#again I'm completely sure you mean the absolute best with this! no hard feelings for you trying it out on me!

[brown-little-robin]

get loved, nerd

hello.

commentary in the tags. it is slightly negative, so please feel free to simply scroll on if that's not for you!

[peachylynnie]

sick

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: in which sylus sneaks into your apartment and finds you sick. yet, you're not resting. why?

contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating but sylus is pining and reader is confused), reader is implied to be in college, slightly obsessive sylus, mentions of violence and sickness, suggestive themes, cussing, and fluff.

a/n: i got sick yesterday. what better way to rest than to write about sylus? do NOT copy or steal my work. sylus WOULD NOT endorse plagiarism :)

you don't want to admit it. you really don't. but you're sick. there's no denying that with how short of breath you are, how nauseous you feel, and the goddamn soreness in the back of your throat that didn't go away with the first sip of water.

"shit…" you mumble as you sluggishly move to empty the dishwasher as your roommate asked. it's bad enough that you were sick, but you were also stressed out of your mind. midterms have been kicking your ass this semester. big assignments have been piling up on your already heavy shoulders. in essence, this was a burnout month, and all that lack of sleep and unparalleled stress had finally caught up to you. in the form of a cold, that is.

"of all the times," you grumble as you struggle to stack the dishes in the cabinet. "why now…" indeed, this was a terrible time to get sick. how were you to complete all your tasks while feeling absolutely miserable? you glance at the microwave clock in desperation. 10:00 PM, it read. although you meant to sigh a breath of relief, you let out a painful cough. maybe you could finish an assignment or two by midnight. that way, you can focus on studying tomorrow, you thought to yourself.

you sniff as you return to the dishwasher to unload the rest of the dishes. as much as you were happy for your roommate leaving for the weekend to finally see her family, you couldn't help but feel resentful. why were you here struggling to do the dishes while she got to have fun? shaking your head at your bitter thoughts, you bend down, trying to grab the utensils from the dishwasher. keyword: trying.

the sudden pair of strong arms that wrapped around you prevented you from doing so. normally, you would've swiftly elbowed the person behind you and turned around to land a hard blow that would have them seeing stars. instead, you exhale shakily. you recognize the mysterious backhugger's scent. the scent of sweet wine and sharp citrus. sylus.

how the hell did he get in? you don’t remember giving him a spare key when you told him your address. you look behind you, angling your head to meet his garnet eyes. "i did not give you my address just so you can sneak in like this," you say, trying your best not to sound like you're dying.

unfortunately, the nasal tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by sylus. instead of offering his usual quips, sylus furrows his brows and unclasps his right arm from your waist. you try not to flinch at the chill of his slender fingers touching your forehead. he frowns. "you're sick."

you immediately avert your gaze. "i'm not sick," you mutter as you try to bend down once more to grab the stupid utensils from the dishwasher. sylus doesn't let go. this time, he spins you around with his left arm, making sure that he can see you properly.

"you're burning up, sweetie." sylus says as flips the hand on your forehead for good measure. "you're sick and you know it."

you roll your eyes, squirming to get out of his grip. you did not want sylus to see you like this. a sick, miserable mess incapable of doing something as simple as emptying the dishwasher. you had an image to uphold after all. being vulnerable with someone like him could mean getting hurt again. last time you were vulnerable with someone… well, let's say you learned your lesson.

weakly, you push at sylus' arm around your waist with your small hands. you try not to think about how minuscule they looked next to sylus' deliciously veiny forearms. great, you're sick, and your mind decides to lust after sylus' arms. you shiver at your thoughts and attempt to push sylus' grip away once more. normally, escaping sylus' hold would be a reasonable task for you. after all, your sparring sessions with him prepared you to get out of sticky situations. but you were sick and exhausted out of your mind. all you could manage was a feeble squirm.

sylus' gaze moves from his hand on your forehead to your eyes. your half-lidded baggy eyes. his frown deepens. you looked extremely fatigued. your face was noticeably pale, and your intake of breath was short. not to mention, sylus could see the slight wince of pain whenever you tried to swallow your saliva. sylus sighs as he removes his hand on your forehead and replaces it with his own. you were neglecting yourself again.

under normal circumstances, you would've shied away from sylus' physical advancements. his hand on the small of your back? an immediate flinch and glare, signaling him to stop. a tap on the crown of your head? a swift jerk of your neck and avoidance of eye contact. instead—again, you blame it on your exhaustion—you tiredly close your eyes, relishing in sylus' cool forehead against your heated one. no resistance to be shown.

you don't see it, but sylus' sharp eyes soften at the sight of you accepting his touch. even with the eye bags and ghastly skin, you looked ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven to save him from his own solitary hell. as much as he wants to savor this moment of you finally giving into his touch, sylus knows what he must do. you're unwell and unrested. you need to be in bed immediately.

"you should be in bed, sweetie." sylus murmurs as he pulls away from your forehead. you try not to sulk at the loss of the soothing chill of his skin. though, not without feeling conflicted because why you would even sulk about him? for god's sake, he was a criminal. he's taken countless lives. not to mention, he choked you upon meeting you, called you a disappointment, and tried to alter you after three straight days of relentless attempts at a forced resonation… just thinking about him drives you nuts and being driven nuts is the last thing you want right now.

"i'm fine, sylus." it was your turn to pull away, trying to put as much distance between you two as his firm grip around your waist would allow. "besides, nothing a little old tea can't fix."

with that, you turn to face the dishwasher and reach for the utensils for the umpteenth time of the night. sylus sighs and pinches his nose bridge with his free hand. as much as he admired your stubbornness, he could not help but resent it at times like these. times when you were in desperate need of a break. before you can grab the utensils, you feel yourself get lifted off the ground effortlessly.

sylus' arm on your waist had moved to your shoulder, and his other arm was hooked under your thighs. he had you in bridal style in less than a second. your eyes widen, realizing the sudden change in positions. "what are you doing?!" you cough painfully. "put me down!"

you do your best to escape sylus' new grip on you by kicking your legs and squirming uncontrollably, but it was hopeless. you were weakened due to your sickness, and sylus was determined to make sure you looked only at him instead of the goddamn dishwasher. one more look at it, and he swears he's gonna break it with his evol.

quickly and confidently, sylus exits the kitchen with you in his arms and arrives at what he guesses is your shared bedroom with your roommate. he tries not to get distracted by the fact that this is his first time in your room. god, the entire space smelled so much like you, he wanted to become one with it and watch you forever and ever. dismissing his intrusive thoughts, sylus gently places you down on your bed and starts to cover you in your blanket.

"wait, sylus," you start, trying to get up. "i have to empty the dishwasher. i have homework, too." sylus tuts as he shakes his head, his messy silver locks following suit. although he doesn't respond, sylus continues to spread out your blanket. you furrow your eyebrows at his strange behavior. "sylus…" you whine. you actually whined. something you never thought you would do, especially in front of sylus. you could feel his intense gaze prick at you like little needles. you avoid his gaze, hoping to hide your flustered state.

adorable. that's what you are. incredibly adorable to the point sylus wants to grab your chin and force you to look at him as he coaxes more and more of your pretty whines out of you.

trying to fight his indecent thoughts, sylus locks eyes with you, a firm yet pleading look on his face. "you need to rest, sweetie," he leans in to adjust your pillow. "you won't get anything done in this state." you try to protest again, but sylus beats you to it. "rest. i'll take care of everything."

well, fuck. how can you say no when sylus, in all of his gorgeous glory, is centimeters from your face, telling you that he will take care of everything and asking you to do the one thing you've been longing to do for a very long time? besides, you felt sleepy ever since sylus took you in his arms. just this once. just this once, you'll allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. so that you can rest, of course. totally not because sylus had a way of comforting you so sweetly and breaking your defensive walls so charmingly.

your labored breathing slows as you cautiously nod. "fine," you yawn. "the utensils go in the very left drawer of the island while the pots and pans go in the stove oven, and…" you can feel sleep beckoning for you as you continue to list instructions. sylus can't help the grin that appears on his face as he watches your cute blinks grow in intervals.

"noted, sweetie." he caresses a stray hair strand out of your face. "i'll make sure everything is back where they belong." like you to him. though, he doesn't say that part out loud. maybe another day. when you are no longer wary of him and are willing to acknowledge his very obvious affection for you. deep in his fantasy, sylus almost misses your cute snores. he chuckles, taking this chance to admire you now that you've fallen asleep.

you truly were an angel. the way your eyebrows furrowed here and there in your sleep. the way your plump lips parted at times. the way your button nose twitched sporadically. oh, sylus loved it all. he could watch you sleep forever. but he had a better task at hand: to take care of you. he assured you that he would take care of everything. and sylus is a man of his words. carefully to not wake you, sylus cups your face with his right hand. closing his eyes, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead.

"rest well, sweetie. i'll see you soon."

[caramelpeaching]

COCCINEUM — (park sunghoon)

pairing. vampire!sunghoon x human!reader

word count. 7k

genre. smut (with plot)

warnings. blood mentions (he's a vampire), dom!sunghoon, oral (f. & m. receiving), hair pulling, spanking (just one smack tbh), fingering, degrading & praise (not much, he's just a little mean sometimes), multiple orgasms (f.), overstimulation, pet names, a little of aftercare, reader's best friend is a dick

synopsis. There's nothing weirder than coming home from shopping at night and remembering absolutely nothing, but what if a pretty face makes you remember everything? Maybe the weirdest thing was him all this time.

Walking alone through the empty streets during night time wasn't something that made people feel comfortable, and you weren't the exception. Your ears pricked up with every little noise, and when something cracked, your head turned to that direction.

Nothing.

There was nothing behind you, nothing that would have cracked a single tree branch that was now laying on the paved ground. Your grip on your bag tightened, ready to start running away as far as you could from that almost completely dark alley. The first time you thought about it it didn't seem as bad of an idea to shortcut through this barely iluminated one. Your steps quickened, but when you were halfway crossing it, the only postlight flickered a few times, finally turning off in front of your eyes. And he knew it was his time to act.

A hand wrapped its fingers around your wrist, turning you around and pressing your back against one of the walls of the buildings that formed the alley. A sudden urge to flee the scene hit you like a cold water bucket being thrown on your face, your free hand still holding the bag they gave you at the 24h shop, and a quick swing from it gave you hopes of leaving.

The guy smirked at your attempt of self-defense, stopping the swing with his other arm, covering the side of his face. "That wasn't a very nice thing to do, hm?" His voice was nothing more than a whisper, sending chills down your back. And at the feeling of your knees and feet trying to land some hits on his legs, which you oblivious to it all thought were pretty much good kicks, his features only got slightly annoyed. With knitted perfect brows, he talked to you again. "You're a troublesome. Stop struggling, be good and avoid moving, you'll end up hurting yourself more."

"No! Let me go!" You shouted, letting the bag land with a loud thud onto the ground. Taking advantage of your new freely hand, you pressed it hard against his cheek, pushing his face away some inches. "Go away! What do you even want?!"

He complained with a low growl, both of your hands on top of your head, pinned to the wall in less than a second . "What do I want?" It was a sarcastic tone, mocking you. "For you to shush and make things easier for both of us. I'm starving."

"Take it all then, take the whole bag!" Your eyes wandered to the ground, some snacks boxes fell out of the plastic and now were all over the paved street.

"Do I seem like the type of guy to eat that shit?"

His words rumbled on your eardrums, the sigh of that cocky grin appearing again on the commissure of his lips, revealing his teeth. Long, sharp fangs emerging from his gums, upper ones passing his lower lip. Scoffing was all you could do, incredulous at what you were seeing. "Nice joke." You mumbled, not too sure if it actually was one, they looked so real.

The tall guy used his other hand to yank your hair and pull your head to the side, getting a gasp from your side and leaving an open espace to fit his face. "I'm upset you think it's a joke, but if you want to believe so... Whatever makes you the happiest, doll." A shiver started at your neck and ended at your toes when the warmes of a bigger and harder tongue licked a small spot near to your collarbone, making you freeze. "Finally noticed how real this is, huh?" He chuckled.

You shook your head from side to side, refusing to process that it was all real as he was telling you. "Please. Please, don't." A little whisper slipped out of your throat, his face lifting when he heard your pleas, eyes glowing in a now redish tone, different from his previous dark color.

"Don't what? You need to be more specific about this one."

Each time his voice entered your ears and the vibrations reached the deepest point in them you could feel how you lost yourself, little by little. The tone of his voice, the shimmer in his eyes as he looked at yours, the way his claws brushed on your scalp, and how good it felt his wet muscle over your sensitive skin, right above the pulse of your carotid artery. "D-don't bite me." You finally begged.

His face disappeared again on your neck, his fangs tracing patters, lines that went up and down on a single path. "How hopeful are you? Or maybe just a dumb little prey." Soft nibbles were left around that same wet spot. "Did you just ask a vampire not to bite you while we're like this, pretty?" Something caught his attention, because one more time those eyes that your body was starting to be forced to love, scanned your traits. "Oh? What are those? Shhh..." He shushed you, the tip of his tongue cleaning all of the tears that had your cheeks stained. The moment he finished, a sweeter smile was directed to you. "Come on, I know you can behave. You're already half lost, it's not like you can do anything else. I'll make it hurt as little as possible, alright? That's it, just nod for me."

Like he asked you to do, you did no more shaking of your head, just nods. Your tears got wiped away just to feel the warmth of his saliva instead, or maybe what stayed over your puffy cheeks was a mix of both.

When he saw how you stayed still, completely drunk on his essence, he let go of your hair and wrists. Your eyes closed and a sting made you whine, holding his shoulder as tightly as you could, a weak grasp if you were to ask him later. The side of your face pressing lightly on top of his hair as he bit down and after a good half a minute, the needles-like fangs came out of the new holes of your neck. "How are you feeling?" He asked, detaching from you just while he spoke, returning to lap over the two marks, cleaning all the blood that escaped after he ended the bite. You hummed, eyes still closed. "Need you to answer me. I might be a bloodsucker, and I'm sorry for that. But I'm not a killer." He cupped your cheek, holding your face up to make eye contact with you once he stood up straight. "Now tell me, what's your name?" Your name came out in a murmur, not having too much strenght to answer his question. "And what time is it now, more or less?"

"It's... it's 2AM?" You replied, more like a question, because you had no idea of how much time had passed since you left the convenience store. "Good. Yes, it's 2AM. And I think it's time for you to head back home, something bad could happen to you." He said, almost like if being bitten by a vampire wasn't something to be worried, or like if he wasn't the one that did so. He left your body pressed on the wall to crouch down and pick up the bag that fell from your hand time ago. "Here, you remember where your house is?" He handed it to you. "Y-yeah, yeah." You could notice how the tingles that covered your whole neck finally stopped, and that half-drunk state you were induced also started to vanish from your system. And like that, with a bit of his help, you took the firsts step towards your destination.

Weeks went by and the memories from that weird walk back home weren't returning to your mind in the slightest, everything was a blank in your mind. To be fair it was more like a red, because one thing was clear, that iron taste on the deepests parts of your throat lasted for the next three days. The more you thought about it the less clear things appeared to be, your clothes were all good placed, nothing from your bag disappeared, and not a single bruise was left on your skin. But a pretty face always seemed to be part of your foggy memories. Pale tone, dark hair, dark ey-

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" A strong voice made presence in your bedroom. Clouds evaporated your mind while your eyes followed his steps, closer to your bed. "Don't tell me you have a new guy." Your friend lightly chuckled.

"Oh, come on. I would have told you if that was the case." You joked with him, moving your hand in the air in front of you as a way of denying his assumptions.

"You know, if you need anything you can just tell me." He winked back, that grin he always had while trying to flirt with you, even though you couldn't count with the fingers of your hand how many times you have told him you weren't interested.

You rolled your eyes, holding back a frustated laugh. "Sure, sure." And by the time your eyes finished blinking to open back again, he grabbed you by your forearm, pulling you up and handing you that tight dress you said you'd be wearing for tonight. Just to go out with him to a random modern pub in the middle of the town. "Okay, I'll get going."

"Perfect, don't want us to be late."

Nodding your head while you stepped inside of your bathroom and closing the door behind you, you sighed. Your makeup was already done, so all that was left was getting dressed. The main reason you were going out past midnight was only him, he asked you to go together, enthusiastic. So you couldn't bring yourself to reply with a single no to your childhood friend, and here you were.

Loud music banged your head, the mix of the alcohol and a bunch of people wasn't as a great idea as your friend told you. His hand was already around your waist, his lips closer than they ever were and on the current state nothing was seen like a bad action anymore.

"Should have stayed at your apartment, hm?" You ears barely understood his slurred speech, and if he was like that, yours was probably the same since both of you drank exactly what the other one orderer.

"But we're having fun, so I gues- Oh! It's him! I think it's him!" Your eyes widened, quickly pulling away from your drinking partner and pushing people on your way to reach for that tall guy.

You were able to hear the calls of your name, not paying much attention to him. Once that handsome looks were in front of you again, you reached for his arm, his jacket between your fingers. And you were met with a surprised stare. "Do you-" He cough, trying to get away from your grip. "I think you got the wrong person."

You blinked your eyes a few times while you took in all of his traits, you remembered that moles, the way his lips moved and the way they got closer and closer to your neck.

No.

They weren't getting closer to you, he was indeed trying to run away from you, waiting for the moment in which you let his jacket go. But you could swear they got closer at you at some point.

You shook your head, looking up into his eyes. "You're the guy from that night! What did you do to me? I can't remember anything, you must have drugge-!"

This time his fingers were the ones pressing against your body, to your mouth, covering it before your screams continued. Screams that were saying something he didn't even do to you. "You are drunk, think before you accuse me of doing such thing." He furrowed his brows, holding your stare. His eyes made you want to trip and fall all over him, who wouldn't want that? But there was something else apart from that frustation gaze over you, or perhaps it was just your drunk self trying to see things. Either way, you sensed a bit of fear in them.

A fist crossed between your bodies, hitting 'hard' against his chest. Reactions very different from one side to the other, a small grunt from the guy and a few messed up words from part of your friend, who you didn't know how he got to you in the first place. And finally the people around of you doing an 'oooh', loud enough to catch the stares of what you supposed was a bouncer. Big shoulders approaching towards the three of you and kicking you out like if he was throwing away a feather from his clothes.

"I did nothing! He was harrassing my girl, yeah, that was what he was doing!" Your friend claimed, shouting at the bouncer under the tired eyes of the other guy, arms crossed in front of his chest, not even attemption to touch you.

The bouncer left, leaving you three out in the cold of the night. "I'm not your girl." You mumbled, pointing a finger at your male friend.

He replied with a groan, shrugging his shoulder, completely changed demeanor. "Weren't saying the same back there." A hand placed on your hips, dangerously getting closer to your buttock.

You were quick enough to grab it before he could actually squeeze it, pulling it up and then off your body. "It wasn't like that. I didn't... Just forget about it." Your voice lowered, not feeling that comfortable to speak with him again about the theme in which he was so persisent, even most of your female friends told you to stop hanging out with him.

During a normal day, he would have backed up, laughing away the situation and not mencioning it for at least a whole day. But tonight wasn't the case. He took hold of your arm, keeping you close to him and tilting his chin up a bit, towering over you. You tried to step back one more time, not wanting to engage into an argument with him or into whatever he was planning on doing. "We both know you really want it, stop acting like this."

His words were much more than your patience could take and a pull from your side was enough to make him do the same. With the slight difference that his was stronger. And with a wrong step on your high heels your knees ended up on the ground, he releasing you from his grip.

A figure grew quickly from the ground, the guy that before was sitting on the end of the street, feet touching the road and arms over knees, was now in front of you. He held a hand to you while giving you his back, facing your friend, making a shield between the two of you. "She doesn't want to, drop it."

"What the hell would you know?!"

"She just told you." He replied, helping you get up when you took his hand. "You're both drunk, just go to your house and eat something."

"I'm not gonna leave her alone with you, creep." You saw how the chest of your friend grew bigger from behind the guy's back, his hand still holding yours, not letting you go from his side.

"And I'm not gonna leave her alone with a drunk man either."

Five minutes after that, you three were at the bus stop, waiting for the night bus to arrive since none of you brought a car, direction to your house they said.

Your eyes slowly opened, a snore heard a few rooms away. You were at your apartment, the alarm clock marked past 5AM, an unusual hour to wake up.

The last thing you remembered from last night was you giving the unknown dude your keys because you weren't able to open your own door. So with a slow movement you sat up on your bed, your image on the mirror telling you that the dress was still on. The first steps after standing up always felt weird, even more now that your mind was between being drunk and having a hangover, but you made your way to the living room successfully.

"What are you doing awake?" A voice received you, his eyes fixated on you before you fully stepped out of the hallway.

"Could ask the same." You marked, leaning against the wall, eyes fighting to be completely open.

He cleared his throat, nervous, then moved his head towards the body of your friend lying on the couch, snoring. "Need to look after both of you, I don't know what he is capable of doing."

"But aren't you sleepy at all?" Your eyebrow raised, scanning him. He was sitting at the armchair next to the couch, one of his legs over his other knee and his phone between his hands.

"Not really." He simply stated. "But you should go back to sleeping."

"I'll go later, now I'm curious. What's your name?"

"Sunghoon."

A silence settled on the room after his answer, your arms crossing in front of you. "You didn't ask mine, so you already know." His lips parted, ready to speak up, but you started before. "I know you were the one from that night. I can hardly remember things, just speak up about what happened, you're literally on the living room of my home."

"I can't." He hesitated, looking away from your eyes.

"You can, or I'll go to the police, now I know your name."

"No need, I swear. I just..." His hands pushed back his hair, fingers between his dark locks. He sighed, shaking his head. "Hear me out, I really can't."

You stepped closer, ready to ask again, when a humming sound turned both of your stares towards your friend, sleeping. Taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself down. If he wanted to hurt you, you'd have already been hurt. So you ended up walking, looking down at him and grabbing his jacket from his arm, just like you did at the pub. He stood up, not bothering to put resistance when you guided him to the hallway. "Now explain." You whispered.

His expression was unpleasant, brows knitted just a little, shoulders rigid and his fingers expanding and contracting from time to time. "You wouldn't believe me, there's no sense in trying to explain. Now, please go back to sleep." He hissed the last sentence, his right hand forming a fist around the edge of his jacket.

"At least try it. All you're achieving like this is for me to get angrier."

He gulped, another shook, the front strands of his hair waving at the same pace.

The hand that left his jacket when you brought him to the hallway returned back to it, bringing him a bit closer, making him look at you. "Spit it out."

"Stop it." He snapped at you, holding your wrist back. "Are you that curious to know?"

"Yeah, I am. I want to know why the fuck I don't remember shit from a night and the last thing I saw was your stupid face."

"Good, because I'm hungry."

You turned into confussion, about to signal towards the kitchen when the hand previously on your wrist took your waist, turning you to have your back against the wall. He half crouched, the index finger of his other hand brushing over your knee, making you squirm, it hurt. Your mind connected dots, the only way of you to have a bruise there was the moment you fell in front of the pub's doors.

"Tasted so good last time. That idiot put to waste some of it." He whispered, complaining. And then he placed his pointer on the tip of his tongue, closing his eyes at the contact. Eyes widening, you tried to move, but his grip was too strong to fight back, so you submerged your own fingers in his hair. "I'm sorry." He muttered before the whole surface of his tongue licked up your bruised knee. Legs shaking at the feeling, and just to make it worse, sloppy wet kisses followed after the lick, each one higher up your inner thigh.

"W-what...?" The air inside of your lungs left you as your only word escaped your lips.

He grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed against the wall and slowly lifting your leg up to place it over his shoulder. "Keep your legs like that, I know it's not the most comfortable one, but it's been a time since I bit down here."

Your brain felt blank, no reaction, no words, no complains, just nods. And the beginning of a pool forming on your underwear.

"Don't scream, you'll wake him up. And I don't want any interruptions until I'm full." Another nod. The kisses transformed into him dragging his teeth over your skin, then soft nibbles, and at the end there were only two fangs digging on your inner thigh, making their way through blood vessels.

You pulled his hair, tears rolling down your cheeks and falling down on your chest, some of them ending at his scalp even. The effort you put into not separating your lips and cry out his name was huge. His fangs pulled out, the numbing feeling too obvious to pass unnoticeable, but his wet muscle now lapped over the two dots that you still hadn't seen. When his head raised and his eyes checked yours, the feeling of a sticky, wet trail went down your thigh until it reached the floor.

His finger cleaned the blood trail, sucking on it after bringing it to his mouth and pulling it out making a 'pop' noise. His thumb reaching out for the inner part again and slowly massaging where he bit the previous seconds. "You wouldn't have believed me." He murmured, keeping it quiet as well to not wake up the sleeping drunk at the couch.

Speechless, you looked down at the two marks, slowly healing in front of your eyes. "Why-" You stopped, breath hitching because of the crying from before. "Why I don't remember anything?"

"Do you think you'd have slept fine if you knew there were bloodsuckers all around at night, searching for someone in the dark to sink their teeth?" Eyes still down, you shook your head, no verbal response to his question. "Then that's why."

"How? I mean, yeah. How? Why are you a... vampire?"

"I was turned into one, that's the main reason."

"No, but- None of this makes any sense."

He scoffed. "I know." Getting up from the floor and wrapping his hands around both of your sides to help you stand up in front him. You mentally thanked him, he was the one who made your leg numb.

"So, you were there to bite someone?" You questioned him, keeping one of your hands over his shoulder to wait until you felt your limb again.

"Eat. Don't say it like that, if I wasn't hungry I wouldn't do it."

"But it's what you do."

"I don't care. I just do it to eat, it's not like I can choose to stop doing it. I tried starving myself the night I saw you, I feel better knowing you don't remember how it started."

Head tilting to the side and frowning, you asked him. "Why would you starve yourself?"

He ran his fingers through his hair one more time. "I tried to. But now I know it doesn't work at all." You just stared back at his face, as if telling him to keep explaining it. "I couldn't hold it back. I ended up biting the first person that crossed past the street, you." His factions were almost disgusted, probably at himself. "I mean, it's your nature. We all have to eat, like you like to say it, you just do it differently."

"You thought I was trying to rape you." He spat out, looking at your eyes for a moment, his breath shaky. "Each time I've done it I get them to forget the sick part where they are bitten by someone that they think it's just a human. But I was so out of my damned mind that I couldn't do it right to you."

"Hey, hey. Calm down." Your hand landed softly over his shoulder, pointing to the living room with your head.

He sighed, nodding, but still freaking out about it. "You don't get it. What if one day I lose complete control?"

"You won't." You tried to reassure him, not too sure of what to say. The way his eyes looked so desperate made your heart ache for some reason still unknown. All you knew about this guy was his name, and that he was a vampire. "You can... you can bite me whenever you need it."

His eyes widened in shock, looking for any sign of regret in your words.

"Thank you."

Your nails were digging on the fabric of his sweatpants while his lips pressed against the inner part of your forearm. It had been almost two weeks since you promised to let him feed from your own blood, and here he was, last week was the same, maybe a little more uncomfortable.

"Ready?" Sunghoon asked in a low tone, the warmth of his breath mixing with your wet skin from his saliva. You nodded, the grip on his pants tightening, preparing yourself for the weird feeling. And sharp fangs perfored you again, in a new spot. The marks from the last times were already gone, it was true that thanks to him even the bruise you had on your knee from that fall healed in just two days.

With eyes closed, you gulped. Blood pumping faster through your veins at the anxiety you started to feel due to holding back the whines your throat wanted to release. He made a soft noise, vibrating over your forearm, letting you know that he was feeling it as well. Your belly flooded with butterflies at his sound, not able to keep biting down on your lower lip and letting out a cry. And after a first one, the rest just came out.

One of his hands reached down to brush his thumb on your palm, moving your hand as his lips continued sucking blood out of your body to finally interwind his fingers with yours, now your nails switched to dig on his hand instead of the fabric.

Having you like that, he lasted a little more than a minute until his fangs were dragged out of the flesh, cleaning any drop that fell out. "Look at me, are you doing alright?"

His words made you lift your eyelids, meeting with his gaze between a courtain of tears that accumulated on your eyes. Your lips closed as quickly as you remembered the situation, cheeks flushed while thinking about how he heard all of your whimpers. With a squeeze on your hand, he used his free one to wipe the tears that clouded your vision. The vampire looked so immersed in his world, taking care of you, your body leaned forward on its own without giving you any time to rethink about it. A peck planted on his lips.

Before you knew how it happened, he was pulling you on top of his hips, holding your thighs for you to straddle him as the kiss deepened, letting you taste the weird iron flavor from your blood. You broke the contact after almost a whole minute, breathless. His eyes opened for the first time since your kissing session had begun. "Is this your way of telling me to go gentler? Because I really like it." He joked, hard breathing too.

A giggle from your part filled the living room. "Always making me cry."

"Next time I should try not making you spill a single tear. But for today it's enough. And you should actually go and have some check-ups. I'm worried you might develop anemia."

"What if they ask me questions, huh?" You raised a brow, a grin growing on the corner of your lips.

"I don't know, just say you donated blood." He shrugged back at you, same smile forming on his face now.

"Donated indeed. You should start to pay me for being a personal pantry."

"You offered first." He excused himself, teasing you. "But I guess I could take you out to a café. You eat, I eat."

"Don't try buying me. I accept, though."

You were sure a few of the waiters looked at the two of you a bit weirded out, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. While you finished telling your order Sunghoon only denied politely when they asked him if he wanted anything. And the moment he paid for your sweet snacks and drink, maybe they had the concept of a sugardaddy in their minds.

"Can't you like... I don't know, maybe drink a juice?" You asked him, turning slightly on the front passager's seat in his car to look at him.

He shrugged. "Don't think so." He replied, eyes on the road in front of him. "Last time I tried it was a few years ago and it only gave me bellyache. Plus I don't feel like it."

"That's true! Don't you have cravings of things you ate before?"

"Not really." Sunghoon smirked, eyeing at your face through the corner of his eyes. "All the cravings I've been getting lately were your blood."

Your cheeks blushed ever so slightly, body squirming on the seat to try and hold the wave of electricity that crossed your four limbs thanks to his words. "Shut up. Is that your way of flirting, Mr. vampire?"

Sunghoon chuckled, holding the steering wheel a bit tighter under your teases. "You don't like it? Or you just need more pick-up lines?"

"Show me what else you've got." You said, half of a grin forming on the side edge of your lips.

He cleared his throat, exaggerating his cough. "So, are you a blood moon? Because each time you appear I get so hungry for you."

A gasp escaped your mouth, turning into a little scoff later. "Okay, okay. I get it." You continued laughing, moving your hand in the air to tell him to stop. "You can eat whenever we arrive to your apartment."

"Maybe we can try a new place this time."

You raised your brow. "New place?"

"Yeah, like I have already done it on the neck, thigh, and both forearms." He explained, the closer hand to you confidently reaching your knee to trail his fingertips on your expossed skin. "Where else should we try?"

You got shivers all over your leg, but mostly right where his fingers touched. "I don't know." You almost murmured, eyes focused on the way his hand roamed. "Where do you think it's a good place?" You really tried to sound as calm as possible, but your speech betrayed you.

The little giggle of Sunghoon made the shivers expand to the rest of your body, his palm now pressing down instead of just the tip of his fingers. "I need take a look first, hm? Just to decide the most appetising."

Between the talking, after he showed you his bedroom, you couldn't keep your lips to yourself any longer. And it seemed that he couldn't either. The build up tension from the ride in his car made it all explode when he sat at the edge of his bed, pulling you towards him.

His kisses traveled towards your collarbone, nibbling softly at the most fleshy parts. He grabbed the hem of your top, rising it so slow it could kill you. "Do I have permission?" The whisper made you nod instantly, legs shaky at each side of his thighs.

The sound of his breath just got heavier with every time your hips went down to met up with his on a slight brush. Rushed hands pulled your upper part over your head and threw it on the side of his bed, ready to do the same with your bra, you stopped him by kissing his lips.

Sunghoon kept his hands on your sides, sliding up and down over the exposed skin in front of him. "Lemme take it off." He murmured, pulling away just enough to let his words land on your face instead of in your mouth.

Too immersed to say something back, you grabbed his hands, bringing them to your back to undo the bra. "Not fair." You pointed at his sweater once the straps your underwear were around his fingers, not long after laying next to your top.

"You can do whatever you want, sweetheart. So quit that pout and start acting." He smirked back at you, leaning back while resting on his palms.

Heat burned your cheeks while your nipples hardened because of the lack of cover. But you didn't care enough to try and hide them from him, just like he did to you, you took off his sweater and t-shirt all at once. "You go to the gym, don't lie to me." Eyes wandering along his tonned arms and down to his abdomen.

"Maybe." He laughed it off, already bringing his hands to your waist when you placed yours on his thighs, throwing your knees to the floor of his apartment.

A hard swallow from his part was obvious, short nails burying on his bedsheets at the sound of his zip going down and the unbuttoning of his pants. Doe eyes looked up at him, licking your lower lip before grabbing the elastic of his underwear. "Do I also have permission?"

His reply began with a huff, bitting down the tip of his tongue while he took a deep breath. "Don't tease."

"I'm just asking, Hoon. Being kind is teasing?"

"Go down already or I'll do it myself."

"Yes, sir."

With a last grin, you finally pulled his boxers down enough to release his already throbbing member. Testing the waters first with the tip, you gave it kitten licks, followed by a long one from his base to the top. And then took it.

Some minutes passed that felt like hours for him and his head tilted backwards with eyes closed was the last thing you saw before being yanked up by your hair, getting a little whine from you. His hands reached for your armpits to lift you from the puffy carpet, throwing you to the edge of the bed. "Second drawer." He directed you, signaling towards the right nightstand.

Your body crawled until opening it, a package of condoms in it. You grabbed two and tossed them to the pillows, closing the drawer afterwars.

He returned to your side, fully nude, and pinned you down to his sheets by your hips. "Seems like I ain't the only one that knows how to suck." A smirk formed on his face, eyes devouring your lips. "I'll keep it in mind for the future."

Your shy smile was all he got in return, a little blush tinting your cheeks.

"Oh don't look at me like that." Sunghoon's voice lowered, scoffing as he extended his arm to grab one of the condoms and throwing it on your chest. "Keep the hard work, you want a reward after, right pretty?"

Holy heavens you wanted a reward if he said it in that tone. Quickly you started to flip the the plastic square on your hands, trying to open it by one of its corners safely. So focused on your task that you only realized that he had went down your body when your pants slipped down your thighs and later your ankles.

Soft fingertips rubbed against the stained fabric of your underwear, and as a reflex your legs closed around his hand.

"Open." He simply stated, waiting for you to obey. And while the condom fell next to you on the bed, your legs spread again. "Now keep 'em like that. I don't like repeating myself."

You were about to nod but instead his sudden pull of your panties stole a gasp from you, not long after his lips wandered over the soft flesh of your thighs until they reached between your folds. He was definitely enjoying your hands grabbing his dark locks and hearing moan after moan coming out of your mouth.

His tongue flickered on your clit from time to time, he could tell how good it felt by how your hips searched for his wet muscle every time he changed to your entrance, and yet Sunghoon was still teasing you only.

"Fuck, stop that." You whined back to him, complaining about his lack of care at the swollen bundle of nerves.

And just like that his head raised from between your legs. "You should stop being so goddamn greedy." His words were accompanied by a small smack at your thigh. "Is this what you wanted me to do? Stop, huh?"

Your hands ached as you kept them now fisting the sheets of his bed, you were fighting your urge to do the work by yourself, but the need for him was greater. So you shook your head, looking up at his eyes with puppy ones.

"What should you have said then, hm?"

"Please..."

"Please what? Something else, right?"

"Keep going, please. I want more."

His cocky smile returned, hands caressing up and down your legs. "That's more like it." He whispered and lowered himself again, this time pressing his middle and ring fingers against your slit. "Gonna quit the bitchy acting if I give it to you?"

Your moans mixed with the soft voice in which you replied to him. "I promise."

And with that the vampire nodded, taking his fingers out of you and holding them closer to your mouth while his other hand grabbed the half opened condom wrapper. Your task was pretty clear, wasn't it? So you did your best to leave them clean before he put the protection on himself.

"Turn. Hold the pillow, I want that ass up." How could you disobey.

It didn't take long for you to be barely keeping yourself together while crying face deep into the pillow, last of both yours and his worries how stained it would be with your messed mascara. He didn't even gave you time to adjust when his hips started with this sickening pace, and he still continued with the same power.

Low groans that transformed into whines sometimes were all you could hear from his part, too focused on hitting that sweet spot he found a few minutes ago and that was making you see stars.

You turned your head to the side, taking a deep breath of warm air, yet cooler than the one you had been fighting to breath with your face burried. "Close. Hoon, 'm there." Was all you said before feeling his body leaning down, one of his fingers rubbing you between your legs as his fangs brushed against your nape.

"Let go, pretty."

It all turned dark, even his pants were muted after the orgasm. The only thing you could feel was his length pushing through your clenching walls, he was fucking you throughout it, and it was like heaven until you came back to your senses and overstimulation hit you like a train.

"Sunghoon!" Your cry also brought him back to reality, seeing your trembling thighs holding your weight up and the mess that dripped down one of them.

His broken moans followed his own rhythm, pushing your limits as you kept half crying his name. So he finally pulled out, turning you around in a swift to leave your back on the mattress.

"We're not done yet, see?" He mumbled, strocking himself twice in front of your tired gaze, which only got a soft hum from your part. "Oh, come here. I promise to draw one more from you as well."

Sunghoon's hands then grabbed you by your armpits, lifting you and while he moved over the bed to rest his back against the headboard, he positioned you straddling his hips. Pushing it back in the moment he got you there.

"Try bouncing, don't think too much about it." He cooed and you started. It was slow due to how tired you felt, but each time your body went down his tip kissed your insides so delightfully. And you couldn't help but rest your forehead on his shoulder. "That's it, just like that. But raise your head, lemme see you."

One of his hands did it for you, cupping your cheek to then wipe away the mix of tears and smeared mascara. Oh God he couldn't look prettier right now, brushing his thumbs all over your face while his lips inched closer to yours, just to pull you into a long tender kiss that lasted until you broke it to catch some oxygen.

But his lips trailed down, leaving wet kisses all the way to the upper part of your breast. With his other hand he supported your hips, helping you go up and down around him and from time to time he moved it to your front, circling his finger over your clit. "Feels good?"

"Yeah." You breathed out, eyes struggling to remain open.

"Focus on that, alright?"

A loud gasp filled his room. His fangs digging on the soft flesh of your breast made you pull on his hair, scratch his back and bite down on your lower lip. He sucked, his hand leaving your face to hold your thigh as well, making you bounce with ease while keeping the other entertained with your bud. And just like that he had you there again, the only difference being that now he was also reaching his climax with you. You felt his member twitching surrounded by pulsating gummy walls, and the next thing was lips peppering your freshly bitten skin with pecks.

His gentle smile found you after slowly opening your eyes, arms hugging you against his body for you to hide into the crook of his neck.

"I'll clean this mess including you later, for now get some sleep." Sunghoon mumbled, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "But no makeup next time, princess."

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

[leclerc-hs]

hard deck - cl16

pairing: pilot!charles leclerc x f!reader summary: in which your best friend's other best friend hates you OR charles is in love with you and he fucking hates that he is. warnings: language, bad writing (honestly, I think I'm in a bad phase rn and everything I write sucks), NOT PROOFREAD, smutttt (short but 18+ pls) word count: ~3.6k author's note: I'm gonna say I genuinely have no idea wtf I just wrote. its kinda shitty and for that I apologize. I'm still trying to get back into the groove of writing again bc it's been SO long. anyways xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“God, do you ever just shut up?” Charles watches you with irritation, his brow furrowed as he takes a long swig of the amber liquid in his class. The tension hangs thick in the air, his frustration palpable.

He swallows hard, the alcohol clearly his refuge at this moment, a desperate attempt to calm the urge to shove you down the nearest flight of stairs. You can see the conflict brewing behind his eyes, a storm of annoyance and something else— perhaps regret?

No way. Charles ‘Perceval’ Leclerc would never regret being mean to you.

You send him the hardest glare you can muster, swinging your legs to the side of the chair before coming to a stand. “Are you ever not a fucking dick? Seriously how do you have friends?”

“Why? You need tips on how to get some?”

“Perceval!” Carlos gives him a disapproving look, “Cut it out.”

“Me?” His eyes widen in astonishment as he points his fingers to himself in question. “You were thinking it too. You just can’t say it because she’s your childhood friend.”

“Seriously, hermano.” Carlos sighs. “Leave her alone.”

“Don’t sweat it Car,” You mutter, your voice low and casual as you lean against the edge of the table. “I’m moving over there.” You point towards a few of your friends gathered around the dart board.

Carlos’s expression shifts, his eyes widening in that endearing way that always makes you chuckle. “No, stay.” He pleads, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he can muster, complete with a slight pout that would make anyone’s heart melt. “Charles will stop. Right?”

With a playful swing of his arm, he hits Charles in the ribs, the impact harder than necessary. Charles winces dramatically, clutching his side as he shoots Carlos a mock glare, his lips curling into a frown.

“Whatever.”

You make a stupid face of mockery, scrunching your features and sticking out your tongue in the most absurd way possible. Childish? Sure. But damn, it felt good.

Carlos bursts into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nearly doubles over. “What even was that? A dying fish?” He jokes, wiping a tear from his eye.

Charles just rolls his eyes, “Seriously? I’m losing brain cells just being around you, Bug.” He retorts, but theres no real annoyance in his voice— just teasing.

Bug. That forsaken nickname he gave you seemed to stick. Even went so far to be your call sign. Probably called you it because he associated you as a pest. But he really meant it as an endearing way. Not that he would ever admit it.

-

You and Charles stand in front of a model fighter jet, the sleek design gleaming under the bright lights, its metallic surface reflecting the excitement in the room. The imposing aircraft, with its sharp lines and polished finish, feels almost alive, and the air is thick with the thrill of aviation.

“Seriously? You think you could handle flying that thing?” you tease, crossing your arms and leaning against the display. Your smirk is playful, but there’s a challenge in your tone.

“Absolutely Bug,” he replies, leaning in slightly, confidence radiating from him. “I’d be soaring through the skies while you’re down here, probably tripping over your own feet.”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes with a dramatic flair. “You’d probably get lost on the runway, looking for the nearest snack bar instead of focusing on takeoff.”

“Lost? In a fighter jet?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’d be the one pulling off the real maneuvers while you flounder around in the backseat, screaming like a scared kitten.”

“Real maneuvers?” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Like what? A graceful belly flop?” You lean in closer, narrowing your eyes playfully. “I can just picture it now: Perceval, taking a nosedive to the nearest ice cream stand.”

He leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, at least I’d crash in style. You’d just be a mess, splattered all over the tarmac.”

“Whatever P.”

-

Your voice is the first thing Charles hears, cutting through the fog of sleep. He drags his pillow over his face with a groan, trying to block out the sound, but it only muffles your words.

Do you ever leave Carlos alone?

Charles has successfully avoided you for a whole four days. Probably the longest he’s gone since he met Carlos all those years ago.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air eliciting a groan from him. 

Coffee. Yes.

Charles makes his way to the kitchen, sleep still clinging to his eyes, his hair a wild mess that seems to have taken on a life of its own overnight. The loose grey sweatpants hang loosely off of his hips, giving him that effortlessly disheveled look that somehow works in his favor.

You lean against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand, and can’t help but smirk at the sight. “Wow, you really went all out this morning Sleeping Beauty, didn’t you?” You tease, trying to suppress a laugh.

He squints at you, trying to focus through the remnants of sleep, but it takes him a moment to fully register your presence. You stand there in a large t-shirt that hangs loosely around your frame, the fabric slightly wrinkled, and Charles can’t help but feel a rush of annoyance mixed with something else— something that sets his skin on fire.

The fact that you’re clearly wearing Carlos’ shirt bothers him more than he’d like to admit. “Seriously? Carlos’ shirt?” He finally manages to say, his voice still raspy from sleep.

You glance down at the oversized tee, a playful smile creeping onto your face. “It’s comfortable.”

“Who are you to judge my look, when you’re wearing that.” He defends himself, but can’t help but feel a little flustered. “At least they’re not borrowed from someone else.”

You laugh, and the sound only makes his annoyance deepen. “What? Are you jealous of Carlos’ clothes?”

“Not at all.” He replies, his tone more serious than he intended. “You could just wear something that actually fits you.”

You take a step closer, a playful challenge in your gaze. “And what would you suggest, P?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer you in something that’s not associated with him at all,” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

-

Life was weird.

You and Charles had gone from full-on arguments that filled the air with tension to this strange dance of tip-toeing around one another. It was a shift you hadn’t quite expected. Don’t get it twisted— you still fought. A lot. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t mean; it was almost flirty, charged with a new energy.

“Get that wretched drink away from me.” Charles chirps, wrinkling his nose as you settle into your usual spot at the Hard Deck, the familiar buzz of the bar surrounding you.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “There is nothing wretched about a dirty martini. It’s sophisticated.”

“The fact you enjoy olives is nauseating.” He replies, crossing his arms in mock disapproval, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

You take a sip, letting the briny flavor linger on your tongue before responding. “The fact you don’t ever shut up is nauseating.”

He leans in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t shut up? You’re one to talk.”

“I’m not here to argue tonight.” You say, relaxing into your chair, the low hum of conversation around you a comforting backdrop.

“Oh yeah? Me either,” Charles replies, taking a large gulp of his beer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Just wondering though. What are you here for?”

You flash him a teasing grin. “To get laid.”

It it weren’t for his widened eyes, Charles gave no emotion away. “Seriously? That’s your game plan for the night?”

“Why not?” You shrug, leaning back with confidence. “All these fighter pilots are an easy lay.”

It was true. You were hot. And that thought alone drove Charles nuts. “And here I thought you were just here for the olives and to annoy me.”

“Those are just the bonus perks,” you quip, glancing around the bar. “Now, I’m gonna go dance and get myself a man.” You slip off your stool with a bright smile, sending a teasing wink in Charles direction. He can’t help but grumble in response.

“If any of those men touch you, I’ll fight them.” Carlos grumbles, bringing the bottled beer to his lips. 

“Oh please.” You wave him off. “Stop acting like I’m some innocent girl Car. You’ve known me too long for that."

-

Charles is pissed.

His jaw was set tight, and each breath seemed measured, like he was holding back a storm. The air around him crackled with tension, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. It was clear— whatever had triggered this fury was digging deep.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, P?” Carlos chuckles, cracking a peanut shell onto the wooden bar top before popping it in his mouth.

The air around him felt charged, almost electric, as he pointed a finger toward you. “You just gonna let that guy grope her like that?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to where you stood, fully engaged in conversation with a pilot named Jake, call sign ‘Hangman’. The way you laughed and leaned in, seemingly at ease, only fueled Charles’s frustration. “She can handle herself, you know that,” Carlos replied, a teasing tone edging into his voice.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean she should.” Charles snapped, his voice low and tight. He leaned forward, the tension in his body palpable as he watched Jake’s hand rest just a little too close for comfort on your waist. “Look how close he is. It’s like he thinks he owns her.”

“You’re ridiculous, P.” Carlos chuckles, shaking his head as he cracks a peanut shell against the wooden bar top. “When are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Charles shot back, his gaze still locked on you, oblivious to anything else around him.

“That you like her,” Carlos says, a smirk creeping onto his face as he leans back, arms crossed behind his head.

Charles’s eyes narrowed as he studied you and Jake, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the chill of jealousy creeping in. “Like her?” He echoed, disbelief woven in his tone. “I can barely stand her.” 

But deep down, he felt the truth of it. That he did like you. That he might even love you.

-

“Hangman!” Charles’s voice reverberates through the hangar, its volume cutting through the low hum of conversation and machinery. You wince at the abruptness of it, wondering why on earth he needs to talk to Jake, when he’s clearly talking to you.

Your gaze shifts back to Jake, who is laughing, seemingly unfazed by Charles’s entrance. But it was the way Charles’s rests his hand onto Jake’s shoulder that made you uneasy— too casual, too familiar. A knot formed in your stomach at the sight.

You took a deep breath, deciding to not let your thoughts go south. There’s no way Charles would go as far as sabotaging a potential relationship. Right?

“To what do we owe the displeasure of your annoyance?” You ask, your eyebrows slightly raised in confusion.

Charles shifts his gaze to you, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Yes, fight with me.

“Displeasure?” He shoots back. “You wouldn’t know displeasure if it hit you in the face.”

“What are you five?”

He smirks before shifting his eyes back to Jake, his hand still resting on his shoulder. “I actually need him for something. See ya sweet cheeks.” His tone dripping with mock nonchalance.

You narrow your eyes, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”

-

“You don’t give up, do you?” His voice was low and amused, cutting through your focus on the dart board before you.

You roll your eyes— a reflex you perfected around him— trying to ignore the way Charles’s gaze lingers on you. With a deep breath, you glance over, meeting his warm smile. It’s disarming, that easygoing charm of his, like a breath of fresh air.

His relaxed posture leans casually agains the bar, arms crossed, exuding a effortless confidence that somehow makes you feel at ease. You try to refocus on the dartboard, but it’s hard to concentrate when his eyes are like a magnetic pull, drawing your attention away.

“You know, if you actually focused, you might hit the board this time,” He teases, the playful glint in his eyes making it impossible to stay annoyed.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, before placing all darts down on the table nearby. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’re one to talk about focusing.”

He laughs, and its infectious, a sound that warms the room. “I focus plenty.”

“Yeah,” You agree. “On finding ways to talk dirty.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a confident grin, and his eyes spark with mischief. “It’s a skill. Not everyone can pull off that kind of charm.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning indifference, though your heart flutters a little. “Charm? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. “You know you love it.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“And you love every minute of it,” He counters, leaning slightly closer, the playful challenge in his gaze making it hard to resist the pull between you. The air around you feels charged, a mix of flirtation and genuine connection.

“You know, I fucking hate you.” You say, the words slipping our more forcefully than intended.

Charles chuckles dryly, no humor lacing in his tone. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

“Harsh?” You let out a laugh tinged with bitterness, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “No. Jake won’t even look at me since whatever you said to him.” You cross your arms over your chest.

The air between you thickens, the weight of unspoken tension almost suffocating. Charles shifts slightly, his expression darkening as seriousness settles over him. “Good.”

“I can’t even believe you right now.” Frustration wells up inside as you reach for your bag, the rough fabric grounding you as you stomp toward the exit. Each step feels heavy, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. The lively chatter of the bar fades behind you, leaving only the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Charles doesn’t let up, his footsteps echoing behind you, persistent and urgent. “You’re literally such an asshole,” You throw over your shoulder, the words sharp and cutting.

“He doesn’t deserve you!” he shouts, frustration spilling over as he catches up to you, breathless. His hand runs through his hair, a familiar gesture of agitation, and before you can step away, he reaches for your shoulder, gently halting you in your tracks.

“Deserve me?” You repeat his words, incredulity lacing your voice. “What the fuck does that even mean? You hate me, remember?”

Charles looks up at the sky for a brief moment, his expression a mix of frustration and confusion, as if he’s searching for clarity among the stars. “I don’t hate you,” he finally admits, his voice low but intense. “I just… I can’t stand watching him touch you.”

You can feel the tension radiating between you, charged and electric. “But it’s not your call,” you reply, your tone softer but still defensive. 

“You don’t think I know that?” He laughs, but its somewhat sad sounding. “You…you drive me insane.” He says, but its almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“You drive me completely insane actually. Like all I can ever hear is your fuckin’ voice inside of my head. Arguing me over everything. And your stupid fuckin’ jokes too. I can’t even look at olives without seeing your fuckin’ face in them.” He continues on, the words pouring out of him and he can’t stop.

“And I know it sounds crazy because I’ve been such a dick to you. But I didn’t know how to handle these feelings. I mean you’re Carlos’s best friend,” he confesses, his voice trembling slightly, “but I like hearing your voice inside of my head. I like that olives remind me of you. I like you.” His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

They’re so green. A vivid, almost luminescent shade that captures the light and seems to hold an entire universe within them. You realize you’ve never truly noticed how striking they are until this very moment—the way they flicker with emotion, drawing you in and holding you captive.

The green is rich and deep, like a forest canopy dappled with sunlight, alive with the promise of something untamed. You find yourself getting lost in them, feeling the weight of his confession settle around you like a warm embrace. It’s as if all the barriers that had kept you apart are beginning to dissolve, and you can see a vulnerability in him that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you fades away—the sounds of the bustling bar, the cool night air, the lingering frustration—all of it blurs into the background. In the depths of his gaze, you sense a longing, a desire that mirrors your own, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension shift, and the space between you feels charged, alive with possibility.

“So hate me all you want, but I couldn’t watch Hangman try to have a meaningless fuck with you.”

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice comes out small and unsure, your throat feeling dryer than before from his confessions.

“Don’t mean what?” He steps closer, eyes never falling from yours, as his calloused finger tips rest along your hips. He almost expects you to flinch and shove him away— hell you think you would too— but you don’t. 

“You think I’d lie about liking you? About wanting you?” His eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before meeting your gaze once more. “It’s not a lie. I’m not that cruel.”

You go to turn from his hold, but his grip on your hips tightens. “Bug, I swear. Why would I embarrass myself like this if it weren’t true?”

The tension is palpable, an electric charge hanging in the air, and your stomach swarms with warmth at his words. “I can’t get your fuckin’ lips out of my mind,” he nearly pleads, his voice thick with desire. “I need to kiss you. Please let me kiss you, yeah?”

You feel your heart race, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as his confession washes over you. The weight of the moment feels like it could burst, and you swear your brain short-circuits, caught between disbelief and overwhelming longing.

Before he can say another word, you rise on your tiptoes, driven by an instinct you can’t ignore. In a swift, bold move, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative yet charged with all the unspoken words and emotions that have built up between you.

As his lips meld against yours, a rush of warmth surges, igniting a fire that spreads from your lips to the tips of your fingers. The kiss deepens, turning from hesitant to passionate, and Charles groans into your mouth.

Time seems to stretch, the world around you fading into a blur. All that exists is the taste of him, the warmth of his breath, and the intoxicating feeling of connection that envelops you both. 

“Bug,” He pulls you both apart. “We gotta stop or I’m gonna take you right here on the deck of this place.”

You pull back from his embrace, giving him a look as you breath heavily, your lips swollen. “Is it bad to say I like that idea?”

His lets out a long groan and tilts his head back. “I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

“Take me home, P.”

-

“Fuck, baby.” He groans hotly into your ear. “Keep fuckin’ doin that.” His hoarse voice muttered, hands behind his head as he watches you work yourself over his cock.

There’s a sense of desperation on your face, and he can’t help but smirk at the sight of it. 

Your eyes burned with the tears that slid down your cheeks. The feeling of being filled to the brim and fucked the way you needed, was more than enough to elicit tears.

“Fu-uuck.” He groans again, panting out as he drops his hands to hold both your hips. Your hips swivel, a heavy moan escaping your lips as you ground yourself against him in a feverish pace.

“P,” you whine as your mouth falls open into an “O” shape. The air around you is humid and thick as Charles thrusts his hips up into you with ease. “M’so close.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slip to the nape of your neck, squeezing roughly as he pulls your chest down to his. Pumping his cock upwards into you. “C’mon, give it to me.”

You fail to form any words, nothing but grunts and small moans escaping past your lips as Charles fucks himself into you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. 

“Need it so bad, baby.” He mutters into your ear in between groans. “Need to feel you on me.”

“Mmm, feels so nice.” He urges you on. “You do it so well.”

Charles couldn’t help himself as your wall clamp down him tightly. The pace of his hips, and the force of you driving down onto him, was enough to send you both spiraling over the edge. Crashing.

“You’re so good. Mon dieu.”

“M’gonna go insane baby. Need more.” He groans, flipping you both over before slipping your leg up and fucking into you again. “Y’feel so good. Can’t stop.”

"Never gonna be mean to you again."

"No?"

"No. I promise, Bug."

"Even when I eat olives?"

"Even when you eat olives."

"What about when I argue you on anything."

"Don't care. I only fought with you because it was the only time you gave me actual attention."

Your heart clenches at his words, his hips slowing down as he presses soft kisses to your face.

"What about when-"

"Never again, Bug."

[cxvii666]

“GIRLS”

college au! denki kaminari x reader

cw: recreational drug use, bad language, sexual tension, wet and messy public handjobs, men whimpering, lowk sub denki, whining, teasing, drooling,

wc: 2.5k

loosely inspired by the dare's album "what's wrong with new york?"

“girls that's mean just for fun, i like girls who make love, but i like girls that like to fuck.”

“THAT'S WHAT'S UP!”

"she doesn't like you, y'know."

denki kaminari gasped semi-sarcastically, like its obvious that you don't like him and anyone with eyes can see that but it still shocking to hear out of his best friend's mouth.

jirou turns to him with barely concealed mirth in her eyes and she looks up from her phone where she'd been texting momo, asking for her whereabouts.

they were at a party, a sleazy rich kid house party, one of momo's friend's sisters' or something like that. the kind that involved lots of expensive alcohol, shitty bass music, and sweaty hot rich kids that did too much coke and no survival instincts or a general sense of humiliation. one guy had already thrown up twice, two girls had passed out, someone's boyfriend had punched someone else and denki was absolutely fucking loving it.

he and jirou had smoked some good shit with hanta after pregaming and had enter the party at its pinnacle, completely crossfaded. the good kind that makes you feel like hot shit, like you're the baddest on the planet, and that you could fuck anyone you wanted if you tried hard enough.

that was about two, maybe three, hours ago.

he hits the vape he stole from jirou and scrunches his face at her.

"where even is momo?"

he's chosen to dodge the topic. the topic of you.

he only knows you as one of momo's ex talking stages. you run in the same social circles mostly and somehow, you're still amicable, friendly infact, its some weird sapphic thing that denki doesn't get. how you're friends with jirou, denki really doesn't get. like how can jirou be friends with her girlfriend's ex-situation?

well that's what he thought.

until he met you.

and wow.

you're across the kitchen from him now, chatting it up with some guy you just met, and he's laughing at something you said because you have this effortless wit and charm about you that everyone in your vicinity can sense. it rolls off you in waves, your aura is so attraction, so is your hair, and your eyes, and your smile, and the dress you're wearing-

and now you're looking at him, or maybe at jirou, yeah never mind, you're looking at jirou, and before he knows it his best friend is whacking the back of his neck.

"you're staring," she teases in a singsong voice, fucking annoying habit that she stole from him and just for that he snatches her drink from her and downs it in one gulp. "hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

denki fake gags slightly before smiling all teeth "you never answered my question, when's your girlfriend getting here?" jirou rolls her eyes at his obvious diversion from the topic "i want her to make me that weird drink she makes with the tequila.... and i'm pretty sure i left my lighter in her car."

"momo won't care y'know." she looks at him with full seriousness and nods in your direction. "you should be more worried about how you're gonna talk to her."

denki says nothing in reply, only sighs and send jirou an affirmative hum so that she knows he's not being pissy and ignoring her.

his eyes cut to you again, the guy you were talking to has gone back to the friends he came with and you're pouring yourself a drink.

and jirou was right, by the way. at first you didn't like him, he laughs too loud at his own jokes, bums cigs off of everyone and everytime you've seen him in passing, at parties like this or nights at the club when jirou's band plays, he's always chatting someone up.

girls of all kinds, tall girls, small girls, girls that do drugs, girls with dicks, blondes, brunettes, gingers, white girls, black girls, brown girls.

you wondered about him. there's gotta be something that he's doing right, because from what you've heard from momo his cool guy persona is simply that, a persona, and he's actually a massive loser who spends most of his time playing pokemon go or holed up in his room watching anime. so how he can pull so many baddies, most of whom speak of him fondly, is a mystery to you.

but damn, he is cuteeee.

like cracked, horny, stoner, twink that would probably beg for it cute.

and you're obsessed.

that's the real reason why you've been throwing shade at him all night, making sly biting comments, getting into dumb senseless arguments, you're playing with him, working him up slowly, and he's enjoying it.

but contrary to popular belief, denki is not the sleazebag everyone thinks he is. sure he's had a few flings with a few friends, drunken nights never spoken of again, and there was that one time where a girl he slept with lied to him about having a boyfriend. but like, aside from that, he's not like horrible.

and momo is his friend, and idk, isn't flirting with her ex kinda weird, and won't you think its weird that he's flirting with you, and omg, what if you think its weird??, and you actually don't want anything to do with him, and this highly charged game made of mean banter and heated stares, is actually just a game and he's been reading all the signals wrong, and you actually don't want him, and he's gonna have to jerk off so hard tomorrow morning to forget about you because the look you gave him after you called him a senseless idiot for spilling vodka on the counter early was sooo hot and he-

"you're spiralling."

jirou rolls her shoulder and starts riffling through her jacket pockets, probably looking for the vape denki has concealed in his right hand. she pauses and looks at the blonde before sighing. "momo's here. she's got your light." she gets up off the counter and pauses. "and maybe drink something before you smoke, you look like you're about to vom all over the floor or somethin'."

"you dirty bitch, i am not nervous, i swear you're so-" jirou leaves him in the kitchen with a resounding cackle and goes out into the main house to find her girlfriend.

the sound of jirous laughter calls your attention over to denki, who's attention you already had, he'd been counting the piercings on your right ear, and a smirk creeps onto your face, as you pick up your cup and make your way over to him.

"do you have a staring problem?" straight to the point, your voice so close to his ear it makes him jump. "huh, oh, what?" he splutters "staring? me?? why would i be staring at you, of all people?"

the red on his cheeks makes you snort and you regard his fake non-chalant lean against the kitchen counter.

"well that's what i'm trying to work out," you say as you inch closer practically caging him in, still keeping direct eye contact.

his breath hitches slightly as his eyes lock onto your own, determined to win whatever game it is your playing, despite the twitch in his jeans.

you're so close you practically taste his breath, he smells like bud, expensive foreign perfume and bubblegum, your hands splayed either side of his hips creep closer to him.

denki can hear the gulp he takes when your hands finally make contact with his body, your thumbs just slightly grazing his outer thighs, he thinks he might actually have a fucking heart attack or something. he keeps his eyes on yours, but trying to centre himself in your gaze seems to have been the wrong decision to make because the way you tilt your head and smile so innocently, like you don't know what you're doing, is sending him to space. and it's your smile that makes him blink and drop his eyes entirely to the curve of your lips, just for a second.

you notice immediately and let out an obnoxious 'ha!' before reaching up and plucking the joint that he had tucked behind his ear, and yeah it was part of the fit, the pink rolling paper matched his shoes, before taking a step back from the blonde.

he responds to your laugh with a scoff and a roll of his eyes which makes your smile grow even wider. you hide this as best you can by taking a sip of your drink effectively finishing it. he looks at you, amber eyes regarding you curiously, like he's awaiting instruction.

"you wanna go out back?" you smile cheekily brandishing your prize, "go smoke this baby before jirou gets back?"

he sniffs and stands at his full height, stuffing his hands in his back pockets before nodding to the exit. and you lead the way to the garden with a giggle.

"it's not my fault. you're the poser walking around with a joint and no lighter." as you finally stamp out then end of the joint. you'd just had to beg some snotty marlboro gold smoking guy for the use of his lighter. "honestly it was more of an accessory than a zoot, you didn't even roll it well."

"you're so mean to me," denki flushes, honest to god his voice sounding more like a whimper then anything else.

you scoff at him. you're not mean, this guys just an idiot, generally easy to make fun of, and has the most adorable reactions whenever you take the piss out of him. you can't help yourself. he's so easy practically throwing himself at you, demanding all of your attention all night and then whining like a kicked puppy and retreating back to hide behind jirou when you don't give him the response he's looking for.

"oh, i'm sorry," you ask soflty and the change in attitude gives him whiplash. "are you alright, denki?" he's growing crossed eyed as he watches your lips getting closer to his.

his knees buckle "yeah, just uh, my iron deficiency."

you pull away to raise your eyebrow about to make a sarcastic remark when he surges forward and captures your lips in his. your hands travel up the back of his neck, and the way you thread your fingers through his hair makes him groan into your mouth. you push against him effectively pining him against the cold stone wall, and he just takes it, lets you control the momentum of the kiss, like he's in the middle of a storm just being thrown around and carried by the waves, and he's fucking loving every second of it.

you swear once you break for air, your lips plump, and wet, and juicy, and soft, and he's already diving back in, he needs more of you. more of your taste, fuck, you taste so good, your lips are so soft and syrupy against his, he feels like he's melting into to your hands.

"careful," you murmur directly into his ear and he keens as you grip his hair tight and tilt his head back to give provide acces to his bare neck.

"please, please, please, please, fuck."

you tug harshly on his blonde locs, his eyes fluttering open at the feeling as you hold his gaze. "what do you want denki? use your words."

he can't think of how to reply, not with your right hand itching at his scalp and your left hand drawing circles on the skin above his waistband. "oh god, i don't- i don't even know- i- fuck."

your left hand has dropped, finger only slightly grazing the front of his jeans but it's enough for him to whine so prettily in your ear and cant his hips upwards into your palm.

"fuck, please-"

you cut him off by mashing your lips into his, he accepts gratefully pouring every inch of his desire into your mouth.

"you're so desperate."

he's nodding, he wants you so bad, your hand feels so good even through the layers of fabric covering his most sensitive parts, but its like his skin is on fire, and the only thing that can put it out is your touch. his hands run along your torso, his finger only just brushing over your nipples, enough to make you gasp into him, as he wraps his arms around your body to deepen the kiss.

as good as this feels, the sounds he's making, the whimpers leaving his lips as he grinds into your hand, are increasing in volume and your entirely conscious of the fact that you are outside, out the open, for anyone to hear or see.

you hiss out his name, but just hearing your voice turns him on more and you have to grip his face with you fingers for him to stop moving and pay attention.

"if you want me to keep going," punctuated by a squeeze to his jaw, "then- look at me when i'm talking to you, then you're gonna have to shut up." your gaze is so intense he's nodding before he's even fully comprehended the words you've said.

his pretty amber eyes roll back into his head as your hand finally slips underneath his boxers and you grasp his hot, sticky, dick with your cold soft hands. "oh wow," you snicker, "you're so messy."

your words make denki whine, silenced by a stern look before he pouts. "what so you can talk but i can't even-, oh fuck-" you squeeze him, the weight heavy in your hands.

"yeah, because you're leaking all over my hand."

he holds in his whine this time cussing under his breath and looking at you. his pretty face obscured by strands of hair all wild and messy sticking up at odd angles. his lips are pink and swollen, drool threatening to spill out of his mouth, cheeks flushed.

"that's not fair," he hisses at you but you remain largely unbothered by his attitude as you thumb his tip. "you're teasing."

"i'm not doing anything, you're the one that can't keep it together."

"i-" he starts but you pick up speed and cover his mouth with your free hand so he's free to buck and whine all he wants.

"look at you, are you gonna finish like this? i've barely even touched you."

its like your words are directly fuelling the grind of his hips, he humps against you furiously, drool spilling all down his face, soiling that hand as well. like he can't help but make a mess in all directions.

you can tell he's close when his eyes start fluttering and his body starts twitching crazily.

your hand drops from his face, quickly wiping the drool onto his tshirt before snaking your way back up and applying light pressure to the base of his neck.

"thank you, thank you, thank you-"

that does it for him as he comes with a whine of your name, followed by jagged breath and the crazy stutter in his hips.

you give him a second to catch his breath before you start tearing into him about the mess he's made and about how he better not have gotten any cum on your dress.

"always complaining about something, i swear," he rolls his eyes and before you can bite back he slips your cum soiled fingers into his mouth and runs his tongue along each individual finger before giving a hard suck. you watch him mouth slightly agape, and the pulsing heat in between your thighs makes itself apparent to you.

"you are such a slut." he grins mouth full and you press down on his tongue. "you wanna get outta here?"

heyyyyyy guys sorry ik i said i'd do part 3 of dealer reader WHICH WILL COME but this was a random burst of inspiration i got last nigjt when i was omw back from the last sesh of the season before all my friends fuck off out of london but and one of my mates is super obsessed with the dare and made us listen to the whole album while we were out on the field ANYWAYS IK U DONT CARE but this was so yummy and juicy to write so i hope u enjoyed 😝😝😝😝😝

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 22: I May Be Right or I May Be Crazy

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Seriously it is DARK. THIS ONE IS REALLY DARK! Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA , Violence, Explicitly Described Torture, Fire, Graphic depiction of death, Blood, Gore, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

A/N: I'm serious guys this one is really gory, violent, and bloody. I mean, so is the show. BUT this is an additional warning if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, please do not read this. It also handles a really delicate issue with the reader going through something that no one should ever have to. I've never written something like this before and honestly I don't think I ever want to again, but it had to be addressed...

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Ben says, gently pushing back a few strands of your hair from your face, fingers trailing against your cheeks, warmed from the morning sun that peaks through the large trees which shield Legend's property from the rest of the world.

Butcher had finally found Mindstorm, figured out which cabin he was hiding at, and although you wanted to go to make sure that Ben was alright, you knew that you couldn't go with him.

There was something you needed to do and you needed to do it without Ben there. It had to be handed delicately. You weren't sure what you would learn, what it would confirm or deny, and as much as it hurt you to be apart from Ben, you had to do it alone.

It was two days after your revelation, after you received what seemed like divine wisdom while staring at your daughter as if seeing her for the first time in forty years and understanding what it was that you'd forgotten. It had been hard to laugh off why you'd shattered a mug during Butcher's little pow-wow, even Rosemary was concerned after, but you'd waved her off and said that you were just getting accustomed to your new supe strength.

But Ben wasn't fooled. When you went upstairs to clean the alcohol from your clothes Ben had followed and tried to get you to tell him what was wrong, but you'd only said that you were tired. He knew you were lying, but he only sighed and hugged you because he didn’t really know what else to do.

And now standing outside of Legend's house while Ben, Butcher, and Hughie were about to go after Mindstorm you wanted to tell him what you believed, but you still couldn't.

You had to find out for yourself.

"Yeah. I don't want to leave Rosemary or Lou." You reply leaning in to his touch. It was true, you didn't, but it wasn't the whole truth and it made you feel guilty. You'd never lied to him before or well, hadn't tried to intentionally trick him. And it felt worse to do this now that the two of you were starting over, and when everything felt more wonderful than you could have imagined all those years ago.

Ben eyes you for a moment and you're suddenly worried that he's been a mind reader this whole time and he's just never said anything.  But then his expression softens. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't said too much since the other day."

"I'm fine." You touch the front of his supe suit, laying your hand directly over his heart and feeling the gentle thud in the palm of your hand. It was difficult not to touch him now, not after the boundary had been crossed so many times over the past two days. Somewhere deep down you worried that Ben was still uncomfortable with you doing something so intimate in public.

You were aware that everyone was looking at the two of you, Rosemary and Lou standing more towards the house on the front porch and Hughie and Butcher were standing by Butcher's car parked in the long driveway. Butcher's car still had a giant hole in the roof from when Ben punched through it and when he saw the hole, Butcher had threatened to send Ben back to Russia and you threatened to melt Butcher into a puddle.

But Ben gently touches your wrist, where your hand rests against his chest, frowning slightly.

"Fine. I've got a few things on my mind-" You whisper, hating how easily he could read you, but at the same time you loved it.

Ben made you feel seen, and after years of feeling invisible, feeling like you were losing you best friend, and feeling like he would never care about you the same way, it made you happy and comforted.

"Then tell me. I want to help." Ben's hand slides up your wrist to your hand, entwining his fingertips with yours and surprising you again. He was being so open and thoughtful in front of everyone. His eyes search yours as if he was trying to see your thoughts and it made you smile again to understand how much he loved you and cared about you.

"Ben." You breathe, squeezing his hand. "I don't want to talk about it now. Can we talk about it when you get back?"

"Is it why you're not coming with me?" His frown deepens.

"A part of it. But I really want to make sure that Lou and Rosemary are safe."

Ben raises his gaze to look at where Rosemary stands frowning at the two of you, before he looks back at you. "Okay." But he doesn't seem happy with the turn of events.

You didn't blame him, you didn't want him to go face Mindstorm alone even with Hughie and Butcher. You still didn't trust Butcher and of all your old teammates Mindstorm was the most troubled.

"Can you promise me something?" You ask Ben, looking up at him.

"Anything."

"Watch out for the kid."

"The kid?" Ben looks confused. "Lou?"

"No. Hughie." You glance over to where Hughie is standing at the back of the car with Butcher.

Probably talking about the Temp V they're going to shoot up to take down Mindstorm.

You really didn't want to leave Ben with Mindstorm of all people. Mindstorm was probably one of the only supes that could do something to Ben. Ben did have some psychic immunity, but you thought that Mindstorm could peel away the layers, sink deep into his mind, make Ben see the things that always plagued him. And the last thing you wanted was for Ben to be trapped in an automatic loop of him listening to his father say what a disappointment he was. You were trying to make him forget those things, just as Ben tried his hardest to make you forget the things your mother said to you.

If Mindstorm put Ben through that, you were going to hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him understand what it was like for someone to peel the skin from your flesh bit by bit and then make him eat that brain of his that he loved so much.

Plus you figured that the worst thing that could happen is Mindstorm would lock you in your own head and you'd have to spend your final hours with your dead mother, which yes that would suck, but at least at the end of it you'd have a new fun superpower to torture Mindstorm with.  Seemed like a good trade-off if you had to spend your last moments with the bitch herself.

I wonder what he'd make her say to me, what I'd see. I've heard it all before, don't really think that he'd make me see anything I haven't seen before or heard before.

"Why?"

"Hughie's not like us. None of this is him. He's different. He's a good person and all of this is-” You glance over at Hughie again, before looking at Ben. “ Just look out for him."

Ben's hand tightens in yours where it still rests against his chest. "Fine. But if that fucker comes for me I'm not going to tip-toe around Hughie's feelings. I'm going to kill Mindstorm, that's why I'm going there."

"I know." You nod.

"I mean you saw the shit he did to those kids-" Ben whispers the last part because he doesn't want Lou to hear, but notices Rosemary perk up, where she stands on the front porch.

"Yeah. I remember."

Mindstorm was more fucked up than most of the others on your team, found joy in making people see terrible things. And his favorite targets were children. Stan had a hell of a time covering that up, covering up Mindstorm's morning walks through parks and on the edges of elementary schools. He liked to live in their minds as he took them apart bit by bit, exposed them to his own twisted reality.

Mindstorm wasn’t a good person, but you knew that Hughie was.

"I'm not asking you to spare his life." You whisper back. "He was one of the worst from our old team. I'm just asking you to look out for the kid."

"I will."

You nod, still worried. He was going with Hughie and Butcher, but it still felt like he was alone if you weren't with him. The problem was you couldn’t see the way around it. This was your chance to go alone to find some answers, but you didn't like it, didn't like leaving Ben.

Probably about as much as Ben hated leaving you.

“I promise I’ll come back.” He murmurs pressing his forehead against yours, green eyes soft in the morning light. He was mistaking you hesitation for your fear of him leaving and never coming back.

You reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "I know." Your thumb gently rubs over his bearded cheek, smiling up at him. "I love you." You whisper.

Ben leans down and kisses you softly, just a fleeting brush of his lips against yours that leaves you wanting more. "I love you too Sweetheart." He murmurs with a soft smile.

Again you weren't used to that, used to him looking at you like you were his whole world, and you never wanted him to stop.

Ben pulls away and raises his gaze to where Rosemary stands arms crossed over her chest with Lou standing beside her watching with wide eyes.

"Be careful." Rosemary says, but it sounds pained, almost as if it took a large amount of effort to say, but you were happy she said something to him that wasn't meant to hurt him.

Maybe that's a good sign. You think to yourself, but then you notice the frown on her face. Or maybe not.

He nods once, but as soon as he takes a step towards where Hughie and Butcher are waiting by the car, Lou runs to him, her tiny arms pumping as fast as she can.

"Ben wait!" She cries, throwing herself against his leg and pressing her head into his right knee. "Don't go. If you go Aunty y/n will be sad again!" Lou mumbles into the fabric, hugging him tight.

Ben stiffens, his eyes shifting to you and for a second you see something unfamiliar flash in his gaze, something painful. It shakes you to your core, and makes you remember how he looked when he stood above your bed the night he came back and said that he couldn't lose you and when he sat in the car and showed you how upset he was that he wasn't there for you when you were pregnant with Rosie.

It made you want to pull him into your arms and hold him close, make him feel loved all over again, show him how much you wanted him here with you despite everything that happened in the past.

He crouches down so he can look Lou in the eye. "I won't be gone long. I'm a little harder to kill than these other sons of-" Ben stops to sensor what he was going to say and clears his throat. "Um. I'm a little harder to keep away than other people."

"Do you promise?" She says.

"Yes I promise honey." Ben smiles tightly.

"Take this for good luck." Lou reaches into the front of her bright pink overalls to pull out a small yellow flower about the size of Ben’s pinky, holding on to the stem in her little hand.

You have no idea where she got it, only that she was holding it out to Ben as if it had the power to save the universe.

Ben looks from Lou's face to the flower, but takes it from her. “Thank you.” He places it carefully in his pocket and zips it in, but before he can stand to go, Lou throws her arms around Ben’s neck and hugs him tight.

You're sure that Ben must barely feel it, you'd seen a supe try to choke him out and Ben only laugh at them. But this is different.

Ben doesn’t move, in fact it doesn’t look like he’s really breathing. His eyes flick to where you’re standing, wide  in surprise and you give him an encouraging smile, because Lou already loves Ben just as much as you do. Ben’s arms are still at his sides awkwardly, but he finally wraps one arm over Lou’s back to hold him to him, gently as if he’s afraid he’ll crush her.

"I'll come back." He murmurs to her. "I promise." But his eyes aren't on Lou, they're on you, open and almost earnest. Making you understand again that he didn't want to leave you, that he wanted to stay, but if he had to go, he'd always come back to you.

Rosemary watches with a frown from the porch, but doesn’t say anything. In the days that had followed their initial meeting she was still trying her best to let him know that she wasn't going to be his friend, that she wasn't going to forgive him.

It hurt you. You didn't say that to her, because you didn't want her to be guilted into liking Ben, but it hurt. It hurt to see your daughter push him away, when all Ben wanted was family. You understood that. Understood that in the way he treated Lou and understood it in the way he treated you.

He was so different than before and you wished Rosemary could see it like you did, but you understood that she needed to realize that all by herself no matter how long it took. You all had time.

Maybe that was the problem, Rosemary had an eternity to hate Ben, but maybe the good thing was that you had an eternity to make him feel loved.

Lou pulls back from him and you take her hand while Ben stands.

"Oi' while we still got daylight!" Butcher shouts from his car, leaning back against the door.

But just before you think Ben is going to go to the car, he steps close to you and kisses you so fiercely you don't remember how to breathe and then he's gone just as suddenly.

You watch the car pull away holding Lou's hand tightly, while it goes down the long drive and finally vanishes in the thicket of trees. It doesn't feel as warm anymore, you're not sure if that's because Ben is gone or because you're preparing yourself for what you have to do next.

"Here you go kitten. This is the only one I could find" Legend says walking through the front door of his house and past Rosemary to hand you a knee-length dark green leather coat. It was vintage, and you had asked him to find something that didn't make you look ridiculous. Legend had closets full of clothes that would have made you look like you were in a Solid Gold music video, and Ben had started wearing the clothes around the house because he didn’t have anything else.

Of course on him they looked good, Ben could be wearing a paper bag and a shower cap and still somehow pull it off.

"Thank you." You release Lou's hand to take it, putting your arms through the sleeves so it hung over your jeans and your black t-shirt.

I swear if I lose one more jacket someone is going to pay. Yeah, because that's what I should be upset about, losing another jacket.

"What do you need that for?" Rosemary asks.

"Lou." You crouch down next to her, smiling up into her freckled cheeks. "I want you to go inside and draw me a field of sunflowers okay?"

"A whole field?" Her eyes brighten.

"A whole field."

"Can I give it to Ben?" She asks.

"Of course you can honey. I think he’d like that very much.” You tuck her dark hair behind her ear before she turns and runs through the large wooden double doors at the front of Legend’s home.

You stand. "I have to do something."

"What do you mean? I thought you just told Ben that you weren't going after Mindstorm?"

"I'm not going after Mindstorm."

"Then what? You’re going to kill someone else aren’t you?” Rosemary crosses her arms over her chest, obviously upset.

You don’t answer.

“Why? Why are you doing this-“ She shouts exasperated.

“Something about everything that happened doesn’t sit well with me.”

“What do you mean everything that happened?”

“Ben was Vought’s golden boy. And I don’t understand why Stan Edgar would just let him be taken like that.” You look at where Legend stands. You didn't think that he knew anything about it, hoped that he didn't. He was one of your oldest friends and to find out that he had betrayed you the same as Payback had betrayed Ben wouldn't end well.

By now he's lit a cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully. "I've wondered the same thing. Stan Edgar was involved in everything, and for him to give the go ahead for Payback to hand Soldier Boy over, means that there must have been some money exchanged for him to green light it." Legend blows out a lungful of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face. "Stan never brought up much with me, just that he was excited that the team was going to be given a chance to help out in Nicaragua." Legend frowns. "I will say that before the premiere that night, Stan seemed to already know that y/n wasn't going to be on that trip. In fact he was convinced that you were going to stay state-side and work with Vogelbaum on some things."

"Vogelbaum?" Rosemary questions looking at him.

"He was the main scientist for Vought, he had in fingers in every pie, knew the extent of all our powers, except mine." You wave a hand. "I always refused bloodwork, I didn't want him to be poking and prodding around in my DNA for too long. But he definitely was big on genetic testing. They were trying to make a new hero-" You pause remembering what Vogelbaum said the night of the premiere. You hadn't remembered what he said until now. When Vogelbaum mentioned the next generation of heroes.

"What is it?" Legend asks.

"Stan knew I wasn't going to Nicaragua. He knew that Countess would make Ben push me away, but what if he was working with Vogelbaum?"

"What would that help?" Rosemary interjects.

"The night of the premiere Vogelbaum said that he wanted me to come by the lab, to meet someone. He said that he was working on "the next generation of heroes" or something." You shake your head as if trying to move things back in place so you can understand. "There's something I'm missing about the whole situation. Some missing piece that doesn't fit." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Stan tried to come talk to me after Ben died, but I never heard what he had to say- I broke his nose and threw him out."

"Maybe he was going to try to get you to come to the lab again." Legend shrugs.

"But why were they so adamant about that it just makes no sense. Why was I important? Why me? It could have been anyone. Hell, they could have had Countess go instead of me. There were other women, other supes. Why did I matter so much?"

You glance at Rosemary again, examining her face and seeing the same thing you realized the other day. Deep down you understood why, but you wanted to be wrong, you didn't want to believe that someone would take that from you, that someone was capable of doing something like that.

"But do you have to kill someone to find out why?" Rosemary pleads. "I don't understand how you're okay with killing people-" She begins to say looking at you like she's never met you before.

"You think I'm okay with killing people?" You ask her. "You think I like this?"

"No but-"

"I've done a lot of shit that I'm not proud of. I've lost control. I've killed people. But believe me when I say that what I'm about to do, I do for you. It might not seem that way right now, but I hope that one day you can understand that."

"Mom I-" She starts, but you hold out your hand. She looks from it to you as if confused, but then finally takes it.

"If Homelander comes here, you kill him. Do you understand me? You don't give him a chance to speak, you kill him." You say, feeling your powers transfer into Rosemary. It didn't hurt, it never did, in fact if she did it to anyone else they probably wouldn't have noticed. Her ability was almost undetectable, the only thing that changes is the quick flash of molten gold in her eyes when she does so. But it was instantaneous and it didn't matter how long Rosemary held on to someone, all it took was skin to skin contact, one touch and that was it.

Rosemary's expression hardens. "Okay."

"I love you." You squeeze her hand once more before you let go.

"I love you too mom."

You take a few steps away from her. "I'll be back tonight. I promise. If Ben gets back before me, just tell him that I needed to do something and that I'll be back. Don't let him try to come after me."

"He's not the easiest person to tell what to do." She sighs.

"I know." You shrug. "He's just like you."

"He is not-"

"He is."

"You need to borrow the car kitten?" Legend asks, beginning to search through his pockets for the keys to his black 1967 Impala. It was in mint condition and Legend was proud of it.

He should be. It's a nice car.

"Nah I think I'll hitch-hike." Your smile is triumphant and maybe a bit mischievous, as you take to the sky, leaving the world and everything you know behind.

If only you knew what was coming.

Stan Edgar was a simple man. He liked his whiskey neat, his coffee black, his cigars Cuban, his suits pressed, his dinner at 6 pm sharp, and his women poised. Stan Edgar rarely deviated from his plans, never cancelled a meeting, and took every phone call no matter how late. He read the Wall Street Journal each day, checked his blood pressure meticulously, and was in top shape for a man of his age. After years of shaping his image, Stan Edgar's life was the epitome of control and composure.

Not a hair was ever out of place, his apartment on the Upper East Side was perfectly organized, and he never got angry, he got even. He never lost a minute of sleep. He never raised his blood pressure and he knew the exact price that a minute of his time was worth.

He took his morning coffee in the dining room of his large five-bedroom penthouse apartment with a bowl of oatmeal while he read the Wall Street Journal and left his home at exactly 7 am only to return at 5 pm to read through various briefs before his housekeeper delivered his dinner to the same dining room table that he had previously had breakfast on.

When he was taken off the board from Vought, his schedule had deviated slightly, but it was easy for him to control the company, especially with the connections that Stan Edgar had worked his entire life to maintain.

Stan Edgar's life had reached a point of comfortable routine and after forty years it was as it should be. He knew the ins and outs of New York City, he had a stable home, various rental properties, rising stocks, and a control of most of the inner workings of Vought even with Homelander's hostile takeover. Homelander was proving to be a bigger problem than he hoped, but Stan Edgar did not allow himself to revel in Homelander's destruction of the company Stan worked so hard to build up.

Every moment in his life was mapped out to the second and Stan Edgar had worked hard to make it to the top, had crushed many an executive, assistant, and person to gain the power and status that he had.

When Forbes did a profile on him, they had proudly described his rise to power, of course there were details left out, pieces of Stan Edgar's life that he had worked hard to sweep under the rug. But he did not lose sleep over that.

His apartment is cold, silent, and dark when he walks through the front door at 6 pm sharp, odd because Stan expected his housekeeper to be standing there to take his coat as she had been for the past twenty years. The same navy blue wool coat he shrugs out of and hangs on the maple coatrack just inside the front door in his foyer.

You can hear the sound of his footsteps along the marble tiled floor as he makes his way through the silent apartment, his dark brown shoes polished to a shine, squeaking slightly against the polished tiles.

"Roberta?" Stan calls looking for his housekeeper. His voice caries through the darkness.

You could smell the tobacco from his last cigar on his suit coat, his heady cologne, and his hair oil that was just a little spicy. It was old fashioned, something that you could remember from the first time you met him.  You could hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest, perfectly maintained by the bottle of medication you had found in his bathroom only a few hours ago.

You already knew Stan Edgar's routine by heart, knew exactly how he spent his days, and the kind of person he was. Today was not the first time that you had trailed him, wove through the crowded streets behind his thin form as he moved oblivious to your shadowing, and watched his driver Carlos pick him up and drop him off at the correct times. You had done it many times, taken days to understand who he was, understand where he went at what time, and who he met with.

Nothing in Stan Edgar's life was a mystery to you.

Hughie's revelation of Victoria Newman's relation to Stan Edgar was not a surprise. It was a piece of information you held close to your heart if things between the two of you ever went South. You didn't fear her power and you weren't above torturing the weapon that Stan had turned her into. It would have been difficult, she was after all a senator, but it would be easy to inflict a small problem within her body telekinetically, something that looked normal to the naked eye.

Of course what you were about to do to Stan was going to be difficult to explain to the police.

You had contingencies in place for that though, there was nothing to worry your head over. The hardest thing you'd done today was get out of bed this morning and your day had included disposing of Stan Edgar's security detail, who hadn't even been able to touch you, let alone know that you were following him.

Some security detail.

You took a drag from your cigarette, leaning back in the high-backed chair in Stan's ornate living room, the tip burning orange in the darkness, the smoke obscuring your form where you lounge back against the faded green velvet. It already smelled like cigar smoke and you knew that it was where Stan smoked his nightly pipe after dinner, the velvet holding the strong scent of tobacco and Stan's ancient cologne. You hadn't had a cigarette since you were pregnant with Rosemary, but there was something about the drama of smoking one that you couldn't pass up.

Stan turns into the living room, but his foot hits something solid where nothing should be and he pauses.

"Roberta?" He says again hesitantly. "Did you move the couch?"

She wouldn't answer him, couldn't answer him. Killing her had probably been a mistake, but when you realized that she was an ex-hero hired by Stan as an extra precaution to make sure no-one entered his apartment, it had made you feel better, especially when she tried to electrocute you, which had surprisingly slowed you down, but not enough to spare her life.

You hear Stan's fingers fumble against the light switch on the wall and the hiss of his surprise when his hand comes back sticky and wet.

You can see him clearly in the darkness, Homelander's x-ray vision meant that you'd never have a problem seeing in the dark ever again. You watch Stan's nose wrinkle in disgust, confused at the discovery, but then watch as he reaches again and flips on the light, his eyes leveled at the ground trying to figure out what it was that he stumbled onto.

His security detail had come to sweep his apartment as they did each day thirty minutes before he arrived home, and it had been the last thing that they had ever done. The blood from the bodies was soaking through the hardwood floors and trickling down to the oriental rugs below Stan's modern living room furniture. The thick copper smell of blood was everywhere and you weren't sure how he missed it.

You hear the sharp intake of his breath as he sees the bodies, traces the ripped limbs and headless forms of his pathetic security detail at his feet. There were others in his bedroom, one in the kitchen, and another hanging from the horns of a moose head over the fireplace at your right where you sit, the blood flowing thick down the beige wallpaper and dripping onto the once pristine floors. There were nine in total, and although the past version of you would have maybe felt some remorse for their deaths, you were finding it difficult to, especially after realizing what you had.

"It's hard to find good help these days." You arch your brow taking a drag from the cigarette perched between your index and middle finger. "I'd say you paid too much for their service given how easy they were to dispose of. I'm kind of disappointed, thought that they'd be a bit more of a challenge."

Stan looks up from the bodies, eyes wide, to see you sitting there in the armchair. There was blood flecked over your shirt, on your jacket, in your hair and on your cheeks that you hadn't bothered wiping away, you figured that there would be more soon and you didn't care.

"Y/n." He keeps his voice composed, but you can hear his hand shift to his pocket for his phone.

It doesn't get far.

You telekinetically pull him over the back of the couch and force him on his knees in front of the ornate square coffee table poised in the center of the room. His hands palm down, fogging the glass with his body temperature. His body is outlined in bright purple, completely at your mercy and under your control, your own eyes glowing bright purple.

You allow yourself to take another drag of cigarette and let a cloud of smoke trickle out from your full lips. "It's good to see you Stan. How long has it been? Ten years? You look good better than my teammates did anyway."

"I was wondering when you were going to drop by." He says tightly eyeing you. "Are you going to keep pretending that you're not Indigo?"

You smile and laugh at him. "I think I'm done pretending."

You weren't surprised that Stan knew. When you'd seen him at your art show all those years ago when you moved back to the city you had suspected he knew, not to mention that he had called Legend to ask about you. It was unfortunate that Stan knew, because now you worried who else knew, but you also figured that the cat was out of the bag as soon as you fought Homelander.

Plus, maybe the secret would die with Stan.

"Is Ben here?" Stan asks, and you hear the way his voice sticks on Ben's name. His eyes shift to the dark corners of the room as if he believes that Ben will materialize from the shadows.

It's like him to be more afraid of Ben than me. No one was ever afraid of me. I was just Ben's little friend, another supe that they could dress up and put on display. They should have been afraid.

"No, I came alone. Thought I'd give him the night off."

"I’m surprised you let him back into your life after everything that happened." Stan replies, but you don't miss the twitch of his body as he tries to escape the grip of your powers. He wouldn't. Your hold was unbreakable for someone like him. If you had decided to use your powers on Ben or on Homelander, you were sure that it wouldn't hold them for long, they were too strong.

You examine Stan again. His body is rigid in your hold, head tilted up to stare at you, hair flopping forward into his face from when you yanked him over the couch, and his knees are pressed into the blood soaked carpet on the living room floor.

You knew what he was doing, he was trying to get inside your head, try to make you turn against Ben the way everyone else did, but you wouldn't fall for it, not again.

"Well you did you best to keep it that way, didn’t you Stan?"

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Stan's words are cut off in a gasp as your telekinetic grip tightens on his body, squeezing him tight for a moment before you release the pressure, but keep him where he is.

"Do me a favor, don't lie to me. It's insulting, plus we're old friends." You smile sweetly. "And I always love seeing my old friends. Especially ones who stabbed Ben and me in the back."

Your glowing purple eyes flick to the large painting on the living room wall. It's one of yours, a depiction of a quiet forest from your last show. It was weird to see a piece of the new life you crafted hanging there. "I'm flattered you bought one of my paintings."

"You always were talented. I was disappointed that you didn't start trying to sell them earlier. Probably would have sold more when you were a hero,  could have enhanced your image." He says, but you can hear the edge beneath his voice. He's trying to keep conversation, make this diplomatic, when he knows there's no way out. You’d made sure of that. No one was coming to help Stan Edgar.

"I sell enough now. Thanks though." Your body stands from the chair, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in his chest, and gesture to the collection of tobacco pipes that line the mantle beneath the body of the security guard. "My dad had a pipe just like this one." You stop at a simple one, not carved, plain, a dark cherry wood that tapered into solid black. "Used to smoke right before he went to bed every night. I spent a lot of time sketching him sitting in his chair by the fireplace, learning what he looked like, tracing the plains of his face." You take another long drag from the cigarette.

It was hard to think about your father after all these years, you hadn't thought of your family in a long time, not when you had Rosemary and Lou and now Ben. But you could still remember those quiet evenings when there was a hint of a chill in the air and your father would smoke his pipe and listen to music from the phonograph he had in the corner while you sat at his feet and drew him. Sometimes your mother would join him with her own embroidery in the matching arm chair next to his. As much as you never got along with her, you could see how much she loved your father and how much he loved her.

"I'd never met Homelander in person before a few days ago. I'd seen his face on billboards, on energy drinks but never in person. I would have realized it years ago if I had." You trace the gentle curve of the pipe with a fingertip, exhaling another trail of smoke.

"Realized what?"

"I'm only going to ask you this once Stan." You pause as you turn to look at him. "Why does Homelander have my father's nose?"

It was obscure. You knew that. But it was what you had realized the other day when you were looking at Rosemary, the one feature that distinguished her from Ben, the one piece of yourself that she had, was the same one that Homelander did. You suspected that the smell of hair dye you smelled when you met Homelander for the first time was to cover up the brown hair that he must have shared with Ben, just as the makeup on his cheeks would cover the familiar freckles Rosemary had. They could have been twins, you could see it now.

Stan doesn't breathe, his muscles straining under his suit as he silently fights for his freedom, his heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears, but he doesn't answer you.

Your eyes glow a dangerous purple and the ceiling light flickers above the two of you, the sound of the static with each blink breaking up the wet tap of the blood dripping to the floor and the low pitched thrum of your powers that fills the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stan swallows.

"What did I say about lying to me?" You sigh, flicking the cigarette into the full length white curtains that remain closed over the living room windows, immediately catching fire. Of course they would, you'd soaked them in gasoline moments before Stan came into the room.

His eyes flick to the flames as they reach up to the ceiling, but the fire alarm wouldn't go off, you'd sabotaged it. 

"The human body can withstand 50 pounds of pressure per square inch before it starts to crush. I’ve never crushed anyone before, mind you I’ve also never been crushed." You shrug your shoulders turning back to look at him. "But I'm very interested to see what it will do to your body."

Stan utters one word. "Please."

"It's funny." You take a step closer to him, tapping your lip thoughtfully. "I didn't ask you to beg for you life, I asked you to answer a simple question."

Stan still doesn't answer. The high pitched snap of his fingers one by one breaking is sharp as you increase the pressure on his hands , like the crisp sound of a wishbone at Thanksgiving.

Stan inhales sharply, his gaze lowering to what used to be his fingers, not quite realizing what the sound was. You watch as the realization rolls across his face like thunderclouds on a stormy day, as he realizes  they have been reduced to mush beneath your powers and a scream rips from his throat, echoing through the empty hallways, but there's no one there to hear him scream. Blood swells beneath the ruined flesh, turning his skin a sickly shade of purplish-red, before oozing through the breaks in the tissue by the sharp points of what were the delicate bones of his hands.

"Ooo. That doesn't look too good buddy." You click your tongue. "You want to rethink your answer? Or do I have to do your toes to match?"

"Vogelbaum tried to tell you at the premiere." His voice is a weak growl, eyes not raising from his hands. "I tried to tell you too, but you broke my damn nose."

"Tell me what?" You hold your glowing purple hand over him like a warning prepared to crush whatever you have to, to make him speak.

He continues to look down at his ruined hands.

"Ah-ah-ah." You place a fingertip beneath his chin, feeling the stubble of his five o'clock shadow, so his gaze is now on you. "I want you to look at me."

"Ben was a manic, crazed, he needed to be replaced. He wouldn't follow orders, wouldn't listen to us. He only listened to you!" Stan spits, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "It was easy to turn the rest of the team against him. Countess was jealous of his attention on you, it was logical that she would be the one to break whatever you two had. Even Noir was easy to convince. He always was obsessed with you after you saved his life from that asshole." More blood seeps over the glass table.

You withdraw your hand from Stan's chin for a moment surprised. You knew that Countess was always trying to get between Ben and you, but the news of Noir's obsession was new.

"What do you mean Noir was obsessed with me?"

"Oh please." Stan seethes through his gritted teeth. "Did you really think that you kept losing things? Your hair ties, your underwear, your hairbrush, even that stupid fucking necklace you always wore! Noir was harder to keep out of your apartment than Ben whenever you were out of town. Not to mention he always asked to be put on the same interviews, given auditions in films you were in. Noir was always trying to get between Ben and you, but you never gave him the time of day. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to make sure you never figured out that he kept breaking in to your apartment?"

Your body goes cold. You knew the necklace Stan was talking about, the pearl necklace that your father had given to you all those years ago, the one that you'd lost a few months before your birthday and never figured out where it went, and the one that Ben had replaced on the night he gave you everything you wanted. You had noticed some things missing, the hair-ties and hairbrush, but you thought you'd left in the hotel rooms that Vought paid for, you had no idea that Noir had been in your apartment.

Whenever he talked to you, you thought that he was being friendly, that Noir was trying to be nicer to you because the rest of the team avoided you due to your close relationship Ben, but you never imagined that he wanted to be more.

"Noir was first on board with the plan. It didn't take much to get the others to fall in line." Stan continues.

"What plan?"

"The plan to replace Soldier Boy. But it had to be handled delicately, there couldn't just be any supe that took over. It had to be someone worthy, someone who exemplified the bullshit American Ideals that Ben used to boast about in all of those ridiculous films."

"So what? You sent Ben off to fucking Russia and you replaced him with Homelander? You shoved all that American dream shit down Homelander's throat and look what you created. You created a fucking monster!"

"It wasn't supposed to be that way. Vogelbaum wanted the replacement to grow up with a mother. He saw how Ben lived with only a father's influence and he wanted a soothing reassuring person in the replacement's life."

"You're not answering my question." You snarl, your hands beginning to glow brighter as you tighten your grip on his feet, preparing to crush them into mush.

"We had the genetic material from Soldier Boy it was harder to get it from you!" Stan shouts, feeling the pressure intensify in his feet, thinking that if he answers your question you'd spare them.

You stop for a moment, tilting your head to the side. The heat from the flames on your left growing with every passing second as they spread to the other curtains on the second large window. “What are you saying?”

“Did you really think we didn’t know what you could do?" Stan almost laughs, but it comes out in a choking cough. "We knew. Your power is one of the rarest we’d ever seen. And Dr. Vogelbaum hoped that your son would have the same one, that your son would possess some quality that you had and the qualities that Soldier Boy had. The perfect weapon. The perfect supe." Stan croaks. "A supe that could adapt and walk away from death like you could. A supe that was perfectly under our control, different than Soldier Boy."

“Are you saying that Homelander is my son?” Your voice is dangerously low, no more than a snarl.

Stan swallows. “Yours and Soldier Boy.”

With those words, the bones in Stan’s feet snap loudly as they both are reduced to nothing, but crushed bone and flesh, never to be used ever again.

But his scream of pain is wiped out by the roaring in your ears as you realize what he's said, realize exactly what Vogelbaum did all those years ago, realize exactly why he asked you to come to the lab when you danced together at the premiere.

It was what you suspected, but that didn’t mean that you were any less ready to hear it. The wave of emotion that crashes over you squeezes your heart in your chest, because what kind of a monster would do that? What kind of person would take something like that from you or from anyone?

Anger, pain, shock, rage, and horror all war in your chest, grappling against your ribs, choking your next breath from your lungs, and make you feel as though your body is tearing itself apart.

You think about the hollow look in Homelander's dark eyes, remember what Hughie told you he was doing to Annie, what Hughie told you he had threatened to do, and remember what Butcher said that Homelander did to his wife. You remember how cocky and confident he was at the Twins home, how unaffected he was by the gore of the bodies on the upper levels, and remember the way he didn't seem to care that he was hurting Ben, that he killed Butcher, and then tried to kill you.

That monster is my son, is Ben's son. He's Rosemary’s brother-

You could feel the anxiety rising, threatening to rip your own heart out of your chest, but then it suddenly shifts to all encompassing rage. The entire room shakes with the force of your anger, spider cracks appearing in the drywall all around the room, the windows in the room shatter sending glass blowing outward onto the street sixty stories below the penthouse apartment, and the furniture begins to shift and slide along the floor restlessly as the flames flare bright red and orange and cause the wallpaper to curl black.

"How did you get my genetic material?" Your voice is eerily calm as you gaze at him, vision going red.

Stan looks up at you, painful tears in his eyes. "We couldn't do it when Ben was with you. He was so damn protective of you, if we tried to touch you with him around he would have torn us apart, so we had to wait for him to go shoot one of those stupid films overseas." He gasps. "Vogelbaum said that you wouldn't remember. Said that it would be just like a bad dream.

You freeze when he says that, the memory of the nightmare that had plagued you for decades flashing across your mind, every detail becoming crystal clear. The voice of Vogelbaum telling the nurses to hold you down, the smell of his breath, his face gazing down at you from between your legs with a sickening smile on his face, while you tried to clear your head, the sound of your own screams ripping from your throat as you tried to fight the drugs they pumped into your system to keep you quiet.

"Egg extraction was difficult." Stan coughs, blood appearing on his bottom lip. "You killed two nurses and two orderlies. Almost killed Vogelbaum."

"I should have." You spit savagely. "If he was here, I would make him suffer. How could you do that? How could you do something so inhuman-"

Your body doesn't feel like your own, your skin is too tight, your next breath catching in your lungs, and a shudder of absolute disgust shakes through your bones. You feel the urge to throw up, to expel whatever images you can, to purge yourself because it meant they had been inside you, touched you, defiled you in a way that they believed was justified. Disgust, shame, horror and pure uninhibited rage shift along your skin in waves crackling in the air around your body. Everything you know is a lie. Everything that you thought you knew about the past nothing more than shades of gray.

"In the name of science there is no boundary, no limit that cannot be surpassed." Stan tries to smile, but it comes off as a grimace and as soon as he opens his mouth, his entire front row of top teeth rip from his mouth and land on the glass table, flecking blood over the surface.

Stan sputters, choking on the blood, eyes widening in pain, but he continues, his voice sticking around the holes where his teeth once were. “Vogelbaum tried to tell you that night. Tried to get you to come to the lab but you refused. He wanted the subject to have a mother, a figure that he respected, a way of reigning him in-"

"You have taken everything from him!" You snarl grabbing Stan by the throat, raising him to your face. "You have denied him the right of family. You made him into something inhuman something unrecognizable-"

"We didn't do anything." Stan cannot hold on to your wrist, tries to raise his ruined hands to place them against you skin, but they only slide off leaving smears of his blood against your flesh. "You chose this. You did this to him. You denied him a mother. We tried to allow you into his life and you refused."

"Don't you dare turn this on me. What you did to my son is not my fault. You turned him into a monster because you wanted a puppet, a weapon you could control. What Homelander became is all you and Vogelbaum. It has nothing to do with me." You throw Stan back against the opposite wall. "You made damn sure of that."

He lands in a heap, tries to rise to his feet, but the ruined stumps no longer work so he props himself up against the wall,  taking shallow breaths, blood trickles down the corner of his mouth.

But Stan doesn't stay on the floor long, you raise him up, his body glowing again bright purple as he slams back into the wall, arms outstretched, legs hanging limply beneath him as he gasps for breath.

"When Butcher's wife had her son, Vogelbaum was happy he got another chance. Happy that Ryan had a mother figure to rely on, but Ryan has not turned out anywhere near as powerful as your daughter.”

Your jaw tightens as you tilt your head, fear breaking through the rage and numbness that has begun to build beneath everything else.

"What did you just say?"

"It took us years to find her, but as soon as I saw her at the art show ten years ago I knew. She's the spitting image of Ben. So we put things in motion."

"What things?" You snarl, tightening your grip on his chest so tightly that you hear the cracking of his ribs.

"Her ability to keep powers for 24 hours is unmatched. She’s almost indestructible. Almost as indestructible as you. She was so helpful in our development of our Temp V.” He exhales in one breath sharply, wincing in pain.

"What?" Shock grips you tight, holding you in place.

They used Rosemary for that? For the shit that Hughie and Butcher shoot up?

"The scientists at Vought couldn't figure out a way to temporarily give someone powers." Stan gasps. "But her blood was just what we needed to understand it."

"You took her blood?" You roar, the furniture in the room flipping back towards the door, crashing against the walls.

"She gave it to us. When I approached her she was adamant about not telling you. You were so against being a hero again and having her do anything connected to Vought.” He smiles around the holes in his mouth. "She agreed to help us if it meant leaving you alone. But-" Stan swallows again, gasping out another breath that sounds like a wheeze. "We were always watching. Always have been watching. There is no where you can escape us, no where you can go to get away from us. You think you're free?" Blood trickles over his dark lips and down his chin, but he continues to smile. "You never will be. And when your granddaughter finally develops her powers, she won't be either. Vought is already prepared for her, nothing can stop it."

Your face hardens at his mention of Lou, anger flaring deep in your soul, rational part of your mind no longer in control. There was no semblance of the control you were so proud of left.

You didn't know who you were anymore. All you knew was that this man had taken something from you, stripped you of what you were so long ago, and he would pay. Because you'd be damned if he was going to take Lou away too. If he really had already gotten to Rosemary, you'd failed her, but you wouldn't fail Lou.

You take in a breath, but the cold numbness is quickly coming to pick away at the heat of your rage, filling your chest cavity. "You've always been a snake, slithering your way to the top, choking the other people who challenged you, slimy, pathetic. You were afraid of Ben all those years. Cowered in the fucking shadows from his rage, afraid to speak, afraid that he would be your end. You were wrong Stan. You should have feared me instead. Because I am the end of you."

"Y/n please-"

But his next words are lost in the blood curdling scream that rips from his throat as his body begins to cave in on itself, the snapping of bone and the smell of blood filling the room as his limbs flatten and shrink into his body, ribcage caves in to his torso, his head crunching down into his neck until the thing that was Stan Edgar is nothing more than a soccer ball sized lump of flesh and ground bone, dropping to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

The flames lick at the walls behind you, steadily curving around the room as you stand there. Stan's blood is soaked into your hair, dripping down your cheeks, but the heady copper smell is obscured by the smoke that floods the room.

Despite it all you can't hear the sound of the flames, can't hear the sounds of the city below, can't feel the heat of the fire, can't feel the stickiness of the blood as it coats your cheeks. There's a buzzing your ears, that comes after Stan's death. An uncontrollable shudder shakes your body as you stand there in the ruined room, the cold feeling unfurling from the center of your chest like the petals of a flower. You can't feel anything, not rage, not shame, and definitely not remorse.

Because everything you know is a lie, everything you knew about Homelander, and now everything you knew about Rosemary. And if she hid that from you, what else had she lied about?

A/N: I did try to warn y'all. This chapter was a lot, and completely out of my comfort zone and I really miss writing the happy fluff 😭. But this chapter had to be done. And honestly… the reader's Homelander is showing. Somethings I think he may have inherited even though he was kept apart from her.

If you'd like to read something a little happier please try my series:

Take A Chance On Me

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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[darlingbabyboo]

"Baby, you're my whore!"

♡ Tokyo Revengers characters and their bimbo girlfriends ♡

Part 2 (Kazutora, Izana, Bonten! Mikey)

Part 3 (Hanma, Chifuyu, Angry, Ran, Hakkai, Inui)

Ken Ryuguji (Draken)

It has been said before and I will be one of the people to say it again

Definition of dress slutty: I can fight

Growing up in a brothel (with women that made sure that he was drinking his respect women juice everyday) he lets you dress however you please

Your skirt might be too short for his comfort, but as long as you feel comfortable and satiated, he's gonna bite his tongue

Who is he, to mess with what the love of his life wants?

On your stupidity

He's been hanging out with dumbasses all his life, if his baby happens to be a bit of a dumb fuck, he won't say a thing

He also thinks that you're absolutely adorable when you look at him with question in your eyes and say the most idiotic things known to man

A bit exasperating

But moreso adorable

"Kenny." He hums to show you that he's listening and continues fixing up his motorcycle. "What's the matter angel?"

"Why doesn't hair grow at the side of your head." He blinks and looks back at you, genuine wonder in your eyes. He sighs, and presses his forehead against the cool of his bike.

"Kenny, are you okay!?" He feels your arms wrap around his shoulders and your weight begin to press against him. You're ridiculous, but he loves you so much it hurts. He couldn't imagine a life without you around.

"'s nothing angel, don't worry your pretty head about it."

Takemichi Hanagaki (Takemitchy)

He's weak to you okay, he loves your short skirts that barely cover up your panties and your tight shirts that show off your lace bra's (if you even wear one some days)

You can say the dumbest shit or do the stupidest things and he'll be nodding along like a little puppy dog

Is it so wrong to be completely in love with your girlfriend? He worships you like a god and how dare anyone have the nerve to blame him?

You see the world in a way that he could never imagine, and you open his eyes to a world of possibilities

He just believes that he's lucky that you two are even together, you're beautiful and kind and even if there's not a lot going on in your head, you're the best girl that he's ever known

He just wants to be with you forever

You jump into his open arms, your arms wrapping around his neck and his automatically enclose around your waist. "Sweetie, I got a 40% on my test?" You say, cheerfully.

"W-what? I'm sorry. I know you studied hard for that."

"What?" You crock your head to the side and look at him with confusion in your eyes, "no, all I need is another 40% and then I'll be at an 80% average!"

Takemichi opens his mouth to say something, mainly, what in the world would make you think that, and how the hell do you think averages work? Instead, he shakes his head and gives a soft smile. He loves how you see the world, no matter how ridiculous it is, though he's going to need to talk to you about how grades work. He squeezes your waist, "I believe in you Sweetheart."

Takashi Mitsuya

He supports your endeavours, he even encourages them!

You want to wear a skirt that shows off your panties, sure! Just let him make a few adjustments and- while we're at it, why doesn't he just bedazzle that top too!

He wants the best for his darling, which means that you're going to be wearing things fit for a queen

It's in his nature to spoil his girl, so don't worry your pretty little head about any of the gorgeous clothes that you want, he's already on it

Though, there's not a lot going in your pretty little head, which he doesn't necessarily mind

He doesn't care if you stay the stupidest shit imaginable

You look at him with so much love and admiration in your eyes that he can't find it in him to worry too much about you

"Taka! This is so cute!" You spin around in your skirt, which raises above the lace panties that he also handmade for you. "Too bad about the people living in olden times." You pout.

Mitsuya walks up to you with a raised brow at your words. He wraps his hands around your waist, trying to think about what you could possibly mean. "Why, my love?" He finally bites.

You go on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a glittery mark. "They had to live in black and couldn't see all these pretty colours, like the clothes you make for me!"

Mitsuya nods along to your words, smile already pulling up at your words. He presses a kiss on your forehead. "That's not how it works my love."

You look at him with so much love and admiration in your eyes, expecting him to explain everything to you. He smiles, brushing his thumb against your cheek. He's so hopelessly in love with you.

Keisuke Baji

He adores harlots, whores, and anything else of the variety!

He loves the dumb, hazy look in your eyes when you come across something "complicated" (first time he's the smart one in a relationship)

Loves the things you dress up, encourages you to dress however you want, you know what, get even sluttier! He wants your skirt to be so short that your panties show when you stretch the tiniest bit, shirts so tight that you can't wear a bra

He loves his babygirl, and everyone's free to take a look at you

As long as they remember that you belong to him

"Babe, what's wrong?" You question as Baji grips his hands around yours and growls. You press a kiss to his lips as you try to calm him down. Greedily, he bites your bottom lip and deepens the kiss, hands on your ass.

"Asshole was flirting with my pretty girl. Hate when people try to touch what's mine."

You start to tear up, thinking he's angry with you, "sorry baby, I didn't know!"

"Nonono," He presses his lips against you harder, adoring the way that your red lipstick will leave behind marks on his lips, "not your fault- never your fault. Jus' means we gotta set his car on fire." You nod in understanding, not thinking twice of his act of violence. He gives you a wide, toothy grin, he doesn't think that he could love someone more.

Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Definition of a tease

He doesn't care how you dress (one of the people that really adores how you dress and would appreciate you to get even sluttier). You could wear a bra and a thong outside and he wouldn't bat an eye.

He just loves making fun for how naïve you can be.

"C'mon, one kiss!"

"No!" You huff, crossing your arms and facing your back to him, "'m 100% loyal to 'hoya."

He restrains his laugh, biting down on his lip. "Baby, I am Nahoya!" He manages to force out (though some giggles slip his lips).

"No! You said you were Souya! 'm not gonna fall for your tricks!"

You already are he desperately wants to say, but he's having too much fun messing with you. "Well, now I'm saying I'm Nahoya."

He doesn't need to look your way to know that your brows have furrowed deeper, trying to run through things in your small little head. "No! I'm not a cheater."

He sucks his teeth. His stomach's gonna hurt with how much he's gonna be laughing later. He turns you around and presses a quick kiss against your lips, you giving an indignant gasp at the action. You'll probably be whining about this later, when he explains what's going on, but this was worth it. God, you're a keeper.

Yasuhiro Muto (Mucho)

Not someone who loves the way you dress, wouldn't disapprove of it completely, he would never tell you how to do things or what clothes to wear, but he subtly encourages you to wear something else

It doesn't come from a bad place, he's just protective of you and doesn't want you to get harassed (he's also a bit traditional)

If you're determined to wear what you want, then he'll bend to your will. He would never let you be uncomfortable

He'll get used to things, just for you

Your intelligence, though...

He loves you through and through but he's always on the look-out around you. He has to make sure that no one is taking advantage of your innocence

"What's going on here?" The guys crowding you stutter away, looking at him with wide eyes. You don't notice the fear that has blanketed them and beam at him, running to wrap your arms around his waist.

"'hiro. These guys are asking if I want to hang out with them in, do you want to come with us?"

He purses his lips, yet another group of guys preying on your naivety. "No darling, I think we're going to go, I'm sure that these guys understand." He narrows his eyes at them so that they understand the consequences if they try to stay around you. They get the message, scurrying away like rats they are. You look at them with a pout on your lips, not aware of their dark intentions. He cups the side of your face and turns you towards him, "darling, why don't we see a movie at home." Your frown quickly disappears, a wide smile replacing it.

"That sounds great 'hiro!"

[sissylittlefeather]

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 1

A/N: I wouldn't be me if I only wrote one series at a time. So here is Elvis x reader in Vegas in 1969. It's going to get dramatic, so hang on tight, friends. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: 18+ minors absolutely DNI, smut, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also a tad bit of angst and mentions of domestic violence (not Elvis)

Word count: ~3.8k

The only thing that glitters more than Las Vegas in 1969 is you. Your dress, your shoes, the insane amount of jewelry you're wearing, even your purse shimmers under the lights. It's almost like you're trying to catch someone's attention. And truthfully, you are. Your husband is a cruel man and although he keeps you dripping in diamonds, you'd be lying if you said you weren't lonely. He's what they call a “Casino Boss”. You're not exactly sure what that means, but you know it's hard and violent. It must be pretty stressful too because he yells at you constantly. He's never hit you, but he has pushed you and grabbed your face and you do everything in your power to keep him happy. Despite his anger issues, he swears that he loves you more than life itself, so he always comes back to you with presents after he's particularly harsh. Still, you're tired of it. Tired of walking on eggshells. And as much as he says he loves you, it's more like he loves the idea of you. He never listens to you or treats you like anything beyond a pretty little trophy that he can smother in jewelry and ignore. It's not an ideal existence, but what can you do?

Most nights you dress to the nines and sit somewhere in a casino waiting for someone to see you. In the beginning, your husband made you come to work with him, but as time has passed, he wants you near him less and less. You're not sure if he's messing around or if he's just secure in the fact that you aren't going anywhere, but you spend most of your time alone. Men approach you all the time, but they've never been interesting enough to tempt you into anything dangerous.

Tonight, you sit here in a gold dress, your hair in big waves as it cascades down your shoulders. You swirl a straw in your drink and take a sip, bored. It feels like you might suffocate if you sit here for another second, so you stand up and walk away, headed for a back door to get some air. As you walk, the reality of your life overwhelms you, you feel the tears start to gather, and by the time you make it outside, they're running down your face. You wrap your arms around yourself and sob. It's cold in the desert at night and the emptiness is overwhelming.

Elvis sits at the blackjack table surrounded by pretty girls and all of his best friends. But even with all the company, he stares at his cards and soaks in the loneliness. His career has finally started to take off again and on stage he feels like he's found himself. But when he's not on stage, he feels trapped. Trapped by a marriage he didn't really want, forced into curated friendships with people that seem to like their paychecks more than they like him. He somehow feels completely unseen, despite the constant attention.

“Sir…?” The dealer asks him hesitantly. He shakes his head and slides his cards forward. Then he stands up and half of the men at the table stand up too.

“Where we goin’, boss?” Several of the girls stroke him and whine that he's leaving so soon. Their hands feel cold and all he sees is dollar signs in their eyes.

“Bathroom. Don't follow me.” He turns from the table and walks away. Several of the men try to and he dismisses them. He heads down a hallway, but doesn't turn into the restroom. Instead, he heads for a door to the outside. He doesn't even care if he'll be able to get back in as he pushes it open aggressively and steps out into the darkness.

You try to wipe your eyes and fade into the shadows, praying he won't see you. But of course he does.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Is this spot taken?” He smirks playfully and then notices your face. His eyebrows come together in concern and he takes a step closer. “You okay?”

“Oh, I'm just peachy.” You shiver and wish you had a cigarette. He pulls a cigar out of his pocket and lights it, watching you closely.

“You don't look peachy. I mean, you look beautiful, but not happy.” He takes a drag from the cigar and you look into his face. You know who he is, but you're not in the mood to acknowledge his celebrity status. You need a human.

“Well, thank you. But no, I'm not happy.” As you say it, more tears slip down your cheeks. His heart breaks a little for you and he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief with “EP” embroidered on it in dark blue.

“Here, doll.” You take it and dab at your eyes and he notices how you shiver. He has a thought to take his jacket off, but he can't. “I'd give you my coat, honey, but I've got nothing on under it. Here. C’mere.”

He holds the cigar in his teeth and reaches for you, running his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm you up.

“That better?” You smile a little, but you're still freezing.

“Thanks.”

“I'm Elvis.” He smiles and holds his cigar in his fingers as he continues rubbing on your arms.

“You don't say.” You giggle and he chuckles. Then, emboldened by your drinks and the privacy of your location, you gesture to his cigar with your head. “Can I get some of that?”

His eyes widen in surprise, but he nods.

“Sure, honey.” He hands it to you and watches as you take a few drags and exhale slowly. After you do, you shiver again and he clicks his tongue. “You're still freezing.”

He flicks the cigar, there wasn't much left anyway, and unbuttons his jacket. When he holds it open for you, exposing his naked upper half underneath, you blink several times.

“Get in here. I'm warm, I promise.” You look at him in awe and wonder if he's noticed the ring on your hand. It's 7 carats, so it's hard to ignore. “I won't bite ya, honey.”

You look around and realize that no one would ever know. Then, you decide you don't care if they do and step towards him, sliding your arms around his waist. He wraps the jacket and himself around you.

“Ain't that better?” You nod against his chest. He really is warm and it feels so nice to have him around you like this. Add to that the way he smells and you're practically swooning. “You wanna tell me what's got you so upset?”

You take a deep breath and try to decide what you should say.

“I really don't.” He nods and looks down at you.

“I understand that, honey. Better than you know.” For a minute it looks like he's going to kiss you, but he doesn't. Instead, he sighs deeply. “I should go back inside.”

You nod and start to pull away from him, but he squeezes you tighter.

“Just a second. This is nice.” He doesn't say how badly he needs the affection, but you can sense that he needs something from you, so you snuggle into him again. “What's your name, doll?”

You tell him and he whispers it back to you. To your utter shock, he kisses your forehead before he backs away.

“Okay. It's probably time.”

You nod and pull away as he turns back to the door. But there's no handle and he stares at it in disbelief.

“How were you plannin' on getting back in?” He asks, still looking at the door. You miss his arms around you, but you shrug.

“No idea. Hadn't thought that far.” He chuckles and then takes your hand.

“We better head around to the front of the casino.” He guides you back to the entrance of the building and then stands there with you in front of the doors. After a few beats, you pull out his handkerchief and try to hand it back to him.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“You keep it, honey.” You stand there for another couple of seconds.

“Well, I guess I should go back inside–” As you say it, his crowd of followers busts through the door and there's a flurry of activity as they fuss over him and scold him for leaving them. You think to yourself that he seems like a child being admonished for running away. When your eyes meet his, they're full of bitterness and he shrugs.

“I'm fine, y'all. Let's just go.” He calls for his car and you turn to make your way into the hotel. “Wait, honey.”

He jogs over to you at the doors and takes your hands in his.

“Come with me.”

“Elvis, I can't.”

“Why not?” You hold up your left hand for him to see your ring.

“Yeah, I saw that. Something tells me you need to take it off for the night.” He looks at you, his blue eyes piercing your soul. For a second, you wonder how he knew, and then you don't care anymore, not one bit.

“That would be nice.”

“I thought so. Come on.” He slips the ring off your finger and into his pocket and then takes your elbow, leading you towards his car. A bunch of the other guys pile in with you, but they don't say anything about the fact that you've joined them. You ride along in silence with his arm around your shoulders, his hand intertwined with yours. It doesn't take long at all to get back to the International hotel. At the elevator, the guys try to come with you expecting a party like they've had almost every night, but he shakes his head. That's all it takes for them to stay behind. Once the doors close, he turns and leans against the wall of the elevator. You know he's married too, but you hate to bring it up. Instead, you smile awkwardly.

“C’mere, honey.” He holds his arms out to you like he did behind the casino and you go to him, wrapping your arms around his waist again. You stand like that, snuggled together, until the doors slide open and he guides you into his suite with his hand on the small of your back.

“You wanna drink?” He asks, walking to a bar at the side of the room. You've never cheated on Carl before. A drink would probably help.

“Sure.”

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you have.” You hear him put ice in a glass and then pour some things in it. He brings it to you and you immediately recognize it as a screwdriver. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome, honey.” He watches as you take a small sip. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” You shake your head. “The situation does. But you don't really.”

He smiles warmly and then settles himself next to you on the couch.

“Please talk to me. No one ever talks to me.” He looks over at you with a look somewhere between bitter and sad.

“You have so many people–”

“They talk at me and about me. No one ever talks to me. Not really. Not about anything real.” You take another big gulp of your drink and then turn to face him, kicking your shoes off and tucking your feet up under you.

“I don't wanna be married anymore. My husband is not… nice. And I miss being a person.” He looks into your eyes with more understanding than you expected.

“My wife is cold. She wasn't before we got married, but after? She's just… cold.” You lean forward and push your fingers into his hair.

“You seem like the kind of man that needs warmth.” He nods.

“I really am. So I guess what I'm sayin’ is I understand not wantin’ to be married.” He sits in silence for a bit, reveling in the feeling of your hand in his hair. Then, he looks at you again. “Does he hurt you?”

You pull your hand back and move away, but he gently grabs you and pulls you almost into his lap.

“Sometimes. Not bad. No bruises or anything.”

“Honey, he doesn't have to leave marks on you to hurt you.” He grits his teeth a little, obviously angry that anyone could ever hurt you. “What's he do?”

“He's the Casino Boss at the Flamingo.”

“Oh.” Elvis understands that means he's dangerous. But he doesn't let go of you or anything. Instead, he buries his head in your neck and leaves soft kisses there. He continues pressing his lips to your skin, moving down your chest.

“Elvis…”

“Yes, doll?” He asks between kisses on your breasts.

“This could only ever happen once.”

“I'm not known for my faithfulness to women.” He murmurs and you take that as him understanding what can and cannot happen. You pull away from him and stand up, his eyes wide as he watches you. Then, you push the straps of your dress off of your shoulders and let it fall into a shiny pool at your feet. This leaves you in just your panties, so you turn and walk towards what you assume is the bedroom. It doesn't take him long at all to stand up and follow you. At the doorway, you turn and wrap yourself around him. He leans down and kisses you deeply.

“Tonight is a vacation.” You whisper.

“Viva Las Vegas…” He whispers in return before grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you into his arms. You whimper as he carries you to the bed and lays you down on the satin sheets. His jacket and pants are off before you even know what's happening and then he's on top of you, pressing his lips to every inch of you that he can reach.

His mouth finds your nipple and he teases it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth. He moves to the other one and gives it the same attention. You haven't been this turned on in years and your body responds as such, making a damp spot on your panties. He continues to kiss down your body and then rolls your underwear down your legs and off, leaving you completely exposed to him.

“Need to taste you, doll.” He moans softly, dropping hot kisses on your hips and thighs. You spread your legs for him and he groans at the sight of your glistening pussy. He settles his body into the space between your open thighs and teases your slit with his fingertip. “So wet for me, honey. Such a pretty pussy.”

Two fingers slide inside you and you gasp at the sensation. When he lowers his mouth to your clit and begins to lick you, you damn-near pass out. Carl hasn't gone down on you since before you were married. And even when he did, he wasn't this caring or skilled.

“Oh God, Elvis…” You moan, your hand grasping the front of his hair.

“That's it, baby. Let me give you what you need.” He growls against your sensitive flesh and you tremble with desire. You feel the edges of your orgasm as it starts to approach.

“I'm gonna cum…” You whimper and roll your hips against his face as he eats you. He groans and nods, looking up at you with his face buried in your pussy. His tongue moves so fast that you'd swear it was detached from his body. But it's not and the delicious sensation of him working you with his tongue has you so close you can almost taste it. “Fuck! Elvis!”

You scream as your climax washes over you, filling your body with electricity as you pulse around his fingers, curled just right to hit your g-spot. He licks you until he feels you relax and then pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with your arousal.

“You taste like heaven, doll.” He whispers as he presses his lips to your body again, rolling his hips against your thigh. His cock is rock hard where it presses into you and you moan softly when you feel it.

“I wanna make you feel good, baby.” You murmur to him as he makes it back to your mouth. He kisses you deeply as your hand trails down his chest and you take his member in your hand.

“Mmm, honey, just like that.” He moans softly as you pump him, sliding his foreskin back and forth.

“Please fuck me, Elvis. Please.” You moan and nibble on his earlobe. He groans and nods.

“That what you want, doll? You want this cock?”

“Yes, please.” He hovers over you, lining himself up with your entrance. You whimper as he slides his tip through your folds. Then, he slowly starts to push into you.

“Fuck, honey, you're so tight. Breathe for me.” You take a deep breath in an attempt to relax, but all you can think about is the fact that Carl will kill Elvis if he ever finds out about this. “You okay?”

He lifts his head up and looks down at you with his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“I-I'm scared.” You whisper.

“Of me?” He pulls out and settles beside you.

“No. If my husband ever finds out… he'll kill you.” Elvis sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair.

“So he won't find out. Do you not want this?” He gently runs his fingertips up and down your body as he speaks.

“I do. I really do. I'd just hate to read about you being found in a hole in the desert.” You turn your head to look at him and he smirks.

“Honey. I'm Elvis Presley. You think I'm afraid of your husband?” It dawns on you that he has no idea who he's dealing with and what it would mean for anyone to find out about you.

“Elvis, my husband is a dangerous man. And he works with a lot of dangerous men who live to beat people with baseball bats. I'm not sure you want to do this.” He moves his hand up to your cheek and looks you in the eye.

“Honey, listen to me. I'm not scared. I have a lot of bodyguards and I know how to protect myself. If you don't wanna do this, I understand, but if you do, you’re safe.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and then kisses your cheek softly. There's a strange amount of intimacy between the two of you, considering you've known each other less than 6 hours. You look into his eyes and think to yourself that it's not you you're worried about. But his eyes are so reassuring that you decide you'll cross that bridge when you come to it. For now, you need him.

“I want this.” You whisper as you roll him onto his back and straddle his hips. Again, you drag the head of his cock against you and then sink down onto him. It takes a bit for you to slip all of him inside you, but it's worth it. When he fills you fully, you moan in unison, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Oh God, Elvis.”

As you begin to move on him, his hands go to your hips and he guides you, moaning. He rolls you deep and slow, rocking you back and forth like a ship on the ocean. The speed, depth, and angle of his movements have your eyes rolling back in your head.

“That's good, doll. Fuck, that's good.” He moves you on him with more speed and more pressure as he races towards his high. You feel another orgasm start to gather in your belly and lean forward onto his chest as he starts to fuck you from underneath. He punctuates each thrust with a soft moan. “Cum for me again, honey. I wanna feel you.”

It doesn't take much more for you to do exactly as he asks and tumble over the edge into another climax, your pussy squeezing him just right.

“Oh, fuck.” He fully intends to pull you off of him, as he always does with his one-night girls, but something keeps him right where he is and he cums deep inside you, his cock throbbing with his release. You relax into each other, panting and sweating and he wraps his arms around you. What is it about you that's making him like this? After several minutes in this position, you peel yourself off of him and start to get dressed. “You have to leave so quick, honey?”

You glance at the clock on the wall. It's almost three.

“My husband gets off around four. I have to be home when he gets there.” He tries not to sigh too deeply. For some reason, he had kind of hoped you'd stay and sleep with him.

“Where do you live?”

“The Flamingo. We have a suite.” He nods and watches as you put yourself back together again, walking to the living room to fetch your dress. You walk back into the bedroom fully dressed and look at him in the bed.

“Elvis, I told you. One night only. This can't be a thing.” He nods reluctantly and holds his hand out for you to walk closer and take it. You do, kissing his knuckles softly.

“I know, doll. But it was fun while it lasted.” You sit on the bed and he pulls you into his arms, not wanting to let go.

“How long are you here?” You ask quietly.

“As long as I want to be. But it doesn't matter. Does it?” He asks with a sliver of hope in his voice.

“No. It doesn't.” You stand up away from him and move towards the door. “Goodbye, Elvis.”

“Goodbye, honey.” He watches as you disappear through the bedroom door and then listens for the front door of the suite to close. He lays back, looking up at the ceiling for a while, missing you. On the street, you hail a cab and make it home just in time. You're in bed, almost asleep when you hear Carl open the front door. He doesn't disturb you, but instead gets undressed and slips under the covers. Every single part of you wishes he was Elvis and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

Back in his room, Elvis tries to go to sleep without thinking of you, but he's wildly unsuccessful. There's something about the way you seem to understand his loneliness that makes him wish he could see you again.

Still, you both lay in your respective beds trying to go to sleep. But the sun comes up on both of you still awake.

Elvis sighs deeply and drags himself out of bed, resigned to the fact that sleep is not happening. He walks to his jacket, picking it up off the floor and shaking it. Something falls out and hits the floor with a small thud.

“What the…?” He picks your ring up and holds it up to the light, a sly smile spreading across his face. Now he'll have to see you again.

******

Do we need more?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[morelikeravenbore]

Can I Make It Any More Obvious?

Sk8erboi!Sebastian meets Ballerina!Aurélie, part one.

(Or: my slow descent into madness via a sk8er boi x notebook crackfic au.)

Inspired by the girlies in the writing server, thanks for the sk8er boi brain rot. I don't know why I'm writing this and I have absolutely NO IDEA where it's heading.

Content: MODERN AU. 🛹 It's 2002 and Sk8er Boi is rockin' up MTV. 🛹 Sebastian is an idiot (affectionate). 🛹 Sebastian thinks he's good at skateboarding but is secretly a nerd. 🛹 Basically Canon!Sebastian with a skateboard. 🛹 Yes I squeezed in a reference to my favourite Notebook scene. 🛹 Yes there will be more Notebook references. 🛹 Part two when? Who knows. 🤙🤙🤙

Warnings: SFW. Non graphic mentions of blood/head wound.

Word count: 2.6k

👉 PART TWO HERE.

[read on wattpad]

Wizarding folk, among which Sebastian was usually proud to include himself, had a distinct fondness for cobblestones. Great for aesthetics, sure: nothing screamed eccentric magical village quite like alarmingly uneven roads — but what worked for aesthetics was absolutely shite for skateboarding.

That's right. Skateboarding.

Luckily, Sebastian was a wizard — and quite a gifted one at that — and though his professors from his Hogwarts days would likely argue that inventing a hovering charm specifically to ride a Muggle skateboard over otherwise un-skateable terrain was a waste of his talents, he was inclined to disagree — especially now, as he hurtled down the main street of Hogsmeade, dodging carts, villagers and stray cats at speeds that rivalled the newest model of the Firebolt.

No, far from a waste of time, this was undoubtedly the most impressive use of his magical prowess since he'd successfully cast the Torture Curse on the first go.

That is until a Thestral-drawn carriage pulled out right in front of him.

‘Fuck —!’

For all the time and effort he'd put into developing his hovering charm, he'd neglected to install an emergency braking system.

Swerving hard to avoid collision, he heel-flipped upwards, accidentally performed his signature mid-air 360 Great-Merlin Kickflip over the top of the carriage, then rail-flipped off a lamppost before launching skyward again.

Choosing to ignore the fact that he'd just performed the best tricks of his life while careening uncontrollably through the air, Sebastian let out a great ‘Yeeeeew!’ of triumph — but the sheer force of his excitement threw him sharply off balance. Wobbling precariously atop the board, arms flapping like an overfed Diricaw trying to outrun a diet plan, he tried to regain control —

But it was no use.

He hit the ground, whacked his head on something hard — a bloody cobblestone, probably — and rolled neatly across the way before the great double doors of the Three Broomsticks finally ended his epic wipeout.

Groaning miserably, he rolled onto his back to find two blurry faces peering down at him with mirrored expressions of shock.

‘Are you alright?’ they asked in perfect unison.

Blinking rapidly, Sebastian's entire world flipped on its axis (er, again) as the face of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen came into stunning, albeit upside-down relief: backlit by the summer sun, a halo of auburn hair framed a pair of eyes so piercingly blue that he was sure they saw into his soul.

Fuck, he was dead, wasn't he? He was dead and this vision of beauty above him was an angel come to take him away to — ah, fuck fuck fuck! Death by malfunctioning magical skateboard was not how he'd planned to go out!

He scrambled gracelessly to his feet.

‘Shit,’ he replied, flicking his swishy hair out of his eyes. ‘I mean — fuck. Hello — shit, you're pretty.’

Taken aback, the girl's orphic eyes widened in alarm.

‘Did you — are you hurt?’

Sebastian swayed on the spot. ‘Who, me?’ He tried to chuckle, but nonchalance was difficult with a head wound. ‘Yeah, I'm fiiiine — completely, totally fine… Never been better, actually. Feel amazing. Best ride of my life.’

Her gaze lingered on his forehead. ‘You're bleeding…’

‘Am I?’ He definitely was — he could feel it. ‘S'alright, happens all the —’

A very disorienting moment later, Sebastian found himself in the back room of the Three Broomsticks with a cold rag pressed to his head and a very irate barkeeper clicking her tongue in disapproval.

‘Skateboarding!’ Sirona tutted. ‘Right through the middle of Hogsmeade! What were you thinking?’

But Sebastian wasn't thinking. At least, not about anything but startling blue eyes.

‘Wasn't,’ he muttered thickly. ‘Where girl?’

He stood up; Sirona shoved him back down.

‘Sebastian, you've got a bloody great gaping wound on your head!’ she scolded, holding him down by the shoulders. ‘I've called for the Healer —’

‘Fuck the Healer.’ He stood up again, swiping his bloody forehead with the back of his hand. Just a scratch. He'd be fine.

‘Oh for the love of —’ Catching him by the sleeve before he could stumble for the exit, Sirona levelled him a look she usually reserved for unruly patrons who’d indulged in too much firewhisky. ‘The girl who brought you here — while you were semi-conscious and incoherent, might I add — is eating lunch in the corner booth. But behave yourself, will you?’ she called after him as he wrenched out of her grip. ‘She's French!’

Sebastian liked Sirona — really, he did; she was the only villager who let him practise his kickflips out the back of the Three Broomies without calling the authorities — but right now he'd push her off a cliff if she got in the way of him and the girl.

Still unsteady on his feet, he barrelled into the tavern proper, where the lunch hour was in full swing and the smell of ale and shepherd's pie made his head spin. He made for the corner booth, flattening his hair with his hands and praying to Merlin above that he didn't look as fucked up as he felt — but his heart dropped when he found the booth occupied not by a dainty little redhead girl but by a group of menacing-looking warlocks tucking into a pig's head for lunch.

Shit.

He spun around. Maybe it was the concussion speaking, but he had the most awful, gut-wrenching feeling that if he never saw her again, terrible things would happen.

He had to see her again.

Scanning the crowd with increasing desperation, he was just about to accost Sirona for more details when he caught a flash of long, red hair slipping through the exit. He dashed across the room, chasing that swishy hair the way a bull charges after a Matador.

‘Hey!’ he called out, skidding through the doorway and into the sunlit street beyond. ‘Hey, wait!’

Frantic, he pushed through a group of disgruntled old ladies, jumped over a very startled cat and almost lost his footing again as he hurtled down the road, this time driven not by magically charmed skateboard but sheer desperation.

‘Hi,’ he panted when he finally caught up to her.

The girl cast him a sideways glance.

‘Oh, look,’ she said with a melodic French accent, ‘it's my new husband.’

Sebastian stumbled over another cobblestone.

‘I — what?’

‘You must've hit your head quite hard indeed if you don't remember professing marriage to a complete stranger.’

He stopped dead in his tracks. Was she joking?

‘I didn't,’ he said, aghast.

‘You did,’ she returned, flashing a wry grin over her shoulder as she walked on.

He hurried after her. ‘Fuck, I'm — I'm sorry, I hit my head really hard.’

‘Oh, so you're revoking your marriage proposal?’

‘No —! I mean, yes, but — I don't even know your name.’

‘Hmm.’ She stopped to peer interestedly at the window display of Tomes and Scrolls. ‘Makes our engagement a bit awkward, no?’

Sebastian could only gape wordlessly as she drifted gracefully into the bookstore.

‘Hang on.’ He dumped his board at the door and lumbered in after her. ‘You said yes?’

The girl pressed her lips together in suppressed amusement. ‘I said I'd think about it. – Bonjour!’ she added, greeting Mr Brown so sweetly that the shopkeeper's usually surly countenance brightened like he'd swallowed his sun. Sebastian wondered if he, too, looked equally as ridiculous as he followed her down the nearest aisle…

Likely he did.

He didn't really care.

‘You'd think about it?’ he whispered, lowering his voice as a show of respect to the books crammed into the overstuffed shelves on either side of them.

Though he'd be hesitant to admit it aloud to anyone (lest the truth ruin the bad boy persona he'd been carefully cultivating for many years), Sebastian was at his happiest when surrounded by books. No longer having access to the Hogwarts library since he’d graduated a year prior, he'd taken to visiting Tomes and Scrolls so often that Mr Brown, a fervent bibliophile and an avid sesquipedalian, had given him a part-time job and leased him the shoebox flat on the second floor, ‘...since you refuse to cease importuning me with your quotidian ritual of perambulating about my pulchritudinous premises!’

Crammed with books but bereft of furniture, the tiny, two-roomed flat was dingey, draughty and, judging by the thick layer of dust that’d greeted him on his arrival, hadn't had a living soul cross its threshold since 1892 — but it sure beat living with Solomon in Feldcroft: the only thing his uncle hated more than Sebastian's boards was Sebastian himself, and though piles of books didn't offer much in the way of conversation on those long nights alone in his flat, at least they'd never called him a good-for-nothing waste of space nor gotten so black-out drunk they’d passed out in the middle of the living room for several days. 

No, when it came to companionship, Sebastian generally preferred the fictional sort.

Today, though, squeezed between the narrow aisles with a girl whose radiance rendered him dumber than a flobberworm, Sebastian wouldn't have noticed if the books became sentient, grew papery legs and performed a perfectly choreographed flash dance in the village square. Deep in the reverential hush of the bookstore, they could have been the only two people in the world.

‘Well, you seemed so terribly earnest about us getting married…’ mused the girl, trailing delicate fingers over book spines and blurbs. ‘And I didn't want to hurt your feelings when you were injured. And then the barkeeper came —’

‘— Sirona.’

‘Oui. And you asked her to prepare us a wedding suite.’

Sebastian stared at her. ‘I can't tell if you’re joking or if you’re just…’

‘French?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Mm,’ she said simply, and it was only when she looked him over did he become horrifying aware of his state of dishevelment: his grey hoodie was caked in dirt, there was a new tear in his jeans that he hadn't artfully produced on purpose, and when he glanced at his reflection in a nearby glass cabinet, he was shocked by how much blood was smeared across his forehead.

This was not Sebastian's first head wound. It was, however, his most mortifying.

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, this angelic girl, with her silk blouse and balletic gait, wasn’t running from him, threatening to hex him, or even regarding him with the slightest bit of ridicule. In fact, unless the knock to his brain had skewed his ability to accurately interpret social cues, she rather seemed to be enjoying his company.

Or at the very least, she found him amusing.

He could work with amusing.

When she disappeared down the next aisle, he steeled his nerves, cast a (mostly useless) cleaning charm over his scraggly appearance, and followed after her again — only this time, with the strategic use of his signature swagger in full swing, the effect of which usually left hoards of girls swooning in his wake.

He tousled his hair.

‘Anyway,’ he began, confident, suave, assured, ‘I'm Sebas —’

‘— Sebastian Sallow,’ she said, not looking up from the book she was perusing. ‘I know, you told me earlier. You also told me your age, your middle name, which house you were in at Hogwarts, your favourite colour, and,’ — she flashed a dubious glance at the cut on his forehead, — ‘that you're “hands down the best skater in all the Highlands.”’

Sebastian's swagger visibly deflated.

‘Is that all I told you?’ he gulped. Given his recent history, blabbering on about marriage was not the worst thing he could’ve told her.

Not by any stretch.

‘Mhm.’ She slipped the book under her arm and glided deeper into the shop. ‘Aside from the marriage proposal.’

‘Right,’ he swallowed. ‘Aside from that. So, uh.’ He stepped around her before she could flit off again. ‘Are you going to tell me your name?’

She smiled up at him, and he wondered if her plump, strawberry lips tasted as sweet as they looked.

Fuck.

‘I already did,’ she said coyly, lightly stepping around him again. ‘But you evidently did not commit it to memory.’

Whatever remained of his short-lived confidence packed up its bags and slinked out of the bookstore with its tail between its legs, leaving him fully exposed as the poser he truly was.

‘You didn't,’ he moaned, chasing after the scent of her floral hair like a bee starved of pollen.

‘I did.’

‘No.’

‘Twice, actually.’

‘Twice?’

‘Mhm,’ she said, picking up another book. ‘Not a great start to our whirlwind romance, is it?’

Sebastian looked at her sideways.

‘I still can't tell if you're joking,’ he lamented, feeling a burgeoning sense of anxiety tighten his chest. ‘What if I guess?’

She set the book down and turned to him.

‘Listen, Sebastian,’ she began, pronouncing his name the French way, ‘you seem very sweet, but —’

‘I am!’ he blurted. ‘I am sweet! Very sweet, in fact! Unless —’ A surge of panic stole through him. — ‘Unless you don't like sweet? In that case, I'm not sweet, I'm horrible. A nightmare. I'm literally the worst, I'm —’

‘You're dumb,’ she interrupted with a giggle.

Sebastian softened like fucking butter.

‘I can be that,’ he said with so much earnestness he wondered what the fucking hell was wrong with him. ‘I can be dumb, if that's what you want. Just tell me what you want, and I'll be it.’’

‘What I want,’ she said, regarding him with equal parts exasperation and pity, ‘is for you to get your head looked at.’

'You sound like my uncle,' he snorted. 'I mean, uh, I will!... If you come with me?'

‘Do you need me to hold your hand?’ she said archly.

‘Yes!’

‘Mm…’ She pretended to think. ‘Non.’

‘But — wait! What if — What if I have a concussion and I die without ever knowing your name? Wouldn't that be tragic?’ He pressed his hands to his chest and went on dramatically, ‘As I lay dying, holding the vision of your face in my mind's eye like a guiding light, my only regret will be that I never knew the name of beauty.’

Clearly unmoved, she levelled him a look so dry it would've parched a weaker man than he. But Sebastian Sallow was no coward! — Especially not with books at his disposal and the smell of parchment in his lungs. Inspired into a literary fervour, he swept his arms wide.

‘Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips,’ — his voice dropped to a whisper, — ‘O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss…’

‘Oh, mon dieu.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It's Aurélie. — Aurélie Collins.’

Sebastian's mouth dropped.

‘Aurélie Collins the ballerina?’

‘Oui.’

She turned. He followed.

‘The famous one?’

‘Oui.’

‘But you're the youngest ballerina in the Paris ballet or — whatever. Right?’

‘Ballet de l'Opéra national de Paris,’ she corrected, holding herself a little straighter. ‘I didn't pick you as a ballet fan.’

‘I'm — well, I'm not,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘But my best mate is. Fancy prick, Ominis is, but all the Gaunt's are.’

She stopped so abruptly that he bumped into her.

‘Ominis Gaunt is your best friend?’

Considering they hadn't spoken in over a year, “best friend” seemed a bit of a stretch, but for all intents and purposes, Ominis was really the only friend Sebastian had. Or used to have: after that one time Sebastian had used the torture curse on him, their friendship had become a little… strained.

‘Why?’ He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said loftily. ‘In fact, he and I have a date planned in ten minutes from now.’

Don't worry, there's not a single universe in which Sebastian and Aurélie don't fall stupidly in love. I just needed a foolproof way to make Sebebe jealous in part 2, and what better than to have his girl (quote unquote) go on a date with his estranged best friend who he tortured for a spell book that one time lol.

[eddiestightywhities]

100% in the Buddie Team Switch tent over here btw bc these bastards are honestly just far too complex to ever be anything else imo. like Buck with his praise kink, all somebody please tell me i did good as i wasn't told this growing up by the people who were supposed to say it to me and it changed my brain chemistry by denying me of positive affirmations and molded me into a pliable thing that cannot help but take any shape others want me to so i just need need need you to please please tell me that i did good and that i am good and please will you help me to believe that i am as good as you're telling me i am by holding me down and forcing me to take all of you into all of me until I'm fucking convulsing with just how good it feels and how good i am at it, and bc i now know for sure how much you love it too as you're saying it out loud to me, over and over and over again... and Eddie, with absolutely everything in his life (outside of work) feeling so very out of his control and needing to gain some of it back by crushing Buck with his body weight and telling Buck exactly what it is he should be doing and precisely how to do it and have Buck whining and keening with how desperate he is to comply bc Buck has complete trust in Eddie, in Eddie's ability to make the right decision for whatever it is Buck needs, for what they both need, and having that allows Eddie to have the courage in his convictions that he often struggles to have outside of the(ir) bedroom when it comes to his emotions and that just feels so good to Eddie, to be doing it right, to be the one making Buck feel good, so good, and to actually be taking—for once in his life—what it is that he wants and allowing himself to have the things he desires, to have Buck, all for himself, because that is what feels good to him... but then there are those other times in Eddie's life that he has had to and has to be a sure and steady hand, a reliable go-to, be totally unshakeable and unbreakable and in charge of making decisions that affect countless people's lives—victims of war, those he tries his best to serve and save on calls, colleagues, friends, the people he cares for and those he loves the most in his life—and it's, well. it's A Lot. so much, actually, that Eddie sometimes needs to turn it off and just let it all go and allow somebody else take over and tell him what to do and when to do it bc he just needs to not think about it anymore, to not think at all, needs to just be a vessel for somebody else's decisions and desires and put his trust wholly in somebody else, in Buck, bc he doesn't always trust himself but Buck knows Eddie so well and so completely and understands what Eddie needs to get out of his own head and just have somebody tell him (outside of his job) that he did good for once, that he can get matters of the heart right instead of always wrong wrong wrong and have Buck tell him that yes, of course he's good for something, good for this, good for splaying himself wide open and taking everything he is given by Buck... and then there's the whole Buck (outside of work) having zero fucking clue of what he's doing and even tho he is trying his very best all of the time he's getting it wrong A Lot of the time, bc his best isn't always good enough so he has to try harder but then he's trying too hard, too much, which means he still isn't getting it right. and so to be able to be the one in charge of things and have his will and instruction be absolutely the right thing? the very thing that Eddie needs? that's such a heady experience, such a rush, and when he makes Eddie beg and cry with it and Eddie loves loves loves Buck for it—loves Buck for telling him how it should be and for Buck insisting on what he's giving being what Eddie deserves—that is Buck living and thriving and loving loving loving Eddie right back, with all the plundering depth that he has in him and can give and is... and that, all of that, is just. how it is. every facet of it; every logistic; every angle; every way and any way you look at it; every (s)which way.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ two lovers entwined, pass me by

"and heaven knows i'm miserable now" —the smiths

content: leo valdez x roman! reader

╰┈▸ back cover: what if leo gets a little too tired of being the seventh wheel, wait- ninth wheel? (and meets a girl who is a d1 hater)

╰┈▸ warnings: leo and yn dont hate hate couples its a joke okay (unless its not a joke anymore pls give them love-) cursing, maybe ooc reyna? NOT canon compliant, a bit of angst but overall its silly

librarian's annotations: this is now my fav work if u guys dont like it then dont tell me pls 😣

leo was tired. sick and tired of everyone's public displays of affection! can they at least have the decency to romance each other in the privacy of their own rooms!? he did not build ten of them for no reason! there was absolutely no way they needed to suck face at the dining table. like, right in front of his food!?

okay, he was being a bit dramatic. the most everyone was willing to do in public was hold hands. and maybe share a kiss. but that was a kiss too much! and wasn't reyna supposed to off doing (cool) praetor shit!? ever since her and jason made up, leo has not been able to catch a break! can they stop eyefucking each other already!? (they are simply staring into one another's eyes)

"guys." leo swept his gaze over the dining table. he was seated at the end, giving him an unwarranted view of everyone paired up. apparently, love is also deaf, since no one turned their head to him.

"guys!" leo raised his voice. would he be heard over the sound of their unspoken conversations? heads finally spun to look at him, as if they just remembered he was there.

"can you guys like, eat? or do this-" he gestured widely. "elsewhere? and by elsewhere i mean not in front of me."

they all managed to give him the exact same look that was a mix of embarrassment at being called out, and something that said "poor leo, he's so single!" oh come on! jason made it even worse by putting a—what was supposed to be—comforting hand on his arm. "it's okay, leo. i'm sure you'll find someone one day."

this was not funny at all. and leo would know; he's the funniest guy ever! he snatched his arm away with an utterly aghast expression. "ew! get your pity off of me!" he shuddered, playing up the theatrics and wiped his forearm over jason, giving him his couple-cooties back.

the blond reeled back, laughing at his best friend's antics. "what was that for!?"

"don't act like you don't know!" he sneered accusingly.

nights were always the worst for leo. they were quiet, and not the calm, peaceful quiet when he would stay out and watch the sun set, the time before his happiness came to an end. it was an empty quiet, devoid of the laughter he caused, his thoughts become louder to fill up the silence.

(it was night when his mother died, when he had burned down the warehouse. when he had killed her. it was night when he awoke to the front door slamming, the sounds of drunken yells and glass splintering were backing instruments in an interlude of impending misery as he waits for the sun to shine once again. it was night when he ran away, with nothing more than his heavy heart and some left over change.)

leo's thoughts ran rampant with the feelings he kept in a glass box. always there, always seen, very fragile yet rarely opened. sometimes he would shake it a little too hard, and it would come crashing down like a bottle of alcohol, spilling insecurities instead of wine.

tonight was one of those times.

he doesn't know what brought it on. well, he lied; it was the sight of everyone at dinner, looking happy and complete without him. but he was used to it. it shouldn't have bothered him this much. but the more he let it stew, the more it hurt. leo loved his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of resentment at how easy it was for them to make up, make out. hell, even piper got a girlfriend, a mortal one at that! between traveling and fighting monsters, he didn't even know that was possible. what about him was so unlovable?

as he tossed and turned to shake off the voices in his head, he knew that this would be another sleepless night.

today was going to be a good day; leo could feel it in his gut. the skies were clear, there were no monsters coming to wake them up, and the engine was running smoothly. he had time to work on his little projects all day today! he hummed a tune as he walked to the engine room, or his work room for today, and spun a wrench in his hand. maybe he had a little skip to his saunter, a pep in his step. something about today was just so-

his gut lied to him. (maybe he was hungry?) the wrench clattered to the ground as he came to an abrupt stop. "oh. my. gods." leo paused between every word to further emphasize his disdain.

the sight was scandalous, completely and irrevocably scandalous. like, i-need-to-wash-my-brain-out scandalous. and leo was so not being dramatic this time.

percy and annabeth flinched away from each other in a half-asleep fumble, trying to act as if they had not just been caressing each other's bodies mere moments ago. (okay, maybe he was being dramatic again) this wasn't even a romantic place to do that! and leo would know, he's such a romantic guy. what was the purpose of his hard work of making bedrooms if they were just going to sneak off and desecrate his beloved engine room!?

"frank catching you two once wasn't enough?" leo huffed and bent down to pick up his dropped tool. "now i have to see the two of you fraternizing in my domain!?"

"that's not even the proper word-" annabeth had tried to hold back, but the urge to correct him was too much.

"i don't care! shoo!"

leo was so done. his perfect day had been ruined first thing in the morning! now it was late, he was tired, and he was finally heading back to his room to get some much needed rest after holing himself up all day working on random knick-knacks. a soft noise caught his attention. it was dim, the lights low since him and annabeth wanted to save electricity. he felt the familiar dread in his stomach. there was absolutely no way this could be happening.

"we shouldn't do this here..." wait, was that reyna?

"i know.. but i'm gonna miss you when you leave." no. no. NO. the direction the two very very familiar voices were coming from was right in front of the hallway to his bedroom. "please?"

leo was torn. he didn't want to walk in on them, but he couldn't spend another night in the engine room! he wanted his comfy bed right now!

he slapped a hand over his eyes and stepped heavily on the wooden floorboards, giving them a much needed warning. he heard the sound of fabric and shuffling, a satisfied smirk gracing his face.

"are you guys decent?" leo asked, still squeezing his eyes shut under his hand.

jason huffed, no doubt red in the face. "it's not like we weren't in the first place."

leo dared to open his eyes, finding that not only was his face red, but there were bruises starting to dapple his neck. ew. he did not want to think about how that came to be. "uh huh. well go and canoodle somewhere not in front of my room, please and thank you."

"canoodle?"

"reyna i told you, i don't wanna go!" you grumbled akin to a toddler, despite your status as the centurion of the first cohort. you took off your armor, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. "i don't need to see you and mister perfect canoodling in front of me!"

the praetor snorted and shook her head. "'canoodling?' you're the second person i've heard use that word this week." she paused, a thoughtful expression passing over her face. "you guys would get along well, i think. anyways, i'm not asking as a friend, i'm ordering you as praetor."

oh that was so unbelievably low! "what!? reynaa!" you stretched out the end of her name in an embarrassingly childish whine. good thing it was just the two of you here, otherwise no one would let you live it down. "i thought they were supposed to be going soon anyway!?"

"you heard me. and no, they're staying for a couple more nights. something about the engine being broken again?" she shrugged, an amused glimmer breaking through her usually serious front. "besides, we have a lot to discuss about the whole gaea thing, and who better to bring than you? you're my right hand woman."

you tried to hide a smile at her words, but sweet-talk always won you over. "ugh, fine. i guess i'll go."

something was up. you knew that from the moment she asked you to "wear something other than purple for once." who even owned anything but purple!? heck, you didn't even know reyna had different clothes outside of uniform! was that even allowed? you'd only ever seen her wear the same shirt as you, and a toga if the event accounted for it.

you sifted through your wardrobe, digging through masses of violet and coming up blank. oh well, guess its uniform time again. not that you minded all that much.

"you are changing." reyna shook her head, giving you a disappointed look only a mother could offer. this wasn't even a big deal! what was so wrong with your shirt? you rather liked purple!

"but why!? what better way to represent rome than this?" you gestured to your clothing. "aren't we talking business? also this is like the only shirt i have."

"because-"

"you just wanna look all pretty for your boyfriend." you cut her off, faking a gag. "doesn't mean i have to look pretty."

her shoulders tensed and you drew back, already anticipating her near-fatal blow.

"reyna? you know i was just kidding- OW!"

"-wait this is so my color actually." you checked yourself in her mirror. who knew reyna had fashion sense? although not much was required for a simple shirt and jeans.

she nodded and got to her feet. "suits you well. consider it my apology."

"huh? apology for what? for hitting me? aww you're so-"

"no. for what's about to happen to you." a solemn expression took over her face. she was well aware of your exaggerated hatred for couples. maybe you were just a bitter single, but she wasn't about to tell you that. she hoped you would soon be taken (not literally) and stop harassing her for her romantic escapades.

that was ominous. should you be scared for your life? "what the hell does that even mean?"

oh. now you knew exactly what it meant. as the two of you boarded the argo ii, she was immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by jason, as if he couldn't bear to let her go ever again. you almost threw up at the sight. how could your beloved best friend be reduced to a lovesick schoolgirl at the touch of a man!? a man that had forgotten her! (and remembered, and apologized, and confessed his love- okay, you were starting to see her side quite clearly)

you turned your head away entirely, not wanting to see all that. but everywhere you looked, a new couple seemed to pop up. it was like your worst nightmare come to life. percy and annabeth? piper and some girl? frank and hazel? holding hands? since when were they a thing!? sweet hazel and shy frank? they were—admittedly—adorable, but still!

your only respite was leo looking just as exasperated as you. he must have it way worse; he had to live here with all of them. you shuddered. you were glad you weren't in his place right now.

you stood awkwardly to the side as they reunited. do they do this all the time? and everyone's just cool with it? maybe they can relate, with their taken-ness and all. ugh.

leo peeked at you curiously from the corner of his eye. your expression was as clear as day, face scrunched up in disdain as he traced your gaze to the practically infinite amount of couples onboard. he nodded internally, knowing exactly how you were feeling. but hey, he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you stay unhappy on his ship, not if he could help it!

"hey there," leo said smoothly, or as smooth as he could be after he had almost tripped on the crack between the floorboards. "i'm leo."

finally! someone had the decency to entertain you. "i know you! you're the guy that made octavian throw a hissy fit for firing at new rome!" shit, was that a weird thing to say for a first time interaction? too late now.

the brunette cringed at the mention of his possession. "uh, that's not what most people know me by, but yeah..?"

"oh? and what do most people know you by?" consider yourself intrigued.

leo perked up at your question, having been given an amazing opportunity to charm you. "well obviously it's my rugged good looks, and ingenious inventions, and-"

"we're starting dinner now!" jason called out from the dining table, before recieving an elbow to the gut from reyna and a harsh whisper from piper.

you were lost in your thoughts, zoning out as everyone spoke around you. leo's actually kinda... a tiny part of you popped the idea into your head. he was kinda, indeed. gods, i hate couples. a much larger portion of your mind seemed to yell. do you, or do you just hate being single? you asked yourself. huh. well it's probably-

a cough to your left caught your attention. it was leo. when his brown eyes met yours, you couldn't see a trace of that same boy who was described a traitor and a freak for firing at new rome. maybe something really did possess him.

"wanna know how i built this ship?" he asked excitedly. it was clear that the argo ii was his pride and joy.

"yeah!" you grinned, his cheerfulness rubbing off on you. who cares if he fired on new rome anymore? that was so last tuesday.

"so first, i had this cool metal dragon..."

unbeknownst to you, annabeth whispered across the table to reyna. "i think it's working?"

so, the dinner wasn't anything about business. you did learn a ton from leo though! that was business enough wasn't it? still, you couldn't help the pang of guilt that came with not getting anything work-related done. it was practically in your genes as a roman.

"y/n! you should stay the night!" hazel encouraged from the sofa across you. she was met with choruses of yeahs! and you shoulds! by the other girls, including reyna.

"oh!" you laughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely turn them down. as much as you would love to stay and get to know them, you had a job to do. even if that job was getting all the legionnaires in your cohort to bed by curfew. (like seriously, the amount of times you've had to reel in couples you caught sneaking out was crazy. maybe that's where your hatred came from.) "i'd love to, but i have... centurion duties and all that."

"but reyna has praetor duties and she's staying," annabeth argued. her gray eyes shone with an intensity you only saw on the battlefield. what was going on?

that was new information to you. "you're staying?" you questioned your friend, who looked away with a hint of embarrassment.

"jason's leaving soon," she coughed. after being apart for so long, you could hardly blame her for wanting a little more time with him. "but that's besides the point. you should stay."

you crossed your arms, trying to come up with another excuse. "uh, i don't have clothes to change into?" it was a weak attempt, but you hoped it would work.

"i can lend you some," hazel piped up from the side, obviously eager to make you stay.

aw. she was always so nice. but you had a feeling there was an underlying motive you just couldn't figure out.

you tried again. "i don't think there's a spare room for me to sleep in."

"there's an empty one by leo," piper pointed out.

well, that was it. they refuted all your claims and left you no choice but to stay. you heaved a sigh and relented. "fine."

you weren't sure how it happened, but you ended up with leo again. so much for girls night. but you couldn't complain, leo was good company. he never let the silence stew between you guys for too long, always switching between one topic to the next, until somehow, you were both talking shit about your pathetic love lives and the insufferable ones of those around you.

"you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught these people! i swear, they can never keep it in their pants for more than two seconds! it's like, trauma at this point!" you rolled your eyes, absolutely abhorring the new legionnaires in your cohort.

leo laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. he looked over his shoulder, before leaning in as if telling you a secret. "like two days ago, i caught jason and reyna making out! he had hickies all over his neck!"

you gasped at the scandalous behavior of the two most serious people you knew. "what!? no way..."

the curly-haired boy nodded vehemently. "yes way! it was so gross."

eventually, it was time for the both of you to say your goodnights. leo led you to your room, giving you a cheeky wink before he retreated into his own. you shut the door, and threw yourself into bed.

maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, maybe it was the fact that you were way up in the air, or maybe it was leo running circles around your mind. whatever the reason was, you couldn't sleep. or maybe you chose not to, just to have an excuse to see the stars. the time when they were out was the only time you'd allow yourself a break.

you crept out of the room, careful not to make noise as you made your way out onto the deck. the air was crisp, a gentle bite against your skin. it seemed that the god of the sky was on your side tonight, for the clouds were nowhere to be seen, only the full moon of artemis and the familiar stars shone. you made yourself comfy on the floor, leaning back against the railing as you took a deep breath.

it would be another night of no sleep for leo, that much he could tell. he groaned into his pillow. he couldn't tell if it was the new crush already forming on you, or his angst from a few days before. regardless, his nervous energy made him get up and pace the room, fidgeting with a screw he found on the floor. with footsteps light, he traveled the small area, before something told him to get some fresh air. he obliged. it was better than being in his stuffy room.

as he went up the stairs to the upper level, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. leo's curiosity spiked. he walked closer, the image of you coming into view. your eyes locked on his, a soft smile gracing your face at seeing him. "hey."

"hey." leo dipped his head in greeting, and sat down beside you. "mind if i sit here?"

you shook your head and returned your gaze to the starry night sky, a comfortable silence settling between you two, with only the tapping of leo's fingers against the floor filling the air. it was different, being alone with him. he seemed different. he was quieter, more mellow.

"i hate nights." leo blurted out, breaking the peace you two had shared.

"really?" you asked softly. he braced himself with the condescending remark that was sure to come after, but it never came. instead he received a genuine interest from you. "why's that?"

the boy felt his heart beat a little faster. was he really going to tell you, a girl he barely knew, his whole life story? perhaps it was the late hour that made him want to spill everything out. or the feeling that stirred whenever he looked at you, like magnets attracting. and so he did.

and you listened without any interruption, never followed up with that remark he was waiting for, never gave him the pity he hated. instead, you followed up with your own story.

"i love nights. for me, it's the only time i really feel free. when everyone else is asleep, and it's just you and the stars. away from all the rules." you looked up. they seemed so close from here, way up in the floating ship. they twinkled like glitter, flashing heys and hellos and nice to see you agains. it was beautiful.

leo admired you the way you did the stars. they reflected off your eyes and made your irises shine, the same way fire casted a diffused glow on everything around it. maybe nights weren't so bad after all, if every one of them would be spent with you.

and when you leaned against him to rest your head on his shoulder, whispering secrets into his ear? oh, caligula would have blushed. (leo knows he sure did)

"operation get leo a girlfriend, complete!"

"i thought we were calling it operation get y/n a boyfriend?"

"whatever. operation leoy/n is a success!"

"...you know we can hear you guys, right?"

[naomihatake]

Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought. 

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence. 

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head. 

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem. 

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them. 

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other. 

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant. 

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on. 

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her. 

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations. 

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss. 

God fucking dammit. 

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless. 

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie. 

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream. 

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him. 

Kuina. 

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep. 

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away. 

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh. 

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts. 

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence. 

A witch, indeed. 

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest. 

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him. 

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it. 

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers. 

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves. 

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words. 

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures. 

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different. 

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it. 

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze. 

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered. 

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret. 

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through. 

The question made her shrug. 

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?” 

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight. 

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life. 

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking. 

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms. 

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.” 

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air. 

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.” 

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others. 

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought. 

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.” 

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience. 

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing. 

What was she thinking? 

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up. 

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles. 

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it. 

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.” 

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand. 

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened? 

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not. 

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore. 

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him. 

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome. 

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up. 

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him. 

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs. 

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it. 

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good. 

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome. 

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago. 

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress. 

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea. 

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure. 

“Nightmares again?” 

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch. 

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again. 

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it. 

“Are you alright?” she blurted out. 

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking. 

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts. 

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.” 

“And you?” 

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.” 

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?” 

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile. 

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”. 

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages. 

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her. 

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements. 

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair. 

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better. 

She was a remedy. His remedy. 

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze. 

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad. 

[galactiquest]

We all know how touch starved Knives is but what if his s/o was also touch starved to the point of clinging on to him like a kola or a backpack. Just thought it may be funny that he's just acts like it's just the norm walking around with his s/o hanging off him.

Touch-starved Knives? I'm already there. I'm in the theater, Anon. I've got my popcorn and my large drink and I'm ready.

This idea was so cute to me I decided to write you some little imagines and a bite-sized ficlet, too! Hope you enjoy!

Millions Knives x Reader: Touchy

Content Warnings: None again, just tooth-rotting fluff. Doesn't have any specific Knives incarnation in mind, since they're all ever-so untouched and in need of touching.

First off, don't expect him to outright admit anything, ever. Knives is very much a "if I don't think about it, it'll go away" kind of guy. So there's no way he'll ever come up to you and be like hey, guess who didn't get enough skin-to-skin contact as a growing youth, this guyyyy. But do expect him to start getting clingy once he realizes he can.

It's like getting your first taste of your new favorite food. Now that you've had it, you can't get enough. Suddenly he's pressing his hand up to yours while standing next to you (not handholding, he tried this once and got overwhelmed and had to go bite something for a while). Or he's hovering behind you, resting his head on yours. Or he's laying next to you, tracing patterns across your arm/shoulder/back/whatever's available and allowed to be touched.

It's one thing if you're fine with touch. But if you're touch-starved like him, on the other hand? You're trying to sap that same affection from him. Since he's quick to overwhelm (as previously stated) it can be hard at times, but he slowly, surely, gets used to the sensations of pressure and touch that aren't violent or painful, just kind and pleasurable.

So, the touch becomes more constant, more level, more in-tune with each other. It starts feeling very natural. And that natural-ness feels great.

Hugs. So many hugs. That feeling of pressure between the two of you is relaxing and reassuring. (Also you totally get pressed into those "airbags" of his if you know what I mean.) He's so precise with his movements that he can hold you at the exact tightness that makes you feel the best. Who needs a weighted blanket when you have the Compression Boyfriend?

Koala backpacking? Absolutely. 100%. Crawl all over this man. Crawl up him like a vine. He's so used to it by now, he just lets it happen, even in the middle of work. Sometimes he'll pretend you're not there, just for the giggles. Completely straight-faced, but makes you laugh like mad.

If this is Stampede Knives we're specifically talking about (though I personally think the other Knives do this too) then you get to sit next to him, or even on his lap, while he's at the piano. No naughty business--just being close to each other while he plays the keys. Or maybe he'll ghost his hands over yours and show you how to play/follow your playing, if you already know how.

Alright, a little ficlet below the cut just for you.

"...My liege."

"What?"

Legato frowned at the sight before him. There was important business to be done, and here Master Knives was, fooling around. Letting you, the human he'd bonded with, crawl all over him like an insect.

"If nothing's amiss, Legato, then let's get to work." Knives huffed and picked up the paperwork from the table.

You shifted around slightly on his back, head resting on his shoulder, watching as he shuffled through the papers. This was one of your little games with him--you'd hang out on his back, literally, and he'd pretend you weren't there. He didn't care about the game, really, but it made you laugh. And if it made you laugh (one of his favorite sounds, if he had any), it was worth it.

"...Master Knives."

"Spit it out."

"Get that human off your back."

Knives growled. "That human has a name, you know. Besides, there's no human on my back."

You stifled a laugh as you looked at Legato, mouth twisting downwards in a frown.

"Yes, there is." Legato pointed. "They're right there!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Knives shook his head, then turned around to procure some more files from a shelf. As he turned, you looked back to Legato and stuck your tongue out at him.

"You arrogant little--"

"Legato," Knives grunted. "If you mean to insult me, I'll gladly slice you open."

Legato fumed, then finally spoke again. "Not at all, my liege."

"Good." Knives leaned over to rub his head against yours for just a moment, then returned towards Legato. "Then, let's get to work."

End Notes: I have a soft spot for Knives. And a soft spot for Knives learning to love, well, love. This is also dedicated to my friend who lets me shout about Knives at them. You're the best, K!

[hyunjilicious]

First time with shy and insecure Felix??? Only if it's ok! Thank you!

🥺🥺 this was very adorable to think about!! I'm not sure about how it turned out tho, I hope it's decent!

Warnings: none really, it's very soft!! just unprotected sex, and also a brief description of oral (f receiving) (SMUT) 1k

Puffy and swollen, his lips parted softly to allow a low his to rush past them. His eye brows gathered together, here and there covered by the little strands of hair that fell prey to the layers of sweat that coated his forehead - his cheeks were red, burning hot to the touch, and his breathing matched his distressed expression.

“Easy, it’s ok” you cooed, cupping his face into your hands.

His innocent eyes snapped up and met yours, looking absolutely helpless and completely at your mercy. “Mhm,” Felix licked his lips and nodded, “Ok”

“Here” you said and guided on his hands to your hip, “Guide me, show me how fast you want it”

Now, he may have known exactly what he wanted, but overwhelmed as he was, even such a simple task as this one made his breath hitch in his throat. “Ok…”

Seeing the terrified look in his eyes, you softly pressed your lips against his, “It’s ok, baby, I promise”

But was it really? God knows he dreamed of this moment for so long, that he imagined every little thing over and over again, every single little detail every time he got the chance, but now it was different, unimaginably better. And there you were, sweet and patient, fully composed and calm unlike him, and the fact that he already felt like he was about to burst the second you straddled his hips, wasn’t of any help. Right now, you weren’t moving and he dreaded the fact that any second now you’d start rolling your hips and he knew he'd be done in the blink of an eye.

“I didn’t-” he cringed, “I didn’t think you’d be this tight”

You grinned, “You like it?”

“I’ll cum if you move” he said shortly and it made you giggle.

“I can stay like this for a while if you want” you pecked his lips, “Or I can make you cum… over and over again, you tell me”

Felix opened his mouth to speak but then stopped abruptly to wipe his forehead, “Fuck, I just- I didn’t want to cum this fast”

“Why not? I can’t wait to feel your cum dripping out of me” your words got to him more than you thought they would, translated into a sharp buck of his hips up into you and a soft, little moan against your lips.

“I don’t- I don’t want to be one of those guys that just- just like… I want it to feel good for you too”

“First of all, just because one of us cums, it doesn’t mean that the fun has to end. And second of all-” you grabbed his hand and guided it between your bodies. The very subtle movement of your hips made him cry out in pleasure, his cock slipping halfway out of you. His eyes widened - another thing he didn’t know would rock him so hard - the sight of his glistering cock, drenched with your juices, disappearing between your folds. “Should’ve probably let it show more, but I thought that if I pretended to be calm and unbothered it would help you relax. I didn’t think I needed to tell you, but it feels very good for me too, Lixie. Filling me up so good”

With his chest shiny and rapidly traveling up and down, Felix looked up, “Promise?”

“I promise, baby” you smiled.

He then fervently nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat, “Ok, then”

Again, you grabbed his hands and placed them on his hips, “Guide me”

His touch was feather light, he wasn’t doing much - not at first at least. But you did your best to follow his lead and slowly started rolling your hips against his, the friction making your eyes flutter shut just as you cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips.

The deeper the kiss got, the more confidence he had - his fingers sinking into your skin, his cock rock hard and ready to coat your walls at any second. But despite running out of air at a dangerously fast pace, he didn’t want to pull away from your lips, his tongue just becoming greedier and greedier until, despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, ok-” he panted, his forehead against yours, “I’m gonna-”

“Come on” you cut him off, picking up your pace, and fucking yourself down on his cock, “Cum inside me, baby, come on”

You rode him throughout the entirety of his high, feeding on the way your name rolled off his lips along with little moans and guttural grunts of pure pleasure, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. You kept going until he met your eyes, and then progressively slowed down until you reached a stop. 

With an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach but still not close enough to be chased right away, you savored the feeling of his cock pulsating against your sensitive walls, his cum dripping down your cunt, and his heaving chest against yours. 

"How are you feeling, Lixie?" you asked, rubbing his lower lip with your thumb. 

"So fucking good" he chuckled, as if in disbelief, and then kissed your finger. "I love you so much"

"I love you too, baby" you said, kissing his jaw, and you remained like that for a couple of more moments, before finally pulling away. "I, ugh, I'll go clean up a bit"

Swiftly, his eyes traveled down your body, to your parted legs and to the way his cum coated your pussy and slowly dripped out. "Fuck, you look so hot like that" he sighed.

Without saying a word, you brushed two of your fingers along your cunt to gather as much of his cum as you could. Felix watched you wordlessly and couldn't help but blush when he saw you stick your fingers in your mouth and suck, "You taste so good, Lixie!"

"Can I?" he blurted before he could stop himself and the second you nodded yes, he went for it. 

Arms wrapped around your thighs as they rested on his shoulders, he got lost between your legs, his lips instantly pressing to your cunt and his tongue diving right in. 

It may have been sloppy, and he may not have known what he was doing, but after stopping a couple of times to ask for instructions - which he followed to a T, he drove you to one of the most liberating orgasms of your life, leaving you absolutely nothing else other than a moaning, panting mess under him.

[everliving-everblaze]

Fitz's characterization is so interesting and so hard. He's both very kind AND a bit of an entitled jerk, and most people only manage to capture one of the two.

I think this is well-illustrated in the first few chapters of the series. Fitz and Sophie spend a lot of these chapters rolling their eyes and sniping at each other, because they both have an attitude about the whole thing. In particular, Fitz has his attitude about elvin superiority, and Sophie immediately responds to that negatively.

He'd never heard of Albert Einstein? The theory of relativity was dumb? She wasn't sure how to argue. He seemed so ridiculously confident—it was unnerving.

On the other hand, it's very clear that Fitz's heart is in the right place (or at least, a well-meaning place). He has his attitude of elvin superiority, but he's thrilled to welcome Sophie into it as well.

Fitz nudged her arm. "Hey. It's not your fault. You believed what they taught you—I'm sure I'd have done the same thing. But it's time you knew the truth. This is how the world really works. It's not magic. It's just how it is."

(And undoubtedly, he's right. He would have believed what he'd been taught—he did, just different beliefs!)

The thing is, Sophie doesn't particularly want to jump aboard the elvin superiority train that he's so excited about.

"Well, it's like you're saying, 'Hey, Sophie, take everything you've ever learned about anything and throw it away.'" "Actually, that is what I'm saying." He flashed a smug grin. "Humans do the best they can—but their minds can't begin to comprehend the complexities of reality." "And what, elves' minds are better?" "Of course.

Fitz reads as a total jerk with what he's saying! He's completely ignorant of the fact that his belief that humans are stupid and evil is like, gonna hurt Sophie's feelings. Because that's what he's been taught!

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Fitz's character is hugely about prejudice, about people who believe what they are taught, even though it's wrong. And his character is about those people who then have to relearn their beliefs!

Fitz makes so much progress throughout the series in combating his own prejudice, largely through befriending Sophie. His character arc is one of my absolute favorites from any media, ever. I've gone through a lot of the same things he has, having to learn about prejudice and deal with my own biases, the lies that I was taught. His character is very meaningful to me!

But I think that's a piece that so often gets missed when people try to capture Fitz's character. Some people only see the bad parts and choose to portray him as totally evil. Some people focus on the good parts and portray him as more of a victim.

But I don't think either interpretation is totally right. Fitz is nuanced. He means well and truly tries to be kind within his worldview, and once he truly starts to realize his worldview is bad, he works on it! That's way more than a lot of people do. But he he makes a lot of mistakes along the way.

That's a fascinating, relevant character. And that's why he'll always be one of my favorites.