#boo hiss cat

[purrincess-chat]

Okay, but you can't tell me Adrien didn't listen to How You Get the Girl by TS on his way back to Marinette's house as a pump up jam.

[acecasinova]

The cats are pissed rn because I haven't let either of them onto my lap

But THAT is because my work laptop is stuck in update h*ll in the office and I don't want to unplug it rn aaaaaaaaaaa

[chainsandcherries]

GOD ocd is such a bitch.

[nekochan908]

pizza

Oh no, he has a pizza!!! Owo

[61below]

(Temps hit single digits F) welp, guess it’s finally time 😑😒😔😬😤☠️

… Time to switch from my Summer Shoes to my Winter Shoes 🔪🔪🔪

[sixosix]

summary your attention is elsewhere and scara gets sad. not that he would admit it, though.

or, scara shows his true colors when he’s missing you.

warning 1k words, profanity, calling wanderer ‘kunikuzushi’, you and him are in mondstadt!! clingy and pathetic scara… fluff!

what else could i talk about? you gaze at the empty sheet while your thoughts are running miles and miles ahead. you’ve been clutching your head pitifully for far too long that lisa is starting to send worried glances.

this one is no good either. you crumple and toss it to the growing pile on the edge of the table.

maybe another metaphor. about the sky and the wind? he would love that. maybe something else that would rhyme with love. would venti appeal to your poem even more if you talk about wine? he would.

the slender shape of the wine glass, the alluring shade of dandelion wine, its sweet aroma—it would be your worst work out of all the ones venti discarded, but perhaps he wouldn’t be able to refuse this one. kaeya would applaud if he were to hear this right now.

ink stains the sides of your palms. you heave a sigh, fingers getting to work on the dreaded worship poem about venti’s favorite wine. what else could you make out of this? you’re getting desperate. you just need to finish this last poem, and you will be freed from venti’s insistent clutches and your own stubbornness to see this to the end.

“boo.”

a hand slaps over your mouth before you can disturb anyone else in the library.

your first instinct is to tear this person’s limb off; however, the gloves, along with the unnaturally smooth and fair skin is distinctively familiar. you bat the arm away and face him; wanderer’s hand lowers to your hips instead.

“asshole!” you hiss with a frightening scowl. wanderer’s grin widens as if you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. “i told you to fuck off elsewhere while i finish this—why are you back so early?”

“it’s boring,” he says.

“weren’t you the one to suggest we explore mondstadt?” your jolt earlier caused a huge streak of ink to run across the page, entirely ruining your wine-revering poem.

“i said ‘we’, didn’t i? you, me, together. you kicked me out and left me to explore by myself.”

“you’re the wanderer. isn’t that your whole thing?” sighing helplessly at his unimpressed stare, you crumple the poem and throw it to his face. he doesn’t flinch nor blink, letting it slide off his face and land on the floor. “besides, it’s only been, like, five minutes.”

“just leave his stupid class,” wanderer hisses, glaring with disdain at your small pile of other failed poems.

“no, venti is so nice to me. unlike you.”

he rolls his eyes, plucking the quill pen from your grasp. you frown, reaching out to take it back, but he continues to pull it away, drawing your faces closer together. “ditch it and come with me,” he says.

“no. i said i’m joining and i will finish it.”

“stubborn shit,” wanderer groans, ignoring your quick ‘learned from the best’. “why are you even so persistent with learning poetry? since when did this happen? you trying to impress that kaedehara guy?”

“what if i said i was?” you flutter your eyelashes to piss him off.

it works: he bristles like an aggravated cat, irritation flashing on his face. “don’t even joke about that.”

you burst into laughter and playfully reach out to pinch his cheek. it’s a testament to how far you’ve come in building his trust when he doesn't swat your hand away from his flawless face. “you’re the one who brought it up,” you coo.

“hey, you two.” you pair stiffen at lisa’s deceivingly sweet voice from behind. “do you mind flirting loudly elsewhere?”

both of you find yourselves outside the building, shoulders slouched, resembling kicked puppies. he has his arms full of your discarded poems, a few of them slipping away as he strides ahead. you struggle to trail behind as you try to stick your quill in your pocket with your hands occupied with a stack of blank papers.

“we weren’t even flirting,” you huff.

wanderer pauses before the trash bin, dumping all of them ceremoniously.

you’re about to comment on how nice he is when he suddenly gets all up in your face, his eyes narrowed and his hand on the small of your back.

“she couldn’t tell with the bedroom eyes you were giving me, clearly,” he says, wordlessly taking the stack of paper from you and tucking it under his arm.

he is being awfully kind today, which, of course, happens nearly never. you want to comment about that, too, but you find yourself silent as you follow after him and watch his side profile. the smoothness of his skin, unblemished, untouched; the length of his lashes, rivaling the shogun herself; then his unrelenting need to have his hands on you no matter what.

thinking about all this makes your heart flutter, picking up pace in a way you haven’t felt the entire day.

then comes the brilliant idea. “kunikuzushi, what if i just write about you instead? will that satiate your ego enough to keep you from bothering me?” it’s not like it would be too difficult to write about the person you’re harboring feelings for.

he doesn’t look appalled by the idea, yet still, he isn’t pleased. “i’m not bothering you for the sake of it. i don’t like how this is the first you’ve talked to me all day.”

“so you are bothering me for the sake of it.”

“idiot.” he flicks his hand, and a gust of wind pushes you against his chest. “look at me.” you obey, and only then do you notice the way tension seems to have left his shoulders the moment you do.

a sly smirk tugs on your lips. “were you feeling lonely without me?”

“no shit,” he says, which was far from the response you were expecting.

startled, you turn to him, only to find that he’s pulled his hat down to cover his face. “kuni,” you say slowly; when he doesn’t reply, you try again, “kuni, kunikuzushi.” he is completely still, so you take it upon yourself to sneak beneath his hat to steal a glimpse of his face.

he lets out an undignified noise, looking away immediately. it was a fruitless attempt—you already saw how red his entire face was, spread from his ears to what you can see from his neck.

“stop,” he breathes, too embarrassed to push you away.

you laugh softly, encircling your arms around his neck to coax him into making eye contact with you. “i didn’t know you were the clingy type.”

“you’re just a handful,” he spits, though it’s not as intimidating as he’s trying to make it out to be—not when his face is the same shade of windwheel asters, and his bottom lip is trembling from shame.

“and you’re so cute when you’re so in love with me.”

eventually, his hand settles on your face, and he pries you off him, pointedly ignoring your delighted laughter.

A/N put a hold on the lyney fics to come back to this guy. i love writing for him he is so fun.

[justporo]

Headcanons for the companions reuiniting after a few months

Ok, but imagine Astarion and Tav invite their friends over for a reunion during winter time!

Obviously it's Tav's idea and Astarion isn't into it at first but he thinks it's kinda cute how into it Tav is

Gale is enlisted as sous-chef, he doesn't have a choice

The wizard also spices up things decor wise with some magic, Shadowheart also helps make look everything incredible

Tav and Gale make all the dishes, heaps of them, loads - no one will go home without having gained at least three pounds of weight; Astarion picks out wine and drinks

And when everyone arrives it's just a whoooole big cheerful mess: hugs, smooches, screaming, excited hopping up and down (and obligatory snarls and hisses from some because it's just a lot of love going around)

The house is full of laughter and talk the whole night

Karlach hangs out under mistletoe for a suspicious amount of time to give little pecks to everyone excitedly

Halsin has brought individually whittled ducks for everyone - Lae'zel claims she hates hers but then she's seen carefully turning it around in her hands the whole night

Jaheira, Wyll and Astarion get into a fierce discussion of Baldurian politics over several bottles of wine - by the end they're in a screaming match (affectionately) and Jaheira ends it by dragging on pointy ears and horns using her mom voice on Wyll and Astarion

Shadowheart tells the others how she's overcome her former beliefs and how she made a new life for herself causing the whole party to fall silent for a moment, even some tears might be shed; "Have you all gotten soft in the last months? Ugh!" Shadowheart says and with that the spell is broken, although she still gets a lot of hugs and told how proud everyone is (she claims she hates it, but everyone sees the light blush and the telltale shining wet eyes)

Gale brought Tara and her and Scratch hang out in front of the fireplace, maybe even Boo

At one point Jaheira and Halsin join them in cat wildshape - then Boo has to watch himself while being playfully chased around by the cats and the tressym - Minsc meanwhile completely loses it while he chomps away on more food

Lae'zel shows off her knife skills by artfully seperating whatever meat dish is set in front of her from the bones

Later Halsin and everyone else who wants to join sneak out the backdoor to the small garden for a little smoking session - even Wyll joins and they all come back with some giddy chuckles

Maybe all of them play like charades at the end: Astarion is amazingly good at it (because let's face it he's so dramatic usually he's good at portraying things) - you and him are just a dreamteam, Karlach is just super excited, Lae'zel doesn't get it at first but then is overly competitive, Minsc doesn't fully understand what's going on but he's just vibing, Wyll overcomplicates everything while Shadowheart keeps rolling her eyes and sighing in annoyance, Halsin and Jaheira just keep watching while chatting and having more drinks, Gale screams the loudest with suggestions that are oddly specific and not even close to what's the solution

The little townhouse in Baldur's Gate is filled with love, light and laughter through the whole night - promises to repeat this have already been made

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel @hereliesblackdragon

[megwritesriddles]

No Ghosts ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sebastian (Stardew Valley) x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 19 - Public sex. On the way back to the farm from the Spirit's Eve celebrations, Readers night takes a sudden but pleasurable turn.

Tags: Public sex, Unprotected sex, Against a tree, Dirty talk, Dom!Sebastian, Praise kink, Mild possessive behaviour, Established relationship, Hint of fluff, Very brief sense of fear.

Word count: 2.3k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Happy Hallowen!! This is mildly Halloween themed, Sebastian dresses as Ghostface but doesn't keep the mask on (sorry to my mask kink folks)!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You left the town square in a very good mood. You skipped down the path toward your farm, wishing the night could have lasted a little longer. The Spirit’s Eve festival had been fun, spending time with your friends was always enjoyable, but coupled with funny costumes and general merriment, you felt lighter than you had in a while. You’d had a little to drink, played games and eaten plenty of candy. Even Sebastian had cracked a smile every once in a while, although you supposed he liked the dark spooky atmosphere of the holiday and the skeletons. He found the skeletons quite fascinating, and you had stood there together watching them for quite a while, you sipping a pumpkin-spiced drink, his hand on your hip, holding you to his side. He’d dressed up as Ghostface, just wearing all black and carrying around a mask he occasionally put on to piss off some of the older townsfolk. They felt his costume was too scary for the children, but he’d just scoffed them off. Vincent had actually seemed to quite like it, but presumably because he didn’t have any context for the character. He’d found it funny and even asked to try on the mask, but Jodi had intervened.

As the lights of the town dimmed away behind you, you began to feel a little more uneasy. You didn’t usually stay out this late, other than in the mines, but that felt safer somehow, despite the literal monsters. You supposed city life had instilled a fear in you of walking alone in the dark that couldn’t quite be shaken, even in the safety of Pelican Town. You try to comfort yourself. Who exactly was going to jump out at you? The biggest creep in town was Clint, but he seemed preoccupied enough with Emily that he was likely to leave you alone and even if he wasn’t… would he really do something bad? You weren’t sure. You kept walking, getting gradually a little more jumpy. It seemed much darker than a normal night, a thick covering of clouds blocking out the light from the moon. It had been unnoticeable in the town square, with all the Jack-O-Lanterns and torches, but now that they were all gone, the true darkness was evident and rather frightening. You wonder a little pissily why Sebastian hadn’t offered to walk you home, he usually did when it was dark out, but he’d sort of disappeared not long after you’d announced you were headed home. You sigh to yourself, wondering if you should start a fight with him about it the next time you see him. You did usually insist he didn’t have to walk you home, maybe he’d finally listened, although it seemed an odd time to start, the scariest night of the year. You listen for the sounds of squirrels skittering past occasionally, making sure there are no louder noises in the eerie silence.

“Boo!” a loud voice shocks your blood cold, making you stumble backwards. Your head spins with fear for a moment as a dark figure jumps onto the path for a moment. Then you spot the Ghostface mask and scowl deeply.

“Sebastian!” you hiss. “Not fucking funny!” you place a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing. He laughs loudly, pulling the mask off and coming towards you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he drops it on the ground somewhere. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, still chuckling lowly.

“You big scaredy cat,” he teases, leaning in to kiss your neck softly, feeling your still slightly pounding pulse beneath his lips. 

“Fuck off! I’m a lone woman walking around at night, of course I was scared,” you huff. He pulls back to look at you, biting his lip. 

“I didn’t think of that,” he admits, rubbing your sides softly. “I’m sorry, baby,” he hums, leaning back in to kiss your neck. “I’ll scare you in the daytime next time, yeah baby?”

“I hate you,” you grumble, feeling him grin into your neck in response. You can’t help but smile a little yourself. 

“No, you don’t baby,” he nips at the skin of your collarbone, careful not to leave a mark no matter how desperately he wants to. His hands rub up and down your sides slowly, mapping out the shape of you. He kisses up your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips, pulling you right up against him as your lips connect. You kiss back, tangling your hand into his black locks, pressing closer to him too. His hand settles on your lower back, using his other hand to grip the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him. He’s half-hard already, softly guiding you to rub against him. 

“Mmm, we should get back to mine,” you whisper, trying to detangle from his arms, but he holds you tight to him, growling softly. 

“I don’t want to wait,” he rumbles, moving in to kiss you again. He starts back you towards a wide sturdy tree.

��What? My place is literally– mmph– like two minutes away?” you mumble between sensual kisses, as he presses your back to the tree, only just out of view of the footpath. 

“Don’t care, need your pussy right now,” he whispers, reaching down to flick open the button of his jeans. Your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, surprised by his demeanour. Even in the very dim light, you can see the deep lust in his eyes as he wrestles his jeans down. You suppose this path isn’t used by anyone but you very often… He interrupts your train of thought. “Come on, be a good girl and get those tights off for me,” he palms himself through his boxers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. You’re a little surprised by his neediness and stand motionless for a moment. His free hand reaches around and pats your ass. “Now, baby, the panties too,”

You spring into action, leaning down to pull down your patterned costume tights, fighting slightly against the constricting fabric, trying not to rip it. His hand settles into your hair, stroking softly while you fiddle around, his other hand still gently caressing his ever-hardening cock. Your tights and underwear finally fall around your ankles and you look up at him. He uses his hand in your hair to pull you in, kissing you again, passionate and open-mouthed, his tongue swirling around yours. Then, taking hold of your waist, he whirls you around and presses your front against the tree. You gasp, bracing your hand in front of your head so you’re not leaning your cheek onto the bark. Sebastian spots this and rustles around for a second, taking off his hoodie, leaving him in a worn band-tee underneath. He haphazardly folds up the plush garment and pulls you into him, positioning the hoodie so you can use it as a pillow against the tree. You lean back forward, your cheek now against it, relieved by the plush material and feeling a rush of arousal at his scent so powerful by your nose, cigarettes, cologne and a hint of a natural musk that is so distinctly his you could pick it out of a line-up. You nuzzle into the material, smelling it deeply as his hands flip up your skirt and knead the flesh of your ass. 

“That better baby?” he grunts, gripping your cheeks and spreading you open for his viewing pleasure. You nod. “Mmm, this perfect pussy, just begging to be filled with my cock,” he growls. “Tell me you need my cock,”

“Need your cock,” you mumble softly, shivering at the cool air against your overheated core. He grips your ass a little tighter, groaning pleasurably. 

“That’s my girl, so needy for me that you’ll let me fuck you on a public path, huh?” he taunts, sliding his cock slowly between your folds. “Do you like it? The idea that anyone could walk past and see us like this, know what a needy thing you are for me, how completely I have you undone?” He starts to slowly sink into your warmth, hissing. “Yeah? Do you want everyone to see how perfectly you take my cock? To see how needy I am for you? You want that don’t you baby?” he grunts, finally bottoming out, leaving you both panting. You shut your eyes, hiding your flushed face in the material of his hoodie. He grips your waist with one hand, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. His other hand comes up, pulling the neckline of your shirt down over your shoulder so he can suck a mark into your skin, somewhere you can keep it hidden during these colder fall months. His teeth pull gently at your skin as he starts to rock against you. You stutter out a moan, bracing your hands against the tree trunk. His hand moves to grope at your clothed breast as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “You feel so perfect, you always feel so perfect– nnghh– fuck baby,” he groans, rocking into you a little faster. Your lips part and you let out soft moans with each of his thrusts, but he can tell you’re holding back on him. He slams forward suddenly, sheathing his whole length inside of you. You can’t help but let out a loud moan, quickly biting your lip in an attempt to stop it. “No, don’t you dare bite your lip,” he hisses, repeating the punishing thrust.

“Seb…” you whine loudly, your lip falling from between your teeth. Your body jerks forward with his movement and you vaguely feel the scratch of the bark through the material of your clothes, it oddly heightens the experience. In a vain attempt to muffle yourself, you press your face into the hoodie, breathing hard through your nose, but it doesn’t work. Sebastian won’t let you off that easily, keeping up his wild pace, coaxing louder and louder sounds from you. 

“Let the whole town hear who you belong to, you’re not ashamed of me, are you?” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder, making you whimper.

“Th-that’s not– ahh!- fair,” you struggle to get the words out, moans springing forward involuntarily from your chest as he fucks into you. He wraps an arm firmly around your middle, using the leverage to ram even deeper into you. You wail out in pleasure, scratching slightly at the trunk of the tree. 

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” he grunts. “Perfect, perfect, perfect,” his pace becomes faster and a little more erratic. You know what’s coming and the thought makes you moan out once more. His hand slams into the tree trunk above you for balance, fucking into you with reckless abandon. “My dirty girl, always willing to do anything just to get my cock buried in you,” his voice shakes with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through him. You cry out repeatedly, both in response to the snaps of his hips against yours as well as the words spilling from his mouth. His arm around your middle tightens as he feels your legs start to weaken and give out. “Gonna come, pretty girl?” he growls. 

“Yes,” you sob desperately, not even able to keep yourself quiet anymore, despite having your face pressed into his hoodie. You can only pray your voice isn’t carrying into town, hopefully Harvey shut his windows tonight. 

“Say my name, let everyone know who is making you come!” he demands harshly, his thrusts never once relenting. 

“Seb!” you wail, feeling him nip your shoulder chastisingly. You moan loudly, knowing what he wants. “S-Sebastian!” you cry, struggling through the syllables, but it leaves him satisfied nonetheless.

“Good girl, come for me,” he orders. Like a damn breaking, you scream once more, your walls constricting around him. He growls loudly in your ear. “Yeah that’s it, come on my cock,” you pulse around him, driving him to bury himself into you to the hilt and empty himself into you with a furious roar. He holds you tightly to him, panting as he comes down, his lips ghosting across your neck. Now that the arousal and physical activity has ceased, you both start to feel cold, the nippy midnight air infiltrating your little bubble of pleasure. He withdraws from you slowly, making you both shiver a little. “Mmm, that was fun, wasn’t it baby?” he chuckles, sounding a little winded. You just nod, carefully straightening up from against the tree, his arm still around your middle. You move his hoodie, brushing off some of the debris from the other side and your palms. He sighs happily from behind you. “The whole world knows who you belong to now,” he teases, nipping your earlobe. He pulls back so that the both of you can readjust your clothing. You carelessly pull up your tights, not bothering to adjust them properly, watching as he tucks himself away and pulls up his jeans. “Am I coming to yours?” he enquires, taking his hoodie from you as if he’s about to put it on but then wrapping it around your shoulders, tying the sleeves in the front to secure it. 

“Sure if you like, I’ve got some more pumpkin soup from the carving that I probably won’t finish on my own,” you sigh, leaning into his arms as he embraces you, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Pumpkin soup and a beautiful girl to hold by the fire…” he muses, littering a few kisses down your cheek. “I think I would be insane to say no to that,”

“Let’s go then,” you start to move sluggishly, he pulls you back for a moment. 

“Can’t forget my mask so I can scare you in the morning,” he grins. You scoff and roll your eyes, swatting his chest, making him chuckle. He lets go of you for a moment to grab the long-since discarded Ghostface mask off the path, shaking some dust off of it.

“I hate you,” you grumble as he returns to your side, slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

“No, you don’t” 

“No,” you admit with a fond smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I don’t,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[etherealily]

𝒮𝐻𝒜𝑅𝒟𝒮 // 🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. Slur used.

This one is loooong.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Bender? Nah, bend...her (to your will).

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

Nate didn't really seem the type to get anxious.

Okay, scratch that. He got anxious when you weren't there to high-five him before a game.

But even that didn't come close to whatever the fuck he was feeling when he called you that evening, yelling as if you'd killed his fucking cat, or something.

"Come faster, come faster!", he urged, ignoring you as you informed him you were only human, and you were on your way as fast as possible. The lewd joke was right there, and he didn't take it. Something was seriously wrong.

"Why the hell are you so jumpy?"

"I'll explain when you get here. Slight change of plans. You're wearing something... conservative, yeah?"

"What?"

"Like, jeans and a T-shirt is fine, I guess.", he muttered, on the other end of the line, as if he was mentally picturing exactly what he wanted you to be wearing.

"Did you think my original plan was to show up in lingerie?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, stop being so fucking defensive!"

That was a slur that you just heard in his voice. "Are you drunk?"

"You're scarily good at this."

"Why are you drunk already?" Wasn't even dark yet.

"Can you just fucking drive, please?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a small moment to sadistically picture his head caught in the wheel, before placing your phone down and speeding up the car that unfortunately had to relive the trauma of driving because Nate Jacobs told it to.

The Jacobs household was infuriatingly stereotypical. Of course he'd have a pretty spectacular front doorstep. It was almost designed to lure you in.

You weren't even allowed to ring the doorbell, he answered the door much before. That was a shame. You wanted to be the one forcing him to come somewhere reluctantly, for once.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." Well, hello to you, too.

"What?"

"It's not just us."

No, no, no, no.

"Nate, you fucking asshole.", you hissed.

"I didn't know! My brother found out you were coming over and told my parents, so they cancelled plans to meet you."

"Why?"

"'Cause our Dad's a jerk, and my Mom's probably going to judge you, and my brother's a coward who hates me."

That was way too much Jacobs drama for one single minute, and you were not even two steps into the house.

"Wait, just-"

"It's fine, just sit next to me, shut up, and don't like... make eye contact."

"Am I meeting your family or getting into the cage with a fucking tiger?"

"Also, don't cuss.", he warned, pointing a finger at you and guiding you by your shoulders further into the abyss he called a home. "Smile. A lot."

Was it really even a normal family dinner if you had to be prepped this much? No, probably not.

"Hey, look who finally showed up!", he chuckled, the fakest breeze in his voice as he steered your shoulders towards a chair.

The rest of the Jacobs family looked up at you.

And suddenly, you'd have been fine clinging to Nate, because he was evidently the mildest of them. Rich freaks.

"Oh, the project partner." His mother, laying plates down on the table before patting your head, was a sight to behold. "Bit late.", she remarked, sickening sweetness lacing her tone as she stared pointedly at Nate behind you as if you couldn't fucking see it.

"Yeah, well, she's just learning to drive, y'know? Goes really slow."

Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, mama's boy, just say you had no intention of having your family here tonight.

"Nate, you never told me she could legally drive."

That must be the brother - the coward. He looked like he'd fucking rip you apart with just a glare.

"I didn't tell you anything.', he mumbled, more for you than him, before making his voice louder. "Y/N, this is my brother, Aaron, Aaron, Y/N."

His eyes made your skin crawl. Like you were a weapon he'd just been able to use against Nate.

"And, uh, my dad. Dad, this is, uh-"

You had no idea when your name had become so hard for him to pronounce, the way he was unable to get it out.

"Y/N, yes, I heard. I'm Cal. Cal Jacobs."

You'd take Nate forcing a gun down your throat to the feel of Cal's hand shaking yours any day.

In comparison, Nate's gun was basically the gentlest thing you'd ever be able to feel. A caress, essentially.

"Sit, sit.", he instructed, gesturing at you to do as he said in his own house or else. "So."

He was so fucking drunk. You could see it in his eyes.

Both Cal and Nate Jacobs were shitfaced.

Nate, you understood, because after hearing his description, even you seemed to need liquid courage to get through a dinner with his drunk dad.

"So.", responded Nate, blankly, as he sat down next to you, as promised.

The chairs you were on were fancy but seemed tired, in a way. Like they were putting up a strong front.

"What, pray tell, is this famous project that you've apparently been sneaking out for, according to Aaron?"

Oh, that was the problem! The sneaking out! Oh, that was okay, that was in your jurisdiction, you could just fix it. Make it sound like there was no other time to meet up. Cool cool cool.

"It's just this thing for psychology. About athletes and superstitions."

"My Nate doesn't have any superstitions. He wins because he's the best.", interjected his mother, as if you'd been holding a gun to his face and she'd just jumped in front of him. You looked at the giant plate she'd just set down. Fucking steak.

With a knowing glance at Nate, you nodded. "Yes, but jocks don't really like admitting it. So I just ask him about his buddies who do have superstitions. Seeing as he has none of his own."

You didn't bother to look at the fuck-you-so-much glare he was sending your way.

"Oh, yes, Mom, Nate's just the best. Don't you think he's just the best, Y/N?", cooed Aaron, clearly hinting at something only he and Nate were in on.

"Yes, yes, he's very good at what he does."

"What he does?"

"I mean, you are talking about him as QB, right?"

He took a gulp of water, nodding as he searched into your eyes for some tell that he'd expected you to have. "Right."

Nate subtly shook his head after you frowned at him. Let it go.

"So, you've taken psychology."

His dad didn't really seem the jerk that Nate had made him out to be. Sure, he had the whole terrifying handshake thing going, but he wasn't all bad. He was the only one with his sanity intact, and the fact that he was plastered yet normal was both relieving and mildly concerning.

"Yeah."

"How come?"

"Always been interested in how it works."

"Can you read minds?"

"Essentially."

"Read mine."

"I... don't know you well enough."

"Later, then. When we know each other a bit better. Meanwhile, dig in."

Involuntarily, your gaze turned back to the asshole you'd had the misfortune of interacting with for the past three weeks, and he nodded, either telling you you did well, or giving you permission to eat.

Either way, your mouth was now shut and would continue to be unless someone forced it open. The awkward clinks of glasses and clangs of cutlery rang through the room, battling fruitlessly to dissolve the tension.

"How's the food?"

Why was Nate trying to get you to talk?

"Oh, great, I really like it."

Nate's mother smiled at that. "Well, thanks. It's actually a new recipe I found on some obscure old cooking show tape my mother had recorded, back in her day! God, I'm telling you, those were simpler times."

Oh. So Nate hadn't cooked. Couldn't say you were surprised.

"Well, it's lovely.", you replied, smiling down at the garbage you had to put into your system. It was nothing personal, really, steak was just gross.

"I must say, Y/N, you're so much more polite than that girl. She was a real-"

"Mom. Mom.", warned Nate, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his throat in a cut it out motion."She's friends with Maddy."

The entire table suddenly went silent, as if he'd just confirmed your involvement in a pyramid scheme. "Oh.", said Aaron, and his fucking eyes showed you he was full of pure mirth. "That's interesting."

"You're friends with both Nate and Maddy?", questioned Mrs Jacobs, as if trying so desperately to figure out your intentions for her baby boy.

"I'm friends with Maddy, and have been for... basically my whole life. And, yeah, I guess now I'm friends with Nate for the project. I don't get why it's so-"

"She's pretending to be her friend, Mom, alright? It's a childhood loyalty thing, but no one likes Maddy, she's a fu- she's not likeable."

Oh, so now Nate could suddenly write out your entire story and replace it with a script of his own making?

Acting as if she'd just dodged a cancer scare, she placed her hand on her chest, sighing in relief. "Thank god. You could've said that, dear. I was worried for a moment there."

You looked back down at the food. You couldn't shake the feeling that your lack of response had been a form of betrayal, though it was rooted in fear.

"So you and Nate are friends?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I don't know, Aaron, why do people befriend psychopaths? To save their own asses, of course.

"I mean... what do I even say to that?", you laughed, and it was supposed to mock him, but it just showed how nervous you really were. Fuck. Blood in shark-infested waters. "I guess he's... a nice guy, so, y'know."

Even you didn't believe that. Even NATE didn't believe that.

"That's a new one."

You nodded, clearing your throat as you continued to work on slicing up your steak. All three Jacobs men watched the piece go into your mouth and you wanted to throw it right back up.

"You think he's hot?"

"What?"

"Nate. My lil' bro. You think he's hot?"

"Aaron, honestly!", muttered his mother, shaking her head as if this was all just a playful banter session. "Stop it. Nate said they're friends, so they're friends."

Your phone buzzed.

'I really didn't know they'd be here.'

'Shut up.'

'Ur doing great.'

'I said shut up.'

'Lol.'

"Nate, didn't you tell her we've got a strict no-phones-at-the-table rule?"

You stuffed the phone back in your pocket, as well as any hope you'd get out of this house anytime soon.

"I mean, you're a total smokeshow. And he's..."

"Aaron."

Aaron smirked through his chewing, winking at you. "Well, he's attracted to smokeshows. Total match. But you're, what, a cheerleader? That's his real type."

"No, I'm not a cheerleader."

He sucked in breath, sharply, tutting as he shaked his head. "Tough luck."

"Aaron.", warned Nate, sucking his teeth. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying. It's not surprising he hasn't dicked you down yet."

THAT escalated fast.

"Aaron! No cussing at the table, and especially not in front of guests.", hissed Mrs. Jacobs, as if her youngest son's entire vocabulary didn't consist of the word 'fuck'. "I'm sorry, he gets like this when he teases his brother."

"Or maybe he... oh, wait, didn't he invite you here alone first?", mused Aaron, frowning in mock curiosity.

Nate's hand found your knee under the table, patting the side of it as if he could tell you were losing it. There was some kind of psychological warfare underfoot, and you weren't in on the joke, the origin or the punchline. You were being blindsided. Let it go. Fuck what his eyes told you, you'd fucking riot if you didn't get out of there right now.

Cal, who'd been perfectly silent for all this time, leaned back in his chair, his fork down and apparently, his booze-filled blood shooting up. "I'm curious, too. In more polite words than that. Why are you and Y/N just friends?"

Okay, this was clearly not your jurisdiction. This treatment was not because he'd, like, broken curfew or something.

"Dad, we're just partners. Project partners."

"Shame. She's a knockout."

Okay, Aaron saying that was creepy enough.

"No, seriously, Y/N, you're really beautiful. Nate couldn't do better if he tried." Sounded backhanded, and it probably was. "If you're not attracted to him, it's kind of an insult to me, isn't it?", he inquired, innocently, his eyes twinkling. "Aren't I good looking?"

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" It was weird seeing Nate playing the white knight in your story and not the dragon, but hey, you'd take it.

"I mean...", continued Cal, taking a bite of his food, all the while gazing at you. "Unless your issue is just with his personality. Because then..."

What. The. Fuck.

"Y'know.", said Cal, offhandedly, as if the entire fucking table didn't know what he was implying. "Just food for thought."

"What the fuck are you guys doing?", he repeated, his voice sounding more strained by the minute.

"Nate."

"No, Mom, I will fucking cuss, if they're sitting here being fucking assholes about it!"

"Don't you DARE talk to me like that, son!", yelled Cal, and suddenly, you felt like a voyeur zooming in on someone else's life, someone else's argument, someone else's issues.

Aaron lifted up his hands in defense, standing up as well. "Hey, man, I'm just saying. You're disappointing men everywhere if you don't hit that."

"Oh, you're one to talk, you bitchless waste of FUCKING space."

"One goddamn night! One goddamned night without this bullshit, please!"

"Oh, come on, Marsha, you know full fucking well you're no innocent here! You've raised these boys up so goddamn weak that they can't even fucking do their own laundry, and CLEARLY can't fucking learn RESPECT!"

Evidently the no-cuss-rule was out.

Nate's hand slammed down on the table next to you so hard your plate shook, and suddenly, you wished you had shown up in lingerie. At least the mother would've kicked you out as soon as you'd walked in.

Your eyes stayed on your fork, the shitty fucking steak, and you waited. For what, you didn't know. But eventually, Nate sat back down, and so did the other two Jacobs men.

Okay. Phew.

And then Nate muttered 'faggot', and suddenly, Aaron was ushering you into a room - Nate's room, he informed you, in a hurry - and you were locked in. Screams, the sound of things slamming on the floor, and a distinct crack ensued.

FUCKING CHRIST.

═══════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ═══════════════════

The light from the living room beamed into the room with the monogrammed pillows -pathetic, you had to remember to mock him for it later- about twelve minutes later.

You knew that because you'd been keeping track.

The entire evening was surrounded by a lack of clarity, and after whatever had happened out there that you were not allowed to be privy to, thankfully , you were now completely in the dark as to what the whole stiff, insinuation during dinner was all about. What, they thought you guys were hooking up, was that it?

But all that just dissipated once you saw Nate standing in the doorway, looking at you as if he had just accidentally broken your favourite toy on the playground at five years old. And he was even drunker than he was before.

And once more, you allowed your heart to break for Nate Jacobs.

Wait, no, scratch that.

Your heart broke for him, with none of your own volition. It just fucking happened.

"Are you okay?" What you were really asking was 'did he hurt you?', but you didn't say it.

He didn't respond, and instead took cautious steps toward you, as though you were a bomb he'd never learnt to dismantle before.

But the caution wore off quite fast, because suddenly, your hands were stroking his hair and he was clinging onto you like a vine. Or a python with its prey. TBD.

He kept muttering things into the crook of your neck, things that vaguely resembled 'I'm sorry', but, I mean, it was Nate.

That was usually followed by some kind of blackmail, right?

Blackmail, not pained moments when his mind led him to thoughts that made him grip tighter onto you, like the hug was his lifeline. RIGHT?

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Evidently, you'd heard him right the first time.

"It's okay. Shh. It's okay." At this point there was nothing else you could do except lie to him.

"I fucking hate him, he's a fucking asshole!", he grunted, his words muffled but strong in your hair.

"It's fine, I wasn't offended." You understood. People are weird when drunk. Not usually asking a minor to fuck them kind of weird, but maybe that was just your lack of exposure.

He pushed you away, looking at you as if you'd just suggested cannibalism or something even more sickening. "It's fine? You weren't offended? Y/N, my dad literally asked to fuck you! What, do you want him to, is that why you were looking at him like that?"

'He's sloshed, he's sloshed, he's sloshed.' , you reminded yourself, lest you punch him again.

"Nate-"

"No. I have a question.", he said, closing his eyes and then opening them wide for a moment. This told you that the liquor had just pierced his skull. "You- You fuck Shane Crestin, the biggest fucking cunt in the world, you wanna fuck my DAD, but you won't fuck ME?", he asked, his voice increasing in decibel and his finger repeatedly slamming against his chest, like he apparently wanted to do to you.

SLOSHED, SLOSHED, SLOSHED. Remember.

"Nate, I didn't fuck Shane, I don't want to fuck your dad, and I- I don't wanna fuck anyone!"

"Why not ME? Do you not like me? You think I'm a prick? I'm not good enough for your whore ass?"

"Nate, I'm just-"

"HOW ARE YOU SO FINE WITH MY DAD WANTING TO FUCK YOU?!"

"I'm not! It makes me sick, but-"

"SO WHY WON'T YOU SAY HE'S AN ASSHOLE? SAY IT! SAY IT!"

"Nate-"

"FUCKING SAY IT!"

You almost cried at how fast you had to dodge the lamp that came whizzing your way before crashing and disintegrating against the wall behind you.

It amazed you how you knew that this boy's mother and brother were probably still lingering in the same house, hearing this bullshit, and yet not a peep came out of them. Fucking jerks.

"Nate."

"I swear to god, Y/N, if you don't say it right now-"

"Fine, he's an asshole!"

He looked up at you. He didn't believe it. It's fine, you didn't give a shit anymore. It went without saying, and if he needed you to say it, he was an idiot. "Bullshit."

"You're not apologizing?"

"For what? Yelling? No, I'm not."

Deliberately obtuse, just like always.

Speaking of which, you were a hundred percent sure you'd been grazed at your temple. Your fingers returned from the site with red all over them.

"I could've been hurt." You displayed those fingers to him, right in front of the eyes, so he could better view the same scarlet gore you had to see in his first ever text to you, but he looked at them like you'd showed him his own face in the mirror.

'That's normal', his look said.

"You could've fucked my dad, too, but neither of those things happened tonight." This was what he actually said.

It was like he'd forgotten what happened two seconds ago. Like the shards of glass lying in front of his wall had always been there, and were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Okay, that's fucking it.", you scoffed, shouldering past him on your way out. You'd hoped he wouldn't stop you, but you'd known he would.

"No."

Okay, you'd expected 'wait', or something nicer.

"Shut up, Nate, don't push me."

"You're bleeding. The corner store doesn't have first-aid. I do."

He said it like that was the answer to everything. That you should never have any more questions about his actions.

You let him lead you back to the bed, the silence gnawing at you both. He seemed more than happy to let it devour him whole, seeing as he was tight-lipped and disinterested, almost, when he turned on the light in his bathroom, foraging around for his first-aid kit, or whatever.

He looked like he was about to go batshit for a second time that night, the frantic manner in which he was throwing stuff off his counter to find it, yanking the drawers open so forcefully they'd scream if they could.

Luckily, though, he found the damn thing, tossing it to you from where he stood. Catching it, you opened the box, wordlessly rummaging through for cotton or band-aids or something to keep your hand and eyes - and most importantly, mind - busy.

The cotton sitting nervously in your hand, you took tentative steps into the bathroom, wisely keeping your distance from Nate, who stood still, ruminating on something with one hand still on the drawer's handle.

You stood in front of the mirror.

The mirror lied to you. It always has, always will. Your damage looked minimal, but that was excluding the emotional one.

You looked away from your reflection's eyes to focus on the side of your forehead, and sometimes to your left, at the occassional huff that escaped him.

Mirror-you grimaced just like real-you, as you harshly rubbed at the skin around your cut. So much red.

At this point, it was impossible to avoid your own eyes, those essentially vapid pools of numbness at this point. You didn't know what was going on, and lord knew if you'd understand it even if it was explained to you like a five year old.

Because it couldn't be real. You couldn't be standing right next to the guy who almost maybe blinded you, maybe even KILLED you, had the impact been angled differently.

Your pain only seemed to be getting exacerbated the more cotton you used up. The piece of glass you were trying to remove from your temple was stubborn, like the man who helped transform it from its shape to a shard.

When you finally did remove it, you were quick to try to put a stopper to the gushing blood coming out of it, but the way you did it had you wanting to scream in agony.

"What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to dab, not rub.", he muttered, sucking in his breath sharply as he slapped your hands away, seeming furious at you for not knowing what to do after you get impaled by a piece of broken glass. "The rubbing makes it worse."

His finger turned your jaw toward him, and he snatched the cotton from you before dabbing softly at and around the wound where the little refracting fragment of glass had sat before, and intact, unblemished skin had sat once before that.

Dutifully grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from the first aid box, he tilted it so that it would gently stain the cotton, before pressing it to your temple, shushing you softly as you winced.

Jovially traumatizing what you imagined to be every single cell in the wound, the antiseptic finally fizzled out, its effect no longer sharp and concentrated and debilitatingly painful.

"You're a mess." His voice was so cold, so unkind, so... detached.

You're one to talk.

"Are you going to say anything?" He sounded almost... bored.

You stayed silent. If he thought you were going to give him more things to throw shit at you over, he was sorely mistaken.

He sighed, his jaw ticking slightly. "Y/N."

Your eyes moved away from the mirror behind him and back to his.

He paused his lazy movements to look down at you, your eyes, specifically, before gently bending down so he was suddenly looking up at them.

What that was supposed to achieve was unclear, but what it did affect was your ability to look away.

"I want to hear your voice.", he informed, his eyes moving between yours.

Like a bull craves the muleta.

Glancing down at him, you realized his eyes didn't match his tone. There was something almost dead about them.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Cuss me out, maybe? I don't know. I don't like the quiet."

"Why, 'cause it makes you think?", you scoffed.

"Yes, actually.", he replied, looking at you deadpan. "It does, and that's not really what I wanna do right now, okay?"

He wasn't bored, you realized. He was numb.

"Okay."

"So say something, damn it."

"About what?"

"Y/N. Listen to me when I'm talking to you. I don't give a shit. ANYTHING." He shook your shoulders as if that would cause you to spit out a good conversation in the aftermath of this night.

"Okay, uh... you promised me you'd listen to Queen with me."

He stared at you for a good while before his face softened, just enough for you to wonder if you'd imagined it, and then he frowned. "I did?"

"Yes."

"Then I will."

You nodded. "'Kay."

"Tell me about Queen."

"Look, man, I don't know-"

"Y/N.", he warned, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he reached for a band-aid, eyes never leaving your wound.

"Jeez, fine. Uh, 'We Will Rock You'. 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. 'Another One Bites The Dust'."

"That was them?", he mused softly, the words dying out a little before they reached your ears, as he ripped the cover open with his teeth, then unwrapped the band-aid.

"Yes. Freddie Mercury's the lead singer."

"The one with the teeth?", he inquired, pressing slightly on the band-aid to ensure it stuck.

The sheer dichotomy of what he was doing - cleaning up a wound caused by him that might have killed you- and what he was saying - some quip about the lead singer of some '70's band he'd barely heard of - was astounding.

"Yup." You popped your p, hoping that would echo around the room and fill the silence for long enough that Nate wouldn't pester you to talk again, which was the last thing you felt like doing.

He gazed at your wound for a little while longer before nodding. "Done. Don't touch it for another week, maybe two."

"Okay."

"And I'll get you, like, a blanket or whatever, let me just put this shit back."

"A blanket?"

"Well, yeah. You don't get cold? What are you, superhuman?"

"I'm not staying here. I'm going home."

"Like hell you are.", he laughed dryly, opening his drawer and carefully placing the box back in before moving to the sink again. His hands moved quickly, squeezing paste onto his brush. "Not this late."

You looked down at your watch. "It's nine."

"It's late."

You snorted. "Thought you were the badass curfew-less one. Now you're freaking out about nine p.m?"

Why were you even still talking to this... thing in front of you? Why were you arguing with him? You could just fucking walk out.

He rolled his eyes, his toothbrush being as thorough as possible for a couple minutes before he spat it out, gargling and then turning to look at you. "It's late."

"I'm not spending the night, Nate."

"You a sleep-talker? 'Cause that's crazy shit.", he said, spitting out his mouthwash and wiping with the back of his hand, walking past you as he opened a cupboard, and tossed a heavy-looking duvet down at your feet.

"Nate, I'm not staying over!"

"But the really creepy ones are the sleep-walkers, I'm tellin' you.", he continued, shaking his head as he picked and chose two of his pillows and threw them at your feet, too. "My cousin, back when we were eight, I woke up and found him, like, banging his head on the door. Ouija board shit, bro, I'm tellin' you."

It was clear he was blatantly ignoring you, but what infuriated you the most was that he expected you to sleep on the same floor which was strewn with dangerous, nigh invisible shards of glass.

"Nate!"

"No, seriously, I don't care if it's like, a medical condition or whatever, they're like the fucking Conjuring movie, bro!", he declared, throwing his hands up as he distractedly moved to the other side of his bed, now, checking his phone. "You're not one of 'em, right?"

"You're such a fucking asshole, I'm leaving."

"If you step out that door, I will fucking kill you."

What unnerved you was that his eyes never moved from his phone. This was as casual as his reply to his Mom asking what he wanted for breakfast or something.

Saying he'd kill you was like saying 'pancakes with butter' to him.

"What?"

"I'm going to kill you if you leave." , he huffed, tiredly. And this time, it was clear he really was bored. Bored of the conversation, bored of your resistance, bored.

"You're fucked up."

"Look, sweetie, we've both had a long day-"

"Don't fucking call me that."

He let out a breathy snicker, nodding. Almost like he'd been wondering when you'd call him out on it.

"Fair. Look, bitch, we've both had a long day...", he corrected himself, with a self-satisfied grin, before continuing, "... and I'm not letting you drive home alone with a bleeding forehead."

"I thought you fixed it."

"With the way you're yelling right now, the blood vessel you're about to pop could rip the bandage from the inside out. Look- I- I can't deal with this shit, Y/N, okay? Not tonight. So shut up and close the fucking door."

"My family's expecting me home."

He raised a brow, as if you'd just said something so pathetic he almost felt sorry for you - like you'd just said you still fucking watched Disney Channel, or something. "They know you're here?"

"No." As if.

"Where do they think you are?"

Oh, he'd expected you to have told them you were with another friend. Sorry to disappoint, asshole, but some people aren't as prepared to stay over because their friend had a psycho family.

"I'd rather not talk about it - I don't like to recall my lies."

His eyes widened, and it looked like, for the first time that entire, painful night, he was actually amused, and fuck you for being so pathetic, but you were actually glad you'd mitigated the agony, at least a little bit. "They still think you're at your internship? You didn't tell them?"

"Tell them what? That some jock thinks touching me is his good luck charm, so he stalked me, found out where I worked, and cost me my entire internship by barging in?"

"Or you could've just said your boss was a perv, and you quit."

"He wasn't a perv."

"I'm a guy. I can tell."

Wow, way to dig at an entire gender's ability to perceive danger.

You shook your head, rubbing your forehead. "What is your problem, Nate?"

"I care too much."

You laughed loudly at that, and he looked too tired to even be mad. "I just don't like the thought of you driving home alone at night, okay? Simple as that."

"Then don't think the thought."

"You're staying."

"Like hell I am."

He groaned, putting his phone back down and rubbing his face as he walked towards the front of the bed - towards you. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. Because my family-"

He rolled his eyes, reaching into your pocket and grabbing both your wrists to keep you from stopping him as he scrolled through your contacts - god, you had to get a fucking passcode.

"Maddy- no fucking way.", he mumbled, his thumb racing across the screen. "Cassie- one of Maddy's minions, so no- oh. Who's Lex?"

"Alexis."

"Oh, Alexis Howard? Lexi? She'll cover for you, right?"

"Not without telling Cassie. Now give me back my phone!"

"She won't tell Cassie. How's this? 'Lex, tell my family I'm sleeping over at yours, ok? Love you, xoxo!'", he read out, his voice attempting to mimic yours.

"Is that what you think girls talk like?"

"Yeah, with a scary amount of emojis."

"Misogynist."

"Badge of honour, baby. I'm sure Lexi, one of your best gal pals will cover for you."

Yes, of course, but that was besides the point.

"That's not the point-"

"The point is that you don't feel safe enough to fall asleep around me."

"What?"

"That hurts, sweetie."

"You know what else hurts?", you spat, pointing at the band-aid at your temple.

"It'll heal." He was still refusing to apologize.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

"Smash or pass, uh... McKay."

You almost laughed right then and there. "Smash."

"Really?"

You looked up at his ceiling, imagining him up on the bed, judging your smashability-scale.

"Yeah, why not?"

"You could never do it, you know? Realistically. You're not his type."

"Shut up. Smash or pass... Kat."

"Pass. Hard. Pass."

"Why?"

"I should say it's because she's close to Maddy, but you and I both know the real reason is 'cause she's so fucking ugly that-"

"Alright, shut up."

"See, this is the problem with you girls. Just agree. She's ugly."

"I don't think anyone's ugly. I think it's all action-based."

"God, then you must think I'm hideous."

He scoffed at the silence that followed. "Ouch."

"I don't think you're hideous, Nate. Just extremely unattractive."

"Superlatives, really? Y'know, whatever, I deserve it. Uh... smash or pass, Shane."

"Uh... pass."

"Why?" The glee in his voice was evident and mildly amusing.

"He cussed me out after I said the date wasn't going well."

The laughter that escaped Nate seemed to go on for hours on end. "In the middle of the restaurant?!"

"We weren't in a restaurant."

"Where were you guys?"

"He took me to a club or something."

Nate's face came into your peripheral view as he peered over the edge of the bed to face you. "On a first date."

You nodded. "Yup."

"The guy's both a fucking tool and a miserable little cunt. Anything other than a restaurant is fucking unacceptable for a first date."

"I know, even a bowling alley's fine, but a club is stupid, right? I mean, like, at the very least a café."

He nodded, his mouth curling down slightly. "Yeah, at least. Bare minimum."

It was uncomfortable, him looking down at you with pity the same night that his father had embarrassed him and cussed him out. Wasn't right. "Well, whatever. Smash or pass, uh... Rue."

"Rue Bennett? We got history, so, uh, I dunno."

"History?"

"A miscommunication during prom.", he told you, shrugging, but it was clearly something much more serious. "She's hot when she's off the drugs, I guess."

You rolled your eyes and he smiled.

"Hey, Y/N?" He didn't move back to his pillow, instead letting his arms dangle off the edge of the bed as he reached and toyed with a strand of your hair, glancing down at you. "I'll leave you alone after tonight, okay?"

"What?"

"Like, I- tonight? It was... bad. And I'm... I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm, I'm sorry. If you just, y'know, fist-bump me before every game, we'll be good. Okay? I won't bother you outside of that."

See, he said this, but his thumb kept returning to your lower lip every two seconds. You'd be a fool not to take this deal. But you'd be a liar if you said you remembered anything about life before Nate.

"Okay."

"You should get to sleep. It's two."

"What will you do?"

"Try to sleep.", he mumbled, his eyes moving away from you and towards the glass, which lay several feet away from you, on your left - almost like it was trying to reach your heart.

Your eyes followed his, and you sighed. "For the record, I don't want to fuck your dad."

"Yeah. I got that now."

"You gotta stop drinking, man."

He chuckled, nodding. "No. But thanks for the concern." Rolling back over, he left you staring at the ceiling once more, as if there were clues there as to the enigma that was Nate Jacobs.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

When you'd pulled up to your driveway the next morning - Sunday - it hit you that you were free of Nate forever. Last night, you'd have probably not known how to feel about that. This morning? Fucking elated.

You didn't even have to draw out a map, or take a single moment to think it over - every single problem in your life over the last month could be traced to him.

So fucking yay. Good riddance.

And the next day, Monday, you realized something.

School had never been so fucking fun.

Your classes started making more sense, seeing as you no longer had to look over your shoulder for some motherfucker who'd slit his own throat if you didn't go where he wanted. Fucking yay.

No, seriously. That's it. We're done here. No more Nate. End of story.

...

Ha.

So gullible.

----

Nights after Nate had always been the hardest.

Because you always found yourself losing your sanity and you knew that the only person who could even remotely get your mind off it was Nate himself.

Maybe that was his allure.

Hurting you then comforting you.

Making you cry then wiping the tears away.

But that night, he wasn't there with a blunt or tequila. Hell, you'd have even taken the gun. And you should've been ecstatic that he'd finally left you the hell alone, but at this point you had no clue what you were supposed to be feeling.

The only thing you could do was block him. Show him how mad you were. In your past experience, that didn't really matter to him, but you were running out of options.

And you probably shouldn't have done that, because you might have gotten a heads up about Tuesday.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

You should've had your guard up as soon as you saw Nate walk into the school library that Tuesday afternoon, his eyes somehow darker than when he'd asked you to your face, no less, if you wanted to bang his father. You had no clue whether you had to hide or just keep doing what you did.

Flight or flight was fucking useless.

But your guard wasn't up, at least not immediately, because it was Nate. Because he may terrify you and almost kill you, but he'd never hurt you, because he just... worked differently. Things that may make someone psychopathic, he thought were normal. No biggie.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't secretly hoping he'd come back to further provoke you, because not-being-mad at him was kind of a grey area for you. It wasn't your usual state of being.

The moment your guard went up, though, was when Aaron walked in behind him. Hands in his pockets. Did he have a knife in there? Money? Or would he just flip you off?

You didn't want to find out, but it also didn't seem like you had much of a choice.

[gingernut1314]

Songbird Pt. 9

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy pulls you from your girl's night only for you to find your captain's emotions running wild.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut (drunk sex, misuse of Devil Fruit powers, oral f.receiving, slight restriction, p in v, biting), use of Y/N

Word Count: 6.0K

A/N: Heyyyyy guys!! Back with some of the main story!! Sorry it took....a while 😬. I hope you all enjoy!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Requested by: @srgtjamesbarnes

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Girls night. 

You hadn’t had a proper girl’s night since you were very little with your mom. Those nights where it was just the two of you played a card game together whenever she had a day off from work, which had been far and few in between. 

You had no siblings to account for and, though Nami had been a good friend, she had been too worried about Arlong and her family to truly be able to relax and have fun. Understandably so. 

So when Esmeralda and the other girls aboard the Big Top told you of their tradition, which took place whenever they made dock and the boys went to some crummy bar to drink, you were ecstatic. 

You helped them gather supplies of cheeses, meats, grapes, and copious amounts of alcohol and you all huddled together in your shared quarters, gramophone playing the latest songs Esmeralda had collected that day. 

So far, Emi had shown off her sword-swallowing skills, Seqii and her Aerial Ensemble had done shots standing upside down in a pyramid, you had sung three silly drinking shanties, and Esmeralda had cried about her horse-turned-cat food. 

You now sat in a circle on the ground, shoving the remaining meats and cheeses into your faces, talking about anything and everything that happened within the varying relationships amongst the crew. 

“Cabaji made me scrub the deck two times. Two!” Seqii complained, her drink sloshing around dangerously in her cup as she turned towards Emi, who was equally as off-balanced as her friend. “Can’t you swallow his sword, Emi? Make him loosen up a bit.” 

“I swallow his sword every godsdamn night and --hic-- he still makes me re-tie lines even though they were perfect--hic--before.” Emi hiccupped, downing the rest of her drink. “Just how the guy is. Commanding. Just how --hic-- I like ‘em.” Seqii gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, loudly disagreeing with that statement. 

“What about nice? Gentle?” Esmeralda slurred horrendously from where she sat next to you, one arm looped through yours while her other hugged the skittish contortionist, whose head lay in her lap. Emi and Seqii both booed her, making the ex-equestrian huff. 

“The difference between you and --hic-- the rest of us is you like like Mohji.” Emi hiccuped, spurring Esmeralda to pull from your hold, flabbergasted. 

“He’s nice to me and he loves me. Sorrrryyyy.” She all but shouted, making Emi and Seqii laugh like a pack of hyenas. Esmeralda snatched the bottle of wine Seqii had just picked up in something like payment and the aerial performer let her with a wide grin. “I’m not the only one who like likes who we are with. Y/N like, likes the Captain.” 

Your own laughter was cut short as your heart nearly stopped in your chest. All eyes around the room snapped to you to see if what Esmeralda said was true. 

That warm, fluttery feeling rushed around in your chest at the mention of your captain. A feeling you had been struggling to get back under wraps, but nothing you did ever could lessen the happy feeling. 

The thought of his smile had that feeling soaring. The thought of his sea-glass eyes and his bad jokes and the gifts he would shower upon you--

You gave an elongated, scoffing pfftt with a dismissive arching motion of your hand…and then another and another. 

“Shit. She more than like likes him.” Seqii said, her grin turning shit-eating. 

“I like no man. Men are gross. Ew.” You hissed, wobbling a bit as Esmeralda all but crashed into you on her way to flop on her back. 

“Ughhhh--you’re in denial.” Seqii continued, grabbing the wine bottle back from Esmeralda before she could spill it all over the floor. 

“It’s no --hic--fun.” Emi popcorned in, snagging the bottle from her friend and taking a long swing. 

“You know what is fun?” Seqii asked, fixing you with a mischievous smirk. “Telling us about how good in bed he is.” You felt your face flush at the statement, a few girls giggling and gasping around the room. Others egged you on, all but begging you to tell them. 

“That’s priv--” You started, only to be cut off by Esmeralda popping back up with a near-matching mischievous grin. 

“How big is he?” Your mouth fell open at her bluntness, but the woman only laughed away like it was no big deal. “Tell me when to stop, okay!” She said excitedly, placing her hands together before gradually pulling them apart. “Tell me when to stop--tell--there's no way--Y/N! Tell me when to stop!”

“I’m not--” Again, you were cut off by a loud burp from Seqii who had regained the wine bottle back from Emi. 

“Who cares --hic-- how big he is. I need to know if his dick can --hic-- chop off like the rest of his body.” Emi hiccuped, her question earning a collective eagerness to know from the gathered group. 

“Pleaseeee!” Esmeralda begged, latching onto your arm and shaking you. “I’ve told everyone about me and Mohji--”

“You and Mohji’s sex life is vanilla.” Emi started, making Esmeralda gasp.

“It is not vanil--” 

“I want the juicy --hic-- details. Tell us, come on!” Emi finished, everyone quieting down again to watch you, waiting for any snippet you might give up. 

You thought about it for a second. Thoughts that were fogged and blurred from all the drinks you’d had. Loose thoughts that had you thinking of all the dirty things Buggy did to you and you did to him. 

Had his dick ever detached during your escapades?

“I don’t know.” You slurred on a shrug, earning a collective groan from the group. “I’ll ask geezzzz. But Buggy does this thing where he detaches his--” A loud thump sounded at the door, cutting off your story and earning yet another groan from a few of the girls. 

Another thump sounded and you thought it reminded you of a body getting slammed into a wall. A body that kept fumbling back a bit before attempting to knock once more. 

“Shit--the fucking boys are back,” Seqii grumbled as another thump sounded through the room. She grumbled some more as she stood, wobbly navigating her way through the collection of bodies sprawled over the floor. The door was flung open, letting in a chilled breeze that rose goosebumps to your skin.

Standing there, looking just as drunk and disheveled as the rest of the group, was Buggy in all his Buggy glory. His make-up smeared over his skin, his smile wide and bright, and his hat sitting a-skewed on his head, hanging on by some miracle. 

“Captian Buggy!” The girls all cheered at his appearance. Buggy grinned widely as he dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Girls! My loyal crew!” He cheered right back, pulling his hands from his pockets and into the air, wiggling his fingers in his excitement as confetti in a rainbow of color rained down onto the floor. You giggled with Esmeralda as more cheering filled the room.

“How’s your night going? Hope I’m not interpreting.” He said, a few of his words coming out elongated and awkward, but no one truly seemed to notice or care because you were all giggling, wobbling, drunk messes. 

“You could never --hic-- interpret captain! Come in!” Emi said, her tone shifting the slightest bit to be more kind towards her captain. “Y/N was just telling us--” You shot her a warning glare that only seemed to amuse her. “How much she likes it here!” 

“Oh was she? Heh. Good.” He said, stumbling into the room, Seqii shutting the door behind him. Those green-blue eyes found you and filled with that softness you had spotted here and there in them. A look that spoke to the same feeling thrashing about in your chest, wishing to meet it. 

“Baby--ugh I mean Songbird--Y/N,” He finally got out. You’re name felt strange spilling from his lips, but you loved it just as you did hearing the nicknames he conquered up for you. 

A few girls around the room gave giddy little laughs at the nicknames, which you shot them their own warning glares for. 

“I always love to hear feedback from the crew. ‘Specially from you newbies. Helps me know what’s workin’ and what’s-” he gave a little burp in the back of his throat as he came to a wobbly stop next to you. “-what’s not.” He stammered on, waving his hands around as if to emphasize what he was saying, confetti that had stuck to his gloved hands falling into your crossed lap.

You huffed with a roll of your eyes as you pulled yourself up, bumping into his leg as your wonky vision threw you off balance. Strong, gloved hands grabbed you under your arms and helped hoist you up, making your face burn. 

“Are the others back?” Esmeralda asked hopefully, sitting herself right-side up. 

“Only lil ol’ me. Sorry, Es.” Buggy said, a hand falling away from your body only for the last to stay glued to your back. You leaned into his touch, loving the feel of his warmth, a warmth strong enough to seep through the white fabric of his glove and your shirt.

“Captian, before you drag our glorious singing songbird off, could we hear one more song?” Emi asked, raising the last wine bottle. “We still have this whole bottle left,” 

“Sure. No skin off my nose.” Buggy said, turning to look your way with a shrug. 

The room went deadly quiet at his words. 

Breaths were held and prayers were muttered. 

They were words that, under any circumstance would have gotten someone mamined--killed. 

But as he looked at you, all that flashed in his eyes was that softness which had never once left them since his arrival. He looked--at ease, almost. 

It was probably just all the alcohol he had drank that night. 

Probably all the alcohol you had been drinking, making you see things.

“Heh. Nose.” He said, bopping your nose. You watched his grin grow wider--a grin that sparked your own to cross your lips. “Sing the one ‘bout that bottle of rum that’s hard to open.” 

“Aye, aye Captain.” You said, giving him a little salute, which he wobbly gave back. 

You instructed everyone who wished to participate to form a circle, snatching the bottle of wine from Seqii before you hopped into the middle, starting the fun and upbeat shanty about a crew of pirates who find a mysterious bottle of rum floating in the sea. A bottle whose cork was too tough for the captain to open, so it was passed around and around the crew, trying desperately to find someone who could open it. 

Once the first verse was sung, setting the disastrous scene for your own crew, you passed the wine bottle to Buggy as you began singing the chorus. A chorus that spurred your captain to pass it to Emi who passed it to Esmeralda and around and around the circle of the bottle went. You followed it, skipping and hopping and dancing away as your crew joined you in singing the chorus. 

You froze as the chorus ended, the bottle landing in Buggy’s hands on a last pass from Seqii. He winked your way, making your mouth run dry as he raised the bottle to his painted lips. 

You almost forgot all about the silly little song you were singing as you watched him, but found the will in your foggy brain to sing the second verse. Buggy chugged and chugged, his throat working with each swallow of the liquid. It had your alcohol-flushed body burning up that much more. 

The girls gave another round of cheers as Buggy detached his head and hands so that the rest of his body could do a twirling dance to the music you provided. 

When the verse came to an end, his head and hands popped back into place and he quickly passed it to Emi who passed it to Esmeralda and so on and so on as you sang the chorus once more. 

Several verses later, the bottle ran dry with a hiccupping hoot of triumph from Emi, who held the bottle high as you finished the song. 

You gave a flashy bow as the girls and your captain cheered for you, blowing kisses here and there around the circle. Buggy detached a hand to pretend to catch one high up, holding it carefully in his palm as he put it in his coat pocket. 

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning!” A groan spilled from a few of the girl's lips at the thought of what tomorrow held in store for them. Mainly; all the chores to be done that Cabaji, no matter how hungover, was sure to have to get done.

You looped your arm through Buggy’s and let him lead you out of the room, which you took one more look over your shoulder to look at your friends in their varying states of drunkenness.

“Ask him!” Emi mouthed your way as Seqii did the simple magic trick where one pretended like they were pulling their thumb from its joint…but she had positioned her hands at her crotch with a grin so wide it almost spilled off her cheeks. 

You shook your head at their silliness and persistence to know of your private endeavors…but it had piqued your interest if not in the slightest.

The hall was chilled compared to the body-filled room you had both just been in, which erupted in more laughter as you shut the door behind you. A chill that Buggy’s body, instantly wrapped around yours, shielded you from. 

He placed a big old, smacking, wet kiss on your cheek, making your heart flutter like some caged butterfly. 

“That was so fucking sexy, songbird.” He said, words still coming out warped from all the alcohol he had drank against your temple. 

“Oh yeah? You liked my little jig?” You murmured back, turning your face to steal a glance at those eyes you couldn’t look in long enough.

“Hell yeah. Got me all hot and bothered.” His lips kissed your temple, then your cheek, before latching them onto your neck. You hooked your fingers over the back of his neck and pulled him in closer, savoring the tingling sensations that shot over your skin at his sloppy affections

“Should I do another one?” In hardly the blink of an eye, Buggy grabbed hold of your hand and in a quick, sharp movement that had you wobbly all over again, spun you around and away from him. 

“Please do another one.” He begged, eyes eating up your body as you fought to regain your steady footing. 

“Aye, aye captain.” You laughed before starting to sing an upbeat shanty as you spun and moved your body to the phantom beat down the hall and around the corner towards the stairs. Buggy followed after you, joining you in song and grabbing hold of your hands here and there to give you a little spin. 

When the song came to a close, Buggy gave a loud hoot that echoed back at him and mixed with your laughter. He was quick to scoop you up into his arms, lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss that had your alcohol-fuzzed brain going near blank. 

“Sing again for me, songbird.” He asked against your lips. You kissed him again before pulling away, Buggy giving a little whine to let you know you had pulled away all too quickly. “Did you eat dinner?” Buggy rolled his eyes, his arms snaking around your waist once more.

“Baby--”

“Baby.” You insisted, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I’ll sing for you while you eat? How does that sound?” Light lit up Buggy’s eyes as he nodded several times at this, making his face, in your drunken state, go all fuzzy. 

“I should really promote you to be my negotiator. You’re--” He gave another burp in the back of his throat that you crinkled your nose at in disgust. “Soooo good at it.” 

“Only for you, Captain.” Buggy’s grin widened and he leaned down to claim your lips in another sloppy kiss, but you were quick to place a finger over his puckered lips. “Food first.” Buggy groaned dramatically, grabbing hold of your wrist to pull your finger from his lips.

“Fine.” He gruffed, all but dragging you to the kitchen so that he could eat and get on with kissing you. 

The kitchen had been left in a state of disarray thanks to you and the girls ransacking its stores as soon as the kitchen staff left for the night. Kitchen staff you knew would set Cabaji on you all to clean it all up in the morning.

Buggy gave a groaning oof as he flopped himself onto one of the stools sitting before the island, plunking his forehead against the wood. You chuckled at him and opened the fridge.

“Why’d you come back so early, baby?” You asked, rummaging around for the leftovers you had saved from the diner you and the girls had gone to dinner at.

“I’m too old to keep up with the others anymore. Got tired.” He grumbled making you roll your eyes.

“Oh is that right? Then we should head to bed after this? Get my old man his full eight hours of beauty sleep?” You teased, grabbing your leftovers up. 

Even in your alcohol-fuzzed state, Buggy having yet to snap something back at you was strange.

Turning around, fridge door shutting softly behind you, you found Buggy’s face buried in his hands, shoulders quivering. 

Crying. 

Buggy was crying. 

It had panic and concern shoot through your chest rapidly, your leftovers abandoned as you rushed to his side. 

“Buggy? What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, smoothing your hands over his back and arm to try and get him to look at you. To comfort and console him. “D-did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry, baby, you know I don’t think you’re old--”

“I missed you.” He moaned out. His words--they more than shocked you. 

He had missed you. He had missed you so much he had left the bar early and was now crying about it. 

It was…sweet. And doing nothing for that warm, fluttering feeling invading your every sense. 

“You--you missed me?” You asked, gently grabbing hold of his hands to pull them away from his face. His make-up was done for, smudged so bad it had all but blended into his skin. His watery blue-green eyes looked up at you, only overflowing with more tears as he nodded.

“Baby I missed so much.” He whined, grabbing for your shirt weakly as if it was his anchor in the raging storm that was his emotions. “They can’t sing like you--they don’t know half the lyrics.” Tears continued to spill down his cheeks as he pulled you closer. “And--and I just--missed you.” 

You smiled kindly at him, cupping his face with your hands and wiping away each tear that escaped his eyes. 

“I’m here now. And I still owe you a song.” More tears fell from his eyes despite your attempt at comfort, his face falling against your chest as a sob shook his shoulders. 

You were trying not to laugh--not to let that giddy feeling escape your chest through a silly giggle at your captain's confession. At the discovery that Buggy was a drunk crier. 

You pulled his hat off his head, placing it on the island counter before going about taking his bandana off so that you could brush your fingers over his blue hair, which he had put in a singular braid. 

“Fucking gods I missed you.” He sobbed again, burying his face deeper. “You’re--you’re just so beautiful and too kind to me.” 

Beautiful. He was calling you beautiful.

Your heart was beginning to race with that feeling. With that overwhelming swell of that naggingly warm emotion. 

A swell that the alcohol in your system was threatening to spill. 

To spill the three words you had been struggling to hold at bay. Words that were just on the tip of your tongue--words that began to form and fal--

“And--And your tits are so soft and round and I missed them so much.” And that feeling was swapped with utter annoyance. 

“Really?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders to try and shove him away, but his grip on you was iron-like. 

“What? It’s true!” He moaned out mournfully as he nuzzled his face between them. You huffed, feeling just the tiniest bit hurt in that moment when you had thought you were getting a sweet, tender confession from your captain. 

“You just missed my tits? Is that all you missed?” You snapped, Buggy’s face pulled from your breast so he could show you all that sadness welling in his soul. 

“No.” He whined, resting his cheek again on your breasts. “I missed your ass too.” 

“Jackass.” You grumped, yanking yourself away from the clown who gave another pitiful moan. 

“Baby--” Buggy started, grabbing at your arms and hips to try and keep you close. You fought not to give in and fall back into his arms, especially when a wave of fresh tears were rolling down his red and blue smudged cheeks.

“I don’t think you deserve a song now, since you only missed my body” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning your head away from him. 

Buggy moaned yet again, his head flopping onto the kitchen island once more and falling off. His shoulder drooped and his arms fell off, chop-chopped into pieces on the floor. It was a pile of chop-chopped limbs that continued to grow the longer you stayed away. 

“Noooooo. I missed your voice.” He cried, his gloved hands inching their way up onto the island surface. “I missed you being mean to me and I mi-missed you takin’ care of me even when I don’t deserve it.” Those chopped hands continued to cross the wooden surface towards you like some strange spider. Fingers that brushed against your arm in a weak attempt to pull you back.

“I don’t deserve you--you’re too good for me. I’m a shitty shitty fool and you’re a perfect dove who's too bright for me.” 

And now you felt like the asshole. Because none of that was true. Because Buggy was perfect for you in every way. He was more than you deserved. He was better to you than any person you had had a semblance of a relationship with had ever been before. 

You didn’t deserve him. 

“Buggy. No. That’s not true.” You started, going right back over to the chopped-up pile he had become. Buggy was quick to pull himself back together and was pulling you eagerly into his orbit once more. 

“It is.” He cried, knuckles no doubt going white under his gloves at the tight he was holding onto your shirt. “I’m the East Blue’s biggest loser. The biggest in all the Blue Seas. You deserve someone who is better. Someone like that fucking shit-for-brains swordsman or shitty blond pretty boy.” You shook your head, gently pulling his fingers from your shirt to hold his hands tight. 

“I don’t want them. I’ve never wanted them. I’ve only ever wanted you.” Buggy shook his head and you took his chin in a gentle scoop, keeping those sad eyes on you. “And I don’t think you're a fool. Not one bit.” Doubt and self-hatred continued to bubble in Buggy's watery eyes. Emotions you never ever wanted to see shining in them. Emotions you had put there. 

It had your heart beating painfully in your chest. Had your hands sweating and blood running cold. 

You were making him cry. You are a burden to him. 

“I--I don’t deserve you.” Buggy scoffed at this, disbelief thankfully lessening those hurting feelings in his eyes. “I don’t. Before I met you--I was nothing. No one. Just an empty vessel floating around on some godsforsaken ship. A husk trapped in a cave. And now--now you make me feel--full. Like a real person. You make me feel so--so happy.”

“But you would be happier with--” 

“I wouldn’t. I know I wouldn’t because I wasn’t.” Buggy’s bottom lip quivered in warning of another body-shaking sob. You couldn’t--wouldn’t see him upset. Upset over something you had foolishly started. 

“I lo--” Your words lodged themselves in your throat. Words that had been threatening to spill from your mouth from the moment you had caught him singing your song to the night air all those weeks ago. Words your heart and soul begged to speak but your mind caged--bulling them away in fear. Fear of him rejecting such words. Words that were more than just words. 

Words that sobered you right up, letting every last bit of panic flood your chest now that the dulling fog had vanished.

Buggy’s own breath hitched in his throat. That warm look you had spied in his eyes more and more often flashing through their watery depths. A warm look that was overpowered by those hurting feelings you had been trying to save him from. 

“You are special to me.” You managed to croak out. Your heart was beating faster. So fast you were sure it was bruising itself against your ribs, making it hard to breathe. “And--and I want to be here. With you. And I don’t want you to feel that way. Not with me. Because--because you’re too special to me.” More tears fell from Buggy’s eyes and your panic gripped at your heart tighter. 

Had you only made it worse? Had you said too--

A hand grabbed hold of your jaw, pulling you against Buggy’s smudged lips. Lips that kissed you soft and sweet. 

He kissed you slowly. A slowness that spoke louder than any words he could have possibly said in that moment. A kiss that had your eyes sparking with tears right alongside his own.

You grabbed him closer, pressing your body against his as much as the stool would allow. But it was nowhere near close enough. It would never be close enough. 

Your hands moved over his braided hair, down his stubble-lined jaw, and neck. Hands you moved under his coat to try and shrug it off his shoulder so you could feel his warm skin against yours. He chop-chopped his arms from his shoulders to let the coat slip off more easily. Arms that were instantly around you once reattached, hands finding their way under your shirt.

The kiss grew more hungry--needy, but that passion never once fled. A passion that burned through your heart, which struggled to keep the balance between your fluttering feelings towards this clown, and your darkened ones. 

You felt the muscles in his arms work against your hands as he grabbed you up in them, laying you out on top of the kitchen island. 

Random bottles and bits of trash you and the girls had littered it with clattered to the ground, but it hardly mattered. Not when Buggy was trailing a wet line of kisses over your jaw and neck and the swell of your breasts. Not when he pulled your shirt up to continue to leave opened-mouthed kisses along your stomach. 

You breathed his name as he began to tug your brightly patterned pajama pants over and off your legs. 

Those sloppy kisses attacked your calves and thighs--lips that turned biting every so often and had your body sparking, mind fogging in utter lustful need. 

“F-fuck, Songbird,” Buggy spoke around a mouthful of flesh. “Always so ready for me.” You gave a shuddery gasp as a detached hand came to rest over your pelvic bone, thumb running over the thin fabric that still covered your dripping core. 

“Always, captain.” You moaned out, reaching to feel over his cheek and jaw. Those damned fingers passing over your clit, sending a jolting shock through your near-burning body. “P-please--baby, I need you, please.” You begged.

“Let me taste first, baby. Please let me taste you.” He begged right back, his kisses growing ever closer to your weeping pussy. You whimpered but nodded at his request. A whimper that turned sharp and whiny when those wet kisses were placed over your covered core. Buggy moaned against you, tongue creating a dampened patch on your underwear right above your entrance. 

“B-Buggy--please.” You moaned out, hips starting to ground against his mouth, fingers, and nose to create more and more beautiful mind-numbing frustration. Buggy cursed, that detached hand pulling away from your covered clit to start pulling your underwear down. 

They didn’t get very far over your thighs when Buggy’s tongue ran through your folds. You cried out his name, underwear restricting your legs from opening further for him and all but clamping down around his head. 

You couldn’t find the strength within yourself to stop rotating your hips against his mouth--to try to stop chasing your high long enough to loosen your grip on his head or make sure your underwear wasn’t choking him out. 

But those chop-chop abilities handled all your worries.

His head detached from his neck, freeing your legs from their awkwardly folded position and allowing his hand to finally yank your underwear from your legs, giving you the freedom to hook them over his shoulders, granting him full access to your needy pussy. 

His head popped back into place just as his tongue dipped into your fluttering core, lapping up every last bit of your ever-growing arousal in sinful slurps. 

Your fingers wove their way into his hair, messing up that braid, as your hips ground against his mouth near frantically as that build deep within you began to wind. That detached hand crawled over your stomach and found home once more over your pelvic bone so that it could rub circle after circle into your clit, winding that coil ever tighter. 

You moaned Buggy’s name like a prayer as he continued to fuck you on his tongue. As his own moans vibrated through you and set into motion that snapping release within you. 

A release that tingled through your arching spine and sent that white buzz flooding through your thighs and core, which constricted around Buggy’s tongue. 

You fell back against the counter, sweat making your skin stick to it and chest heaving up in down to catch your breath. Your fingers mused through Buggy’s hair, your thighs twitching and whimpering gasps falling from your mouth as Buggy’s tongue remained buried deep within you, licking up every last bit of your finish. 

“B-Buggy,” You moaned, yanking weakly at his hair. “Ne-need you in me. Please.” Buggy mummed in acknowledgment, sending pleasure-filled vibrations through your sensitive core. You bit your lip as he continued to eat you out--as his fingers continued to rub mind-numbing circles into your clit that had your hips and legs twitching as if to try and get away from the persistent assault of your sensitive body.

“Buggy.” You whimpered, yanking at his hair just the sharpest bit tighter. He pulled from your core then, but not without trailing his drooling tongue back through your folds one last time. You wiggled your hips against the burning feeling that shot through you. 

“M’kay, baby.” He murmured, kissing back up your exposed stomach to find your lips once more. The feel and taste of spit and your release had your mind spinning all over again. Had you hooking your legs together around his waist, pressing his hardened cock against your reignited arousal. 

You moved to fidget with his belt buckle, spurring that detached hand to help you loosen it as well as yank his pants and stripped boxers down far enough to let his cock spring free, it tapping against your sensitive clit. Buggy hissed at the feel of your slick against the reddened tip of him. 

You scooted closer, your ass all but hanging off the edge of the kitchen island so that Buggy’s cock lay flush against your throbbing folds. His lips left yours, resting his forehead on your collarbone so that he could watch as he split you open on his cock, that little whimper of his you loved spilling from his lips with every inch inwards.

You cradled the back of his neck as your walls flexed and adjusted for him, that shimmering pleasure starting that coil deep within yourself up once more. 

“Fuck, songbird.” He groaned lowly as he bottomed out, his lips kissing the valley between your breasts. “So good--always feel so good.” Your lips kissed the bit of his forehead you could reach with a stratified hum. “A-always so good for me. A-always take care of me.” He mumbled, pulling himself out to his red-flushed tip before quickly thrusting back into you, pulling a gasp from your lips.

That shimmer turned into a pleasant buzz with each snap of his hips against your own. A buzz that built with each pass of sticky, warm skin, burning lips, and biting teeth. 

Buggy’s sea-glass eyes found your own once more and you’re breath hitched at the warm emotions swirling within them. Emotions that stayed, not chased away by doubt or fear. 

“I-I--you’re special to me, songbird. You--you make me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years.” Tears pricked at your eyes. Tears you fought against but ultimately lost to. Buggy kissed them away, his thrusts slow and circling to keep you closer. 

“I--I think--” He hesitated, his breath huffing against your cheeks as he continued those shallow thrusts. Thrusts that allowed his cock to hit every last nerve ending within you, starting that white buzz you knew meant the coming of your second release of the night. “I--I missed bein’ ‘round you and it had only been a couple of hours. Fuck--you’re so godsdamn special to me it hurts, songbird.” 

You huffed against the rise of emotions flashing through you. Emotions that only swelled that much more when he nuzzled his nose against yours. When he purposely brought attention yet again to his nose. His nose he protected against insult with rage and violence--but he was letting you near it--feel it. 

He pulled away to look into your eyes again and you found tears were pricking at his own eyes once more. 

Slowly, as to give him more than enough time to pull away, you leaned in to place a small kiss to that nose of his--a nose that complemented him and one you loved. Buggy blinked, those tears rolling down his cheeks. You smiled at him through your pants, wiping his tears away. 

Your lips found his once more in a slow, open-mouthed kiss that brought you two that much closer.

That white buzz zapped through your thighs and spine and toes as it shot through down your core once more, Buggy’s name moaned into his mouth. 

He moaned your own name into your mouth, cock twitching and balls pulling tight before spilling ribbons of hot come deep within you. 

You both fell slumped against each other, taking in each other's air as heavy panting filled the air. 

“I’m…I’m sorry for cryin’,” Buggy mumbled as he pet over the bits of your exposed skin he could get at. You placed a kiss to his neck, fingers messing with his braid. 

“It’s okay, baby. Crying just means you had a good night.” Buggy gave that funky laugh of his, kissing your cheek as he made to look into your eyes once more. His smile, so bright and wide, nearly took your breath away. 

“You’re right. I did.” His lips claimed yours in a kiss just as sweet as the words he had uttered to you moments ago. 

“Hey…Buggy?” You asked once you had fully caught your breath. 

“Yeah, songbird?”

“I was just wondering…what all can you chop off?” Buggy blinked at you in thought, not truly understanding your motives. 

“Well--everything, I guess. Why--” Buggy cut himself off when he spied the mischievous smirk pulling at your lips. You clenched your tired walls around his softened cock in way of question. “Fuck, songbird.” He cursed, his pupils slowly growing larger in lust.

“Can it?” Buggy leaned so close that the tip of your nose touched his. It had your heart fluttering all over again.

“Want to find out?” He asked with a smirk to match your own. 

“Yes, Captain."

Tag List: @lostfirefly , @fanaticsnail , @empressofmankind , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @wasabiprophet , @ane5e , @synoname-wordsmith , @cefni , @solarrexplosion , @luvrsbian , @misadventures0fdes , @friedtacokitty

[m00ri]

First post no way! Time to listen to junkie brush

Ghostface/Danny Johnson x gn reader

Warning; Slightly obssesive behaviour, blood, stabby stab stab

You look pretty in red.

The stress that came with every single match was unbearable. Every single time your body was enveloped by smoke your heart sank, and your head felt light. The worst part of this whole ordeal is; you won’t know the killer before the match. You can count yourself lucky if you see them in the first minutes of the match and they don’t see you. It helps you, not much but enough to know how to deal with them when the time comes.

Gideon Meat Plant was the worst map you have found yourself in. Even though it had many rooms you got lost very fast. The concrete walls made you feel small, stuck and the smell, God the smell! The air was moist, suffocating, a light hint of copper mixed with the sweet scent of death and rot hung in the air. The first time you got here you choked and gagged.

Your hands clumsily fumbled with the broken generator in the edge of the map, your head was buzzing, heart in your throat as you tried your best not to mess up. One small mistake would lead to it exploding and the killer finding you. You haven’t run into the killer, but the other survivors were not so lucky, you could tell by how loud Jake screamed. It echoed through the halls sending a shiver down your spine. You hoped the killer wasn’t Ghostface, you two had some kind of beef. He likes to start chasing you first, just to scare you, then before you even know or notice you are the last person to be alive and the real game of cat and mouse begins. The worst part is he didn’t even say a single word.

Ghostface liked to torture you, watching how you would cry and bleed out crawling in the mud, only to pick you up and hook you.

Ghostface also had a fun habit of watching you, stalking, and taking photos. At first you didn’t notice a thing. He was one sneaky bastard, he seemed very happy and content with that, after some time he appeared to get bored of you being unaware of his existence.

He left you photos, a whole bunch, some of them had something written on the back. They were usually hearts, written in drying flaky blood. He scared the shit out of you and he liked that oh, too much.

You hate him with your whole heart.

Suddenly the generator explodes, hissing in pain you hide your hands and get on your feet. It was loud, echoing through the halls only to fall into silence and then nothing. No loud heartbeat, no chase. Nothing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bring your slightly sweaty and burnt hands to your chest. Out of instinct For a second a wave of comfort overwhelmed you, you were safe. Well, as safe as you could be in the Entities realm. “Boo” Your eyes widen and before you are even able to open your mouth to scream you are stabbed in the back and kicked onto the floor. White warm pain blossomed in the places he stabbed you, vision blurry from the impact that your head made with the floor. He sat on your back, stabbing you more. Ghostface grabbed your head, pulling it back to take a photo. A coppery taste filled your mouth, you coughed and it spilled onto the ground.

He took a few more photos, and when he felt satisfied he got off of you. Your mind was blank, the hot pain in your back made it impossible to think or scream.

You could only let out low whimpers, it made him chuckle. He lifted his mask, you could see his blurry smile and before you knew it he gently kissed you. You didn’t kiss back, your strength leaving your body as quickly as your blood. He licked the blood of your lips. He watched the light fade away from your eyes, oh how he adored the sight. His smile got wider.

Before the fog had the chance to take you away, you heard him chuckle and say;

“You look pretty in red”

[drearycrow]

boo 👻

can I have prompt 15 sfw for Dazai? :3

Notes: Have some fluff before I write angst again. I couldn't decide the name for the cat so you can decide what to name it. Requests are open

You are walking home after grocery shopping. The rain continues to come down and you mentally thank yourself for remembering to bring an umbrella. As you are walking, you hear a faint meowing coming from the alley way. It was faint but you could tell that it was distressed. You enter the alley to investigate the source of the meowing. The meowing was coming from a dumpster behind the restaurant. The kitten was behind the dumpster trying to hide from the rain. It was shaking from the cold and looked frightened. You crouched down to lure the cat out. "Come here kitty." You gesture it to come closer to you. "Pspspspsp." The kitten just stares at you after making that noise at it. It backs away slowly further into the dumpster. Your hand reaches through the hole to grab the kitten. It hisses and scratches you but that didn't stop you from helping the poor kitty. "It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you. Come on let's get you to a nice warm home." You take off your sweater and bundle up the kitten to keep it warm from the cold rain.

When you arrived home, you bathed the cat to clean off the dirt and grime from the filthy dumpster. You grabbed a spare towel and dried it off thoroughly. The front door opens and your boyfriend, Dazai walks in. He stares at you and the kitten watching TV together. "What's with the cat?" He points at the cat curled up in your arms. "What cat? This is our child now." Dazai stares at you dumbfounded that you wanted a pet cat. He doesn't mind cats. It's just trying to get the fur off of everything is a hassle in his eyes. At least you didn't bring a dog home. "We're not keeping it." You stare at Dazai blankly. You glare at him for saying that. "But why? This poor kitten must have been abandoned by its mother and it was crying for help from a dumpster. I don't want to leave it out there to fend for itself. Can we please adopt it as our own?" You give Dazai those big doe eyes that you know he can't resist. He stares at you and the kitten momentarily, see how cute you two look bundled up in the blanket. He sighs and gives you a smile. "Fine we can keep it as long as it doesn't cause too much trouble." He reaches out to pet the kitten causing it to purr happily. "What should we name it?" Dazai asks as he continues to pet the kitten. You stare at the kitten in your lap wondering what to name it. "Let's see how about Cheesecake?" You raise an eyebrow at the name and look at your boyfriend for approval. "Hmm nah how about Bartholomew?" You stare back at Dazai for the ridiculous name. "That's such a stupid name. I like Cheesecake better for the name." You two spent a good hour and a half arguing and bantering about what to name the cat. The kitten stares at both of its newly adopted parents arguing what to name it. The kitten falls asleep happily knowing it's in a loving home now.

[uraharasfavoriteexperiment]

i am a trans man and i have a carnal need for urahara do something about that please i dont give a fuck what you write, it could be monster sex i dont even care bro

i really wanna monster sex bcs same boo same (even down to the trans man part im a trans man and he drives me just absolutely positively rabid)

~ kitty cat

alpha(?)!kisuke urahara x werecat!male reader / fluff, smut in pt.2 content werecat!reader, werecats can shift into CAT cats [ wc ] 1422 (ps: read this!) please reblog fanfictions when you read one you like! likes do not help writers' algorithms!

kisuke urahara was a simple man... in legal terms.

he had never been to jail, had never been to prison, hell- he'd never even gotten a parking ticket, let alone a speeding ticket.

but when he met you, that all changed.

when yoruichi, urahara's dearest childhood friend (and also werecat), brought home the scruffy black stray, kisuke was immediately infatuated. he had another werecat, ichigo, who he was very close to, and ichigo immediately took a liking to you, which wasn't common (orange cats are very odd creatures.).

there was one part of the ordeal that kisuke was very fond of: yoruichi quickly began to think of you as a brother. she even shared her milk with you whenever kisuke gave it to her... that was the oddest part about the whole situation: she refused to share her milk with even ichigo.

now, werecats used to be a predominantly wild species. when humans discovered the cat-human hybrids, certain people (who yoruichi thought shouldn't be called humans) quickly realized they could manipulate the species' genes for a very specific use: sex.

the modifications eliminated many issues: romantic barriers between human partners, sexual lines that could be crossed between partners, and most notably (because most werecats seemed to be male), the ancient-standing issue of tension between hetero and homosexual individuals.

soon after their discovery, a system spawned that was very similar to what social media called the cat distribution system. a similar "system" cropped up in which encounters with werecats commonly ended in either a fuck or in most cases, someone bringing home a cute new friend.

additionally, most werecats tended to like being called things like "kitten," "good kitty," "pretty kitty," and similar affectionate little pet names. most werecats also either couldn't speak very well, or they simply chose not to- so there was usually very little communication involved with them.

kisuke learned very quickly, however, that this was not the case with all werecats- yoruichi and ichigo were rare cases, yes, but looking back on early memories with you, kisuke quickly formed a theory that sentient werecats gravitated towards handsome, perverted candy shop owners.

was it the candy? ichigo liked candy.

was it the milk? yoruichi liked milk.

or... was it the handsome, perverted candy shop owners themselves?

kisuke urahara was very fond of that idea... he had always liked cats, and cats had always seemed to like him.

~+~

kisuke groaned and rolled over onto his back on his futon, slowly opening his tired, storm-grey eyes. he yawned loudly, stretching his arms up int the air and making grabby hands for the ceiling. he heard a very slight sound of fur shifting against fabric, and his eyes immediately looked to the right, towards the sound.

"oh, hello yoruichi!" said kisuke, grinning. he sat up and threaded a hand into his messy blonde hair and ruffled it, yawning again.

"you're ridiculous." said a falsely deep voice next to the futon. kisuke grinned like a teenage dumbass, reaching over and ruffling the fur on the sleek, black british short-haired cat's head. she growled warningly, but of course kisuke didn't listen, and if you asked about this moment later on, yoruichi would say she probably should have scratched his eyes out.

yoruichi hissed, growling from deep in the back of her throat as she reached up and pawed aggressively at his hand. she backed up, her puffed up tail swishing violently back and forth and slamming sporadically against the wooden floor. she shook herself in a quarrelsome manner and hissed again, turning and burrowing under the waist opening of a black kimono, poking her head out of the top.

"stuff it, old man." she spat, shifting into her werecat form.

"no you stuff it, kitty." he playfully spat back, fake-flinching and chuckling when she hissed again and projectile-chucked a pillow at him violently.

"why've you woken me up, hm?" kisuke asks as he stands up and reaches for his striped green and white hat. he stretched again, slipping into a matching green and white-striped shawl-thing (hada doesn't know what theyre called heh), looking over at yoruichi expectantly, his eyebrows raised and his signature stupid grin starting to sneak onto his face.

yoruichi groaned, flopping backward onto the futon dramatically.

"ugh fine, i'll tell you," she says, "i found a stray werecat and i may or may not have brought him home."

kisuke grins, getting visibly excited at the idea of meeting another were.

"oh?" he asks, "where is he? i don't see him~"

"he's hiding somewhere in here but he's here."

"you should go get him! tell him i promise i won't bite~"

yoruichi rolls her eyes, getting up and stretching like a cat and starting lazily toward the door.

"i dunno if he's sentient but ok."

she did, however, go and fetch the new fluffball- you. she had to pick you and carry you, you were that shy. when she brought you into the room with kisuke, you fluffed up and hissed, scrambling onto yoruichi's shoulders and growling defensively.

"you didn't tell him, did you~" kisuke said in fake drama, rolling his eyes. but he didn't bother to smother the grin that accompanied the eye roll. he approached slowly, slipping out of his loud-ass japapese clogs in the process so as to attempt to make himself sound less like a threat. he relaxed the muscles in his right arm and hand, reaching his hand up to let the cat have a sniff.

(reader pov)

you hissed quietly, but still carefully extended your neck nonetheless. you risked a cautious sniff, recoiling defensively. you looked up and stared at the blonde man with calculating, clearly intelligent eyes for more than one moment, eventually shifting all four tiny little paws onto one shoulder of the cocoa-colored woman who had rescued you, carefully leaning out and touching your nose to the man's fingers, finally getting an good scent.

no threat... not now, at least.

you looked up at him again and made a short, quiet trilling sound. it was something similar to the noise house cats make when an idiot human wakes them up from a sun nap, and it made the man smile. you stared at him for a few seconds, thinking. then you poised for a pounce, jumping the one or two-foot distance between the man and the woman. you landed on the man's shoulder and butted your head against his temple, then sneezed and sniffed at his hat.

the man smiled again, reaching up and making a gentle, cautious attempt to scratch behind your ear. you butted your head into his fingertips and his smile turned into a joyous grin, and he started to scratch at that one spot, eliciting a completely unwarranted purr from the back of your throat. the man chuckled, gently cupping your small, feline head in his hand and rubbing your face, neck and ear in soothing motions.

your heart slowed down a bit and the purr you were producing got deeper, indicating to the man that you were becoming more comfortable with him. you reached around with your face and licked the palm of his hand, then hopped down onto the floor and burrowed under a blanket on a futon you had seen earlier, then quickly shifted into your werecat form, wrapping the blanket around yourself. you turned and looked curiously at him, tilting your head to the side, having decided to chance at asking him a question.

"what's your name?" you asked cautiously, your voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

(urahara pov)

kisuke smiled, walking over and sitting down next on the futon next to you. "i'm urahara kisuke." he introduced himself, making sure to keep his voice calm and quiet so as to refrain from startling you.

you looked at him and he looked back at you, a soft, gentle smile on his face as he watched you closely, waiting for you to respond. after a moment of thought, you carefully scoot closer to him, shifting onto your calves before giving a cautious, playful bat at his hand. he smiled- and all of a sudden the action seemed to be infectious, and you fell ill with it. a small smile inched its way into existence, slithering in small bits onto your face and making his heart soar for some reason.

interesting... he thought, he likes to play. ichigo and yoruichi just seem to want to be left alone, but this one is coming out of its shell... the thought made him smile again, and your smile widened into a grin.

fell victim to writers block but had to post and so theres gna b a pt.2~

© uraharasfavoriteexperiment.

[vera-deville]

I Won't Say (I'm in Love)

06/20/2023 - 07/12/2023

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Word Count: 1,754

Warnings: A little bit of cursing, but that's all!

Gender: AFAB

Tags: @pyroxeene, @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

In which Y/N refuses to say that she's in love.

"Shit." Y/N hissed as she swung open the cabinet door, only to reveal that there was no white paint. Or fuschia for that matter-

"Grim!" She called loudly.

Only the Great Seven know what possessed Y/N at three in the morning to scourge through her entire dorm, trying to figure out where in Twisted Wonderland she kept her newly bought (with hard-earnt money) white paint, but it certainly had her occupied and in a frenzy trying to find it.

Reaching Grim's bed, Y/N was about to shout at him to wake up and help her find her precious white paint when the sight of Grim's unnatural peacefully sleeping self tugged at her heartstrings and she couldn't bring herself to do so.

Damn it.

Back to searching all alone she supposed.

Eventually Y/N had been searching for far too long in the early morning and somehow willed herself to try and haul herself to dreamland (key word being try).

The next morning, Y/N got herself ready earlier than usual and told Grim to head to the breakfast hall without her since she had something to do. That something should be right across this hallway and should inhabit a large crow man-child.

And she would be right. There, watching rather remorsefully down the window was Crowley, the glorious headmaster of Night Raven College (or at least he's supposed to be glorious). Clearing her throat seemed to do the trick to bring Crowley out of his strange reverie since the painfully loud screech the door made when opening didn't.

"And what can I do as the most gracious headmaster ever?"

Okay. Time to work the charms of an isekaid student.

"Headmaster! I came to you because I require a favor from you." Crowley nodded for her to continue. "I need some money for some supplies you see, and I haven't much on me."

"I'm afraid that though my generosity knows no bounds, I can't simply favor a student and give them money from the school's funds."

"Oh whatever shall I do Headmaster? I was planning on painting a stunning portrait of the brilliant man who runs this prestigious institution and-"

A wad of cash materialized in front of her.

"Thank you Headmaster~"

Walking out of the room without another word, Y/N giggled devilishly to herself about her newly earnt money. One, two, three, four, five...60 Thaumarks. Okay, not bad. What was bad was this eerie feeling she felt from specifically in front of her. Looking up ahead, she realized that she almost had walked straight ahead into a well-built chest.

A well-built chest clad in yellow satin.

Fuck-

Two vibrant green eyes accompanied with a handsome smirk looked down at her, slowly moving from the wad of cash in her hands back up to her face. Y/N's own eyes followed his trail of sight and instinctively pulled the Thaumarks closer to her chest, as though protecting them from him.

"Didn't peg you as a petty thief little Herbivore" Leona teased.

"Oh screw yourself Leona. For your information, this is hard earnt money!" (He did not need to know just how hard it was).

"Careful. You might get eaten up alive with all that money out in the open."

"I'm sure I'll be able to fend for myself. I've been doing it all this time, haven't I?"

Without letting Leona get another word in, Y/N zoomed past him, not unlike a rabbit running away from a lion. Chuckling to himself, Leona stalked off to some obscure part of the campus where he could ditch class in favor of cat naps.

If there's a prize for rotten judgement...

Y/N dashed past corridors until she got to Ramshackle and was safe from prying eyes. Slamming the door shut, she hugged the Thaumarks once again closer to her bosom, and shifted her entire weight against the now closed (and locked) doors of her dorm room.

I guess I've already won that.

Feeling the heat in her face become more insufferable, Y/N cursed the Great Seven for the predicament she found herself in. Her burning cheeks huffed and puffed, thinking about the aggravating lion beastman that had stolen her heart (without her permission might she add).

No man is worth the aggravation...

That's right! What made Leona so special that her heart found itself twisted beyond the point of entanglement? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. She could live her life just as she had before. No feelings here. No sirree. God knows how well the last time went-

That's ancient history, been there, done that!

Shaking her head out of the strange reverie she found herself in, Y/N slapped her cheeks as hard as she could, hid her money in a secret cabinet that not even Grim knew of, and rushed to class.

"Bonjour ma cherie~" A very familiar voice called out to her the second she stepped out of Crewel's classroom.

"Hey! Rook! How have you been?" Y/N asked excitedly.

The two chittered loudly as they walked through the hallways, one of them oblivious to viridescent eyes following their every movement.

Who'd'ya think you're kiddin', he's the Earth and heaven to you.

"He's definitely into you, so why don't you just admit that you like him?" Rook asked.

Try to keep it hidden, Honey, we can see right through you.

"What the fuck did you just say?" An astonished Y/N asked.

"My such foul language from such a pretty thing like you. Vil certainly would not like to hear that~"

"I'm not in love with Leona Kingscholar."

"Mhmm~"

"Like what is there to like about him in the first place? He's lazy, misses the majority of his classes, has that annoying ass smirk on his face every time I see him-"

Girl, ya can't conceal it, we know how ya feel.

Rook grinned to himself. He wondered how long it would take Y/N to admit that she was in love.

The day passed by as usual, but there was a certain heaviness in Y/N's mind throughout, and a distant pang in her heart swam through her every now and then.

On her way back to Ramshackle, Y/N stopped by Crowley's office to let him know that she would be heading out to buy her supplies soon. Grabbing her purse (a gift from Vil, because apparently she couldn't just bring her backpack everywhere) and stashing her money in it, Y/N found herself practically skipping to town.

Until Leona Kingscholar showed up. Again.

"And where are you off to in such a scurry?"

"It's none of your business Kingscholar. Now out of my way! The loves of my life await me!"

Confused, Leona felt his ears twitch in irritation. Loves of her life? Plural? Since when did the Herbivore have relationships?

"I'll come with you."

"Huh?"

"You might get yourself killed in town. Who knows? After all, you're just a small, fragile herbivore." Leona remarked, still pissed about the supposed "loves" of her life.

"But I'm just getting some stuff? Even Crowley said it was fine. Why are you so worked up about me going out?" Y/N asked, upset about the current situation that was stalling her from splurging on art supplies.

Eventually, Y/N agreed to let Leona accompany her, and Leona mentally prepared himself to scare off her suitor, well, in this case, suitors apparently. Deep inside, Y/N felt the familiar bubbling giddiness whenever Leona was in her presence, and she tried oh so hard to push it down before she choked on the feeling and threw up.

When they reached the store Y/N had in mind to buy her supplies, Leona stood confused. Who the fuck meets up with their lovers on a date at a fucking art store? The human that he happened to be in love with, apparently.

But very quickly, Leona realized (much to his inner embarrassment) that Y/N had been excited about getting new paints and other supplies, not about meeting any significant others. Good grief, he was losing his edge-

The lion beastman watched as the human flitted about back and forth and everywhere in between the store, almost like a buzzing bee. Minus the buzzing noise, of course. The sight made his heart constrict in all the best ways.

It almost felt like a date to Y/N, what with Leona coming along with her on her personal errand, holding things that she asked him to hold (might as well put him to work if all he was going to do was look lost in the place), and judge for himself which paintbrushes were better. He would grumble about being handled as though he were a servant, but never stopped helping Y/N with anything he could.

Maybe Rook was right. Maybe Leona did actually like her-

No chance! No Way!

She wouldn't say it, no.

But thinking back to all the times her mind became all fuzzy and muddled because of Leona Kingscholar, she wondered if she was denying things.

No, of course not.

It's too cliche!

She wouldn't say that she's in love.

But look at him looking so thoroughly at paintbrushes so that she could get the best set. How could that possibly not make her swoon? He's looking at paintbrushes, paintbrushes, and it was all for her, and it was making her feel things that she really thought she wouldn't feel again. It seems as though her heart hadn't learnt its lesson. Shame on it.

Pushing down the intrusive thoughts as though she were pushing down bile, Y/N tried to make quick work of her rare excursion. When they finally made it back to NRC, she begrudgingly thanked Leona for his time and effort and ran faster than a cheetah all the way back to her dorm.

Running past Grim who was snacking on tuna, Y/N locked the door to her room.

Looking down at the supplies she'd bought, Y/N realized that a set of colored pencils that she'd really wanted, but didn't get because they were way out of budget, somehow magically found their way into her shopping bag.

No chance...

There was no way. But it was beginning to be glaringly obvious even to herself. But this scene shouldn't have played! And that damned mirror in her room was no help, what with it showing that grin on her lips.

Maybe, just maybe...

Oh, she wouldn't admit that she was in love. At least out loud.

Author's Note: As usual, I spent far too long on this fic, and I both regret and enjoyed it at the same time. This fic is this month's entry for the @briarvalleyarchives. The prompt was "Anthems of Old," and I really wanted to do that justice. I ended up losing motivation for this fic multiple times during various parts of the process. It was so bad that I ended up publishing another fic inspired but this month's prompt before this-

Originally, I wanted to try writing a fic for Colors of the Wind, but then I very quickly realized that I had no idea what I wanted to write, so then I switched to I Won't Say (I'm In Love).

I'm glad that I finally finished this, and it is very much safe to say that Måneskin helped me push through. T-T

Thank you for reading!

[snailstep-and-her-clan]

Sweetivy fell from Moorstar’s jaws, blood bubbling from the ragged wound his teeth had left in her throat. Snailstep watched in horror as the tortoiseshell queen lay prone, chest rising and heaving as she fought for breath with a series of rattling gurgles, her claws scraping feebly into the loam.

Moorstar advanced, licking Sweetivy’s blood from his muzzle. Snailstep arched her back and hissed, crouching protectively over Sweetivy’s tiny newborn kit. The screeches and yowls of battle outside dulled in her ears to be replaced by the pounding of her own heart.

Moorstar gave a low, cruel chuckle. “I knew I recognized those eyes.” He circled Snailstep with slow, deliberate steps. “Firebright really thought I wouldn’t be able to tell, didn’t she?”

Snailstep didn’t bother indulging him in whatever madness he was spewing. Instead, she swiped at his eyes, claws extended. The hulking brute of a tom snapped at her leg in retaliation, and the two of them stood, glaring at each other, tails lashing.

“I told her that if you looked like your father, I’d kill you.” Moorstar reared back, muscles tensed to spring. “It’s a few moons late, but I’ll keep my word.”

Snailstep tensed as he launched himself at her, prepared to feel his teeth and claws piercing her pelt. Instead, there was a blur of spiky brown fur as Bladeback plunged through the ferns, fastening his teeth into Moorstar's neck with a low, furious growl. He pinned the Windclan leader into the dirt, pummeling him with his hind feet, front claws digging into Moorstar’s face.

Blinking in shock, Snailstep bent down and snatched up Sweetivy and Wolfstrike’s kit, pausing only to glance at Sweetivy's now still form. The tortoiseshell queen's eyes were rolled back and blank, her mouth open in a final death rattle.

Snailstep turned tail and fled up the fern tunnel to find Leafbreeze, the sound of Bladeback and Moorstar screeching behind her.

Lore Time

Little pregnant lady vs the Final Boss

Snailstep was pregnant with her first litter, and Sweetivy had just given birth like… five minutes before she was brutally murdered.

Moorstar is based off of Sleyf’s OC Hilden Moor, who is a giant owl demon (again she scraped the pics off her deviantart account BOO! 🍅) I tried to make his cat form look as close to his monster form as possible.

Moorstar is leader of Windclan and basically he started raiding the clans to kill their queens and medicine cats so the other clans stay weak (King Herod energy this guy)

[lana-llama-in-pajamas]

Thick as blood sweet as milk

Chapter 5

The younger one tries to grab you via the paper hole. You jumped back almost ripping over your chair, the cat hissing and scratching at the arm the tar like blood leaking over the desk. The smell was fucking rancid so you held your breath and slammed the panic button before calling “Rex” you said almost vomiting from the shutter being able to cut off the arm rolling until being stopped by the radio.You grabbed your cat walking out of the office into the hallway to wait for the DDD. As usual they showed up exterminated and checked with you “my cat scratched at one of the arms, the severed arm is in the office” you pet her cleaning her paw with tissues “on it” a hazmat walked in to see it “their so aggressive right now” he commented placing it into a garbage can that could be locked then cleaning with an unknown chemical that cut through the blood like nothing, your old uniform from the past attack had to be thrown away, the black tar staining the fabrics. “You’re telling me” you sighed walking back in and waving to the others as they left. Soon the twins and the pilots came together and yes they were all them, you asked how it was and the girls giggled talking a little gossip and passed her a telegram “there’s a magazine party coming up you should come” Sel jumped up and down her heels clacking “calm down, but yeah you should totally go, you don’t have party dresses so we should go shopping” El smiled walking with her sister into the hall “oh and you can’t say no or we’ll drag you!” Sel yelled behind her faking an evil laugh making her sister cackle. You shook your head turning to the pilots, Steven held up his drunken father mumbling “I promise you it’s him, I don’t think dopples can get drunk and stupid enough to lose his hat in the wind” Steven passed both their papers gently fixing his grip on his dad “wow I have never been that drunk before” you laughed checking everything “yeah well, I don’t think girls can even drink that much. Smaller organs right?” He said, you nodded (ah, 1950s understanding of anatomy) “all seems ok, sleep well” you passed everything back to him “thank you miss, and we hope you sleep soon can’t have you getting ill on us” he winked walking off pulling his father with him.

The last resident was gauss. He was a reporter so you didn’t have much hope of him coming anytime soon, you decide to turn the radio to a music station singing along to the late night tunes.

Almost an hour of playing with the cat and singing and dancing you got caught off guard as you vibed singing 🎵 “you had plenty of it 19…22 and I had so much to give to youuu~ why don’t you do right like other men do~” 🎵 you spinned holding the now empty coffee “boo.” You jumped eyes almost popping out to see gauss. Soaking wet and pissed “oh! So sorry” you placed the cup down and grabbed his papers “don’t apologize, I like watching you dance and sing, you do it well doll” he said slicking back his wet hair, his shirt stuck to his skin showing no under shirt. You stared a little, why did a reporter have to be buff like that? He flexed a peck making you mentally die “don’t stare too long, the milkman might get jealous” he spoke lowly as if Francis was in the hall “how did you?” You asked not even bothering to finish “I see the way he looks at you at times” he chuckled “but no worries doll I got nothing for you I just like knowing the story” he flicked his press pass as you slid everything back “speaking of stories, why didn’t you get me anything when everyone else did?” You asked not wanting to sound greedy “what? I did I passed onto the milkman himself to give it to you, flowers and a hat”you were stunned. A gasp. Dumbfounded. You laughed a little realizing what happened that day. Francis was jealous of Gauss‘s gift because he was so caught off guard by everyone else . He threw it away. Then he flirts with you to feel and know he’s the one your into. “What a teenager!” You said randomly getting up and laughing more. Gauss was lost and a little upset “you didn’t receive it?” He said “no! Mosses threw it away!” You laughed holding yourself “he threw it away because he was jealous he was the only one without a gift!” Gauss couldn’t even believe Francis could blink let alone get jealous but he too started laughing “oh dear, I know i’m a little harsh around the edges. I have went to my own mama to help get you the gift.” He explained “well atleast you know I tried, it wasn’t an expensive hat anyways” he waved it off “what a ride tonight, one minute I’m interviewing a bunch of triple D officials the next I learned my emotionless robot neighbor gets jealous!” He laughed walking into the hall “goodnight doll, and tell ya boyfriend he owes me $10 for the gift he was soooo jealous of” he winked to you before disappearing.

You were still so distraught to even think the Francis that way, you can hear the pitter powder from the outside as you walked up the stairs finally ready to get to bed, but one did not leave your mind Francis did look at natcha with sad eyes so why was he getting jealous over you? You passed his door hearing music from it so you decided to knock the door. It just simply opened walking through without making noise, but you didn’t know why your were being quiet. An armchair and a couch and a lamp light. in living room all over a Persian rug was the scene in front of you. on the armchair was Francis. his house coat undone, showing his wife beater. His breathing was slow as he held a lit cigar in his hand, his record player playing the song that you couldn’t understand. 

He hummed along with his eyes closed, you sat on the couch listening to him…it was calming

The song repeated as he opened his eyes a little spooked to see you, he looked at his door which was wide open closing it and locking. He looked out the window, the rain starting to relax as he could see stars “y/n~” he hummed “y/n” “y/n” he sang squeezing your arm gently, you grunted eyes still closed, the cat popped up from behind the coach purring like crazy as he pet her “your such a loving thing” he cooed finally making you wake up, he smiled down at you having to kneel to meet your gaze on the couch. You looked up him lovingly in a hazy dream state holding your hands up for a hug, he happily holds you putting his forehead to yours “y/n this isn’t a dream” he whispered, his heart beating quickly as you hugged him closer “good morning” you whispered kissing him slowly, he froze but couldn’t help kissing back breathing in your scent. Finally let go pushing you back “please tell me your aware your actually kissing me” your eyes widened hearing him, your heart jumping “uh um well…..why’d you stop?” You were surprised you even said it but god now that you were fully awake you wanted it more “…I…” he was red looking down embarrassed, your position was a sight indeed. Your legs at either side of him, he was kneeling before you his arms wrapped around you, breathing in you pulled his face up kissing it lightly in sections make him breath a little harder “you smell so good, and your so soft…oh how I wished to hold you like this times over” he said almost reciting it like a poem, you blushed your head feeling like it moved on its own to kiss him deeper even holding his head in place, he tasted like whiskey and tobacco and you coffee. It felt like you kissed for hours but it was barely a few minutes, you separated looking away from other “this isn’t right” you got up walking to the window opening it to get some fresh air the rain droplets falling onto your hands “I’m sorry Francis it’s just.. I keep thinking this crazy theory” you put your face in your hands wanting to disappear from the situation “y/n, what’s going on?” He put his hand in your shoulders to face him “I don’t understand” you felt so bad. If you were wrong? Would he hate you? And if you were right you would feel like a harlot for preying on him. You looked away up at the stares preparing for either outcome “is Natasha yours?” You whispered the last part feeling him stiffen up. “….come sit.” He lead you to the couch again sitting in his armchair “…yes. Natasha is my daughter” there it was. Your heart sank and your hands grew cold “but. Natcha and me are on the terms that Natasha doesn’t need to know for now. And that natcha wishes to parent her alone.” He clarified holding your hand “you are not a home wrecker of any sort” he assured you “but how. How did it happen?” You asked thinking they were married or school sweethearts or anything “that’s a….sad story, but I will tell you” he poured you a shot and sat back changing the record to play a different song

“You see, those funny inappropriate jokes about milk men are a little bit more true than you think” he grew uncomfortable and ashamed “I was 22…natcha was 30…she was married I was not.”he continued “ I just started the job and her house was on my route, we took to liking to each other…it was nice. Her husband was a banker and from what I remember he was swell, a nice older man never yelled or hurt her. The one thing he couldn’t give Natcha was children…so she started to flirt and I like the dumb horny kid I was I went along. She wasn’t looking for a way out y/n she just wanted a child, after a year she was pregnant and didn’t even tell me until her 3rd trimester! She even showed me the divorce papers! I thought I was becoming a father, figures out I was just a means to an end….her husband did infact try and kill me too but thankfully I was stronger and faster. And she disappeared…I didn’t even know what my child was….i learned only 3 years ago her name was Natasha.” Francis held his temple holding back his tears composing himself. You weren’t even able to react processing all the information, atleast you had an answer. Yes. Natasha was Francis’s child and he was an absent father, but not by choice at face value “ when I moved into this apartment, I didn’t even know she was here. It was like they wanted me to see my child.” Francis finally let a tear roll “I thank god anytime Natasha chooses to talk to me, but I do feel sour towards Natcha to this day” he sighed “ i’m sorry for what she did to you. If she did ask you to be the father would you have married her?”

There was a pause.

“Now? No. Back then….maybe. You have to understand she’s the type of person where she will get what she wants and that is it. I don’t see her as evil, but I do see it as callous.” He explained sipping his drink “but know I have fallen in love with you in a way I haven’t felt in a long time y/n. I feel like a little boy again leaving wild flowers on a desk” he was very poetic when he spoke long enough and you could now fully understand why natcha would want him if not only for child bearing “you are?” You gulped “yes.” He kneeled before you again waiting on you to accept his touch, you pulled his hands towards you “I’m in love with you too I believe” you looked down “but your so elusive” he smiled holding your chin up “I’m a book, simply open and read” you let out a simple smile “where are you from?” “Russia” “born?” “No, but my parents were, the red scare is understandable if not slightly hurtful” he explained “I can speak it too” “how old are you?” “33” “favorite color?” “Red, ironically” “can I sleep here tonight?” He smiled at that question kissing you quick “of course my love”

Here you were (fucking finally) showered and in a big shirt cuddling against Francis, him kissing you gently randomly making you gleam. He held you so close it felt like he wanted to become one physically, you kissed back both of you acting like puppy’s in love.

You slept peacefully that night

By the wayyy send suggestions for the cat’s name and breed! I’ll do a poll before the next chapter