#The moment I realised that I could line up the painting so the front cover is an empty bed but the back cover has Nancy???

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 07 TAEHYUN FROM 3RD GRADE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, some more anti daegal agenda from haechan, jaemin is still a bitch but trust that will change shortly

NOTES | written cut ahead!! also just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reading and interacting, I love reading all the comments 🫶🏼🫶🏼 +++ just a warning to be careful and stay safe for everyone in the uk with the ongoing violence :( please take care of yourselves!

Jaemin sighs.

Luck hadn't been on his side today, not when he woke up 20 minutes after his alarm, with the worst bedhead of his life and his hungry kittens practically hissing at him to be fed, not when he was late to school and the first class of the day and certainly not now.

Now as campus feels suspiciously empty, almost too empty, considering practise had ended only 5 minutes ago, jaemin stares up at the sky, thunder clashing, grey clouds looming overhead.

It doesn't take much longer for the rain to come, not a light drizzle but a full blown storm, the wind making the rain splash in his face, his pink hair matted to his forehead. A frown lines his lips.

And as if luck hadn't fucked him over enough, the bus service was cancelled all week.

If it wasn't for your slow, cautious footsteps, jaemin would've found himself trudging through the rain for the next half an hour to get back home.

He sighs in relief, convincing himself he'll ask the student approaching for a ride home, and like most students, who he was pretty popular with, he'd get a positive answer.

Jaemin's relief is short lived when he realises, that student is in fact you making your way over.

The way the concern paints your features and you rush over in the rain, not too bothered about getting yourself wet but still offering an umbrella out to him, the way you feign selflessness, the way you seem so innocent, it all convinces jaemin that maybe walking back home in the rain isn't too bad. He's already turned around before you can say anything.

He doesn't know why he stops when he hears your voice call out for him

"Jaemin" he doesn't know even more why he turns around to face you, holding perhaps the most eye contact he has with you in years.

"Do you need a ride home?" you ask, smiling as you wait for him to take the umbrella from you. He only shoves it back into your hands

All jaemin can focus on is that one word, did he need a ride, need?

Jaemin had never and would never need anything from you. He'd like to make that clear, but it's a lot less validating when he knows you won't respond the way he'd like. His bitter remarks were always met with silence on your end.

"I don't need anything from you" he spits the words out anyways.

You nod, but you don't let up, and apparently neither does the rain, it's speed doubling by the second and the size of each falling droplet growing.

"Would you like a ride?" you try again, despite the fact that you could barely make out jaemin in front of you and all you can hope is that he'll say yes.

His facial expressions telling you otherwise.

"Fine" he says, walking past you and towards your car, you can't help but smile, even if you had gotten completely soaked in the process of convincing him.

For a moment, you're close enough to blowing your cover, forgetting to ask for directions, but jaemin seems a step ahead, taking the initiative to put his apartment address into your satnav. Now you couldn't pretend that being next to him was easy, even if you tried to, jaemins presence left you in a constant state of uneasiness, like you were hyper aware of every sound you made, every word you spoke, worried you were breathing too loud or something completely out of your control would tick him off. It wasn't that jaemin was a horrible guy, he wasn't— you knew that better than anyone else, you just never knew why he had decided to be so horrible to you.

You choose to sit in silence, phone connected to the aux but no music playing as you drove. For just a second, you remember how comforting the silence between you both had once been, how there was never an awkward moment or thoughts of self doubt in jaemin's presence. Now it felt heavy, unspoken words and underlying emotions lingering in the space between you.

"Don't think we're friends just because I accepted your ride" he says, his tone sour.

"I know we're not friends jaemin, just doesn't hurt to be cordial"

You're not sure if he even hears what you said, but if he had, jaemin chooses to ignore your words. You don't say anything of it either.

He turns to face you, concentrated on driving through the heavy rain with a heavy grip on the wheel. You seem stiff for some reason, though he can't figure out why.

This is the first time, jaemin realises, that he's let himself look at you completely.

Your hands grip the steering wheel, some fresh red scratches on them, he wonders where they came from but moves on from the thought quickly, supposing you were just as clumsy as you once were. It's the only similarity he can notice, everything else seems painfully different to the old you.

Your hair is tied back in a ponytail and seems longer than he'd last remembered, perhaps a couple shades darker too, your facial features seem more mature and your eyes seem more tired.

For some reason each change, large or small, still manages to suit you well.

"Good game out there" you say and jaemin notices the changes that came to your voice, you've developed some confidence but speak in a softer tone than before, the smile on your face seems permanent, a realisation that makes his eyes roll.

"Can't say the same for you"

You nod, this really hadn't been your best game and the lack of sleep last night really hadn't helped.

"I hope you're not going to continue the rest of the season with the weak shots and shitty playing" he clicks his tongue, "it's not exactly best player of the year material is it?"

Most days you'd let jaemin take these shots at you, the wordless ones, the bold ones, and the quite frankly unnecessary ones, but today something urges you to defend yourself just a little.

"We all have our moments jaemin" you sigh, and despite wanting to say more, you decide against it, besides you were almost home anyway.

"Too many of those moments and we're in the same situation we were last year, wouldn't want to let the team down more than you already do would you?"

You don't respond, the car coming to a stop outside the front entrance to your apartment complex. You're glad it does, tears pricking your eyes as a smug jaemin steps out of the car.

"Thanks"

When the door shuts behind jaemin you can't help but let the tears roll down your face.

You wonder why you even make an effort.

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[chaotic-orphan]

Would you write another part of June of Doom: Day 19? I loved it!

Continuation of June of doom; day nineteen:

Read part one Here

I am so sorry to whoever asked this, I have had this in my drafts for a while and just didn't have the energy to edit it, but I did now and hope it satisfies ~ enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Come on Leader,” Leader heard in a hazed moment of consciousness, hungry, stormy eyes gleaming down at them, “I thought you were more durable than this.”

Leader blinked, eyelids heavy, watching Supervillain lift a hand covered in blood – Leader's blood, they recognised dimly – and run it back through his hair, slicking it back off his face using Leader's blood. He looked feral, unhinged, and Leader wanted to look away. He wanted to move, but his body was as heavy as lead and all he could do was look into those bright, stormy eyes smirking down at him.

Until the darkness swallowed Leader again.

When he woke for the second time he was sitting in a chair. He was vaguely aware that his hands were asleep, tied behind his back, he found out after a jerking, pulling tug. He shouldn’t have moved, he realised in hindsight as the pins and needles set in from being stuck in the same position for too long.

Leader lifted his eyes to get his bearings and saw himself sitting ahead of him. Leader blinked, groggy from blacking out after Supervillain’s welcome. He could see it plain and clear in the mirror, his torso bare just so he could see Supervillain’s handiwork.

Bile crawled thick and hot up his throat. Leader looked away sharply, bending over his torso and only just managing to not get any vomit on himself as he threw up the contents of his stomach. It was grim and vile, but Leader felt a little better after it, spitting for good measure to clear the rancid taste from his mouth in place of mouthwash or toothpaste. He rubbed his chin on his shoulder as he sat up again, dragging reluctant eyes to the full-length mirror in front of him.

Leader only remembered Supervillain carving in two letters to his body, but the bastard must have kept working after Leader passed out.

Leader’s torso still had dried blood sticking to it, but Leader’s eyes stayed on the two jagged letters carved into each shoulder. A crooked S on his right and a ghastly F on his left.

S. Fowl was carved into his body.

A signature.

Supervillain’s promise echoed in Leader’s ears as his eyes lingered on Supervillain’s name: “You I want on display. As a warning and a trophy. A reminder to what happens to those who oppose me.”

Leader wanted to cry. He did, he should have, maybe he would feel better, but he was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he was passed out for, but his body ached from his fight with Supervillain — Fowl — and his struggle when Supervillain dragged him to the medical table.

Leader’s ribs throbbed dully, his jaw hurt from where Fowl’s cane had hit it, a big angry blue bruise the size of Leader’s hand colouring his jaw and neck. Even his throat was raw from all his screaming. He looked like shit, which he could see thanks to Supervillain’s perfectly placed mirror, to remind Leader just how shit he looked. There were lines of purple bags under his eyes, his skin was dry and lacklustre, and his lips were pale except from where the blood from Leader’s nose painted them a faded dark crimson.

The mirror was torture, seeing himself broken and marked and beaten, too afraid to move because his entire body was sore and crying at him to stay as still as he could. Supervillain had cuffed Leader’s hands behind his back, attached them to the chair so his chest stood out in the mirror.

So Supervillain’s name stood out in the mirror, more like. His own personal brand.

Leader didn’t recognise himself in the mirror, this wasn’t – it couldn’t be him. This weak shell of a person who couldn’t fight Supervillain off him. How pathetic. Too powerless to stop himself being branded. His team relied on Leader to lead them; make the plans, do the impossible. All Leader could do at the moment was stare at that fucking name on his chest, written forever…

They’ll die with that scar.

Leader let out a soft sigh.

“Leader…” it was Medic. Leader closed his eyes. He was sitting in a chair in the centre of their circle of cages. The mirror was just a little in front of the door, reflecting the cages back at Leader from behind him.

Medic’s cage to be exact, who was looking at him through the mirror with wide eyes filled with pity. Leader didn’t need their pity; he shouldn’t have let this happen. He should have been ready for Supervillain he should have—

Leader’s hands balled into fists in the cuffs. He couldn’t see that look in Medic’s eyes again.

“Leader… we’re okay,” Medic said softly. Leader sniffed, unaware that he was crying. “Supervillain kept his promise, and he didn’t touch us. He brought us food. Brought us to the bathroom. We have water.”

“In dog bowls,” Rogue muttered in disgust. Leader wasn’t aware that they were all awake. Shame burned hot up Leader’s neck, colouring it red.

“I’m sorry,” Leader whispered. “This is all my fault. None of you would be here if it wasn’t for me, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Leader,” said Rogue without hesitation. Leader opened his eyes, glancing at Rogue’s cage and saw them sitting at the front bars, expression one of unflinching earnest.

“We’ll get out of here, Leader,” said Medic behind him, determined. “We always do.”

“You just can’t give up hope,” Youngest piped up. “Not with that bastard, Leader. You’re better than him. When we’re finished with him, you can carve your name on his chest.”

“Exactly,” said Medic, a smile in their voice. “You just have to stay strong, Leader. We’re all here with you. Supervillain can try, but he can’t beat us all.”

“How touching,” Supervillain said. Leader’s head whipped back to the door; he didn’t hear it open. Only Supervillain didn’t come in through the door, in the mirror Leader could see him standing behind Leader’s cage, that same horrible smirk in his eyes, face impassive as always, neutral, sending a shiver down Leader’s spine he suppressed as best as he could.

“Do you like your new addition, Leader? I was so proud of it myself, but I thought it was so good it just needed to be shared. You needed to see it for yourself.”

“Kinda weird you kept going after I passed out, Supervillain, I doubt I could have given proper consent.”

Supervillain stared into Leader’s cool eyes through the mirror, the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, as he said as if it was a completely civil conversation: “Mutilation is hardly ever conducted with consent.”

“You don’t know,” Leader said with an effortless shrug that almost winded him but was glad to see he looked fine in the mirror. “Maybe I was into it.”

“If you like we can go again,” Supervillain purred, walking up behind Leader and putting a hand over his last name. The heat from his hand was enough to make Leader wince, and he cried out as Supervillain dug his fingers into Leader’s chest. “Although… you still seem pretty raw to me, Leader.”

“If you keep doing that, you’re risking infection!” Medic cried, trying to draw Supervillain’s attention away from Leader.

“Oh Medic,” Supervillain cooed, looking at them through the mirror, but Leader didn’t really care what he was doing because as Supervillain spoke, he dug his fingers deeper into Leader’s chest and Leader was screaming. The pain was white hot, blinding and Leader swore he was seeing stars as the world tilted hazily around him.

After what felt like an eternity, Supervillain let go of Leader. Leader doubled over, the handcuffs clanging the only thing keeping Leader in the chair as he gasped in lungfuls of air that his screams had stolen from him.

Nausea climbed Leader’s throat again as Supervillain walked over to Medic’s cage.

“Don’t…” Leader wheezed pathetically, even to his own ears.

“Relax,” Supervillain chided politely, waving away Leader’s concern. Leader could only watch through bleary eyes as Supervillain started unlocking Medic’s cage.

“Don’t… tou—” Leader said but was cut off by Rogue’s menacing:

“Get off them!” Rogue growled, kicking at the bars of their cage. Youngest was quiet, and the silence was a welcome relief to Leader. One Rogue was enough, and Supervillain was brutal.

Supervillain offered a hand to Medic, but Medic stood up on their own and nearly let out a sigh at being able to be vertical for the first time in who knows how long.

“Come now, Medic,” Supervillain scolded, voice playful but behind it was something cold that only promised pain. “Take my hand and I’ll let you look at your dear Leader, hmm? Make sure he doesn’t get an infection.”

Leader swallowed; mouth suddenly dry as Medic took Supervillain’s hand. Supervillain’s fingers closed tightly around Medic’s like a vice and Leader knew something was wrong with the scene, but he couldn’t think of what it was. His brain sluggish and muggy like a swamp Leader’s thoughts were trudging through.

Fuck.

Maybe he did get an infection from Supervillain’s branding.

Supervillain led Medic over to Leader and grabbed a fistful of Leader’s hair yanking his head up to face him. Medic protested, but Supervillain still hadn’t let go of Medic’s hand so all they could do was try and pry Supervillain’s fingers off of them.

“It’s bad manners not to look someone in the eye, Leader.”

“If you want to talk about manners let’s start with your hospitality, Supervillain,” Leader ground out. He just saw the flash of Medic’s exasperated face, before Supervillain’s fist blocked it from view and Leader’s head slammed back, blood dripping from his nose.

“Sorry, Medic, he has a really punchable face,” said Supervillain conversationally, then let go of both Leader and Medic and stepped back. “Whatever you need, Medic, just make sure he won’t die for round two.”

Medic whirled on Supervillain, eyes wide. “Round two?”

“Did I or did I not say that I want Leader on display? He is going to live a long, long life by my side or at my feet, or whatever way I want him. The only reason you’re looking him over, and not another doctor, is merely convenience, Medic, so don’t give me that wide eyed Bambi look when I say I want to hurt him again. Like I said, Leader has a very punchable face.”

“What about us?” Medic demanded, taking a step forward. Leader relaxed back into his chair, craning his neck back to see Supervillain’s face. He was smiling. Like that was exactly what Supervillain wanted them to say.

Wait, Supervillain was smiling?

Leader did a double take and just stared, not believing his eyes.

Supervillain was… Leader didn’t think he knew how to smile, and it looked wrong on his face. Hollow, twisted, hungry and vicious.

That meant nothing good.

The realisation dropped like a stone into Leader’s chest, and he looked over at Youngest and Rogue’s cages, but they were gone. How? Leader didn’t even see—

He was too focused on Medic.

He knew it was too quiet.

“Medic!” Leader cried, shooting to his feet and shouldering Medic out of the way of Supervillain. His head swam but Leader didn’t care as he planted a foot and pivoted the chair’s legs towards Supervillain. They made impact and Leader heard a satisfying oomf from Supervillain as he faced Medic.

Their devil-may-care smile melting off his face as he saw Supervillain's Henchman come up behind Medic, needle in hand. Leader wanted to shout in warning, but the words were too slow.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet too quick to wrap his head around.

Leader shot forward like a bull on instinct, Medic dodging at the last second, before Leader collided with Henchman. The pair toppled to the ground, Leader on top snarling at Henchman below but unable to get themselves back up to defend Medic.

A hand on the back of his chair and Leader was dragged back up, all four legs on the ground and Medic was kicking the needle out of Henchman's hand and stomped on their face with a satisfying crack.

Medic looked back up at Leader, eyes bright from the brawl and then they went to Supervillain behind Leader, and they froze. All blood draining from their face.

“Even two of you is enough to cause this much trouble,” Supervillain said, voice cutting through the room like ice. “I’m going to give you two options Leader,” said Supervillain coolly. Then: “Bambi, be a dear and turn Leader to me, would you?”

Wordlessly, Medic turned Leader’s chair and Leader understood Medic’s silence. Supervillain held a gagged Youngest up, an arm around Youngest’s shoulder and his stupid hidden dagger from his cane at their throat. The same knife he used to carve his name on Leader’s chest, Leader realised. His heart lurched and his stomach churned, fear rooting him to the spot. Youngest’s hands were bound in front of them and there were terrified tears spilling from their eyes.

Leader felt winded again, but when he met Supervillain’s eyes he was filled with a powerless kind of hatred.

“Do I have your attention now?” Supervillain asked, voice cool.

Leader’s throat felt like sandpaper, tongue heavy and dry as he replied with a raspy— “yes.”

“I have come to the conclusion, Leader, that there is no chance of getting you to submit to me while you are surrounded by your teammates. You have too much bravado around them, they encourage you too much. To — what was it you said, Bambi? “You’ll get out of here together, you always do? We’re all here with you. Supervillain can try, but he can’t beat us all.””

Leader could see Medic still from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Youngest, shaking in Supervillain’s grip.

“Fine,” Leader said, licking his lips, trying to add moisture to his mouth but it didn’t do anything to stop the raspiness, “you let them go.”

Supervillain smiled and pressed the knife into Youngest’s throat just enough to draw blood. Medic and Leader lurched forward but were stopped at Supervillain’s soft: “ah-ah-ah. Move and the kid dies on the spot, Medic. Do you want to test how good your medical skills are right now?”

Medic stepped back, shaking with anger and adrenaline, but they stepped back.

Supervillain looked between the pair and the hideous, gruesome light returned to his eyes. “Isn’t this nice, huh? Just a nice easy hostage situation with you two too concerned for Youngest’s safety to think of any witticisms? I could do this all day just to hear that silence.”

“It’s not – it’s not silence if you fill it with the sound of your own voice.”

Supervillain’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He was looking at Leader and Medic and they didn’t speak. Didn’t open their mouths at least, but Medic and Leader were staring at Youngest like kids who just talked back to their parents and were waiting for the punishment to begin.

Supervillain took the knife from Youngest’s throat and gently turned them around to face him, the cloth Henchman had gagged them with now loose around Youngest’s skinny neck. Their eyes had that same spark of defiance that made them want to kill Leader on his bad days. Days when he wasn’t in control.

“I should have expected as much,” said Supervillain, raising his chin, turning his nose up at Youngest’s defiance.

“Leader has corrupted you, Youngest, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you,” Supervillain said, grabbing Youngest by the throat and squeezing slightly. Youngest jerked back, trying and failing to fight Supervillain off. He was twice Youngest’s size, and one hand nearly wrapped all the way around their throat, not applying pressure. Not yet, but Youngest still panicked.

“Just— fucking— let me go—” Youngest cried, struggling to wrench themselves free. Supervillain sighed. With a deft flick of their wrist silver flashed through the air and Youngest gasped, screwing their eyes shut bracing for the worst. The blow never came and just when that thought registered in Youngest’s mind they heard Leader grunt in pain.

“Leader!” Medic cried and Youngest’s eyes were open, staring into Supervillain’s triumphant ones.

“Medic, you move, and Youngest dies.”

“You fucking bastard!” Medic cried. Youngest looked over their shoulder and saw Leader with the knife in his shoulder, just above the clavicle and they couldn’t stop the trembling at seeing what Supervillain did because of them.

“Leader will be fine, as long as you all behave. This was a good lesson to learn before you’re all separated.”

“You said—” Leader breathed, voice strained. “You said you were giving… giving me two options.”

Supervillain smiled.

“Oh. I was. Then your subordinates pissed me off and now I’m not letting any of you go. Especially Bambi and Youngest here, they’re just too fun. Rogue on the other hand, well,” Supervillain’s smile widened at the mix of helpless fury and pain twisting Leader’s features into something close to desperation, something close to submission. “Rogue, I could just slit their throat and leave them in a ditch, and you wouldn’t know any better, Leader, would you?”

Leader’s breath was coming out laboured and ragged. This was too much. This was too much, the pain was too much, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t talk his way out of this. It felt like everything was slipping, and it was all his fault. If he had predicted the blade in the cane, then none of this would have happened.

The blade that was currently imbedded in his shoulder.

He lost focus for a moment.

A moment too long.

And it got everyone he loved here. Trapped. Just as powerless as Leader was to protect them.

“Leader,” it was Youngest. Their voice so quiet, so lost, looking for what they had to do, because Leader always knew.

Leader swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head slowly, voice hoarse. “Don’t act out. Don’t rebel, do whatever Supervillain tells you without question or hesitation—”

“Leader?!” Medic cried, panic colouring their voice as they kneeled in front of Leader, trying to catch his eye. “Leader you can’t just—”

Leader looked at Medic then, his eyes pleading and hard, and Medic swallowed the rest of their sentence. It hurt, it hurt more than anything to see Medic have to accept their fate, fighting back the tears gathering behind their eyes.

Leader spoke before he lost his nerve, he refused to crack in front of Supervillain. He looked at Youngest’s lost expression, like a little kid being told Santa isn’t real and remembered how young they were… then he looked at Medic and his expression softened as he gave the orders to protect them as much as he could. To protect themselves when Leader wasn’t there to do it for them.

“Remember when you want to react or scream or fight, that it won't be you that Supervillain hurts, it will be someone else. This is the best we can do for each other now. We're still a team, we're still stronger together, even when we're apart,” Leader said, confident defiance still emanating from his gaze as he met Supervillain's eyes in a challenge. “Even Supervillain can't stop us looking out for each other. Remember that.”

A corner of Supervillain's lips curled up in a half smirk, surprised at the gall of Leader to look at him with that much cocky assuredness that they won't break in Supervillain's care.

Supervillain would prove him wrong.

“We'll see,” Supervillain hummed, smiling eyes narrowed, locked on Leader's.

Challenge accepted.

Supervillain’s eyes turned to Medic, finally letting Youngest go with a gentle shove backwards. Youngest stumbled a step and regained their footing, glaring at Supervillain.

“You first, Bambi, since you seem to love the drama of it all.”

Medic didn’t say a word. They just glanced at Leader who nodded his head slightly. Medic walked towards Supervillain and willingly gave themselves up. It put a spear of fear through Leader’s heart to see Supervillain put his hands on Medic, but Leader forced himself to be still. To not react. That was what Supervillain wanted, he wasn’t going to give it to him.

“Oh, Youngest?” Supervillain asked, voice deceptively sweet. Youngest didn’t answer. Supervillain didn’t even hesitate to slap Medic across the face, eliciting a shocked gasp from Medic. Leader’s handcuffs rattled and Supervillain’s cruel grey eyes got brighter, and said again: “will we try that again?”

“Yes,” said Youngest.

Supervillain’s face settled into one of neutrality. “Yes what?” he asked, voice as cold as the arctic.

“Yes sir,” Youngest bit out, their voice cracking on sir.

“Be a dear and keep Leader company while I bring Bambi to their new cell, will you?”

Youngest hesitated again, but this time Leader nudged them with his foot and Youngest said again, more demoralised now: “yes sir.”

“Good. Sit by Leader’s leg like a good little dog, I insist,” and Youngest sank to the floor, slumping beside Leader’s chair, bound hands still in front of them. “See, Leader? They can be trained to be civilised. I’ll be back soon.”

Youngest and Leader watched scornfully as Supervillain led Medic out of the room. Watched them disappear from view, powerless to stop it happening. Leader just sat handcuffed to the chair, knife imbedded in his shoulder, Youngest tied up by his side and let out a long, shaky sigh.

He didn’t know how they were going to get out of this, or what they’d have to endure, he just had to believe that they would, because… well, to think anything else would be blasphemous and Leader didn’t think he’d be able to survive if he started going down that rabbit hole.

[lordschadenfreude]

I’m so glad you like them!! Is now a good time to mention I have like 5 other designs in progress (and a pinterest board with over 500 pins 😭😭😭)

I'll make a longer post explaining my thought process + the other ideas I have sometime tomorrow. When I’m done, I’d love to poll people’s favourites to see which should become the final cover! Should I finish the other mock-ups, or is 6 already an obscene number of options???

Cover Design Mock-Ups for my fan-binding project of 'this story that we found ourselves in' by the incomparable @eskawrites

Photo and artist credit for covers 4-6 under the cut.

4. Painting - Alyssa Monks - Morning After II (2014) (https://www.alyssamonks.com/2010-2014/)

5. Photograph - Elsa Boscarello Photography (https://www.elsaboscarello.com/blog/laketahoeproposal)

6. Photograph (Snowy New York Street) - Photographer Unknown (if you know, please send me a message!)

[molllsprple]

Strictly business

Part 2

Part 1

Hi all! I’m genuinely surprised with the interest and support I received from the first chapter. It’s really made me want to put more effort into my writing! I really hope you’re all experiencing the same enjoyment reading this, as I am writing it 😚 P.s - the photo below is not mine, I do not own it. I just thought I’d leave it there to give people a general idea as to what the ship is supposed to look like (i realise it is much smaller in the show, but i changed it to fit the story)

Warnings:Rating 15+, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking irresponsibly, slightly sexually suggestive content, swearing, Usual Mihawk orientated thirstiness ensues.

You awoke the next day with a throbbing headache. The events of the night before were hazy, but the sharp pain coming from your leg was enough for you to recall the undeniable facts—you got shot, fainted, and now here you are.

But how did you make it back to the ship, and who’s bed were you laying in right now?

With a suspicious squint, you slowly propped yourself up on to your elbows, being mindful not to aggravate your injury in the process. The room was large and spotlessly tidy. If it wasn’t for the odd piles of neatly folded clothes, and the necklaces decorating the surface of the dresser opposite, you might assume the room had never been occupied. And, most notably, it stank of booze.

This was Mihawk’s bed…

Jesus, even his sheets stank of wine. You were convinced he was bathing in the stuff.

You threw the covers to the side to get a better look at your leg. It had been cleaned and dressed, and seemed to be healing well considering it had only been several hours since the incident. Delicately, you slid both legs over the side of the bed in an attempt to get up. You cringed as you began to apply pressure to your bad side, but the pain seemed bearable enough to be able to stand. With all the grace of a newborn foal you began to manoeuvre towards the door, twisting the knob as you progressed deeper into the ship. The creaking of Oakwood planks punctuated your every step as you stumbled down the hall, eventually finding your way to Mihawk’s study.

You were expecting to be met with hawk eyes and sarcastic comments, but instead were met with a dimly lit room and an empty chair. Your shoulders sagged, feeling slightly deflated—why were you disappointed? He was probably off somewhere cleaning up after the mess you had made on your last bounty hunt.

In that moment, you were overcome with guilt as you recalled last nights events more vividly. You were stupid enough to been seen by the target, and even more reckless to let yourself get shot in the process. He must be mad with you—how could he not be?

“You should be in bed”

Mihawk’s deep baritone rumbled from behind you, causing you to whip around, almost throwing yourself off balance. As you turned to face him, you were taken aback by the man stood in front of you. The fury behind his yellow eyes froze you in place, as his Broad shoulders caged you in against the wall. You had to crane your neck back and up just to meet his eye line, making you take note of how tall he is in comparison to you. It was in that moment that you were brutally reminded of why so many souls feared his existence; His black leather coat was now decorated in a deep crimson, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of human blood. His toned abs were painted in flecks of the same shade, made more noticeable in contrast with his porcelain skin tone. You could practically feel the testosterone radiating from him with every rapid rise and fall of his exposed chest. He looked furious.

You didn’t know whether to feel terrified or turned on.

“I-I was just looking for you.” you swallowed, throat suddenly as dry as a desert. “I wanted to thank you—for what you did. I would have been really screwed back there if you hadn’t of stepped in. I seriously owe you my-“.

“You owe me nothing” Mihawk’s tone was matter of fact “I was simply protecting my investment.”

Investment? Oh right…the contract that you and he shared.

“Even so, It was a stupid mistake—and it shouldn’t have happened. I understand if you want to terminate our contract-“

“That won’t be necessary.” Mihawk interrupted.

“But the bounty-“

“-Has been taken care of” Mihawk lifted his hand to rub the bridge of his nose as he gave an audible sigh, exhaustion apparent in his voice “Please just—just rest.”

Your eyes quietly flicked down to observe the way the blood stains extended down to his trousers and boots, deciding that it was probably best to just agree with him on this one. You blinked up at him before eventually nodding in agreement, realising he wasn’t going to let you say any more on the matter. “Can I at least pour myself a drink first—you know, for the pain”. You pleaded with your most convincing pout.

Mihawk simply rolled his eyes, and disappeared down the hall way without another word.

You took that as a yes.

—————————————————————————

It had been roughly two hours since you had last spoken to Mihawk, before he had left to clean up and re-navigate the ship. In the mean time, you had successfully used your own navigational skills to find the location of Mihawk’s booze cabinet. One drink had turned into two drinks, two drinks turned into four, and before you knew it you had drank a sizeable dent into his vintage wine collection. You were starting to understand why he loved the stuff so much. The pain in your leg felt like a distant memory, hell, you weren’t even sure if you had legs right now.

With a languid smile, you swirled the last remaining drops around in your glass, before downing the liquid entirely and slumping back into your desk chair. Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware to the fact that Mihawk was stood in the doorway, substantially less covered in blood and wearing a rather wide-eyed expression at the sheer mass of alcohol you had consumed, and more notably at which bottles you had chosen to open. His hawk-eyes flicked between you and the two empty bottles rolling around on the desk.

“What…happened in here? Mihawk asked, his deep voice a mix of horror and fascination.

Your eyes shifted towards the blurry object that had entered the room “I’ve been resting” you hiccuped, resting your face between you palms “Doctor’s orders”.

Mihawk slowly approached the desk, swiping the two empty bottles and discarding them somewhere out of sight “I can see that” He replied lowly, a hint of a smirk in his voice, as he returned from the cabinet with another bottle. Mihawk removed the lid, and poured some of the clear liquid onto a cloth he pulled out from his pocket before settling in between your legs. Slowly, he raised his free hand to run up the length of your thigh towards the direction of the bullet wound.

“Jeez, atleeeast buy me a drink first” You slurred, eyes following his calculated movements.

Mihawk paused, yellow eyes flicking up to give you an incredulous look. “I think you’ve already had more than enough” He replied, before continuing to undress the bandages wrapped around the lesion “I just need to clean the wound, you don’t want it to get infected now, do you?” He countered, tone as rich and full bodied as the wine flowing through your bloodstream.

You shifted your posture in a way that made the swell of your breasts more noticeable as you hummed in fake consideration. “No ssir”.

Mihawks eyes darted up distractedly before returning to what he was doing.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, but there was something so strangely intimate about the way he was re-wrapping the fabric that got you a little hot under the collar. Like how his calloused fingers would occasionally brush the sensitive skin, exposed by the rip in your trousers, and the way that they lingered there a little longer than necessary. Or how the muscles in his arms would clench and flex, as he tied the bandage tighter. You had to bite back a moan, as you pondered whether his dexterous talents extended to the bedroom.

Mihawk eventually finished up (a little too quickly for your liking) before collecting the old bandages and tossing them in the bin under his desk.

“Are you aware that you just consumed a months worth of wages in alcohol?” Mihawk asked, returning to his previous position between your readily parted thighs. Your eyes grew twice the size, as the weight of his words sank in—Did you really have that little self control?

“Despicable” He tutted, using those same calloused fingers to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. Before you could even utter a word in response, Mihawk had effortlessly picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder in one swift movement, causing you to let out a high pitched yelp in protest. He turned around and set out on a rapid pace towards the door.

Oh shit.

You might have actually pushed him too far this time. Apparently, ransacking Mihawk’s precious wine collection is a crime punishable by death, and right now you were fully anticipating for him to follow through and sling you overboard—You should have just gone for the rum.

Your helpless body dangled from side to side, as Mihawk kicked the door open to what you assumed was the upper decks, taking a few more steps before stopping dead in his tracks. You began saying your final prayers, as your body started hurtling through the air at an ungodly speed.

Much to your surprise, your weight was supported by the soft pillow and mattress of a single bed. Instead of flinging you overboard, he must have brought you to the spare room opposite his.

“Now rest—As much as I can appreciate that you have an injury, I’d like to get some sleep of my own. You can slack off in here from now on”. Mihawk said curtly, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Slack off

Now that was just rude…

Part 3

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 24: It's not the end of the world

Chapter title is lyrics from "Dear Diary"

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I watched Oli through the crowd from across the room.

He was sitting on the same luxurious sofa as before, tucked into a dark corner of the VIP lounge, still completely enthralled by his phone.

After leaving Mat I had begun making my way over to Oli, to finally talk to him, but as soon as I spotted him across the room my feet were suddenly glued to the floor. Instead of making my presence known, I had opted for positioning myself as far away from him as possible while still conveniently keeping him in my line of sight.

I had been so wrapped up in my own realisations regarding my attraction to Mat, and the fact that I needed to turn him down, that I completely overlooked Oli’s potential reaction to the news.

Would he consider this a sign of commitment, suddenly expecting more from me?

Surely not.

He knows my struggles run a lot deeper than simply ‘picking one of them’.

Right?

Would he feel like I didn’t spend enough time with Mat, and therefore be suspicious of us in the future if Oli and I were to actually end up together?

Was I also worried I’d be drawn to Mat going forward?

While I attempted to push the intrusive thought aside, my mind had other ideas.

“Do you like it a bit rough, love?”

Mat’s words echoed in my head, making me all-too aware of my ruined underwear; my gnawing, unbearable desperation.

Staring at Oli didn’t help. 

He was dressed in all black, probably to blend in while in a more public setting.

But he never blended in.

Much like last night during our date, he’d put on another button up after the show. But unlike the plain one from yesterday, this one was distressed and covered in faint occult symbols. The collar that had been buttoned when we arrived at the club was undone, along with his sleeves rolled up to reveal the intricate artwork of his arms. 

I also noticed that his previously neat hair was now tousled, as if he'd anxiously ran his fingers through it a number of times.

Oli tucked his phone back into the trousers that were distractingly tight in the right places, and reached for the glass in front of him, downing it’s content. After replacing the glass on the table he simply stared out into space, his large eyes brimming with sadness as the lights in the club painted him in colourful washes, shifting between blues and purples.

Regardless of how turned on I was, how badly I wanted to just take solace in him, my heart ached so badly at the sight before me.

Whatever stopped me from approaching him moments ago was promptly overridden by my emotions, making me spring into motion.

His sad eyes grew dark as he spotted me walking towards him, sitting up a bit straighter; It was as if I could see the emotional wall being built brick by brick with every step I took in his direction.

“Hiya, love!” He yelled over the music when I got close enough, a fake smile appearing on his lips, revealing hints of the sadness that was so prominent on him when he didn’t know I was looking.

“Hi, where are the others?”

His head tilted sideways as he looked up at me, “Haven’t a clue, somewhere around here probably.”

While he seemed tipsy, he definitely wasn’t drunk. Which, for better or for worse, meant I could attempt a conversation with him.

“Can I sit with you?” I asked, suddenly feeling oddly awkward.

“Of course.”

There was a shift in his demeanour, a playfulness making an appearance as he offered me his hand.

I stared at his open palm, but he just nudged it closer to me. 

On the surface the action was so similar to the one from the van this morning, when he eased me away from a panic attack, but I could tell he had very different intentions tonight.

Intentions that were far too tempting to ignore.

I tried to talk myself out of it, reminding myself why I was here, but it was a losing war.

After a quick glance around to check if someone we knew could see us, I indulged myself and slipped my fingers into his palm, feeling like a naughty child swiping cookies from the jar before dinner.

And as expected, he proceeded to immediately pull me down into his lap.

I landed on him with an exhale, my legs between his, his fingers casually coming to rest on the softness of my hips. Adrenaline surged me as I looked into his sparkling, mischievous eyes – currently bright purple from the ambient lighting around us.

I could tell Oli was waiting for my reaction to his bold move, watching to see what I would do next; would I accept my intimate seating arrangement despite who might see us? Or would I chicken out, and dismiss my public position on his thigh.

But the truth is I didn’t want to move. 

I understood that he was playing with me, pushing me out of my comfort zone, yet I found it hard to care. This just felt too good, too right, my body fitting so perfectly against his. 

For a split second I considered ignoring all the things we needed to discuss, just shoving them under the rug and pretending everything was alright so we could have some fun.

But I knew that wasn’t a real option tonight.

When I didn’t move, his smile grew, pulling me closer against him, draping my arm behind his neck in the process. I didn’t fight it, instead I placed my other hand on his chest, savouring the feel of his solid body.

But just because I’d let myself enjoy him, didn’t mean I’d given up on my original mission.

“How are you?”

I was so nervous about attempting to break through to him, to tear down the facade he’d put up, that my question was barely audible over the loud music, even to myself.

But I could tell he’d heard me from the uncomfortable shift on his features, before he broke eye contact to nestle his face into my neck, placing a handful of slow, painfully delicate kisses there, his hand trailing further up my back in the process, pressing me against him.

A shiver of lust ran up my spine, following his touch, as I fought off the instinct to look around once again for anyone we knew. Because while I was infinitely more comfortable with the idea of someone catching us like this after everything that had happened the last couple of days, I still very much didn’t want Mat – who I rejected mere minutes ago – to see us.

“Not bad, yourself?” He breathed, lied, onto my skin between kisses that grew more indulgent the longer they went on.

My eyebrows knotted into a frown as I tried to stay on topic, despite how hard he was trying to derail my thoughts.

“Thought we said no lies.” I basically panted as his hair pushed against my cheek, tickling me, his now open mouth travelling further up my neck. 

“No, that was your end of the bargain. Mine was to not ignore you.” His words vibrated under my hand on his chest as he spoke them, the puffs of warm air against my wet skin only intensifying the electricity running up and down my spine – not to mention ruining my underwear further.

I felt myself fighting the urge to squirm against him as he suddenly let his teeth sink softly into the sensitive skin under his lips. 

He was very clearly determined to avoid the conversation.

But I was not ready to give up yet.

“Please don’t lie to me.” I begged desperately, stifling a moan, hoping simultaneously that he would cooperate and talk to me, but also wishing we could just remain blissfully ignorant and continue what we are doing, regardless of who might see us.

Both relief and disappointment washed over me as he pulled away.

“I’ve been better.” He said, and for a moment you could tell he’d let himself be honest, but the pretence came back as quickly as it had dropped. Now there was a bitterness in his voice, “How was your time with Mat?”

While I knew that he wasn’t the only one avoiding certain topics, annoyance at his question still hit me swiftly and severely, “You’ve tried so hard to convince me to spend time with Mat, yet when I do–”

“I act like a fucking prick?”

Thrown off by his self aware interruption, I paused, staring into his intense yet cold eyes.

“I mean, yeah.” I agreed.

“You know my reasons, doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

His free hand made an appearance on my knee, slowly caressing its way onto me with intent, warm fingers grazing the skin of my inner thigh in the process. I was so painfully desperate already that the touch made my own hands on him balls into fists, bunching the fabric of his shirt beneath them.

His eyelids grew heavy as he watched me fight to stay in control, to not outwardly show how turned on I was.

Everything was so clearly a game to him tonight, and I was his opponent. So I tried to stay in fighting mode.

“Can we talk about the things you said before the show?” Yet another meek question, asked too quietly, too shyly. But at least I was trying.

Sadly he was having none of it.

He once again busied himself with my neck, resuming his intoxicating activities there, kissing with the same gentleness, the same eagerness that nearly had me whimpering the first time, “Tell me what you did with Mat first.” He responded casually between kisses as his hand trailed higher on my inner thigh, stroking slowly, teasingly, with enough pressure to shift my leg closer to his crotch, spreading my legs slightly in the process.

Involuntarily, I began squirming against him, my body as powerless as ever to his carnal magics.

Out of sheer frustration with the situation, my mind thankfully remained unclouded enough to speak, “You’ve made it very clear you don’t want to know what we’re up to.”

Once again he pulled away, this time to glare at me, the fingers that had made it more than halfway up my thigh digging into me, holding onto me as I tensed under his grip.

“You’re right, I really don’t, but I saw the look on your face when you came over here – can see it on you a mile away.” More electricity spread through me as he leaned in to press his lips against my ear – an eerily gentle gesture considering the sudden rage bubbling to the surface – in order to whisper his next words, “I know you’re soaking, love.” He continued, speaking leisurely, his fingers caressing closer to my core as he breathed his words into my ear, causing me to gasp, “So, tell me, if I let my hand travel a little bit higher, will you be wet for me…” In one jarring motion he ripped his lips away from me to resume his intense stare into my surprised eyes, the hand on my thigh now suddenly holding my chin with a sense of urgent, contained rage, “...Or for him? Cause it makes a massive fucking difference to me.”

His voice had come low and angry, and my only thought was that he had no right to be – no right to expect me to explore my attraction to Mat, yet be angry when I do.

As I opened my mouth to argue with him, I saw Mat and Lee in the corner of my eye, walking in our direction.

Instinct took over and I began pushing off of Oli, not wanting to rub the rejection in Mat’s face.

But Oli had other ideas.

“Nuh uh uh, you stay right here, love.” He said as the arm around me held me against him, stopping any attempts of me getting up. I wasn’t sure if he even knew Mat was nearby, or if he was so determined to get a response out of me that he didn’t care either way.

Panic set in as I watched Mat take a seat in our line of sight.

“I turned him down.” I blurted out.

All signs of anger immediately vanished from Oli, only sadness and shock remained as his large eyes.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

I continued my attempts at getting out of his lap before Mat spotted us, but his grip on me remained firm.

“Let me go.” I demanded through clenched teeth.

”Sure, sorry.” He said distantly as he finally released me, “Thought we agreed you’d keep seeing him.”

Patting the skirt of my dress down to make sure I was still adequately covered after Oli’s hands had wandered on me, I took a seat next to him, feeling rather annoyed, “Then why are you acting like this?”

Oli’s eyes darted between me and Mat, before coming to rest on my face.

He looked utterly distraught.

“Fuck.” He muttered before shooting out of his seat, taking long and swift strides towards the back entrance of the club, leading to the parking lot.

It only took me a split second to start following him, but Oli was taller, faster, and managed to cover a lot more ground than me with ease, even though both of us had to weave through the same amount of people.

Once we got to the long corridor that led to the exit I was already out of breath, but this stretch of our path was thankfully void of people for the time being, making it easier to catch up to Oli.

“Oli, wait!” I yelled, but he didn’t stop.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Alice.” He responded without skipping a beat, without bothering to look behind him.

Despite my exhausted state I made a run for it, and right as he was about to reach for the door handle I squeezed in front of him, leaning myself against the heavy door.

“I can’t win can I? You were gonna be upset either way, whether I kept seeing him or not.” I said between heaving breaths.

There was murder in his stare as he looked down at me through his hair.

“Move.” He growled, avoiding what I said entirely.

But I stood my ground.

“No.” I bit out, “You’re not allowed to avoid me, remember?”

I could tell he considered simply opening the door anyway, pushing past me and continuing his escape. But instead his hand slammed into the door next to my head, leaning over me as fury radiated off of him, as if to say; fine, I’ll stay, but you won’t be happy about it.

“Why did you turn him down?” He demanded.

I swallowed, realising I’d made my own bed and it was time to lay in it. So I said my realisation as truthfully, yet vaguely, as I could bring myself to, “I realised I w-was using him.”

A sense of disgust twisted his face, “The same way you’re using me?”

While I shouldn’t have been surprised at his deduction from my oversimplified statement, I was still thrown off by his question. Mainly because my reasons for not wanting to continue anything with Mat, very much meant that I had no intention of using either of them going forward.

“I’m not using you,” I started, causing his disgust to shift into disbelief and pure frustration. I was certain he was about to give up and bolt out of here, so I quickly continued voicing my thoughts out loud, “That might have been how it started, but that’s not where we are, and I think you know that too.”

His jaw clenched in anger, “And what happens if we stop having sex?” Darkness fell over his eyes as he leaned in closer, “You tellin’ me you won't go running off to Mat, to see if he can make it hurt as good as I can?”

The question was asked with a mocking purr, both sensual and aggressive in nature.

It was no secret how much I treasured the sex Oli offered me, how much it did for me – in so many different ways. But since feelings had developed on both sides, the priorities had shifted. So while I was attracted to Mat, while he might be able to offer me the things I craved, I can now see with clarity how that would burn all bridges with Oli – regardless of what Oli might claim.

And while I was horrified at the thought of committing to Oli, I had grown equally horrified at the thought of committing to not being with Oli. Leaving me in an incredibly uncomfortable, torturous, limbo.

“I, I w-wouldn’t do that, no.” I hadn’t meant to stutter, to sound so unsure of myself, but it was harder than anticipated to vocalise my rejection of Mat considering all the different things it meant.

Things that were hard to face.

He huffed out a breath, “Very convincing, love.”

It was my turn to be frustrated, “No lies, remember? And I told you I need time – regardless of if we have sex or not, I’m struggling with so many things and I’m doing the best I can to sort my head out, but all you’re doing is rushing me!”

“I love you.” He very simply stated, eyes swimming with sadness before he laughed a defeated laugh, “How’s that for rushing?” He asked with a sombre smile, his body deflating as he shook his head.

Somewhere in the back of my head I already knew that his feelings for me ran a lot deeper than the words we’d been using to label it, yet stunned wasn’t a severe enough descriptor for how I felt at his proclamation. I’d gone from rambling my frustrations to barely being able to form a single coherent thought, numbness claiming my limbs.

His hand fell away from the door, and while he stood up straighter, he somehow managed to appear more slouched over than when he was actually leaning over me.

“I’m shit at all this, taking things slow is a load of bollocks,” he said with a dismissive hand gesture, “and I don’t care about how saying it for the first time is suppose to be all romantic, or any of that nonsense really – I want to say it every time I look at you; I love you,”

His fingers had reached out to tenderly stroke my jaw, making me realise my mouth had fallen open, “and it’s maddening, making me act like a proper lunatic – you wanna know why?”

I could tell all the emotional walls had been obliterated from the vulnerable look in his eyes, the pain so prominent in them, so vast, that it hurt to breathe from the ache it elicited in my own chest.

I nodded in response, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“Cause I don’t fucking trust you, Alice.”

We both simply stared at each other for a beat, the music still thumping away in the background as if we weren’t falling apart on the inside.

“Having me date Mat won't fix that.” I finally responded, understanding that his issues can’t be solved by any of his little tests.

That maybe they can’t be solved at all.

Or at the very least not from anything I could do.

He was so close to tears I couldn’t tell if the laugh he released was the beginning stages of sobbing or not, “You’re right, probably not.”

Inhaling sharply, he looked towards the ceiling to gather himself. 

When his eyes met mine again, they were colder, tenser.

“Maybe we’re just not right for each other.” He said flatly, before turning on his heels to walk back into the club.

Leaving me to lean against the door of the exit, to collect the pieces of my freshly shattered heart, alone.

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Chapter 8

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner

Warnings: critiquing (and rude) parents, alcohol, talk of horses from an author who knows nothing about them (and if you haven’t realised it yet, riding horses is supposed to be an analogy for racing)

Update: There should be around 17-ish chapters, but I’m also working on a fic for the brilliant and ingenious @bright-shiningstar (also a prince!charles x reader that may already be over 7k.... sorry not sorry) so they may come a little later than I would like

ao3 link  next chapter>>

Two weeks went by quickly and you knew that the servants were surprised by you. When you ordered a paint job for a scandalous wallpapered room, they hadn’t thought that you would don an apron and help them. You weren’t the best at manual labour, but you tried, and soon your arms were covered in sticky paint, laughing as you tried to get it off. You spontaneously decided to hire a gardener and met a lovely man called Oscar. He was thrilled to construct the gardens of the Princess of Enza, and quickly got to work. Another man, Nico Hulkenberg, came galloping up one day dressed in the regalia of a knight, and told you that Prince Charles had sent him to make sure you stayed out of danger. You, albeit a little peeved that Prince Charles hadn’t conferred with you, allowed Nico to join Lando in a hut by the stables. 

You spent many days with Lando and the horses, trying to learn as much as possible about the animals and the sport that sometimes accompanied them. Lando became a swift friend and you enjoyed his company. Not only was he extremely knowledgeable, but also funny and charming. He introduced you to two horses he had acquired from a breeder with the money you gave him. They were crudely called number sixteen and number fifty-five. He had yet to name them. 

On your first day, you hesitantly climbed on number sixteen. You tried desperately to remember everything you learned from your few minutes on a horse, and luckily, it came back quickly. Lando was highly encouraging and very patient. Once you felt comfortable, he jumped on number fifty-five and joined you in the fields. 

“How are you doing?” he asked, circling around to meet you. 

“This is fantastic!” You smiled broadly. “But it’s a little hard to ride in a dress. I’m going to need to fashion some new garments. I may have to write to Este.” 

“Whatever the princess wants,” Lando said. “Do you know what you’re going to name them?”

You hummed. “Not yet, but I’m sure the right names will come to me.” 

“Milady!” You heard a shout from the house and looked back at it. Elena was waving furiously at you, trying to get your attention. “Your family is arriving!”

You swore under your breath and nudged sixteen into a swift trot. “Elena!” You tried to instruct her from your horse. “Pull out a red dress for me to wear and a white shawl. Have the household line up in front of the house. Nico should be at the doors. Make sure Oscar looks presentable and have Yuki find all of the alcohol.  We’ll need it.” Elena nodded sharply and ran back into the house. “Lando,” you directed. “I want you to tend to the horses at the front of the stable. My family came a day early- we’re unprepared, but it can’t seem like that.”

You hopped off number sixteen and thrust the reins into Lando’s hands. “May I say, Princess,” Lando called out as you ran to the Villa. “You're handling this very well. You make a remarkable leader.”

“Thank you, Lando.” He could tell that you were sincere. It was exactly what you needed to hear.

Sara rushed you upstairs the moment you stepped in the door. “May I ask, Princess,” she wondered as she undid the laces to your plain, around-the-house gown. “Why red? I thought you wanted to hold onto Williams for as long as you could.” 

“No, no, no,” you bundled your hair into an updo. “I don’t care about holding onto Williams- they did nothing for me. I’m simply trying to aggravate whomever I hate most of all. If I see my parents, I change to red for Enza. If I see Prince Charles, I change to blue for Williams.” 

“And if you see both?” Sara couldn’t help but smile at your antics. It reminded her of when you were younger, always finding a new mess to get into with your siblings. You stepped into the red dress and Sara pulled it up and started clipping and tying it into perfection.

“Ah, but that won’t ever happen.” You wagged a finger at her. “They don’t care enough to visit me at the same time.”

“Ma’am, they’re here.” Elena popped her head in the doorway and Sara yanked on the corset of your dress once more before twisting the strings into a bow.

You nodded, straightened your back, and strode down the stairs and out the door. The servants were already lined up elegantly and you couldn’t find one thing that your mother would pick apart. Two carriages stood outside, one containing your family, and the other, their belongings. You inwardly cringed at the amount of possessions they brought with them.

“Y/n, darling!” Your mother swept down from the carriage and embraced you tightly. “How have you been? Have you been surviving? It’s a momentous task to run a household and I was so worried you couldn’t live up to it.” 

Only three seconds in, and you already wanted to strangle her. If it were only your siblings, then their stay would’ve been joyful. Unfortunately, your parents had spontaneously invited themselves, filling you with annoyance and dread. 

“The wedding was phenomenal,” your father appeared at your mother’s side. “And how is Prince Charles? I assume he wanted to stay back at the palace, as this quaint house is no place for royalty, but I hope the wedding night went well?” 

“Why don’t you get settled in, hm?” You blatantly ignored their questions, not offering so much as a ‘hello’. Your mother tittered disapprovingly at your words, but sashayed in the house, looking for inconsequential details to criticise. Your father clapped a hand on your bare shoulder, making you jump. True to his word, Este had altered some of your dresses for warmer weather, but you were now regretting it. You pulled your shawl tighter around you.

“Y/n, I am so sorry.” Your sister’s voice made you turn around. Brenda looked terribly guilty as Robert helped her down. “I couldn’t find an excuse to stop them from coming.” 

“We tried,” Ralph rolled his eyes. “We tried so hard. But they persisted. They were adamant about visiting you.” 

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I’m glad you three came along. It’ll be easier to diffuse the tension. How’s Cambria doing?” You asked Robert about his heavily pregnant wife. The doctor had confined her to bed, the reason why she wasn’t with him on this trip. 

“She’s splendid.” Robert grinned happily. “We’re both very excited. I’m cutting my visit short, however, to get back to her. I’ll only stay three days.”

“Oh, that’s fine! Give her my love when you return,” you said. You were delighted to have a niece or nephew. It would give you an excuse to visit Williams more often. 

“I feel so bad for Cambria and Robert.” Brenda shook her head and looped her arm through yours. “Mother’s been hounding them ever since she found out Cambria was with child. Ralph’s been lucky to escape her eye.”

“The only good thing about marriage,” you muttered. “Getting away from mother.”

Brenda made a noise of agreement. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Dinner was stressed. Your father and Robert sat at the head. Ralph had drawn the short straw and had to sit next to your mother. Your glass of wine had been refilled three times. Awkward conversation had been sprinkled throughout, ranging from politics to talk of your recent marriage, though you wondered if they weren’t the same thing. Your father had delightedly bragged about the new finances and influx of immigrants that had been brought to Williams because of the new, prosperous relationship with Enza. You had ordered another round of drinks after that. 

Mercifully, Elena tapped on your shoulder, whispering, “Milady, may I talk to you? Something has come up.” 

You eagerly pushed away from the table and followed her to the foyer. “Please tell me this will take longer than fifteen minutes. I need a break from them. Don’t get me wrong, Elena, I love my family, especially my brothers and sisters, but sometimes my parents can be a bit much. I bought the Foundling Villa to escape everything, but people just keep showing up.” 

Elena grimaced and said, “On that note, Princess, uh, another visitor has arrived.” 

You pressed your fingers to your temples to try and stop the oncoming headache. “I will pay you double for the next year if you get them to go away. I don’t care who they are; I cannot stand someone else here.” 

“Yes, well, ma’am,” Elena stuttered through her words. “I’m not sure I can do that to your husband, who, if you’ve forgotten, is the prince of Enza.” 

Cursing, you threw open the door to see Prince Charles stepped down from a royal carriage bedecked in Enzan colours. He straightened his mantle, ran a hand through his hair, and then locked eyes with you. Prince Charles smiled sheepishly and shrugged, as if to say, Sorry, but I wanted to come see you.

“Elena.” You turned back to the frightened maid. “Please tell Sara to pick out a purple dress. I’m trying to displease many people tonight.”

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Ichiji and Ace from One Piece. Both are inside rectangle frames, Ace in right up corner and Ichiji in left down corner, their boxes intersect in the middle. Ace is seen from behind, waist up, with his head thrown back. There is crown of alternating golden lines and red spheres around his head. He doesn't have a shirt or whitebeard tatoo. In the background there is Vinsmokes' skull. Ichiji is seen from the front, hips up, slightly from above. He holds a heart in his outsretched hand. He has blood on his hands and shirt. He wears grey shirt, black trousers and white cape with red lining. His eyes are visible, he looks focused. Words '"The first"? Weird name to give a son.' and 'Perfect for a sacrifice though.' fill the remaining corners of the drawing. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 1: First meet / Immortal x mortal

How to get unimaginable power, by Vinsmoke Judge:

capture a fallen star -> try to make a deal with it -> get your favourite son to make a sacrifice in your place -> ??? -> profit

I'm boo boo the fool. I got an idea for au, made illustration first, thought the quote sounded good and filled the empty space. And then I got to writing and realised I have nowhere to put the quote so it would made sense 😗

This was supposed to be one shot for the vinsmoke shipping week but this au grew on me, i might do something with it in the future Not a lot of romance here I'm afraid 👍 maybe next time

🔽Fic under readmore 🔽 Also on Ao3

cw: slight gore, dehumanizing (refering to he/him with it/its)

Heavy basement doors closed with a dull thud behind Ichiji. The fog from his breath danced in the air, looking for any crevice that would let it out of the room.

Deep underground, sealed with runes and cement, only torches illuminating the dark - someone could call the precautions unneeded, but Ichiji knew better. He looked towards their prisoner, trapped on a painted floor.A catch like this was once in a lifetime.

The star didn't show that it noticed him yet. No matter, it wasn't needed for the first part.

Repeating father's instructions, Ichiji took a piece of chalk out of his pocket a got to work. Slender lines began to fill the empty spaces on stone walls and floor; circles, crosses and vines intersecting each other in carefully calculated patterns. The star didn't seem to move, but Ichiji could feel its eyes following him around the room. Good, so it's conscious. Not letting it disrupt him, he came back to the drawings. They needed to be perfect for the barter to work out.

He noticed, Ace thought, peeking from behind his eyelids. Well well, wasn't he an observant bastard. One that knew what he was doing; the symbols, even incomplete, already brimmed with power that made his throat dry and set of ringing in his ears. Ah, so he wantsa deal. A pretty serious one, he added to himself, looking at the size and complexity of the circle. His eyes trailed after the caped man. A few healing sigils, couple time capsules, warding lines - probably a kidney. Ace licked his lips. Maybe an eye or two if he was lucky.

Finally finished, the guy stopped before him.

"I know you are awake," he huffed.

Ace slowly opened his eyes and got better look at the figure before him. Sparse light glistened on red hair and sunglasses, the rest disappearing and reappearing from shadows.

"Why hello there," Ace said with a crooked smile. "What brings you here?"

"The deal."

Ace grimaced. Barely a word. The offering better be worth the drag; at least it'll get him out of this shitty basement.

"Silly me, of course. But, you know, there should be some decorum to this. Usually people start with their name."

Redhead stared down at him. Or at least Ace assumed he did, it was hard to tell with covered eyes. After a few moments of contempt silence the contrarian in him finally won.

"Okay, see, it goes like this:" He pointed at his chest and pronounced with exaggerated care. "My. Name. Ace." He turned the finger on him. "You. Name. What?"

For a second the shape of something like embarrassment appeared on the guy's face before it smoothed over again.

"Vinsmoke Ichiji. The oldest prince of Germa Kingdom, where you currently reside."

Ace widened his eyes. The guy- Ichiji actually responded? That was a new one. He grinned; maybe this won't be a complete waste of time.

"Ichiji... <First>? Weird thing to name a child. Your parents must be something else."

One curly brow went up.

"Is that so, Ace?"

Ace shrugged.

"I said what I said." he looked up. "So, Germa? Can't say I ever heard of it. Eh, it's not like I heard of many human kingdoms."

"You do not find us interesting, I get."

"Oh, the opposite! I find you humans really interesting; it's just your kingdoms that are just so incredible dull. You have a habit of pretending that they matter but truth be told? If you look from the side, they all look exactly the same."

Ichiji tilted his head. "Hm."

"You look less upset than I expected from someone who introduced himself as a prince," Ace inquired.

"Arguing wouldn't do anything, would it? That is not what I'm here to do." He pulled something small from his pocket and knelt next to Ace. "We should proceed."

The clang of iron shackles falling on the floor shot through the room. Ace rubbed his aching wrist.

"Well, it was nice to chat."

But Ichiji wasn't done. With the same key he started scrapping the paint from the stones around Ace. Not enough to free him, but the returning power buzzed under his skin. Ace stared with stunned expression; this deal really was going to be something else.

"Lets begin," Ichiji declared.

The air grew electrified, wind without a source banging between the walls. Ichiji stood up and draw his hands together, quietly chanting the words that made Ace's hair stand up. Ace transfixed on the redhead. His mouth curved into the feral smile, unable to contain excitement singing in his veins at the promised feast.

And then Mr. prince plunged his hand deep into his chest, blood spraying around. Sudden scent hit Ace's nose and he took sharp breath, which just made the aroma travel further his lungs, clouding mind and senses. Ichiji reached towards him with the still-beating muscle in his grip.

Ace seized the heart and bite down, savory juices exploding in his mouth, tender flesh ripping between his teeth. The blood stained his mouth so he tried to lick it off, teared between devouring the treat as fast as possible and not wasting a single drop. He was leaping from joy, fresh meat satiating his ever-present hunger for a moment and filling him with new strength. The flame inside his gut grew with every swallowed morsel; when was the last time he had a treat like this?

Engrossed in the food, Ace for a moment forgot about Ichiji, who dropped on his knees, sunglasses clinking on the floor. The blood on his chest dripped slowly, the sigils doing their job. Breathing heavily, he reached forward and grabbed the closest arm. Ace looked back at him, hastily gulping down last bits of the offering.

"Oh, right, the deal. Sorry about that. But man," He glanced down. "You must be pretty desperate! So, let's hear it."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

His face froze. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I- No-"

"The heart is valuable enough, we did the math. You have no reason to refuse."

"Hold on for a moment!" shouted Ace. "That's why you're doing it?"

Ichiji squinted his eyes. "Just do it. That was the deal."

"I don't care what happens to your silly kingdoms, whatever their compass points at, but you did all this-" He gestured at the growing red spot on his shirt. "-because your father asked you to?"

"Of course," Ichiji mouthed. "He is my father."

Ace saw red.

"Ah." The ice crept in his voice. "I see. The answer is no then."

That seemed to get the reaction. Ichiji jerked his head, fingers clawing harder into Ace's bicep. "You can't just refuse, that's not how it works! I gave you an offering-"

"Yeah, so I'm going to grant your wish. If your father wants something from me, he can offer me his own heart, instead of sending you."

"My wish is for you to grant my father's."

"Nope, not doing it."

"You-" The argument was interrupted with a coughing fit, Ichiji's grip losing some of its strength. Ace caught his spasming body before it hit the floor and swore, suddenly much too aware of how quickly his life was draining away. He was going to keel over the second he was out of the protection circle. But they couldn't stay here, someone will come here sooner or later and then...

An idea struck him with a flash.

"Hold on, stay still for a moment..."

Ace doubted Ichiji heard him, still trying to catch his breath, so he shifted him around and put a hand on his chest. He exhaled and let the warmth flow towards the hole; the magic meandered its way between frayed skin and muscle, healing what it could, and what it couldn't...

The beating returned, it's pulse synchronized to Ace's own, too soft to be human. There was no time to celebrate; he focused, pulled on the strings surrounded them both, stretched them and clenched his teeth. He braced for what was to come and let go.

The furry of light and colours surrounded them, the force beating the air out of his lungs, astral wind blowing the hair all over the place.

And the next second, it was over. Ace knelt on the sandy beach, retching. Crap. He leaped to his feet, already turning towards the body.

Ichiji could breathe again. He opened his eyes and stiffened when he realized where he was. Or rather where he wasn't.

"Oh, so it did work!"

"How?" Ichiji growled.

The star grinned.

"Well, it wasn't easy with your heart missing, but I managed to-"

"How did you escape?"

It pursed its lips.

"Of course that's what you're worried about. You're in luck, because those two things are connected." It pointed one finger up. "First! I used some of my flame to keep you alive. I can't give you your heart back, since I already ate it, but you shouldn't die for some more time." It grimaced. "It's not a permanent solution, so you'll need to find something else."

Ichiji made an annoyed face. It put another finger up.

"Second! Because of the seals I couldn't just disappear myself, but I could send you away. And we're connected now, so I can't be too far from you. So when I pushed you out, you pulled me with you, and that's how we're here." It grinned again, arms outstretching to the sides, as if showing him the beach. "As far from that basement as I could put us!

"And third!" Next finger joined the rest. "Your wish."

Ichiji gritted his teeth.

"I already told you what I wish for. You refused. There should be some punishment for that."

"Oh don't worry, there is! But I hadn't broken our deal yet." Star crossed its arms. "I fully intend to grant your wish. But only yours."

"Give my father the power to conquer all the Northern Kingdoms."

The vein appeared on its forehead.

"Wrong answer. Let me get this straight." It leaned over him. "With the power I got from your sacrifice I manged to not only put your death on hold, but also get us both out despite all the obstacles. Do you think I would be able to do that if I was going against your heart? The way I see it, on some level, you wanted to leave. And on some level-" he stumbled. "On some level you didn't want to die. So that's how it's going to go. I'll stick around until you can give me your wish, your true wish. I'll grant it and the deal will be finished. And don't try to put any crap like the kingdom stuff."

Ichiji scowled.

"And if I try to come back and tell father about this you will just-"

"I'll just push us as far away as possible! Good, you're learning."

Ichiji glared at Ace. "It does not sound like I have a choice."

"That's something you're used to, isn't it?"

Ichiji didn't answer.

[minty-splitends]

1: Fresh From The Oven

Possible content warnings: injury to a child, body horror, blood, child abandonment, dismemberment, alcoholism, (technically) homelessness, crying

Word count: 3580

I tripped and fell after stepping through the entryway. My body crumpled to the ground on its side, and I could feel my bones, organs, veins, all of me, ripping apart slowly. I screamed and sobbed, clutching my legs and pressing my face into my knees, before everything seemed to stop, and I felt nothing.

My hands reached up and squeezed at my forearms. Ice cold, with a consistency not unlike mochi. A soft, pastel green. I shivered.

The right arm pressed upwards to my left bicep, and it tasted of fresh, clear mint as the palm touched it. Almost familiar, and comforting.

My hands reached down again, to where the section supported by my lumbar spine should have been. However, when my ribcage ended, there was a gap. The flesh I could see inside the lower half was a deep viridian.

The dress I wore, while ruined, was still soft and fluttering in the soft breeze. I brushed my left hand on the fabric, and then to the bloody woundy. I saw that the skin on my fingertips and outer arm faded into the same dark green. My inner arm, however, was painted like that of my favourite ice cream.

My insides were cold, and soft. My right hand smiled at the mild tickling sensation from its index finger prodding at the wound, but it was only slightly. A light twitch, before returning to a straight line when the tickle morphed into pain.

Sitting up, and then kneeling afterwards, I easily turned my upper body a full 180° to look back at the door. However, it was no longer there. The ebony ground beneath me had been splattered with green, and far off from the field, I could barely see the beginning of a deep purple ocean.

I then stood and spun around, arms up, watching the black skirt attached to my sliced off pelvic area whirl up so high as I danced that it became a flat sheet of fabric around my hips. I wore shorts under it, I noticed. The little twitch became a large grin on my hand, and I laughed, my hair whipping around me. My irises bounced around the hair, and I could see everything. But the moment ended right when it began, and I had to clasp my hands together to stop the right one from vomiting.

Smoothing out my vest and stretching, I once again extended my arms towards the pink sky. It was covered in glistening sparkles. Inky clouds were painted across the blush heavens, and from them fell tiny black snowflakes. My vision was distorted, still twisting and turning. Melting.

Dizzy from the euphoria.

From existing.

My irises were free to roam across my hair then, but I quickly caught them. I pulled the dark tan scrunchies off of my wrists and tied my hair into two spherical buns near the top of my skull.

Focussing on the skyline in front of me, not letting it double again, my ombré fingers tidied the buns, and my pupils aligned. The now ball-shaped eyes looked down, and I realised that my legs were also separate, a good chunk of my upper thighs missing. The inner flesh was that same green, as well as the outer skin, which faded to a darker shade as it moved to my feet.

What remained of my legs were completely bare, except for where the back snow slowly rose in height towards my shins as it fell from the sky. Though for a regular sized person, it would more likely be ankle-deep.

My legs stepped forward, leaving the rest of me behind to float in midair. The right hand huffed and my torso reached down to let my arms grab the free limbs.

Slowly, I dragged myself through the snow, having affixed the legs firmly below my hips. My pelvis also moved independently, and I concentrated hard to keep it aligned with the movements of my torso. I fell once, and then another 300 times.

In the distance were little crayon sketches of blocks and squares. My heart yearned to pull me towards them, but, even though I made it a couple of metres, I collapsed from exhaustion before I could go any further. The warm, dark snow was a bed that stretched out for thousands of miles, and all I wanted was to curl up and sleep for lightyears.

Laying on my back, I stared up at the sky. A pain crawled into my stomach - a sharp, dull ache that tightened my abdomen into knots. I went to rub at it, before remembering that it didn't exist. It never had. I could move my whole arm through the gap in my middle without having to do any magician's manoeuvres. But the sting remained.

“Hey there, young lady-”

The echoed voice was raucous and deep, but I couldn't help but grin when I saw its source. A school of giant black betta fish, which had formed from the clouds, were swimming through the sky above me. It was the one with beady white eyes that had spoken. They bore into my bun eyes as he glided down to the floor, away from his brethren.

"-do you need a hand?”

“Oh, yes, please,” I said, my voice scratchy and quiet, “I don't have a map.”

“You would never need a silly map with me,” he said, “I can fly so high you can see everything; every road, every house, everyone.”

“Amazing! Can I do that too?”

“Not on your own sadly, your soul is way too young. But I can give you a ride on my back, free of charge. It will feel about the same.”

“Thank you,” I beamed and climbed up. The creature took off, and I stared up into the now hot pink sky. Night was almost here. The fish’s scales were fluffy when I rested my hands on them.

“My name is Payekha,” he said.

“That’s nice.”

There were mountains far out, spewing the clouds from their tops. Another school of fish, just born from that cotton candy, smiled at me.

“We only come around here when it snows, so you were lucky to arrive now instead of later.”

The light breeze became a stronger wind, its sound deepening as it smacked my bangs against my featureless face and the fish swam effortlessly through the air.

I looked up into the magenta galaxy, fixating on the glittering sequins which seemed so close then, as we rose above black cotton candy clouds. I stretched as far as I could and grazed my fingertips against one of the nearest stars. It was freezing, yet it burned.

“Would I have died back there?” I wondered out loud as I rested my hand back down on the fish's back, “if you hadn't offered to let me sit on you and carry me through the pink, would I have ceased to exist before my life had even started?”

“Don't dwell on what could have been. We're almost there.”

“That's good,” I said, “I don't want your friends to wait.”

“Oh, that doesn't matter,” said Payekha, “we are all one, in the sky and the ice sheets and the earth. No matter what happens, no matter where we are, we will reunite once the snow melts.”

“I'm happy to hear that.”

I repositioned myself as he continued to fly through the aether, and I realised that the hand I had reached towards the stars had left a glowing white handprint on his fishy fur.

My other hand reached down and rubbed away the remnants of it, my chest tightening. Payekha barely reacted except for a low, barely audible purr. I smiled.

The crayon squares gradually morphed into tall, thin buildings that stretched up so high that it almost seemed like they went on forever, extending past the clouds and stars into whatever sat above. They were still as jagged and disordered as a child's drawing, but they were now made of melded shards of broken glass.

He let me jump off his back, and I slid down the fin that he had laid down onto the sidewalk. I sat there for a moment on the concrete before standing, and turning to face him. He had already begun to fly away.

“Goodbye, Mr Payekha!” I waved, “thank you!”

“Have a good life, kid!" he called back and, as the snowflakes froze into inky raindrops, he melded back into the clouds.

I exhaled through the nostrils on my left palm and turned back around. The skyscrapers glared down at me from their infinitely high horses, and I gulped.

There were vehicles speeding down the iridescent roads, but their swirly windows obstructed my view of the drivers and passengers inside. The serenity of the sky ride was instantly pierced by the trillions of sounds of the city; talking, shrieking, crying, roaring, laughing, dying - they all squeezed at my skull.

Picking a random direction, I pressed my three parts together as tightly as I could, and ran.

-

The sky was a darker pink, but I could see remnants of white and orange on the horizon as the biggest ball of glitter disappeared under it. There were thousands of trees around me, just as tall and spiky as the buildings that had threatened me an hour ago, but they invited me into their arms instead, showing that their intimidating exterior was mostly a defence mechanism. Like capsaicin.

I finally let go of my legs and pelvis, and they flew away from my torso like an uncompressed spring. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed, slowly walking them back towards me. I moved the three-piece jigsaw back into a floating, loosely completed form.

Opening my double buns again, I realised some of the trees’ branches were soaked in my deep green liquid. Whatever the cause of this was already fizzling out of my memory. The overwhelming smell of mint assaulted any wildlife nearby. Ignoring it, and biting back an apology, I clumsily carried my parts along as I walked deeper into the woods.

It wasn't silent, but no longer noisy. A light breeze travelled through the trees, gentle and kind. The air smelled of blue raspberry.

“Oh dear! No, no no, no! No!” a high pitched squeaky voice echoed from another clump of trees. I could easily hear the cries, and peaked around a branch to see its source.

A little brown penguin-like thing, around my height, was kneeling facing a rock in between the trees; he was using his mouth-flippers, filled with human teeth, to slam two large sticks onto it, hastily scraping them along the stoney surface.

“Not again!”

I stared at the creature for a few seconds, the way his form shook with panic and tears captivating me. I realised that that was perhaps wrong, and my hand cleared its throat.

“...Excuse me, are you okay?”

The boy turned to look at me, his large, bloodshot human eyes instinctively stared at my blank face for a moment, until he then looked up at where my eyes actually were.

“Oh… hello,” his flippers moved with each word, his clearly taped-on beak unmoving, “are you lost too?”

“I don't know,” I said, “I ran from a spiny city just now. It was too noisy.”

“Ah, that's where I live!” his flippers grinned, “is it the way you came? Directly behind you?”

“What were you doing with the sticks?”

“I wanted to call home, I've been here for days.”

“It is the way I came. I was running for a while though, it might take you a long time to get to your parents.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “my name is Andrew.”

“That's nice,” I said again.

“What's yours?”

“I don't know,” I said again.

“Okay,” he said, again, “I like your leaves!”

“My what?”

“Your two leaves,” Andrew got up and poked his left flipper right above my head. It tickled, and I laughed. He grinned, again.

“They smell nice. All of you smells nice actually. Cool, and minty... Ooh, that could be your name!”

“‘Cool, and minty?’”

“No, just ‘Minty’, I mean. It's the colour of your skin too! It's a real name, and it would suit you.”

“Okay,” I, Minty, nodded.

“Can you walk me there please? The journey would be nicer with a friend to talk to.”

“Okay,” I nodded. Again. My right hand took his left flipper.

“Hold on,” he said abruptly, “your hair is loose.”

“Oh,” I felt some of the strands brush against my cheeks, "maybe it would be easier if I had the eyeballs lower, it would be harder for them to be pulled down then.”

“And they won't hit the tops of doorways when you're bigger and stronger,” he agreed.

Andrew gently fiddled with my hair for a minute. The locks fell out a few times and I had to hold back giggles at the child-friendly versions of curse words he whispered under his breath every time the scrunchies fell to the ground. Eventually, my eye-buns were fixed just above my shoulders.

Then, we were off, through the trees, passing velvet red rivers and blue leaves, chatting about nothing. The sky was the darkest pink now, nearly midnight. The glitter still shone.

“It's my first day, you know,” I mentioned at one point, “I came from a flesh door in the evening when the black snow fell.”

“What!” Andy yelled, “oh, I didn't know that! We must hurry then!” He gripped my hand and started running.

“Wait, why?” I tried to keep up with his pace, both of us pausing every once in a while for me to collect my other parts. My legs didn't like each other, and constantly tried to get away, like two North magnets being pressed together.

“You must sign up,” he said, “if you arrive through an entrance, you must get a family assigned to you. It's common courtesy.”

My chest tightened, “I don't want that.’

“Huh?”

“I want to be alone. Biologically, I mean.”

“Stay at my house then,” he insisted, “as a friend. Water, not blood. A very very very very very very long sleepover, maybe?”

“That sounds nice,” I smiled. We continued on. 7 hours later we saw the urban infinity again.

I stayed at Andrew's place for a couple of weeks after that. His parents, a floating 20-sided dice and a pizza man, welcomed me lovingly into their household. I couldn't stand it; it was too foggy, and warm. I felt like an outsider, intruding into a perfect family. Andy had only existed in the Peach Plains for a little over a year when I appeared, and his parents weren't ready for a newcomer, even if they themselves didn't know it. Even if they did love me, as a friend or something else, I knew I couldn't stay.

Hugging Andrew tightly on Movimbar 59th, I left for the woods again. He used to visit me every single day after that, with his parents sometimes accompanying him. We'd eat pizza and play board games for hours and hours. He once told me how he wanted to travel. To photograph real penguins. I told him about selfies.

It then became every other day,

Then every other week,

Then every few months,

And then I never saw him again.

They named me,

Fertilised me,

And sent me on my way to grow.

I hated it.

I regretted leaving their penthouse.

But my deal with the forest had been sealed. I was part of it now.

My thick gloopy tears were the same viridian as my flesh as they flooded the woods.

-

For years I stayed alone in a cottage that had grown around me in a clearing, birthed from the two little leaves floating above my head. From my mind.

Mint flowers sprouted in the bushes in front of the windows of my tiny mind palace, white and purple.

I found a laptop growing from a ginormous apple blossom tree a few couple of years after that. Teal vines connected it to the plant's roots, yet they were long and stretchy enough for me to leave the device on my window sill.

According to the computer, this world was expansive and, oh, so so wonderful. The skies were purple and blue elsewhere, far from my abode, though I still don't know why. There were videos and games to play. And many people. The computer told me how to talk to them, how to make myself loved.

Each day I tried to fly like Payekha, to see it all, but I would fall from the cliffs and lose my parts every time. But I'd never stop. I'll never stop.

7 years after I first walked through the door, I finally began to grow up.

-

University fees were expensive, I knew that much. I wasn't going to get far just lazing in my house everyday. Those things - they'd take me away, to somewhere I'd never come back from.

I began to go back to the glass city, to battle that debilitating terror. I was taller then, all those years later. Though the buildings still towered over my head, they no longer consumed me.

Then it happened, whilst I was standing at a bus stop, waiting to get carried to another end of the almost never ending city at an agonisingly slow pace. The snow had returned, deeper than ever, and the sky was a pastel pink.

Over the years I had managed to scavenge, collecting supplies from across the woods and fields. I learned how to create items of clothing other than the ruined black dress that welcomed me here. I pulled what I was wearing at that moment, a beanie and sweater vest, closer to my freezing skin.

My mind had wandered at some point, leaving the trisected body floating. Hours passed, it felt like, but eventually a familiar voice boomed above me.

“It's nice to see you again, kid.”

I gasped, shaken out of my trance, and looked up, seeing Payekha floating down to my level once again. A grin took over my right hand.

“Oh, hello!” I waved the same way I did last time I saw him, but my voice was higher, thanks to the tutorials, “I forgot the snow brings you here.”

“Yes,” he said, “you look like you've been waiting here for a while. Would you like another ride, like the one on your first day here?”

“Do I have to pay this time?” I grinned.

“Nah, I'll put it on your tab.”

My body clambered back up onto him, yet with less effort than the first time. He was just as soft as when I was newly born, and just as gentle. I almost fell once during my climb, when one of my hands failed to get a good grip on the scales. Before I could tumble to the ground, however, his fin was cradling my body, calmly setting me on him.

“Did you pick a name for yourself?” he had questioned later, as a form of small talk during the ride, right as we almost reached the stars once again.

“I'm… the name is- it's Minty.”

“Ah, that's good. It fits you well.”

“I'm looking for a job right now,” I changed the subject quickly, “but I can't find any businesses hiring near me. I don't want to get thrown out of my home...”

“How long has it been since you arrived? I don't have a calendar or a sense of the passage of time.”

“Er… 21 years, I think?”

“Hmm,” the fish thought for a moment, “I might know a place. Hold on tight.”

Before my hand could inhale we were speeding across the sky hundreds of times faster than in the trip I took. I barely blinked twice and we were at a completely different part of the city. The buildings were now short and stout and, directly in front of me, one stood out.

WaterWorks.

It was shorter and stouter than all the other buildings. The neon yellow sign was larger than the actual structure, yet it was crooked and the second W was barely hanging on.

“What's this?” I questioned as I slid off of Payekha’s back.

“You said you're 21, correct?”

“Yes?”

He didn't respond, so I brainstormed an answer in the silence for a short while, but right before I had my eureka moment a creature came stumbling out of the door, its jelly wings torn to pieces and frothing at the mouth. It collapsed to the ground and disappeared into a drain in the road.

“...Oh, it's that pub from the PeoLeo ad,” I craned my neck up to look into his beady eyes, “didn't someone get murdered here a couple of years ago?”

Payekha didn't seem fazed, “I'm sure you can handle it.”

I nodded silently and couldn't help but glance at the sewer that that inebriate had vanished to. Shiny light blue fragments of them had stuck to the drain’s metal bars.

We stood there, silent, before I finally realised. I perked up and rotated my eyes to look at Payekha.

“Wait, I don't have a-”

He was gone.

“-résumé… yet…”

Sighing, I looked back at the inn. Inside, I could hear all of the sounds of the city amplified by at least 1,000, especially the screaming. Not knowing why, I knelt down and scooped up a small amount of the sot’s blue jelly with my hand and shoved it into my hat before walking inside.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 4

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 4: 'Something In The Way'

They moved like shadows, lurking in the gaps between the enforcers’ spotlights. 

The roads were busy, armed guards and trucks patrolled the city with torches panned on every dark corner. The sound of their engines drowned out the anxious thoughts floating through Juliet’s mind. All she could focus on was the man in front of her, Juliet matched Joel’s every step to keep up with his impossible stride. The rain had picked up, puddles splashed against her already damp jeans. 

Joel stopped without warning. Juliet struggled to see through the pouring rain but watched with squinted eyes as Joel’s blurry figure used his shoulder to break open the door of the crumbling building they stood in front of. Three hits and they were in. 

Downstairs was the entrance to a series of abandoned underground tunnels, water dripped from every corner and various weeds had sprouted between rotting bricks. Joel was moving again, the sound of his boots echoed off the walls. Juliet jogged to catch up, rounding a corner and - 

“Shit” she gasped, her feet stumbled to an abrupt stop. Her hands covered her mouth, her eyes wide. Fungus painted the wall in front of her in shades of red, green and brown, surrounding the body suspended in the centre. ‘Body’ wasn’t the right word, it didn’t even look human. The dampness had done a number on it, the skin rotted and swollen. 

“This one’s done,” Joel observed in a monotone voice, he had stopped about a foot away from her. 

Juliet dropped her hands, embarrassment flooded her cheeks. 

“I know,” she replied, releasing a shaky breath. “I just haven’t seen one in a while.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, irritation evident on his face. The rain had soaked his hair, his fingers slicking it back. The dark blue of his shirt was almost black and it clung to parts of his chest. He stood there, staring down at her with ire poured over his features, dripping off him like rain. Juliet was struck by a sudden moment of clarity, a stark realisation that Joel was dangerous. Every inch of him radiated hostility. The set of his broad shoulders, the hard clench of his jaw, the look in his eyes, all screamed don’t fuck with me.  

Working alongside him for years, Juliet knew of him, knew that he was a smuggler, a drug dealer. She knew, at least subconsciously, what he was capable of. To experience this side of him up close, his ability to come across infected without so much as flinching, was an entirely different story. Joel had started to move again, walking the dark trail through the damp tunnel. Juliet followed close behind, her heart was beating so violently against her chest she could feel it echo in the tight space around them. 

Just this morning, they were working the same shift, shovelling ash and piling bodies. Now, she had placed her life in Joel’s hands, forced upon him the responsibility of getting her out alive. Juliet wasn’t used to delegating her safety, protecting herself had been her number one priority since she had set off alone, reclaiming her life. She clenched her fists, her fingernails dug into the smooth skin of her palms.

It was obvious to her that, on some level, she trusted Joel. They had never shared a real conversation in all the time they had known each other, but Juliet had watched him, mimicking his actions on shift, working in harmony. She knew his body language, what it meant when he raised his eyebrows, when his shoulders tightened, when he shifted his jaw. Juliet knew Joel was dangerous but she wasn’t frightened. He would get her out of the QZ and then she would survive, like she always did. 

Juliet was pulled from her thoughts when Joel stopped walking and signalled towards a rusted ladder which hung from the side of the tunnel wall. Joel started to climb and released a harsh grunt when he reached the top and began to push against the mud and concrete sealing them in. The seal broke and he placed two hands on it, holding the slab open, the muscles in his arms strained against his damp shirt. His stare cut towards Juliet and he lifted his chin, indicating that she should climb up. Juliet gripped her hands on the rusted metal, praying it didn’t snap under both their weight as she squeezed past Joel. She held her breath as the side of her body brushed against his. The rough breath he released afterwards told her that he had done the same.  

Once Juliet was standing in the open air, Joel climbed out behind her, wiping the mud that caked his hands onto his jeans. The rain was still pouring down, even heavier now. The droplets drifted across Joel’s face and trailed down his neck. 

“Where do we go now -” Juliet began but was quickly cut off when a hand tugged her by the arm of her jacket. Joel dragged her to the shelter of a rusted yellow van which sat at an odd angle, as though it might tip any second. Juliet reached up, brushing the rain from her eyes and the soaked hair that had escaped her braid. She blinked a few times and opened her eyes to find Joel standing in front of her, his finger glued to his lips. 

“We’re goin’ to move round the left edge of the buffer zone,” Joel informed her, his voice quiet. He stood so close to Juliet, she could feel his hot breath scalding her cheek. Juliet glanced at his other hand, still wrapped around the wet material of her jacket. Joel followed her gaze, his hand fell immediately. 

“You move when I move,” he continued. “No exceptions.”

“Got it,” Juliet confirmed.

Joel shook his head, bitterness radiating from his posture. Then he turned, leading the way. 

.................................

Lightning flashed as they silently crawled through large metal cylinders and raced behind abandoned cars. Juliet was panting, rain bled into her open mouth, choking her as she imitated Joel’s movements. They were nearly there, almost at the surrounding metal fence, only a few more steps - 

“Don’t move!” a harsh voice echoed through the thunder. 

Fuck. An enforcer.

“I said don’t fucking move,” he ordered. Joel stopped so suddenly Juliet almost ran into him.

He turned, locking eyes with Juliet as a silent conversation passed between them: Stay still and don’t say a word.  

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel called, raising his hands in a defensive stance. Juliet did the same, her fingers trembling. 

“Yeah?” the soldier shouted back. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be out here.” 

Juliet held still as the soldier came into view. He was young, around Juliet’s age or younger perhaps. He was dressed entirely in black, the colour a stark contrast to his pale skin. A shotgun hung from the strap around his neck, his hands gripped it tight, his knuckles white. Below the gun was a torch projecting a white light on Joel and Juliet’s frozen forms. 

Joel was eerily quiet, his hands still raised in front of him, palms facing outward. Juliet stole a glance towards him and shock shot through her in a sharp bolt. His face was a barricaded door, every shutter closed with no entrance visible. Joel’s expression was paralyzed, his eyes entirely vacated. Whatever he saw in the young soldier had immobilised him, physically and mentally. 

“On your knees,” the soldier commanded, his voice cracking on the last word. Juliet narrowed her eyes, Joel was entirely checked out. He was seized by some kind of ghost, his stare anchored on the enforcer.  

The rain pounded down around them, the speed of it echoing the pace of Juliet’s thoughts as they circled her mind. The soldier stared at her, the grip on his gun getting tighter. She had seconds to decide what to do. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Joel was supposed to get her out of here. There was no time. 

“Fuck this,” she muttered, then dropped her hands. In one smooth, practised motion, Juliet reached into her back pocket and pulled out her gun, popping off the safety. The sharp click seemed to wake Joel from whatever trance he was locked in.

 “Juliet -” he started to shout. 

Two shots rang out in the night air. 

Joel swore and rushed towards the soldier, his arms out to grab the gun off of him but it was a wasted effort. The soldier was already dropping to the ground, his body a dead weight. 

A small spot of red marked his forehead, no bigger than a coin. 

Joel crouched next to him, his thumb searching for a pulse. Another wasted effort; he was very much dead. 

Joel turned towards Juliet, shock painted his face when he saw her still standing, her eyes trained on the soldier. No remorse was found in her features, only a cold numbness. 

Joel stood and walked towards Juliet, reaching out his hand to carefully take the gun from her. Juliet let him pry the weapon from between her trembling fingers. 

“You hurt?” he demanded, breathing heavy, acutely aware that two bullets were shot, and only one ended up in the soldier. 

“I’m fine,” Juliet murmured.

Joel was unconvinced, his eyes scanned her body, searching for any patches of red on her damp clothing. The light from the soldier’s torch still illuminated her form. 

“Joel seriously, I’m fine. We need to -” 

“Your shoulder, he got your shoulder,” Joel announced, the words rushing out in a single breath. His hand hovered over the torn fabric, blood flowed from the wound, blending with the rain soaking her jacket. He pocketed her gun and used both hands to push down on the bullet hole. Juliet released a sharp gasp.  

“Shit,” he cursed, and looked behind him. “Someone might’ve heard the shots, we have to go now.” 

Juliet nodded, dizziness crashed over her like a wave. The pain in her shoulder was minimal, Juliet knew this was not a good sign, that shock was diluting her pain response. 

“I’m good. Let’s… let’s get out of here,” she muttered, her speech slurring slightly.

Joel’s stare was murderous. His jaw hardened before he swallowed and looked away. 

“You need to put pressure on it,” he said, dropping his hands before he pulled her right hand up to cover the wound. “Push down, hard,” he ordered, and Juliet obeyed immediately, suddenly too tired to argue.  

When Joel was satisfied with Juliet’s response, he pulled his backpack off, stuffing her gun in it, then swung it back over his shoulder. 

Juliet couldn’t find the energy to care that he had taken her gun, her vision blurred slightly at the edges. 

He gave Juliet one more brutal glare before stepping in front of her and heading for the fence around the corner. Juliet looked behind her, she could see spotlights in the distance. She pressed her hand harder over the wound and followed Joel, her steps stumbling a little. 

They reached the fence minutes later. A hole had been savagely carved out of the tight metal wire, which Joel now held open for Juliet to pass through. 

Juliet ducked her head and squeezed past. She knew that this moment should symbolise a sense of freedom, an escape from the frustratingly rigid rules of the QZ. But swinging her body through that fence, tired and injured, Juliet felt more trapped than ever. Her life no longer belonged to her. She would fight to stay alive to get to Ethan, to save him from her father's clutches. 

Juliet's survival was now a currency; her life a means to an end. 

[fieldofdaisiies]

Strokes of Fate | pt. 3

paring: Feyre x Rhysand | type: angst | words: 2,2k words | warnings: explicit description | masterlist

"They are sparkling. The stars." Feyre says with a half-smile. She is proud of that, having managed to make them sparkle by solely using paint - gold and a mix of yellow tones. She focuses on it, and is flabbergasted about what he says next.

"Just like your eyes." Rhysand is grinning at her from the side. She whips her head into his direction, lips parting the slightest bit, eyes aglow. She fights the urge to turn away immediately. To hide her blush, his attention making her nervous. No man has ever looked at her like that. No man has ever said something like that. 

But she doesn’t turn away. She lets him see it. Let's him what his compliment does to her. And yet she finds herself saying, "My eyes are not pretty."

The grin falters from the CEO‘s face, his eyebrows creasing. He lets his eyes trail over her face again - over the face of the most beautiful woman he has ever seen and he doesn't understand how she could say something like that. 

He takes a step forward, stepping into Feyre, so close it makes her tip her head back for her to still be able to look him in the eyes. His hand lands on her face, thumb on her jaw, fingers resting against her cheeks and he for the first time spots a dusting of freckles there. He waits a moment, seeing if he crossed a line and should remove his hand, but Feyre allows him the touch, even slightly leans into it. 

"You are right," he says, "they are not pretty. They are beautiful, breathtaking and remind me of the stars in the night sky - bright and mesmerising." His finger tips sweep over her skin in a gentle, featherlight motion, making her insides flutter. 

No one has ever said something like that to her. Never. And it does something to her heart. To her eyes.

He tilts his head a little, smiling softly, the glow of the city lights casting a gentle glow upon his face. "And you know what works perfectly with your sparkling blue eyes?"

The smile stays on her lips, eyes still locked with his violet ones. "No?" Her voice is more breathy than she expected and somehow her body leans closer to the man in front of her, seeking his warmth  and the hardness of his body. 

Rhys grins. "Want me to tell you?"

"Tell me."

"I‘d rather show you." She has no time to react, no time to realise what is happening. She can only gasp. Something wet strokes over her cheek. Not something wet - no, a brush. In one swift movement, Rhys moved Feyre’s in colour-covered brush right over her face. How he managed to reach for it, to grab it, is beyond her. 

"A touch of yellow," Rhys chuckles and isn’t prepared for the counter attack.

Dipping her hand into a bowl of colour that is placed on a stool right next to her, Feyre’s hand glides over the CEO‘s face, painting it a beautiful shade of dark blue. She steps back with a wicked, delighted laugh. 

"You shouldn’t have done that," he growls, lunging at her, but Feyre sidesteps him casually and once again chortles in triumph. Two can play this game, she thinks. 

"Oh, are you going to make me regret it?" Mischief laces every syllable of her question. 

Dipping her hand into another bowl, she splashes a few droplets of yellow at him - accidentally staining his suit (maybe not so accidentally after all - he is a rich bastard, he probably owns a hundred suits like that one). She can only laugh at Rhys, looking so very un-CEO-like in this moment.

"Yes!" he growls, coming for her. 

A gleeful grin parts her lips. "Do I need to be scared of the big, bad—"

A splash of green makes her shut up, tasting colour in her mouth, on her tongue. She grimaces. 

"Yes, you do, Feyre darling." He is on her a moment later, colour-drenched hands gliding from shoulders down to her elbows, painting her in more than one colour. "Because I know several wicked ways to punish feisty little artists." 

He turns them, Feyre’s hands land on his hard pectorals, leaving colourful handprints on the breasts of his suit jacket. He is so close they are breathing the same air and Feyre's heart starts to race. "Introduce me to them." She nearly nips at his lower lip, her breath tingling his skin. 

He moves her backwards, her rear touching the desk first. 

Then he closes the distance between them. Or is it Feyre who does so. It isn't important in this moment, their lips meet in a tender yet hungry kiss, melding just like their bodies do, colours smudging. 

The growl that escapes him when she grinds her softest parts against his hardest, vibrates against her lips and reverberates through her entire body. Her toes curl and her lips part, allowing him entrance. He kisses like a god which only proves her Greek god theory and she has to chuckle. 

"Show me all these wicked things, let me see them all."

His head drops into the crook of her neck, and he presses a searing kiss to the spot right beneath her ear. "Is that what you want?" 

"It is," she anwers and her voice is so breathy she barely recognises it herself. "I want this, I want you."

He drags his lips over the exposed column of her neck, savouring the scent of her and how her soft her skin is against his mouth. 

"Would be a nice distraction from work, don't you think?" she mumbles and brushes her lips against his cheek, her hoarse voice resembling a purr. But it is a growl that leaves Rhysand. 

"Darling," he drawls, "when we fuck this is not only a distraction. When we fuck, we seal a deal for the future. When you come around my cock, you are mine."

Something about his possessiveness should shock her. Disgust her. But it doesn't. Somehow it turns her body molten and she wants nothing more than to claw at his clothes and rip them off, exploring the Greek-god-like body underneath. 

It seems that Rhysand has similar plans. In one swift movement, and with strength that is beyond her, he hoists her onto his desk. 

"I am starving, darling. Let me put my lips to something. Let me wrap my teeth around the world." 

His tongue darts out to lick over his lower lip and Feyre casually leans back on the desk, hands braced on the smooth, cool surface. She feels how damp heat pools between her thighs at the simple act, but she tries to act indifferent. She doesn't yet want to let him see how much his actions affect her, but it makes it incredibly hard for her.

Broad hands grabbing her thighs, he spreads her legs a little wider, stepping fully into her. 

"Ever had sex in an office?"

The blush on her cheeks is adorable. He kisses her and then grins, waiting for her response. 

"No," Feyre chuckles, hands perched on his shoulders. She kisses the corner of his mouth. 

His sinful grin only widens, mischief glowing brightly his eyes. "Thank god, then it is a first for both of us."

Their lips meet once again, the kiss deep, their hands explorative. First, Rhysand's suit jacket lands on the ground, then Feyre's shoes and hoisting her up with one arm, he manages to also pull down her leggings. The young artists gasps at the act, a loud laugh leaving her. "Looks like someone likes to work out," she chuckles, her lips mere inches from his. "Find out yourself," he groans and lets her unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off before his undershirt follows. She marvels at his sculpted chest, the chiselled muscles, the fine dusting of dark hair, the broad shoulders. Her eyes follows the outline of his tattoos, his skin so very soft beneath her digits. She is drinking him in, as much as he is doing once her sweater is gone and the bra falls with a subtle flick of his fingers. 

"How do you want me, my darling?" He smirks and slowly crouches down. "Like this?"

Her eyes widen, glazing over with desire. Tugging her forward the slightest bit, he brushes his nose against the inside of her thigh. "On my knees…oh, I can see it in your eyes that you like the sight of that."

She loves the sight of it. Broad shoulders spreading her thighs even further apart. Saliva gathers in her mouth, and she almost starts to drool. What a sinful man he is, she thinks and bites down on her lower lip. "I love it," she finally breathes and it is all he needs to hear. 

"Thank god, I am still hungry, Feyre darling."

His mouth coasts over the inside of her thighs, higher and higher until his nose presses against her centre, only the fabric of her undergarments in between her wet skin and him. "You're so wet. Soaking through those pretty panties. And all that for me?"

Her answer is nothing more than a moaned yes that has him grinning in delight. The CEO hooks a finger around fabric, tugging it aside enough to reveal her centre, dripping with arousal. He growls at the sight, her scent intoxicating, bewitching his senses. 

The first stroke of his tongue feels feels like heaven, the second one, the flat of his tongue dragging through her wet folds, sets her own fire. She lifts her hips, back arching when her head falls back. "God!"

"No, darling," he purrs against her, sending vibrations throughout her whole body. "It's only me, so I only want to hear my name on your lips."

He is working her clit with his thumb, his tongue driving deep into her, licking and tasting, almost like a starved male. Saliva runs down his chin when he turns his head, kissing the insides of her thighs and catches a breath. "You taste divine, my darling." 

He lets his teeth sink into her soft skin and it has Feyre moaning out in pleasure. Her arms fling out, grabbing the edges of the desk. She is sure a the tip of a pen is digging into her right shoulder blade, but she couldn't care less. Not when the pleasure he brings her erases every other emotion she could feel. 

There is nothing but heat and passion and him. Rhysand. Her saviour. And then man who almost makes her come in an instant and that only with his tongue. And his fingers. 

He parts her folds, sucking on her clit before working a single finger into her, then pulling out and adding another. "Fuck," he groans, eyes flicking up to watch her come undone around his tongue. She looks perfect, fully blissed-out, chest heaving with ragged breaths, breasts bouncing, tendrils of hair curling around her beautiful face. "Look at me." 

She doesn't, probably not hearing him over the blood rushing in her ears, the pleasure building and building, pushing her towards the edge. "Darling," he drags his teeth over her sensitive skin. "Look at me." She slowly blinks open her heavy lids, moaning when she does so.

"That's a good girl, let me see the pretty look on your face when you come." He plunges into her again, fucking her with his tongue and his fingers, until shockwaves of pleasure tear through her and make her fall apart. She shatters atop his desk, coming with his name on his tongue, her thighs squeezing his head, air wheezing in and out of her lungs. 

Licking her gently, and pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to her core, the swollen bud at the apex of her thighs, he lets her come down from her high, guiding her through it like the gentleman he is. "Divinity," he purrs and pampers the insides of her thighs with little pecks. "You taste like divinity."

He is smug about having made her come on his tongue, his demeanour showing nothing, but a cocky, proud man. He helps her rise, hands on her hips, holding her close to him. She smacks his hard pectoral and grins up at him. And he kisses her, letting Feyre taste herself on his tongue. 

When they break the kiss, she rests her chest against his, her state delirious. She has never felt like that before, not a single time. 

"Sated now? Or is there still space for desert," she asks with a smirk. Letting her hand glide down his in a thin film of sweat covered chest, she moves her palm over the bulge in his pants, but he steps backwards. 

"Desert? Desert will be served at my place, darling. Where you can moan and scream my name as loud as you want and where we have a bed to fuck all night long, my pretty darling." He pulls her off the desk, handing her her sweater before he wraps her into his arms and kisses her once again, the sky outside his office mirroring the one on the painting. Almost as if it has been fate for them to meet. To end up right here. 

tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone @azriels-shadowsinger

[catoz0]

A hug from your nephew

Yo! I recommend that you read a hug from dad first if you want this to make any kind of sense, you can find it on my account, but this is a continuation of that. We get to meet Henry which is fun but Henry is very sad which is till kinda fun to write ngl so enjoy!

“May I come in” Henry asks politely

Evan blinks at him from the gap in his apartment door, not saying anything

Henry really, really really does not want to be here but he doesn't have any other choice, the events of yesterday however necessitate it. The events in question? Henry has no idea and that's the whole issue. Some part him is saying that he should have expected this letting Evan getting involved, that he should have expected this but he, he just a little boy in a far too big hospital gown clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear too, He just couldn't refuse him

Which brings them back to the matter at hand.

The mystery as to what had occurred when Evan had descended underground, these are the facts that Henry knows for a absolute certainty.

One of the lures on the western side of the tunnels had gone offline, any attempts that he or Evan had made to bring it back remotely hadn't worked.

While Henry was distracted and trying to figure out a solution, Evan grim determination etched onto his face had snagged a bag of tools and headed for the maintenance hatch that led into the dark tunnels below

Ignoring both his protests and Cassidy's surprise he had slipped inside, he still had his radio on him but Henry couldn't risk drawing attention to him so hadn't dared to even try and contact him to get him to come back. He still doesn't like thinking of when the realisation had him that all he could do was stand there and wait, a kind of cold dawning horror nauseating in its familiarity.

He was gone for twenty paralysing minutes

The moments of tension were only broken when Cassidy not thinking (or Henry hoped to god was it was that rather than an act of malice) had tried to establish contact over the radio

Twenty minutes after he had descended into the dark Evan had pulled himself out of the tunnels with a kind of desperation that Cassidy had snidely remarked looked like a kitten dragging itself out of a drain pipe.

There had been something haunted in his gaze, something that Henry hadn't wanted to look at so when he quietly said that the lure was repaired and asked to go home Henry had allowed him.

Coward a part of him had hissed.

But he was so close to the end and he couldn't risk anything ruining it so he looked up the address that Evan had put in his file and had set out.

Evan lives in a derelict apartment building on the outskirts of the city a building seemingly slumping under its own weight peeling pink paint covers it soured to a more vague approximation of the colour the front steps leading up to the door are cracked and worn. The elevator is denoted as out of order by an old faded sign so Henry takes the stares to the 5th floor. Looking around had made something in his chest ache. Memories of Williams house how big and well kept it was flash before his eyes as he takes in the state of the building.

He ignores all of those thoughts and focuses on the boy in front of him

The moment stretches into something uncomfortable and Henry begins to think Evan is going to shut the door in his face but his gaze turns downcast as he steps away from the door and lets Henry inside.

After Evans quiet insistence he toes off his shoes in the entryway and leaves them lined up next to Evans, satisfied Evan turns and heads into the apartment and Henry takes the opportunity to have a look around.

Its very small, and clearly built with only one occupant in mind. The layout seems to consist of one main room that is both Kitchen and living area he spies two doors near the north wall both shut that probably lead to the bathroom and bedroom.

On the left hand side is the kitchen area well kept and very clean. The living area side of the room is taken up mainly by an old battered couch, there's blankets strewn around it and Henry spots places where its been sewn back together again, in front of the couch is an end table. There is an open notebook sitting on top of it with a stack of paper and what looks like files neatly lined up. Next to it is one of the ugliest old laptops Henry has ever seen in his fucking life. It looks to have been frankensteined together from 3 others, a mess of clashing colours where the different casings fit together and certain parts stick out and overlap where Evan clearly hadn't been able to get them to fit together. There is also a space where it looks like the disk drive had fallen out, Henry thinks he could possibly fit his entire hand inside. Despite it general… state its humming away, both the front and back of it are lined with sticky notes carefully placed as to not obscure the screen. Henry has suspected that Evan must have been doing his own kind of research and getting a solid confirmation of it is good. Below the end table is absolutely packed with books, Fitted together to use up as much space as effectively as he can

There is a Tv stand with an old chunky tv, underneath it is a selection of games carefully shelved the game console itself is next to it with its controller rolled up and set on top of it.

Just behind the couch is a surprisingly large window with a simple transparent white curtain blowing gently in the breeze. The window is completely mobbed with plants some are in standard pots but quite are a lot are growing out of old bottles, milk cartons even some out of machine casings . Clearly anything Evan could get his hands on, upon closer look he spots greenery in every corner of the apartment, in the corners, by the sink everywhere something green. Instead of making the small space seem even more cramped it adds to it instead, the whole apartment smells fresh tinted by the night air coming in through the only window.

Its small and cramped but clearly well loved and well lived in, the pit in his stomach that had opened upon initially catching sight of the apartment building alleviates somewhat.

Which brings him back to the apartments occupant.

Evan seats himself on the couch, arms crossed and absolutely refusing to meet Henrys eyes.

Its time

“What happened down in the tunnels Evan?” Getting straight to the point

Evan finally meets his gaze

Tired does not seem a large enough word for how the kid looks, fatigue seems to be literal weight on his shoulders. For the first time Henry lets himself notice the things he had tried to ignore, the dark bag under his eyes the collar bone jutting out under his thin shirt.

For a beat Evan doesn't say anything but just as Henry's about to open his mouth he turns his gaze towards him single green eye empty and Lost, for a beat longer he says nothing but then he discovers something in the lines of Henrys face and he looks a little less present “Why are you asking me that Mr Emily?” the line is said in barely more than a whisper but it seems to rebound around the small apartment.

A memory then unbidden, William standing half enshrouded in the gloom of his basement with that soft wistful smile that he reserved for a very few.

“Why are you asking me the answer to a question that you don't have, Darling?”

“Oh”, Henry says simply. And something in the smooth façade of Evans face finally cracks you knew he says for a brief second anger flashes onto his face, “you knew and you didn't tell me, his lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl you didn't even try!” Evan leans forward hunching his shoulders fingers twisting into the fabric of the couch.

But then the energy goes out of him and he visibly slumps, “you knew” he murmurs again but this time its empty with a sort of hollow acceptance that strikes Henry to his core and suddenly then

A little boy with half his face covered in bandages gazing at him from the gap in a stairs banister

A old puppet left to rot away reaching out a shaking hand towards him

Henry looks away first.

Evan swipes at his eyes and turns his gaze to the floor.

The silence is oppressive

This conversation is over

But then something that Henry does not expect and does not deserve

Evan releases a shaky breath gets up from the couch and pads over, Henry doesn't move simply watches Evan approach with a small amount of trepidation. Henry doesn't think that Evan is going to hit him but he cant exactly say that it would be undeserved, but Evan doesn't strike him.

Instead he moves forward and wraps his arms around him, for the first time Henry realises that he's taller than him now, not by a lot and its not particularly impressive but he cant stop the small smile it brings to his face anyway. Henry has no preconceived notions about this, he does not deserve this hug and he doesn't deserve Evans forgiveness but Evan clearly needs it so Henry hugs him back anyway.

An Uncle and his nephew alone in a crumbling apartment building, ghost reach forward to tug at them, to lean forward and whisper truths that they cannot hear but for just this moment both of them can pretend that everything is going to be okay.

[espritmuse]

okayyyy but dom bully mikasa who starts being mean to you when you get too close to eren and tells you you’re acting like such a slut around him until one day she eventually fucks you stupid calling you the same names and making you tell her your hers

—𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄—

⌕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mikasa Ackerman x Reader

⌕ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: semi public sex (school bathrooms), fingering, cunnilingus, meankasa and possessive Mikasa, a bit of degradation. [1.3 words.]

⌕ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: The beginning is just for a bit of context, you can just go right to the smut if ur too horny, it’s the best moment I guess…. (Yeah it is)

— 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 —

Mikasa knew very well where this little game was going. Since the very beginning. But can you blame her for playing with you like she did? it was so fun, seeing you getting all flustered, seeing your eyes avoiding hers when you both met in the school corridors.

A boy. A stupid and meaningless boy. It was the problem, or rather, her excuse for treating you like she always does. Accidents, like she calls them in front of the headteacher when she is, once again, sent to his office.

But the line was definitely crossed last Saturday night, when you went to her boyfriend’s birthday party. Eren Yeager. It took you some time, perhaps too much time to finally realise and understand that jealousy was the cause of all of your mistreatment.

Daggers piercing your skin. That’s what her dark black eyes would’ve thrown if they could when her boyfriend shared his cup of alcohol with you. You weren’t that close to him, you weren’t even really his friend, but that was already too much, apparently. Since then, insults and humiliations got worse, so much worse.

“Slut.” This is what you could read on the body of your car, written in red paint. Eyes wide and mouth agape, you tried to use the sleeve of your shirt to wash the paint out, without any success. You looked stupid, like this, on the parking lot; and she didn’t miss a second of it.

3PM in the school restroom. That was the time and the place you were supposed to meet her at. You accepted, for some unknown reason, after reading it on the piece of paper she had left on your car. Curiosity, as it may be.

And there she was. Awaiting for you, her back pressed on the white wall, an unamused expression on her face. Unamused, until she heard your footsteps walking down to her.

Black nail polish. It was what her nails were painted with when she slowly slid them down your pants, looking straight at you, eyes lost in your own gaze, searching for the slightest glimpse of disapprobation.

Nowhere to be found.

“Don’t make any loud noises. You’ll regret it” She advised spitefully, in an inaudible whisper, her lips almost caressing yours. “Understood?” She then questioned rhetorically.

“Y…yes” you answered uncertainly, still a bit confused of what was just occurring in front of you.

“Good girl. Open your legs.” She announced in a rough voice. An order, that’s what it really sounded like.

You did so, spreading both of your lower members without any difficulties on the bathroom cabinet, sitting in-between the two sinks. Your movement seemed to please her because her lips curved into a small angelic and exited smile. The black haired woman placed both of her hand on each individual knees before pulling you closer to her.

She put one knee on the floor, then the second, before pulling down your underwear swiftly with her fingers. It was delicate, surprisingly. Your eyes weren’t missing a single piece of this moment, amazed and still a bit shocked.

“You’re a dirty girl you know. Couldn’t have guessed that.” She remarked, holding your pink lace lingerie in her pale hand, her curious and mocking gaze all over your underwear. “I wonder if the top is the same.” She started after dropping your pantie on the bare floor, “or let me guess, you’re not even wearing anything under your shirt? Hm?”

“I…”

“Shh…bad girls don’t talk.” She said, standing back up quickly and placing her hand on your face, her thumb caressing your cheek. You couldn’t even tell what was going on in her mind, her movements towards you didn’t give any further details. Was she playing with you? Maybe one of her friends was hiding and recording all of that? You didn’t know. You should’ve stopped.

But you didn’t want to.

Mikasa took both sides of your skirt and lifted it a bit, exposing your pubis to her perverted gaze and, suddenly, her mouth was painted with a very big and bright smile, as if this scenery was all the needed, everything she always wanted.

You were now all naked, with the exception of your skirt, that was still covering your ass and not allowing the cold surface to come in contact with your bare skin.

And yeah, she was right, you weren’t wearing anything under your shirt.

Her tongue wandering playfully around your warm core, you mentally begged her to pleasure you. You needed it, so, so much. It's funny when you think about it; you just hated her more than anyone on this earth some minutes ago and now, she’s between your legs at your most vulnerable state.

“Mikasa…. Can you…” you tried to say.

“Quiet.” She replied spitefully, the sound of her voice slightly muffled since her head was buried in your lower body. The raven-haired woman placed both of your legs on her shoulders, your knees bending at the curve of her bones.

It’s her tongue that you felt first, sliding slowly between your fold, trying to find its way to your clit. And it did find, pretty quickly, like it always belonged here. She moved it very slowly, at first, making sure to not hurt you or making you uncomfortable.

You grabbed her black hair, trying to keep your noises for yourself, as she ordered you to some minutes prior. You could feel every little thing, her steady and serene breath on your vulva, her nose brushing slightly against your mons pubis and her right hand stroking gently your right knee.

“See? When you close this fucking mouth…” she said between loud respiration. It seemed like she was talking to herself, actually. But you still listened carefully. “You…you’re fucking delicious…I knew it.” She continued, her words feeling even better on your clit because of the air she was releasing when she was pronouncing them.

Two fingers. Or maybe three, you couldn’t even tell. She started moving them very slowly inside of you, trying to follow the rhythm of her tongue at the same time. It was the same identical pace, you could tell. It felt fantastic.

You couldn’t even stop the noises from escaping your lips, it was impossible. Never in your life you have felt that great, that pleasured.

Her lips and tongue sucking on your clit, you almost didn’t notice when she replaced her mouth with her thumb. She got up from the dirty floor of the bathroom and got closer to you and, as a whisper, planted some soft kisses on your temples and your nose. You glimpsed a change in her behaviour, almost unnoticeable, but it was here.

“Mika….Mikasa…it…” you tried to say once again, but this time she didn’t interrupt you or, not directly; you simply couldn’t talk anymore.

“It feels good doesn’t it baby?” She whispered in your ear sensually. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” She continued.

“V…very very good…” you mumbled.

“Very good? Is that so?” She questioned gently, her knuckles moving back and forth inside your folds. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you sweetheart?” She asked as well after noticing your hands, who tried to grab her shirt uncontrollably.

You nodded quickly. But she stopped.

“You’re mine. Do you understand?” Mikasa said, looking straight in your eyes, a devilish smile on her angelic face.

“Mhh…. Please….why did you…” You protested, not even paying attention to the things she was saying.

“I won’t continue if you don’t say it back.”

“I… I’m y…yours…”

You finally felt her hands moving back in your body, allowing you to properly cum, your head buried in the crook of her neck as she was trying to keep her balance with her free hand, positioned on the mirror behind you.

“Turns out I was right all this time huh?” She started, once out of the bathroom, both of you looking all innocent, as if nothing had happened. “You’re such a slut.” She quietly proceeded in your ear.

You were right too, it was jealousy all of this time.

Thank you a lot for reading <333 reblogs and comments are pretty much welcomed !! Have a nice day!

<- Masterlist

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

Madripoor

Requested by: MEEE cause this plot popped into my head the second I watched this episode

Summary: Bucky was just following Sharon’s advice to enjoy the party when he meets *yn*, what he isn’t counting on is that he most definitely won’t be staying out of trouble.

Warnings: THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER EP 3 SPOILERS YOU’VE BEEN WARNEDDDDD, fluff, swearing, violence

PART TWO (NAGEL)

--------------------------

“Lay low, blend in. Enjoy the party.” Sharon spoke as she made her way up the stairs. “Oh and try to stay out of trouble, I’ll see what I can find.” 

“Trouble?” Zemo smirked. 

--------

Sharon’s words echoed in Bucky’s ears as he made his way through the party. Sweaty bodies were pressed up against him as he ducked and weaved through the crowd. It felt like the pulsating music was drumming against his skull as he made his way up to the bar.

“I’m way too old for this.” He huffed out once he reached Sam, gesturing to the bartender for two shots.

“Old or lame? There’s a big difference.” Sam remarked as the pair simultaneously clinked their glasses together and skulled the liquid. Bucky smirked as he watched Sam cough and splutter.

“Now who’s the lame one?” Bucky chuckled, the liquid burning his throat.

“Maybe we both are. Look at Zemo, the dude may be weird but he’s got game.” Sam answered once he’d recovered. 

Bucky followed his gaze to see Zemo dancing in between two women, both giggling and chatting animately. He watched as Zemo suddenly began pumping his arm enthusiastically to the beat as the girls watched him wide eyed, before exchanging glancing and slipping back into the crowd without another word.

“On second thought dude’s just weird.”

Bucky let out a chuckle as he leant forward and grabbed the beer that the bartender had left out for him. He took a swig as he turned back around to face the party. He automatically swept over area, his eyes sliding over the hundreds of faces as he looked out for any threat.

He paused as his eyes fell on a flash of bright red material. 

Upon closer inspection he noted that the bright red material was in fact a silk dress that was covering the slender figure of a young woman. It was a halter dress that had a deep slit down the front and was almost completely backless, the silk material falling down almost to her ankles with another deep slit also running up her leg that exposed her thigh. 

He felt his grip on his beer tighten as his eyes fell on her face, revealing a pair of eyes framed by thick lashes and lips painted with a deep plum lipstick. She was snaking her way through the crowd, gracefully dodging drunken people as they stumbled their way around on the dance floor. 

As if she sensed his gaze her eyes flickered up and locked with his. The pair eyed each other for a few moments. She shot him a small smile before breaking their gaze.

“Now who would you be checking out hm?” Sam’s voice broke Bucky out of his almost trance like state. 

“No one.” Bucky answered gruffly, glancing over at Sam to see him smirking at him. 

“Sure Buck.”

Bucky ignored him and turned his head back to where the woman had been only moments ago. She was gone. He scanned the crowd and let out a small huff when he couldn’t see any sight of her. 

“Now, I need you to educate me on this art so I can impress some of the ladies.” Sam spoke up again, dragging Bucky’s attention from the crowd.

“What’s that one?” He asked pointing at a nearby painting.

“That’s the Wedding at Cana, painted by Paolo Veronese in 1563.”

“1562 actually.”

Bucky swivelled around, a breath catching in his throat when his eyes fell on the bright red dress. He had no idea how she’d managed to somehow appear beside him without him noticing. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair as he composed himself before answering, ensuring his face stayed void of emotion.

“I’m pretty sure it’s 1563 actually.”

His answer made her brow quirk up in amusement as she took a sip of her drink, her wrist twinkling due to a very expensive looking diamond bracelet dangling from it.

“Actually I think you’ll find it’s 1562. The copy in the Louvre might say 1563 but I suggest you take a peak at the original.” Her words made his eyes narrow as he studied her features. 

“Well maybe I will.” 

“Before you do that please feel free to continue educating your friend, I’m happy to sit here and correct you when you make another mistake.” She spoke, shooting him an overly warm smile which caused Bucky to grit his teeth. 

Sam let out a low whistle as the smirk on her lips widened. “Damn Buck I think you might’ve met someone more cultured than you.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Bucky muttered, taking a swig of his beer as he eyed her. 

“So how does someone like yourself become so knowledgable about stolen art?” Sam asked her, his eyes darting between the pair in amusement.

The girl shrugged as she took another sip of her drink before motioning to the bartender. “I know a lot about a lot of things.” 

“Really?” Bucky mused, this time it being his turn to raise a brow. “And does ‘miss knower of all things’ have a name?” 

“Miss knower of all things does.” She answered as she grabbed the shot glass and pressed it to her lips. Bucky eyed her profile intently, noting the way her plump lips wrapped around the lip of the glass and her eyes screwed shut as she slung her head back to let the liquid slide down her throat. 

“I love this song.” She remarked, finishing the remainder of her other drink before she rose from her seat. Bucky’s eyes followed her figure as she begun to make her way back to the dance floor. She paused and glanced over her shoulder, a smirk still present on her lips.

“You coming to dance with me or what Buck?” She queried, Sam’s nickname for him rolling off her tongue, amusement evident in her tone.

Bucky eyed her for a few moments before glancing over at Sam. “Sharon did say to enjoy the party.” Sam grinned.

“Try not to be too lame or old huh?” He continued, patting his shoulder encouragingly as Bucky rose from his chair. 

“Thanks.” Bucky muttered as he cautiously approached the woman in red. Her smirk widened as he made his way towards her. “C’mon.” He heard her say as she leant forward and took his gloved hand in hers and tugged him into the crowd.

If she was saying anything to him, he couldn’t hear as he felt himself become engulfed in the crowd as she pulled him deeper into the dance floor. After a few moments she came to a stop and swivelled around to face him. He felt himself grow slightly red as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, swaying her hips to the beat.

“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Bucky spoke, practically shouting to make himself heard over the thumping base.

“Why do you want to know? You never danced with a stranger before?” She answered back.

“No I just- I usually know people’s names before I dance with them.” He replied which caused her to let out a small laugh. “Back in my day we used to go out to dinner first.” He added silently in his head. 

His heart thumped against his chest as she pulled him closer to her and leant up so her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “My name’s *yn*.” 

“*yn*.” Bucky echoed, her smile widening at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. “And what brings you to a place like Madripoor?” 

“You ask a lot of questions.” She observed matter-of-factly.  

Before Bucky could open his mouth to respond, *yn* twisted around, keeping one arm slung around his neck as she pressed her back up against his body. Bucky bit his lip to prevent a hiss from escaping his mouth as *yn* began to rotate her hips to the rhythm of the music, the fabric of her dress pressing against the material of his black suit pants.

This certainly beat online dating.

“Just relax, enjoy the party.” *yn* laughed breathlessly, echoing Sam’s words from before as she pressed even harder against him. Bucky let his eyes flutter shut as he felt his hands automatically move to grip her hips as he started to move his own body in time with the thumping bass. 

His grip on her hips tightened as she lolled her head back against his chest, her hot breath fanning onto his neck as the pair moved in sync. 

If only Steve could see him now.

As he grew more comfortable he let his gloved hands begin to wander, trailing over her lower stomach before gliding down her thighs. “What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?” He heard *yn* murmur into his ear. 

He felt *yn*’s body stiffen as his hands crept lower to just below her panty line. Before he could answer, her hand suddenly shot out to grip his wrist and cease his movements but not before his hand suddenly brushed over an unexpected bump on her leg. 

A shape that felt suspiciously like a-

A hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder causing him to jerk his hands away in surprise just as *yn* pulled away from his grasp. “I’m sorry to break up the party but Sharon’s found our guy-” Sam cut himself off as Bucky swivelled around to stare at him, his eyes wide in surprise.

“You good man?” Sam asked, concern written on his features when he noticed Bucky’s look of surprise.

“I-” Bucky cut himself off before looking back to *yn*.

His brow furrowed as his eyes instead fell on a drunk man currently sculling a beer out of a shoe. He frantically looked around, muttering a curse under his breath when he realised *yn* was no where to be seen. 

It was like she had vanished without a trace.

“Oh painting girl pulled a runner? Don’t worry about it man happens to the best of us.” Sam comforted, patting his shoulder once more. 

Bucky felt a ripple of suspicion wash over him but he decided against telling Sam about it as he finally pulled his gaze away from the crowd to look at Sam. “Let’s get Zemo. We should talk somewhere private.”

--------------------

“Alright what have you found?” Sam asked. Zemo, Bucky, Sharon and Sam were all piled into a private coat room located directly above the party. The bass was still so loud that Bucky could feel the vibrations through the tiled floor. The door was locked with a few security guards located outside and on the stairs leading up to the room. 

Bucky sighed, his mind swimming with thoughts of *yn* as he ripped his gloves off. He couldn’t shake a feeling of suspicious that was gnawing at him that there was something off about *yn*.

“I’ve spoken to a few buyers and I’ve got a location on Doctor Nagel.” Sharon spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “He was pretty hard to track down but he’s definitely still here in Madripoor. He’s at the shipping yard.”

Bucky stiffened when he swore he head a thump outside the door, a thump that didn’t correlate with the sound from the party. He strained his ears and sure enough, another thump followed suit a few minutes lately. 

“Bucky?”

“You sure no one can get up here?” Bucky queried, looking over to Sharon. 

“I’m sure. This is a restricted area, I’ve got all the entrances guarded.” She answered, watching him as he made his way to the door.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam asked.

Bucky held his hand up to signal everyone to be quiet as he pressed his ear against the wood. He held his breath as he listened intently. There were a few moments of quiet until he head another thump and a small moan. 

Without warning Bucky ripped open the door and stepped out into the hallway. He nearly tripped over when his foot hit a solid form. He glanced down to see one of the guards lying at his feet, letting out low moans of pain. His eyes travelled down the hall to see all of the guards were either unconscious or were too dazed to get to their feet. 

He froze when his eyes fell on an all too familiar red dress. 

Bucky locked eyes with *yn*, her lips parted in surprise and chest heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath. The pair stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, the silence almost deafening as they eyed each other. 

“Bucky!” Sam called out, shattering the silence.

Bucky was only distracted for a split second but *yn* took it, turning around and sprinting down the stairs. “Hey!” Bucky shouted, taking off after her ignoring Sam’s shouts from behind him. 

Bucky leapt down the winding stairs, catching brief glimpses of the red material before it disappeared around the next corner. Finally his feet planted on the lower floor. His eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto *yn*’s figure as she pushed through the crowd.

His jaw locked and he could feel himself enter into winter soldier mode as he stormed forward and plunged into the throng of people. He ignored protests and exclamations of surprise as he shoved people out of the way, parting them like the red sea as he kept his eyes focused on her like a laser beam. 

*yn* glanced over her shoulder and the pair briefly locked eyes before she turned around once more and broke out of the crowd, sprinting towards a door with a neon exit sign hanging above it. 

Bucky was hot on her heels, shoving the door open revealing another set of stairs. He hurried up the stairs and got to a landing revealing two doors. He noted that the left door was slightly ajar and he pushed through it revealing a large hall.

He sprinted into the centre of it, coming to a stop when he saw no sight of *yn*. He did a 360 of the room, craning his neck to look around. The room was empty except for a few large wooden boxes covered in tarps. Clearly this was where Sharon kept the less impressive stolen art.

“Come on.” Bucky muttered under his breath as he looked around. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop but his senses were telling him that he wasn’t alone in this room.

*yn* was here, if that was even her name.

He let out a grunt of surprise as a sold object hit his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He could feel limbs wrapping around his neck and his torso as slender arms pulled his neck into a headlock. He let another grunt as he brought his hands up to grip onto the arm that was around his throat.

He furrowed his brow in surprise when he pulled at the arms and found them unbudging. He tried once more, mustering all the strength he had but *yn*’s grip remained unmoving. He gritted his teeth and took a couple steps before shoving his back into one of the wooden crates.

He heard *yn* let out a small moan of pain as her body smacked against the solid mass with full force. Sure enough, her grip loosened slightly which allowed Bucky to pull her arm from his neck and throw her body over his head and off him. 

She twisted her body in the air so that she landed in a crouched position but still on her feet. Bucky watched her as she rose to her full height, her body slightly gleaming with sweat under the sterile light. She took a few steps back from him and leant down to spread apart her dress, revealing a black thigh garter.

Just as Bucky had suspected on the dance floor, sheathed inside the thigh garter was a small blade. He watched as she pulled it from her thigh, gripping it tightly in her hand.

“You picked the wrong dress tonight doll.” Bucky tutted as he took a few steps towards her.

“You don’t like it? I’m hurt.” *yn* pouted, placing a hand over her heart mockingly. 

“Trust me doll, I like it.” Bucky answered, letting his eyes briefly dart from the dagger in her hand to her dress. “But it’s not exactly the best dress for blending in and slipping away unnoticed.” 

“Who ever said I wanted to slip away unnoticed?” *yn* answered, a mischievous glint in her eye as the pair began to slowly circle each other. Her words made his forehead crease in confusion as he studied her intently. 

“So you know who I am?” 

“I do.” *yn* nodded as she twisted the knife in between her fingers. “The зимний солдат.” 

Her answer made Bucky’s lips part slightly in surprise. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?” She mused.

“Who are you?” Bucky snapped causing her to smirk to widen.

“What were those magic words again, Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать-”

Bucky suddenly lurched forward, taking *yn* by surprise. She reacted instinctively, bringing the blade up from her side towards his stomach. Bucky gripped her wrist using his right arm, stopping the knife only inches from his flesh. He pulled her closer to him and raised his metal arm to strike her. With lightning fast reflexes her other arm shot up and her hand enclosed around his fist.

He glanced up at her in surprise when she pushed against his metal arm, stopping his fist from colliding with her jaw. He grunted as he mustered up more strength in an attempt to break out of her grasp to no avail. They were evenly matched in strength. 

He had no idea who she was but now he was certain of one thing. They both had super soldier serum running through their veins. 

*yn* took advantage of Bucky’s surprise and lifted a leg up, kicking him squarely in the stomach, her stiletto heel digging into his skin. Bucky spluttered as he felt the wind get knocked out of him, loosening his grip on her arms. *yn* reacted quickly, knocking his feet from underneath him and jumping on top of him. 

Bucky groaned as his back hit the concrete floor and *yn* straddled him, pinning both of his arms above his head with one hand and pressing her dagger to his throat with the other.

“I think I liked you better when I was showing you up in front of your friend.” She remarked as she pressed the blade firmly against his skin.

“And I think I liked you better when you were dancing on me and not trying to kill me.” Bucky spat back as he squirmed underneath her causing *yn* to cock her head to the side, an amused expression on her features.

“Now whoever said I wanted to kill you?” 

“Hmm I don’t know, could be the knife you’ve got against my throat.” He growled, wincing as the metal dug even further into his flesh. *yn* let out a breathy laugh as she leant down towards his face.

“Trust me pretty boy, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” 

The sound of footsteps approaching and Sam calling Bucky’s name made both their heads jerk towards the door before Bucky could answer her. This time it was Bucky’s turn to take advantage of *yn* being caught off guard. He managed to wriggle his metal arm out of her iron like grip and instantly lurched up to grab her around the throat. 

*yn* spluttered in surprise, instinctively dropping her dagger to use both her hands to struggle against his vice like grip. Bucky used all of his core strength to push her off him and roll himself on top of her. Now he was so close up to her and under bright light, he could see that her skin was littered with small scars and bullet holes. 

*yn*’s face was slowly growing red as she desperately gasped for air, her body squirming underneath him as she clawed at his metal arm. “I’m not going to ask you again, who the hell are you?” Bucky spat, glaring down at her as he desperately searched her eyes for some sort of answer.

“I don’t-” She spluttered, “I didn’t come here to hurt you, please-” She continued, her voice barely a whisper as her airway grew more restricted. For the first time since Bucky had locked eyes with her, he could see some form of fear and desperation reflecting back at him. The pair eyed each other for a few moments before Bucky slowly eased his grip around her throat, just enough for her to regain some air. *yn* gasped at the feeling of oxygen entering her lungs once more.

“Woah, what the fuck-” 

Bucky looked up to see Sam, Sharon and Zemo staring at the pair with wide eyes, all three of them with their weapons raised. 

“What part of stay out of trouble did you not understand?” Sharon queried, an exacerbated expression on her features.

“Trouble found me.” Bucky answered gruffly as he looked back down at *yn*. The fear that had been present on her features only moments ago had vanished, the cocky and flirtatious mask had been slipped back on. 

“Not that I really mind this position, but given that the cavalry’s arrived, do you mind getting off me?” *yn* asked Bucky coolly. 

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unamused at her remark as he studied her. “You’re not going to try and kill me again?” 

“I already told you, I don’t want to kill you.” *yn* huffed, rolling her eyes. 

Bucky studied her for a few moments before finally relenting and releasing her throat from his grip. He pushed himself off her and rose to his feet but not before grabbing her dagger and sliding it into his suit pants. 

*yn* got herself up from the ground, her breathing still ragged as she ran a hand through her hair and tucked her strays behind her ears. 

“You wanna tell us who this is Bucky?” Sharon asked, eyeing *yn* up and down.

“Supposedly her name is *yn*-”

“-not supposedly, it is *yn*.”

“-she seems to like not answering questions about herself.” Bucky ignored *yn*’s input. “Oh and she’s had the super soldier serum.” 

“Might want to keep an eye on your friend over there, I know he’s in the habit of murdering anyone who’s come within walking distance of the stuff.” *yn* remarked dryly shooting Zemo a dirty look. 

“Hello to you too darling.” Zemo grinned causing Sharon to roll her eyes.

“Who are you? Who the hell do you work for?” Sharon quizzed her.

“I don’t work for anyone.” *yn* snapped back.

“The flag smashers?” Sam asked causing *yn*’s face to contort into a look of disgust. “Fuck no, I don’t work with those amateurs.” 

“Just tell us what you want or I’m going to have to detain you.” Sharon spoke. There was a brief pause as *yn* studied Sharon before looking over to Bucky.

“You’re not the only one looking for answers, зимний солдат.” She answered quietly, her features softening for a moment as she looked at him.

“Well then maybe we can help each other get answers then.” Bucky murmured back.

The pair studied each other for a few moments before a loud honk suddenly sounded outside. Gun shots rang out from underneath them followed by loud screams and shouts. Bucky, Zemo, Sam and Sharon looked around in confusion as the sound of hundreds of footsteps began to grew louder and louder. 

“Sorry kids, that’s my ride. Gotta fly.”

Within a few seconds the door burst open and hundreds of party goers flooded the room, shouting for help as they fled from the gun fire. Bucky glanced over to where *yn* had been only a few seconds ago to see that she was sprinting towards the only window in the room. 

Bucky pushed through the panicked crowd, watching helplessly as *yn* reached the raised window. She clambered up onto the ledge and shoved the window open. She glanced over her shoulder and the pair locked eyes when Bucky was practically within arms length of her. 

“I’ll be sure to send Doctor Nagel your regards, Buck.” She taunted. “We should do this again sometime, maybe without trying to hurt each other.” She smirked, sending him a wink before leaping off the ledge. Bucky scrambled up onto the ledge and poked his head out to see *yn* sliding down a pipe fixed to the outside of the building. 

He watched helplessly as her stilettos hit the ground. She approached a waiting motorcycle, the driver holding out a helmet for her expectantly. She took the helmet and slung her leg over the seat, sliding her helmet on as the driver throttled the engine. She looked up to the window and gave Bucky a wave before wrapping her arms around the driver’s waist.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed as he watched the motorbike peel off into the bustling street, going completely unnoticed by the rest of the public amid the chaos. 

“She’s gone?” Sam queried as the other three appeared beside Bucky at the window.

“Hm.” Bucky grunted, clenching his jaw in annoyance as he watched the motorbike disappear from sight. 

“She was kind of terrifying.” Sam remarked matter of factly. 

“I thought for sure she was going to gut you, James.” Zemo observed.

Bucky stayed silently, clearly brooding as he stared out into the street as Sam studied him in amusement. 

“I think Bucky’s in love.” 

PART TWO (NAGEL)

---------------

зимний солдат = winter soldier

Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать = Longing, Rusted, Seventeen.

-------------

I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH!?!? As always feedback is appreciated!!!! Please give it back here xx

[craptsukii]

genshin boys and terms of endearment they'd use

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons and ngl i found them quite difficult to format :( i’m liking this style for now, but things might change later on teehee anyway, lemon cake update next week, i promise!

♡༚࿐ 🇩‌🇮‌🇱‌🇺‌🇨‌

let’s get something out of the way first

diluc is not a jerk

sure, he might have tsundere tendencies but he’s definitely not as cold as people make him seem

in my opinion anyway

i like to call him a classy, but also a very private, softie

i can totally see him as someone who’d use terms such as darling, love, doll

a major factor here is the time and place

in public, he tries to seem more indifferent and will most likely refer to you by your name

however, in a more private setting, he has no inhibitions and actually prefers using nicknames!

I feel like diluc would want to really reassure their partner he truly cares about them, but in a direct yet indirect way

and calling you sweet things seems to get the message across.

listen to this while reading!

If only time could pass faster. Who knew waiting could be such an agonising activity? Such a simple but repetitive thing. Waiting for your cake to finish baking, waiting for the morning to arrive and even waiting for your lover to come home turned out to be much more of a challenge. It wasn’t unusual for Diluc to spend hours on end at Angel’s Share, but it was rather odd of him to break his promises.

A sad smile took over your features, remembering last night. Remembering his words, so sweet and benign, promising to dedicate you all of him and his time. His crimson red eyes, full of love and admiration for the person he held so dearly to his heart. His voice, so demure and nothing but a soft whisper, as if raising it would ruin the moment. The moment he shared with you in a little dark corner of Mondstadt, away from curious eyes and sharp ears. The moment he so desperately wanted to hold onto. Yet, the darknight hero was nowhere to be found.

By the time he finally arrived, your eyes were already closing. It was a gloved hand that pulled you out of your somnolent state. Yet again those same red eyes were looking into yours with the same devotion, if not stronger than the night he made his promise.

“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded in a shushed tone, “Kaeya came in and started causing a commotion and I couldn’t just leave.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek delicately.

Too tired to say anything, you placed your hand over his, silently asking him to join you in bed. You had all the time in the world to discuss tomorrow... Hopefully. After discarding his black coat on one of the chairs and taking off his shoes, Diluc plopped in your shared bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable. Soon his arms were around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. His smell reminded you of grapes and it completely enveloped you as you nestled into him.

“If only I could turn back time…” Diluc murmured to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Nothing will come in between us and our time together tomorrow. I promise you, darling.”

Turns out that, in the end, he does keep his promises.

♡༚࿐ 🇽‌🇮‌🇦‌🇴‌

listen to this while reading!

my very polite baby

like sure, he’s straightforward

but he be treating everyone with respect

you might be wondering why that matters

well that's because i think xiao would see it as a little rude to not refer to someone important to him by their name

names play a major part in xiao’s past

with rex lapis re-naming him after taking him under his wing and such

so, in my opinion, xiao finds calling out your name way more meaningful than nicknames

although if he were to use one it would probably be dear

it’s short and he can still address you as “dear (name)”

it does sound quite formal at times though

Moments like this were rare. Usually, sleep doesn’t concern your lover in the slightest, as it rarely comes to him. Although you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved it when he did come and sleep. Cuddled up next to you was the vigilant yaksha, the well known protector of Liyue. And dare you say, it was truly a divine sight. In the wash of the morning light, his face took the appearance of an old photograph, so nostalgic, so at peace. Slowly, one of your hands brushed past his face, placing the few rebel aquamarine strands that were cascading down his cheek behind his ear. For a moment, you find yourself in perfect silence, Xiao’s soft breaths being the only sounds that could be discerned. Without realising, you started softly rubbing his back, your heart leaping at the content purr that followed shortly after.

It was almost impossible to put into words the joy this brought you. Although it was such a simple, mundane thing, seeing Xiao so at ease was by far your favourite memory with him. The more you studied his features the more your sight fell upon his lips. The sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, wanting nothing more than to cherish and show your lover the affection he deserves.

If only the sudden chirping of birds didn’t scare you, barely a few inches away from his face.

Curse those birds and their awful timing! And so, you backed away, laughing to yourself in self-consciousness, thankful that no one was aware of your little mishap.

Or so you thought.

You felt your face get warmer the moment you saw Xiao looking at you, drowsiness still coating his eyes. Yet again, for another short moment, no sound could be heard.

“____ my dear” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, snaking his arms around you as he brought you closer to him, “if you won’t do it, I will.” it was then the flush across his cheeks became apparent to you. Shame you didn’t have time to savour it, his lips immediately finding yours in a sweet, dream like kiss.

Moments like this were truly worth treasuring.

♡༚࿐ 🇨‌🇭‌🇮‌🇱‌🇩‌🇪‌

in contrast with xiao, childe loves calling you cute nicknames

in fact, he barely uses your name!

sometimes he likes to tease you and pretend he forgot your actual name

of course that’s not true,he could never do such a thing

I can totally see him use pet names such as comrade, girlie, cutie, shawty, sweetness, princess/prince, baby

ok i know shawty is kind of random, but i think he’d use kind of ironically?

I think he’d also use big sister/brother just to tease you, even if you’re younger than him

he heard teucer refer to you as such one time and it honestly melted his heart a little bit

as a side note, seeing his siblings get along you makes him genuinely happy.

listen to this while reading!

Spring was such a beautiful time. Especially in Liyue. Especially on a date with the one and only Childe, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers. For someone with such a fearsome title and reputation, it wowed you to no end just how charming, just plain adorable, Tartaglia can be. Albeit, it was only your second date, it was expected of him to at least try to be nice.

And on time.

As you waited, under that beautiful sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby blue, you watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. You paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” asked Childe from behind you, a shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed, smile painted on his lips. “Sorry I’m late, I really overestimated my juniors’ capabilities and I had to step in.” he continued, gingerly taking hold of your hand, kissing the back of it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his gentlemanly antics, although you enjoyed them nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” you reassured him, as you took a hold of his hand, already leading him towards nowhere in particular.

Another thing you liked about him. Things were so casual, so easy-going. One might call this date nothing but a hangout, but not every date has to be a luxurious five star dinner or a fancy show. Sometimes just a simple walk along the Liyue port was enough. Enough for you to get to know Childe, enough for you to like him even more.

Suddenly, Tartaglia was in front of you, his hands lightly taking hold of your face.

“Hold on cutie, there’s something on your face,” he answered your silent question, seeing as you looked a little confused. The next thing you knew, his lips descended upon yours. It was a sudden but very much welcomed kiss. A kiss that unfortunately ended just as abruptly, “it was me.”

♡༚࿐ 🇿‌🇭‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇱‌🇮‌

favourite peepaw

also prefers using your name rather than nicknames

but he’s not completely against them

he finds them quite nice actually

and he actually enjoys being referred by one!

like imagine going for a stroll with him and all of a sudden you go "darling, look!"

he'd look so content oh my lord

in my opinion anyway

he’d usually call you honey, my beloved or even my one and only!

you could be doing the simplest of things like reading with him under a tree

and he'd go "you're my one and only love"

no, he isn’t aware of how cheesy it sounds.

listen to this while reading!

Who knew the God of contracts could be such a romantic? Usually, Zhongli wasn’t a big fan of fancy, elaborate dates. He’d usually say something along the lines that “spending time with you was enough for him to feel like the richest man in the world”, which he technically was even without your presence. But, quite frankly, it was because he lacked the funds to do so that he didn’t pamper you every moment of the day.

So when you found yourself face to face with an array of different foods, meticulously prepared and arranged on a soft picnic blanket, you couldn’t help but wonder —

“Why the sudden change?” you asked, sitting down on the plush cover, to which Zhongli only chuckled.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” he replied in a teasing tone, flopping next to you.

“Oh, you are more than welcome to do so,” you winked, pouring some tea for both of you. It smelled like chamomile, “I was just trying to say it’s a nice change.” you continued, taking a few sips of your tea.

Zhongli only hummed, content with your response. Sometimes, sitting in silence, all while eating delicious brunch foods and drinking sweet tea, was much more enjoyable than small talk.

And so, you spend the rest of the day with your lover, basking in the sunshine and each other’s company. In his embrace, there was something so right, something that felt right, smelt right. You let your body sag, your muscle become loose. In that embrace you felt your worries loose their keen sting and your optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” he whispered, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

♡༚࿐ 🇰‌🇦‌🇪‌🇾‌🇦‌

avid user of nicknames

partially because he finds them cute

and partially because he loves teasing you

he’d use them in public and try to get a reaction out of you

like let’s say all of a sudden kaeya is back hugging you, pampering your neck with kisses

saying something like “what’s wrong, baby?”

he’d also use hot stuff, sweet cheeks, gorgeous, handsome, cutie pie, treasure

sometimes they’re really sweet, other times they’re really silly

side note, i feel like this one got a little out of hand sorry yall i lowkey can’t take kaeya seriously

listen to this while reading!

There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender moment that just wouldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that is expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. You felt yourself gasping for air as Kaeya’s lips left yours, doe like eyes searching for his. Behind that brilliant shade of blue sparkled a glacial attraction. So complex and mysterious, it was magnetic. It made you want him even more.

Upon seeing your dazed state Kaeya smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands found yours. “Let’s get you of here before you catch a cold.” he said, leading you down the streets of Mondstadt. It was the middle of August, and you got caught in nothing more than a summer rain. You weren’t even cold, but alas you let it slide, enjoying seeing Kaeya worry about you, even if it wasn’t as serious as he made it seem.

There is something about a rain-washed pathway that invites playful feet, that says each new step will be rewarded with a splash. And soon, you found yourself splashing around, making the most out of this accidental rain shower.

The moment you finally reached your home, Kaeya wasted no time, his arms already wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Yet again, a gasp escaped your mouth, Kaeya’s cold lips leaving goosebumps behind each carefully placed kiss on your neck.

“You know what’s the best way to get warmed up, treasure?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your hips.

You shook your head softly, awaiting his answer.

“A good old dance party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around as he started humming a cheerful. “Nothing gets the blood going like a little movement!” it was obvious he found great pleasure in seeing your more than confused, if not disappointed, expression. Still, he paid you no mind and continued dancing with you all while singing a cheery melody.

It was quite save to assume there was never a boring moment with this man.

♡༚࿐ 🇦‌🇱‌🇧‌🇪‌🇩‌🇴‌

my favourite elevator boy

doesn’t love nicknames but doesn’t hate them either

i see him as an action speak louder than words guy

and although he’s aware that, as his partner, you know that

he still feels sorry for not being as vocal as other people when it comes to talking about his emotions??

so cute terms like these are a simple way he can show his appreciation for you

for some reason, i think he would really like using diminutives??

he’d call you things like little star

or baby or lovebug

i think it really matches his vibe ngl

listen to this while reading!

The breeze blew warm announcing the coming of summer's hottest days. The aroma of the tall grasses were an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in your mind.

Being with Albedo meant putting up with the unholy amount of hours he’d spend on whatever research he’d be conducting at the time. And luckily for you, his next big discovery involved the stars. On the black sky above you, there were a multitude of stars and there were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.

As you enjoyed your little midnight snack, your gaze fell upon the chief alchemist. His eyes were fixated on the landscape above him, utterly fascinated by the world’s mystic beauty. Seeing him so consumed by his studies made your heart feel warm. It was adorable to see him like this.

Your sudden yawn made both you look at each other. Albedo’s gaze was filled with compassion, and perhaps a little remorse for making you come with him so late in the night just to stare blankly at the sky.

But you knew this wasn’t such a trivial thing.

You pet the spot next to you, silently asking him to sit down with you, to which he immediately obliged. As his head found its place on your shoulder a little sad smile made its appearance on his face.

“Sorry for making you come here with me, baby.” he said, his hand drawing patterns along your thigh. “I know this isn’t your idea of quality time.”

“Any time spent with you is quality time, silly.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head. “And besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of stargazing?”

♡༚࿐ 🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌

ok now for venti

i feel like with him the tone he uses is very important??

i mean this also applies to the rest of the guys

but for venti even more so

he could simply refer to you by your name and it would still feel all special and bubbly

nonetheless, he loves using pet names!

i mean as a bard, he can come up with poems and such on a whim ( flashback to the signora moment :) )

so his nicknames for you always have a certain meaning or funny story behind them

oh, you love pumpkins or had an unfortunate accident involving one? now he calls you pumpkin all the time

he’d also call you things like sunshine because to him you bring so much joy and you warm his heart just like the sun.

with that being said, good luck to those pulling for him! <3

listen to this while reading!

“There you go! You’re really good at this!” Venti complimented you, observing in great detail the way your fingers touched the strings of his lyre.

Judging by the curious stares and even odd looks you’d get from time to time, that wasn’t really the case. What was supposed to be a simple walk around the city turned out to be a full concert. Although Venti couldn’t find it in his heart to tell you, who asked him so eagerly just a few moments ago if he could teach how to play a song, just how… Poor was your attempt.

A relieved sigh could be heard the moment your fingers left the strings, although Venti’s reassuring smile never left his face. “Don’t let a few strangers discourage you! Even the greatest geniuses had to start somewhere!”

“Are you saying I’m a genius?” you asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow, laughing at his flustered face.

“Let’s not go that far…” he murmured, winking cheekily.

“And here I was, thinking I could wow you with my insane musical skills…” you whined sarcastically, handing him his lyre as you continued your stroll. It was then Venti stopped in his tracks. Upon his face, shock was written all over, his expression soon turning sympathetic. For a moment, he left you alone, diving into the crowd of people, only to return to you with a single cecilia flower. Its fragrance was sweet and fresh and its color a perfect white. Shortly after, he gently placed it behind your ear, smiling to himself while looking at you.

“You don’t need fancy tricks to win over what you already have,” Venti said, kissing your cheek lightly. A cheerful tune could be heard across the street, Venti’s soft melody attracting a lot of attention, “I’m all yours, sunshine.” he said loud enough for more than a few people to hear.

He has such a way with words, doesn’t he?

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || LITTLE CAGED ARTIST

| featuring : ryomen sukuna ft. itadori yuji 

| warnings : mention of emotional abuse and murder as well as grammar errors

| form : imagine

| word count : 1691

| published : 22 december

| request : Hello, idk if your request are open but feel free to ignore, but just, imagine another reencarnation au (those imaginw of yours are my favourite) where the reader was a painter and Sukuna's personal favourite so he took her and kinda abused her psycologicaly to the point where she would just draw him and only him and he loved that, and in the future she's still an artist that draws Yuuji bc theyre friends but when she sees the tatoos she again draws Sukuna and he feels guilty for the way he treated her and her art in the pastIf It's angst i would apreciate but it's not really necesary

| barista’s notes : hi there~ i apologies for the extremely long wait for your coffee order but now it is there ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ right now it is nearly 5am in the morning and i have no idea why the hell i am awake, but oh well ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ  DONT WORRY THOUGH! after this, i am going to sleep and rest up since today it is Fushiguro Megumi’s and Kageyama Tobio’s birthday today ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ but other than that, i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and i hope you come back soon! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

“Sukuna….please leave me alone...leave the village alone, I beg of you please,” you whimpered to the man that was standing tall and proud with a sadistic smirk painted on his face, while you were on your knees tightly holding onto his large wrist - somewhat slightly covering the black ring marking - as if your weak physical strength could do anything to stop his raising them up and giving a rain upon hell to the people that was residing in the small town you lived in.

You have no idea how you had managed to catch the attention of the most feared curse to both humans and jujutsu sorcerers nor did you know how you managed to become acquainted with the man in front of you. All you knew right now was that the situation you were in at this current moment and time, was not ideal to anyone at all.

You were just a simple artist. A simple village girl artist that was blessed to be hired by the nobility and aristocracy to paint their family portraits with the finest colours that they would offer you, for you to be then paid so you could provide for your village. However, as luxurious as it sounded, you were in love with the idea of just placing a sharped piece of charcoal on a piece of paper or cloth you could find anywhere and sketch your heart designed.

“Leave you alone?” Sukuna questioned you in his deep voice, before slowly crouching down to become face to face with you. “I could never leave you alone, not when you have caught my attention with your craft little one,” Sukuna then stated, as he gently placed a hand on your cheek before using his thumb to caress the soft skin he was touching. 

Ever since Sukuna had caught sight of you delicately painting a portrait of a noblewoman with such care and gentleness, he couldn’t help but wonder how your hands were so carefully and how patient you were to make sure every stroke was perfect to your desire. Slowly, he began to wonder what it was like to be the subject of one's view. A subject that someone desired to recreate on a simple piece of paper. However, compared to his past sightings, you were the most talented as well as the most beautiful he had ever seen and once he was able to gain a clear view of the noble woman that you were illustration, he was surprised at how much detail you were able to encapture in your work and just like the noble woman’s reaction, they both were extremely happy with the result of the final product.

“How about this?” Sukuna suddenly asked, causing your head to suddenly shot up leading you to meet eye to eye with the King of Curses, “if you come with me and draw me and me only for the rest of time, I would leave this little village alone as well as the people residing in it. How does that sound, little one?”

‘Come with him? Where? Why? What’s going to happen to me?’

“If you don’t accept this deal, every single person here will die. Burned, stabbed, slashed, any way possible I can. Men, women and even little children’s lives will be gone, and it would be all your fault.”

‘My….fault? But-’

“You know I’m not a patient person little one, I might as well start my massacre while you take your time to think, it will be-”

“NO PLEASE! DON’T, YOU CAN TAKE ME, JUST LEAVE THE VILLAGE ALONE, PLEASE!” you screamed in desperation, as you tighten the grip of his wrist that was within your grasp to keep him down, as you didn’t want to risk him getting away from your sights for the safety and protection of the people  within the little town you had lived in since the day your life had started.

With a large cruel grin, Sukuna had somehow managed to pry his wrists free from your tense grip before sliding an arm under your knees as well as an arm around your body lifting you up in a bridal position, while you were just expressing a face of shock and fear, confused and fearful on what you had just accepted in exchange for your life. Where were you going? Was this the end? Were you going to die? How much longer have you had left?

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you, you’re too precious to be slaughtered little one,” Sukuna answered - as if he knew what you were thinking - before placing a ghostly kiss upon your temple leading you to freeze still, petrified on what he would do with you had moved a single inch.

This was your life now. 

A caged artist.

                                               ꕥ

Here you were, sitting on a wooden platform outside with a sharpened piece of charcoal that Sukuna had kindly given you, in order for you to sketch a portrait of him. The second you placed the charcoal upon the paper, Sukuna couldn’t help but stare at the light movements of your hand as you lightly stroke a few lines to create an outline before watching your hand suddenly pause, causing the King of Curses to switch his view from the sheet to you, only to find your look at him with such a frightened look.

“I’m sorry…..I shouldn’t look at you, should I? I apologise deeply,” you softly muttered before quickly turning back to the portrait that was right in front of you - you didn’t want to do anything wrong in his eyes, you knew he could go back on his words and harm the people that you cared about. However, it seemed like Sukuna didn’t care at all, he had managed to trap you into his life and had the power to demand you to draw him every time he would mention he could go back to your little village and burn it to the ground. He relished in the idea of being the subject of your attention.

This is what he wanted. 

His little caged artist.

                                               ꕥ

1000 years later and here you were. 

Here you were sketching a picture of your best-friend Itadori with a picture of him that you had managed to capture on your phone. Itadori first came into your life shortly after you had enrolled into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Techincal College around the same time as your other classmate Kugisaki did. 

You have no idea what drew you into the boy with the pink hair, but something within you pulled you towards him causing the blooming and somewhat hilarious friendship to start, even causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to wonder what was going on in your mind to somehow relate to the boy - yet, they didn’t mention their questions since they didn’t really think you knew the answer yourself, and they were correct.

However, as you continued to smoothly glide your pencil across the page, applying different pressures to construct some definitions as well as shadows within the photo you were copying from, you began to suddenly realise that you were starting to draw marking upon his portrait. Markings that were so familiar to the ones the person within him had.

Ever since that day at the Eishu Detention Centre, the sight of Sukuna standing in front of you with his shirt ripped off showcasing his black marking caused a trigger of unknown memories to suddenly flood into your mind, causing excruciating pain that was so unbearable, you thought you were going to pass out from the intense pressure, maybe as even close to dying from the immense pain.

From what you could even recall from the sudden flood of blurry images that appeared in your mind, there was a picture of you drawing with a piece of charcoal with the infamous King of Curses seating right beside you, watching you draw will whispering in your ear the threats that he would bombard you in order for you to make sure that you were only drawing him and him only.

Slowly but in a shaking manner, your drawing hand continued to sketch in Sukuna’s markings that would appear on Itadori’s body as you were somewhat extremely afraid of what the King of Curses could do to you if you didn’t - just how you left 1000 years ago.

Although unknown to you, your best-friend Itadori was standing right behind you, having a clear view of what was happening to you as well as the drawing right in front of him. Seeing your shaking figure with slow but clear teardrops landing on the sketch book as well as the drawing evolving from him to the curse residing inside of him, made him realise how damaging Sukuna was to not only him but also to the people around him. Carefully, Itadori placed a hand over your hand that held the pencil, causing you to flinch before finally noticing that it was your friend that was holding it and not the special grade curse.

Within his Innate Domain, Sukuna also had a clear view on what was happening to you and slowly but strangely began to feel something drop to his stomach with the feeling of his throat closing up at the sight of you slowly breaking down into a small state of insanity. This isn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want his beautiful little one to become lifeless and paranoid like you were now.

Even after 1000 years after your death, your incarnation was carrying the feeling of fear, despair and numbness that you were weighed upon the second you had given your life away to the King of Curses for the sake of your village. Even though you had more freedom then you did then, you still left trapped and lost within the metal cage that Sukuna had enclosed you in. Even with the small hint of guilt that was manifested within the cruel curse’s heart. 

You were trapped with no escape out.

You were trapped forever with no key to open the door that was clearly right in front of you.

Forever his little caged artist.

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 11 - Revenge

Word Count: 4089

Chapter 10 - Parting

Chapter 12 - Daytrip (nsfw)

Disclaimer! tw: y/n is having a panic attack

As someone who experienced panic attacks before, I realised that writing one invested me a lot emotionally. If a detailed description of a panic attack triggers you, you might want to skip that part. Also, everyone experiences them differently and coping mechanism differ as well. Just remember that all of these experiences are valid and that you are loved! :)

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"Kid!"

You didn't question the urge to run into his arms, but you didn't expect him to catch you either. But he did, and as his non-metallic arm pulled you into his chest, you felt something you hadn't felt in a very long time: safety.

You clawed at his fur coat, muffling your sobs with the soft fabric.

"What did he do to you?", he whispered into your ear lowly, while his angry eyes never left Deku, who was scrambling around on the floor with his trousers undone.

"G-get off my ship, p-pirate scum", he stuttered, visibly scared of the huge pirate that just sent his door flying.

"I will", Kid snarled at him, "but you're joining us."

And with that he extended his metal arm by adding more and more random metal, grabbing Deku's throat. He tried to get away, but to no avail. Kid strengthened his grip and he let out a gargling sound, kicking his legs in the air.

The redhead spun Deku around and hurled him right through the empty doorframe towards his ship. Killer was waiting on the other side and knew exactly what to do. He caught the flying man (who was looking awfully pale) and slammed him down on the deck. You heard a faint scream in the distance, right after Deku's body hit the ship.

After making sure that Deku couldn't run away, Kid looked down at you, wiping away your tears with his rough fingers. He had let go of all the metal, but his eyes were still angry as he took in as much of your face as possible.

"Tell me what happened", he whispered in a commanding tone, and you sniffled before you spoke.

"W-we fought, and he said awful things to me, and then he tried to rape me and he... he had my parents killed. K-kid, he's responsible for all this. He killed my parents!"

You started sobbing desperately again and your knees felt weak. They gave in and you sunk towards the floor, but Kid picked you up. He pressed your trembling body against his and held you safely while he jumped aboard his own ship, the cold air cooling your tear-stained face.

Deku was trembling as well, but for different reasons. Killer was towering over him with his arms crossed and the rest of the crew was shooting him intense, blood-lusting glares. No one in this world would want to swap with him.

Kid landed and gently placed you on the deck. You slumped down to your knees immediately, staring into the distance with blurry eyes. The sun was setting already, painting the sky in beautiful red and orange hues. It would have been a wonderful start into a new life, but Deku took all that from you. Your body felt weak and lifeless, your arms hanging down your sides.

Kid kneeled down in front of your trembling frame and looked at Deku, who was sitting a few metres away from you. He was whimpering pathetically, looking for a possibility to flee, as if Killer would let him.

"Wire, take some men and ransack the ship. Then sink it", Kid commanded.

"Roger, Captain", Wire's calm voice answered, and he and most of the guys entered Deku's ship.

Then his face turned back to you. He gingerly took your jaw in his big hand and brushed your cheek with his thumb, just like he did in that one night.

"Look at me", his rough voice told you, and you obeyed.

Seeing your puffy eyes and your tear-stained face awakened something deep inside of him, and he wanted to destroy whatever was causing you this kind of pain. You looked at him like he was the only one who could make it all better, and he understood, his face absolutely serious.

"Angel. I want to hear it from you."

His amber eyes bored into yours. They were full of rage, but not because of you.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

Killing was wrong. No matter what kinds of horrible things someone had done, killing wasn't the answer. That's what a previous version of you would have said. But looking at Deku, you only saw a monster. A deceiving monster that had dared to take your life into his hands. You wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Kid knew exactly that you couldn't do it yourself, so he had asked you if you wanted him to do it for you. And you really wanted it. There was not even a hint of compassion that you could spare for this man.

You looked at him, his eyes were pleading with you. Kid had asked you to make a decision. You could easily show mercy and say no. Deku mumbled apologies directed at you, rambling about how he shouldn't have overreacted and that he would treat you well as a mistress.

With empty eyes and the calmest expression on your face, you took in the satisfying sight of Deku shaking with fear.

"Yes."

It was merely a whisper, but everyone on the ship was silent. The only sound to be heard was Deku's pathetic whimpering. You didn't take your eyes off him, not even when Kid stood up slowly, revealing his full height again. The setting sun stretched his shadow, and it swallowed Deku's body whole.

Kid slipped off his coat and put it over your sunken shoulders without saying a word.

His shadow was coming closer to Deku with every heavy step he took, and he anxiously scrambled away from him, only to bump into Killer's legs. He was cornered between the two men, and he yelped in fear when Kid took the shiny knife out of his bandolier.

The knife fell, and Deku probably thought that Kid had dropped it by accident, because his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth when the knife didn't hit the ground. It hovered under his chin instead, the blade forcing him to look up at Kid.

"W-what kind of magic is that?", Deku screeched.

"It's a devil's fruit you moron", Killer mumbled and shook his head in dismay.

"I'm just making sure that you know who's the boss around here", Kid growled and pushed the blade a little further into Deku's skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I really wonder what she saw in you", he scoffed.

"P-please I will do anything... y-you can have the 15 million b-berry! You can have e-everything, just let me live!", Deku pleaded, trying to grab Kid's trousers. He looked up at him with doe eyes, in a futile attempt to gain his pity.

Kid bared his teeth and kicked off Deku's hands as if his futility was contagious, while an array of swords gathered behind his tall figure. They hovered in the air, framing Kid to make him look even more dangerous.

"You're not even worth listening to. Just by looking at your stupid face I can feel the wretchedness trying to rub off on me", Kid growled.

His signature smirk was back, and with a flick of his hand, all the sword's blades turned towards Deku. They made a clunking sound that filled the silent air and seeing their reflection in your glassy eyes gave Kid the final push.

With another flick of his hand, each and every of the swords sped towards Deku's trembling body, swallowing his cries for mercy.

He screamed in pain and desperately tried to protect his body, but there were just too many blades impaling him. They pinned him to the ground in an upright position, covering him in his own blood. His breathing became more and more shallow, and he looked at you with pain-filled eyes.

You watched the sight like in a trance. You felt inner peace for a split second, but then

nothing.

Nothing at all. It was gruesome to look at, but it didn't bother you the slightest.

With wheezing breaths, Deku's life ended in front of your eyes and your face didn't show any signs of remorse.

"Feed him to the fish", Kid growled and then blocked the space between you and Deku's body so you couldn't see him anymore.

You snapped out of your trance and realised what had just happened. It was good that you didn't see your ex-fiancé's dead body anymore because your stone-cold facade might have faltered.

Kid kneeled down in front of you again and you finally looked at his face. His frown was back, but his eyes were almost too soft for someone who just murdered a man without hesitation.

"Thank you", you mumbled flatly, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm going to take a bath", you added instead, sounding absent. Your body was there, but you felt like your soul was just hovering over it. The bath didn't actually matter, you just wanted to get away.

You tried to get up, but your legs were still too shaky. Kid was watching you for a few seconds, huffing at the fact that you couldn't take even a single step without tumbling over.

Suddenly, Kid flung you over his shoulders without a warning, ignoring your shriek.

He just scoffed and carried you to the cabin's bathroom, placing you in the empty bathtub. You raised an eyebrow at him when he sat down on the toilet, making no move to leave the room.

"I'm really thankful that you took revenge on my fiancé for me, but that doesn't mean you can watch me bath... naked...", you said quietly.

"There's no fiancé anymore. You're single and I saw your tits already", he smirked.

Although you couldn't deny that, it wasn't the best time to point it out and no excuse to creep on you in the bath.

"That's not the point."

"Then leave on your underwear, but I'm talking to you right here and now", he demanded with a growl, and you were too worn out to discuss and you knew that he wasn't really the patient type anyways.

Your gut didn't give you any warning signals either, so you just rolled your eyes and slipped of your shirt, shoes, and socks. The bra that Charlos had given you didn't cover anything and didn't give you any hold, so you had gotten rid of it immediately. Once your training had started, you made your own bra out of bandages from the infirmary, so this was what you were wearing at the moment.

Not ideal, but better than being naked.

You let the water run into the bathtub under Kid's watchful eyes, and when it was half full and after you put a nice foamy soap into it, you realised that you could have taken a bath later, after Kid was done talking to you. But it was too late for that now.

You watched the foam floating around on the surface for a second, thinking about the events of today with a frown.

"Where do you think you're going next?"

His question caught you of guard and you blinked some tears away that you couldn't really prevent from building up.

"I don't know. I need to see my brother."

What happened with Deku today absolutely destroyed your chance to be reunited with Tenmon and it became painfully clear to you right now.

"And where do you think you're staying until you find him?"

"I don't know", you said again.

He was quiet for a second and then displayed his signature smirk.

"If I promise you to help you find your brother, you will stay on the Victoria Punk as our doctor."

You shot him a sudden look and raised an eyebrow. Why did he offer you so much help out of the blue? Suspicion rose in you, and you narrowed your eyes.

He just scoffed in response.

"That's it, sweetheart. There's no catch. I will protect you until you find him, and you'll protect my crew in return."

You thought about his offer. If there was no catch, you could only win. And you had to be honest with yourself, there was no way you would even last a day in the New World on your own.

He held out his hand and you looked at it before you slowly put yours in his. Your hand was tiny compared to his, and you studied all the calluses and the roughness on them. It was obvious that he had worked hard with these hands, and it just added to the fascination that you already felt for him.

Suddenly, as soon as his hand enclosed yours, he pulled you towards him harshly. The water splashed against the edges of the tub and Kid's grip was strong around your hand. You let out a startled yelp and to your dismay, you felt your face redden.

His face was so close to yours now. It had become a familiar feeling to you, just like the smell of expensive rum, mint, and metal. He licked his lips and pulled you even closer. Your tits were pressed against his hard chest, and he placed his mouth next to your ear.

"We're gonna be a great team", he purred into your ear lowly, his breath tickling your neck.

You prayed that he didn't see that you had goosebumps all over your body. Your face felt so hot that you were sure you looked like a tomato and a tingling feeling spread from your chest to your stomach, to your crotch, and even into your thighs.

What the fuck is that?

Who were you kidding, you weren't stupid and not as innocent as Deku and your parents had wanted you to be. Just because you never experienced lust, didn't mean you wouldn't recognise the feeling if it ever came. You were sure that this was it, but why today and why with Kid?

He leaned back and your heart told you to pull him back, but the rational part of your brain interfered, so you just sat in the tub dumbfounded.

His smirk didn't falter, and something told you that he knew what an effect he just had on you. How embarrassing, you thought and slowly turned around, facing the wall.

He chuckled and finally left the room, and once the door was closed you took of the makeshift bra and let yourself slip under the water surface, mentally cursing yourself and Kid until you had to come up for air.

You stayed in the bathtub for as long as you could justify, to avoid Kid. You hoped that he was either not in his room, or already fast asleep. You dried yourself extra slowly and scolded yourself for not having asked Killer for another shirt.

You tried to put on the white button-down but as soon as the material touched your skin you had memories of Deku leaning over you and pinning you down flashing through your mind. You shuddered and bile rose up in your throat.

You looked at the shirt and felt new anger and sorrow in your heart. With gritted teeth and a frown, you pulled on the sleeves as hard as you could and ripped the shirts to shreds. Seeing the heap of white cotton pieces gave you a small feeling of victory. You couldn't let a dead Deku control you like that.

After putting the bandages around your chest again, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

Kid's back was turned towards the room, and he was breathing steadily, probably meaning that he was sleeping. As quiet as possible, you made your way to his desk. There must have been a place where he stored his clothes, but the desk was really the only option in this room. Actually, thinking about it, you had never seen him with a shirt on.

You carefully pulled out one of the bigger drawers and to your surprise, you saw a few neatly folded shirts in there. All black.

I bet Killer folded these...

You grabbed the first one and couldn't resist taking it up to your face. It smelled as you expected: Fresh laundry and metal. It smelled comfortable.

You shook your head rapidly and slipped the shirt over your head. You looked absolutely lost in it, but it would do for sleeping.

On tiptoes, you neared the bed and slipped under the covers. You didn't feel the need to roll one of the blankets into a sausage anymore, and you looked at the ceiling wondering why. So many thoughts were ghosting around in your head...

Why do I trust him all of a sudden?

Just because he killed someone who did me wrong?

He didn't just do me wrong though, he literally had my parents killed.

But still, why would Kid kill him? There's no personal gain for him.

Why is he so keen on helping me lately?

What's in it for him?

Does he still hate me? He's still complicated, but it feels different.

He could have done unspeakable things to me the last week, but he didn't.

Don't even get me started on the other night... or today.

How he touched me. Like I'm precious.

I haven't felt precious in such a long time.

And why do I get butterflies when he touches me?

Why the fuck did I feel lust when he touched me tonight?

Oh my God, what on earth is wrong with me?

Your eyes widened almost comically when another thought hit you.

Do I like him?

You covered your face with your hands and tried not to scream into the quiet room. You gave yourself a small slap, but you couldn't deny that Kid was... interesting. He definitely was, but that didn't mean that you liked him.

Yes. Yes, that's the point. He's interesting, but that's it. It's just a very stressful time I'm going through. Of course I would feel fascinated by someone like him.

You sighed in content. You found an explanation that was fitting your narrative.

The mattress shifted abruptly, and your heart jumped, thinking that Kid was awake. But he had just turned around and his face seemed peaceful, the kind of peaceful look that one could only have while sleeping.

You couldn't turn your face away without studying his. You took in the sight of his sharp features and his fluffy, red hair. It fell on his forehead because it wasn't held up by his goggles, making him look a little younger. It was refreshing to see him without his furrowed brows.

You couldn't resist the urge to take a strand of his hair into your hand. You never touched it before, and it was just as soft as it looked.

It was also the first time that you could look at him without him noticing. There was no smirk, no angry eyes or frown.

He didn't look like a pirate anymore, just like a young man. He almost looked vulnerable, and you realised that he must have seen a lot. You wondered about his motivations to become a pirate and if all the things he had experienced left marks on him, inside and outside.

Like you said, he was fascinating.

You watched him breathing calmly, the blanket raising and lowering in a steady pace. It hit you like a brick.

"You saved me so many times", you whispered so quietly that he couldn't wake up from it.

You were right when you thought that killing Deku had no personal gain for him. He could have taken his ship and his belongings anyways, but he made sure that you decided Deku's fate and then acted accordingly.

It was a twisted sense of justice, but you had to admit that you didn't care.

It had been another hard day that left you absolutely drained. The knowledge about the circumstances of your parent's death scooched in between the thoughts about Kid and became prevalent.

You never got to say goodbye and they died without knowing what had happened to you. They never got the chance to see Deku's real face. You regretted not telling them about the conversation in the garden back then, maybe everything would be okay right now. Deku's words were ringing in your ears.

You chose to disrespect me that night, so I made you pay.

Yes, your parents wouldn't have backed out of the marriage deal. Deku had them wrapped around his fingers. He had buttered them up completely to make sure that anything you would say about him would fall on deaf ears.

You tried to steady your breathing when you felt hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The insufferable feeling of guilt washed over your whole body. Throughout your childhood you had learned how to speak to a future husband, and if you hadn't decided to throw all that courtesy stuff overboard at some point, your parents would still be alive. Of course, your life with Deku would have been horrible, but at least your family could have been happy.

Screw you for becoming your own person with your own wishes and morals.

Deep down you knew that it wasn't your fault, but the guilt felt so strong. It was crushing you, causing you to question every decision you ever made.

Suddenly, your heartbeat was picking up. It happened so rapidly that you were scared it would rip your chest open, so you clutched at your shirt and pressed your hand down. But feeling your speeding heartbeat like this made it even worse. It made your chest hurt like someone had punched you. It tightened and it was becoming gradually harder to breathe, a lump of suppressed tears forming in your throat. Your body felt hot, and you couldn't move, only shake. Your eyes darted around frantically and breathing felt more like choking. You wanted to get up, get fresh air or a glass of water to calm you down, but you were losing control over your body. Wheezing breaths mixed with the sound of quiet sobbing, while your vision blurred. Every cell in your body was screaming for help. You tried to get at least some air into your lungs, but it felt like they had shrivelled up.

You weren't in the right headspace to think anything of Kid opening his eyes suddenly, now looking at your shaking body while you still fought for air, your sobbing and whimpering filling the room. He let out a low growl and moved his hand towards you.

You tensed up immediately but surprisingly, his touch didn't scare you at all. As soon as he saw that you didn't flinch, he grabbed the small of your back and pulled you into his chest, enclosing your trembling body with both of his arms.

"Breathe with me", was all he said.

Your chest was flush against his and you could feel how he inhaled and exhaled slowly, in a steady pace. His heartbeat was calm, and you tried to concentrate on his breathing, mentally counting the intervals between each breath.

After a few more ragged breaths, your heartbeat synchronised with his and you followed his breathing pattern. You were still shaking a little, but the scariest part was overcome. Soon, the sobbing died down as well.

With each inhale and exhale you got calmer, and soon you felt like you were in control of your own body again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around Kid's body as a silent thank you.

He stiffened but didn't push you away. He expected you to let go at some point, but you didn't. You didn't want to. You experienced the same feeling as earlier this evening when he held you after saving you from Deku. It was a comfortable feeling of absolute safety, like nothing in this world could do you any harm.

You wanted more of this feeling, so you kicked off your blanket and went under his instead, entangling your legs with his. He let out a breath he had been holding and snuck his other arm around your head to place his hand on it, brushing your hair with his thumb.

There was no empty space between the two of you, but at this very moment this was exactly what you needed. You forgot about all the pain and guilt in his embrace and enjoyed the comfortable feeling of warmth and safety.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep again, and you followed soon after.

Memories of the last week rushed through your mind and you realised that being here wasn't all that bad.