#i caught the last part after the final red flag and that was IS

[hertwood]

I just woke up btw idk what happened

[breadbrobin]

the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

[kaiyunsim]

abscence of you —

pairing : bf!jaehyun x gn!reader

summary : you and jaehyun are caught between love and personal needs. you both watch as your relationship slips away, knowing they could never give eachother what they needed the most.

genre / warnings : angst, swearing (1 f-word), reader is lwk a red flag, maybe more

a/n : I LOVE BOYNEXTDOOR AND GRENTPEREZ ! also i rewrote this like two times cuz i was unhappy and still kinda am but i hope u guys enjoy ! (lmk if u want more cuz i like writing angst)

currently playing : absence of you - grentperez

— not proof read — wc : 1.1k —

you are always busy with making music but jaehyun never minded it because it’s your passion and he found it cute that you put your efforts into something you both like. he hasn’t seen you in a while thought and he really started to miss you so be wanted to surprise you at your apartment.

jaehyun opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb you, knowing you are probably working on something. he made sure to get ramen that isn’t that spicy and has some mushrooms because it’s the way he likes it but also gets your favorite. he leaves the takeout on the table and sees you typing on the laptop.

“i got your favorite, let’s eat,” he says with happiness, finally getting to see you after a while. he approaches you and gives you a back hug.

“thanks, give me five minutes to finish this,” you say, not taking your eyes off the screen.

he only nods, moving to the table and unpacking the food and set up the table for the both of you. eventually, ten minutes pass and he just watches you work.

“are you going to eat before the food gets cold?” he asks gently, trying to remind you.

you glance at the clock, “oh, shoot. sorry, i lost track of time,” you reply, getting up and taking your seat at the table.

jaehyun begins to eat and you are about to start before your phone starts buzzing. you pick up the phone and start answering texts and he just watches.

“do you ever just stop?” he asks gently again. bothered, but not wanting to cause trouble.

you look up from your phone, which is now facedown on the table, and frowns slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?” you asks.

“forget it.” he pushes it off.

—

after that, you guys don’t see eachother for a while due to your conflicting schedules. whenever you could spare some time, he would be working on his songs. whenever he would be free, you would be busy with songs of your own.

the next time you would both see eachother is when you went on a hangout with your friends. they wanted to invite jaehyun so they asked if he wanted to join and he accepted.

you picked him up from his place and they all meet up at your place. it starts off as awkward before sungho, being the oldest hyung, wants to break the ice and asks a question to the couple.

“so what’s the next for you two? moving in together? engagement?” he asks lightheartedly, the last questions were in a more joking manner.

he replies half jokingly, rolling his eyes, “if i can ever get them to take a break from producing music on soundcloud.”

you laugh awkwardly, “what? i like where we are now. there’s no rush”

and the silence came back, as if nothing ever happened. but something did happen, tension increasing and sungho started to feel awkward.

his smile falters and he chugs the rest of his drink, not wanting to push the answer out of you.

later, you give jaehyun a ride home and the tension continues to seep into him but he decides to break it.

“you didn’t have to laugh it off like that…” jaehyun comments hesitantly.

“what are you talking about?” you ask, confused.

“the future, us. do you think about it?” he clarifies.

“of course, but i’m just… not ready for anything long term. there’s still so much i wanna do”

“yeah, and i guess i’m not a part of it” he murmurs to himself.

“hey thats not fair. im trying to build something for myself. that doesnt mean i don’t think about us” you answer. you sound somewhat annoyed at the constant comments from him.

“of course you think of us,” he says sarcastically.

“i don’t have time for this” you roll your eyes.

“you don’t have time for me, you mean” he says, raising his voice slightly.

“i didn’t ask you to come” you exclaim, matching his energy.

“jesus fucking christ y/n, i’m sorry i wanted to see my partner after a long day of promotions. i’ll just schedule an appointment next time.” he says sarcastically, throwing his arms up.

just as he says that, you stop the car as you guys are in front of his house. he undoes his buckle and gets out of your car, not wanting to deal with more of you for today.

days later, jaehyun hasn’t reached out, and neither has you. both being consumed by their own thoughts.

jaehyun replays their argument, torn between guilt and frustration. he wonders if he’s asking for too much or if you love him as much as he does you.

you try to focus on your work but feels a hollow ache whenever you check your phone and find no messages from jaehyun. you wonder if he’s tired of you completely.

jaehyun decides to stop by your place to talk. he just wants to communicate how he feels. when he arrives, he sees you on a video call with your team, all animated and smiling. he watches you through the party opened door, realizing how vibrant and alive you seem in your own world.

you spot him and quickly end the call knowing your team would understand. you open the door, your smile fading as you see the look on his face.

jaehyun looks at you with a weak smile, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“what?” you reply, confused with where he’s taking this.

“you’re incredible at what you do, i just…”

he pauses.

“don’t think there’s space for me in your life.”

you sit there. letting the words sink in.

you shake your head, “that’s not true jaehyun, i’ve always wanted you with me.” you say, gripping onto his hands, eyes starting to water.

“but not enough to make me feel like i belong.” he says. finally being able to confess his feelings.

they both sit in silence. neither knowing what to say. finally, jaehyun breaks it.

“i love you, y/n. but i need more than this…”

jaehyun walks away, not wanting to turn back, leaving you stunned with tears streaming down involentarily. it’s not like you were sobbing, but god damn did you wanna crawl up and just cry. but your breath hitched, refusing to cry further

in the quiet of your apartment, you whisper his name into the empty air, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him back.

[amaranthineghost]

DOUBT SEEPS INTO ME AND I CAN’T GET IT TO STOP (BUT YOU CAN) ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x reader

uncertainty plagues her mind, and self-sabotage looms over her shoulder, as if its whispering in her ear to tell her it’s a bad idea. he still manages to be the voice on top of all her doubts at the end of the day.

authors note: literally wrote this because this is how i felt while i waited for the days to pass so i could ask the guy i like for his number. mf got me feeling in love and shit, listening to mitski and lana del rey, writing fucking poems. liking a guy is the best and worst thing ever. gonna work on other things soon tho!

THE THOUGHT OF LOVE twisted her stomach into knots. even the mere thought of simply asking a guy for his number made her body churn with anxiety and the looming feeling of rejection held over her head.

relationships never lasted for her because she wouldn’t let them, the idea of getting too attached and the possibility of it shattering her heart was too great to risk it. she would watch from afar, stalk his socials, but never had the guts to approach him, or even look his way.

all throughout high school, she dreamed of a relationship that others around her had, but she lacked everything they didn’t. social skills were never her things, and confidence was something she always lacked. she just wanted to be a teenage girl in love, and she wouldn’t get that. she wasn’t sure she ever would.

she felt as though she was unloveable. even though it was so easy for her to give love, it was far harder to accept it. if anything, it was impossible for her to even imagine doing so. her trust was a thin thread that always seemed to snap. no matter how many times she tried to re-tie it, it always came back undone.

it wasn’t like she never liked any guys, boy she did, but the chase factor was a part of every single one. she never had guys come to her, and she would never go to a guy. still, she chased and chased, yet she never caught up. she worried she never would.

she worried she would never experience the thrill of being in a relationship, all because that thrill was shrouded with anxiety, uncertainty and distrust, though the distrust mostly lied within herself. deeply rooted in her brain was the idea that she wasn’t capable of ever accepting she could be loved, that someone would ever be so patient, understanding, and wanting.

she wanted it so bad, yet she felt like this. it felt stupid, she felt stupid. she felt like a walking contradiction because she couldn’t make up her mind. her heart wanted one thing, and her mind shut it out. a defense mechanism that she felt could never disable, that tinkering with it would only worsen the intensity. deep breaths only temporarily stopped the nausea that plagued her stomach, but only giving the man, the one she so desperately craved to be with, up would change how she felt.

she was a hopeless romantic at heart, but at mind, she was never going to let love in. as much as she held out her accepting arms, vines adorned with thorns grew through her veins, lacing her fingertips with sharp edges to cut back anyone who would try to get close.

the week leading up to finally getting his number went by so painfully slow; she had built herself up too high in those days. she worried she would come crumbling down before she even managed the chance of getting close. from afar she watched, glances exchanged and she gushed to her friends, but she could never be so sure that they were meant for her. after all, she was just an employee for ferrari, he was an athlete in the sport.

her friends were unsure if the brunette was the right fit for the girl, if he was even attainable at all. he was known for being a red flag among fans, he literally drives for a team based around the color red. she didn’t care, she was convinced he was right for her, but still she was scared she wasn’t his type. she knew he wasn’t taken, his entire private life, which was never even private to begin with, was broadcasted across the internet. if he had found someone new, she would know, and for now he hadn’t.

oh, she desperately wanted to be a wag. who wouldn’t? her job made it complicated though, she worked under the team, she didn’t have authority anywhere, she was a nobody. she never knew how she managed to catch his striking gaze to begin with.

she thought she would’ve looked like an idiot, an awkward, nervous girl in front of the charles leclerc, prince of ferrari. she felt like one, maybe she was, but the way he looked down at the shorter girl gave her the courage she needed to mutter the words she had thought about saying everyday for the past week.

“uh—could i get your number?” she barely managed out, she was nervous, it was evident in her tone and the way her voice was up an octave. his brunette hair and green eyes were enchanting, she had fantasized about him for that week. she even went as far as making a playlist to listen to to occupy her time, laying around when she wasn’t at her job. she had never been this lovesick for a guy in her entire life until she first laid eyes on him.

the sick feeling in her stomach became all too familiar, she hated it at first, but now she began to feel comfort in the sickness, and began to miss it over the weekend. the mopey love feeling of hopelessness while listening to lana del rey, or mitski. the fantasization of how the scenario would play out in her favor etched itself into her brain.

the moment of silence was harsh, she could feel the rejection coming. she braced herself for it, holding her breath.

he looked down at her with those damn eyes, a certain gleam in the light reflection over his pupils, part of her knew his response before he did. a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he pursed his lips to hide the smile forcing its way on his face.

he couldn’t deny the pretty girl in front of him, he could tell she dolled herself up for this, for him. he wouldn’t let her efforts go to waste, but that wasn’t the sole reason he didn’t reject her. her confidence sparked something inside of him.

he had plenty of girls who threw themselves at him, buying him drinks, or whatever they could to get their hands on him and themselves in his bed. she was different, a breath of fresh air in the fog. her awkward nervousness was endearing. he hadn’t meant to leave her hanging so long, but he admired her.

his smile brightened, looking down at the phone she clutched so tightly, her skin began turning white. “of course, darling.”

she certainly hadn’t expected to hear the words and yet she did. she was so unprepared, scrambling through her phone. should she write it in her notes app? should she go ahead and shoot him a text? what should she send? should she send a ‘hi’ text? should she send him an imessage game? the music she had listened to throughout the week hadn’t prepared her for this.

his brow raised at her, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched her panic slightly. he was so patient, waiting for her cue that she was ready to take his number and save it in her phone. he recited the string of numbers to her and she smiled internally. she was so giddy inside, yet she couldn’t show it. she couldn’t show how much this excited her, but she would talk her friend’s ear off at her actions because for once she had done something to take a step forward towards a relationship she wanted.

“thank you!” she squeaked out, mentally facepalming—she sounded a little too grateful for something as simple as his phone number. she couldn’t wait to run far away and into the corner of her work office, hiding behind her job position.

he smiled as she scurried off, looking at his phone as it lit up at the movement. he knew to expect the text from the girl later, not now though, because he could feel the nervousness radiating from her body.

later that night, he had received the very text he had been waiting to see. an unsaved number with a blank contact photo he knew was her without reading the contents of the message. his stomach fluttered at the words in the texts, and the following imessage game, 8 ball. it was oh, so endearing to him.

the text contained a simple ‘hiii’ and a simple reminder that she was the girl who asked for his number—as if he had been handing his number out to other people. he texted back, it was simple enough because he didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her to overwhelm with worry that he just wasn’t interested in her. he was.

simple texts throughout the day, telling each other what they’re doing, company lunches whenever they had time. flying her out to watch his races, inviting her to his driver's room to watch the race from there because the possibility of their relationship becoming a reality was just a secret for now. the entire process he was just so understanding, it baffled her. he was gentle, like a dog laying their head in your lap, so blissful and light. days he would lay across a couch with his head in her lap as he let her mess with the strands of his dark, brunette hair. she commented on different, potential haircuts his mother could give him and he chuckled at the ridiculous ones she suggested.

something so simple showed her the trust he gave her, the trust he was slowly earning.

slowly, they hung out more. instead of spending his time in clubs after podiums, he spent time with her in his drivers room, or a restaurant about to close—he would leave a hefty tip for the inconvenience.

eventually, she would appear in his garage, watching with a headset on her ears, simply posing as a ferrari employee holding more importance than she really did—except to charles, she held all the importance in the world.

she never knew how he didn’t get pricked by the thorns adorning her body, how not a scratch tainted his even skin, not a drop of blood.

maybe it was because he knew that behind the thorns that laced her body, waiting was a rose. a reward so sacred and so fragile. to be shielded from the world in his very arms was her trust, her love, her mind, her thoughts, her everything.

in his arms, she felt everything she longed for; security, openness, trust, loyalty. he showed her what her heart was worth.

—

taglist (found here): @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @thearchieves @soamericn

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[menofchaos]

Coco

Note: Helloooo ya girl is back with another Cocoxreader story. I still have museum!reader in the works too! Sexy mentions, could be a part 2 if you guys are interested! I can't remember where this pic is from but credit to the photog and Richard Cabral for that face!

Ma you up?

She always despised those texts. They always made her feel a little cheap, especially coming from men who only seemed to text after dark when the clock hit double digits. Men who didn’t care if she finished, they were just sick of their hand again. Men who wouldn’t give her a second glance in the daylight but blew up her phone for another chance. Her women hook ups were usually more fulfilling, not leaving her feeling as empty when they went home.

Until him.

She met him at a casino with her friends, his friends and hers pairing off after a while of their groups mingling. His intense gaze, crooked smile and overabundance of tattoos caught her attention immediately. He looked her in the eye, not the chest, he paid for the entire night without so much as a frown and his laugh was contagious. The leather he and his friends wore was a red flag in itself but one night wouldn’t hurt.

Then he took her to his room.

She wasn’t sure what it was about him but as soon as he slid inside her, intense gaze locked on hers, she felt a shift. With each thrust, she became more and more addicted to the delicious feelings he pulled from her. He became addicted to her reactions, smirking as he played her body over and over all night.

She remembered watching him gently clean her up through the smoke of a cigarette he lit for her, her legs twitching at his touch. His eyes darkened and the wash cloth lay abandoned next to the bed as they started yet another round. Nobody saw her for two days, her friends mercilessly teasing her on the drive home.

But he didn’t call.

She waited a couple days, glancing over at her phone and tapping the screen in hopes to see his name on one of the notifications. She texted her group chat of girlfriends, who reassured her that he had looked at her as intensely as she thought. Then finally one night, her phone lit up with a text.

Hola it’s Coco. Been on a run. You up? I just got home.

The dance began. He would text, she would ignore it for as long as her will power would allow until she remembered the heartbeat between her legs after one particularly harsh session and she would invite him over. She would wait with bated breath until she heard the rumble of his bike, his heavy footsteps up her stairs and a knock on the door.

I’m here.

She would let him in, sometimes they would have a drink. Sometimes she would feed him some dinner, other times they would talk or he’d fix something for her. Sooner or later, they would end up tangled up together on some surface of her apartment, calling his name over and over like a prayer. He was always present, always focused on her pleasure. It was intense, all consuming and so fucking good she saw stars. After, they would lay tangled together and talk in hushed whispers until it was time for another round. 

He was always gone when she woke up.

The first few times, she would try to reach out to him. She would text him to make sure he got home safe. He would send a simple reply, then nothing for days. She felt like an addict, needing the hit only he could provide. She tried to hook up with other people but nobody could measure up. She tried to pursue more but he would always blow her off, either by not responding or by pulling her into another session until she forgot what she said in the first place.

This is the last time.

She started telling herself that. She started telling him too, whenever she opened the door for him at a late hour. He protested the first few times but then he would just smirk, kiss her and reply with a soft, “I know, baby.” It just became another step in their dance.

Her friends tried to free her from his ties. She tried to resist him. One night, she managed not to text him back but a couple hours after he texted, he was at her door. He claimed he was checking on her safety then ate her out until she had to push him away, even his glistening smirk and dark eyes too much for her overstimulated body to handle.

She felt obsessed.

He had no social media to stalk. She googled him once when she finally found out his real name. All she found was a Disney character and some old charges. She thought putting his mugshot as his contact picture would help her stop until she opened it to see his middle fingers up. 

The blowjob he got that night was her best performance to date.

She sat in her office, rubbing her temples as the numbers she stared at swirled back at her. Her phone lit up with a text from her girls group chat and she picked up her phone, needing a little reprieve from working on payroll. It was a memory from a year ago, the girls all packed into a car heading to the casino. 

It had been a year since she met him and they were still doing the same thing. She wasn’t sure if it was PMS, her mind-numbing work, the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in weeks or a combination of all three but anger sparked hot in her veins. She texted the group chat, asking for ideas on how to shake up her situationship and stop feeling so goddamn powerless. A few replies came in before one made her eyes light up.

Do what we do best bitch! Make him jealous

She walked into the bar, arm wrapped around her date’s as he led her to a booth. She was already bored and knew the date wouldn’t go beyond the night. But she had nothing else to do and wanted a drink so she sat down, ordering off their drink menu. She knew his MC frequented the place and if he wasn’t here, at least one of his brothers would be. Her date ordered them some food to share as he told her all about his recent promotion to partner at his law firm. She asked him questions as they ate, ordering another round of drinks.

A few patches walked in, settling down at the bar.

She tried not to outwardly react as her heart sped up while she scanned the group. Her date looked over and reassured her that the bikers only bothered people who bothered them, mistaking her reaction for fear. She turned her attention back to her date for the remainder of the evening, turning her phone on Do Not Disturb when it started vibrating.

Her date got a kiss on the cheek and they each went home alone.

She changed into some cotton shorts and an oversized shirt, settling onto her couch for some trashy tv and more admin work when there was a harsh knock on her door that made her jump. She unlocked her phone to see over 20 notifications from him. There was another loud knock and she jumped up to pull it open, unphased by the glare on his face. 

“It’s late and my neighbors are asleep,” she hissed.

“Should’ve answered the fucking phone then,” he walked in, “Where is he?” he started searching her apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Nobody’s here,” she locked the door, “What right do you have anyway?”

He turned to her, “Who is he?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was practically seething, “No? You’re not dumb, mami. You know exactly what I’m talking about. My brothers saw you out tonight with some gringo.”

She shrugged, “He’s not here.” 

“That’s all I get?” he arched an eyebrow, “He’s not here?”

“What else is there to say, Coco?” she challenged, “I don’t owe you an explanation, do I?”

“I thought-“ he tried to explain but she cut him off.

“I’m not your old lady or whatever you wanna call it. I’m just some fucking late night booty call. I don’t know what you’re out there doing,” she snapped, “You could be married with a family and I would have no clue.”

He frowned, “I’m not married,” he looked her over, “And you’re not just a booty call.”

She laughed bitterly, “That’s such bullshit, save it for the next bitch in your rotation.”

His eyes narrowed, “I don’t have a rotation, you know that.”

“How would I know?!” she exclaimed, “You don’t tell me a goddamn thing! We’ve been doing this for almost a year, Coco! I know you’re in the club and you were a Marine sniper till you got discharged. I know you have a kid who lives with you and some who don’t. I know what you like in bed and that’s fucking it. You know what I do know though? I know I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

His eyes widened, “What?! What the fuck do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” he reached for her but she stepped back.

“You can’t fucking touch me right now,” her voice cracked and his face softened, “Nobody makes me feel like you, Coco. I’ve tried to move on, I’ve tried to hook up with other people but honestly it’s not even worth it. When we’re fucking, you give me everything. I can see it in your eyes. But outside of that? Nothing. I can’t do half in, half out. If you don’t wanna be with me, then don’t be with me.”

“No, it’s not that,” he insisted, “I do want you.”

“Then what is it?” she threw her hands up, “Tell me the truth for once in your fucking life. I’m a grown ass woman, I can handle it.”

He sighed, “I wanted to protect you.”

She rolled her eyes, “Coco, for real?”

He nodded seriously, tapping the patch on the right side of his chest, “Do you know what this means, sweetheart?” she nodded, taking a shaky breath, “It means I do dangerous shit with dangerous people. People who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt people in my life just to get to me and my brothers.”

“Coco,” she frowned.

“So yeah, I was keeping you at arm’s length because you’re so out of my league, it’s insane,” he admitted, shaking his head when she tried to disagree, “It’s true. My mother was a whore and I never knew my father. I only went into the Marines because my other option was prison. I’ve done a lot of bad shit. You own a business, you have a fucking college degree. I didn’t finish high school and I work in a scrapyard when I’m not doing illegal shit in an outlaw biker club.”

“Coco, I don’t care about that,” she told him softly.

“I did,” he touched his chest, “I do. But I couldn’t stay away either. That’s why I always ended up back here. Because no matter what girl I was with, I was always thinking about you. Comparing her to you. None of them are even close. Then I heard you were with that dude tonight and I thought…”

She smirked, “So you were jealous.”

He scoffed, “Nah I…fine,” he rolled his eyes and smiled softly, “I can’t lie, I was jealous as fuck. And I’m sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you.”

She took a shaky breath, “I forgive you,” they both stayed quiet for a moment until she asked, “So now what?”

“What do you wanna do?” he asked, “Do you still wanna be done?”

She shook her head, “With that dynamic? Yes. But not done with you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the smile on his face, “Why don’t I take you out tomorrow?” he asked.

“On a date?” her eyes widened.

Coco nodded, “On an official date. I’ll pick you up like a gentleman and shit.”

“So poetic,” she teased as she felt butterflies in her stomach.

“Kinda is, no? Tomorrow is a year since we met,” he grinned and hooked his index finger with hers to tug her closer.

She pouted, “You remember?”

He nodded, kissing her bottom lip, “Of course I do, baby,” he whispered, “What do you say? Can I take you out?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “I’d love that.”

“I’ll behave tonight then,” he joked and kissed her softly, “I’ll leave you to your housewives or whatever the fuck that is,” he nodded to the tv, “Call me in the morning?”

“Okay,” she giggled as he kissed her again, “Good night, Coco.”

“Night ma,” he squeezed her chin and headed to the door, reaching for the handle.

“Or you could stay…”

[kawacake]

MY MISTAKE

Masterlist , My Mistake Masterlist

Paring: Toji x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content (no full on smut), Cursing, Age gap, Reader crying because of stress, I made Hakari a red flag, Reader is a whore for Hakari, if I missed any I apologize.!

A/n: i dk when the third part of this will be out & I didn’t proofread at all, but if you enjoy this make sure to leave a heart, reblog, and comment to give me feedback!!

Spotify playlist , Apple Music playlist

Part 1, Part 2,

The ride to McDonald’s was unusually quiet, making your mind spin in overdrive. Did Megumi know? Was that even possible? The silence in the car wasn’t normal for your group, and it only added fuel to your anxiety.

“Why is it so quiet? This is weird for us,” Yuji finally blurted out, breaking the tension.

“What do you even want us to say?” Nobara replied sharply, though her tone softened when she noticed Yuji flinch. “Ugh, sorry, that was rude,” she added, pulling him into an apologetic hug.

“It’s fine. Can you let go now?” Yuji asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

“You good, girl?” you teased, turning in your seat to glance at the two of them.

“I’m just hungry,” Nobara huffed, crossing her arms.

“This bitch gets hungry and suddenly turns into Satan,” Megumi joked, chuckling as he navigated the car. His laughter was cut short by a smack to the back of his head.

“Stop calling girls bitches,” you scolded, playfully punching his arm.

He retaliated with a light tap to your shoulder, grinning. “You’re a stupid bitch, though.” That rare smile of his made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.

Finally, Megumi pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru. “Welcome to McDonald’s. How may I take your order?” a familiar voice crackled through the speaker.

“TODO?!” Yuji shouted, causing the intercom to fall silent for a moment before the voice shouted back.

“YUJI?!”

“Alright, this isn’t a damn reunion. Wrap it up, I’m starving,” you said, leaning your head against the car door.

“Hey, Y/N!” Todo chimed in.

“Hi, Todo,” you replied. “Can you just take our order?”

After a bit of back-and-forth and a few more unnecessary exchanges, Megumi finally pulled up to the first window to pay, muttering about how much he regretted bringing yall knowing yall talk to any and everyone.

Clearing his throat he started taking the orders then told Megumi to pull to the first window to pay.

As you drove home, the car was filled with the sound of munching and half-hearted insults.

“This girl really ordered a 20-piece nugget, large fries, and a Sprite,” Yuji exclaimed, side-eyeing you. “You’re one Big Mac away from turning into a Big Back.”

You flipped him off, shoving a fry into your mouth. “Worry about yourself.” You said rolling your eyes 

When Megumi finally stopped in front of your house, you started gathering your food and trash.

“Get out and TAKE YOUR TRASH!” Megumi yelled, clearly done with everyone.

“Bye, I love you guys!” you shouted as you got out, slamming the door behind you.

Sliding your shoes off you walked to your room where your car keys were but as soon as you opened the door you saw your little brother laying on your bed. “Bro, why are you home?” you asked with a hand on your hips.

“I faked being sick. Auntie brought me home,” he admitted casually, not even looking at you.

“Alright, but why are you in my room?”

“Some man said you were moving into your dorms, so I low key got sad,” he mumbled, his eyes glued to the TV remote in his hands.

Your heart softened. “Aww, don’t worry, I’ll visit. I’m only like 30 minutes away,” you reassured him, He nodded but didn’t look fully convinced.

“I got to go now I have work to do.” You explained to him while grabbing your car keys giving him one last hug before heading out the door again.

-

Sighing you fell onto your bed pulling out your phone seeing messages from everyone but one in particular caught you off guard.

Unknown Number

Hey I just wanted to say sorry I shouldn’t have done that

Y/n

Took my virginity now tryna dip💀

Unknown Number

HAHAHA😂 You said it yourself “last time”

Y/n

It was in the heat of the moment but if we continue it would have to be in secret😕

Unknown Number

Why?

Y/n

Cause me and Megumi like this🤞 and I don’t wanna ruin that I like the relationship we have 😞

Unknown Number

Ohh yeah and I honestly couldn’t believe that was your first time sorry if I was rough.

Y/n

It’s alright ima go now I have some work to do

Unknown number

Alright pretty ttyl 

Closing your phone you opened your laptop going to your email seeing one from your professor that had a link to the assignment as you clicked on the link and started to work.

You couldn’t focus on the assignment to save your life, your brain was only focused on what happened earlier today and Megumi. Pressing your trembling hands to your face trying to stifle the sod that clawed out of your throat. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You said not being able to stop the tears thinking of the way Toji held you and how you crave for more of his touch, but if you give in you know full well you wouldn’t even be able to look at Megumi. 

It feels like a dagger to your chest.

Tears started to fall even more at the thought of Megumi finding out, losing the bond between the two of you, of being the reason his world crumbled. This feeling is suffocating.

You closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand beside your bed because you knew you wouldn’t get any work done tonight with all of this on your mind. Now getting under your blanket and laying on your side you grabbed your phone and turned it on seeing messages from various people but ignored them because they were none of your main friends but then saw a missed call from ‘Gumi’.

You debated whether you should call him back or forget about it, but you then came to the conclusion that you would call back.

It rang a few times before Megumi picked up the phone while laying in bed “hello?” You said “I did that assignment that professor Geto assigned and why the fuck did I get a 37 on that shit.” “Is that what you called me for?” You asked, looking dead at the camera as you were met with silence on the other end.

“Yes, is that a problem? Wait- are you okay?” He noticed redness in your eyes and instantly got worried. “I’m fine Gumi, I'm just stressed.” You said as he let out a ‘hm’ clearly seeing that it was more to it.

“Alright I’ll let you be but just know you can talk to me about anything.” He says, meaning every word, “Okay goodnight Gumi I love you.” You said “Goodnight n/n love you.” You smiled then hit the red X.

-

GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY - MORNING

“Are you okay?” Itadori asked, noticing you’ve looked a little down ever since you got to the class which was rare for you. “No I’m not. I lied to Megumi, and because Hakari and Kirara are over there.” You say as Itadori looked over to his left seeing the two people you just mentioned, “First tell me what you lied to him about then we can shit talk them after.”.

You knew you couldn’t just tell him about the Toji situation so the best way to explain it was to sugarcoat it. “Alright so the person I slept with was someone he knows and I feel like if I tell him he’d stop being friends with me.” “Thank fucking god it wasn’t hakari bro, but not the point just tell him because keeping if from him is only going to make it worse when he finds out.” Itadori had a point but if he knew who it was his response would have not been that.

“And speaking of Hakari he texted Nobara asking about you but she told me not to tell you because she was scared you’d ‘Fall into his trap’.” Itadori whispered as a smile spread across your face. “Is it bad that she’s low key right?” You admitted causing him to facepalm himself with a chuckle.

“Alright bro we gotta do this work before we fall behind like last year.” Itadori said, bring up your freshman year of college, causing you to laugh a little then pick up your pencil and write down the notes that were displayed on your computer.

-

You sighed and walked into your door, slipping off your shoes, placing everything down and picking up some stuff for your shower because you weren’t planning on doing anything this afternoon.

Stripping and stepping into the shower as the water hits you, you let all your worries wash away. 

Once you were done you stepped out and dried yourself off before throwing on some random pajamas you had laying around.

Getting in bed you grabbed your laptop powering it on so you could watch a random show till you fell asleep. You hated going to sleep in the quiet unless someone was with you.

While looking for a movie you got a message from toji.

Unknown number

Hey! I’m coming over I bought you some flowers❤️

Y/n

You text like an old man💀but alr and thanks for not coming unannounced

Unknown number liked your message

Joy filled inside you knowing he was coming over as you stood up from your bed and started to tidy up your room even though it was nowhere near dirty, tucking stray books back onto the shelf and smoothing the creases in your bedspread.

You fixed your pajama pants and shirt, you wanted to look effortless, like his arrival didn’t send your pulse into overdrive.

Being lost in thought you almost missed the light knock on the door, standing up you walked to the door opening it as it revealed Toji with a bouquet. With a smile on your face you grabbed the flowers letting him into your dorm as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

“Thank you.” You said sitting the flowers down before placing a kiss on his lips, he tried to deepen the kiss but you were quick to move away. “Not yet.” You say grabbing his hand and walking over to the bed and sitting on it leaving an open spot for him.

“I think…we should get to know each other more, because last time we only talked about Megumi and that made me realize I don’t know anything about you.” You explained to him while he took a seat beside you.

“Well I have two kids, I own a bar, and that’s really it.” “Oh come on it has to be more than that.” You said, causing him to chuckle because speaking again, “I mean it’s not really much about me that I can tell you.” He said rubbing your bare thigh.

“I feel like you’re trying to fuck me or something right now.” You say looking down at his hand that was caressing your thigh “I mean who wouldn’t just look at your pretty face.” He said teasing you. His presence was intoxicating and his teasing comment just made you wet.

He leaned closer, his hand brushing against your cheek, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you. Your chest tightened as his lips grazed your lips. He was so impossible to resist. Kissing his lips he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He said pulling away from the kiss and tugging at your clothes. As soon as you took off the shirt you got interrupted by your phone dinging.

“Go on,” he said, pulling back slightly. “Don’t let me stop you.” Even though he said that you could tell he was slightly annoyed but you picked up the phone checking it away. 

Hakari

Can we talk? I want to get stuff cleared up

You swore your eye twitched at that message.

“You good?” Toji asked you nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, just something I need to handle.” Toji raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press. “Alright do you want me to stick around?”

You hesitated, “No, it’s okay. I just need some time to sort this out.” “Alright well I’ll get going.” He said pecking your lips before you got off of him. 

“I’ll text you when I’m done.” You say as he nodded and walked out of your dorm.

Y/n

Yeah come over

A/n: This was going to be longer but I changed my mind and made hakari and her meet up in the third chapter, & if you want to be tagged in any of the new updates for this series just leave a comment on any of the post about this fanfic!

[luxlightly]

In line with my last post about getting good endings with companions, the writing of The Emperor really stands out in how it defies the expectations we have as players of a game of this nature. He's a very well written character who definitely wades through the very grey areas of morality and bends the truth so much he leaves you wondering just how much he's bought into his own lies,as well.

Major spoilers beneath the cut.

If you go through the same steps you do with other characters, endlessly giving him the benefit of the doubt, leaning into his comparisons of you to himself, helping him reminisce at the Elfsong. He seems to open up. You bring him back to his old home, seemingly listening to emotional secrets of his. All this culminating in him professing love for us. We expect this. It seems to be progressing normally as an ally would in a game. To the point where many might even kill the Gith prince for him.

So those who don't do so feel blindsided by his willingness to abandon us to join the elder brain the instant we won't do exactly what he asks.

But playing again, I picked options I wouldn't normally. I called him out for secrecy. I pressed him for the truth even when it seemed to truly hurt him.

And I didn't like what I found.

The Emperor is manipulative in such an organic way. He first pretends to be someone else entirely, but, when revealed, constantly poses himself as being at your mercy or otherwise making himself vulnerable to you. Every time he's caught in a lie, he says "ok this was a lie I had to keep to protect himself but only because it was basically the truth just with little details left out" and he does that again and again, each time pushing the truth a little farther, all while still insisting he has never lied to you.

He pretends that you just wandered into the prism in your dream because he was distracted and lonely, then he shows you little trinkets with cute stories attached at the Elfsong, giving you gifts in the form of his old armor and sword. He speaks so fondly of Duke Stelmane and acts so saddened by her death, then when you next see him in your dreams, he isn't wearing a shirt. All these things that make him seem so vulnerable. Like he's bared everything about himself.

Except he hasn't actually revealed anything. He tells you he was just some adventurer even though he knows how important who he was is to your quest. He acts like he and Stelmane were partners or friends. He never tells you anything about him, just anecdotes to make him seem relatable. Nothing but soft words to soften your heart and lower your guard.

And any time you express distrust or ask for proof or for him to be honest with you, he gets upset, he acts as though you are the one being cruel and unreasonable. As if you are hurting him after he made himself vulnerable for you.

So feels bad to select any dialogue choice that calls him out. That accuses him of what you suspect in your mind. Of what all the little red flags point to:

"You do a good impression of a human. But it's just an act, isn't it?"

And finally the facade comes down. He finally lets you see his thoughts. See something besides the story he concocted.

You see him torturing Stelmane, breaking her mind and reducing her to an empty shell. The same scenes he showed you before of them in a friendly partnership play again, this time revealing that she was just a glassy eyed puppet, her mind torn apart so he could use her body to serve him and control the city in secret.

"Be glad my methods have improved" he says. And tells you you were never anything but his puppet. That you never had a choice and you will not get a choice. That you are his thrall as much as Stelmane was.

And it feels like a real betrayal. Because he does a good job of acting the part. Even knowing you will mistrust him, even intending to mistrust him, you fall for at least pieces of it. And looking back the signs seem obvious and you see his you ignored them. Because that's how it was supposed to work. You were supposed to allow him to be vulnerable with you and be rewarded with his trust.

And that's exactly what he wanted you to think.

[ladylooch]

Nico smut where you finally get intimate after having a baby? maybe reader is insecure about her body so Nico just worships her

A/N: Mmmm intimacy and sex. We love to see it ❤️ Thank you so much for this request. My heart was literally exploding and aching and bouncing with joy writing this. I love these type of requests that make you feel as a reader and a writer. Hope you enjoy it and thanks for being patient while waiting for this one!

Part of What My World Spins Around AU.

Reminder: although I am posting requests right now, they are closed. I am just getting caught up.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Body image issues, swearing, drinking, babies/pregnancy talk.

Across the table, my husband is absolutely salivating. 

And it has little to do with the sushi rolls we are currently stuffing in our faces. After 9 looooooong months without my favorite cuisine, it was a relief when Nico suggested this restaurant for the second visit this week.

But, again, the look on his face is not because of food. It’s because of me.

“Nico.” I snort after taking a sip of my mango martini.

“Hm?” He asks, thumb stroking across the top of my hand that he holds in the center of the table.

“Tone it down a bit.” 

“I can’t.” He shrugs. “I finally get to have you. And you’re just eating sushi over there like you’re not dying at the thought of feeling me between your thighs again.” 

“I’m still thinking about the other thing that was between my thighs 6 weeks ago.” I gesture with my other hand. “Ya know, our daughter.” His shoulders deflate a bit and I can tell I’ve bruised his ego. I bite my lip. I didn’t mean to do that, but it’s the truth. Birth is traumatic. A lot happens to your body before, during, and after. It’s a wild ride.

“I understand.” He nods, giving my hand a squeeze. “Sorry, I just assumed when they told you everything was okay today that you would… Yeah, that’s on me. I’m sorry. I should have-“

“Neeks, you’re absolutely fucking me tonight.” I cut him off. He visibly relaxes, happy grin stretching his lips.

“Okay.” We share a soft laugh, my cheeks tinting red at the obvious excitement returning to his face. He glances between me and my last piece of sushi.

“Patience.” 

“It’s been 8 weeks and 4 days since I’ve had you.” He blurts out. “And since you texted me the green flag earlier, I have been painfully hard.”

“It has not been that long since I helped you out.” He blinks at me, waiting for an elaboration. “I sucked you off in the kitchen the other day.”

“Oh I remember. Vividly. I just wanted you to say it out loud.”

“You’re such a slut, Hischier.”

“Only for you, Hischier.” He murmurs, gnawing on his bottom lip as the waitress comes to ask if we want anything else. “The check would be great.” Nico says without taking his eyes from me. I roll my eyes, hiding my smile with another sip of my drink.

When we get home, we both cross our fingers that our baby is asleep. Ryan Graves and his girlfriend, Clare, offered to watch Lucie so we could enjoy a night out. All three humans are passed out in the living room when we enter. 

“Gravy.” Nico snickers, poking the defenseman’s shoulder. He startles awake.

“Holy shit.” He mutters. “Sorry. This baby stuff is hard. I’m exhausted.”

“Welcome to the club.” I laugh, walking to Lucie and seeing her perfectly swaddled, on her back in her bassinet. 

“We just did the round of eating and changing, so she should be good for a bit.”

“Great.” I grin. “So you guys gonna have one?”

“Not yet.” Clare laughs honestly, but the look she gives to Ryan makes me think it isn’t too far off.

“When you’re ready, it’s literally the best thing.” Nico murmurs, coming to slide a hand around my waist. He presses his finger tips into my stomach, pulling me back to where he is rock hard against my butt.

“Well, we will get out of your hair. Gotta get my baby to bed.” Clare jokes, nudging Ryan towards the door.

“Why am I so tired? All I did was hold her?” Ryan mutters as they work towards the entry way. I follow, leaving my horny husband in the living room to cover his situation.

“Bye! Thanks again!” I wave to them, then shut the front door. The air in the house instantly changes when we are alone… with our sleeping baby.

I come back into the living room to find Nico staring at her. His brown eyes are absolute mush, taking in the center of his world. He brings his gaze to me. I lick my bottom lip then tuck it between my teeth. Nico begins to move towards me. I feel my breathing accelerate as he reaches for my hips. I toss my arms around his shoulders. Our mouths crash together, lips and tongues caressing each other shamelessly.

“I can’t wait anymore.” He whispers harshly against my mouth. “If you touch me, I’ll come in my pants.” I pull my head back to let out a loud laugh at his eagerness. Our baby startles in her crib. Both Nico and I hold our breath, clutching each other desperately, praying she settles herself back down. She stays asleep.

“We should leave this room.” I tell him. He nods, grabbing the portable baby monitor from the counter and hooking it to her bassinet. We both run up the hall as quietly and fast as possible.

When we get to the bedroom, all of my confidence begins to shatter. It starts when he brushes his hands innocently over my leftover baby pooch. I shiver, thinking of what that’s going to look like fully exposed. Then, his fingers run lovingly over my back, stroking a few bulges of pudge left there too. My eyes close, trying to enjoy his strokes on my ass, but I think of just a few inches forward, wondering if it’s all going to be the same for him. He’s been counting the days down; what if he’s disappointed in me now?

Nico kisses his way along my jaw. I squeeze my eyes shut as he works on the button on my jeans. I feel like every part of me is jiggling with his movement. HIs fingers brush against the baby pooch again. I react, gripping his wrist to halt his movements.

“What?” He asks, pulling back to look at me. My eyes are still shut.

“Can we turn the lights off?”

“Ah…” He chuckles. “I kinda wanna see you, babe. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah I know. Um, and I’m different.” I say quietly. My eyes open to look at him. He wears an inquisitive look that stretches the corners of his lips into a deep frown. A wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. “I look different.” My voice is small as I reiterate what I know.

Nico steps away to take me in. I reach down to cover what is exposed of my abdomen.

“Put those hands down.” 

“Nico.”

“Baby.” I feel my bottom lip wobble as I drop my hands. “Beautiful. I wish you could see what I do when I look at you. You’re stunning. I want to worship you. I want to kiss every single part of pregnancy left on your body.” He reaches for my hand. I weave our fingers together, looking at our feet. He steps closer, nudging my chin up to look at him. “You have given us the greatest gift. And I love every single reminder of that on you now.” His hand, linked with mine, comes up and runs along the stretch marks fanning across my lower abdomen. “I’m going to praise every bit of it on you for the rest of our lives, starting with tonight.”

“Ugh, you are so sweet.” I mumble, stepping forward to kiss him hard. His hands go around my hips, into my jeans, then to my bare ass cheeks. He squeezes them heftily, grinding me against his front. 

Together, we undress each other. Nico’s shirt get tossed. My jeans are pushed down. He kicks off his pants around his ankles and we are both left in our underwear. He nudges me back towards our bed, sitting me down on it. I work my way back, without letting our kiss break. When I’m flat, Nico arranges one of my legs around his waist so he can rub against my folds. I moan into his mouth. While still giving kisses, his hand works it’s way between our bodies, feeling at my entrance. I hold my breath, listening to the sound of me slick against him. Nico pulls roughly away, pausing. 

“I need a minute.” He laughs, looking up at the ceiling. I reach for him, seeing the wetness puddling on his gray, boxer briefs. I stroke at the wet spot, feeling his slit as Nico hisses. “No. Stop.” He says horsely, gripping my wrist. “I was serious about cumming in my pants.”

I sigh happily as I stare up at his chin from my back. A smile stretches my lips, thinking that there isn’t much sexier than an NHL captain needing to wait so he isn’t a two pump chump. I trail my finger nails along the ridges of his abdomen, admiring my red nails complimenting his muscles. It looks sexy with light, pink trails popping up after they pass over an area. Nico tilts his head down to watch too as the goosebumps dot his skin.

“Ready?” He asks me, sweet eyes watching every flicker on my face.

“Yes.” I stare as he pulls his underwear down, kicking it off to the floor. My heart begins to beat fast in my body as I lift my hips for him to do the same to me. He gently spreads my knees so he can drink in the view. He moans, immediately leaning down and placing his lips on my folds. He kisses all along them as my breath quivers. My eyebrows crinkle in need when his tongue snakes out. 

“Fuck.” I moan, whimpering at the end as he digs in deeper. He circles my entrance with his finger, working it in, sliding it in and out. “Nicooo.” It’s been so long since I’ve had any sort of an orgasm. Nico pulls it from me with a few more strokes. He kisses up my abdomen as I recover. He comes to my lips, hovering there to look into my eyes.

“Ive missed this side of you, babe.” He nuzzles my cheek with his nose, kissing along to my jaw, then to my throat. “Your sweet noises. The way you whisper my name before you come.” I feel him place himself against my entrance, slowly rolling in a circle to get me ready for him.

When he pushes in, he is affectionate, mindful of his size and my sensitivity. I bite my lip, trying not to wince as his head inches in. This is much more than a finger. I can’t help but tense in anticipation with each slow push forward.

“Relax, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” He feathers kisses along my breasts. My nipples are a no-go right now, but his mouth on my swells are enough to make pleasure seep from between my lips. Once he feels me relax, he slides in the rest of the way. He stays right there, filling me, pulling back to watch my face. “I love you so much.” He nuzzles our noses together then presses his lips over mine. “You are perfect. So incredible.” I bring my hands to his back, stroking his skin.

“I love you.” I repeat to him, leaning up to connect our lips again. “I trust you.”

“Tell me when.” He pulls out again, then slowly eases in once more. This time feels better, a flicker of fire dashing up my body, making a noise spurt from my throat.

“I’m ready.” I whisper in his ear as he places his head down by mine to focus.

He begins to move in and out, tenderly, then builds to a tempo that has me wiggling beneath him. He props himself up on his arms, biceps flexing from his weight as he pumps his hips- all the way in then almost all the way out. My mouth falls into an “O” heavy breathing falling from my lips as my fingers grip him tighter. Nico groans in appreciation.

“That’s it, baby. Dig your finger nails into me… just… like.. that.” He murmurs as he hits that spot inside of me. “Fuck. I’m obsessed with how you feel.” He is moaning with me now, barely able to speak his words.

I run my fingers in opposite directions on his back. One goes to his ass, pushing his bare cheeks into me harder with each thrust. The other goes to his hair, gripping his long strands as he fucks me deeper. Everything else has disappeared except for the points we are connecting with each other. Nico’s hand comes to my clit, rubbing me in large, dainty circles, just enough to get me to shake against him. He turns down to watch my face. “You look so beautiful when I’m fucking you, baby.” He is grinning, teeth shinning as he watches my breathing shorten more, cheeks flush, eyes close.

“Holy… fucking.. fuck.” I sob to Nico as I come. He unleashes into me immediately after my first wave grips him. Swiss German spews from his lips aggressively as pulse after pulse passes through us. I cling to him, muscles spasming, hovering off the bed before collapsing back onto the mattress, breathing heavy, sporadic puffs. His hands go around me and he rolls us, so I collapse on top of his chest. He pants beneath my body weight, stroking his hand from my hair to my butt cheeks. 

We lay there there for several minutes, neither of us able to speak.

Nico’s fingers run through my hair, gripping the strands in his fist to list my face up towards his. It’s gentle, but the act has me imagining the nastier nights we’ve had. I push out a silent breath, lips forming a tight O. He registers the depth of my gaze, lost in our old memories, then grins devilishly at me.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic.” I tell him, chuckling. “Can’t believe you lasted that long.”

“I was pulling out all the stops in my mind.” He shakes his head, eyes widening. “Almost didn’t make it to stroke four.” I press my mouth to the underside of his chin. “Mmm.” He grunts in appreciation.

“Thank you.” I whisper. “You always know what I need to feel loved. I… was so worried earlier and you made everything okay. You always do.”

“You know you’re all I need, babe. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m pretty content right now, but a bath with you would really seal the deal.�� I admit to him. “Maybe rub some bubbles on some dirty places…” I trail off, meeting his gaze.

“Yes, please. Once wasn’t enough.” He maneuvers me off of him and onto my side after a slap on the ass.

He gives me a smooch before disappearing into our bathroom to set the stage for round 2.

[rederiswrites]

Went walkabout today with my morning coffee. There's an old saying, "The best fertilizer is the farmer's footstep." Straightened the mulch in the veggie garden where someone--probably a stray chicken--had thrown the grass clippings from the path onto the spinach plants. Replaced the strawberry plant that something dug up overnight. I started by counting. "One, two, three--why is there a gap?" Looked around, and sure enough, there was a plant a few feet away.

Waited too long to protect the trees in the orchard, and now a lot of new leaves and growing tips have been chewed off by deer. I'm trying not to dwell on how much that sucks, because I can't undo it. The trees will recover eventually, and meanwhile I've really got to get the fence rings made and placed.

On the flip-side, though I had thought last year's drought killed every bit of my considerable investment in pond plants, looks like I have one surviving blue flag iris

I promise.

These might be soft stem bulrushes. I can't tell because they haven't set seed and I can't find any photos from that part of the life cycle. I'm just hoping, because none of the grass otherwise will grow submerged like that.

And there was a little red squiggle that could just possibly be an Arrow Arum. Maybe. Fingers crossed. I really can't afford to just throw plants in there year after year with no result.

Gave Kratos the ram some grain. Tried to make sure Mimir the wether got some but he wasn't willing to brave Kratos' greed by coming to me. They both need to be caught so that I can roo Kratos, shear Mimir (who for some reason doesn't roo), and trim their hooves. Another pressing item on the to do list.

Finally found a spot for the sunchokes where they'll be against a structure on one side and mowed on the other side. They can spread along the entire south side of the storage container as far as I'm concerned. I'll get them in later, somehow in between everything else.

And then when I came around the front of the house, I discovered a bunch of sweet woodruff under the chickweed, and spent a few minutes sitting in the grass with my coffee and carefully detangled fragile weeds from fragile herbs. Found out that a single stem of Solomon's Seal survived the chickens last year, so I'll put my remaining stash of roots there today.

The garlic patch, and the kids working hard to clear a spot for strawberries last night.

[silverstagspirit]

Survivor of Ramshackle - part 2

Part two is here!

Warnings: Swearing, dark themes, death, lots of death, gore, blood, body horror, vomiting, dead bodies, I am not responsible for what you read.

PART 1 PART 3

-

Everything was flying by so fast. The second they stepped through the portal, it felt like all their insides were being rearranged. Yuu flew past universe by universe. Saw shapes beyond human comprehension, colors that don't exist, and sounds that could never be fathomed. Closing their eyes helped a little, but they were still being thrown around like a rag doll through the space-time continuum. After about 15 minutes of absolute hell, they blacked out. When they regain consciousness, they are lying in the dirt of some unknown place. They picked themselves up. Their body felt like lead. They were sure they were going to have a migraine after this. Looking around, they realized this was a plot of unused land that was located near their hometown. Then it clicked.

They made it

Yuu knew the way to their house from here, so they wasted no time in running home. Heavy pants exhaled from their chest as they sprinted home. Nothing could hold them back anymore. They were finally home. They were giggling like a madman between breaths, and before they knew it, they were already talking out loud to the family members they were yet to meet again.

"MOM!! DAD!! I'M HOME!! I MADE IT!! I KNOW YOU ARE PROBABLY WORRIED, I CAN EXPLAIN!! SOMETHING TOOK ME AWAY BUT I'M SAFE NOW! I HAD SO MUCH FUN THERE WAS MAGIC I SAVED PEOPLE I LEARNED SO MUCH I MADE NEW FRIENDS YOUR GOING TO LOVE THEM SO MUCH I-"

Yuu stopped dead in their tracks. Their town was there. But it was reduced to rubble, ash, and crumbling ruins. There was still smoke coming from the leftover embers.

"..."

They didn't know what to say. The world tilted on its axis. Before they could pass out, however. Yuu found themselves running to their already intended destination. Charred corpses littered the streets of what was once their home. There was complete silence save for their swift, heavy footfalls against the broken tar of the roads, and the increased pounding in their chest. Rounding the block, they could see the sign for their street. It was bent and burnt bit still recognizable. With the last of their stamina, Yuu made the final push to their house. Seeing their home as nothing but a pile of rubble and ash is a sight they never wanted to see. But this is really happening right now. This realization hits even harder when they see their parents charred corpses next to the rubble.

"No," they whispered. Utterly shattered. They were shaking at this point . Both from physical exhaustion and the emotional trauma being inflicted on them. With a shaky hand, Yuu slowly reaches down and holds the skeletal hand of one of their parents. Nothing could stop Yuu from breaking down. Yuu's screams of pure agony filled the sky as tears and snot cascaded down their face. They barely registered themselves falling to the ground and weeping on all fours. It didn't matter. For there was only one thing that existed right now: PAIN.

Yuu whole body hurt like it never did before. There was something coursing through their veins that felt like lava. It was another factor in their screaming. Yuu's throat got tired after the outburst and just gave up after a while. They could only wheeze now as they fell into misery. Not like they even had the energy to make any sound anymore.

Yuu did not wish to look at the ruins of their home anymore. So they lurched their way into the street. Looking down the road, they saw a pile of bodies heaped high. What caught their eye about this, however, is the flag pole that was stuck in the middle on top. The flag had an insignia of some kind. It was threatening. The triangular red flag flowed in the wind like a trail of blood in water. The insignia mocked them of being unable to save their family.

Yuu trudged their way to a lake. Their skin paling and sweat cascaded down thier face with every step they took. Setting eyes on the water, they went to the edge and stuck their whole head in. They felt so thirsty. Yet no matter how much they drank, it still was not enough. Their entire stomach was now filled with water, yet they still needed more. What was happening to them? Their breaths had been labored for some time now, but now they were becoming even more intense. Yuu began to feel nauseous. Something weird was happening inside them. That weirdness turned into pain as they suddenly vomited a whole ton of blood. There was just a thick stream of blood coming from Yuu's mouth, straight into the lake. It was a horrifying sight. Yuu is just emptying out an entire bodies worth of blood. The blood coming out changed from red to black as now they had no blood left in them. Yuu identified the substance even in this state:

Blot

Then it started happening. Yuu was overblotting.

They were so tired they could only slouch there as thier body morphed and changed. Fingers growing sharp claws. Hair turning pitch black. They could feel their clothes changing and materializing more features. Their right eyeball burned like it was on fire. The ink seeping into shapes down their face. The process was surprisingly calm. As if this whole thing would bring them peace. At last.

The ink around them started to morph into a shape. The shape grew features as more ink accumulated around it. The shape began to form into a creature. This creature looked like a biblically accurate angel. Because it was constantly changing between different forms of different creatures. It finally settled on one form, however. It was the form of a three-headed dragon with two tails and a pair of giant wings. Each of the three heads had a crown atop their cracked glass skulls. This thing beared uncanny resemblance to an antagonist Yuu saw in a monster movie once. But judging how it looked like an eldritch creature beforehand, this thing probably has multiple forms like this. That and they remembered seeing somewhere that a multi-headed dragon is one of the forms of the devil.

Yuu's transformation reached its end as they opened their eyes. The fatigue they were feeling earlier was now completely gone as they felt like they could take on the world. They felt so good. They felt powerful, too. They wanted to see for themselves if that was true. They attempted to fire a spell they saw the boys use towards some rubble. To their surprise, a burst of magic sprung forth from their hand and completely demolished it in the blink of an eye. This was amazing. They could do magic now. It made them feel a little bit better. But they were still alone in this world now. Alone, except for their monster. The three-headed dragon peered down at them with its soulless eyes. There was electricity crackling where its mouth should be. It didn't have that many features on its face. But if it did, it would have the face of: "What are you? You are the only living thing here. Do not cross us."

Yuu looked at the creature. The creature looked at them. This was their phantom. This thing would eventually kill them. They knew this, yet they couldn't bring themselves to turn it away. This was the only company they had left. Their family was gone. Their home was gone. And their friends in Twisted Wonderland would never think to look for them. They would die completely alone. Without anyone here to save them. Or even know what happened to them. This was it. The end.

No

They could still do something. The blot was meddling with their mind. But a part of Yuu's morals were still trying to function in a way. But it came out twisted. Their goal now was to destroy whatever killed their people. To stop this from happening to any other world out there. They will end this madness even at the cost of their own life if they must.

Floating their way to the pile of dead bodies they passed earlier, Yuu pulled the flag pole out the heap, snapped it in half over their knee, and threw it away.

-

Sorry this took so long. I hit a brick wall of writers block. Also, I am now doing this series with they/them pronouns as you may have seen. Once again, I apologize for any mistakes. I did not proofread this. Hope you enjoyed it.

Taglist: @kami-kun1003

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Awakened

Hi there! If you're still accepting requests, can I bls get some kick-in-the-balls sobbing-on-the-floor Virgil centric angst bls and thanks? Love all that you do – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: major character death--roman dies but it is only a dream

Pairings: prinxiety, dukexiety, intruprinxiety, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2277

    "Is it over?" Roman's voice sounded wet.

There was no color in his face anymore, none except the purple bruises under his eyes and the red along his mouth.

How fitting.

Virgil watched Roman collapse to his knees, spent and shaking, making not a sound. A blade glittered in the fiery red sunlight as it exited Roman's back. A final salute to the battle's glorious, gory end.

Virgil made his way towards the fallen hero until he loomed above his crumpled form.

"Yes," he said, "it's over."

"And did—did I—" Roman gurgled through blood-soaked breaths— "hurt you?"

They came strained, shallower.

Kneeling, Virgil focused on Roman's hands, unwrapping his fingers from his grip with deft, firm movements.

With one swift jerk, the blade slid free.

A river of blood followed, a pained gasp the only sound as Roman slumped forward. Virgil reached out and caught him before he hit the ground.

The light in Roman's eyes flickered and dimmed. For a fraction of a second, the two stared at each other—hero and villain, enemies, opposites, rivals—saying with their eyes what they never could with their lips.

Roman hiccupped once, twice. Virgil didn't move, not even as his knees grew damp with the blood pooling beneath them.

And then the light was gone.

"Yes," Virgil said after a while, "you hurt me."

He closed Roman's eyes and glanced at the sun rising higher over the horizon. He stood, staring at the corpse before him.

"More than you'll know."

Distantly, he could hear the sounds of his army. Assessing the wounded, counting the dead, searching for survivors. White flags began to gleam out of the corners of his eyes, the last few executions carried out with brutal efficiency.

No one dared approach him or his withering altar.

Slowly, with all the tenderness he could never have displayed before, he leaned down to take Roman's head in his hands.

"There is something that goes unsaid," he murmured as he brushed a trickle of blood from Roman's mouth, "about stage performers who play the dead."

The corpse in front of him was silent.

"People who play dead just look like they're asleep." He pulled the corpse closer, almost cradling it. "Dead people don't look like people, they look like things."

He bent closer, resting his forehead against cold—too cold—and damp skin.

"I don't want you to be a thing," he whispered, "you weren't supposed to be a thing."

For things could be kept, and while he had desperately wanted to tame the hero, force him to submit, have him yield, he never wanted to keep him. Roman was wild, feral at times, never something that could be caged lest some part of him that made him him would shatter irrevocably.

But the thought of letting someone else try set the skin under his armor boiling.

"Come on, then," he said, hefting the blood-soaked corpse into his arms, "you can't stay here."

The corpse was bulky, unforgiving. Plates of armor dug into Virgil's arms, the blood still leaking from the gaping wounds. The weight shifted unsteadily as he rose to his feet.

"Even in death," he chuckled, if it could be called a chuckle, "you have to be an inconvenience, don't you?"

The corpse's head lolled to the side.

Virgil began to walk, stepping over the remains and passing the results of some grisly duels. He paid no mind to the heat beginning to blister at his back, making his armor scorch. Instead, he focused on the solid weight in his arms and the dull thud, thud, thud, of his footsteps.

He paid no mind to the survivors who stopped to see them pass, a ghastly figure in blood-soaked armor with the corpse of the people's hope cradled in his arms. Their shadow lengthened as they neared the top of the hill, stretching far into the valley below.

"You would have loved the breeze," he whispered to the corpse, "it smells of wildflowers up here."

It didn't. It stunk of shit and blood and death. But it almost did.

A few stray blooms fell under his boots as he trudged onward into the valley.

The sun had yet to peek over the hill as he descended into the hills proper. The shadows fell across the corpse's face, oddly making it look flatter.

Less real.

"Come, now, don't look at me like that."

The corpse didn't move.

"Where's your boldness, hmm?" He ducked under a tree branch. "Didn't you claim to be unafraid of the dark when we were little?"

He blundered on, even as branches began to scratch at his face.

"You kept blowing out the candles. You said we'll never get anywhere in life if we kept being afraid of the dark. You said you'd be all the light we needed."

A deeper shadow passed over the corpse's face.

"How are you going to be light now? You can't even help me get through these trees. You're just lying there, making me carry you. Stop being such—such—"

What else can I be, said the corpse with vacant lips, but dead weight?

"Alright, just this once," Virgil muttered, hefting the corpse into his arms again, "but you can't expect me to just do everything myself."

He staggered up another hill, the sun beating down mercilessly. The weight made him collapse onto his knees, eyes still fixed helplessly on the corpse's face.

"This isn't fair." He squeezed the body. "You're the one who died."

Roman died. He was dead. He was dead.

"How is it that I'm the one hurting? You should be hurting. It's not fair. It's not fair."

He clutched the corpse's shoulders. The head lolled around uselessly, almost mocking him.

"Don't do that. You're not supposed to do that. You weren't supposed to do that."

Roman was dead.

"You were supposed to be the light," he cried out, voice beginning to rise, "how are you supposed to be the light when you're dead?"

The corpse said nothing.

"You can't have dark without light," he tried, fumbling to cradle the limp head in his hands, "see? You—you have to see, I can't—I can't—"

A lump formed in his throat.

"I can't do this alone," he whispered, voice cracking, "I can't—it was supposed to be the two of us."

Light and dark. As it always had been. As it always should be.

As it would never be again.

"Please," he mumbled, the rest of his armor forcing him to keel over, "please, I can't—don't leave me alone."

A lone shadow sat on the hill, a corpse in their lap, the scattered remains of their armor, still covered in blood, all about them. The sun glared down as they bowed their head.

"You were supposed to stop me," he whispered finally, reaching for the sword on his own belt, "but it wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Virgil! Virgil!"

Virgil shoots up in bed, chest burning. What—no—no, no, no—

"Virgil! Breathe, Emo, just breathe, it's okay, you were having a nightmare."

Roman's dead. Roman's dead, he killed Roman—

"In for four, remember? Come on, you can do it, just—oh, fuck, Virgil, calm down."

His armor—he grabs for his chest, his shoulders, anything—only for his fingers to meet soft cotton and buttons. He's not wearing armor. He's wearing pajamas. He's in bed.

"That's it, you're okay…"

It was a dream. It was a dream.

"Hey," the voice says as something soft touches his arm, "hey, Virgil? You with me?"

"Re-Remus?"

"Yeah, little monster, it's me." Remus's face swims into view and he waves, before making a concerned noise and reaching out to wipe Virgil's cheeks. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe, you're okay."

"I…why are you here?"

"I felt you having a nightmare, little monster, so I came to help."

"O-oh." He sniffles. "Uh, sorry if I woke you up. Shit, um—"

"Hey. Don't do that. It's okay, you're okay, it's—you wanna hug?"

"Please."

So Remus opens his arms and tucks him into an embrace and oh, where the fuck has this been all his life? Remus is soft and warm and smells kind of like the pond where he keeps his Kraken and it doesn't smell like death at all and shit, he's crying again.

"Shh, shh," Remus hums, rubbing his back, "you're okay, little monster, you're okay. I'm right here. It was just a nightmare. It's over now. You're safe, you're right here with me, I've got you."

Virgil sags into Remus and just cries. His chest still aches from breathing so hard and from the fear at waking up, thinking he'd murdered Roman. It's gross and messed up and why the fuck did he do that? He's—he's not mad at Roman, is he? He doesn't want Roman dead! He doesn't want any of that and he—he killed Roman and then he—he was going to—

"Stay with me," comes Remus's voice, "no drifting off again."

"So—" he hiccups— "sorry."

"It's okay, little monster. You cried out most of it?"

"Mhm." He leans back and Remus hands him a tissue. "Thanks."

"Sure. You, uh, you wanna talk about it?"

"…promise you won't get mad?"

"I'll tickle you if you start feeling bad about what your brain does when you can't control it," Remus threatens, "don't try me."

"Okay, okay, I just…" He blows his nose with a desolate honk. "I don't know why I had it."

"Most nightmares do that."

"I…it was…medieval times or something? Armor and sword fight times."

"Mhm. I got it."

"…I, um, I think—I was the bad guy."

Remus doesn't say anything, but he shifts close enough to cuddle one of Virgil's arms.

"And…Roman was the hero."

"Roro being mean to you again?"

"No!" Remus startles at the force of the shout. "No, no, he's—he's great, he didn't do anything, don't be mad at him, I promise, I—"

"Okay, okay, shh, I won't. Calm down, little monster, shh…"

He takes a few deep breaths. "Sorry."

"You're fine. I shouldn't have assumed." Remus gives him another tissue. "You wanna tell me more?"

No. No, he doesn't. What if Remus gets mad? What if he decides Virgil's awful? What if he—

Wriggling fingers poke his side and Virgil yelps.

"No spiraling," Remus scolds gently, wrapping him in another cuddle, "just talk to me if you want to."

Virgil sniffles. "I…we fought."

"Okay?"

"It was bad."

"I'm sorry, little monster."

"I…"

Remus is quiet, letting him finish. Virgil turns his head into the crook of Remus's shoulder and—and—

"I killed him," he whispers, "I killed him."

"Oh, Virgil…"

He's crying again. Remus hauls him up and nuzzles into his neck, making soft shushing noises and rubbing his back again.

"Shh, little monster, it's okay. Roro's okay. You didn't hurt anybody, everyone's okay."

"I know that, I just…"

"I know, I know." They sit there for a moment longer before Remus nudges him. "You wanna see Roman?"

"…isn't he asleep?"

Isn't he dead. lying on a hill, covered in his own blood?

"That's enough out of you," Remus growls against his temple before softening his voice, "that's not what I asked, little monster, do you wanna see him? I don't think he'd mind."

He does. He wants to know Roman's okay. He wants the feeling of carrying Roman's corpse in his arms to go away.

Remus reaches out and summons Roman.

"This better be good, Re, you woke me up for—"

The instant Roman sees Virgil in Remus's arms, still tear-stained and so, so small, he melts.

"Hey," he coos, coming over to the bed and taking Virgil's face in his hands, "hey, little storm cloud, what's wrong?"

Roman's thumbs brush his cheeks and he's so real, he's so warm, he's so alive that Virgil throws himself at him.

"Oof, hey, there, shadowling, you're okay, you got me, see? You're alright, shh, shh, it's okay. You're safe, shadowling, it's okay."

Roman is big and warm and safe and he can hear his heart thudding under his cheek and he's fine, he's safe, he's alive, he's alright. Remus must tell him what's going on because Roman lets out a noise of dismay, quickly shifting his grip until he's cuddling Virgil right up against his chest.

"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm okay. I'm okay, see? You got me, I'm right here, I'm all good." He grins, big and goofy, right in Virgil's face and kisses his forehead. "I'm okay. It's all okay."

He keeps murmuring and crooning reassurances, kissing Virgil's cheeks and his nose and the top of his head. Remus cuddles up to his back, wrapping his arms around the both of them.

"R'man?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"You…good?"

"Yeah, shadowling, I'm all good. We're all safe."

"'M sorry, I—ah!"

"Remus," Roman scolds, pulling Virgil away from the fingers tickling across his sides, "not now!"

"Told him I'd tickle him if he started feeling bad about his brain doing things he couldn't control."

"Ah. I see. Well…"

"No," Virgil whines, "no tickles…"

"Then I guess you need to stop feeling bad about it," he teases gently, "it's okay, baby. You're okay."

Remus huffs but lets him be, carefully reminding them that they should sleep.

"Do you want us to stay?"

"Will you?"

"Of course, shadowling. Come on, let's lie down and go back to sleep, hm?"

Virgil doesn't let Roman out of his grasp for more than a moment, latching on again as soon as they're all under the covers. Roman just chuckles and pulls him close.

"You go on back to sleep, shadowling. I'm right here."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[starcrossedjedis]

Charlie Barnett for the sex+romance ask game! 💗, 👠, 🏩, 👮, 😳 annddd 💝. Enjoy! ^_^

I hope it's okay that I lump the questions about (negative) past realtionships together into one rant on Charlie's last relationship, as it is a big part of her character and how she thinks and acts.

👮 Has my muse ever had sex in public?

Charlie's not really someone who gets a kick out of the possibility of getting caught, BUT sometimes things happen and situations don't allow for a cab ride... Alas, it doesn't get much kinkier than the Hard Deck's pool table after hours and the parking lot.

🏩 What was my muse’s first time like?

Just your average first time, really - two college freshmen celebrating their shared venture into adulthood with clumsy, fumbly sex after a frat party. But everything was fine - everyone consented and they stayed friends until things naturally fizzled out after graduation.

💝 Does my muse like Valentine’s Day?

Charlie's not super excited about it (she's more of a christmas girlie), but that doesn't mean that she's immune to the magic of a sweet gift ☺️

💗 Has my muse ever been in love? 👠 What was my muse’s last serious relationship like? 😳 What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship?

(Under a cut, because it's kind of a prominent plot point)

Charlie has only been in love - like real, proper adult relationship in love - once and it was with the ex she had before Jake.

Her ex was a doctor in the hospital where she did her residency and - despite definitely knowing better - they started going out.

Things with them were pretty serious even though they kept it a secret in the hospital.

He was a good bit older than her and more experience, which might have been the reason that Charlie missed some red flags along the way.

In the beginning she tried telling herself that he was going a bit overboard trying to down play their relationship in the hospital, but after a while it became increasingly hard to ignore those moments where he would berate her over nothing in front of others or worse, go and take credit for things that she did at work. Then he'd either flat out try and gaslight her about it or try and make her believe it was all part of his act to avoid suspicions of favouritism.

Charlie generally avoids talking about her ex and how exactly things ended, but she was pretty messed up about it - so much so that she dropped her residency and moved back in with her dad and returned to her summer job as a bartender rather than face him again.

It's also why Charlie is so reluctant to give Jake a chance and why she then keeps playing down what's happening between them - she's so scared of missing another red flag just as she's finally starting to feel like herself again.

Things are further complicated by the fact that her well-meaning, but meddling in the wrong kinda business dad doesn't like the military in general and cocky pilots in particular. He was however strangely fond of "the successful surgeon who visited his daughter over christmas that one year" and even goes as far as to invite him back into their lives; having him pretty much turn up on their door step just as Jake and Charlie finally stop to face the reality and depth of their feelings.

[rune-writes]

The Stranger

Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI

Word Count: 2546

Rating: G

Pairing: Clive Rosfield & Jill Warrick

Summary: When Jill first arrived in Rosaria, fear had been the only thing occupying her mind. That is, until a friendly face decided to appear before her.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

I was six when I first saw him. He was leaning over the parapet above the city gates along with several men on guard. He had jet-black hair and wore a simple black and white tunic with a red shirt peeking underneath. They all wore red, as did the flag flapping beside them. 

Rosalith, I thought. One week’s ride from the capital. One week since Archduke Elwin took me from my home. It is your duty, Father had said, as it is mine to obey the terms of our agreement. I’d wanted to cry, but all I’d done was nod. There had been nothing to be done. Father had looked so sad—even sadder when we finally had to part. His only gift was a silver pendant that now rested over my chest. Something to keep with me, he’d said, to remind me of home.

The shadow of the gate loomed closer. I could hear the horns now, blaring loud and clear in a rhythm I now knew was the Rosarian anthem. I’d heard it enough times in the North, heard the guards singing phrases to the tune around campfires. A movement drew my eyes upward and I saw the boy staring right at me. He pointed. I didn’t catch what he did afterwards, because I’d shut the curtains close and ducked beneath the window sill.   

Before I could process what I just did or whom I just saw, shouts were hollered to open the gates and then shadows slid past. Then light came, and with it were the cheers of a thousand upon thousand voices. People hooted and cried and clapped and sang, their voices rising as one like the high tides against the northwestern cliffs. I suddenly felt trapped.

Father had said that I was to be a ward, that I was no prisoner taken hostage after the fall of my homeland. I’d like to believe it so, what with the rich red velvet cushions in the carriage and the gentle ways the soldiers had treated me during our travel. But the wood now felt pressing; the bolted door was the only thing keeping me safe from the showers of praise and exclamations of triumph—triumph over a war that had lasted for several years before I could even remember. 

And then the cheerings stopped, as did the carriage. Horses huffed and neighed and all around, mailed feet dropped onto the hard ground. I pulled away from the door, fighting against fear and trying to remember what Father had told me. “Your Grace,” I heard someone say. “Welcome home.” And then locks clicked. The door swung open. Blinding light entered the doorway and for a split moment, I could not see anything. Then my eyes found a hand, outstretched and not frightening at all, followed by a grizzled face I recognized who’d never strayed far from the Archduke’s side. 

“My lady,” he called me, a quiet prompt to take his hand. After another heartbeat, I took it and stepped into the light. 

***

The boy stood next to a woman with eyes as cold as the northernmost reaches of home. Blonde hair tied to a perfect bun, back straight, her posture spoke of nothing but regal pride. My heart quivered but I refused to let my shoulders droop. Head tilted just at the right angle. Meek. Just like what Father had told me. When the Archduke called me forward, my feet moved by themselves. I curtsied and murmured, “My lady.” Her disdain was plain in her upturned nose and refusal to acknowledge my greeting. And then I turned to the boy and murmured, “My lord.” I took a quick peek and found his eyes—the richest blue like blazing sapphire—locked into mine. It was impossible to look away, but I did so anyway, though not before I caught his smile blooming like an unfurling lily from ear to ear. 

His name was Clive—Clive Rosfield—first born son of the duke, and he was nine. The grin didn’t last; a glare from the duchess cut it short. They then directed my gaze to the other boy on the duchess’ other side. Blonde fluffy hair unlike his brother’s jet-black strands; but his eyes were alike, albeit brighter like the sky. 

“And this is Joshua,” the Duke went on. 

Joshua’s smile was a shy curl around the edges. I’d barely offered my greeting before the duchess pulled him aside and called for the maidservants to take me to my room. “Dress her in a more…proper attire, if you please,” she said before turning in a swath of layered dress up the leftwing staircase with Joshua in tow. I heard a groan and realized it came from the Duke. The Duchess reappeared soon on the second floor, before disappearing again behind the first door. I caught a glimpse of Joshua’s bright blue eyes looking back at me before the door shut behind them. 

“Well,” the Duke broke the silence. He turned toward me; I tried not to cower in front of him. “Welcome to Rosalith, the proud capital of Rosaria. This will be your home from now on.”  

I kept my eyes downturned—it was not good to meet the eyes of your liege, as Father said—but I noticed the change in tone. 

“Lift your head, girl.” 

And I did. And whom I saw was not the sovereign who’d crushed my father's army, but a father. 

He gestured for one of the maidservants. One stepped forward.

“Show her to her room and attend to her needs,” he said.

The maidservant bowed her head. “Right away, Your Grace.”

***

Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind, I had imagined a lone room at the top of a tower, small and cramped, with furnishments barely enough to suit my needs, and I would need to call on a maidservant every time I would like to go to the washroom. Instead, what I found was a space big enough to possibly hold a host of ladies for an afternoon party. A draped bed to one side, a dressing room on the other, then a fireplace and a set of couches and coffee table along with several shelves of books lined one corner. I even had my own washroom, where hot water had been prepared in time for my arrival. She had me shed my clothes. My skin tingled as I stood naked amidst the unfamiliar stone. The light was bright enough that I noticed how pale I looked compared to my maidservant’s southern skin. 

She was gathering my dress from the floor when I remembered what the duchess had said and immediately asked her not to throw my clothes away. She looked surprised, though a gentle crinkle quickly took over her hazel eyes. 

“Of course, my lady,” she said. “I’ll just have these washed. For the time being, I’ll lay out a dress for you on the bed.”

She couldn’t have been more than ten years my age, I thought as I gingerly stepped into the water. My skin hissed, but after the coldness of the North and the long trek hither, the warmth was welcome to the touch. I eased into the tub and settled in the corner. My necklace, still attached to my neck, floated in the water. 

The Silvermane, they’d called my father, for the unruly silver hair that ran down his shoulders akin to a lion’s mane. The necklace he gifted used to belong to Mother. A light blue crystal hung from its diamond-shaped pendant, upon which was fastened a black-indigo jewel. It looked icy cold yet somehow felt warm on my palm. When Mother was still here, I would look upon the jewel hanging around her neck with awe. I’d heard tales of Shiva the Ice Queen and had once entertained the idea that the pendant carried her essence. Mother had laughed, of course, but she’d told me afterwards that, with the right bearer, the pendant held enough magick to freeze an entire kingdom—or so her family had said, at least. She’d told me that it brought her comfort, that wherever she’d gone, home would always be with her. I felt no such comfort now. No matter how I thought about it, home was thousands of malms away, and the only thing left of it was probably already burning away in the furnace somewhere in the depths of the castle. 

A heavy sigh lay over me. I let the pendant go, leaned further against the tub, hugging my knees close and submerging myself until all anyone could see were the bubbles rising up to the surface.

*** 

I didn’t stay long in the water—only long enough until my skin grew pink and my head hazy from the heat. When the maidservant returned, I’d finished my bath and was reaching for a towel. She fussed over me, said I should’ve stayed in the water longer. It felt odd, yet familiar, to be fussed over, so I let her. 

She helped me dry myself and led me back to my chambers. A white dress made of soft silk lay on the bed. It reached my shins, the light fabric hugging my body loosely. It was a bit too big, which the maidservant also noticed, and the high neck felt rather stuffy. She promised she’d get the measurements right for my other dresses and it surprised me that I would have other dresses. 

“Shall I bring some food, my lady?” she later asked. “Supper wouldn’t be until another three bells.”

I would’ve said no—I could wait another three bells—but exhaustion seemed to finally take its toll and my stomach grumbled before I could answer. The maidservant let out a chuckle, which she quickly disguised as a cough. 

“I’ll see what the Cook has ready in the kitchens.”

She backed away and the door clicked shut behind her. The silence that followed, somehow, felt deafening, much more so than the crowd that had flocked our carriage on our coming. The walls loomed around me, dark and foreboding. A single fire lit the entire room, no doubt powered by the same crystal from the bath chamber. Yet despite it, I shivered. I blamed the light fabric; wished I had my old clothes back. I hoped the maidservant hadn’t really burned them in the furnace somewhere. I longed for the fur-lined cloak, the emblem of my father’s house, the way it snugly ensconced me throughout my long trek.

I longed for my father, and my mother, and the mountain peaks and the snow. 

A sob threatened to burst through my tightened throat when a knock suddenly broke the silence. 

“Y–Yes?” I managed.

I figured the maidservant would’ve opened the door by herself then, but the knock came again, so I wiped my tears and took deep breaths. It wasn’t the maidservant waiting for me on the other side of the door. It was the boy, first son of the Duke who, for some reason, was not the inheritor of Phoenix’s flame. 

Clive Rosfield stood agape with his eyes slightly wide, and for several heartbeats we stood in silence. He spoke first, his voice sounding uncharacteristically high-pitched to me who had been surrounded by gruff old men for a week. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

And that was when I regained myself, realizing where I was and whom I was addressing. I dropped into a curtsy and stammered a “m–my lord.” 

He disregarded it, taking a step forward and leaning down to peek through my bangs. I instinctively dipped my head and shuffled back several feet. 

“Is there something you need?” I asked, then hastily added, “my lord.” 

I felt his scrutiny and wished the walls would swallow me whole. But he didn’t push. Instead, his shadow receded, and I dared myself to look up. 

He was looking at the hallway for whatever reason I didn’t know, his finger reaching up to scratch his cheek. I had half a mind to follow his gaze, to see if maybe my maidservant was back, but before I could, he caught my eyes, and I averted my gaze on instinct once again. His following chuckle was not something I’d expected to hear. It was light and breathy and…free somehow, like the way the winds on the mountain peaks felt free. Cool and comforting. It pulled me in. Propriety be damned. I looked at him and found him smiling—not the ear to ear grin he’d shown me before, but a small smile, restrained yet gentle, and it made my own lips waver.

“I’m sorry if I surprised you,” he said. “I saw Lady Ada step out of your room, and I wanted to see how you were holding.” 

So that was her name. I hadn’t asked. 

I cleared my throat. “Lady Ada said she would fetch me something from the kitchens.” 

“Are you hungry? I can bring you to the kitchens if you like.” 

“Is…is that all right?” 

“The Cook wouldn’t mind,” he said, but he seemed to remember something, because then he added, “My mother probably would, though. Decorum and such.” 

“Are princes not allowed in the kitchens?” I asked, because back home, they never minded my presence. I even sometimes helped the kitchen hands.

“It’s more about the proper way of things, I would say,” Clive said. 

He sighed, then looked around the hall again. He never crossed the threshold. Another proper way of things, probably. This might have been a guest room before, but it’d be my chambers from now on. This would be the place I called home. My heart lay heavy at the thought. Then Clive spoke again: 

“Would you like to see more of the castle? Lady Ada wouldn’t be for a while. I’ll show you the garden or the library or maybe if Joshua manages to escape Mother’s grasp, we can meet him, too. Though, maybe we could make a quick visit to the kitchens so Lady Ada will know where you’ve gone to lest she panics when she finds the room devoid of its resident. As long as Mother doesn’t know, I think it’ll be alright.”

“What if she finds out?”

“Then I’ll say it was all my idea.”

“My lord—” I began in protest, but he shook his head. 

“Please, just Clive.”

“Then—Clive—” The name rolled easy on my tongue. Clive’s face brightened at the sound. I resisted the urge to look away. Looking at his face had been making my stomach knot in odd ways. “I will not have you take the blame for something I did.” 

“It won’t be something you did but something I prompted you to do.” He then held out a hand, and with a little smirk to his smile, said, “Well, my lady?” 

A part of me would rather stay and wait for Lady Ada carrying a steamed bun or whatever it was these Southerners serve for supper. Yet being alone in the room, with the pressing walls and distant shouts and hollers drifting in through the window would only emphasize my solitude. Mother's pendant lay heavy over my chest. Home would always follow me, Mother had said. Rosalith would be my home now. 

I dispelled all unwelcome thoughts with a shake of my head and took Clive’s outstretched hand. “Alright, then,” I said, and attempted a smile.

~ END ~

[silverwasafukintrainwreck]

i'm bored and sleep deprived, so here i decided to share my danganronpa kins (as in relating to the characters) and why i even kin them! except they get more personal with each one. (i'll get into a bit of a rant for both of these so- be warned and stay safe reading cause dark humor about my trauma is my coping mechanism!)

1: ibuki! i swear she is literally just me. before i even knew what danganronpa was my friends would tell me i reminded them of her. absolutely her entire personality. i can't even begin to explain because iit's literally. everything. i am ibuki's sillyism fr

2: gundham! because i, too, have created a fictional reality and alter ego for myself that i get so engrossed with that i forget it's not. real. and i like to be very dramatic and extra about said alter ego and fantasies.

3: nagisa! ok to be honest my biggest red flag when it comes to this fandom is that i watched udg when i was like twelve and related a little bit too fucking much with the WOH. each of them in some ways, but the only one that still holds up to this day is nagisa. being a younger sibling of someone who is very academically smart when you're completely uninterested in that type of intelligence is a nightmare. the school i currently am enrolled in has an entrance exam. my sister passed one year before me, scoring second place. when i took the exam, i passed first place. not like i had a choice. i needed to be equal or better than her. i was better. but it still wasn't. enough.

4: celeste! picking up from gundham's "living in a fantsay" part, we have actually fulling embracing said fantasy and personality due to absolutely despising normalcy and being boring. this, along with a very important part of her character which i'll explain more in the last kin.

5: mikan! i have already made a post or another about kinning mikan, but here goes again. again on the topic of the not being boring thing, being ignored completely is my biggest fear. i literally rather have people hate my guts and insult me and lash out than them leaving me. i got caught up in a few bad relationships due to this. speaking of which, the smallest crumbles of affection or praise get me head over heels for people. lovebombing works like a charm on me!

6: the character who i hate relating to the most, kokichi. he used to be of my least favorite characters in the franchise. i couldn't figure out for the life of me why. recently i finally did. he remind me of ALL the worst parts about myself. it's probably self-explanatory what exactly i'm talking about, but it goes so deep that i can't even bring myself to talk about it in a silly tumblr post!

wow. that went a LOT deeper than i expected :D i think i'll shut up for a week after this

[rinrinx2]

omg TOW latest update was 🤤 pretty sure the next one’s gonna be juicier

where to start? the wife, the cheater or the mistress?

Nanami - he royally fucked up his marriage with his serial cheating. He doesn’t love his wife because if he really did he would have never cheated (his way of loving her is fucked up). Cheating bc of stress is just bullshit communication is key in a relationship.

The Wife - she deserves only good things/people around her. she hasn’t done anything to deserve to be cheated on. she has tried her best even when nanami was distant/cold.

The Mistress - two words: young and naive. She definitely doesn’t know about Nanami’s previous infidelities, otherwise i think she wouldn’t have fallen for him that easily. Even if she was the only one, during the whole affair nanami told her he would leave his wife AFTER he got his promotion BUT he kept living with her the whole time 🙃 big red flag bc if his intention was to divorce then he should’ve already be separated/living on his own. she was just his little dirty secret… I honestly don’t know what she expects to get from the confrontation with wife-reader. Because even if she tries to blame nanami how come she knows where wife lives in tokyo (they moved not long ago), why would nanami have an apartment for himself if his family already lives there 🫠 something is sus

I saw you might do and alternative ending (Nanami ending) and honestly speaking since there’s two chapters left (Alone being the final one) i don’t know how wife can forgive - specially after the confrontation with the mistress. i have a feeling when the duration of the affair is revealed it will have an impact on wife-reader bc it wasn’t a one time mistake, plus the fact nanami didn’t confess his mistake and if it wasn’t for the mistress that wanted more from him, he most likely would have kept cheating with her - and have happy ending with nanami bc it was never his intention to confess, he was just caught in the act and still denied it 🤷‍♀️ the marriage is broken beyond repair bc wife wouldn’t be able to trust nanami the same way she used to (before finding out the affair). even if she keeps living in tokyo every time he would be late or go away for working reasons a part of her will question him/his loyalty. their kids are old enough to understand what’s going on and they don’t really like their dad, he preferred spending most of his free with someone else instead of with his family

the only way for nanami to actually understand how much pain he has caused his beloved ones is by losing them otherwise he will think he can pull shit like that again (maybe not cheating but lying) and think he can get away with it bc, hey, his wife forgave the cheating so…

but if you manage to make an (realistic) alternative ending after everything that happened then kudos

cant wait for next chapter :)

ps. all of this without even mentioning the other affairs to wife-reader…🫡🫥

pps. sorry for the long ass ask 😳

Literally like Nanami is worst, he treats his wife bad and his mistress. She's literally the mother of his children and he still continues to treat her like a burden.

The mistress no matter how young and naive she is she still knew that Nanami had a wife and she is constantly reminded about it but continued to ignore it to keep herself believing in Nanami

The wife is literally just suffering through it all the moment she starts finding happiness Nanami comes in trying to stop it because if he isn't the cause of her happiness then no one else can be.

The sons are always neglected and literally the last thing on Nanamis mind but it the first thing he mentions when arguing with wife (y/n)

I think the next chapter is going to clear alot of why Nanami does the things he does and his thoughts on why he does it, so I'm really excited to release it. Don't worry it's going to be released soon I'm just busy editing it up.

Thank you for all the support I really appreciate it and these analysis they're amazing omg ❤️❤️❤️😭

[cosmiccrushes]

Not Part Of The Crew

Law x OC || 2.3k words chapter

Read the other chapters here!

***

CH 3

To his annoyance, Law laid awake late into last night. Cerulean Blake. Law rolled her name around in his head. It didn’t sound familiar. It was possible that she’s a pirate, but Law didn’t think so. Trapped as she’d been, she likely would have invoked the flag she sailed under if so.

He’d finally fallen asleep, wondering if she got her name from the deep blue of her eyes. Another question he’d probably never get an answer to. 

When he awoke, groggy and rather grumpy, he tried to convince himself not to go see her. What was the matter with him anyway? Just because it was in front of him, didn’t mean he needed to solve the puzzle. He could go read a mystery novel if he had such an inclination. This line of thinking held him through breakfast.

The agitated tapping of his fingers on the table drew the attention of Bepo. “Something bothering you, Captain?” His navigator asks. 

Law presses his hand flat onto the tabletop. “No.” 

Bepo, well-versed in Law’s moods, looks at him skeptically. “You seem a little bothered this morning.” 

Law sighs, conceding. “I’m just contemplating what to do about our stowaway.” 

“I thought we were going to drop her off at the next port?” 

Law presses his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes, we are.” 

“So what are you contemplating?”

“I don’t know, nothing I guess.” Law massages his temple. “Just wondering what her story might be. We’ve never had a stowaway before.”

Bepo nods in understanding. “I’m sure it’s not likely to happen again. Most people wouldn’t want to stowaway on a pirate ship.” 

Law hums in agreement, but he’s pretty sure she didn’t mean to stowaway on a pirate ship. They would’ve picked her up in the food shipment they acquired from Ashita Island. Law wagered she’d probably hoped to get loaded aboard a merchant vessel. A ship transporting the cargo but unlikely to open it right away. Unfortunate for her that Penguin had immediately acted upon his craving for mangoes. He’s been so affronted last night as he’d recounted to Law the number of the fruits their uninvited guest had bruised in her assault on the crew.  

Law’s amusement at the situation must’ve shown on his face because Bepo asked, “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Law replied tersely, shoving back from the table. “I’ll be in my study.” 

Law was trying his best to focus on the medical text in front of him, even succeeded for a time. But as he read over a passage on stitching techniques, he remembered the red line of a cut on Cerulean’s arm yesterday. She must have caught herself on the shipping crate. After rereading this same paragraph several times and comprehending nothing, Law snapped his book shut, tossing it onto the sofa beside him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at the closed book as if it was personally to blame for Law’s thoughts drifting in such an unproductive way. 

Fine, he would just go take care of her wound. It’d be good practice anyway. And if he got the opportunity to ask her a few more questions…well, that was hardly a crime. He gathers his bag of medical supplies, ignoring the twinge of excitement in his stomach. He wanted to be a doctor. This is what doctors do. That’s all. 

***     

Law knocks on Cerulean’s door, swears he hears a disgruntled sigh from within. 

She opens the door, a scowl already on her face. “You!” Her features smooth into mild surprise, as if she didn’t expect to see him again. “What do you want?” She demands. If she were part of his crew, he’d be annoyed at the lack of respect in her tone. He’s still annoyed, he’s just not sure what to do about it. He��s also fascinated by her fierceness towards him. Surrounded on all sides by pirates on their own ship, yet here she stands, looking affronted at his presence. He can’t help but admire her resolve, still unsure if she’s brave or foolish.   

He holds up his bag of medical supplies. “I saw you were injured yesterday. I came to offer medical care.”  

Her mild surprise deepens to a quizzical look. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” When she doesn’t make a move he asks, “Can I come in?” He suspects his irritation at having to ask to enter a room on his own ship bleeds into his tone, but it can’t be helped. He’s annoyed with himself that he’s even here, asking. He should’ve just ignored her until she left.

She stares at him, mouth hanging open before she presses her lips into a firm line. Law tracks the gesture trying to determine its meaning. But then she steps back, waving him into the room. 

“Surgeon of Death, huh.” She sounds amused. “I always assumed that was just a moniker.”

He pauses in placing his medical kit on her bedside table, turning to look at her. “You know who I am?” It surprises him. If she knew who she was dealing with yesterday, why be so reckless? It’s not his ego talking, Law knows the type of notoriety attached to his name, designed it to be so.

She levels him with a look that says you’re kidding me, right?

Law shrugs. “I guess I have my wanted poster to thank for that.” 

“Yeah and the bounty that goes with it. Little hard not to notice those kinds of numbers.” She moves to sit on the bed. Rolling the sleeve up on her injured arm. 

Law hides a smile. “Yeah, that too.” He’s not sure why he’s feeling pleased with himself that she knows who he is. Plenty of people know of him, as he makes a name for himself on the sea, all part of his plans. But the fact that she knows who he is and still dares to quip back…well, it’s not helping diminish his growing intrigue in her. 

He drags the bedside table closer to the bed, before dropping down beside her. She wordlessly offers him her arm, an angry red cut across her bicep. He sets to work. 

“I’m surprised you’re letting me treat you so easily,” he says, immediately regretting it as she tenses in his grip. He looks up from his work and is met with her wary gaze. 

“Why?” 

“I just meant, I thought you might put up a fight. You don’t seem all that…trusting,” he responds, carefully. Drawing his gaze back to his ministrations to escape the flash of fear hiding just behind her guarded eyes. He didn’t want to make her afraid, while also knowing it shouldn’t really matter to him if she was. He blew gently on her cut as he applied a stinging salve to disinfect the wound. 

“You can hardly expect me to freely trust notorious pirates, particularly when I’m a prisoner on their ship, but I know that an infection at sea is a death sentence anyway.” 

Law wants to roll his eyes but refrains. “You’re not a prisoner. I told you we would drop you off- and I meant it.” When he glances back up, she is watching him thoughtfully. 

“Yeah,” She says slowly. “You did.” She tilts her head at him. “What I can’t figure out is why. I snuck onto your ship. I punched you. Why haven’t you killed me?”

It’s his turn to look at her quizzically. “Are you serious?” He repeats her earlier question. 

She laughs. The sound is short-lived, but causes a warmth to spread through his chest. 

“Good gods, you’re right.” She covers her mouth to hide her smile. Law’s fingers itch to pull her hand away. “Don’t get me wrong, my preference is definitely for not dying.” She lets her hand fall back to her side. “I’m just surprised.”

“I told you, you’re not my enemy. And you’re right. Whatever you’re running from isn’t my business.” He says the last part as much to her as he does to remind himself. 

“What makes you think I’m running from something?”

“You were hiding in a crate of mangoes,” he says drily. 

“Touché,” she responds.

They lapse into silence after that. Law finishes treating her cut, finding it isn’t deep enough to warrant stitches. He’s packing up his medical supplies, going slower than he needs to. But he can’t help the desire not to leave her yet. She’d all but confirmed that she is running away from something. But what? And what would Law need to do to earn another piece of information?

He heads towards the door, mulling over a proposition. “Would you like a tour of the ship?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. Her eyes brighten, and she nods a yes. Trafalgar Law can’t decide if he’s made a terrific decision or a terrible mistake.

***

They go to his office first, so he can drop his medical kit off. She wanders around his study, making him nervous as she pauses at the closed door that leads to his private quarters. But she seems to recognize this and moves on, perusing the books on his shelves. Law stands awkwardly beside his desk. He’s not used to having people who aren’t part of his crew here. 

She skims her finger down a line of books, head turned to read the titles as she goes. “So you’re really a doctor.” She turns to look at him. “Did that come before or after the big bad pirate name?” Her tone is teasing and Law finds himself wanting to answer. But he never talks about his past. He never tells people about his childhood. 

“Before,” he allows. 

“Hmm,” her mouth pulls into a thin-lipped smile.   

“What about you? How did you come to be a bard?” 

“Ah, well, some of us are born with natural talents, you see?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Can’t be taught from a book, I’m afraid.” She cocks her head at his shelves of medical texts. She’d done this work since childhood, then, if he were to read into her vagaries. She seemed less outwardly hostile today, but still holding tight to her personal information. Not that Trafalgar Law was one to talk.  

They began their tour, moving along in what Law found to be a companionable quiet. A question from her here, an answer from him there about the ship. He stuck to showing her the crews’ quarters, the cargo holds, the medical bay. He figured she didn’t really need insider knowledge of his ship's machinery. He saved the galley for last, mostly to avoid the congregation of his crew for lunch. Now, past the prime lunch hour, Law thought they’d be able to eat in relative peace to conclude their tour. As he announced this to her, she frowned. 

“Wait a minute,” she said, holding her hand up at him. “What about the deck? I haven’t seen the sky in days.”

“Oh,” Law almost laughs at himself for neglecting such an important piece, realizing he’d been distracted by the discerning way she examined her surroundings, wondering what kind of thoughts were running through her head. “We’re underwater.”  

Her mouth opened and closed several times and then she stepped from his side to stand directly in front of him. “We’re underwater!?” She exclaimed. 

Law nodded. “It’s a submarine.” He couldn’t tell if she found this news upsetting or exciting.

She stared at him perplexed. “You are terrible at giving tours.” 

This time he did laugh. A rough bark, he bit off before it could go any further.

She goes on. “That should’ve been, like, the first thing you told me.” She shakes her head. “So much for jumping overboard, I guess.” 

“You were planning to jump overboard?” 

She shrugs. “I hadn’t ruled it out.” 

“I take it you’re a good swimmer then,” Law said, knowing he was fishing for more information from her. 

“Eh, decent. But I figured I could drown in the ocean just as well as I could get run through on the end of a pirate blade.”

This irritated him. “And am I carrying a blade now?” His tone was hard and he knew he was being unreasonable. Her distrust of him was warranted, smart even. How was she to know if his hospitality wasn’t meant to manipulate her into a false sense of security? She’d known him for less than a day. But still, it bothered him that she might think he intended to kill her at any moment. 

That false, syrupy sweet smile is back on her face. “From what I hear, Surgeon of Death,” her voice deepens as she says this, taking on a rasp that makes his heartbeat inexplicably quicken. “You hardly need a blade to cut me.”

She’d hardly need a blade to cut someone either, Law thinks to himself, swallowing hard and looking away when he realizes he’s staring. “Come on, let’s eat.” 

He doesn’t try too hard to get anymore information out of her over lunch. She seems content to eat her food and ignore him. Law escorts her back to her cabin after. He lingers as she steps inside and starts to close her door. Abruptly, he puts his hand against the wood, stopping her. He means to ask her who she’s running from, the question snagging in his mind all day. But as the spike of adrenaline from his rash action ebbs, he instead finds himself asking, “Would you like something to read?”

She looks at him like he’s sprouted another head. And maybe he has. He’s certainly behaving as if he’s operating with someone else’s brain. He’s internally chastising himself- just leave her alone! 

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m desperate enough to read medical books.” 

He very well may be out of his mind, but no. “Do you like mysteries?”

She considers for a moment. “Sure, as long as they don’t involve me.” 

Haha, Trafalgar Law thinks darkly, wishing he could claim the same.