#again not making any sense just getting thoughts out

[requiemforthepoets]

Would you be interested in writing something for Oscar? I feel like he would be the perfect guy to have your firsts with, so understanding and cute like imagine having your first kiss with him. He would be so understanding and would kiss you with so much care and ugh I need me a man like him☹️ would you be down to write something like that?

in a world full of wrong, you’re the only thing that’s right 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: the idea of falling in love scares you, but at the same time, you long for it. wanting to experience how it feels like having someone by your side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you for your request! i’m sorry that this one took days, i had already finished the original version of this one, but i was not happy with it so i scraped it off and decided to write a new one. i had also took some creative liberty if it’s alright with you. i hope that this one is up to your expectations. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, no use of y/n, traditional upbringing, reader is an only daughter, overthinking, anxiety, fear of falling in love, and some fluff

You had never been in a relationship before Oscar. In fact, you had no idea what being in love was even supposed to feel like at all. So when your friends came to you, venting about their partners or asking for some advice, you would just sit there, nodding along, and pretending to understand everything that they were saying. But the truth was that you were clueless. You had never experienced the ups and down that they spoke of. No fights over silly things, no making up with heartfelt apologies, no lingering fear of being left behind. Part of you had always wondered what it would feel like to have someone special, someone to lean on, but another part of you was terrified–utterly terrified of the vulnerability, terrified of the idea that maybe one day, that person you end up with could hurt you.

You had been raised in a traditional household, the kind where dating wasn’t just for fun, but that is meant to last with the intention of marriage. Your parents always told you to be very careful, that relationships were serious and sacred. It doesn’t help that you are an only child as well, so your parents can be really overprotective of you. So, when you found yourself daydreaming about having a boyfriend, the thought would always come with a sense of guilt. You’d see your friends with their partners and wish, even just for a second, that you could have that too. But then again, these fears would creep in–what if he cheated? What if he wasn’t who you thought he was? What if you weren’t enough? The doubts swirled around in your head constantly. But then, everything changed when you met Oscar.

You met him in a way that you never expected you would. It was during a vacation in Monaco with some friends. The week had been loud and chaotic–late night dinners, laughter, and a bit of madness here and there. Needing some peace and quiet, you decided to stroll around by yourself. The streets of Monaco were breathtaking, and you let yourself get lost in the gorgeous scenery, with your thoughts floating somewhere far away. So far that you didn’t even notice the guy speeding towards you on his bike. Before you knew it, he swerved, narrowly avoiding a collision, but you lost your balance and tumbled to the ground.

“Shit! Are you okay?” The voice was concerned but soft, and when you looked up, you saw a pair of worried eyes staring down at you. He had already jumped off his bike and was holding out his hand to help you up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Oscar said, pulling you to your feet gently. His touch was warm and cautious, as if he was afraid you’d break.

“No, no, I should have been paying attention,” you quickly brushed it off, though your heart was racing for more reasons than just the fall. Up close, he was…well, you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or something else, but he was strikingly handsome. You didn’t know if it was love at first sight or from the shock of falling, but something inside you shifted in that moment.

“You sure you’re okay? I feel terrible about this.” He frowned slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. “Let me take you to a hospital, just in case.”

You laughed nervously. “I’m fine, really. There’s no need for that.”

He didn’t seem convinced at all, but after some insistence, Oscar backed off. “Alright, if you’re sure. At least let me make it up to you. How about some coffee? My treat.”

Well, that’s pretty much how it all began. One coffee turned into another, then into long conversations about everything and nothing. You couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to talk to him. Usually you’d find yourself nervous around guys, but he was kind, thoughtful, and never made you feel uncomfortable and pressured. Slowly, those coffee dates turned into something more, and before you know it, Oscar had asked you to be his girlfriend. Though you couldn’t help but cringe when you thought back to the moment you said yes to him. You had never been so flustered, unsure of how to respond, that instead of a kiss like a normal person, you just gave him a hug. A damn hug. You had felt his arms wrap around you tightly, his laughter vibrating in his chest.

“So I take it that it’s a yes, then?” he had asked, his voice teasing but soft.

You had nodded into his shoulder, very embarrassed beyond belief. But Oscar being Oscar, he didn't care. He hadn’t even brought it up afterwards, as if he’d expect nothing more than that simple embrace–and that’s what you loved about him. Oscar never pushed you, never made you feel like you always had to rush into anything. He was patient and understanding in a way that felt comforting. Sometimes, late at night, you would lie next to him, just staring at the ceiling, wondering how you got so lucky. The fears you once had, the doubts that plagued your mind–none of them seemed to matter anymore every time you are with him.

One evening, after spending the day together exploring the city, you found yourselves sitting on a park bench, watching the sunset. It was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence that you loved and felt like home.

“Do you ever wonder if this is all real?” you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper. Oscar turned to look at you, his expression gentle. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…sometimes I just can’t believe this is happening. I never thought I’d be in a relationship like this. Felt overwhelming and surreal sometimes.” he smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his. “I get it. I never thought I’d meet someone like you either.”

You blushed at his words, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, squeezing your hand lightly. “You don’t have to worry, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

At that moment, you knew. You knew very well that all the fears you once had, all the time you had spent overthinking and countless anxiety–they didn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore. With Oscar, you felt safe, loved, and secured in a way you had never imagined. He wasn’t just your first boyfriend, he was your first in everything–the first person to show you what love really felt like.

Six months into your relationship with Oscar, you had managed to avoid what most people would consider a natural part of being a couple–kissing him on the lips. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, hell you definitely do want to kiss him so badly, to the point you had daydreamed about it plenty of times, thinking about how his lips might feel against yours. But every time you thought about it, your mind would spin, and your nerves would take over. You’d never kissed anyone before, and the idea of messing up, of completely not knowing what to do, terrified the shit out of you. Sure, you had kissed him on the cheeks, hugged him endlessly, but never once had your lips touched his. You couldn’t help but wonder how Oscar was so patient with you, how he never complained or pushed for more, he was very understanding in a way that made you feel safe. Sometimes, you even questioned how he could be satisfied or survived with just a few cheek kisses.

Yes, you had been raised in such a traditional household, but Oscar was special–so incredibly special–that the pressure you put on yourself to make the moment perfect felt overwhelming. Still, you knew that at some point, you’d have to gather the courage to just do it. But every time you tried to psych yourself up, you’d just freeze, thinking about it drove you crazy. There would be times where you’d hear people joke about you being a prude, or wonder aloud how anyone could go long without kissing their partner on the lips, but the truth was, you were just terrified.

Then came Baku. It was Oscar’s second win at the Baku Grand Prix, and you had traveled to the race with his family to cheer him on. The excitement in the air was evident as you stood by the barricades at the Parc Fermé, anxiously waiting for him to climb out of his car. Your heart raced as you watched him pull into the P1 space, his car coming to a stop, and pulled himself out of the cockpit.

Your heart nearly stopped when he stumbled slightly as he got on the top of his car, and you had to suppress the urge to vault over the barrier to make sure he was okay. But Oscar quickly steadied himself, he then pulled off his helmet and balaclava in one smooth motion, his hair a sweaty mess, but his eyes bright with victory. Oscar spotted you instantly, a wide grin breaking out across his face as he ran quickly towards you, and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in his arms. You held him tightly, feeling the energy and adrenaline coursing through him as he hugged you back.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered against his shoulder, the words almost lost in the noise of the crowd. “You were incredible.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands finding their place gently on your cheeks. His thumb brushed your skin softly, and for a brief moment, the noise of the world around you seemed to fade away. He gazed at you with so much love in his eyes, the kind that made your heart flutter. Oscar had always been patient, understanding, never once pressuring you into anything you weren’t ready for. He knew about your fears, about how you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, but you had never told him why. Even without knowing the full reason, he had always respected your space and waited for you to feel comfortable.

But something was different today. The way he looked at you was different, and you felt it too–a shift inside you, a calmness you hadn’t expected. You weren’t scared at this moment, not with him. Somehow, Oscar seemed to sense that change too. He smiled softly, his hands still cradling your face as he leaned in just slightly.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, giving you the chance to back out if you needed to.

Your heart raced in your chest, feeling like it was gonna leap out from your chest, but for the first time in months, it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of love, out of excitement, out of knowing that this was the moment. You smiled up at him, nodding gently. That was all he needed.

Oscar’s touch remained as gentle as ever, his hands caressing your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was familiar, comforting, something he’d done a thousand times before. Then, he kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle softly, your nerves starting to melt away. Then finally, he leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

The world seemed to stop as his lips met yours, soft and warm, and everything you had feared about this moment vanished. It wasn’t awkward or overwhelming like you had imagined–it was simple, perfect. Oscar kissed you gently, not rushing, not pushing for more than you were ready for. It was the kind of kiss that made you feel safe, like he was letting you know that this was just the beginning, and there was no need to rush. When he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling softly, sharing a private moment amidst the chaos of the race celebrations around you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Oscar teased you lightly, his voice warm and full of affection. You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I guess not,” you whispered, hands still resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Oscar smiled, kissing your forehead again, and you knew in that moment that no matter how scared you had been before, being with him made everything feel right.

Later that evening, after all the chaos of the podium celebrations, press interviews, and flood of congratulatory messages, you found yourself in a much quieter setting with Oscar and his family. The energy from the race still buzzed in the air, but there was a sense of calm now, a comfortable warmth that filled the room as you all gathered around for a private celebration. You felt so at home with his family, like you were part of the family, and in moments like these, you couldn’t help but think of how lucky you were to have Oscar and this incredible group of people who treated you with so much love.

Dinner was simple but perfect, the conversation flowing easily between stories of the race and light-hearted teasing. You were sitting beside Oscar, with your hand resting comfortably under the table, something that felt so natural now, like an unspoken connection between the two of you. He would glance over at you every now and then, giving you that boyish smile that made your heart skip a beat every time. The moment you shared earlier at the track still lingered in your mind–your first kiss. It felt surreal, but in the best way possible.

After the dinner, Oscar had asked if he can spend the remainder of the night with you alone, to have some private moment. His family agreed and a few teasing had been made as well, but you and Oscar just laughed. By then, you decided to return to the hotel, to have some private and alone time with each other. Oscar sat beside you on the couch, his arms draped casually around your shoulders, pulling you close. His fingers played lightly with a strand of your hair as you leaned into him, your head resting on his chest. The bustling noise of the city seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that kiss all night,” Oscar whispered suddenly, his voice low so only you could hear him. Your cheeks flushed, and you turned slightly to look up at him, your lips curling into a shy smile. “Yeah? What about our kiss?”

He grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. “It was worth the wait. I’ve been waiting for that moment since the day I met you. Being it during my win made it more special.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully, though the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. “You’re just saying that.” Oscar chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently over your shoulder. “I’m serious. I’m not sure you realize how patient I’ve had to be. But you’re worth every second.”

You felt your heart was about to combust at his words, and you felt yourself melt a little more into his side. There was something about the way Oscar always knew how to make you feel special, how he could say the simplest things and make you feel like the most important person in the world.

You smiled up at him, your voice soft as you said, “I’m really glad it was you. I’ve always been scared of what it would be like, but you made it…perfect.”

Oscar’s expression softened, his eyes full of that warmth and affection you had come to adore. “That’s all I wanted. For it to feel right for you.” Leaning up slightly, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, feeling a surge of affection as you did so. “Thank you for waiting.”

“I’d wait a lifetime for you if I had to.” he smiled, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Forgive Me | John Price x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, Price gets home and accidentally raises his voice at you, leading to plenty of apologies, and making up for his mistake.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: price yelling at reader :( angst to fluff to a lil bit of smut, fingering, cuddling, cute snuggly kisses, nothing too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was such a cute request from anon, I love price so much…like he’s such a cutiepie y’all don’t even get it, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You and your husband didn’t have many arguments.

Sure, the occasional little squabble where you’d only last maybe an hour before breaking and both apologizing to each other, acknowledging your wrongs.

The emotional maturity that both of you shared was something John Price appreciated most about your relationship.

But tonight was different.

He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument.

He’d already been wound up, having driven hours from the base to home after a long day of dealing with annoying recruits while his patience ran thin with their antics and horseplay. It had been a bit entertaining the first few times, but by the 40th time, it was plain annoying.

But they didn’t seem to understand that.

So he’d spent his day yelling at them till his voice was hoarse, some refusing to stop and just continuing what they’d been doing if they were ballsy enough.

And he supposed that instead of reverting into the normal John Price, the Price that was softer and gentler with you, he hadn’t seen the difference between you and those recruits in the moment.

One sarcastic remark, and you were both in the living room, Price pacing around leaving a trail on the floor while ranting in a loud, brusque voice all too similar to a yell. He got so caught up in himself, in his angry tirade of frustration with his day and the current situation, that he hadn’t noticed how he was asking until you muttered a meek little,

“John, you’re scaring me.”

It had floored him completely. Nearly all thoughts shut down at that one little sentence as he stopped pacing, standing stiller than a statue, eyes now observing your red-rimmed eyes brimmed with tears, or the quiet sniffles you were making, trying to hide them as well. He could tell.

Guilt punched him in the gut harder than any enemy had ever done.

He’d never grown up in a bad family, per se. It was just traditional. His father ranted while his mother kept her mouth shut, listening patiently and serving his every need. He could still remember how angry his father had been at his older sister when she’d snuck out with a boy. How his father had screamed at her in the kitchen while she’d sobbed, his mother doing nothing but sitting silently at the table, like a ghost.

He’d been terrified at the time. Promised himself and his future spouse that he would never treat a woman, his woman, that way.

And here he was. Doing the same thing.

“Love,”

He cooed apologetically, eyes crinkling in the corners from worry, brows furrowing as he held both his hands out towards you, watching as your bottom lip wobbled a bit when you took a little step back.

You were afraid.

Of him.

He’d be an idiot to think you wouldn’t have a bit of fear after what he’d done, screaming at you, a small woman, being the large man he was. Of course, you’d be afraid.

“I’m sorry, bird, please.”

He tried again, tone taking on a hint more desperation as he offered you at least a hand. Tears fell freely in streams down your face now, clumping in your lashes and catching in the corners of your lips.

Only when the first sob tore through your body, did you finally relent and fold into his warm, strong arms. His familiar musk, a mix of whiskey, barbecue, and a campfire, enveloped your senses as you buried your head in his shoulder. His hand stroked up and down your back soothingly, large palm gently massaging the tension out unknowingly, while his other hand ran through your hair.

“I know, I was being a right ass, wasn’ I?”

He murmured, the hand in your hair moving to your knees as he gently bent them while picking you up bridal style, your weight barely even noticeable to him as his feet padded against the floor, the door to your bedroom creaking open and promptly shutting behind him before he sat on the edge of the bed with you. The sobs shaking your already-trembling body slowly subsided, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

Now sniffling, tears hardly dried, you replied.

“Yeah, you were.”

His calloused thumb wiped whatever wetness remained on your face away. Your lips were still in a pout, one he tried to erase by gently pressing his chapped lips against yours, pulling away, his eyes gazing deep into yours.

“Really, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to get carried away.”

He murmured, and you sniffled again before replying.

“It’s fine, I guess.”

He let out a dissatisfied hum, pulling the blankets out from underneath both of your bodies to gently cover you. He was already practically a human furnace, not needing much to warm him.

“It’s not fine, shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

His hands curled around your waist once again, holding you just a bit closer, as if wanting to keep you close. To keep you safe.

You raised a brow, relaxing into the cuddles nicely as you melted into his body, hardly noticing the way his thumbs were rubbing little circles into your hips.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do to make it up to me, then?”

You teased, voice a bit drowsy already. He let out a small hum of thought, one warm hand slipping down your thigh, slowly making its way in between and rubbing those little circles onto your inner thigh, now.

“I’ve got an idea.”

He mumbled, his hand temporarily returning to him as he licked the pad of his thumb, leaving a bit of spit on it before returning to your inner thigh, the same hand pushing both your shorts and underwear to the side as his thumb slowly grazed through your folds, that bit of spit acting as a lubricant.

A low purr of delight from you, one that only grew more vocal as his thumb began lazy circles around your clit, not teasing or holding back, just slowly working you up until your legs were trembling, hips jerking slightly and little gasps escaping your lips.

“There you go, almost there,”

He cooed as you let a little whimper slip from between your lips, that tight coil in your stomach building and building before your orgasm washed over you like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly as his hand slipped out of your pants, adjusting them back into place before going back to holding your body against his, helping you back to reality from whatever clouds your sleepy mind was floating in.

“Mm…John?”

You mumbled against his shoulder, and one hand went back to stroking your hair.

“Yes, pretty?”

He questioned, ignoring the breathy little incoherent noises you kept letting out amidst words.

“I forgive you, really this time.”

An airy chuckle from your drowsy husband as he held you a little bit closer, tucking the blanket in over you as he smiled against your skin, giving your forehead a little peck before he closed his eyes, mumbling one last thing, mainly to himself, before sleep claimed him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.” 

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.” 

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.” 

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox. 

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff. 

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter. 

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time. 

“God, it’s late,” he says. 

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...” 

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.” 

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--” 

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.” 

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--” 

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?” 

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen. 

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.” 

“What is this about? The date?” He asks. 

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.” 

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view. 

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.” 

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch. 

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut. 

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.” 

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints. 

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.” 

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top. 

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder. 

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?” 

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.” 

“Right, lined up the block, huh?” 

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.” 

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out. 

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet. 

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward. 

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.  

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets. 

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard. 

“Water?” He asks. 

“Sure, fridge,” you point. 

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop. 

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!” 

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash. 

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you. 

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.” 

“I was trying to help,” you say. 

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches. 

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?” 

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears. 

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.” 

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?” 

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.” 

[sharedramblings]

I think Larissa would be the biggest tease if she caught on that you're also attracted to her while you haven't yet realized that she knew, relishing on your every hitch breath, reddened cheeks, and flustered face.

So one time when she needs to check if she has to touch up, but doesn't feel like going to the comfort room, she turns to you who already has your trusty compact mirror in hand, already doing the same thing.

"Can I borrow that, darling?" She asked, blue eyes looking at your hand before meeting with yours.

"Here." You said, offering the mirror to her.

What you expected her to do was to take the mirror, but when Larissa instead adjusted your hand so she could see her reflection properly, your eyebrows shot up in silent query.

She paid you no mind and leaned closer, turning her face here and there to inspect her make up, humming to herself. The sudden closeness had your breath catching in your throat, and with such proximity, she heard it clearly, one corner of her lips curving upwards at your reaction.

Within the first few seconds, she already knew she doesn't need any touch up, but she continued checking a bit more just to mess with you, her soft and warm hands not letting yours go.

You simply watched her then, unable to think of what to do other than that. Appreciating how close she is, how you can feel her warmth, how her breath hits your skin every now and then. Eyes roaming her face, taking in every feature of hers, thinking just how unbelievably gorgeous the woman in front of you is. And how you would kiss her if you could. And how you would want her to kiss you, please. And how addicting this small space between you two is, dreaming this be your reality all the time.

So lost in thought that you didn't realize Larissa is staring at you. When your eyes meet, you can't help but feel like you were caught doing something you shouldn't, and the knowing glimmer in her eyes doesn't help your case at all.

"Do I still look presentable?" She asked, batting her eyes at you. Teasing smile on her red painted lips. Head tilted a bit to the right.

You blushed, her unrelenting actions causing an onslaught of emotions.

"Yes," you managed to meek out, voice higher than you wanted.

"And my lipstick? Do I need to reapply it?" Your eyes immediately flicked down to her lips, feeling your cheeks get hotter. You gulp as you feel your throat start to dry, and with your focus trained on her mouth that you've been desperately wanting to feel, you failed to notice how Larissa followed the action.

You felt like combusting, and you really hope she couldn't see how flushed this is all making you feel (you knew she could, it's impossible with the little distance you two have). Her hand was still cupping the back of yours, and you have no idea if it's grounding you or adding fuel to the fire.

"No," you answered after what felt like a long time, the tension distorting your sense of time, "your lips look lovely."

You wet your lips as you realize what you said, adding the first thing you thought of as you panic. "I meant..." taking a deep breath to stabilize your trembling voice, you look her in the eye again, "...you know, the coverage is amazing, as always."

You cringed at yourself, but the low chuckle Larissa let out made up for it (almost).

"Of course," she stated.

Not trusting yourself to take anymore of this any longer, you move to keep the mirror inside your bag, the bustle on the cafe coming back to your senses.

"Shall we head out?" Larissa offered, softly taking you in one more time.

You nod and regard her with a sheepish smile she finds adorable, "Work's calling us back."

As you two walk towards her car, your hand can't help but seek her warmth, taking every chance you could to touch her even just for a few seconds under the guise of poorly believable excuses, ready to slip off your tongue to justify it to anyone who dares point it out. While she waits for you to officially make a move, Larissa would enjoy every bit of this in the meantime.

[the-goo-goo-muck]

NOW PLAYING

LATE

Starring: Choso Kamo

Choso's a simple man with simple desires, & a morning meeting with Gojo & Yaga doesn't typically fit into those desires. . .not when he wakes up to you in his bed

Warnings! fem!reader, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, praise

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Choso’s biggest complaint about humans is that they’re all so complicated. He thinks he’s a simple guy, & he is. He eats the same thing for breakfast every morning, he tells Yuji the same thing before every mission (“Be safe, & be smart”), he gets ready in the exact same order everyday, & he loves his girlfriend. 

Truly, it’s that simple. He’s that simple. 

But when you tell him that you think you “wanna move in with you, Cho. Then we can be together everyday. When you come home from missions, or hanging out with Yuji, I’ll be there,” it throws him off. Not that he’s complaining, but it’s Thursday morning, he needs to leave in 10 minutes, & yet here he is, lying in bed with you still, tracing patterns on your shoulder, admiring your soft snores that you swear don’t exist, & he just can’t find it in himself to get up.

He never would’ve allowed anything to distract him from his job, from his purpose, so why can’t he get out of bed & start getting ready? Why can’t he seem to find the will to leave you? & furthermore, why on earth would he ever want to leave you? He doesn’t spend too much time pondering it; all these complicated questions leave his head spinning. He’s accepted the fact that he isn’t here to be a genius, he isn’t half-human to be the smartest guy around. As long as he’s fighting curses, protecting those he cares about, & loving his girlfriend the way she deserves, nothing else really matters, right? 

You’re just so vulnerable like this. Some deep, dark instinct in his brain is telling him to stay with his woman, protect her, make her happy. Of course, he doesn’t need caveman intellect to encourage these thoughts, Choso will do anything to make you happy. Even be late to a meeting with Gojo & Yaga. 

“Morning, pretty,” he murmurs against the nap of your neck, trying to be subtle in the way he grinds his crotch against your ass. But you'd sang this song & danced this dance more mornings than you could count. 

“Cho, you have to go to work.” Of course, you would decide to be reasonable right now, right when he needed you, needed to feel you, needed to taste you. He wasn’t trying to be a tease or a flirt, but you second guessed that when he trailed delicate kisses, with both his lips & his eyelashes from the bottom of your jaw to the base of your neck, to the valley between your breasts, to your navel, down your stomach until he reached the silk line of your panties. He looked up at you, begging for permission, & the answer you gave him was hooking your fingers under your panties & pulling them down to your ankles. He wastes no time in burying his face into your pretty pussy: kittenlicking your folds, pressing chaste kisses all over your upper thighs, finally providing you the stimulation your body is begging for by shoving his nose into your syrupy, sweet cunt. 

You’re losing coherency, trying & failing to get through to him in any way that “yo-you’re gonna be late, Cho,” & it’s barely a whisper, some form of a whine, & damn it, he’s thinking to himself, he must not be doing a good enough job of sucking on your swollen cunt if you’re still forming sentences. 

“Don’t care.” He doesn’t even spare you a glance, too entranced by the taste of you, the smell of your perfume mixed with your arousal. 

Choso was not the type of person to call out of work, but it was after your third date, when you’d taken him home, let him finger you & sat on his dick, that he was texting Yaga at 3:00am that morning after round four that he wasn’t going to make it in. You’d scolded him for that rash decision in the ten minutes it took his cock to get hard again, & lost all sense of rationality after that.

He was gonna get you there, he thought; sex-brained & dumb, ‘cause that’s how he liked you best. Of course, he loves his sharp-as-a-tack girlfriend, but he loves you even more when you’re like him: zeroed in on one thing. His one thing was almost always you. He knew you would never cheat on him, but the thought of you even thinking about another man—platonically, even—made him sick. 

You're clawing at his hair, still trying to talk sense to him, but the words are lodged in your throat, replaced with moans of his name, begging; as if you'd ever have to beg, when Choso's stream of conciousness consists of two words: "please her, please her, please her, please her—"

So he’s confident, when he slides two fingers into your weeping cunt, that he’ll have his way with you this morning, send an apology to the higher-ups, & make sure his girlfriend knows how much he loves her before he leaves. 

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is it obvious that i'm in love with him. . .orrrr. . . ???????

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[miifu666]

We know sukuna's a huge hater for Yuuji right? But theres a saying around my country where "you shouldn't hate someone TOO MUCH or else fate will always unite u with them."

Or sum like "don't hate someone too much, it'll turn to love."

<<<<<<♡>>>>>>>

Imagine a happy ending Sukuna, one where he genuinely decided to be in a loving and domestic household with you. He saw what the jujutsu world can do, both ancient and modern, Gojo has provenly showed him a thrilling time by being the one and almost only person to make him feel the life and death situation in such a predictable battle.

He got to meet the plentiful talented sorcerers in the modern world, one where they have far more advanced knowledge in how life works than those in the heian era. The new sorcerers didn't disappoint him too much. Some managed to learn innate domain expansion in a mere second, others didn't have any curse energy yet managed to hurt him more than those who do. He's seen it all, he feels content.

Hence why he made a choice to have his own happy ending, see where life gets him after his "unsavory" conversation with his fated nephew. The tangy memories of that boy's bright smile hearing sukuna giving him a chance to show him how beautiful life can be, even if deep within. Theres a dreaded feeling whenever he sees that gullible boy, a fire pit inside him whenever he realized how innocent his so called "nephew" is for believing someone like him can be saved too.

Sukuna thought back idly, coming back to his senses as he feels your hair being combed through his fingers in a consistent motion. He wonders if maybe that annoying brat is right, he has a dutiful lover now. One who he feels as though wouldn't have been his if he didn't accept that despicable brat's decision.

The warm feeling of the sun hitting both him and his equal is... a blissful feeling. He used to be empty, seeking thrill from both knowledge and greed of such delicacies, humans, animals.. all he could find and devour till his stomach is full. All knowledgeable for such sorcery to make sure he stays the top, to see if someone is there to fight and able to defeat him on top of the lonely world of the strongest.

Now he's sitting here, the daunting feeling of such title no longer haunts him. Theres no one who can use him like an object, to fight and treat him like a game boss, speak his name like an object to defeat, disregard him as something worth less than humanity and curses, a natural calamity. Inside this prosperous Minka, he is just sukuna. Hes not the starving child, ostracized from society, being stripped bare of his real birth given name.

He's now.. Sukuna.

The husband and father of... currently one brat.

Speaking of a brat.

There's hustling noises of running feet ontop of the well cared grass, the thumping of something- no. Someone not much older than 5 years old.

"Papa!"

There he is.

"I got butterflies!!"

The small brat he managed to raise. The one and only child he has, a miracle. He was tempted to call him "megumi" too actually- but he's too prideful to use a rip off of someone elses name. He created his own, he hoped. This child doesn't get sick from bearing the weight of his own name.

"Those are Dragonflies, Yajou"

Yajou, a combination of both the kanji for appearance and fulfillment. A perfect name for one who completes the boundaries between human and curses.

Although...

Sukuna stared at his son again. His face is much more similar to a certain brat than him. His bright and naive eyes, those unopened set of eyes under his proper main ones, the tufs of pink hair on top while his lover's natural hair decorated the sides. Its all too familiar, he hates it. He hates having a split image of his disgusting nephew in this... fleshy and chonky baby form.

"Free! Free dragon!"

The child babbles out, spreading his hands out to let the Dragonfly leave his fleshy touch. It was... cute, adorable even. Sukuna sigh.

This.. is a funny way of fate telling him to learn his lesson.

>>>♡♡<<<

God i had this thought at 1am i did NOT proof reading this i just fucking wing it brooooooo. Hope its good ig djdhdjjdkd

[soft-teddybear]

ateez - s/o is insecure about their face

genre: fluff, comfort

cw: insecurities talk.

requested by annon.

summary: ateez when they notice their s/o is insecure about their face, what they’ll say or do.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction made for entertainment on all and form my personal view of the members with no intention of being rude.

members under the cut.

Seonghwa notice how you didn’t liked to look at the mirror a lot and how you’ll always wear makeup so he decided to ask you about it, it was hard opening up to him about your insecurities but you were so happy that you did because he helped so much. He helped you to identify what exactly made you feel so insecure (call it pimples or other skin issues or just self esteem issues) and work in it to make you feel comfortable with yourself.

Hongjoong is heartbroken when he finds out, so happy and proud in your relationship because you told him, but too sad at the same time, so now is his life work to help you with it, constantly telling you how pretty you look, trying to boost your self confidence and helping you become more happy in how you look on your daily life. If things are too complicated he suggest therapy (even offers to pay for it), he’ll do anything to help you feel better with yourself.

Yunho wants to fix everything talking and helping you feel better but can’t deny that deep inside him he wants to kick the people that made you feel bad, unless it’s s yourself in that case he just wants to hug you. Talks to you every single time you feel low until you figure out why it’s that and until you find a way to feel better. He’s with you on every step of the way, trying to keep you from going back to your original thoughts but helping you ether way if that happens.

Yeosang kind of gets it, with having to hide his birth mark for so long he was a bit insecure about for some time, but because of the support that the fans gave him, he loved it again. So he tries that strategy with you. Telling you how much he loves your face with or without make up at any given chance he has, and if he feels that there’s been a long time since the last chance he found, he makes one then and there. All to help you feel as pretty as you are.

San just wants that you look at your self and see the beauty he sees. So he does everything in his power to help you feel better. From telling you everytime he can how beautiful you are to trying to understand why exactly you feel so bad about yourself. He understands that insecurities can be mean things that doesn’t makes sense so he tries that you don’t feel worst about it by looking for an explanation that might not exist.

Mingi is the only one that suggests therapy as the first option because he knows that mental problems (like low self esteem and insecurities) are hard to get rid of with out the appropriate help and he wants you to get the best of the best. If its also about skin problems he recommends you his favourite skin products, go shopping for them with you or even book a dermatologist appointment he does everything he can to help you feel better.

Wooyoung loves taking selfies with you, even if no one will see them so having to do a lot of convincing every time he wanted a cute pic with you wasn’t something he loved, he did a lot of questions until he understood it was because of your insecurities and then decides do help you in every way he could and not to pressure you too much when you don’t want pictures. Almost cried the first time you had the idea to take a picture in a cute spot.

Jongho tries to keep calm in this type of situations, so he doesn’t says or does anything until he’s completely sure, all because he doesn’t wants to say or do something that will only end up with accidentally make you feel worst so if he suggest going to therapy, to a dermatologist or both or something different is because he’s one hundred percent sure that that’s what’ll help and if it doesn’t he’ll think a lot about it until he finds a better solution.

a/n: and im back, im nor fully sure if im back full time again, but ill try i hope you like it and all feed back is appreciated because i feel rusty.

[miukki960]

I'm gonna make this post before I go in the tag and see ANY God or Diew slander, because for me the conflict this episode not only made sense, but was necessary for their relationship to move forward.

The seed was planted long ago when God first found the picture of Diew and Dr. Asshole, and at first God handled it rationally (as expected of our Green Flag King). But the longer the situation went unresolved, the more doubt and insecurity began to creep in until it all came to a head in this episode, because all God needed was honesty and openness from Diew, but Diew has learned from past conditioning to lock those parts of himself away and only show a surface level of his personality and self.

I found that God's argument with Diew, while definitely escalated by emotion and insecurity, was justified at its core. We've learned throughout this story that God's main love language is Quality Time, and that most often is fulfilled by God genuinely enjoying doing anything and everything with the people he loves, so long as they are having a good time. But his conversation with Dr. Asshole put the idea in his mind that Diew has simply been going with the flow and doing whatever God suggested in order to make him feel good, that he hasn't actually enjoyed their time together. And while we as an audience know that's false, the idea is one of God's worst fears and most devastating nightmares.

But he loves Diew and doesn't want to believe it's true, so he gives him multiple chances to prove him wrong. And when Diew continues to reply with lies and deflection, it unfortunately proves him right. Because while the context is a bit off and there is definitely a misunderstanding at play, at the end of the day Diew isn't being honest and isn't trusting God enough to open up and show him the deeper, more emotional parts of himself. So God comes to the only conclusion he can see, that even if Diew is no longer in love with Dr. Asshole, their love was deeper and more meaningful than what he has with God now.

But don't get me wrong! Even though Diew was choosing the wrong dialog options during his argument with God, he was also justified in choosing to keep his secrets and emotions hidden. What God doesn't know is that Diew HAS opened up before, bared his heart and soul to someone he thought he loved and trusted, and what was he rewarded with? Disinterest, deflection, shame. As someone with major anxieties related to human interaction, you only have to burn him once to teach him to never play with fire again. And Dr. Asshole burned him deeply on multiple occasions.

No amount of kindness and sweetness and love from God was gonna convince him to play with fire again. In fact, it was reaffirming. Much like what we have been seeing with Wan towards Beer, I'm sure Diew sees how good and wonderful God is and is absolutely terrified to fuck it up. But just like Wan, his defense became his biggest downfall.

At the end of the day, rather than focusing on what happened, we should instead focus on why it happened and how the characters are going to grow from it. And we can see that how through the characters actions during the last few minutes of the episode. We see Diew, who's defense is to isolate, actively reaching out to God multiple times in multiple ways, ready to explain and open up and heal. And we see God going through the more nasty, volatile parts of his emotions alone, so he doesn't hurt Diew while he's in the wrong headspace, but also doesn't bottle the bad things to explode later.

I think what gets me the most is that in their very last conversation before the end of the episode, Diew was asking for togetherness and God was asking for space, and they were both upset on many levels, but they were still speaking to each other with love in their tone and words.

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Three.

Johnny didn't want someone who asked questions - to him, anyways. That didn't mean you wouldn't try to get your own answers

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Johnny (he insisted you call him that after you very reluctantly agreed to his deal, stating that "John" was too formal) didn’t need someone who asked questions. Asking questions meant thinking and thinking meant trouble. He didn’t need someone asking anything about the man framed in the only picture he had, nor did he need to be questioned on why there was an uncanny frakensteined monster that bore that very person's resemblance living in an abandoned military facility. 

Of course, you’d still think of those questions. Anyone with a single braincell and any scrap of common sense would. You’d think about them until your brain melted and oozed out your ears as they ceaselessly tore at your mind, lingering on the edges of every other thought you had.

Asking him at this point though wouldn't get you anywhere, aside from maybe in a hospital bed. Pushing the already probably mentally unstable man further when he clearly had a whole storm brewing behind those distant blue eyes was a flat out stupid idea. When someone carried such a beastly burden day in and out, adding even a feather to the weight they carried could cause them to snap. If you wanted answers, you’d have to play it smart and ride the sands of time until the tempest faded into a mild breeze, taking the pressure that ceaselessly weighed him down with it.

Besides, you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and do anything to cost you your newfound side job that rolled into your lap when you needed it most. You needed it and the money almost as much as Johnny needed you.

Aside from a wonderful therapist, what Johnny needed was someone to run some errands for him.  The way he phrased it could’ve made it seem almost normal. Almost. He just needed you to sometimes pick things up and drop things off for him - things he said he didn't have time to do.

Before you could even begin to regret agreeing or start gathering the courage to start verbalizing anything, another $100 was shoved in your awaiting hands the second he summoned you to his house once more not even two days later, effectively tying your tongue in a knot and forcing you to swallow anything that threatened to rise up back into the pit of your stomach where it belonged.

"You're certainly a wonderful sight for sore eyes" Johnny said as he held the door open for you, the lopsided grin that stretched slightly too far for comfort donning his face.

Underneath your fingertips, the crinkle of the crisp bill he'd shoved in your hands offered an ounce of comfort and familiarity as you stepped into the haphazard blend of the contrasting house. Once again, the overpowering stench of bleach reached your nose, causing it to wrinkle as your eyes watered. The soapy, pungent basic scent of unnaturally clean stood as far too much, like he had just scrubbed every single nearby surface with it twice.

Holding your breath just enough to make it through the hallway without burning your lungs, the shaky exhale that escaped you when you reached the kitchen was anything but certain, unlike the man who lead the way with a spring in his step.

"How 'bout a cuppa?" He offered as he gestured for you to sit in one of the uncomfortable, cheap, ugly modern chairs that lined the matching too sleek table.

Though the thought of something to drink was a nice gesture and tempted your slightly parched throat, it wasn't one you could accept. Drinking something from his house, even if he made it in front of you, had you on hesitate as uncertainty made itself known in the way your stomach twisted. Sure, it might give you something to sip on and take away from your nerves - but you didn't know what he'd consider normal or what he could put in it.

"Thanks, but no thank you. I'm good." You declined, your brows knitting together the smallest bit as your hands locked together, a closed-lipped smile donned your features as a polite peace offering.

Johnny simply tipped his head and shrugged in a 'suit yourself' gesture as he turned his back to you and took ahold of the kettle. "Maybe one day you'll come 'round to it. The Brits are wrong on many things but tea isn't one of them." He noted while he filled the blue metal device to the brim before setting it unceremoniously on the stove.

Humming in a truly neutral agreement that could be taken either way, you chose not to say anything in addition. A steady, rhythmic clicking broke through the silence before the gentle whoosh of the flames igniting quieted the air once more.

Johnny busied himself around the countertop and the island, whistling an off-tune song you couldn't quite recognize. While you weren't sure what song it was, there was no denying that his tone was off. Whether that was on purpose or not, you had no idea, but it made your skin crawl. A grimace crossed your features when the continual bad intonation didn't get any better. Why couldn't he have at least picked something to be on pitch with?

Thankfully the half-cringe that passed upon your face went unnoticed as he began searching through the orange toned cabinets and drawers at his own leisurely pace.

Naturally, your eyes were drawn to the man as he worked in his element. Your own natural curiosity tugged on the little part of your brain that egged you on to watch and try to figure out what he was doing. The weight of the world might have rested on his shoulders, judging by the slight tension he always held in his muscles and the lines carved deep into his face after many sleepless nights, but he didn't show it elsewhere.

He moved about as if the burden he carried were nothing more than a backpack, an annoyance that could eventually be shed. If you were able to look at his face closer, you're sure the shadows of dark bags would line underneath his eyes, darkening his features as if trying to externally express the gloom he felt.

To see that meant you'd have to look him in the eyes, though. You're not sure you were ready to meet the intensity of his head-on gaze again, or have to explain why you were staring. Blinking out of your stupor, you snapped your gaze to the tiled floor, trying to find something else to draw your attention.

The too stark, too barren kitchen loomed around you at all angles and provided no relief or point of interest. Looking anywhere else did little to help your nerves and thoughts alike when the clashing gaudiness of the wallpaper and the modern furniture greeted you no matter where you turned your eyes.

No matter what, you most certainly didn't want to look at the one picture on the wall - the one that reminded you of the thing you'd seen.

Though the man in the picture wasn't nearly as monstrous and had all the correct, human proportions (in the right number too, mind you), taking a single glance made your stomach churn. Sheer, primal dread and horror weren't an easy feeling to shake, especially when you caught glimpses of it every time you so much as turned your head to the side.

When he finally started talking again, a silent breath of relief escaped you as you relaxed marginally, thanking all heavens above he gave focus on other than the solitary portrait that hung on the empty wall.

"You don't know how... how happy I am."

Metallic clattering rang out as he shut yet another drawer before the one beside it was squeaked open from the rattling force. Though he spoke aloud, you weren't sure if he was more talking to himself or to you.

You didn't dare to breathe a word when he seemed to have paused for a moment, muttering something under his breath before he shut that drawer too and opened a cabinet below. "... to finally have someone to help me." He added as an afterthought as he popped back up, a small, rusted metal box in his hand.

Clunking against the counter as he gingerly placed it down, the rusty hinges squeaked in protest as he popped the lid, inspecting the mysterious contents with scrutinizing, unblinking eyes before he nodded to himself, clamping the lid shut once more before you had a chance to see what was in it.

"Things have been..." He trailed off with a small, dismissive circle of his hand as he turned his back to you again, upper cabinets flying open as he dug through the few items precariously perched in there once more.

He didn't continue his sentence, shaking his head to himself, the words he refused to speak evaporating into thin air. The grip you had on your own hands tightened as you bit your tongue - you weren't going to pry. No questions, you reminded yourself, as your mind filled in the blanks with many words that it raced to think of to finish his sentence for him.

Difficult? Terrible? Agonizing? Stressful? You're sure you could place them all on a Bingo card and score instantly.

No matter how much you wanted to ask, wanted to figure out what was going on, you weren't going to ask. You couldn't. The fragile balance that hung in the silence of the air depended on it.

Johnny seemed to like talking to himself anyhow, even if it was filled with beats and pauses and half finished sentences to match. It's like he either expected interjection or didn't know how to talk after having spent so much time alone.

"Ever since the exp- accident," He corrected himself in such a rush you didn't catch what he almost said, "Haven't been able to do nearly all of what I wanted."

Johnny didn't give you a chance to think about it as he huffed, his shoulders sagging, “Cannot drive anymore.” He spoke in a rougher grit, nodding to his missing left arm.

Frustration wrote itself all over his face in the unmistakable narrowing of his eyes and the tension held in his shoulders increasing tenfold as a scowl crossed his features. But like everything else with him, it hardly lasted a few noticeable seconds before the grin that was all too theatric made its appearance once more. “Unless you want to see the gas station version of Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift, I wouldn't let me get behind a wheel.” 

His warm, mirth filled chuckle and toothy smile could almost be mistaken as genuine if he weren't staring right through you with a certainty that made your hackles raise. "That's where you come in. Real life saver, you are." He noted as he finally found what he was searching for, depositing it in a drawstring bag alongside the metal container.

Just in time, the kettle whistled a shrill pitchy noise. Steam billowed out of the small opening. Like a dog drawn to the beck and call of its owner, he trotted right on over to it, pouring it into a metal thermos he already had set aside in his impromptu kitchen rearranging spree.

Screwing the top on, he settled it in the bag before drawing it tight. Fabric cinched underneath the motion and, testing it to be sure nothing would spill, he finally picked it up and promptly deposited it on your lap.

"Well, best be off with it then." He said as he clapped a hand on your shoulders, guiding you to your feet. You swallowed, already knowing where he was going to ask you to go. "If you're fast enough, the water will still be warm when you get back if you change your mind on having a proper cuppa."

Going there in the evening light proved to be significantly less unnerving than visiting in the pitch blackness of the night. Considering you at least could see a hair better and knew what to expect as far as the layout go, it eased your nerves but the constant unsettled feeling remained on your shoulders as an unseen weight all the same.

On one hand, you now knew what was lurking in the dark. On the other hand, you now knew what was lurking. With six arms, three heads, and enough eyes to see into the past, present, and future at the same time, jumping to meet it again wasn't on the top of your to-do list.

Unlike the first time, though, it was a quick in and out. That was the mantra you repeated to yourself as you exited your car, crawling back in the small opening in the rusted, chain link fence. In and out. You'd be done before you knew it.

The steady thump of your heart against your ribs echoed far louder than any noise in the run-down facility as you trekked through the halls with careful steps. Every so often, you'd freeze and listen, looking for any clues of the thing - the very thing you were here to deliver a bag to.

You don't know why exactly Johnny wanted you to do this so bad or what he included in the very item you carried close to your chest. If he was trying to feed you to the monster, he was doing a piss poor job at it. And if it were something elicit, then why on earth would it involve a thermos of hot water?

Those questions were shoved to the back of your mind as you heard a small clink down one of the halls - a noise that sounded like metal on metal.

Goosebumps prickled your arms as your body froze. Placing the bag down next to the wall on a drop spot you, for once, listened to your heart and bolted.

You didn't wait around to see if the thing was lurking around the corners, watching your every move. You didn't want to see if it felt friendly today. In and out. You're just here to do your job - not here to be eaten.

True to his word, the water was still warm by the time you returned to collect your payment. Not that you were going to have any of the tea he offered, but it meant the job was done and you now had enough money to soothe your erratically beating heart as you justified your (probable) bad decisions.

Johnny was all smiles as he thanked you earnestly, ignorant to your internal plight. His earnest words that paired with his glee of, "Have an evening as lovely as yourself," lingered on in the air, going unanswered as you took your money and hurried off back to your dwelling.

Not wanting to deal with any more questions or thoughts regarding it or anything around it for the night, the TV went on the moment you got home. White noise filled the space as its distant chatter reverberated, the familiar flashing lights of the flickering screen soothing you as it wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Scarfing down your dinner, you settled on the couch for the night, letting the noise of the television lull you to sleep instead of your own mind.

Sleep held you as long as it could in its embrace as you dozed away, but it could only do so much to keep you down when an all too loud text pinged on your phone. Cursing yourself for not having put it on Do Not Disturb, you blearily blinked at the illuminated screen.

Blocky letters shone 5:15 am on the lock screen, yet another groan escaping you. It's too early for this. Setting it down for another moment as you squinted, you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm as you slowly came to your senses.

Focusing on the name would be fruitless when you already mentally calculated who would have the audacity and the lack of common sense to text you this early.

"Morning bonnie :), up for another task?"

No wonder he seemed so exhausted all the time, you mentally groused as you reluctantly went through your morning routine at none too fast of a pace. Anyone who woke up at the ass crack of dawn had the right to be. There's plenty of other things weighing him down but right now, all you could think of was how it was too damn early for this.

Even though it was too early, far too early for your taste to be doing anything, Johnny was all smiles as you pulled up, as if he'd already been up for hours and was almost happy about it.

This time, he wasn't fumbling through anything or assembling things together. Sitting on the old, creaky rocking chair on the porch, he already had a bag beside him. The worn canvas rucksack was considerably larger than the drawstring he'd had you take the day prior.

"Good morning." He greeted from the small landing as you sauntered out of your car, the usually present smile that put the pink lights of dawn to shame held itself upon his fine features once more. "Know I already said morning, but wasn't good til I saw you."

The warm, blush colors of the sunrise matched your cheeks perfectly as the familiar heat of a flush rose upon you in a matching warmth of the early morning's rays. It's too early for this....

Handing the bag off to you, his eyes followed your every movement once more as you took it from him into your grasp. "Same place as last time." He instructed without another word more.

The thermos settled on the side of the bag radiated warmth as it settled against your skin as you balanced the luggage out in your arms. How you wished you could feel the same warmth all over as you lay buried in your bed, dozing underneath your fluffy blankets as you should've been at this time.

Nodding, you offered a strained smile, ignoring how his fingers drummed in rapid succession on the armrest of the chair. "Got it." Was all you said before you turned on your heels before you could second guess what you were doing.

The third time through the building proved to somehow be even easier. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or irritation that ebbed away the nerves that normally had you hesitating, but you carried on through the same path you'd trekked twice prior.

Exactly as Soap instructed, you went to set the bag down right where you had prior. Except when you got there, you froze.

There on the ground lay the same thermos you saw him fill and the deflated, compacted form of the drawstring bag. Folded with precision, the bag lay pinned by the thermos, as if it had been placed with delicate intent in mind.

Swallowing back the sudden dryness of your mouth, the small steps you took towards it now took longer than ever before. As if it may burn you, your hands shook as you held your breath when you reached out to grasp them. The light weight of the metal bottle shouldn't have caught you off guard, but it did. Whatever did this - no, whoever, clearly had great control of themselves.

It couldn't have been that thing, right? That was a monster, a beast. Maybe it was someone else - someone else here who he was helping.

You didn't want to think about it too hard or the implications of it. Taking a deep breath, you choked down your nerves and snatched up the bag and empty bottle before depositing the rucksack.

Looking back wasn't even a thought that crossed your mind as you hightailed it out of there, your mind racing faster than your feet.

By the time you returned to Johnny's house and rang the bell, he'd already taken a shower. The fresh scent of his cologne clung to his skin as he opened the door, the overgrown shag of his mohawk curled on the very fringes with dampness.

"Back so soon?" He asked, arching an inquisitive brow, his attention focused on the lines of your face the second you appeared.

Though you tried to hide the small tremors and the paleness of your features as your mind and heart raced despite the contrast of your feet rooted in place.

"Christ alive, everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." He asked as he tilted his head.

Alright? Alright?? How could it be alright when now for sure you knew that something, something possibly intelligent, was there. The thing you've brought something too held life, conscious thought, and yet weathered away every day in that building.

Seeing the bag folded so neatly opened a pandora's box of questions that you don't think you could ignore for any longer, but you weren't going to spill that to him.

Hurrying out a nod, you forced a smile and cleared your throat, trying to get yourself to appear normal. "Y-yeah! Fine, I'm fine. Just uh... a bit tired! Not used to being up this early." You said, trying your damndest to play it off with an awkward chuckle.

Pleasebelieveitpleasebelieveitplease-

His eyes studied you, a frown pursing his lips as he once again searched right though your soul with those intense, blue eyes. For those few, tense moments, you swore he dug right into your mind, trying to find reasons to call you a liar as he sunk his claws in and tore.

Yet his gaze softened as he scratched the back of his neck, the smile turning sheepish. "Sorry - forgot not everyone is used to waking up before the sun. Old habits die hard." As if trying to make up for his 'mistake', he didn't wait a second as he fished out the $200 from his pocket - no envelope this time.

The bills made their way into your pocket as you snatched them up. "Thanks." You rushed out as you took a step back. Johnny arched a single brow as he just kept staring, as if expecting something.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his acute gaze as he simply kept staring the same, scrutinizing look pinning you down from afar. Averting your eyes, your offered a half-there nod as you took another step back, "Anyways I uh, have a long day ahead."

Your mind wasn't really in putting together neat sentences as it kept circling back to seeing the bag and thermos set so nicely, so purposefully, as if awaiting someone to return to them.

Shit, right. The things. Shaking your head, you stiffened at your realization. "O-oh! Right, almost forgot." Pulling your own utilitarian bag off of your back, the sound of a zipper broke the hush of the early morning air. Revealing the still-folded bag and his bottle, you held it out for him to take.

Surprised wasn't the exact word you'd say described Johnny. Though his brows arched and his grin faltered for a split second into something much bigger, he held his position. The slight shake in his fingers as he plucked the items from your hands was palpable as was the breath he held as he turned them over, the pads of his fingers tracing them as his attention dragged downwards into the paltry weight of the objects themselves.

For a few reverent moments, his whole attention focused right on those items his gaze piercing through it. While you were thankful that attention was no longer on you, it didn't help the unease that always seemed to follow, remaining slung around your shoulders like an old, uncomfortable pal who made their appearance at the worst times. When you shifted from foot to foot, his eyes snapped right back up as he blinked out of his entranced daze.

"Right, I won't hold you any longer. Thank you again." He said, as he steadied himself with a deep breath, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't have a chance to protest before he closed the door, leaving you standing right there on the now empty front porch.

Turns out, Johnny preferably needed you to go every day of the week to that place. You weren't sure how to feel after discovering the fact that the thing was probably intelligent and was indeed capable of such delicate tasks - but the money talked far louder than your hesitancy. It's a wonder he didn't run out of cash but hey, you weren't complaining. Sure, it wasn't ideal to go there and to keep questioning your sanity, but money talked. And what it was saying was "Keep doing what you're doing".

Though unease lingered in every one of your hairs that stood on end and the goosebumps that prickled your flesh every time you visited, it became significantly easier as you fell into a routine. Nothing would stop the way you always found yourself glancing down the dark hallways with wary shifts to the balls of your feet, ready to bolt at a moments notice, but you no longer had to look over your shoulder or halt in your movements every time you heard a small noise.

Johnny would either have you come by early morning or late evening, and would hand off a bag. Sometimes you'd talk to him a bit or more accurately, he'd talk and you'd listen as he packed the bag. You'd then take it, go right back into the abandoned fort, and trade it out with the bag always placed with such neat intent and now-empty thermos.

Now, anyone sane would've suspected something extremely suspicious, if not illegal. After all, who would pay vast amounts of money to drop off a full bag and pick the empty up if it weren't dealing with illegal substances?

Johnny. That's who.

Much to your surprise, everything was normal in every bag you brought - it always was. He'd pack them in front of you or if they were ready to go, they held the same, ordinary objects. Not to mention, you'd always double checked them just to be sure you weren't playing an unwitting part in some smuggling operation. You didn't always make the best decisions but you weren't stupid. Yet they were never abnormal.

No matter what, there'd always be a thermos of hot water and a sealed, labelless letter. Otherwise, it was a mixed bag, quite literally. Sometimes he'd thrown in a fleece or woolen blanket, other times some personal hygiene items, or board games or decks of cards, or even photographs and books. It didn't take long for you to realize that they were care packages meant for what- no, whoever was in there.

You weren't dealing with an it or a what or a that or a thing, it was a who. Someone who he clearly cared about and someone who you sincerely suspected was the man in the portrait or had been at some point in time.

The more days that you found yourself delivering yet another package, the more curious you found yourself - and the less fearful. After all, this was clearly a being who clung to some part of their humanity - someone capable of considerate actions and thoughts alike.

Frankly, it he never went after you in the first place. You'd realized that as you spent yet another night pondering in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. By all means, he could have attacked and killed you. He could have done that the moment it saw you for the first time and taken you by surprise in the Tartarean void that he called his home amidst the decaying walls.

He could've chased after you and snapped your neck before you had a chance to run for it. Hell, he could easily ambush you as you dropped off the daily supplies. And he could probably do it all without flinching or missing a single beat, as if he were completing a task as simple as fetching the morning paper.

But he didn't. He never even came closer. You hadn't seen him since the first night. Instead, the only trace you ever saw that he was by was the neatly placed bags and the empty thermos, always properly set up.

No monster would do that. No true monster would have those manners or such a capability, unless it was playing the long haul to gain your trust before it feasted. But that would've been long, long ago.

You didn't know what to make of it. And you knew Johnny would be no help, as many thoughts as he had. Not once had he ever brought the beast up - nor did you. Talk around him was something you both danced around, never quite getting to it.

That didn't stop you from doing your job as kept on delivering all the same. You knew better than to ask who this being was to him beyond someone he'd very likely known - and known well. He wouldn't be ready to admit that. No matter how many times you caught him staring at the sole portrait that hung on the kitchen wall or smoothing his thumb over the silver cross that dangled around his neck, he never dare breathed a name.

Asking Johnny wouldn't help, so you figured you might as well bypass the middle man. Living in the dark was something you couldn't do anymore - and you're sure he (the temporarily nameless being that he was) would like to finally have some light shone on him for once. It was time to talk to the creature you'd tried to desperately avoid in the first place.

Finding him was out of the question. You most certainly weren't going to walk through the dingy, damp halls once more to throw yourself at him. You doubted he would want that either. Considering he hadn't been around, he likely valued some semblance of privacy.

He could read - you figured he could read. After all, Johnny had sent him many letters. If they remained unopened, you didn't know, but it didn't stop Johnny from writing them all the same. Before you could get ahead of yourself, though, you decided to try a simple trick.

Clinging to a whiteboard with one hand, bag in the other, you crawled through the dark halls you'd come to know like the back of your hand. You didn't need the headlamp anymore but it certainly helped when your eyes hadn't adjusted.

Setting the bag down in the usual drop-zone, you balanced the whiteboard on your thighs and uncapped an expo marker. The squeak of the black pen filled the air as you inhaled a slow breath, trying to calm the anxious, anticipatory beating of your heart.

"Hi! :) I'm -" You hesitated. Writing your name was a bad idea, especially when it was a place you weren't supposed to be. The last thing you needed was for anyone else to find it and track you down, as unlikely as that may be.

Settling on "A friend of your friend." You continued to write, " The one who has been bringing the bags. What's your name?"

Setting the board down and capping the marker once more, placing it just below, you took a step back. You didn't know for sure if he could write or read, but it was worth a shot and was better than nothing. The question wasn't revolutionary but if answered, you'd finally have an inkling of who you were dealing with and more importantly, a proper name to call him.

As you headed back to the exit once more, you glanced back for the first time. For some reason feeling a pang of disappointment you saw nothing lying in wait in the shadows and heard nothing to match. Shaking your head, you dismissed the ridiculous thought as you scampered off, taking the empty bag and thermos that had been left to hold up your usual part of the routine.

You'd never been particularly excited to go back, really just following through for the money (and maybe a scrap of pity for Johnny), but today your legs couldn't carry you fast enough through the halls as you came back. Pitter pattering in your chest, your heart hammered away on your ribs as the familiar burn of exertion tugged at your muscles but you refused to let it slow you down. If anything, it only fueled the burning desire to get there fast.

The moment the whiteboard entered your line of sight, you somehow picked up speed further before leaning into a sliding stop in front of it. A thump echoed as the bag fell from your hands, your breath catching as you stared at the sight that awaited you. Your eyes widened at the smudged ink and the one, half-shaky word scrawled underneath. A name.

Simon.

Rolling the name over and over in your mind until you surely wouldn't be able to ever forget it, you snapped a picture of the whiteboard so you'd have a piece of it forever. To finally know the name of the being you had delivered countless things to marked a huge step forwards. There were many, many things you wanted to ask but for now you knew one, very important thing.

His name was Simon.

You itched to write more, to ask him fifty million questions now that you knew he was human enough to answer, but you couldn't get ahead of yourself. Your hands trembled as you uncapped the marker, tracing each letter of his name with your finger as you erased it, the feel of the letters forever etching into your soul.

"Its nice to meet you Simon." You kept it simple to start as you pursed your lips, racking your brain for the proper route to go here.

How long had he been here? Did he know what day it was? Who was he to Johnny? Why was he here? How did he get like that? What does he eat? How does he eat? Why doesn't he -

No.

You weren't going to do that. No matter how much there was to learn, you couldn't force your thirst for knowledge onto him or overwhelm him with questions. Trust for those answers had to be earned, not given, if he was anything like most.

Considering that he likely hadn't had direct human contact and interaction in how long, being compassionate would do you well. Maybe you could earn his trust more by helping him out further and listening, even if you had yet to physically say a single word to one another.

"I'm sorry for running from you. I didn't expect anyone to be there." You continued, figuring an apology of any kind was overdue but a late one was better than none, "Is there anything I can get or bring for you to make you more comfortable?"

The apology wasn't the best or hell, even that great. Limited space on the small whiteboard, however, was quite a curse. And if he had any bit of humanity - the kind you had, he'd understand very well why you ran. Anyone would in your shoes. It wasn't anything personal but now knowing he had conscious thoughts, guilt gnawed at you.

Likely, you still would've run anyways, but when facing with the unknown and something as threatening appearing as him, it's better safe than sorry. He'd understand, right? You were just a human in the end. A human who had very human reactions in the face of danger.

Once more, you set the marker down and read over your words, double checking to make sure your spelling still held up and the words were big enough to discern. They weren't perfect, eloquent, or fantastic but they were a starting point and they were yours. That was good enough for now. Resisting the urge to linger in the hall, you capped the pen and made your way out of the building once more, following the same path you'd always taken, already yearning to turn back.

Thankfully, the night passed in the blink of an eye and lady luck decided to roll the ball in your court the next day as Johnny picked an early time. Your heart raced at the same rate as your body as you sprinted through the halls, all caution thrown to the wind that whipped over your head with the motions. Reminding yourself to at least set the bag down instead of throwing it, you glanced at the board, your eyes widening.

Scrawled in a much neater, larger handwriting that took up the board, your breath halted in your chest. The beating of your heart faded into a background hum as your blood ran cold, a pit growing and sinking in your stomach so fast its as if you swallowed lead.

There wasn't an item or thing requested. Underneath, just like the day before, there was a name. But it was a different one, one you had at the top of your contact lists.

Johnny.

જ⁀➴

His many clouded eyes had stared at the simple, innocent question written on the white board. They stared and stared, until even in his constantly unfeeling state, they ached with soreness around the edges.

Anything.

Such a word was the most dangerous thing you could've offered to a desperate man who had long since drowned in the rivers of despair. To you, it was probably nothing more than a simple considerate thought. To him, it was a lifeline being thrown out in a tsunami, offering a thin rope to pull him out of the impossibly huge wave that kept him down. Attempting to grab it and crawl out may be fruitless but without any options left, the slimmest chance of improbable survival was always better than none at all.

So he took the rope you threw him and clung until his nails dug in and all six of his hands were burned and his skin chaffed. He held it close, grappling it with every ounce of strength he had left, tying it in knots to cling on further to the chance that was being offered - to have the anything, the only thing, he needed more than the second chance at life he had been granted.

He knew deep down that it might be an impossible request to pull him out, to get him what he needed beyond anything else in this world, to fulfill the visceral yearning that scorched his soul and burnt him with red hot pokers every day in an otherwise numb existence.

But when he had nothing left, nothing at all aside from his miserable existence in this liminal purgatory, playing the only Hail Mary he clung onto now that he was given a chance was his own way of accepting the line which you threw him and pulling back as he desperately tried to grapple out.

After all, a dead man had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

His everything that now stood just on the horizon, so close he could almost see those beautiful blue eyes again and trace over the silver of a scar that split his brows once more.

[luna-loveboop]

Wanted to share some thoughts, cause I NEED TO SHARE IT. (Though it might be quite obvious, yeah...)

So, the whole thing with Warriors acting more stern with Wild lately. One could think: "Why just Wild? Hyrule can be quite reckless sometimes, and Wind is THE BABY, so why not them too?"

Well, there's one thing that they don't have, but Wild sure does...luck of self-preservation.

Wars can trust that others, even IF they let emotions take over, would still try to avoid DYING.

WILD WILL NOT. This fella uses his FACE as a SHIELD for ANOTHER PERSON, when there's NO NEED FOR THIS, while being in his "right mind".

SO WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT OF HIM, WHEN HE LOOSES HIS MIND IN A STRESSFUL SITUATION?

Wars still gave him the benefit of the doubt for a while, but after this whole fiasco with Twi's injury - Wars just can not help it, he FEARS for Wild's well-being, because "Champ" himself DOES NOT (with his whole "failure of a hero" thing, I presume).

And how does one even adress it? I doubt Wars saw many people who didn't care about their life before, he was at war, usually people want TO SURVIVE there. He's on edge cause he sees a problem and has no idea how to aproach it.

I want to preface this by saying I have a severe inability to stay on topic but yeah let's talk about it.

So you touched on something me and Jesse have both touched on- that Wars' actions towards Wild come from a place of concern and fear. I think that this is true. Wild DOES lack self-preservation instincts, and Wars has to be afraid of losing him- of the young knight earning more scars. Wild can be an idiot sometimes, but Wars saw him lose his head and attack the shadow when it was just proved to be lethal more than they knew.

There's a difference of perspective between ours and the boys tho that is important and I think contributes to people judging wars for this. See, to Wars perspective, and all of the boys, they could die at any time. An injury could be fatal and they can't see the future. We however KNOW that Wild survives, because we know he goes on to tears of the kingdom. We know Jojo has said that he is reckless and will get himself hurt but always comes out of it. But Wars has watched a billion (<exaggeration) soldiers die and is terrified of it happening again. Whereas we watch the comic from the outside, knowing for certain Wild will make it, Wars is living out that reality harshly.

ANoThER thing I think people forget to account for is Wars is not just a captain, he's a soldier but also leader in an army. I'm not the best with phrasing sometimes so I'll try to say this well- people in the army don't always get to be nice. Oftentimes armies have very harsh environments in treatment towards soldiers because when it comes down to training and life and death there is no time for niceties or feelings. Wars was pushed into the most major promotion ever pretty much to be an army leader. If he's now in the mindset of viewing Wild as a fellow knight/soldier who is not a leader... angry words and facial expressions is pretty mild to be honest.

Wars is a really nice person for all he's gone through, but fighting in a war is a very different experience than a solo journey like the others had. I think it's time to acknowledge that he was forced into far more of a role than the pretty hero, but also an armies leader, and it takes a lot of work to be a nice person through all that. Wars is a nice person who has a ton of strength to be so kind after all he's been through and his actions towards Wild make sense considering his past with what journey he came from. Thank you for coming to my ted talk- no I'm not done.

If anything I said was in any way offensive let me know. I hope my words didn't somehow come across as harsh.

Although him (in a way) treating Wild as someone who is out of line is understandable given his past, it's still not excusable. Wild isn't a soldier and he's not the leader.

Now for Wild time I'm going totally of the rails let's go

Wild doesn't. Yeah ok Wild doesn't like Wars. I've made like. Fifteen thousand nine hundred and fifty two posts on this (<big exaggeration). Wild has not really... spoken to Wars throughout the Lu storyline, tho he did in some of Jojo's starting doodles. Wild has really only spoken to Wars since it all went down when mr. stubborn got injured. I think Wild has a lot of resentment towards Wars for being the knight he was supposed to- who succeeded. Wild has flat out ignored Wars a lot of the time and honestly I'd get pretty frustrated with that too.

Also I along with the other nine hundred people want Wars to trigger an army memory in Wild. For the angst.

Wars is wrong in how he's acting towards Wild and Wild is wrong in how he's treated Wars not as someone worthy of respect. It's hard to pinpoint what's going on in Wild's head but I DO know Wars thoughts- he's terrified for Wild's life and angry that he ignored him and fought the shadow.

But yeah you're right. Wild has no self preservation instincts and Wars can't rely on him to freaking stay alive. Thank you for sending me an ask and sharing your thoughts with me!!! You matter and I love hearing from you /gen <3

Also. Let's make this clear. I love Wars so much. So very much. He's literally a fairy godmother. No hating on him or Wild on my posts. Thank :D

[fortheloveoffanfic]

What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

[moniericreative]

The Saddest Tragedy of 2/2; Damned Regardless of Choice

Wasn't sure if anyone else already talked about this, but after going through the Persona 5 Royal Artbook a while back, and again recently... Something about the whole situation just really struck with me.

Obviously, spoiler warnings ahead for Persona 5 Royal, specifically Third Semester's Februrary 2nd.

So, unsurprisingly, I'm referring to Maruki's Deal.

It's a common interpretation that Akechi's 100% gung-ho against it.

But there's two separate moments that show a rare bit of... Wavering in his resolve.

The first is the Phantom Thieves meeting in Maruki's office with Lavenza:

Out of all of the Phantom Thieves, the only one to play devil's advocate and remind the group that Maruki's actions benefit them too is... Akechi, of all people. Not Joker, not Makoto, not Lavenza or anyone else.

It's solely Akechi who brings that fact up.

In the same meeting, beforehand he was very upfront and crass about how manipulative Maruki was being, and how the man played the other thieves like a fiddle...

And yet he says this in spite of all that.

There was no reason or prompting for him to, and Ryuji even rejects him politely afterwards too.

So surely this was just an off-line of simple pragmatism, right?

Well, here comes moment number 2, in one of the optional Jazz Jin hangouts you can get with him:

He plays it off as some idle food for thought with no deeper meaning, but... It's Akechi. He usually doesn't just say things just to say them.

There's always a hidden meaning to his words.

It's pretty obvious he's referencing his space in the Phantom Thieves, a group that's civil with him but doesn't particularly have any inclination to be friends with him... But it does beg a question...

Is he happy? Now that he's no longer being controlled by Shido, or burdened by a lifelong revenge?

By the sheer existence of this conversation at all, directed only towards Joker and in a place that he's comfortable in (second to Leblanc) it's pretty safe to say he is, but has reservations about it (i.e. 'If their happiness hinges on the group's unhappiness.')

Now where does the artbook come in? Well, inside the P5R artbook, there's a handful of interviews that expand on some parts of the Royal exclusive content.

(Big thanks to Violet for compiling and translating them, you can find her whole thread here > https://x.com/wiowe/status/1776225719661547663)

What was the one bit that stuck with me?

Per Violet's translation:

Creator's Comment: "When I think about how Akechi's wish is to play chess with the protagonist after school, I want to tell him 'You like the protagonist after all, don't you?'"

Akechi's Wish.

He has a wish that Maruki actually does grant him, and it's to essentially be friends with Joker. It's mutual to Joker's own wish to be friends with him.

So add up the context of all three, and it paints a very depressing picture already:

Akechi is genuinely happy for once in his life, but doesn't think he deserves it at the cost of everyone else's. It runs opposite to his own sense of Justice, and his negative views on himself as a "cursed child," and that fuels him to keep denying it.

So with him being split between the two sentiments... It's unsurprising that he would rely heavily on Joker to make the ultimate decision; Whether to accept, or to deny. Because he himself can't, and Maruki knows full well of that.

Sure, he keeps pushing Joker to deny Maruki... But why?

Is it because what Maruki's doing is wrong, and he needs to be stopped? Is it the closest thing to a punishment for all of his actions, which has been constantly denied to him up to this point? Is it the closest thing to a confirmation that he's undeserving of such happiness, especially with how much blood is on his hands?

Who knows.

So how does any of this tie into Maruki's Deal on 2/2? Isn't Rejecting a false reality the obvious choice here?

Well... It's simple.

You're not really picking between a true reality and a false one.

You're picking between:

The acknowledgement of Akechi's growth (Hereward), the righteousness he carries as The Justice arcana, and his freedom from being under someone else's control his whole life.

And this:

Think about it. Maruki gives you multiple opportunities to accept his reality, and they become increasingly personal to Joker with each one.

First is the happiness of the general public.

Second it's the happiness of the other Phantom Thieves, especially Sumire.

Then finally, it's the happiness of both Joker and Akechi.

If the first two couldn't sway Joker's decision, why would the third?

Because you want Akechi to be happy and no longer suffering. You're the one in control of making that decision as the player, remember?

And both he and Joker are also fully aware of that, given how they look back at you in the "Accept" ending.

Not to mention in spite of how he reverts back to his "Detective Prince" mannerisms, almost as if he was a different person entirely... We never actually get any indication that he goes off to fight Maruki alone, or try to fix everything himself, do we?

Sure, he says "... Well. I have your answer. There's nothing left I can say. Our deal's off."

There's no anger, betrayal, shock, or even hurt in his voice. Just quiet acceptance because after all they've gone through together, he knows Joker wouldn't lie about that.

But what can he say? Once again, you've exceeded his expectations.

And once again, he's left as speechless as his "you really are..." moments.

You chose him over a "true reality." You told him to his face that he matters, you accept him as he is in spite of everything he's done, and you want to keep spending time with him as equals. As friends.

It's a truth he has to accept, even if it conflicts with his image of himself. He's wanted by someone else, for the first time in his life.

Of course he has no need for a deal anymore. They were always the closest things he was willing to get to a friendship, without establishing a close tie that could potentially hurt him in the end.

Why would he need one when you chose your bond over all else?

You proved to his face that it's not just some temporary truce with mutual benefits. It's a genuine bond for both parties, not just to him.

Ultimately though... You're the one stuck between two choices for him:

Forsake Akechi's happiness, and finally being wanted for who he is and not whatever pleasant image or service he can provide.

Forsake his freedom, and all the growth and accountability he's accumulated thus far from his own sins.

This teenage boy is damned regardless of the decision you make. All because a man with a Jehova complex noticed that he matters to Joker (and by extension you as the player), and uses him as an ultimatum to get Joker (and you) to comply.

All because said man is well-aware that Akechi's actual fate is vague. Did he live? Did he die? Who knows, neither he or Akechi actually confirm it. They just dance around the subject and leave the assumption up to you. But he'll take full advantage of the vagueness to justify his actions to you, and show why his goals and yours are "truly in alignment."

And the worst part is that Maruki's doing this with a genuine intent to make his life happier afterwards, much like youself. It's not out of malice, or a sick sense of delight, or with the airs of playing god.

He's distorted. He's a man with good intentions that have become so distorted that he inadvertently perverses the very desire to do good for the world.

And just like Shido, and Yaldaboath, before him...

Akechi's the number one casualty.

You're just forced to decide which part of him the gun is aimed at this time.

Because this boy can't have both. It's one or the other.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Whole Cake Island (part 12)

Lawlu in Whole Cake Island? There is none! Actually... do we really need Law to be present to analyze it, come to think of it? Luffy is really all we need; to watch his behaviour, things he says, his determination, to guess how Law's influence would show and how partying ways with him (even if temporarily) would impact Luffy.

This is the Alice in Wonderland Arc of One Piece, which means Luffy's main struggle will be to face himself, his own weakness, fears, and maybe even his own self-hatred. Which is why this time it won't be the usual scrutinizing analysis of frame by frame, but instead I will take a deep-dive into Luffy's mind. Are you ready? :D

Luffy starts Whole Cake Island arc in a rush. Because why wouldn't he feel in a rush? There's a wedding to stop! There's a chance they won't make it in time, after all. But... seeing how Zou ended, there's probably one more reason why Luffy is so irritated and wants to get things done as fast as possible... there will be someone waiting for him in Wano, alongside the rest of Luffy's own crew. Luffy could tolerate being seperated from his own crew for two years, but this two weeks trip to Whole Cake Island seems like a torture to him. What changed exactly between timeskip and now? Oh, right, Law got added into the picture ;)

"See? She didn't have any problem with my yeeting!" and I wish he could add "Law also had no trouble after I yeeted us in Dressrosa, you should be more hardboiled like him!", because I swear, this feels like the thing he actually means. And he is right, Law hated being yeeted, but he dealed with it just fine in the end, keeping his clear mind and sense of direction intact.

And then, out of nowhere, Luffy gains an interest in cooking. Luffy, of all people! The very same Luffy who thought a musician is more essential on the crew than a cook!

He even compares Nami's nutritional knowledge to a doctor instead of a cook. For Luffy, a cook is just someone who makes your food look and taste extra great, but it's not neccessary for a kid who grew up in a jungle eating everything the way it comes or simply by roasting it over a fire. So why is he suddenly so interested in cooking?? Is he missing Sanji that much? Is he trying to make his crew miss Sanji so the reunion is more emotional? Good guesses, but they have one flaw: they don't take Luffy's personality enough into account.

Back in East Blue, Luffy agreed to recruit a cook before a musician only because his crew wanted one and also because he's a freaking glutton.

"You guys are really rude, I made this food for you!" now that doesn't fit with Luffy's personality of "I want to eat all the meat". Suddenly, it's for them, hm?

Then he tries his own "kitchen sink curry", spits it out, shouts that's it's inedible and flips the table! Why so mad? Oh yeah, because as we learn soon after, he tried cooking multiple times and it's still something that can't be eaten. He tried so many times that he wasted a stock of food they had that was supposed to last them for a week, for all of them! And it's all gone in one day.

Luffy's frustration is understandable then, because this is what he considers to be "his best attempt". As we learn from SBS, Luffy's best dish is just a bowl of meat (in other words: pieces of meat put in a bowl lol), which means he would not prepare "curry" or any sort of exquisite dish for himself. He indeed did this dish with others in mind. He would be more likely to just roast whatever he caught and shove it towards them, asking "you want some?", if it was only about him.

Despite his constant failures, he's still not getting discouraged and wants to learn how to cook edible things for people to enjoy. Nami though stops him and tells him "to never go into the kitchen again", ouch. They have been starving for days as the result of Luffy's "cooking attempts" and Luffy almost lost his life as the result (eating poisonous skin of a fish they finally caught), so her reaction is understandable. But this should make us realize that Luffy, thanks to this whole (mis)adventure, understands Sanji better without even realizing it. After all, Sanji was also told to "never cook again" by his father.

But I think this adventure has one more meaning. Whole Cake Island is basically a tale about the good and bad sides of food industry, but also how food creates connections between people. And I think XxXholic covered the latter part better than I could ever put in words, so forgive me for the unexpected crossover here. You don't need to know XxXholic, its plot or characters to be able to follow the quotes, they also don't spoil anything from the plot, so don't worry. We're just following one of the many, many side characters there.

First of all, if you want to repay a debt or show your gratitude, the best way is to offer food and good drink. And the best way to do it, is to offer stuff you cooked yourself, because they require your own time and effort, and include your feelings (of gratitude and love) for the person you cooked it for. If someone does you a favour, it's a good idea to say "thanks" by preparing a dish they like, for example.

"I would like to cook with you and then eat it together. And then I would really like to know more about you. And for you to learn about me, as well" says the protagonist to one of his clients. Cooking together is a big thing because it creates an equal, mutual bond: you get to know me, I get to know you, and we can both try to become better at cooking together, but also better people for each other as well. Because by cooking we learn more about what the other person likes and dislikes, but also about their personality: their usual way of problem solving, about their patience, flexibility, stubborness, ability to learn etc. Your prefered way of cooking can also reflect your personality this way and you try to offer your best through a dish you put a lot of effort to make, for someone to enjoy.

You can learn a lot about yourself as well through cooking. If you compare your own cooking to someone else's, you can realize your own personality traits you wished you would have never noticed (for example impatience, like Luffy flipping the table in anger: even Nami called him out on it, Sanji would not approve of that action!). You might also realize that someone preparing food for you did it with lots of feelings, of kindness and love, and that's why that food tastes good. And if in comparison your own food is terrible, bland, without flavour or personality, it just shows you don't really share your own love with the world through the act of cooking. In Luffy's case up there, his food was so terrible (though definitely full of his personality lol) despite him putting in his best effort and feelings. How did it make him feel about himself? Perhaps like he has nothing good to offer to people he loves? But his final reaction is always this: try to be better and do better!

Luffy offering his failed attempts to his crew serves the same purpose: he's offering them what he has, even if the result is disgusting. But this is the kind of person Luffy is at the moment and he has nothing better to offer!

The sidestory in XxXholic has a happy ending, the struggle continues on and the woman's significant other supports her efforts and says they will wait for as long as it takes. Now, what does that have to do with One Piece? The reason this woman couldn't cook something that would taste good wasn't because she's clumsy, or didn't put any effort in or lacked knowledge (she actually studied cooking like it's an university subject, it clearly mattered a lot to her!).

What she lacked in the end was love, not for others, but for herself. She hated herself so much that she believed anything she would do would turn out bad (which is exactly what happened over and over), almost like she was subconsciously self-sabotaging her own efforts. And since she didn't have love for herself she had nothing to give to others either, despite caring for them and being so grateful to people who loved her the way she is, imperfect, disbelieving in her own worth, broken. She just didn't feel like she has anything to offer to all the great people around her.

Sounds familiar?

"What can you do?" Arlong asks Luffy. "You can't do anything, you're a disgrace as a captain". And Luffy proceeds to say he has great people who support him (which means he does not think of himself as great, he knows he lacks in so many ways), but there is one, just one thing he can do for them back: it's to beat up people like Arlong.

And yet despite that, in Whole Cake Island, Luffy attempts to do what he literally can't do: to cook. He knows he can't do it, but he tries it anyway, knowing very well what the end result will be. It's not that he lost his mind. We mustn't forget why he's doing a stealthy mission on WCI. It's exactly because he can't do what he usually does: beat up Big Mom. He promised he won't do it. But what *can* he do then? It's his struggle to become better and get out of his comfort zone, and he starts that from attempting cooking. It won't be the first or last time that he will fight against himself in this arc, even denying things he had the most confidence in. This is the arc in which Luffy loses the sight of what he can and can't do, and needs to come up with a new answer or rediscover the one he already had all along. This is Luffy in a crisis.

Now is that related to Luffy being seperated from Law and dealing badly with it? Or Luffy realizing how much he knows Law has faith in him and he wants to live up to it? Because like we established before, Luffy is doing this stealthy attempt only for the sake of his alliance with Law, he would not bother usually and would just destroy Big Mom because she's in his way. I can only imagine Luffy's inner struggle when he tries to come up with a new solution here but can't get any, nothing works out if he just can't beat up the bad guy and move on. Luffy's later refusal to eat anything that isn't Sanji's cooking, not even the syrup rain, must reflect how Luffy feels about himself in this moment: he feels pathetic and useless and he must hate himself for it.

There's one more angle to it. Luffy suspiciously wants to cook as fast as they're seperated from Law. He thinks nutritional knowledge is something a doctor does and he's impressed with it. Law is a doctor. It's not a stretch to think that Luffy wants to learn something new to impress his favourite person upon return. It's highly likely he wants to cook for Law as well (and he's using his crew for taste-testing for now), because he has feelings of love and gratitude he wants to convey to him, but he doesn't know how to do it. But Luffy always had Sanji who used his cooking exactly for that: to show his feelings of love for people (and was very vocal about it!). Luffy is just trying to do the same, but he realized he can't do it no matter what. By the end of the arc he comes back to terms with himself and finds the old truth again: he will leave the cooking to Sanji and rely on his crew. He can try to be a better person in other ways, but he will keep on searching for a way to show love and gratitude to them.

And we will not talk about Luffy suddenly remembering people smooch each other and talking about it in context of Sanji's wedding, uhum. If that's on his mind all of a sudden when it wasn't even once for last 80 volumes, then you can guess why it suddenly would be. People who love and care for each other smooch, so maybe he was considering... things...

Another odd thing Luffy does, which is to check on the map and comments, frowning "it's weird". He has a point, because we learn later it was a deliberate trap. But he's paying attention here because he tries to be useful and does things he usually wouldn't be doing. Just like with cooking.

Same here. It's probably the first moment in which Luffy realizes that having a longterm plan would be actually a good thing. Yeah, Luffy of all people. That's because he must be thinking "if it was Law, he would definitely have one". I feel like other people were pointing it out to Luffy before, but it's the first time he actually shows that he kinda cares and isn't answering with "I'm just here for the adventure. And become a king of the pirates, no plans included!".

Look here. This is Luffy in a crisis. "I have to get back and I'll destroy everything in my way if I have to!" Not only he's not supposed to destroy everything or beat up Big Mom, which he points out a moment later, but Luffy is clear here, he made his decision: if he can't go back, he will simply get rid of everything on his way. Getting back is the most important thing, everything else be damned.

Except... are we really talking about Sanji here? Get back where, Luffy? To Wano perhaps, where your crew and Law will be waiting?

"I'm not going to die in a place like this!!", "I made him a promise, but it's not here!!". I'm just saying, this applies both to Sanji and the promise Luffy made "to meet up in Wano". And if he wants to get back no matter what, it's because he knows he can't die here, he can't force a certain someone to go through a big loss again. He would rather tear off his arms than not return at all and break his promise.

And we get Sanji with his "I didn't tell you to wait..." and Luffy just laughs in reply. This particular laugh he used only once before, btw, and I don't recall anywhere else:

When he was telling Zoro how much he's worrying about Sanji. Because why wouldn't Luffy know that Zoro and Sanji are the most important people for each other? Zoro is his best friend and his first crewmate, Luffy just knows what's in his heart, the same way that Zoro probably knows who is so important for Luffy as well.

Do you still think Luffy-Sanji scene was *only* about Luffy and Sanji? That the whole promise talk was only about Sanji? And not two particular people waiting for both of them in Wano? It was always about both reasons.

Luffy says he can't be the king of the pirates without Sanji. And demands that Sanji says how he really feels (which is "to go back on Sunny" ❤). Imagine if Luffy said both of those lines to Usopp in Water 7. Maybe a lot of the conflict could have been avoided. Especially if Luffy would also follow his very own advice, because he was not saying his true feelings in the quarrel with Usopp. What changed since Water 7 in Luffy? A lot, actually. Ace, timeskip, Dressrosa, Law... All those things are huge milestones in Luffy's development. But there's also the promise he made. He promised Zoro his crew to bring Sanji back. And that promise also changed everything.

WCI is also the first arc in which Luffy says he is ready to drop everything, even his own dream, and go save whoever needs to be saved for his crew's sake. It's very ironic how in this scene he also needs to struggle against himself, this time with his enormous hunger, that seems to sabotage his ironclad determination. For once Luffy doesn't do things for food and that despite the whole arc being exactly about food. That's how serious he is.

Now we have to talk about the alliance with Bege. Here is Luffy's initial reaction: "what an awful person", "Bege is gonna get it!". He does not like Bege at all, he also wants to punch him for what Bege did to Pekoms. In other words, Luffy doesn't think Bege is a good person, at all.

But just a moment later, when Jimbei tells him "you should work together with Bege", Luffy changes his mind immediately. He's all up for this alliance. His crew, that has been with Luffy the longest (Nami and Sanji) can't believe their ears. What an interesting change, isn't it? Like I argued at the beginning of this post, Luffy has to do things differently this time instead of doing what he usually does. The problem is, he's not good at anything else than "beating the main bad guy". That's why in this case he's determined to do something he would usually never do. And forgive me for the callback again to XxXholic, because I can't resist:

Luffy has the same idea as the protagonist here. "This is all I can do", and "if this person was with me, they would be able to find a better way". In other words, Luffy agreed to this alliance because he thinks this is something Law would do as well. Luffy is constantly wondering in Whole Cake Island how Law would handle the situation and he knows he can't come even close to his level, but at least he will try to follow in his footsteps.

Of course Luffy wants at first to punch Bege for Pekoms. He's still trying to make this alliance a friendship, and if he hits Bege then they will be even, so they can try becoming friends. That's basically the idea.

But he doesn't get to do that and in the end, Luffy agrees to alliance based on "common goal" or "allignment of interest". He did not become friends with Bege in the process and didn't make things even between them. This proves Luffy knows what an alliance is and it's not friendship. I wouldn't say this means Luffy finally learned what an actual alliance is (though it's tempting, ngl). I would rather say he always knew that, but he chose to make it a point that whatever he has with Law, is friendship firstmost, alliance second.

And here is Luffy listening to Bege's plan. He's trying, okay. Not his fault he's constantly getting distracted, sidetracked and overfocused on making a silly entrance party trick (jumping out of the wedding cake). Bege is just not Law, and Luffy's tiktok's level span of attention is struggling here, heh. Also please notice Luffy's unusual focus on the smooching lol.

Oh, so that's Luffy's idea for the wedding surprise. He just wanted to do ninja's shadow clonining trick, definitely inspired by Raizou's show in Zou.

Coincidentally, that's the technique that was Law's request and made Law so damn impressed. Yeah, this is for sure a coincidence, that Luffy chose to do it like that, even though he didn't really have to have multiple copies of himself here to make it work. I bet he just thought "if Law would be here, that would impress him, I'm sure!" and I bet he's looking forward to telling him all about this adventure later on and seeing his face.

But it was essenstial for his plan to create chaos! He didn't do it just for fun! Are you sure? Because it was Brook who hid himself in the midst and did the deed with Mother Carmel's photo frame, and Luffy did not tell him to do this. Luffy simply wanted to be cool, okay, he didn't think that far ahead. He was supposed to cause chaos, he delivered.

And in his fight with Katakuri, Luffy is the one who has to have faith. Law had his faith moment in Dressrosa, now it's Luffy's turn.

Luffy found his answer about what he can do and how to become a better person for someone. It's to master his observation haki. Which, coincidentally, is Law's forte.

Luffy's curious, very strict words to Jimbei. "Don't let even death stop you, we'll be waiting in Wano!" It's basically Luffy's own promise he made before leaving Zou, just said in more deadly serious manner. That's because his experience in Whole Cake Island made him realize it himself: he will go back to Wano and not even death can stop him from achieving that. Because he promised that to Law people.

I'm sure for Law this would be indeed the most important thing, not to lose anyone ever again, especially Luffy who he (miraculously) managed to save all the way back in Marineford. I don't know how Luffy knows this or if he knows at all about Law's deepest fear, but he's determined not to die on him, that's for sure.

This is also the first big seperation for Luffy and Law. Luffy deals with it, treating everything like an adventure to tell Law later so it feels like Law is there with him even though he's not. But also treats it like a challenge, to become a better and stronger person so he won't disappoint him.

Still convinced there was no Lawlu in WCI? Oh well, if that's the case then all I can say is: I tried my best :D

If anyone wants to read all the parts of this series without going to my masterpost, then just click "love is a hurricane" tag :3

[chris-prank]

Peaceful post-apocalypse settings have always been one of my favorite tropes! There's just something so freeing about the thought of humanity being set back to simpler times...(boomer ahh mindset but wtvr)

That said, may I request more Martin content?🙏 He's such a sweetheart!! Maybe something about reader wanting to join him on a hunt? Him teaching them how to? Or just any ideas you have for him really

Hope you have a lovely day mwuah :)

With the deplorable state of our world right now, it’s perfectly fair to prefer a time without the complicated life of the city 😆 so I totally get you 🤝 Also I’m so happy that you called Martin a sweetheart 🥺, if we take away if yandere tendencies he really is! And have a great day too ❤️❤️❤️

Yandere hunter x GN reader

CW: animal death, manipulation sorta, reader get frozen by fear/ fear response

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

“You want to go hunting with me?” Martin asked, surprised, while casually throwing his crossbow over his shoulder.

He felt extremely flattered that you wanted to take part in his daily duties and by looking in your hopeful eyes, he couldn’t dare deny you anything. So after you changed into more appropriate clothes, the two of you were ready to go into the forest. You walked hand in hand, looking like you were going on a romantic stroll. In reality, this adorable display was a safety major, since the surroundings were filled with traps Martin had previously set up. He said that it was to make sure that nothing or no one could escape him while he hunted. Whatever that meant.

“So what are we looking for exactly?” You asked while keeping an eye out for any sounds in the crisp autumn leaves.

“It depends… there’s usually deers roaming around this time of year.”

“We’re going to kill a deer?!” You repeated, your jaw hanging wide open. You thought you were going for something smaller like a rabbit or a bird at the very least.

He grinned and winked at you. “Only if you can actually do it.”

“Hey!” You pushed his arms while sticking your tongue at him. “I’m a very independent and capable person.” You added while puffing your chest out jokingly.

The man next to you seemed to mumble something under his breath, but since he didn’t repeat himself despite your lack of response, you figured it was nothing important.

***

You couldn’t believe you two had found one. Of course, you knew that Martin was skilled in tracking animals, but still, what were the odds! The deer was lazily drinking from a small pond, unaware of the crossbow pointed at its neck.

Martin had helped you get in the right spot and revised with you the shooting position he had taught you before. But you kept shaking. The idea of killing an animal seemed so simple and inconsequential, but now that you were faced with the reality of the situation you just couldn’t do it. That’s when you felt his warm embrace enveloped you, your back now pressed against his chest. His hands crept up to rest over yours, steadying your grip on the weapon.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to do anything.” His voice was so calm, so enticing. It was pulling you in a sense of comfort and stability that few people had the chance of experiencing, “you can just rely on me.”

You simply nodded, you just wanted to lose yourself in his presence and forget that you had the life of a living being in the palm of your hands. Then his finger was over yours and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. Everything went by so fast, as a shrill shriek followed by a loud thump made all the birds take flight from the surrounding trees. You slowly lowered the crossbow, still a bit in shock of what had just happened. In response, Martin rubbed your arms up and down in a soothing manner.

“You were so brave for me.” He whispered against your ear, “but don’t worry, you won’t have to do it ever again, I’ll be brave for the both of us if you let me.”

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Karma love to make a fool out of me 💀 it’s always when I say “oh it’ll take a while for me to complete” that I suddenly get a wave of inspiration. Not going to complain too much though, it’s always better than having writer's block.

[babesway22]

“In Too Deep” part 11

Vox x fem!reader// NSFW 18+ // 🔞minors do not enter 🔞

Summary: After a strange week you get offered a job working for hell's biggest asshole but does he have a soft spot for you? Or is he just using you?

You stood before the grand full-length mirror and carefully smoothed out any imperceptible creases, hoping to alleviate your nervousness. Your eyes narrowed and scanned your form, taking in your soft makeup and long hair that cascaded around your face. The dress was breathtaking, made of a fragile, flowing black fabric that gracefully fell onto the floor, accentuating your soft curves in all the right places, and secretly concealed beneath was an irresistible combination of black and royal blue lingerie. You glanced at the clock again, the time reading 7:45. Vox had promised to pick you up at 8, leaving you just enough time to potentially succumb to a nervous breakdown. Your inexplicable anxiety puzzled you; where was he taking you? Why a date now after everything? Admittedly, any romantic gesture from him had the power to plunge you into a frenzy, with a telltale deep blush unfailingly betraying your genuine emotions without fail. Perhaps that was the reason for your turmoil? You laughed at your talent for exacerbating any situation and settled onto the couch, leaning forward gracefully to slip your feet into sophisticated heels. Despite the added height they provided, you knew that they would never make you taller than him, something you always found incredibly attractive, his towering height over you and others creating a sense of admiration and allure whenever you stared up at him. As you hoisted yourself up from the couch, you gave everything one last once-over before making your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine, hoping it would calm your nerves. Just as you began to fill a glass, a sudden knocking at the door startled you, causing the wine to spill over the rim.

“Fuck,” you groaned, grabbing a nearby towel and cleaning the mess. “Come in!" you eagerly yelled from the floor. Cor carefully turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, his figure concealed behind an extravagant bouquet that seemed larger than life. "Miss?" he called out tentatively, his voice conveying uncertainty as he scanned the room, unable to locate you immediately. Upon hearing his familiar voice, you swiftly sprang up from the floor, hastily discarding the towel as you moved to greet him. You started to speak, but a gasp of astonishment overcame you. Before you lay a mesmerizing sight – a bouquet filled with otherworldly flowers of the most vibrant and intriguing colors. Shades of blue, red, and violet intertwined in a symphony of hues, each blossom and bud displaying an enigmatic beauty you had never encountered before. Cor placed the flowers on the counter and glanced at the intricate details of each small petal. "He's finishing up a meeting at the moment, miss," Cor informed, his voice tinged with anticipation and respect.

As you gazed in awe, you whispered, "They're stunning," while delicately running your fingers over the velvety petals of a particularly striking and unusual blossom. With a playful glint in his eye, Cor responded, "He certainly knows how to impress," accompanied by a knowing wink.

"Tell me, Cor, where is he taking me?" you turned to him with a mischievous smirk, the corners of your lips curling upward. The dimming sunlight danced across your face, highlighting the flecks of mischief in your eyes.

"My lips are sealed," he chuckled, a warm glint in his eyes as he gestured with his hand, mimicking the action of zipping his mouth closed. The playful sparkle in his eyes matched the infectious energy in his voice, creating an atmosphere of lighthearted secrecy.

“Mmm, thought you'd say that," you hummed, turning back to the vibrant bouquet, absently rearranging them. A long pause blanketed the room, the silence heavy with anticipation before you spoke again. "I'm quite nervous, and I don't know why," you laughed softly, a nervous tinge underlying your words. "I mean, he's terrifying, an overlord feared by so many souls, but with me, he's surprisingly gentle. It's just hard to believe that he actually cares for me," you finished, your voice trailing off as you pondered the complexities of your situation.

"Are you starting to doubt his affection?" Cor asked, his voice betraying a hint of shock.

"No, no," you replied, meeting his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and reassurance. “he's just.-”

“Unpredictable?” Cor finished, walking over to where you stood and placing a hand on your arm. “Vox has been a part of my life for a long time, and I've realized that he can be quite enigmatic and challenging to know truly. However, I can assure you that he holds deep feelings for you," he expressed with a heartfelt shake of his head.

"Cor, your insights are always so enlightening. I think my self-doubt is just getting the best of me. I've never experienced this kind of love before, and it feels almost surreal," you whispered softly, gently placing your hand over his and forcing a tight smile.

“You deserve this love; believe in it and give him time to show himself to you; the combination of Vox and emotions has never been a natural fit, but I can't help but notice a transformation whenever he's in your presence. It's as if a new side of him emerges, revealing a depth of emotion and vulnerability that is rarely seen. Ah, but I digress,” he sighed, glancing at his watch. "He'll be here soon. He looks quite dashing tonight if I do say so myself." His hearty laughter filled the room as he departed, the door closing gently behind him.

You peered around the corner, making sure he was gone, and let out a huge huff of air, running to the bathroom to tidy yourself up for the third time before Vox got here. It was like you were in high school again, waiting for your crush to pick you up for prom. “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, pacing in front of the mirror and fanning your face. “Okay, it's fine. He's my boyfriend; we've fucked like 100 times, get it together, but he's super hot,” you groaned, frustratingly sweeping a piece of hair behind your ear and re-applying your lipstick. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but scowl at the uneasiness creeping into your mind. "Why am I giving myself a pep talk?" you muttered, trying to shake off the self-doubt. With a deep breath, you turned away from the mirror and made your way into the kitchen. Your hand reached for the half-empty wine glass left on the counter, and you downed the remaining contents in one swift motion. The cool liquid provided a momentary escape as you poured yourself another glass, the rich aroma filling the air. Lost in your thoughts, you were completely unaware of his quiet entrance into the room.

“Nervous?” Vox's deep voice reverberated through the kitchen, causing you to let out a startled scream. You spun around to face him, clutching your chest. "Vox, you-” your voice trailed off; you couldn't help but notice the way he stood before you. Hot, he was so hot, you reminded yourself. Completely unashamed, your eyes leisurely trailed up and down his slender form, taking in every detail. He was dressed in a black button-up shirt of the highest quality, with the first few buttons open, revealing a glimpse of his neck and a hint of his chest. The fabric on his arms was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, which were tucked behind his back, and dark slacks that fit his hips and legs perfectly, accentuating his every movement and making your mouth hang open in admiration. “Yes," you squeaked finally, the words barely escaping your lips as you summoned the courage to meet his intense crimson eyes, and that did it, the nail in your figurative coffin. A rush of emotions swept over you, causing your knees to suddenly feel weak and a deep, embarrassing blush to spread across your face, betraying the effect he had on you.

His deep hum filled the air as he sauntered over to you, his slender fingers reaching out and toying with the delicate strap of your dress, eliciting a breathy sigh of desire from your lips. "Do you like the flowers?" he murmured, his intense gaze fixed on your mouth, causing you to quiver under the weight of his stare. “Very much,” you looked up at him with a subtle tilt of your head, your eyes veiled by long, dark lashes. The air crackled with palpable tension, weighing heavily on the space between you, making it feel like it might stifle any movement or sound.

“Good, good,” he grabbed the wine from you and set it on the counter, backing you into the nearby wall and making you gasp. “Tonights special sweetheart, I can't ruin this dress and your pretty make up before our date, but boy, do I want to,” he growled, tilting your head back and bending down to place hot kisses on your neck, a breathy moan leaving you. “Vox, please,” you pleaded, pouting as he reluctantly disentangled himself from you and straightened up to his full height. "No, no, no," he scolded gently, holding your hand and drawing you close to his chest. "Ready?" He inquired, his self-assured grin eliciting a giggle from you.

"Ready," you smiled, holding onto him tightly. Although it hadn't been explicitly mentioned, you both knew that teleportation was the safest mode of travel. Your body slowly acclimated to the sensation of tearing through the air, propelled by crackling electricity.

*********

You stumbled into the dimly lit street from a nearby alleyway; your heels scraping against the rough concrete echoed in the still night air. You felt a strong arm belonging to Vox wrap tightly around your waist, providing much-needed support as you struggled to regain your balance. “I'm sorry, doll," Vox murmured softly, his deep voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the city. He allowed you to lean into his arm, giving you the stability to adjust yourself and catch your breath. As you gazed out at the city, his eyes were fixed on you, observing your reaction to the urban landscape. There was little hustle and bustle in the area where you stood, with only occasional glimpses of demons and neglected, aging buildings. Your inquisitive nature was piqued, and you couldn't help but wonder why you were in this particular location, especially since you seemed to be dressed more formally than necessary.

"It's just a few blocks down the street where we'll be heading. I was thinking we could walk," he said, clearing his throat nervously. His eyes concealed an emotion that seemed just out of reach, leaving you with a sense of unease, but without hesitation, you smiled—allowing him to gently tuck you under his arm, his hand finding its place on your waist. "You're so protective," you said softly, your gaze following his sharp eyes as they tracked a demon walking on the opposite side of the street.

"I don't enjoy parting with what belongs to me," he uttered with a dark intensity, his gaze unwavering from the demon. It always stirred a sense of admiration within you whenever you were reminded of his formidable strength, having heard stories of him ripping souls in half when he was on a rampage. His gaze returned to you, and a gentle, lopsided smile graced his face. "You look stunning," he whispered, his voice brimming with affection. In that moment, you felt a sense of security and comfort, knowing that he was there for you as your protector.

“Thank you, though I feel a bit too formally dressed," you chuckled, glancing down at your attire's delicate, thin fabric.

"You're not overdressed. We're almost there," his voice took on that enigmatic tone again, causing a mysterious swirl of emotions in your stomach. You suddenly found your mind flooded with so many possibilities. What if he was taking you to this particular place to break up with you? The thought of him telling you things weren't working out made you anxious. You made a conscious effort to push these thoughts down, not wanting them to ruin your evening. “Can I cover your eyes?" he inquired, gazing at you anxiously.

"Alright," you agreed, placing your complete trust in the man you adored. His large hand gently shielded your eyes, enveloping you in its comforting warmth.

“Be careful, baby. You seem a bit clumsy. I can hardly imagine you were once a dancer," he remarked, laughing as you attempted to playfully swat at him. “I was actually a fantastic dancer, thank you very much," you playfully scolded back, then gasped as your feet landed on unfamiliar ground—was it dirt or grass? It was hard to tell.

“Nearly there," he said, steadying you with a gentle touch on your shoulders. "Okay," he murmured, removing his hand from your eyes. As you blinked and acclimated to the subdued light, a gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the scene around you. You whirled around to gaze at Vox; his arms were folded behind his back, his eyes fixed on the heavens.

"Vox, did you do all of this?" you asked in disbelief, your voice trembling with shock.

"I did, yeah," he replied, his demeanor unusually quiet and guarded, his eyes avoiding yours as if concealing a deeper truth. You whirled back around, allowing yourself to fully absorb the surroundings again. Before you lay a breathtaking, enchanting forest, brimming with the same flowers that adorned your bouquet at V towers. Lofty, majestic trees enclosed you from all sides, and in the center stood a quaint gazebo adorned with a cozy arrangement of candles, flowers, and wine.

“What is this place? All my years in hell, and I've never heard of it,” you asked, walking to stand before him.

“Not many do. When I first arrived in hell, I was utterly bewildered and frightened, of course. Sure, I had committed some heinous acts, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that such a place could exist. I mean, the concept of God, Lucifer, Heaven, and Hell - none of it ever resonated with me when I was alive," he explained, his eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief and contemplation as he gazed out into the seemingly infinite expanse of the forest. "But, uh. I used to visit this place frequently during those initial years. The surroundings somehow evoked memories of home for me. I would find a quiet spot in the grass and sit there, lost in my thoughts..." His voice trailed off into a reflective silence as he looked down at you. At that moment, a profound and tranquil silence wrapped around both of you, creating a sense of deep connection and understanding. "It's truly beautiful, thank you," you said warmly, picking up on his uneasiness in expressing his emotions.

"Anything for you, doll," he whispered in a low, husky voice, his eyes gleaming with an obsessive intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. The dim light caught the glint in his eyes, casting eerie shadows across his face, adding an unsettling edge to his demeanor. He extended his long arm, gesturing to the intimate setting, "I got your favorite wine. Would you like some?"

"Please," you whispered, feeling that dammed blush spread across your cheeks as he guided you and pulled out the chair for you.

“So," he cleared his throat, eyes scanning the forest for any sign of danger as he spoke. His typically cocky and arrogant manner had been replaced by something else, something you were still trying to decipher. "Feel free to ask me anything about my past or present.”

“Anything?" you asked playfully, reaching for the elegant crystal glass of rich, velvety red wine. As you brought it to your lips, the bold and complex flavors danced on your tongue, eliciting a contented hum of appreciation.

"Go ahead, show me what you've got," he replied with a sly smile, his eyebrow arching as he awaited your questions.

“Um, okay. You mentioned that you were never married. Did you have any romantic relationships while you were on Earth or here? Or why did you choose not to marry? You mentioned that you were older when you passed, so,” you asked, your knee bouncing nervously beneath the table.

“I was always preoccupied with work and couldn't commit to any serious relationships. I did have a few casual girlfriends over the years, but nothing ever lasted. Looking back, I know I wasn't the best version of myself, so I can't blame them for not wanting to stick around. As for here," he paused to take a long sip of his wine, "it's just been a series of meaningless hookups.”

“Oh,” you muttered as you mindlessly stared into the field; the words "meaningless hookups" stung slightly, leaving you wondering if that was all you meant to him. Finally summoning the courage, you glanced back at him and gestured toward the sky with a subtle chin movement. "Did you take many lives up there?" He replied in a curt and dangerous tone, "A few.” You paused briefly, allowing the question to marinate in your mind before deciding whether to ask it. "Will you grow tired of me, just like you did with them? Too busy with work?” you asked, the firmness in your voice unintentionally revealing your inner turmoil. As the words left your lips, you pinched your knee, almost as if to physically reprimand yourself for posing such a challenging and self-sabotaging question. His response was a firm “no,” accompanied by a quizzical furrowing of his eyebrows, clearly indicating his confusion at where the conversation was headed.

“I have this fear, Vox-,” you sighed, gripping your glass tightly, “that I'm not worthy of love but only deserving of pain and hatred because it's all I had ever known. When he was beating me towards the end, I screamed ‘I love you’ at the top of my lungs until I couldn't anymore. Because surely love would have saved me, right? But, I was mistaken, and my perspective on love changed drastically," you gazed into Vox's eyes, witnessing the anguish that clouded his handsome features. "Until I encountered you and plunged into an overwhelming affection, but I'm scared, Vox. I'm so scared that you'll hurt me too," you held back tears, taking a large sip of wine to temporarily quell the emotions, and cast your eyes downward, feeling a sense of shame as you made your confession.

You heard him shift in his seat, the old wooden chair groaning as he leaned in closer, the sound echoing in the small space. "What do you need from me? What words can I utter to convey the depth of my love for you?" he implored, his voice resonating with a desperate sense of urgency as if his entire being hinged on your understanding.

"Vox," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you met his intense gaze again. Goosebumps rose on your skin, sending a shudder through your body at the sheer intensity of his presence. Suddenly, he stood up, his eyes never leaving yours, and made his way over to you. Dropping to his knees in front of you.

“I can't, I can't do this without you; what do you need from me?” his voice distorting, making him growl in frustration. You watched as metallic-colored tears began to cascade down his screen, trickling onto his crisp dress shirt. His trembling fingers hastily brushed them away, leaving behind a mysterious fluid that stained the back of his hand. "No," he gasped, his breath coming in ragged bursts then, as if a sudden realization had dawned on him, a gut-wrenching sob erupted from his throat, his red eyes locking onto yours, desperately searching your face.

“Vox," your melodious voice gently beckoned to him as you knelt on the ground to meet him. “You're crying," you whispered, a delicate hand reaching out to catch the shimmering droplets. His intense gaze bore down on you; his eyebrows knit together in a deep furrow of concern. He was acutely aware of the discomfort the unyielding concrete must be inflicting on your knees, yet here you were, unwavering, embodying a picture of resolute perfection. His emotions had always been unpredictable, and he understood the challenge it must have presented for you, but you never faltered. You were a steady presence amid his turbulent emotions, a beacon of strength in his most tumultuous moments.

“Fuck,” He shook his head, his mind swirling with a tumultuous mix of emotions. Desperation clawed at his chest as he struggled to remove the overwhelming intensity of his feelings. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But I can only hope that this will help you understand how much I love you,” he reached into his pocket and carefully extracted a small, elegant black box, its smooth surface catching the soft glow of the lamps. As he tightly squeezed it in his hand, you watched with wide eyes. When he looked back up at you, you realized what was happening, and your chest rose and fell as you struggled to draw in enough air. “Vox- you began, but he cut you off.

“No, no, let me talk. Please. When you do this to me, it's like a surge of life coursing through my veins, awakening emotions I never knew existed within me. I mean, I just cried; I can't remember the last time I did, and I know I may not fully comprehend these feelings, but I'm trying, baby, I'm trying. Let me give you everything I have to offer to shield you from any harm and to prove you're deserving of love, and fuck, I know I have a skewed idea of love, but teach me, mold me for you,” he pleaded, then looked down to carefully

open the box, revealing a breathtaking diamond ring with intricate details on the band. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. You stared at him momentarily, a single tear sliding down your face. As he noticed your lack of response, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, and you could see the panic set in, his eyes searching yours desperately for any sign of understanding or reassurance. But before he could second-guess your reaction any longer, you took a deep breath and boldly jumped into his lap, feeling the warmth of his body as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you protectively. The sudden movement caused him to fall onto his back with a loud groan, but his hold on you remained firm and secure.

"Yes, Vox, yes," you whispered into his neck, punctuating each word with a tender kiss. "Yes," you repeated, a genuine grin spreading across your face as you sat up and straddled his lap. Looking down at him, you extended your hand in an inviting gesture.

“Do you like it?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation. After carefully slipping the ring onto your finger, you couldn't help but wonder briefly how he knew your ring size, but you decided to save that question for another day. As you extended your hand towards the light, the diamonds embedded in the delicate band shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the gentle glow and casting tiny prisms of color onto your skin. The way the light played off the facets of the diamonds made them seem to come alive, creating a mesmerizing dance of sparkle and shine that captivated your gaze.

"It's stunning, Vox," you whispered, your breath catching in your throat as you leaned in closer, resting your head against his chest. The soft fabric of his shirt brushed against your cheek, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. His fingertips tenderly traced the contours of your long hair, each stroke sending a delightful tingle down your spine as you surrendered to the comforting warmth of his embrace.

"I have a little surprise for you, too, although I don't think it can top this," you giggled, feeling the lightness of the moment as you sat back up, your hands finding their place on his chest. His eyebrow arched inquisitively as he raised his head from the ground.

"Would you mind taking me home?" you asked playfully, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks and nose

“Whatever you want, Mrs.,” he flashed his sharp teeth and sat up, shifting you onto his lap and standing, the strength of his thighs pushing onto the back of yours as he stood, making you needy.

*********

“Sit riiiiight there," you giggled nervously, your heart racing as you gently guided him down onto the plush couch in the cozy living area of your shared suite. The evening had been filled with a palpable tension, and you couldn't wait any longer to be back home. The urgency of the moment spurred you to make swift work of getting back, eager to be alone together in the comfort of your own space.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mused, his eyes growing dark.

“Your turn to cover your eyes,” you said shyly, smiling as he did so.

“Should I be worried? It's not a pet, is it?" he said, his voice tinged with disgust at the mere thought of a furry creature stealing your attention away from him.

“Not a pet, but now that you mention it,” you called out playfully over your shoulder, heading to the bathroom

"Not gonna happen," you heard him grumble, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but watch as he leaned back onto the couch, stretching his lean body, his legs spreading open in a relaxed manner that always caught your attention. As he did so, you found yourself biting your lip, unable to tear your gaze away. He always exuded a magnetic charm, making you squeeze your thighs together needily.

When the bathroom door closed, you whirled around and gazed at your reflection in the mirror. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you contemplated marrying the most alluring overlord in hell. You couldn't help but revel in the thought of the other girls and demons who had been eagerly vying for his attention. Eat your hearts out, you thought as you slipped the dress off. You tilted your head, marveling at the intricate beauty of the lingerie Velvette had created, always entrancing you with her craftsmanship. After making minor adjustments, you pinched your cheeks for a rosy hue and cautiously opened the door to check if his eyes were still concealed. As soon as he heard the sound of your heels tapping against the floor, he subtly tensed up. You couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of him imagining that you were keeping something mysterious from him.

“You're making me nervous,” he bemused, his foot beginning to tap impatiently. Your eyes followed the movement as you took a moment to admire him.

“It's nothing like that,” you said, your voice soft yet tempting as you came to stand between his open legs. “You can open them,” you said bashfully, crossing your legs over each other and placing your arms behind your back.

“Yeah, well, with you, I can never be sure what you're…. up to,” he trailed off as soon as he removed his hand, his crimson eyes intense as they trailed over your body.

“Do you like it?” you asked, and at his lack of response, you began fidgeting with the lace garter.

“Fuu-ccc-kkkkk,” his screen and voice distorted, a blue screen displaying momentarily. “My soon-to-be wife, holy shiiiiit,” he shook his head in disbelief and grabbed onto your hips, immediately pulling you down onto his lap. His hands trailed over your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “All mine,” he said possessively and yanked your head back, pushing your breast into his face and exposing your graceful neck to him. You felt his breath on your skin, making you moan loudly.

“Pretty girl, and pretty sounds. Just for me,” he whispered into your skin, followed by hot kisses that trailed down your neck to the swell of your breast. “I need you to be a good girl and cum for me as many times as I want, do you understand? Nod, yes or no,” he demanded, his voice laced with darkness as his grip on your hair tightened to a painful sting. You nodded yes as much as you could while held in the position. “Good girl”. You loved when he was dominant like this, the only man, in fact, that you allowed to assert his dominance on you, your trust in him unwavering. Besides, he had bared his emotions to you tonight like never before; he needed this. He needed control. And you were all too willing to give it to him.

“Stand up and turn around,” he said sharply, a resounding slap filling your ears, the pain coming next as a red mark marred the skin on your ass. “I said, stand up,” he hissed. You jumped from his lap this time, obeying. His hands found your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, making you whine, “I bet you're wet already, hm? I've hardly touched you. You're filthy, you know that? I remember when you were a meek office assistant at that low-end job, wearing that slutty little skirt,” he seethed as his fingers sank into your entrance, soaking his two digits thoroughly, a breathy moan spilling from your lips.

“Vox, fuck me,” you mewled, back arching inward as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, the lace

of your thong rubbing against your clit.

“Beg,” he spoke. It was one word, but it held so much power.

“Please, please, fuck me,” you pleaded pathetically, but you'd do it again, all for him.

“I'm not convinced,” he growled and spun you around, pushing you to the floor, your knees hitting the ground for him the second time tonight but for entirely different reasons. You stared up at him, his pupils blown out and lips pulled into a snarl, exposing his sharp teeth. He was hot like this, unhinged and manic. It made you want to do bad things for him, to please him.

“Please, I’ll do anything, anything,” the last word hardly above a whisper, your hands reaching for his lap, plaming his impressive length through his pants.

“Who do you belong to?” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of your hair again, the other freeing himself. His hand ran up and down the length a few times, making your mouth water. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips in anticipation.

“I said, WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?” he hissed impatiently, but as you began to answer, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed until your mouth fell open, and shoved his dick in, making you gag as it hit the back of your throat. You greedily lapped your tongue on the underside, urging him to push your head deeper until spit spilled from the corners of your mouth.

“What a good girl,” he said, fisting your hair and removing you off his dick. “Now, who do you belong to?” he raised his brows expectantly as you caught your breath.

“You Vox, you,” you panted. You wanted to rub your clit to release the painful pressure building, but you knew better. You wanted him to be in control. His dominance was smothering, but you craved it and would shamelessly beg for him to be this way if he asked.

“I have you for internity now, pretty girl,” he said, lowering his face down to you, “sit on my dick and use it until you cum,” he whispered, releasing your hair, making you fall backward slightly. He sat back and stared down at you, his crimson eyes lidded with power and lust, a lethal concoction. He smiled deviously, his head following you as you rose from the floor, watching as you placed your hands on either side of his broad shoulders and straddled him, your hips slowly lowering onto his throbbing dick. You threw your head back to the heavens as the tip entered you; although wet, he was still a tight squeeze, the biggest you've ever had.

“Fuck,” you whined as you started a steady pace, using his shoulders as leverage. The wet squelches damning, and fithly but he loved it.

“Fuck me harder,” he growled, grabbing your throat into one large hand. You did as he asked, slamming your hips down onto him until that familiar pressure began to build in your stomach, the need for release almost painful.

“Cum,” he whispered hotly into your ear, and as if he was the conductor to your body, you screamed, the orgasm wrecking through you. The squeeze and release of the muscles inside you was euphoric and powerful, leaving you slummed over as it wracked through you, his hand on your throat the only thing holding you up.

“Filthy. Look at you now, begging for my dick. Cumming when I say,” he clicked his tongue at you a few times in mock disappointment.

“I love you,” you managed through hot pants, the blissful high of the orgasm still lingering.

“I love you, pretty girl. I'm going to fuck you so hard you’ll think of me every time you take a step, do you understand. Can you take that?” he asked, eyes staring at you intensely, pupils still blown out, “Nod, yes or no, baby. I need to know.” You nodded, your fate sealed. You yelped when he stood up, your fingers interlocking together behind his neck for support as he carried you, setting you down on the kitchen island, the perfect height for him to destroy you.

“You're incredibly beautiful," he said, his voice carrying a hint of tenderness that contrasted with the intense energy exuding from the man standing before you. His hands ran up your sides and down your back, unlatching the lace bra, allowing your breast to spill out freely as it dropped to the floor. He cupped them in his hands, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling the nipples into buds in his fingers until they were hardened peaks. You whimpered his name, eliciting a throaty growl from him. He lined up his cock at your entrance and pushed in, his eyes rolling closed at the velvety warm hug of your walls. “Don't cum until I say, if you do, I'll stop. Do you understand” You nodded eagerly, although you weren't sure if it was possible; he had always made you cum quickly, but you faced the challenge nonetheless. His fingers bruised your hips as he pulled you down onto each brutal thrust upward, the snap and angle of his hips percise to do as much damage as possible, the hieght of the counter perfect. You reached out to him, needing some source of leverage not to fall backward, finding solace in his biceps, the muscles tightening under the tortuous rhythm he was setting.

“I need to cum. Vox, please,” you whined, each word broken as the air left your lungs.

“NO,” he barked, clenching his teeth together. You tried to focus on anything else; Lucifer forbid he stop because of your climax. A hand moved to your throat and began to squeeze, a welcome distraction for the time being. “Look at you, baby. Covered in sweat, taking my cock. What a good girl,” he praised, making you swell with pride.

“No, no, I'm gonna cum,” you began to chant over and over, your eyes rolling closed, your grip on his arms becoming intense.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” he taunted, and just as your walls began to tighten, he slowed to a sloppy pace, smothering the orgasm from existence.

“You asshole,” you seethed, eyes shooting open to glare up at him, nails gripping into his arms. You had hoped they were leaving marks.

“Watch your mouth,” he growled, the hand around your throat tightening in warning. “Look at that,” he hissed through his teeth, staring between your bodies as he slowly pulled all the way out and pushed back in, your arousal dripping off his dick onto the counter.

“I can't last, Vox-” you began to whimper, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “I need to cum”

“Poor girl,” he mocked, “oh fuck, you weren't kidding,” he laughed maniacally, your hot walls beginning to squeeze him again. His thumb started a tortuous assault on your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves slipping off every second or so because of how soaked you were.

“Pleaseeeeeee, please, baby,” you cried out, tears streaming down your face now.

“Oh, I never hear you call me that; I like it,” he whispered into your ear, “more,” he growled demonically, making you shudder.

“Baby, I’ll do anything you want, ANYTHING,” you whined as he picked his pace back up, the head of his cock bruising your cervix. “Baby,” you began to repeat, your eyes rolling closed and your body lifting off the counter. Your mind had gone blank, his body the only thing consuming you.

“Oh, fuuuuuck. I love when you go dumb on my cock. It's been a while, hasn't it, sweetheart? What’s your name, huh?” he asked, his arrogant voice making you clench around him.

“I-I don't. I don't know,” you mumbled, hardly coherent.

“Cum, you filthy girl. Soak me,” he breathed into your ear, and that was it. Your body arched off the counter, his arms encircling your waist to hold you in place as the most intense orgasm of your existence tore you in two, a series of loud moans leaving you as the pulsating muscles inside you gripped him so hard that he choked, and studdered, words failing him as he spilled into you. Your orgasms intertwined with each other, a euphoric soul bond. As they subsided, nothing could be heard but your combined pants, your head dropped, resting on his chest, his heartbeat strong against your ear, calming you.

“I love you,” he panted, his fingers drawing small circles onto your back.

“I love you,” you hummed.

“For eternity?” he asked, his tenderness pulling at your heart

“For eternity,” you replied, safe in his arms as you would always be.

Here we are, guys, at the end. Whew, this was my first ever fic, and I cannot express how much I appreciate every interaction with it. Vox has been so fun to write, as has my sassy OC. I may do some kind of epilogue for these guys after they've been married sometime, but I have no planned time frame for that. I would absolutely love recommendations for future works.

Thank you to @redfoxwritesstuff for supporting a new writer; it means a lot. Of course, thank you to @annakade , @vvzhyxx , @lil-glum @cimadreamer and any other wonderful people I may be forgetting.