.

The smell of coffee and fresh baked bread filled the cozy diner near the ski resort and lodge. Morning sunlight streamed through the frosted windows, casting a golden glow over the polished wood tables. You sat across from Zayne, your right arm now secured in a black sling. You were poking at the plate of breakfast pastries with your fork, your left hand doing its best to compensate for your usual dominant one.

You can feel green eyes boring into you, and with a defeated sigh, you set your fork down. “Okay, let’s hear it,” you say, not looking up.

Zayne leaned back in his chair, a cup of coffee cradled in one of his hands. He tilted his head slightly, brow quirked. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

This little shit. You finally look up, the tendrils of guilt quietly pursing your lips. “You’re going to lecture me, aren’t you?”

He leaned forward, expression serious. “Y/N, you went into that jump way too fast. I told you—control your speed.” He pushed a sigh past his lips, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek from remarking how he sounded like a middle aged father. “And not to mention the fact that I had specifically told you to only attempt the small jumps.”

You feel yourself recline back into your seat, hiding your mouth behind your cup as you muttered, “I was just trying to push myself.” Your cheeks colored slightly with warmth as a childlike petulance bled into your voice. “Isn’t that the whole point of a challenge?”

“Sure,” Zayne admitted, setting his coffee down. “But pushing yourself doesn’t mean throwing caution to the wind. You’re lucky is just a small fracture. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

You sighed, slouching into your chair. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Zayne softened at the sign of your obvious guilt. “Hey,” he said in a voice so gentle it made your heartbeat quicken. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just—look, you don’t have to feel like you need to prove something out there. Challenging yourself doesn’t mean you have to take unnecessary risks.”

Your fork clinked against your plate as you absentmindedly fidgeted. “I wasn’t trying to prove anything.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you admitted after a moment. “Maybe a little. You’re always good at this stuff, and I want to catch up to you.”

You catch the way his eyes widen slightly. But just as quickly as it had happened, he shook his head. “Y/N, you don’t have to catch up to me. You’re one of the most capable people I know, but you’ve got to give yourself a break, literally, this time.”

You snorted at the pun despite yourself. “God, who knew Dr. Zayne was such a dork.”

“You’re lucky this dork was here when you failed to follow simple instructions,” he shot back, the ghost of a teasing grin spreading to the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, Dr. Zayne, point taken. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Good,” Zayne said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. “Because I’d rather not have to tend to an injured patient while I’m off duty.”

You smirked, lifting your coffee with your left hand. “You mean you’re not secretly enjoying being my personal chauffeur and medical consultant?”

“Aren’t I that already?” He replied, his tone light.

You shared a quiet laugh. Despite the sling and your bruised ego, you couldn’t help feeling grateful—for his care, his companionship, and the way he always seemed to know how to make you feel just a little better.

credits!

lace divider: @/muruffin

bear divider: @/chiffonz

[sunnyswide]

Murderer POLY 141 🔪 x Oblivious Female Reader

NSFW/MDNI (sexual activities and sexual themes)

Instead of military.. Why not just a bunch of fucking murders.

To you, it seemed so odd that they would show up at the most convenient of times. Nonetheless, you were mighty grateful for the help. For the quick fix-up on your car. The multitude of groceries you had. The short-lived stalker you never heard from again. The drunken who suddenly approached you late at dusk, but also got taken care of quite swiftly. The fruitful amount of cash that was hidden under piles of junk in the drawer. They were a bit tinted with red… Chalking that up to “Oh I must have put that there” even though you had no recollection.

But to them, it was all fun and games. Who'd be first caught or who'd be the last one standing?

Gaz was just so kind, inviting you to every opportunity for tea or snack breaks. You’re surprised when he tells you he lives at the complete opposite side of town.

“Thats an hour away Gaz! Isn't it exhausting?”

“Not at all, I have work here.”

He lies theough his teeth but hey? Isn't it all lies around here. As long as your adorable mind doesn't realize.. It won't hurt. Just like the many times he takes you to where he resides, eyes staring at the two of you.

Course you’re scared, but he promises it's because they’re not too keen with visitors. Not realizing the multitude of people don't seem to be glaring at you. But at him.

You don't ask questions and go along with it. Letting him lead you to his apartment that seemed to be barely lived in.. But it doesn't matter after he Fucks those pretty thoughts out of your mind. Making you see stars as he finishes inside of you for the third time.

But Price isn't that open. He keeps the conversation entertaining but reveals absolutely nothing about himself as he listens to you talk.

He loves the expressions you make, your lips pouting when you talk about the scary days you had over the week because of some weird stalker.

“I promise! There is someone following me!”

“Then why don’t you let me take you home”

He walks you home every night the two of you go out. The one day he doesn't, you swear you could hear an extra pair of footsteps. Looking around deliriously you opt for a run instead, going through alleyways and shortcuts. Until you accidentally bump into someone, causing you to trip over your feet.

“Gah! Sorry!”

You look up to see Price! He looked shocked at first but soon composed himself, taking your hand in his.

“Dont be sorry”

He smiles gently, kissing the top of your forehead while you burst into soft sobs. You swear you saw something.. Or someone else behind him. On the floor? Maybe it was your imagination..

He takes you home but you beg him to stay the night.

“Can you stay?..”

He holds you tight, pressing his fingers deeper into your hips. This only leads to an excuse to fuck you on his cock as an “apology” for scaring you. He whispers sweet nothings to you as he overstimulates your dripping cunt, making you cockwarm him even after cumming.

But after meeting Ghost and Soap, the perfect self-proclajmed duo, you couldn’t help but find yourself attracted. They were a mix of dark humor and wholesome dad jokes.

They invite you for a quick drink as friends. Friends that sit too close to each other.. Ghost insisting you sit in the middle as Soap drapes an arm around your waist, pouring you more and more Alcohol you didn’t want to drink.

Sooner or later the “fun” was coming to an end as you try to stand up, toppling over Ghost’s lap. They chuckle at your vulnerable state, taking it up as a reason to carry you back home. Of course this attracting other drunken dudes to come up to them asking them where they think they’re going.

“Cmoonnnn, We can all have a piece of that”

Soap smirks.. He was damn happy they even asked.

“Why not gentlemen”

But you didn't see what happened after as Ghost drove you back to his place with Soap after the quick charade. Soap smelled a bit.. Odd.. His hands covered in a.. Red substance.

“Just wine luv”

A few minutes later you sobered up quite quickly, surprised even though you drank so much. But hey no hangover!

And as a thank you they happily ate you out. Getting Fucked by both of them at once felt.. Ruthless. Your clit brimmed with overstimulation as Simon rubbed circles over it and your mouth forced wide open as Soap shoved his shaft deeper and deeper.

You sobbed quietly into the pillow as Soap rammed his Dick into your sopping cunt, relieved for the pounding to stop until Ghost took his time teasing your entrance. Making you gasp..

“Fu..ck.. Wai-wait”

Begging? Uselsss.

He didn't mind you screaming for him to stop. Overestimation turned into torture for your pussy. Brutilized after just one night, you’d had to come back to them for more right?

But it wasn't much of your choice to come back.

Part two

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Heyyyy, my gremlins of trees and seas! I’m back with something new for you now let’s go

🌊🪼Ancient Of The Sea Danny & Storm Dani and hurricane Dan🌊🪼

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

=====================================

Ok so the GIW ‘took care’ of the Fentons, Sam, Tucker and kidnapped Danny with Dani and Dan fast forward a few weeks Dani and Dan are injured badly enough that they go back into their cores but before the GIW could get the cores Danny grabs them and puts them into his body and flys though the portal and destroys it as he does so

And now Danny kinda just wandering around looking for a place to heal up and than he finds something he didn’t even think he had as a half-ghost. A Lair, Vlad mentioned it a few times saying that it was another thing that brought him and Danny closer together but Danny wasn’t really listening to him ( when does he ever ) but as he walks in ( well incubating Dani who has been renamed by Danny to dawn and Dan who has been renamed to Dusk )

He is met with the smell of the sea and the sounds of waves crashing against rocks and some rock pillers out further in the sea and the sound of the waves hitting the sand which is black {like from one of the black sand beaches they look neat} as Danny walk onto the sand he looks around that his Lair which was something Danny thought he would ever be able to say but he is quickly brought back to where he is when he sees a large black marble castle that is a bit overgrown on the outside

Ok so a few weeks later Dannys settled into the castle and his Lair the castle even has a room next to his ( which is the master bedroom ) for when the baby’s are ready but anyway it turns out that he is the new Ancient Of The Sea so that’s a thing now and the seas have all the ghosts of aquatic animals which is really interesting and now he apparently gives off nymph and ethereal vibes….And I don’t really have anything more to add on this part for now but I will add more later

=====================================

Ok now onto the DC part ok so this could go into two very different story’s regarding which plot you choose 

The FIRST way: So the JL need help with a new big bad ( could be Aliens or supernatural type stuff ) and need the Ancients power to help them so they have to convince them to help so they split off into teams and Tim’s team ( with Jon and Damian just cause ) and they have to convince The Ancient Of The Sea so they go to what appears to be a cave entrance that has small pounds around it that looks like an sea cave but it is the entrance to Danny’s lair and as they walk in they are hit with the smell of the sea and a few minutes of trying to find the Ancient they find them sitting on one of the rock mountains surrounding the black sand beach and that when Jon makes a very loud sound that gets the Ancients attention fast so they all walk over to them and they start trying to convince them to help and this is basically the reaction

The Team: trying to convince him and is doing what they can to keep his attention

Danny: who was going to help them the moment they said they needed help

And Danny just lets them go on without interrupting them and when their done he just nods and says “ I will help you” and the sigh of relief they all let out almost made him laugh

The SECOND way: The Zone holds a ball every 100,000 years and to be invited is an honor and the JL gets invited and any sidekicks they decide to bring with them and JLD have to explain how important this is and how they can NOT screw this up or their world is done for so they have a lot of pressure to not cause any problems whatsoever and it last for three days and on the first day Damian is walking down a hall until he comes across what looks like an Sea cave entrance and goes in and as he walk around he sees a beautiful person who looks around his age and goes up to them and a few hours later they become friends Damien even got to pet an shark who came up close and Damian comes back the second day two and on the third day ( the day of the ball ) Damien siblings notice the change in behavior and follow him and they go through the entrance after him and see him and Danny talking

And that’s all for this

=====================================

Now on to the details

Here’s what I’m thinking for Danny

Mixed with this

This is what I’m thinking for his outfit and for his hair

And just because here is a head ornament that I’m thinking he wears

Or at least something close to this

=====================================

And that’s it! Sorry if it’s a bit weird but I hope you gremlins like it byeeeee

[softonshanks]

Starlight and Sailor's Delight

Characters: Luffy x female reader

Total word count: 1129 words

Plot: Luffy and the reader spend a nice night during a festival and Luffy has to face his feelings for Y/N, realising that becoming king of the pirates isn't the only thing he cares about.

Author's note: I'm working on all the request you sent me and I am so so so thrilled because I am having such a fun time writing all this stuff. Unfortunatly today I had a very long work day, so I haven't been able to ultimate your prompts. Thus, I have decided to post a one shot about Luffy I had previously wrote, let me know if you like it (: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes.

The sun was setting on a warm, tranquil afternoon when Luffy and his crew docked at a remote island known for its serenity and breathtaking views. The Straw Hats had stumbled upon this hidden gem purely by chance—its isolation was both a mystery and an invitation for adventure. The island's sole settlement was a quaint village with narrow streets and cozy cottages, known for its simple beauty and tight-knit community.

Luffy and Y/N walked through the village, taking in the scenery, while the rest of the crew preferred to rest on the ship and join them later. Y/N was enthralled by the vibrant flowers lining the streets and the gentle hum of the nearby brook. Luffy, with his boundless energy, bounced from one spot to another, his excitement contagious. He couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes sparkled with every new sight, though he wasn’t quite sure why it made him feel so… happy.

“This place is so cool!” Luffy exclaimed, his straw hat tilting as he leaned in close to a flower.

“I can't wait to see it at night,” Y/N said, her voice filled with excitement. “I have always read about this festival where the whole village lights up with lanterns, and the stars look like they’re dancing in the sky.”

“Whoa, that sounds awesome!” Luffy said, his eyes wide with anticipation. “We’ve gotta check it out!”

As they strolled, a local woman approached them, her face beaming with warmth. “Ah, visitors! We’ve been expecting you. Tonight, we’re having our annual stargazing festival. Would you like to join us?”

“Festival? That’s the one you were talking about Y/N!” Luffy shouted, his enthusiasm drawing the attention of nearby villagers. “We’re in!” The woman laughed and led them to the village square, where preparations for the festival were underway. Lanterns were being hung, and a large telescope stood prominently in the center, surrounded by tables of food and drink.

As dusk fell, the village came alive with festivities. Villagers and visitors alike gathered, chatting and laughing as the first stars began to appear. Luffy and Y/N mingled with the crowd, soaking in the lively atmosphere. Luffy’s heart felt lighter than usual, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Being around Y/N just seemed… nice. Y/N was drawn to the telescope, where a young man with glasses was eagerly explaining the constellations to a group of fascinated children. Luffy, however, was more interested in the food table, his eyes widening at the sight of the variety of local treats.

Y/N later joined him, holding a small plate of what looked like sweet pastries. “You’ve got to try these, Luffy. They’re amazing!”. Luffy grabbed a pastry with childlike glee and took a big bite. His eyes lit up. “This is awesome! We should take some back to the ship, so Sanji can taste it and cook it for us again once we leave,” said with his mouth full of food.

They spent the evening sampling food, enjoying the music, and laughing with the locals. As the sky darkened and the stars became more prominent, the atmosphere grew more magical. Villagers gathered around the telescope, and Luffy, never one to miss out on fun, decided to take a turn. Y/N watched with a soft smile as Luffy peered through the telescope, his face scrunched up in concentration. “See anything interesting, Captain?”

“Whoa, I think I see a giant meatball!” Luffy exclaimed, pulling back with a wide grin. “Oh, wait… nope, just a star. But it kinda looks like one!”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Only you, Luffy.”

“Hey, I’ve got a pretty good imagination,” Luffy said, puffing out his chest with pride. “And a great appetite!”

Y/N giggled, her heart fluttering at his carefree attitude. There was something so endearing about Luffy—something that made her feel warm and safe, even amidst his wild antics.

As the night wore on, the focus shifted to dancing. The villagers formed a circle, and soon, Luffy and Y/N found themselves caught up in the rhythm. The music was lively, and the dance was infectious. Luffy’s movements were wild and uncoordinated, but filled with pure joy. At one point, Luffy noticed Y/N standing off to the side, watching the others with a thoughtful expression. He bounded over to her, grabbing her hand with his usual enthusiasm. “Come on, Y/N! You can’t just stand there. Let’s dance!”

“I’m having fun just watching,” Y/N replied with a soft smile. “But thanks, Luffy.”

Luffy tilted his head, his eyes full of curiosity. “You sure? You look like you’re thinking too much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes. “Just thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed today. And how glad I am that I met you”. Luffy’s grin softened into something more sincere, though he wasn’t entirely sure why her words made his heart skip a beat.

“I’m glad too, Y/N. It’s been awesome having you around”. Y/N’s heart warmed at his words, and for a moment, they stood there, the sounds of the festival fading into the background. The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, casting a gentle glow over the village. She hesitated for a second, then leaned in and rested her head on Luffy’s shoulder. His face flushed slightly, a rare sight for the usually carefree pirate.

“That is nice!” he said, stopping for a moment and just enjoying the view of villager’s dancing, while he and Y/N were in peace. "This is really nice," repeated, as he rested his head on Y/N's one. While the dance continued, something shifted in the air between them. Luffy found himself drawn to Y/N in a way he didn’t quite understand. Her laugh, her smile, the way she seemed to glow under the lantern light—it all made him feel… different. A warm, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest, but he shrugged it off. He was Luffy, after all. The only thing he wanted was to be kings of the pirates, maybe some meat most of the time. He didn’t have time for complicated stuff like feelings… right?

“Luffy,” Y/N’s voice broke the crystallized moment they were in. “Thank you for tonight.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up at her words, though he wasn’t quite sure why they made him feel so warm inside. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Y/N. This is awesome!”

Y/N’s heart swelled at his simple sincerity. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling. But before she could speak, Luffy, with his usual impulsiveness, did something that caught even him by surprise. He leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

It was a gentle, tentative kiss, filled with all the innocence and curiosity that defined Luffy. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, everything else faded away—the music, the laughter, the festival—leaving only the two of them, connected in the quiet of the night.

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 7

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"Put the new vinyls out?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pen from the desk and throwing it at your coworker. "You're so lazy."

"Please?" He groaned, his purple hair falling out of sight as he threw his head back. "I'm fuckin' tired."

"Shinso, you just came back from a week long vacation." You smiled murderously, eye quite possibly twitching.

The huff he gave you was epically loud.

"I'm getting used to being back." He shrugged.

The groan you returned was even louder.

"This is the last time I'm doing your job." You insisted indignantly, snatching the stack of vinyls from his arms and pushing him out of the way.

He gave a lazy, smug grin, tailing you to the front of the store. "You're in a good mood."

You ignored him, not denying the accusation.

"Am I invited to dinner?"

"Why would you be?" You worked as you talked, carefully arranging the display case to be visually pleasing.

"Because they're my friends too, and you didn't let me over the last time they visited?"

You scoffed. "You can see them when they come to visit you."

It was his turn to throw a pen at your back. "They're here to visit both of us, bitch."

"Tell that to the door that's going to be locking you out of my house!" You tease, laughing as you duck the arms that came to choke you. "I'm just saying! They're not having dinner with you, are they?"

He caught you this time as you came back up, a grin plastered all over your face. "You're horrible."

"What's horrible is trying to strangle me when I'm doing your work!" His hands gripped you by the shoulders, turning you round to face him.

"Invite me to dinner." He insisted, staring you indignantly in the eyes.

His warm breath fanned across your face.

Were his eyes always so purple?

You ripped away from his grasp, busying yourself picking up the vinyls that had fallen to the floor while your face burned. "You're impossible."

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his broad shoulders easily rose than fell in a shrug. How was he so unbothered?

"Jesus christ–you're invited, Shinso. Of course you are, moron."

He nodded. "Thanks." A warm hand reached out, patting the top of your head. "That's all I needed, I'll finish the rest. You go do what you have to do prepare."

You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. Having the only two people you had left from your past life over was kind of a big thing, you supposed.

"Yeah, alright. Thanks Shin."

The stack of dusty vinyls were lifted easily out of your arms as you grabbed your things, the bell on the door ringing delicately as you slipped out.

It was a quiet day in town today–not that the other days here were much different.

That had been the hardest part to adjust to for you.

Everything about your new life was quiet–when your old life was anything but. You had lived in the heart of Musutafu where a day without sirens blaring was one for the history books and there were practically more people than blades of grass.

And your best friend.

Boy was he ever noisy. Harsh words grating your ears every waking moment from dusk to dawn, waking you up in the mornings and staying through the nights.

It was different here.

The streets stayed a respectful quiet, and even the bustle that came with the midday rush hour was a calm one. Your home was for one instead of two, and the mug reserved only for Bakugo remained unused in the back of your cabinet.

Your footsteps were mindless and quiet as you stared at your shoes.

Shinso had helped a lot. He knew your story. He had a similar one himself. He hadn't been disabled–for him, leaving was a choice.

Still, he understood the odd, empty feeling that came with your newfound free time. And to compensate, he helped you fill it. In all that the world threw at you, the man plagued by eye bags was probably the best thing to come out of it.

Not that it was coincidence, of course. Kaminari and Jirou had figured you'd need a friend through this and had reached out to Shinso to see if he'd mind sharing his quaint little town with you.

He took up a lot of what Bakugo used to do for you.

He'd fix the one annoying smoke alarm that wouldn't stop beeping, swing by occasionally with a bag of groceries and take your shifts every once in a while.

And when he saw you losing yourself in the storm of your past, he'd be there. Show up at your door, three in the morning, drenched in the rain with his switch in hand.

He kept you anchored in the hurricane of your feelings.

Which was exactly why you couldn't lose him.

Not like you had lost your last best friend, and certainly not to some stupid, childish feelings.

The two of you were friends–absolutely nothing else.

a/n: a little bit of fluffy filler as you get to know your new home <3

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien @thefirst-ofus @harryzcherry @xoxoblueyy @moonz33 @lotusstarr @dragonscribble @3ve88 @thatgrlnany @shortie-chocolate @astolary @dreamybabbyy @ditzy-kie

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