#i'm kinda scared of thunder

[dravidious]

There was a thunderstorm last night, and I had a dream where I was menaced by a giant leviathan

I was in a big camp full of people on a stormy night, and nearby was a lake. A colossal sea serpent was sitting with its head sticking out of the water. It was massive, just the visible part of it reaching taller than my house. Its head alone was bigger than a car. It had this horrible mouth of teeth and it was almost smiling. Behind it, part of its tail was sticking out of the water too. It was way too close to the shore, impossibly close, there's no way the water there was deep enough for it to fit.

When I say the lake was "nearby" I mean like within a one or two minute walk. It was close enough to see clearly, but too far for any kind of direct interaction. Still, we were able to see the leviathan just sitting there, barely moving. I don't think it was looking at us.

The people in the camp treated the leviathan as a threat, but didn't really fear or respect it. They casually mentioned how they're planning to kill it, as if this is a normal occurrence and killing it is reasonably possible.

Occasionally the leviathan would move; it would bend down, then throw its head up and roar, and a ton of lightning would start striking everywhere. Each time, I took cover under one of the cloth cover/shelter things (lol) and covered my ears. This is the probably the main reason the people were planning to kill it, to stop the lightning.

I felt like I could fight the leviathan as an Ultrakill boss. I don't remember if I even had any weapons. I even wanted to look up its HP online, but my computer was turned off in the dream. Also my computer was there, outdoors, sitting under a cloth cover/shelter thing a bit away from the camp. I woke up before even getting close to the leviathan.

[artsycloudysleepy]

Drawing Dump!

oh and meet another OC: lily/iliad (fae/faer, has two names)! fae's the God/Guardian of the Arts in Fabrication (so art, music, writing, dance, and drama). faer design is my fav so far if i'm being honest haha, really like how it came out :D

(nye this is one of the two OCs who i've written with MDD so far! cody also has it - am going to make some human ones too methinks. thanks so much again for the tips!!!)

pppppllllluuuuusssss chara and asriel art i already posted in january but still like enough to promote again now that i uh. actually have followers :3

(also this is TOTALLY targeting a mutual who should really play undertale....................... hint hint hint /silly)

@mylackofgrammaristerrifying @mrrotten @nyenylon hiiiiiiiii hope you guys are having a fun timezone!! what're you guys up to? :)

[cemeterym]

heard the most loud fucking crashing sound outside i have ever heard in my life (twice) like i fully jumped out of bed because it scared the shit out of me so badly at 3am and everyone else in this household are fully sound asleep. hello am i going insane

[bellflower-goat]

oh dear god mother of fuck

[imaginechb]

So when percy has a nightmare in the disney+ show i immediately thought of luke having a nightmare. It is kinda cliché but still what about luke having a nightmare and the reader comforting him

"Shhh, shhhh, you're okay," you whispered, holding Luke while he cried. It was a strange, but not unheard of occurrence. The son of Hermes didn't cry often, but demigods were no strangers to nightmares, and Luke Castellan was no exception.

He buried his face into your neck, grasping onto the back of your camp shirt like a lifeline. "You're okay," you continued to whisper, filling his ears with comfort rather than the thunder and evil laughter of his nightmares. He pulled back to face you and you wiped his tears with your thumbs, kissing his face gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Just wanna be with you," he said. You smiled gently and crawled into his arms. You had no idea what had happened in his dream, no clue exactly what lay waiting around the corner. All you knew was Luke needed you, and you were going to be there for him in whatever way he needed you to.

So, you stayed there with him, not pushing him to talk about it, instead simply talking to him, kissing his face or neck gently, and letting him hold you.

"You were taken from me," he eventually whispered. Your brow furrowed and you looked up at him. "What?" Luke sighed, holding you even closer. "There was... a voice. Something ancient, something... evil. He said I would join him eventually, and he... he took you."

He hugged you somehow tighter, not saying anything else after that. You sighed and ran your fingers through his curls. "I'm not going anywhere," you whispered. "I swear it on the River Styx."

His breath hitched and he pulled away to look at you, eyes wide. You knew you should be scared to say things like that. You knew it was a binding oath, and terrible, terrible things would happen if you broke it, but you only smiled, because you knew you weren't going to.

Upon seeing your promising grin, he smiled, too. "I love you," he said. Your smile somehow grew. "I love you too," you said.

You settled back down in the bed, both of you fully calm now. You began to fall asleep, Luke's fingers rubbing circles on your waist gently. "You're a dream to me," he whispered to you. You only smiled, before drifting off once and for all.

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[bookshelf-dust]

when it's rainin'

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 2,666 ;)

warnings: swearing, reader has a fear of thunderstorms, kinda newly established relationship, a few sexual innuendos, fluff

a/n: hi! this was very self-indulgent for me and i am decidedly dedicating this fic to all of my fellow thunderstorm fearers. i see you. i am you. i hope this isn't too bad. i revised it too many times and i'm still feeling a little fretful over it. also, the title is a fleetwood mac lyric. bite me. anyways, please let me know what you think! mwah mwah i love you <333

————

“Billy, I gotta get going.”

You squeeze the fat of his thigh where it’s draped over both of your legs. He takes hold of your wrist; his grip gentle, if not a little teasing. 

He turns to look at you, head lolling against the back of the couch. His hair is pushed up messily behind him on the cushion. You know that if he were to sit up, it’d be matted in the way that it gets when he lays on it for too long. 

Billy knows the cogs in your brain are at work. The beginnings of a cocky smirk play at the corners of his mouth. He furrows his brow, faux concern written all across his face, as if something’s wrong. 

“But it’s rainin’, baby.” He gives his head a little shake, like he can’t believe you’d leave in weather like this.

His smirk is in full bloom when he laces his fingers with yours and lifts your hand up to his mouth. You turn to look out the window and feel him press a kiss to your knuckles. 

He’s buttering you up and you know it. 

“It’s just rain, Hargrove. And I do know how to drive.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the rain picks up, enough so that you can hear it pounding against the roof. 

Billy laughs, low and sweet. You glare at him.

“Fine. I’ll wait it out.”

“Mhm,” he grunts, peeling his leg off of yours and repositioning himself on the couch. He leans up against the arm, and holds his own out to you. You know what he’s doing, so you oblige. 

Billy loves to watch storms, and holding you this way makes for a better view out the window. You lean into him, back pressed to his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and buries his face in your neck. 

There’s a crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder that follows seems to shake the earth itself. Your stomach drops. This is exactly what you hadn’t wanted to happen, and now you’re stuck here, with Billy, internally panicking over a thunderstorm. Admittedly, you do feel a bit safer than you would alone in your bedroom, but this fear isn’t exactly something you share with others. 

“You can’t drive home in that,” he argues. 

You grab hold of Billy’s forearms, his skin warm under your palms. “I said I’d wait it out,” you mumble. 

He kisses the side of your throat, and it’s the kind of kiss you might feel lingering there for the rest of the day. Like his lips have left a searing brand against your skin. 

“You could just stay,” he drawls. 

“Billy.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh and moves his face back from you. “Yeah, I know. You don’t love me.”

You let yourself slide further down the couch until your head rests on Billy’s tummy. He doesn’t let go of you though, hands rubbing over your collarbones. “That’s not fair.”

It thunders then, at a volume you couldn’t have expected. It rattles both you and the windows, making you jump. 

“You okay?” Billy’s tone is sincere. 

You sit back up a little bit, and he uses the leverage to pull you into him. He wraps his arms around you completely, enveloping you in warmth and the scent of his body wash. The gesture is protective. He can see the way you glance out the window, and he thinks you might be looking for that flash, that queue for another rumble. 

“‘M fine. Scared me is all.”

Your grip on Billy’s knee says otherwise. He thinks he understands.

“I’ve never been with you during a storm before. You don’t like ‘em?”

You glance back at him. The concern on his face is genuine this time, but you can still see that underlying tendency to tease, like he’s ready to use it when he feels necessary. 

“Rain is fine,” you start. “I love it, actually. It’s just when it gets like this, when you can’t see down the driveway anymore and it’s windy. I really don’t like the wind.”

It is pretty damn windy. Billy hadn’t noticed it until you pointed it out. It makes him glad he parked under the carport today, knowing this is the kind of storm that leaves a mess behind. 

You’re starting to panic, not only because you’ve just told Billy about your childish fear, but also because you don’t know what kind of weather they’re calling for. You live in Indiana, for fucks sake. You don’t like that all of this is out of your control, that there’s nothing you can do but wait it out. 

“Hey, look at me.” Billy says, voice low and enticing. It pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. Your fingers are cold where they press into his legs. You twist around to face him and his hands meet your cheeks. His eyes are boring into yours. 

He kisses you. It’s slow, measured. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and demands your full attention. 

You realize too late that it’s a distraction. You don’t jump when it thunders this time. 

Billy pulls away, pleased with the blissed out look on your face. With the fact that he’s seemingly calmed you down for the moment. 

“That sweatshirt you like is on my bed. Why don’t you go get it, huh?”

You nod and he steadies you when you climb off of him and the couch. Billy wants to look at the weather, but he also wants to take care of you. He’s not letting you drive home tonight. 

You slip down the hall and Billy uses the time to flip the channel, assuming the weather will be on. 

You find his sweatshirt where he told you it’d be and stop at the foot of his bed, pulling it on over your head. It smells like him. Not like his cologne or cigarettes, but like the Billy who took a shower and got cold, who fell asleep earlier than usual and slept in more clothes than he ever has—this sweatshirt included. 

You see the lightning this time and are able to brace yourself for the thunderclap that follows. You still scramble back to the living room, seeking refuge in Billy. 

Your footsteps are quiet despite your panic, and Billy only notices you’ve entered the room because he’d sat up firmly against the back of the couch. You’re chewing on your lip, staring at the warnings flying across the screen. “What’d it say?” 

Billy turns the tv off. “Nothing bad baby, promise.” He holds out his hands and scoots to the edge of his seat, pulling you to stand in between his legs. He closes them against your own, gently trapping you there. “Just that it was gonna be stormy the rest of the night.”

Your brow furrows. “It’s not gonna let up?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” This time you catch the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. Clearly he’s happy with himself and the weather. 

Billy’s always loved these kinds of storms, and he hates that you don’t, but if he can get rain and his baby to spend the night all in one go? He’ll be pretty damn content. 

You realize that you should’ve watched the weather report this morning, but it seems that when you know you’ll be spending time with Billy, he’s the only thing that occupies your brain. 

“Dammit,” you say. 

Billy squeezes at your hips, and it makes you look down at him. There’s a pout on his face: the crease between his brows deepening, his bottom lip jutting out just that little bit. He squeezes harder now that he’s got your attention. 

“Something wrong with staying here? You really wanna go home that bad?” 

Billy’s teasing and you know it. You know that he’d let you go if you actually wanted to, that he’d worry until you got home and called him to say you were okay. You also know that he wants you to stay, and you’ve known that since you got to his place and saw the relief on his face. Hell, he hasn’t stopped touching you since then either. He’s plenty needy today. 

You cup his face with your hands, swipe your thumb over the smattering of freckles under his eye. His fingers have made their way under the hem of your (his) shirt and are pressing into your skin. 

“I didn’t say that. I just told my parents that I wouldn’t be home too late.”

“So call and say you’re staying the night, that you don’t want to drive home in this weather.”

You decide then that maybe you don’t need to overthink this so much. That maybe you shouldn’t let your brain ruin what could be a nice night. 

“Okay.”

Billy blinks up at you.

You move away from him and then you’re picking up the phone from its place on the wall, punching in your home number. 

Billy can’t believe that worked. You never listen to him. And clearly you recognize this given that you’re hiding a grin with the back of your hand as you talk. The phone call is over quickly, and when you walk back over to him, Billy pulls you down into his lap. Your fingers find their way into his hair before you can even think about it. 

“Have I behaved better than I thought?” Billy asks, tentatively rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You grin at him and place a kiss on his cheek. It’s warmer than it should be, because somehow you’ve managed to fluster him. 

“You keep giving me your pitiful little looks, Billy.”

He scoffs. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, pretty boy.”

He blushes. Goddamnit, Billy thinks. You can read him much too easily now. He’s really fucked. 

Billy exhales. “I’ve wanted you to stay the night for weeks. But you always had to be home or somethin’. And the storm seems to be working in my favor tonight, y’know?” He gives you this look then, his eyes traveling across your face, down your neck and back up. He bats his lashes at you and you slap him on the shoulder. 

He acts as though he’s appalled, grabbing you by the waist and maneuvering you off of him and onto the couch. Billy braces himself against the cushions and hovers over top of you. “Now that was just rude.”

“You deserved it,” you bite back, leaning up to swipe the tip of your tongue across the end of his nose. “Hate it when you flirt with me.”

Billy rolls his eyes and lets his weight drop down on top of you, causing you to voice an audible oof. 

He props himself up on his elbows, face inches from yours. “Mhm. Hate it when your boyfriend flirts with you. I believe it.”

You start to say something, something he knows will be a smartass remark, so Billy presses his lips to yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. You make a noise of surprise and Billy starts to laugh against your mouth, a low chuckle that makes you want to both keep kissing him and shove him on the floor. 

Billy pulls away to press kisses to both of your cheeks and the center of your throat. You’re lost in his affection when it thunders again, making you jolt underneath him. He brings a hand up to cradle your cheek. “Hey. S’okay.”

You start to nod when the lights flicker, and you swear your heart falls out of your ass. Please don’t let the power go out, you think. He can read the panic on your face. 

“Okay,” Billy grunts, pushing himself to stand. “New plan.”

You sit up, and Billy quickly hooks one arm around your back, the other under your thighs. He hoists you up and over his shoulder, making you squeal with how swift the action is. But you don’t protest, and only hope that he won’t drop you on the way to his next destination.

Billy sets you down on his bed.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, running your hands down your face. You realize too quickly the opening you’ve given him.

He leans in to kiss your forehead, though he pulls away and lets his mouth linger over the shell of your ear. 

“You can ride anytime you want, baby.”

You fall back onto his mattress. “Billy, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg, honey. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

You hold back a groan at his antics. “I really should’ve gone home.” 

Billy laughs and lands a playful smack to the side of your thigh before moving towards his dresser. 

You push up on your elbows to watch him sort through his clothes. He grabs a couple things and brings them to you before pulling his own shirt off over his head. 

“Why are you stripping?” You question, looking over the shirt and shorts he’d handed you. 

“If you think that’s stripping, clearly I haven’t been good enough to you,” Billy snorts.

You grin up at him. “Are these for me?” you ask, holding onto the bundle of fabric in your hands. 

“Mhm. For you to sleep in.”

You nod hesitantly, having just seen a flash outside of Billy’s window. This time the rumble is just that, not a clap, not enough to rattle the windows in their frames. 

Billy moves towards his door, with the promise of getting more blankets, allowing you a moment to change. He comes back with water for you, too.

He kicks the door closed behind him, internally melting at the sight of you in his clothes. You’re so pretty, it physically hurts him. He’s never felt that way in his life. 

Billy gets you to drink some for him before you’re scooting further into his bed and he’s kicking off his sweats. 

You watch him move around the room, the way the muscles of his back move as he’s shutting blinds and pulling makeshift curtains closed. He turns off the overhead light, leaving only that coming from the lamps he has. 

You’re in awe of how easy it is for him to take care of you. How he didn’t pester you for being afraid of the storm but instead has comforted you and seems dedicated to keeping you safe. 

Billy finally slips into bed beside you. “What are we doing?” you ask, eyeing his torso while he settles in. He pretends not to notice. 

“I’m protecting you from the big bad storm, baby.” He kisses your hairline. 

You smile at him, one of pure joy that starts slow and grows brilliantly. The both of you are bundled up like it’s some big sleepover, or like you’ve stayed up hiding a book beneath the sheets. 

“Well, I’m not sleepy. So what’d you wanna do? Tell secrets?” 

Billy props his head up, palm cradling the base of his skull, elbow squishing his pillow. He laughs and squeezes at your hip. 

“Trivia? Talk about boys?” you continue. 

He shakes his head, his smile matching yours and making his eyes crinkle at the corners. Sometimes he can’t believe he landed you. “You got a boy you wanna talk about?”

You snort. “Mhm. There’s one I like. He’s pretty but super grumpy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.”

“I think trivia might be better since you’re just going to bully me.” 

Billy flops down on his back. You push up so you can hover over him. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

Billy rolls his eyes but kisses you again, pulling your face down to meet his, mouth warm against yours. The next round of thunder is louder than the last and your heart rate picks up, but with him here it feels okay.

It’s hard not to feel safe when he takes such good care of you, when he’s warm enough that everything feels protected, like you could weather any storm with him and his smart ass mouth.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson (for being such a gem and helping me)

[loveswrites]

Poly cullen angst to fluff? Pls and thank you🤭

Rainy Road Poly Cullens x Reader

Time it took me: 4 hours ( btw loves I acc finished it in the same day just now)

Word count: 2143

To anon: I'm sure I met your angst but I don't think I met much else *wink* There will be a part two if you guys want I'm sure you will <3

Love <3

“Stop.” Edward said, watching you plainly.

Currently you were practically skipping on and off the border line of the werewolves territory and the Cullens territory. Edwards' tone kinda upset you. You were only trying to lighten the mood because ever since you got into the car his energy was just off. Seth had called you saying he wanted to hang out so you asked Edward to drive you because bella being the blood daughter got the car and you got a maybe next year. Downsides of being adopted. 

You were standing at the border because the rest of your mates wanted to talk to you before you went to hang out with Seth. They liked Seth so you didn’t understand why they just couldn’t wait to talk to you later.

But they said they couldn’t wait that long. You thought about it and the only times they've acted like this is when they're about to surprise you with something. Or if they feel like they hadn’t been treated fairly as in quality time. And last you check you’ve spent equal time with them all separately and together. So it wasn’t that so it had to be a surprise right?

“Are you in one of your emo moods right now?” You asked genuinely curious. That seemed to only upset him more because he didn’t talk the whole time until the rest of your mates arrived. 

It didn’t take them as long as you thought that it would. You thought they were gonna drive in their cars like Edward did but they didn’t. They walked or ran or whatever. Edward made you get back into the car while you were waiting because it started raining. Of course It was still raining when they arrived, it's Forks after all. But that didn’t stop you from smiling and getting out of the car when you saw the rest of your loves. Hopefully you could sneak some more insight on why Edward was in a pissy mood.

The closer they got to the car the more you practically bounced with excitement. You had missed them even though you saw them only two days ago. Too long according to the beat in your heart. As you tapped your feet in the rain puddles you couldn’t help yourself from letting out a squeal of excitement. Running up to the closest person you could reach. That being Jasper, you jumped in his arms. The sound of the car door opening and closing fell numb to your ears. And sadly so did the sound of the car driving away.

The sound of thunder rang through your ears making you jump, scaring you a little. But something you noticed didn’t happen was the feeling of that fear going away immediately. It stayed. Jasper always felt like home but something was wrong. Something was different.

“You didn’t wrap your arms around me?” You said furrowing your eyebrows. Looking at Jasper you watched as the rain melted his hair against his face. His beautiful wet curls dripped with the wetness of rain. You would eat him right here right now if he wasn’t being so strange right now.

He didn’t answer, he just stepped back away from you. You shifted your eyes behind him to look at the rest of your mates. Rose was clinging onto Emmett’s arm next to Rose was Carlisle and Esme then there was Edward. 

“Wasn’t Alice just here? Wait a minute, where's the car?” You asked, looking around in confusion. When you turned around there was no car, just an empty wet road. Something was totally wrong.

“What’s going on?” You questioned. It took a while for anyone to say a thing. Just when you were about to repeat yourself Carlisle spoke up. 

“We need to talk.” He said.

“Well I knew that much dummy, But why couldn’t we just talk later? It’s raining and I’m supposed to be hanging out with Seth.” You said with a soft smile trying to ease your nerves. You don’t remember the last time you did this by yourself all on your own. Jasper would always be there to ease your feelings or stress. Even though you would say no he’d never listen. He would always catch a rise in your stress before you did and calm you down. 

“We're leaving.” Carlisle said. You noticed that his hair took a little longer to melt against his face unlike Jasper. 

“Ooo okay where are we going this time, tokyo? I’ve always wanted to-” You said getting excited again but you were quickly cut off by Esme.

“Without you.” She said looking at you for a little then she turned her head away. Her statement made the smile drop from your face as quickly as it came.

“What? What do you mean? How long are you going to be gone?” You questioned with your eyes shifting in between your six mates. This felt all so sudden, what happened in those two days you weren’t together?

“Forever. There’s nothing here for us in Forks anymore.” Emmet said breaking your heart with every single word. 

“But I’m here..” You said as your voice cracked mid sentence. You could feel the knot in your stomach get tight and tighter. You didn’t know how to handle this. So you did the only thing you know how to do. You turned to Jasper.

“Jasper s-stop it! Tell me this is all just a big cruel joke and you're not leaving, You're not leaving me.” You practically begged. Walking towards him you moved your hands up to touch him but he brushed you off. He pushed your hands away so swiftly and he stared you in your eyes. They were cold. No emotion was found. You tried your best to find something, anything. But there was nothing found.

“I don’t love you, I never did. I ask that you please refrain from touching me.” Jasper said sternly. Your heart dropped lower and lower with every word that fell from his mouth.

“Stop lying! I know for a fact that you're all in love with me. So much that your cold dead hearts beat for me!” You yelled out as you wiped the rain and tears from your eyes.

“We have no reason to lie. It wouldn’t bring any gain on our end to lie.” Edward said plainly as if this was all a fact.

“You were just a family pet. Why would we ever associate ourselves with a useless human as yourself? You can’t even control your own emotions. You forget to even feed yourself. What simple creature does that? You struggle to speak simple words, you can’t comprehend anything. And you cling onto us like we're a free ticket out of here. We’ve never loved you. We’ve never even wanted you.” Rosailse said, making the first tear drop down your cheek. You bit your bottom lip hard in attempts to prevent yourself from full on crying.

“Rose and I just thought why not join in on the family fun for once? We always kept to ourselves and now I understand why, you weren’t much fun to play with in the first place. We're done.” Emmett said and before you could say another thing they were gone. 

“W-wait!” You coughed out as a steady stream of tears ran down your face mixing with the rain. 

“I will say you spiced up me and Carlisle’s marriage a little bit. But you were never enough. Seeing how young you are, you should’ve known that you were never going to be more than just a temporary toy for us.”  Esme said, grabbing Carlisle's hand. Your eyes couldn’t help but shift down to her action. The simple action of touch pained your heart so much you couldn’t stop the sound of your cry coming out your mouth. 

“Forget about us. Move on. It will be best for you if you did so. You meant nothing to us. I’m sorry I let it go on this long.” Carlisle said, gripping onto Esme's hands. And just when you took a step towards them they were gone. 

“No no no-” You were cut off by a gasp of your own. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. It hurt. It hurt so bad. You felt like your soul had been shattered into a thousand grains of sand that would never be made into a beautiful beach again. You felt like you’ve just turned into a dry desert. 

“It hurts Jasper, it hurts.” You cried out. You were sure your eyes were bloodshot red right now. The mix of tears and rain was not a good combination.

“You should have never gotten attached. It took everything in me not to just drain you dry of your blood but I couldn’t. So I chose the next best thing. It wasn’t as good as it would’ve been if I had just killed you when we met.” Jasper said with his thick southern accent. Normally you would jump with joy or giggle when he talked to you but you felt worse than hurt right now. You didn’t think this could get any worse. But as he took one more look at you he frowned like you were just the most dissecting thing he's ever seen. 

“Pathetic.” And then he was gone. 

You turned to Edward and walked up to him. And in the few steps it took to get to him you felt the anger flood through your veins.

“Is this why you were acting like such a bitch? You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t you give me just that one effort of decency!? Why don’t you love me?!” You yelled at him as a strike of lightning struck you couldn’t even find yourself to get scared.

“You wouldn’t stop prying, why wouldn’t I give in and have a little fun? I told you I was a monster. You insisted on otherwise why wouldn’t I tell you a lesson? It seems that was the only way you could learn.” He said slowly tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson to not trust a vampire especially when they warn you that they are soulless.” And then he too was gone.

Staring in the spot they all stood previously you felt your breathing pick up. You couldn’t help yourself but to cry harder. The pain in your heart was something you knew would never go away. No one ever forgets their first love and somehow they all were your first. Though you were crying, all you felt was numbness. The freezing rain was nothing compared to what you were feeling inside. You dropped down and laid on the hard tar road. The sound of the rain pounding against the ground was a constant reminder of what just happened. 

You used to love rain. Now you think you hate it. It’s supposed to wash away all the bad and replace it with all the good it could possibly give. But what good could possibly come out of this? You don’t know how long you laid there all you knew was when you opened your eyes there Seth was. What was he doing here? Your vision was cloudy and everything sounded muffled. You were moving? Wait what was going on? You turned your head and squinted when you were faced by blue and red lights. 

You tried moving your arm and doing so you let out a scream of pain. What the hell happened? What happened? Oh my god! You thought. Wait, were these your thoughts? What's going on?

“What happened?!” Charlie yelled out rushing to Seth.

“W-we need a doctor, a hospital! She got hit by a car it- the car it crashed into a tree. I don't think the people in it are okay, I think she- they-.” Seth was cut off by Sam’s voice. Seth was panicking but he knew he had to come here first Sam said so.

“We found her! She was in the woods.” Sam said, walking up to Charlie.

“Is she okay?! Where is Carlisle? I need to call him.” Charlie said. He was overwhelmed and didn’t know who needed his attention more.

“Didn’t you hear? The Cullens, they're gone.” Billy said, rolling up to see what was happening.

“Call the police.” Charlie said.

“You’re the Sheriff sir. Please hurry up, she needs a doctor!” Seth said trying not to freak out but Charlie was doing the same except he was in shock.

“I- Put her in my car. I’ll take her.” He commanded. Seth followed his instructions.

The rain still fell and that was all you knew. The one thing that came to your head and the only thing that came to you was. 

What good would this bring?

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13 - ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴀʟʟɪᴇꜱ

Summary: Two unexpected intruders—familiar faces no less—show up at your door, shocked to find you inside. Hired to break into what turned out to be the wrong apartment, Kid and Killer aren’t prepared for your defiance. Mustering all the courage you have, you scare them off and waste no time alerting Law, who doesn’t take kindly to their mistake and pays them a visit.

Tags.: Law x Reader, Modern AU, mentions of Laws Ex, Eustass Kid, Killer, you wielding a sword (kinda)

a.n.: Got the idea from @chillerkiller to include more of Kid and Killer. Felt like the Yuki-Problem gotta be solves somehow, and two strong punks are the right people to pull, right? ...Right?

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

"Are you sure you don’t want to take it with you?" you asked Law with a yawn escaping your lips, as he zipped up his leather jacket. He paused briefly, then shook his head. Law had agreed to meet Zoro for a training session, but his old longsword—dull and strictly for practice—was staying behind for now. He’d dug it out after years, yet left it resting against the wall in your apartment. With the training hall closer to your place, there’d be other opportunities to bring it.

"Not today, doubt I'm ready to use it," he said with a quiet sigh, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head. Then, stepping closer, he bent down to press a quick goodbye kiss to your lips. If he was being honest, he would’ve preferred to spend the evening with you instead.

"I’ll text you when we’re done, alright?" he murmured, his voice softer now, and a small, familiar smile tugged at his lips. It was a smile he reserved just for you, the kind that made your heart skip every single time.

You returned the gesture, your own smile lighting up your face. "Alright. Just don’t let Zoro kick your ass," you teased, earning a dramatic roll of his eyes.

As you followed him to the door, he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and stole one last kiss—this one a little longer, lingering just enough to make you miss him as soon as he stepped out.

Unbeknownst to you however, two figures emerged from the shadows nearby. They watched Law get on his motorcycle and disappear down the road. They nodded at each other, before slipping into the building.

Left to your own devices, you decided to make the most of your free evening. Curling up in bed with your laptop and a few favorite shows sounded like the perfect plan. It was already late, and you figured you’d probably be asleep long before Law returned.

You were lost in the glow of your laptop screen when a faint, unfamiliar noise from the front door pulled you out of your comfort. Your brows knitted in confusion as you paused the show, the silence that followed unnerving. You held your breath, listening intently.

Your mind immediately leapt to Law, but no—he wouldn’t come back unannounced. He’d text first. You glanced at the empty spot on the bed where your phone should’ve been, cursing under your breath. It was in the living room. Great. No phone, no contact, no help.

The noise came again. This time sharper, deliberate. Like someone testing the lock. Your heart skipped a beat, then started pounding so hard it drowned out every thought. Panic crept up your spine as you sat frozen, your eyes darting around the bedroom. This didn't sound like someone was unlocking the door, rather trying to break in.

Your gaze landed on Kikoku. The blade leaned in its sheath against the wall, the dull training sword Law had left behind. Your pulse raced as the thought struck you: it’s better than nothing. Certainly better than the flimsy nightstand lamp. You had no idea how to wield it, but the sword’s sheer weight and presence might be enough to scare someone off.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you bolted for the sword, your hands trembling as you gripped the hilt. The thing was heavier than you imagined, your arms struggling to unsheathe it fully. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you clutched it with both shivering hands.

And then, the unmistakable sound you’d dreaded, the front door snapped open.

Your breath hitched, fear locking your body in place. Footsteps followed, heavy and purposeful. Male voices muttered low, their words indistinct but their presence undeniable. The door closed with a soft click, sealing them inside.

You gripped the sword tighter, the blade shaking with your unsteady hands. For a moment, you clung to the faint, desperate hope that they were just here to steal—no confrontation, no violence. Most burglars don’t want a fight, right? You’d read that somewhere. Reddit probably.

But the sound of those heavy footsteps crushed that fragile thought. They moved slowly, deliberately, as if they had all the time in the world.

Your chest tightened, your breath shallow and uneven. Every instinct screamed at you to move, to hide, to fight—but you couldn’t. All you could do was stand there, Kikoku trembling in your grip.

One pair of footsteps echoed down the hallway. You could hear the faint creak of doors being tested—some left ajar, others cautiously opened and closed again. It sure sounded like a robbery, the way they seemed to spend some time in the rooms before leaving it again.

Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out all other sounds. Your eyes darted toward your laptop, its dim glow illuminating the room like a beacon. Shit. You’d forgotten to close it. The soft light spilled into the shadows, practically screaming, I’m in here.

Terror gripped you as the footsteps grew closer. Each step on the wooden floor was like a countdown to your doom. You clutched Kikoku tighter. Your breath came in shallow gasps as the sound stopped just outside your bedroom door.

A tall shadow appeared in the crack, looming ominously, before the door creaked open inch by inch. You took a few steps back and did the only thing you could think off. Scream.

"Fuck off!!" Your was voice shrill with fear, raw and trembling.

The intruder jerked back with a startled yell, his body crashing clumsily against the wall behind him. "Bitch, what the fuck?!" he barked, his panic clear. His eyes were wide as they locked on you, standing there with the hulking, gleaming blade of Kikoku pointed toward him.

The light in the doorway suddenly flickered on, illuminating the intruder’s face. Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling rapidly as fear and confusion mingled in your mind. Two familiar sets of amber eyes stared back at you. Kid was rubbing his head, muttering a curse under his breath after crashing against the wall in shock.

You didn’t lower the sword. Your grip on the hilt was tight, your knuckles white as you held it like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” you shouted, your voice trembling but sharp, the adrenaline coursing through your veins lending you a brittle kind of courage.

Kid looked up, his mouth opening as if to answer, but before he could, another figure stepped into the doorway. He crouched next to his friend, his movements slower, less rushed. That wild blond hair was unmistakable. Killer.

The sight of him did nothing to ease your nerves. If anything, it made your grip on the sword even tighter.

“Leave! Before I… I do something!!” you screamed again, the tremor in your voice betraying your fear. The blade in your hands shook, but you kept it pointed toward them.

“Hey, calm down!” Killer said, his voice measured but tinged with urgency. His eyes flicked to the sword in your hands, clearly unsettled. “We can explain.”

“Explain?!” you snapped, “Explain breaking in?!”

“Someone paid us to do it, alright?!” Kid growled from where he sat slumped on the floor, his tone sharp and defensive. Still, the way his amber eyes flicked nervously to the sword you held betrayed him.

“Paid you? What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Kid and Killer exchanged a quick glance, the weight of the tension in the room enough to crush the air out of it. It was clear neither of them had expected this kind of resistance—or this level of fury.

“Some chick,” Kid grumbled, rubbing the back of his head where the pounding pain was. “Her name’s Yuki. She came to us a few days ago, said she’d pay us to break in. Look, we ain’t here to hurt you, alright? That’s not our thing.” His voice lowered, trying for reassurance.

Your eyes widened, the name hitting you like a slap. Anger began to bubble under your skin, fiery and hot, washing away the chill of fear. That woman’s constant meddling had pushed you to the edge before, but this? This was the breaking point. Your grip on Kikoku tightened as your rage shifted from Yuki to the two men before you.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, the blade glinting faintly in the light. Kid and Killer flinched, their hands shooting up as they instinctively backed away.

The sight would’ve been laughable if it weren’t so serious: you, in your mismatched pajamas, wielding Law’s enormous sword like some unhinged maniac, while two rough-looking men—big, dangerous—looked like scolded children caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Are you telling me…” your voice dropped, cold and venomous. “That bitch hired you to only rob the place?”

“Yea!” Killer said quickly, his hands still raised in a placating gesture. His calm voice held a faint edge of panic. “She told us no one would be home. Said we could take what we wanted and leave!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Bitter laughter spilled from your lips, sharp and cold. “The same bitch who sent me to your place now invites you into my home—for money?”

Kid and Killer exchanged uneasy glances, the gears in their minds visibly turning. This wasn't what Yuki had told them. It was supposed to be Law's apartment, not yours. At least she said a guy owned it and he lived alone. They didn't know it was yours. Nor that Yuki was the one who had sent you intentionally to their place months ago.

“Wait...this is your apartment?,” Killer muttered under his breath, his posture stiffening. Kid sighed heavily, running a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered something unintelligible, “What the fuck, man...”

His frustration wasn’t lost on you, but it did nothing to calm your fury. If anything, it stoked the fire. These two weren’t innocent—they’d broken into your home. Whether they were duped or not didn’t matter right now.

“Look, don’t call the cops, okay? We’ll leave,” Killer said quickly, his tone almost pleading as he tried to defuse the situation. “We didn’t take anything, alright? Nothing’s missing.”

You didn’t lower the sword. Your grip on Kikoku was still firm, your distrust evident in your narrowed eyes. When Killer reached into his pocket, your muscles tensed, and you took a half-step forward, raising the blade slightly. “Don’t,” you warned sharply, your voice a dangerous edge.

“Relax,” Killer said, his movements slow, deliberate. He pulled out a bundle of cash, holding it up where you could see it. “For the lock,” he said, separating some bills and holding them out toward you.

Your eyes flickered between the money and him, suspicion etched deep into your expression. There was no way you were lowering the sword—not yet. You nodded curtly toward the ground instead. “Put it there.”

Killer didn’t hesitate. He crouched and set the money on the floor before rising slowly, keeping his hands visible as he turned to Kid. With a quick motion, he helped his friend up, their eyes never leaving you or the blade you held like a lifeline.

“Now fuck off,” you snapped, your voice cutting through the tension like a whip.

Kid grumbled something under his breath, but a sharp look from Killer kept him moving. They both nodded quickly, raising their hands slightly in a wordless gesture of surrender as they backed out of the room. The door creaked faintly as they left, their retreat as hurried as their entrance had been brazen.

The moment they were gone, the silence was deafening. Your shoulders sagged, the weight of Kikoku suddenly overwhelming. The adrenaline that had carried you through the encounter ebbed, leaving you standing in the middle of your bedroom, shaken.

“Well done, man. You still got it,” Zoro said with a broad grin, clapping Law on the shoulder as they wrapped up their training session.

Law took a long sip from his water bottle, catching his breath. He could already feel the burn in his muscles—a sign that Zoro had really pushed him tonight. Still, it felt good. “Yeah, I’ll probably regret this tomorrow,” Law muttered, pulling his jacket on.

Zoro chuckled, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the wall. “Good. Means you’re not rusty. I expect to see you here more often.” His grin widened as he teased.

Law smirked faintly, shrugging. “We’ll see.”

As he reached for his phone to check the time, it buzzed in his hand. Your name flashed across the screen. Law frowned slightly—it was late, and you were usually asleep by now. He held up a hand to excuse himself and answered the call.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but curious. That curiosity quickly morphed into alarm as he registered the tremor in your voice. You stumbled through your words, trying to explain what had happened, and with each detail, Law’s eyes widened.

“Y/N…” His voice dropped, low and urgent. “Are you okay?”

You reassured him, though your tone was shaky, fragile. You explained how the lock was broken, how the break-in had left you too terrified to sleep alone. Despite your insistence that you were fine, Law could hear the underlying fear in your voice.

“Alright,” he said, his mind already racing. “Listen, I’m going to call Penguin. He’ll come get you, stay at my place tonight.”

“Thank you, Law,” you whispered, the relief in your voice palpable even through the lingering shakiness. “Are you… are you coming home?”

Law glanced toward Zoro, who was packing up his gear, clearly oblivious to the conversation. Law’s jaw tightened as he considered the implications of what you’d told him.

“In a bit,” he said after a moment. “Hey… do you still have the address from that party Yuki sent you to?”

The engine roared like a wild animal as Law sped through the night, his knuckles white as they gripped the handlebars. Adrenaline surged through his veins, drowning out everything but the growing urgency. Law needed answers.

As he approached the address, the city seemed to shift around him, the streets becoming darker, grittier. Graffiti sprawled across the crumbling walls, a chaotic blend of tags and symbols that spoke of a neighborhood abandoned to its own rules. The bike's rumbling engine drew wary glances from a pair of hooded figures lingering by a convenience store, but Law ignored them. His focus was locked on the road ahead, his thoughts racing faster than his wheels.

When the location finally came into view, Law felt a fresh wave of anger ripple through him. The building was a shadow of its former self. A faint light seeped through cracks in the boarded-up windows, accompanied by the distant murmur of voices and music.

Law tightened his grip as he slid to a halt in front of the building, the tires screeching in protest. Swinging his leg off the bike, he stashed his helmet under the seat with quickly. His boots crunched against the cracked pavement as he walked toward the building, his posture rigid, his jaw clenched.

He reached for the door handle, not surprised that it was unlocked.

The air inside was thick—humid, tinged with the scent of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol. Faint light bulbs cast uneven shadows across the room, highlighting the graffiti that continued on the interior walls. The muffled bass of a speaker somewhere deeper in the building made the floor vibrate slightly underfoot. Following the sound of voices, Law moved through a narrow hallway, his boots scuffing against the worn linoleum.

When he reached the doorway to what passed as a living room, he stopped.

A mismatched group of people sprawled across the room, lounging on torn furniture and battered cushions. A cracked coffee table in the center held an assortment of empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, and a few scattered playing cards. Conversations faltered as heads turned toward him, their expressions shifting from bored to irritated at the sight of a stranger.

Law scanned the room quickly, his sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on the two names you had given him. One sat on a faded leather couch, beer bottle in hand, his shock of crimson hair making him impossible to miss. The other leaned against the far wall, wild blond hair obscuring most of his face.

“I need to speak to Kid and Killer,” Law said, his voice cutting cleanly through the ambient noise.

The room went silent.

Kid tilted his head, his piercing gaze locking onto Law. He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a long, deliberate swig before setting it down. His lips curled into a lazy smirk, though his eyes held a flicker of danger.

“And who the fuck are you?” Kid drawled, his tone both amused and dismissive.

Law didn’t flinch. His posture remained calm, his expression unreadable, but his voice carried a weight that made the air feel heavier. “The guy whose girlfriend’s house you broke into earlier tonight.”

The smirk slipped from Kid’s face, replaced by a flicker of recognition—or maybe annoyance. The others exchanged glances, a ripple of tension spreading through the room.

Killer gave a small nod toward Kid, who let out a reluctant sigh before shoving himself off the couch. He took a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table, sliding it into his hand. Without saying a word, he brushed past Law, jerking his head in a silent motion to follow. Law hesitated for a moment, scanning the room one last time before trailing behind them.

They led him into the kitchen, which was just as trashed as the rest of the house. The only thing that seemed functional in the entire room was the fridge, its hum steady and ominous.

Kid lit the cigarette perched between his lips with a flick of his lighter, tossing the crumpled pack onto the cluttered counter before leaning back against it. Smoke curled lazily around him as he studied Law with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. Killer hopped up onto the counter beside him, slouching forward, his face betraying nothing but faint interest.

“So, what do you want, huh?” Kid finally asked, exhaling a plume of smoke that lingered in the dim light. His tone was sharp but not openly hostile, like he was sizing Law up.

Law sighed, shifting his weight as he leaned against the sink opposite them. He crossed his arms over his chest, the ink on his knuckles catching the light, clearly spelling Death on them. Killer’s gaze lingered on it for a beat longer than necessary. Even though Law might’ve looked like any other med student in his usual life, there was something about him here—in this context—that radiated quiet danger.

“I want to talk,” Law replied evenly, his voice low and measured. “The person who contacted you—how did she reach you?”

Kid glanced at Killer, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he considered his answer. Finally, he shrugged, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Got a random text. Met up. She handed over the cash, told us what to do, and we handled it. That’s it.” He paused to take another drag, exhaling through his nose. “Didn’t know it's your chicks place. That part? Not planned.”

Killer let out a dry laugh, leaning forward as he added, “Neither was her trying to slit our throats with a fucking sword.”

Law’s brows shot up. “She did what?”

Killer shrugged casually, as if recalling an everyday inconvenience. “Yeah. Guess she heard us moving around. When we got to the bedroom, there she was. Just standing there with that damn blade in her hand, looking like she was about to go full samurai on us.”

Kid chuckled, flicking ash onto the floor. “Won’t mess with her again, don’t worry.” He tilted his head toward Law, his smirk faint but genuine this time. “She’s got balls. Gotta respect that.”

For a brief moment, Law felt a flicker of pride swell in his chest. You’d stood your ground, even in the face of danger. It was reckless, sure, but he couldn’t help admiring your nerve. Still, the situation demanded answers. He shifted back into focus.

“So she told you to break into her apartment? How much did she offer?” he asked, his voice hardening.

"Your apartment." Kid corrected him. “And a few hundred bucks.”

"Yea, was supposed to be your home apparently, and got told you live alone." Killer leaned back on his palms, tilting his head thoughtfully. Even though they just admitted that they planned on robbing Law, they seemed rather relaxed. Even if Law tried something, the house was full of their people. He had no chance.

Law’s eyes narrowed at that. Yuki knew he still lived with his flat mates. She must have lied to the two, intentionally sent them to your place. He hummed softly, his expression darkening as frustration began to brew beneath the surface. "She knows I don't live alone, as well as that that's not my apartment."

Both Kid and Killer looked at each other, now confused by that information. "So you know her?" Killer now asked, not sure what this whole bullshit was all about.

Law held his gaze steadily and simply nodded. “Yea, and who is she to you?”

Kid shrugged again, exhaling smoke in a lazy stream. “No idea, man. Just some crazy bitch with money. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Our turn to ask the questions,” Killer said, his voice calm but edged with curiosity. His eyes gleamed through his bangs, as he studied Law. “What’s she getting out of this? She lost money and sent us to ransack the wrong apartment. Doesn’t add up.”

Law didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to the ground, his expression thoughtful as he mulled it over. “She probably figured you two would lose your shit and go after my girlfriend,” he said, voice low but pointed. “Lied to you on purpose. Chick’s out of her mind—especially since she sent her to your place month ago. That was intentional too. Just to fuck with her.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the implication that this wasn’t some random mistake, but a calculated move designed to stir up chaos.

For a moment, the room fell silent. Killer and Kid exchanged quick glances, their postures stiffening as the weight of Law’s words sunk in. Kid’s brow furrowed sharply, his lips twisting into an expression that was equal parts disbelief and anger.

“The fuck does she think we are?” Kid spat, his voice rising with outrage. He gestured sharply, his movements erratic. “She thinks we’re some kinda rapists or somethin’?!”

“Yeah, man,” Killer chimed in, his usually calm demeanor cracking. “We broke in sure, but that’s just a job. We ain’t some mercenaries-for-hire here to mess with people’s lives.” His voice carried a defensive edge, as if the implication itself was offensive. Despite their rough appearances, there was an unspoken line they clearly didn’t cross.

Law studied them both carefully, noting the genuine irritation in their tones. For all their shady dealings, it seemed even they had their limits. Both of them felt almost insulted that Yuki would think that way.

“So,” Law said after a pause, his voice even as he raised an eyebrow, “I’m guessing you won’t be taking any more requests from her?”

Kid scoffed, taking a long drag off his cigarette, the tip glowing brightly in the dimly lit kitchen. He exhaled a stream of smoke before flicking the cigarette to the ground. His boot came down hard, crushing the ember into the dirty linoleum with a casual finality.

“Fuck no,” Kid growled, his voice dripping with disdain. “Not after this bullshit. That bitch can fuck off.”

Killer leaned forward, folding his arms as if to punctuate the sentiment. “We could have walked out a head shorter. For no money we gonna do something for her again.”

“And I’m guessing you’re smart enough not to call the cops on us, huh?” Kid raised an eyebrow, his glare sharp and unrelenting, the kind of look that had probably ended countless conversations before they even started.

But Law didn’t so much as flinch. His expression remained steady, his voice calm as he replied, “Wouldn’t have come here if I did.” He pushed himself off the counter with an easy motion, standing taller now as he prepared to leave. “Just stay away from my girlfriend. And from Yuki. I’ll handle her.”

Kid’s scoff echoed through the dimly lit kitchen, his pride bruised more than he cared to admit. Yuki had doubted their principles—that stung like hell. The whole situation made his skin crawl with embarrassment, and there was no way he was letting it slide.

“This ain't over,” Kid growled, voice low but sharp as a blade. His fists were clenched tight, knuckles white as he tried to contain his simmering rage.

Law regarded him with a raised eyebrow. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets, but his tone carried an edge of disdain. “Not your problem, is it? You’ve got the cash. Leave it at that.”

Kid’s eyes flashed with anger, his scowl deepening. “It’s my fucking problem now. She insulted us with that fake lead.” His voice rose, echoing slightly off the walls. Killer, sitting silently beside him, hummed in quiet agreement.

“Money’s not gonna fix this,” Kid spat, his voice laced with venom.

Law tilted his head, the faintest hint of amusement curling at his lips. “Oh? And what are you planning to do about it?” His question hung in the air, mocking, almost daring Kid to answer.

The silence that followed was deafening. Kid glared at him, but his lack of a concrete plan was painfully obvious. Killer, ever the pragmatist, stepped in to diffuse the tension.

“How about this,” Killer said, his tone calm but firm. “Call us if you need us. We’ll owe you one for scaring your girl—it wasn’t intentional after all.” There was sincerity in his words, though his face covered by his hair made it hard to read his expression.

Law narrowed his eyes, weighing the offer. His instincts told him to steer clear, but something in Killer’s measured tone held his attention. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before nodding reluctantly. “Fine. Just this once. But let’s be clear—after that, we're strangers.”

“Damn right,” Kid muttered, though his tone lacked the venom it had earlier. He crossed his arms, stealing a glance at Killer, who gave him a small nod of reassurance.

The deal was made, fragile and laced with tension, but it held—for now. Law quickly exchanged contacts, before leaving without any other word. He was done here.

“Well,” Killer said, stretching his arms lazily, “that was... interesting.”

Kid snorted, rubbing the back of his neck with a lopsided grin. “Yeah. Weird guy. But his girlfriend... shit, I won’t lie. Kinda hot, the way she stood there with the sword.”

Killer froze mid-motion as he was about to hop off the counter, then turned to Kid with an incredulous laugh. “Better keep that to yourself Boss,” He slapped Kid’s shoulder, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen, before making his way toward the living room. “Let's get a beer, this shit's fucked up...”

taglist: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku , @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii@mwhahahalasagna , @ttalgi , @metonimia-de-bellota , @parkquimin , @ephemeress , @not-a-glad-gladiator , @littleleelee , @chillerkiller , @lechefian , @kitsunechan707 , @forest-haven

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you)

[buzzybeexoxo]

Curtis brothers headcanons because it's raining,, so hard rn 😭

Darry

-In my heart and SOUL this man is afraid of lightning. He can't sleep when it's thundering real hard, but lowkey would never say anything about it because he's supposed to be the mature one. Being scared if thunder is for children

-Anyways Soda and Pony have mastered subtly helping, a hand around the shoulder, talking a little softer yk yk

-They used to make forts when they were kids out of blankets and all because you can't be scared in a blankie fort 🥺

-Bro is genuinely so ashamed of it too, like, should've grown out of this 😒 kinda attitude

Sodapop

-He lovesss the rain

-just looking out at the rain, the sound of it, the smell of the asphalt after it rains

-He just sits on the porch watching the rain sometimes, used to play in it when younger

-I wish I had more I love this boy

Ponyboy

-He hates the rain but isn't scared of it

-I mean what do you expect he's the #1 hater

-it messes up his hair he works so hard on, dude, how dare

-He does like reading when it rains though

-the main person to help build forts, he's crazy good at it

Anyways if these are ooc explode /j

I'm being silly but pleaseee 😭

[agust28]

| White noise

Pairing jaehyun x reader

Wc ?

Tags fluff

Notes Feeling like falling behind by laufey lately :) Quickly whipped this up while on shift lol Hope it’s good!

"It’s supposed to rain later," you say while lying on Jaehyun's chest, checking the weather while he scrolls through Netflix. "Really? How hard?" he asks before finally choosing a show. "Pretty hard, I'm assuming. The little emoticon shows lightning," he hums before playfully buffing his chest. "Don't worry, I'll protect you." You smack his chest playfully, laughing at his silliness. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I actually like thunderstorms. They’re calming, especially at night." He bulges his eyes in surprise. "Calming?! You’re crazy," he shakes his head, not believing you for a second. "What?" you laugh. "Seems like someone’s afraid of thunderstorms," you tease. "Pfft, no way!" he exclaims as if he’s actually offended. "I’m just teasing, baby, don’t worry."

Later that night, rain begins pouring down heavily as you and Jaehyun start to get ready for bed. As you finish lathering up your body with lotion, Jaehyun is already tucked into bed, waiting for you. Truth be told, Jaehyun is scared of the rain, more specifically the thunder. But of course, he’s not going to tell you that. So, he stuffs his fear and acts like the knight in shining armor he is for you.

Okay, turns out it is difficult to pretend to be something he is definitely NOT. While you passed out a few minutes after tucking yourself into Jaehyun's chest, Jaehyun has not slept at all. He knows you have to get up early tomorrow, but he also desperately wants to wake you up and comfort him. Lost in his thoughts, Jaehyun does not notice you wiggle out of his grasp. “Jay, what’s wrong?” your croaky voice brings him out of his thoughts. “I'm sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to wake you.” “It’s alright, what’s wrong?” you ask again, worry fully waking you up. “It’s nothing, just…” he feels embarrassed to voice out his feelings but he desperately wants to go to sleep and forget about the thunder. “the thunder kinda makes it hard to sleep,” he expresses so softly, it takes you a minute to comprehend. “Oh…” You didn’t think he’d actually been scared of the thunder, but thinking back to earlier, you should have noticed. Guilt begins to reside in you from teasing Jaehyun even though you weren’t aware of his fear then. “I’m sorry for teasing you earlier. I thought you were joking and stuff…” “No, it’s okay! You didn’t. I’m not like deathly afraid of it.” You both laugh. “I just… it’s just a little hard to fall asleep to it, that’s all.” There’s a moment of silence before you suggest something. “Do you want me to soothe you?” “Yes, please,” his reply comes as quickly as your suggestion leaves your mouth, which makes you giggle a bit. Sleep finally comes to Jaehyun once you lay him on your chest and caress his hair.

[talekinesis]

Thunder Storms

So I've decided to make this an AU where Dale doesn't completely suck. Like he's still the mostly canon Dale, where he kinda sucks, Dev looks for affection and approval, and he can be kinda aloof, but in this AU, he actually recognizes this and does make an effort to be a dad to his kid

I'm stuck between calling it the "Okay Parent AU" or the "Dale's Not Terrible AU (DNT)"

He does care about Dev he just sucks at showing it basically. I will expand on this more in later posts, this us already super long

Summary: It's storming and Dev is scared

Dev laid there, curled up under the covers, as still as possible as if he could hide from the flashes of light outside. As a loud, rolling boom sounded he froze and began to shake slightly.

His blue eyes flicked over to his "dog," laying at the foot of his bed. He wanted more than anything to wake Peri up, but he knew he was still recovering from Magical Back-up and needed the rest. So carefully, he pushed the blankets back and slipped out of bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor.

He crept out of his room and down the hall, freezing with a frightened whimper each time lightning flashed.

For as long as he could remember, he's always been afraid of storms. When he was much younger, maybe five, he used to run to his dad and stay with him until the storm cleared. At five, your dad is indestructible, and the safest place in the world.

Now at eleven, he found himself tiptoeing toward his father's room again. He hadn't done this in a couple years, having tried to convince himself he'd grow out of it, but the thunder was shaking within the walls, and the kid was scared.

He wasn't entirely sure how his father would react to him coming into his room this late, and for a storm no less, so he tried to think ahead. Maybe he'd sleep on the floor, or just sit in the doorway until the storm cleared up. But the problem with that, was he didn't know when it would clear up. It could take the rest of the night for all he knew.

In the past couple of years, Dale had told him it was silly to fear storms because they were outside, and they couldn't get inside. That it was just rain and some noise. That he'd grow out of it. He knew his father probably hadn't meant to dismiss his fears, but that's definitely how it felt.

He pushed the door open and let his eyes adjust. His dad was asleep and facing the doorway, so he had to be careful. Dev crept further inside and toward the bed, his heart racing.

Logically he knew that, worst case scenario, his dad would wake up and just send him back to bed. But the idea of waking him up over something this silly scared him. He hated to upset, inconvenience, or irritate his dad. Dale had a short temper and wasn't always tactful when trying to get Dev to listen to him.

Thunder and lightning both struck, startling the child into just dropping to the floor with a soft thud, accidentally shaking the bed a little as he pressed himself against the side of it.

His heart was racing and tears started to sting his eyes.

It's just rain and some noise. It's silly to be this scared of some weather, and one day he'd grow out of it. It's just a silly, irrational fear.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a large hand clumsily felt around the side of the bed until it landed in his red curls. He heard a groan and a body sitting up before he was lifted off the floor and placed in bed next to his father, who promptly laid back down, exhausted. Blankets were pulled up over them both, and Dale's breathing soon evened back out, signaling that he had gone right back to sleep.

Dev laid there for a moment just processing what had happened before he turned onto his side and curled up, his eyes heavy. Now that the panic was gone, his body was screaming at him just how tired he was. He scooted just a bit closer to his dad and started to fall asleep.

Not a single word was spoken between them but the message was loud and clear.

___

Bonus:

Thunder boomed and rattled each window in the apartment. Hazel sat up and yawned, getting out of bed. She grabbed her blanket, wrapped it around herself, and slipped into the hall, heading for her parents room.

She opened the door, and just let herself flop to the floor, right there in the door, her legs still in the hallway.

Having heard the thud, and knowing the routine, her mother just barely woke up and cracked her eyes open.

"You gonna stay in the doorway, Haze?"

"Mhm.."

"Okay baby, good night."

"G'night.."

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Let Me Take Your Fear Away [Frankie x f!reader]

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (cishet female, no descriptors except has boobs and pussy)

Warnings: Fear of thunder, deprivation of hearing and sight, cunnilingus, piv sex.

Summary: You're afraid of thunder and when a storm rolls in over town, you call Frankie to keep you company. And he has a new idea about how to distract you.

Words: 2,300

The dark clouds chase you home from work, and you just barely make it inside before the rain starts to hammer the streets. You pick up your phone and check the online lightning map immediately, finding that the storm is still raging in the next town over. The weather forecast, however, says it'll reach your town in a couple of hours. Chewing on your lower lip, you start to prepare dinner, checking the map and forecast every now and then. Nothing's changed, and you see that the lightning map is riddled with red and yellow dots. It's a rough one, and you can already hear the thunder in the distance.

You eat while watching a show on your laptop. Even if the storm is still far away, you're loath to use electricity, so you sit in the dark with the TV unplugged. When thunder starts to rumble closer to your town, it seems to reverberate through your entire body.

You fucking hate this. Hate that you're so skittish when there's thunder, hate that you can't stop thinking about lightning striking your house, hate that you flinch every time there's a crack in the skies above you. The risk of actually being harmed is so small, you take a bigger risk every day by driving to work, but you just can't help it.

Picking up your phone, you see now that the storm is rolling in over your town.

"Fuck," you mutter, and tap open the list of last made calls. Frankie's name is at the top, and you hesitate for a second before calling him. He picks up almost at once.

"Hi, babe." His warm, low barytone makes you smile. He sounds happy to hear from you, and you love that about him. Granted that this relationship is still quite new, but he seems genuinely interested in being with you.

"Hi. Listen, um, are you doing anything special?"

"Nah, just waiting for the storm to pass."

"Yeah, about that... would you want to do it over here?"

A crack makes you gasp, and Frankie's voice changes, becomes laced with worry.

"Are you okay?"

"Please don't laugh but... I'm kinda scared of thunder."

"Why would I laugh?"

"People do. Frankie, can you come over? Keep me company?"

"I'm on my way. Do you need anything?"

"Just you."

"Be there soon."

He’s with you in record time, hanging is wet jacket in the dark hallway with you holding up a flashlight, feeling stupid about your overzelous need to pull every plug in your home. You know that it’s safe to keep the lights on, but the flickering makes you nervous. With Frankie’s arms around you, you feel a little safer.

“What can I do to make you comfortable?”

You’ve never heard those words from anyone before, and it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I don’t know… no one ever asked that before.”

“People are dumbasses,” he scoffs, one big, warm hand cupping the back of your head as he holds you close. “We could watch a movie on the laptop? That way we don’t have to keep it plugged in.”

A lightning strike flashes, lighting up the roomfor a second, and a loud crack follows. You flinch in Frankie’s arms, then laugh nervously.

“I’m not sure I can focus. The light and the sound…”

“I see.”

He thinks for a while, hand moving in soothing circles for every rumble that makes you shiver.

“Okay, I got an idea. Don’t hate me now, but do you wanna have sex?”

You look up at him in the half dark.

“Excuse me?”

“I know it sounds like an asshole suggestion, but there’s not uch else we can do, and I’d like at least to try to redirect your focus.”

He’s smiling, and his voice as dropped to a deep, honeyed smoothness that does make your groin tighten. You’re stunned for a moment, not really sure about what you want, but the truth is, sex with Frankie has so far never let you down.

“Okay,” you finally agree, and that’s how you end up in the bedroom, slowly kissing and helping each other undress. The blinds are drawn but harsh, albeit brief, strikes of light still illuminate the room. By the time you’re naked on the bed, with Frankie kissing his way down your body, you sigh in frustration at yet another fright.

“Frankie,” you mumble, “I’m not sure this is going to work. I’m too tense.”

He stops and looks up at you in the dark.

“I can feel that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for.” He comes up to kiss your lips, sweetly, just a couple of soft pecks. “I wish I could make you comfortable.”

“Not your fault.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

“I know.”

He kisses you again, then hums, like he thought of something.

“Babe, can we try something?”

“What?”

“Gimme just two minutes. I’m gonna get something from my truck. Will you be okay?”

“Sure,” you frown as he kisses you quickly before getting up from the bed. You hear him put on his jeans and t-shirt, and grab the flashlight from the bedside table.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, then lights his way to the hall, where he pulls on his shoes. You hear the front door open and close, and you sit up, nervous about being alone again.

He’s not even away for two minutes, but his hair is wet when he comes back to bed, finding you sitting up with your arms around you knees. He holds up a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, and your scarf from the hall.

“Okay, feel free to say no, but if it’s the light and sound that bothers you, how about we block those out?”

You wet your lips, a nervous flutter in your stomach. You had no idea he was this creative, not to mention kinky.

“So I wouldn’t hear or see anything?” you state the obvious, accepting the headphones from him and turning them in your hands. Frankie nods.

“Precisely. We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but it could be worth a try?”

You look at him, barely discerning his handsome features in the faint light from the flashlight. He looks so secure, so soft and full of concern for you.

“I wanna try,” you rule, and put on the headphones. The sound of heavy rain against the window stops, and all you can hear are you own breaths. A lightning flashes outside, making you recoil, but you never hear the subsequent thunder. Relief floods your body, and desire takes over fear. You take off the headphones.

“It works!”

“They’re good,” Frankie nods, handing you the scarf. “Tie this around your head.”

You raise the scarf to your eyes but before you can tie it, Frankie leans in for a kiss.

“I’ll be careful, and you just tell me to stop if you feel comfortable, okay?”

“I trust you,” you tell him quietly, and he kisses you again before letting you tie the scarf. Everything turns dark, and you adjust the fabric to avoid any cracks. You then put on the headphones, and everything turns silent.

Frankie’s lips seek out yours and in your silent bubble, your tongues dancing around each other sounds so loud. Your breath is thunderous when echoing in your own head, but you’re used to the effect from using earbuds at the gym. You focus on the kiss, on Frankie’s hands on your body, more exciting than ever before now that you can’t tell where he’s going. You give him command, let him lay you down on your back, sigh out your pleasure when he kisses your neck, your breasts, your stomach. Your sighs rise to moans when his tongue connects with your clit, and when he wraps his arms around your thighs to keep your still, your hands find his on your hips. You need that connection now that you can’t see him, can’t hear him – but you can still feel the vibrations of his hums and growls against your pussy. You feel it even more intensely now than you usually do, maybe because you’re so concentrated on what you can feel instead of our other senses. His name is a prayer on your tongue and a scream inside your head when he makes you cum, holds your pelvis down as you writhe and sob. He doesn’t stop, clearly determined to make you cum again, and while your clit is throbbing violently in dubious protest against the renewed ministrations, you don’t stop him but mewl your yesyesmoremorepleasepleaseplease in a way that drives him to tighten his hold of your hips before diving in with a new intensity. You feel it in a whole new way, in every fibre of your body, muscles flexing at the waves of pleasure that climb and grow and climb until your entire body is once again free to fall from Frankie’s arms and back into his arms, his breath searing hot against your slick folds, his tongue still lapping at your juices but slower now, your head full of your own voice, your orgasm, your breaths that you don’t know how you’re still drawing. Slowly, Frankie releases his grip of your thighs and you feel your hips groan when you carefully stretch out your legs. Your hand looks for him, and he's there, fingers plaiting together with your as he lays down next to you, his pussy-soaked mouth finding yours for a sweet, deep kiss. You want him, all of him, his warm, safe body snug against yours, and you trace your hand down his chest and stomach to his thick, stiff cock resting against your thigh. His breath stutters against your cheek when your fingers close around his girth, and then again when you tug him gently to get him to roll on top of you. Your legs fall open once again to accommodate him, and you nock him at your slick entrance, still fluttering from your orgasms. He pushes in with a moan that you feel as a reverberation and warmth against your skin. Your hands to come to his ass, pressing down to push him deeper in, and he obeys, cupping your cheek to kiss him moans into you.

“Fuck me,” you beg him, the request so loud in your head, and he plunges his tongue into your mouth, his cock into your welcoming pussy, and he does as he’s asked, takes you with a devastating steadiness that knocks the breath out of you with each thrust. Fucking Frankie is always an experience beyond the normal, but this is profound: seeing nothing, hearing only your own cock-drunk thoughts and echoing breaths, feeling him so acutely, his whole length connection with yours as he kisses your breath away with your moans, all the while fucking you with one solid thrust after another. You rake your nails down his back, you slap his flat ass before kneading it, following the rise and fall of it as he works your pussy, you gnaw at his neck, bite his ear, his lip, his tongue until he has to put his hand over your mouth and you shriek I’m sorry, Jesus Christ, don’t stop fucking me, fuck, I think I’m gonna cum again!

He renews his efforts, skin slick with sweat by now, knowing how to move to make it good for you, to make you cum one more time, fuck, you’re delirious by now but you’re cumming, and Frankie cums right after you, filling you with his seed as he fumbles with the headphones and pulls them off your head so that he can growls into your ear, Fuck, baby, fuck, fuckkkkk!

You expect everything to be loud now that the headphones are off, but it’s like you can’t hear anything. Frankie’s still inside you, still now, his body a precious weight on you. Only when he starts to move, his softening cock slipping out of you, do you start to hear things, the first one being your pussy queefing when his cum spits out of you.

The rain has subsided into a gentle pitter-patter on the window, and you take off the scarf. There is soft light fighting to get in through the blinds. You blink a couple of times, and bring your thighs together to avoid getting cum stains on the sheets.

“You okay?”

You turn your head towards Frankie, finding him gazing softly at you, ruddy-faced and sweaty, but satisfied.

“I’m perfect,” you whisper. He extends his hand to cup your face.

“I wasn’t as careful as I said I’d be. Sorry.”

“Frankie, that was… fucking amazing!” you blurt out inelegantly. Frankie grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“You were so loud.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure the neighbors heard you screaming that you’re going to cum again.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t realize.”

“It was awesome. You were so fucking sexy.”

“So were you. I mean you felt sexy.”

He kisses you gently before wrapping his arm around you to bring you in closer. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Thanks for helping me.” You wet your lips. “I know this is new and all but… no one’s ever helped me like this before. I appreciate it, Frankie.”

“Glad to help with anything and everything,” he replies quietly, finger stroking your cheek slowly. “I really like you. And I like that you feel safe with me.”

“I really like you, too. And I love that I can trust you. I never had anyone like that before.”

When you hear thunder far away in the distance, you don’t even blink. You make a note of it, but then let it go. You may not be cured of your fear, but right now you’re as safe as you can be.

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

BG3 Companion Headcanons

🌈☔🌤️ Enjoying Their Favorite Weather 🌤️☔🌈

Lae'zel:

This gith loves a super windy day

It is invigorating and helps her feel physically present

Also she knows she looks deadlyyy with her hair blowing around her head, her eyes narrowed, and her head down as she walks against the wind

Halsin:

I feel like Halsin loves a rainy evening+dewey morning combo in the spring

Like the soft sound the falling droplets make as they splatter against his tent help him drift off to sleep and dream of ducklings

And the next morning he loves to walk through the forest when the sun is coming up so he can watch the mist slowly rise as the light reflects off the wildflowers and the spiderwebs sparkle in the trees

Karlach:

I'm convinced she's a tropical beach kinda gal so hot, sticky, and sunny all the way

Any other companion in my head is usually wearing their starting outfits when I think of them, but Karlach? Shutter shades and a pina colada served in a pineapple

She's also on fire all the time, so the heat doesn't bug her at all!

I feel like the beach was made for her; rainbow sunsets, the crashing waves, the vastness of the ocean, hot sand between your toes, sandcastles, bonfires...like she would love everythinggg about it

Astarion:

Idk if it's bc there's so many cute fics with Star in snow, but ughhh it melts my cold, dead heart

Like the absolute stillness of flakey snow falling heavily in the night would make him feel at ease

And the way the snow sparkles in the moonlight inspires him to be creative (I am personally a big fan of thinking one of his hobbies post-epilogue is jewelry making. The little details keep his hands busy while his good taste and imagination help him design some of the coolest jewelry in all of Faerûn)

Also, like Karlach, the cold doesn't bother him nearly as much as it does most others

Gale:

We love an unstable king which is why I think Gale loves big storms with lots of wind, thunder, and lightning

AU storm chaser Gale?? I think I'm onto something here truly

And also it gives him great opportunities to conduct experiments and run tests! It's aliveeee!!!

Shadowheart:

Our broody queen loves mist and fog

It makes her want to snuggle up with a book and some tea by the window to just enjoy the peace and quiet

Also likes to be a mischievous, little gremlin and scare her partners/friends/roommates by waiting around the side of the house, knowing it's obscured, and then jumping out and grabbing them

And you want to be mad for how bad she scares you every time, but it's so hard bc she wrinkles her cute lil nose when she laughs and ughhh

Wyll:

Wyll loves space change my mind

He adores a clear, warm night so he can be out all night stargazing

And ooooo a meteor shower? This man is giddily kicking his feet, he is so enraptured by the magic of the night sky

He also loves to point out the constellations, and he's so good, even Gale is astounded by how many astral entities he knows

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

skeletons first thunderstorm on the surface, light's go out and S/O is completely chill obviously being used to this so they light up candles and comforts and reassure skeletons that they will be ok and it gets calming once you get used to it. S/O even goes outside to the front porch to watch the thunderstorm (s/o loves rain including thunderstorms)but will stay by skeletons side if they need them or if there too scared

Undertale Sans - He's a bit nervous but you staying perfectly calm is helping him so much to calm down. Obviously, it's nothing to worry about, so it's ok. He still jumps one or two times when there's thunder, but he gets over this quickly.

Undertale Papyrus - Well there's no Papyrus around and you're a bit worried about that, until you find him in his room, inside the closet. He's... He's not scared! The great Papyrus isn't scared of anything. But if you could just stay with him until it's over he would definitely be thankful lol.

Underswap Sans - He's actually very excited by the pretty lights in the sky and keeps asking you to go see them closer. Uh... You're not too sure how to explain the "pretty lights" can actually kill him if he finds them. Blue is fascinating though!

Underswap Papyrus - The first time the thunder hit, you hear his panicked steps in the corridor as he runs to hide behind you lol. Hell no, he hates this so much. He's clinging to you the whole time, the face buried in your neck and he refuses to let go. You can feel all of his bones shaking.

Underfell Sans - You two were talking when you saw his expression shift from perfectly fine to terrorized in three seconds. Red isn't listening to you anymore, frantically searching for a place to hide as fast as he can. He throws everything out of one of the kitchen cabinets and somehow manages to push his entire body inside. All you can hear from him while the thunderstorm continues is terrified whimpers every time there's a loud sound. Guess you didn't know yet about this scare of his uh. You're going to have a long talk after that.

Underfell Papyrus - He screams "CAVE IN!" and before you can say anything, he drags you by the waist inside the closest wardrobe and locks the both of you in here. You're so confused, but Edge insists you two stay in there until it's done. He only realizes afterward that there's actually no cave-in since he's literally not in a cave anymore. But you never know!

Horrortale Sans - He's agitated, and kinda wandering aimlessly in the house, not sure what to do with himself. Each time the thunder hits, you can hear him let go of a long cavernous growl at the emptiness, unsure if something is attacking him or not. Once he finds you, he's clingy and holding you protectively by the waist, growling at every noise. He doesn't like that.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's stress cooking. You said it's not dangerous and he believes you, but he still hates it a lot so he has to make something useful with his hands to not think too much about it. He baked six or seven cakes in two hours you think.

Swapfell Sans - He looks very cool from the outside but if you look closer, all of his claws are deeply buried inside the couch and he's so tense you're pretty sure he's going to explode if you touch him by surprise.

Swapfell Papyrus - He looks at you, then raises an eyebrow. "wow. if you're that hungry we can order something you know." "But it's not my stomach!" "oh, i'm not judging either if you didn't digest lunch." "It's not a fart either, Rus!" "sure thing, bud, we all know it's never a big old fart." You're a bit desperate, and not sure if he's messing with you or not. Rus head pats your pathetic little head.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He panics and starts to push everyone out of the house thinking a bomb just exploded inside the house. He's so confused when actually the house is... fine? Uh??? You try to explain him the concept of thunderstorms but he's really not listening to you. Because what if it was an invisible bomb and you're all dead but you actually don't know it? How do you know you're dead? Huh.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's singing out loud in his bed, hiding under the blanket, trying to cover the noise outside. It's fine, he's fine, nothing is going to kill him. He screams every time the thunder hits nearby, then cry-sings to try to comfort himself. He can't wait for the storm to end.

[pinguwrites]

Drabble: William fakes a PTSD nightmare

pairing | william killick x reader

Warnings: william being manipulative/possesive/controlling/kinda creepy, mention of PTSD trauma, implied to take place years after WWII, baby boy nickname, lowkey forgot how his house looks like

A/N: Ugh I've literally been so busy I can't believe I managed to get this out. I'm planning to get a long-length fic out but for now here's a drabble

The wind howled outside, sharp and loud, as the trees rustled against the wood of the house. The atmosphere was bitter and tense, the air cold and the silence thick.

William didn’t dare apologize, and as it seemed, you had no plans to as well. He was by no means content to sleep on the couch, missing the warmth your body provided, but he wasn’t sorry for what he did. He wasn’t sorry for his possessive nature. He was only controlling you because he was trying to keep you safe, couldn’t you see that? And the way you demanded more freedom earlier today — like that was something you needed. You were being completely unreasonable.

But still, you were stubborn. William knew that this wasn’t going to blow over until a few more days, and by then he’d be forced to make some compromises. If only the whole thing had never happened . . . He would be in your arms, held by you, cared for, and loved again.

If only he had a nightmare like he usually did on stormy days like this. You would forget everything, start cooing him, comforting him, and being a good wife.

And that was when it hit him — you would never know the difference. He could fake it! He could fake it and then everything would go back to normal. There was absolutely nothing stopping him, and it wasn’t wrong to do. The distant thunder did remind him of bombs, and the reminder did take him back to Greece. It was only now that he was better at controlling it, at not letting these minuscule things take him back to that hell.

William got up and walked towards the bedroom, leaning against the wall, watching you sleep. Your chest rose and fell slightly, your hair slowly falling across your forehead until it finally rested over your face. It was a beautiful sight. Sometimes, while you were asleep and he was awake, he would sit upright in bed and just watch you.

My darling girl. The love of my life. Why do you have to be so difficult?

William put on his best performance. He pouted his lips slightly, forcing tears to well up in his eyes. He tried his best to look like a wounded dog.

Before he even called your name, you woke up. Immediately noticing the dark figure standing by your door, you gasped, but when you recognized it as William, you got rather annoyed.

“What is it, William?” you asked groggily.

William shivered. “I—I dunno. I’m sorry — you always told me I could come to you . . . whenever it happened.” He let some tears fall. “I just got so scared. I thought — I thought I was back there, and . . . and.” He paused. “I’m sorry, I’ll go. I’ll go.”

“William,” you said softly, shaking your head with a look of pity on your face. “Darling, come here.”

William didn’t hesitate. He crawled into bed with you, wrapping the blanket which smelled like your perfume around his body. The tears dribbled down his chin, and he sniffled, snuggling his head in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry — it’s just, you were there. In the dirt, with all the other bodies. I couldn’t protect you,” he babbled.

“Shh,” you whispered. “I’m right here, baby boy. I’m not going to die. Can you feel me? Here.” You placed his hand on your chest, right above your breast. Your heart thumped, and he could feel it.

William was almost surprised that you had been fooled so easily, but also heartened. Your care for him outweighed any suspicion. It was at that moment that he knew things would be alright. You were going to forgive him.

"I-I can feel it."

William snuck his hand a bit lower, on your breast, and cupped it a little bit. Maybe you were too sleepy or just didn't mind, but you didn't move his head away, and instead let it rest there.

"I'm sorry about the argument," he said softly, after a while. "I just . . . what would my life be if you are not in it? What kind of husband would I be if I didn't protect you as best I can?"

You were quiet. Then, "Okay, Will. I'll stop visiting my friends so often. And I won't go past the property line without telling you . . . I know you only want to keep me safe."

William let out a sigh of relief and affectionately nuzzled his nose against your shoulder. "Thank you, my love."

He was a bit afraid that you would change your mind, so the moment he got what he wanted, he pretended to doze off into sleep, his breathing becoming more rhythmic and patterned.

"Will?" You shook him slightly. "Have you . . . ? Oh, it's alright. Rest." You kissed him on his forehead, leaving a wet mark. "Sweet thing," you murmured, before you yourself drifted off into sleep.

Taglist: @mrkdvidal1989 @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk @flwrs4aust @httpxgray