#able to process it. through no fault of their own

[writingwisterias]

Teasing the Rookie

Re2!Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Oral sex (M! Receiving), Teasing, Sub! Leon, NO Apocalypse AU A little late but here's my entry of @shymoob RE Summer event! Ice cream melting. Join for next weeks prompt!! See it here Loosely proof-read don't hate me if theres mistakes

The large sweat patch that grew larger and darker on Leon’s back was evident that no one in the office today was prepared for the heatwave that suddenly occurred in Raccoon City. It wasn’t like they could have had any warning unless they actually paid attention the news, which no one does in the rising reports of crimes. Everyone in the city woke up to the usual battering of rain and wind against their windows, a lovely wakeup call that was too familiar most slept through it. However, by the time they entered the building making sure to narrowly avoid the streams of water from the broken gutters - the sun was suddenly beaming down onto them. The heat that followed was brutal; it left any officer in the building barely able to move. The workload dropped, reports and any other paperwork that might be occupying their time came to a stop as the heat bore down to every single one of them.  

As if his clothing predicament couldn’t get more embarrassing, Leon’s desk had to be the only one that faced away from the door meaning his now ever-growing sweat patch was greeting whoever walked through the door. Much to his luck every obviously also included you. His work partner and not so secret crush, well it would be a secret if he didn’t get flustered over every touch you gave him or if he didn’t blush at every word you would speak to him.  

Martin made sure he worked quickly to save his dying staff before the heat got to them and nothing would get done. There were numerous fans littered around the office to help spread any lingering cold air their way. Yet, despite his best effort the office was still feeling like a hot box he put his staff in to punish them, so as a last resort the lieutenant left and returned with the sweet treat of ice-creams to hopefully help in the cool down process of his staff.  

They all cheered happily as Marvin proudly walked around handing them out with a warm smile and muttered thanks for putting up with this heat. The office moral improved significantly and quickly as they all took a break to enjoy their treats. Laughter qucikly filled the office as they indulged, joking at the crude jokes of the sight of the drips that rolled over people's hands. Their tongues trying quickly to catch each drop before it covered their hands. Everyone was having a good time, except for the poor rookie...Leon.  

Leon sat there fidgeting like he had ants in his pants, blaming it on the heat that caused his skin to stick to the blue fabric of his trousers. He was tucked so far underneath the desk that every time he breathed, he felt the pressure of it against the fat he had yet to lose over his stomach. All to hide the growing outline of his hardening length underneath his desk. 

It wasn’t his fault; there was no way he could have prevent its sudden appearance with the way you effortlessly licked the side of your ice-cream to gather all the drops. Your hands were clean unlike everyone else's; your lips covered in a sheen of gloss from the ice-cream. It was only natural that he would get all hot and bothered over this, any time you caught his eye would smile oh so sweetly at him like you didn’t know what you were doing to him. It was always that special smile you reserved only for him since he started. He convinced himself that was his shot with you, that his own personal smile was proof you could be interested in what he had to offer.  

His cock throbbed at the mere thought, his ice-cream melting over his own grip on the cone as he forgot about what he was doing. You watched eagerly at his discomfort, ensuring to always maintain eye contact with the poor guy as you devoured your frozen treat waiting for the right time to get the sweet innocent rookie that all the girls wanted a ride on. You showed him exactly what you were capable with when you used your mouth, lingering at the top with small sucks that caused the cream to come to a point. Licking the sides of your hands slowly and carefully.  

To anyone else you seemed a little weird, perhaps more desperate for the cooling treat than the average person in this office but to Leon you were the best porno he had ever seen. 

It wasn’t long until he finally stumbled out of his chair quickly, the remained of a crushed cone and liquid cream dumped in the bin as he scrambled to God knows where with sweat dripping down his forehead and his hands placed in front of him. You had an idea of where he could have ran off to, quickly leaving your own desk following the sounds of boots scuffing against the marble floor as he hurried off.  

Oh boy what a sight it was when you did finally find him.  

His belt was loose around his waist; his ass cheeks pressed against the fabric of the break room beds. The furthest break room from the main area, commonly used on the nightshifts. It was cute how he needed the comfort of the beds to sort out his problem and not some random storage area or bathroom. His fingers were already playing with the pre-cum that spilled eagerly out of his red tip. Leon’s whimpers hid the sound of your entrance. You giggled as his body jumped at the sight of your figure at the door. “Shit, this isn’t what it looks like-” He whimpered, trying and failing to hoist his trousers back over your prize. The rough fabric only catching on his begging tip.  

You moved like an angel, appearing just out of reach with a playful smile littering your face as your eyes twinkled with mischief. You giggled at his cock jumping at the eye contact you made with him. You knees cracking as you finally sunk to the floor in front of him, looking up at him like a perfect dream.  

Leon pinched the sides of his thighs like he was going to wake up any second now and realise it was just another wet dream. He would then spend the rest of the morning his pillow imagines the folds he created with it were your own. “Do you need some help?” You taunted. He shivered as your hands landed on his twitching thighs – running them up towards his quickly hardening cock. 

The veins that danced along it looked fun to trace with either your tongue or fingers you didn't care. The tip of his cock was so pretty and cute as greeted you with streams of liquid. He whined pathetically when you touched him - only the smallest of actions as you drew small lines over his slit. Taking your time to play with his most sensitive area. His cock twitching at you like it was chasing for your touch.  

“Please I need some help” He begged, spreading his legs so you could sit closer. You didn’t even have to demand him every action was second nature, even in his most submissive state he knew how to guide you into his perfect idea of a release. To ensuring he was milking the attention you were giving him which would end up with him emptying his cock in you like he had been dreaming of since he first saw you.  

“Please” he begged again, bucking his hips towards your face, the tip tapping against your lips, his pre-cum mimicking how the ice cream looked just moments ago. 

Naturally he whined again at the sight, bucking his hips widely until he finally felt you wrap your lips around him, sucking him slightly. Your moan vibrated down his length as you tasted up the saltiness that lingered on his tip. The heat today had made his scent heady- drawing you in further as you pressed your nose against his bush. He was so cute as he gripped at the cheap sheets of the bunk and the soft stands of your hair. His hands pressed down on your head making sure your nose was closer to his base as you engulfed everything he had to offer. Your breath teased the messy whisps of his pubes as you breathed.  

It felt even better than he had imagined, finally receiving the touched he had yearned for, he didn't care that he looked so pathetic in this moment. Not even paying attention to that fact that just touching your hair was making him twitch eagerly in response.  

He should have been embarrassed to cum this quickly but with every quick drag of your head causing your lips to grip him for dear life as you sucked. There was no way that he could have lasted any quicker than this However, you didn’t give him the finish like he wanted, you instead pulled away from his cock with a pop before you could let his ropes of cum land on your tongue.  

Instead, you watched as his tip appeared through the circle of your hand, greeting you with globs of cum and spit as you worked his length with your hand. “Such an eager boy for me Leon, I should have known with how much you look at me.” You teased, kissing the tip each time you brought your hand down far enough to see it.  

Leon fell back against the bed, writhing in front of you to your words until finally his cock spurt ropes of his cum. Decorating his boxers that pooled around the base of his cock. He nearly came again at the sight of your hand covered in drips of his seed. His fantasy he made up just moments ago as he watched you eat your sweet treat coming to life in real time. He must have been a good Samaritan recently to be granted this dream come true. 

“Breaks over I suppose.” You chuckled as you licked up the remainers of your activities off your fingertips. His face was flushed when he finally stood in front of you, his mind working about a thousand miles per hour thinking of the right thing to say to ensure you both repeated this encounter again.  

So, he could at least get something good out of his boyish actions today. “Will I see you after work?” He spurted out, his words leaving his mouth faster than he could process them. “I would hope so Rookie.” You replied, placing a kiss on his lips before leaving him to situate himself once more.  

When Leon returned to his desk the idiot gave it all away with his bright smile and refreshed body as you had worked out any remaining sexual tension he had gained...over an ice-cream.  

Taglist: @senawashere @danigirls-missions @lxzy-bxby @074calicocat @gut1ess @shymoob @vesperaominosum (Omg I remembered to actually tag you guys this time!! SORRY)

[tea-cat-arts]

I think the cool and sexy thing about tbhx having an ensemble cast is that they really use it to show different types of people and different types of thought processes (all of which have been pretty well fleshed out for the main chast). It's such a great way of opening up the story to different types of people irl, so it's a little disheartening to see how many people in this fandom I've seen go "this character doesn't resonate with me and because of that, I think they're poorly written."

[ubike-official]

fuckkk gaming rlly is all psychological. Dr. K really was right. i knew all this and yet couldn't apply any of it. legit crying abt how like all this psychological stuff and mental blocks and other isms ive got came up while playing dnd and i was just weird and yea everyone did notice and was like "is she okay" like jgjfjdjsjs no I've got trauma that rears its ugly head in in new group settings regardless of context buts a me issue. this is so cringeeeeee

[jeansdoll]

whenever it’s your turn to do the laundry, caleb never fails to keep you company — though “keeping you company”, it usually just means distracting you entirely.

he just couldn’t help himself — watching you move around the laundry room, focused on such a simple task, wearing shorts that are way too small to wear outside the house. the fabric clinging to you, riding up with every movement, your ass peeking out from underneath just enough to throw him off.

it’s not your fault that you’re trying to stay cool in the summer heat without walking around completely naked. for caleb, it’s torture. blood rushes south before he even realises it. his thoughts already overtaken by the need to touch you. what a perv.

you didn’t even hear him come up behind you, until you felt his big hands grab at your waist, pulling you flush against him. he couldn’t help but think with his cock. his erection straining against his shorts, catching you off guard when it presses just above your ass. you’re barely able to process anything before he’s already grinding against you, hips rolling into you slow but with intent. his uneasy breaths cutting through the silence of the room.

what started as an easy task of sorting white laundry quickly took a sharp, filthy turn.

your hold on the washing machine is tight, bracing yourself against it as caleb drills his cock into you. the sting of your walls accommodating to his size and what felt like he was rearranging your guts was overwhelming. you’re completely sucking him in. every thrust rocks your body forward, if it weren’t for the appliance holding you up, you probably would’ve collapsed.

“fuck- if you keep squeezing me like that…” he’s breathless, completely lost in you. “‘m gonna fill you up.” your sweet moans, your tight walls and the way your pussy practically speaks to him only spurs him on — it’s all too much. his movements grow sloppy and desperate.

caleb watches himself sink into you, admiring how your cunt drools all over him. a white ring prominent at the base of his cock from your orgasm earlier, now chasing his own.

“you want it, pips? want me to breed this pretty pussy?” his dirty words make your brain turn to mush. you’re totally cock drunk, quick to answer him with a long whiny “yeeessss” and that’s all it takes. he thrusts one final time, hard and deep, with a guttural moan. spilling his seed into you — coating your insides white.

he grunts incoherent nonsense and all you can do is take everything that he gives as you slump your weight onto the machine. laundry is long forgotten and so is your ability to think straight.

a/n - take the relationship w/ caleb as you will (husband? boyfriend? roommate? whatever floats your boat i couldn’t decide :P

꩜ masterlist !

🏷️ @ashirelle @littledarlingsthings @wynxoxo @dalmoonchi @kiyadeleine @sayoko-ou @sylusexual @rafascutie @colonelpantysniffer @oakimiuy @lyricelli join taglist here!

[staargxzer]

𓂃　 ⁺ ₊ slow downˊ˗

⭒ synopsis ᵎ 〜 headcanons for dealer!ellie x good girl!reader in a college setting. enjoy ;) ⭒ content ᵎ 〜 mdni top!ellie, bottom!reader, fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), mention of weed, degradation, dacryphilia, mirror sex ⭒ word count ᵎ 〜 1.1k ⭒ notes ᵎ 〜 some short headcanons as an apology for being away

⁺  you’re the kind of girl who colour codes her notes and religiously says “thank you” to bus drivers. you would’ve never even dreamed of smoking weed, but here you were. texting a dealer, on your own, because your friend had convinced you that ellie’s weed would calm your nerves.  everyone who’s anyone knows ellie williams. strap god, weed extraordinaire, chaotic lesbian. the epithets pile up. but to you? ellie’s warm, charming, and a demon in bed (but everyone knew that, too).

⁺  ellie shows up to your dorm smelling like weed and oil, guitar case slung haphazardly over her bare shoulder and licking sugar off her thumb from the gas station rock candy she had bought on the way there. it was weirdly seductive. she knows you're innocent from the moment her murky half-lidded eyes met your own blown-out ones. the way you introduced yourself only reinforced her idea that you had definitely never done anything like this before: “hi… i’m __, i think i texted you?” as if she might say no. “yeah, sweetheart, y’did. you usually this nervous?”

⁺  when you tell her you’ve never smoked before, she goes soft. not sweet, by any means, but interested. next thing you know she’s rolling up a new joint with the weed she brought and making you take the first hit, coaching you through every movement. “don’t hold it too long. there you go, nice n slow. i got you, baby” then, “you ever kiss someone?” she’s asking while leaning into you, barely giving you time to even process her question before her lips are moving against yours with a fervor that could scare the gods.

⁺  after that, you’re all she thinks about. not the girls who beg her to eat them out at frat parties. you, with your pink lipgloss and apologies and virginity she wants to destroy.

⁺  ellie talks you into coming over to hangout for a “smoke sesh”. promising a genuinely chill night and bribing you with the opportunity to see her play her guitar (something nobody’s ever gotten to see). the chill doesn’t last long. it’s not ellie’s fault, really. who could keep their hands off of you when you’re smiling so pretty and your eyes are falling closed after only two hits? she’s touching you slow, her hand building up your thigh and ghosting over the heat radiating from your cunt. “anyone ever touch ya here?” you shake your head and she’s suddenly grinning like a devil. “want me to be your first?” you nod this time, and her smile grows impossibly wider. you don’t even realize your rocking into her hand until you hear her chuckling into your ear, breath hot on your neck, “i’ll take care of you, baby.”

⁺  she goes so slow. kissing down your stomach and latching onto your thighs. she pulls your panties down with her teeth, just to be able to see the blush grow across your cheeks.

⁺  she eats you out like she has all night. you’ve never been touched like this before, and every whimper and squirm only fuels ellie’s fire more. her eyes are gazing up at you when she slips her finger in for the first time. she relishes in the feeling of your core, the way you squeeze around her whenever she hits just the right spot and the sound of your gasps when her tongue brushes against your puffy clit.

⁺  ellie was known for hitting and dipping, but for some reason she just couldn’t shake you. maybe it was the way her hands carved into your hips so perfectly, or the way your whimpers sounded so sweet in her ear when she was plunging her fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping cunt. whatever it was, ellie knew she couldn’t let you go. you’re her favourite thing to ruin.

⁺  she won’t stop texting you. ‘you up?’ ‘wanna come over and let me make you cry again?’ ‘miss your thighs around my head’ once she knows what she wants, she’ll do anything to get it. you’re officially ruined for anyone else. you walk through the campus glowing, thighs sore, deep-purple marks hidden beneath your classy turtleneck. no one suspects that the quiet good girl with a pastel tote bag gets fucked into the stratosphere three times a week by ellie fucking williams.

⁺  she starts bringing her guitar when you two meet. she plays songs that no one’s heard before, ones that are clearly about you. she’ll sing to you in between rounds, with your head in her lap and your panties somewhere across the room.

⁺  ellie gets territorial. your hers, and everyone needs to know that. she makes you sit on her lap everywhere, hand always on your waist and a nasty glare directed at the frat boys who try to talk to you. she loves to mark you up, leaving hickeys all over you. especially in places only she’s allowed to see. she’ll lend you her clothes and beg you to wear them into class. you do, one day, draped in her oversized red flannel. everyone recognizes it and the whispers are insufferable. ellie loves it. “ya look good in my clothes, baby. gonna look better out of ‘em later.”

⁺  she is most definitely a service top with a bit of a domination kink. she loves to corrupt you, have you falling apart on her strap and making you say filthy things. “c’mon, sweetheart. you gotta use your words or i can’t touch you.” she makes you beg, and once you do (breathy and soft, hands covering your reddening face) a huge grin takes over her entire face and she fucks you harder than ever.

⁺  ellie is skilled with her strap, there’s no arguing about that, but she for sure prefers to watch you come undone on her fingers. something about feeling you clench and gush around her knuckles just gets to her.

⁺  she’s a mirror sex fanatic. everything about it makes her crazy for you. holding your chin up between her pointer and her thumb, forcing you to watch the tears stream down your face as she pounds you from behind. “you’re so fucking pretty when you cry f’r me, y’know that?”

⁺  she definitely likes to delve into degradation every once in a while, particularly after she’s dealt with a rude customer. “look at you, dick drunk already huh? act like such a good girl at school and then take me like this? fuck.”

⁺  and, after putting you through the filthiest sex you could imagine, ellie wraps you right up in one of her clean hoodies and tucks you against her chest. “did so good, baby. so perfect, all f’r me.” she’s soft when it counts, rough when it turns you on.

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

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[kabuki-writes]

A Reflection Of Venus

chapter: 1 chapter 2 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: For years Acacius was able to keep his precious and only daughter away from the Emperor's eyes. But after his latest victory, he couldn't evade the already inevitable.

warning(s): mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Reader is the daughter of General Acacius and his wife, which is not Lucilla in this fanfiction.

word count: 3.1k

General Acacius was a hero for the Roman Empire, a sun that was burning brighter with every new victory he won in a new war campaign ordered by Emperor Geta and his twin brother Emperor Caracalla. The reign of the twins was nothing compared to one of their deceased father Emperor Septimius Severus, who was once one of the closest friends and brother-in-arms of Acatius. While Severus fought wars mainly to protect the borders of the already massive Empire, his sons' hunger for expansion became clear from the very first day they inherited the title "Emperor". And general Acacius became their tool in this project. Nothing was too expensive, they backed him with legions, war-ships, the best equipment and supply, and the capable general became an unstoppable force, a soldier of the God Mars himself. But at what cost?

As the years went on, he'd rarely been home, always travelling with his marching soldiers and being on the front line of every battle he fought. And when he came back, he felt sick from all the pomp and gold the Emperor's threw at him, the victory processions through Rome, while the smell of blood still lingered in his nose and the cries of the women and children echoed in his mind. It was one of those days. The sun stood high over the wide street that lead to the Palatin, the sides filled with the cheering crowd - common people, soldiers, slaves, senators, merchants, they all celebrated his victory in a triumphant procession. His marching soldiers were led by Acacius chariot, clothed in the white armor of a victor. His face could've been one to be carved in marble, stoic and upright, facing the great Palatin, where the Emperors would await him.

Geta and Caracalla - the twin-sons of Septimius Severus, Emperors of Rome. They stoof there in golden Armor like sun gods with their golden crowns on top of their short gingerblonde hair. Their unusual pale skin was a testament to their wealth as they could afford to stay out of the sun, which burns especially hot on summer days like this one, and of course on the battlefields in Africa, where Acatius' men had to fight against the rebellious Nubians. They awaited their victor with proud smiles on their lips, while Acacius' procession ended at the footsteps of the Emperor's palace. He walked the marble steps towards them, his long cloak moved in tact with his walk. He didn't look forward to see the faces of Rome's tyrants again, but they hadno idea.

Instead, he greeted them as he was used to. His hand on his chest, speaking the words.

"I greet you, my Emperors. Nubia is no more. I present a new victory to you, to the realm and to the Roman people."

With a proud look on their faces and a wide smile, the twins stepped forward. Emperor Geta hold the laurel wreath of victory in his hands and places it on top of Acacius' greying hair.

"And Rome rewards it's heroes with gratitude and admiration. We bow to your victories, General Acacius."

With those words, he offered him to turn around and face the celebrating crowd. Geta and Caracalla took their places at his side, giving him a moment of spotlight, applauded by the people, while they did benefit from it as well. Acatius was their general, their armored knight. Every victory he presented was another triumph for their own reign and power. After the earned celebration in front of the common folk, the Emperors and Acacius retreated inside, where servants quickly served them wine for a toast.

"Another great victory, you never disappoint us, dear Acatius," Geta expressed and hold his glass up for a toast, his brother Caracalla following the gesture. "To the glory of the Roman Empire".

"To the glory of your reign", Acacius lied and took a sip from his glass, trying to numb himself a bit with the taste of the alcohol. How he hated conversations with both of them.

" But don't get too comfy here, my brother and i were already discussing another campaign soon. You'll get everything you need, just tell us how many soldiers and ships and it will be granted," Geta explained, which left a bitter taste in Acacius mouth. His jaw clenched for a moment, while he tried everything not to show his distaste about another war campaign.

"Please forgive me, my Emperor, but isn't the realm big enough already? Rome has already difficulties to feed the people. Further expansion would-"

"They can eat war", Emperor Caracalla threw in with an almost diabotical grin, while Acacius got a warning eye from Geta. It was clear that his words weren't the ones both wanted to hear right now.

"Don't worry about things like that, Acacius. You're a military general, your job is to win battles - nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he answered, even though he hated to hear that he was reduced to this. He'd experienced war and peace alike and therefore he knew about the dangers of continuing this madness. Moments like this really let him question if those maniacs were of the same blood as Septimius Severus.

"But you're right, you've earned yourself at least a bit of rest - one or two weeks. Don't worry, we've taken care about the wellbeing of your family. They got everything they needed and more in our attempt to show our gratitude for your service to the throne. Speaking of which.... we expect you to join us for a great feast tonight - here in the palace. A party to celebrate your victory, it is accompanied by a couple of fights in the arena tomorrow," Geta explained joyfully, while Acatius tried to keep his mask up.

"I am incredibly honored, but would prefer to spend time with family after being away for such a long time."

"The Emperors show you their gratitude and you're insulting us. We expect you to come and you will come", Caracalla hissed with a sudden shift of tone, his eyes staring at Acacius in clear anger, while his brother placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But his staring eyes were warning Acatius once again.

"Of course, we don't just invite you, but your whole family. Bring your wife and... you have a daughter, if i'm not mistaken? We haven't had the pleasure of getting to know her yet, since you never brought her to any festivities. I am sure she will be delighted, if you don't plan on hiding her again."

Acacius stood there in silence, a reaction that made Caracalla burst out into laughter as if he'd just heard the funniest joke from his brother. The respected general didn't even look at him, why should he. Standing here in front of them should've been an honor, yet it felt like a disgrace. They were nothing but spoiled kids with the power of an empire in their hands. And now they even forced him to reveal his dear daughter to them. Something he tried to avoid for too long, knowing fully well about the debauchery and excessiveness of Geta and Caracalla.

"We're waiting for an answer, Acacius?", Caracalla purred with a wide grin on his pale face, revealing his gold tooth.

"It will be an honor to be your guest... together with my daughter."

_____________________________________________

You watched the face of your father sunken away in his thoughts, as you made made your way to the palace in a palanquin carried by a couple of slaves and protected by soldiers. The city was painted in darkness which made the palace seem like a temple with all the lights that welcomed you. It was an exciting moment for an upper-class lady to be a guest at the palace, especially for you, a woman that usually stayed away from the most parties. Not because you wanted to, but because it was an order from your father. You obeyed, yet it bothered you, even more when you'd reached the age of a young woman - the age in which it was expected from you to find a proper husband.

"Why are you so worried, father?", you finally managed to get off your lips, pulling Acacius out of the battle he fought in his head. He couldn't just tell you that he despised all of this and especially the Emperors himself as he couldn't be sure if someone outside this palanquin could hear him. So he simply took your hand and placed a soft and caring kiss on the ring that had been a present for your last name day.

"I guess I'm rather tired than worried. The parties in the palace are always quite excessive, music, dances, feasts... i just came back from the desert and now i have to enjoy all those things", he sighed and looked at you. "And i don't want to stay too long, especially not till the orgy starts. The servants will come and bring us home before that." And even you knew he would rather go and murder Dyonisos himself than allowing his daughter to stay and witness this.

All those words and yet you knew it wasn't everything.

"I'm glad that you take me with you this time. I've only known the imperial palace from afar," you confessed, while you straightened the long, blue dress you wore. It was decorated with all sorts of silver embroidery and jewelry, encapturing the stars and moon. Your long hair was styled by your servant Yanna into a high braid and finalized with a silver diadem. For the first time you really got the chance to make yourself so presentable that you almost felt like a princess. In the end, you were about to meet the Emperors which made it important to look like the woman you were - the daughter of a general. And you also presented his household tonight, because your mother felt sick tonight. She often suffered from migraine, which kept her a prisoner for days sometimes.

"You really look beautiful", your father said to you, it was honest, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, which you still couldn't grasp. But there was no chance to take this conversation further as the palanquin stopped. Acacius got out first to help you out. He knew the way as it wasn't the first time for him to attent an official ceremony or party here. Through a long corridor you reached a large room with with an open access to the garden terrace facing the beautiful gardens. It was packed with people from the Roman upper-class, wealthy merchants, politicians and military officers, who were accompanied by their wives, sons and daughters. While they chatted and feasted on the large selection of delicious looking food, a group of musicians played their melodies to which professional dancers moved their bodies.

All those private parties at the homes of your friends seemed to vanish straight from your mind, nothing could be compared to what you were seeing now. It nearly took your breath away, while two royals were watching you from the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________

Geta and Caracalla were sitting on a higher ground, which was highly decorated with two golden chaise longues, cushions and velvet drapes. They were accompanied by a selected group of slaves, women and men, who were assigned to bring them anything they wanted, to do anything they wanted.

While Geta was in in a conversation with one of the senators, which clearly bored him according to his facial expressions, it was Caracalla, who noticed the new guest first, while he fed his little monkey Dondus a grape.

"Such a shame that he hid his daughter for so long. She is a gorgeous looking bird, don't you think? ", he whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin, patting his arm so that he would turn his attention to Acacius and you. Geta's eyes quickly went to you, admiring the way your dress hugged the shape of your curves.

"The gods must've sent us Venus herself to honor us with her presence," Geta answered, while an unreadable smile played on his lips. „No wonder our dear General is so protective of her. Is she already promised to someone?“

„Why do you ask me!?“ Caracalla snapped back, as if his brother didn’t know that he had a lot of spies around the city, who delivered him the newest gossip from the streets of Rome. With an annoyed eye roll, he leaned forward, adjusting the golden laurel wreath on his head. „No, she is a blank parchment. Probably untouched too.“

Geta still watched you with an intense interest as if you were a rare diamond, he needed to claim. But he was not the only one in this room, because Caracalla stared at his brother, noticing the way he looked at you. There it was again, the old melody. Whenever he wanted something, Geta wanted it too. They already shared the title of Emperors, their wealth, their whores… It was already something that cooked in him for a long time. But now he had an eye on you and wasn't happy about the fact that Geta might try to get you too.

Before he could even bring this thought to an end, his twin brother Geta already stood up from his chaise lounge and made his way through the crowd, the direction was clear. Caracalla's nose twitched in a mixture of nervousness and anger, and he got up quickly as well, not as gracefully as he wanted to, but he didn’t care. He had to tame the inner urge to backstab his brother before he could even reach you.

_____________________________________________

You still stood at the side of your father sipping on your first goblet of fine wine, while your eyes went over all the different guests and the excessive decor. Your father was sunken in a conversation with another general, Marcus Galbanus, an old friend and brother-in-arms of Acacius. But their conversation quickly stopped as soon as the Emperors approached them. Both your father and Marcus Galbanus lowered their heads and greeted them according to the etiquette, while you curtsied deep. This was the very first time you got the chance to meet the Emperor's of Rome Caracalla and Geta. And given the importance of those two figures, you even felt a little nervous.

"We almost feared you wouldn't show up to your own party, Acacius. But we're happy you made your way here... we already heard that your dear wife lays sick. Please, send her our best wishes. Nonetheless we would be delighted if you could introduce us to your company tonight", Geta demanded in a playful tone, knowing how much Acacius had tried to delay this. Caracalla stood at his side, his staring blue eyes drilled themselves into your appearence. Even though he was a man that had tasted a lot of men and women, one even more sensual than the other, your whole appearence, your face, your lips, your smile, everything - you reached a sentience in his mind that could only be gifted by the gods. The mere thought of having you infected his brain like a curse.

You could sense the tension that raised in your father as if everything in him resisted the situation. Yet he placed his hand softly on your shoulder and did as they wished. "This is my daughter, y/n..."

"I'm honoured to meet the Emperors of Rome", you said in a soft voice, earning you an appreciating smile by Geta and an unreadable grin of Caracalla.

"Oh the pleasure is on our side, my dearest. How do you like this Ceremony in honor of your father's victories?", Geta asked. But before you could even answer, his brother added, while he took another sip of his wine "Your father is a Roman hero through and through, isn't it right Acacius?" His tone had something else in it, almost as if it was some kind of mistrust. But you needed to ignore the irritation you felt and simply nodded.

"It is breathtaking. I've never witnessed something like this and it makes me incredible proud to see the gratitute he earned himself through the love he has for Rome and its people," you answered, trying to remind the Emperor's of Acacius loyality, which was undoubtful.

"Then you'll enjoy the ceremony in the arena tomorrow as well, i'm sure. Please, we invite your father and you to be our guests."

"I don't think that such entertainment is suited for a young woman of her status," your father suddenly interfered in a calm yet set tone, only earning the laugh of Caracalla. "Let your daughter decide for herself, General."

The atmosphere shifted to an unspoken intensity. You could sense your father's worries and given all what you've heard from the colosseum, you didn't really think of it as something worth to witness. Seeing people die in such a terrible way only for the pleasures of the masses seemed like a farce. Acacius always called it the most needless form of brutality amongst humans, he despised this himself and therefore avoided going into the arena whenever he could. But you also read the eyes of Geta and his brother, who waited for your answer and would not accept a simple 'No'.

"It would be an honour," you answered, and Geta leaned forward a bit, which made your father's jaw clench in anger. Not because of your answer, he was aware that a choice was not existing, when facing an Emperor, but because the way the twins looked at you as if you were a price they could simply claim. But you were a smart girl and definitely not naive, so he fully relied on that.

"So this is a 'Yes'?", Geta asked again and you looked him straight in the eyes, not backing off. "Yes."

"Excellent!", Caracalla shouted and clapped into his hands. "We'll have a lot of fun tomorrow."

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched to a smile and he nodded in response to his twin. Yet he hid his displeasure of having him as a rival in this little game. It was clear that Caracalla had layed his eyes on you too, but he won't allow him to simply take and fuck you like you were a common whore. Maybe you could've potential for something more and strenghten his position as well as his popularity. Because both Emperors were still unmarried - and it was expected from them that this would change sooner or later.

[c4tluver02]

too tired

wc: 2.2k

summary: After a long day of the sun burning the top of your shoulders and the bridge of Steves nose, things turn sour quickly.

cw: hurt/ comfort, baby fight, Steves fault cuz i said so :P, happy ending

a/n: not a beach fic!!!! but also not not a beach fic..... im a lost cause!

It wasn't even enough to be considered a fight.

You, Steve, and the group were all at the beach. It was hot, possibly the hottest day of the year, and you were all tired. The sun beating down on you for the past few hours took all your energy. So when it was time to pack everything up it was silent, everyone doing their own chore, ready to head home. 

That's where Steve's comment on ‘covering up’ came about. You were gonna walk to the car in your bathing suit, the one that's been torturing Steve this whole time. And if he bothered to ask you, you’d tell him you did this on purpose. For him, of course, a new bikini that would hopefully land you a needy Steve that couldn't get his hands off of you. But instead he handed you the shorts and top you wore coming to the beach. You were half sand and still airing off the water from the sea, which didn't sound like a good pair with clothes that were laying in the sun this whole time. 

Instead of explaining this whole thing to Steve you just scrunch your nose and shook your head saying “too hot”. Not wanting to ruin your barely worn clothes. But to Steve it was just shorts and a tank top. And it’s one more thing he’ll have to carry along with the chairs and cooler. Your damp bathing suit could mess up the seats in his car, and if shorts could stop that why not wear them? 

While all this was going on in his head, something completely different came out of his mouth. 

“You’d rather let all these guys eye-fuck you? Just put it on.” 

You’re surprised your melted brain was even able to process the sentence correctly. Overstimulated by the kids fighting in front of the two of you, sweating with two chairs hurting your arms, and now Steve lecturing you. It was all too much and unfairly getting to you. 

“Steve, you don't even have a shirt on.” You scoff. “I’m not telling you to do shit about it am I?” 

Steve doesn't miss the eye roll you give as you turn your head. He knows his comment wasn't the nicest thing to say but really he doesn't have it in him to baby you about it. 

By the time the two of you get to the cars and everyone starts putting things away the tension is still there. Thick and unwavering, but goes completely missed by the rest of the group. The kids go with Jonathan and Nancy leaving you and Steve alone. No one has enough energy to see how tense you and Steve were. 

“You're still wet, can you at least put on your shorts so you don't ruin the seats?” He asks with a sigh. Like you simply can't do anything right and it's getting on his nerves. 

But he’s right and it makes you boil. Your wet bathing suit is bad for his already breaking down leather seats. You take a towel trying to dry off as much as you can, along with wiping away the sand that's not glued to you. Putting on your shirt and shorts before getting into the passenger seat of the car. 

If it weren't for the music, the car ride would be completely silent. Instead of his hand resting on your thigh like it did on the drive up, it’s stuck gripping the steering wheel. This isn't the biggest fight you two have had. You wouldn't even really consider it a fight. Just two tired and overheated people who let it get the best of them, but it still doesn't make the tone used or the words said go away. 

When you do reach Steve's place he’s quick to get the things out of the trunk. You go straight to the kitchen for water. The kids used all the water bottles you brought along with eating all the snacks. So maybe Steve should cut you some slack, you’re dehydrated and starving. But then again so was he. Which is why you're not terribly upset, you might even take a nap with him still. 

The water is felt through your body and it makes it feel like half of your brain is alive again. You’re sure with a shower and food you would be fully brought back to life. This makes you feel guilty that Steve is still outside putting things back in the garage. He’s probably sweating again and losing even more energy, something he barely had to begin with. 

You decide to bring him a bottle of nice cold water, maybe he’ll even say sorry and this whole thing can blow over. 

But when you walk out and he barely looks at you. Busy putting things away all he gets out is a mumbled “you can leave it there”. You’re not really sure what you did to deserve this attitude he’s giving you. He was the one who told you to cover up, he started the whole thing. If anything you should be the one giving him the cold shoulder. 

So that's what you do. You leave the bottled water on the counter by the door and walk back inside. You weren’t gonna get all sweaty again and deal with his bad mood. 

The next step to feeling better is a shower, one you were planning to have with Steve, but now opting for alone time. The shower is quick, not even warm water makes you feel refreshed, everything is still too hot. And when you get out of the shower and start lightly sweating again you think you might break down and cry. 

You can hear Steve open and close the fridge downstairs, he must be done with putting things away. The thought of him having to come up to his room that you're currently hiding away in makes you sigh. Fighting with Steve is never fun but the part you hate most is trying to avoid each other. This is partially your fault as in the beginning of your relationship you made a rule to not leave during a fight. Walking away doesn't solve anything and no one wants to go to bed upset with a situation. 

Once people walk away they get too scared to come back. Then thoughts start to form and it turns to something worse. Instead you take a break from each other and come back when you're ready. It’s worked so far for the two of you. 

But now he has to shower and you’re still really tired. Maybe too tired to continue this fight, ready to give up on it and talk about it in the morning when you both feel back to normal. 

When Steve comes up and sees a clean you laying on his bed he feels his guilt triple. He’s really not mad at you, just exhausted and wanting the feeling of sand in his hair to go away. 

“Are you gonna nap?” He asks leaning against the doorframe.

You open your eyes, you're kinda in a starfish position on his bed, trying to get cool. “I want to but I am so hot.” It comes out in a whimper and you roll over to groan into the mattress. 

Steve feels like he could do the exact same thing which is why he smiles at your dramatics. He also wishes he could tell you how good you looked in your bathing suit, or how much the kids annoyed him today. Basically missing the debrief you two normally have but too stoic to try anything. 

“I can change the AC to make it colder.” He says simply. “I’ll be back, ok?” 

The gesture of him letting you know he isnt leaving you is kind. Maybe the only kind thing he's done in the past few hours. You let out a small ‘thank you’ and Steve wishes he could be as mature as you in this situation. Unable to thank you for the water or for not going crazy when he stupidly told you to cover up. 

When he comes back he walks to the bathroom and turns the shower on. The frown that settles onto your face feels like it could be permanent at this point. But Steve comes back out before you could let your thoughts circle into a deep rabbit hole of what you’ve done wrong. 

“When I’m done, do you wanna take a nap?” What he means to ask is if you wanted to nap with him. Again too set in his ways to be a bigger person about this. 

“Okay sure.” You nod, your head is already on a pillow which squashes half your face. You look really cute and Steve is heartbroken that he can't kiss the frown off your face. Maybe when you both wake up from the nap he’ll be a grown up about it. 

The shower doesn't take long at all. He’s pretty quick which he should consider himself lucky because two more minutes and you would have been out. Sleep taking over your body before he could even get the chance to meet you there. 

His hair is damp and the way each strand of hair sticks in different directions tells you he didn't bother drying it a certain way. 

You can hear him walk over to you, it only takes a second of observation for him to notice you’re not actually asleep despite your eyes being closed. 

“Scootch.” It doesn't come out harsh, and the hand he rubs along your thigh helps. 

You move to the other side of the bed and he takes the spot you were just laying on. The tiredness could take you both in seconds but both of you want to say something and it shows. 

He lays his palm out against the mattress inviting you to grab onto it. When you do, fingers intertwining, he squeezes your hand. You feel like you haven't touched him all day, his warm hand burns your skin. 

Both of you are laying on top of the comforter, it being too hot for anything to be on you. When you move your leg to tangle with his, he doesn't move away. Steve radiates heat on a normal day so for him to be hot, it feels like you have a fire next to you. Still you don't move away from him, only a small distance separates you two. 

“Baby?” Steve asks, it comes out so small.

“Hmm?” You respond, your eyes are still closed and the ac is starting to actually cool you down. 

“I’m sorry for what I said.” 

His words make your eyes open, it’s getting darker outside now that the day is ending and there's not much light left in the room. 

“Why were you so upset with me?” 

Steve wonders if you still like him enough to bandage his broken heart. You sound so sad when you say it he thinks his heart might’ve just shattered. Completely useless and unfixable. 

“I'm not. I swear I’m not, I really wasn't trying to be a dick I was just really tired and overwhelmed. I dunno, it all just built up inside me and I lashed out on you.” 

“I was tired and overwhelmed too.” You don't say it to counter argue with him but you want to make sure he knows it. 

“I know, you handled everything so much better than me, angel. I really am sorry.” He pulls your hand that's intertwined with him and kisses it a few times. If only he would just give you a real kiss already. 

“It’s okay Steve, I forgive you.” You say with a few small nods like you really need him to believe you. 

“I shouldn't have told you what to do, that wasn't nice and obviously you can do whatever you want to do. I wasn't trying to demand things.” His rambling shows you he really has been torturing himself about it. 

“Steve. It’s all okay. I know you feel bad but I’m already over it, okay?” You give him a smile and slowly he scoots over to you. 

Laying his head on your chest, still hand in hand, as he lets out a deep breath he didn't really even know he was holding onto. 

“Do you still love me?” 

A laugh comes out of you before an answer. Steve can tell it's a real one because he can feel the vibrations on the side of his face. 

“Yes, Stevie, I still love you.” Your fingers gently run through his hair, it’s still drying but straight up. Maybe brushing it down will help it. 

“Do you still love me?” You ask back. It’s a dumb question because this whole thing was never that big but it’s always nice to hear after a day of no kisses or ‘i love yous’.

“Of course I love you, even when I’m hot, sticky, and tired. I promise.” 

“I know and I believe you. Kiss?” You ask puckering your lips making a little kiss noise. 

Finally he gives you a real kiss, along with one on your forehead, nose, and cheeks. It’s all to make up for the missed kisses that he didn't give because he was too busy being an ass. 

“Okay let’s sleep now.” He says settling down on your chest letting his head fall between your shoulder and neck. 

Another laugh comes out of you and you close your eyes. Both of you fall asleep with a smile stitched to your face and limbs tangled together.

[swetblom]

𓏲୭  brian bruises your insides feat. his big biceps ⠀ 𓂃 w. he’s not that sweet, but he’s sweet in his ⠀ own way ♡ and that’s all that matters!

the neighbors are going to complain again. they’ve already knocked multiple times—sometimes more than once a night—because of you and brian, and every time, you promise, “swear i’m gonna be quieter this time.” but, as always, you fail miserably. no matter the time of day or night, your moans pound against the thin walls, loud and desperate, because it’s not your fault he keeps hitting that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you shake and whimper about how it’s too much—only for him to keep pushing deeper.

“brian, brian, brian.” his name spills from your lips like a chant, dripping with need, mindless and pleading.

his arm is locked tightly around your shoulders, keeping you pressed close as he sinks into you, impossibly deep. you’re shivering from the stretch, from the way his cock pulses inside you, his breath warm and heavy against your ear. he’s still—so still it makes you ache, his only movement the slight twitch of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and you don’t hesitate to push back against him, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his cock with greedy, eager movements.

brian watches, amused, as you work yourself up. your ass ripples with every desperate grind, your voice breaking into needy little moans that don’t even ask for anything—just mindless, pathetic noises spilling from your lips. he adores it.

“come on,” he encourages, voice low and smooth. “just like that.”

you try, putting all your strength behind each thrust, but it’s too much—too deep, too intense—and your pace starts to falter. he tsks, the hand resting on your stomach sliding to your hip, fingers stroking over your skin with a softness that contradicts his teasing.

“tired?” you whimper, nodding, barely able to keep moving. brian hums, sharp eyes flicking to the part of your face he can see, something unreadable glinting beneath the amusement. “want me to take care of you?” you nod again, eyes fluttering, too lost in the heat of it all to notice the way he’s looking at you. “yes . . please.”

his grip tightens. before you can process it, brian takes over, pulling your hips back with an unforgiving force and slamming you down onto his cock. your body jolts forward from the impact, but his arm around your shoulders keeps you locked in place—keeps you exactly where he wants you. a choked-out moan rips from your throat, high and broken, and he doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s setting a ruthless pace.

the sound of skin slapping fills the room, mixing with your sharp, gasping cries. you’re shaking from the intensity, from the way he fucks into you without hesitation, without mercy, hitting so deep it borders on unbearable. every thrust has you unraveling further, has your hands grasping uselessly at the sheets, at his arm, at anything to ground yourself, but there’s no escape.

“too much—” the words barely make it past your lips, voice weak, cracked. brian huffs out a laugh against your ear, “thought you wanted me to take care of you?”

his hips roll forward, dragging his cock against that spot inside you that makes your mind go blank, and you sob, vision going hazy. his grip on your hip softens just enough to stroke over your skin, his amusement never fading. “you take it so well,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your neck, voice dark and filled with something you’re too fucked-out to catch. “every single time.”

you can barely form words, barely think past the relentless pleasure coursing through you. your moans are shameless, bordering on a wail as he keeps you exactly where he wants—bent, used, ruined.

and the neighbors? they’ll just have to deal with it.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Breaking Point Chapter 3

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

4.3k words

First / Prev / Next

Summary: You're in the thick of it now. On a pirate ship surrounded by enemies and powerless against them. What will these bloodthirsty brutes do to you now that you're at their mercy?

Warning: mild suicidal ideation, mentions of drugging, cancer mention, trauma responses

Many questions race through your mind as Elise pushes you down the long hall of the Moby Dick. Namely: Why you? What did you do to deserve this fate? What would that fate even be?

One thing seems certain. You won't survive this. Of course you won't. You're completely defenseless around one of the most powerful pirate crews on the planet, and you're a marine. Well, a former marine, but you doubt they know or care about that fact. 

Sweat is beading on your face and back as you sit in a petrified silence because even the heavy dose of sedatives you believe they have you on can only numb your mind so much. An inescapable sense of dread looms over you, getting heavier every second as you draw nearer to the door at the end of the hall. 

Would Elise take you back to the infirmary if you pretended to faint? It might be worth a shot… Or maybe that would just make her double down on her alleged quest to get you fresh air. You're usually an enviable strategist, but your disordered and foggy thinking does nothing to bely that fact. You couldn't think your way out of a paper sack right now. 

Thatch quickens his step to get to the door first. He looks completely relaxed and carefree about this funeral procession in disguise. Which you suppose makes sense. A marine's death is probably downright mundane to a pirate. You don't fault them for such a mentality. Admittedly, a pirate's death was just as unremarkable to you as a marine. It was a fact of war. 

And now it was your turn to be a casualty of it. 

The sunbeams that shine through after the door is opened momentarily blind you, which is equal parts relieving and distressing. You're spared the sight of what is to come, but your brain is left to fill in the blanks on its own, and it never shows you less than the worst case scenario. 

Images of pirates lying in wait with their weapons at the ready flash through your mind. In your mind, they’d been given a covert heads-up that you were on route to your life’s terminus. This medical gurney would become your deathbed in a matter of seconds as they used your body as a pincushion for their weapons. 

As your eyes adjusted to the light and made sense of their surroundings, you found yourself… very much not surrounded. Thatch was there, and you could assume Elise was still the one pushing you, but no one else was in your immediate vicinity.

That’s not to say that there weren’t any other pirates here, you could see many. But they were just casually milling about with no real sense of urgency. They haven’t seen you yet. Perhaps the assumption that they knew you were coming was off base. Certainly their behavior will change once they realize you’re here.

Elise hums as she pushes you over to the taffrail so you can have a scenic ocean view as you’re murdered. How considerate. Maybe they plan to simply toss you overboard and let your devil fruit status take the reigns in your demise?

Rather than taking in the sight, you scan the open deck of the ship. More specifically, you’re logging who all is here. Much to your mounting horror, you spot a majority of the division commanders. Diamond Jozu, Flintlock Pistol Izou, Vista of the Flower Swords, all of the heavy hitters of the Whitebeard’s are lurking nearby. Even Fire Fist Ace is here, and now you don’t have the means to counter his flames. You are so dead. You wouldn’t be able to fight your way out of here even if they removed the seastone cuffs.

Lastly, your eyes settle on the large and imposing figure of Whitebeard himself. You were well versed on who he was, any marine worth their salt was, but even still you were startled by the sheer size of him. His looming frame cast a wide shadow across the deck and all the way over to you, encompassing you fully.

Height aside, there was something else that struck you about him. There was talk of his failing health, but no one had clear answers on its severity. You never would have guessed it was this bad. The drip stand behind him had multiple IV bags hanging from it, several chest tubes were attached to him, and he even had a nasal cannula that you almost missed thanks to his mustache. What appeared to be an entire ward of nurses were hard at work around him.

Then the absolute worst thing happens. While you are blatantly gawking at Whitebeard, he turns his head and makes eye contact with you. You instinctively look away and press yourself back into the thin mattress of your gurney as if it will swallow you up and take you far away from here. It does not. Woe.

A rumbling laugh rolls off of the captain as he bears witness to your nonsensical actions. You sink back even more, but you can’t help but look his way again. He’s still looking at you, and he appears to be amused more than anything. It seems strange to you at first, but you suppose someone like yourself really doesn’t prompt a serious reaction from someone as powerful as him. You were nothing to him even in peak condition. Even in his poor health, you know better than to underestimate him.

His grin was relaxed as he regarded you. “So you’re finally awake,” he shifts and props his chin up on one hand, “and in better spirits, I hope?”

What the hell were you supposed to do with that? Answering felt ridiculous, but ignoring him felt downright stupid. Whitebeard wasn’t someone that you could just up and snub! That would be like telling Big Mom to piss off! Should you be honest and say that no, your spirits are in fact quite abysmal, or are you supposed to lie and say that you’re just peachy keen?! Oh, but now you’ve been silently staring at him for too long, you’re making it weird! In a frantic attempt to save face and not give him a reason to be angry at you, you nod your head up and down and blurt out an answer, “I-I’m fine, sir!”

Whitebeard’s eyebrows raise slightly, then he laughs again, this time much harder. Probably over the way your voice cracked, if you had to guess. You sounded like one of the fresh recruits rather than a seasoned marine. Akainu would never approve of you speaking in such a disgraceful manner.

“It’s been a while since someone called me that. You can drop the formalities, my child, this is a pirate ship.”

What did he just call you? Is he… belittling you? By using such a juvenile term to describe you, it certainly felt that way. Is this a joke to him? Are you a joke to him?

“Hey!” You're startled by the sudden proximity of a new voice. You break away from your staring contest with an Emperor and see that Fire Fist Ace is strolling on over to you. He flashes a relaxed, boyish grin your way and perches himself up on the railing next to you. “You're looking like you're feeling better. That's a relief.”

A relief? You fail to see how that would be “relieving” to anyone here. You eye the pirate suspiciously, trying to figure out what he's up to. He's seemingly trying to get you to lower your guard, though you have no idea why. Such a tactic is unnecessary when you're already physically restrained and weakened. As you size him up, you notice some bandages on his right hand. 

Isn't he supposed to be a logia fruit user? Injuries shouldn't be a problem for him. 

Ace follows your gaze to his hand. “Oh, you don't have to worry about that. It's not that bad, I'll be fine.” He lifts the hand up and flexes it open and shut as if to prove his statement.

His wording confuses you. Is he implying that you have a reason to be worried about that? Did you do that to him? Surely you didn't. Your zoan fruit would be largely ineffective in a physical attack against him, and you feel pretty confident in assuming that you didn't spontaneously develop Armament Haki and then forget about it. 

Damn whatever medicine they gave you and the memory loss that came with it. This situation is bad enough as it stands. You don't need to heap confusion on top of it. 

“So this is the marine you and Marco caught? I'll admit I was expecting a bit more… fury?” The flower swords wielder, Vista, had come up on your other side and was now bent down to examine you closely. “Come on, don't you have some threats to shout? Curses to hurl?”

Before your sluggish body can retreat back from having your personal space invaded, Elise pushes his face away with a huff and then swats at the hand he had placed on the sidebar of your gurney. She speaks sternly, reminding you of a mother scolding a child, “Don't antagonize them, I much prefer them like this to how they were. And watch where you're putting your hands, you almost snagged the IV line.”

Yet again, you were in awe of her fearlessness when confronting infamous pirates. Was she truly that brave, or was she somehow naive to how dangerous criminals like these people can be?

Vista, shockingly, immediately concedes and holds his hands up in a placating manner, “Sorry, Sorry! I'll be more careful next time, ‘lise!” 

Elise rolls her eyes, but there's a playful lilt to her tone, “Yeah right, I'm sure I'll have to correct you again before my shift is over, flower boy.”

The way they conversed reminded you of what you'd hear amongst your platoon. A well earned rapport built up over months or even years of a kind of teamwork that can only be wrought from surviving life threatening situations together. Genuinely speaking, you'd never really thought about the fact that pirates would have such bonds. The treachery and the survival of the fittest mindsets that were so commonplace in piracy would surely sabotage such a relationship from forming, right?

Dwelling on this puzzling revelation isn't really an option for you, unfortunately. Not when more of Whitebeard's crew was encroaching on you. 

No doubt, you were probably something of a roadside attraction to them. A (former) high ranking marine whose reputation was built around the fact that you were the child of Admiral Akainu, but now you were reduced to some aloof inpatient strapped to a bed. You suppose the way they stare at you isn't all that far off how you gawked at their captain. Both were sorry falls from grace- not that you would ever even think to dare to say that of Whitebeard. The drugs in your system were keeping you from being that suicidal. 

Ace slipped down from the railing and propped an arm up on the top of your raised up gurney. As you turn your head to see what he's up to, his other arm darts out and tosses your blanket up over you so that it's covering your exposed arm. 

For a moment, you're just vaguely confused. What was the point of that? Did he think- and moreover, care- that you were cold? You stare down at where the thin sheet is draped over your arm, hoping that answers will jump out at you given that you've been sorely lacking in them today. What about your arm was worth hiding?

Wait. 

The scar. 

He was covering up your burn for you. In typical fashion, you feel a distinct lack of clarity despite technically getting an answer. Everyone on this damned ship spoke nonsense, and their behavior was even more mystifying. What was his angle? What did he have to gain from helping you cover a scar before the whole crew could spot it? His expression belies no clear answer. He's looking away and acting like he didn't do anything. 

More and more pirates were meandering over to you, which kept you from trying to press the Fire Fist for answers. Flintlock Pistol Izou was standing near the foot of the bed and looming over you with an intimidating presence as his eyes pierced into yours, seemingly looking for something that only he knows about. 

His painted lips quirk into a half smile, “So what is it like to be on a pirate ship for the first time?”

The straps on your legs and the handcuff around one of your wrists are brought fully to your attention following his question. You make a display out of squirming uncomfortably against them, “A little restrictive, if I'm being honest.” Also terrifying, but you aren't about to vocalize that. 

Some chuckles echo through the crowd you've amassed. Thatch shifts on his feet, then consults Elise, “It wouldn't hurt to let them walk around, would it?”

Elise sighs and looks conflicted, “It would be good for them to stretch their legs, but I was hoping to wait until Marco was back before we tried that.”

Hold on. Were they seriously considering it? Wow. You really aren't shit to them if they're fine with the idea of freeing you. It's a bit of a blow to your ego, frankly.

Vista interjects, “All of us are here, we can help keep an eye on them.” Elise makes a hum of continued uncertainty, so he tacks on, “Just let the kid walk around a bit, it’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Elise relents. “I'll go get a portable stand for the IV.” She fishes a key out of her pocket and hands it to Thatch before departing. Given that she was the closest thing you had to a safety net around these pirates, her absence was immediately felt. To an extent, you felt like she was keeping everyone else at bay, but now they were free to act however they want.

Thatch approaches you casually, coming off as entirely unconcerned about what you may or may not do upon release. His carefree attitude left you feeling enviable. You were anything but right now. Your eyes flit back and forth between the faces of everyone crowded around you. There had to be dozens of people circling you, not counting Whitebeard himself in the distance. 

Yeah, it made sense why no one was worried about you harming anyone. You had no chance against anyone here, even one-on-one. The whole mob could easily tear you to shreds. Why they hadn’t already was beyond you. Maybe they wanted you free first for the sport of the hunt. Not that there would be much of a hunt. There was nothing in this world left for you to flee to. Laying down and dying was much more appealing than fighting a pointless battle.

The cuff that was locked around a bar on the bed clicks open. Thatch stares at the other one, looking considerably more uncertain about undoing that one. He gnaws at his lip for a moment, then sighs, “We should probably leave that one on until Marco’s here. Let me just…” He holds the cuff on your wrist, grabs the chain connecting it to the other, and then rips it clean off on the first try. “There we go. That should be more comfortable.”

For a few seconds, you just stare at him wide-eyed. That casual display of strength HAD to be an intimidation tactic. This was apparently absolutely nothing new to him, seeing as all that he did after casually ripping apart seastone cuffs was set to work on undoing the straps still holding down your legs.

This crew really was on a whole other level from anyone else. They’d earned the right to be a part of an Emperor’s army.

Once all of your limbs were free, he held out his hands to you, “Here, let me help you down.”

“No,” you recoil back and shake your head, “I can do that on my own.” Thatch holds his hands up and steps back to give you space, which surprises you, but you try not to dwell on it. You resituate the sheet so that it’s draped around you like a shawl and covering your arm. You’ll just say you’re cold if anyone asks. You slide off the gurney and onto your feet, then immediately start backing away from the crowd.

But Vista abruptly grabs your arm and pulls you back. Involuntarily, you flinch. Your shoulders jump up and your free arm raises into a defensive stance. Here it was. This was it. The pack was ready to tear you limb from limb for everything that you’d done as a marine.

“Whoa there.” His grip on your arm loosens, enough to be noticeable, but not enough for you to be able to pull away. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were going to rip your IV out if you kept going.”

Your… Oh. Dammit. You’re so stupid! In a sorry attempt to save face, you mutter out a quiet, “I wasn’t scared.” Ugh. That sounded fake even to you. The slight tremble in your voice was a dead giveaway. How pathetic. You get a little bit of drugs in your system and you’re reduced to a whimpering cowardly mess.

Vista hesitantly releases your arm, his hand hovering over it briefly to see if you’d try to move away again. You didn’t. He pats your shoulder before pulling away, “See? Everything is okay.”

It most certainly was not, but you don’t say as much. You’ve made enough of a fool of yourself. The last thing you needed was to keep running your mouth and start crying or something else humiliating like that. You pull the blanket around yourself tighter and stare down at your feet. There wasn’t much of a point in watching the people around you when there was nothing you could do about them. Whatever happens, happens. 

A door opens nearby, and you can hear a set of footsteps and the sound of wheels rolling over the wooden flooring of the deck. Pink shoes come into your line of sight. Elise is back. The liquid inside the IV bag swishes softly as she moves it to the mobile stand, “There we go! How are you feeling? Are you lightheaded at all?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m fine.” You hazard a glance at Elise and see her smiling back at you. What was there to be so damned happy about?

Her smile persists despite your terse response, “That’s great! Now, what do you want to do?”

Huh? “What do I… want to do?”

“Yeah. Do you want to go for a walk? We could go to the kitchen and get you something to eat if you’re still hungry.” She stares at your mystified expression expectantly, but her smile starts to droop when all you do is continue to stare at her. “Or we could do something else if you want. What do you usually do for fun?”

“For fun? I was a marine, I didn’t have time for “fun”, don’t be ridiculous.” Your entire life has been training, sparring, and studying. Fun was for children, not soldiers.

Elise’s mouth hangs open in surprise, the smile finally gone. She shakes her head and steps closer to you, “Hey now, don’t say that! Come on, surely you had at least one hobby. Like something that you did to relax after a long day?”

“To relax after a long day? You mean sleeping?”

“No!” Elise pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs sharply, “No, I mean an activity, not something you have to do to survive. Something fun.” You just stare at her blankly, and her hands find purchase on her hips, “Give me an example. Tell me something that someone might do for fun. It can be anyone or anything.”

Why was she so hung up on this? You huff out a sigh and look down at the floor again. What was something “fun”? Well, one thing comes to mind. Memories of Akainu tending to his precious bonsai trees flash behind your eyes. “Does gardening count?”

“Yes! Do you like gardening?”

“No.” Your expression twists into a bitter scowl, “I do not.” You hated those damned trees. They were completely useless, yet Akainu treated them better than anything and anyone.

“O-Okay! Um, how about we try something new then?” It would seem the hatred within your words took her by surprise. It honestly surprised you a little, too. You never emoted this much.

Similarly, you were never this confused, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should give a new hobby a try. I think that would help you to feel much better.” Elise is smiling hopefully at you.

She really was bound and determined on this matter, wasn’t she? “What am I even supposed to do?”

Thatch steps forward, “A lot of people enjoy baking as a hobby. I could show you the ropes if you’ll let me.”

Izou speaks up next, “Tea preparation can be an artform in and of itself if you take it seriously enough. You could try that.”

Elise claps her hand together, “Oh, what about watercoloring? I would be more than happy to share my supplies with you!”

Everyone around you starts calling out random hobbies with enthusiasm. Sewing, reading, flower pressing, hiking, pottery, origami, fishing, the suggestions don’t end. This was completely and utterly baffling. It was entirely nonsensical. They should be killing you, or ransoming you at the very least. Why were they doing this?

What even was this? You didn’t have a word to describe their actions.

—

Teach sat away from the crowd. He had no desire to be around that cutthroat little shit. Last time he was this close to you, you damn near slit his throat open. His finger ghosts over the scar on his neck from where one of your talons cut him. Had you aimed just a little higher, his jugular would have been torn open.

What the fuck was Whitebeard thinking? His old age was definitely getting to him.

A quick glance up at the captain all but confirmed his thoughts. The old man was watching the spectacle with open bemusement. He’s definitely gone soft. An unsurprising development given his poor health. Anyone’s mind would begin deteriorating when cancer was eating them alive from the inside out.

“Are you really sure about this, old man?” He can’t help himself, he needs more insight on what’s running through that fool’s mind.

Whitebeard turns his head to look at him, “Am I sure about what?”

“That marine.”

“That child is no more a threat than any of the nurses on board.” Teach begged to differ on that front. The worst any of them had done to him was wrinkle their noses at him. “Besides, from what Marco told me about what they said after being captured, it sounds to me like they are a former marine.”

Does that make any difference? Once a marine, always a marine. Hating and killing pirates was in your blood.

A quiet, rumbling chuckle escapes Whitebeard, “Come now, don’t tell me you’re scared of the kid.”

“Me? Scared? Perish the thought!” Teach laughs and hopes that it sounds convincing. “I would just hate to see anyone get hurt because of them.”

His concern is waved off, “You worry too much, my son. They aren’t going to hurt anyone, I can tell. I’ve been around for a long time, I have become a good judge of character by this point.”

Teach chuckles at his words, “Yeah, you’re right, pops. Sorry I ever doubted you.” Good judge of character, his ass. What a stupid old fool.

“Pops!” One of the crew members not fawning over the marine hurries over to the captain. What was his name? Teach couldn’t be bothered to remember. There were far too many people crammed onto this ship for that.

“Yes, Colsman?” How the hell was Whitebeard able to keep track of all these names and the unremarkable faces attached to them? Ridiculous. 

“You have a call coming in.”

Whitebeard sighs, “That Admiral really isn’t getting the hint, is he?”

“It isn’t coming from Marineford.” Colsman inches closer, a combination of confusion and apprehension on his face, “It’s originating from Totto Land.”

That definitely got the old man’s attention. And Teach’s, if he’s being honest. Big Mom was quite literally the last person he was expecting to hear from today. Whitebeard sits up straight, “What does Lin Lin want?”

“That’s the weird part, it isn’t Big Mom on the line. It’s a different woman, but she’s adamantly refusing to disclose who she is to anyone but you. She insists that the matter is urgent and involves,” he cocks his head back at the marine, “them.”

Whitebeard stares at Colsman, then at you. He nods, “Very well. I’ll take the call in my quarters.” The nurses all set to work on mobilizing his medical equipment to follow him, and Teach finds himself wanting to do the same. Then again, he’s sure that the nurses will be forced out of the room for the duration of the call. He doubts that he’d be able to eavesdrop without being caught.

Teach looks over at the marine again. What could the Big Mom Pirates possibly want with you? Was there some use to you that he wasn’t aware of? He supposes that he’ll have ample opportunity to find out so long as he continues playing his cards right.

Your wings have been clipped, after all. He doesn’t need to be scared of you now.

Taglist: @twotrucksinatree @tigerstarstorm @mu5hro0m @brooks-real @one-piecelover @ratchetprime211 @ithoughtthinks @simpfor2dpeoole @vinillies @selfindulgenceisthekey

[little-diable]

A dare to kiss - Tyler Owens (smut)

I'll keep on riding the Tyler train till my ideas run out. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been best friends for years. But after another storm season, she finally snaps and realises she can't be around him any longer, not when her feelings for him won't let go of her. But perhaps the feelings aren't unrequited as she fears.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), friends to lovers, idiots in love, some angst, but a very happy ending

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“How old are you? Stop it, Boone!” (Y/n)’s voice dripped with annoyance, eyes flickering from her friends and colleagues down to her drink. It had been their last day of chasing, saying goodbye to another season that had been filled with exciting but also horrible moments they all haven’t quite processed just yet.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a kiss!” Boone excitedly clapped his hands while he let his gaze wander from (y/n) to Tyler, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. They no longer knew who had started their annual game of truth and dare, passing a few hours where they got to spill secrets, fears, and do harmless dares to end the night with stomachs that hurt from laughing too much.

At least it had always been like that until this very dare, something that clearly went too far for her aching heart. Her feelings for Tyler were no secret, they all knew of the feelings she harboured for her best friend – all but Tyler, who obliviously chased other women while (y/n) was forced to suffer around him. 

“Give her another dare, Boone.” Tyler’s voice drew all eyes towards him, ripping their hope of finally being able to push the two of them together into shreds. They were too focused on Tyler to pick up on the hurt crossing her features. It was her own fault, she should have just kissed him, should have crossed the distance between them while the chance had been right there for her to grasp. A chance that had passed the second Tyler had spoken up.

“You know what, I’m tired anyway, I’ll head back to the motel.” She rose to her trembling feet, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket to hide the fists she had balled them into from their confused eyes. She didn’t wait for them to speak up, turned from them with an aching heart and allowed the darkness to swallow her while almost jogging back to her room. 

Even though (y/n) hated parting from the group, not wanting to leave them that early on their last evening together, she needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while. Staying this close to Tyler for the past weeks had been more exhausting than she had thought it would be, unable to endure his closeness any longer. She should look forward to returning home, to quiet hours where she won’t have to worry about hiding the feelings she hadn’t been able to let go of for the past years. 

The door to her room fell shut behind her, letting the silence wrap itself around (y/n) while she wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Curses rumbled through her, she felt as if she was drowning, unable to breathe while the room closed in on her. Her body started moving without listening to her mind's command. She threw all her stuff into her bag, hastily reaching for her things as her vision grew more blurry. 

She needed to get away, needed to make it home, she couldn’t stand being around him for another minute. She left the room with her heart in her throat, forced to a sudden halt before she could collide with Dexter. His hands shot out to catch her should she fall, drawing her tear stained features up towards him. 

“Oh, (y/n). What’s going on?” She let her head fall against his chest, searching the closeness of the man who had always treated her like his daughter, the first one she had told her feelings for Tyler to. A sob wrecked through her, forcing him to tighten his hold on her to keep (y/n) close. 

“I need to leave, I can’t do this any longer, Dexter. Here, this is my room key.” She pushed the key into his hand, trusting him to take care of checking her out in the morning. His hand ran up and down her spine in a comforting manner, set on soothing the pain she felt all too clearly. Another sob left (y/n) before she stepped out of the embrace. “Tell the others I’m sorry and that I’ll reach out soon.”

(Y/n) squeezed his hand one last time, trying to put on a soft smile for the man who stared down at her with pity swimming in his pupils. She felt his eyes on her as she jogged towards her truck, set on driving through the night to make it home before the sun would paint the horizon in bleeding colours.

……

“Hey, it’s me again. It’s been a while, and I really need to see you, (y/n). We need to talk, call me back, please.” 

She woke to new voice messages every single day since leaving a few weeks ago. At first Tyler had voiced out his disappointment and confusion, not understanding why she had left him just like that. And then the sadness had entered the picture, begging (y/n) to call him back because he missed her and was sorry for whatever he had done to her. And now his voice no longer carry any emotions, monotonous and unfamiliar without any nicknames he’d normally use. 

(Y/n) knew it was time for her to finally reach out to him, to bury her own sadness and her embarrassment and to call her best friend, if she could still call him that. Her hands shook as she clicked onto his contact, listening to it ring five times before he answered with a whisper of her name. 

“Hi,” no further word managed to leave her. She listened to him exhale, shuffle around before speaking up.

“Are you at home today? I’d come round to see you.” A part of her screamed at her to say no, knowing that she shouldn't meet him at home, the one place where she had managed to focus on her feelings, giving her space to think about them properly. But the stronger part knew it would be less awkward to see him here than somewhere else where they could easily run into fans. 

“I am.” His hum shot shudders down her spine, forcing her to fist the blanket she had tossed over her cold legs. 

“I’ll be over around three, see you then.” He ended the call before another word could leave her. Her stomach was churning, not used to his cold voice and how he spoke to her as if she was a business contact or a stranger almost. 

(Y/n) let her phone drop into her lap while she sank further into her couch. What would she even tell Tyler? She wasn’t ready for his rejection, wasn’t ready to mess up what was still remaining of their friendship. Even though she couldn’t stand being close to him for longer than a few hours, (y/n) also knew that life without Tyler by her side wasn’t worth living. 

……

“There you go.” She pushed the coffee towards Tyler who was leaning against the kitchen island, right across from her. His eyes followed her every move, ever since a rather awkward hug and exchanged pleasantries that felt as if they didn’t know one another at all. He shot her a grateful smile before taking a sip, not letting his gaze leave her nervous features once. “How are you?”

“Cut the bullshit, (y/n). Wanna tell me why my best friend ran from me and then decided to ghost me for the past weeks?” Her heart sank, letting her guilt settle deep inside her stomach. Her eyes found interest in studying her trembling hands, not daring to get lost in Tyler’s angry expression. 

“I’m sorry, I was just so exhausted with it all. I needed some time away.” A humourless laugh clawed through Tyler, a sound that finally forced her eyes back towards him. 

“You’ve never been good at lying. What is this really about, huh? Why did the others all seem to understand what’s going on, but you couldn’t tell me?” His voice carried his hurt, dripping with sadness and anger she also felt flushing through her system. 

“It's nothing you need to worry-“ the sound of his palm coming down on her kitchen island interrupted her, forcing her pupils to widen as he shook his head at her. It felt as if she was looking at a stranger, not once had she seen Tyler this hurt and angry, never directed at her at least.

“Just be honest, (y/n)! I’m supposed to be your best friend, or is this what this all is about? Do you no longer want to be-“ now it was on her to interrupt him.

“It’s because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” And then they were engulfed by nothing but silence. The seconds faded by, turning into almost a full minute of Tyler just staring at her with an unreadable expression. It seemed as if he was combing through his every moment with her, reliving all the past years to figure out how he could have missed this. His silence forced her lips to part again, knowing that she needed to say some more. 

“I tried to let go of it, I really did. But being around you made it impossible for me. I am sorry, I just needed some time alone. And then that dare, I wanted to kiss you so badly, but it would have been my end, and I couldn’t risk losing that last shred of sanity I had in me.” Her whispers lured Tyler closer, letting her watch him round the kitchen island to come to a halt in front of her. 

“Look at me, darling.” Her heart skipped a beat at the use of the nickname, taking some fear from her trembling body. Slowly she raised her gaze, looking up at him with glassy eyes as he cupped her cheeks with his big hands. “I’m sorry it took me this long to see it, but I was quite occupied with hiding my own feelings from you.”

Tyler’s words left her frozen, staring at him with confusion laced in her gaze. Her mind was racing, letting his words sink in to understand what he had just told her. A soft chuckle rumbled through him, “Will you let me kiss you? No dare this time.” 

She shifted her weight onto her toes, letting her lips collide with his. Tyler instantly replied to the touch, kissing (y/n) breathless while his hands moved down her sides. She deepened the kiss with a soft moan clawing through her, allowing his tongue to meet hers. Both their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests as if they had just returned from another chase, losing themselves in the adrenaline that still buzzed through them. 

Tyler parted from her for a moment, hands wandering down her thighs to pick her up and place her down on the kitchen island. For the first time since she had started being with partners, she truly felt weightless, trusting Tyler fully with whatever he had in mind. Slowly, he connected their lips again, kissing her to stop her racing thoughts from overthinking what was about to happen.

“Do you want this? Do you want to be touched by me?” His voice was raspy, deeper than it had been before - details that made her walls flutter in excitement. 

“Please, touch me, Tyler.” The hum he let go of was drowned out by her gasp as he pushed her back down on the kitchen island, feeling his wandering hands find their way to her pair of shorts. He pulled the fabric down her legs, panties following moments later to expose her lower body to his piercing eyes.

“What a beautiful sight, it was worth waiting for all these years.” Heat rose up her neck, spurred on by his praises. Carefully he touched her, letting his fingers brush through her slit, spreading her arousal on her skin. Goosebumps littered her body as if she was trapped in a cold room, unable to stop shaking. And yet her body was burning up, set ablaze by his touch. 

“I need to taste you, can I, baby?” Nothing but a moaned “yes” left (y/n). His tongue felt rough against her pulsing bundle, letting the sensation zap through her aching body like lighting. She tried to find something to hold on to, and yet her fingers could only wander to his head to tug on his almost golden roots. 

“Jesus fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” (Y/n)’s words left Tyler chuckling against her heat. The sound vibrated on her skin, pushing her even closer towards the edge.

“Seems like I ain’t doing my job well enough if you can still speak.” He was urging himself to move his tongue quicker while pushing two fingers into her heat. Her walls clenched around his fingers, drawing him even closer in while her orgasm crept closer and closer. A moan clawed through (y/n), letting it reverberate through the air as Tyler sucked on her pulsing bundle. 

“Atta girl, I got you, pretty.” He comforted her, cozied her along to finally push her over the edge. His name left her parted lips like a prayer, unable to think of any other thing to say as she felt the blinding sensation wander up her limbs. (Y/n) came without a warning, back arched off the cold kitchen island top. 

Tyler kept lapping at her folds to guide her through her high before he pressed one last kiss to her inner thigh. He moved up her body, hands stroking their way up her sides until he cupped her warm cheeks to pull her in for a kiss. 

“I love you, darling, and I promise to make up for all the time we’ve lost.” 

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @cari-canes for this delightful commission. I'm so sorry I went so overboard... but I just could not resist the opportunity to write the bad guys in the cafe au. Cafe au has got everything!!!

---

You unlocked the glass door and stepped through, out of the bitter cold, watching to make sure the little ‘closed’ sign didn’t flip itself over as you shut and re-locked it behind you. Though some dim morning ambience made its way in through the big front window, it was still pretty gloomy with all the lights off. 

Honestly, though? You didn’t mind. 6:30am was a relatively late start for you. You used to get to your old bakery for 4 so you had all the time in the world to bake everything for the displays. A 6:30 start was a walk in the park.

First day nerves are normal. Just take a deep breath.

You put your coat on an antique wooden hanger by the door, and headed deeper into the still-closed cafe. It was a relatively quaint establishment, a medium sized room with about six tables of varying sizes. A nice oak counter, a glass case with room for sandwiches and pastries, a blackboard with coffee types lined up alongside chalked prices. A big pretty coffee machine with a shiny top. A sign on the wall behind the countertop declaring that they reserved the right to ‘remove anyone from the premises’. The only abnormal thing wasn’t even all that abnormal; most of the back wall was a continuous bookshelf, full of books of all different sizes and genres. The sort of thing that’d definitely give this spot enough charm to make it some people’s cafe of choice.

By all means, a perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary looking place.

... Nothing at all like its owners.

You moved behind the counter, floorboards ever-so-slightly creaky underfoot. The kitchen lights were on, you could see through the little round windows in the tops of the doors; someone was already in. The first day nerves kicked into high gear, butterflies making a racket in your stomach and throat... you kept telling yourself that you didn’t need to be as worried as you were, you wouldn’t have gotten hired if you made a bad impression on the staff. But nothing seemed to ease the anxiety that’d firmly lodged itself in your stomach.

You’d had other plans for the week. Nothing major - nothing that couldn’t be cancelled. But you had plans. Who wouldn’t? You lost your previous baking job with absolutely no notice, through no fault of your own. You’d been expecting to suddenly have a lot of free time you didn’t know what to do with. But here you were, plans cancelled, and little more than three days spent unemployed.

The hiring process had been.... Well. For lack of a better word, weird. Not anticipating any responses or interest but eager to reduce your chances of not being able to pay rent, you’d printed out your hastily-updated CV, taken your out-of-touch uncle’s advice and tried walking around town handing out copies to any place that let you breathlessly approached the counter. When you got to this cafe, a place you’d admittedly never even been inside, you had an experience that stuck with you for the rest of the day.

“Are you hiring?” you asked. 

The server at the counter was a skeleton monster. You’d never seen a skeleton monster before. He had his hood up, but you could see sharp red eyelights shining out from underneath - they looked bored. By this point in the day, you had just about gotten over the jitters that had followed you from shop to shop. But this guy was bringing them back.

He didn’t say anything.

“Uhm. Can I give you a copy of my resume?”

...

He clearly wasn’t interested. You’d definitely had some half-assed responses, but no one had outright IGNORED you yet. It was pretty disheartening.

“... Nevermind,” you said, small. “Sorry for bothering you - ”

A delighted voice right behind you. “we’re hiring.”

Startled, you spun around. Wait - another skeleton monster? This one was the polar opposite of the guy at the counter, he was grinning from nonexistent ear to nonexistent ear, a smile full of pearly white teeth. He had a dark serving tray tucked under one arm. Somewhat alarmingly, there were large black lines running down from his empty sockets to his jaw, but living in Ebbott city meant you’d seen more than enough strange monsters. There were far scarier looking (but completely harmless) monsters out there. 

“O-oh. You are?” you replied, flustered by his enthusiasm after a long day of little more than side-eyes. “I didn’t see a sign,”

“ain’t had time to put one up yet. your timing couldn’t be better.” He held a gloved hand out. He was so friendly - he looked so happy you were here. “i’m killer. that’s dust. ignore him, he’s a dickhead with everyone. can i have two copies? i’ll pass one on to my boss.”

“S-sure!” you said. Wow, what a positive response! You were suddenly riding a little high. You made a mental note to remember this particular place.

“we’ll be in touch,” Killer said, beaming. “promise.”

He wasn’t lying about being ‘in touch’. Literally the next morning, you had an email in your inbox, asking when you were free for an interview; when you politely responded that you were available as soon as possible the response came in asking you to be there later that day after the cafe had closed. You were pretty sure that by the time you walked into that building for the interview, most places hadn’t even read your resume yet.

And the interview itself...

You bit the inside of your cheek. That was a story for another day. You did your best to bring yourself back to the present. You took a breath, shifting your bag around on your shoulder, then stepping through into the light of the kitchen.

... Horror was the one already in the kitchen. Of course he was, he was the chef. He had his back to you, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he was kneading dough on a heavily floured work surface. Batch making bread?

He was a huge guy. That had been clear during the interview, but he had been seated for most of that. Now, with him standing? You got to see his full size and height. He must’ve been almost seven feet tall, his back alone was twice the size of you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he got his shirts tailored specifically for him... where was a guy that big realistically going to get reasonably sized clothing, other than someone making it for him?

You were going to be spending hours in the kitchen alone with him. 

At the sound of the door, he looked over his shoulder at you. His big red eye took up most of his socket. The iris widened, just a fraction, at the sight of you.

“... you’re... early,” he said. His voice was very deep. He spoke each word like he was measuring it syllable by syllable.

“Y-yeah.” You fiddled with your bag strap. “I know I was told to come in at seven, but I thought I’d just get in a bit earlier. Get a feel for the place.”

...

“... experience?” he asked.

You tried very hard to keep you voice light. Perhaps too hard. “Lots. I’ve worked in plenty of bakeries and cafes before. What about you?”

He shook his head. His bony hands were covered in flour, up to the wrist.

You did a quick visual sweep around the room - the shelves full of perfectly organised and dated ingredients, equipment clean and sorted, shiny countertops, ovens you wouldn’t mind cooking your personal food in. The place would pass its health inspection with flying colours.

“This room looks... really good,” you said, honestly. “I’ve seen kitchens full of seasoned pros that look much worse than this. You won’t believe the state of some of the kitchens I’ve worked in. It’d make you never want to eat out again.”

Horror made a sound in the back of his throat. Then went back to kneading the bread, back to you.

... 

“Hey, I... I know Nightmare hired me to be ‘in charge’ of baking back here.” Your voice was shaky. “But this was your kitchen first. I don’t want you to think I’m coming in here to move all your things around and steal your job. I’m just baking brownies and pastries, and stuff. You’re the chef.”

... He paused, turning fractionally, red iris catching you again. 

Your employer was... well, you weren’t wrong about there being scarier monsters out there than Killer. Nightmare was a perfect example. You shuddered, remembering his cyan eye staring at you during the interview, flanked by the other three skeletons. That had felt less like an interview and more like an exercise in not displaying fear in front of predators.

“Honestly, I thought I blew the interview when I asked him if he only hired skeletons. But I guess not, since I’m here.”

Horror... 

... Chuckled. 

Phew. The sound visibly relieved you. You put your bag down. “Sorry. I know I talk too much. I’ll look around, give you some peace.”

...

“... i... like... when you talk.” He looked back to his bread. “... nice voice. fills quiet.”

You blinked.

... You got the overwhelming feeling you’d completely misjudged him. He suddenly didn’t seem quite so tall. Horror was clearly trying really hard; talking, laughing at your bad humour attempts, trying to make you feel more comfortable. 

Was he just... shy?

... The smile you gained must’ve really been something, because you could’ve sworn there was a little hint of red on the high edge of his cheekbone.

“When you’re done with the bread, do you mind showing me where things are kept?”

This time, his smile was higher, and nod was much more resolute.

Just like that, you didn’t mind being alone in the kitchen with him. Not at all.

---

You and Horror worked like a well-oiled machine. Not a word needed to be spoken - you weren’t sure what it was, but Horror just seemed completely in tune to everything you, he knew where you were going and what you were reaching for and why you needed it. His huge physique translated into incredible strength, he single-handedly managed tasks that would’ve taken your old kitchen three people. When the ingredient delivery car came, it took all your strength to carry just one box. Horror carried four. 

By the time you and Horror were done prepping, you emerged from the kitchen in a flour-dusted apron that was a little too big for you, really craving coffee. You were a tad more confident, glad to have made a friend, and you were determined to figure out how to use that lovely big machine. Maybe you could offer Horror something to drink?

... Dust was there. You hadn’t heard him come in. He was leaning against the counter, reading a book whose title you couldn’t see - sunlight was coming in through the cafe’s front windows, catching the edge of his hood and lighting up what looked like some specks of dust he hadn’t brushed off; it must’ve been late morning now, getting closer to opening time. You somewhat admired his commitment to dressing casual. He was wearing his barista apron over top a white shirt and hoodie, he was absolutely dedicated to dressing like he didn’t want to be there.

You paused just outside the kitchen door. Had you not just spent an hour with Horror, you definitely would’ve considered Dust an intimidating figure - now, though? He didn’t look like much. You hadn’t forgotten your first encounter with him, nor the dismissive way he’d treated you. But he didn’t cause the same pit in your stomach as he had when you first walked into the cafe. 

You fixed a polite smile onto your face.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking one or two steps closer but still giving him room. You awkwardly put one hand on the counter. “Morning. You know how to use the coffee machine, right?”

His dark, crimson eyelights flickered up to you from his book. You opened your mouth, about to ask him if he minded showing you how it worked. 

... Then he rolled his eyelights at you. 

You bristled, a hundred different insults sprang to mind, but your ‘years of working with assholes’ instincts kicked in and your teeth clamped together. You couldn’t help the way your brows twitched, though. What the fuck?

His expression shifted, slightly. But you didn’t really care to stay around long enough to figure out how, or why. If he wanted to be like that, you weren’t going to put up with it, you’d had more than enough experience dealing with terrible coworkers and you weren’t about to waste a moment more with him. You just turned around to head back into the kitchen. After such a pleasant time with Horror, it was whiplash to be treated so badly. You didn’t even want a coffee anymore. 

“told you he’s a dick.”

You almost jumped out of your fucking skin. It was Killer. Right behind you, in front of the kitchen door, where you had just come from. How did he get behind the counter? Flustered from being frightened, you put a hand to your chest and let out a few small shocked laughs. “H-holy crap. I didn’t hear... How did you...?”

Killer beamed at your laughter. He leant back against the inside of the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He was remarkably well-dressed, wearing a spotless dark turtleneck underneath his apron and a few silver rings on his phalanges, he stood in stark contrast to Dust. You could definitely imagine him being popular with customers.

“don’t take dust’s needlin’ personally,” he said, tone light and playful. “he’s like that with everyone. works at the coffee machine all day, an’ he point-blank refuses to ever make me or horror any coffee. we just gotta band together and ignore him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, letting out a breath through your nose, lowering the proverbial hackles that Dust had made you raise. Killer’s aura was... infectious, really, it was brightening and easygoing. You know what? Two out of three coworkers being nice was great. Better than some people had.

You turned around, glancing over your shoulder, to get a look at the guy who was being such an asshole to you.

... Dust was gone. 

“Eh?” Your back straightened in surprise, and your head swiveled back and forth. You couldn’t see him anywhere in the cafe.

“he’s on a smoke break, probably.” Killer clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Wait - did he? He made a sound that resembled the action, for sure. But he didn’t have a tongue, right? He was a skeleton. You looked back at him.

“But we haven’t even opened yet?” you said, bewildered.

“toldja. he’s just the worst. don’t ask him for anything, he’ll make you feel dumb for askin’.” He shifted his weight onto one foot, bending his knee slightly. “if you wanna know where anything is, just ask me.”

“... Ah. Okay.” You smiled again, appreciative. “Thank you, Killer.”

He grinned anew, corners of his sockets lifting. 

“you’re cute. i’m real ‘excited to be workin’ with you.”

... Your mouth opened slightly, taken aback. What? Did you hear that right? 

“Yeah, excited to be working with you too,” you blurted, absolutely no idea how to respond. Did he mean cute like adorable? Or cute like... “But I’ll be in the kitchen most of the time, right?”

“course. but it’s a quiet cafe. nice.” He tilted his skull, talking so casually and warmly, like he didn’t literally just call you cute. “we’ll get lots of chances to chat. lots of time to get to know each other better.”

“Sure.” Your head was spinning, heart starting to thud. You were glad your voice came out so much calmer than you actually felt. Was this just his personality? That had to be it. He had to just be the kind of guy that sounded flirty. Your hands twisted in your apron. “That... that sounds great,”

Killed leaned, resting his elbow on the counter and putting his chin on his hand. 

“i’d love to get to know you better,” he purred.

Okay, no, you were definitely being flirted with. A flush of heat prickled your cheeks. Oh my stars, he probably wanted you to respond. How were you supposed to respond?

Fwump! A blue cloth landed on Killer’s skull, then flopped onto the counter. It made you jump, but Killer’s only reaction was a slight annoyed downturn in his smile. You looked over your shoulder - Dust was walking away, toward the back of the cafe, probably to put his book away.

“I-I should get baking then, huh?” Taking advantage of the lull you quickly darted past Killer, turning around and using your back to push the kitchen door open. “I’ve got, uh... dough. That needs... attending to,”

You kept backing up. Killer advanced, still smiling. “mind if i come see? not much of a baker, myself.”

“I-I don’t know if...”

A massive shape moved into your field of view. Suddenly, Horror’s hand slammed into the door frame. He had moved with a startling amount of speed for such a large guy. With just that move, he body blocked the doorway entirely, sending Killer reeling back.

“kitchen staff only.” Horror didn’t sound happy.

“since when was that a rule?” Killer didn’t sound happy either. “stop getting so possessive.”

... You couldn’t see anything. Only Horror’s back. But you caught the way Killer’s face twisted, smile falling.

“fuckin’ hell. message received. don’t have to get so weird about it.”

You didn’t wait to find out what happened next. Flustered and confused and just grateful to be back in the kitchen (clearly a safe zone), you turned away from the mess happening in the doorway.

... Something on the counter caught your eye.

A fresh coffee. In a pretty stoneware mug. It was on your side of the kitchen, but you definitely hadn’t put it there. 

Just from a glance, you could tell it was your usual. And it was clearly new, made within a few minutes, there were still gentle wisps of steam rising from its surface.

... Cautiously, you picked it up. There was only one person who had been at the counter the whole time Killer was flirting and Horror was baking.

You took a sip.

...

You were getting some pretty mixed signals from Dust.

But damn. He knew how to make a good coffee.

---

When you envisioned the sort of person that ran a cute little independent cafe like this, you definitely pictured someone that matched the decorations. Someone friendly, bookish, tasteful. Perhaps an owl monster, or a plant monster with big monstera leaves, or even a human (specifically one who wore dungarees). Someone who looked like they probably had a beautiful private Instagram. 

... The person behind the counter shifted, at the sight of you entering the cafe once again. It looked like he had been cleaning the coffee machine until you walked in, a small rag in one giant clawed hand.

“ah. thank you for coming in after closing,” he said. His voice, soft and deep and satiny. His smile, ice white. 

When you envisioned this cafe’s owner, you didn’t picture Nightmare.

You shuffled over to the counter. There was a stool pulled up to it, but you didn’t sit down, too nervous to. “No problem,” you said, tiny. “I was going to come back and prep some stuff anyway.”

Horror may have been taller. Killer’s tears may have been more visually striking, Dust’s face may have been ‘spookier’. But there was no one with an aura like Nightmare’s. By all appearances, he was just a skeleton monster with pitch black and tarry bones - considering there were monsters that were ten-foot springs on fire and giant carnivorous fish with teeth the length of your forearm, a skeleton with tarred bones was nothing. He didn’t appear particularly out of the ordinary. He was wearing a well fitted black button-up shirt, and a silver watch on one skeletal wrist... a perfectly average humanoid monster.

But there was just something about him. You felt it, the moment you walked into the interview. Something about the way he held himself, something about his air, the slightest tilt of his chin. That sharp, brilliantly cyan eyelight - whoever could’ve guessed that cyan could be such a powerful colour? Something about him set off an instinctual nervousness deep inside you, a flighty feeling that told you to pay close attention to every move he made.

You swallowed. 

... It was very attractive. 

You could never, ever say it aloud. Especially since he was your boss. But everything that made Nightmare intimidating to you just made you blush. You felt it the moment you walked into the interview, and you felt it now; his overwhelming energy made your breath catch in your throat. He was handsome. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, but not too sharp or angular. Just... nice to look at.

There were some papers, and a pen, on his side of the counter. He slid them over to you. You didn’t know why, but you expected the tips of his claws to leave black marks on the white paper - they didn’t. 

“just some documents for you to sign,” he said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Horror’s, but nevertheless, it reverberated inside your chest. “had to be in-person. then you’re all on board.”

“Oh, okay.” You picked up the pen.

“i wanted to check how your first day was, too.” He set aside the rag he’d been holding, and leant on the counter. Both elbows. There was still almost a metre between you, but it felt as if he was pressing into your personal space bubble. You could smell something; a cologne, maybe? It was really good. “how was it?”

“Good,” you replied, shakily, completely unable to concentrate on the words actually on the paper. “Everyone was nice. Horror, especially.”

“i’m glad to hear it.”

“Killer... did flirt with me, though.” 

Nightmare’s brows raised. “did it make you uncomfortable?”

“N-not really. Just confused.” Why did you blurt words out like that around him? You’d done the exact same in the interview, just saying whatever came to mind. You needed to get a hold of yourself. 

He cared whether or not you were uncomfortable... that was sweet.

Nightmare tsked. “he’s like that with everyone. but he shouldn’t be. i will have a word. tell me if it happens again, i’ll beat some sense into him.”

Not expecting that last line, you coughed out a little laugh. Nightmare was clearly pleased, grin inching up his face. 

“let me make you something to drink.” He shifted off his elbows, hands flat on the counter.  

You stood up straighter. “O-oh, it’s fine. I wouldn’t - ”

“you aren’t imposing,” he said, turning around and pushing his sleeves up his arms. “sit down.” 

Your butt was on the seat. Huh? You’d sat down before you’d even thought about whether or not you wanted to obey. You swallowed again, glad he had turned around and couldn’t see your face. He possessed an incredible gift for sounding commanding, without sounding aggressive. 

He took the kettle, bringing it over to the sink and starting to fill it with water.

“I... what’re you making?” you asked, flustered at how easily he was able to make you do as he said.

“it’s a surprise.” He pulled out a mug. “don’t look.”

Well... you had no trouble not looking at what he was making. You couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to his arms; the bones that made up his forearm were large and thick, almost as thick as your wrist. 

“You’re sure?”

“my treat,” he hummed.

You turned your eyes down, finally actually focusing on the paperwork. It was the usual... bank details, confirming you’d read the employee code of conduct, right-to-work, all of that. Honestly, you skim-read most of it. You tapped the pen gently against the edge of the paper, rather than on the wood, so you could fiddle without making too much of a noise.

As your gaze trailed up and down the pages, signing and dating whichever ones asked for it, you couldn’t help but note how nice this felt. Sitting at the counter, after closing, listening to the sound of Nightmare making something. The kettle boiling, cutlery and equipment clinking, the gentle hiss of the milk steamer. It all felt very... safe. Cosy.

“here,” he said.

You looked up. He was holding the drink out to you. It was a nice dark blue mug you hadn’t seen on the shelf yet. Was it reserved for him? 

“Thank you,” you said, softly, reaching out. It smelled incredible. It was clearly hot, and frothy, he’d sprinkled a tiny pinch of dry tea leaves on the top for effect.

As you took the drink from him... his fingertips brushed your hand. You could’ve sworn it was deliberate, like he had shifted his hand specifically to allow the tips of his claws to trace over the top of your palm as you took the drink. 

Your cheeks and neck prickled. It must’ve just been an accident. Right? You were looking into it too deeply because you liked him. You cleared your throat, a tiny sound, and sipped the drink. 

... It was sweet, hot, comforting. It was creamy and fluffy - yet somehow floral and sophisticated. It felt deep, but layered, it was an absolute treat.

“Woah,” Was all you were able to breathe out. 

He rested his forearms on the counter this time. More casual than just the elbows, perhaps. To your relief, he’d made himself one as well, you would’ve felt much too awkward drinking something on your own. 

His gaze was relaxed, socket lidded. But at the same time, there was something indecipherable about the way he looked at you. “i’ll take that as a good response...?”

“What is this?” you asked, right before taking another sip.

“lavender london fog. one of my favourites.”

“I’ve always been fond of lavender,”

His eyelight became a fraction wider, and the cyan glow a touch stronger. “... you have good taste,”

“I think I’m done with all the paperwork,” 

He tilted his head. “i intimidate you. don’t i?”

... 

You made a little surprised, confronted sound, where did that come from?! 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you squeaked. “It’s not you, I promise,”

He chuckled. What a lovely sound. “don’t be silly. of course it’s me. i have that effect on people, i always have.”

You were spluttering. You couldn’t deny you were a bit relieved that he knew the whole time, but you still didn’t like that you’d been so obvious. “I feel terrible, though! You’ve been nothing but nice to me,”

“you’ve been nothing but nice, too.” He swirled his drink. You could hear the foam sizzling against the sides of the cup. “despite how obviously unpleasant myself and my employees are, you’ve treated us all very well. don’t think it’s gone unnoticed.” 

“You’re not unpleasant,” you stressed, embarrassed and avoiding the compliments. 

“it sounds unprofessional,” Nightmare said. “but i mostly hired you for that. your pleasant aura, despite it all.”

“Aura?” you parroted.

“metaphorically speaking.” He finally drew the paperwork back across the counter to him, eyeing your signature. “my boys are... difficult. don’t tell them i called them my boys. hiring has been incredibly troublesome, because until now, they’ve never liked anyone who applied. they’ve chased off three other potential hires already. finding someone they all like has been hard work.”

“Pft.” Your cheeks could not catch a break. They were about as hot as the mug you were squeezing in both your hands. You had no idea you were so desirable, nor so easy to get along with. It was very flattering. “How did they chase them off?”

Nightmare raised his brows. “dear, i would like to keep you around. i don’t think i’ll tell you that.”

You laughed. The pet name flew over your head. Nightmare’s smile wasn’t getting any wider, but... it was getting softer. 

“I-I should get to work. I wanted to make some batters now, so they can rest overnight.”

“could i lend a hand?” Nightmare tilted his head. “my baking knowledge is not... extensive. but i’m happy to assist.”

Unlike Killer’s ‘offer’ to help, this one, you were delighted to accept. “Of course. If you don’t mind being told what to do.” 

He chuckled.

“if it’s you, i don’t mind one bit.”

[xoxochb]

— percy licks lemonade off you 🍋 ⋆˚࿔

hot.

it’s very fucking hot outside.

it was mid summer, indubitably, the sun rays shining wildly on you as your body lays sprawled along a blue beach towel. you were sure you were going to die.

“my ice melted.” you frown as you look into your cup of lemonade, seeing as there is no longer any ice, only lemonade. and it’s too hot for just lemonade.

percy dips his hand into his own cup and dumps his ice into yours. “here.”

you grin widely and press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “thank you!”

his arm loops around your waist and you use this to pull him to lay on top of you despite the heat. it was never to hot to have percy jackson topping you.

you attempt to take a sip of your drink from this position, exempting percy for a moment. it was an utterly dumb idea because the second the edge hits your lips, it spills. and you can only thank the gods you were wearing a bikini so one dip in the ocean and you’d be fine for now.

the sticky juice coats your chin and your chest entirely. and the warmth of the day doesn’t help the icky feeling that begins bubbling within you.

“perce.”

his sea-green eyes dart to your sternum where a puddle of lemonade rests. you could’ve sworn he whimpered. “sweet girl.”

“this is your fault.”

“your point being…?” he smirks playfully.

“you’re an ass, that’s my point.”

“there’s my sweet girl.” percy pinches your waist, making you scowl. “stay still.”

you huff but comply, intrigued on what he’s come up with in that brain of his. though you were most of the time convinced his brain was replaced with seaweed. whatever.

he lifts himself off you only barely until his face hovers above your sternum. and begins to lick. you realize quickly that what you’re feeling against your thigh is his hardness through his swim trunks.

and then it clicks.

and you’re not in the slightest bit surprised.

you attach a hand to percy’s shoulders to assure he doesn’t move in his process of drinking the fallen lemonade off your breasts. your free fingers loop around his dark strands of hair, pulling and tugging.

his tongue works intricately over your skin, swirling over each inch up your clavicle and the bottom of your jaw. it feels heavenly to have him clean you like this. with his own mouth like your a feast splayed out and he’s a starving man.

but he loves to tease. and the moment his mouth reaches your mouth he does anything but connect them.

“percy.” you pull at his hair impatiently. “you made me spill my lemonade, this is the least you could do.”

“but it’s not my fault that you’re clumsy though.”

you sit yourself up but percy moves back before you’re able to kiss him. “you’re terrible.”

he tilts your chin up with one hand. “say it again.”

you glare. but your eyes fall down to his lips. so tantalizing. “fine then.”

you sit up, sliding out of percy’s arms. you can play that game too.

“come back.” his hands grab your hips, attempting to drag you back beneath him. you stubbornly refuse to make any eye contact though despite your brain’s adamant protest that you must look into his pretty eyes. “eyes here.”

with a huff, you let yourself drown within his oceans. “are you done being an ass?”

“forever? no. for now? sure. if you ask nicely.”

“please.”

“atta girl.” he pecks you once.

“perseus.”

he kisses you longer. five seconds this time. then four more pecks before three longer kisses.

you’re just happy he’s kissing you at all, though.

[ahqkas]

hi!! I saw your post of the bat boys s/o wearing their merch and I loved it!!! How do you think they’d react seeing their s/o wearing another persons merch?? (Ex: Jason’s s/o wearing nightwing merch, and so on)

♯ THE COLOR GREEN

— gn!reader, angst for bruce, cursing + lmk if more

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT WAS AN ORDINARY EVENING IN WAYNE MANOR, FULL OF THE USUAL SILENCE that only the sprawling estate could provide. bruce had just finished a late-night meeting with gotham’s most influential philanthropists. it had been a long, tiring day, but the sense of duty still lingered within him. he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest properly until he checked in on gotham’s nighttime operations, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of peace.

as he made his way into the living room, he was expecting to find you curled up on the couch with a book or perhaps watching your latest show. what he wasn’t expecting, though, was the sight that greeted him when he walked in: you were standing by the window, looking out at the snowy white picture, dressed casually in a loose-fitting black shirt with a bright blue nightwing logo sprawled across it.

the symbol—the iconic bird, a badge that he associated so deeply with dick grayson, his former partner—was unmistakable. his heart skipped a beat, the rush of emotions coming so quickly that he barely had a chance to process it. he froze, just standing there in the doorway, his mind suddenly racing.

nightwing.

bruce had never expected this. sure, dick was well-known in gotham, a hero in his own right, with the same sense of justice that ran through batman’s veins. but to see his former robin’s symbol—nightwing’s symbol—worn so casually by someone he cared about? it struck a chord in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

dick grayson had been more than just a sidekick, more than a name in a costume. he had been bruce’s right hand for years, a trusted confidant, and at one point, like a son to him.

now, here bruce stood, watching the emblem of that very relationship—a reminder of the past he still struggled to come to terms with—on your chest.

his heart clenched as he realized that you, someone he had opened up to in ways he never had with others, didn’t know the full weight of that symbol. you didn’t know the stories tied to it, the sacrifices made, or the heartache that had followed dick’s departure from Gotham. bruce felt an uncomfortable mix of protectiveness, jealousy, and vulnerability that he wasn’t used to confronting. how could he explain this to you? how could he put into words what seeing that logo meant to him without revealing too much, too soon? the thought of you innocently wearing it as a mere fan seemed almost like an intrusion into something he had kept buried for so long.

his first instinct was to say something, but he didn’t know exactly how.

you looked over at him, a warm smile spreading across your face as you noticed him standing there. “hey, love! look at this cool shirt i got today. i couldn’t resist. nightwing’s awesome, right?”

bruce’s jaw clenched. his chest felt tight, and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. there was no malice in your voice, no hint of anything other than innocent admiration for a hero you respected.

you didn’t know the intricacies of the bond between them, how deeply it ran, or the strain it had caused over the years. you didn’t know that dick grayson wasn’t just nightwing, he was bruce’s family.

you saw the look on his face, the way his gaze had darkened. the smile faltered from your lips, and you hesitated, clearly sensing the change in his mood. “bruce?”

he took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. stepping further into the room, his eyes never left the logo that felt so out of place on you. he needed to keep his voice steady. this wasn’t your fault. you didn’t know.

“i—” he cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “you like nightwing?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “yeah, i’ve seen him patrol the city a few times, and i’ve read some cool stories about him. he’s really impressive.”

he tried to hold onto his composure, but his mind was running on autopilot, flicking through memories of dick’s training, their time together as batman and robin, the way things had fractured between them. but it was hard to keep all that inside when it was standing right in front of him, so public, so casual.

bruce couldn’t explain himself to you, not at this moment, but you somehow understood. his life wasn’t, wasn’t bright.

( note! as much as i’d like to write & see jealous bruce , this is smth more of what i think he’d react as )

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS A QUIET AFTERNOON IN DICK’S APARTMENT, the kind of lazy day you two rarely got to share. the winter sun streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a pale glow. he sat cross-legged on the couch, aimlessly flipping through a book, while you wandered around the kitchen. you’d been busy unpacking a bag from your recent shopping trip, chatting casually about the little finds you’d picked up.

his attention drifted back to you when he heard the sound of your laughter, a bright, melodic note that never failed to pull him in. it was the kind of laugh that made the world feel a little lighter, even when he didn’t know the reason behind it yet. he glanced over the back of the couch, his book forgotten, as you stood near the kitchen counter, hands rummaging through one of the shopping bags you’d brought home. the mischievous glint in your eyes was impossible to miss, and your lips curved into a playful smile that immediately piqued his curiosity. “i found something you’re going to love—or maybe hate,” you teased, the of your voice dancing somewhere between innocent and deliberately provocative, the kind of tone you used when you knew you were about to get a reaction out of him.

dick grinned and closed his book, leaning over the back of the couch to catch sight of you. “oh? what’d you find?”

you turned around, your eyes alight with a mischievous glint that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. in your hands, you held up a black hoodie, the fabric loose and casual, but what caught his attention—what stopped him mid-breath—was the bold crimson logo splashed across the front. the angular design, sharp and unmissable, was instantly recognizable: the unmistakable insignia of the red hood. you tilted your head slightly, watching his reaction like a cat that had just dropped a mouse at its owner’s feet, the corners of your mouth tugging into an impish smile as if daring him to say something.

your boyfriend froze for half a second, his brain catching up with what he was seeing. the sight of you holding that hoodie—with jason’s symbol—sent a whirl of conflicting emotions through him. amusement bubbled up first, chased quickly by a flicker of irritation, and finally, something quieter but no less present: a faint pang of jealousy.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, his tone light but with a slight edge of disbelief.

you shrugged innocently, clearly enjoying his reaction. “what? it’s cool. don’t you think it’s cool?” you held it up to yourself and struck a mock pose, the red logo standing out starkly against your figure.

dick let out a laugh, though it carried more incredulity than humor, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “oh, it’s something, all right,” he said, the words laced with mock offense as he stood up and made his way toward you. his movements were casual, but there was a certain energy behind them—curiosity tinged with disbelief. once he reached you, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as if sizing up the offending hoodie. his blue eyes flicked between your amused expression and the bold red symbol stretched across the fabric. “but red hood? really?” asking, his voice tinged with exaggerated disbelief, the way someone might react to finding out their favorite band had been passed over for a one-hit wonder.

you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by his tone. “what’s wrong with red hood? i mean, sure, he’s a bit . . . extreme. but you’ve got to admit, he’s kind of badass.”

he tilted his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. extreme was putting it mildly, he thought, but he kept that to himself. instead, he decided to lean into humor, a tried-and-true tactic. “oh, yeah. nothing says ‘badass’ like reckless decisions and questionable moral judgment,” he quipped, smirking.

you rolled her eyes, playfully tossing the hoodie at him. “oh, come on, dick. it’s just a hoodie. don’t be such a snob.”

he caught it effortlessly, the fabric flopping against his chest before he held it up at arm’s length like it might contain some hidden offense. his fingers brushed over the bold crimson logo, his expression a mix of mock scrutiny and genuine disbelief. he tilted his head slightly, inspecting the hoodie as if it might reveal some secret about why you had chosen this of all things. “a hoodie that glorifies a guy who spends half his time breaking the rules i try to uphold,” he muttered under his breath, the faintest edge of exasperation slipping into his tone. straightening, he lifted the hoodie higher, letting it unfurl completely before glancing at you with an exaggerated look of betrayal. “seriously? you could’ve picked nightwing merch,” he said, louder this time, his voice tinged with feigned indignation. “that guy’s way cooler.”

there was a pause, and then he added with a smirk, “better taste in colors, too.”

your laughter filled the room, light and carefree. “oh, please. nightwing? he’s fine, i guess, but red hood has this whole rogue antihero thing going on. it’s appealing!”

“appealing? over nightwing? i’m wounded.”

you shook your head, still grinning as you started putting away the rest of your shopping. “don’t take it personally, babe. it’s just merch. besides, i think the red looks good on me.”

he’d find a way to subtly convince you to pick up some nightwing merch next time.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD HAD SEEN A LOT OF STRANGE THINGS IN HIS LIFE. he’d fought crime bosses, faced off against costumed lunatics, and clawed his way back from the dead. but nothing—not even his years in gotham—had prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he walked into your apartment that afternoon.

he’d let himself in, as he often did when you two had made plans and you hadn’t responded to his text confirming he was on his way. you trusted him with the spare key, and honestly, the thought of you trusting him enough to hand it over always softened the rough edges of his otherwise sharp side. your apartment was your sanctuary, and letting him into it was no small thing.

just like you did with your heart.

the first thing he noticed when he stepped inside was the faint sound of music coming from your living room. it was something upbeat, probably one of those rock playlists you put on when you cleaning or decorating. the second thing he noticed was you—standing in front of the coffee table, carefully balancing a steaming mug in one hand while trying to place a stack of books on the shelf with the other.

it was the third thing that made him stop dead in his tracks.

the bright, unmistakable “RR” emblem of red robin blazoned across the front of your oversized hoodie.

jason blinked, his brain stumbling over itself as he processed the sight in front of him. no way. no. this can’t be happening. his jaw tightened, and for a split second, he wondered if he’d somehow walked into an alternate universe, one where betrayal came wrapped in cozy fleece and gotham’s greatest insult wasn’t the joker, but that emblem. the bright, unmistakable initials burned into his eyes like a neon sign mocking him, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of something in his chest—was it betrayal? jealousy? he wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear: this moment would haunt him forever.

“hey, jay!” you called over your shoulder when you noticed him, your voice light and cheerful, completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster you’d just sent him on. you turned to face him fully, the emblem on the hoodie practically shining under the warm light of your apartment. “you’re early! i was just finishing tidying up.”

your boyfriend stood frozen in place, his mouth slightly open as he tried to process the betrayal—no, the travesty—before him. the love of his life. the love of his life. wearing tim drake’s merch.

his jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “what the hell are you wearing?”

your brows furrowed in confusion, and you glanced down at yourself as if to check for an obvious stain or tear. when your eyes landed on the red robin logo, you looked back up at him, completely unbothered. “what? you don’t like it?” you tugged on the hem of the hoodie. “i thought it was cute.”

jason let out a disbelieving laugh, the kind that came out when you couldn’t quite believe the universe had conspired to humiliate you this thoroughly. “cute? you think that’s cute?”

your confusion deepened, and you tilted your head at him, the way you always did when you thought he was being dramatic. “yeah, it’s cute. i got it at that pop-up merch store downtown. they had this whole gotham vigilante theme—nightwing, red hood, batgirl, even batman. but i liked this one the most. the colors are nice.”

he stared at you, his mind a chaotic swirl of indignation and disbelief. you could’ve picked anyone else. anyone. you could’ve gone with nightwing—sure, it would’ve stung a little, but he could’ve handled it. even batman would’ve been tolerable, if only because of the begrudging respect he still held for the older man. but red robin? tim drake? of all people?

“you’re telling me that you went out, saw that, and thought, ‘yeah, this is the one’?”

“yeah,” you replied with your tone still casual, though you were starting to pick up on his agitation. “what’s the big deal? you’re acting like i came home with a joker hoodie or something.”

jason hesitated, torn between his frustration and the part of him that didn’t want to see that concerned look on your face. finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “it’s . . . complicated,” he said, his tone quieter now. “let’s just say i’ve got some history with red robin, and seeing you wearing that doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”

you frowned. “history? like, bad history?”

your boyfriend nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “you could say that.”

your expression softened, and you gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “i didn’t know,” you said quietly. “if i’d known, i wouldn’t have bought it.”

jason glanced down at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “yeah, well,” he muttered, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t know. still,” he said, smirking now, “if you wanted vigilante merch, you could’ve at least gone with red hood. he’s got way more style.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face widened. “oh, sure, because nothing says ‘cute and comfy’ like a skull and crossbones.”

he chuckled, pulling you into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured. “otherwise, this might’ve been a dealbreaker.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM DRAKE IS USED TO BALANCING SECRETS. after all, it comes with the territory of being robin—or more recently, red robin. but there are moments when that balance falters, when the personal and the professional collide in ways he doesn’t expect. one of those moments? walking into your apartment and seeing you casually lounging on the couch in a batman sweatshirt.

the sight stopped him in his tracks.

at first, it was the sheer unexpectedness of it that catches him off guard. the bold black and yellow logo of the bat-symbol stretched across your chest, and you were completely oblivious to his reaction, scrolling through your phone with an easy, relaxed expression. for tim, it felt like a collision of worlds—a glaring reminder that you, someone he loves and trusts, exist just outside the shadowy world he calls home. a world where batman is more than a symbol, where the man behind the cowl is a mentor, a father figure, and someone tim can’t escape from even if he tried.

“nice shirt,” he said finally, keeping his tone neutral as he took a step into the room.

you looked up, startled at first, then smiled. “oh, this? thanks! i found it on sale last week. couldn’t resist—it’s a classic, you know? gotham pride and all that.”

“gotham pride,” he repeated, fighting the urge to smirk. “right. of course.”

tim walked further into the room, setting down his bag on the kitchen counter as he casually glanced back at you. he was trying to play it cool, but the sight of the bat-symbol on you felt like a cosmic joke he was not in on. it was not jealousy—exactly. it was more complicated than that. because batman isn’t just a symbol to him. it was bruce. it was his mission. it was his life.

“so, uh,” he began, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “what made you pick batman merch? why not, i don’t know, nightwing? or red hood?” he threw the names out casually, though there was a glimmer of curiosity in his voice. part of him wants to know if you had any opinions about the rest of the bat-family, even if you had idea you were dating a member of it.

you snorted, putting your phone down. “nightwing? please. he’s cool, sure, but batman’s the original. the icon. and red hood—that guy is terrifying. no offense to him, but i’d rather not wear merch of someone who’s rumored to leave actual body counts wherever he goes.”

he suppressed a laugh, his lips twitching. “fair.“

“i mean, think about it. batman’s like this larger-than-life figure, always watching over gotham. he’s mysterious, he’s powerful, and let’s be real—he’s probably way too intense to hang out with, but that’s part of the appeal. it’s like wearing a piece of gotham’s history, you know?”

tim nodded slowly, trying to process your words without revealing too much. it was fascinating to hear how people saw batman from the outside. the stories of the bat looming large over the city, and even though tim knew the truth—that batman was just a man under the cowl—it was interesting to see how the symbol resonated with others.

“you don’t think he’s a little . . . much?” he was testing the waters. “i mean, he’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.”

you shrugged. “sure, but that’s not his job. he’s supposed to be intimidating. he’s supposed to scare the bad guys. i think that’s kind of admirable, in a way. he’s sacrificed so much to protect this city. he’s not doing it for fame or recognition. he’s doing it because someone has to.”

you were not wrong. in fact, you probably summed up bruce’s mission better than most people ever could.

“you could’ve picked someone with, i don’t know, better people skills.”

“oh, like who?” you challenged him, arching a brow. “red robin? please. the guy barely even has merch. it’s like he doesn’t want people to know he exists.”

tim froze for a fraction of a second before forcing a laugh. “teah, weird how that works, huh?”

you didn’t notice the slight tension in his voice, too busy rolling your eyes. “anyway, i’m sticking with batman. he’s the OG. end of discussion.”

your boyfriend shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you settle back into the couch. you had no idea how close to the truth you were—how the man you admired from afar was someone tim knew intimately. because even without knowing the full story, you saw the good in what they did. and that, more than anything, made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to keep the gap so wide forever.

[littlelamy]

HEY HI GORGEOUS

I'm here with another idea. what about divorced rafe and reader where she finds out she's pregnant after they hooked up on a family trip that they did only bc their kid asked for both parents on their birthday and she has to tell him that the baby is his

author's note: hi bby, i made this a little angsty so i hope you enjoy it. thank you so much for sending a request! credits to @mochilly for the the divider <3

the soft hum of the engine and the chatter of your child in the backseat should've been comforting. you should've been able to relax and let the memories of the past weekend settle into something pleasant. but instead, all you could focus on was the secret bubbling inside you. a secret that was both thrilling and terrifying.

you’d been divorced from rafe for a year now. your kid's birthday party had been the excuse to bring you both back together, but the real reason for the trip was the way your kid begged. "please, just one weekend, mom, dad, both of you." and you had agreed, knowing that the family dynamic your child craved was slipping further away every day. rafe had agreed, too, though you both had kept your distance—until that night.

it had been a mistake. a drunken mistake. you had stayed in the same room because of space limitations, and the old chemistry that used to light up every corner of the house ignited that night, despite everything. you were both too broken, too hurt by the years of marriage that fell apart, but still... you found yourselves in bed together, tangled in passion.

now you were facing the consequences of that moment, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were about to crash into a wall of reality. you’d missed your period, and the test didn’t lie. the baby was his.

you pull up to the familiar house, the same one where you had shared so many memories, and where your child now split their time. your kid jumps out of the car and runs into the house, leaving you standing there, nerves tightening your chest. you take a deep breath and close your eyes, steeling yourself. you could do this.

the door opens, and there he is. rafe. his tall frame, messy hair, and that look in his eyes—the same look that once made your heart race. now, it just made your stomach churn with anxiety. he stares at you for a second, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“hey,” you say softly, fighting the tremble in your voice.

“hey, you okay?” he asks, voice rough but laced with concern. “you look like you’re about to pass out.”

you wince, your heartbeat picking up speed. “i, uh, need to talk to you about something.”

rafe’s gaze sharpens, his posture shifting into something more guarded. “what’s wrong? is it about the kid?”

“no, no, it’s about... me,” you mutter, then stop yourself. "well, actually, about us."

the silence between you stretches, thick and uncomfortable. he raises an eyebrow. “us? what the hell are you talking about?”

you glance at your hands, nervous to look him in the eye. “rafe, the thing is... i’m pregnant.”

the words fall into the space between you like a bomb, and his expression morphs instantly from confusion to shock. his lips part as he takes a step back. “what?” his voice is barely a whisper, but you hear the panic in it.

you nod, watching him closely. “yeah. i’m pregnant, rafe. and it’s... it’s yours.”

the air seems to freeze around you. rafe stares at you like he’s trying to process the words, like they can’t possibly be true. his jaw tightens, and you can see the conflict churning in his eyes. “you’re fucking kidding me, right?” he snaps, running a hand through his hair.

“no, i’m not,” you reply, your voice growing firmer, though your insides feel like they're about to implode. "i just found out. the timing—hell, it’s a fucking nightmare, but it’s true.”

rafe glares at you, his usual defensiveness rising like a shield. “how the hell did we end up here?” he mutters under his breath, pacing in a circle.

you feel your own frustration bubbling up. “don’t act like this isn’t your fault too, rafe,” you shoot back, your voice louder now. “you think i wanted this? i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t ask to be here with you again, but our kid wanted us both. and now... now i’m stuck in this mess, and you’re here acting like it’s a goddamn surprise.”

he clenches his fists, jaw tightening. "i know, alright? i know i fucked up with you. but this—this is too much." he stops, running a hand over his face. “you could’ve just... kept it from me. this doesn’t have to be real.”

you scoff, feeling the sting of his words. "i’m not that kind of person, rafe. i’m not just going to pretend it didn’t happen. you need to hear this. whether you like it or not, this is our reality now.”

he’s silent for a moment, then steps closer to you. his voice drops to something softer, more strained. “what do you want me to do, huh? you think i can just act like everything’s fine?”

“no,” you say, your eyes meeting his. “but i can’t do this alone. i need you, rafe. i need you to be here. for me. for our kid.”

he exhales sharply, and for the first time, you see something in his eyes that isn’t anger or confusion—it's fear. “i don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’s stable, who can give you everything you need. i can’t be that guy.”

“stop,” you interrupt him, your voice trembling. “stop trying to push me away. you’re all i’ve ever needed. yeah, things fell apart between us, but we’re both human. i’m not asking for some fucking fairy tale, rafe. i’m asking for you to step up, for our kid, for what we used to have.”

his lips press together, and the tension in the air thickens. then, finally, he speaks. “you’re right. i’m not perfect, but i’ll be here. i’ll try, alright? i’ll try for you. for the baby. i—”

he cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. his voice cracks a little when he adds, “i’m scared as hell, but i’ll try.”

tears well up in your eyes, but you hold them back. “i’m scared too,” you whisper. “but i think we can make it work.”

he steps closer, lifting a hand to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. his voice is low, almost a whisper. “we’ll figure this out. together.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[lottienathive]

right off the bat, nat and lottie are introduced as complete opposites - lottie is rich, sweet, soft-spoken, etc. and nat is poor, extremely brash, and bold. even wearing a skirt and jacket, but in completely different ways. this is an easily understood set-up for their first time in the wilderness. the very first dilemma of the show—the allie situation—is also very representative of this. lottie is unsure on how to approach the situation and doesn’t assert herself (“she kinda sucks, but… i don’t know.”) whereas nat makes her opinion very clear (“that’s because it’s bullshit” / “you know what? fuck this.”) after the crash., nat throws herself onto travis almost immediately following the loss of his father. she immediately sticks up for him when lottie makes a jab (“who died and made him king of snacks?” “his dad, lottie, literally his fucking dad.”) this is already showing us that nat is considered with the individual feelings of people around her, whereas lottie is more focused on the hive mind and likelihood of the group as a whole.

further into their time in the wilderness, both of the girls establish themselves as providers. nat becomes a hunter, providing food and protection since she’s the one who earns the privilege of having the only weapon. on the other hand, lottie is slowly made into a group leader because of the spiritual comfort she provides the girls with. in a desperate time of need, both of them are ready to provide and protect the group, but in completely opposing ways. they aren’t so different, really just two sides of the same selfless, caring coin. this complex rivalry makes much more sense when you look at their childhood individually. we see in season 1 that nat grew up in terrible circumstances, with an abusive alcoholic father and a dismissive mother, she is responsible for making her own way. her father’s death is symbolic of this; although she didn't kill him directly, it was her fault he died. because of this upbringing, nat has heavy walls built around her. she sees the world for what it's been to her: cruel. however, despite this cold shell that her parents caused her to develop, she's incredibly caring all the less. this is especially represented through her relationship with travis. lottie, while she grew up rich, clearly didn't have very loving parents. the first scene we see of her at home is before the crash, and while most of the other characters are being goodbye-hugged by family members, lottie is receiving a bottle of her medication from her maid. at the beginning of season 2, we see that lottie has had some sort of psychic abilities, able to predict a car crash before it happens. instead of taking time to understand her, her parents throw her into therapy and pump her up with medication following the rescue, lottie's parents take no time to process that their daughter has been heavily traumatized, and immediately send her away to a whole different country. the dismissiveness of lottie's parents, similar to nats, affected her in a completely opposite way. instead of building up walls and becoming cold, lottie seeks to use her abilities to give comfort to everyone else around her. while dealing wth similar core traumas, they react to it in very different ways.

despite this, lottie (especially adult timeline) stays prominent as the only person who can comfort nat. after years following the crash of replacing her pain with drugs, sex, etc. it took one week at lottie's camp for her to want to start healing. lottie did that for her. the regression scene shows that no matter how old she is, lottie is still the only person who can bring out the parts of herself that she tries to bury, in both positive and negative ways. the season 2 finale is where everything about their relationship shifts. i don't think enough people process that "the wilderness" is really just, obviously not completely, but in simple terms a manifestation of lottie's inner nature. when you listen to it, it gives you what you want. when lottie decides that nat should be the leader by saying "the wilderness already chose who should lead us," what she's really saying, unconsciously and metaphorically, is that she has noticed nat's resilience and determination to lead as a reflection of her own determination to lead. now...we talk about nat's death scene. happening parallel to the scene where she's crowned leader adult nat is accidently killed during a hunt put together by lottie to give the wilderness its final sacrifice, an exercise intended to help them let go. in her final moments between life and death, nat finds herself in that plane again. in her very final moments of life, what is nats last sight?? young lottie next to her, hand on her heart, telling her that it's going to be okay. as she says, "IT'S not evil, just hungry." this line correlates with what lottie said a few episodes earlier: "just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's evil." nat and lottie both don't understand each other's ways of dealing with their issues, so they argue and they oppose. in a tragic end to their story, nat's death is documented as a drug overdose and lottie is sent away to a psych ward by her friends. despite everything they went through, the ups and the downs and the healing, lottie and nat will always be the psycho and the druggie. they are similar in this way: they are stuck with these issues and that's all they're seen for by anyone else. but they see each other as more.

you made so many excellent points. great analysis! they really are two sides of the same coin and narrative foils.

"the dismissiveness of lottie's parents, similar to nats, affected her in a completely opposite way. instead of building up walls and becoming cold, lottie seeks to use her abilities to give comfort to everyone else around her. while dealing with similar core traumas, they react to it in very different ways."

this part in particular reminded me of a thought i had the other day. about lottienat and the deer + moose symbolism. it pretty much reflects what you just mentioned. lottie being associated with the deer (a creature considered in many mythologies to be connected to the supernatural and the divine, a creature that prefers to live in herds. just like lottie who doesn't isolate herself by choice. she surrounds herself with people) vs nat being associated with the moose (unlike other deer species moose do not form herds and are solitary animals)