#I guess there could be a story where he doesn’t die but one of the most interesting things about him is how he dies I can’t just cut that

[destinyesque]

The thing they don’t tell you about writing a novel is that character interaction is like smashing two Barbie dolls together with abandon but when one of them inevitably falls apart you get really sad about it even though it was your fault and you expected this to happen

[eelnoise]

all i ever asked (nsfw!)

roronoa zoro x fem!reader - wc: 3.4k

cw: piv sex, creampie assumed, pre-established relationship, ur both kinda in love with each other idk. an: 🍷 cheers to another vanilla ass zoro fic because sry that's all i want right now lol 🍷

Contrary to what one might assume, Zoro is no stranger to matters of the heart. Beneath his tough exterior lies a tender heart that beats just as wanting as anyone’s. Though he may be quiet about love, he expresses it with an honesty that is unmistakably his own.

Whether it’s for a quiet nap or a spontaneous cuddle, his favorite place for you to be is safely wrapped in his arms, where the world fades away and only the warmth between you matters. There’s a comfort in your closeness, a silent reassurance in how he holds you.

Tonight, you find yourself resting against his broad chest in the crow’s nest. The quiet of the sea stretches out around you, and the world below feels distant. You often join him on sleepless nights, the calm of his presence a comfort when the silence becomes too overwhelming. So much so, that he’s started bringing a blanket with him on his watch, knowing you’ll be there.

It’s become a routine—him keeping watch, you keeping him company—and in these moments, with calm embrace of safety and the endless starry sky above, everything feels just right.

One of his thick arms is wrapped around your middle, and the two of you sit in quiet companionship, the calm broken only by the distant crash of the sea against the hull or the occasional rustle of the sails in the wind.

In moments like this, the stillness invites reflection, whether you seek it or not. Your fingers trace absentmindedly over the roughened skin of his arm, skimming over the scars that tell stories of battles fought and survived. You glance down at the limb resting across you, and despite the soft, silvery light of the night, you can’t quite shake the frown that tugs at your expression.

How many times has he come close to death in the time you’ve known him? Each fight leaves him battered and bloodied, but never truly defeated. Memories of sitting beside him in the infirmary, waiting for him to wake, flood your mind. What happens if the next time, he doesn’t?

It’s a fleeting thought, perhaps foolish. Zoro could walk through a storm of steel without flinching. His body, a testament to countless trials, has borne worse. The very idea of him not waking up feels almost absurd, as though the world itself would have to bend to defeat him.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as your fingers curl around his wrist, grounding you in the present moment.

"You know," you whisper, the sounds are barely more than a breath, but heavy with meaning, "you're not allowed to die on me."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes Zoro as he shifts slightly, "Wasn’t plannin' on it,” he replies casually with a flicker of amusement across his features. 

You pause for a moment, then meet his teasing tone with one that’s a little more serious. "I mean it, Zoro."

He adjusts his grip on you, gently pulling you around to face him, his hands steady on your waist as his gaze meets yours. His tone remains light, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity. "What’s got you thinkin’ about it?"

"Just... we don’t exactly lead the safest lives, do we?" you sigh softly, your expression showing some genuine touble, resting your head against his chest. You let the silence hang for a beat before lifting your head slightly, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "And you dying would ruin a lot of my plans, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Zoro hums, his grin evident even in his tone. "You’ve got plans, huh? What kind of plans need me around to work?"

"A lot of them," you reply with a playful glint in your eye, twisting around in his lap to face him. "I guess I’ve come to rely on you more than I thought, after everything we’ve been through."

Zoro's halfened gaze eases down upon you. A small, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lips—one that’s rare, but undeniable. He doesn’t speak right away, but the silence is filled with a weight that speaks volumes. Truth be told, a lot of his future plans revolve around you, too.

In a world where Luffy is Pirate King and Zoro is the world’s greatest swordsman, the idea of something simpler feels surprisingly appealing. He never expected to cradle love in his arms, yet here he is, feeling the call to arms in his heart—not for battle, but to keep you safe. With you by his side, the idea of settling down doesn’t seem so impossible. In this world, he'd give you everything, ensuring you never have to worry, even if he's still figuring out how. Your safety has become the one thing that matters more than any fight.

There’s a warmth in his chest that blossoms only with you, a quiet but steady heat that spreads every time you’re near. As you look into his face, your eyes wide with concern, it flares again—stronger this time, almost as if his heart beats in time with yours.

“Look,” he says, the emphasis in his tone softer now, as one calloused hand gently comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a reassuring motion. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I promise you that.”

A promise. One that doesn’t come from him lightly, but when it does, you know he means it. In a world where words are often guarded, this one feels like the most precious thing he could give. You don’t need to ask again.

You smile, your hand coming up to gently cup the one resting on your face, your fingers tracing the familiar warmth of his skin. “Good,” you say softly, a teasing edge to your tone. “Cause I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

Zoro laughs, the sound a low rumble in his chest, pulling you closer until his chest presses against yours, the blanket settling around both of you. “If I’m dead, how would you even know if I’ve pissed you off?” he teases,.

A sly smile curves at the edges of your lips as you raise a brow, a glint of mischief dancing in your eyes. "Oh, you’ll know," you say, sounding playful but with something warmer softening the words. "I’ll figure out some way to make you know from your safety beyond the grave."

The laughter slowly fades, leaving a quiet stillness to settle around you both. Zoro’s expressions turns thoughtful as he watches you, his eye tracing the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the rhythm of your breath as it flows steadily in time with his own. He takes in the peacefulness of the moment, the way you’re nestled against him, and a quiet warmth stirs within him—a soft, unspoken sense of peace that spreads slowly through his chest.

A warmth unfurls within him as he reflects on how deeply he needs you, the way your presence grounds him amid the turmoil. You’re not just his partner; you're the anchor that holds him steady in the storm. In the chaos of battle and the endless path ahead, it would be easy for him to lose his way. 

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but sincere, "I don’t say it often, but... you really do make everything a lot easier. I don’t know where I’d be without you."

It's rare for him to let down his guard like this, to show you that side of himself. The vulnerability he shares feels like a gift, one you hold close. It’s a part of him that’s raw and real, and in that moment, it makes everything between you feel deeper, more significant.

You smile softly, your fingers lacing with his as you rest your head against his chest. "I’m just glad I can make it easier for you," you murmur, "There’s no one else I’d want to face all of this with."

Zoro’s heart skips a beat, a warmth blossoming in his chest and spreading like a quiet, steady flame. He doesn’t need to put it into words; you’ve long understood that his actions speak far louder than anything he could say. 

He holds you close, and the quiet intensity in his gaze conveys everything you need to know. In that moment, it’s clear—you’re not just his partner; you’re his anchor, his refuge in a world that’s often unforgiving.

"You’re something else, you know that?" His voice is softer than usual, carrying an unexpected vulnerability that only you seem to draw out. His focus lingers on yours, filled with an affection so deep it almost feels tangible.

Zoro’s gaze lingers on you for a moment, a quiet intensity in his eye as if he’s weighing something unspoken. Slowly, his hand rises to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. It’s a tender gesture, simple yet filled with meaning, conveying everything he struggles to say. 

Then, without a word, he closes the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is slow, deep, and full of all the emotions he’s kept hidden—unspoken, yet understood.

It’s soft at first—a gentle press of lips that quickly ignites into something deeper, more urgent. Zoro’s hands roam with purpose, one tangled in your hair, pulling you close, the other gripping your hip, steady and possessive. His mouth moves over yours with growing intensity, each kiss a silent confession of longing and desire as he holds you firmly against him.

You melt into him, the embrace wrapping you in the warmth of everything you’ve ever felt for him—the love, the yearning, the certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. Time seems to slow, and all the doubts, the fears, fade away in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

Every stolen glance, every quiet moment shared between you, rushes through your mind, deepening the bond between you. The world around you disappears, leaving only the undeniable truth that you belong here, in his arms, with him—and nothing else matters.

Lost in the heat of the moment, your legs wrap around Zoro's waist, pulling him closer as your bodies align from chest to pelvis. The hard, throbbing evidence of his desire presses insistently against your core through the thin fabric separating you, sending jolts of excitement up your spine. Soft gasps and breathy moans escape you both and with each deliberate grind of your hips, the friction stokes the flames of passion.

Zoro's hand slips beneath your shirt, calloused fingers tracing slowly up the contours of your spine, leaving a tingling path in their wake as they travel higher. You lean into his touch, craving more of his intimate caresses. The heat building between you feels like it might consume you both.

His other hand grips your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist. The new angle allows him to press even closer, the hard length of him grinding against your most sensitive spot. A gasp escapes you at the intense pleasure, your body beginning to twitch in need.

He pulls back from the kiss, his lips still tingling from the connection, as he looks down at you with a soft expression in his good eye. A pleased daze lingers there, as if he's trying to process what just happened. "Why can’t I ever get enough of you?" he murmurs, his voice rough and tinged with longing, the question more of a quiet wonder than anything else.

It’s as if he can’t quite grasp how, after all this time, you still manage to stir this feeling in him. He’s grown used to it, yet still, he’s unable—and unwilling—to let go. With you, everything feels new, as though each touch, every shared breath, and every heated moment is a discovery all over again. It’s intoxicating, addicting, and he no longer feels the need to question it.

He just wants you, and he thinks he always will.

Coarse hands move over you with a sense of familiarity, tracing the curves he’s grown so accustomed to, yet there’s always a hint of wonder in how he handles you. It’s possessive, in a way, as though he wants to leave a part of himself with you in every lingering caress.

“Zoro...” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper against his lips, heavy with desire yet tinged with a slight hesitation. “Are you sure this is the right time? We're on watch..."

Zoro chuckles, low and dark, his lips brushing against yours with each word. "Not like anyone's gonna catch us up here." His hand slides up your thigh, fingers digging into your hip as he grinds against you, his hard length pressing insistently against your core. "Besides, I don't think I can wait any longer."

His hand slips under your shirt, calloused fingers trailing over the smooth skin of your stomach. Leaning in, he begins kissing and licking his way down to nip at your pulse. "I need you," he growls. "Right here, right now."

You twist into Zoro's ministrations, a giggle slipping past your parted lips as his fingers trace tantalizing patterns along the waistband of your shorts. "Always getting what you want, huh?" you tease, your hands cradling his face tenderly, a playful grin tugging at your mouth despite the flush of arousal currently painting your cheeks.

His smirk matches yours as his hand boldly slips past your shorts, gripping your ass before venturing further. "Damn, you're absolutely drenched," he groans, fingers gliding effortlessly through your slick folds. "You're always so fucking wet, just for me."

You buck your hips instinctively against his hand, a breathy moan falling from your lips as his fingers dance along your clit. "Always," you answer, your voice small and rasp with need.

Zoro's eye darkens at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Shit, babe," he purrs, his fingers circling your clit before dipping lower, teasing your entrance. "You need me to make you feel good?"

You nod eagerly, but before you can expel your desperate plea for more, Zoro claims your mouth in another searing kiss. His tongue plunders yours as he slowly sinks two fingers into your dripping core. A broken moan escapes you, a needy sound that conveys your overwhelming desire for him—his touch, his cock, but above all, his love.

Zoro's hands quickly work to free his throbbing erection, the thick shaft coming to rest insistently against your belly. With a swift motion, you part from him and sit up just enough to shift your shorts and panties aside, baring your core to him. Immediately, his hands return to your hips, greedily pulling you back until the swollen head of his length nudges your entrance, ready to take you fully.

Zoro groans deeply as your velvety walls envelop him, the exquisite tightness making his hips twitch with the effort to hold back. He exhales against your lips before easing you down onto his throbbing length with agonizing slowness, allowing you to adjust to every thick inch stretching you open, and when he's finally buried to the hilt inside your welcoming heat, he pauses, savoring the feeling of just being with you this in way.

His forehead falls to rest against yours as he takes a deep, shuddering breath, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. "You okay?" he asks, concern in his voice despite it being thick with barely contained desire.

"I'm perfect," you reassure him softly, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you melt into him. "Promise."

Zoro smiles, his face filled with gentle adoration as he gazes at you in a half-lidded, loving daze. Harmoniously you both begin to move, Zoro's strong hands guiding your hips, helping you find a slow, sensual rhythm. Each roll of your bodies brings a new wave of pleasure, your slick heat gripping him like a velvet glove. 

In the union of your bodies, time seems to stand still. Each gentle thrust and sensual grind is a proof of the profound connection you share, a silent affirmation of the love that binds you. Zoro's soft touches and hushed praises fill the air, his actions speaking volumes of the reverence he holds for you.

The slow rhythm continues, each thrust bringing you closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. Zoro's movements gradually become more urgent and more primal. He pants into your neck, groaning and exhaling as his effort against your slick walls intensifies, driving you wild with desire. The haze of bliss leaves you dizzy, and you surrender yourself completely to him.

With a sudden shift, Zoro leans forward, his muscular arms encircling your waist as he takes control of the tempo to effortlessly bounce you on his cock. His deep thrusts send waves of pleasure surging through your core, your body instinctively pressing against him.

The way he possesses you is both thrilling and overwhelming. Each deep buck of his hips sends you spiraling, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. Zoro's grip on your waist tightens, holding you steady as he drives into you with increasing fervor, his hips slapping against yours in a quick rhythm.

As the maelstrom of pleasure builds, you can only cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you surrender yourself completely to ecstasy. He’s rutting against that secret spot deep within you now, sending shockwaves of white-hot, rhythmic tingles to radiate through your entire being. 

The relentless stimulation is driving you to the brink of madness, your mind clouded with nothing but the overwhelming ardor left to consume you. Your cries of ecstasy mingle with Zoro's name as the pressure builds to an unbearable crescendo. 

Stars burst behind your eyelids as he pounds into you relentlessly, his hips moving like a well-oiled machine. Just as you teeter on the brink of oblivion, Zoro squeezes you tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he's afraid to let go. With a few final, intense thrusts, he sends you hurtling over the edge into madness.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, waves of pure ecstasy washing away any semblance of coherence. You scream Zoro's name like a prayer, your cries raw and ragged as the pleasure consumes you utterly. The rhythmic clenching of your inner muscles around his throbbing shaft drives him wild, his hips pistoning frantically as he chases his own release.

"Gonna—fuck—," he growls, his words strained with the effort to hold back. "—gonna fill you up so fucking much.”

And with a guttural groan, Zoro buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he erupts deep within your fluttering depths. Wave after wave of his hot seed floods your channel, marking you as his, claiming you utterly. His hips jerk erratically as he rides out the intense pleasure, crazed in the sensation of your pussy milking him dry.

As the last spurts of his release subside, you collapse against him, face burying in the crook of his neck. Your ragged breaths mingle with his while your hearts pound in sync.

In the aftermath of your shared climax, Zoro gently pulls back, his gaze seems transfixed with a mixture of devotion and vulnerability. He guides you to sit flush against his chest, his strong arms encircling you protectively. Reaching for the blanket that had fallen askew during your passionate lovemaking, he re-wraps it snugly around your entwined bodies before letting his hands trail up and down your back in soothing circles.

He exhales softly, the silence lingering between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. "I..." His voice falters, rough and uncertain, as though the feelings inside him are too complex to put into the right form. Rather than finishing, he pulls you closer, his face burying into your hair, his arms tightening around you—a quiet confession in the way he holds you.

A soft, contented laugh escapes you as you curl into him, warmth flooding your chest. "Mhm," you murmur in reply, a gentle smile tugging at your lips as you move to nuzzle into him.

The night wraps around you both, the steady rhythm of your breathing filling the silence. Zoro holds you close, the comforting weight of his body grounding you, and in this moment, everything beyond feels distant, unimportant. The warmth between you lingers, a quiet understanding that needs no words to be felt.

His hand moves gently across your back, tracing soft circles, and you sink deeper into him, the steady beat of his heart a calming rhythm beneath your ear. There’s peace here, in his arms, where the world falls away, leaving only the two of you.

In this moment, everything is right—just the two of you, enveloped in the stillness of the night, and nothing else matters.

[curseddollfaye]

toxic baby daddy! toji x reader headcanon

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently open!! ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

- you meet him through a friend of a friend. Your bestfriend Moonie insisting that you need to find someone! Although you had no issue in the looks department by any means. Men that tended to try and get your attention were just..meh. You knew what you wanted in a man and none of them could provide you with that.

- well, until you met him of course. you remember clear as day. Sitting in a very expensive restaurant where you were told to meet him at. Glancing around you expected a middle aged man to be your date. Probably expecting you to open your legs just because of where he planned to dine you. hah…

- and then he walked in , tall. 6’1 to be more precise. green eyes bore into yours as soon as he walked in. a scar decorated the corner of his right lip. and god was he muscular…so muscular. your legs might have squeezed shut instinctively

al

- if there was video recording of your face the entire night you might as well have the ground open up and swallow you hole. hearts practically taking your pupils face. you learned so much in such little time. his grin was surreal, the way the veins in his hands popped out whenever he grabbed hold of his steak knife to cut into his food.

- “So tell me a little bit about yourself sweetheart, I love hearing a pretty woman talk”

- safe to say you were a goner pretty quickly.

- and the feelings were mutual between you and him. you had him with your heel in his chest from the get go.

- long story short, you ended up dating not too long after. you learned about his ex wife who tragically passed away. you learned that he had a son named Megumi who was just shy of 3 when you met him, you learned Toji was a very wealthy business owner. Casinos and Clubs all across the country.

- He was older than you, but that didn’t bother you one bit.

- you ended up getting pregnant after two years of dating.

- splitting up wasn’t on your bucket list. But a few months after your daughter turned 3 months you had found some pictures hidden in Tojis wallet as you were grabbing his card to pay for family’s take-out dinner. His ex girlfriends face decorating each and every one of them, and her tits staring right back at you.

- a huge argument ensued. “Tch…come on baby. ‘Yer overreacting over something that doesn’t need it…” as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. your tear stained face was something he will never forget. Your beautiful smile replaced by something close to betrayal. To be honest Toji didn’t know how he would have reacted if the situation was flipped. He knew he fucked up. He just didn’t really know how to say sorry.

- he did feel bad. All they were, were just some silly Polaroids he meant to throw away after finding them in some old box in the garage.

- sure she was naked but it’s not like they turned him on. gross. only you did that to him.

- all night he tried, to no avail.

- “So you’re just not gonna eat because ‘yer mad at me? Don’t be ridiculous doll face” He scoffed a laugh and shook his head.

- “Hmm, fine then. I guess Rin and I will just eat alllll those stupid little candy snacks you like so much”

- “Ya think these cookies are expired? Wouldn’t want your man to die now do ya baby?”

- “go to hell Toji” you had slammed the door right in his face. you didn’t know what had hurt more. the intimacy of them or the way you had pushed out a 7 lb baby out of your vagina 3 months prior and were a wreck emotionally. your body and mind adjusting to having a tiny baby to look after. as well as a energetic 5 year old.

- he lets you go. because he doesn’t want you to be unhappy. even if it eats him up when you tell people you’re single.

- Or when you post your little thirst traps on Instagram (they’re just pictures or videos you post of yourself but Toji begs to fucking differ; you’re beautiful. they’re all thirst traps to him. he knows how men think)

- really you should have known better given his reputation of being a little bit of a player. but your heart outweighed the negative. oh well.

- you live and you learn…right?

- wrong.

- because even 2 years later you still let him fuck you. I mean who wouldn’t? He laid it down on you and you needed your fix even as a single mother. Who better to get it from than your asshole baby daddy?

- he doesn’t fuck anyone but you, states “ best pussy I’ve ever had. Why would I need someone else? Tch…silly girl”

- “fuck yeah…take me baby…heh…You like that? Hmm? Look at yourself in the fucking mirror and tell daddy how much you love his cock stretching out this tiny pussy sweetheart” fuck him and his big add hands holding your hips as he plows you from behind. unforgiving pace as he reminds you who you’re always going to belong to.

- still provides for you although you’re not together. Not only because he’s still batshit crazy about you and in love with you. You’re the mother of his child. Kids if we’re being real. Megumi loves you to death and you love him. He would never take that away from the both of you, which is why every month without fail an additional 300k is wired directly to your bank account. which is just spending money for you because he takes care of everything anyways… ‘the least he could do’ you have to mumble to yourself when the guilt eats you up of the outrageous amount of money he spends on you.

- Not that he would miss it anyways.

- generous and gorgeous

- is a DILF personified.

- watching him pick up your tiny daughter and press smooches all over her chubby cheeks when he comes to pick her up sends you into a spiral

- thoughts of giving him another one enter your mind for a sec…

- before you damn near concussed yourself from how hard you slapped your cheek to get rid of them.

- stays the night at your house often (when he feels like it) “You don’t want the kids to miss their daddy do you?” He throws you a stupid lazy grin.

- Which leads to nasty dirty fucking whenever the kids are tucked in their respected rooms and asleep.

- the next morning you find yourself in a situation when you’re date knocks on your door arriving just as planned to take you out for breakfast.

- A bouquet of flowers in your dates hands a smile graces his lips.

- When the door swung open and he was greeted with a bare chested irritated Toji. It quickly disappeared. Sweats hung low on his hips and his hair messy from last night’s activities. He fucked you so good you forgot how to walk.

- Toji blinked at the man standing in front of him. Of course Toji always made himself at home in your house. Not because he paid for it, but because if anything in his eyes you were still his. “You got lost on the way to jackass city or something? You know what time it is?” Toji grimaced in annoyance. Yawning lazily and scratching his bare chest. A lighter and a pack of cigarettess held in one hand.

- “Um..” your date watches as Toji smacks the red pack against his palm before taking one out and placing it in between his lips. Hands flickering the lighter as he heats up the end of his cigarette and take a drag. Toji’s green eyes locking into his.

- He figured out what the fuck was going on and he didn’t like it one bit. “You walk up these steps, ringing and knocking on the damn door while my kids and my woman are tryna sleep…” Toji blows the smoke in the poor guys face and flicks the ashes into the floor. A grin permanently on his face before he continues. Muscles flexing as his jaw clenches.

- “You must’ve lost ‘yer damn mind kid”

- Putting out the cigarette on an ashtray outside that’s sole purpose was just for Toji’s use. The door closes in your ex- dates face.

- Safe to say you don’t even remember you had a date and didn’t need a reminder when your date blocks you off his phone and deletes your number.

- toxic baby daddy! Toji who curses at himself and keeps himself up at night when he thinks about how badly he fucked it up with you. because throughout everything he still loves the hell out of you. you’re perfect in his eyes.

- and he’s determined to get you back.

[skulla-rxcks]

Fuck or die

Paring: idol!Chan x fan!afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: smut, forced to fuck (not by chan or reader), could be dddne, shock content with one thing.

Ktober 5

Being trapped with someone you idolise and getting forced to fuck isn’t something you’d expect from waking up one morning. Partly inspired by the hentai/visual novel euphoria.

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

I wake up in a white room, my head and ears ringing. I don’t know where I am nor how I got here. I look around and take in what’s around me, nothing. Absolutely nothing. Well accept one thing there’s a man lying in the corner he looks strangely familiar to me. I walk closer to him and see who he is; Chan, Bang Chan, an idol from one of the groups I love. I almost freak out in happiness but I need to keep my cool. I should wake him up then maybe we can figure out together what’s going in, it’s weird that it’s us and not some other duo. He doesn’t even know who I am.

I decide to tap him on the shoulder. “Chan..? Wake up, please.” I whisper, he lets out a sleepy groan in response and opens his eyes slowly, rubbing them to make him more awake. “Hmm,..? Who are you and where are we?” He asks me, clearly confused about the situation.

“I’m.. y/n, if you’re wondering how I know your name I’m a stay..and for where we are I have no idea. I woke up here too.. like a few minutes ago.” I sigh and explain about myself and what I know so far.

“Right, we may have gotten kidnapped by someone which explains this room. There doesn’t seem to be any windows or doors only cameras..” Chan says while looking around.

Suddenly we hear the sound of a microphone being turned on, and a voice starts talking to us. “I see you both have woken up now. Welcome! I’ve set up a few games for you guys! Do as I say, or you die.” As the voice says ‘die’ guns come out from little compartments in the wall and point at us before going back into the wall. “What do you want us to do?” Chan says, putting his arm around me protectively even though I’m a stranger.

“Fuck or die. It’s simple.”

“I guess we could do that i.. I’m okay with that..” i mumble looking at him, he gives me a sigh and a nod with a concerned expression on his face.

The voice continues on “but there’s a catch. Each challenge gets harder and breaks your comfort zones. I’ve been studying both of you through cameras in your apartments.” It says.

“What are the challenges? Tell us. Now.” Chan demands, holding me close, acting as a protective shield.

“Well they’re simple really. I’ll drop a note down from the ceiling”. The ceiling opens up slightly, dropping a piece of paper before closing again. I pick up the note and hold it so it’s in both of our views

‘Challenge 1: cumming inside, hole: pussy

Challenge 2: pissing inside, hole(s): mouth and pussy

Challenge 3: taking advantage of her while she’s sleeping’

“the fuck is this? Is this some kind of sick joke?!” Chan yells, looking in the direction of the camera. “No way in hell I’m pissing in and raping a fucking stranger!” His grip on me gets tighter, his brows furrowed as he yells at the strange voice. “Then die-“

“Okay okay we’ll do it just please, don’t hurt us!” I start tearing up, knowing that if we don’t do this we’ll get killed.

“Are you sure?” Chan asks me, I nod. “Then it’s agreed! Start the challenges and remember I’m always watching. Bye bye now!” The voice says his final sentence before turning off its microphone. Leaving us alone in the white room with cameras pointed at us, they’re too high up to reach even if we tried to turn them off. “I’m ready.. let’s just get this over with.” I sob, stripping down until I’m fully nude before helping him out of his clothes.

“Lay down and open your legs..I’ll help stretch you out with my fingers otherwise it’s gonna hurt.” Chan says. I open my legs for him, he gently puts two fingers inside of me, using them to scissor me open. I bite my lip and try to hold in my moans. After a few minutes he pulls them out and positions himself at my entrance. “Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths.” He groans as he pushes himself inside of me. He’s surprisingly big it hurts. “It’s okay..it’s okay. You’re doing great. Keep breathing.” He encourages as he thrusts into me faster. He’s grunting as he thrusts into me deeper than ever. It feels good, but I know it won’t last long, he’s going to have to cum inside me. there’s a high chance I’ll get pregnant from it but anything to not die, especially in a place where no one would find our bodies. He cums inside of me and collapses next to me as we rest, panting heavily. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

I put my arms around him, holding him closely for support. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” He whispers, nuzzling my neck and holding me tight. “let’s do the next one in the morning I can’t take this anymore.” I start crying, horrified for the 2 challenges we have left. “Yea..yeah I agree. Let’s do what we can.” He whispers as he holds my body against his. We lay there, hugging each other in the dark, neither one speaking. I feel safe here, in his arms. it’s comforting and reminds me that at least we have each other right now; even if we’re complete strangers.

the next day, we wake up, we fell asleep on the ground last night, still fully naked since theres nothing else in this room that we could sleep on. “are you ready for the next challenge or do you need some time?” he asks me, stroking my hair.

“let’s just do it.” I pick up the note and read the next challenge. ‘pissing in mouth and pussy’ I gag a little, grossed out by the idea of being pissed in the two of my most important holes. I hand the note to Chan and he reads it as well, cringing at every word he reads. “okay.” he sighs. “mouth first or..” “mouth.” I say, I feel my face heat up. I get down on my knees, mentally preparing myself for what’s about to happen. He gently thrusts his dick into my mouth and begins uritating. I whince as I force myself to swallow every drop. He grabs my head with his hands so he wouldn't spill it everywhere. Once he’s finished, he pulls his cock out of my mouth and stands up, grabbing my hand.

“I’m sorry y/n.. god I feel awful after doing that.” He says as he rubs my hand. “it’s fine.” I say stubbornly. “you still have to do it to the other end of me anyways.” I give him a weak smile, sitting down with my legs open. “you’re probably gonna have to get tested for so many things once we get out of here. I’ll take you and pay though.” Chan growls, pushing himself inside my vagina once again. This is the worst feeling I have ever felt, he was pushing all the way in so hard it was almost painful. I start shaking. I don’t think I can handle this. not long after he releases his bladder and balls inside of me, emptying them both.

He stops once he’s done, pulling out of my body quickly.

“ew..” I tear up as I think about what the voice just made us do. My eyes start hurting because of how hard I'm crying.. “don’t cry, baby. I didn’t like it either. I never thought I’d be forced to.. relieve myself inside of a person, especially a stranger.” he hugs me, I blush at the sudden contact and as he calls me ‘baby’. He doesn’t know it means a lot to me, but he does. I hug him tightly, wanting to keep him close. “i think I.. I think I love you.” he says, pulling away from the hug and placing his head against mine. “me too.” I reply bringing him back into my arms.

After that he sits down with me and lets me sit comfortably in between his legs, wrapping his arm around me while he pets my hair, trying to calm me down. I sniffle and look at him, he smiles softly as I stare at him. “What happens when the challenges end?” I ask him quietly. “we get out.” he says as he holds me close, kissing my head. “We stay together until then. and maybe after if you’d like.” He says smiling at me. i fall asleep in his arms.

while I’m asleep. Chan takes this time to do the final challenge, raping me in my sleep. he doesn’t want to do this, but he has to, to get both of us out alive. He slowly pulls down my panties and shoves himself inside of me, tears streaming down his face as commits the assault on me.

“fuck.. fuck this situation, fuck whoever made me do these stupid challenges.” He gasps as he goes deeper inside me, his tears dripping onto my body. “Channie.., please stop..I don’t like this,..I.. I want you to stop.” I whisper in my sleep, trying to push away the fear.

“Fuck, y/n...please.. I’m sorry, I really am... I wish you were awake so I could make it easier on you, but I can’t.. this was the final challenge. just shut up and take it.” he cusses, kissing me deeply to shut me up and to stop me from screaming. I whimper and shake my head no, I hate this, I don’t want to take it.. he keeps shoving himself inside of me. “stop fighting me..” he mumbles, moving his hips faster to cause more pain for me. I finally snap awake, tears pouring down my cheeks as I try to pull myself out of his grip but I can’t, he’s fully pinning me down as he rapes me. “this is the last challenge y/n, just fucking take it so we don’t die.” I stop complaining, knowing there’s no way out of this. I fall asleep being tired from my attempts to stop him, I just let him do it, soon enough we will be out of here.

I wake up to feel Chan’s warmth lying beside me. I snuggle closer towards him, wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my head on his chest. “Good Morning…” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair. “morning..” I reply as I snuggle even closer. “I’m so sorry about last night. I had to, to keep us alive.” he kisses my forehead. “it’s fine.” I sigh, “let’s just get out of here, a door appeared so let’s just go through that.” we get dressed and walk up to the door, hand in hand we push open the door, met with the smell of fresh air. “we should probably get you a pregnancy test from the amount of times I came inside of you.” he chuckles, leading me into town. “food after?” I ask. “food after” Chan smiles

[2hightocare]

LOVE WAGER! 01

Synopsis: Meeting a crazy stranger who cuts in line, tries to tell you love like the books doesn’t exist—it’s whatever. You won’t ever see him again… right?

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. forced proximity.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, Jungkook lowkey being insufferable, banter, cussing, a little bit of them being enemies, nicknames, oc being a hopeless romantic at heart, Jungkook being lowkey a cynic… them meeting each other so many times, choking!

a/n: first chapter out!! Woohoo, I’ve been keeping them close to my heart for quite some time. Ever since I listened to “in between” by Gracie Abrams.. I was inspired to write them—the song is so them coded.💌

★ masterlist!

3 years ago…

You were a hopeless romantic.

Most people called it being delusional— by people, you mean the random stranger in front of you.

The first time you met Jungkook, not only did he cut in front of you in line, but he also started shit-talking about how delusional you had to be to think romance books were even remotely comparable to real life.

The line at the cupcake shop was long. You had been wanting to try the new chocolate-covered strawberry flavor from your favorite cupcake shop in the city. The shop was always full, but today it was packed to the bone— the line almost reached outside the door. The people sitting at the cute pastel-colored tables were even leaving because the space was getting so crowded.

It was a Friday, and you had just left school. Your black backpack hung loosely over one shoulder as you stared down at your phone, trying not to die playing Subway Surfers. When your phone died, you internally groaned.

You mentally rolled your eyes before looking forward, where the line was starting to move faster. You were probably the fourth person in line, which was good since you'd only been there for around twenty minutes. You slipped your phone into the back pocket of your jeans before reaching for the zipper of your backpack—pulling out the latest book you hadn’t finished reading amidst all the assignments teachers had been bombarding you with. You thought it was dumb, considering it was your senior year in high school—why not just let you off easy?

You zipped up your backpack before slipping it on, tucking in the small hair that fell into your face when you opened your book. You moved forward as the line advanced, not bothered by the conversations from everyone around you—it was like your own brown noise, which you usually looked up on YouTube whenever you wanted to act like the main character in a movie.

Romance books were your thing. The same went for movies; you loved a good romantic story with the most cliché plot in the world—it did it for you every single time.

Your dad had tried getting you into self-help books, fiction books, or even those thriller books where you had to guess who kills who. He would back this up with actually learning something from reading a book, and you tried all those genres, you really did. You were the most specific girl there could be; if the book didn't impress you within one chapter, you closed it and moved on.

You were basically in love with the idea of love, imagining someone doing all those things you had seen in movies and read about, which filled you with hope that someone could care and love you that way. Yes, you believed in soulmates; you believed that someone, somewhere in this world, was destined to be with you, no matter the circumstances. You believed that if two people were destined for each other, they would find a way to each other, one way or another.

“Hi, baby, you still haven’t ordered? The line is so fucking long.” A strange boy, who looked around your age or maybe slightly older due to his eyebrow piercing, spoke up. He had a navy blue cap with the Yankees logo on the front, and you could see small pieces of his hair. It looked like a dark brown, but at some angles, it looked black, so you thought maybe he dyed it. He was cute, with a sharp jaw and dimples, which you immediately noticed when they showed on his left cheek as he bit his lip, waiting for you to reply.

“I’m sorry—“ you started, only to be cut off by him. “I've been meaning to show you this, babe.” He cut you off before basically shoving his phone into your face. His phone showed his notes app open with a text that read, ‘Please act like you know me so I can cut in line; it’s so long, and I have somewhere to be.’

Your brows furrowed at the pleading guy. You had no clue what his name was, but he looked like he was seriously about to lose his mind if he had to wait another minute in line. You shook your head before nodding— a smile burst on his face.

“Thank you,” he mouthed to you, to which you only shrugged before closing your book. “What flavor are you getting, lovebug?” He said, his nose scrunching in disgust at what he just said. A small laugh escaped your lips since that was the cringiest shit you had heard all day, maybe even all week if you didn’t count your dad trying to write you a poem about his love for your cat.

“I want to get the new chocolate-covered strawberry flavor. What about you?” You said, your fingers fidgeting with the pages of your closed book. His eyes dropped to your hands as you moved up in line, now second in line.

“Is that your book?” He said instead of replying to your question. “Yeah, do you read?” A spike of excitement was clear in your face and voice, only to be squashed when he opened his mouth.

“Do you actually believe anything in there is remotely realistic?” He said nonchalantly before removing his cap, letting his fluffy hair fall in his face before almost immediately collecting it back, placing his cap backward this time.

“I—“ you stutter, your mouth slightly agape, not knowing how to reply without sounding dumb. Because, yeah, you strongly believed romance books were able to happen in real life if someone loved you enough. “Well.. I mean, love happens anywhere,” you shrug, but he only nods his head in a condescending way. Not only were you helping him skip in line—he was basically criticizing your view on love.

“Well, duh, love happens, but all that cringey shit is the dumbest thing our generation normalized. Like, nobody is going to confess their love with a microphone in the middle of a dance-off,” he scoffs. You didn’t understand why he actually looked like he seriously hated the idea of making gestures for someone you loved or cared about.

“Well, obviously, I find that stupid as well, but there are other gestures to show your appreciation and love for someone.” You turn your whole body to face him. He’s not much taller than you, maybe two inches if you really wanted to know, and the cap maybe added another inch, but that didn’t matter since your eyesight was eye level with his.

“Love is embarrassing,” he says, crossing his arms in front of him. You felt the lady behind you both, her eyes bore into you both, trying to figure out why the supposed couple were fighting about love.

“How is love embarrassing?” You scoff before turning around to look in front of you, at the back of the head of the man who was ordering.

“Because love makes you do embarrassing shit all the time; that’s the easiest way I can put it for you, ribbons,” he replies with a duh tone, raising his eyebrows at you, which you see from your peripheral vision.

“Ribbons?” You turn to him, your arms crossed over your book as you glare at him. “Pink ribbon. Don’t you think you look a little too old to be wearing bows?” A grin appears on his face as he casually points to the pink ribbon tied into a bow in your hair.

“The fuck? Not only did I let you skip the line, but you’re a) talking shit about my favorite genre, and b) making fun of me wearing bows.” You turn your full body to him, which he only raises his hands in defense, as if you had a gun pointed at him.

“Damn, my bad. I thought this was a free country; you know your amendments, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Yes, I fucking know my amendments,” you reply, absolutely annoyed at him bringing history into this.

“Freedom of speech,” he says before walking in front of you to the cashier. You were annoyed, maybe even angry. How dare he talk shit and say freedom of speech when you just did him a favor.

“He cut in front of me,” you point to him as you tell on him to the cashier, his jaw dropping to the floor. “Did you just tell on me? What the fuck,” he side-eyes you as you just shrugged.

��I respectfully need to ask you to go to the back of the line,” the cashier says, shooting you an apologetic look. You bite on the inside of your cheek to contain the smile that is threatening to slip out, as he sends you a mocking face, which you return, because apparently, you both were literal children. He rolled his eyes before he walked off.

2 years ago..

The second time you met Jungkook, you almost died due to choking on your coke.

You and your best-friend, Amelia, sat in a booth, munching on pizza, while you hear her ramble about the latest drama on campus.

“I can’t believe he cheated on her. I was so shocked, like I couldn’t believe he would do that after he literally gave her a promise ring—I heard it was expensive as well, bro,” Amelia said, stuffing a French fry in her mouth.

Amelia and you had been best friends since your freshman year at Preston University. She ended up in your dorm room by mistake, until security escorted her to her corresponding room. You both even had your calculus class together, which ended in both of you ripping your hair out because you truly had no clue what the professor was talking about.

“Oh my god, you’re lying!” you gasped, taking a bite of your folded pizza. “Alexandra said she didn’t care, but apparently, she was crying at the frat party we were supposed to go to yesterday,” Amelia said, pressing her lips together with wide eyes. As you were about to reply, she gasped.

“Holy shit, babes, don’t turn around, but there’s this fine-ass guy behind you,” she said. Without thinking you turned your whole body to look at the guy she was talking about.

“Or just turn your whole body, I don't care,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, who?” you asked, staring at the group of boys in front of you. They were all cute, just not your type whatsoever. “He just turned around, so you can’t see his face, but the one with the black beanie,” Amelia whispered to you as she took a sip of her Dr Pepper.

As you stared at the back of the boy who was engrossed in a conversation with his friend, a loud laugh escaped his lips before he threw his head back, letting you catch a glimpse of his face.

“Oh, fuck, his laugh is hot as fuck as well,” Amelia said behind you, chewing on her crispy fries. “Do you think he has a girlfrien—“ The words melted from your mouth as the beanie boy turned around. “Yeah, he definitely has a girlfriend,” Amelia said nonchalantly, clearly not catching how your eyes widened, as you both stare at the boy who had cut in front of you in line three years ago.

He was taller, much taller, and he was built—you could tell even from his oversized long-sleeve shirt. As much as you wanted to disagree, he was undeniably attractive. The eyebrow piercing was still there, but it somehow looked better than when you first saw it.

“Ribbons?” he said, pointing at you with a chuckle, making you flinch for absolutely no reason. Amelia looked between both of you, trying to read the room.

“Mr. anti-romantic?” You fired back, a huge smile breaking out on his face before he excused himself from his friend group and made his way to your booth. “I see you got a nickname for me... I feel honored,” he said, pressing a palm to his heart dramatically before shooting a nod at Amelia, who waved with a small smile on her face.

You just rolled your eyes. He was the most childish person you had ever met, and that says a lot since this was only the second time you'd ever spoken to him. “I wouldn’t be so honored,” you mumbled, shooting him a tight-lipped smile as he shook his head with a low chuckle.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Amelia said out of nowhere, both you and the unknown boy's heads snap to the side as a smirk makes it’s way to his mouth, while you throw daggers at Amelia with your eyes for her blunt question. “I doubt he would ever hav—“ you start, only to be rudely interrupted by none other than Mr. anti-romantic himself.

“I actually do, and I was just about to meet her here, but I saw your friend and just had to come and say hello,” he said to your best friend, all while wearing a condescending smile.

“Oof, I feel bad for her,” you shrugged, before placing the straw of your clear cup in your mouth and sipping on your coke.

“Eh, she says I’m a pretty good boyfriend, not a hopeless romantic like someone I know,” he said, watching your eyes meet his before you tilted your head in a mocking way, which he picked up immediately.

“I wonder how you even got her to say yes to you,” you bit back, your eyes maintaining contact with his, not wanting to be the first to break it. But he was too good at it; you almost felt like crumbling into a ball from how intense his stare was.

“I guess you could say there are more ways to please a woman without love letters,” he said nonchalantly. You choked on your coke as the liquid went down the wrong pipe, making you start having a coughing attack.

His and Amelia’s eyes widened as Amelia immediately swatted the man who was right beside you. His hand made contact with your arm, raising it up in the air.

“The fuck are you doing?” Amelia said aggressively, side-eyeing him, as you basically died in front of their wondering eyes. You really didn’t expect him to just talk about his sexual life so openly without a care. You would want to crawl into a hole if your boyfriend ever talked about your private moments like that to anyone.

“My mom said if you put someone’s hand up, it makes your cough go away. I don’t fucking know! I’m not a doctor,” he shot back at your best friend as he raised your arm in the air. Your cough slightly disappeared as you tapped on your chest as if that would do anything to stop it.

“Are you good?” Amelia said as she basically hovered over the table. You felt the whole dinner's eyes on you as you tried to recover from the insane coughing fit you just had. “Y-yeah, fuck,” you coughed, your arms still up in the air from his hold. “I almost for real thought you were about to die. I already imagined myself behind bars,” he said, rubbing his unoccupied hand through his face with a sigh.

“Now I’m hoping I actually died,” you said, yanking your arm away from his grasp.

“We’re leaving, Amelia. Let’s go,” you said, standing up, collecting your jacket and bag, and pushing him out of the way, standing up beside him.

He hovered over you; you almost wanted to jump up to reach his height, but you were already embarrassed enough. So instead, you fixed your denim skirt before looking up at him.

“Well, it was so not nice to see you again, and hopefully we don’t get to meet again, Mr. anti-romantic. Goodbye,” you said as you sent him a fake smile his way.

You pulled on Amelia’s hand before she could say anything and walked out of the dining room without looking back at the boy who was standing in the same place, watching the girl he almost witnessed pass away by choking on coke from him even remotely bringing up sex.

A small chuckle left past his lips as he made his way to the table where his friends were seated.

“Dude, what the fuck happened? Why was that pretty girl coughing like crazy?” Taehyung said, eyeing the door through which you had just left.

Jungkook didn’t know why his heart picked up when his best friend called you pretty. He wasn’t blind; you were beautiful. When he first met you, you both were obviously much younger. If it wasn’t for how much you had grown into your face and the braces you once had were long gone, it would’ve been your aura that gave it away. You were more outspoken, which kinda took him back but sent a sense of excitement through his body.

“No clue. Just some girl I met in my senior year... kinda taken aback I ran into her again,” Jungkook said before picking up the menu from the table, looking for what food he should order. “Maybe it’s fate, bro,” Namjoon teased, which made Jungkook drop his menu on the table.

“You guys know all that shit is bullshit, right? It was just a coincidence. I’ll probably never see her again after this,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning backward onto the booth and crossing his arms in front of him defensively.

“Whatever you say, champion,” Hoseok whistled as he called the waitress.

Jungkook's brain immediately canceled out the noise as he started running through all the possible scenarios that would leave you both at the same place at the same time. His body shook from the possibility of it being fate; he hated the idea of the answer being anything besides actual proven fact. He didn’t care how cynical he might sound; he had trusted so many people in his life, including his parents, who always preached about love and honesty. But flash forward to him having to skip around each house of his parents every weekday and weekend. He hated how he believed them when they said love can get through everything. Absolutely not—divorce.

He just imagined your perfect household, two parents at the same home who still say ‘I love you’ to each other every chance they get. You get to read your books in your living room without a fight breaking out out of nowhere just because someone forgot to throw the trash out.

Love didn’t exist in his eyes. He believed in mutual respect. He doesn’t believe in the whole crazy in love charade. His girlfriend Haneul didn’t really want the whole whispering cute things in each other's ears or dancing under the moon either, and that’s why he chose her.

Plus, he wasn’t an asshole when it came to love when it came to other people. Did he want to ruin their moment and tell them they wouldn’t last? Yes—but he never does.

He saw how broken his mom was after the divorce. He thought about the idea of love and if someone came to love you, you would do anything in your power to not hurt them. It had been five years since his parents’ divorce, and everyone seemed to have moved on perfectly, while Jungkook watched how his perspective of love changed drastically over time.

He was glad that you didn’t have to go through what he had to go through, given your obvious naivety. That was entirely the only reason he shit-talked about love when he first met you, which was the most jackass move he could’ve done, especially after you let him skip the line. But after you told on him to the cashier like a little child, he was thinking of actually tackling you.

Either way, it didn’t matter for him to be worrying or thinking about you in the first place, when he didn’t even know your name. Plus, he would never see you again, that’s for sure.

Present day..

Psychology class was your number one nemesis. You literally begged the counselor to let you have another class that wasn’t psychology. Not only did he laugh, but he said it would do you good. In your mind, he basically called you crazy—maybe you did need the class after all.

As you huffed and puffed to your last class of the day, you fixed your glasses on your face and tightened the high ponytail with the white ribbon that matched the outfit Amelia helped you pick out. You pushed open the door to the class and were greeted by half-empty seats and no professor, giving you the option to choose where you sat.

You were a middle-seat row girl, unable to see far away without your glasses. You also avoided sitting too close to the front, fearing teachers would call on you.

As you took a seat in the chair, a body sat beside you without a word. You didn’t even care to look as you took out your laptop from your backpack, worrying about how this year’s professor might be. You had heard from last year’s students that the teacher might have been the devil’s spawn.

While you were finally seated, you moved your head to your left to see the body next to you engrossed in their phone. Your jaw dropped as you were met with none other than Mr. Anti-Romantic.

“What the actual fuck, are you stalking me or something?” you said, absolutely baffled by how many times you had run into him and from all the empty seats, he decided to sit next to you.

He immediately raised his head from his phone, his eyes widening as he stared at your obviously angry face. “Ribbons? What the actual fuck, I didn’t realize that was you,” he said, throwing his head back in shock.

“You had to know it was me, why else would you sit beside me?” you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of you. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, except now he had a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, and the eyebrow piercing was long gone.

Now that he was closer to you, you could see the small mole he had under his lip and the scar on his cheek. His hair was shorter and black, but classroom lights deceived, so maybe it was fully brown, but you didn’t dare to ask.

“Don’t think you’re special, Ribbons. I just can’t see from the back, and in the front, teachers always pick on you to talk in front of the class, and I’m trying to avoid that,” he explained, having the same process as you, but unfortunately, the other half of his brain didn’t process the idea of love.

“Are you sure you have the right class?” you bit out, hoping he had walked into the wrong class and would have to leave immediately. You seriously couldn’t even wrap your head around the fact that he was here and that he went to the same university as you—this being the first time he had seen you around campus.

“Psychology class A65,” he side-eyed you as you rolled your eyes and faced the board, trying your best to ignore his presence.

“You know you can just move to another seat, right?” he said, pointing to all the empty seats beside you. Your head slowly turned to the side to face his face as he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Why would I move when I was here first?” you scoffed his way as he shrugged, indicating that he couldn’t care less. “’Cause I truly don’t care, but you obviously seem affected by my presence, so Ribbons, pick your seat,” he pointed to the available seats.

You imagined the easiest way you could kill someone, but tackling him to the ground at this exact moment might bring attention to you both, so you just breathed out of your nose before giving him a fake smile and rolling your eyes.

“I’m not leaving, and for your information, I’m perfectly fine and not bothered by your presence whatsoever,” you said, trying your best to seem as calm and collected as possible.

“For your information…” he mocked beside you, trying to imitate your voice before chuckling. “I swear, Ribbons, I can see smoke coming out of your ears and nose,” he laughed.

“Stop calling me Ribbons,” you gritted your teeth, already at your limit.

“What else do you want me to call you? I don’t know your name, and you’re still wearing ribbons, I can see,” Mr. Anti-Romantic pointed to the white ribbon in your hair. You rolled your eyes before sending his calm, collected figure a scanty smile.

“Y/n,” you said, tilting your head to the side, as if asking him to tell you his name. “I like Mr. Anti-Romantic, not gonna lie,” he bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter as you were about to lose your composure at any moment.

“You aggravate me, and I don’t know why,” you mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear—but he did, loud and clear. “Jeon Jungkook,” he said, and before you could reply, the professor strode in, wearing the weirdest clothes you could imagine.

“She looks like that one crazy Victorious teacher,” he whispered softly, only for you to hear, smugly bending downward so you could hear better. A small laugh left your lips. “Sikowitz?” you whispered back as both of you stared forward at the professor, who was talking about the syllabus. “Yeah, spot the difference: hard level,” he whispered.

You looked down at your hands, trying to hide the amusement on your face.

For the rest of the class, you guys didn’t talk whatsoever, and honestly, you wouldn’t know if he tried, since you were absorbed in whatever Mrs. Calderon was saying.

“So, here’s where you start hating me, I’m giving you guys a project,” she said, leaning on her desk, making the desk creak. You could hear small groans from students around you, but not loud enough for her to hear.

“It will be a partner project, which I chose randomly, and no, I’m not changing them. I want you guys to be able to work with whomever, no matter what,” she said, a sense of dread passing through you.

“I would email each and every one of you what the project is about. It is due at the end of the quarter, so I better not hear, ‘I didn’t have time, Miss,’” Mrs. Calderon said before picking up a sheet of paper.

"Here are the partners, so after class, come and check who your partner is so you can start talking about what you both will do." With that the bell ringing, everyone stood up and rushed to the paper, including yourself. You held tightly onto your backpack strap as you waited for people to move out of the way—half of the people bitched about who they got, they couldn’t possibly be that bad.

Your heart dropped to your ass as you read your name—Jungkook squished beside you, looking for his name, only to find it where your finger was already on.

You got paired up with Jungkook. What kind of fuckery was this?

As Jungkook read "Y/n Y/ln & Jeon Jungkook," he couldn’t believe his eyes. He almost lost his mind when he realized it was you when he sat next to you, but he tried his best to act unaffected. However, this was too much of a "fuck you" sign from the universe—Jungkook didn’t think he did something so horribly to be rewarded like this.

What the fuck were the odds, and how could he scientifically prove that it’s not the universe trying to mess with him?

Taglist💌— @httpjeonlicious @thekookiedealer @somehowukook @taiwan0618 @gwsjungkookie @seokout @sealuv79 @junecat18 @joonsanswer @letjungcoook7 @skzthinker @ahgasegotarmy116recs @ivygguk (I couldn’t add some idk why😓)

[notjustjavierpena]

Mouthful

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Made with the help from my loveliest @strang3lov3 with a talk about men conking out after cumming and how Hubby Javier still hasn’t gotten his dick sucked. So to all the girlies who want to give your fictional husband a blowjob, this one is for you.

Summary: Javier is starting to come down with the flu but he just simply won’t lie down to have some rest. You have a trick that never fails.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, sickfic, Inés is a menace, Javier is a stubborn man, ❤️ JAVIER HAS A DAD BOD!!!!!!! ❤️, blowjob, deep-throating, mouth-fucking, praise, dirty talk, cum-swallowing,

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52856839

Mouthful

You hear the clink of plates being lifted out of the dishwasher, the sound of Sebastian crying, stuttering sobs as he is bounced, and Inés going on about something that happened in preschool. Javier is barely listening, replying with half-sentences that seem to make his daughter more frustrated with her father not paying attention and eventually leading to her talking louder. 

The idea of what will meet you in the kitchen is enough to make you want to flee to the bedroom, enough to make you want to pretend that you haven’t heard them during an extended nap. However, you could never bring yourself to let Javier go through the hell of late afternoons with children alone.

“Look who’s up,” he says with a desperate smile as you enter the room, twisting his whole body to make his crying son spot his mother. As soon as Sebastian’s eyes gaze upon you, his wails die down and they stop completely the moment you take him from Javier’s arms. 

“Mom! Guess what happened today at school,” Inés interrupts just as you are about to say something. She speaks loudly, and you automatically reach up to cover Sebastian’s ear that isn’t pressed into your shoulder. 

“Inés, indoor voices,” Javier finally manages to say, reaching up to rub his temples, “Shhh…”

“Sorry,” she makes a face, not completely convinced. 

“What happened at school?” You ask but instead of looking at her, you find yourself staring at your husband who looks like absolute hell, glassy eyes and exhaustion radiating from him. Inés giggles as she tells a joke that isn’t really a joke, too lost in her story to notice that you aren’t really listening. 

Javier places a hand on the kitchen table, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His shirt is crumpled, his eyes have dark circles and you don’t actually think that he has even noticed that he is sniffling every other moment. He sighs deeply, breathing mostly through his mouth as he does it, and then goes back to emptying the dishwasher.

“Are you okay, honey?” You ask him, stopping midway to shush Inés who doesn’t look pleased, “You look under the weather. Are you feeling okay?” 

There’s an almost offended nature in Javier’s reply. He doesn’t stop what he is doing, sorting through the cutlery, “What? No, yeah. Estoy bien, mi amor (I’m fine, my love). Just need to get this done.”

“And then what?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“And then I’ll get started on dinner,” he tells you with a tired smile that isn’t very convincing. 

“You look like… m i e r d a (shit), and you probably feel it too. I was sick last week,” you spell out the dirty word, using the Spanish word because the English is short enough to make Inés guess what you are saying. 

“Mom,” Inés predictably complains. 

“I’m fine. I just need 20 minutes where no one comes near me,” he says with exasperation. He finishes up the bottom drawer of the dishwasher and goes to pull out the top one. You find yourself laying a hand on top of his, stopping him in his tracks.

“Javi,” you say softly. 

“What?” He grumbles.

“I can finish up here. I’ll cook dinner,” you tread lightly, knowing that he hates being babied by you. Him not pulling his weight is a common fight that the two of you have had, and he probably feels on edge when you ask him not to help out with the kids. 

“I can do it,” he snaps but suddenly sneezes, and it ends up making his nose prickle enough to cause his eyes to water. 

“Go do something else, laundry maybe. I’ll do this,” you say a little more firmly, strategically sending him to your bedroom to make him spot your bed and have some well-earned rest, “It’s really not a problem, and you know I hate doing laundry anyway.”

“Fine,” he holds his hands up in surrender. 

“I love you,” you say in a sing-song voice as he leaves the kitchen, “Go have your 20 minutes.”

Inés looks longingly after her father but you manage to distract her with a snack before she runs after him. You run your free hand over her hair as she eats a peanut butter sandwich, Sebastian cooing happily on your hip as he has been allowed to chew on a banana.

“Do you want to watch cartoons before dinner?” You ask, “Give Mommy some time to get things done in the kitchen, and then I can hear all about school while we eat?”

“Fine,” she parrots her dad, holding up her hands as well and running off to the living room. You follow her, setting Sebastian down in his playpen and turning on the baby monitor. Then you turn on the TV, adjust the volume, and let Inés busy herself by singing along to her favorite theme song. 

You finish emptying the dishwasher, cut vegetables, and throw them into the slow cooker with other ingredients, and after you check on both of your kids, you realize there’s some spare time before you have to pick Lucas up from his play date. 

You decide to go upstairs to do another round of laundry, but when you cannot find the laundry basket, you go to your bedroom. Javier must have taken it when folding clothes. 

“Jesus, why are you not resting? I sent you here so you’d eventually nap,” you groan as you enter the bedroom and see Javier putting his shirts on hangers. 

“I told you I’m fine,” he seems even more sick at this point, nose slightly congested and causing him to speak nasally, “I can do this.”

You walk up to him to yank a clothing hanger out of his hands and throw it onto the floor, receiving a glare in response. Javier doesn’t look pleased with your behavior, but you don’t find his stubborn attitude charming either. 

“Javier F. Peña,” you tut, “Just go lie down and trust that your wife has everything under control. It’s what a lot of husbands do, you know.”

“Well, wife, I don’t need your permission to do housework,” he tries to push past you but you catch him in a disarming embrace, giggling as he tries bending down to pick you up so he can move you out of his way. You avoid his efforts, catching him by the wrists when he straightens once more, and push him back towards the bed. 

“You need rest, husband,” you shove him when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he lets himself fall down into the mattress, bouncing slightly as it connects with his back. 

“I don’t need a nap, I’m not a child,” he groans dramatically. 

“Then stop acting like one,” you pull the baby monitor out of your pocket and place it on the nightstand. When Javier tries to sit up again, you snap your fingers and point at him, “Nuh-uh, lie down.” 

It makes you realize that you need to use alternative methods to get him to obey; he simply won’t do as he has been told, and if anyone is ever in doubt about where Inés gets her stubbornness from, you’ll simply glance over at her father to answer the question. 

“What if I treat you to something special?” You ask with a little smirk, moving to the end of the bed so you can proceed to crawl onto him. You sit on his legs, “Think that’ll make you relax?”

You already know the answer to that question. He looks ready to conk out. 

“I’m actually fine, I don’t need—“

“I know, Javi,” you reply. Your fingers find his crumpled shirt and you pull it out of his jeans, shoving it up over his stomach so you can access his belt, watching your husband twitch underneath you at the sound of the buckle clinking as you undo it. 

He lifts his head to watch as you tug down his jeans and underwear, “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping after this. I have to—“

“I know, Javi,” you repeat, bending down to nuzzle your nose against his soft stomach. His cock lays flaccid against his thigh, but you pull it out from underneath the waistband of his briefs to lay it against his tummy so you can skim your palm up and down the shaft. His soft cock slowly comes alive underneath your touch, and soon you can wrap your fist around him to stroke him till he stands completely erect. 

Below you, Javier groans when you press a kiss to his belly, “And I have to get the laundry done.” 

“Whatever you say, baby, let me take care of you and I’ll let you do as much laundry as you want,” you hum against his skin, relishing in his warmth and his so-called dad-body - the last year has blessed you with Javier getting a little softer to the touch - that you nuzzle up to at every opportunity you get. 

Javier isn’t a fan of himself growing soft around the middle but you savor it every time you get to see that bit of pudge strain against his usual jeans (which he refuses to buy in a bigger size). If you thought he was gorgeous when his muscles were toned and his body looked younger, you had not been prepared for how good he looks now that he is older, rounder, and getting comfortable. His arms are still deliciously strong; an overwhelmingly sexy result of still carrying Inés around everywhere, picking her up from the ground if she has a tantrum at the grocery store. 

“God, you’re so sexy,” you pinch his stomach to earn a little noise. Javier says your name in disapproval but you just look up at him with a smile, grabbing more of his pudge before biting into it and kissing it afterward, “Let your wife have her fun.”

Javier is just about to say something - you don’t know whether it is about his body, the lack of a blowjob, or laundry once more - but you know it’s more complaining and so you cut him off by running the flat of your tongue from base to tip of his cock. He tastes like salt. If you had the time, you would not finish until his scent and taste were everywhere on you. In your clothes, etched into your skin, and on your tongue. 

“Oh shi—“ he gasps, resting the back of his head on the mattress once more. He breathes deeply in through his mouth, nose still stuffed, and stares at the ceiling as you work your tongue up and down his shaft only to follow the wet trail with your nose.

When you reach his cockhead a third time, you suckle on the very tip to rid him of the pearl of precome that has accumulated at the slit and is threatening to slide down (you want to treat yourself to it before it does). Above you, Javier moans at feeling your mouth, not your tongue, properly for the first time. 

“Fucking hell, baby, gotta admit that I didn’t see this coming,” he half-chuckles, half-groans.

“Maybe I just wanted to shut you up for a moment. You are stubborn, you know,” you pull back to talk, look up at him, and nuzzle needily at his cock. He looks down at you but you simply smile, “I looove you for that though, not annoying at all.”

You follow your little snarky remark up with a press of your lips to the underside of his shaft, using a hot open-mouthed kiss to cut off whatever offense he might take from your teasing. He doesn’t even seem to register it after feeling your mouth on himself again. 

Then you let saliva gather in your mouth before spitting directly onto the head, using your hand to smear it down his length by stroking him a few times. You lean over him and bring your mouth down over his girth, no teasing or anything, until the thick head hits the back of your mouth. 

“Fuuuck, and then up again,” he groans, a strong hand reaching for whatever he can grab of you. His fingers curl around your shoulder, moving inwards until they dig into the back of your neck. Slowly, you drag your lips all the way off of him again. 

Javier makes a sound when you pull off but it quickly turns into a whimper as you let more saliva drip down. You smear this too, swirling your sinful tongue around the tip and occasionally licking like were you eating a popsicle on a summer’s day. 

You can feel him pulse against your lips, so you show mercy and let him into your mouth again. He is hot and heavy on your tongue and a moaning mess above you, nails starting to dig into your skin. 

You start bobbing your head, hand on the base of Javier’s cock to hold his generous size in place. When he bumps against your throat for the first time and thus makes you gag the first time, he lets out a sound that you can never get enough of and it causes your cunt to throb between your legs. 

“Who would think that a pretty girl sucks cock like that? Oh, fuck… I love you, just like that—” he talks in a way that makes you think he might not even be aware of what he is saying but is simply letting his mouth run, “Suck that cock, baby. Good fucking girl, married the right one, didn’t I?”

You hum in reply and he growls at the vibrations of your voice. The pride you feel is indescribable, and so you seek out his approval once again by moaning as you taste him. Even if it results in your eyelashes dampening from Javier pushing his hips upwards, you lean further down and force yourself to relax your throat. 

He slides into the tight space at the back of your throat and his hand flies to the top of your head. He fists your hair desperately when you gulp around him and make your throat spasm, tugging at your follicles to the point where tears slide down your face. Soon, they also mix with the spit coating his cock.

You swallow around him again. Javier holds your head with both hands now, “Can I - Christ - can I fuck this gorgeous mouth? Por favor (please), baby.”

Even if it is hurting a little, you nod the best you can because Javier’s groan as he starts thrusting his hips upward is worth any ache in your body. Your thighs flutter, your clit pulses. 

Both his hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He uses it to move your head as he pleases, makes you bob on his dick until you gag wetly with every other thrust of his hips. Every time he bucks his hips, his thigh muscles flex and your nose buries itself in his happy trail. 

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, chest heaving. He is nearly there, muscles in his whole body twitching as he slowly loses control over himself when pleasure is so close. The next thrusts are maddening and you can’t blink any tears away even if you tried, “Fuck, swallow, baby. Take my come.”

You look up at him through your wet lashes and hum a mhm, confirming. Yes, yes, yes, give it to me.

You know he is peaking when his breath stops. He holds it during the last thrusts, finally letting out a loud moan as he finishes and sucks in a deep breath afterward. 

His cock spurts in the next moment. You can feel it hit the back of your sore throat, warm and salty, in several pulses and automatically, you swallow hungrily around his girth. The action makes him groan weakly and his hips stutter until he finally needs to let go of you. His arms lie flat along his side.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighs contentedly when you pull off, “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, Daddy,” you tease, and then you treat the sensitive head of his cock to a few innocent kitten-licks, essentially cleaning him up until he softens. 

He whimpers when it becomes too much, and so you pull off to kiss him along his stomach. You can hear his breathing changing, turning into something less erratic. 

“You okay?” You eventually ask but receive no reply. You look up. 

As predicted, Javier snores. You smile to yourself as you push yourself away from him, careful not to wake him up as you pull his briefs and jeans up again, leaving the latter unbuttoned. 

“Javier Peña, the most stubborn man on the planet has a weakness,” you whisper and shake your head with a fond smile. 

You grab the baby monitor from the nightstand and leave him to sleep, knowing he’ll wake up feeling a lot more sick and, hopefully, a lot more cooperative. You bring him a glass of water and some Tylenol to wake up to, write a note for him about how much you adore him, and that you’ll take care of everything. He needs it. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[pinkaditty]

He Knows

(Subaru Kagami x MC X Haku Kusanagi; Tokyo Debunker)

omg guess who's back!!!!! im posting porn as per usual. 2day's porn is about tokyo debunkers!! recently started playing that game and WOW haku kusanagi has stolen my heart holy shit man. i picked him and then proceeded 2 watch him jump off a burning ledge it was really something!!! anyways the more of him i saw the more of him i just ended up liking. like when i found out he's left handed i jus melted on impact bro wtf's wrong with me. anyways here have the result of my 72 hour long haku kusanagi brainrot: porn.

summary: haku's been avoiding you. it's because you're with subaru all the damn time. it's only at a party where you're in close proximity that things get... interesting.

a/n: note that the tokyo debunkers characters have no confirmed ages. i am running on the assumption that, since they refer to themselves as adults in the game, drink, smoke, and gamble that they are at least in the college student age range. also, i have never heard of a high school with a chancellor. typically it's universities that have those. i am running on the assumption that all characters are at least 18 years of age. if canon ages come out and turn out to be lower, i will delete this! thank you <3

cw: MINORS DNI, suggestive, no real smut happening but u get kinda close, mostly buildup tbh, self-indulgent (pls like this i spent hours writing it), gn!mc bc mc isn't described physically at all, strongly implied sexual relations, semi-public?, slight cucking if u wanna call it that?, subaru x reader x haku yea

MINORS DNI!!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY. THANK YOU.

Casino parties in Sinostra were a lot different from Frostheim parties. 

Where Frostheim parties were the peak of elegance; blue and white and silver, the mood just as frosty as the scenery, the dress code limited to the finest silks and satins, the food limited to the neatest hors d'oeuvres, and the conversation limited to humble whispers; Sinostra parties were the peak of gaucheness; all colors gaudy and neon, the mood joyful and jubilant and raunchy, the dress code ranging from evening dresses to last week’s uniform, the food being whatever was served at the nearest table, and the conversation loud and constantly overlapping. If you asked Haku, he didn’t have a preference. Parties were parties. It didn’t matter what kind.

He was here to have a good time. That was somewhat dampened when he realized he’d have no choice but to hang around you. He’d been avoiding you for a reason, after all.

It had been recently when he realized why his heart thrummed like a drum when you were nearby, the beat loud and monotonous in his ears. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he’d scarcely felt, and when he realized what it was, he almost didn’t believe it was genuine. Sure, you were attractive, but all his flirting was, at best, to get your attention and to mess with someone cute. Who doesn’t like attention from an attractive person? He blew it off for the longest time, chalking it up to nerves at how you would respond to his brazen flirting, or perhaps surprise when you would talk to him with a sincere glint in your eye. It was crazy, falling for someone who might be doomed to die, but it was like he couldn’t help himself. Something about how you kept going, even despite that, accepting your potential fate but seeking a way to rewrite it all the same—it impressed him. You had the resilience of a ghoul, a will strong enough to devour a curse. So be it. He promised to himself from the moment he saw Taiga attempt to throw you out of the train window that he wouldn’t let you succumb to such horrors just yet. He had thought that, with the mesmer matches, his promise would be fulfilled. But when your eyes shined with recognition upon meeting his gaze again on that train, he knew he’d bitten off far more than he could chew. So be it. His fate was sealed, as it always had been. 

And, of course, like any romance story, you’d gotten quite close with another guy, Subaru. The odd pangs in his heart rang quite clear through his head when he saw the two of you walking together on campus yet again, or sitting together at mealtimes yet again, or when you’d come by Hotarubi to visit him yet again. He felt childish, feeling an odd jealousy bubbling up in him that he immediately tried to tamp down. He didn’t like feeling that way, not at all. He figured he’d have to rid himself of this somehow, so he distanced himself. Yet, the pull towards you was still strong and hard to ignore.

And then he started falling for you, harder, even after he’d implemented distance, completely unplanned. So, yeah, being here with you after weeks of attempting to avoid your presence after such a revelation was something of a downer. And, super awkward. But whatever, he could take it. He didn’t want to walk aimlessly around this party and see something he shouldn’t, so he was stuck with his dormmates, particularly Subaru, who was stuck—albeit, happily—with you. 

The party was going alright so far. The alcohol had given him a light buzz, enough to at least alleviate his nerves, and relax just slightly. He sank into the couch he sat on, adjacent to the bar. Next to him was Subaru, next to Subaru was Zenji, and next to Zenji was you. At least there was some distance, but his eyes met yours in fleeting glances quite often. It was minimally frustrating, but the buzz helped him ignore it. You were engaged in friendly, flamboyant conversation with Zenji, Subaru seemed a little shifty, though that could be chalked up to being in a loud environment, and Haku was leaning back, swirling his drink in his hands. The endless noise of loud voices and gambling wins and losses echoed in his ears as he did all he could to refrain from indulging much more. But your presence wasn’t exactly helping. 

He turned back to you, to give you another fleeting glance, but his eyes landed on Subaru instead. He seemed a little out of it, his skin shining in the low light with a thin layer of sweat, his breathing heavy and laboured, his face flushed a bright pink. Haku stared at him curiously, concern creasing his eyebrows and quirking his lips downwards. He reached a hand out to gently pat Subaru on the shoulder, who flinched suddenly. Haku looked at him quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing further. “You good?” He examined Subaru’s condition further, noticing his bangs beginning to stick to his forehead from the sweat. “Do we need to leave?”

Haku’s mumbled queries gained the attention of Zenji, who glanced over his shoulder. Upon seeing Subaru’s state, he frets, turning towards him and grabbing his chin, tilting his head back and forth. Haku wished he wouldn’t do that, and hoped onlookers assumed Subaru was just shaking his head. Not that anyone would be looking in this direction, anyway. He notices you curiously peering over Zenji’s shoulder. You showed no signs of concern, rather interest.

“Oh my! Are you alright? You’re quite flushed!” Zenji’s voice was pitched with worry, as he further examined Subaru’s face. “Did you perhaps—ah, but you’re not holding anything…” Zenji tapped his fingers to his lips, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. Subaru shook his head at both Zenji and Haku, and waved his hand.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Haku heard a slight tremor in Subaru’s voice.

“Are you sure?” Zenji pressed, leaning towards Subaru, his eyes searching his face for any signs of further ailment.

“I’m fine! Please, enjoy yourselves.” To his credit, Subaru hid the tremor this time, but Haku could still sense something was wrong. However, he decided to let it go, assuming that they wouldn’t be here much longer. 

He took note of your lack of concern. He found it odd, but didn’t think on it much. You were close with Subaru, but maybe not as close as he thought. He hated how the thought of the two of you not being as close planted a seed of hope in his heart. Still, wasn’t concern a normal reaction to a friend being ill?

Haku let it go. They’d be out of here soon, anyway. 

Time seems to crawl by and speed up at the same time, the chaotic haze of the party warping his perception of time. Before he knows it, he’s on his second drink, even after internally swearing he wouldn’t overindulge. And before he knows it, he’s lost count of how many times he’s glanced your way, each time holding your gaze longer than the last. His pining was ridiculous. He felt like a teenager. And the drink in his hand was only a reminder of his low self-control, further shaming him. He sighs and places it down on the table in front of the couch, promptly leaning back in his seat. Once he falsely settles in, his finds his eyes drifting to you again. He quickly snaps his gaze away, but not before he spots Subaru’s quivering figure out of the corner of his eye. He turns to him again, concern once again etching itself into his expression. 

Subaru was trembling now, slouching just slightly, which was unlike him. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe normally, and he was sweating more now, more of his bangs stuck to his forehead. Instead of the modest blush pink his face had been before, he was now a bright red, color spreading from his cheeks to his ears and even to his neck. Alright, this was too much. Even Haku knew Subaru was pushing himself too far. He sat upright and gently placed a hand on Subaru’s back, to which he flinched again. Haku’s concern quickly turned to worry, and his hand moved to Subaru’s shoulder instead, leaning closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Hey, Subaru.” Subaru turned to him, still heaving and blinking at him blearily. “...We should go.” Subaru promptly shook his head, despite his body still trembling. The movement alerted Zenji yet again, who turned to Subaru, noticing his trembling form.

“My goodness, look at you!” Zenji grabbed Subaru’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Are you well? Do we need to take you to Montkranken?” Haku sighed as Subaru shook his head again, stubborn as a mule on this.

“N-No, I swear I’m fine, truly.” His voice shook audibly. Haku had half a mind to take him to Montkranken by force, but knew that no good would come of making Subaru any more uncomfortable. 

Zenji hesitantly let go of Subaru’s face, staring at him dubiously. He carefully inspected him, checking his complexion and forehead. As Zenji flitted back and forth around Subaru, Haku found his gaze once again slipping towards you. This time he didn’t stop it, deciding to let it go so he could hold your gaze at least once more before he shifted his full focus to Subaru. However, he notices you aren’t looking at Subaru, or Zenji, or him. You’re staring off to the left, as though watching the people of the party. He’s confused. Why are you so nonchalant about this? Even before, no concern was on your face, mere interest. And now, it’s like you couldn’t care less. It didn’t seem quite like you not to care about one of your friends. It was quite confusing and frustrating, watching you act so nonchalantly, hardly noticing Subaru’s ailment. But, whatever. Maybe you were just distracted. As he turns his gaze back to Subaru, about to gently encourage him to stand so they could leave, he notices your hand moving out of the corner of his eye. Your hand disappears into your pocket and shifts a bit more. Simultaneously, Subaru lurches forward, grunting. His whole body was trembling now, and his fingers dug into his arms as he desperately tried to keep it together. Zenji immediately leans over, placing a hand on Subaru’s back. Haku feels a rush of panic and leans towards him. “Subaru! What’s—”

Haku stops in his tracks. On the side of Subaru’s neck, facing Haku, there were small red and purple bruises. For a moment, Haku’s confused. What are those markings on the side of his neck? And what’s got him so—

Out of nowhere, something clicks. 

As Zenji continues fussing over Subaru, Haku slowly lifts his gaze to you. He finds your gaze boring straight into him. A shock runs down his spine. 

No. No way.

Haku watches as you smirk at him and you pull something out of your pocket, purposely angling the object so only he could see it. It is something very closely resembling a remote. His eyes flick between the remote and your face, your eyes still holding him captive. He tears his gaze away from you and the remote, and turns to Subaru’s trembling form, Zenji fussing over him. He turns back to you, observing the wicked smile on your face. This can’t be real, right?

He watches as your smirk widens, and you press a button on the remote, slipping it back into your pocket. 

Subaru groans, crumpling further forward, immediately pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle his voice. Haku studies him carefully, watching his expression. Subaru’s eyes roll back just once and the corner of his lips turn upwards in a smile, peeking behind his palm pressed tight against his mouth. 

Oh. Oh god.

Something akin to heat pools in Haku’s lower abdomen. He finds himself gripping the cushion of the sofa he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white. Haku swallows thickly, and jerks his gaze back up to you, finding your gaze boring straight into him once again. Subaru’s muffled grunts grow louder, and now that he knows it’s out of pleasure and not pain, Haku feels the urge to squirm. He feels warm all of a sudden, his own body beginning to tremble with nerves and heat. His lips part as he breathes heavily, his gaze flickering from you, to your pocket, to Subaru, and back to you. Maybe it was a bad idea to have so much alcohol. Your gaze, the knowledge of what was really going on, and Subaru’s grunts—which were quickly evolving into moans, further confusing Zenji—all made quite a potent concoction, and with the alcohol running through his system, it really only served to shame him further yet again. 

Shame is all he can think about… Even as a tent forms in his pants.

a/n: YIPPEE!!!!!!! i finished at long last

also here have this fuckass meme i made thinkging abt all the fics im writing atm:

i guess i have a niche. my roommate literally asked me as i was telling her abt this fic "is it gonna be cuckold" and i was like "WHATEKSLSJK?!?!?!??!" and then i realized. i write a lot of these fics and call them all self-indulgent. is something wrong with me?

anyways wrapping this up!!!!!!! note that i appreciate likes, reblogs, and comments!!! please, tell me all about how much you enjoyed my work, if you did!!!! i really like when people tell me they loved it bc it encourages me 2 keep going ahhhh!!! until next time, readers!!!!!

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [3] - Payback

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you’ll like it, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: Guests shouldn't overstay their welcome.

Word Count: 2800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You loved your best friend, you would die for her without hesitation but even you had to admit that to this day, her priorities still managed to surprise you.

“Someone shot at you and I wasn’t there? How dare you?”

You twirled the spoon in your hot chocolate. “Becca…”

“Seriously, I miss the one time someone has the audacity to try that shit?” Becca asked. “And Bucky was there instead of me? Ugh, the timing…”

“I promise I’ll call you the next time someone starts shooting at me.”

“You’d better,” she insisted. “And you didn’t even text me that night, I had to hear it from Bucky when he asked me where we got your dress from.”

You bit back a smile threatening to curl your lips.

“He shouldn’t have bothered,” you murmured. “I don’t want or need any gifts from him.”

She stole a look at you, then heaved a sigh and reached out to squeeze at your hand.

“I can’t believe you almost got taken.”

“I can’t believe someone hired a group of amateurs,” you corrected her. “I mean how rude is that? At least send a professional, you know? Where are their manners?”

“I heard Steve is still questioning the guy,” she said, taking her tea cup to her lips. “If he’s working for someone we know…”

“I doubt it.”

“So do I, but—” she paused for a moment. “Do you think this might break the truce?”

“No way,” you said. “I was unharmed and we don’t know who they are working for. Not to mention my father is too smart to break the truce.”

“Is Ian?” she asked nonchalantly and you shook your head.

“Ian isn’t the one calling the shots.”

“Thankfully,” she said, leaning back on her chair. “But he will use any and all excuses to start a war once he is the one calling the shots and the truce will be over.”

You pursed your lips before shaking your head.

“I’ll find a way to stop it,” you said. “That dickhead is not going to ruin everything our families worked for, no way.”

Becca waved her hands in the air.

“Ugh, let’s change the topic,” she said. “So you’re getting back together with your ex then?”

“It was just one dinner,” you said. “And he barely counts as an ex, really. We dated for a short time, and didn’t really spend much time outside bed.”

She wiggled her brows. “Well if you’re so eager to catch up with him after years, I’d say it was a pretty good time.”

A smile warmed your face.

“He was nice,” you said. “Nicer than most of my college boyfriends really.”

“Have you talked to him since the shoot-out?”

You paused for a moment, cradling the hot chocolate mug between your hands.

“I considered texting him but I doubt he wants to talk to me considering how disastrous that date was.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I wouldn’t call a shoot-out a disastrous date.”

“He actually got shot, Becca,” you reminded her. “He had to go to the hospital.”

“Alright but there are worse dates!” she insisted. “There was that one time back in college, a guy whipped out his guitar to spontaneously serenade me on a first date, that’s much worse than getting shot at.”

“I don’t disagree,” you said, scrunching up your nose. “Wasn’t there also that one girl who talked about her ex throughout your date?”  

“Still not as terrible as the serenade guy.”

You shot her a grin before sipping your hot chocolate. “I guess I could text Ethan,” you said. “He probably doesn’t want to see me again but I feel like I should apologize so…”

“And maybe he can ask you out on a second date when you see him again.”

“I really don’t think so—” you started but your phone started vibrating on the table, making you stop talking. You took a look at the screen, your frown deepening as you did.

“Why is Bucky calling you?” Becca asked with a small laugh and you scoffed, then hit decline.

“Must be an accident,” you said. “Anyways I was going to tell you, you remember that girl from—”

This time, it was Becca’s phone that started vibrating. She raised her brows and bit back a smile, then answered the phone.

“Yes Bucky?” she asked and stole a look at you. “Why?”

You ran a hand over your face, then mouthed “don’t” but Becca ignored you.

“What am I, your assistant?” she asked Bucky, then rolled her eyes as she listened to him. “Right right, very important as usual, fine. Yeah she’s here, I’m putting her on the phone.”

She handed you the phone and you let out a groan, then took it to your ear.

“What do you want?”

“What, no hello or anything?” he taunted you and you gritted your teeth.

“Hello Bucky, what do you want?”

“I need to see you.”

“I on the other hand could live out my days happily without seeing you,” you said and he chuckled.

“Is this still about the dress?”

“It’s about your existence in general.”

“Ouch,” he deadpanned. “So does 5 o’clock work for you?”

You checked your wristwatch.

“I have plans until 4 so no.”

“I meant 5 a.m,” he corrected you and you made a face.

“Do you just not sleep?” you asked. “I mean it wouldn’t surprise me if you were a vampire, now to think of it. Leather jackets, wearing all black, you have that brooding expression all the time…”

“I’ll text you the address.”

“Oh great, do that so that I can ignore that text,” you stated. “I’m not coming anywhere at 5 a.m.”

“Charm…”

“Why on earth would I even—”

“You need to be there to see our guest off, you know the rules.”

That was more than enough to make you pause, your head snapping up. You pursed your lips and ran a hand over your face, then huffed out.

“No promises.”

“See you at dawn sweetheart,” he said and hung up. You clicked your tongue, then handed Becca her phone back.

“What is that about?”

“Steve’s guest,” you said and Becca raised her brows, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Well,” she said, grabbing her tea cup. “No wonder you’re sending him off at dawn, I’d say he overstayed his welcome.”

                                                *

Meeting Ethan was going to be awkward, you knew it was. Too bad there wasn’t a get well soon card that also included an apology for causing a person to get shot as well, so you figured you could just come up with something when you were there. You walked through the door to the café, then slowly made your way to the table he was sitting at, typing into his laptop. You cleared your throat, making his eyes shoot up at you.

“Hey.” He pushed his chair back to stand up and you offered him a smile.

“Hey.”

“Please,” he motioned at the seat across from his and you sat down, then stole a look at his shoulder when he sat down as well.

“What did the doctors say?”

“That it was a clean shot, the bullet passed right through without hitting anything important,” he said. “They bandaged it and they’ll see, but it should heal without any issues.”

“Good,” you said, letting out a breath. “I’m glad.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and he coughed lightly, sitting up straighter.

“So,” he said. “I guess it’s nice to have an answer to my question from earlier, after all these years.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms in silence.

“You could’ve told me, you know? While we were dating.”

“There was nothing to tell you then,” you said after you took a deep breath. “There’s nothing to tell you now.”

“Wait, what?” he asked, letting out a laugh. “You can’t be serious Y/N, come on…”

“What?”

“How else would you explain what happened that night?”

“An unfortunate incident,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders and he shot you a look.

“Steve’s men talked to me,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about, I’m not going to tell anyone anything so you don’t have to give me that. I get how it works.”

“Oh do you now?” you asked with a small smirk and he held up his hands.

“I’ve watched The Godfather for three times,” he said, coaxing a laugh out of you.

“You do realize that if it were anyone else, they would be running for the hills right now instead of meeting up with me again?”

“I mean I’m not going to lie, it’s very intimidating,” he said. “That whole thing. But I also think you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

The smile on your lips faded and you swallowed thickly before biting inside your cheek, trying to keep your expression flat.

“Ah,” you said, the familiar disappointment sinking your stomach. “That’s why you accepted to talk to me again?”

“What?”

“Because you think what happened back there was exciting or something?” you asked with a scoff, then reached out to grab your purse. “You should sign up for bungee jumping classes if that’s what you want—”

“No no,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “You misunderstand me. It was terrifying.”

You arched a brow. “And yet…

“You didn’t have to do what you did to protect me,” he said, making you pull your brows together.

“I beg your pardon?”

 “I saw you,” he said, letting out a chuckle. “You were—you were kicking their asses until you saw they held the gun to my head. That’s why you stopped. For my safety.”

You pursed your lips together, then put your purse back in the chair, leaning back.

“Ethan…”

“I mean, if you’re a part of that world—”

“I said nothing like that,” you said almost automatically and he let out an impatient breath.

“Fine,” he said. “Hypothetically speaking, if you were a part of that world—”

“Hypothetically speaking,” you cut him off and stole a look around the café. “If I were a part of that world, I’d say there are rules. A code of honor.”

“A code of honor?”

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” you recited what you had heard from your father and everyone around you multiple times. “But hypothetically, if someone is not a part of that world… Civilians didn’t sign up for that shit, and no one can force them to. Trust me, what I did wasn’t anything special.”

“Either way,” he said. “Code or not, I don’t think anyone else would have done it. That’s why I wanted to meet you actually, to thank you. What you did back there, it means a lot.”

Oh.

This was unexpected. If it were anyone else, they probably would have never wanted to see you again, let alone actually thanking you but it shouldn’t have been that surprising that Ethan saw it like that. It was one of the first thing that had drawn you to him back at college, he always managed to see the best in people.

“…Seriously?” you asked, a tiny ray of hope warming your chest and he nodded.

“Seriously,” he said. “I mean I’m not going to pretend it’s not scary but at the end of the day, I liked spending time with you.”

“I liked spending time with you as well,” you said with a small laugh. “Minus the incidents.”

“Fingers crossed for fewer incidents,” he joked and you nodded.

“No promises but I’ll try my best,” you said and he grinned, then drummed his hand on the table.

“So can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Oh it’d be great thank you!” you said as he stood up. “You’re very sweet. A decaf latte please.”

 He tilted his head. “Decaf?” he asked. “I remember you downing five espresso shots with zero problems, what happened there?”

“I can still do that but I should cut down on caffeine today,” you said, smiling slightly. “I need to get up really early tomorrow.”

“How early are we talking?”

“5 a.m.” you said with a sigh. “And it will not be fun, I’m telling you.”

“You’re starting on yoga or something?”

A small laugh climbed up your throat and you nodded your head.

“Uh huh,” you said as he walked to the counter. “Or something.”  

                                                      *

When the car pulled over in front of the skyscraper, you lifted your head off the window, wiping the drool off your cheek as discreetly as you could.

“We’re here, miss.”

“Thank you Carl,” you murmured before a yawn split your face and stretched out your tired muscles. The sky was still dark, and the chill of the air sent a shiver down your spine when Carl opened your door for you. You rubbed at your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up, then walked into the skyscraper with two bodyguards following you.

You stepped into the elevator and pressed the button that would get you to the roof, rubbing at your eyes while you checked your reflection in the mirror. The classic music filled the elevator, making you hum along until it came to a stop and the doors opened.

“Let’s do this then…” you murmured and walked out of the elevator, your whole body tensing up because of how cold it was. Bucky was standing in the middle of the roof, some of his men pacing around while two of them stood by the edge of the roof, looking down. The tight rope on the floor caught your eye and you followed it to the edge, tilting your head to the left.

“Is that him?” you asked and Bucky looked over his shoulder, then turned around to see you better.

“Charm,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered. “Why are we doing this at this hour again?”

“No potential civilian witnesses,” he said as you approached him, your shoulders still tense. He took a look at you, then shrugged off his long coat and dropped it over your shoulders, his pleasant scent filling your nostrils.

“I’m not even cold,” you said through chattering teeth even though your body immediately welcomed the warmth, and he scoffed a chuckle.

“Mm hm,” he said. “Of course you’re not.”

“That being said, I’ll send it back after I get home,” you said, your nose stuck in the air as you rolled the sleeves of the coat up a bit. “I’m not catching pneumonia just because you decided to pull this shit at dawn.”

“You should keep it,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Looks good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you think—”

“Please don’t kill me, please!” the shout coming from the ledge cut you off and you glanced at the rope, then up at Bucky.

“How long has he been begging, exactly?”

“Too long for my patience,” he muttered before he raised his voice; “Shut it, asshole!”

“No no no, please I can—I’ll change,” the guy said. “I’ll—I’ll never cross paths with her again, I swear!”

“Funny, he seemed much more confident while he was shooting at me,” you commented and a dark shadow passed over Bucky’s eyes.

“Deadly mistake,” he drawled and you took a couple of steps to go to the edge of the roof to look down at the man hanging by a rope over the edge of the roof. He was too panicked to even notice you while he dangled there, trying to break free from the rope and you took a deep breath, then turned to Bucky.

“What’s his name?”

Bucky put a cigarette between his lips, then lit it and exhaled the smoke.

“Tony Willis.”

“No no no, please help me—”

“Tony Willis, you have been accused and found guilty of multiple crimes against the city,” you recited the speech you had heard from your father many times. “You have put civilians in danger, attacked a member of a key family, and tried to break the truce. The—”

“I’ll change! I’ll change I promise you!”

“The punishment for these crimes is death,” you continued, deaf to his begging. “The sentence is to be carried out immediately, by a member of the family or a person of their choosing.”

You stepped away from the ledge to walk to Bucky, ignoring the pleas of the man and Bucky stubbed his cigarette before holding out his gun for you, but you shook your head.

“I don’t want my hand to smell bad,” you muttered, scrunching up your nose and a fond smile appeared on Bucky’s lips.

“As the princess wishes,” he said, his voice almost soothing before pointed the gun at the rope on the floor. “Live by the sword, die by the sword.”

He fired the gun at the rope, making it snap in half and the man’s shouting ceased immediately as he plummeted to his death. For a moment no one said anything, a silence falling upon the rooftop while you stared at the first rays of the rising sun before you hid your yawn behind your palm, then lowered your hand and glanced up at Bucky.

“Well then,” you said, crossing your arms. “I don’t suppose you brought coffee?”

Chapter 4

[carpe-mamilia]

Ghosts’ Larry Rickard Explains Why They Chose the Captain’s First Name

Photo: Monumental,Guido Mandozzi

It couldn’t be a joke. That was one rule laid down by the Ghosts creators when it came to choosing a first name for Willbond’s character. Until series five, the WWII ghost had been known only as The Captain – a mystery seized upon by fans of the show.

“It was the question we got asked more than anything. His name,” actor and writer Larry Rickard tells Den of Geek. “Once we got to series three, you could see that we were deliberately cutting away and deliberately avoiding it. We were fuelling the fire because we knew at some point we’d tell them.”

In “Carpe Diem”, the episode written by Rickard and Ben Willbond that finally reveals The Captain’s death story, they did tell us. After years of guessing, clue-spotting and debate, Ghosts revealed that The Captain’s first name is James. At the same time, we also learned that James’ colleague Lieutenant Havers’ first name was Anthony.

The ordinariness of those two names, says Rickard, is the point.

“The only thing we were really clear about is that we didn’t want one of those names that only exists in tellyland. It shouldn’t be ‘Cormoran’ or ‘Endeavour’. They should just be some men’s names and they’re important to them. The point was that they were everyday.”

Choosing first names for The Captain and Havers was a long process not unlike naming a baby, Rickard agrees. “It almost comes down to looking at the faces of the characters and saying, what’s right?”

“We talked for ages. For a long time I kept thinking ‘Duncan and James’, and then I was like ah no! That would have turned it into a gag and been awful!” Inescapably in the minds of a certain generation, Duncan James is a member of noughties boyband Blue. “Maybe with Anthony I was thinking of Anthony Costa!” Rickard says in mock horror, referencing another member of the band.

Lieutenant Havers wasn’t just The Captain’s second in command while stationed at Button House; he was also the man James loved. Because homosexuality was criminalised in England during James’ lifetime, he was forced to hide his feelings for Anthony from society, and to some extent even from himself.

In “Carpe Diem”, the ghosts (mistakenly) prepare for the last day of their afterlives, prompting The Captain to finally tell his story. Though not explicit about his sexual identity, the others understand and accept what he tells them – and led by Lady Button, all agree that he’s a brave man.

Getting the balance right of what The Captain does and doesn’t say was key to the episode. “It wasn’t just a personal choice of his to go ‘I’m going to remain in the closet’,” explains Rickard. “There wasn’t an option there to explore the things that either of them felt. That couldn’t be done back then – there are so many stories which have come out since the War about the dangers of doing that.

“We wanted to tell his personal story but also try to ensure that there was a level at which you understood why they couldn’t be open, that even in this moment where he’s finally telling the other ghosts his story, he never comes out and says it overtly because that would be too much for him as a character from that time.

“He says enough for them to know, and enough for him to feel unburdened but it’s in the fact that they’re using their first names which militarily they would never have done, and in the literal passing of the baton”.

The baton is a bonus reveal when fans learned that The Captain’s military stick wasn’t a memento of his career, but of Havers. As James suffers a fatal heart attack during a VE day celebration at Button House, Anthony rushes to his side and the stick passes from one to the other as they share a moment of tragic understanding.

“From really early on, we had the idea that anything you’re holding [when you die] stays with you. So it wasn’t just your clothes you were wearing, we had the stuff with Thomas’ letter reappearing in his pocket and so on. And the assumption being that it was something The Captain couldn’t put down, it felt so nice to be able to say it was something he didn’t want to put down.”

Rickard lists “Carpe Diem”, co-written with Ben Willbond, among his series five highlights. He’s pleased with the end result, praises Willbond’s performance, and loved being on set to see Button House dressed for the 1940s. He’s particularly pleased that a checklist of moments they wanted to land with the audience all managed to be included. “Normally something’s fallen by the wayside just because of the way TV’s made, it’s always imperfect or it’s slightly rushed, but it feels like it’s all there.”

Rickard and Willbond also knew by this point in the show’s lifetime, that they could trust Ghosts fans to pick up on small details. “Nothing is missed,” he says. “Early on, you’re always thinking, is that going to get across? But once we got to series five, there are little tiny things within corners of shots and you know that’s going to be spotted. Particularly in that very short exchange between Havers and the Captain. We worried less about the minutiae of it because you go, that’s going to be rewound and rewatched, nothing will be missed.”

The team were also grateful they’d resisted the temptation to tell The Captain’s story sooner. “We’d talked about it every series since series two, whether or not now was the time, but because he’s such a hard and starchy character in a lot of ways you needed the time to understand his softer side I think before you had that final honest beat from him.”

“What a ridiculously normal name to have so much weight put on it for five years,” laughs Rickard fondly. “Good old James.”

From Den of Geek

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Hey, Wayne said you refused to talk to the therapist.”

It was day 34 of visiting Eddie in the hospital, and there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. If Eddie would talk to the therapist, he could be released into Wayne’s care.

The therapist spent two hours with him, and apparently got nothing more than some sighs and eye rolls.

“I didn’t like him.”

“Well, we can get you another one.”

“I don’t like them either.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t even met them yet.”

“I just know I won’t,” Eddie said as he crossed his arms, hissing when he rubbed against the bandages still covering most of his torso.

“Do you want to stay in the hospital forever?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you just talk to the therapist? You don’t have to tell them everything, just how you’re feeling now.”

“I don’t want to.”

Steve was trying not to get frustrated. He promised Wayne he’d try to talk some sense into him patiently. It was proving to be harder than he thought it would be.

“What is it that you don’t want to tell them?”

“That maybe I did kill Chrissy! That maybe if she had just gone home or I told her no that she’d still be alive! Maybe Vecna would have gone to the next victim and I wouldn’t have to be here in pain!” Eddie was breathing heavily, his heart monitor beeping more rapidly the more he spoke.

Steve didn’t visibly react, though he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold Eddie, turn back time and pretend that it was possible that Chrissy wouldn’t have died, let Eddie live his life not knowing these horrors existed.

He wanted to be able to scrub the memory of carrying Eddie’s limp and bloody body from his mind so he could go back to his regular nightmares of him dying, not the man he-

“Sorry.”

Steve’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Eddie spoke his apology so softly into the room. It was a direct contrast to how he’d been before, and it was startling.

A thought occurred to Steve, one he hadn’t thought of in at least two years, but felt right now.

“You know, I used to be kind of friends with Chrissy. Not close, but we talked.”

Eddie stared at him curiously, probably wondering where this could be going.

“It was funny. It didn’t happen until I wasn’t popular anymore. I guess that just shows she was a great person.”

“Yeah. She was.”

“I remember I was sitting alone eating lunch. Jason and his crew weren’t there and she walked up to me and said ‘let’s be lonely together for today.’ And I guess that was our thing, being lonely together. It sounds stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me.”

Steve looked up and saw Eddie’s wide, wet eyes staring back at him, silently begging him to continue his story. Maybe he needed this.

“It happened a few more times and then we ended up hanging out a few times before graduation. We actually,” Steve paused and bit his lip. This would give a lot away and may end up making things worse for Eddie, but he wanted to believe it would help. “We bonded over our crush on you.”

He let it sit in the air for a moment, eyes refusing to look back up at Eddie.

Until he felt a hand on his.

��You both had a crush on me? Me?!”

“Don’t tell Robin, but she was the first person I came out to. Accidentally. And it wasn’t really coming out so much as admitting I thought you were cute.”

“You thought I was cute?!”

“Well, yeah! Always playing with your hair and doodling during class. Helping the freshman find their classes. Giving those speeches. You were brave.”

“Steve. That’s not bravery.”

“It is when everyone is willing to hurt you because of who you are.”

“I barely ever actually got beat up. Words are just words.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

Eddie nodded, swallowed, then sighed.

“Yeah. I just didn’t want anyone to feel like me.”

“That’s why we had a crush on you!”

“Well, that’s nice that you bonded over that.”

Steve didn’t like the sudden change in his tone. Like he’d liked hearing the story, but now he realized it didn’t matter.

And maybe it didn’t.

Chrissy was still gone. Eddie still had to watch her die a terrible death.

They were both still traumatized.

But Steve still had a crush on Eddie that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he repressed it.

And maybe that part of the story was something that could change for the better.

“Robin told me I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, she tells all of us that often.”

“But this is about something specific.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I never got over my crush on you. And instead of saying something about it, I just thought I’d forget about it eventually.”

Eddie blinked at him.

“Chrissy once dared me to ask you out. She said when you graduate, I should do it. Just take the risk.

She was pretty sure you were into both anyways.”

“She was right.”

“Yeah, she usually was,” Steve nodded. “But the problem here is you haven’t technically graduated yet.”

“No I haven’t.”

“You could, though.”

“Maybe.”

“But you have to get out of here first.”

“I see what you’re doing, Harrington.”

“What’s that?” Steve smirked and reached out to move Eddie’s hair away from his face.

“Bribing me to graduate with promises of a date.”

“Is it working?”

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. So you’ll talk to the therapist tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice, I’m just hoping you choose you.” ——————————— When Eddie walked across the stage two months later to get his diploma, Steve was giving him a standing ovation.

He ignored his original plan of flipping off Principal Higgins, he didn’t want more eyes on him than he already had.

He ignored it because now he had a new plan. He was gonna walk off the stage, throw his cap in the air, and then kiss Steve Harrington.

Part 2: Prologue

[frenchkanna1808]

Why Midori is such a breath of fresh air or how to actually write a Villain.

So the awaited essay, the winner of the FrenchGremlin polls of laziness finally has come! It took some time but it’s finally over. If your choice didn’t get chosen that’s okay! I’ll repost a new poll with old and newer options. Please reblog this one i put a lot of time in it, it's like, five pages long over a silly goose. Also sorry for the grammar i sucks and i'm not native. So let’s begin:

(also here is the link to the video format)

So first let’s make things clear, What IS a villain?

“A villain is a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot.” That is why I do want to make a difference between a villain and an antagonist, an antagonist is a character who are a plot devices that creates obstruction to the protagonist. That means that a villain is forced to be an antagonist while an antagonist is not forced to be a villain. For example shin is an antagonist but not a villain, he is driven by selfish desires which are themselves fueled by fear anger and loss, he is the protagonist of his own story and is a sympathetic character despite it all, and Midori is just a bitch. Midori falls under multiple stereotypes of villains. Such as “the mastermind”, “evil incarnate” (lmao),”related to the protagonist” etc. Midori is evil, there is no denying in this, he is purely evil, and he doesn’t have a sad weepy backstory, he doesn’t feel empathy towards other, he is a despicable piece of shit who ruined so many lives. I won’t list everything but here is a list of his crimes, murder, assault, domestic abuse, grooming, verbal abuse, and torture, crimes against humanity lmao, stalking, violent crimes, and participation in a cult. And his worst crime is being a pussy bitch of course. So now that we have put the bases up let’s really begin.

Hollywood has a hate boner against villains and I hate them for that.

Recently Hollywood decided that pure evil bad guys is actually a bad thing, so now they decided to do stupid side story with them, to give them ”””depth””” since I guess how could we like those villains since they are bad. A great example of this is the Disney remakes which I loathe so much oh god I hate them. So first they did a maleficient it was okay honestly, then they did a freaking cruella movie where her mom gets killed by Dalmatians, that’s not a joke, in the peter and wendy movie that nobody saw they decided to have made the captain hook be a lost boy who was abandoned by the lost boys and peter, oh also they decided that PETER CUT HIS HANDS OFF AND LEFT HIM TO DIE BECAUSE HOOK WANTED TO SEE HIS FAMILY. They are going to do a freaking mufasa movie, in no time I can’t wait to have a Ursula movie where it’s discovered that ariel killed all of her family in cold blood or something’s. So you might say what’s the problem? I mean isn’t that supposed to make the story more interesting. No, no it doesn’t, because first they take all of the character personality traits and throw them in the bin, second they are supposed to be the vilain in a musical animated movies, I am not against complex villain, I love them, but by doing this, the original character doesn’t exist anymore. Just create original content with new interesting characters instead of doing stuff like this. Also it’s kind of funny than in all of those interpretation they take all the fun and sucks it out, what do I mean by fun, the gayness, Disney vilain are fun because they are camp, they are fabulous extravagant extra in all the ways possible, and that’s the reason we liked them. Not every character needs something super deep, like “my family was burned down at the stake and my dog was eaten by my ex”, sometimes we just like bad fun people, they are the story, and Hollywood hating them so bad just bothers me a lot. Also now the new thing is to not have a villain at all which can works in some narrative but not all of them, it gets boring after a while. In the past people were angry that villains are bland, but now I kind of miss it. While I will critique villains who have no purpose outside of being evil that’s dumb, like for example Voldemort is bland like white bread because his only motivation is being evil, but evil people do exist compared to what some Hollywood writers think, they should know. So that’s why I will put a difference between evil villains and villains whose only purpose is being evil; we loved Disney villains but they still had motivations, goals, reasons that to them a least were worth everything. World domination isn’t enough, why do you want world domination, what is the true reason deep in your heart, is it an inferiority complex, is it a savior complex fuelled by xenophobic beliefs.

That is how to write a pure evil villain, evil people exist all over the world, but I have never seen one who doesn’t have they own reasons to be so bad, it doesn’t excuse their actions nor really explains them. We do not want justifications we want explanations. If you are justifying evil behavior then do it, but don’t claim that it is a pure evil character. A pure evil character can be fun, can be interesting, he can be deep, it’s all about balancing all of their traits to truly make them greats. Which is why midori succeeds while current villains fail. Current stupid remake/spin off try to justify the behavior because they feel like this is what the audience wants, but it’s not what we need. So I will defend to the grave evil villains.

Creating an evil villain doesn’t make them boring guys.

Why the heck does big budget movies have either the blandest protagonist or the blandest villains sometimes both, like I said evil people do exist but comically evil character only works in satire not in a serious multiple millions of dollar movie. Example that boring ass avatar movie, the one with blue people, none of the characters are interesting the villain is one note. The lords of the rings also suffers from that, but I don’t care because the protagonist are so awesome that sauron being personality less doesn’t matter. Also sauron is more of a force of nature villains so it’s not the same. The recent kingsman movie has a bland one note villain, there is nothing entertaining, funny, about him he’s just evil, borrrrring. Every Disney remakes depiction of the characters are boring. I just feel bored out of my mind. Atla one of my favorite shows of all time has a main villain that’s kinda one note, Ozai, but he is actually intimidating guy, azula is the superior character, but I wouldn’t consider her a villain she is an antagonist though. I honestly don’t get why Hollywood thinks that just creating a character with no personality and whose only goals is to be evil is good.

So back to midori for a second, here is my question, when midori was on screen did you ever feel bored? Never right! Because despite midori being an evil character he has an actual personality, he’s fun, you want to punch him in the balls. Because midori has other personality traits than evil, midori is petty, childish, extremely intelligent, controlling, a natural manipulator, he is a trickster, he doesn’t seem to get some social norms, he is narcissistic, easily angry, and fears death etc See how I counted a lot of traits, traits that in other character would works, midori has positive traits, and I think that is the best thing nankidai could have ever done, midori has traits that a regular person could have. Which is why if I put midori in any settings his character would work.

Example, instead of a death game the cast is under the sea to discover the insane wildlife and supernatural stuff happening, what would midori do in this situation? Well he would very passionate about finding all of what’s happening, he’ll do anything to find out, even sometime sacrificing others, not only will he try to find what’s happening, but he is also going to try to find a way to make this discovery favour him in the end. Or let’s imagine it’s a vampire situation, where a vampire attacks  the city, midori would try to stop it, not because he cares, but to experiment on them to get their biology and finds the real secret of immortality since he fears death.

Here is my second advice, after creating your character try to imagine them in another completely different situation, like normal life, or a fantasy world, ask yourself the question what would they do in that environment? If you can find a real complete explanation of their actions then yes your character has multiples dimensions if not try thinking about it again. Some example of questions I do want to point out are some like “if my character had all the power in the world what would they do first or”, “if my character had only a day left to live what would they do”

Why is Current media incapable of creating good threats like bruhhhh.

Okay so first of all let’s talk about stakes in a story, let’s say you are watching a slasher movie, slowly the cast gets slimmed down and people die in horrible ways, that should set stakes right ? Well if the villain is an absolute buffoon who makes the stupidest actions and decisions in the world, you wouldn’t feel intimidated at all because despite what the filmmaker might try to say the plot armor will NEVER make a character intimidating. It’s just like a detective character who just seems to know everything without a thought, well you won’t really fear the character failing. Worse is the the final girl, who is for some reason always escaping the slasher guy by pure luck every time, she is shown as incompetent but still she survives, which make the villain seem completely incapable so now you feel nothing.

To avoid this filmmaker often use techniques such has unpredictability, I mean good I mean good ones, for example instead of immediately seeing whose going to survive because the black guys always dies first and the virgin white woman is the last survivor, change the status quo, make us think that this character is obviously safe while they actually aren’t at all. Or actually make them menacing by SHOWING to the audience how horrible dangerous they can be. Which is why SHOW DON’T TELL is so important, telling us how dangerous someone can be only to see them get beaten to death at the end of the movie makes us feel nothing.

Midori felt like a impossible person to beat, he is smart, had twenty plans in advance, even in situation where the cast felt like they might have a chance he was always armed, just like the gun he promised to use or the rocket punch. When they felt like they were finally advancing, he put obstacle in their ways, such as the collar game or the moment he put the collar on explode mode for  ranmaru. The entire point in the murder game was to make time pass, it took a long time for the cast top realize that this whole time they were losing precious time not realizing that the dummies were the real problem. The characters that made you feel the most hopeless were the dummies, if you won by killing midori they would die, but if you lost you might lose people you love (keiji or gin). It felt hopeless because they were no solutions in the end. That creates tension so that creates stakes. If we were told how dangerous unpredictable sou was then it wouldn’t hit the same, we are shown that he is that terrible. There is a scene ingame where bbg shin ai tells us that midori tortured and like to destroy people. That’s exposition so TELL, but do you why it works, because we are SHOWN before his behavior. Midori felt unbeatable, so the fact that we were shown his weakness such has his petty behavior, hatred of minors, and fear of death, for the first time it feels like there is a chance that we might survive this. And still after he isn’t shown has an incompetent buffoon, he is one, but the narrative doesn’t show us that he is.

What is also consider is good to make the audience feel actual stakes is to first really develop well the main characters, how can we feel worry for a character if we don’t know them, the audience need to feels emotional connection to the main cast to actually care. You can use things such has moments where there is nothing special happening just character talking getting to know them. Make us feel why we need to care about them possibly losing, instead of being indifferent. Or I don’t know maybe make an entire spin off game where we get to have the cast talk to each other and seeing dynamics between character that died early to get them a chance to shine and make their death even more tragic, or even make mini episodes of characters who only got a single chapter to show off their characteristic, to get us to know them better? But that’s just a silly idea of course, wink, and wink.

My favorite thing about Midori is that he is actually pathetic, like really pathetic, but weirdly realistic?

Midori is the most pathetic character in the cast, yes more than shin, shin is leagues less pathetic. No I’m not saying that midori is not intimidating or scary, I would piss myself if I saw him. He’s a scary guy. But if you look at him more closely you can see that he is a baby brat in a big boy suit.

So let’s start by something clear, Sou Hiyori clearly displays antisocial behavior, or in common terms he is a psychopath/sociopath, this illness is very badly seen in medias, I am not saying that people who lacks empathy like him are inherently bad, he is, a lot of people with antisocial behavior actually suffers a lot and have a difficult life. Sou real issues is not his antisocial behavior, it’s his narcissism and god complex. Sou feels the need to HAVE CONTROL over others, he like the feeling of being in power, he sees the rest of the world has beneath him, toys for his pleasure. He says that he “really like humans” because despite it all he seems to put himself in a different categories than regular people, they are beneath him. When he loses control his calm and cool behavior disappears and we see his true face, a grown man who has throws a tantrum like a baby. One of the best representation of this is midori views on the cast:

Midori hates kanna, like no jokes he has beef with her, a fourteen years old, actually he has beef with a lot of people in the cast. Midori views emotional people has weak, people who are loving optimistic as beneath him and useless. He preferred when sara was cruel and horrible, that’s what he loved about her, he liked seeing her scary emotionless side. But Kanna, kanna is everything he hates. A crybaby who not only puts the group in harmony, is a source of hope in general, is the reason he near got to have closure with shin (killing him), he views kanna as “not fun shin”. We have many proofs for this, if you type the word kanna kizuchi he says this: “Poor Kanna'd weep! I think a more worthless name would be better for someone like me” He mocks her, but also himself (I’lll come back on this later), he calls her worthless. Also in the electric charge minigame, when he can choose who to shocks he chooses two people in particular, kanna who he hates and hinako who ruined his fun by giving the cast a chance in saving ranmaru. But he does also says mean spirited stuff to other people, qtaro and gin. He also says some sarcastic comments about nao and joe, saying that it’s such a shame that they died so young. But you might say why kanna especially? Because he is a petty baby who is jealous of kanna, Yes jealous, of kanna, a fourteen years old. Because he feels like she stole his hubby wubby shin away from him…. God I hate him. And you know what that make him a pathetic idiot, after the scene where kanna beats his ass, he’s all mad and like “uhh I’m going to pout I wanted you to cry like a lot, now I’m gonna cry”. An that’s actually god, because it humanize him, he wants need thoughts, he isn’t one note, and that’s the most important!

Sou is a villain but before that he is a character, a fully developed character, and THAT’S WHAT MAKE HIM GREAT, Sou works because he works realistically, I mean if you forget the robot part, it’s easy to imagine a narcissist man child who needs to feel in power towards other, so his main prey are young vulnerable people.Which leads me to my next point:

Sou is a failure like really, and we aren’t sad for him.

Sou failed everything he worked on, he failed to get the paper from alice, he failed whith shin since he had to leave earlier than he thought he would leave, because of his mistake he lost his position in the death game, then he failed to kill gin or keiji, and then he died like an idiot losing his cool and acting like a toddler. And he knows it that why he is a bit self-hating (he should be). And yet none of us feel any sympathy towards him, why? Because sou is one of the most despicable guy in existence. He is a disgusting pervert, sadistic asshole, and abusive narcissistic cunt who thinks he is better than everyone. From the bottom of my heart I hate him sooooo much he is literally the character I hate the most in existence. He abused shin, ruined keiji’s life, traumatized the entire cast, literally assaulted sara like he physically assaulted her. He mocked nao and joe and kugie life as useless. He is an obsessive jerk AND I HATE HIM. And you know what…… It’s good. Like I actually feel a lot of emotions when I think about him, he fuels me with anger and disgust, and if your characters can make me feel that much rage then you did it, you created an actual perfect character. Hiyori is such a shit person that I think about him a lot, writers shouldn’t be scared to make a character such hittable assholes, example bojack horseman in bojack horseman is the vilest man on earth and I love it, because I genuinely hate him. Just like I genuinely love kanna, like really I really love her, I in the same time despise midori so bad. We hate him because he is horrible to good people that WE KNOW AND CARE ABOUT, not random npcs. There is a lot of… disgusting implications in his story with shin that I will not talk about it makes me really uncomfortable right now. SO HERE IS A VERY TACKY TRANSITION TO TALK ABOUT WHY I HATE JUNKO FROM DANGANRONPA.

Junko is boring, that’s it, she is boring, not funny not interesting, she is a fetish, she is the biggest Mary sue on earth, she is a gross character made to make fun of people with disabilities and queer people. Her only traits is being crazy, that’s it. I wouldn’t call midori that crazy actually, he’s methodical calculated, and precise. Crazyness is a term for people who aren’t in control of their actions and delusional about reality, sou is not crazy, he knows what he is doing, he is in full control, while characters like shin should actually be consider crazy, like shin is actually crazy but sou isn’t.

Conclusion:

Sou is a breath of fresh air, because nankidai had the balls to write an actually interesting deep and threatening character AND make him a villain. He didn’t fall into the trap of making him have a sad backstory or good motives, sou is just selfish, that’s all he is. He make him a fun entertaining guy who you absolutely hates, he made him threatening and at the same time a complete doofus. He made him humane and pathetic.

But the thing that make me love nankidai the most is this

The fact that he actually killed him that takes courage as a writer to just end a character THAT WAY, which is why midori will never come back alive he is forever dead. And that take a lot of talents as a writer to just take one of the most important characters and just get him drilled to death in the anus, like dammn nankidai you are a savage. That fact alone makes him one of the best characters in game, I hate him as a person, but has a character he is a masterpiece.

Though Kanna could solo him

this was posted as a video on my blog this is mainly so people who don't want to stay there reading a 24 minute video of my stuttering can have a bit of quiet

[give-some-lemons]

Watching/playing in horror genre with Sylus

~first of all he’s a busy man and despite the fact that he likes horror genre, usually he just don’t have enough time for watching movies giving more preference to books. He’s favorite would definitely be Stephen King for that atmosphere in his artworks.

~he’s a kind of person that will chuckle or at least smile at characters deaths, especially if it’s a stupid one like stepped on “the most obvious trap he’s ever saw” and he’s more than glad if you’re same, discussing how dumb heroes are for coming up with those decisions.

~he secretly waits for scary moments cause he loves when you cling to him all tensed seeking for his protection and comfort when monster’s face appears on the screen with a loud scream. But if you’re a tough one, that cannot be affected so easily don’t worry, after some time you’ll find yourself in his arms pressed against strong chest anyway.

~he would be glad to watch all the screen adaptations of Stephen King’s novels, even if he doesn’t like any of it, telling how much better it was on the book pages, but he has favorites like “Carrie” and “It”.

~movies about serial killers is his top of most enjoyable ones, sympathizing Myers and Ghost Face and considering how society itself made a monsters out of them. And that is the reason why you often need to put it on pause for you two to meet in a debate battles on that topic.

~if we’re talking about games he’s not much of a player but of course he will do that with you cause obviously that’s what you’d like. It takes some time for you to explain him how to play but since he’s a “talented student” he’s very fast at learning.

~for the reason that not so much horror games are a multiplayer ones, you play in turns, even if at first he prefers watching you, taking his turn only in case if some moments are too scary for you but after not so long mostly you will be the one to just sit, often giving him advice.

~I feel like this man would like “Resident evil 7” and first parts of this franchise, cause the atmosphere in some places there would keep him all in tense, plus he seems to really like the idea of Umbrella, an evil company with their terrible experiments on human body and you already were regretting of giving him ideas for his next business.

~even though he loves to control everything he seems to enjoy games with an unpredictable jump-scares like “Layers of Fear” or “Mortuary Assistant” that can throw him off course for a couple of seconds. And it’s funny for you to watch how carefully and slowly he’s trying to turn back not to be taken by surprise after the last jump-scare.

~”Phasmophobia” is next on your list, a game that was terrifying for you first times you played it. But despite your expectations you almost always were the one to die first while your man just sat there holding a laugh, hidden in the closet like he never even entered the haunted house. Newcomers are lucky not to go out on the ghosts, I guess.

~not a secret that he adores the feeling when somebody’s life fully depends of his choice, no matter if that’s a real life or a game, that’s why he enjoys “Until Dawn” along with “Dark Anthology Pictures”. That thrill of power and control that he has over these virtual humans make you feel very sorry for them. And don’t even doubt, if he doesn’t like the character they will not make it until the end, at least alive.

~he likes horror games/movies with a deep meaning, you know the ones after which you usually sat on one place for some time reflecting on what you’ve just seen or played. At that point you and your partner are talking sharing your thoughts and considering all the ways how differently it could be if characters did this instead of that.

~he would love as well physiological thrillers like “The Shining” and “The Babadook”, movies where the story is told through the thoughts of psychologically stressed characters, revealing their distorted mental perception of the world and how what seemed like a nice, not remarkable at any point person goes all the way straight to insanity.

~not a big fan of a body horror, as he thinks that it’s the easiest way to impress people with just an image of blood and organs everywhere on the screen. As was said before, he appreciates people’s emotions and the atmosphere, that puts viewers or players in a primary terror.

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [3/...]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

"And I am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner taking up space. But when he walks in, I am loved."

— Mitski, "Me and My Husband"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, Buggy is a lonely asshole, flashbacks, semi-canon divergence, Reader is strong AF,

A/N: I forgot to mention this before, but I guess this technically does hold some spoilers from the manga/anime. Keep in mind, I've not seen/read either piece, so it's merely used to give their stories some background.

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or comment :))

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are you?

After some time of searching, Buggy finds you sitting by the docks, your feet gently swaying with the waves, almost free of any earthbound weight. He’d join you if he could, but he’s not brave enough to get too close to the waters yet.

However, he’s content enough to just watch you from a safe distance. The sky is free of clouds and the moon is full, which illuminates your shape like a bright lantern in the night.

Beautiful, that's what he thinks you are. In fact, that's what he's been thinking for a while now, not that he's ever told you that to your face. He wonders when he stopped looking at you like something more than a friend. 

Maybe it was when he caught you smiling at him after you'd successfully managed to steal a bottle of fine rum from the local bar, and you both ended up getting blackout drunk on the ship deck?

Maybe it was when he saw you win a round of arm-wrestling against one of your other crewmates, despite being significantly younger than the opponent.

Maybe it was when you beat a guy black and blue for making fun of his nose in public, with both him and Shanks cheering you on from a safe distance? 

It doesn’t matter when it was. What matters is that, for a while, he has found it difficult to take his eyes off you. Even if it’s just a peek, it usually takes him a while to force his attention on something else.

The rest of the crew are on the Oro Jackson, celebrating their recent endeavors, yet here you are, celebrating on your own. He finds it odd; you’re usually happy to participate in any celebrations with the crew, but you’ve decided to be here instead. It was your absence on deck that prompted Buggy to go looking for you.

The wind picks up and he can feel goosebumps spread across his skin like wildfire. He shivers and tugs his jacket tighter around himself, and that’s when he notices that you’re not wearing any additional clothing to stave off the cold in the night.

He finally calls out to you, a little throaty for reasons he refuses to disclose aloud. “You’re gonna get a cold like that, dumbass! You wanna get pneumonia and die or something?”

You subsequently turn around to face him, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Your sharp eyes, when caught in the moonlight, sparkle like a thousand treasures — compiled of gold, diamonds, and millions and millions of berries — holed up in two caves.

Smiling in the way that makes his pulse quicken, you proceed to wave your feet in the water. A few drops land on your arms, sparkling in the air before landing on the skin of your arms. “I don’t think so? If we get to the South Pole, maybe there’s a higher risk?”

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “The North Pole is colder!”

“Ah, well,” you snicker. “In that case, then I’m not likely to get pneumonia unless we’re there.”

“You can still get cold! What are you, a moron?” 

For someone who can’t keep his eyes off you for extended periods, that doesn’t keep him from being rather crass in terms of vocabulary with you. That’s alright. You’ve never been one to appreciate honeyed words if your frequent bickering with both him and Shanks says something.

With another swing of your legs, you reestablish contact with with wooden platform and make your way over to him. That’s when he finally realises that you haven’t brought your shoes with you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. “By the way, what’re you doing here, Buggy?“

He considers telling you a simple lie that won’t clash with what he knows to be the truth. He was coincidentally going for a walk, he needed some air, he was purposefully looking for you…

“Noticed you weren’t on the ship,” he finally settles on with a hmph. “Had to make sure you hadn’t accidentally up and drowned or something. You’re a shitty swimmer,”

“Not as shitty as you,” you counter and blow him a raspberry. 

He’s about to tell you to fuck off or something when, again, he finds himself pausing. 

You’re smiling at him, so softly, and it feels so warm that the wind no longer has any effect on him. He can feel his cheeks scorch up and his heart is pounding so hard that it feels on the verge of breaking his ribs.

He hastily looks away and coughs a couple of times, trying to maintain what little dignity he has left.

“Are you alright?” You ask with faux concern. “Did you just catch pneumonia or something?”

“S-Screw you!”

You laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. Your laughs are usually raspy and hardly appropriate, but he finds that it’s the prettiest sound in the world. Your smile, your laugh, they are so warm that he hopes that you’ll never stop making them.

Out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and begin tugging him on the path to the ship. “Come on, before they leave us behind.”

“Y-Yeah, let’s.” He doesn’t move to tug your arm away, and no power on this earth will make him.

------

Now that he's closer to the kid, Buggy realizes the stupidity of asking if he was yours. The two of you are nothing alike, but the truly defining factor lies in your eyes. Rubber Boy's eyes are too bright, too round. Whereas yours are knives ready to strike, his' are simple spoons.

He begrudgingly has to hand it to the kid; he's a fearless one. Even stretching his limbs beyond human capabilities does not diminish his spirit. Buggy doesn't know whether to applaud or reject the determination the boy has.

"I want you to think of this, like an artistic exercise," he explains. "Because pain leads to art, and art reveals truth."

He can't hear any commotion from the backrooms where he keeps you contained. Truth be told, he never expected it to keep you for long, only detain you for a limited amount of time. If he wants to both get the map and keep his life in one go, he is going to have to try and get it without necessarily ruining the kid too much.

Still, it doesn't keep him from testing the lines. He tries to pry the answers out with a needle, but no matter what he does, the kid remains infuriatingly mute. 

So, he decides to dig a little deeper.

"Now, what makes a boy want to grow up to be King of the Pirates? Who are you trying to impress?" He tilts his head with inquisitiveness. "A lost love?"

On cue, he can vaguely make out a gnarling sound coming from the back rooms. The sound of chains rattling, which he perceives as you probably moving in the enclosure. He thinks about sending someone to check on you and find out what you're up to, but he does not want the number of supporting casts to reduce.

"An absent parent?" He continues, ignoring the noises as he closes in on the boy. "Or was it someone that you worshipped? A false idol."

Try as he might, the boy fails to feign any indifference to him. A master of performance himself, Buggy knows when he's hit his target "That's it."

He yanks the dumb straw hat off his head, and the boy's protests against it further dig a nail into the coffin. "Give me back my hat!"

"I used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this." Buggy's grip on the feeble thing drastically tightens as memories of the past resurface. "Red-Haired Shanks."

"You knew Shanks?"

"Ginger? Three scars, left eye?" Of course, how could he not know of the bastard? "We served together on a pirate crew when we were about your age. In fact," he glances at the boy from over his shoulder. "Your friend, Cross-Hairs over there, was with us at the time."

The kid blinks in confusion, clearly not aware of this little piece of information. "I knew she served with Shanks, but she never mentioned you."

In all honesty, it doesn't surprise him, yet he still perceives this as a slight against him from your side. The underlying hypocriticism in that doesn't evade his notice, but he elects not to address it. 

Buggy can feel the straws under his digits lightly crack beneath the pressure of his grip. "She did, but before then, it was the three of us. For a time, I even thought we were friends." His nail pierces a hole through the inside of the hat. "Until they betrayed me, like all the others. He wanted to keep me out of the spotlight! He wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly!"

"They wouldn't do that," Rubber Boy is quick to protest, rather vehemently too as if Buggy just insulted his entire lineage. "You don't know her, and you don't know Shanks. Don't talk about them that way."

"I bet I know her far better than you do, Rubber Boy." He smirks and raises a knowing eyebrow at the kid. "Does she still snatch specifically red apples off vendors when you're in town? Does she still tend to store her knives in her boots when she thinks no one's looking?"

The kid doesn't have to answer. His silence is all the confirmation he needs, and it makes him feel victorious in some sense. 

"Let me ask you something else, then. How'd the famous Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates get stuck with a simple-minded nobody like you? What did you do that was so special that she decided to stick around until now?" 

The damn brat doesn't answer.

He presses on. "Apparently, she made a promise to someone, and though I have a sneaking suspicion as to whom, I don't want to jump the gun." He grasps harshly at the kid's face, no longer smiling. "You know, and if you tell me, I might be convinced to lessen the restraints."

The damn brat still doesn't fucking answer, and it vexes him greatly. Even so, if there's one thing he's learned, it's that the kid's silence can be substituted for an answer.

So, he finally asks the billion-berry question: 

"Was it Shanks?"

Rubber Boy does not answer. He doesn't fucking answer, and Buggy's patience snaps like a twig.

You would be willing to go through all of this trouble, to keep the kid safe and help him achieve his dream, just because you made a silly promise to what was once your mutual friend. You would give up your career as one of the most successful pirates in the modern age, just for that?

Just for him?

Deep down, he feels something carve at him. Carve at the boyish version of him he left behind the same day he left you. Would you have been just as loyal to him as you were to Shanks, if only he stayed?

He does not voice these thoughts aloud. Instead, he can't help but beam, because everything he's theorized up until this point has just been verified. It aches, and it hurts, and it cuts, but even so, he can only smile down at the boy.

"Stretch him until he breaks." 

------

Although you hear a commotion coming from the stage room, and despite the urge you have to just break out and be done with this all, you deliberately remain in your cage. One leg pulled up to your chin whereas the other one rests uncomfortably on the stale ground boards, you do nothing more than let your temper simmer down.

Honestly, what a mess.

You made one thing perfectly clear to Shanks the day you agreed to disband your crew and keep watch on the boy. It had not even been a week after he returned to the docks of Fooshia Village, one arm short and the boy by his side.

------

"I am not his parent. I will not be held responsible for the mistakes he makes when he decided to leave land. I will only keep him alive until I decide he can do that himself; after he's earned his first bounty. After that, I'm off."

"And what will you do after?" he had asked, genuinely curious.

You didn't answer, because you didn't know.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream." He had taken your shoulder under his warm remaining hand and said:

"Maybe one day, you'll find your own."

------

If you'd known that Luffy's dream would one day lead you back to him, you would've been more reluctant to make that promise. At the time, you had little interest in picking up the shattered pieces of your childhood dream, yet it seems that now it has decided to search you out instead.

Or rather, he has.

Your head hurts.

This is not the time for heartfelt reunions if there ever was one. Buggy has only one goal in mind, and that is to get his hands on that damn map. Harming Luffy will serve as a means to an end in achieving that, which happens to clash with your goal. You're not Luffy's parent, you tell yourself, but you're willing to extend the promise to Shanks just this once.

And so, after some careful deliberation, you make your escape. 

You hit the metal once, and it bends significantly. Then twice, and on the third strikes, they bend and crack, finally granting you access to direct contact with the ground. It's never felt so relieving to be earthbound, and you even go as far as to tap your feet a few times to enrich that feeling.

Having most likely heard the noise, two troupe members march through the curtains to see what's going on. The first one barely has the time to register your escape before you lunge. 

You're quick to subdue them, knocking the first one out with an easy choke-hold whereas the other mysteriously ends up with half his body stuck in what remains of your previous confinement. His ass hangs out in a rather humiliating position, but the point is, he's out of the way. 

The adrenaline is the one part of piracy you've missed. The surge of energy that flows through your veins, feeling the air brush your face as you make your move, the warmth in your heart that substitutes any pain or hurt you've ever felt if only for a moment.

You relish it.

You happen to find your weapons in the room, hidden in some crates. Your knives and your pistol, are both unscathed and fully functional, but you know that you'll end up relying on your hands for this. After all, it's personal, and personal matters are handled in a personal way. 

When you're certain the two troupe members are of no concern to you, you exit the back rooms and find yourself in the opening between the audience rows shortly after. The lights have been killed and there's an ominous silence stretching in the atmosphere.

You look up at the terrified audience, and though you're almost in clear view of them, none dares stray away from the view up ahead. 

Said view in question being of Luffy halfway submerged by seawater in a tank, already struggling to keep himself afloat. 

Fuck this. Fuck him.

You don't even stop to coordinate your next move as, as you would've done under ordinary circumstances. No, the moment you spot Buggy standing there, trying to reason with the kid with the promise of belonging and having a place on his crew, you lunge for the kill.

------

All Buggy sees just as you make your move is a flash of sharp eyes that seem to glow in the dim room. There's no word upon your entrance, no sound, not a single warning at all. A shriek resonates through the air, shattering the silence that had unknowingly settled over them, and it's his own. 

The air gets knocked out of his lungs as you shove your fist straight into his stomach. Ordinarily, that specific portion of his would've just straight up dislodged itself from his body, but it doesn't this time. He remains intact, a contradiction to what you had threatened to do, and he falls back several good feet on his back like a kicked dog.

A raspy groan is all the noise he manages to get out, heaving his chest in search of the air that was stolen from him. He throws one arm to the ground and gets his upper body up. 

When he finally manages to somewhat stabilize his line of sight, all he sees as the world remains blurred around him is you standing over him with a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. One he's already familiar with.

This is not his old friend or his old flame crew member. This is Cross-Hairs, the feared captain of the vicious Cross-Haired Pirates. The Beast of the East. The one whose aim never misses, and if it does, she'll hunt her target down to the ends of the earth.

And now, he's officially become your target. No longer a passive one at that, but the only one your eyes are set on. He doesn't know if he's content or unnerved by this.

There are no palpable emotions on your face, but he can read your eyes well enough to know that you're angry. No, angry doesn't even begin to cover it; you're absolutely, positively, completely pissed. 

"What?" He forces out, still aching from the punch to his abdomen. "Going to make good on your promise? Going to finally kill me after all this time? If so, then just get on with it!"

You don't answer, and he hates it even more than he would've had you responded. A part of him wants you to kill him; wants you to show that you care enough about him to just fucking do it.

No, instead, all you give him is a glare. That same glare that's never left your face since he first laid his eyes on you. You turn your full attention to the tank and, with one simple hit, you break the glass to try and free Rubber Boy. You free him, without even a moment to hesitate, and it feels so much more painful than if you’d just ended him on the spot.

He wants to scream. Buggy wants to scream until his lungs give in. Scream at your inability to fully look at him. Scream at your apparent concern for a boy who is no more a pirate than he is a banker. 

Scream, because even after all this time, you still refuse to choose him.

Never him.

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |3|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Titans Curse Spoilers

Word Count: 2.5k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch.1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You, Zoe, Percy, Thalia, Grover, Bianca, and the other head councilors were all seated around a table with Chiron and Dionysus. All of you were discussing the prophecy, what it meant, and more importantly who would go on the quest. Five people were meant to be going on the quest but since it was Zoe’s she got say in who should go on it. It was actually Percy who agreed that Zoe should be the one to decide and that the majority should be Hunters. Zoe would have preferred to have no campers, you agreed with her, but the prophecy indicated that it needed to include both Hunters and campers.

“Grover,” Zoe said, surprising the satyr. Zoe knew Grover would be helpful in tracking down where Artemis was.

“And Thalia,” Zoe said surprising the daughter of Zeus. Thalia hated Zoe but there was no way she’d turn down going on the quest when it meant she could save her friend.

“Phoebe,” Zoe said, flicking her eyes to you. You nodded, understanding Zoe’s thought processes. “She’s the best tracker we have.”

“And Bianca,” she finished.

You tensed up, your eyes snapping to Zoe. She didn’t pick you. You had nothing against Bianca, she was new and nice enough, but she had no experience, with a quest this dangerous you didn’t want someone inexperienced going with your sister. You clenched your jaw to keep yourself from speaking up. You knew your place; you questioned Zoe but never in front of a group like this. Zoe met your eyes with a glare, silently making sure you kept your mouth shut. At least she knew what your thoughts were, she wouldn’t be surprised when you confronted her after leaving the big house.

“Wait!” Percy didn’t keep his mouth shut. “What about me? I want to go too!”

“Oh,” Grover said, looking at his friend. “I’ll stay behind?” He looked at Chiron, you, and then Zoe.

“No.” Zoe smirked at the boy. “No boys allowed.” She flicked a glance at Grover, “He doesn’t count.” Grover frowned but didn’t say anything more.

You caught Clarisse’s mouth twitch up in a smile at Zoe’s words. The girl was the head councilor of the Ares cabin and had remained relatively silent for the most part, surprisingly. Ares kids were usually all about a fight and begging to go on quests but when they were talking about which campers would go on this quest she hadn’t volunteered. Clarisse agreed when the Stoll brothers said it sounded like two people were going to die based on the prophecy. A flicker of what you could only describe as surprise flashed across her face when Zoe chose Bianca to go on the quest. You would bet she had the same thoughts as you, bringing someone so new and untrained was crazy.

“But I need to be on this quest! I need to save Annabeth!” Percy tried to reason with Zoe. You knew it was no use, there was no way Zoe would budge on this, there was no way she’d ever let a boy come along on a quest.

“Not everyone wants you crashing their quest fish boy,” Clarisse snarked.

Percy flicked a glare at her but didn’t say anything, moving his attention right back to Zoe. You figured there was a story behind Clarisse’s words. The idea of Percy Jackson worming his way onto other’s quests didn’t surprise you. You didn’t think he desired attention and glory like a lot of demigods, if you were to guess his reasons were probably honorable, as if he felt he had to be the one to save the day, like it was his responsibility.

You stayed silent, dutifully at Zoe’s side as she and Percy continued to argue. It didn’t stop until Chiron stepped in, saying that it was Zoe’s decision. Not that Chiron could force her anyway, he had no say in what the Hunters did. As you, Zoe, and Bianca left the big house Thalia, Percy, and Grover stayed behind to continue talking with Chiron, while the other councilors dispersed back to their cabins as well.

Before the three of you left the big house though Zoe was approached by the Stoll brothers. You narrowed your eyes as they talked with Zoe. They said how Phoebe had been interested in a shirt at the camp gift shop and they wanted to give it to her as a gift. Zoe didn’t question it though, she just took the shirt with a roll of her eyes and pushed past them, shoving her way outside. You followed, looking back as the Stoll brothers silently giggled to themselves before running off when they caught your stare.

“Say goodbye to your brother,” Zoe said, coming to a stop not too far from the big house, looking back at Bianca. “Then make sure you’re packed; we leave at first light.” Bianca nodded and ran off in search of her brother. “Speak,” she said without turning to face you.

“Why am I not on this quest?” You asked calmly.

“Phoebe is the best tracker out of all of us. Even you know that,” Zoe said plainly.

“But what about Bianca?” You crossed your arms. You didn’t want it to sound childish, but that’s probably exactly how it looked, you weren’t chosen to go on a quest and now you were whining but that wasn’t the case, not really. “She’s new to this, not just being a Hunter.” You raised your arms gesturing around camp, “But all of this, to being a demigod. She’s barely had training.”

“She needs to learn eventually.”

“This quest is too important to be a training session.”

“Do you trust me?” You kept your mouth shut as you sucked in a breath. “Do you?” She asked again, it wasn’t like she didn’t know the answer.

“Without question.”

“And yet you question me,” she mumbled.

You gave her an unamused glare. The only one you trusted more than Zoe was Artemis and she knew that because it was the same for her. After Artemis, there was no one Zoe trusted more than you. The two of you had been together for so long, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves at times. However, unwavering trust didn’t mean not questioning things and just blindly following orders.

“You are needed here,” Zoe said.

“Bullshit,” you scoffed.

“Language,” Zoe snapped, glaring at you.

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at Zoe, she was really stuck in the past at times. Since you were the oldest you went into town or interacted with mortals more than most. You were also better at adapting and not drawing attention to yourself. If a mission involved going somewhere public a group of pre-teen girls tended to draw attention, but being seventeen most people didn’t question your presence. Since you got to interact with the world a bit more you were able to keep with the times and not speak as if you were born a thousand years ago, even if you were. There was plenty you didn’t know about the human world, things you never cared to know, you didn’t need to know them, you just needed to be able to pass as a regular member of society occasionally.

“How can you say I’m needed here,” you got back to the subject at hand. “I’m needed with you. Our goddess is in danger, and I need to be by your side as we try and rescue her.”

“No.”

“You heard the prophecy,” you whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else was around. “You know what it means.”

“We don’t know anything yet,” she brushed you off, but you saw the way her back straightened just a bit.

You gave her an unconvinced look. Even if prophecies could be misleading and weren’t always literal, you knew you both had your suspicions. You had both been demigods for so long, with Artemis for so long, you weren’t naive enough to not make an educated guess at certain lines of the prophecy.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” you admitted. You stared into Zoe’s eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. “Please, let me come with you, let me do what I’m meant for and protect you.”

Zoe’s gaze softened. It was rare for Zoe to not be a hundred percent serious and stoic, but she was capable of showing emotion, other than annoyance, most didn’t get to see that though. “You’re needed here,” she repeated kindly. “Without Artemis and with me going on this quest our sisters need someone to lead them.”

You knew what Zoe was trying to say but that didn’t stop you from trying to convince her. “We’re at camp, they’d be perfectly safe until our return.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“Then let me make sure it happens,” you pleaded. “Let me go on this quest, if a leader is needed here then it should be you not me. You know you’re better at this than me.”

“We both know I have to lead this quest, it’s my quest.”

You dropped your head in defeat. You knew there was no convincing Zoe to let you come and there was definitely no convincing her to stay behind. You felt Zoe rest a hand on your shoulder as she stepped closer to you. “I will not fail,” she said softly. You raised your head just enough to look her in the eye. “I will rescue our goddess, I swear it.”

“I know,” you said, giving her a sad smile. “Promise you’ll come home as well.” You knew she couldn’t do that; no demigod could promise that when they went on a quest, hell they couldn’t promise that if they just went for a walk, a demigod’s life had a habit of being short and tragic, happy endings being a rarity. “The Hunters need you. I need you.” A part of you hated to admit that, you weren’t one to get overly emotional but the dread you were feeling over this quest made you say it. It was true, you needed Zoe, she kept you from going off course, she kept you in line, you couldn’t imagine a life without her.

Zoe sighed and removed her hand from your shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just offering you a sad smile in return. Then she turned and left you there, heading back to the cabin to inform the rest of the Hunters about the quest and what the plan was. You knew the others wouldn’t be thrilled about staying at camp even longer knowing Artemis was missing and now that Zoe was leaving but none of them would question her like you did, they would just silently accept their orders to stay and wait for your goddesses return.

“Trouble in paradise?” a snarky voice came.

A smile appeared on your lips as you instantly recognized the voice already. You turned to see the daughter of Ares herself standing behind you, her arms crossed.

“Aww, you waited around just for me?” you gave it right back. Clarisse scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Zoe knows what she’s doing, and I trust her decision.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were begging her to go on the quest.”

“I wasn’t begging.” You tilted your head at the implication of her words. “Were you eavesdropping?”

Clarisse clenched her jaw, glaring at you. “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “Was just curious why your leader wouldn’t want her second who happens to be her best fighter at her side.”

“So, you admit I’m the best fighter,” you smirked, gesturing arrogantly at yourself.

Clarisse rolled her eyes again. “Of the Hunters maybe but definitely not at camp.”

“Yeah?” you stepped cockily towards her. “And who would be the best fighter in camp, you?” she gave a shrug and nod, but you could see the arrogance in her eyes, she definitely believed she was the best fighter in camp. You couldn’t help but scoff at the claim. “Is that why I kicked your ass in capture the flag?”

“That is not want happened.”

“Funny, I seem to remember you on your back, your own spear in my hands, pointed at your throat.”

Clarisse stepped forward as if she were ready to brawl with you right there. You couldn’t get rid of your smile, staring right back, seeing the fire in her eyes. Clarisse might have been right; she might have been the best fighter at camp, but she was no match for your centuries of experience.

You and Clarisse continued to stare into each other’s eyes, your competitive spirits mixing, adding to the tension in the air along with something you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure what it was about the daughter of Ares that drew you in, that made you want to mess with her. You two finally broke your stare down when someone cleared their throat.

Both of you quickly blinked, realizing how close the two of you had gotten as you each quickly stepped back. You turned to see Silena standing there, her eyes darting back and forth from you and Clarisse.

“You promised to hangout tonight,” Silena said to Clarisse, finally interrupting the awkward silence when it became clear neither you nor Clarisse would. Clarisse rolled her eyes but unlike every other time there was no annoyance behind it.

Your smile faltered as you watched as Clarisse allowed Silena to grab her arm and began to drag her back to the Aphrodite cabin or wherever they were going to hang out. “I expect a rematch,” Clarisse turned back as she continued to follow Silena.

You weren’t sure why your smile quickly appeared at the daughter of Ares’s words. “Can’t wait,” you said back with a smirk.

You did really want to fight the girl again. Capture the flag was fun and you had fun playing with her, but it was just that to you, a game. You wanted to really spar with her and see what she was actually capable of. Clarisse definitely had skills and you wanted to see just how good she was and see how well she could actually keep up with you. You knew she still wouldn’t win but it certainly would be fun beating her again.

You sighed and made for the journey back to the cabin. Zoe and them were leaving early and you might not have been going but you would be there to see them off. Until then you needed to help Zoe pack, making sure she had everything she would need for the quest. You also needed to make sure to talk to Bianca, the girl was young and inexperienced, and you wanted to give her as much advice and encouragement as you could before she left, you knew she was going to need it. The closer you got to the cabin the more the uneasiness and dread for this quest filled you, this quest wasn’t going to have a happy ending, you knew that, you were just afraid of what that would look like.

[writing-for-life]

”But He Loved, He Should Have Been Forgiven”

About Free Will, Responsibility and Agency: Lucifer and Dream as Foils

Did I finally jump on the Lucidream/Dreamingstar bandwagon? No, don’t panic (or be eternally disappointed 🤣), because that quote is actually from “Murder Mysteries”, a short story that also exists in comic form (drawn by P. Craig Russell). And while it isn’t officially part of the Sandman Universe (or even DC), I always saw it as somewhat of a blueprint of how NG (re)imagined Lucifer’s Fall. There is enough in Lucifer’s characterisation in the Sandman that makes it quite plausible as a sort of backstory, especially since it was written when the Sandman was still in full swing. But more about that later…

I’ve long wanted to write a meta about Lucifer and Dream as narrative foils, and since I’ve finally started clearing out my drafts, this was a good one to do right now because we are currently discussing “A Hope in Hell” in our community (join us!). Although I have to admit that this one is rather about what transpires when Lucifer decides to abandon their realm in Season of Mists...

When Lucifer learns of Dream's impending return to Hell to finally release Nada, it solidifies their own resolve to leave (I use they/them pronouns because of the show although comics!Lucifer is male presenting apart from the plumbing and also referred to as he/him). By the time Dream arrives, Hell is nearly deserted, with Lucifer basically expelling its last inhabitants. Lucifer tells Dream they rebelled long ago, and that they are not willing to “pay for that one action” anymore. And the most profound truth they share with Dream is the nature of ultimate freedom—the freedom to leave. This is also brought up many issues later, when Lucifer says to Delirium, "I told him, you know. I told him years ago… I told him that I owed him much for having given me the impetus to go. I told him there was always freedom, even the ultimate freedom. The freedom to leave. You don't have to stay anywhere forever.”

And that’s just… ouch. Not just because it so clearly shows that Morpheus also could have left had he just chosen to (then again, he wouldn’t be Morpheus if he had, and even more “then again”: he did in certain ways), but also because we generally see Lucifer as an antagonistic force. But here, they express something akin to gratefulness. And maybe even a hint of regret that Morpheus didn’t also choose the same way. They feel almost sorry for him (my guess is they actually do, and I can never forget their face at The Wake). But what do you do if even freedom feels like a cage?

All of this ties in neatly with the crucial truth about Hell Lucifer reveals: People are there because they choose to be (and that Hell doesn’t need to be a physical place: We can make our own—any place, even in our own minds).

...this is where you wanted to be.

Lucifer explains to Dream:

"Why do they blame me for all their little failings? They use my name as if I spend my entire day sitting on their shoulders, forcing them to commit acts they would otherwise find repulsive. 'The Devil made me do it.' I have never made one of them do anything. Never. They live their own tiny lives. I do not live their lives for them.”

He continues, “and then they die, and they come here (having transgressed against what they believed to be right), and expect us to fulfil their desire for pain and retribution. I don't make them come here. They talk of me going around and buying souls, like a fishwife come market day, never stopping to ask themselves why. I need no souls. And how can anyone own a soul? No.

They belong to themselves… they just hate to face up to it.”

Which brings me to one of the most important messages (one of many) of the Sandman: People must take responsibility (and in this particular case not only for their lives but also for their afterlives, which is also a recurring theme). Each person's soul is their own, and no one can take that away. Paradoxically (or maybe not), as Lucifer abandons their own responsibilities, they urge people to take responsibility for themselves: You can drop said responsibilities, with all that entails, as long as you also take responsibility for the fallout.

So what about the wider question of free will then?

Let’s look at Lucifer's rebellion and fall for that, because both raise a lot of questions. Dream tells Lucifer that he remembers them as passionate, and Lucifer responds, “I cared about so many things. I suppose that was why everything began to go wrong. You know… I still wonder how much of it He planned. How much of it He knew in advance. I thought I was rebelling. I thought I was defying His rule. No… I was merely fulfilling another tiny segment of His great and powerful plan.”

And this brings me right to NG’s short story “Murder Mysteries”, which isn’t really officially part of the Sandman Universe, but also… it totally is 🤣. In it, pre-fall Lucifer witnesses the destruction of an angel who killed another angel they loved. Raguel (the angel formerly tasked with said destruction who now walks on earth, coincidentally mentioned in the panel above as one who might also have rebelled) narrates, “‘That was not right. That was not just.’ Perhaps Saraquael was the first to love, but Lucifer was the first to shed tears."

Later, it is revealed that God orchestrated this situation to push Lucifer towards rebellion. God needed an adversary to run Hell and says, “Lucifer must brood on the unfairness of Saraquael's destruction. And that—amongst other things—will precipitate him into certain actions. Poor sweet Lucifer. His way will be the hardest of all my children; for there is a part he must play in the drama that is to come, and it is a grand role.”

Lucifer was basically set up by God, and this somewhat revisionist interpretation of their rebellion and fall opens up larger questions about free will, agency and destiny.

Because although Lucifer's actions were influenced by God, they still carried them out and are therefore fully responsible for them. And by choosing to abandon Hell, Lucifer was taking responsibility for their own life. They faced a choice: remain in Hell as a shadow of their former self, or move on and make peace.

This fragile peace is illustrated at the end of "A Season of Mists," when Lucifer and an old man are conversing on a beach. The old man, despite having lost everyone he loved, remarks that any God who can create such beautiful sunsets couldn't be all bad. After the man leaves, Lucifer admits (basically to God), “He's got a point. The sunsets are bloody marvelous, you old bastard. Satisfied?”

And in a way, even Lucifer comes to terms with their past once they take responsibility for it.

In a way, this mirrors Dream’s arc to a tee. One could certainly argue that he was set on his path by forces outwith his control: Whatever had to happen in cosmic terms was always bigger than Dream. The Fates also held a grudge against him and Orpheus, for more than one reason. Orpheus did make the Furies cry, and they never forgave him for that. Crucially though, he was also responsible for his own actions and carried them out. Only that Dream’s choice was ultimately a different one—or was it truly? Because what is the exact definition of “walking away”? He certainly did not abandon his realm like Lucifer because he ensured it was taken care of. There is no devil-may-care (no pun intended) attitude, because even when choosing death, Morpheus does care about his realm and the dreamers. Deeply.

It is the sole reason why the ending we get is the ending we get, and why we have Daniel as Dream in the end. And while Lucifer takes responsibility for their own life, Morpheus takes responsibility for his own death. But both Lucifer and Morpheus faced a choice: remain on their paths as shadows of their former selves, or move on and make peace. And both chose the latter.

And one takeaway for us, as the readers, might be that if we find ourselves in an intolerable situation, we can always walk away, even if the price may be high. This brings us back to the theme of freedom:

The price of freedom is taking responsibility for our lives, even if we haven't been fully in control of them. The freedom to walk away might not be the ultimate freedom, as Lucifer suggests, but it is significant.

Free will in the Sandman is a topic of debate, and I tangentially wrote about it before:

Destiny carries a book that contains everything that will happen to us, all there was, is and will be. Most of all though, it contains what must happen. One could say that in this universe, there is a strong element of predestination involved. However, complaining about a lack of free will and just pointing towards Destiny’s book also misses the point:

In the end, our lives are always our own (which is mentioned several times, directly or in a roundabout way: in Façade, in Song of Orpheus, in Brief Lives, in The Kindly Ones, in The Wake).

Your life and your death are your own

Some of us might have more to overcome than others, but the sooner we accept our unique challenges (which is not the same as being passive), the more we will focus on what we can change—or what we can meet with forgiveness and (self-)compassion.

Destiny and freedom as opposite sides of the coin matter far less than what we do with them…

[delirious-donna]

Sweet As A Grape [Part Three]

“No,” he answered, guessing your question. “Whilst the thrill of the hunt can be exhilarating, fear alters the taste and I prefer my blood on the sweet side.”

story summary: Levi isn’t hungry, or so that’s what he claims. A vampire must drink to survive, and his sire refuses to let the man give up without trying every trick up his sleeve. When a new ‘donor’ appears, one who is different from all the rest, will Levi be able to keep resisting?

pairing: Levi Ackerman (vampire) x female reader (human)

warnings: we're starting to cook with a little gas in this chapter, it stays mostly SFW with heavy NSFW implied, reader ends the chapter up close and very personal with Mr Ackerman, mentions of suicide (vampire), a very brief allusion to the argument regarding a person's right to choose to die (the two prev tags are heavy but these are not discussed in depth at this point in the story - this is a future heads up), mention of parental loss, lots of chat regarding blood drinking and the methods used, teasing of fear play, vampire lore

Part Two | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Part Four

Levi appeared more composed than the last time you saw him.

His dark hair was slicked back, and he clasped his hands behind his back whilst staring out the window displaying the majesty of the sprawling gardens below. For a moment, you admired his posture; spine straight and proud, chest slightly forward and his feet spread in what reminded you of a very militaristic stance.

He really was a handsome man, even when a scowl wrinkled his features and hardened those mesmerising grey eyes. A stiff white dress shirt was tucked into neat black trousers. With the top two buttons undone and no tie in sight, the outfit gave him the appearance of a businessman who had not long clocked off for the day.

It made you wonder what it might be like to have known him in a more traditional sense. Perhaps having met him in a bar frequented by office workers and finding the nerve to strike up a conversation after many weeks of admiring him from a safe distance. You gave a small shake of your head at how absurd the idea was. For how little you knew of Levi, socialising in loud overpopulated bars did not seem something he would have ever enjoyed.

“Something wrong?” Levi asked, tilting his head towards where you stood by the door. He gave you a look that made you feel like he already knew what you were thinking, and it only further cemented how right your train of thought was.

With a flush rushing across your cheeks, you moved further inside and glanced around. “No, of course not. What makes you say that?”

“Your heart rate spiked.”

“Oh… well, it’s hard to argue with a human lie detector,” you quipped back.

“Am I?”

You frowned in puzzlement. “Are you what?”

Levi finally turned fully to face you, his eyes followed your every step and focused on how your fingertips trailed the soft leather of the oxblood couch. “Am I human?”

“… I suppose the answer is both yes and no,” you mused, biting your lip at the weighty question. An ethical tête-à-tête was not what you had assumed would be on the agenda for this evening, but Levi had surprised you at every turn up ‘til now that to expect the unsuspected was becoming the norm.

“Unless I have my facts entirely wrong, all vampires were human once so I would still believe you to be human to a certain degree. Although I know it would be pretty dumb of me to think of you as only that. The world has been led to believe that being turned doesn’t change a person’s inherent personality, but I guess that could be lies told to soothe the nerves of us, mere humans.”

His lips twitched, a smile almost rising before he schooled his features back to neutrality. You still took it as a small victory.

“Interesting,” he replied mildly. His hand stretched out, perfectly pale with raised blue veins leading to knuckles that appeared rougher than you anticipated. It gave the allusion of someone who had used his fists a lot in his life, and again, you wondered about this man and who he really was. “Shall we sit?”

Erwin had insisted that the arranged date—although Levi was not keen on the term—would take place under his roof, another fact that grated at Levi’s nerves. The reasoning was sound given what had happened in the brief time you had spent with the man so far, and whilst he had wished to refuse the circumstances foisted on him, it made more sense for this to be a concession he conceded to.

The billiards room had become more of a gentleman’s clubroom over the last several decades, far more accustomed to informal meetings and underhanded deals than simple games of snooker. A plush leather couch centred the room with two matching armchairs positioned at either end. The actual billiards table was more towards the far away side of the room, handily near the well-stocked liquor cabinet and expensive cigar humidor, the latter leaving the remnants of tobacco lingering in the air and soaked into the walls.

If he concentrated long enough, Levi could perfectly recall moments spent in here with Erwin and Miche, sometimes Nile and Hange too. Better times… he thought, or at least times when no one was at each other’s throats, not like now.

Seated in the middle of the oxblood couch, you crossed one ankle over the other and waited to see where Levi would choose to sit. There was ample space on either side of you, which is why you had chosen the middle. You didn’t want to trap yourself in a corner so to speak, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Levi sat in the armchair to your right. His thighs spread wide, and he smoothed a hand down the leg of his trousers as if there were some imaginary wrinkles in what you assumed to be expensive fabric. “Would you like a drink?���

You glanced at the crystal decanter set out on the table in front of you, ironically or not, it seemed three-quarters full of red wine and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was Erwin’s idea of humour.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Levi gave a throaty chuckle that made you think of a standoffish feline finally coming close enough to rub against your leg. “I can assure you it is wine. Feeding blood to a human wouldn’t be wise, especially when everyone seems keen for you to be a match for me.”

“Right. It wouldn’t be much fun if I was to ruin this beautiful carpet by being sick. I’ll stick with the water, keep a clear head and all that.”

Levi inclined his head and stood to pour you a tall glass of iced water. He placed it on a coaster, and you chewed your lip, deciding if you would ask or not. The question weighed heavily on your shoulders, his comment only increasing the worry that was bearing down hard. There seemed to be this almost palpable air of desperation for this union to work… union felt like the wrong word but every time you considered it only transactional also felt wrong—even more so.

“Why is everyone so keen, and by everyone, I mean Mr Smith? He’s quite the character… I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him.”

“You’re aware that I haven’t been drinking. There are a lot of reasons for that, and I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” he supplied after more than a second or two of silence. He had zero desire to lay out nearly half a century’s worth of infighting that led him to his current decision and even less desire to discuss his sire. There were other things he wasn’t going to tell you, but those memories remained locked away in the recesses of his mind—dark and full of cobweb-covered skeletons.

“I guess, in a nutshell, I’ve decided I don’t want to continue my existence. I’ve spent long enough wandering this earth and it’s time that I become a part of the soil instead.”

You blinked.

You blinked again.

Surely, you hadn’t heard him right. How could this man who appeared so alive despite his status as undead suddenly be snuffed out of existence? A lump lodged fast in your throat as past discussions and memories started to rush out faster than you could shut them down. This was effectively vampire suicide, and the old arguments about a person’s right to die resurfaced, the scars on your soul not yet healed.

“Hm. I didn’t take you for the selfish type,” you remarked, forcing your hand not to shake as you reached out for your glass of water. The icy liquid slid awkwardly down your throat, barely touching the burning itch.

“The… excuse me?”

“You heard me perfectly, isn’t that one of the traits that vampires boast about? I heard you could hear a pin drop in the next city if you tried.”

Levi visibly bristled. “Oh ho, and that’s all we are to you I suppose. A handful of parlour tricks in human form. Would you like to see me turn into a bat or walk on the ceiling next?”

“Selfish and touchy, noted,” you added, crossing and recrossing your legs whilst irritation prickled at your spine. It was stupid to let this colour your opinion of him, but knowing what you did, it was hard to set aside your experiences and more so your prejudices.

“Why is my decision regarding my existence selfish? In fact, forget it.” Levi threw his back into the armchair, seething at your childish reaction and not realising the irony of his own behaviour. “Even in terms of my mortal years, I’m older than you are. You’re young, you’re naïve, you’re—”

“Furious that I’m sitting here being insulted,” you interrupted with a derisive huff. “Why did you even ask to see me again when you so obviously aren’t interested in my blood or any blood for that matter?”

The song that had risen in volume and pitch from the moment he sensed you descending from the guest quarters upstairs was now a deafening war cry that spoke of retribution. The most beautiful, frenzied bloodbath of fury and might. He didn’t have to love you, nor did he have to like you, but he could not deny his attraction to the life force that flowed hot and fast through your veins. He was interested alright, very interested.

Long hours of the previous night had been spent pouring over textbooks in search of answers and all he had found was vampiric fairytales at best. The myth of a vampire meeting his blood singer and finding comfort from them in a way that was impossible from any other living or immortal creature. There was no mystical bond to speak of, no binding vow of love or even compassion. For some reason that had brought relief to Levi, although when he scratched the surface, he knew it was his inherent dislike of having events dictated to him at the root.

Fate was for the weak and Levi had never been weak.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be starving whilst a five-course meal sits so close?” He asked slowly, calmly, although he felt far from it. “My insides are burning with the desire to pull you from that fucking couch and drape you over my lap whilst I feast from your neck… shit… maybe your breasts.”

He watched intently whilst you wriggled in your seat, shuffling surreptitiously to the side away from him like that would help in the slightest. The heat that radiated from your skin intensified, blood just below the surface and its sweet citrusy scent mingled with something heavier… oh.

Levi smiled, careful to show the sharp points of his canines which had not fully dropped from his gums but were still capable of inflicting enormous damage. You were aroused. There was a fire in you, and he liked that. He could kick himself for that very fact, but here he was, taking you in leisurely just to see you squirm.

“I-I don’t understand you,” you admitted, despising how breathy and subservient you sounded.

At every turn, he had snarled and lashed out like a cornered predator. He was an enigma, and this was not the job you thought it would be, had hoped it would be. You didn’t know your next move—whether you should cut your losses now and tap out for good or if there was even a chance at salvaging whatever kind of relationship this was becoming.

“No one does,” he said with a sad smile, “not even I do at times.”

“Is this how it normally goes or am I fucking this up?”

Levi ran a hand through his hair and sat forward, his elbows braced on his knees and his fingers steepled. “So, I was right when I said you were a vir—new to this.”

You nodded, cautious given how his smile had turned brighter.

“No. This is not how any kind of vampire – donor exchange usually goes. There are several options and it’s down to the participants, but I doubt many butt heads like we seem to. Do you want me to explain further? I would have thought this was something you knew coming into this gig.”

“I know that there are those that prefer to keep it purely transactional… they open your vein and drink until you ask them to stop, or they feel your heart slow. Some like to know their donor personally; likes, dislikes, career aspirations, taste in food, music etc.”

Levi listened whilst you spoke like you were running a seminar for new donors. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn you had memorised a recruitment pamphlet. His gaze wandered leisurely from your face down to the modest dress you had chosen to wear. The hem reached below your knee, very conservative, but he knew if you were to straddle his waist as he imagined, it would be forced to ride up and expose your thighs.

His tongue wet his lips and he wondered how long it had been since he had last spent time between someone’s thighs, whether it be to drink blood or the nectar of arousal… too long. He could compel you, but he didn’t want to. It was prohibited for any vampire to use mind tricks; most humans weren’t aware it was even possible, though the media and fiction speculated it was and the ones pulling the strings from the top wanted to keep it as purely speculation.

Levi knew that Erwin wouldn’t care, the means to an end rarely mattered and when that end would be to see Levi return to his side, it was even more reason to look the other way. Your mind was strong, of that he was certain, and there was likely no chance of invading through your mental defences without your suspicions rising.

However, above all else he wanted you to choose.

“Blah blah blah. Yes yes. And some like to enact their primal desires and have their little human donor run for their life through the woods,” Levi interjected with a cunning smile.

The colour drained from your face. You had heard of that, though it was supposed to be extremely rare and one of the most highly paid positions given the dangerous nature.

“Is that…?”

“No,” he answered, guessing your question. “Whilst the thrill of the hunt can be exhilarating, fear alters the taste and I prefer my blood on the sweet side.”

Thoughts of dashing through a thickly wooded forest in a white gauzy gown whilst Levi chased you down like a starved beast tumbled through your head. The fear he spoke of melted into something else, confusing and forbidden, but not unpleasant. You took a long gulp of the water, throat working fast but you reached the bottom of the glass all too quickly.

Levi canted his head. “I could… make an exception.” Two fingers rubbed across the width of his lips, thinking.

His body was reacting to the implications swirling in his mind and yours, not that he was reading your thoughts. Not that he needed to when they were so obviously written across your face and expressed in your not-so-subtle body language. Your hips swivelled in his direction, and your breathing became laboured which in turn forced your breasts to heave upward against the hold of your dress’s sweetheart neckline.

You were temptation wrapped in velvet. Temptation wrapped in velvet and only inches away.

He desperately needed to change the subject and regain the control that was slipping with every second that passed where you weren’t sitting on his lap as he wanted. His fingertips tightened into the leather of the armchair, the buttery soft material groaning from the exertion.

“Why did you choose to pursue this line of work? It’s not for the fainthearted,” he asked slowly, carefully choosing his words and tone to at least give the impression of calm control.

The unpredictable nature of this conversation was throwing you for a loop. You straightened, trying to compose yourself and articulate an answer that was honest but did not give away more than you intended. You had your reasons, and there were many, but some were more personal than others.

“Financial stability. I want to provide a retirement that my dad deserves and give me the breathing space to pursue dreams that might not be lucrative but will make me happy. Plus, I’ve always wondered what it might be like… y’know, to be bitten. I’ve heard it only hurts if the vampire wants it to hurt.”

You were holding back, but he could understand that. He wasn’t telling you everything so why should you?

“Retirement fund for just your father? What about your mother?”

A familiar stab of pain assaulted your heart, your smile faltering. “She died. Six years ago. It’s just me and Dad now, and I want him to give up his work so he can see out the rest of his years in peace after everything he went through.”

“My condolences,” Levi offered, inclining his head and choosing to move away from the subject. “We can prevent it from hurting—the bite, I mean. There are different ways to achieve the same effect, and like the act itself, we have our preferred methods.”

“And yours would be?” Sweat coated your palms despite the ambient temperature. Finally, you were getting somewhere.

“How about I demonstrate? Not that I am going to bite you right now, to be clear,” he quickly elaborated when your heart rate nearly shot through the roof.

Levi stretched out a hand, waiting to see if you would place yours within it. The decision only took half a second of thought. Your curiosity far outweighed the possible repercussions. One minute you were sat apart and the next you were blinking into eyes of swirling mercurial grey.

His hand anchored at your hip, fingertips squeezing with a firmness that told of his desire to keep you right there. Your dress was forced upward to accommodate the width of his posture, for a slighter-built man he had a way of imposing his presence regardless of actual size. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his shoulder and he glanced at your arm before meeting your eyes once more.

You had expected him to feel cool to the touch, but the truth couldn’t be further from that. Heat invaded your face at the proximity, a shyness brought your eyes down into a flutter of lashes and shallow breaths.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Levi murmured.

Why you believed him unconditionally wasn’t apparent, but your slow nod came anyway as you gave in to your instincts. Exploratory fingertips traced across the now exposed skin of your thigh. You could feel the rough whorls of his prints in each sweep, callouses scratching pleasantly against the smoothness of your skin. A fire kindled low in your belly, a desire to fuel it further by leaning in and learning the subtle undertones of the cologne or soap he preferred barely held at bay.

“Can I… touch you too?”

 “You already are. I would have stopped you if I wasn’t okay with it,” he assured.

“Mhm, okay.”

The words were more for your own reassurance than his. Without further thought, you brought your other hand to his hair and ran your fingers through the slicked-back length. Levi let his head fall back at the action, eyes falling low-lidded and his hips shifting beneath you. The blunt edges of your nails caught against his scalp as you worked them through and brought the front strands forward to frame his forehead.

“Better,” you mused quietly with a smile. “I like your hair loose.”

“That so? I’ll remember that.” Levi fought the urge to purr at the affection he had gone so long without. Your touch was cautious but attentive, it made him thicken behind his trousers until the bite of the restricting fabric was near unbearable.

He was barely resisting from burying his nose into the crook of your neck, already he could see the glisten of sweat decorate your décolleté and images of chasing a droplet with his tongue consumed his thoughts. The melody of your blood was different now that you were closer, more intimate. It weaved a song of desire around Levi and tightened the threads already surrounding his heart. This was meant to be a demonstration of how to make the experience of giving blood pleasurable, but somehow the reason you were sat here became obscured behind a yearning so intense it twisted his gut into knots.

“Is it always this intimate?” You asked and the question broke the spell enough that he could blink through the fog that had descended.

Levi shook his head and then thought better of it. “It can be. Not always. I prefer my partner to be aroused enough that they aren’t thinking about what I’m taking. Instead, they focus on what I’m giving them.”

“Giving…? Oh. T-That’s interesting. Uhm—do you have sex with your partners?”

“It has happened on occasion. Most of the time I feed them enough of the feelings associated with sexual pleasure that the physical act isn’t needed, nor do I usually want to take it that far. I could have demonstrated all of this without you leaving your seat,” he admitted without knowing why.

That made you pause. If he had the power to do that then why bother? Why have you this close and why let you touch him freely in return? Your brow furrowed only to be smoothed by his thumb stroking the crease between your eyes.

“I was curious if this intensity would continue or if the spell you’ve managed to weave would break if I could just get my hands on you,” he supplied without question.

You swallowed thickly, stubbornly ignoring the throbbing pulse between your legs. “And has it?”

His hand slid along your jaw and rounded to the back of your neck. The grip forced your mouth into an oval of surprise, damn near panting until he shook his head and pulled you in.

The moment his lips met yours, your world shifted on its axis and became engulfed in blue fire. It felt both right and wrong to step across this line so easily, so carelessly. You marvelled at how soft his kiss was, tentative and inquisitive all at once as he led you deeper down the rabbit hole.

Your hips dropped you closer to his pelvis, his hand tangled in your hair, one exploring your waist and the curve that led to the swell of your breasts. His touch set every inch of you alight, and you dared to push your tongue inside his mouth when he exhaled a sigh. You explored his teeth' sharp length, knowing that one false move would see your blood spill freely onto his awaiting tongue.

That was what broke him.

Levi grasped at your arms and tore his mouth from yours with a guttural gasp. His chest heaved from the fight that raged within. His gums tingled as his canines extended in preparation for a meal, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to. Every fibre of his being screamed for him to draw your neck taut and let his bite push you over the edge of euphoria. He knew that you would sound so fucking sweet, the sounds you elicited were already playing on repeat in his head and they would only be all the sweeter if he could get you naked beneath him.

“Not like this… it’s not fair.”

“Levi—if it helps, I want this.”

He shook his head with a bark of laughter. You didn’t know what you were saying, anyone would think the same but then again, he wasn’t using any compulsion over you. He hadn’t even tried to pierce the veil of your mind, so, maybe you did want this?

“You are going to be the death of me,” Levi admitted, letting his forehead rest against yours.

Swallowing his pride, he couldn’t let you leave without knowing you wouldn’t look for someone else within Erwin’s syndicate to offer your companionship to. He listened to the siren call a few seconds longer before leaning back and taking your chin between his fingers.

“Will you be mine?”