#i wrote everything else after that one was finished/written

[konigbabe]

Graves anon here: I keep thinking about the last bit of your fic, 'the one time he surprises you', and about Graves when the reader got shot. Well, actually, Graves during that whole sequence has me clutching at my heart, but when he pushes the strands of hair from reader's face as they're bleeding out from a bullet that one of his own soldiers fired??? To save HIM from THEM? Like, the angst is beautiful. What was Graves thinking during that whole part? I think you mentioned him looking guilty when they were still in the car, and that his eyes looked lethargic after the reader got shot, but what was running through his head when he realized what had happened to the reader (and even better, why it happened in the first place)? Was there any resentment towards reader, the shadow who shot them, himself even??? Gahhhh I just love thinking about it.

Also, thank you for answering every single one of my asks. I know I've sent a lot in lol. All your answers are great, and I hope I'm not annoying you too much!

Hi!! Yes, I loved writing that part 😄

I intentionally didn't delve into his feelings to keep the quessing game strong but if I had to think about it 🤔 I'd say he was confused?? You know he knew this person, and he was (as stated before) starting to develop some sort of romantic feelings towards the reader/MC and now, he's ordered to restrain them...and later on, they're aiming a gun at him and I'd like to imagine that the look on their face shows determination, devotion to protecting their friends (aka Ghost, Soap and the rest of 141) but also Graves and them had a chemistry that undeniably could be going somewhere.

So yeah, I would agree that some sort of guilt or remorse was flooding Graves' veins when looking the at reader/MC with their gun aimed at him and later on getting shot. But I also added the last part.

He was trying to distance himself, that's also why he called reader "officer" (“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally.) instead of some petname. Later on, the 'distancing hinself' part becomes more daring with "face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic." and him saying: "Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.". I tried to write it as him hiding behind a mask sort of thing (also in front of his shadows).

And to your "Was there any resentment towards reader, the shadow who shot them, himself even???" I think there was some kind of bitterness or condemnation towards himself mostly (he can't really blame his employee/shadow for protecting their boss, it's part of their job so...) - over his own actions.

I feel like there's more to Graves than the game let's out (mostly because it's a shooter video game so they don't really have any need to delve into characters' mentality and what drives them) so what I imagined when writing this Graves was that he was coerced into Shepperd's actions (could be blackmailed...), especially against the reader/MC.

(and for those curious, we’re talking about this fic ♡)

[dervampireprince]

when you read your own than/ares fic and remember how much you love ares unexpectedly being soft and insecure and he's afraid of hurting than, whereas than's just been staring at ares arms all day and can't stop thinking about getting fisted and how full he'd feel and asks ares and ares is so concerned that he's going to hurt thanatos but they prepare thanatos well and he takes ares fist and ares just watching in awe that someone trusts him this much to want and have his hands that have wrought so much inside of them. so yeah just those thoughts going around in my head while I'm sick.

[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio]

[eggmeralda]

spent an hour making a list related to That Fandom, followed by an hour listening to the haunting vibe playlist, followed by an hour reading the fanfic we wrote about my band and crying actual tears bc it's the peak of comedy, followed by an hour thinking about all the things I've ever created that will never be seen by anyone either bc I don't know how to show them to people or bc people just think they're bad but either way I'll never know the true answer, and now it's 10.30pm and I've basically experienced the full spectrum of emotions: autism, existential crisis, silly, and the feeling of being unseen

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[waitimcomingtoo]

How Do I Get You Alone?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: When you get stuck in the lab together during an earthquake, you and Peter share a moment but have to hide it from your dad

Masterlist

Peter was working in the robotics lab in Stark tower one day like usual. He had his earbuds in and was blasting music so loudly that he didn’t hear you come in. He happened to look up and saw you standing in the middle of the lab with a clipboard in hand. He screamed in surprise and tore his earbuds out, allowing the music to sound throughout the echoey lab.

“Were you listening to Justin Bieber?” You asked as Peter quickly paused his music.

“No.” He scoffed and flipped his phone over so you couldn’t see that he was in fact listening to Justin Bieber. You nodded your head skeptically and started to walk around the lab as you wrote things down on your clipboard. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and felt his cheeks redden as he watched you. He’d been working with Tony for 6 years now and harbored a rather large yet secret crush on you for the duration of that time. It wasn’t often that you were alone together, so he needed to make every moment count.

“What are you doing here?”Peter wondered. “I mean, not that you can’t come in here. Obviously you can. Your daddy owns the building. I mean, your dad. Unless daddy is his preferred pronoun-“

“Peter. Relax.” You cut him off. “I’m just doing a routine checkup to make sure everything in the lab is working as it should be. Ignore me.”

Peter wanted to tell you that he could never ignore you but didn’t want to freak you out with his desperation, so he tried to tell an anecdote instead.

“You know, at my last routine checkup, my doctor said that my prostate actually-“

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You pointed at him as you cut him off again.

“You’re right. Good call.” He nodded and stayed silent. You gave him a tight smile before continuing to walk around the room and check things off. Peter watched you and had a millions things he wanted to say but none of them seemed cool enough to impress you.

“So is everything up to par?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Par?” You asked in confusion.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were gonna ask what that meant. I just know it’s a phrase people use. I think it’s a golf term? But it might be a volleyball term.”

“Right. Well, everything looks good.” You said and put your clipboard down on the lab table. That’s when Peters dinosaur patterned lunchbox caught your eye.

“Except for this. Is this yours?” You asked and held the lunchbox up.

“No. I’ve never seen that. Someone else must’ve left it.” Peter lied.

“The label has your name and grade written on it. And the grade just says “college”.” You pointed out and turned the lunchbox to show him.

“Someone must’ve have written that as a joke.” He mumbled and looked down.

“Hm. Well someone packed you baby carrots and hummus. Probably also as a joke.” You humored him and Peter looked up in surprise. He never saw you as anything but serious but that almost seemed like a joke.

“Yeah. Probably.” He smiled. You looked at each other for a moment and he felt the overwhelming urge to just admit how he felt about you.

“So, uh, I don’t know if you like to eat dinner or anything but-“

Peter was cut off by a loud alarm ringing through the entire building. You immediately tensed up and looked around as the lights flashed red.

“What’s that?” You asked and moved closer to Peter.

“I don’t know. It’s either the earthquake alarm or the tornado alarm.” Peter answered. Just then, the ground began to shake and your clipboard flew off the table. You looked at Peter with wide, fear filled eyes and moved to where he was.

“Definitely earthquake. Get down.” Peter instructed and ducked under the table. Once on the ground, he shot a web at each of the machines in the lab to keep them in place. You scooted beside Peter and held yourself tightly as your entire body shook with anxiety.

“What do we do?” You asked him. He’d never heard you sound so vulnerable so he put his own fear aside to be there for you.

“We’re gonna stay under the table and draw our knees in so that nothing falls and hurts us.” Peter calmly explained. You nodded many times and wrapped your arms around your knees.

“Okay.” You voice shook as you answered him.

“It’s gonna be okay. This will be over soon.” he assured you as the earth continued to shake.

“Have you ever been in an earthquake before?” You asked him.

“No. But I hear they’re not actually that bad.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“From the little voice inside my head that tells me every night that it wasn’t that embarrassing when I called the teacher “mom” that one time.” He weakly joked. You actually laughed for a second but went right back to being scared.

“That’s so embarrassing. You don’t even have a mom.” You laughed nervously. Peter had never told you that and wondered if that meant you had asked your dad about him.

“I know. And it actually happened multiple times.” He admitted.

“What? How? Wouldn’t the embarrassment of the first time make you hyper-vigilant of what you were saying so you never did it again?”

“Shh. The earth is shaking.” He said and waved his hand. You started to laugh until something fell off the table and you screamed.

“Shhh. We’re okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.” Peter said and wrapped his arm around you. He thought it might be too much but you immediately wrapped both arms around him and buried your face in his chest. He blinked in surprise before holding you tightly and keeping you as close as possible. Parts of the ceilings and things from the tables fell down and crashed onto the floor, leaving you screaming and shaking with fear each time.

“AHHH!” You screamed. “Something cold and wet just touched me.”

“It’s okay. It’s just my baby carrots.” Peter said and caught a few of the falling carrots.

“Peter.” You whined when you heard him eating them.

“I hope it knocks my hummus down too. Come on, earth. Shake my hummus onto the floor.” Peter called out.

“This isn’t funny.” You said just as Peter hummus fell in front of you.

“Holy shit.”Peter whispered. “Do you think I’m a witch?”

Before you could answer, an overheard light came crashing down in front of you and smashed against the floor, sending sparks flying everywhere. You screamed again and clung so tightly to Peter he thought he might bruise.

“Are you okay?” He whispered into your ear as he rubbed your back.

“No. The earth is spitting in half right now and we are im a very high floor of a very high tower.” You answered and he realized you were crying.

“Well when you put it like that….” He mumbled.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whimpered. “I don’t know how to get us out of here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t know what to do either. The only earthquake training I can remember is to tell someone you trust.”

“That’s not for earthquakes. And it’s different for me. I always know what to do. That’s my job.”

“Right now your job is don’t get squished.” Peter told you.

“You don’t understand. Knowing what to do the only thing I’m good at.”

“That’s not true. You’re so good at…” Peter trailed off when he realized he didn’t have any examples to give you off the top of his head.

“To be fair, I don’t really know you that well.” He said after a beat of silence.

“You’ve known me since you were 15.” You reminded him. You had pulled your head off of his chest to look him in the eyes but neither of you let go of the other.

“I know. But you’re kinda…” He trailed off again and shrugged his shoulders.

“Mean?” You said with a sad smile.

“No, no, no.” He quickly assured you. “I wasn’t gonna say mean.”

“But I am. I didn’t even say hi to you when I walked in. I never say hi to you. You’re always so nice to me and I’m always acting like I’m too cool to be nice back. I don’t know why I do that. I don’t mean it.”

“Hey, I never thought you were mean. I always thought of you as the cool, collected, stoic daughter of my boss.”

“I really thought the last word was gonna be another “c” word but you said stoic instead.” You laughed half heartedly.

“I know. I wanted to complete the trio but the only “c” word I could think of was conglomerate.” Peter admitted. You looked at him curiously and he turned red with embarrassment.

“It’s a type of rock.” He said quietly.

“Cumulonimbus.” You replied, making him smile.

“Constable.” He said back.

“Cassiopeia.”

“That too. Thats a lot of “c” words. And we didn’t even say the naughty one. We make a good team.” Peter said with a soft smile. You smiled back and realized you had never been this close to him before this moment. Your smile faded and you gulped.

“Peter, I’m really scared.” You admitted. He nodded his head and rubbed your back up and down. You had your arms around his neck and he had his around your shoulder and waist to keep you as close as possible.

“Well, don’t be. This will all be over soon and we can leave. Everything will be fine.” He assured you.

“What if it’s not? We don’t even know what’s happening outside of this room. My dad could be…” You trailed off and your eyes filled with fear again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Your dad built a metal suit when he was trapped in a cave. The earth shaking a little is not gonna stop that man. I’ve seen him swallow Tylenol with no water.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly as a tear rolled down your face.

“For what?”

“Distracting me.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome. And, I don’t know, it’s kinda nice.”

“What is?” You wondered.

“Talking to you. We never really get to do that.” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah. Maybe after this, we could-“

You were cut off but another light exploding and showering the room with sparks. You let out a scream and buried your face in Peter’s neck again as he wrapped his arms around you to shield you from the sparks.

“It’s okay. I got you.” He said into your ear.

“Peter, I don’t want to die.” You cried into his shirt.

“You’re not gonna die. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“But-“

“Shhh. I would never let anything hurt you, okay? I have you. No matter what else you have in your head, I am with you and I am not going anywhere. You are going to be just fine. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” Peter assured you as he cupped your face to make you look into his eyes. Once you processed what he had said, you pulled him by the shirt into a kiss. Peter’s eyes flew open but he quickly got over his initial shock and deepened the kiss. The room was crumbling around you but neither of you paid it any mind. You tangled your hands in his hair as you kissed him and he did the same to you. It didn’t feel like a first kiss. It felt comfortable and familiar and warm. By the time you pulled away to get some air, the earthquake had stopped.

“It stopped.” You realized.

“I love you too.” He said breathlessly.

“What?” You asked when you realized he had said something.

“I said we should get out of here and make sure everyone’s okay.” Peter quickly lied.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You nodded and got off the floor. You helped Peter up before surveying the damage. The machines were okay but there were chunks of rubble and debris everywhere. Peter moved things out of the way with ease and never let go of your hand as he lead you out of the lab. He kept you close to his side as the two of you made your way to the living room. That’s where you found your dad and a few other team members.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay.” Tony said and let out a relieved sigh.

“I’m okay, daddy. Peter was there-“

Tony ran past you and grabbed his People’s Choice Award out of the rubble and gave it a kiss. You sighed and rolled your eyes until he noticed that everyone was looking at him.

“What? This are harder to win than an Oscar. They give those to any old hag.” Tony said in defense.

“I’m okay too, dad.” You said sarcastically.

“Oh yes. My precious angel princess baby. Are you okay?” Tony asked as he went over to give you a hug. You hugged him back for a while as Peter hung back and watched with a soft smile. You let go of Tony and wrapped your hand around Peter’s arm.

“We’re okay.” You answered.

“We?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It would have been really bad for me if Peter wasn’t there. I had no idea what to do. But he pulled me under a table and kept me calm.”

“Peter did?” Tony laughed in surprise. “I’ve seen Peter scream at his own fart.”

“Hey, that was one time and I wasn’t expecting it to make a noise and I especially didn’t think it would echo like that.” Peter said in defense.

“Well I’m really grateful he was with me.” You told your dad.

“Wow. Thanks for not letting my daughter get squished, kid. I owe you one.” Tony said and proudly patted Peter on the back.

“Anytime.” Peter smiled weakly.

“Well, now that we know the most important people in the tower and possibly all of New York are okay, you should go see your aunt. She probably wants to know if you’re dead or alive right now. I mean, unless she doesn’t really care.” Tony shrugged. You made eye contact with Peter and gave him a sad smile. He nodded his head and understood what you mean, you didn’t want him to go so that you could talk about what had happed, but you couldn’t admit what happened in front of your dad.

“Right. I should go see her.” Peter said without taking his eyes off you. You kept your eyes on him as he left the building and wrapped your arms around once he was gone.

Peter had never gotten your number despite the years you had known each other but he was desperate to talk to you. The kiss was the only thing on his mind for days and it got to the point where he could no longer sleep. Tony was busy with construction to repair the damages from the earthquake so Peter couldn’t go over to see you. But to his surprise, he was sitting in his bed one day watching TV on his laptop when you appeared in his doorway.

“Hey. Your aunt let me in. And your doorman was reading a Highlights magazine so I don’t think he even saw me enter the building, so.” You said as you leaned against his wall. Peter quickly threw the covers off of himself and set his laptop down.

“Oh, hey. Come on in. I wasn’t touching my private parts or anything.” He said and immediately regretted it.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Well I just didn’t want you to think that because my hands were hidden under the covers.” He tried to explain himself but there was no coming back from that.

“I wasn’t thinking that but now that you mention it I kinda think that is what you were doing.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“Psh. I wasn’t.” He scoffed and pushed his laptop away.

“Show me your laptop then.” You shrugged. Peter turned red and he handed him laptop over to you.

“Oh. The episode of Glee where they all switch characters. Nice.” You nodded when you saw what was last opened on his screen.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely.

“Weird thing to jack off too, though.” You shrugged as you sat down on his bed.

“No, I wasn’t-“ Peter quickly tried to explain himself until he realized you were just joking. He smiled shyly and shut the laptop to give you his full attention.

“So, I wanted to talk about the other day.” You began.

“The other day? Could you be more specific? I’ve been alive for a long time.” Peter played dumb and scratched his head.

“The day when there was an earthquake. And we kissed. And you peed your pants.”

“That pee was there when we got to the lab. I just happened to sit it in.” Peter insisted.

“Right.” You chuckled. “I wanted to talk about the kiss though. If that’s okay.”

There was a long, long pause between the two of you and Peter contemplated his next move. The kiss was all he was able to think about since it happened but he didn’t want to make it seem like he was desperate. You were staring into his eyes, hopeful for a certain response, but he was too stupid to give the right one.

“What kiss?” He said finally.

“Okay. This was a mistake. I’m gonna go.” You sighed and got off his bed.

“Wait.” Peter caught your hand and pulled you back towards him.

“Is that your jacking off hand?” You asked and pulled away from him.

“No. I wasn’t - never mind.” He whined. “My hands are clean. Just sit down.”

You rolled your eyes a little but sat back down on his bed.

“I also wanted to talk about the kiss. I’m just extremely nervous and constantly uncomfortable.” He admitted to you.

“I mean, same. So let’s make this as quick and painless as possible. All I wanted to say is that I think we should keep it between us. The kiss, I mean. We shouldn’t tell anyone.” You said and Peters world crumbled down.

“Oh.” He squeaked out. He was disappointed but you had an unreadable look on your face so he decided to play it neutral.

“So I should cancel the little banner and sea plane I hired to fly over the tower to announce our kiss to the pedestrians below?” He asked, making you smile in relief.

“Yes. I would appreciate that.” You chuckled.

“Will do.”

“Cool. So let’s just agree to keep this our secret.” You repeated and he nodded while avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at him for a minute and felt guilty for making him upset. You decided that he deserved to know the truth about that day.

“But, uh, that’s not the only reason I came over. I had a lot of things I wanted to say to you the day of the earthquake but with everything going on I wasn’t able to get you alone.” You continued, making Peter’s hope come back.

“Oh? What did you have to say?” He asked. You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes.

“Peter, when I kissed you-“

Just then, Ned came into Peter’s room for the planned hangout that Peter had entirely forgotten about. Your sentence stopped abruptly and Peter sighed in frustration.

“Hey Peter. I think your doorman is in diabetic shock again. I just walked right by him and he didn’t even move.” Ned said.

“We kissed during the earthquake.” Peter blurted and you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“Why would you say that? I just said we’re not telling anyone.”

“I’m sorry! He’s my best friend.” Peter explained before covering his mouth with his hand to keep from blurting anything else.

“No way. You guys kissed? So does that mean you’re like together now or no?” Ned asked and touched his two pointer fingers together.

“Well, we haven’t really talked about-“ You began.

“No. We’re not together.” Peter said with a tight smile.

“Got it. Friends with benefits. Nice.” Ned nodded.

“What? No. We’re not that either.” Peter laughed in embarrassment as his face turned red.

“Yeah, no one said anything about that. We’re barely even friends.” You added.

“Barely even friends but you made out? While the earth was shaking? What would Greta Thunberg say?” Ned asked and put his hands on his hips.

“It wasn’t making out, really.” You lied. “It was like a tiny little peck on the lips. It was nothing. Right, Peter?”

“Oh, yeah. Thats so right. We barely even kissed.” Peter added to your lie as he wondered why you were downplaying it so much.

“Excatly. It was no big deal. We were both just scared and panicked so we kissed a little bit. It happens. But it didn’t mean anything.” You replied, making Peter freeze. He had spent so long thinking about the kiss only for you to say to his face that it meant nothing.

“Yeah. It meant nothing.” He said and looked down at his lap. You picked up on the sadness in his voice and looked over at him.

“Right.” You said weakly.

“Less than nothing.” Peter added and rubbed the back of his neck. You sighed and realized you had absolutely messed that up.

“I don’t know. I was really scared too but I did not try to french the lady I was hiding with in the TJ Maxx I was in.” Ned replied.

“You went to TJ Maxx without me?” Peter gasped.

“You know I’m a bigger maxxonista than you are. I can’t stay away.” Ned whispered harshly.

“The earth was crumbling. You could have died there.” You pointed out.

“There’s no place I’d rather spend my final moments in.” Ned shrugged.

“Anyways.” You interrupted. “I should get going. Uh, thanks, Peter. For what we talked about.”

“Yeah. No problem.” Peter smiled sadly.

“So what exactly did you guys talk about?” Ned asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. She just needed help with the Wordle.” Peter lied and you smiled in appreciation at him.

“And she came all the way here to ask? Damn, girl. How hot was that kiss? I’m genuinely asking. I’ve always said Peter and I should kiss just to know what the other is working with but he always says no.” Ned told you.

“You know what? I think you guys should do it. It’ll bring you closer as friends.” You told them.

“See, Peter? She gets it. Now pucker up.” Ned said and closed his eyes as he leaned in.

“No. I’m not kissing you. Not with those chapped lips.” Peter backed up. Ned gasped and touched his fingertips to his lips.

“Okay. Well, bye guys.” You smiled awkwardly and got off Peter’s bed. You were about to leave when Ned spoke up again.

“What was it?” He asked you.

“What?” You asked.

“The Wordle. I really want to get it right on the first try just once and really impress the people at The New York Times.” Ned explained.

“Oh, uh…” You trailed off and looked to Peter for help.

“Heavy.” Peter said quickly.

“Right. It was “heavy”. Now you know. So I’m gonna head out. Bye, Peter.” You waved to him.

“Bye.” He waved and felt that same sadness from the day of the kiss return.

“Bye, Ned.”

“Bye, sweetie.” Ned gave you a big smile before you left the room.

“You dirty fucking liar.” Ned said once you were gone.

“What?”

“That’s not today’s Wordle. That was days ago. You lied. What are you hiding?” Ned asked.

“Nothing. She was just asking me not to tell anyone about the kiss.”

“If it was no big deal then why would she care?”

“Because it was a big deal!” Peter admitted. “It was the hugest deal. She had her hands all up in my hair and I had my hands all up in her sweater but over her undershirt because I’m a gentleman. We were going at it so hard, we didn’t even notice the earthquake stopped.”

“Oh my God.” Ned gasped. “That stuff never happens at TJ Maxx.”

“I know!” Peter jumped in excitement.

“You have to tell me everything. Who kissed who?”

“She kissed me. And unbuttoned three of my shirt buttons.” Peter said and held up three fingers.

“Woah. Three? Isn’t that moving kinda fast?”

“I don’t care. It was the greatest moment of my life. But I also thought it was gonna be the last moment of my life so I don’t know if that had any impact.”

“I doubt it.” Ned shrugged. “But what happens now?”

“I don’t know. We were talking about it but then you came in so we never got to finish. And I thought we were both into it but then she said all that stuff about it not being a big deal so now I don’t know where we stand. What do I do?”

“You need to finish the conversation. If you don’t, this kiss will just be a one time thing and you’ll never know what it meant to her or what it could have become. You need to find out how she felt about it before too much time passes.”

“I don’t know. What if she doesn’t want to talk about it because she’s embarrassed that it happened? Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell anyone.”

“Or maybe she faked the earthquake just to kiss you.” Ned suggested.

“That’s probably it, yeah.” Peter said sarcastically.

“Whatever the reason is, you need to talk to her. And soon.”

“You’re right.” Peter nodded and a silence feel between the boys as Peter thought everything over.

“Should we go to TJ Maxx?” Ned asked after a beat of silence.

“Well, yes.”

Peter didn’t hear from you for a while after that. He wasn’t allowed back at the tower until the reconstruction was complete so he couldn’t even go see you. He still wasn’t sleeping because now he couldn’t stop wondering about your last conversation. Not only had you downplayed the kiss, you also asked Peter not to tell anyone. That left him thinking that you regretted it and it didn’t mean anything to you despite how much it meant to Peter. After two weeks of hearing nothing, Peter got a text from Tony that the tower was open again and he could come back. Peter went over right away to see what Tony had done with the place and much to his surprise, you were there too.

“Oh. Hi.” You blinked in surprise when Peter walked into the main room of the tower.

“Hey.” Peter nodded curtly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Neither was I. Dad? I thought we weren’t letting anyone in until all your Kids Choice awards were back-“

“I never said that.” Tony cut you off. “Never, ever said that. I invited Peter over to thank him for saving all my precious technology. Those webs were the only thing that kept all my billion dollar machines from smashing into tiny little expensive pieces.”

“It was no problem, sir. It’s my job to protect what’s yours.” Peter said without taking his eyes off you. You felt your face heat up and looked down.

“Okay. Weird way to phrase that.” Tony commented. “I also wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. The dining room is fully remodeled and I was gonna have family dinner tonight with all my girls. And you’re my honorary girl so I thought I’d invite you as well. What do you say, kid?”

“Oh, I don’t think he wants to do that.” You said and looked at Peter. He was thinking the same thing; if he came over for dinner, there was a 99% chance the news of the kiss would slip out and Tony would reign hell fire onto Peter.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I appreciate the invitation but my aunt is already cooking something.”

“Oh God. Your aunt is cooking? Then you simply have to come over. I’ve tasted her food. No one should be subjected to that. You’ve been through enough. Please, eat here.” Tony insisted. Peter looked to you for help and you shrugged in defeat.

“Okay. Sure. Thanks. I’ll eat dinner with your daughters and wife. Nothing weird is going to happen if I do that.” Peter nodded stiffly.

“Again, weird way to phrase that. But I’ll see you at 7. Sound good?” Tony asked. Peter looked at you again and you nodded your head.

“Yeah.” Peter sighed. “Sounds good.”

Part two

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[letsgetbigger]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[fangirl-dot-com]

🏆 Sei a Casa, Charles 

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Light smut Summary: Monaco finally loved him back. Charles is home.

*my long awaited Charles Monaco win imagine! it is completed after my computer was finally fixed and after 30+ hours of having no power at my house. it's been a rough couple of days, but I'm still reeling in the moment that Charles won his home race.

*A big thank you goes to @pucksandpower for helping me with the smut parts. you all know that I can't write anything beyond a small make out sesh. you all will know what parts she wrote! but look for this ✨ if you want to skip it!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You couldn’t pick out the exact moment of when you started to cry. 

Was it lap 1? Lap 20? Lap 76? Maybe tears finally started to leak from your eyes as you stood under the podium, waiting for the love of your life to finally appear? Or were the tears drops of champagne that flowed from his winner’s bottle? 

You didn’t know, but you knew that the pride in your heart could not be contained internally. It had to escape somewhere, so it formed itself into tears that were shed as you watched the whole vast of Monaco finally love Charles back. 

You remembered the past times you cried as you stood below. 

Tears from him, from you, and from the both of you stained the past asphalt here in the principality. Disappointment after disappointment would forever be written in the streets of Monte Carlos. However, today was the rain that would wash everything away. 

Today was the day the sun finally shone once again. 

But the sun would not dry the tears of pride from your face, you wouldn’t let it. The testament of your love and pride could make divots in your face for the rest of time, and you’d never want to fill them. 

The applause around you grew as Carlos walked out, waving below. You could guess that the Spaniard knew that these people weren’t for him. They weren’t for anyone other than the green-eyed man in red. 

More applause sounded as the green and yellow suit of Oscar stood out against the red of everything else. Your partially adopted son for the weekend caught your eye and gave you a sad smile. You could only shake your head, hoping to relay that these tears were finally not for a broken heart. 

The moment the applause grew to screams, yells, and everything in between, you knew what it meant. In this moment, everything stood still in the chaos. Flags of red, yellow, red and white flew around your face. Joris stood behind you, hand on the small of your back to keep you steady. 

But like you, his tears didn’t stop: they multiplied. 

Finally, you had the courage to look up and gaze upon the subject of praise that would ring for all of eternity. You couldn’t help but join in, making a small dent in history for yourself. 

Pride seemed to double, tripling the number of tears that fell. You knew a camera was focused on you, but nothing could take your eyes away from him on the step, flag in his trembling hands. You were almost silently saying, “Turn the camera on the man who has rewritten his and the country’s history.” 

You watched as your prince wrapped his arms around his most precious gift. No one had been able to do what he did. A national treasure for the rest of time. 

You witnessed your princess hug him dearly. His hands still trembled as he clutched his red and white flag. If it made him feel any better, you were trembling too, along with the hosts of Monaco. The people trembled in their spots, the flags swished back and forth. Hell, the boats in the port still roared for him, almost thirty minutes after he had crossed that beloved finish line. 

When he finally turned to face the crowd below, your world went silent as your focus pinpointed on Charles. 

History’s Charles. Monaco’s Charles. Formula One’s Charles. 

Your Charles. 

A laugh finally bullied its way through your tears as you saw him accidentally drop the flag and scramble to pick it up. Joris had started to rub your back, knowing that you needed some comfort. Where Joris was, there you were too. 

The two of you liked to claim both spots of Charles’s right and left sides. Deemed the best WAGs by fans everywhere, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere but next to the boys. He had had a chance to race down to see your race winner before he had to go to the cooldown room. You had wanted to run with him, an invisible force wanted to drag you along. But you had stayed, to comfort and hug the people around you. 

Where Joris was on your left, Arthur was on your right. He looked so much like his brother. The boy, who you had watched grow through his own disappointments and sorrows, also had his tears. 

Today, however, every tear shed was the opposite of sorrows. They weren’t of heavy hearts or disappointments. 

Every tear shed was pride incarnate. 

The podium ended with Charles almost being drowned by his teammate and “adopted son.” How you wished you could be up there with him. You knew, though, that you’d have your time with him soon. 

When you were allowed to leave, Charles’s driver room was the first place you’d go. In the back of your mind, you knew that he’d still be a while, the media taking up his time. And after was the principality dinner, and then probably Jimmyz with however many people you could fit in the club. 

But then, after the whole of Monaco had a piece of him, he’d be yours. 

The door opening caught your attention as you looked up from your phone. Many say that second- or third-place-Charles still had a smile, but it wasn’t a true one. Today was a testament to that stamen as he walked in with the biggest smile on his face. 

If he could shine, he’d rival the sun. 

A sigh escaped Charles’s lips when he saw you sitting on his couch after he was done with media. He could see that your mascara had slightly run, the only clues that you had cried. 

“Mon ange,” he said as he dove into your awaiting arms. He felt damp under your hands, a mix of champagne and port water. You were ready for him to drop on you, and you welcomed the familiar weight. 

“My race winner,” you whispered, pressing a long kiss to his hairline. Charles had none of that as he leaned up to press his lips against yours, wanting a true feeling of you next to him. He could die happily now if he needed to. 

Your hands wrapped themselves in his hair, lightly tugging him back so that you could breathe. A low whine escaped him, making you lean your head back in laughter: his favorite sound of all. 

“We have to get going,” you gently reminded him, already in the process of standing up. “And you need to shower. You stink.” 

When you looked back down, Charles was definitely trying the puppy eyes on you, a pout joining on his lips. You shook your head. 

“None of that, Char. You know that only Leo can pull off the eyes.” 

Grumbles responded as he begrudgingly pulled himself off the couch. You knew that you only had a certain amount of time before people came looking for Charles. At that moment, you wanted to whisk him away, keep him from anyone for the rest of the night. However, your moments together wouldn’t happen until either late into the night or early in the morning. 

You could wait, he’s waited long enough for this. 

As the two of you quickly got ready after Charles biked home, which you thought was ridiculous, you enjoyed the quiet of your home. He seemed a bit on the quiet side, but you thought that he might be saving his energy for what was to come. You had picked out a very nice black dress that hugged your figure in just the right areas. 

When you walked into the living area, Charles’s back was to you, his hand patting his pocket. You cleared your voice, making him turn around. 

Charles’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He stalked over and placed his hands on your hips, bringing you flush against him. 

“I think I must have died for an angel is before me.” 

You scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly. 

“I must have done something good in my past life to have my own prince,” you said, hands joining together at his nape. Charles, aware of the time, led you over to the door, opening it for you. Below, his Ferrari Competizione waited to take you to the dinner. 

Charles didn’t know what he was expecting when he got there, but a standing ovation wasn’t one of them. You had to hold back more tears, as you didn’t want your makeup to be ruined. You stood with the halls of Monaco to honor Charles for his moment. 

Pascale, Arthur, and Joris watched you as you kept clapping with the others. The three knew that you loved Charles probably more than you loved anything else in life. You two had been together for five years, going through the ups and downs together. It was hard, but your love strengthened with every hurdle. 

When Charles got to sit back down as they started on the first course, you leaned over. 

“So, are you going to be knighted or something now?” 

Your question made him snort as he wiped his hands on his pants. It was probably nerves. He licked his lips, eyes flittering at the three who were watching on with hopeful eyes. In his mind, he knew that Antoine was waiting behind at a different table.

“I was hoping to be titled something else?” 

You cocked your head. “Oh? What were you thinking?” 

He didn’t answer, but his head moved to look at something on the table. Your eyes followed his line of sight to a small black box sitting in front of your plate.

Oh. 

You whipped your head back to Charles, who had a hopeful smile on his face. Your hands rose to cover your mouth. 

“You’re being serious?” you questioned, voice hitching with excitement. The small nod of his head made you want to squeal, but you kept in inside. Charles knew that you were a bit on the shyer side and probably didn’t want him to get down on one knee, so he gently reached over to grab the box. He turned to you and popped it open.

He grabbed the bottom of your chair and slid it next to him so that your shoulders were touching. He looked over, and it was his turn to have tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“Mon coeur. Mon amour. Mon soleil. Mon vie. You are the best thing that I have in this world, and after today I know that no race win could ever compare to you. Please let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.” 

This time, you let the tears fall as you nodded your head. “Yes.” 

Charles let out a sigh of relief as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your finger. Small claps came from the three at the table, as to not bring attention to the sweet and intimate moment. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips and rested your forehead against his. 

“Only if you’ll let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.” 

Charles lost his voice, too deep in emotion and happiness to answer. So, a simple nod would have to make due. 

Arthur decided to make a statement. “You both are going to get so wasted tonight.” 

The table erupted with laughter, because you knew he was correct. Charles deserved a party, and that’s what he was going to get. 

You at least had the smart thought process to keep your ring at the bottom of your purse that you carried in the club. Your hand clutched the handle, not letting anyone get near it in fear of having it be ripped out of your hand. 

Pierre was one of the first to congratulate you and Charles. The Frenchman held the two of you in his arms as he whispered congratulations. He wasn’t the only driver that knew of Charles’s plan. 

You smiled as your eyes caught Charles with the Monaco flag over his head. You had to pause your conversation with Max, jutting your head in the Monegasque’s direction. 

“I better go get him.” 

Max wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t want him to get into an inchident would we?”  

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his as you walked in Charles’s direction. If you thought your boyfriend’s eyes were wide before, they found even more room to widen when he made eye contact with you. 

Charles raised his arms up. “Mon ange! Everyone, it’s my fiancé! I’m getting married!” 

You wanted to wince as you prayed that everyone either was too drunk to comprehend his screeching or that they couldn’t hear him over the sound of the bass. 

You grabbed his arm and brought him closer. “I think it’s time to go home.” 

He nodded immediately. “Oui, oui. We need to go make beuacoup de bebes!” 

You flushed red under the lights of the club as Charles now dragged you along, Monegasque flag still over his head. Now you were really hoping that no one heard. You knew that he was joking though. However, when you got home, he might have been serious. 

The bass of the club still rang in your ears as you stumbled through the door of your apartment, lips locked with Charles in a passionate kiss. He fumbles blindly for the light switch, finally bathing the entryway in a soft glow as you pull apart breathlessly. 

“Mon belle,” Charles murmurs huskily, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His eyes are shining with a mix of exhilaration and adoration. “My amazing fiancé. The true winner today.”

You let out a breathless giggle, feeling giddy and invincible in the wake of his historic Monaco win. “I just stood on the sidelines and cheered. You’re the one who drove like a demon out there.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says fervently, capturing your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands roam hungrily over the curve of your waist, the soft swell of your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the rumble of his groan against your mouth as your fingers tangle in his sweat-dampened curls.

“Bedroom,” you whimpered between heated kisses, already tugging at the buttons of his button up. “Now.”

✨

Charles needed no further encouragement, sweeping you up into his arms in one fluid motion. You let out a squeal of surprise that quickly morphs into breathless laughter as he carries you down the hallway. Kicking open the bedroom door, he deposits you onto the luxuriously soft mattress before stretching out beside you, propped up on one elbow.

“You are so beautiful, mon chérie,” he husks, trailing a line of scorching kisses along your jawline. “My perfect girl.”  

“And you’re an overachiever,” you tease, smoothing the crinkles from his furrowed brow with gentle fingers. “Winning your home race. Proposing at the principality dinner. What more could a you ever want?”

Charles let out a low chuckle, capturing your wandering hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Just you. It’s always you.”

You felt your cheeks warming at his words, the sheer intensity of his forest-eyed gaze. Even after all this time, he still had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, you pull him down for a long, smoldering kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips between heated caresses. “My champion. Mon fiancé.”

He lets out a low groan, deepening the kiss until you’re both dizzily breathless and straining against each other with a rising tide of desire. His clever fingers are already making quick work of the buttons on your dress, pushing the satiny fabric off your shoulders in one smooth motion.  

You arch against him with a soft moan as his lips blaze a path over your collarbones, dancing lower to the hollow of your throat. Every brush of his mouth against your tingling skin has heat unfurling low in your belly. 

“Off,” you demand impatiently, tugging at the stubborn zipper of his pants until he finally kicks off the sweat-dampened fabric. His skin is feverishly hot to the touch, the lean muscles of his back rippling under your stroking palms as he settles over you.

Another breathless giggle escapes your lips as he nuzzles along the sensitive curve of your neck, whispering a stream of endearments. “You are insatiable.”

“Only for you, mon coeur,” he rumbles, amusement dancing in the depths of those enchanting eyes as he props himself up on his forearms to gaze down at you adoringly. “My everything. Ma vie.”

His mouth covers yours again in a long, drugging kiss that has your toes curling against the soft sheets. You lose yourself in the velvet glide of his tongue, the addictive taste of him, the delicious weight of his body pinning you to the mattress. Every nerve ending feels electrified by his scorching touch, every brush of skin against skin lighting up new sparks of longing.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, Charles presses his forehead to yours with a contented sigh. “What did I do to deserve you, mon ange?”

Cradling his face in your hands, you meet his intense gaze steadily. “You won my love. Every single ounce of it.”

His smile is radiant, lighting up the room more brilliantly than a thousand racing spotlights as he leans in to capture your lips again. This time the kiss is softer, more tender — a communion between two souls completely lost in each other. He let his hand trail up your forearm and settled in in your palm. 

Your ring, that you had put back on in the car, felt cold against his fingers. He shivered at the feeling. You were his for the rest of his life. 

You and he lost all track of time in that blissful tangle of limbs, trading fevered caresses and breathless whispers of adoration. When climax was finally reached between the two of you, you let yourself bask in the pants coming from yours and his lips. 

Charles watched as you slightly winced as he pulled out, gently comforting you with sweet words. He quickly got up to grab a towel from the bathroom, wetting it with some water before going back to bed. Charles let his eyes gaze over your form, still coming down from the high. 

When he didn’t make any moves to get closer, you turned your head and sleepily smiled at him, arms reaching out. It was only then that Charles walked back over to the bed. He quickly wiped you down, and then himself before grabbing the duvet at the edge of the bed. 

You hummed lazily when the fluffy blanket was draped over your body. You scooted over and laid your head on his chest. 

“Welcome home, Charles. You’re finally home. Je t’aime.” 

Home, to him, would never be a place anymore. Because why would he need a place, when he could hold his home, his world, right in his arms. 

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charles_leclerc BEST DAY EVER ❤️❤️❤️ thank you for everything, I love you all ❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍

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f1crusade congrats! for everything, brilliant drive

charliexy/n CHARLES DID YOU TRY TO SNEAK IN AN ENGAGEMENT???

oscarpiastri congrats mom and dad! ❤️

y/n_l/n thank you son!

olliebearman KISS ASS I SAID I WANTED TO SAY IT FIRST

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charles_leclerc it was actually none of you

logansargeant it was actually me ☺️

f1 ferrari champagne at the wedding on us!

y/nismother SHE'S GONNA BE Y/N LECLERC NOW I'M NOT READY

arthur_leclerc so, so proud of you ❤️ Jules and papa would be so proud

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

y/nleclerc I knew it!! I will never change my username EVER

scuderiaferrari that's our boy 🇲🇨☀️

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[chasing-dreamers]

Just For You, Princess

(jjk) MDNI🔞

After finding out that you were feeling insecure, Sukuna makes sure to remind you that there’s no need for that.

-

Pairing: fem!reader x husband!Sukuna

Genre: Married human Sukuna AU, 18+, smut, comfort, established relationship

Warnings: MDNI, fingering(f receiving), unprotected sex(don’t do it!), soft!Sukuna, porn with some plot, very slight angst, aftercare, he says princess a lot

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Hey! So, this is my first time posting any written work since 2019 and the first smut I’ve ever written, so please go easy on me! I have several fics I’ve either started and scrapped or just haven’t finished but somehow wrote this in a whole day! I’m very excited about this and I hope everyone enjoys!❤️

Disclaimer: I don’t own any rights to Sukuna or the JJK franchise, this is solely from my intellect and it in no means tied to anything other than my imagination.

“Princess, can you please tell me what’s wrong?” The man standing in front of you in your kitchen asked for the thousandth time since the two of you got home. He currently had you caged against the counter because he knew the moment he moved, you’d avoid him and go to sleep without talking to him about it. He refused to let another second go by without knowing what was wrong. Once you could tell him, he’d fix everything he could in an instant. Seeing you this upset was absolutely destroying him. “I don’t know what happened or what to say unless you tell me and you know that.”

You hesitated. It was stupid but it still bothered you more than it should have. Having to listen to a group of girls at Yuji’s party talk about this man and what they would do to him, knowing he had a wife (not knowing it was you). Then hearing that they couldn’t care less who she was because they had seen her and there was no way she’d be able to keep him loyal for that long… it ruined the whole rest of your night, shattering every thought and expectation you had for your relationship. Sukuna was your world, but were you enough? Would he really get bored of you? What was it about you that made them think he wouldn’t stay with you?

“Do you think about sleeping with other girls, Kuna?” You finally said just above a whisper. You kept your head down, looking towards his stomach, afraid to see the look on his face.

“Wha-“ Sukuna’s grip on the counter tightened for a split second as he tried to grasp what you were asking. Was his wife, of all people, really standing here questioning if he thought that or not?  “Why would I…You…Ring…What? Why would you ask me something like that, love?”

You looked up and saw the utter confusion in his eyes and slowly started to realize how stupid that question was. He searched your face trying to find any reason you could have. You took in a deep breath and held back tears as you answered. “Because there was an entire group of girls at Yuji’s party that were graphically detailing what they wanted from you. One of them even said that it would be easy to do because they had seen your wife and that she wasn’t worth staying loyal to and I was literally sitting right ther- “

Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you tightly and pulled you into his chest. You curled into him as you felt him bring his head down to nuzzle into your neck. “My sweet princess, there is no one else ever on my mind.” He pulled back slightly and grabbed your left hand and held it up in between the two of you. “Do you understand what this means?”

“Of course, it means I married you and…” You trailed off as you looked up and saw his knowing look.

“And that I married you, Princess.” He said sweetly. “It means that I have made a promise to devote myself to you and love you and not a single soul else.”

You nodded and gasped as he brought his mouth down to your ear, purring gently. “It also means that you are the only one I want to fuck as well. The only person I want to watch fall apart on my dick every night and make love to any chance that I can get.”

“K-Kuna.” You cried as he pushed you back up against the counter and hungrily latched his mouth to your neck. His hands ran down the sides of your body and then raked back up your thighs. He covered your body with his as he ran his tongue down your shoulder and back up. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your fingertips digging into the hard flesh on his back.

“It means that you are the one I’ve chosen to devour and consume for the rest of my life. The one I’ve chosen to relentlessly fuck in our bed every night. The one that I have to give these reminders to every time she thinks I would choose anyone else.” He grabbed the back of your thighs and picked you up as his mouth continued its attack on your soul. He carried you through your house and towards your bedroom. You clung to his desperately as he pressed you up against the wall in the hallway. You could feel his dick hardening against you as he ground his hips into yours.

“I have never wanted a single soul other than you since the day I met you, princess. If I need to keep reminding you like this, then I will happily do so.” He growled before smashing his lips into yours. Your mouths worked together, trying to express the emotions and promises swirling through the air around you. Sukuna’s tongue slipped into your mouth and you groaned at the feeling.

He hummed happily and pushed further into your mouth. You kissed his back with just as much force, wanting to show him how much you wanted, no, how much you needed this. Then he pulled you from the wall and turned into your room. He continued towards the bed, not skipping a beat in trying to devour you, nipping at your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. You huffed as he separated long enough to toss you onto the bed and strip your clothes off. He ripped your shirt over your head, then removed your bra, then quickly removed both your jeans and panties as well. You shivered as the feeling of cool air washed over your body, but Sukuna was quick to cover your body with his own again. He kissed you again as he ran his hands over your body. He brought them up to massage your breasts and you could feel him grin against you as you moaned into his mouth. One of his hands moved to hold your waist as the other continued down to settle in between your legs. “Gotta make sure my princess is prepped for me.”

He pushed one of his fingers past your folds and slowly began to push it into you. He watched in awe as your pussy swallowed his finger. You gasped as he began thrusting it in and out of you. He head shot back up and he grinned at your as he began thrusting it faster. Soon, he added a second finger and your moans got louder. “K-Kuna. Kuna. Kuna. Kuna.” You chanted hid name as a third finger went in and he curled them up just right. He hit that spot repeatedly and just stared at his hand disappearing into your cunt over and over again.

Then your orgasm hit your like a truck and you screamed his name. He smirked at you, licking his lips as he continued to coax the rest of it out of you. The squelching noises coming from your pussy made him even harder and he had to be inside of you right now before he lost his mind. Seeing your eyes blown out and your body trembling made his own body feel hot.

He pulled his hand out and made sure you were watching as he sucked your juices from his fingers. His eyes were also already blown out as you watched him crawl back off of the bed. He grabbed the bottom hem of his short and pulled it over his head. You ogled at his body as he began discarding his pants, your eyes raking over his tattooed chest before finally resting on his cock as it sprung out of his boxers. You tried to press your thighs together but Sukuna was too fast and was in between them in an instant. His cock rubbed against you, causing you to mewl and grab for him wherever your hands could reach. “Fuck, princess, you are so fucking wet for me.”

“J-just for you S-sukuna.” You stuttered as he began rutting against your clit. The stimulation was just enough to make the heat start spreading through your body but that alone wasn’t what you wanted. “P-please..”

“Yeah? You feel that, princess. That’s just for you.” Sukuna purred into your ear as he continued grinding down onto you.

“Then give it to me, Sukuna.” I used whatever sense in your mind you had left to spit your demand out. You needed him, all of him, so desperately and couldn’t wait any longer.

“As you wish, my princess.” He growled as he pushed his dick all the way in until you could feel his balls pressing against your ass cheeks. You shrieked at the stretch and the immaculate pleasure that came with it. He held himself up on his hands and watched at your face contorted with ecstasy. Your pussy welcomed him quickly and squeezed around him as began to slowly thrust in and out of you. The moans the two of you were swallowed as he leaned back down you pull you into a passionate kiss. He moved his lips against yours sensually as he used his hands to cup your face.

He began thrusting slowly, more caught up in how it felt to kiss you in this moment, trying to pour all of his emotions into it to show you how he truly felt. The love and longing and needing and knowing you were everything he could ever want and more. The bliss in being your husband, relishing every second of it. You hummed and moaned against his lips as his hips found a sweet spot in his pace to keep your toes curled without pushing you over the edge. Just enough to keep you right at the top without spilling over just yet.

Sukuna pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours, sighing deeply. “My sweet, sweet girl. Fuck, you feel so good every time.”

You moaned in response and he grinned down at you. Your hands ran up and down his back, following the contours of his muscles, locking them into your memory. “You feel so good, Kuna. I feel so full.” You panted as you began to feel the heat in your stomach intensify and your moans began to turn into whines and whimpers. “Faster…please.”

Sukuna moaned at the sound of your begging and he braced himself with his hands back on the mattress. His thrusts pick up into a very fast pace that had you mewling and begging with in coherent words. He marveled at how you looked underneath him falling apart. The best sight he could ever imagine.

Sweat begins to pour down his face as he continues a brutal pace. You feel so fucking good around him and he doesn’t want to stop. Your pussy sucks Jimin and the way he feels your walls drag along his dick as he pulls out with every thrust. It’s intoxicating and he can’t get enough. “Just. For. You.” He chants with every thrust. His jaw clenches and he can feel the release coming quickly as you rake your hands down his chest. You begin to get tighter around him with every thrust and he almost loses his breath.

He pushes through the fight of coming already to keep the sight of your shaking with pleasure underneath him. He licks his lips and growls more as he watches your boobs bounce up and down with every moment. There’s sweat all over his body now and he sees your skin begin to shine with a thin layer of your own on your body.

He dips his head down to swipe his tongue up in between your breasts. You push your body up into him and squeeze his shoulders as he trails his mouth up to your neck once more, nipping and sucking and whispering praises into your ear.

One of his hands runs over your breasts, twisting your nipple just to feel your whole body arch into him again, then down your stomach until you feel his thumb rubbing circles into your clit. You instantly feel yourself unravel around him.

“Gonna…gonna…gonna cu-“ Your whole body tenses and Sukuna grunts and goes faster as he feels your pussy clamp down onto his dick. He moved his hand back and continues picking up the pace until the whole bed is shaking and you’re screaming his name. He moans out your name as he pushes his dick as far into your pussy as he can and comes hard. His whole body twitches as you both come down from your highs.

He slowly pulls out of you and kisses you gently as you whine at the overstimulation. He pats your hair and copes to you as you come down from the last bit of your orgasm.

“Shhh princess, I’ll be right back.” You nod in response and listen as he runs into the bathroom, turns the shower on, and comes back into the room with a wet cloth. “Let’s clean you up and then go take a shower, princess.”

“Mmk, Kuna.” You hum, still feeling euphoric. He cleans you, then scoops you up and walks you to the shower. You sigh constantly as you feel the warm water cascading over your body. Sukuna places you down where you can stand, then grabs subs up a loofa to clean both of your bodies.

“Such a sweet princess, aren’t you?” He asks sweetly as you finally peel your eyes open to look up at him. He grins down at you and kisses you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sukuna.” You reply, wrapping your arms around him. “My Kuna.”

“Yes, princess,” he chuckles. “All yours.”

He finishes cleaning your bodies and then you take turns washing each other’s hair. He giggles when he has to lean down so you can reach his and kisses your pout away.

Once your shower is over, you both dry off, slip into cozy pajamas, change the bedding, and slip into bed together to go to sleep. Sukuna hums the tunes of the song you danced to at your wedding and cards his fingers through your hair as you quickly fall asleep. Then he wraps his arms around and drifts peacefully off with you.

This was so nerve wrecking to post, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading!

All right reserved © 2024 chasing-dreamers. Do not translate, copy, modify, or repost any of my works on any platform.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

-

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

-

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

-

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

-

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

-

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

-

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

-

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

-

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

-

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

-

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

-

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

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[thesharktanksdriver]

The star above wano still shining (platonic)

Sorry for the long wait on another determination. I’ve had uni, my wisdom teeth being pulled and other things going on so life has been pretty hectic. I’m still working on the law and Corazon part but somehow wrote this in like 2 days. Sorry if some people are out of character, I haven’t yet made it to wano so I went off of mainly clips online and the one piece wiki. Also I haven’t written in awhile so I’m probably kinda rusty, so sorry for that lol

U guys get some crumbs of lore for waiting so long And As always everything is platonic.

Guess which character is my favourite based on how long their section is lol

Warning: child death, described gore, spoilers for wano, don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled for some parts of wano. Read at your own risk

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck

You once remember wano being a place of peace the first time you visited it all those years ago

Roger had went to the country to eventually drop off Oden when the adventure was coming to an end

It was a place you’d considered ever laying low in if the time came

And though it wasn’t a long stay there (maybe only a day or so) you had throughly enjoyed the minimal time of the land in which the sprawling greenery and light pink of Sakura created an indescribable beauty

It had been so long since you’d been there

So much so that you hadn’t realized you had woken up there once more

Wano was shrouded with an air of oppression upon the people you once saw flourish

Oden despite his short time on Roger’s ship had taught you all about the place he called home

And whatever happened here was certainly something that wouldn’t happen under his eye

So you go off to investigate yourself

Feeling yourself drawn somewhere you can’t quite place your finger on

Black Maria

For a long while you walked aimlessly within wano, sticking out like a sore thumb due to your clothing

While everyone else wears kimono’s or yukata’s your just in full on pirate gear

It isn’t exactly the best thing since it seems travellers here weren’t exactly common

So much so that you decided to try and stick to alleyways and quiet streets during the night

But even then the city was bustling, though it did still give a better opportunity to blend in

And it’s there sneaking through alleyways and criss-crossing from place to place you end up behind a brothel

The beautifully dressed women on break taking a look at you with lidded painted eyes that were quickly filled with worry

Bruises and scrapes covering your legs, unwashed hair with things stuck in it along with the clear clothes of a foreigner within the land where no one could leave of get in

The pretty women quickly drag you in the brothel, making sure to avoid occupied rooms and taking you to a spare one as they got to work on sprucing up your appearance

Even giving you a patterned yukata if your own

The hiding your old clothes away beneath the floorboards as they whisper amongst each other

And it’s then after they quickly finished a large blond woman enters through sliding shoji doors

Raging Anger appearing in her eyes before they land on you

A small child with bruises still on your small form and bandages that covered some of your cuts

Her anger disappeared as does the geisha woman who silently gives you a look “don’t tell her”

It is there you meet the woman Black Maria, the owner of this pleasure house and apart of the Beast pirates

You’ve heard of those pirates before, how people shuttered at just the name itself as if it were a curse

But as Maria gently looks you over, large hands examining your bruises with a gentle touch you can’t help but think you probably got lucky

Especially when seeing the initial anger that then bubbled away

Manicured nails making sure not to cause you more harm as she grazes over wounds

It’s there she asks where your parents were and you answer truthfully, that their long gone and it’s been you on your own

You didn’t think it was possible but her eyes softened more, a turquoise blue reminding you of precious jewels

She contemplates for a minute, then eyes then hardening a bit as she asks you if you’d like to work for her as a delivery/message bringer and you agree

Working under Maria is certainly an…odd position

Though you worked delivery for Sengoku at Marineford working for Maria is much different for you

Especially since the horned woman seems to coddle you

When she’s not entertaining customers or doing her work she often spends her time with you

Helping style your hair with ornate hairpins or picking out patterned kimono’s for you to wear

Fretting over your scraped knee’s as she chastises you in being more careful

Teaching you to play the shamisen and being proud when you pick it up with flying colours

Singing you to sleep on the nights you find yourself restless

She reminds you of a mother, maybe not your own but an extremely dotting one

But despite all this you still see some of her cruelty towards others

Though it’s not directed at you, you’ve sometimes run into her punishing others

Getting a sick glee from hearing screams and bones crack beneath flesh

It’s disturbing…especially when she does completely switches when your around

A distinct contrast from the motherly persona she puts on for you

Kissing your forehead good luck in the morning as you set out to deliver before then killing someone in cold blood just minutes later

In some ways it’s terrifying but by now on the sea you’d seen and met so many people that it’s lost its punch it might’ve when you initially set out

So you go off, delivering her letters and such to others in the beast pirates ranks

A golden hairpin of a spider crawling across a branch of flowers added to your obi to signify your protection and status as her messenger

When you come back to her personal residence she pats your head and then tells you to eat up the meal she’d had prepared specially for you

It’s nice, perhaps even a bit nostalgic for you

And after checking you over she sends you to bed in a renovated room she gave you that’s near her own

She says it’s more convenient that way, for you to be onsite and close for when she needs more deliveries

But she doesn’t tell you about how she checks on you in the night when your small cries while asleep can be quietly heard through the thin walls

Doesn’t say how she personally threatened the other commanders that if they lay a single hand on you she’d deal with them herself

Doesn’t admit how she itches with a sort of possessiveness in knowing you work for her when others begin to gain a curious interest in the small fearless child she now calls her own

She likes the gentle feeling of warmth you give her heart

Likes how she can find herself to be kind and caring with you

Enjoys the fact you value her company over business or pleasure

When you smile at her it’s genuine

And the woman who weaves webs decides that one day a new spider would take her place

Perhaps you’d take that role

But for now your her dutiful little messenger

A cute little treasure she’d take good care of and nurture as if you were her own child

Because perhaps she considers you that

When a mother spider catches a brightly shining firefly in her web, she’s hardly content in letting it go after all

“Which would you like for today?” Black Maria questions as she holds out several folded up kimonos. Each look to be high quality, all with patterns and warm comfortable material to protect from the wano weather.

You look up towards her, tilting your head a bit in confusion. “Are you sure I need so many? I’m just your delivery-“

“Don’t be ridicules dear” she cuts you off, then placing a gentle hand on your head. Normally she’d ruffle it but she had already put in the effort of styling it and didn’t want to ruin her work. “You work for me. And I can’t have my precious little messenger underprepared for the weather. Besides, I have plenty spare kimono that are wasting away not being used.”

“I’ve survived with worse before. One time I was forced out in minus 10 weather while in nothing but shorts and a shirt”. That might’ve not have been the best thing you could’ve said cause her expression shifts to horror. “But it’s fine though!-“

She sighs, then lightly flicking your forehead. “Whoever did that to you better be dead or else.” She holds out the kimono again “no ifs, ands or buts. Now pick”. Under her fierce and loving gaze you choose one of the folded bundles, a dark blue kimono with the pattern of fireflies in a field is the one you decide on

Sasaki

You meet the green haired fishman when delivering a letter to him while he was drinking

It was right before your mandatory lunch break Maria practically forces you to have when hearing that you ran around all day without stopping

So after delivering the letter you decided to stay with the relatively laidback looking who invited you to join due to his curiosity

You find Sasaki to be a relatively odd figure, not only for his relatively lax demeanour but also his burning ambition

He wants to become an All-Star within the beast pirates ranks by defeating one and taking their place

As does his colleague Who’s-Who

To be honest you haven’t really cared to learn the hierarchy of this crew

All you knew is that it seemed like these “All-stars” were the highest on the chain besides their captain Kaido

Speaking of which, Sasaki talks about him quite a bit while sipping his sake

The clear alcoholic liquid being chugged as if it were water

Sasaki holds him in a high regard, but for others on the crew…not so much

Sure, there were a few that had earned his respect for them but in others he seemed to find them too haughty

Luckily for you it seems you’ve gotten on his good side

his easygoing and your calm mix well together, a laid back charm between the two of you despite being very different in other regards

It’s due to this that on your breaks the green haired man seeks you out

At first it’s the occasional asking if you’d like to join him for some food as you start your break

But later devolves into practically kidnapping you to join him and his subordinates to party

Typically at parties adults aren’t too keen on letting you sneak some alcohol but the fishman either doesn’t care or thinks it’s funny until Black Maria and more responsible adults are on his ass about it

Speaking of which, Maria can’t help but be a little exasperated that of all people it had to be Sasaki who was the first to get attached to you

Something he rubs in the face of others later on

And uses as a sort of leverage? Your not really sure how that happened but he’s definitely holding that above Who’s-Who and Ulti as if it were a gift from the gods

But either way you find him to be fun, especially when asking him about his devil fruit or his time as his own pirate crew

Both things he talks about in high regard

While on the sea you’d actually heard about his crew, and though you’d never met them it does pique your interest

Especially since how can someone as prideful as Sasaki go from being a captain of his own crew to being an underling to another?

It’s odd

But something kinda intriguing since something like that happens very rarely

Since typically the captain is killed

But instead Sasaki was able to rise in the ranks

He’s not at the top like he wants but it would be somewhat naive to say he isn’t powerful or lucky in his own regard

His devil fruit also interests you cause….dinosaurs!!!

You’d got to see some firsthand on your couple of times waking up on little garden (and then being quickly eaten by said dinosaurs if Dorry and Brogy weren’t there)

But getting to see one that doesn’t actively try to kill you is super cool

Especially since you get to examine without being stomped like a pancake

Sasaki seems to take pride in how amazed you look, especially when you start spewing out Triceratops facts

Some from first hand experience like “did you know they have the capacity to tear off your head if the wanted too-“ and “their hardened skin allows for defence against other predators!”

To be honest after a long while of using his devil fruit the amazement effect of it had worn off

So having someone fawn over it is kinda nice

Sasaki feels appreciated by you, like he’s being listened to when he goes off on a partially drunken regal of his pirates days

And in a similar fashion Sasaki listens to you

For a unassuming kid you talk as if a library of knowledge was directly in your head

Along with that you seem to throw safety to the wind like the time you almost got into an arm wrestling contest with Ulti before he had to drag you away

Because who in their right mind would do that when she for sure would somehow accidentally kill you

You have guts for sure, something he definitely respects

But also leaves him worried shitless because what’s next? King have a tea party with you or something?!

Him and Who’s-Who made bets about whether that would happen or not and he has his good booze on the line if you somehow make that happen

And he prays that won’t happen for not only the sake of his booze and his own sanity

“Oi kid! Wanna join for some lunch?”

“I have one more letter to deliver-“ before you can finish the horned man picks you up by the scruff of your kimono giving a laugh.

“Eh don’t sweat it. I can send someone to do it for you after. You’ve been on your feet all day, you need a break”

Who’s-Who

Similarly to Sasaki, Who’s-Who is a relatively odd but interestingly determined figure

You had delivered stuff to him a few times but actually get to know him through Sasaki’s forced lunch breaks

He’s stone faced at first

But over time you see the chipping away of his somewhat serious disposition

Especially when people seemingly get on his nerves and his anger flares up

He has…quite the barrage of insults, so much so that the typically loose mouthed Sasaki covers your ears

But to be honest you’d probably heard worse with your years on the sea

Anywho (hah) you listen to a lot of his rants about his backstory

Specifically something to do with CP9? It was something government and marine related

Sounded vaguely familiar but to be honest you typically forget about the specifics of most things and people after a certain amount of time

So you just nod along as he keeps going off

Until he starts getting into stuff about history that’s blatantly wrong

Specifically about fishmen

So you correct him and that ends up in a landslide of rebutting his points with hard facts

And in that verbal exchange despite his biting tone you keep calm and explain what was wrong

And seemingly because you stood your ground he gained a liking for you?

Your not sure how but you guessed he thought you’d be a pushover (it depends on the situation)

But for a kid who’s job was being a messenger you seemingly proved yourself to him in some weird convoluted way

Though that might’ve also been because you answered some of his questions about some myths he had been interested in

The sun god and the star god

Apparently he’d heard about the two while in jail, the stories giving him hope of one day being free and having the power to achieve his goals

Two enigmatic beings that surpassed even you in how old they were

Two shining beacons acting as hope for the hopeless and shackled down

Giving people the power to rebel and achieve their dreams

Even you hadn’t heard too much about the two, just odd myths here and there

But with what you did have seemed to satisfy the pink haired man

But that brought up the question of how you knew those myths

Something you don’t really reveal and just write off as “heard it somewhere”

But at this point Who’s-Who didn’t care enough to question it

Let alone try and get you into trouble when you’ve been one of the only people to actually be able to give him more information

So he’s satisfied

At least for now

Sometimes you run into him on your way to deliver things and he joins you for a bit of the way if he has nothing to do

You slow down a bit to a brisk walk as he leisurely follows suit

Conversation following quickly after on a wide variety of topics

He’ll be damned to admit it but your way too good of a kid to be stuck here

Let alone be kinda working for the beast pirates considering their reputation

But he supposes that every has their reasons

And it doesn’t seem like you’d be able to leave anytime soon considering Maria practically dotes on you like your her own flesh and blood

But he won’t say that aloud

Not when the blond woman would throttle him

And you’d probably look at him all confused

For such a mature kid your still pretty naive and clueless in some departments

I mean come on! Do you not see how the scariest woman on the damn island is basically wrapped around your finger

She almost attacked Sasaki for sneaking you some sake and it was only because of you politely asking her not that she didn’t

He’s definitely partially convinced you have some sort of friendship devil fruit or something

That thought is only becoming more prominent when you somehow befriend Ulti

“So you and Sasaki want to become an “All-Star” right? How does that work?”

“Either Kaido elects you himself or you prove yourself by defeating an All-Star and taking their place”

You nod, then asking “so who do you wanna beat?”

He smiles “doesn’t matter, as long as I become an All-Star is the goal”

Ulti

The cutesy and hot tempered young lady is one you run into by accident since Maria didn’t trust that she wouldn’t blow a fuse somehow if you had to deliver a letter to her

But nether the less you both meet

And seemingly like Black Maria she finds you to be cute

Which means you have less of a chance to be victim to being attacked by her unless you reallly provoked her somehow

But luckily you haven’t! Especially when you can see subtly gestures as to when she gets irritated

She gets volatile pretty quick but it’s just as easy to be able to calm her down when you call her “lady Ulti”

She seems to like the idea of being a polite lady of high society and maturity

So much so that when she’s not angry she tries to fit this image

And she also seems to like cutsy girlish things

Both of which you indulge her in which gets you in her good graces much to everyone’s shock and amazement

To be honest you don’t really get the deal? This might be you just being desensitized to this kinda stuff but she’s honestly not to hard to deal with

Calling her “lady Ulti” or buying her a few cute charms with some of the money Black Maria gives you seems to placate her anger in most instances

Something that others seem to be thankful for

Though she’s a fierce-some pirate with a temper she also enjoys some of the more simple things in life

She likes to have tea parties with you and do mundane things like shopping or having her hair braided

Perhaps due to being the older sister and caretaker to her brother after their father died she hadn’t had much a childhood to experience such things

Not that you mind, you can’t even really remember your childhood before taking to the sea

Your parents faces blurred and distorted, voices lost like whispers in the wind, their warm hugs dissipated into cold nothingness

So you enjoy your time with her, reliving a time of innocent happiness just as she does

She gets a bit over excited at times not realizing her strength like the time she almost crushed your spine in a hug

But she slowly begins to realize how in comparison your much more fragile than her and others around her

Page one definitely helps her with this quite a bit, especially considering she was like this when they were kids and back then she also had to regulate her strength around people (aka him with her death hugs)

Speaking of her brother she actually pretty happy she’s found a friend?

He’s not really sure how it happened but he’s genuinely happy for her, (also cause she doesn’t cling to him as much, she still does occasionally but now your her main target lol)

She acts a lot like how a sister would

Though she’s sometimes bratty she’s still caring and mischievous in a fun way

Often dragging you away to play games or browse through the shops nearby

It’s honestly pretty nice (when she’s not angry)

But with this comes some genuine moments with her

After their dad died Kaido had taken her and Page one in

As the eldest she decided she needed to step up

And while she did do that she felt like she lost time in enjoying her childhood, of spending time with her brother and forming genuine connections

Being in the beast pirates is a constant power struggle

People always trying to climb to the top no matter the cost

She’s lost a portion of herself in establishing stability for both herself and Page one

Now trying to make up for it even if he saw her clingy affection as annoying

Because at heart she does care

She cares a lot about the few who’ve made the effort to see her

And even if she snaps like a twig when things don’t go her way she doesn’t really mean to

It’s just how she reacts and she can’t really hone it back despite her attempts to do so

But you see that when others don’t

And she deeply appreciates it in her own way

So when she barges in and takes you shopping it’s her trying to show how she appreciates the efforts

Or when she picks you up and sits you atop her shoulder so you can see above the crowd and not get lost

Black Maria is certainly in for a surprise when she finds the two of you having a tea party but decidedly joins in

It’s odd seeing Ulti so happy without snapping in the span of a few minutes but Maria is pleasantly impressed

Though she does get a bit annoyed when Ulti then starts hounding her to send more letters so she has more excuses to play Hanafuda with you (you let her win each time)

Everyone seems to pity your eardrums for when she squeals in joy

“Hey lady Ulti, do you wanna get matching Omamori charms?” You say holding up two of the small luck charms, she turns to you eyes widening with delight.

“Kya!! Really!”

“Sure, it’s why I asked”

Yamato

You met Yamato completely by accident not knowing who he was or why he was in the walls

But at this point you don’t question anything as he freezes in place and you just ask “yo…are you alright? Should I go orrrrr?” In which shakes his head

And then you leave

But then a few days later he finds you while on your way back to Black Maria’s

In which he talks to you

In many ways you find Yamato to be aspiring as you feel his determination burn brightly and strong

He’s faced adversity yet he stands tall admits it all

And….well seeing him idolize Oden and even pick up his mannerism is kinda oddly comforting to you

It must have been years (how many exactly you don’t know) since you last saw Oden but it feels like yesterday

You remember talking with him on the Jolly Roger

Remember him regaling proudly of his homeland and of the Whitebeard pirates who welcomed him aboard

Remember his goodbye to the Roger crew and his joyous hug before stepping off the ship into what now feels like a shadow of what used to be his home

And now your faced with someone who acts like him

Oden was a friend who felt like an old one despite how little time he truly spent with you

And as quickly as he came into your life he was gone like many others you’d met, and all the same it stings and burns like acid

You’d never met his family like he promised

Never had that giant feast he promised Shanks, Buggy and you when you’d all visit

Never got to fulfil in fully raising Momonosuke

Never had the chance in fulfilling his life before his spark was snuffed out

But as you talk more with the young prince you see that while he isn’t Oden himself it certainly feels like in some sense your talking a bit to Oden again

Seeing how Yamato seemingly fights against his father

Against all those you’d somehow come to know while technically working for the beast pirates is inspiring

Especially considering how strong they all are

You didn’t need to see them fight to know how powerful even non All-Stars were

I mean, Kaido wouldn’t be named an “emperor” of the sea and was able to conquer a nation if he wasn’t a powerhouse

Yet Yamato keeps fighting

Because Yamato wouldn’t back down…no he couldn’t back down

Just like Oden wouldn’t

You have to sneak out to hang out with the red horned prince but no one really bats an eye

Not when they just assume your being a kid

So at night Yamato and you hang out

And you tell him your experiences with Oden yourself

And much to your surprise he believes you

He believe you wholeheartedly so much so that it makes you confused

Until he pulls out an old book, partially withered by age yet loved and cared for to keep its contents in surviving longer

And in that book in which Oden wrote while on the high sea with the likes of Whitebeard and Roger

He mentioned a young sailor child that was on Roger’s ship, one he nicknamed within the book as “Chīsana hoshi”

Little star

An affectionate nickname the Daimyo would give to you

The mysterious child whom told stories of the stars and of tales untold

One with what felt like great burning stars in their eyes and wormed their way into the hearts of many

One that sang with the sea and knew secrets untold

To be honest you’d be more touched by the sentiment if Oden didn’t tact on to the end a stick figure drawing of you

Cause wow….for someone who was well educated and wrote so eloquently he really just outed you with a stick figure

Speaking of which, you’d gone years without there being proper photos or drawings of you to escape the world governments attention

But it’s a stick figure

A god damn stick figure

You can’t tell if your upset or kinda impressed

Either way it’s safe to say that Yamato hounds you with questions

But you can’t say you don’t enjoy it as it refreshes your memory a bit

Something you never mind especially when you find yourself remembering details your quickly forgetting over the years

And Yamato seems to notice this as you go blank for a few seconds trying to remember

The slow look of horror as you find yourself not being able to recall some moments

Some things completely lost to the static of your mind and time

And the ecstatic enthusiasm faded from Yamato seeing how broken down the more you try to recall

And realizing you can’t

So he instead shifts the topic

Talking about his yearning for freedom

Anything to take your mind off remembering

And it doesn’t work until he mentions a catalyst to this

Ace

“Ace…as in Portgas Ace?” You question warily watching as Yamato’s expression lights up. He practically springs up, taking out a small piece of paper you recognize as a vivre card

“You know him!” He exclaims excitedly.

“Yeah i helped raise him” you say pulling out the small sun charm as Yamato’s eyes widen in surprise.

“WHAT?!?”

King

Once more you meet him via deliveries but Maria gives you a fair warning about him

Announce your presence and do not go in without his permission lest you end up as ash pile on the ground

Fun

Though probably not one of the worst ways to die

You’d know that personally

But anyways you end up where his office should be

Never going this far into the fortress before now

To be honest the layout was a bit confusing but you made your way after asking a few passerby’s for directions

Them then giving you pitied stares as you go on your way

This guy can’t be that bad right?

And then arrive at the office announcing yourself with mail for him from Miss Black Maria

Keeping the honourifics just in case

For a moment there’s silence and then you hear movement

And the squeaking of something?

Why was there squeaking? Was he in leather pants or something-

And then the shoji doors open

And wow…..you didn’t expect that

Is he in…did you interrupt him or something???!??!

Your staring at this leather wearing head to toe dude with spikes and shit and- did he have a live flame in his back??

Yeah…this is weird even for you and that’s saying something

You hand him the letter and quickly scurry off

Not noticing the flame above him shining a bit brighter than usual

But he does

That’s Odd? Is what he notes to himself

When you deliver to him again it’s relatively the same routine as last time

Though you notice he pays closer attention

Watches your uncomfortable expression as you wait for him to take the letter and let you leave already

And when he does you scurry off again

For some reason though it happens again

His plume burning brighter than it usually would, an almost golden yellow colour rather than the typically orange and red he was used to

That hadn’t happened before

And now looking at it again did the fire begins to change shape?

But that….no he muses to himself that can’t be

It sounds vaguely familiar to something he once heard before the testing and before he lost his homeland

A legend whispered as comfort from a mother he can’t remember in his sleep

Something about a star and its burning flames

But king shakes his head

He’s suspicious but he doesn’t have much to go off now especially since the legends of his people are mostly lost

Besides not even he can remember the myths of his home

Barely old enough to even walk before being stripped of it and shipped off by the world government for testing

He wouldn’t be able remember much let alone remember it actively

Let alone know about a god they used to worship when barely anything is known of them compared to that of Joyboy

Plus your just some kid Maria took pity on, one that a few of the others seemed to have also taken a liking to

Nothing more and nothing less

But something deep in him told him the opposite

Like a small lick of a flame from a candle in the dark

A quiet glow in the sea of shadows

Faint and minuscule but there

Like a single star in the midnight sky, there shining but small and alone

…or at least that’s what this emotional constipated bird man says at first

Because you had apparently survived your delivery to King without being turned to ash has led to other messages being sent through Maria to you to him

Maria was enraged at first but you somehow talked her into it along with the fact that she gets more profit by charging for this service

Soo…. You end up meeting the learning wearing giant of a man

And somehow make conversation with him

To be honest not even he’s sure how it happened

It just did

Cause he asked about how your parents felt about this and it went into a long discussion with you

Specifically about how

A) their dead

B) you don’t remember them

And C) it’s been so long on your own you didn’t even remember where your home was

All of which he understands more than anyone else

To be honest that small question opened a floodgate in him he didn’t expect nor want

But either way it was opened and he couldn’t close it

Because every time he looks at you now he sees himself

Eyes that have seen too much for their age

Eyes that used to be wide and full of wonder reduced to that of tired ones

But unlike him at that age you don’t have the resenting anger he did

To be fair he perhaps had more to be angry about yet it also leaves him confused

How did you turn out the way you did despite it all?

A child who ended up in one of the worse environments possible yet thrives

A child who befriended or got on the good sides of notorious criminals and killers

A child despite seemingly loosing everything still keeping the spark to still find happiness

He sees in which you enjoy the rain despite the cold chill it leaves and the threat of sickness

Watches as you feed your packed bento from Maria’s cooks to a murder of crows even when your stomach grumbles

Observes while you keep strumming a guitar or keep walking even when your feet or fingers bleed

In a lot of ways your like him yet also the complete opposite

And it leaves him confused

And makes him watch

And-

“You don’t have to watch from the shadows you know?” You say not looking up from feeding your crow as he perches on your outstretched finger. You sit on the edge of the railing of a balcony, dangerously close to falling with a simple breeze “I don’t mind the company”

“You noticed me?” The lunarian man mumbles walking out from the doorway and stands by the rail as you continue to feed the bird. He watches the small winged creature, it caws in curiosity at his arrival and tilts its head curiously at the sight of his similar wings.

“You’re not too hard to notice to be fair….but it was your flame that sounded me off. It’s subtle but it’s there” you turn to look at him, petting the feathered little friend. “You notice that kinda thing after a while of being on your own. Even the smallest shift in the wind can alert your mind, giving the hope that someone else was there…but I get the feeling you know that already”

“I do”

A smile appears across your face. “Great minds think alike” your tone is somewhat joyous yet he hears a somewhat sad edge “don’t they Reggie?”

“Reggie? Is that the bird?”

“Yep, raised him and the flock myself!”

“You…raised them all?” Red eyes look out to nearby tree’s, at least 40 beady eyes stare out at him.

“Found them half dead after some villagers tried to kill them. Bad luck or whatever, but sounds like whack superstitions to me” you hold out Reggie to him (leaving out that these were the descendants of those same birds) “wanna hold him?”

King reluctantly takes the bird, the small gentle creature hopping onto his finger. It reacts….positively to him? Much to his surprise. King goes silent for a few moments, watching the midnight feathered bird then rubs its head against him. “I’m confused about you”

“Oh?”

“How are you the way are despite everything?” It’s a broad question “aren’t you angry at the world?”

You give a laugh “of course I’m angry. It took a long time to realize I was, so much had happened to me” you go a bit quiet at the last part but suddenly perk up again as you add “but I’ve met so many good people, seen so many beautiful things. And maybe…just maybe that makes me more content than it does angry. Don’t get me wrong, I still get upset but I have people there for me, some kinda healthy ways to deal with it I guess”

Reggie nudges king as the All-Star goes a bit quiet watching as you then stand on the balcony railing. He quirks an eyebrow beneath his mask, what are you doing-

“Wanna see something cool?” Before he can answer you raise out your arms leaning back dangerously, things practically go in slow motion for him as he races to grab you before you can do your trick

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?, do you have a death wish or something?!?”

“death isn’t that bad? There are worse things than death, believe me. But I was gonna-“ dear gods if he didn’t have white hair already then it would be after that

After that king for some reason keeps thinking about that moment

More specifically your mindset of death

And what the fuck have been through?

But he’s not wondering that in concern of course (definitely not)

More-so curiosity and how it could benefit Kaido (of course)

So he keeps thinking about it

And you

And ends up worrying that you’ll do something stupid again so he goes to find you

And make sure you didn’t do something stupid again that killed you

And wondering if you know how many near misses with death you have on a daily basis

So he goes back to watching silently

And…then joining you when you point out you know he’s there

And it’s not his fault that you seem to ease up to his company

And that you aren’t as annoying as his colleagues (when your not doing near death stupid shit)

And-

Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck

He quite literally goes through the 5 stages of grief

First is denial, of course he didn’t care for you

You were just some kid Maria employed and it was just more convenient to make sure you stayed alive- oi why the fuck is queen trying to drag you on stage for his stupid concert

Second is anger, and he’s unsure if he’s angry at you, himself or the situation because honestly how could he possibly somehow get attached to a kid of all things?! Let alone a weird one that seemingly relates to….him and loosing a home he doesn’t remember

Third is bargaining, no! He’s in control here! He’s can just stop talking with you and stop worrying….wait didn’t you just say you were gonna go out in the beast infested forest

Fourth is depression, because oh god he’s attached. The literal only other person he’s attached to is Kaido for obvious reasons. He didn’t think he needed other attachments to others but now he cares and god does it suck when you a god damn extrovert who’s also a magnet for trouble

And finally is acceptance, because he’s attached now god damn it and it’s simultaneous yours and (mostly) his problem

To be honest you don’t really mind at this point

Coming to enjoy his more quiet company after getting over his…odd attire (something which you now poke at him for)

Plus his wings and fire was cool

Oh! And his rad devil fruit too!!!

Dinosaurs were cool in general so it’s definitely an A+ in your books

Not gonna lie the dichotomy of chill sweet kid that everyone has a soft spot for and literally the scariest dude out there is one you find hilarious

Especially after you walked past a confused Sasaki who got a “yo” from you and a death glare from king

It definitely causes heads to turn while king doesn’t care you just find it funny as hell

You find him to be like…a scary big brother

Sure, he rolls his eyes sometimes at your jokes but you know he cares in his own ways when he stopes you from falling down another flight of stairs Cora-style

He seems to express this by just being around you, listening and protecting you

It’s nice

And also gives you the warning that he’s more attentive than most others

Honestly he seems to have a sixth sense for when you try and hide yet another scrape or cut

Like you could have the smallest splatter of mud on your kimono and he’s already figured out you fell earlier

and then calling you an idiot before dragging you to the nearest doctor employed by his crew

It’s honestly impressive and a bit worrying

So you definitely are careful about some of the things you say

But you still tell him stories

Regal your woes of adventures but frame them as being on Wano

And he listens to them all the same

Soaking up your words

One day you give to him a charm fashioned of moonstones, a small piece of gold you carved into a small star,and spare feathers of your crows whom had come to immediately love him (especially perching on his shoulders for warmth)

And in return he give you one of his feathers, one freshly plucked from his wing that you later turn into an earring

What you don’t know is that of the little things he’s remembered of his home is that the gift you gave him was something akin to a lunarian’s gift towards a close friend

He knows at this point with his flame still turning a bright gold and changing shape it can’t be coincidence

But for now he leaves it be

That can be answered later

Especially when for once King feels like Alber again

A lone boy who lost his home who yearned to find someone like him

And though he didn’t find another Lunarian he found someone else instead

But that was fine for him

“This may be a weird question, but do you ever wish you could fly high enough to touch the stars?” You asked one night looking up towards a brightly shining night sky.

Alber looks up for a moment wings involuntarily flexing at the thought of it “it’s all I ever wanted”. It had been a dream of his ever since he had been locked away and prodded at, to fly so high to the stars that would comfort him with their warmth compared to his barely flickering flame. To let a god whose name he can’t remember hear his prayers.

You both share this silent moment both realizing something about the other

For you it’s how his flame shines a light gold, dancing as they formed a familiar four pointed star you’d yet to forget

While for him it’s the fact that for a moment he sees in the depths of yours eyes the brightest star in the sky that used to reside over his home

Queen

Once more you get a warning from Black Maria about him and you think it can’t possibly be more weird than king

You walk in on this dude having a full on concert whilst the crowd of beast pirates roar in cheers for him

Somehow you begin to believe that maybe Kaido hires the most insane weirdo’s out there

Like Roger literally sometimes found random people on the street and asked them to join

But this, this is a new level of finding people

He also gives you kinda off vibes

So you stay clear, handing the note to one of his men and asking forgot it to be delivered when his performance was done

Dodged a bullet there

Though you would admit his song was kinda catchy

…separate the art from the artist? Nah, he probably did some war crimes or worse

Next time your not so lucky though

Catching him just before his concert as apparently one of the lead guitarist flunked out due to being too hungover

Queen, not being to keen to really talk to anyone because this would fuck up his concert and he was very very fucking upset over that

Like borderline really dramatically upset about it

I mean, you guess you can’t blame him but still

He was taking it a bit far by throwing someone against the wall though

You’d rather not start a civil war if Black Maria heard he accidentally squished you like a stress toy so you step up instead

Taking the lone guitar held up by a relatively scared pirate and take a Quick Look at the sheet to memorize it after a minute or two

Looks like your deliveries would be on a bit of a pause until this was done

You just thank whatever gods there are that Maria is a forgiving boss (to you at least) and that over your many years alone on the barren sea you picked up just about every instrument you could and mastered them (partially to pass time and keep sane)

Though this was also partially due to Brook and the Rumbar pirates

Turning to the still scared shitless assistant yelling at him to tell you what you need to play

Which seemingly gets the attention of the large blond who was now looking down at your curiously

Picking you up by the scruff (why did everyone do that and why was everyone so damn tall here???) to get a proper look at you

Inquisitively trying to figure out just exactly who you were before seeing the hairpin Maria gave you

But then that brings up new questions

Ones he’s about to ask before you tell him that you’d fill in for the first half of the show as long as he’d get someone for the second half and take the mail you have for him

He quirks a brow asking if your any good

And just say that your rusty but good enough to get the job done

With that he puts you down, somewhat relived that at least you’d be somewhat competent

And with that the crowd keeps cheering waiting for him to come on stage

You tie up the sleeves of your kimono for more movement and ready your hand movements

It’s been awhile since you played guitar or even a bass but it would have to do

You would always prefer you ukulele anyways but you were decent with other instruments

So with that you enter the stage via a staircase up and through a side door

Just before queen is literally launched on stage

And then you begin as the crowd goes wild

Typically when you’d play you were by yourself so you could never really gauge how good you were

Like sure, you could sometimes see your progress but in other times it all sounded and played the same

In a sense it was lonely but filling at the same time

You were always a solo, yet it filled the sound of the quiet waves and relative silence you’d normally experience

A silence that sometimes became chilling as you laid there

Days to weeks on end

With no one

With nothing but memories

With nothing but your mind to fill it

It’s why you had found yourself taking to so many hobbies

If only to fill time and oblivion

You’d hands move on their own as you pick up on what was slowly lost to you

Becoming more complicated and impressive as you find yourself having fun with it

You even pull off a few tricks if only to make the show better

Might as well show off a little when you have people to show off too

Queen keeps singing as do the chorus of fans

Eh screw it

Lifting the guitar behind your head is more a challenge due to its weight rather than you playing it

You’d perfected the party trick after many many many attempts and practice

And after a moment of getting used to it again the muscle memory kicked in

The crowd goes wild and your not sure if it’s from Queen or your performance

Probably Queen

You close your eyes in concentration

It was easier that way when getting into the groove of it for you

Closing your eyes and concentrating

Just letting yourself play as the world around you faded out into a darkness that you’ve familiarized yourself with

Keep going even if your sweating buckets

Keep playing even if your things go numb and bleed

You dealt with worse

There was that time your hand was chopped off and you were left to die

To bleed out

You know the feeling Almost intimately

The pain

The drowsiness

The want for sleep

And then finish

Your hand strums down and the final cord rings out

You open your eyes and ears to the crowd silent for a moment

And staring at you

As does Queen and the others on the stage

Wow were you that bad-

Deafening cheers then ring out and you stand there looking around confused for a moment

Then spotting the new guitarist frozen and almost paper white, he must’ve been horrified at your performance

Hand him the guitar you pat his back

Giving him a small smile and a “break a leg out there” before rummaging through your pockets to hand Queen the letter

You look to the still cheering crowd and their hands already raised to catch you

Giving a peace sign to performers on stage and then you dive into the crowd

Letting them throw you into the air before catching you again multiple times, then eventually get you to the door

Not long later Queen tries to get you to sign a “music deal”?

Your not sure what that is but King quickly intercepted by kicking the door down and burning said paper

He’s still trying to get you to preform again

“If you think that was good, you should see my ukulele game. It’s my favourite” you say picking up the same guitar you preformed with last time, distantly in the crowd you see Sasaki, Who’s-Who and Ulti who seemingly dragged along Page One.

“Kid, I don’t think that will make you much money” Queen responds as he readies himself

“It’s not about money, it’s for fun. Besides, I’m not that good at guitar anyways”

“Say that to the crowd”

Kaido

While staying in wano and traversing the place of the beast pirates home you’ve noticed an odd pulling sensation

You noticed it when you first came to wano, but as you got closer to the layer of beasts it got stronger

Pulling and directing you deeper into the almost literal lions den

You’d yet to find out what it was but you’d sometimes come closer to it

As if it moved within this place

But today you’d have the opportunity to perhaps find it, apparently Maria wanted to drag you along to a meeting issued by Kaido himself

Why? Well you weren’t all that sure but it was something along the lines of Kaido’s curiosity and her deciding that it was best for you to get more Involved

Whatever that meant

You had the feeling she was wanting you to officially join

Something of which that others seemed to agree on

Normally when this would happen you’d have somehow died or run away but…your not sure what’s holding you back this time

Maybe it’s that mysterious pull

That’s what you chalk it up to yet you know there are other reasons

Maria for sure is one

King is another

Both for some reason are people you can’t quite want to say goodbye to

But you know it will come eventually

So you push the thoughts away for later

Maria eagerly dresses you up today, doing your hair with the upmost precision

Gently directing your head while she adds she light touches of makeup

She looks proudly at her work (or is it you?) before explaining what the meeting was about…pirates politics or something

You didn’t really get it but just nodded along as she giggled

Booping your nose and saying all you had to do was just be there

Which you were more than fine with

So you go with her

Deeper into Kaido’s territory

That odd pull getting greater and at the same time somehow weaker

Like a frequency on a radio

You hadn’t even noticed it but your now at the door to the meeting room

King crouched down to be closer to your eye level asking if your ok

You haven’t even noticed how much of a daze you were in

You nod, just saying your alright

He accepts it but clearly still has a bit of worry

And in you enter

Everyone but Kaido inside

Page one being Ashley’s with hugs by Ulti

Sasaki and Who’s-who glaring daggers as Queen and then King

Maria has you sit down beside her, cooing over how adorable you apparently look

Ulti then joining in

Other in the room giving you pitied stares

But that’s before shoji doors slide open

And everyone straightens in their seats

For a moment there is silence

And then

You hear your name

Looking up you catch eyes with the somewhat elusive Kaido but for a man who’s said to be bloodthirsty and stoic his face is molded into that of guilt?

Guilt, surprise and perhaps a tinge of sadness

Everyone’s eyes are on you now but all you can focus on is Kaido’s

Pools of gold tinged with recognition

He knows you

Or rather knew you

You try to think back

He knows you, you must’ve met him before but…you don’t remember

you didn’t remember him…..

You don’t remember

You don’t remembeṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t remembė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t rememb̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t remem̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t reme̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t rem̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t re̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don’t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don ̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You don̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You dơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

You d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Yoų̶̛͚͈̫̯̻̩͙̍̾͠ ̷͍͇̮̙̼͙̤̜͊́͗̓͠d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Yö̶̹͕̩͓͉̤̲̟̟́̾͜ų̶̛͚͈̫̯̻̩͙̍̾͠ ̷͍͇̮̙̼͙̤̜͊́͗̓͠d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Y̸̢̰̼̟̱͉̏̇͊͠ö̶̹͕̩͓͉̤̲̟̟́̾͜ų̶̛͚͈̫̯̻̩͙̍̾͠ ̷͍͇̮̙̼͙̤̜͊́͗̓͠d̵̯̰̈́̐̈ͅơ̶̗̱̅̑̒̅͂n̷̡̰̰̳̳̥̲͎̅̒’̴̛̺̋́͌̌̓̍̃̇̂t̸̺̪͈͔̮̫̉͊͆̓́̔̎͘͝ ̸̮̓́̎̊̉̕͘͠r̵̬͈̣̭̎̾̔͗̓̕͜e̸̤̎m̴͕͈̥̣͌͑̈̚e̵̢̟̤̠̥̓m̴̨̛̼̺̤͙̑̿͗̔̉̀͜b̶̧̝̕ė̵̡̬̰͓̜͚̰̤̯̈́̀̒̎ṙ̶̖͖͍͖̺̹̗̘͖̔͜

Your forgetting more and more

You know some things have been a bit foggy but you didn’t think you’ve forgotten someone again

How many times this has happened you’re not sure, is this the first? Or one of many?

You didn’t want to forget

But you had already forgotten your parents

Your home that now resembles an empty house within your mind

The distinct smell of something wafting in the air that’s familiar and sweet and warm and forgotten to your taste buds

Their voices muffled like hearing them rooms away, hearing but never distinguishing just what their saying

Your neighbour’s like blots of colour through the window as they tend a garden

Your old friends…..But did you have any in the first place?

You don’t know

You don’t know the answer to any of those questions anymore

But with the look in his eyes he knows you

But you don’t know him

And some sort of fear wraps around your heart

Squeezing it

Sweat running down your shaking form

Like a fawn in the jaws of a bear

Your head pounds with unease

You don’t know what to do

What are you supposed to say? Sorry I can’t remember you cause I’ve lived so long that I’ve began to forget stuff?!?

What do you do?!?

His eyes says he wants answers but even if you give him one you see the outcome

You see a possessiveness

Like a dragon and a horde

You’ll be stuck here like wano’s resident with the only difference in your case being that your given a special status

Like a prized pet

So

You run

Maybe it’s the cowards way out but this was coming either way

No matter how hard it always is

You knew this wasn’t forever and now your forced to do this

You have to die yet once more

Running through the halls with Kaido and many of his commanders on your tail isn’t a fun experience

But your small

And quick

And have ran for your life too many times to know your advantages here

Ducking and slide across wooden floors

You manage to loose them all after a small bit of running

Them splitting up to find you quicker

It’s too bad it ended up like this

Too bad you couldn’t leave on good terms

Or find that pull

But now comes the end

It’s ironic that it’s the balcony you sat on with king that one day

One that you were gonna jump off of regardless but now it’s not a trick where your crows would’ve caught you

And it’s even more iconic now that it’s king that notices you stand and then fall from that edge

But like before he catches you

Hand grabbing yours in an iron grip

His flame sparking up intensely

Your not sure what he’s feeling or what he’s saying

All you can focus on is static

And saying a small “I’m sorry” before slashing his hand with Maria’s hairpin

It cuts at the leather, for a moment you feel his human skin before you slip

Let go

And fall

His flame sparks up once more coming to the shape of that familiar four pointed star you’d see in moments once more

Gold light engulfing your vision

There’s a crack and then pain

And laying on the cold hard ground as blood pools

Reaching a bloody hand up you hold a small spark

Warm and familiar as you feel Maria pick you up in her own

It’s odd but she had been the closest thing you could compare to a mother

You wish you could’ve told her that but the spark holds your attention

Cradled in your palm

You bring it close to your chest in which it collides with

Sparks shoot out at the collision

Before a calm washes over you as cracks begin to form and you break away

“Oden?”

[angelsfat3]

ꮩ, 你伤了我的心。 ⸻[Everything, my everything...]

Summary: "Even if there is another life, I hope I never cross paths with you. You make me sick." It was what you thought as you listened to him talk to his ex.

Genre: suggestive, fluff, against.

C/w: Heeseung being an jerk, confusion of feelings, cheating(?), story written from third person. ㅤ－ㅤTw: Curses, crying, unrequited love, virginity taken.

A/N: I don't even have words for what I wrote... I shed a tear while writing this. I hope you all like it + When “[...]” appears it is an improved version of “y/n”.

If you are interested in knowing more about this story, please read these two: ⒈ ⒉

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

[...] was flipping through a history book, his fingers absentmindedly sliding across the yellowed, image-filled pages, dictating to his partner, Jake, important parts which to write down in the notebook. They were in the library, finishing a project for school. The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.

"[...]?" Jake broke the silence, his voice soft but firm. "I think we could use this information for the presentation, I mean, to focus the idea from the beginning and attract everyone's attention."

[...] nodded, not really looking at what Jake was pointing at. His mind was elsewhere, lost in memories and emotions that he still couldn't fully understand.

Ever since he had kissed him, everything felt different. He clearly remembered the moment, two weeks ago, when Heeseung had kissed him passionately, mistaking him for Chloe. Later when he went to his house to apologize, an apology that had been clumsy, and although Heeseung had tried to explain that before Chloe, he had had feelings for [...], words had not been enough to heal the wound he had left.

Just then, a tall, thin girl with wavy blonde hair approached them. It was Minjeong, a mutual acquaintance he had with his former best friend, Heeseung.

"Hey guuuuys," she said with a beaming smile. "I'm hosting a party this weekend. Would you like to come?"

[...] took his eyes off the book, looking up, a little surprised. He hadn't expected an invitation to a party, much less from someone related to Heeseung. He looked at Jake, who looked just as bewildered as he was, but then nodded.

"Sure, Min. We'd love to go," Jake replied, trying to keep his tone enthusiastic.

The rest of the week passed quickly, but not without incident. [...] noticed Heeseung's possessive gaze following him through the school hallways several times. Heeseung had once tried to approach him while he was at his locker, but Jake had appeared just in time, grabbing him by the shoulders and leading him to chemistry class.

"Thanks, Jake," [...] murmured, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Jake just nodded, his face serious, clearly determined to keep [...] safe from further confusion and pain.

The day of the party arrived. [...] decided to go to his room after school to change. He was looking for a suitable t-shirt when his friend appeared at the door of his room, spreading his arms as soon as [...] opened the door, making him laugh at how he raised his eyebrows in search of his approval—about the look.

"Do you need help?" Jake asked, with a mischievous smile.

[...] nodded and let Jake rummage through his closet. Finally, the brunette took out a dark blue t-shirt, with some letters and a drawing in the middle of it.

"This one would look good on you," Jake said, extending it to him.

"Thank you very much, my moon," [...] said with a smile, noticing the blush on his friend's ears but deciding not to say anything.

Ethan began to take off the shirt he was wearing, and Jake, seeing Ethan's naked torso, couldn't help but blush brightly. He turned around quickly, pretending to search for something else in the closet to avoid looking at him.

"Okaaay, I like what I see," [...] said with a smile, still noticing the blush on his friend's cheeks after he turned around. [...] put on the shirt Jake had picked out for him and looked in the mirror. "I think we're ready."

As they left the dormitories, night began to fall, covering the campus in a blanket of stars. The two walked along the street-lit path, their shadows lengthening behind them. The night breeze was cool and pleasant, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air.

"I hope the party isn't too loud," [...] commented, adjusting the shirt. "At least... I hope she don't make her neighbors call the police again."

"Meeting Minjeong and Karina when they're drunk, it'll be like last time," Jake replied with a smile and a soft laugh. "But maybe it would do us good to relax a little."

They arrived at the bus stop just in time to see their transport approaching. They climbed in and sat together in the back, watching the city lights flash past the window.

"Are you nervous about seeing Heeseung?" Jake asked, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

[...] shrugged, looking out the window as he thought about everything that had happened. "I don't know, Jake. Part of me wants to talk to him, but another part of me is afraid of what he might say."

Jake slapped him on the thigh. "I'll be with you. You don't have to face it alone."

The bus stopped near Minjeong's house, and the boys got off, grateful for the warm summer night that enveloped them. As they walked towards the house, they could hear the rumbling of the music and laughter coming from inside.

It was almost 9 p.m. when they arrived at the door of Minjeong's house. The party was already in full swing, with people dancing in the room and groups gathered around the drinks table. The colorful lights illuminated the living room, and the atmosphere was electric.

"[...], Jake!" Minjeong greeted them enthusiastically, opening the door for them. "I'm so glad you guys came!"

Minjeong's smile was contagious, and the boys immediately felt welcome. [...] exchanged glances with Jake, who nodded slightly, as if reminding him that he was there for him.

As they walked deeper into the crowd, [...] couldn't help but look for Heeseung, his emotions constantly shifting between hope and fear. He knew that tonight could change everything, and a part of him was ready to face whatever came, while the other wanted to run away.

The music pulsed around them, and [...] tried to relax, taking a drink Jake offered him and allowing himself, at least for a moment, to enjoy the company of his friends.

To tell the truth, he moved through the party with a naturalness that surprised even himself. At first, he had felt the typical tightness in his chest when arriving at a place full of people, but the atmosphere had enveloped him, helping him relax, just as the brunette said. The loud music encouraged him to move, to greet acquaintances and to let himself be carried away by the moment.

With a drink in hand, [...] approached a group of classmates who were talking about a couple of gossips going on on campus. Their laughter and light jokes alleviated the restlessness that had accompanied him since the beginning of the night. Little by little, he felt more in his element, smiling and laughing with an ease he had forgotten he possessed.

Jake, meanwhile, watched [...] from a couch in the middle of the living room. A part of him was happy to see his friend enjoying himself, but another part, smaller but impossible to ignore, He felt a pang as he saw how others also enjoyed his company.

He settled back on the couch, pretending to be more interested in his drink than [...]'s figure. But his eyes betrayed him, searching for him in the crowd, always aware of where he was and who he was talking to. His feelings for [...] were complicated; he loved him more than a friend, but he was also afraid of ruining what they had by trying something else, given the circumstances.

Jake noticed a change in the atmosphere of the party when he saw Heeseung at the edge of his vision, slowly moving towards [...]. The crowd seemed to open up for him, as if fate itself was conspiring to bring them closer. Heeseung had that inscrutable expression that Jake had come to know well, a mix of regret and determination.

As Heeseung approached, Jake felt his heart race, a mix of worry and jealousy coursing through him. He wanted to protect [...] from any further pain, but he also knew that there were issues between [...] and Heeseung that needed to be resolved. Still, a part of him wished that [...] wouldn't fall back into the arms of Heeseung, who had already caused him so much pain.

Finally, Heeseung reached [...], gently touching his arm to get his attention. [...] turned, and when he saw him, his smile faded a little, replaced by an expression of caution.

"[...], can I talk to you?" Heeseung asked, his voice barely audible over the music making him lean closer to one of [...]'s ears.

[...] hesitated for a moment, his gaze briefly meeting Jake's, who offered him an almost imperceptible nod, a reminder that he was there if he needed him.

"Fine.." [...] finally responded, his voice calm but filled with unresolved emotions. He followed Heeseung to a quieter corner of the house, away from the hustle and bustle of the party.

Jake watched them walk away, a feeling of helplessness settling in his chest. He wanted [...] to be happy, even if it meant letting him go with Heeseung. But, for now, all he could do was wait and be ready to offer his support if things didn't go the way his best friend hoped.

In the secluded corner of the house, Heeseung and [...] faced each other, surrounded by the dim light and the murmur of distant music. The tension between them was palpable, and [...] prepared himself for the conversation he knew he needed to have.

"Heeseung, what do you want?" [...] asked, his arms crossed in a defensive posture.

Heeseung swallowed, his eyes searching [...]'s desperately. "I just want you to know how sorry I am, sweetheart. Everything that happened... was a mistake, and I haven't stopped thinking about it."

"It was a mistake that apparently took you a lot to understand," [...] replied, his voice heavy with sadness. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you, or even want to see you."

"I understand," Heeseung nodded, his voice breaking. "But before everything got complicated, you were important to me, more than I wanted to admit. I want to try to fix things, if you let me."

[...] looked at him, his emotions a whirlwind. He remembered all the moments he shared with Heeseung, the good and the bad, and how he had always felt a special connection with him. But he also remembered the pain of hearing Chloe's name leave Heeseung's lips that night.

The way he leaned towards him looking for a trace of her, and the betrayal that had left a scar on his heart.

"I don't know, Heeseung," he finally said, his voice soft but firm. "I can't promise you that I will believe you, that day you made it clear that you are very good at lying."

Heeseung looked at Ethan with a mix of nervousness, fear, and determination. "We can go to a quieter room to talk better, the music is too loud," he suggested, his voice barely audible.

[...] nodded, although something inside him was hesitant. However, his curiosity and the need to close that chapter prompted him to follow Heeseung up the stairs to the second floor of the house. They passed through a narrow hallway before stopping in front of a half-open door. Heeseung gently pushed it away, revealing a small but cozy room.

Inside, the party music was just a distant murmur, providing a much more intimate setting for the conversation to come. Heeseung closed the door behind them and turned to [...], his expression a reflection of the internal struggle he felt.

"Hee, why are we really here?" [...] asked, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture. "Why did you want to talk now?"

Heeseung took a deep breath, his eyes meeting [...]'s with an intensity that made him shudder. "I needed to explain to you, [...]. I needed to tell you why I kissed you that time, and why it meant so much to me... It still sounds like a lie."

[...] kept his gaze fixed on Heeseung, his heart pounding. "Then speak," he said, his voice shaky but firm.

Heeseung took a step forward, the closeness between them increasing the tension in the air. "The first time I kissed you, yes, I did it thinking about Chloe. But the instant our lips touched, I knew there was something more. The way you kissed me, [...], was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. More real, more authentic."

[...] watched him, his expression cautious as he processed each word. "And Chloe?" he asked, remembering the pain of hearing the ex-girlfriend's name.

"Chloe was important to me, but I realized that I was clinging to an idealized image of what we had, of something that will never happen again," Heeseung confessed. "When I kissed you, I realized that what I really wanted was to be with you, [...]. It took me a while to admit it, but in the end, it was you I wanted in the first place."

As Heeseung spoke, he slowly approached [...], his hands rising to rest gently on [...]'s waist. The boy's eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and suppressed excitement, but also with a lingering fear of being hurt again.

In the hallway, just outside the room, Jake stood listening to the conversation, his heart heavy with the mix of emotions that overwhelmed him. He had followed [...] and Heeseung out of an impulse that he couldn't ignore, and now, the words he heard left him on the verge of despair.

Watching Heeseung approach [...], touching him with a familiarity that Jake wanted for himself, was like a stab. Jealousy burned inside him, mixed with deep sadness.

He knew that his love for [...] was stronger than he had admitted, and seeing Heeseung about to kiss [...] again was a painful reminder of his own position, of his cowardice for wanting to wait for "the right moment" to be honest with him.

Jake couldn't take it anymore. When he saw Heeseung lean in to kiss [...], he stepped back, feeling the world around you crumble. He couldn't stand there, watching a moment he wanted more than anything unfold.

As he walked down the stairs, the music and laughter of the party seemed dull compared to the tumult in his chest. Before leaving the house, Minjeong stopped him, grabbing his wrist, noticing his disturbed expression.

"Jake, are you leaving already? It hasn't been long since you and [...] arrived..." Minjeong said, her tone worried.

Jake forced a smile, trying to hide his true feelings. "Yes... I think it's better for me to go. I think a punch made me sick and I feel like vomiting."

Minjeong looked at him with understanding, although without knowing the real reason behind his leaving, Jake wasn't the best at lying. "Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I was glad to see you here."

"Thanks, Min," Jake replied, before quickly walking out the front door.

The walk back to [...]'s bedroom was a blur for Jake. Each step seemed heavier than the last, and his mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Upon reaching the bedroom, he had unconsciously fallen into [...]'s bed, the place that offered him a small comfort in the midst of his anguish.

Tears began to fall as he buried his face in [...]'s pillow, allowing the sadness and frustration to release. It was a bitter comfort, knowing that his feelings for [...] were real but not reciprocated in the way he wanted.

Despite everything, Jake hoped that [...] would come back, that he would see what he really meant to him. With that thought, he fell asleep through tears, longing for a future where their love was not a secret, but a shared reality.

On the other hand.

In the room, the air was thick with tension and expectation. Heeseung and [...] were alone, with only the soft hum of the party in the background. The closeness between them seemed to intensify every small gesture, every look.

Heeseung approached slowly, his eyes locked on [...]'s. There was a vulnerability in his expression that the boy had not seen before, as if all the barriers Heeseung had built had vanished in that moment.

"[...]," Heeseung whispered, his voice filled with emotion and regret. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you through."

[...], still feeling the weight of Heeseung's words, found himself torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of a new beginning. His emotions were a whirlwind, but there was a part of him that wanted to let go of the pain and find something real with Heeseung.

Heeseung raised a hand, gently placing his fingers on [...]'s cheek, tracing a tender path along his skin. [...] didn't pull back, instead he closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the warmth of Heeseung's touch.

"I've missed you, prince," Heeseung confessed, his words barely a whisper as he leaned forward, almost brushing his lips against each other's.

[...] opened his eyes, finding Heeseung's just inches away. Time seemed to stop as they both immersed themselves in the moment. With silent decision, [...] closed the distance between them, his lips meeting Heeseung's in a slow, gentle kiss.

The kiss was a delicate touch at first, a cautious, fearful exploration. But the built-up tension and unexpressed feelings quickly transformed it into something deeper and more urgent. Heeseung's lips moved against [...]'s with a fervent intensity, as if they were trying to convey everything that words couldn't express.

[...] responded in kind, his hands finding their way to Heeseung's hair, pulling gently, allowing himself to fall into the intimacy of the moment. It was as if every touch, every whisper between them undid the pain of the past, replacing it with something warm and new, something pure.

Heeseung wrapped his arms around [...], pulling him closer, as if afraid the moment would fade. The heat of their bodies melted into a palpable connection, and with each shared kiss, the barrier between them crumbled a little more.

[...] found himself backing away, his legs finding the edge of the bed. They sat, their lips still joined, gently exploring each other's every curve and corner. Heeseung let his hands wander, tracing a path down [...]'s back, exploring the familiarity of the body he had missed so much.

The outside world faded away, leaving only the soft intimacy between them. Heeseung, feeling the weight of the moment, paused, pulling away just enough to look [...] in the eyes.

"Are you sure of this?" Heeseung asked, his voice soft but serious. There was a sincere desire to make sure this was what they both wanted.

[...], breathing slightly hard, nodded, his eyes shining with a mix of determination and longing. "Yes, I'm sure, with you I will always be willing to do anything."

With that permission, Heeseung continued, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time with a tenderness that said more than any passionate statement. His hands moved carefully, gently guiding them to a more comfortable position on the bed.

Clothes were set aside with deliberate care, as if each piece removed was one step closer to the truth of who they were to each other. Their bodies met, skin against skin, sharing warmth and silent promises.

The atmosphere was filled with a mixture of longing and nervousness. While their lips remained united in a deep kiss, [...] felt the outside world fade away, leaving them alone in their little shared universe. A bubble.

Heeseung, with an almost reverent tenderness, began to let his lips wander past [...]'s mouth. With each kiss, he traced a slow, passionate path along his jawline and down to his neck. [...] let out a soft sigh, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the new caresses and sensations that Heeseung caused him.

Heeseung's kisses were like delicate flames, lighting up every part of [...]'s body they touched. They ran down his neck, leaving a trail of heat that made [...] shiver. When Heeseung's lips reached his collarbone, [...] let out a small moan, surprised by the intensity of the desire he felt.

Heeseung smiled against his boy's skin, enjoying the power of each touch. "I want you so bad, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse and charged with emotion. There was a fervor in his words that left the other boy breathless.

[...] opened his eyes, meeting the burning gaze of Heeseung, who was watching him with a mix of adoration and desire. "Me too," [...] replied, his voice barely above a murmur as his heart pounded in his chest.

Carefully, Heeseung continued to explore [...]'s body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down his chest and stomach. Each touch was a reminder of the deep connection they shared, of how much they had both longed for this moment.

[...] found himself panting, his back arching as the caresses intensified, his breathing quickening as Heeseung continued his stroke. It was a mix of desire and vulnerability, knowing that he was giving up a part of himself that he had never shared with anyone.

When their lips finally met again, it was as if the world had disappeared, leaving only the warmth and passion they shared. [...]'s moans mixed with Heeseung's, creating a soft symphony that filled the room.

As the passion between them grew, [...] allowed himself to get lost in the moment, letting go of all doubts and fears. With each touch, he felt the pain of the past fade away, replaced by a deep, authentic connection.

Heeseung, feeling the boy's complete surrender, hugged him tightly, their bodies fitting perfectly as if they had been made for each other. "You're so... fuck, tight. You're all I need," Heeseung murmured against [...]'s lips, his voice full of sincerity.

[...] looked into his eyes, seeing in them a truth that filled him with hope. "And you are everything I've ever wanted," he replied, allowing their lips to meet once more in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate.

As the night wore on, they gave themselves completely to each other, their bodies and hearts intertwined in an intimate dance that was both a discovery and a reaffirmation of what they truly meant to each other. It was a moment of purity and connection, where passion and love were in perfect harmony.

Thus... in the refuge of that room, Ethan and Heeseung found a new beginning, a place where his fears and doubts faded away, leaving only the promise of what could be.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

The next morning.

Heeseung woke up early, the morning light softly illuminating the room. There was a serenity in the air, a calm respite after the storm of emotions that had occurred the night before. Beside him, [...] was sleeping soundly, face down, with the sheet barely covering his hips. Heeseung smiled as he looked at [...]'s relaxed figure, admiring the curve of his back and the softness of his skin.

Carefully, Heeseung let his fingers roam over [...]'s bare torso, slowly tracing the contours of his skin, remembering how that same skin had felt under his hands the night before. There was a peace in the gesture, a tranquility that made him feel complete, like everything was finally in its place.

[...] began to wake up, his senses taking in Heeseung's gentle caresses. A lazy smile appeared on his lips as he kept his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth and affection emanating from his lover's fingers. He stretched slightly, his muscles relaxing, preparing to turn and meet Heeseung's face.

But just as he was about to do so, a voice interrupted the stillness of the morning. It was Heeseung's voice, speaking in a low tone to someone on the phone. [...]'s curiosity was piqued, and he decided to stay in his position, pretending to be still asleep while listening to the conversation.

"Chloe, you know how much I miss you," Heeseung said, his voice thick with emotion and nostalgia. "You don't know how much I wish things were different."

Heeseung's words fell on [...] like an icy wave. His body, which minutes before had felt warm and relaxed, began to tremble, first with surprise, then with rage. He felt his heart constrict, each word piercing his skin like swords of boiling silver stabbing into his back.

"I went to the party last night expecting to see you... but instead I got a big surprise" Heeseung continued, not realizing the damage he was causing. "I still think about you all the time, you just drive me crazy."

The feeling of betrayal washed over [...], and the pain was so intense he could barely breathe. The night before, the surrender, the vulnerability he'd shared with Heeseung, it all felt like a monumental mistake.

He regretted having slept with him, feeling exposed and cheated. Every word that came out of Heeseung's mouth hit him hard, filling him with a bitterness he had never experienced before.

Tears began to fill his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to maintain control and silence. He felt small and dirty, as if everything he had meant to Heeseung the night before was nothing more than a cruel illusion, again he felt like an object, a sexual one. The love he thought he had shared had turned into bitter mockery, and the pain he felt now was indescribable.

[...] could imagine Heeseung's face, smiling into the phone while he was probably looking for a way to hide him. That girl's voice, her laugh, everything about her caused you rejection. Why she? Why couldn't he stop last night? Was there such a need to get excited again?

Finally, he heard the click of the phone being hung up and felt Heeseung roll over in bed, facing away from him. That was his moment. Heartbroken and his emotions overflowing, [...] carefully stood up, trying not to make a sound as he quickly dressed. Every movement was an effort, as if his body was resisting accepting the truth.

He managed to leave the room without being noticed, his hurried steps taking him away from the source of his pain. He ran, not stopping until he reached the safety of his own bedroom.

When he walked in, the first thing he saw was Jake, who was asleep in his bed. But the sound of the door closing woke him up, Jake quickly sat up, his expression changing as he saw the anguish on [...]'s face.

"[...]," Jake said, his voice filled with concern as he stood up to go over to him.

Ethan couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed to the ground, tears flowing uncontrollably as he sobbed with a despair that shook him completely. Jake rushed to his side, kneeling to hug him tightly.

"What happened, my sun?" Jake whispered, wrapping [...] in a warm, protective hug. His lips rested on [...]'s head in a gesture of comfort, gently kissing that area.

[...] clung to Jake, hiding in the shelter of his neck as the tears continued to fall. He felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, each one a reminder of the unrequited love he had given to Heeseung. The pain was so intense that it seemed like a physical force, a tightness in his chest that left him breathless.

"I loved him more than anything in the world," [...] said between sobs, his voice shaking with pain and rage. "Why did he have to do this to me?" he shouted between cries.

Jake held him tighter, his own emotions stirring at seeing [...] so broken. "I don't know, [...]. I don't know," Jake replied, his voice soft but firm as he tried to offer him much-needed comfort.

[...] sobbed in Jake's arms, his body shaking with each ragged breath. Jake held him firmly, gently stroking his back, trying to calm him down. Time seemed to stand still while [...] vented, but Jake knew they needed to talk about what had happened.

When [...]'s sobs began to subside, Jake pulled back slightly, just enough so he could look him in the eyes. [...]'s were reddened and filled with a sadness so deep it broke his heart.

"[...]," Jake said softly, choosing his words carefully, "what exactly happened?"

[...] inhaled deeply, trying to put the words together as he felt his chest tighten again at the memory. "Last night," he began, his voice shaking a little, "Heeseung and I…we were together. I was so stupid. I thought there was something more, that he really cared about me."

[...]'s words were an echo of his most painful thoughts, and as he spoke, he felt exposed and vulnerable. It was as if every word he said opened an even deeper wound.

Jake felt a pang in his chest as he heard the confession. His heart sank as he imagined [...] and Heeseung together, beyond a relationship or a kiss, together, in bed, sharing sighs and promises. The image filling his mind with a mixture of sadness, jealousy and anger. How could someone be stupid enough to hurt him.

Although he had witnessed their connection at the party, hearing it from [...] was an unexpected blow, a reminder that her own feelings for Ethan were, for now, an unrequited love.

Despite the sadness that washed over him, Jake knew that his pain wasn't what mattered right now. It was [...] who needed comfort, who needed to feel loved and supported. So he suppressed his own feelings and focused on [...], on being the friend he had always been...

"Hey," Jake said, his voice soft and comforting as he placed a hand on [...]'s cheek, wiping away a tear that was still glistening. "You're not stupid. You went with what you felt, and that's brave, not stupid."

[...] looked at Jake, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and pain. "But I was wrong about him, Jake. He used me…he's still in love with Chloe."

Jake nodded, understanding the weight of betrayal [...] felt. "So? Heeseung just doesn't know how to appreciate what's in front of him," Jake said firmly. "But don't let his mistake make you feel less. You are an amazing person, [...]. You deserve someone who values you completely, you deserve to be loved."

Jake continued to caress his arm, his fingers moving in small comforting circles. "I know this hurts now, and it probably will for a while. But I'll be here, by your side, no matter what happens."

[...] nodded slowly, absorbing Jake's words, allowing himself to feel a small relief at his loyalty and unwavering affection. "Thank you, Jakey. I don't know what I would do without you," he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude.

Jake smiled, trying to instill some hope in [...]. "You don't have to worry about that, because I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, I'll always be there for you, my moon."

Ethan leaned into Jake, allowing himself to rest in his embrace, finding comfort in the certainty of his friendship... yeah. He felt that even though his heart was broken, there was a light in the darkness, a hand that held him when he needed it most.

As the sun moved across the sky, filling the room with its warm light, Jake and [...] stood there, side by side. [...]'s wounds would take time to heal, but with Jake by his side, he knew he would find the strength to keep going, one day at a time.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I won't lie, I was mostly inspired by the song Margaret (lana del rey) and like I said in my other account, I would make you suffer.

아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

ㅤㅤ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara.

[mc-lukanette]

Flip the Transcripts

Marinette sighed, pulling her hair tie free and shaking her head to let her bun go. It was a terrible, exhausting day, and she lingered around the main area of the building to take a breather while people filed out. There was still a faint scent of macarons in the air from all the ones she'd dropped on the floor and a (probably underpaid) worker was busy cleaning them up.

She'd gotten to sit next to Adrien during the movie, but she didn't actually feel accomplished about it. Her mind was still racing with thoughts of why she even bothered. It was high effort for little actual reward, and it felt embarrassing more than anything else.

Why did she do it anyway? There was always a weird correlation with everything going wrong for her on days when akuma happened, even if the akuma didn't directly cause it. Maybe she had a sixth sense for it and it made her stress out more?

So weird, she thought, idly running her fingers through her hair with one hand and dusting off her maid outfit with the other. In retrospect, that too was a weird choice; more "trying to catch the sight of a guy with certain interests" than "dressing for the occasion."

As she was mulling her own choices over to herself, a flash of white from the corner of her vision caught her attention. She looked over, seeing a large stack of papers near the entrance of the building as well as Thomas Astruc turning on the other side of the door to continue down the sidewalk. With a little urgency, she headed over to pick up the papers in both arms, noting that they appeared to be transcripts for something.

Her eyes zeroed in on the name Thomas Astruc and she hurried out, looking the way he'd gone as she called out to him.

Yet, he was nowhere to be found. Puzzled, Marinette looked back down, shuffling through the transcripts mindlessly.

Adrien probably knows him since he was in the movie, she thought. I can ask him to give them back—

She stopped before she'd finished the plan in her head, caught off-guard by how she'd wondered about Adrien so casually without having some crush-induced freak out in public. The day was just getting weirder by the second, and it became even more so when she took a better look at the transcripts in her hand.

It seemed obvious initially that it would've been the transcripts for the movie, or maybe a potential sequel, yet they were for a TV show called Miraculous Ladybug. She'd never heard of such a thing and found it even stranger that Thomas Astruc was listed as a writer, not a director.

Curiosity gnawed at her as she fidgeted with the pages. A little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

—————

Having dismissed Tikki after getting a scolding of looking into things she wasn't supposed to, Marinette dropped the transcripts onto her table and began to sort through them. It was perhaps petty to look into an unreleased series like this, but considering what happened with the movie and all the mutterings she heard from people who "didn't know Ladybug was afraid of cats," she would prefer to get ahead of whatever nonsense was going to be released in the future.

The transcripts were already in order of episode, so she started at the top, flipping the page to start reading.

It all went downhill from there.

It appeared innocent enough at the start, following akuma who already existed whose civilian selves may have given interviews on being akumatized, but the first double take of many began when Marinette saw her own name in the transcript. That may have been fine on its own, yet this Marinette lived where she lived, in a bakery with her parents Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng.

She swallowed, her hands crinkling the paper from their tight grip. Whoever wrote this knew that she had been Ladybug and somehow got down the events of the written days with precise accuracy. Was she being stalked somehow? How did they know all about her, and was this planned to be released to the public?

Despite her stomach churning at the implications, she continued reading.

—————

It was late into the night, Tikki already sound asleep up on Marinette's bed, when Marinette had decided to stop reading for the day. She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhausted yet wide awake at the same time.

Everything in the transcripts lined up with her memories and filled in gaps where she previously had nothing to work with. Written down when she'd transformed, what she'd done, who her friends were and what they did with her, and beyond that were things she'd either suspected or not known at all.

Adrien was Chat Noir, Gabriel was Hawk Moth, and it all made sense when put into a format like this.

It didn't appear like someone who knew too much had put pen to paper anymore. Rather, it felt like something written before it even happened: fate sitting behind a desk and planning out what was to be. There were even "episodes" of events that hadn't happened yet that Marinette felt could only be a matter of time.

She raked her fingers through her hair, clutching the strands tight as she tried to make sense of it all. Did it mean that she was just part of some show? Was she a character mindlessly following these scripts? How much was her and how far did her relationships with others go past what was written down for them to have?

Her mind spun, the chair underneath her feeling like it could collapse at any moment. Blood going cold, goosebumps formed along her arms as she looked around to see if she was being watched.

Everything added up and put into perspective things she'd never thought about before. All of the little inconsistencies that she hadn't given a single thought to were now staring at her right in the face, like the very fabric of the universe was broken and everyone went on like nothing was wrong.

And it was Chat Noir who caused Theo's akumatization, but he never told her and she was left in the dark. He'd planned in advance to ditch the search for Andre's ice cream to go set up the "date" with Ladybug that he passed off like it wasn't a big deal.

There was also Alya, who knew very well that she'd been willing to let Kagami be with Adrien when she'd agree to third wheel at the ice skating rink, only to then claim that she was jealous of Lila because of Adrien. Adding to that was Chloe, who Marinette herself was told to "be the bigger person for" and broke the identity rule for just to make her bully of multiple years Queen Bee again, which sounded reasonable at the time but crazy actually reading it.

Finally, there were her failures to get Adrien's attention and the inability to confess to him, whether to be rejected or otherwise, while Chat Noir skated by due to conveniently confessing his crush on Ladybug to Ladybug's civilian self. Why?

Because she was the punchline. She was constantly being set up to fail. The insane scenarios she was always roped into were the forces behind these transcripts twisting themselves into knots to ensure that she would be little more than a joke.

Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. Who could she even trust if everything involving them was made up in such convoluted fashion?

Furiously wiping at the tears, she decided on the only thing she could: she would test the transcripts and go from there. She could go off script, do things it didn't expect, and try to prevent what was predetermined. Clutching the papers to her chest, they were wrinkled with resolve rather than fear this time.

If it wasn't fate that put these in her hands, then maybe she could still do something. With these, she had power, she had control. More importantly, she could have an ally; someone she trusted, but often went ignored by the transcripts and thus was the least affected by them.

Setting the transcripts off to the side, she retrieved her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Most of her friends were dismissed almost immediately, having been around since the start of the series, and she couldn't trust Tikki either. After all, if there was any mouthpiece for the forces behind the transcripts - the "writers," she supposed - it was her.

Her thumb stopped skimming when she saw the black and blue hair: Juleka's brother, Luka, who she'd shared numbers with when she invited him out to the ice rink just in case plans changed. It was a reasonable concern at the time because of how often Adrien had to bail, but of course he was able to show up when it was written that she would make a fool out of herself in front of him, the one consistency throughout the entire series.

But Luka, he'd only been around starting in season 2 of the "show" and appeared prominently in a couple episodes at best. It made even more sense when she thought about that day at the ice rink, the akuma having conveniently started to attack while she was trying to sort out her feelings on him.

The show wanted him there, but didn't want her to think about him.

A burst of confidence snaked its way through her anxiety as she opened their messages to each other. Casting a glance at the transcripts, she thought, I don't have to play your game anymore.

Thus, she typed out a quick message to him.

Hey, are you free in a couple weeks for a meet up? Just the two of us? It's really important.

After hitting 'Send,' she brought the phone up to cover her mouth and attempted to take a steady breath through her nose. Two weeks was plenty of time to test the waters of what she'd seen, and anything else could be planned out after she met with him.

She could handle this. She wasn't the failure she was written as; she didn't have to be.

—————

Marinette had heard before about people so close that they could predict what the other would say. Others could be so in sync that they'd say things at the same time, even without trying.

It was an entirely different matter when she already knew what someone was going to say, not because she was close to them but because she'd read it before.

Three episodes - though it was strange to call them that - happened in the weeks leading up to seeing Luka: Bakerix, Backwarder, and Reflekdoll. The former came first and was the most unnerving of them all, being the one that put the transcripts set in the future to the test.

So long as Marinette followed the transcript, every line went exactly as intended. Her parents and grandmother spoke as if they had read it themselves, like actors in a play they weren't aware they were in. Even when Marinette didn't follow the script, she could feel the words trying to come up through her throat like an itching sensation before a cough.

Or, more accurately, bile building just before throwing up.

Almost unintentionally, she took a passive role by not going to see her grandfather, freshly disillusioned by the events and what they could mean for the people she knew and interacted with. He was, however, still akumatized, though without any action on her part. She didn't ask him why, already having the information she wanted most: that the world still tried to follow the transcript even if she fought it. It was proven further when her family saw the news, somehow recognizing the akuma as their relative, and rushed to see him when he was deakumatized.

They worked everything out from there, which on the surface sounded nice, yet Marinette was disturbed by the idea that it might've only happened because he was written into her future, likely for her own humiliation at some point.

At the very least, the world continued turning whenever she went off script as she'd planned. Her worst case scenario had been that everything would break apart or she would be unable to go against what was written.

She had little choice but to take action the day that Marianne was meant to be akumatized; Adrien was going away for a time and Master Fu had no one else to trust in delivering his letter to her.

According to the transcript, she would be humiliated in front of her friends after mixing up the letters, and Marianne would be akumatized when she too was given the wrong letter. With her thoughts dripping with sarcasm, Marinette supposed that was "her own fault" for expecting a magical yoyo to offer what she'd asked for when she reached inside. She could even imagine Thomas Astruc's face along other, faceless writers, hitting their desks laughing as they wrote down Adrien handing her constipation medicine.

Still, the solution was simple: she confirmed that it was Marianne's letter before handing it over. She could've given Adrien her own love letter as well, but had avoided him as much as possible since finding the transcripts. Her nature of spitting out word salad was there when they did see each other, yet became more manageable the more she refused to engage with him.

Him being Chat Noir made it all a bit easier. While she'd been sympathetic of his woes in being told nothing, the knowledge that he'd kept quiet about the grimoire while complaining to her about secrets and threatened to quit while Paris was underwater was, needless to say, quite the turn off.

Even when they weren't set to follow a plot, he was still as flirtatious as ever despite her rejection of his advances. It made sense as, though she may have hoped otherwise, she couldn't say she was a different person even after reading the transcripts; only one more aware of the world around her.

Juleka getting akumatized into Reflekdoll was something Marinette worked hard to prevent. Whether or not their friendship was "written to be," she still cared about people she felt close to and could relate to Juleka's anxiety.

Alya, of course, tried her hardest to fight back against her efforts to exclude Adrien, all with mixed results. Adrien still came along in the end, but Marinette managed to keep the photoshoot about Juleka, even if that meant ditching the group for a while to hide in the bathroom and talk her down from a potential panic attack.

Juleka taking the full spotlight was something she worked hard for, as not only would she not have wanted to ride off of Adrien's image to give her website any attention, but the idea that he would certainly have overshadowed Juleka in the eyes of the public disgusted her. She didn't need him, no matter how the forces "in charge" tried to convince her otherwise.

All in all, it was crisis successfully averted, and now she'd had multiple separate experiences to come to a few conclusions about the nature of her world.

The first was the obvious: that events were preventable, which was a relief given what she'd read about the season 3 finale. Sometimes things such as akumatization could still happen, but her actions as someone with knowledge of "the future" could reign in the worst of it.

Secondly, those around her could not stray from the transcript unless they were forced to by her or the changes she made, almost falling into loops of trying to make something occur unless they couldn't anymore. It was unnerving, seeing the double-edged sword of the power she held, but it was workable.

Thirdly, and perhaps even more important than the first, was that people could still be people. They acted similarly to what she might expect off script, but not always in a way that was bad. Juleka, for example, didn't blame her for anything that went wrong during the photoshoot as she had - rather nonsensically - in the transcript.

Marinette saw nothing less than her friend. She could still care about people without a nagging voice in her head telling her that it wasn't "real" or that she didn't actually mean anything to anyone. In the ideal scenario that came from everything she'd learned so far, there was a light to be found at the end of the tunnel: either the show's plot would end, or she would change it so drastically that no one could follow it any more.

Thinking back on it all, she let herself feel hope at the memory of Juleka's grateful smile, the light shining off the hair clip Luka had given her in just the right way.

It also gave her an idea.

—————

Marinette sat quietly on her chaise lounge as Luka pulled off his guitar case and settled it to the side of her room, so gently that she couldn't hear the sound of the case against the wall. She'd had two full weeks to process the transcripts and what they meant for her life, but it didn't mean that she wasn't still on edge when she thought about it.

It was one thing to have been given the knowledge herself. She was the one who picked up the transcripts, she chose to sit down and read them, and she continued looking into it even while knowing how stressful it would be.

It was an entirely different matter to inflict that on someone else. A few times, she'd debated with herself on excuses she could've made for their meeting in case she felt like backing out, but dismissed all of them in the end. She wondered how she could tell a person something so profoundly life-altering and how that would affect them emotionally, or if they'd even want to be told.

But how would one gauge that? Marinette could only use herself as a reference, knowing that she, at least, would want to know. The unknowns that revealed themselves to her throughout the experience - the things that were intentionally kept from her, Hawk Moth's identity, the future itself - had been nothing but beneficial to her, despite the horrors that came with them.

She wanted to share that; to know that she wasn't alone. She wanted—

"Marinette?"

She looked up, catching Luka's concern at what must've been a heavy expression on her face. She shook the thoughts away, offering him a gentle smile that she hoped conveyed, 'I'm glad you're here.'

"Juleka had so much fun at the photoshoot," she said, evading the topic of the current atmosphere. "It was sweet of you to put that hair clip on her. I bet it made her feel more confident."

His brows were still furrowed in worry, but he let it be for now and smiled back at her. "Thanks." He gestured at the spot next to her in a silent question and she accepted, shuffling to the side just enough to give him a comfortable amount of room to sit down. His weight sank into the cushion as he wondered aloud, "Did Jule tell you? She doesn't talk about me that much."

He stated it casually, clearly unbothered and of the opinion that Juleka wasn't obligated to talk about him in either a positive nor negative way. Marinette didn't say anything on it, but thought that of course Juleka didn't talk about him much, because how odd would it have been for someone's brother to just appear a whole season later and not be mentioned otherwise? Did he even exist before the day they met?

That was one thing she actively tried not to think about, having been too afraid to look up her grandfather's address before his mention in the transcripts. There was only so much she could take without imagining that Luka only came into existence a while ago.

Despite knowing that his question had, in all likelihood, been rhetorical, she answered it anyway, "...No. I didn't hear it from her."

She'd tried to be careful, giving him enough information to mull over but not anything that appeared outright supernatural. Technically, Juleka could've told Rose, who could've then told her at some point, which would've been far more normal compared to the truth.

But Luka, judging from the way he stared at her, eyes narrowed in contemplation, had caught onto the subtle implications in her tone.

Gripping her capris and taking a deep breath to steady her mind, Marinette pushed herself up to walk over to her computer chair. Nudging it aside with her leg, she turned to him and placed a hand atop the stack of transcripts, explaining, "I found these when I was at an event for the Ladybug movie everyone was talking about. There was a guy - Thomas Astruc - who directed it, but these call him a writer and I couldn't find out anything about it."

It all sounded irrelevant to what they were discussing, but Luka stood and came to stand alongside her, eyeing the stack and waiting for whatever she might say next.

In response, she held out three transcripts: Captain Hardrock, Frozer, and Reflekdoll. "You should read these first, but.... you might not like what you'll see."

It's all the warning she could give him without sounding like she was insane; his last way out before plunging under the depths with her. There would be no going back afterwards.

Luka, though puzzled, reached out for the papers, eyeing her face one last time before taking the transcripts in his hands to look at them properly. His eyes widened at what she imagined what the name of his mom's akuma, but he didn't comment on it as he went about reading.

Marinette stayed quiet the whole time, hands clasped tightly together to keep herself from making any movements. There would be time later for all of her discoveries and personal observations, but for now she let him piece it together himself.

Luka didn't say anything either, so she could only infer how he was feeling based on facial expressions and body language: the twitch of his eyebrows, the way his eyes flicked back up to reread something he found particularly unbelievable, and the sudden exhales he made that would ruffle the paper...

She could imagine that he was having a similar experience to her own, but what she couldn't was how it must've felt to realize the role he played.

Without question, he could've been invited to the photoshoot; he should've been invited and they could’ve easily made the time work out for him. After all, what better way to keep Juleka's anxiety at bay than to have the brother who knew it best along for the ride? She had men's clothes too and he could've easily modeled alongside his sister, the only reason Marinette hadn't invited him at the time being that she feared tampering with the plot with additional variables.

But she knew why it wasn't written into the original, at least. He was second place to someone else, so rarely thought about even with his role of being the "main character's" other crush. In the eyes of the plot, his feelings were written to be discarded, and it didn't matter how sweet he was or how compatible they might've been otherwise.

He would fail no matter what, tripping at the word 'go' without a chance of getting back up. She couldn't fathom why anyone would think to do that: to write a character who only served as a stone to be stepped on in order to get the person he liked with someone else.

She shuddered just thinking about it.

Luka's movements were unsteady - unlike himself - as he tore his gaze away from the transcripts in his hands to the ones on the table, his hip awkwardly bumping against the edge. He set the ones she'd given him aside to start reading from the others, leaning against the table with his back turned to it for support.

Marinette bit her bottom lip, sympathetic. The stack contained a majority of the transcripts she'd picked up and, while he may've intended try to pour through all of them, she did keep a choice few tucked away: specifically, the ones from the future that had him in them. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what she was written to do or wanted to keep him in the dark, but she'd wanted to mull things over herself first.

In more direct terms, her feelings for him. She would never deny that their first meeting had been "staged," written in such a way for them to start crushing on each other. She'd spent the full two weeks questioning her own emotions, sorting through them to see which felt real and which felt manufactured. It wasn't easy, and even now it was hard to gauge exactly what she felt that day.

So on some level, she looked forward to this: seeing Luka in front of her after reading something that treated him as someone to set aside. He still felt real, she'd still been aware of his body heat when they'd sat next to each other, and she couldn't help watching how he tilted his head just slightly when his bangs got in the way of reading a line or two.

She brought her clasped hands to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat. Regardless of the past, she knew the quickened thumping wasn't only from nerves, but what she couldn't know were his feelings.

Withholding those few transcripts for just a little longer played into that.

Marinette noticed the papers quiver in Luka's hands, looking down to see a tight grip that was all too familiar to her. Unable to stand aside any longer, she stepped towards him and unclasped her hands. Her fingers were stiff from gripping herself so tight, but she reached out anyway, delicately sliding her hand over his.

Luka's haunted gaze broke as he made eye contact with her, searching for something she couldn't quite place. Before she could say anything, he moved, both arms going around her and pulling her into a tight squeeze. The air left her lungs in a gasp, and her next breath took in his scent, so very close to her.

"Haaa—" He stopped for a moment, wavering, then tried again. "H-have you been dealing with this all by yourself?"

Her vision started to blur, tears coming to her eyes unbidden. He was the heavier of the two of them and she could feel it in his embrace, but the weight coming off her shoulders made it feel like nothing. She hadn't given a thought to what she may have liked to hear herself after what she'd been through, yet his words struck her in the heart in every right way.

It was an unspoken 'You're not alone anymore.' She hugged him back just as tightly, burying her face into his shoulder as she cherished the moment.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, having little else to say after keeping it a secret for what felt like so long. She might not have needed to apologize for it, but it clearly hurt him to know that she had been hurting.

And now he'd be with her through all of this; he'd shown her as much. Whether that involved helping her figure out what to do about Hawk Moth or how to break away fully from the plot, he'd be there.

That meant there was only one more thing to check.

Slowly, Marinette loosened her grip on the back of his jacket, giving him a sign that he could let go. His hands dropped back down to his sides, one hand still clutching the transcripts he'd been reading, but before he could step away from her, she reached up to take his face in her hands. His mouth dropped open without a sound, the hair in front of his ears tickling her fingers as she slid her palms against his cheeks.

His face was paler than usual from everything that'd been revealed to him, but colored at her featherlight touch. She tried to communicate everything with her eyes, giving him every opportunity to pull away from her.

The plots consistently tried to keep the events in place. Her grandfather still got akumatized, she'd put back and pulled out the wrong letter multiple times before giving up and keeping it between her teeth while she reached inside her yoyo, and Adrien still came along to the photoshoot no matter what she did. She could almost feel the world resisting her at every turn.

It wasn't safe to let her guard down when she knew one of the transcripts were taking place. It was already hard enough trying to make changes while the threat of the "destined" outcomes loomed over her, and there were other outcomes that were clearly avoided, such as her and Chat learning each other's identities.

When she first learned - read - that Adrien was Chat, there were a few days where she struggled to remember it. Maybe it was because of so much information being piled onto her at once, or something was fighting knowledge that she wasn't supposed to have.

And now, right there with her, was someone she wasn't supposed to have.

"Luka," she whispered, then closed her eyes and kissed him.

It was purposeful. It was delightful. It was terrifying. If there were only an external force causing his feelings for her, this is where it would all come undone. She kept her eyes shut tight, trying to feel out any sign that he didn't want this.

Instead, she heard the fluttering of papers, the transcripts falling at her feet as Luka held her again. He returned the kiss just as passionately, the stiffness and nerves from before fading away while he let himself drown in the comfort of the contact.

Faintly, she could recall her first kiss - the one demanded of her if she wanted to take out the akuma - but memories associated with anything written before she'd read the transcripts had slowly drifted to the back of her mind. They detached themselves from all else, as if she'd only experienced them in someone else's body.

Kissing Luka, meanwhile, felt vivid, her body shuddering in a mixture of joy and relief. Even when the kiss broke, he didn't step back from her, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes were half-lidded and appeared almost more blue than usual, a color she was quickly associating with hope.

Both at a loss for words, they accepted it and left talk of the future for the future. As for right then and there, they could write their own story just for themselves.

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Slightly shorter chapter since I got stuck watching the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake, but I hope y'all like where I'm steering this. Pick up what I'm putting down, eh??

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 2:

“This is insane. You’re not even trying.” 

Leon’s cruel comments had been endless since you showed up today. He was already irritated that you even showed to begin with, now he’s just taking all his frustrations out on you. The guy isn’t even passive aggressive, he’s just aggressive. “I showed you the formula like.. five times already.”

“I don’t need you to patronize me, please.” You asked with a meek voice, bringing your hands up to cover your face for a couple seconds before placing them down on either side of the new math assignment sitting in front of you. You understood his impatience though, you were even starting to grow impatient with yourself, having been stuck on the third question for over thirty minutes now. Leon stressed the fact that you got one hour only with him and you’d basically wasted half that time bouncing from the formula he’d written down to the question itself.

The formula was helpful, but this question included more numbers than you knew what to do with. The main issue was knowing which numbers went where in the formula and you wanted to know why they went where they did, but Leon was only giving you the formula and nothing else. One vague explanation and then he was right back on his phone.

You had a glimmer of hope for the frat boy sitting in front of you. Had, being the keyword here. One study session in and you were already starting to accept defeat. “Can you explain it to me again?” You tapped your pencil on the table nervously, keeping your eyes glued to your paper to avoid the obvious glare you’d receive from him.

The sound of his phone slamming down on the table accompanied with a groan made you grip onto your pencil tighter, now holding it still as he pulled the paper away from you. “Do I have to hold your hand, too? What’s so hard to understand about this?” He reached over, yanking your pencil from your hand so he could scribble out the first few steps to the problem. Afterwards, he tossed both the paper and pencil back over to you, tapping his finger down on the work he wrote down before circling it once. “Need anything else? A warm bottle of milk? Want me to read you a bedtime story?”

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms with a sigh after picking his phone back up. “You’ve got fifteen more minutes.” The fuck’s his problem? 

Letting out a small sigh of your own, you silently picked up the pencil and looked down at what he’d written. Surprisingly, it did help you make more sense of the rest of the assignment sheet, figuring out the placement of the numbers by using where Leon had put them. Soon, the assignment sheet was finished and you had him look it over.

“Is it-.. Is it good?” You watched Leon carefully, studying his face for any sort of emotion other than annoyance. You unfortunately didn’t find it, but his muttered “good” made you smile, taking your own turn studying your work once he handed it back. Not tossed or thrown, handed back.

He took in a sharp breath through his nose before standing up, focus still trained on his phone. There was only a few minutes left in the hour, so you guess he took your understanding of the material as his leave. “Can we.. uh.. study again on Monday?” His hand paused on the door handle at your question, looking back at you from over his shoulder with his lips pulled tight as he gave you a glare. “You just love taking up my time, don’t you?”

“Wait, is that-” The slam of the door cut you off, leaving you to watch him saunter off through the large window in the door. Your shoulders slumped and you turned back to give your math assignment one last look before stuffing it into your backpack. At least with this new understanding, you’d be able to hopefully do the next few assignments. Mr. Lebovic was kind enough to let you redo your past fails, meaning all you’re doing is slowly climbing your way back up to a better grade with make-up work.

You held out for Leon, constantly giving him the benefit of the doubt with each study session following the first. You did your absolute best to remain passive with him, but each session was filled with crude, nasty, hate-filled comments directed at you, so it was only a matter of time until you started throwing your own comments back at him. By the beginning of November, studying had been put on the back burner whenever you two met up, assignments left abandoned in favor of fleshing out full blown arguments. He always won since you’d never really had a loud voice to defend yourself and his favorite go-to was low blow insults, somehow always managing to sniff out your insecurities.

Leon’s pattern was always one step forward, ten steps back with you. He would help and then spend the rest of your hour together nitpicking your every attempt to learn. He hated you and it was driving you mad. It was impossible to learn anything like this.

You’d grown a sour mood leading up to your trek to the library for one of your regular study sessions, a scowl settling on your face. You decided hours ago that getting dressed wasn’t an option today, you just didn’t weren’t in the mood, so instead you threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants to mind the brisk chill that had rolled in at the end of October. 

The walk to the main building was dull; most of the leaves on the trees around campus had long since browned and fallen off, the grass was dead and crunchy, and it almost felt like it would start snowing anytime now with how quickly the cold had come. The feel in the air made you tired, it made you miss home. The weather made you long for the warmth a home-cooked meal provided, but you had to wait, and that wait was only contributing to your already piss poor mood.

Making your way into the library and into the reserved study room, you didn’t even notice Leon’s smile until he asked you to pull out your most recent assignment. It immediately put you off because it wasn't like his normal cocky smile or smirk, no, this one was oddly genuine. Soft, even.

“Can I see it?” He asked, smile widening slightly as he gestured towards your backpack. Even his tone was softer than usual. “Uh…” You weren’t quite sure how to react, not really processing his words as you tried to figure out whether he’s setting a trap or not.

“Your assignment. Can I see it?” Leon clarified, his arms resting crossed on the table as he glanced down to your bag and then back up at you. That was also weirding you out; the eye contact. Normally he only ever met your gaze when he was intimidating you with a deep glare and it wasn’t ever this long. He was making a point to look at you now.

Without saying a word, you unzipped your bag and pulled out a couple papers, only looking away from him twice to make sure you were getting the right ones. You made sure to hold eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed as you searched for any insincerity. 

You’d grown rigid with his kind behavior, even more so when he thanked you and took the papers from you. Questioning him was your top priority right now, though your mouth refused to work with your brain, causing you to stutter out a simple “..what?” Leon only hummed, tilting his head a bit as he looked down at your work, following the tip of his pen as it trailed down the paper. 

“What-..” You repeated, swallowing dryly before finally getting the full “What’re you doing?” out. He seemed genuinely confused at your question, looking up to give you a puzzled look. “Hm? Whaddya mean what am I doing? I’m looking over your work.” He looked back down at your paper, clearing his throat quietly.

“No, you’re being nice. Why are you being nice?” You were quick to shoot back to try and draw his attention back to you. “If this is a joke, I’m not gonna fall for it.”

Leon sighed and dropped the pen down onto the paper to rest his crossed arms on the table again. “Why are you asking so many questions? It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal?! “Not a big deal?! You’ve argued with me every other day for the past three weeks!” Your hands balled up into fists on your lap, completely baffled by the dismissiveness of his complete 180° in demeanor. “I-” You stopped yourself, taking a moment to breathe. This was.. actually a nice change of pace now that you think about it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?

He gave you his normal annoyed look at your sudden pause, seemingly waiting on you to finish talking. “You..?” Shaking your head a bit, you let out a soft laugh and waved your hand. “Nevermind, uh.. yeah, nevermind…”

“Ooookay, well, you did good on this one so you can turn it in.” Leon held up the first paper before sliding it across the table to you, then picking up the second paper. “But this one needs a bit of work. I circled the questions that need to be redone, not gonna tell you what’s wrong with them, though.” You watched as he slid the other paper to you with your own smile now forming. Pulling out a pencil, you started to relax for the first time around this guy, bringing your attention down to the circled questions.

Your study session has never been more productive. He was being helpful; answering your questions, talking you through each step, giving you smiles and the occasional thumbs up. You’re not sure what changed or why, but you definitely weren’t complaining. When Leon wasn’t acting like someone shoved a stick up his ass, he was actually pretty handsome. You’d mentally recognized his good looks when you first met him, yet his demeanor as a whole masked those good looks entirely.

There was no way he could throw anymore surprises at you, but you stood corrected when he walked over to you at the end of your session, stopping you from walking out. “Listen, I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I don’t want to be mean to you, it’s just…” He paused to laugh to himself, looking down at the ground with an almost bashful expression. “I’m only tutoring because it’s a big part of my grade in my class, so..” Not a complete lie on his part.

“Oh. Oh, it's.. it’s fine.” You didn’t want him to revert back to his old style, so you chose to just dismiss it. His attitude did make sense, you wouldn’t want to tutor random people for a grade. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks. Uh.. oh, here-” Leon opened and held the study room door open for you, giving you a small wave as you walked out, which you returned. That was a nice mood booster, not being degraded and demeaned every time you see the one person who’s supposed to help you. 

Your friends had their own opinions about the experience after you described it to them. You’d been relaying every bit of info relating to your study sessions from the past three weeks to them, a second and third opinion was good to have for such an odd trade.

“I don’t trust it. Plain and simple.” Sky placed their hands down on their thighs with an audible slap. They didn’t seem impressed by Leon’s sudden chivalry, and to your disappointment, neither did Ella when you looked over from Sky to her. She just looked back at you with a shrug. “Sorry. I’m gonna have to take Sky’s side on this. There’s just something off about that.”

You sighed in defeat, turning your head around to look out the window in the dorm room. It was nice that Sky and Ella shared a dorm, you can’t discuss stuff like this in your own dorm in case your roommate decided to randomly appear. “Yeah…”

Ella scooted closer to you on the bed and pulled you back so your head was resting in her lap. “I know you got your hopes up, but please be careful. I don’t wanna see you get hurt because some pretty boy decided it would be fun to manipulate you.” You groaned, covering your face with your arms. Nothing even happened and you’re already feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay if you like him, he is kinda cute.” Ella giggled and moved one of your arms to poke your cheek. “But just remember that the guy’s got a bit of a reputation for being a major douche.”

Sky, sitting over on their bed, pointed at Ella in agreement. “Emphasis on major douche.” They smiled and leaned back, their head plopping onto their pillows. “It was just one instance of him being sweet, after all. Who’s to say he won’t revert back to being an asshole by Wednesday?”

“I know, I get it.” You swatted Ella’s hand away and sat back upright. Even if he was putting up a front, it was still nice to get some real help with your math without being insulted. Everyone deserves a second chance and he seemed honest enough when he told you why he’d been so rude, so why not try again with him? Start fresh, maybe you’ll get to make an unlikely friend out of this popular frat boy.

A bit of a far fetched idea, considering the vast differences between you and Leon, but anything like that is worth another try. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita

(a few of your blogs won't show up but i tried)

[scififettuccine]

Victoria Neuman x Fem!Reader: Darts

Pairing: Victoria Neuman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Quick One-Shot Hurt/Comfort! Your girlfriend finds you playing darts in your office, and she can tell that something is up. If there's one thing Victoria doesn't like, it's seeing her girlfriend upset.

Word Count: 1.25k

Warnings: Darts (?), mentions of Homelander, mentions of Homelander being a whore, mentions of family death, glass cuts, corrupt government system, Vicky being a raging lesbian

Notes: I wrote this after playing darts for 3 hours. As you can see the concept has infected my brain. IF YOU DON"T UNDERSTAND HOW CRICKET WORKS WITH DARTS I'M VERY SORRY. (And honestly I don't know if the way my family plays is exactly right so don't come after me Dart Experts.) I know I put up a pole, and this option lost by a long shot, but half of it was already written and I needed to finish it since it was super gut wrenching <3

Your parents had added to the growing number of many unnecessary obituaries that came out of Homelander’s career. It happened around this time, ten years ago. Your parents had owned a bakery in the city, and on a hot day ten summers back, someone attempted to rob their small business. Of course, after the authorities were called, Vought added their golden boy to the scene. They must have expected some sort of heroic story, with a headline like “The Seven’s Homelander saves the lives of two elderly bakers, and keeps the beloved business open.” But instead of that headline, they weren't mentioned in any headline…Only in the obituary section of a few local newspapers due to Vought covering up Homelander’s sloppy use of his heat vision. The last you saw of your parents' bodies was the bottom half of one…and the top half of the other. You were twenty, planning your parent’s funeral all on your own from your dorm room halfway across the country. All Vought sent was a card extending their deepest condolences, signed by the company's CEO, and Homelander himself. Since then? You’ve had a vendetta against Homelander and Vought as a whole. Coincidentally, that's how you met your girlfriend, Victoria Neuman, and started working for The Federal Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.

You had been in your office all day, admittedly drowning yourself in work so you didn't have to think about it all. But once there was nothing else to drown yourself in, you cracked open another redbull and decided to play a game of darts. Since you didn't have a partner, you just decided to time yourself to see how long it would take you to clear the scoreboard: Three twenties, three nineteens, three eighteens, three seventeens, three sixteens, three fifteens, and three bullseyes. And of course…all your attempts were aimed at the sympathy card that had turned ten years old this morning. You played darts often, so you had gotten down to the bullseyes within 10 minutes. Yet the more you missed, the more you got upset…the more your mind drifted. You thought about what might have happened had you not gone off to college.

Double ninteens.

You thought about what might have happened had you just stayed and helped to better the family business.

Double sixteens.

You thought about what would have happened if you would have answered the phone when they called you earlier that day.

Shattered glass.

You gasped as the last dart you threw hit the frame you had hung on the wall, housing a photo of you and your parents holding a photo of you and your parents at your highschool graduation. You shook your head as you walked over to the mess…the dart you had thrown had pierced right through the center of the photo…right through your face. It was lodged deep into the wall, due to the force of your throw. You wanted to cry, scream out of frustration even…But a voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Everything alright in here, pretty girl…?” You heard the voice of your girlfriend and turned around, stepping over a bit to try and hide the mess of glass shards. When your eyes met hers, there was a concerned look on her face.

“Yeah…Yeah. It’s all good, Vic. I just knocked a picture frame off the wall.” You said, desperately trying to make your voice sound a little more upbeat than it truly was. Vicky raised a brow and looked up at the dart sticking out of the wall, then over to the dart board, and then to the card that was push-pinned to the dart board. Her gaze immediately softened, and her heart dropped.

“Baby…” She started, walking further into your office so she could close the door behind her. You shook your head and turned back around, trying to pick up some of the bigger glass shards with your hands.

“I’m fine. It’s not-” You cut yourself off with a wince as a piece of the glass slit your palm. “Shit-” Vicky shook her head and quickly moved to your side. She took your hand and turned your palm so the glass you had collected would fall back into the pile.

“You’re not fine. And you’re clearly not thinking straight if you're picking up broken glass with your bare hands, you're smarter than that.” Vicky sighed, moving to untuck her dress shirt so she could wipe the blood from your palm. It was moments like these where you truly understood how much Vicky cared about you. She would ruin a perfectly white dress shirt just to wipe blood off of a small cut. “You’ve gotta talk to me, pretty girl…What’s going on? You’ve been in here all day, there's 3 empty cans of RedBull on your desk, and you just threw a dart through a picture frame. Talk. Now.” You sighed and tried to pull your hand away, to which she held it a bit tighter.

“I can’t fucking stand it. How Vought gets off scott free after every fucked up thing they do. I was twenty years old, planning my parents' funeral from my dorm room. And what was he doing? Probably getting sucked off by some higher up for ‘a job well done.’ My parents were the only people I had. I sat in the first pew of that church alone. Completely and utterly alone.” You paused to take a breath, and pointed to the card pinned to the dart board. “That’s all I got. That’s all I have to show for it. I got…what? A fifty cent card with a bogus apology and two signatures on it? My parents were-” You choked on your words. “My parents were fucking sliced in half-” Your voice seemed to have left you as Vicky pulled you against her chest, being careful of the pile of glass shards.

“I know, baby…I know.” She cooed softly, tracing patterns on your back. Admittedly, you just sobbed into her shoulder, clutching onto her blazer as if it would disappear if you didn't. The two of you just sat like that. You couldn't even say how long. It was just the two of you, Vicky whispering comforting words to you as you let the ten years of suppressed emotions finally find some relief. “You are so strong, honey…And so incredibly loved, I want you to know that. You never have to hide these things from me. Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here. I don’t care if I’m at a meeting with the god damn president…I’ll get to you as fast as I can.” Vicky pulled your face off her shoulder, and wiped your tears ever so gently. “I love you…So fucking much. It hurts me to see you like this.” Vicky herself was almost choked up at the sight of you in such sadness. She kissed your lips softly, before she moved to press her forehead against yours, her hands holding both sides of your face. “What can I do to make you feel even just a little bit better…? Say the word and it's yours.” She whispered. You swallowed and took a breath as you placed your hands over hers.

“Ice cream…and a Band-Aid.” You replied softly. Vicky laughed and squeezed your cheeks ever so slightly. 

“That's it? Just ice cream and a Band-Aid? You could have anything and you chose ice cream and a Band-Aid?” She smiled and shook her head, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips.

“Yeah…That’s it.” You replied softly.

“Alright pretty girl…what flavor?”

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

Well...what can I say? Shes my favorite. Hope you liked it as much as I did, most likely starting either Butcher x Supe!Reader or Soldier Boy x Sidekick!Reader real soon depending on the results of the pole...It's been really really close! Adieu!

[bellaxgiornata]

Your Body is Not a Graveyard

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been over a year since Frank and you decided to expand your family, but all you've managed to give him is more loss. Struggling with grief and depression, you've tried your best to hide your pain from him, but one afternoon, Frank stumbles on you mid-panic attack.

Warnings: 18+; miscarriage, pregnancy struggles, panic attacks, depression, grief, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, but I promise there's hope at the end

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: So I have written a lot of Matthew Murdock content, but this is my first ever Frank Castle fic and my first ever one shot (but I could be persuaded for a possible sequel). Honestly, I wrote this for the Frank comfort because I've been struggling through some things and needed it myself so expect soft Frank. I am also working on a Frank series that will be coming soon. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tagging @danzer8705 since you asked!

For a long while you stood there, the faucet running as the warm water gradually grew hotter over your hands. You barely felt the temperature difference, though. Nor had you noticed that the soap had long since been rinsed from them. You were too focused on your eyes and the blank way they were staring back at you through the bathroom mirror.

Because at first you’d felt numb.

That bit of bright red noticeable on the toilet paper before you'd flushed had caught your eye. Part of you had expected it. It was, after all, about that time of the month. Again. At the very least, your body was nothing if not predictable. Which was why you hadn’t exactly been surprised to see the telltale crimson of your period beginning.

You’d gone through the motions after. Grabbed a tampon out from under the bathroom sink and finished your business before you'd washed your hands, yet all the while it felt like you’d somehow disconnected from your body. As if the hands inserting your tampon and flushing the toilet, the same ones pulling your underwear and jeans back up before turning on the bathroom faucet and lathering the soap along them, were suddenly not yours. You didn’t recognize them. 

And that face in the mirror, the one staring unblinkingly and so sullenly back at you, was unfamiliar, too. When had the bags under your eyes become so prominent? When had your eyes themselves grown so dull? 

But the longer you stared, the blurrier that face in the mirror became. 

And that’s when you felt it.

At first it was small–just the stinging of tears in your eyes. The all too familiar prickle began to build before you felt the first few large, wet drops spill forth from them. They left a trail of heat as they slid their way down your cheeks, catching in the frown lines around your trembling lips. 

Next came the sharp, burning pain that hit you right in the stomach. Gradually it crept its way up towards your chest like a growing fire right before you felt your ribcage abruptly compress around your heart and your lungs in a single, abrupt seize. A shuddering gasp tumbled out of your lips, your eyes snapping shut. Breath coming in shallower, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip as you tried to fight back the muffled sobs slipping out of you. You knew Frank had just returned home from the store and you didn’t need him to overhear one of the panic attacks you always hid from him.

The ringing in your ears soon became louder than the sound of the running water from the faucet, tears continuing to slip past your lashes as your own racing pulse pounded rapidly in your throat. But above all of that your mind was becoming the loudest thing in this bathroom, quickly drowning out everything else around you.

Because another month had gone by and you still hadn’t conceived. It had been over a year since you and Frank had stopped trying to not get pregnant and let things happen. Yet here you were. Enduring another monthly menstrual cycle. 

You still remembered that late night conversation with him curled up in bed together, the one that changed the trajectory of your past year. Both of you had been wrapped limb around naked limb in bed, your finger tracing mindless patterns along his bare chest as you both laid there together, panting and flushed from the exertion of your previous intimate activities. Frank had been rather sweet with you that night, too. Sweeter than usual. He’d taken his time with you, appreciating your body and touching you only with the most delicate of touches. Something about the way his hands had even just lingered on you that night had felt different. And then afterwards, he’d been the one to break the peaceful silence in the bedroom. You could still hear his voice perfectly in your head even now.

“I want that with you.”

Those five words had sent your heart into a frenzied flutter. Granted, you’d been uncertain if he’d meant them in the context of the conversation the pair of you had the night before when you’d curiously asked him if he had ever given more thought to wanting a family. It had been a question you’d assured him had come with no pressure. You knew about Frank’s past–the life that was not Peter Castiglione’s–and you’d always made it clear that you respected his boundaries either way. All you wanted was him. But before he’d ever proposed to you, he had on multiple occasions told you that maybe someday he could see that again–having a family–but only with you. 

So you’d been curious that night before, almost six months after you had eloped with him and legally become Mrs. Castiglione–though in private Frank called you Mrs. Castle. You had wondered if he would ever want something more. Something more than just the little family the two of you had created together in your cozy house. Because for a while now it had been just Frank, you, and Bear–the pitbull you’d seen on the local animal shelter’s social media page shortly after you’d both moved in together. You’d shown that picture to Frank and the very next day you had come home from work to find Bear wagging his tail and greeting you excitedly beside Frank in the living room. The three of you had quickly become a family.

But sometimes you still wondered about more than that.

So you looked back on that night fondly with Frank once he’d clarified what he’d meant. When he’d opened the door to something more for the both of you. Because you knew what that meant for him. You knew what a big step that was after what he’d lost.

You vividly remembered the excited squeal you’d let out when he gripped your chin so gently between his fingers and said he wanted a family with you and that he knew you’d make an amazing mother. You’d flung yourself on top of him and excitedly kissed his laughing mouth over and over while he’d joked about getting a head start on making a baby and trying a second time that night. And of course you did have sex again that evening, though you hadn’t removed your birth control implant until almost three weeks after that night, wanting to wait to make sure Frank was entirely certain before you did. And when you had, you’d both been ecstatic about what the future would bring.

But now, a year later, you found yourself growing further and further disheartened and depressed. You’d eventually begun to silently take the blame upon yourself that you hadn’t managed to get a pregnancy to full term yet. That you couldn't seem to give Frank a child. Because maybe you were broken. Maybe your body was broken. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten pregnant at all–you had. Twice now. But you’d lost both pregnancies. And the second loss only hit you harder than the first because your second pregnancy had gotten farther along. You had been almost eleven weeks pregnant and starting to feel like things were going to be alright. You knew that the rate of miscarriage significantly dropped after the first twelve weeks. 

You had cautiously let yourself begin to get excited. To discuss nursery plans with Frank when it came to the extra, unused bedroom in the house. Teasing him about how many times you'd be likely to change your mind about the paint color, joking about how often he'd be repainting it for you. But he always just wrapped you in those big, strong arms of his, a broad smile on his face as he promised you the same thing every time. 

"Don't matter to me," his deep voice would rumble out with a soft chuckle. "I'll paint it every goddamn shade of the rainbow for the next nine months if that's what you want, sweetheart."

Frank had even finally let himself get excited, too, and it had warmed your heart to see. 

Oftentimes you'd wake up, rolling out of bed to hear him down the hall and in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. He was usually awake before you in the mornings and talking to Bear, but you had begun to overhear him telling Bear that he was going to need to be a good boy and look out for you and this baby whenever he wasn't home. Or you would overhear him telling Bear about how much he'd love playing fetch when the baby was a little older, and how this child would become Bear's best friend. It had always put a smile on your face when you overheard those one-sided conversations as you made your way into the kitchen in the mornings, greeted with the sight of a grinning Frank and Bear sitting beside him, wagging his tail so hard you could hear it thumping against the wood floor repeatedly.

You remembered how excited Frank had gotten about that first appointment with your obstetrician, too. He had insisted he took off early from work to be there to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see that very first ultrasound. And you would never forget the way Frank looked at you when you’d both first heard that rapid, fluttering heartbeat. His eyes had welled up with tears, his face a mixture of awe and sheer joy as his large hand tightened around yours. You had always thought Frank was an attractive man, but in that moment, with the way his face had lit up with so much happiness as he gazed back at you, you’d never seen him look more handsome.

Though you hadn’t seen that look on his face since. A few weeks after that appointment you’d woken up from a dead sleep, your abdomen aching and in pain. Getting up out of bed, you remembered stopping in your tracks when you felt that warm gush between your thighs and your throat had instantly closed up. You’d nearly sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, a groggy Frank calling out after you as Bear sat whining outside the bathroom door. 

You were bleeding and it just wouldn’t stop. 

Frank had known exactly what was happening the moment you'd begun openly weeping in the bathroom. With a focused calm he managed to get both of you dressed and ready before he brought you to the hospital. He kept uttering words of comfort in your ear, holding your hand as you sobbed into his shoulder in the ER’s waiting room. Eventually a nurse wheeled you back to a room in a wheelchair where Frank continued to hold your hand and hover at your side as the nurses drew blood and set up an IV. 

That whole time you were at the hospital Frank never let go of your hand, not until they needed to take you away to conduct an emergency ultrasound. You’d been terrified to go without him, not wanting to be alone if they couldn’t find a heartbeat, but the staff had refused, claiming it was hospital policy that he needed to stay back and wait for you. You swore you almost saw the Punisher firsthand in that hospital room with the sheer rage present on Frank’s face as his nostrils flared at the nurses. Inevitably you had to be the one to tell him it was alright, that you’d be fine with him waiting for you.

And then you’d broken down in the darkened little room by yourself as the doctor conducting the ultrasound offered you stiff and practiced words of condolences when that rapid, fluttering heartbeat couldn’t be found again.

You’d spent the next few days afterwards unable to leave your bed. Bear stayed cuddled up beside you, resting his head on your legs as you cried into your pillow on and off. Whenever Frank had gotten home from his shift at the local factory, he’d grab a quick shower before he lay with you, soothingly rubbing your back and not saying a word. Because there wasn’t anything to say. 

It was a few days later that you’d felt guilty for wallowing in your own grief. Despite that calm, comforting exterior Frank always approached you with, you knew he was hiding his own grief from you. That underneath all those sweet words and meals he had cooked for you, he was struggling with his own pain. And you’d stumbled on the truth of that one day when you’d woken up from a nap on the couch, heading to the bedroom and catching Frank sitting on the edge of the mattress bent in half with his face in his hands, the ultrasound photos laying on the nightstand beside him. 

You’d never felt like you’d let him down more in the time you’d known him than in that very moment and it had broken you. Because instead of adding joy to Frank’s life–like you wanted to do after everything he’d been through–you just kept adding more loss. So you’d stopped openly wallowing and crying after that, shoving your emotions all the way down until moments like this–like right now–where you were alone and could feel them. Just a little bit. Because you didn’t need to add anymore to Frank’s pain. You didn’t need to be another burden on his shoulders–he carried enough weight on them.

A couple of quick raps came from the bathroom door, the noise abruptly breaking through your thoughts.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Frank’s gruff voice called out from the otherside of it. “You good in there? Sink has been running for awhile now, just wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

Biting down harder on your lip, a choked sob slipped out between your teeth before it broke on a hiccup. Immediately you heard the bathroom door handle twist open, your damp lashes flying open to reveal Frank’s panicked expression reflected back at you through the bathroom mirror. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. 

Swiftly stepping beside you, he reached a hand out and turned off the faucet that had still been running. He muttered another curse when he realized how hot the water had been, reaching across you to grab the hand towel from the nearby towel rack. 

"Hey, c'mere," he whispered.

He wrapped the soft towel gently around your trembling hands, drying them off carefully as he turned you towards him. Your hands ached just from the light touch; you'd certainly left them under the hot water for far too long.

Sniffling, you turned your face into the sleeve of your shirt, trying to dry the tears still flowing on the fabric along your shoulder. Gritting your teeth together, you fought to even out your sharp, shallow breaths and get them under control. You didn't need Frank to see you like this.

"Somethin' happen?" he asked softly, removing the towel from your hands. "You hurt?"

You shook your head quickly, unable to trust your voice. 

He lowered his face to yours, trying to catch your gaze. Sniffling again, your eyes gradually slid up towards his, guilt flooding you at the sight of concern in his warm, brown eyes. Immediately the tears began pouring out of you even faster, your face scrunching up as you tried to bury it back into your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, c'mere," he murmured, tossing the towel onto the bathroom counter.

Frank's hands encircled your shoulders before he firmly pulled you into himself, burying his face into the top of your hair. Your hands were trapped between both of your bodies, sliding their way up to Frank’s chest before you desperately grasped onto the fabric of his black shirt and balled it into your fists. Pressing your face into his solid chest, you struggled to fight down the rasping breaths that kept leaving your mouth as you cried.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Frank whispered into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "I've got you. It's alright. You're alright."

One of his large hands began smoothing your hair soothingly as he continued gently shushing you and muttering words of comfort. Closing your eyes, you inhaled a deep, rattling breath and tried to focus on his calming voice. The familiar scent of him filled your nose, something warm like pine mixed with cinnamon. It was a smell you'd come to associate with him and it always brought you comfort–just like Frank’s entire presence always did. When you felt his lips leave a lingering kiss along your temple, the apology slipped out of your mouth before you even knew it had.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Fingers curling tighter around the fabric of his shirt, you pressed your lips firmly together as you tried to bury your face further against his chest. You hadn’t meant to let that slip. The guilt and shame welling inside of you for months was something you much preferred to keep to yourself. You didn’t want Frank to carry the weight of that, too.

But you felt the way Frank had swiftly withdrawn his face from your hair, his large hand sliding around from where it had been stroking your hair to instead gingerly cradle your cheek. Slowly he drew your face from where you’d tried to hide against his chest, his hand gradually turning it up towards his. 

His brows were slightly drawn together, a few creases visible between them. The corners of his lips were downturned, his eyes narrowing as they searched your face for answers. You could feel the tremble of your own lips as you studied his face in return, seeing exactly what you hadn’t wanted to see in it. Frank Castle was not going to let this go without an answer. 

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he repeated.

Licking your lips nervously, you knew you were going to have to tell him this time. Though having this particular conversation didn’t remotely calm the racing of your heart. And you knew you were going to break down again in front of him; that thought alone brought the burn of tears back to your eyes.

“I–I got my period,” you stammered quietly.

Frank’s eyes only narrowed further at you, confusion briefly slipping onto his face as his frown deepened. But then understanding washed over his features mere seconds later and you saw his expression soften. He immediately began to shake his head at you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

"Frank, I–"

"No," he stated, shaking his head again. "No. You did nothing wrong."

Throat tightening, you struggled to get your next words out, your fingers still curled around his shirt.

"I lost them both," you choked out. 

Frank's other hand came up, both of his hands now carefully cradling your face between his palms. His lips twitched at the corners as his hardened eyes stared fiercely back at yours.

"That wasn't on you," he stated. "None of it was your fault, sweetheart. You hear me? It was out of your control. I don't blame you for a damn thing. How could you even think you need to apologize?"

The calloused pads of Frank’s thumbs began tenderly wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. Despite how dangerous you knew Frank could be–despite knowing the things he’d done–he’d only ever been gentle with you.

You inhaled a shuddering breath, another truth slipping out of your mouth. "Because I let you down, Frank," you whispered. 

Frank's head tilted to the side, confusion once again drawing over his face as his brows furrowed further together. "You–you what?" he asked.

Eyelids lowering, you tried to control your breathing, taking a deep breath in and holding it. You couldn't properly explain what you needed to if you were going to start hyperventilating on him. And you sure as shit felt like you couldn’t look him in the eye right now, either. Not with that look on his face, the one full of earnest desire to understand you. To help you.

"I know what it–it means that you wanted this, Frank," you began in a whisper. "Wanted a family with me. I saw how happy you were both times I told you I was pregnant. I saw the way your face lit up at the ultrasound. And I–" you winced, your grip tightening so hard on Frank's shirt that your nails were digging into your own palms, "–I saw you. After. Crying in the bedroom over that ultrasound. Because I can't–can't seem to just get pregnant. To keep a pregnancy." 

A humorless, strangled laugh fell out of you, your eyes still closed because you couldn’t bear to see his face. But you felt Frank’s hands holding your face a bit tighter between them in response to the harsh, bitter noise you’d just made.

"It seems so fucking easy for everyone else," you continued, everything suddenly tumbling out of you after months of repeatedly shoving it down. "Everyone but me. And I'm–I'm so tired of being asked by my family and friends every couple of months if I'm finally pregnant. So tired of them brushing off my pain like it's nothing, like the two pregnancies I lost were nothing . Telling me things will happen in time or–or there's no rush to get pregnant. That everything will work out like some empty fucking platitude is going to fix this. Because none of them have gone through any of this. And I'm happy they haven't. I am. But they don't know what it's like. How–" your eyelids flew open, your focus on your hands still wrapped around his shirt, "–how upsetting it is to be repeatedly asked if I've gotten pregnant yet, especially when it feels like my body is…" your voice trailed off, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to finish your sentence. 

Frank's large hands carefully tried to turn your face up towards his, his eyes once again attempting to catch your own. Nervously you met his gaze and the hurt and pain clear in them only had your lips quivering yet again. 

"When it feels like your body is what, sweetheart?" Frank asked softly. 

Swallowing hard, your sad eyes held his as you spoke. "It feels broken," you whispered. "Like there's something wrong with me. Like it's–it's a graveyard."

The moment the words left your mouth, you entirely lost your composure. A sob barreled its way up out of your throat, your eyes snapping shut. Frank didn't stop you when your hands released his shirt and wrapped around his neck instead, your body collapsing forward into his. He only held you tight to himself, his hands rubbing calming patterns along your back as you wept. Your fingers dug into Frank through his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.  

“You’re not broken,” he whispered after a few minutes, his mouth beside your ear. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not broken.” 

You felt him shifting beneath you, his hands making their way up to your shoulders before he gently pulled you away from himself. Reluctantly you loosened your grip around his neck, your own hands holding onto his broad shoulders as you drew back from him, spotting the damp spot on his shirt from where your tears had soaked through the fabric. One of his hands slid along the length of your shoulder, continuing upwards until he was lightly grasping underneath your jaw, his thumb affectionately brushing back and forth along the line of it.

“Look at me,” he said, the command so gentle it was more of a plea. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly your watery gaze left that damp spot on his shirt and returned to Frank’s face, taking in that tender look in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given you when he’d dropped down onto one knee and asked you to be his wife. It was a look he’d given you so often since that night. And right now that look was breaking down all the walls you’d been building to keep Frank out of your pain.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he assured you. “ Nothing . And there is absolutely nothing you need to be sorry about.”

His eyes quickly clamped shut, hurt briefly screwing up the features of his face as you silently watched him. When his eyes opened again, they held yours firmly with an intensity you didn’t see often in Frank. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, but it didn’t waver on a single word.

“Your body is not a graveyard,” he stated. “You hear me? What happened does not define you. It doesn’t make you a–a disappointment or a failure. You had no control over any of that. And you don’t owe me a single goddamn apology, sweetheart. Not a single fuckin’ one.”

“But you’re hurting, too,” you whispered.

Frank shrugged, your hands rising and falling with the movement as they still rested along his shoulders. He gave you a single, resolute nod of his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It hurt me to lose both of them, too. But it hurts me more to see how much you’re hurting. And I’m sittin’ here feeling like there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“You’ve already been doing so much for me,” you countered, shaking your head at him. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through any of this without you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. Always ,” he assured you. “But do you still want this?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly nodded back at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I want this with you, Frank. More than anything.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. “Do you wanna keep trying? Or do you wanna look into other options?” he asked next. “Because I’m with you, whatever you want.”

Your arms slowly wrapped back around his shoulders, drawing him down towards you until his forehead was resting against yours. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the back of his cropped hair. Frank immediately leaned in, lightly pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. A small smile slipped onto your mouth when he pulled away.

“I want to keep trying,” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” he asked, a playful coyness in his voice.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of you in response as he wrapped his arms around you in another embrace. Turning to rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes fell closed and you felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’m on my period, Frank,” you reminded him.

“So?” he asked. “Didn’t stop us those times before.”

Laughing lightly, you shook your head against him. “Probably not likely to result in a pregnancy,” you pointed out.

“Who says that’s the only reason I need to make love to my wife?” he countered.

Slowly you shifted in his arms, your chin coming to rest along Frank’s chest as you looked up at him. He drew a bit back from you, glancing down at you with a cheeky grin on his mouth. When you quirked a brow at him, he sent you a wink.

“Make love, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he replied with a smug smile. “Which reminds me, I got somethin’ for you.”

Brows curiously drawing together when Frank’s arms released you from their hold, your arms dropped to your sides as you watched him turn and head out of the bathroom. You followed out of the room behind him, Bear greeting you in the hallway with a wagging tail. You smiled down at him, giving him a quick pet on the head before you continued on your way towards the kitchen after Frank, wiping the backs of your hands against your damp cheeks. 

When you rounded the hallway corner, you spotted Frank in the kitchen holding a vase filled with a beautiful floral arrangement. Your jaw dropped as you came to an abrupt halt. The bouquet was a mixture of white, deep red, and pink flowers and you couldn’t take your eyes from it. It certainly looked like he’d stopped at a florist after he’d picked up the groceries because the arrangement was far nicer than what you’d find at the store. 

Eyes making their way up to Frank’s smiling face, you felt the tears beginning to well up in them again. Though this time it wasn’t because you were upset and hurting, it was because you were full of so much love for the man you’d been fortunate enough to marry.

“You brought me flowers?” you asked in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Seemed like you could use some cheering up. I also picked up one of those coffees you always order,” he continued, turning and gesturing at the cup on the kitchen counter behind him. “I know how much you love your coffee.”

Rapidly crossing the distance between you and Frank, you quickly reached up and grabbed his face in both of your hands before roughly pulling him down towards you. Your mouth was on his, kissing him like it was the first time you ever had all over again. His own lips were moving just as earnestly against yours, matching the same intensity as one of his hands landed on your hip, pulling you into him.

After a moment you broke away, trying to catch your breath as you stared up at Frank. He stood there, one hand holding your hip while the other continued to hold the vase of flowers, a bright smile spread wide over his mouth.

"I love you," you told him.

Leaning forward, Frank placed a kiss on your forehead. A smile grew along your mouth when his warm lips lingered against you. 

"I love you, too," Frank murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. 

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze before he released it, turning and setting the vase of flowers back onto the counter behind him. He picked up the cup of coffee before he turned back towards you, holding it out. You accepted it from him with a soft thanks before drawing the cup to your lips for a deep drink. Eyelids fluttering closed, you reveled in the comforting liquid as it ran over your tongue. 

"Somethin' you want to do this afternoon?" Frank asked. "'Cause I'm all yours the rest of the day."

Chewing your lip, you turned at the waist and looked over at Bear sitting in the space between the kitchen and living room. The moment your eyes fell on him he perked up, his head tilting to the side as his tail began to thump against the wood floor. Focusing back on Frank, you sent him a smile. 

"I'm happy to do whatever as long as I get to spend the afternoon with my two favorites," you told him. 

Frank’s attention shifted to Bear before he jutted his chin at the dog. "Hey boy, how's a long walk on that trail sound? You think a little family outing will cheer our girl up?" he asked. 

Bear let out two deep barks, rising up onto his feet. His front paws happily danced back and forth, his nails lightly clicking along the wood floor. You laughed at how excited he was, your gaze eventually drawn back to Frank standing just before you. 

"What do you say, sweetheart?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "You up for a little family outing?" He gestured his chin at the coffee in your hands. "You can bring the coffee."

"I say that sounds like a good afternoon," you replied. 

Taking a step towards him, you tilted your face upwards. Frank immediately leaned down towards you, knowing exactly what you wanted and allowing you to press your lips to his in a light kiss. Your heart stuttered when you felt the way his mouth drew into a smile against yours before he broke away.

"And what about afterwards?" he asked, tone light and teasing as his face hovered just an inch from yours. "You up for a little love making in the shower?"

An amused snort fell out of you, Frank's smile only growing at the sound of it. Grinning back at him, you felt like some of the weight of your grief had lessened after finally opening up to Frank today. Not that the pain you felt had miraculously disappeared and the emotional wounds had suddenly healed over, but you didn't feel like you were drowning in it anymore. For the first time in months you felt like you could breathe a little easier. 

And you owed it to the man standing in front of you. 

But you also knew there was pain hiding behind those brown eyes gazing so fondly back at you. That Frank had his own hurt that needed to be addressed because he seemed to be doing the same thing you were–shoving it all down and pretending it wasn't there. You'd have to talk to him about it, ease him into opening up next. Maybe he'd be receptive on this walk since you'd both finally begun to talk.

Shrugging a shoulder lightly, you held the cup of coffee tighter between your hands. "I think that sounds like a great way to get cleaned up afterwards," you answered. 

Frank shot you a wink that had your cheeks heating, even after all this time together.

"That's my girl," he whispered, a note of pride in his voice. He tossed an arm around your shoulders, whistling over at Bear. "C'mon boy, we got a beautiful woman to cheer up."

Bear let out a happy bark before you saw him race across the kitchen past the pair of you, heading straight for his leash beside the door. Frank’s deep chuckle at Bear’s ever-present enthusiasm for walks filled your ears, and when he looked back down at you beside him with those soft brown eyes of his, all you saw reflected back at you was love and acceptance. 

[throneofsapphics]

have your little girlfriend, part eight

Summary: Catching Aelin's eye, you quickly end up entangled between her and Rowan, forced to navigate their darker sides in your new relationship.

Warnings: dark!rowaelin, others included on series masterlist to avoid spoilers!

Word Count: 4264

A/N: here's the final chapter! I did cry a little when I finished this. this is one of the first fanfictions I wrote for this fandom, and to see everything coming to an end after over a year is so bittersweet <3

series masterlist

Rowan scribbled on and discarded what felt like hundreds of sheets of paper. Thought, spoken, or written, none of his words felt right, and he knew now, above all, that she deserved right. She deserved the best, and she was stuck with him. The worst part was he couldn’t let her find what she deserved. For now, he would accept the distance, but in the end he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him. As much as Aelin belonged to both of them and vice versa.

He glanced down at the salutation written, the parchment crinkled at the edges. The downward slash of the 'y' nearly ripped through the paper. He wondered if she’d study it like he did, searching for every little detail and clue that may be conveyed.

My mate,

A starting point, but it didn’t nearly encompass everything she meant to him.

“I can feel the self-pity coming from you,” Aelin’s voice, mild, floated across the room. He knew how she’d be standing, the wind sung to him, with their newborn babe in her arms, her head cradled in her elbow, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Someone else should be here too, and it wasn’t fair that he was and she wasn’t.

It took more courage than he cared to admit for him to turn around and face his newborn daughter and wife.

Rowan realized he was failing in every aspect. Failing the people he loved. Had already failed her.

“Rowan,” his name on Aelin's lips, was a plea. He answered, roughly tossing the quill back into the ink pot, in a messy manner he knew she'd probably hate. It didn't matter if she wasn't here to hate it, he reminded himself.

Pushing his chair back, wood scraping lightly against carpet, he rose to face the two females who should be three.

“Are you writing to her?” Aelin asked quietly, shifting so Rowan could wrap his arms around her waist, his head rested atop of hers.

“Yes,” he said just above a whisper. Their babe would sleep through almost anything, he knew that, but seeing the peaceful and angelic face always made him feel like he needed to hold his breath, lest he disturb her.

“I have something for Fenrys to bring her,” Aelin admitted, and Rowan knew that was an invitation for him to offer up his own letter, perhaps even a request.

“I'll have mine finished by the end of the night,” he promised. His wife leaned back into him, tilting her head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

”Good,” she murmured, leaning her cheek against his chest this time.

Nothing, except this, felt as good as it should right now. Someone was missing. “I miss her,” he said without thinking, wincing internally after.

“Of course you do. I miss her too.”

“I should be angry.”

“Who says you can't miss her and be royally pissed off?” Aelin huffed, tilting to meet his eyes, saying  'I am,' silently. He wondered why it had to be silent, as if missing her was such a weakness. He supposed the fewer people who knew she wasn’t currently in the castle the better, but it would be difficult to hide that for long. Word would get out.

Regardless, it had only been a week, and gods they felt like a mess. He hadn't realized just how much her presence soothed them. When they got her back, something would have to change. Whatever it took. Once, he'd figured out how to help Aelin keep her, this time the two of them could figure it out together.

-

Fenrys paced. He should’ve noticed something was off with her. He hadn’t lied to Aelin or Rowan when they pestered him, when Rowan pinned him against the wall with a knife to his throat.

How could she do that? To Aelin who’d saved -

Well, he saw Aelin as his savior, his Queen, but he realized she might see her in a different light. It didn’t change the way he saw his Queen but maybe added more perspective to her actions.

It didn’t change the fact that he was pissed at her.

As soon as Aedion returned, having left on Aelin’s orders days prior to the birth, he’d take on his newest mission. Finding her, remaining unseen, and reporting back. It would take massive amounts of self control to keep him from dragging her ass back immediately.

He was reluctant to approach Aelin and ask her to do it, but he needed to have that guarantee of control. Four days after she’d given birth, he built up enough courage to approach her, making sure Rowan was present as well. He was extra testy, given the circumstances.

“I need a favor from you, if I’m to do…if I'm to find her.”

“Anything,” Aelin said.

Just as Rowan asked, “what is it?”

“Use the blood oath.” Aelin blanched, he kept talking. “I don’t trust myself not to bring her back. Immediately.” He didn’t know what they thought his reasons might be, he didn’t care, they were his own. She was a sister to him, regardless of this, and only four days without her and he missed her more than he thought was possible. He’d only ever missed Connall like this.

“Are you certain?” She asked, just once.

He nodded, “yes.”

Her mouth tightened, but she gave the order. The tug wasn’t uncomfortable like Maeve’s, it felt like what it was -a favor, a sweet and comforting hold, it felt like trust and reassurance. He didn’t know he needed it.

-

She perched on the edge of the bar, head on a swivel in the tavern. This was … unusual for her. Before them, perhaps it would've been a comfortable scene but after them nothing was the same.

“Loosen up,” her cousin jammed her shoulder into hers. She glared, and took a deep drink from her pint.

Was this really where she wanted to be? No, absolutely not, but she was stuck here because some busy bodies were convinced she needed to loosen up and have a 'good time.'

“Maybe you could fine someone to take your mind off things?” Ella waggled her brows. Her fists clenched at her sides. Another person being where her mates had been? Taking her to those heights? Impossible. Even she knew nobody could ever hope to compare to them, and she wouldn't dare try. One, she didn't want to. Two, the things they would do if they ever found out? Plus, their scent was so thoroughly entwined in hers, claiming her feasibly for the rest of her existence.

She watched as her cousins smile faltered, but she couldn't find a pleasant word to bring to the table.

”I was kidding,” Ella forced a smile back on her face. “But you're going out with us, so wipe that sour expression off your face and get dressed. I'm tired of you moping. Bring back my fun cousin.”

'Bring back my fun cousin,' still echoed in her head. Was she really that miserable to be around? That much of a drag?

-

Fenrys was grateful the tavern was crowded enough to hide his scent, and so well used to travelers that they didn't question a male with a cloak pulled far over his head.

He wondered how she'd gotten around the bargain they'd made all that time ago. She, his sister, wasn't supposed to be here without him. Perhaps she'd traveled to the outskirts and gotten one of her family members to bring her the rest of the way.

They'd do it without too many questions, at first. He knew that. If Rowan and Aelin were persona non grata to her family right now, what did that make him?

A sense of grief and loss hit him harder than he expected.

A tug pulled him across the room, to an opposite corner. He followed, watching as she pivoted and stared directly at the spot he'd just been standing in. Perhaps Aelins bargain was working even better than intended. He shouldn't need it. This is something he was more than capable of but right now he was being uncharacteristically careless.

That wouldn't do.

Fenrys slipped out the door as soon as she turned back around. He had a few messages to deliver. Really, he should've cleared off as soon as he scented her - could tell she was alive, but he had to see she was…he had to see.

-

She knew they'd be aware of where She went, at least eventually, but she hadn't expected letters to arrive quite so soon. Or for them to move her so fucking much. That's how she knew it was about time for her to move on, to find somewhere new to haunt. Although she knew they'd never dare harm her family, being here when she knew her mates were so volatile felt a lot like tempting fate and not in a good way. Was there any good way to tempt fate?

In the beginning, when they found each other, she thought she was stumbling on a good thing, but with most good things in her life it slowly poisoned itself til it reached a breaking point. Til she reached her breaking point, and realized that if she didn't choose herself then, she never would. So she did the only reasonable thing, and the most wicked thing she'd done in her life. She ran, just as her mate was at one of the most vulnerable moments of her life, giving birth. It's possible she'd poisoned the memory of that day, but part of her also wondered if everything was better now that she was gone. She'd been a burden, a drag on the two of them and their perfection.

“Letters for you,” her cousin announced as she returned from her walk. She frowned.

Ella waggled the papers in front of her, and she snatched them from the air. A nuisance, her cousin was a downright nuisance sometimes but at least she knew better than to read someone's mail.

The letters. Three distinct scents still attached to them. Her heart stopped, time froze.

Not yet. 

She wasn't ready, it couldn't be time.

Ella noticed the change in her demeanor, and said, “I'll give you some privacy,” before she could argue that privacy was the last thing she needed, the other female had disappeared, leaving her with shaky hand and three slips of parchment, adorned on the outside with just her name, that could change everything.

My mate,

I know you are not likely to return soon, but I dream of it each night, along with what I would do differently if I could go back. Would it please you if I were to write everything out in a letter? There's little I wouldn't do for you, my love. Nothing is the same without you here.

Tell me what to do, anything, and I will make it happen for you.

R.W.G

Petal,

We're a wreck without you.

A.

My sister,

Picking yourself is admirable, but it doesn't change the fact that I miss you dearly.

Your chosen brother.

Tears slid down her face as she finished reading them. Paper she should burn, but instead it was tucked away to an inside pocket. To keep, to re-read in the late hours of the night, when her candle should already be extinguished, to hold close until the scent of them disappeared, and then to let her imagination fool her into believing they might still be there, that if she tried hard enough she may still be able to scent them.

-

She packed her things early in the morning, just Ella there to see her off. She'd figured out what she was planning and volunteered to tell the rest of her family for her. She was braver than she was, that's for sure. Still, Ella seemed to understand why she wouldn't tell her cousin her next plans or where she was headed after. She wondered who gave her that kind of understanding, and who exactly she'd have to hunt down and eliminate one day. Or it could be ten years spent on the run from Adarlan that did it. Either way, Ella would shut down if she started digging for information, she knew her cousin well enough to know that.

“You'll be back to visit, of course,” she said hesitantly. It broke another part of her already shattered soul. 

“If it's safe,” she said quietly.

Her frown brought a tang of guilt she couldn't control. “I think you forget how much we survived together sometimes.” Guilt crept in for another reason. Her cousins were more than capable. They'd all, herself included, survived ten years in their animal forms under Adarlan's occupation.

If anyone could weather the storm of her mates, it was them, but that didn't mean she felt any better about leaving them in their path of destruction.

She broke a little more with each step and bound as she traveled, and as she approached the meeting spot she was little more than a collection of shards and smashed pieces. As delicate as glass. She’d rebuild, put herself back together.

Sticking to her animal form, she made good progress. Better than she expected, really, but considering she was avoiding people at all costs it made sense. She needed to go somewhere they wouldn't expect. They probably thought she'd flee the continent, perhaps to Antica or even to Wendlyn, but…her soul wouldn't let her go quite that far and she hated herself for it. More than she usually did.

Why did the one act of self love she'd engaged in, as far back as she could remember, have to feel so much like hate? Why couldn't her mates have loved her like she deserved? If they'd just done that one thing, they wouldn't be in this situation.

The truth was, she was bitter, and resentful, and likely would be for some time. She thought she had good reason to be. 

It wasn’t long before she arrived at her destination, her home even if it was temporary. Melisande. 

-

Work wasn’t all that difficult to find. Summoning courage she didn’t know she had, she found the nearest tinkering shop, walked in, and asked for a job. 

“Sit with me for a few hours,” the man, smiling, said, and motioned towards the extra stool behind the counter. Carefully, she picked her way over there, mouth curving up at the corners. “I have a story that I'd like to tell you, and it starts with one of my finest creations, and ends with spider silk.” 

She listened, in fascination as the man explained every last detail of his creation, from top to bottom. She got the impression he didn’t have many people willing to listen to this kind of detail, let alone be able to understand it but she found herself naturally oohing and awing in all of the correct places. He put her at ease, and it felt like a long while since anyone was able to do that. 

The suit sounded familiar somehow, although she couldn’t quite place it or put a name to how. 

The man patted her on the shoulder when he’d finished, and she fought the urge to flinch backwards, keeping her back ramrod straight instead. 

“Very well, let’s see what you can do now. Is there a material you prefer?” 

“Not glass. It’s been a bit temperamental for me recently.” 

“Wood it is,” he handed her a rough piece of cedarwood, and sat her down at a workstation in the back. 

“I’ll come back in an hour,” he called over his shoulder and returned to mind the shop. 

What was the most impressive thing she could make in an hour? 

Magic flowing through her, she warped the material, letting it curve and bend in ways wood didn’t grow. Maybe she should’ve explained before that she used magic. She let the magic do its work, turning herself into a vessel for it to extend its wishes, its wants. 

At the end of the hour, she was left with a near perfect replica of a hawk in flight. She blinked back the tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand as the man re-entered the room. 

“Oh how wonderful,” he exclaimed. “You didn’t explain you have magic,” he said with a tone of awe, not fear, thankfully. 

“Sorry,” she said quietly. 

He waved off the apology, “people like us are hard to come by, let alone those who have your gift. Very well, you’re hired.” 

She wondered if her magic had an extra role to play in how she got the position, but she kept that thought locked inside and instead thanked him profusely. 

“Do you have somewhere to sleep? I know a lady renting out the rooms above her shop. As long as you don’t have any great debts you could afford it with what I’ll pay you. Plus you’ll be earning commissions on any works you put out.” 

Considering the harm she’d done, she didn’t feel like she deserved this kindness from a stranger. Maybe it made her a wretch, but she took it anyway. 

-

Years passed, and nobody came for her. Despite never feeling this free, she mourned the life that could have been. The life she should have had. 

-

“Did you hear the news?” He passed the paper to her with a flourish. “Right from your home. The Queen of Terrasen is abdicating her throne, passing rule off to her eldest and only child.” 

Her eldest child, now approaching mid thirties. The man in front of her, the son of the one who’d originally hired her, beamed expectantly. She’d always thought he had a bit of a crush on her, but she’d reinforced the boundary of friends firmly, and he’d never pushed. 

Somehow, she’d still retained those same lodgings and her salary and work both had afforded her the chances to travel to neighboring territories and explore, bringing back different raw materials for them to work with. 

“I didn’t,” she murmured, sipping her tea. “Thank you for telling me.” 

She pretended to read the newspaper, really her eyes were glazing over, not processing any of the information in front of her. Abdicated. Would they come for her now? How old was this news? 

She’d laid down roots here, deep and generations long roots. She couldn’t exactly get up and run again. Were they aware that she was cornered now? Did they care?  

But part of her ached for them, still did decades later. Still wanted them back. But another part, perhaps equally as strong, relished her freedom. 

What would they do now?

She tapped her fingers against the wooden bench. She’d been ‘hidden’ here for so long, there was no reason to expect they’d come looking for her now. 

-

Rowan would miss the castle, but he and Aelin had both acknowledged it was time to move on, to let their eldest and only child take up reign now that she was ready. And they had unfinished business further south. 

They came in the middle of the night, and centuries should have been enough to ebb his anger, but some of it still bled through. 

Rowan had already crafted the letter explaining she had urgent business back home, still able to copy his mates handwriting perfectly. 

“Ready?” He murmured to Aelin, voice just carrying enough for her to hear. They stood in the alley outside of her apartment, each with a hood pulled low over their faces to obscure their features. They were recognizable everywhere, but they needed to do this task for themselves. 

She’d stolen from them, stolen the chance at a life with her, and in turn they’d steal her back. 

“Add kidnapping to our list of crimes,” Aelin huffed. 

“Haven’t we done that already?” 

“Probably.” 

He could tell his mate was nervous, and he was too - to a certain extent. 

“Lets go,” he finally said, leading the way up the stairs.

A few quick movements from Aelin and the lock was picked, the door swinging open. Not even a deadbolt. He added it to his list of reasons to be angry.

Silent feet moved them up the stairs, and they found her door already unlocked, and voices. 

There hadn’t been a soul here when they scouted it earlier. Or the days prior. 

He glanced at Aelin, but before he could convey a question he heard a moan. Her moan. 

“That feels good,” her breathy voice reached his Fae ears. 

Red hot fury filled every inch of his being, and Aelin pushed through the doors, Rowan hot on her heels. 

Fenrys hadn’t reported her having a lover. 

Her bedroom door was wide open, she laid flat on her stomach, a male above her. 

Metal flew, and his and Aelin’s knives lodged simultaneously, one in the back, one in the back of the neck. He fell flat on top of her, muffling her scream, his blood splattered on her sheets, the bits of her skin he could see. 

Aelin stalked across the room first, more pissed than he’d seen her in decades. She shoved the man off the top of her, fist winding through her hair, yanking her up to sit at the edge of the bed. “Are you fucking him?” She snarled. 

She hadn’t been, at least not in that moment, but that didn’t say anything about the past. 

“He’s a friend,” she whispered. “He was giving me a massage.” 

Another male was putting hands on his mate, in an intimate way. 

Rowan seethed, and moved next to Aelin. “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to.” 

“I’d never cheat on you,” she said, nearly desperate. A gag of fire wrapped around her mouth. Rowan could tell it was hot, but not enough to burn. A warning. 

“You let another person put hands on you,” Aelin’s fist, still wrapped in your hair, squeezed. “You moaned for him.” She winced. He rolled his eyes. There would be worse now, before the night was out. 

Decades apart hadn’t taken the sting out of the mating bond, and he doubted anything would, but somehow his petal had figured it out. 

No matter how long they spent apart, she was his and Aelin’s, and apparently needed a reminder of that. 

He flipped her on her stomach, shoving the dress up above her ass. A piece of silk barely covered her. He crouched down and ran his hands over her ass, letting one smack against the skin, enjoying the way she wiggled in front of him, trying to get away. Aelin had shoved the man’s body and it toppled to the floor on the other side, his blood still staining her sheets. Good. He’d fuck her in it so she never forgot exactly who she belonged to. 

Wind bound her hands behind her back.  

Carelessly, he tossed her on the bed, Aelin already stripped from the waist, leaning against her headboard. 

-

This wasn’t supposed to be about her pleasure, she knew that, but by the gods she was turned on. It was a claiming, pure and simple. They could probably already scent her arousal, and Aelin grabbed her shoulders pulling her up the bed towards her. 

“If you come, I'll turn that ass black and blue for two weeks,” she warned her. 

Rowan pulled her hips up, already at her entrance. “I’ll help her,” he added. 

You whimpered as he shoved in, not giving you anytime to adjust. He had no idea nobody had been there since he last had, and she had no way of telling him. It hurt, burn, stung, lit her entire body on fire. 

Aelin released the gag, just to shove her right towards her already glistening cunt. “Make it good,” she ordered. She would, part of her feared the consequences if she didn’t, but another part of her, growing stronger, wanted it despite how wrong it was. The blood hadn’t even dried fully on the sheets. 

The pain behind her slowly ebbed into something else, into pleasure she hadn’t felt in decades. Rowan moved relentlessly, making her use all of her focus on pleasuring Aelin. The moans ahead of and behind her only fueled her further. She squeezed around him, used her tongue to flick Aelin’s clit rapidly, and brought them both closer and closer to release. 

She was always giving to them, why would anything change now? 

-

The estate was in the middle of nowhere, seemingly, the closest town an hour's ride away. A small skeleton staff of servants, all trusted to keep their affairs private.

She laid on the table, face turned to the side as Rowan prepared his materials. Ink. Needles. Sketched design. A design of their names, to go permanently on her body. Not as deep as the twin sets of scars on either side of her neck, but something else permanent.

When he'd asked, it hadn't felt like a question but she'd wanted it regardless. Wanted them sketched onto her. She didn't have the courage to ask if they'd be getting a tattoo for her in turn, but it turns out she didn't need to. Aelin had shown her that night, on her back weaved in with Aelin's other tattoos was her name, and Rowan had hers done similarly, on the inside of his forearm.

Their names would be written, in ink and blood, on her upper right back. Large font, too, based on Rowan's design.

“Breathe for me,” he said, sitting and dipping the needle into the pot. She would, as every bit of her belonged to them. 

-

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