#basically what happened in alone at sea?

[dreamy-pill]

Steven: My mother once told me that bad news was just good news in disguise.

Lapis: Was this before she gave up her gem?

Steven: Yes it was.

Dipper: But! The point being, that even though things look bad—

Mabel: —there is a rainbow around every corner!

Stan: And nothing but smooth sailing ahead!

Amethyst: Smooth sailing, Stan?!

The crew turns their attention to the back of the yacht where the ocean’s waves are rising, menacingly. They are quickly surrounded by dark stormy clouds and heavy winds. All the while, a muffled sound could be heard coming from the boat’s galley.

(Explanation for the GIF: Squidward is Stanley, the screaming customers behind him is the panicking crew (Dipper, Mabel, Lapis, Steven, and Amethyst), and Mr. Krabs is Greg. The goopy monster chasing after him is the tidal wave.

I imagine that Greg would jump out of the galley, all tied up, and say something similar like “it’s the tidal wave!”

Why’s Greg all tied up? He was trying to convince Stanley to turn the (rented) boat around after hearing on the radio about a big storm coming in. Stan, of course, took care of it by tying Greg up (with Amethyst’s help) and pretending that everything is normal.

Things are not normal. Even Amethyst is starting to doubt Stan’s composure to keep the “family outing” going.

[vhstown]

its crazy how it's accepted that there's so many different types of white people but when it comes to POC and especially brown / desi people we're all just seen as like... indian or something . and not even indian just a stereotype of what people think indians are

[allpiesforourown]

All I want is a modern au where bingge is shen yuans best friend/roommate and also the worst person to ever exist. He worships the ground shen yuan walks on and even though he always has a hot girlfriend, they last like a month tops before they realize he's weirdly obsessed with shen yuan.

Being binghes girlfriend means waiting at the restaurant, ordering alone because it's been an hour he hasn't shown up, eating and going home because he won't reply to your texts, then getting a reply several days later saying "couldn't text you back, yuan-ge got sick" and it's completely unapologetic

Hands down the worst thing binghe does is get jealous of any girl shen yuan gets close to and hit on her so she won't date shen yuan

Binghe: I'm dating that girl you were talking to last night at the party!

Shen yuan: oh I'm glad! I was hoping you two would get together. She's so smart and you need a girlfriend that's not blah blah blah

Binghe: oh.... he didn't like her... okay I'll dump her later today. I just wanted to make sure she's not a threat to me being most important to shen yuan.

Everytime someone is smart enough to figure out what's happening and curses binghe out for using them, binghe sniffles and tells shen yuan he got dumped. Shen yuan (who has only seen the sweet submissive side of binghe) cuddles him and pats his head and says there's plenty of fish in the sea.

Getting dumped is binghes favourite thing in the world, because shen yuan will immediately cancel any plans he might have with qingge or airplane and insist on "comforting" Binghe at home.

Its basically this meme

[sh4nksslvt]

Confined Hearts

A routine supply run turns chaotic when you and Law get trapped below deck — but maybe being stuck alone isn't such a bad thing after all.

Law X gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, secret relationship, trapped a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The steady hum of the Polar Tang was strangely comforting. Somewhere above, the Heart Pirates went about their usual routines: cleaning, charting, fixing whatever needed fixing after their last chaotic encounter with a Sea King. You lounged lazily against a stack of crates in the storage bay, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you watched Trafalgar Law pick through supplies, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

He looked… good. Way too good for your heart to handle.

Denim jeans that hung low on his hips, simple white t-shirt slightly damp from the humidity, his tattoos curling like secret messages down his arms and up his throat. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when you knew just how warm and soft that skin was under your fingers.

Not that anyone else could know. Not that the crew — bless their oblivious souls — had the faintest idea.

Being in a secret relationship with your stoic, sharp-tongued Captain was its own kind of dangerous thrill. One wrong move, one wrong look, and Shachi or Penguin would never let you live it down.

Law glanced over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

"You planning to help, or just stand there like a useless lump?"

You snorted. "Bold talk from a guy who's been glaring at the same box for five minutes."

"Planning," he drawled, straightening up and cracking his neck. "Unlike you, who specializes in doing absolutely nothing."

You tossed a rag at his head. He dodged it with irritating ease, a faint smirk flashing across his mouth before it disappeared into his usual deadpan stare.

You fought a grin. God, you loved being able to push his buttons.

"Fine, Captain," you said dramatically, hopping off the crate. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do everything in my power to serve you."

There was the tiniest flicker in his expression — a shift only you would notice. The kind that made your stomach flutter and your mind race with all the things you could do if you weren't surrounded by supplies and crates and the whole damn crew upstairs.

Law turned back to the stack, voice low enough that you almost missed it. "Later," he murmured. "If you're good."

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to act normal.

You really, really hoped no one was coming down here anytime soon.

.

.

The moment it happened, it was pure chaos.

One second you were moving a particularly heavy crate like Law asked — the next, the ship rocked violently. Somewhere far above, there was a muffled shout and the shriek of metal. The crate slipped from your grip, slamming into the wall with a loud THUD.

Before you could react, the heavy storage door — that was supposed to stay propped open — swung shut with a bone-shaking bang.

You froze.

Law cursed under his breath, lunging for the handle. You rushed to help him, heart hammering in your chest.

He yanked on it. You yanked on it. Nothing.

"Locked," he growled, rattling it harder. "Dammit."

"No way." You shoved at the door uselessly. "We're stuck?!"

Law's face was grim. He jiggled the handle again, then pulled a Den Den Mushi out of his pocket. Static crackled. No signal.

"Great," you muttered. "Metal walls. Thick metal walls. We're basically in a fridge."

"It's temporary," Law said, though even he sounded annoyed. "Someone will notice we're missing."

"Yeah, after they realize we’re not up there helping fix whatever the hell broke!"

You leaned against the door, groaning. Being stuck alone with your secret boyfriend was not the worst thing in the world. But being stuck with Law, who was a menace when he got bored? Dangerous.

You felt his eyes on you and cracked one open.

"What?"

He was studying you in that way he did sometimes — silent, sharp, as if he was dissecting your entire existence.

"You panicking already?"

You huffed. "No. Just… strategizing."

"Mm."

You shifted awkwardly. "And you? Cool as a cucumber, huh?"

He shrugged. "Trapped with you? Could be worse."

You blinked, thrown off by the softness in his voice.

You opened your mouth to reply — but then he moved, striding toward you with that slow, deliberate gait that meant trouble. The kind that usually ended with you pressed against a wall, dizzy and breathless and wondering how a man so outwardly composed could make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Law stopped inches away, tilting his head slightly.

"No crew," he said lowly. "No interruptions."

Your pulse spiked. "Y-Yeah?"

He smirked — slow, devilish, rare.

"An advantage."

.

. Before you could react, Law's hand was sliding up your arm, slow and deliberate, sending sparks shooting across your skin. His other hand braced next to your head, caging you in.

"Cold?" he murmured.

"A little," you managed, your voice breathy.

He leaned in closer, nose brushing your temple, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Good," he whispered.

You shivered, and not just from the temperature.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the rare moment. Law wasn't usually this openly affectionate — not where anyone could see. But here, with only the dim overhead lights and the smell of metal and salt around you, he was different. Softer. Greedier.

"You smell like engine grease," you teased, voice shaking.

He chuckled — a low, rare sound — and nipped lightly at your earlobe.

"Not complaining when you're the one who started this."

You laughed — and Law grinned, wide and boyish, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that stole every coherent thought from your head.

God, he kissed like he owned you. Deep, slow, unhurried. Like you had all the time in the world.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the solid weight of him against you. His hands skimmed down your sides, lingering at your waist, before sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest against bare skin. You gasped softly against his mouth.

"Law…" you murmured.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tender.

"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.

You nodded. "More than okay."

He kissed you again, softer this time. Almost reverent.

Minutes slipped by — slow, honey-thick minutes where all you could feel was the heat of his mouth, the calluses of his fingers, the way his heart thudded against yours.

Eventually, you broke apart, resting your forehead against his.

"I can't believe we're stuck," you whispered, laughing a little.

He smirked. "Best damn accident this ship's ever had."

You laughed again, biting your lip.

Law tilted his head, studying you. "You think the crew suspects?"

You thought about it. "Honestly? They're either oblivious or think we're mortal enemies."

Law hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe we should give them a real show after this."

You gawked at him. "You? Public affection?"

He shrugged. "Shock value."

You grinned wide. "You're evil."

"And you love it."

"Yeah," you said, softer now. "I do."

Something shifted between you — something heavier, more real. Law's expression softened. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gentle in a way he never was with anyone else.

"I love you too," he said simply.

Your breath caught.

Law rarely said it. He didn’t have to — you saw it in every careful look, every small touch, every stolen moment. But hearing it out loud still sent warmth flooding through you.

You cupped his face, smiling.

"Guess being trapped isn't so bad," you said.

He kissed your palm.

"No," he agreed. "Not bad at all."

.

. Hours later, when Shachi and Penguin finally managed to force the door open — sweaty, out of breath, and triumphant — they found you and Law sitting side-by-side on the floor, looking suspiciously flushed and suspiciously content.

"Uh, Captain..." Shachi said, blinking. "Everything good?"

Law stood up smoothly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Fine," he said blandly. "Just trapped."

You fought the urge to giggle.

Penguin narrowed his eyes. "You two sure you didn’t kill each other?"

Law smirked — a private, dangerous thing — and tossed an arm around your shoulders with casual ease.

"Not yet," he said.

You caught the startled looks the two crewmates exchanged — and laughed all the way back to your shared cabin, tucked securely against Law’s side.

Maybe being trapped wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[sacrificiallane]

PERCY JACKSON blurb leaving him alone with your plushies

The scream you let out was equally hilarious as it was terrifying. And it had your pretty boyfriend ― of who was the sole reason for such a sound even escaping your vocal cords in the first place ― literally smack into your cabins' door like a bird would against a window.

" You okay ? Are you hurt ? You okay ?? " Percy came running like your life was on the line.

Before you could offer an answer, his hands were already reaching for your arm, your hand ― basically anything ― to make sure you were okay. "Talk to me pretty girl , hm? What happened? "

" Perseus Jackson ! " And yea , he might've just flinched a little at your tone , but his hands did not fall away quite yet ...

" What did you do to my bed? "

" Uh, what did I do to your ... " the confusion was evident , until his sea green eyes followed your own, all the way to your sheets and it suddenly ― thankfully ! ― all made sense ...

When Percy was left by you this morning , the boy was so bored ! So , in his typical bored boyfriend fashion , he had taken the time to arrange your beloved stuffed animals to recreate a ... slightly 'gruesome' scene. Because after fluffing out your pillows , and folding your blankets ( not in a very ... neat way at all , but the thought counts , right ? ) he was only left with turning your plushies from facing the wall ...

Then, though ― his genius mind was unstoppable ! ― he had come face to face with the plush he'd gotten you for your birthday ! ( A cute octopus in your favorite color , and maybe a bit too big for your small cabin bed ... especially when he was sharing it with you ). And maybe it was sleepy delusion , but he had made up this whole scenario of how the gifted giant sea creature was basically your child !

Percy admits , he might have gotten a little carried away , staring at its big button eyes , and thinking about how it was probably so jealous of all your other fuzzy friends.

So , he explains, he had used each of its fluffy tentacles , to wrap them around each of your other plushes , to make it look like he was trying to murder them ! Not that it was rally scary , or anything. Just a little cruel , maybe.

When he tells you about it , and smiles a bit sheepish , you feel equally flattered as you feel horrified !

He can only watch with endeared amusement as you quickly detangle all of your emotional support stuffies , push a kiss to their heads ― as though they were scared or hurt ― and put them each back where they belonged.

" I love you Perseus, but gods are you dumb ... "

" Love you too, pretty girl ... "

something a little different? i miss him. saw this in a tiktok so credit to that, ig?

[rinhaler]

step cest, virginity loss and non con with toji pretty please? :3

the contrast between the content ur asking for and then the innocent little :3 face is sending me btw 😩 but u said pretty please so u shall receive!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, noncon, virginity loss, fem!reader, step cest, daddy kink, ddlg, step daddy!toji, no prep, cream pie, dacryphilia, praise, pet names.

words: 1.4k

It’s too much for him.

Seeing how beautiful you’ve grown up to be. You’re so smart and kind, too. He feels like he’s losing you each and every day that he drops you off outside of your university building. He’ll never tire of hearing you express how proud of yourself you are to be the first in your family to get accepted.

But he’s starting to notice a change in you.

You’re wearing more makeup and spritzing more expensive perfume. Your tops are getting lower and your skirts are getting shorter. He notices it all because you’re in such close proximity to him whenever he gives you a ride to your classes. Your scent almost luring him into the deepest depths he can sink. Your naked thighs jiggling in the passenger seat practically begging him to push them apart so he can bare witness to your needy virgin cunt.

And he knows you’re still a virgin.

He hears the phone calls you have with your new friends while you pace back and forth in your bedroom talking about which guys in the class you think are cute. All the while he’s willing himself not to give in to his basic instinct and shove a hand down his pants and jerk himself off to the way you describe what you think sex might be like.

You’re adorably naïve.

You’ve convinced yourself it won’t hurt as badly as everyone says it will. Of course that could be the case if you were to fuck one of the pencil-dicked losers in your class. But it would be different with him. Your first time should be with him.

That’s what he tells himself when he sneaks into your room in the early hours of the morning. He knows you have an 8am class, but you’re such a good girl he’s sure you won’t mind. Hell, he’ll even let you skip it if you behave yourself.

He riled himself up too much thinking about what a fucking travesty it would be if you let some frat boy sully your insides. It can’t happen, it won’t happen. He muses to himself as he sits on the edge of your bed.

Your body slowly reacts to his presence as you blink away at the bleary filter in your eyes. You stiffen slightly when you realise you aren’t alone. When you see a shadowy figure looking down at you, every worst case scenario runs through your head in an instant.

“S’just me, darlin’.” he tells you, your vision comes into focus when you hear the all too familiar voice of your daddy. His hand holds your thigh, soothing you with a simple circling thumb.

“You scared me, daddy…” you sigh, getting comfortable in bed once again. You’re losing the battle against sleep, your eyelids feel heavy as you try to continually fight away the exhaustion. If daddy is here, it must be important, after all.

He’ll keep you safe, though.

You know there’s nothing to worry about with your daddy around.

“Need you to stay still ‘n be quiet for me, yeah? Can you do that?” he whispers. You barely register the sound of fabric being moved as you try and find his eyes in the sea of darkness. You, nod though, immediately proving what a good little girl you are for your daddy.

You feel a chill as he pulls your duvet away from your barely clothed body. It’s like you knew he’d be paying you a visit tonight. He can’t quite see, but wastes no time hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

“Oh, d-daddy?” you speak, quietly squirming a little as he slowly pulls them.

“Thought you were going to be quiet for me, hm?” he reminds you, a gruff tone to his soothing voice. “Be a good girl for daddy, yeah? Let this happen…”

You gulp, nervously, your body freezing at his words as you realise what’s going on. He yanks your shorts away and throws them over his shoulder, you bare cunt on display is making you consider maybe being with your daddy isn’t so safe.

Maybe your daddy doesn’t always have your best interests at heart.

There’s a clacking sound you can’t place. It’s filling the room along with daddy’s groaning. You flinch as you feel the mattress spring back into place before sinking deeper than it had before. Your body is trapped beneath his and you can’t stop yourself from crying. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, this isn’t how you would have imagined any time.

But you’re paralysed.

You’re powerless.

“D-Daddy… I don’t— I don’t… like… this…” you tell him, still unable to stop your tears from falling. You gasp as he effortlessly covers the lower half of your face with the palm of his hand.

You work out the source of that unrelenting clacking sound as he towers above you, furiously touching himself as he prepares to enter your tight heat.

“Of course ya do, sweetheart.” he kisses your forehead repeatedly as he rubs his heavy tip against your virgin slot. You cry into his hand as he begins to push into you at a snails pace. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt his baby girl. But this is something he can’t control. “This is what little girls like you are made for. Makin’ their daddies feel so good.” he continues.

His emerald eyes are the only thing you can see in the dark abyss of your room. It’s terrifying, how the eyes you had trusted more than anyone else’s are making you want to scream out in fear.

He feels your tears and saliva dampen his hand as he bullies his cock into you. If he had any sort of conscience, he’s sure he’d feel guilty for not even having the decency to prepare you first. But you’re so fucking tight like this. Taking him like such a good girl, swallowing him whole and squeezing around him like he belongs to you.

And besides, no amount of preparation would have readied you for how well-endowed he is.

He rocks his hips into yours again and again, your screams turn to muffled moans beneath his heavy palm as his tip finds it’s sanctuary against your sweet spot. It hurts, fuck, he’s monstrously big and it fucking hurts.

You try to talk to him, words he’ll never understand as his hand stifles you. He isn’t sure if it’s wise to move it. Will you scream and cause a fuss? It’s a big risk. But you’ve always been a good girl. His good girl. So he slowly peels his hand away, your whimpering moans slowly creeping up your airways and running rampant through his perverse mind.

“’m made… made for you? For daddy?” you whisper. He smiles, smothering your voice with an incestuous kiss that neither of you seem to mind. “B-But it hurts, daddy! O-Ow, daddy’s too big for me!” you cry out, a little louder than you’d intended and certainly louder than Toji wanted. He covers your mouth once more, his brutal pace kicking into high gear as he slams his whole weight behind his thrusts.

“Good fuckin’ girl, baby.” he praises you, admiring how your eyes roll over white and your consciousness leaves your body and he pummels everything he has into you. “No one can know about this, got it? You can’t do this with anyone else either. Wan’ you t’be daddy’s special girl… f-forever.” he speaks, hips speech failing as he begins to reach his peak.

He hadn’t expected you to tighten around him, either. He’s gifted you with your first orgasm and your pussy hugging ‘n squeezing around him forces him to reject any concept of pulling out. You have him trapped inside of your previously untainted walls. Thick, white cum coats your insides and he collapses on you as he finishes.

His grunts continue to fill the room. Though they sound like they’re only meant for you to hear as he levels his mouth with your ear. You turn to face him, those familiar green eyes feel so safe again as he looks at you. Like you can trust him with anything. You could tell him any secret and he’d take it to the grave.

But you know better, now.

You know what you are to him.

“W-Why did you do that, daddy?” you ask him, your voice so timid and subdued. You always talk so sweetly to your daddy. He thinks if you didn’t want that, you would be picking a fight with him. You’d be screaming and crying and demanding an explanation. But you’re too sweet for that. You’re too much of a good girl for daddy to do any of that.

“… Because good little girls always let their daddy cum in them first.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[ourseasone]

CHAPTER 002 ✱ YOU’RE INTO GUYS?

previous masterlist next

The midday bell rings across the campus of Byuksan High School, and in an instant, the energy in the building shifts. Classrooms empty as students spill into the corridors, voices rising in a chaotic symphony of teenage chatter, laughter, and the rhythmic thud of sneakers on tile floors. Sunlight streams in through the tall windows, casting long, golden beams across the bustling hallways. It’s lunchtime — a sacred, much-needed break in an otherwise dragging school day. Among the sea of students are you and Suho, navigating the crowd with the ease of two boys who have spent years weaving through these same hallways.

You have one arm slung lazily over Suho’s shoulders, a familiar gesture that makes you look like an inseparable duo out of a comic strip. The morning classes crawled by at a painfully slow pace, especially for you, having endured most of them alone while Suho snoozed with his head buried in the crook of his arm. Now free from the monotony of lectures and chalkboard scribbles, your only mission is to make it to the cafeteria in one piece and grab something edible before the good stuff disappears. You amble along, chatting about nothing in particular — class gossip, the cafeteria’s suspicious mystery meat, whether Mr. Han’s toupee is a government experiment — the usual.

“Hey… if I ate a whole candle,” Suho says, his tone eerily sincere. “Do you think I’d glow?”

You yawn, barely registering the absurdity of the question at first. But when you turn to look at Suho, you find your best friend staring at you with an expression of such intense curiosity, it’s impossible to ignore. You blink slowly, pretending to give it some thought — the kind of exaggerated, mock-scientific thinking one reserves for the dumbest of hypotheticals.

“Only if you scream while chewing,” you reply with a perfectly straight face. “That activates the wax enzymes.”

Suho’s eyes widen in awe, like you’ve just unlocked the secrets of the universe.

“So, wait… if I eat a candle and scream loud enough, I become a light source?”

“Temporarily,” you say with a nonchalant shrug. “You basically turn into a human flashlight. But it only works if you’re experiencing emotional distress.”

“Wow, that’s kinda efficient,” Suho says, nodding like he’s already calculating the savings. “Think about how much money I could save on electricity bills.”

You laugh, pulling Suho in a little tighter as you walk, amused by how genuinely he seems to be considering it.

“Sure,” you say. “Right up until your stomach melts and you start farting fire.”

Suho doesn’t even flinch. He looks you dead in the eye, voice dropping to a deadly serious tone.

“Dude. That’s not a problem — that’s literally evolution.”

You nearly trip over your own feet laughing. “No, that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Possibly arson.”

Suho grins wickedly. “Okay, but what if I eat two candles?”

Now thoroughly entertained by the absurdity of the conversation, you turn your head to give Suho a questioning look. Your eyebrow quirks in amusement as you mirror his grin. You’re just about to fire back with something equally ridiculous — maybe something like 'Then you qualify as a lamp and need a license' — but before you can get the words out, fate intervenes. As you’re focused on Suho, your eyes fixed on his face, you fail to notice the person directly in front of you. In the chaos of the crowded hallway, it’s all too easy to get distracted, and sure enough, you accidentally slam into someone with a sharp thud.

You jerk back in alarm, your heart racing as you whip around to see what’s happened. Your stomach drops when you see the unfortunate person sprawled out on the floor, eyes wide in surprise.

“Oh shit—” you mutter, stumbling back a step as the shock of the moment hits you. You instinctively grab onto Suho’s arm, using your friend to steady yourself. Your heart races, and you can’t shake the feeling that everything has just gone horribly wrong.

The guy you bumped into is sprawled awkwardly on the floor, looking a little dazed. It’s not clear if he’s sitting up or if he’s fallen completely, but he’s not moving much, save for the slight bob of his head as he tries to shake off the disorientation. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, partially obscuring his face. Meanwhile, his AirPods are scattered around him, and his backpack has landed in a strange twist, one strap hanging limp on the floor like a forgotten appendage. Your eyes widen in surprise as the sight registers.

Guilt immediately bubbles up in your chest, and you pull away from Suho without thinking, rushing over to the boy’s side. Your feet move faster than your brain can process, already crouching in front of him before you even fully realize what you’re doing.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quickly, your voice more frantic than you intend, laced with genuine concern. “Damn, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention at all.”

Your hands move without thinking, adjusting the boy’s twisted backpack, straightening it with a soft sigh. Your eyes dart to the scattered AirPods, immediately scanning the floor for the tiny pieces. The sight of them makes you feel like you’ve just caused a disaster. A small, apologetic smile tugs at your lips as your fingers gently brush across the cold floor, and a small sigh of relief escapes you when you finally find all the pieces. You pick them up one by one, treating them as if they were fragile treasures.

Just as you’re about to hand them back, you look up, only to find the boy staring at you. And not just a glance — he’s locked in a silent, intense gaze, his dark eyes fixed on your face with an unblinking focus that feels almost like being caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

And that’s when you fully register who he is. Yeon Sieun — that’s his name, the one on the tag stitched neatly into his uniform. You’ve seen him around before, sure, but never up close like this. Sieun’s dark brown hair is soft and slightly tousled, falling into his eyes in a way that’s almost endearing. The bangs just barely brush his forehead. But what really strikes you are his eyes — dark, deep, and so expressive. There’s something mesmerizing and… honestly, really breathtaking about them, something that pulls you in without warning. You can’t help but think, Wow, those are some eyes. You couldn’t tear your gaze away even if you tried.

“…My AirPods,” Sieun mutters, his voice soft but clear, snapping you out of your trance.

You blink, realizing just how long you’ve been staring. You look down at the earbuds in your hand, then back at Sieun, mentally scrambling to catch up with the situation.

“Oh! Right, your AirPods,” you say quickly, the words spilling out faster than you intend. You instantly feel like a complete idiot, realizing how ridiculous you must seem. “Sorry about that. Here.”

Sieun’s fingers brush against yours as he takes the AirPods, and you can’t help but notice the stark contrast in your hands. His are smaller, more delicate, while yours feel large and clumsy in comparison. The moment lingers for a second too long, and you find yourself standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. You shift your weight, feeling a sudden rush of heat in your cheeks as you reach down to offer a hand to help Sieun up.

Sieun, however, just stares at your outstretched hand. His gaze flicks between your face and the hand offered to him for what feels like an eternity. Long, awkward seconds stretch by before he finally hesitates and, with a small sigh, places his hand in yours, letting you pull him up to his feet. The height difference becomes more apparent now, with Sieun having to tilt his head up slightly to meet your eyes. It’s… cute. Really cute. You can’t help but think it’s endearing, but you quickly push that thought aside, focusing instead on the odd tension in the air.

Just then, a pointed cough pierces the silence, and you snap your head around to see Suho standing a few steps away, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Oh, right. You’re still in the middle of a school hallway, and this moment of awkwardness isn’t going to last forever.

You quickly turn back to Sieun.

“Are you okay?” you ask again, your voice softer this time, a genuine concern lingering in your words. You never really got an answer the first time, and you need to make sure the boy is all right.

Sieun blinks, taking a moment to process before muttering under his breath, “Hm. You walk like a drunk giraffe.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, a light chuckle escaping you despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you reply, the awkward tension of the situation easing just a bit.

Just to be sure, you quickly scan Sieun for any visible injuries. When you don’t see any bruises or scrapes, a small sigh of relief escapes you, and a genuine smile returns to your face. Then, without thinking too much about it — more out of habit than anything else — you reach up and brush a stray lock of hair away from Sieun’s forehead, a gesture you often make with Suho when you’re joking around.

“I’m really sorry again,” you say, your voice warmer now. “See you in class, Sieun.”

You give a quick wave and turn to rejoin Suho, who’s already giving you a teasing look. As you begin walking away, Suho gives you a playful slap on the back, causing you to stumble a little.

And Sieun stays there for a moment, watching you walk off with a look of complete disbelief in his eyes.

If the hallways had been loud, then the cafeteria was on a whole different level — it was complete and utter chaos. Voices bounced off the high ceilings, chairs scraped across the floor, trays clattered, and someone in the back was already yelling over a spilled drink. It was the usual lunchtime madness at Byuksan High School.

You and Suho had managed to snag one of the last empty tables, sitting across from each other with trays of lukewarm cafeteria food between you. Suho, as expected, had not stopped talking since you sat down — and worse, he hadn’t stopped teasing you either. For ten excruciating minutes, he’d been reenacting the hallway incident with far too much enthusiasm; flailing arms, dramatic sound effects, and talking with his mouth so full of rice that you had to look away to keep your appetite.

“Yah,” Suho said again, barely containing another round of laughter. He pointed his chopsticks across the table like they were weapons. “You demolished that poor guy. Like — full body slam. Out of nowhere. Just bam!”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face as you chewed on a mouthful of rice. You didn’t dignify the reenactment with a response — instead, you casually tapped Suho’s chopsticks aside with your own and shot him a look.

“Yah,” you mimicked dryly. “Eat your damn food before I glue your mouth shut.”

But Suho wasn’t fazed. In fact, he doubled over laughing, almost choking on a piece of kimchi in the process. Several nearby students glanced over, clearly wondering what was so funny. You, though thoroughly annoyed, couldn’t help the faint grin tugging at the corner of your lips. No matter how dumb Suho was being, his energy was infectious. You shook your head and exhaled, somewhere between amused and exasperated. This was just Suho — loud, ridiculous, and completely incapable of letting a moment pass without turning it into a joke. But still, you wouldn’t change a thing. As chaotic as he was, Suho had a way of making everything around him feel a little lighter.

Still, even as Suho went on ranting about how you might be charged with ‘attempted murder by shoulder-check’, your mind drifted. Back to the hallway. Back to him. Back to Sieun. The image returned in full detail; tousled hair, serious eyes, that slightly blank but piercing look — like he could see right through you without saying a single word. It had lasted seconds, maybe less, but it had stuck to you like gum on the bottom of a shoe. Inescapable.

“Yeon Sieun,” you murmured, almost to yourself, letting the name roll off your tongue like you were tasting it. “He was kinda cute.”

The words hung in the air for a second.

Suho froze. Literally froze — like someone had hit pause on him. His cheeks were still puffed out, his mouth full, eyes wide open. For a second, he just sat there, unmoving, staring at you with a look that hovered somewhere between shock and betrayal. If you had thrown a pencil at his head right then, he probably wouldn’t have even blinked. He looked like a hamster who had just witnessed a crime.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“What did you just say?” Suho demanded, leaning forward now, chopsticks clutched in one hand like he was ready to cross-examine you.

“That he was cute?” you repeated, nonchalant as ever.

“Yeah, that!” Suho jabbed his chopsticks through the air like he was pointing out a crime scene. “That.”

You just stared, visibly unfazed.

“What?” you asked again, head tilting slightly, your tone genuinely confused — as if Suho were the one acting weird, not you.

There was a beat of silence as the two of you just… stared. Suho was squinting now, chewing much more slowly, eyes narrowed like he was trying to read hidden subtext in your face. Meanwhile, you looked like a golden retriever trying to understand quantum physics — head cocked, eyebrows lifted slightly, lips pressed into a casual line. Then came the question, dropped in a flat tone, like it was both an accusation and a revelation.

“Wait… you’re into guys?”

“Yep,” you said without missing a beat, lifting a spoonful of rice to your mouth as if you were talking about the weather.

The sound that followed was a metallic clink — Suho had dropped his chopsticks straight onto his tray. He was now leaning over the table, mouth slightly open, eyes comically wide. He looked like someone had just revealed a long-lost twin or told him the cafeteria food was actually edible.

“Wait— seriously?!”

You looked up mid-chew and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I told you. Like… two years ago? Three?”

Suho’s eyes went wide. “No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did. You were half-asleep, and I said, ‘By the way, I think I like guys.’ You grunted and then asked me if I wanted your extra pudding cup.”

Suho squinted, trying to rewind the memory. Slowly, realization dawned.

“Wait. That… actually sounds like something that happened.” He looked betrayed by his own brain. “I thought you were joking!”

You chuckled, setting your spoon down. “Yeah, I figured you did. But I wasn’t. You just never brought it up again, so I assumed you got the memo.”

Suho leaned back, eyes still wide, but the shock was quickly melting into amusement. “Damn. And here I thought you were just a sad little loser who couldn’t get a girlfriend—”

Before Suho could launch into another overly dramatic reaction, you reached across the table and shoved a big bite of rice into his mouth using your chopsticks. Suho sputtered mid-protest, nearly choking on the unexpected ambush.

“Mmph— what the— mmphf!” he mumbled through a mouthful of rice.

“Chew,” you said, grinning as Suho glared at you with puffed cheeks like an angry squirrel.

You both burst out laughing after that — loud and unfiltered, the kind of laughter that made other students glance over, but neither of you cared. The conversation drifted into nonsense again : dumb jokes, petty arguments about food, and exaggerated gossip about your classmates. Nothing heavy. Nothing different. And yet, even as you polished off the last bites of your food and wiped your mouth with a crumpled napkin, your thoughts kept circling back to one place.

Or rather, to one person; Yeon Sieun.

No matter how loud Suho got or how silly your banter turned, you couldn’t shake the memory of those eyes — quiet, unreadable, and somehow still echoing inside your chest.

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note ∘ ∘ ∘ i hope you’ll enjoy this chapter! feel free to let me know what you think of the story and please don’t hesitate to reblog or leave a like — it really helps motivate me to keep writing! 🩶

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[authortelevision]

george, the hockey player: chapter one ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,747 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ george clarke slow burn, university au, hockey george

you start university in bristol as a film student and meet a hockey player who will change your life completely

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The train ride to Bristol had been a mix of nervous excitement and mild existential dread. The city, with its hilly streets and graffiti-covered underpasses, felt like a place where something big could happen. But right now, all that mattered was getting through move-in day without looking like a complete disaster.

You haul your suitcase up the stairs of your new flat, already regretting bringing so many decorations. The shared kitchen is a mess of half-opened suitcases, stacked IKEA crockery, and the awkward small talk of strangers who will, apparently, be your new best friends.

A girl with pink-streaked hair and round glasses glances up from where she’s struggling to assemble a drying rack. “Oh, thank God. Someone else who looks just as lost as I feel.”

You laugh, setting your bags down. “Completely lost. Do you need help with that?”

“Please. It’s like IKEA’s playing a cruel joke on me.” She grins. “I’m Lily, by the way. I do history, unfortunately.”

You introduce yourself just as the front door swings open and two more people walk in, dragging boxes. One of them, a guy with messy brown hair, lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is it. Our prison for the next year.”

“I hope not.” says a voice from behind him.

The four of you quickly exchange introductions, and you learn that the negative voice is Matt who is studying Economics, and the other is Sam, taking Biology. Within ten minutes, you’re all gathered in the kitchen, swapping stories about where you’re from and who packed the weirdest thing (Matt wins with his five-kilo bag of protein powder). It’s surprisingly easy, the awkwardness fading fast.

Then, Lily claps her hands together. “Okay, so Freshers’ Fair is happening today. We need to go.”

Sam frowns. “That’s the one where all the societies try to recruit you, right?”

“Exactly. It’s essential. Free stuff, maybe a few weird clubs, and we can all pretend we’re super well-rounded people.”

You weren’t sure if you had the energy after lugging all your stuff around, but the idea of seeing what Bristol Uni had to offer was tempting. Plus, it beat sitting in your empty room.

“Alright,” you say, standing up. “Let’s go get bombarded by enthusiastic second-years.”

————

The Student Union building is packed, a sea of students weaving between booths with banners ranging from “Join the Debate Society” to “Quidditch Team Tryouts This Weekend!” Every few steps, someone shoves a flyer into your hands, promising everything from cheap cocktails to life-changing friendships.

Lily gets dragged away almost immediately by a group advertising a Feminist Reading Club. Sam disappears in the direction of the Rugby stall, while Matt, despite his initial complaints, is deep in conversation with a Chess Society rep.

That leaves you wandering alone for a bit, taking it all in. The Hockey Society booth catches your eye, but only cause there’s a crowd gathered around it, and a bunch of sporty-looking guys are chatting with possible members. You consider stopping, but hockey isn’t really your thing.

Instead, you find yourself drawn to a quieter stall tucked between the Art Society and the Drama Club. A banner reads “Photography Society – Capture the Moment”, and a student with a camera slung around their neck waves at you.

“Hey! You interested in photography?”

“I mean… kinda?” You glance at the sign-up sheet. “I do film, so I guess I already mess around with cameras.”

The student grins. “That’s basically half of it. We do sports photography, exhibitions, and the occasional trip. No pressure, though.”

It sounds like exactly the kind of thing to make friends you need. Before you can overthink it, you pick up a pen and sign your name.

By the time you regroup with your flatmates, your bag is full of leaflets and your group decides to escape the chaos and grab something to eat. The campus cafés are packed, so you settle for the Student Union bar, where the tables are sticky, the nachos are cheap, and the music is just a little too loud for a casual conversation.

Matt dumps his bag of free society merch onto the table with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He pulls out a ridiculous amount of random freebies like stress balls, lanyards, a frisbee, and even a reusable coffee cup with Bristol Uni Quidditch Team printed on the side. Sam snorts. “Did you even sign up for Quidditch?”

“No, but they were giving out free stuff, and I’m not an idiot.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She turns to you, seeing your tote bag. “So, what made you go for Photography Society?”

You take a sip of your drink, considering. “I think I just wanted something creative that wasn’t coursework, you know? Something fun, no pressure.”

She nods. “Good call. I was considering the Creative Writing Society, but then I overheard a guy saying they only discuss ‘serious literary work,’ and I feel like I’d get kicked out for writing fanfiction.”

“That sounds insufferable,” you say with a laugh.

“What about you, Sam?” Matt asks. “You looked way too invested in that rugby stall for someone who claimed they definitely weren’t joining a sports team.

Sam shrugs, looking vaguely guilty. “Okay, maybe I’ll go to tryouts. I haven’t played since school, but it might be fun.”

“You just want an excuse to go to the sports socials,” Lily teases.

He smirks. “And what if I do?”

The conversation drifts into plans for the rest of Freshers’ Week—pub crawls, club nights, and the dreaded 9am introductory lectures no one is ready for. It’s strange how quickly everything is falling into place, like the awkwardness of earlier has already faded into something more natural.

Eventually, you all decide to head back to the flat, the evening air crisp as you make your way across campus. Bristol feels alive at night, students spilling out of bars, the hum of conversation echoing down cobbled streets. The streetlights cast long shadows, and for a brief moment, you pause to take it all in.

Lily nudges you. “You alright?”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I think I am.”

————

The next morning, you wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the faint clatter of someone making something in the kitchen. For a few seconds, you forget where you are, then the unfamiliar ceiling and the plain white walls bring you back to reality. Your new life at university has officially begun.

After forcing yourself out of bed, you shuffle into the kitchen, where Lily is perched on the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, her pink-streaked hair all over the place. “Morning,” she says between bites.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug and searching for the kettle.

Matt wanders in next, still in his pajamas. He blinks at you both. “We should’ve made a pact never to speak before noon.”

Lily laughs. “Good luck with that. We’ve all got a welcome meeting at ten, I’m not sure where yours is but mine is in the Oliver building.”

Right. The dreaded introductory stuff. You groan internally but force yourself to stay optimistic. First years always say it’s useless, but there could always be something important about the university you wouldn’t know about.

After breakfast, you grab your bag and head out with Lily, who insists on walking with you even though the history department is in a completely different building. “Moral support,” she says dramatically as you weave through the crowds of students trying to find their way around.

The film department is tucked inside a modern glass building that looks sleek and intimidating. Inside, the lecture hall is already filling up, the hum of conversation blending with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. You slide into a seat near the middle and pull out your laptop, trying not to look as awkward as you feel.

A few minutes later, a girl with short curly hair and a nose ring drops into the seat next to you. “Hey, do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m Ava,” she says, setting her laptop down. “Film Studies?”

You nod. “Yeah, first year.”

“Same! What kind of films are you into?”

That kicks off an easy conversation, by the time the lecturer finally arrives and starts their speech about “the power of storytelling in visual media,” you and Ava have already bonded over your mutual love of indie films and your shared distaste for pretentious film bros who only talk about Pulp Fiction.

The lecture itself is mostly introductions—professors explaining what to expect, a few awkward icebreakers with the people sitting nearby, and a long-winded speech about academic integrity. By the time it’s over, your brain is buzzing, and you’re more than ready to escape.

“Wanna grab coffee?” Ava asks as you head out of the building.

“Definitely.”

The two of you make your way to the campus café, where you spot Sam and Matt sitting by the window, deep in conversation. When they see you, Sam waves you over.

“How was your lecture?” Matt asks as you slide into the seat across from him.

“Long.” You take a sip of your coffee. “What about you?”

“Boring. I already regret choosing Economics.”

Ava laughs. “Wow, you’re all so motivated.”

“Oh! This is Ava, by the way, we both do film studies.”

As the conversation continues, it starts to hit you, this is your new life. New friends, new routines, new experiences waiting just around the corner.

————

By the time the sun sets, the nerves of the first day have been replaced with something else entirely: anticipation, excitement, and the lingering feeling from the vodka shots you definitely shouldn’t have taken so quickly.

Your flat has changed into pre-drinks. The tiny kitchen table is covered in half-empty bottles, discarded mixers, and the remnants of an intense game of Ring of Fire. Someone’s put on a ridiculous throwback playlist, and now everyone is shouting the words to Mr. Brightside like it’s a national anthem.

You’re sat on the counter, legs swinging, cradling a drink you don’t need but don’t want to put down. “Okay,” you announce to no one in particular, “I think I might be a tiny bit drunk.”

Lily cackles from where she’s trying to apply eyeliner on a very uncooperative Matt. “No shit. You’ve been swaying for, like, ten minutes.”

You blink, realizing that the floor does seem to be moving slightly. “That’s just because I’m—” You wave your hand in the air, trying to find a reason. “—graceful.”

Sam laughs, throwing an arm around you dramatically. “You’re gone.”

But the night is young, and there’s only one destination in mind—Lola Lo’s. Everyone has been hyping it up since you arrived, promising neon lights, questionable cocktails, and the kind of night you’ll only half remember.

After one final shot (a terrible idea in hindsight), you all spill onto the street, voices loud and laughter echoing down the road. The walk to the club is only fifteen minutes, but your brain seems to have abandoned all sense of coordination.

Somewhere along the way, you trip over nothing and stumble into Lily. “Okay,” she says, catching you, “I think we need a pause.”

You find yourself plopping down onto the curb, the cold pavement grounding you slightly. Sam sits next to you, amused. “You know they’re not gonna let you in like this, right?”

You groan, resting your head on his shoulder dramatically. “I know.”

Matt crouches in front of you, squinting like a concerned doctor. “Alright, what’s the game plan? We can’t have you getting turned away at the door.”

Lily laughs. “We could walk in first and pretend we don’t know them.”

You gasp, offended. “Betrayal.”

Ava, who has been quiet up until now, holds up a bottle of water she somehow smuggled out of the flat. “Here, drink this. Try to look less… like this.” She gestures vaguely at you, which is fair.

You take a sip then make a face. “This isn’t gonna work in time.”

Matt nudges your shoulder. “Alright, let’s problem-solve. How do we make you look sober?”

“Serious face,” you declare, straightening up and attempting your most responsible expression. It lasts about three seconds before Sam bursts out laughing.

Lily wipes away fake tears. “Oh yeah, that’s gonna fool the bouncers.”

You groan, dramatically falling back onto the pavement. “Okay, new plan. I’ll just live here now. The curb is my home.”

Ava rolls her eyes but helps you up anyway. “Nope. We’re getting in that club. You’re gonna drink water, act normal, and stop being a liability.”

You let them half-drag, half-walk you down the street, still giggling. Maybe you won’t get into the club. Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow with no recollection of this conversation.

Somehow—somehow—you make it past the bouncers.

Lily had given you a very serious pep talk before you reached the front of the queue: “No swaying. No giggling. And for God’s sake, don’t say anything stupid.” You had nodded along, doing your absolute best to channel the energy of someone who had only had one sensible drink and definitely wasn’t clinging to Sam for balance.

Miraculously, the bouncers barely look at you before waving you inside, and suddenly, you’re in.

Lola Lo’s is everything people hyped it up to be, neon lights glow under bamboo decor, the music vibrates in your chest, and the air smells like a mix of fruity cocktails, sweat, and regret. Your flatmates disappear into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of the dance floor, still slightly overwhelmed.

But there’s one thing you do know, you need another drink.

Stumbling your way to the bar, you lean against the counter, blinking up at the bartender like focusing really hard will make you seem more sober. “Can I get a—” You pause. What did you want? A cocktail? A vodka and coke? You squint at the menu, as if the words will rearrange themselves into the perfect choice.

Eventually, you just blurt out, “A rum and coke, please,” and slap some cash onto the bar, feeling very responsible.

The bartender hands you your drink, and you turn around. Too fast.

Because the next thing you know, your arm collides with someone, and suddenly, your entire very full drink sloshes forward, spilling straight onto them.

“Oh shit—”

The guy flinches, looking down at his now-soaked shirt. “Oh, for fu—” He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

And that’s when you see him properly.

Tall, messy brown hair, sharp features softened by the kind of face that probably gets away with way too much just by smiling. But right now, he’s not smiling, he’s staring at you, stunned, as cold rum and coke drips down his front.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hands flying to your mouth. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, no, it’s not fine!” You grab a handful of napkins from the bar and start patting at his chest, which is definitely not helping, because now you’re basically rubbing the mess into his already ruined shirt. “I didn’t mean to—oh my God, I’m such an idiot—”

He lets out a breathy laugh, finally grabbing your wrist gently to stop your attempts at fixing the situation. “Hey—hey, it’s fine. Seriously.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly, your brain catches up with what’s happening. You just spilled an entire drink on a very attractive guy and are now borderline manhandling him in a drunken panic.

This is not how the night was supposed to go.

“I’ll buy you a new drink,” you blurt out.

He smirks. “What, for me or for you?”

You open your mouth, then shut it. That was a fair question.

Before you can respond, Lily appears out of nowhere, looking between the two of you with sharp amusement. “What the hell did I miss?”

The guy chuckles, shaking his head. “Your friend just redecorated my shirt.”

Lily glances at you, then at the napkins still clutched in your hand. Then she grins. “Oh, this is fantastic.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Kill me now.”

But when you peek up, the guy is still looking at you, not annoyed, not pissed off, but amused. Like this is the most entertaining thing that’s happened to him all night.

“I’m George” he says, still smiling.

George. You’ll keep that in mind.

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author notes:

hello everyone !! sorry i’ve been gone for so long !! i’ve been very busy with uni life and have kind of abandoned this account !! but i’m back and i’ve decided to bring my uni life into this new slow burn i have !!

I KNOW THAT GEORGE DIDNT GO TO BRISTOL BUT I DIDNT KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT HIS UNI TO WRITE ABOUT THAT ONE !!

much love x

[tamayakii]

a son for a son.

notes: I changed a thing or two of what happened in the show, basically putting Maelor in cause i still cant believe they didnt put him in it (same thing with Daeron) this can be read as a stand-alone fic or paired with the Their Angel series. pairings: Otto x reader (romantic), Helaena x reader (can be viewed as one sided or platonic) warnings: Otto & reader have a son, SPOILERS FOR HOTD S2;E1!!!

The candle light illuminates the room, flickering against the stone walls of your and Helaena’s chambers. You had moved into her living spaces the night that Aemond had come back from the Stormlands, a sick smirk upon his face as he waltz into the small council room.  

And when your husband had shown no remorse for your brother's actions, no sympathy for your dead nephew? You couldn’t stand to look at him, matter of fact, you couldn’t bear to look at anyone. The grief toppled upon the hatred you had towards everyone who had played a part in usurping your sister’s throne. 

The twins and Maelor were already asleep within their beds, and your own son blinks his big owl-ish eyes at you. He looked so much like his father, even at two years old, a little wisp of white tangled within his brown locks- almost emulating Otto’s salt and pepper hair.

“Why can’t I..?” Alerion fumbled over his words, tiny hands curling over the cotton blanket, trying to fight his heavy eyelids as they dropped low. Chuckling lightly as you brushed his hair aside, he was quite stubborn. Especially as bedtime neared and sleep hovered over him. “Because I said so, besides; don’t you want to play with your cousins on the morrow?” Your reasoning seemed to reach him, Alerion’s brown eyes slowly shutting as he murmured. Sighing, reaching around your back to unclasp your heavy necklaces, you couldn’t help but smile as your son unconsciously pulled the blanket closer. 

The recent days weighed heavily on you; the war was impending. With no word from Rhaenrya, Rhaenys and Meleys helping guard the gullet with the hundreds of Velaryon ships, war was going to burst like a bloated goat. 

Perhaps if you were more active in the small council, you would’ve stopped the rats that sat in those seats. Staring at the necklace as you set it down, dark jade glimmering in the light. Helaena’s soft reflection reflected in the deep sea of green. It hits the table with a soft thud.

As you hear steps incoming, you simply assumed it was Helaena. She always had a sense for when you were upset, coming to you like a doe, with her big purple eyes and soft face filled with worry. 

Or perhaps she came to take you to bed. Since your move, Helaena was delighted to have you close, and near-ordered that you sleep in the same bed, just as you did when she was a little girl. “Quiet! Quiet!��� The voice made you turn around, and your gasp died in your throat. Fear laced through your veins like a snake coils around its prey, freezing your body like the north. 

A strange man holds a dagger to Helaena’s throat, her blood dripping over the steel. Her eyes were wide with fear. The man's eyes flicker over to you. “Move and I'll cut her throat.” He spits, slowly dragging the blade, causing more blood to leak. Nodding as the tears well in your eyes, heart beating against your rib cage. The blood roars in your ears like a thousand horses stampeding. 

Another man comes in, a bigger and scarier man, and your heart stops. 

“A son for a son.” His words were all muddled until he said those five words, a son for a son. Helaena offered her necklace to the men, trying to convince them to run off with its worth, but the bigger man snatched it from her. “It’s not a son.” He turns around and looks at the twins in their beds, sleeping ever so peacefully. Gently, you reached back for Alerion’s crib. Shaking hands gripping the wood with a grip tighter than death and yet you were too weak to fight these men off, in the past week and a half, you’ve neglected your meals within your grief and even if you didn’t, you’d sooner be dead on the stone floors of the Red Keep with your sons fate unknown. 

The men came to the realization that they did not know which twin was the boy, and for a brief moment you felt elated that perhaps they would give up their mission, but all hope vanished when Helaena pointed at Jaehaerys.

“Helaena..” You whisper, lips trembling and you can't help but feel bile come up your throat as the men storm to Jaehaerys, the bigger one covering his mouth, covering his scream. Helaena shakes as she makes a move to her daughter and youngest son, and you do the same.

As you hear the splatter of blood, a sob escapes your throat, your hands trembling as you hurriedly and carefully retrieve Alerion from his crib. Helaena runs out first, holding her children close to her and you’re not too long after her. 

Whilst Helaena makes a mad dash down the stairs, you run onward. Climbing up the other pair of stairs, Alerion stirs in your jumbling hold. Whining at the rude awakening and you try to shush him over your crying, 

“Shh.. shh.. Alerion,” The halls rushed past you as you ran, the skirt of your night-dress threatening to trip you. Only thoughts of protecting your own son ran through your frightened mind, fearing that perhaps he would be targeted too. 

The doors to Otto’s chambers slam open and a flurry of fabric and hair falls to the floor in sobs. The man looks at the sight bewildered, but soon he realizes it is you, his wife, that refused to look him in the eye. Surely, you had come to beg for forgiveness, having come to your senses. 

But as you look up at him, your son in your arms, cradling him like he was about to shatter- he knew something was wrong.

“They killed him.. They kill the boy!” 

[neyafromfrance95]

i feel like when we talk about sauron x galadriel we often focus on either the dynamic itself or sauron's pov, and we need to talk about galadriel's pov more bc it's really fascinating and complex.

for starters, galadriel loves halbrand. it's been confirmed by the creators and by her reaction to him in 2.08. and it was simply obvious from everything leading up to that point. he is her one true love. the only being with from she established a true connection. a comrade with whom she found companionship. she found herself in a soulmate hurt/comfort au when she was with him. and it seems like, no matter how she feels about sauron, she will always love halbrand. what an epitome of tragedy it is to eternally love a man who never existed?

sauron implied that he wanted to heal her when he said that if he wanted forgiveness, he would need to heal everything he helped to ruin, and he took accountability for galadriel's trauma when he apologized for finrod and everything. and i think one of the reasons halbrand had such an effect on galadriel is that his presence really was healing for her. for the first time since finrod, she wasn't alone. she felt understood and believed. he made her open up to him. she could be vulnerable with him. i find it interesting that she mockingly asks him "do you want to heal me", as if making a point that he can't heal her so that she can pretend like he didn't at some point. it adds another layer to her shame too, bc as much as she believes he can't heal the middle-earth, he was able to heal her when he "created" halbrand for her.

she has spent a lifetime harboring a deep hatred of sauron. her main goal in the life being to take revenge on him for her brother. for her, he is a sworn enemy that she's destined to slay. her hatred and ambition to kill him so all consuming and intense that she turned her back on heaven for him and basically willed him back into life.

galadriel is sauron's mirror. she has gazed into the abyss for so long that the abyss gazed back into her. her fight against him has became an intrinsic part of her identity, and we see how now sauron binds her to himself several times, either by guilt or by stabbing her with morgoth's crown, so we can say he has become an intrinsic part of her very being. always there just above her heart.

i think that sauron believes when he says that he would make her his equal queen, i believe that this is what he wants deep down (she is a natural leader, he is a natural follower). but would that actually happen? i don't believe that galadriel would ever willingly join him in mordor not only bc of the light her gaze is fixed on and bc of finrod, but also bc her pride and fear wouldn't allow it. what sauron offers galadriel is basically what jareth offers sarah (labyrinth) - "just fear me, love me. do as i say and i will be your slave." sauron wants galadriel to tame him, in a way, but she wouldn't be able to torture him into submission like morgoth did, as she could never match his strength, even as a dark!witch-queen, and she knows that. unless he repents and joins her in valinor, as a couple, sauron will always dominate galadriel in their dynamic.

trop recontextualizes what we know about galadriel's future. nenya is a symbol of her relationship with sauron and it causes her an extreme sea-longing, and the sea is another thing associated with her bond with sauron. even tho she has family and friends, she feels alone and her heart has greatly desired what sauron's proposal tempted her with for 3000-5000 years! she didn't go to valinor when celebrian did, didn't stay in the middle-earth while celeborn did, she only left the middle-earth for valinor when sauron was gone! and she took nenya with her! with trop context, it doesn't only signify her holding onto power/fight, it signifies her holding onto the only one thing that materialized as a symbol of her connection with sauron/halbrand! so while she passes the test and resists the one ring, i believe she will always yearn for both power and halbrand.

the dichotomy between her love for halbrand and her hatred for sauron is such an interesting concept, as is the dichotomy of her opposing the darkness of the dark lord as the lady of the light while being the perfect mirror of sauron, completely understood only by him, being the only one he is capable of loving, cosmically bound to him by the sea and the blood.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Rye Whiskey

♢ Summary: Celebrating Sean's return to camp includes a drunk Arthur, which allows you to discover this whole new side of him. ♢Words: 2057 ♢Warnings: None except for the whole alcohol/drinking theme, basically it's just a one-shot of a fluff idea I had watching the video of drunk Arthur saying nonsense to Saddie. ♢a/n: I recommend reading it with the mindset that Arthur is in the same state as in "A Quiet Time" and listening to Rye Whiskey to put you in the mood! Wrote a little sequel for this! Read it here. ♢Credits: These gorgeous dividers are from @cafekitsune!

♪ "O Mollie O Mollie, it's for your sake alone,

That I leave my old parents, my house and my home!" ♪

Even if one didn't know Sean had returned to the gang, they could have noticed it right away hearing his cheerful singing, his thick Irish accent rolling the words even more musically. As the main entertainer of the gang, he was absolutely delighted to have a party thrown for him, and honestly, his big toothless smile made your heart feel warmer. Tonight, in the fresh air of New Hanover, it was only laughter, guitar notes, and drunken sounds that were echoing through the camp, everyone finally having a real good time since they had settled at Horseshoe Overlook after such a long period hidden in the ruthless cold of the Grizzlies.

You were sitting around one of the campfires, with Javier, Sean, Uncle, and John. Karen had also joined, gladly sitting on Sean's lap with a bottle in her hand; you were sure there was something between them, and the poor man probably deserved some sweet time after what he had been through. Talking about bottles, the floor was flooded with a large amount of them around your little singing group, almost like a big pond of green shining glass you all fed every few minutes when someone would empty one.

You had your fair share of drinks already, a slight blush burning your cheeks, the alcohol keeping you warm under the night's cold breeze and happy despite the gang's precarious situation. Funny, how whiskey would make everything easier and more entertaining, no matter who or where you were looking at.

Alright, you had to admit it, maybe you were a bit tipsy, but so were John, Javier, Sean, and Karen, their happy faces softly lit by the golden flames. But Arthur, -Oh Lord, Arthur was far beyond drunk, he was wrecked. Looking at him from where you were sitting and singing along, you could see just how much of a mess he was; at least three of his shirt's buttons were undone, said shirt opened messily; his hair scattered under his hat and looking a bit sticky, almost as if he had put his whole head into a barrel of beer; he had a constant smile on his face, and his body was swaying slightly as if he was an unstable bottle being tossed around by the waves of a tormented sea. You chuckled to yourself; he was quite a sight to see, and you wondered if you actually had ever seen him that drunk. A few weeks back, Lenny had told you about the wild night he and Arthur had at Valentine's saloon, but the man in question had slept in jail and came back to camp completely sober, which made you unable to see his incredibly drunken state and made you wonder what the hell he must have done to end up in said jail.

♪ "If the Oceans were whiskey, and I were a duck, -Quack quack !-

I'd dive to the bottom, and get one sweet sup !" ♫

You chuckled at how Arthur had added the quacking part, finding it quite endearing. It was almost as if it was a whole new side of him, and you couldn't stop watching. His deep voice sounded surprisingly good as he was singing with the others, and you caught yourself liking hearing it. After all, you always had a sweet spot for him, so you wouldn't complain about having the opportunity to look at him as much as you wanted without him noticing it (or at least, being too drunk to understand what exactly was happening). His bright blue eyes, sparkling with the orange ashes of the fire, along with his light brown hair and stubble, his black opened shirt, his thin lips curled into this big stupid smile... It was all making your heart melt more and more. You almost lost it when he started drinking again, roughly grabbing a nearby bottle, probably without even knowing what it was containing, and bringing it to his mouth, the golden liquid sliding in his throat, making his Adam's apple bob, some glistening drops of it flowing from the bottle all the way down his scarred chin, then his throat, ending up lost in the dark hairs of his chest.

You're suddenly pulled out of your starring trance by his loud voice cutting through the song's lyrics: "Lenny, mah boy! Come and sing with us."

"Arthur... You had too many drinks again..." Lenny answered with an amused giggle as he was passing behind him, catching his inebriated eldest as he had got up to greet him, but ended up stumbling on the way and almost tripped on him, it only made Arthur laugh at himself.

There was no need to specify that Lenny had trouble holding him upright, Arthur being under normal circumstances quite a weight to carry, and even more so when he was in such a state not making any effort to prevent his face from kissing the ground. Quickly, you got up yourself, and took a few steps towards the men, helping Lenny on his difficult task.

"Look who it is... Miss Y/L/N !" Arthur greeted you with foggy eyes and a wide grin as if you two hadn't seen each other for years when you had talked only a few hours ago. He instantly put one of his arms above your shoulders and the other around Lenny's. "C-come ooon, let's dance !"

Lenny sighed before laughing a bit, letting Arthur bring him into his drunken enthusiasm; you chuckled along with him, not complaining about being so close to the handsome cowboy you had your heart and eye on for a while, even if he was barely able to register what he was actually doing and with whom. As Javier started playing a lively song, Arthur, Lenny and you were throwing your legs up in the air; you laughed some more noticing how your favorite cowboy had a hard time actually following the rhythm. You couldn't believe just how euphoric he was tonight, almost as if the bottles had turned on a switch in his mind, making him go completely wild without any of his usual gruff restraints. Maybe that was what the alcohol did to everyone. Maybe that was what it was doing to you right now but you couldn't be sure if it was, precisely because you were happily drunk and carefree.

The night continued and you blushed realizing Arthur hadn't let you go, his arms always ended up around your shoulders or on it as he was sometimes leaning against you. His manly scent, a sweet mix of smoky tones brought by tobacco and gunpowder, and woody ones, supported by pine and leather traces. Your head was starting to feel dizzy just by smelling it, your mind even more intoxicated by it than the alcohol you had been drinking all night.

"Maybe..."

You brush away your thoughts, he was really drunk, and he could have been like that with anyone. You spent the rest of the night having fun, drinking some more, laughing, singing, the whole gang having more and more fun as everyone had loosened up thanks to the booze. However at some point, the main man of the party, Sean, disappeared with Karen, and people started going to bed. After all, it was almost morning already, the stars of the night not as bright anymore as they were around the middle of the night, subtle sun rays making their presence known behind the outlines of the mountains, but not appearing just yet.

It was now only you, John, and Arthur left around the campfire, the dark-haired man looking down at his brother at heart, an amused grin on his face. Arthur was half asleep at you and John's feet, bottle in one hand, his other arm curled up around your leg. With all the proximity and physical contact he had given you through the whole night, your heart and body had gotten warmer, and you had to make enormous efforts to keep your thoughts in line, not wanting to have any false hope about him and his behavior.

"He's so goddamn drunk... " John sighed.

"Clearly."

"Come on, let's carry him to bed." John said to you, getting up with difficulty from the log you both were sitting on.

"Aah, you guys are no f-fun!" Arthur protested, his voice even hoarser than usual due to his intoxicated self. "Come on, one more drink!"

"Nope, you're going to bed." John's own croaky tone answered his partner. He then looked at you while bending down, expecting you to help him lift Arthur's poor body.

You leaned over, helping John. Arthur was barely able to walk, leaning heavily on you and John, one of his arms above John's shoulder just as earlier with Lenny, but his other one around your waist. Your cheeks burned. Even if it was just drunken attention... You liked it.

The three of you started to walk to Arthur's tent, as fast as you could considering his feet were more brushing the ground than actually stepping on it. You just weren't capable of having any coherent thoughts at this point, your whole being living for the warm sensation of his big palm on your waist, feeling how his fingers were gently rubbing against your clothes.

"You two... Are the b-best..." Arthur slurred out in a rough voice when you had reached his tent. As gently as you both could, John and you were trying to lay him in his cot.

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Arthur." John answered with an amused chuckle, placing one of his legs in its rightful place on his bed.

"Y/N, you're beautiful..." Arthur added in an almost unintelligible rumble, as you were pulling back from him. "I l-love you."

Your jaw dropped. What did he say? Did you hear that right? You froze, eyes glued to the outlaw, who was already turning around to sleep on his stomach, lips parted, a light snore emerging from his noose; he had instantly fallen asleep as if he had permission to now that he was in his cot.

John looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't take it seriously, Y/N." He advised you. "He already told that to Abigail and Karen before, even Saddie if I reckon right."

"Oh, erm... Alright, I won't." You answered your friend. Honestly, you probably would have slept better not knowing that; a sharp little sliver of disappointment subtly piercing through your heart. "Goodnight then, John."

"Goodnight, Y/N, thanks for the help." The scarred man greeted you before heading to his own tent. It was so late, you were sure Abigail would reprimand him for that tomorrow morning.

But that was John's problem, and you already had one yourself.

You took a last look at your sleepy cowboy before walking off to your own tent. He looked cute like this, hair messy, clothes completely disheveled; even his snoring was pretty endearing to you. You reluctantly turned your back to him, resisting the urge to actually lay with him in his cot. After all, he wouldn't have complained, wouldn't he? He probably wouldn't even have noticed... These thoughts got stuck in your brain as you lay in your own cot, pretty tired yourself after partying all night, your spirit slowly drifting away in the realm of dreams, sleep troubled by blurry visions of what had happened during the night, a beautiful, charming, stupid smile keeping on reappearing from time to time in your slumber.

Arthur opened his eyes. "It hurts"; were the first words that came to his mind. His back, his neck, his goddamn head, everything was hurting him. Getting old was definitely not a piece of cake. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and burnt, just like his thorny throat, even if a slight string of saliva had slid from his mouth. Getting that drunk was definitely too frequent for him lately, the other night with Lenny still engraved in his memory and his tired body, fed up with his poor drinking decisions. He slowly got up, rubbing his face, carefully avoiding his gaze from looking at the sun, its light way too powerful for him in this hungover state.

Looking around the camp, he smiled internally seeing Karen emerging from Sean's tent. Little bastard had gotten himself a good time last night. While thinking back about what happened, he had a hard time remembering all of it, as often when he was that drunk. Maybe it was better that way, considering his impressive capacity to get in trouble and make a fool of himself in those kinds of situations. However this time, something was lingering in the back of his mind.

You.

Your delicate smell, how the soft fabric of your clothes felt under his fingers, how your voice sounded into his ears, how smooth and mellow your leg was. How the hell did he knew about all that? He focused, frowning, trying so hard to remember what had happened, but all he had was these sensations, those pleasant, haunting sensations. He couldn't help but feel flustered all by himself, sat on his bed, cheeks getting slightly flushed, just imagining the reasons why he suddenly knew so much about the grain of your skin and the warmth of your body against his;

He prayed deeply he didn't do anything stupid with you; Lord knows how important you were to him. Hell, he had thought about you a lot already, thought about offering you flowers or maybe a nice jewel, something that would be as pretty as you even if to him, no physical object could ever compete with your astonishing beauty and your adorable, sweet, sunny personality.

But before all that, he needed to have a few words about last night with you. Probably would stumble on his words, look like an idiot again, but at least he would be able to be close to you, just like in those sweet lingering memories in his head.

Sequel here.

a/n : Alright so... Here it is! My first one-shot ever. Please, if you notice anything, any mistakes, or a weird-sounding sentence: let me know! English isn't my first language and I'm actually anxious as hell to publish this! Anyway, thanks for reading this until the end and take care <3

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Profound Pleasure of Little Things

Hozier x reader

Author's note: Basically the thought was, "ohh, what if there was a real moment that inspired Wasteland!baby."

Summary: Andrew and Y/n spend an afternoon at the beach.

Warnings - poorly written fluff, I guess.

"I think if the world ended right now, I'd be alright with that.”

After spending the past fifteen minutes or so bearing witness to her magnificence. Ireland's solem grey sky meeting the frigid, green water and acting as a cool toned backdrop to the brightness of her beauty. The way those deep, blue jeans hug her curves, the woolen burgundy coat, draped over a band tee, that follows the contour of her frame and her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she stands a few feet off the edge, gaze cast out towards the horizon; as if the world below them had been thought up just for her.

As Y/n turns to face him, the wind whips her hair forward, and he smiles when she hastily brushes away from her eyes. “What?” She chortles, but there's an air of disbelief in the word and she tilts her head a little to the side, “why?”

Licking his lips, Andrew pushes off the boulder he's been perched on, one converse-clad foot planted on the ground while the other stayed propped on a smaller rock jutting from the lush grass. “Because,” he stuffs his hands into the side pockets of the denim jacket he's thrown over his red flannel, “I've seen you, standing here and that's gotta be the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Y/n rolls her eyes; he's awfully romantic when he doesn't mean to be – and mind-bogglingly terrible at it when he actively tries. Just that morning he'd clumsily danced them into the kitchen table after daring more than their usual sway. But now, after a long afternoon drive and an impromptu hike up a hill that overlooks the sea, he's stringing together the sort of lines that make her cheeks go warm and stirs a flutter in her chest. “You're being dramatic,” she teases, relinquishing her hand when he reaches for it. Their fingers lace with ease; it's something they're so used to doing that Y/n rarely thinks much of it anymore. It's such a small, mundane thing and his hands have become so familiar to her that they almost feel like her own – and like she'd miss her own hand if it were gone forever, she'd miss his too.

He is a part of her; as vital as a limb, or the thing beating in her chest.

“Hardly,” his thumb ghosts the soft skin over her knuckles, and his eyes soften when they meet hers. It still startles him that she's his, and standing there with the smell of salt, autumn and her perfume flooding his senses, Andrew fears he might be dreaming, “you look…..” Like a painting, something that one could only wish to be privileged enough to see, let alone touch, “exquisite.”

Y/n giggles before glancing down at herself. She knows she must look plain at best, and a wind-tousled mess at worst. Even if she isn't the self-deprecating type, it's tough to believe that she looks like anything special without makeup, her hair free-styled by the breeze and her face nipped by the chill. The coat that she's owned for nearly a decade and a faded t-shirt probably isn't helping her case either. “Are you trying to get laid on this hilltop?” She asks conspiringly.

Snaking his free arm around her waist, Andrew simultaneously pulls Y/n closer and throws his head back in laughter. Lifting her gaze to drink him in, Y/n’s smile softens; she loves the way he looks when he laughs like that. Entirely carefree, as if he mightn’t have anything in the world to worry about, its a laugh she sees most off when he’s been home for a while and he isn’t concerned about deadlines and appearances, or when they have friends over and he’s had a bit too much to drink. Or when she says something that is a little absurd, but not quite funny, and he somehow finds the world of humor in it.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed,” his fingers curl into her waist. Then, when the shaking of his shoulders settle, he lowers his eyes to meet hers. It always baffles him how she could not know – not completely – what she does to him. Because if she did, Y/n wouldn’t doubt his credibility for a second when he says that she’s beautiful – and utterly in awe of everything that she is. “But I really do think that you look lovely darling,” he adds softly, freeing his hand from hers to gently cup her face, “if you saw what I did, you’d understand. If you could see yourself through my eyes…….thought of yourself with my mind, you would get to know the most breathtaking person I've ever met.”

Licking her lips, Y/n lays her hands on his chest, thumb grazing the sliver of skin left exposed by the undone top button of his shirt. “How do you do that?” She muses quietly, gazing up at him.

Andrew's thumb roves the apple of her cheek and she leans into his touch, “Do what?” He lowers his head a little, so their foreheads are that much closer to touching.

“Come up with…..stuff,” she hates the word in the context, “like that.”

“Well, it would just so happen, that I have the best muse,” because every beautiful thing he can think of is tangled up with the thought of her. He can’t see flowers without wondering how they’d look if they were laced in her hair, or held in her hands, he sees art and wonders if she’d like it too and when he’s faced with a day like this one – where everything seems to be in perfect measure – all Andrew wants to do is share it with her.

“I am just so in love with you,” he rasps, the sudden drop in his voice sending a shiver up her spine, “that it touches every part me, everything I do has a bit of you in it,” as if all the old parts of himself have been shed, giving way to something new, improved in a way that only be because of her presence.

The more Andrew thinks about the clearer one certainty becomes; in a way, the world has already ended. It happened the second he fell in love with her. Everything as he knew it was changed forever – reduced to a wasteland, and out from the ashes she came.

Lifting one of her hands, Y/n caresses his temple with the pad of her thumb. “What a beautiful mind you have,” she muses, gaze matching his. Y/n always faults him for having a way with his words, usually when he doesn't even mean to, but Andrew doesn't think she ever pays enough mind to what she's saying. “Who needs the rest of the world when they have this?”

His thumb continues stroking her cheek in that languid, gentle fashion and Andrew’s gaze softens so much that he thinks he must be melting under her touch. He must be putty in her hands – so easy to mold however she pleases, because the only thing he wants more than being with her is being exactly what Y/n needs.

May he always be a necessity, may her life be just a touch emptier without him, so she’ll keep him around.

“Who needs it, darling?” Who needs it when the best of it smiles when she looks at me? He’s just about to press his lips to hers in a kiss he’s been aching to steal since the moment she turned to look at him, when a wave – way down below – breaks so violently that a few droplets hit their faces, causing Y/n to shift her gaze towards the expanse of glacial teal.

“We should walk down to the beach,” she suggests suddenly, eyes alight with the wonder of someone yearning for the thrill of adventure. In an instant, Y/n is backing out of his embrace – like a dream just past his immediate reach. She takes his hand though, lacing her smaller, finer fingers with his and practically tugs him along, urging him towards the mouth of the stoney, sloped pathway that leads to the beach.

“Yeah, sure-” Andrew doesn’t even get to reply before he’s stumbling along, blindly following her. He isn’t even sure if she actually knows the way – he’s never taken her there, but Y/n is quick-witted enough to figure things out without anyone’s help. As he watches her trot ahead with purpose, feet clad in Chuck Taylor's stomping on the feathery grass as she moves ahead, Andrew keeps his gaze fixed on her. The way she holds her head up, as if she doesn’t need a map – or even him – to show her the way. The way the wind blows her hair and her delicate fingers work to keep them away from her eyes. She’s moving so quickly that its hard to take it all in, and Andrew finds himself wanting to ask her to slow down, so he can soak up the way she looks against the blur of the trees.

Sometimes, he wants to tell her – beg her – to just be a bit more still. Because while he adores watching her move, drinking in every miniscule action that is so specific to her, Andrew breathes for the moments where there isn’t the slightest quiver in her form. When his view of her is entirely unhampered by the demands of life; she doesn’t have to get up to answer her phone, or check on the laundry downstairs – when she’s just lounging in bed with her glasses propped on the bridge of her nose and a book held up in front of her face, when she’s sitting on the back patio while nursing an afternoon tea, watching the birds entertain each other.

When Y/n is standing before him, surrounded by a tapestry of greens and blues and other specks of colour that pale in her wake, like something he should never be so privileged to bare witness to.

His thoughts are interrupted when she stumbles on a rock and instinctively deserts her hand in favor of reaching for her hips. “Slow down,” he chuckles, reeling her close to his chest, one arm wrapping around her middle as they continue downward.

“But I wanna see the beach,” she protests with a giggle as his lips find her cheek. Reaching past herself, she lays her hand on his neck, holding his face close to hers for a few seconds longer.

“And you will,” Andrew mumbles, mouth still pressed up to her face, “but lets……enjoy the getting there too.”

“I think you’re enjoying it a little too much,” Y/n admonishes humorously when Andrew squeezes her to him.

“Impossible,” he bends his head to nuzzle the side of her face, “I actually think you’re not enjoying this enough.”

“Yeah?” She leans into his embrace, hand falling onto his forearm as she finally relents to stopping for a moment. She can hear the sounds of the sea a bit more clearly now, and the air is saltier than it had been when they were up on the hill. Through the foliage, Y/n spots bits of jewel toned ripples, a tell-tale sign that they aren’t too far off, and she’s actively holding herself back from urging him ahead. She does have a habit of rushing things, sometimes the need to just keep moving is almost overwhelming; she’s so focused on getting somewhere that she forgets the journey is half the experience.

Andrew, she often finds, is entirely the opposite. It's a quality she admires in him; his ability to revel in simple joys, the way he’s able to steady himself enough to thoroughly take everything in. While she’s eager to brush past everything in her way to get to her finish line, he’s perfectly fine with strolling through the trees, stopping ever so often to take pictures of things that interest him, or rattle off a random fact that he learned in a nature documentary.

“Yes,” Andrew hisses, kissing the corner of her lips, “just relax a little.”

“I’m very relaxed,” Y/n scoffed defensively, “we just have different definitions of that word.”

Andrew laughs loudly, finally letting her go and allowing her to take his hand again, “I’m not even sure that word is in your dictionary,” he chortles as she tows him along. Y/n doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know if she hears him, because as the words leave his mouth, they reach the edge of the woods which opens up to the small beach. The sand is soft under his shoes, and the sting of salty air is sharp. “Happy now?” He teases when she lets his hand go in favor of going a few paces ahead.

“I was always happy,” Y/n corrects, “but now I'm…..satisfied.”

“If satisfaction is what you were looking for, I could've helped with that up there,” he nudges his head towards the top of the hill they’d been standing on about fifteen minutes earlier.

Y/n rolls her eyes as she turns to look at him, “oh shut up,” she giggles.

“Just sayin’,” he hums, moving to stand beside her, arm going around her shoulders. Immediately, Y/n tilts her head so its touching his side.

As she keeps her eyes trained forward, Y/n hums, “its so beautiful.”

Andrew returns the sound, albeit just a bit softer as he turns his head to look down at her, nestled against him. Its hard to describe just how much he enjoys the feeling of her tucked against him, its one of those simple pleasures that he never fails to appreciate; the way her form fits perfectly with his, like they were made to just click together. It's such a small thing; the comfort that comes with holding someone who wouldn’t trade the feeling of your arms around them for anything else in the world, and he can never seem to get enough of it. He lives for the way throwing his arm around her shoulder has become as natural to him as breathing, and how instinctive it is when she leans against him.

“Don’t you think so?” Y/n glances up at him, a smile dusting her cheeks when their eyes meet. There's always a little tingle that prods at her heart when she finds him looking at her, like the beat of butterfly wings against the petal of a flower.

Licking his lips, he glances forward at the ocean stretched out before then, and the near vacant beach that spreads out for at least a mile on either side.

He must’ve seen this beach near a hundred times by now. Andrew is well aquainted with the way the waves break against the collection of jagged rocks piled against once side of the shore, foam washing the salt-worn gray and seeping into the crevices. The crunch of pebbles and broken seashells under his boot isn’t foreign to him, and he knows all too well how frigid those waters can be around this time of the year. He’s seen the beauty of the place, he swears he’s done his best to appreciate it too, but there’s something different about holding her as the water pulls the sand seaward and salty sprinkles dust their lips. It feels like he’s seeing for the first time all over again.

And he loves it – all of it. The way it feels like a film has been peeled off his eyes, the thrill of enjoying the simplest things so much more than he ever has because he's sharing the moment with her.

“Yeah,” he looks at her again, lowering his head to touch the tips of their noses, “its beautiful, baby.”

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Merman

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ sexual harassment, kidnapping ( male yandere! oc x gn reader ) Click to see part 2 and a nsfw spin-off !

It was a dark and stormy night when you first met the merman. You were a lighthouse keeper on a tiny island that was not densely populated. The people that did live on the island were mostly fishermen that lead a peaceful and simple life. However, this night was not peaceful. The storm was roaring and the tides were filled with rage.

You simply went to town to buy a few things and maybe grab a drink with the friendly residents when the storm picked up, forcing you to retreat inside a cave near the sea. You thought it was dangerous since the cave could be flooded when the tides were high but the thunder and lightning seemed even more dangerous since you were walking around the beach with no trees in sight.

You expected to be bored inside a moist and salty-smelling cave but what happened was far from what you had expected.

Inside was a beautiful and ethereal merman who stared at you with wide and scared eyes. He had long white hair that was decorated with seaweed and pearls. He had nothing on, showing off his well-toned body. The most unbelievable part was the fact that instead of legs, there was a long and shimmering silver tail that was covered in scars and a fin that looked like it had a hole in it.

You awkwardly tried to approach it, trying to not scare the merman but failing since he started to thrash in the small pool of water in the cave.

"Shh, shh, shh... I'm not gonna hurt you," you said quietly and gently. The merman must've sensed that you meant no harm as he let you come closer.

The trust only grew when you spent the night, trying to help treat his injuries with the very minimal supplies that you had.

The next few weeks, you'd come and accompany the merman inside the cave. Not only that, you'd come and bring him food and books to show him. Your days mostly consisted of nothing before sunset when your job actually starts anyways so you had plenty of time to spare. Of course, you kept his existence a secret since you didn't want to bring any harm to your new friend.

It was odd though, his wounds have long healed but he kept lingering in the cave. You were on your wits end as you didn't know what he wanted and he can't speak English. You tried teaching him but, you weren't sure if it was because he was half fish, but he was not the smartest being.

You were about to stand and leave the cave to do your job before the merman snatched your hand and pulled you into the water with him. Startled, your body froze as the merman smiled when he looked at you. He hugged you and began to kiss your neck. Not only that, he began clawing at your clothes as he gave you a passionate kiss. You eventually snapped out of it before biting the merman's tongue hard to surprise him into letting you go. You quickly swam back to land and looked at the water with wide eyes. The merman looked at you with a look of surprise and desperation as he tried to go on land to take you back into his hands.

That obviously didn't work though since you ran out before he could even begin to get his whole body out of the water.

You didn't bother coming back to the cave since you felt scared and confused at the incident.

The merman basically forced himself on you but on the other hand, he was a mermaid that probably didn't know anything about human knowledge or consent. Still, though, you felt uncomfortable and it was probably better to leave him alone so he can go back into the ocean.

You didn't expect to ever see him again until you saw a familiar figure flopping on the beach just in front of your secluded lighthouse. In an instant, your eyes went wide as you rushed out to the merman before anyone sees him.

As soon as you came into the merman's line of sight, his eyes lights up and began trying to flop faster towards you.

"What are you doing here?! You can be here!"

"I... I sorryyyy" the merman attempted to say with a slow and dragged accent. You can't help but feel surprised since you didn't expect him to remember anything you tried to teach him.

You somehow got him back into the ocean and as you turned around to go back to shore, he pulled you down into the ocean with him. Deeper and deeper until the ocean covers your senses.

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 (양정인)

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

summary: loosely based off of strangers by kenya grace

tags/warnings: suggestive (kissing in car) kinda angsty, no good ending

a/n: hihi guys!! i think yall have noticed that i haven't been as active on here anymore sigh. atp its basically js bc i used to write based off of what i wanted to happen, but now its more like im actually experiencing it with my gf, so its kinda different for me!! its also bc ive js been talking to my friends mostly recently 😭😭 so yep!! (on discord tho add so_dxnbi if u want to talk 😋! also i might not be active during the summer so this will be one of the many oneshots and stories i have prepped to come out over the summer <3 tysm for patience!! love you guys <3

also sorry for the kinda bad ending sigh 😓

credits to @hyuneskkami for the dividers

masterlist!

You never thought you’d end up here. In the backseat of his car, the world outside reduced to a blur of neon lights and rain streaking across the windows. His hands are everywhere, touching your skin, pulling you closer, leaving a trail of heat that’s impossible to ignore. Your breaths are shallow, uneven, caught somewhere between urgency and uncertainty. It’s messy, fast, and you know it’s never going to last. But in that moment, it doesn’t matter.

You had been strangers once. You never imagined it would go this far. But here you are, both lost in the feeling of each other, and yet… it feels like you’re miles apart.

ᡣ𐭩

It all started when you didn’t expect it.

You remember the night you first met him. It was one of those nights where you had no plans, no real intentions. The party was loud, a blur of faces and music that pulsed through the walls. You didn’t even know why you were there. Maybe it was because your friends had dragged you along, or maybe it was because you were just looking for something—something to fill the quiet spaces inside of you.

The first time you saw him, he wasn’t anything special—just another guy among many. Tall, dark hair, a smile that you couldn’t quite place. But when you bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt, you immediately froze, mortified.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, fumbling for your words, trying to wipe the spill from his chest.

He laughed. Softly. “It’s fine, really. No harm done.”

His eyes were warm, and for a brief moment, you felt like he was the only person in the room. You barely noticed the music anymore. There was something about the way he looked at you that made everything else fade into the background.

“I’m Jeongin,” he said, offering you a hand.

You introduced yourself, and that was it. A simple exchange of names. But there was something about him, a kind of energy that lingered after the conversation ended. You didn’t think much of it at the time, just another stranger in a sea of faces.

ᡣ𐭩

But things have a way of changing, don’t they?

The first few weeks after the party, you didn’t think much about Jeongin. He was just another person in your life. You’d pass by him in the hallways, maybe exchange a quick smile, but that was it. But then, one evening, you ran into him in the library. He was sitting alone, flipping through a book, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him before.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

He glanced up, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Hey! Just studying. Want to join?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but you nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

You sat beside him, the quiet of the library settling around you as the minutes stretched into hours. At first, it was just small talk—talking about assignments, the classes you shared. But before long, the conversation shifted. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, talking about things you’d never shared with anyone elseyour hopes, your fears, your childhood memories.

It was easy. Too easy.

And that’s when you started noticing him more. Not just his smile or the way he made you laugh, but the way he made you feel—like you mattered. Like you weren’t just a passing thought in his life. You started texting him more, meeting up for coffee after class, spending your weekends together in a way that felt so natural, so right.

You didn’t think much about it at first. He was just a friend, right? But even then, you could feel something shifting between you both, something you couldn’t name, something that made your heart beat a little faster every time he looked at you.

ᡣ𐭩

The moment it happened, you didn’t even see it coming.

One evening, it was just the two of you—sitting on the balcony at his apartment, the city lights flickering in the distance. You’d just finished dinner, and the conversation had slowly shifted to more personal things, things you had never dared to say aloud before.

“I think you’re one of the few people who actually listens when I talk,” Jeongin had said, his voice quieter than usual, his eyes soft.

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m always listening.”

He was looking at you differently now, his gaze more intense, more focused. The space between you seemed to shrink, and your chest tightened. You wanted to say something, anything, but your words caught in your throat.

You felt his hand brush yours, and it was like the world stopped. Your breath hitched as he leaned in slowly, hesitating just a moment before his lips met yours.

The kiss was everything you didn’t know you needed. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just the overwhelming rush of wanting and being wanted. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer, and you responded eagerly, the taste of him lingering on your lips.

But even in that kiss, you could sense something shifting inside of you—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. You were both crossing a line, one you weren’t sure you could come back from.

The next few days passed in a haze, the thrill of being with him clouding your thoughts. You were officially more than friends, but neither of you spoke about it. It felt like an unspoken agreement between the two of you—no labels, no expectations, just the feelings that both of you kept buried deep down.

But it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show.

ᡣ𐭩

It was one of those nights when everything felt a little too much. The air was thick with tension, and the heavy weight of unspoken words hung between you both. You were both drunk, but there was a certain clarity in the way you looked at him.

You’d been out with friends at a club, and now you were in his car, parked in an empty lot, the sound of the rain tapping against the windows. His hand was on your leg, drawing lazy circles on your skin. He was leaning close, his breath warm against your neck, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted him. You needed him.

You let him kiss you again, this time deeper, more desperate. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your back, your thigh. You could feel the heat building between you both, the need, the desperation, as if this moment was the only thing that mattered.

In the backseat, it was all about chasing that feeling—the feeling of being wanted, of being seen. His lips were on your neck, his body pressed against yours, and you could feel every inch of him.

It was reckless. It was messy. But it was you both searching for something—something you couldn't name, something you couldn’t hold onto.

But even in that moment, you knew it wouldn’t last.

ᡣ𐭩

Things between you both became complicated after that night. The chemistry, the passion—it was always intense, but it wasn’t enough to keep the distance from growing. Jeongin pulled away more and more, his texts shorter, his responses slower. You tried to ignore it, but the cracks were undeniable.

You wanted to talk about it, to ask him where you stood, but every time you tried, he’d shut you down with a simple excuse—“I’m busy,” or “I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

But you knew. You knew what was happening.

One evening, you sat in his apartment, the silence between you unbearable. You couldn’t ignore the distance anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jeongin,” you said, your voice trembling despite yourself. “I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this,” you gestured between you both, your hands shaking. “This… whatever this is. I can’t keep doing this if you’re not here with me. You’re not really here, Jeongin. Not anymore.”

There was a long pause. You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Maybe I’m not, then.”

That was it. No apology, no fight. Just a simple acknowledgment that you both knew things weren’t working. You both had been drifting for so long, it was only a matter of time before it ended.

ᡣ𐭩

After the breakup, you tried to move on. You went to class, you hung out with friends, you kept yourself busy. But every time you saw him—whether on campus or in passing—there was a part of you that ached.

He didn’t reach out, and neither did you. The silence between you was louder than anything you could say.

Months passed. You both moved in different circles, but every once in a while, you’d catch a glimpse of him. He never looked at you the same way again. He never even looked at you at all.

You were strangers again.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything else.

You never saw him again after that day at the coffee shop. He was just another face in the crowd, another memory.

A stranger.

hope yall enjoyed <33

todays playlist....

bills by enhypen, dadada by mad tsai, like by bts, feelings by lauv, love scenario by ikon, voices by stray kids, banana shake by hus, busy woman by sabrina carpenter, bed chem by sabrina carpenter, feels like summer by childish gambino, butterflies by stray kids, run bts by bts, mama said by kickflip, ssick by stray kids, drama by aespa, deer hunter by &team, like that by doja cat and gucci mane, start a war by jennie, fall in love again by p1harmony

*bold is explicit*

taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas @jisunggy @me-on-a-archive @hyunjiiza @hyuneskkami @hvseunq143 (im pretty sure i missed somebody 😭😭)

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

[cyten0]

Party Menu AU Concept

Had a weird dream, turned into a whole AU. Dunno if I'll write it, but I'm sure as heck gonna share it.

So the AU starts off normal. Basic In Stars and Time. Everyone wins, and the party starts heading towards Bambouche.

But... Something's funny. Once they start to leave Dormont, they start to realize their knowledge base is... off. They don't know some details they should, and even weirder they know some things they really shouldn't. It's starting to worry everyone a bit.

It gets weirder that everyone sometimes feels like there are people missing from the group. Particularly in idle moments.

But the thing that throws everything out of the water is when they reach the first town.

And Siffrin is recognized as Savior of Vaugarde. Yet nobody recognizes any of the rest of the party. In fact, many thought he traveled Alone.

Explanation:

The rest of the world of ISAT is still in Comic Siffrin timeline, with only Dormont itself being adjusted to the differences.

The main thing being the party. Comic Siffrin didn't have one. They made one.

Specifically, after multiple iterations of the original story, Siffrin started using wishcraft to form 'allies' from their memories of adventuring. These manifestations would be based on both the knowledge and skills gained in certain arks of their tale, mixed with people they met on the way.

They had pretty decent personalities even from the start, becoming more like real people over time, and would take the knowledge Siffrin collects over SEVERAL Loops to fill out their knowledge base. In fact, sometimes they'd directly borrow stuff from significant figures that couldn't join for one reason or another. Particularly those Siffrin befriended and wished could join.

But regular people would only kind of notice them, and forget them easily. A bit like non-protagonist party members in some RPGs.

Siffrin could only really keep up a few at a time fully, again like a normal RPG. You might have a lot of options, but you only can go into battle with so many. He could manifest them all a bit, but not in any way that could do much except hang out. When in the field, Siffrin would swap them out all the time, and he had quite a few.

Basing this idea off this one image from the original comic:

A lot of 'Party members'.

When Siffrin went into the house after redoing his whole adventure repeatedly, they started wanting these 'manifestations' to be real people. Friends, family. Anyone. he was just getting so tired of being alone.

So one loop, they make a wish on the favor tree. For them to be real.

And so their current active party became more alive, Dividing Siffrin's memories more across them, and changing Dormont to make them fit the narrative a bit more. And so begins the Start Again prologue.

SO THEN

That leaves the main party, now not only wished to be real, but now Siffrin has wished to stay with them. This means they aren't gonna go away or anything, thankfully.

But as the party starts the learn what happened, they are starting to realize that their entire lives are fabricated. And that is giving an existential crisis and a half. How much of them is real?

Not to mention, the rest of the 'party members' are still kind of around, and now include extra member Loop, as a manifestation of the Dormont Ark.

Quick rundown of who's who:

Mirabelle: An embodiment of Siffrin being chosen as hero. The determined drive, the knowledge of the Change belief, and active holder of the blessing itself. Even wields the sword that Comic Siffrin had once or twice. Siffrin made friends with no few number of Housemaidens, who would shelter him when times got tough. Mirabelle has parts of all of them, but also the Changes Siffrin felt on their first iteration of their adventure, becoming a better person and a true hero. Before it crumbled apart at the end.

Odile: Siffrin's ark in Ka Bue was rather special, and Odile was formed in part from it. The ties of cultures, the people, and the vast seas of knowledge learned from what time Siffrin could get in it's libraries. But also in part formed of a friend, who wanted to go to Vaugarde but was too ill. She wanted to know more about her heritage, and Odile formed around that desire, subconsciously hoping to fulfill it by proxy.

Isabeau: At a point during the story, Siffrin was in Jouvente, looking for one of the Orbs, and the Defenders were too busy with Sadnesses to help. A lone Seamster helped them out with the orb. And even in latter timeloops, he was clever enough to notice and help Siffrin. Siffrin got close, and the two might have had feelings for each other a bit. Siffrin never forgot him, even if he couldn't join.

Bonnie: When Siffrin first woke up in Vaugarde, after leaving the Island, he was taken in by someone who had ran from home. Petronille. While Bonnie is in part based off of her, they're more so Siffrin's entire childhood in Bambouche. Particularly childhood friends. And more then that, Siffrin was always worried about their home, and Bonnie formed around that desire.

Feel free to take this entire idea and use it however you'd like!

I would write it myself, but I have my hands full with Symphony in Crimson, not to mention the Cyberpunk AU I'm planning.

Have fun! :3

[justa-fanfic-writer]

– How could this happen?

Yandere, OOC?, didn't know where the plot would go, reader is deaf, shitty ending, and other warnings I don't know blah blah blah...

Trafalgar Law x Gender Neutral Reader

Symmary: Basically, you have somehow ended up in the One Piece universe, but you're deaf and only use sign language, but luckily, you had joined Trafalgar Law's and his crew the Heart Pirates and you had joined! But something about Law isn't right...

Btw thank you, kiyoahdiy, for this idea credits to them and but I had a hard time writing this since it was hard coming up with this story would go, so I especially hope you liked this!

---------‐-----‐-----‐-----------------

Waking up to the familiar sensation of the ocean’s rhythmic sway beneath you, you had to remind yourself—yet again—that this wasn’t some strange, vivid dream. You really had ended up in the world of One Piece. The sight of the bright, open sea stretching endlessly around you was beautiful yet disorienting, a constant reminder of how surreal your situation was. What had started as a normal night back in your world had turned into a reality where you found yourself stranded in this dangerous yet exciting universe.

At first, you had struggled, not just with the shock of being thrown into this pirate-filled world but also with how to communicate. Being deaf meant that you couldn’t hear the chaos around you, and your way of communicating—sign language—was foreign to everyone here. You had felt more isolated than ever.

That was until you met Trafalgar Law and his crew.

The Heart Pirates, initially wary of your sudden appearance, had quickly taken a liking to you. Bepo, the giant talking mink, had been the first to show interest in learning how you communicated, his wide, fluffy paws trying their best to mimic the signs you taught him. Penguin and Shachi followed, eager to help bridge the gap between you and the rest of the crew.

And Law… Law had been watching you closely the entire time. From the moment you stepped on his ship, his amber eyes had never strayed far from you. He was quiet, calculating, as though he was studying every aspect of you—not just your movements but the very essence of who you were. It had unnerved you at first, but you’d quickly chalked it up to his nature. Trafalgar Law was a brilliant tactician, always thinking ahead, always planning. You had assumed his interest was nothing more than that of a captain trying to understand a new crewmate.

It wasn’t until one fateful night that you realized there was much more to it.

•~•

The crew had been sitting around the deck after a long day, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air—though you could only see their smiles, their body language giving away the friendly banter. Bepo had sat beside you, signing clumsily about the day’s events, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his efforts. It felt nice, like you were truly part of the crew.

That’s when Law appeared, as he often did, quietly, his presence casting a shadow over the lighthearted mood. His expression was unreadable, a subtle frown etched across his face as he glanced briefly at the crew before turning his focus solely on you. Without a word, he motioned for you to follow him.

You hesitated, wondering what could be so urgent, but ultimately complied, rising to your feet and trailing behind him. Law led you to the far end of the ship, where the noise of the crew faded, leaving the two of you alone under the stars. The sea breeze was cool, and for a moment, you simply stood there, watching the moonlight dance across the waves.

Law turned to face you, his usual gruff demeanor replaced with something almost… vulnerable. He pulled out a small notepad, something he often used when words weren’t enough to communicate with you, and scribbled something down.

"I want to learn more."

He wrote before flipping the paper around for you to see. You had blinked in surprise. You had been teaching the crew basic sign language for weeks now, but Law had always stood on the sidelines, watching with that intense gaze of his. Yet he never seemed interested in joining.

Before you could sign a response, Law continued writing.

"But I want you to teach me. Alone."

Your heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t like Law. The captain was always distant, calculating, rarely showing any signs of personal interest. Why now? And why alone?

You nodded cautiously, curious but unsure of his intentions. You began showing him some basic signs, expecting him to struggle as the others had, but Law, true to his reputation as a quick learner, picked up the language with ease. His movements were precise, controlled—just like him.

The two of you spent hours like that, the rest of the crew long asleep, as you taught him more and more. And the more he learned, the closer he seemed to get. Literally. His presence was starting to be overwhelming, the space between the two of you growing smaller with each passing moment. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your hands brushed during a sign, a strange tension built in the air.

Eventually, Law stopped signing, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His expression shifted slightly, his usual cold exterior softening ever so subtly.

And then he signed something with his that made your heart stop.

“Be mine.”

You froze, your mind racing to comprehend what you had just seen. Your eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if you had misinterpreted his signs, but Law’s gaze was unwavering, his hands still poised in the air, waiting for your response.

You had never considered romance to be a possibility in this world—especially not with Trafalgar Law. He was always so focused, so guarded. And you? You had resigned yourself to thinking that love was out of reach, that surviving in this world was all you could hope for.

But here he was, asking you to be his... his lover...

You hesitated, a million thoughts running through your mind at once. Was this real? Could you even trust him? Law was powerful and brilliant, but he was also ruthless. You had seen firsthand how he commanded his crew with an iron will, how he controlled every aspect of his surroundings. Was this just another form of control?

Yet, despite the uncertainty, despite the unease swirling in your gut, you found yourself smiling. Something about the way he was looking at you, the vulnerability hidden behind those amber eyes, made you want to believe that this was genuine.

You shook your head slightly, trying to clear your doubts, and as you had blushed a bit as heat was coming in your face as you signed.

“I accept.”

For a moment, Law’s expression didn’t change. He simply stared at you, his face unreadable. But then his eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a small smirk as his brows had furrowed. He looked almost…pleased? As if he knew you would accept... Or perhaps something deeper, something darker was lurking behind his gruff exterior.

He stepped closer, his presence now fully overwhelming, his eyes piercing into yours with a possessive intensity. You had sealed your fate, though you didn’t realize it at the time. The moment you accepted his confession, the moment you agreed to be his, you had unknowingly surrendered to something far more dangerous than you could have imagined.

-(So how's your day been...?)- XD

From that point on, Law’s possessiveness became suffocating. It wasn’t obvious at first. To the crew, things seemed normal, but you could feel the shift. He would always be nearby, watching, waiting. If you spent too much time with the others, even if it was something as innocent as teaching Bepo a new sign, Law would find a way to interrupt, his hand resting on your shoulder as a silent reminder of his claim over you.

It became clear that Law didn’t want anyone else near you—not even his own crew.

One evening, while you were sitting with Penguin and Shachi, showing them some new phrases, Law appeared as if from nowhere. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, arms crossed, his expression as dark as the night around you. The others quickly picked up on the tension and made an excuse to leave, but you could see the worry in their eyes.

As soon as they were gone, Law pulled you aside, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes burned with something intense, something you hadn’t seen before.

“They’re not important”

He sighed quickly, his movements sharp and precise.

“You are important. Only to me.”

You frowned, signing back that the crew mattered, that they were your friends, and was also Law's crew, but Law’s gaze darkened.

“I don’t care”

He sighed as his hands moved with frustration as he was signing with his hands.

“No one else gets to be close to you. Just me.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. This wasn’t love—it was obsession. And you were trapped in the middle of it.

•~•

The final straw came when the Heart Pirates met up with the Straw Hat crew. Luffy, in his usual carefree manner, had approached you, all smiles and curiosity. He tried to communicate with you, his wide eyes filled with excitement, but before you could even sign a greeting, Law was there.

His hand gripped your arm tightly as he stepped between you and Luffy, his eyes cold and dangerous.

“Strawhat-ya”

He said, his voice low and threatening.

“Back off.”

Luffy blinked, confused, but shrugged it off, turning his attention elsewhere. But you could see it—Law’s possessiveness was spiraling out of control. No one was allowed near you. No one but him.

That night, as you lay in your bunk, you realized the truth. Law didn’t love you—not in the way you had hoped. He was obsessed, consumed by the need to control every aspect of your life. You had thought that joining the Heart Pirates would give you a chance to survive, a chance to live in this dangerous world.

But in accepting Law’s love, you had sealed your fate. You weren’t just part of the crew. You were his prisoner.

And no matter how hard you tried to escape, no matter how much you wanted to be free, Law would never let you go. You were his, and he would make sure no one else ever came close to you again.

As Law had kissed you, and the kiss was nothing more on how much he loved you... in a sick and twisted way. The kiss was how Law had held your waist so tightly as if he didn't want to let go...

As the two of you kept kissing as after a few more moments of passionate kissing, Law had said something that made your spine chill.

"You're mine (M/N)-ya and mine alone."

And as Law gave you one more kiss on the lips, you could see the smirk on his face as if he knew he was right.

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

Yeah, this was hard to write, especially with school and how i could barely think of the plot, too, and sorry if it had been a long time as I posted... again...