#like we know they’re close that isn’t a revelation

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Going into 2025 can we leave behind calling anything and everything related to Taylor an Easter egg? Thanks!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

“What?” Steve’s on edge, he doesn’t mean to snap, it just comes out that way. Eddie’s gone from never looking at him to...always looking at him. And the scrutiny is...it’s so fucking judgemental. Eddie has a horrible little smirk on his face as he fucking stares, eyeballing the drink Steve is pouring for himself, Steve is on the edge of just...screaming at him, or something.

Eddie huffs, rolls his eyes, but still doesn’t say anything.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep calming breath, and reminds himself that absolutely none of this is Eddie’s fault. They’re alone for the first time in a while, so Steve takes his chance, “I’m really sorry, about what I said, okay? I’m sorry I...tricked you. It was wrong, it was absolutely a dick move, I had no right to know, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie does look away then, deflating a little, Steve’s apology seems to have knocked the wind out of his sails, or something. Diluted the anger a little, at least.

“It’s…” Eddie shrugs, staring the shit out of the kitchen floor, “my Steve didn’t drink.”

Steve scrunches his nose up, surprised, “what, at all?”

Eddie shrugs, “glass of wine with dinner maybe, if we went somewhere just the two of us but...no. Not really,” he keeps picking the label off his own beer.

“But why?” Steve asks, so incredulous at the revelation that he forgets to be pissed off.

Eddie won’t look at him now, though, tinking a ring against the glass bottle. The moments long enough that Steve knows Eddie’s debating if he should tell him at all, but eventually Eddie sighs, “when Ronnie was tiny, she got a cough. She was like...fine, we didn’t think anything of it, just thought she was being grizzly or whatever. And Steve had a drink, and I hadn’t, so it was fine but, I checked on her, and she was fast asleep but like had a raging temperature. And it didn’t matter, we had baby meds in the house, we were prepared but...Steve got so worried. He was like but what if we’d run out of meds or...or they didn’t bring her temperature down and she needed urgent care or whatever. I mean, she was absolutely fine, we changed her out of her footie jammies and the medicine worked just fine so...literally nothing happened but...Steve still got so worried about it. So he decided he needed to always be able to drive just in case and he just...stopped. Drinking.”

Steve wants to open his mouth and dispute it. Wants to tell Eddie he’d never fucking do that, that he isn’t the paragon of perfection Eddie dreamed up while his body was busy beating the crap out of every one. That he can’t possibly compare...but he can see it. He wouldn’t miss it, he knows he wouldn’t, and it’s the logical way to make sure his kid is fine then...yeah. Steve would, the thinks. He thinks he would do that.

“He sounds like a good guy,” Steve answers softly.

And Eddie, Eddie smiles before biting his lips together. He closes his eyes and swallows, thick and slow, his voice breaking when he speaks, and Steve knows that Eddie’s fighting a loosing battle against the tears, “he was.”

“Do you want…” Steve holds his arms out, and Eddie all but falls into them, “I know I’m not him, okay, I know that, but I’m here, if you want me to be here.”

Steve thinks he feels Eddie nod, as he sobs against Steve’s chest, curled up so Steve can hold all of him. And Steve cries too. He can't keep the tears inside. Eddie’s pain is palpable, and this isn’t about Steve, not really, Eddie’s Steve was real to Eddie but...the details. The details of Eddie’s story are gutting to listen to. He had a child, and she grew up, and Eddie...he remembers all these little details of their lives.

“Why are you crying?” Eddie chokes out through a sob.

“The footie pajamas,” Steve manages through his own tears, “you had a little girl Eds, you had a little girl and you-” Steve can’t finish it, it’s just so horrible. So unbelievably cruel. Steve can’t even imagine, not really, “I’m so so sorry you went through this. It’s my fault, if I’d taken you with us, if I’d gotten you out, I didn’t know Eddie I swear I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know. Stop it. I probably...I’d be dead now, if you- although I don’t know if that would be better.”

“Jesus,” Steve drags him close drags him into a rib crushing hug, tries to press Eddie inside him, “don’t say that. Jesus Christ, please don’t say that.”

“I...okay.”

Eddie becomes his shadow, which is...kind of weird but also not. Steve doesn’t mind Eddie being there, not at all. He keeps feeling...strangely guilty, about the whole thing. Like it’s, at least, in some way, Steve’s fault, no matter what Eddie might say. Logically Steve knows Eddie’s right, and isn’t that ridiculous, that Eddie has been reassuring Steve? But Eddie is right, Steve couldn’t have known what would happen, no one could, and...Eddie was dead. There was absolutely no way to predict what could have happened but...Steve wears it anyway.

Not to mention the fact that Vecna must have chosen Steve to be Eddie’s imaginary husband for a reason...he must have...liked Steve, for that to work right? Before everything, it must have been realistic to Eddie’s mind that Steve was the one. At least, the thought must have been present enough for that to...take root. Steve doesn’t know, not really, but it haunts him anyway, a loose tooth that, although is painful, he can’t help fiddling with. Even though it’s nothing to do with him, not really.

Eddie stops drinking. He has his last beer, he in fact makes a point of telling Steve that it’s his last one, and not to buy more. So Steve gets one too, they chink them together, and drink them. Then, without speaking, Steve gathers the remaining seven beers out of the fridge and they stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, pouring them away. It feels kind of poignant, and a little ceremonial. It feels like an important moment, one Steve will look back on, “you still could have had them,” Eddie points out quietly.

“Nah.” And then that’s...kind of it.

Steve can tell when Eddie really wants a drink. He gets antsy, the kind of restlessness that comes out as destruction, and Eddie gets snappy and bitchy and...hard work, to be around. Sometimes. He swears a lot, gets angry over nothing. There’s a lot of slammed doors and angry clanking and music played loud enough that Steve winces and leaves the house for a while, not really caring what the neighbors think.

Steve lets it wash over him, or at least, does his best to, at first. But finding Eddie shredding the pages of a note book, one at a time, and then getting shouted at for simply asking, “you okay?” Steve starts to figure this isn’t sustainable.

He honestly feels like he’d be taking his life into his hands if he dared suggest Eddie go to some sort of therapy – and who could he talk to, anyway? How could Eddie tell someone on the outside that he’s lived a full life, that he’s lost an adult child and been married for like, thirty years by the age of twenty one?

Steve ducks the notebook as it wings passed his head, watching as Eddie stomps out the back door, slamming it behind him.

“Am I...uhm, gonna’ get anything thrown at me?” Steve doesn’t come too close, just in case. A torn up notebook cover might not have hurt, but the beer bottle still stands out in Steve’s memory. He wonders vaguely if he should have called one of the girls to do this, but it feels cowardly.

Eddie shakes his head, gesturing vaguely with his burnt out cigarette. There’s a neat little row of butts and a scrunched up packet next to Eddie’s boot. Steve pulls up a lawn chair next to him, “sorry,” Eddie says quietly, pointedly not looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s okay-”

“No it isn’t.”

“No...probably not but...I get that you’re hurting, is what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, vaguely, “sometimes something just…” Eddie sighs, and after a few minutes Steve realizes he’s given up and isn’t going to say anymore.

“Reminds you?” Steve tries.

“Yeah,” Eddie gestures again vaguely, running his hand through his hair. It’s looking a little greasy, but Steve knows that at least Eddie stood under the water this morning so he will take what he can get. His clothes are clean today, at least, and that’s a little win considering can go days with no interest whatsoever in his own personal hygiene.

“Do you...want to tell me?”

Eddie sighs a big sigh, “I wrote a song for Steve, for like, our seventh anniversary. Something like that. I wrote it out, to check I still remember. I do.”

“Oh. That sounds...really nice.” That is...very romantic. It makes something flutter a little, inside Steve, because no ones ever done anything like that for him, put in work. It doesn’t take much for Steve to see that Eddie is absolutely that kind of guy. The all in kind of guy, “I bet he really appreciated that. I bet he loved it.” Steve knows he would.

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps, “yeah he did.”

Part Six

[wannabanauthor]

I feel like Season 1 Buck would have been absolute menace if he met Tommy.

Buck is a natural flirt, and Tommy didn’t come out until after he left the 118, so I know that they would have had a hot and messy fling.

I’m betting it would have taken them a week at most before they started hooking up. Maybe Buck promises to stop stealing the engine for sex if Tommy gives him a helping hand. And Tommy benefits because he gets to hook up with a hot guy.

But real life emotions and feelings arise, and they both don’t know how to handle it. Tommy starts getting jealous because Buck is a huge flirt, and Buck is realizing that sex with Tommy isn’t just sex anymore. It’s something more, and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s straight but enjoys sex with a guy.

Tensions arise, and maybe they get in a fight after working on a stressful call. Tempers flare, and it becomes a yelling match that the entire station is witness to. And they’re not even speaking to each other at the end of the shift.

Buck decides to yield first and drives to Tommy’s house that same night.

When Tommy answers the door, Buck is too distracted by how good Tommy looks in civilian clothes to have a proper conversation.

He just walks inside staring at Tommy and kisses him passionately. They don’t talk, not really. They use their mouths for other more pleasurable things.

It’s different this time. There’s a tinge of desperation and the fact that they don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering them.

Once they’ve thoroughly exhausted themselves, Buck is on his side facing Tommy while Tommy is on his back staring at the ceiling. Buck strokes Tommy’s face, and when Tommy looks at him, Buck pulls him closer and kisses him so tenderly.

They don’t know what to say to each other, so they just kiss, reveling in how good it feels to kiss just for the sake of kissing.

Buck’s gone by the time Tommy wakes up, and Tommy doesn’t bother to reach out.

During their next shift together, they avoid each other as much as possible. The rest of the team already expected this since their fight, so it’s not awkward.

Bobby takes notice, but he can’t figure out exactly what it is. One day he calls Tommy into his office and notifies him of a transfer opportunity. Tommy accepts without hesitation, but it only worries Bobby more.

Word gets around, and Buck is the last one to find out. He’s hurt, really hurt, but he can’t say anything on shift. Afterwards, he drives straight to Tommy’s house and confronts him.

It’s awkward when Tommy opens his door to Buck looking so defeated and miserable.

“So you weren’t going to tell me?” Buck asks.

Tommy rubs his own face, clearly not ready for this conversation.

“It would have been nice to find out from you rather than our coworkers,” Buck continues. “Is it because of me?”

Tommy is too guarded to properly have this conversation.

“It’s not about you, Buck,” he says and his face is blank.

Buck looks crestfallen. “Fine, I get it. We were just having fun, right?”

“I can’t do this with you right now,” Tommy says. Yes, he’s a coward. But it’s better to be a coward than to be a gay guy who’s falling hard for his young himbo coworker/fuck buddy.

Buck nods, and there’s a mixture of hurt and anger on his face. “Okay,” he replies, feeling super defeated and deflated. “Do what’s best for you. Maybe you’ll find whatever it is you’re looking for there. I want you to be happy, even if it’s away from me.”

Buck leaves after that, and Tommy breaks down crying in his kitchen.

Buck’s tears don’t even wait for him to get into his Jeep. Everything is blurry by the time he starts it up, but he wipe his eyes and drives off.

That night he’s in bed staring at the ceiling of his loft, wondering if he made a mistake in letting Tommy go.

Sadly, Tommy is wondering if he also made a mistake of letting Buck go.

To be continued…

I’m exhausted, and my eyes are closing, and I have no more ideas on how to continue this idea for a happy ending at the moment, so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow or later. Good night.

[satsugacafe]

𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭!𝐈𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐔𝐫𝐲𝐮 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello! Is it okay to request NSFW alphabets? If yes, would you do Adult!Uryu? Thank you!

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: For all the Uryu lovers out there, hope you all enjoy this! Thank you for the request anon :)

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, 18+ content, all 26 letters of the alphabet

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢��𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare comes naturally for Uryu, and he treats it with the same level of dedication he puts into sex. Having such a keen eye for details, he would immediately notice any signs of exhaustion, overstimulation, or discomfort in you. In these moments, he’s extremely soft-tongued and gentle as he shuffles around the room retrieving water or running a bath for you, or even the pure comfort of being in his arms. He isn’t overly cuddly or talkative, choosing to let his actions speak by drawing the blanket over you, adjusting the pillows, massaging your body or tracing the area where faint marks were left behind. Of course, he would ask if you were alright and required anything outside of what he was providing.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His most prized body part would be his hands. Those long, slender, fingers that worked so hard on the battlefield and meticulously when crafting a new piece of clothing, were the same fingers that undid you. He revelled in the fact that a simple brush of his fingers against your skin left you shivering and yearning for more. And the sight of his finger sinking into your flesh when he grips you, is perhaps, one of his favourite sights.

On you, he would enjoy your neck and collarbone. The ability to brush his lips over the area and feel your pulse jumping or increasing or leaving behind a trail of goosebumps—he likes that. More specifically, it’s the vulnerability behind the area that brings about a thrill of excitement for him, always having his lips attached to those areas and leaving one or two hickeys behind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Clean, meticulous, and to the point. He wasn’t a sloppy person when he was releasing his cum, preferring to hold you closely and ensuring that he was still buried to the hilt just as he spilt himself inside. If he doesn’t cum inside your heat, he’ll finish in your mouth should you choose to suck him off. And should any spill out, he’d wipe it up with his fingers and guide it to your lips to clean up your mess—if you were into that, otherwise, he’d use a tissue and help you clean up. His cum volume wasn’t a lot like others, but it’s a decent amount that would still leave you feeling content after he spills himself inside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Restraint and control. Something he never spoke about openly but had often thought about in private. It wasn’t about domination in a crude or forceful way, but rather the thrill of holding back his own desire while making you unravel completely beneath him. He’s fantasised about scenarios where he could tease with relentlessly with his skilled fingers, bringing you to the edge over and over again only to deny you the release you desperately craved. Just the idea of you pleading for him, completely at his mercy and trembling under his touch adds fuel to the fire. But he also enjoys it when you push him past his reserved self-control, wanting him to snap and abandon all restraints.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We know that he doesn’t have any past partners, however, it didn’t mean that he was squirmish. Uryu approached intimacy like he did with everything—careful precision and attention to detail. He was a fast learner, keenly observing every reaction you gave him and adjusting accordingly. He would quickly understand the right amount of pressure to give you in certain areas, where and how to touch you and your responses to his delicate touch. At the same time, he still displayed humility and never boasted or assumed to know everything.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Not an ostentatious individual and prefers to settle for simpler positions he knows would work well for his comfort and yours. One of his favourites was the classic missionary but with a twist. He liked having your leg hooked over his shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper while keeping you close. It gave him the perfect view to observe all your expressions, to easily press kisses along your throat and whisper praises against your skin.

He also enjoyed it when you rode him, whether he was sitting or lying down, he liked seeing you on top, taking control. The way your hands would rest against his chest while you tossed your head back as you rode till thy kingdom come at your preferred pace. At the same time, as much as you had your dominance, his hands were always on your waist, guiding you in a subtle way that silently reminded you he was still very much in control.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nope, not at all. He isn’t the type of person to joke around during sex. However, knowing that he has a very…dry sense of humour and witty remarks, he liked to use it to tease you during sex when his sense of playfulness and warmth manifested. Often teasing you with a smirk when you were trying to catch your breath or gasping at something he did that caught you off guard. Even then, he was still focused, using his humour to bring an air of light teasing, rather than breaking it with laughter.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does not joke when it comes to hygiene. His hair is neatly trimmed, not completely shaved off, but trimmed nice and low. Even before you entered the picture, his hair was always kept low. He’s well aware of how discomforting it can be to get hair in your mouth whenever you’re going down on him—as much as it can’t be avoided, he still tries to keep himself groomed to reduce the chances.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

For all his cold and detached demeanour in public, Uryu was sinfully intimate and passionate when it came to sex. Behind closed doors, every kiss, every caress, felt as though he was worshipping the precious and beautiful person in his life. He took care when learning about your body with the same care he placed towards his sewing.

To him, blindly chasing pleasure was never his goal. Instead, learning your body, memorising the curve of your spin, the way your breath hitched when he touched certain spots, the tiny details that made you unique. Give him eye contact, hold hands, let your bodies press against one another and feel the shift in his muscles or erratic beating of his heart. He simply enjoyed being as close to you as possible.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Self-pleasure was rare for him, but he had his moment when he couldn’t resist locking his office and rocking back in his chair to indulge. Either you visited him and riled him up, leaving him wanting more, or sent him some provocative picture, voice note or text that he couldn’t get out of his head. And whenever he did indulge, he tried not to spend much time, wanting it to be quick and over, allowing his touch to be fleeting and preferring if it was you instead of him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

His kinks are pretty surprisingly intense for someone so reserved, but then again, reserved people do have eye-catching kinks. His first kink up for discussion would be power dynamics and control. He enjoyed exercising restraint, holding himself back until you were a desperate trembling mess beneath him. He wants to listen to you begging, knowing that he is the one in control of what happens next.

Another kink of his was lingerie. He has an eye for elegance, so if you ever wore something designed to entice him—lace, silk, stockings, corsets—he would absolutely lose his mind. It was a weak spot he wouldn’t readily admit to, but his actions would speak volumes the moment they stepped into his view.

There’s also sensory play, gravitating towards the use of blindfolds and restraints with silk ties. The idea of seeing you tied and blindfolded, needy and dripping as you whine for him, attempting to seek him out while he hovered nearby, smirking at how desperate you were for his touch. He uses this moment to tease you endlessly, drawing out each touch and leaving you hypersensitive, yet craving more.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Private and intimate setting, somewhere he wouldn’t be interrupted and could place all his focus on you without distractions. The bedroom is always the number one spot, also the destination where all that he required was within his reach. More pillows, more silk, or perfect lighting to set the mood. However, there is an exception despite his love for order. A thrill for being caught off guard, in having his normally composed self completely unravelled in a moment of unexpected passion. A secluded training ground, a dimly lit hallway where you barely had time to undress, even against a wall when urgency overtook you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Confidence. Intelligence. Control. Just a few of what gets him going. Seeing you proving that you weren’t just another fleeting distraction, a well-placed tease, a knowing smirk, challenging him which would leave him wanting more—the art of seduction basically. If you could get under his skin and leave his mind as heated as his body, hook, line and skin.

That isn’t to say that he was immune to physical play. Whisper against his ear, run your fingers through his hair, scrap your nails against his scalp, wander your fingers across his chest or skin, send him a pic or text of you in your finest wear designed just for him, and watch as he slowly loses his composure. They made his unravel faster than he’d like to admit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No degradation, humiliation, extreme pain play, and excess voyeurism. None of that at all.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

When it comes to giving, he would use his lips and tongue with wicked precision, and his glasses—yes, they stay on—would be fogged as he placed all his focus and attention on the way you gasped and moaned. He took his time, enjoying every reaction he pulled from you, and didn’t stop until you were thoroughly satisfied, probably shaking from the overstimulation. He’s not messy, preferring to keep things with an air of control as his face is buried between your legs. You can rub your fingers through his silky hair, tugging and guiding—he likes it when you give his hair tugs, guiding him to where you want him most and how you wish to be pleasured.

As for receiving, he wasn’t the type to demand it but greatly appreciated it when you offered. At first, he tries his best to maintain his composure, not wanting to appear like a man losing himself in the throes of pleasure, but the subtle lip biting, brows furrowing and heavy breathing says otherwise. Of course, there comes a moment when you would push him, and all restraints are broken. His hand would grip your hair or cradle your head, head tossed back as ragged groans left his lips. He does try his best not to be rough and push your head, allowing you the control to do your thing.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s mostly a slow and deep type of person since he usually assigned intimacy with being something more than just the act, wanting to commit to every memory of you and draw out the moment. But that’s not to say Uryu doesn’t have his days when he’s rough, pinning you down or tying your wrists as he snaps his hips hard and fast into you. There’s a primal hunger in his actions as he drives into you, muttering about how ‘good you feel’ or how you ‘being such a tease.’

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not fond of quickies since he enjoys taking his time and fully savouring the experience, but we all know that you’re someone who enjoys teasing and making him frustrated. There are going to be moments when you two are pressed against a wall in some quiet corridor, in his office or in a random room, hands fumbling at each other’s clothes. You could see how he was resisting falling under your spell, but hearing your whimpers and needy moans pushed him to take you deep and fast, lips swallowing your gasps with every thrust.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He isn’t against risk once it doesn’t cause harm and pain, but he requires time to adjust when you come to him with them. The furthest I can see him going is with blindfolds, restraints, sensory deprivation and a simple impact play (spanking). When it comes to risky locations, apart from the random room, empty corridor and his office, if you’re in Seireitei, probably some empty street behind the barracks, or a training room. But you gotta work really hard to convince him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Uryu can last as long as you want him to. We’ve all seen how fit he is on the battlefield being able to go up against powerhouse opponents takes a huge toll on his energy, so undoubtedly, he can last for a long time. His main goal is to ensure that you are satisfied, well-pleasured, and comfortable. His rounds are according to how well you’re managing and interested. If you wanted two rounds, he could give that. Five rounds? Say no more. He does have the ability to maintain control which allows him to draw out a single session.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

For him, Uryu doesn’t have toys. However, should you be interested in having and incorporating them into your sex lives, he does not mind, nor does he feel offended. He’s a doctor, so he understands how well extra stimulation helps to bring about heightened pleasure and satisfaction. Mostly vibrators would be welcomed, handcuffs, silk ties, and ribbons.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ughh, he’s such a tease in the cruellest way possible. With his infinite self-control, you were in for it when he decided to drag out his taunting. It’s even worse when you’re blindfolded and handcuffed or tied up—just perfect, absolutely perfect for him to have free reign to have you squirming and begging for more of his touch. He’ll ghost his fingers down your spine to watch you arch, brush his lips over yours, touch near your aching spots and then pull away, avoiding the area you wanted him most. He’d whisper something utterly infuriating as he leans in close, against your ear like, “Not yet. You can do better than that, can’t you?”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very vocal, nor is he loud. Soft grunts and groans, sighs and moans. A few swears he’ll drop in between while biting his lips to suck in his breath when you clench around him or suck him off. Likes to bury his face in your neck to muffle the groans he emits when he’s getting closer. Fails because he gets all breathless and a few loud ones slip through—he’s right there by your ear, so you can hear his delicious sounds. And when you get him riled, he’ll lowly growl in your ear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Hidden possessive streak. He’s not one for jealousy, but should someone look at you the wrong way, it urges him to display his dominance. A hand on your hip, around your waist, a lingering bite on your skin, a hickey in a discrete area that still allows for subtle glimpses to be shown, whispering words of possession that left no doubt in your mind that you belonged to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Perfectly well-endowed—neither exaggerated nor lacking, but proportionate to his tall, lithe frame. Not too thick, smooth with a single vein, pink tip and aesthetically pleasing, just like the rest of him, he carried himself with quiet confidence, knowing he had nothing to prove. He doesn’t brag nor compare because he knows size wasn’t what mattered but how it was used.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is intense, but with his whole ‘self-restraint’ in order, he would go long periods without being involved. However, the moment he indulges, all that is suppressed comes crashing down, especially if you two haven’t seen each other for a lengthy period. That being said, when you two now started being intimate, he used to withhold his craving, not wanting to scare you with how hungry he was, wanting to map out every inch of your body and be consumed. But as time goes on, his drive would balance out in the middle, having learned every part of you, now simply basking in the connection and intimacy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes a long while before he falls asleep, usually staying awake to ensure that you’re taken care of. A bath, a massage, a glass of water, or simply lying together and cuddling in the post bliss. He’ll pull you into his arms, studying your features and marvelling at how lucky he was to have you—to himself—tracing patterns on your back while observing you slipping into slumber. Uryu would stay awake until you fell asleep first, wanting to ensure that you were comfortable and secure before he could drift off knowing that all was well. When he did sleep, it was deep, but not the deep where the death could rise he’d still be slumbering.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose @stygianoir @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[diamond-champagne]

9. It'll Always Be You

Paige Beuckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: none :)

Summary: In which promises are made...and kept

a/n: The end is so close ya'll. Please let me know what yous want next. Also she's short but I love her.

It would be easier if they hated each other. It wouldn’t be this hard. The burning feeling ignited my anger so deep in them would be a welcomed relief of whatever this is. This a constant state of discontentment that has seemed to worm its way into their lives and settle down in their minds. 

It’s like being in a rocking chair and knowing you won’t fall but still feeling the panic that arises anyway. 

It’s like knowing you’re above the surface in the ocean and yet you feel like your lungs are filling with water

It’s like knowing everything is going to be okay but not knowing how.

-

Paige moves through the next couple of days the way the tide rolls in down the shore. She comes and she goes, day in and day out. 

To be fair, this is new to her. The blonde is used to fighting and then making up, or even fighting some more. However, this weird limbo of which they each hold a key to a lock they don’t have is scaringly unfamiliar. They used to be perfectly intertwined and now they’re chaotically tangled. Both pulling on random threads, having no clue if they want to be closer together or further apart. 

Paige is plagued with the will they, won’t they. Azzi and her are trapped playing this game of cat and mouse and she’s not sure who is who. The worst part is that she isn’t sure why they’re doing this because every time, since that conversation with Azzi, she feels like her forever is right in front of her. 

-

“I trust you with my life, just not my heart.”

“What does this mean for us?” Azzi whispers. Her body suddenly lags with defeat and upset clouds her eyes.

“It means,” Paige starts before letting out a sigh. “It means that maybe we need to figure out why we’re scared before we can face them.” She can see the protest rise in Azzi so the blonde is quick to keep speaking. “You said that sometimes my feelings were too much so maybe you need to figure out why that scares you. While you do that, I will figure out why I’m scared to trust you to love me.

“And once we do that?” 

“Once we get to the root of our fears, maybe we’ll be in a place where we can be more than friends.”

“Maybe?” Azzi sasses. The word might be the most offensive thing she’s ever heard.

“Maybe,” Paige confirms. “Because I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to be hurt. We can’t give each other the love we feel like the other deserves while being scared of said love.”

Azzi shakes her head in understanding. “And what if you decide this isn’t what you want anymore?” The question makes the brown-haired girl’s heart drum against her ribcage. 

It’ll always be you” Paige states. Despite the tears in both of their eyes, Azzi can see sincerity in her favorite pair of eyes. So, she smiles and counters with her own whispered promise. “It’ll always be us.”

So the two stand, facing each other, in this in-between space of friends and lovers. They bask in knowing there’s something yet mourn not having everything. It’s the definition of bittersweet. 

-

The memory is engraved into the blonde’s head the same those words are engraved into her heart. The spoken vowels play on repeat through her mind all day like her favorite song or the newest tik tok sound. She won’t forget these words though. They’ll always be hers to keep; always hers to love.

Until their day comes, Paige will savor the inbetween the best that she can. She’ll revel in the feeling of having Azzi’s eyes on her when they’re out with the team. She memorizes the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other when the pair sit next to each other. The blonde will make it a point to have their fingers touch in passing.

It’s the little things that make this worth it. It’s the little things that make Paige think that maybe they can rush this after all. But then, there’s a specific smile that Azzi has just for the blonde. And when Paige sees it, she knows that this is worth the wait.

But then she’s back to being restless and a little impatient. This much she tells Azzi in the bar bathroom at Ted’s when the girls are a little more free with their alcohol than usual. Tale as old as time and true as can be; Azzi and Paige will only want each other when a drop of liquor is involved. 

“I don’t remember why we’re doing this.” Paige mumbles. Azzi has got her trapped between her body and the sink. The curly-haired girl’s hands are tracing patterns on the blonde’s hip.

“You should. It was your idea.” Azzi answers smugly. The smirk on her face isn’t a result of their conversation but rather how the blonde is reacting to the mere feather touch by Azzi. Her blue eyes are low and hooded. Her body immediately pushes closer to Azzi’s upon contact. The voice that usually drips in confidence is breathy and broken. 

It’s a high that Azzi will never be free from. It’s her favorite version of Paige. The one she can ruin completely if you give her the opportunity. The brown-hair girl knows she should stop. They’re supposed to be taking things slow. But Paige is so perfect infront of her and neither one is sober at the moment so it’s easy to justify when their lips crash together. The kiss starts fast and desperate but ends being slow and passionate. It pulls small moans and whimpers from both girls as they indulge in each other.

When they finally pull apart, there is considerable distance between them. It’s like they both know that this is a bad idea. It’s like they both know they don’t care. But they stay separated at the whispered promise of “You” that Azzi lets out. 

“It’ll always be you.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[estrellami-1]

Quite Miss Home

Had an idea. Wrote 2.3k words in a couple of hours. Pure fluff based on the James Arthur song. ❤️

“Helloooooo, Chicago!” Eddie yells into the mic, reveling in the roar he gets back from the audience.

It’s been ten years since it all; since the end of the world as he knew it and the beginning of something so much better. Corroded Coffin had taken off quickly, after the “earthquakes;” something about rising from the ashes like a phoenix, if Eddie had to guess, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, just enjoy what he’s given, and damn is he enjoying it.

“How are you?” He asks, grinning when the audience cheers again. “Alright, alright. Man, I’ll tell you, it’s fuckin’ awesome being here. But can I tell you a secret?” The audience roars again, and he grins as he takes his guitar off, hoisting it up. “Who’s this?”

“Sweetheart!” The crowd yells back.

“That’s right!” He quietly thanks the stagehand who darts up to grab it from him. “But it’s not my only sweetheart. In fact, my real sweetheart is at home. And this tour is so awesome, but I’m kinda starting to miss my sweetheart.”

“Aww,” the crowd says, and he grins softly at them.

“I know,” he says. “This next song is for my sweetheart. They’re at home because they get migraines, and tours aren’t very conducive to not getting migraines, so we both decided it would be better if they stayed home. So this next song isn’t Corroded Coffin’s normal sound. In fact-” he gestures at the stage behind him- “if you’ll notice, the rest of the boys aren’t up here anymore. This is an Eddie Munson original, and I want to thank them, from the bottom of my heart, for letting me be the dramatic sap I am, and letting me sing this song, on national television, for my sweetheart.” The stagehand comes up again, this time with an acoustic, and again Eddie thanks him. “So, sweetheart,” he says, facing the cameras, “this one’s for you.”

“I'm in the kitchen while you smoke outside. You're careful not to let the smoke inside. I always tell you it's poison, but I know it helps you take the edge off the day.”

Eddie knows exactly where Steve’s gonna be when he gets home from where he works part-time as a bartender. In through the front door, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter, straight through to the porch where Steve’s smoking.

“Y’know those things are poison,” he jokes, stealing it straight from Steve’s mouth and taking a drag before giving it back to him.

“I never want kids,” Steve says in answer. He’s a kindergarten teacher, so he comes home in one of two moods: he has the worst baby fever, or he never wants to see another child again.

“Yeah? What happened today?” Eddie asks, settling in close. He’s hungry, and was vaguely considering a stir fry, but instead he tucks in close as Steve takes another drag, preparing himself.

“Okay, so get this.”

“We get a drink before it's closing time, the one on High Street with the blinking sign. All these memories feel poignant. I won't be there to see the snow melt away.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, seeing someone settle at the bar in his periphery. “What can I get you?”

Then he actually turns to face the person, and-

Oh.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” Steve grins, leaning over the counter. “And maybe… something else? A little later?”

A thrill of heat rushes through Eddie, but he rolls his eyes with a grin and pushes Steve back by a palm to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants,” he admonishes, “I’m on the clock for the next four hours. Someone didn’t tell me they were gonna drop in, and I took my break twenty minutes ago.”

Steve hums. “Y’know, a dull knife could be very dangerous,” he says. “I certainly hope the one you’re using to cut limes is sharp.”

Oh.

Eddie grins, always on board, and leans over the counter. “Steve Harrington,” he purrs, delighting in the flush racing up his cheeks and down his neck. “What exactly are you insinuating?”

Steve sits there for a beat, drains his whiskey, and hops off the stool with a dangerous smirk. “Careful on your way out. It started snowing.”

“Oh, yeah, I been gone on business. I gotta make some money. I really feel the distance.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Steve murmurs, clinging to Eddie like a koala. They’re still in bed, and Eddie doesn’t have to leave for another five hours. He’s gonna spend all the time he can in bed with Steve.

“I know, baby,” Eddie whispers back. “Tours are so long.”

“A month,” Steve agrees. “And then another three, after Indy.”

“But just think,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re still working, right? And those kids love you, and no matter what you say, I know you love them. And this tour is gonna be really good for us. We could get Wayne into a house, and help Hop with his payments-”

“He won’t accept the help.”

“No, but Joyce will,” Eddie grins. Steve laughs softly into his chest, then sighs and kisses a tattoo.

“I just wish I could be with you. I wish my head worked right.”

“Baby,” Eddie says firmly, “I love you. Regardless of if you can or can’t come with me. If you’re gonna be miserable the entire time—and we both know you would be, don’t even try to deny it—I’d be miserable, too.”

“I know,” Steve sighs.

“But hey. We’ve got time right now. And I’m not letting you move from this very spot until I’m gonna be late.”

Steve chuckles. “I’ll drag you out myself, Eds, much as I don’t want it I know you need to go.”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, turning so they’re both on their sides, facing each other. “But I don’t have to go right now. And I’m gonna spend as much time as I can right now with you.”

“I know.”

“No, baby,” Eddie says, eyes wide, “you don’t get it. I won’t even let you pee alone today.”

“So just like normal, then,” Steve grins.

Eddie squawks.

“And I quite miss home. And I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor, and the dirt drives you crazy. Yeah, I quite miss home, 'cause it feels like poetry. When the rain falls down on the window while you're in my arms, and we're watching the TV. Yeah, I quite miss home. Yeah, I quite miss home.”

“Hey, Eds,” Steve calls as soon as Eddie steps foot inside. “Shoes off at the door, I just swept and I swear to God, if you track dirt into the house-”

Eddie chuckles, toeing his shoes off before walking further into the house. “I know, baby, it wreaks havoc on your bare feet to feel it. I get a free pass from that ‘cause I wear socks like a normal person.”

“Literally when have you ever been normal,” Steve says, “that’s not normal, you and your fuckin’ ice cube toes in the middle of the goddamn night on my calves-”

Eddie snickers. “‘S not my fault you’re a furnace, babe.”

“I will maintain that it is your fault until we can prove otherwise, actually.”

Eddie is in love with this man. “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks, laughing, wandering down the hallway and into their room, where Steve’s folding laundry. “Fuck, I love you.”

Steve grins and accepts a kiss. “I love you too.”

“I smell you cooking from the living room, and then I tell you that I love your food. I know it doesn't come easy, but you know it reminds me where I'm from.”

“Baby,” Eddie groans when he walks in. “Are you making the pork?”

“I’m trying,” Steve grumbles, frowning at the pan. “‘S not working. It’s not getting crispy like it should.”

Eddie walks closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and nuzzling the side of his head. “Looks amazing,” he murmurs. “And smells even better.”

Steve sighs. “I just wish it was easier for me.”

“You don’t have to do this, baby.”

“But I know you love it.”

“I mean, yeah. But I love anything you cook, Steve. Or anything you call in. It’s the effort, y’know? Even when you don’t have the energy for anything but calling in pizza.”

Steve smiles. “You’re a sap, y’know that?”

Eddie chuckles, kissing Steve’s neck. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been down bad for you for a while, baby.”

“Yeah?” Steve tilts his head to allow Eddie better access. “How long?”

Eddie hums, moving down Steve’s neck, worrying his collarbone. “Probably since the demobat, Big Boy.”

Steve moans as Eddie sucks a mark high on his neck, just beneath his ear. “Yeah?” He asks, high and breathy.

Eddie turns the heat off. “Yeah.” A little bite to Steve’s earlobe as his hand creeps around to the front of Steve’s jeans. “Lemme show you?”

Steve pants. “Dinner-”

“Can wait,” Eddie growls. “I want you tonight, baby.”

“Whoa, I'm in another city. I got nobody with me. And it just really hit me.”

“Hey, baby,” someone croons. Eddie thinks he recognizes her from the last stop on the tour.

“Um… hi?”

She giggles. “So coy. You don’t have to play like that with me, baby.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I’m not your baby.”

“Well, no,” she admits. “But you could be. Or I could be yours, if you’re more into being a Daddy.” She runs teasing fingers up Eddie’s arm.

He jerks his arm away. “Look, I’m sure you’re nice and all, but I’m really not looking-”

“Not yet you’re not,” she says.

“I don’t even know what that means- look, lady, I don’t want anything, okay?”

“Oh, come on, now-”

“I said no,” he says, harsher than he maybe should have, for the way she steps backs in shock. “Please leave,” he continues, gentler. “Or I’ll call security. And I don’t want to have to do that.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You could’ve had a great lay.”

“I have a great lay,” he shoots back. “And I’m not willing to sacrifice it for a meaningless one-night-stand.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sure you’re a great lady. But I’ve got my other half at home.”

“Your other half?” Steve interrupts over the phone, delight evident in his voice. “Christ, Eds, you’re a sap, I miss you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know, baby, I miss you too, now I was in the middle of a story.”

“That I quite miss home, and I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor, and the dirt drives you crazy. Yeah, I quite miss home, 'cause it feels like poetry when the rain falls down on the window, while you're in my arms, and we're watching the TV.”

“Baby,” Eddie yells inside, “It’s raining lynxes and wolves!”

Steve laughs from the laundry room. “Why can’t you just say cats and dogs?”

“Because,” he stresses, “it’s not. It’s raining so hard, babe, it’s perfect couch-cuddling weather, can we watch a movie? Please?”

Steve smiles. “Dinner’s in the oven keeping warm. Labyrinth is in the player already.”

Eddie stills, staring at Steve, for a solid thirty seconds. “Fuck, I love you,” he murmurs. Steve grins and steals a kiss.

“Go get the food,” he says. “I’ll be there in just a minute, just gotta finishing moving this stuff from the washer to the dryer.”

He does, and Steve does, and soon the dirty dishes are abandoned on the coffee table and their feet are tucked up on the couch. Steve’s leaning on Eddie and Eddie’s hand is under his shirt, not for anything suggestive, simply just to feel.

He kisses Steve’s head with a content sigh, and Steve tilts his head back to look at him. “What’s up?”

“Y’know this is one of the things I miss the most when I’m touring?”

Steve smiles. “Just sitting watching a movie?”

“Well, anything with you, actually. But yeah. No expectations, just the movie, and the rain, and just. Us.”

Steve smiles and kisses his jaw. “This is one of the things I miss most when you’re on tour, too.”

“Yeah, I quite miss home. Yeah, I quite miss home. And I quite miss home. Yeah, I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor and the dirt drives you crazy. Oh, I just miss home, no, no, 'cause it feels like poetry, as the rain falls down on the window while you're in my arms and we're watching the TV. Oh, I miss home, yeah, I quite miss home, no. Oh, I quite miss home. Yeah, yeah, I quite miss home.”

The last strum reverberates through the silent auditorium. Then, an anguished groan. “What the fuck, why are you perfect?”

Eddie laughs along with the rest of the crowd. “That’s quite the compliment, but no, my sweetheart will be the first to tell you I’m anything but perfect.”

Three and a half weeks later, Steve slams into him as he’s walking into the house. “Oh,” he says, delighted. “Hi, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, “fuck you and your song, I swear to God, Eds-” he tugs on Eddie’s shirt, pulling him away from the door, and Eddie chuckles.

“Baby, my shoes, the floors-”

“Fuck your shoes,” Steve growls. “Fuck the floors. If I’m not naked in bed in the next thirty seconds-”

Eddie grins and picks him up. “Say no more,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear, taking purposeful strides toward the bedroom.

As he kicks the door shut, he has one thought: This is my favorite part of coming home.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @mischivarien @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @inadequatecowboy @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Also tagging @finntheehumaneater and @gloomysoup because I figure you might like it ❤️

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Hiii! could you maybe write a Grayson x reader fic with a reader who doesn’t feel she is lovable cos her parents were abusive and taught her that?

hi!! thanks for your request, I realise it’s taken me a while to get around to writing it, so very sorry about that. It was a little dark but I’ll gave it a go. pre-warning I’ve never written anything like this before, so if it’s inaccurate or insensitive, I’m very sorry.

title: never good enough

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a make out session brings back some unwanted memories that you’re forced to face

warnings: really heated make-out session, suggestive themes (but nothing bad bad), lots of past trauma, swearing, panic attack, abusive parents

a/n: if any of the warnings trigger you, please do not read on, I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s pain!! I’d feel so guilty!!

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @heartwithsimplenotes @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual

I like the way he tastes and the feel of his lips on mine. It’s not something I see myself getting bored of. It feels nice. But what feels nicer is the feeling of someone desiring you, someone wanting you, maybe even needing you. The feeling that someone chose you for a reason, because you matter to them. I like that feeling the best.

With each kiss I imagine that he actually feels something for me. It’s easier to play pretend. If you play pretend for long enough it can start to feel like reality. Growing up, I used to create things in my head all the time. Fictitious fantasies to fill in my empty voids of emotion. I suppose the habit had bled into my adult life.

He moans against my lips. The sound of pleasure indicating I’ve done something right, something he enjoys. My heart swells at this symbol of approval. Why do I thrive off of approval? I shake the feeling away in another deep kiss, burying it under a mound of other things I was ignoring. If I can’t see them they’re not there, if I turn my back, if I close my eyes.

These kisses are meaningless really, my brain knows it, actually it keeps attempting to remind me but I’ve gotten quite good at discarding things people say. They hurt my heart but not my head.

Grayson isn’t one to display how he feels for me publically. He’s mentioned before that he feels he doesn’t need to display how he feels to the world, he’s doesn’t care what the world thinks, he only cares what I think. It’s a beautifully designed excuse to tell me secretly that he doesn’t want to show affection in public because he doesn’t want me. I’m an embarrassment to love. I always have been.

But I don’t care. Our private moments together are bliss because I get to escape the truth and I like that. The truth is bitter like the cud, it’s harsh, it’s cruel, it’s painful. I’ve had too much of that already. So in the moments where I can I indulge so much I blind myself from it, I revel in the occasion. For the while.

His hands are firmly on my hips and I can feel the warmth of them through my clothes. They feel strong and supportive. They might be the only thing holding me together right now or it feels like it anyway. My hands are buried deep within his hair but I’m too caught up in the moment to think about it much. His kisses are quick and sweet, a little gentle. Sometimes he’d draw one or two out into longer, more passionate kisses. I didn’t care, as long as his lips were on mine, my memories would be forgotten. He begins to slide his hand up my body, tracing the curves of my bodice and up all the way until his cupping my face in his hands.

“I love you,” he pants, cheeks rosy and flushed, as we pull apart for breath, “more than you’ll ever know.”

Every time he says those words it ignites yet another fragment of my heart, that burns into ash in my chest. He’s killing me softly and I’m sure he’s enjoying it. He’s just telling me he loves me so I’ll stay with him, give him what he wants until he’s bored enough. That’s fine. I don’t mind. I know this, I’ve always known this. But getting to live in these moments, these moments laced in fierce passion and licked with flames of lust always made the harsh reality easier to swallow.

I don’t reply. Instead I kiss harder, more intensely. Maybe if I kiss with even more vigor, even more passion I can completely forget my pain. Maybe my mind will go blank and won’t be able to fill it in this time. I want the piercing sensation of white light to hit me and if it does I will let it burn me. Until my memories are incinerated and I no longer have to live with the weight of fear on my chest

He registers my sudden serge for more and begins to deliver. He matches my yearning for something deeper, something more. We’re caught up in heavy breathing, racing hearts and profuse sweating. Neither one of us cared. My hands find the hem of his shirt and I am tempted to tug down on the fabric but I don’t trust myself. My mind is too hypnotised by the sweet poison of his persuasive lips, I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t make decisions like these. We’ve never gone further than kisses and I’m not sure if going further right now would make me feel better or worse. But who cares right?

No. I don’t let myself get that carried away. Not yet anyway. Even though I’ve previously been stripped of my dignity I will not be the one to do it to myself now. I take my hands away and slide them around the back of his neck.

We stop. Suddenly. And for a moment the standstill is uncomfortable. The absence of married lips is eerie almost. My mouth is tingling and I crave his taste already, it hasn’t been two seconds. It’s worse than drugs. I don’t want to stop kissing, every time we stop it opens a window for me to remember. A window I’ve been trying to avoid for far too long now.

He looks into my eyes and for a second I actually believe I’m wanted. Pools of gray, like a clear lake glistening in the moonlight. Pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty lips. But pretty doesn’t get you love. He smiles at me gently, a quiet kindness sparkles in his eyes. Sometimes I wonder how he is so perfect at forging this tenderness, how he claimed these masterful acting skills.

He trails his fingers gently down my face. It feels like he cares, the tentative manor misleading. Then suddenly I’m no longer in the apartment with Grayson. I’m back in my old house. No. I couldn’t be here. Not here. Anywhere but here. I don’t want to be back here. I escaped, I ran, I left, it was all over. I made sure it was over. I, I, I -

I’m back.

Sat on the living room sofa, that horrible itchy dull grey sofa, that appeared in my nightmares frequently. It even smells the same. The sour smell, that makes my stomach flip and my hands begin to shake. These four walls still haunt me. It looks as if they’re closing in, slowly, slowly. Like the room is getting smaller and I’m trapped. Claustrophobia seems to be my only companion.

My hands shake uncontrollably and no matter what I try and do to calm down, nothing works. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was coping well, I thought that it was going away. But this is proving otherwise.

I’m reliving a memory. A memory I’ve always wanted to forget. A memory scorched into my brain that tended to replay over and over like a relentless broken record that could never be smashed. I feel sick. I know what’s coming. No. I know who is coming.

His footsteps are an immediate giveaway and the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. I’m curled in a ball down, small, hiding like a helpless animal in a hole. If I curl up maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he won’t see me.

“What are you doing?”

A shiver runs down my spine. Every note in his voice is exactly how I remember it. The question echos around my head but I say nothing in reply. My words won’t form in my state of paralysis.

“Answer me girl!” my father barks. His voice venomous, dangerous.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly.

He grabs my arm, his fingers so tight around me that I’m sure that they’ll be bruises forming soon. He yanks me up as I attempt to cower backwards.

“Don’t take that tone with me you whore,” he spits in my face, the pungent wreaking of alcohol on his breath as he throws me to the floor.

I hit it with a thud. A dull aching thud. Just like the dull aching monotony of this scene that was just a part of every day life back then. I don’t move from the ground, I’ve learnt not to fight back. That only landed me in hospital last time. I lay there so still I hope he thinks I’m dead so he’ll leave me alone. He does not. He knows better. Unfortunately for me, he knows his daughter.

“You’re nothing but a piece of shit,” growls the voice that makes my blood curdle, “you hear that?”

I thought I’d left him far behind. I thought he was gone. I thought wrong. I am naive and I’m the idiot I have always been. I don’t reply again. There’s nothing to reply with. Of course I heard.

“I said, you HEAR that?” he screams it louder.

I don’t reply. Stupid mistake but he doesn’t give me time to undo it. He’s already standing over me. It had already begun.

***

He beats my body until my brittle bones long to snap. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. Those four words repeat over and over in my head. They might be the only thing keeping me conscious. No matter how much it hurts he cannot know he’s won. I refuse to hand him that victory of a silver platter, decorated in my jewels of agony.

And for a split second I wonder where my mother is and I don’t even know why. She would’ve do anything, she never did. She just stood there, emotionales, detached. Mothers are meant to protect and defend their children against anything in the world, it made me wonder why mine did not. It made me wonder if I were born to different people or maybe not born at all if things might be better off.

It’s not the time for thinking, I’m reminded. Another kick. I will not cry. A punch. I will not cry. My lip splits open. I will not cry. A twist of my left arm. I will not cry, I think my nose is broken. I will not cry.

“Stubborn little bitch won’t even shed a tear,” he snarls, bitterness so evident on his tongue I was surprised it hasn’t dissolved yet.

Yes I am stubborn. No I will not cry. Not for him. And then it happens. All over again. Beaten, bruised, battered, broken.

I can’t breathe. I’m in so much agony there’s no way I could even scream. So tears roll softly down my face as I’m curled up on the floor in defeat, desperation and humiliation. My body is nearly motionless, my limbs lay slack at my sides. I can’t help myself and no one is coming to save me. I let myself cry, broke the only promise I had to myself. I’m even betrayed my own brain for him.

I look up at him, tear streaked face. Is he happy now? Is he finally happy with me? Am I finally going to revive some sort of approval? Stupid questions to be wondering when I know exactly how this story ends.

As my eyes meet his, my father trails his fingers gently down my face. It still stings from the slap, the cells on my cheek screaming in agony. There’s the faint tinge of metallic blood in my mouth. My father trails his fingers gently down my face. Grayson trails his fingers gently down my face. My father trails his fingers gently- Grayson trails his fingers- My father trails- Grayson tr- my father Grayson my father Grayson my father Grayson my father.

SNAP.

I shiver and jerk away suddenly standing up. I try to back away as Grayson’s eyes fill with concern.

“What’s wrong,” he asks me, trying to reach out to me. I recoil at his attempt of a touch, like a frightened animal.

“I need to leave,” I barely get out, through my shallow breathing as I turn to find the door.

Where is the door? I couldn’t find the door. Breaths come in quicker and faster. Suffocating. I am suffocating. An invisible man has a plastic bag over my head and he is choking me slowly with it. I’m losing oxygen, I’m losing the things that keeps me alive.

Grayson is on his feet beside me, careful not to touch me, “did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you,” I pant, so breathless I wonder if I’m still breathing at all, “it’s all me.”

Dizziness rolls over me and I close my eyes. I feel my body sway slightly, my sense of balance robbed from me. A pair of strong hands catch my waist and pull me upright again. I try and focus my eyes but the room is spinning.

“Woah, hey,” it’s Grayson’s soft voice, “come here.”

That’s when I realise his hands are touching me. I try to pull away but can’t see where I’m going. I can’t see anything as black dots dance across my vision.

“No!” I yell, my ear beginning to ring.

“Hey, stop,” he says gently, ”sit down and take a breath.”

“No I can’t, I can’t, you don’t understand,” I hyperventilate, my chest in so much pain.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs rhythmically, extending his hand out towards me for me to take if I wanted.

I flinch away. His eyes are deep with realisation, he knows, he understands. I’ve given my secret away.

“Who hurt you?”

His voice is almost ragged, almost angry. His eyes are blazing, the soft grey hardens into cold steel. I open my mouth but no sound comes out. The words are unable to be spoken, they feel to forbidden. I don’t think I’d ever admitted my childhood out loud. I need air, fresh air. I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.

I feel like I’m drowning. Water blurring my vision, my heat pounding in my chest, my lungs screaming at me for the oxygen I cannot give them. My limbs frozen in a state of paralysis, heavy as lead, dragging me down. I can’t kick myself to the surface, I’m helplessly lost. All I can do I stare up and watch the last sight I’ll probably ever see. Sinking, sinking, sinking. I think I can feel my lungs fill up. They burn as if eager flames are licking the internal organ in pleasure. I can hear someone’s voice, it’s muffled, like there’s water in my ears. I can’t make out what they’re saying. I wonder if this person will haul my body from the water or they’ll give up on me like everyone else.

“It’s okay,” the voice is soft and sweet, it becomes clearer by the second, “don’t say anything, just focus on breathing for me, okay?”

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. I take one look into his silvery grey eyes and in this second trust him with my everything. My heart is racing and I can hear my sharp intakes of breath. I manage a small nod as he helps me back down onto the bed, propping pillows up behind my back. I’m sweating, profusely and I feel revolting. The tremor in my hands is slowing slightly as he clasps them in his.

“I need you to breathe,” he tells me, making direct eye contact.

My chest is so constricted it physically hurts. The aching only grows the more I think about it but I can’t seem to stop. Hair is stuck to the back of my neck and the side of my face. I slick it back using my own sweat.

“I… can’t…” I manage to get out in breathless gasps.

“Yes you can,” he murmurs, “look at me, focus on me.”

I do.

“Yes you can,” he repeats, his voice strong, confident full of faith. Faith for me.

I close my eyes and attempt to slow my rapid breathing. I feel his fingers around my wrist, squeezing a little to check my pulse. He is warm against my cool skin. I reach for his hand with my other one and guide it slowly to my chest. I want to feel his hand on my heart. I want him as close as possible. His hand is on me with my hand pressed firmly against it. I open my eyes and stare at him, wondering if he could read my pleading eyes as well as I could read his compassionate ones. Mellow grey stares back at me in understanding. He keeps his hand on my heart.

“Don’t let go,” I whisper, “please.”

“I’m not letting go,” he murmurs back, “don’t worry, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

In and out. In and out. In and out. I try to calm myself. It’s not like I’ve ever faced something like this before, I’d just never faced it in someone’s presence. The fear of him seeing me in this state of vulnerability, stripped of my many masks that tell the world I am okay when I’m not, that made it all worse.

But with some time, that could’ve been two minutes of two hours, my breathing slows, becomes more regulated. Things begin to calm down. I’m no longer sweating uncontrollably though my body is still wet. My shaking hands grow stiller by the second as I fiddle with the ring on my middle finger. Finally my heart rate begins to go down. I hear it less in my ears and feel it less in my chest. But it’s still there.

Grayson’s hand has still not left my heart, just like I asked. Gently I place my hand on his, and guide it back to his lap, letting him silently know he’d done his job. I take a hair tie and throw my hair up into an abomination on my head that I’m too tired to care about.

Grayson’s features have twisted into a way that almost makes him look worried. His eyes are larger than usual, his pupils dilated, swallowing up the comforting concrete grey. His eyes brows are pinched inwards slightly, only just and his lips are parted as if he wants to ask a question but can’t find the words. I want to pretend this look is real, I want to pretend he’ll still want me even after seeing me in my state, I want to pretend that this time it’s different. But I can’t afford to pretend anymore.

“Better?” he asks quietly, after a long period of silence.

“Better,” I rasp, my voice so hoarse it’s unfamiliar to me.

I rest my head back and close my eyes. Breathing in and out normally feels like a luxury now. I’m suddenly more grateful than I’ve even been for a steady flow of air to my lungs. Once I’m completely back to normal I make eye contact with Grayson. His face is difficult to read.

“What happened back there?” he asks me quietly, almost looking guilty for the question.

“What do you mean?” I reply, confused. Hadn’t he been there, hadn’t he seen?

“Why did you start to panic,” he clarifies, “what did I do to set it off?”

I want to shoot the conversation down there and then. Absolutely not. I am not ready to tell him anything, I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to look at me different because of it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, averting my eyes.

“Of course it does,” he presses further, “sweetheart I love you and-

Oh those three words. How the act as another knife to my chest every time. I love you is not meant for girls like me, I love you is meant for people who are worthy and special, I love you has never once been said to me with any true meaning behind it.

“Stop,” I snap, the word louder and harsher than I intended. It silently echoes through the empty space and takes a moment to sink in.

“What?” he asks after a few beats, confusion distorting his features.

“Just stop that,” I almost yell, as I go to get up, “stop doing that.”

“What am I doing?” he asks quickly.

“You’re lying to me,” I say, my voice wavering when I really didn’t want it to.

“What?”

“Every time you say those stupid words and I can’t afford to believe them,” I exclaim, welling up with this sudden surge of emotion.

“Slow down sweetheart,” he says slowly, “what are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t love me,” I shout. I’m exhausted. Exhausted of living this lie and now I’m at my breaking point and I can’t afford to continue. There are too many lies, in my head, in my heart, in my life. This one I want to be rid of.

“What?”

“I know it so you can stop pretending I matter, that I mean something to you,” I sob.

Great. Now I’m crying again. Again. Pouring out my weaknesses for him to see. I’ve never felt so unbelievably helpless.

“What are you talking about? Of course I love you,” he says it as of I’ve said something stupid or in gibberish.

Of course. Why of course? It isn’t obvious and I’m not an idiot. I’m stood here crying and he has the audacity to tell me this. I look him dead in the eye, my vision blurred a little due to the heaviness of my heart.

“No one can love me.” My voice is low and laced with the agony I’m so desperately trying to conceal.

“Who told you that?” he asks.

How did he know? How could he see through my mask so easily? Was it cracked, had it slipped or was it just all transparent now?

“I didn’t need to be told, it’s just how I am,” I spit back, hoping my bitterness might deter him.

“No,” Grayson replies, his voice so sharp it cut dangerously through the air like a knife.

“What?”

“No, that’s not how you are,” he says, “because I love you.”

He digs a finger into his chest in attempts to prove his point, it looks hard enough to hurt but he doesn’t wince.

“Stop saying that!” I yell over him, “it makes it more painful, every time you say it, it’s like a stab in the heart and I can’t take it anymore.”

I expect him to get angry, to stand up and hurl insults at me. We’ve never argued before. But instead his face softens. “I’m not lying,” he tells me gently, his voice like caramel, “how could I lie?”

He’s not lying? Or at least that’s what he’s telling me. But the softness of his eyes look like he means it. No. I can’t let myself be so naive, I can’t believe everything I’m told, I’ve learnt that the hard way.

“Everyone who I’ve ever trusted has lied to me, why would that make you any different?” I ask bitterly.

“Because I do love you,” he tells me, “with all of my heart. You don’t understand what you do to me. I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re not around, you’re the main character of all my thoughts and dreams for that matter. Not a moment goes by without a thought involving you. You are the other half of my heart, you have it, you stole it from me the day we met. And I don’t even care because if I were to meet any thief I would choose you every time and I’m so glad you took it. I mean goddamit, you mean everything to me, everything. I would die for you without thinking twice, without even blinking,” he says, “I just wish you could see yourself how I do. And whoever made you feel this way never deserved a fraction of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your love. They truly didn’t.”

I don’t say anything for a long while. I’m too awestruck. He loves me. He really actually loves me unconditionally. He always did and I always pushed that notion away.

I’ve never said anything about my past out loud. It makes it less real, I can forget if I bury it. Except I can’t I’ve tried and tried desperately to do so but relentlessly as ever my brain has never let it go.

“My father,” I choked horsely, “my abused me physically from when I was young. I thought it was normal.”

Something twists in Grayson’s stomach, I can see it all over his face. He looks ill, all the colour has drained from his face and his eyes are sorrowful, mournful even.

“But the bruises, they were okay,” I murmur, “even the scars, I could deal with them. It was my mother who cut the deepest, without even laying a finger on me. Her words were…” I attempt to pull myself together, “…her words left scars no one will ever be able to understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words are so quiet I can barely hear him. He looks mortified.

“It’s not your fault,” is all I can reply with. There’s nothing else to say.

“No one should have to-“

“But they do,” I choke, my voice getting shaky again, “and you know what, I’m tired.”

I wish I didn’t feel this weak, this powerless. Tears start free flowing down my cheeks, uncontrollably. Salty droplets leave glistening trails on my cheeks like in some sort of abstract painting in an art museum.

“I’m tired of this pain,” I sob, “I just want it to go away, I just want to be normal.”

The pain wracks my body. Grayson takes me into his open arms and holds me to the warmth of his chest. I nuzzle into him, seeking comfort I’d never received from anyone else. I cling to him like a frightened child to their mother, my knuckles white. I’m almost scared to let go, incase that means I have to let go forever. I can hear his steady heartbeat against my ear. I sob louder, my body physically beginning to ache from the crying.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes, stroking a soft hand down my hair, “you’re going to get through this and I’m going to help you.”

“How?” I wail. I’m hysterical and I hate it, but it’s taken control of me now.

“We just are, I promise,” he says, so much passion, so much faith behind the words. I want to believe him but I’ve had too many promises broken.

“I thought I was getting better,” I laugh bitterly, the tears flowing thicker and faster and harder, “I thought that I was coping better with all of this and now this is just proof that I’m not.”

I get it all off of my chest, words I’ve longed to speak for so long, the ones that have been locked away and avoided. I can say them. Freely. The caged bird is remembering she has wings, remembering she could once fly.

“Listen to me,” Grayson says, his voice clear, defined, “what you’ve been through isn’t something you just get over overnight, it’s not something you can wash away.”

“Why can’t it be?” I ask, snivelling in an attempt to gulp back my tears that seemed to be endless.

“It doesn’t work that way love,” he says, his voice so soft it could melt butter but instead it melts my heart.

“But…” I trail off into more sobs. I can’t carry on. Words are not enough to describe what I’m feeling, they’re not deep enough, the they aren’t raw enough.

I sob uncontrollably feeling more humiliated by the second. Loud, ugly, horrible sobs. When things are buried you don’t realise that they’ll eventually resurface. My body jolts backwards and forwards each time I let out a cry.

He pulls me close to his chest and whispers sweet nothings to me to comfort me. He doesn’t say anything the whole time. Somehow he knows that’s what I need. He just holds me, lets me know he’s there with the melodic rise and fall of his comfortable chest. He’s so gentle, so soft, he makes me feel fragile and delicate like a sharp of glass. I cry until I’m so dehydrated that there are no tears left and I’m so exhausted that I want to pass out.

And even then he stays holding onto me, supporting my broken body. He holds me, holding all my dilapidated pieces together, keeping me from falling apart. He cradled my head in my arms and tentatively strokes my hair. I feel myself relax a little more, I feel myself shut my eyes. Suddenly I’m aware of a sensation in my chest. At first I think it’s the panic coming back to prey on me some more but the feeling is too calming. It’s spreading across the left side of my chest, tingling a little but in a ticklish manor. It’s almost a warmth.

Is this what love feels like?

I open my eyes and sit up. What am I roping him into? He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to be held back by someone like me. He could have anyone, any body in this whole world. I’m the last person he needs in his life.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say trying to pull myself free of his arms but his grip is tight, oddly reassuring. He’s not going to let me go, he’s not planning on leaving, he wants to say. To take care of me.

“Do what?” he asks, brushing some loose baby hairs out of my puffy face.

“The door is wide open, feel free to walk out on this,” I explain with an elaborate hand gesture, “you don’t have to deal with me.”

“The door is firmly bolted shut and no one will be walking out,” he tells me slowly, “you’re not a problem to be dealt with, you’re a person. A wonderful, beautiful, spectacular person, that I have the pleasure of loving.”

Tears well up in my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today, I’ve never cried so much in my life. The recurring lump in my throat makes another appearance. I don’t mean to get so emotional, but I do. I’m so used to being strong I suppose there’s only so much one person can take before they burst. I feel loved and wanted and needed and cared for, everything I’ve always wished for. Here is a man giving me all of that and more.

“And what if I don’t know how to be loved?” I whisper, fear clamouring up my throat.

“Then I’ll show you,” he whispers, pulling me closer to his chest.

“I’m going to get it wrong,” I panic, “I don’t know how to love.”

“Yes you do,” he soothes, “I know you do because I can feel it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, I hurt people when I love them,” I tell him as he gently caresses my hair, running his fingers through it.

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” he says, “look at me sweetheart, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. Ever. We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

I nod, my heart not feeling so heavy. I lean further into Grayson and let him kiss the top of my head. The small gesture meaning mountains more because I know he loves me. And for the first time in a long time I smile, a real true smile. And it feels nice.

a/n: again, I’ve never written anything like this before so idk if it did it right 😭😭 anyways so sorry for it taking so long, hope you enjoyed

TIG masterlist

[thedemonofcat]

After the mountain, rumors start to circulate that the bard Jaskier has joined hands with Nilfgaard.

The other wolves express their outrage at this betrayal, but Geralt insists that the rumors must be fake.

This leads to questions. 1) Why is Geralt’s faith in the bard so unshakable? 2) If Jaskier is so loyal, how come Geralt’s never introduced him?

It was an unseasonably warm winter day when Lambert shoved open the heavy wooden doors of Kaer Morhen, carrying none other than Jaskier over his shoulder.

“Put me down, you oaf!” Jaskier bellowed, flailing and swatting at Lambert as they entered the keep. Lambert, unimpressed, marched forward and unceremoniously dropped the bard onto the snow-dusted floor.

“Here’s your traitor,” Lambert announced, his voice sharp with disdain. “Found him cozying up with Nilfgaard.”

Jaskier scrambled to his feet, spinning around in a flustered mess. “How dare you bring me here like this!” he cried indignantly. “I demand to leave at once!”

The room fell silent. Rumors of Jaskier’s supposed allegiance to Nilfgaard had been swirling since the mountain, stoking anger among the witchers. Eskel frowned deeply, while Lambert glared, his hand inching toward the hilt of his sword.

“Enough,” Geralt said, his tone calm but firm. He stepped closer to Jaskier, scrutinizing the bard’s wild demeanor. “Jaskier,” he began cautiously, “whatever you’ve heard, whatever they’ve done to you—it’s over. You’re safe now.”

“Safe?” Jaskier scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t even know you! And stop calling me that ridiculous name. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.”

The room tensed further. Yennefer, standing off to the side, raised a brow. “Where did you find him?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Caught him with a Nilfgaardian convoy,” Lambert replied, his anger barely restrained. He shot Geralt a pointed look. “I told you. Your bard’s a traitor.”

Eskel, his voice somber, added, “I’m sorry, Geralt, but we might have to deal with this more… permanently.”

“No,” Geralt said firmly, stepping between Jaskier and the others. “This isn’t like him. He’s stubborn, annoying, sure—but loyal. Something’s wrong. Why wouldn’t he remember me?”

“Maybe you never knew the *real* Jaskier,” Eskel muttered darkly. “Humans are rarely what they seem.”

Before Geralt could respond, Ciri broke through the circle of tension, moving toward Jaskier despite Lambert’s attempt to hold her back. She studied him closely. “Look at his eyes,” she said, her tone sharp.

“What about them?” Geralt asked.

“They’re not right,” Ciri said. “When he used to sing to me in Cintra, his eyes were blue. Now there’s pink in them.”

Yennefer’s gaze snapped to Jaskier. She crossed the room swiftly, grabbing his face despite his protests. “Hold still, little bird,” she ordered, her voice cold. Jaskier snarled at her—an uncharacteristic venom in his tone.

“Let me go, you witch!” he spat.

Yennefer ignored him, examining him closely before turning to Geralt. “It’s a love spell,” she announced, her voice grim. “Someone’s been tampering with his mind.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air, drawing a stunned silence from the room.

---

Hours later, Geralt sat beside Jaskier in one of Kaer Morhen’s smaller chambers. The bard was lying on the bed, his ankle bound to the frame with a silver chain—a compromise to satisfy the others, who still didn’t trust him. Slowly, Jaskier stirred, groaning softly.

“Oh, my head,” he muttered, blinking groggily. His gaze landed on Geralt, and his face crumpled with guilt. “You must think me awful,” he whispered. “I let myself be used by Nilfgaard.”

“You were under a spell, Jask,” Geralt said gently. “The fault isn’t yours—it’s theirs.”

A bitter laugh escaped Jaskier. “Theirs indeed. My parents, to be precise,” he said, his tone laced with resentment.

“Your parents?” Geralt repeated, stunned.

Jaskier nodded. “After the mountain, I was so angry with you—I wanted to disappear. I thought Lettenhove might be safe. Foolish, really. My parents were waiting with an arranged marriage for me. To a Grand Duke of Nilfgaard, no less.”

Geralt’s face darkened. “And when you refused?”

“They didn’t give me much choice,” Jaskier said bitterly. “I think it was a potion—in my tea, perhaps. One moment, I was myself; the next, I couldn’t think of anything but that Duke. Making him happy, obeying his every whim…” His voice cracked. “It was like I wasn’t even me anymore.”

Geralt clenched his fists, his anger simmering. “And when Nilfgaard realized who you were?”

“They saw an opportunity,” Jaskier said quietly. “They wanted to use me to get to you.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Geralt leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “You’re safe now,” he said softly.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath. “I hope so,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I can survive being their pawn again.”

[coochellati]

Hi! Could you share some favorite Bruno headcanons? Love your blog ❤️

Aweee, thank you so much!! ❤️

Of course!! Here’s a list!! :)

My Favorite Bruno Headcanons!!

He’s got a tan line on his chest from his suit! Lingerie!Bruno also has tan lines from the lace. 😭

Bruno takes pride in his grooming habits. He’s got a whole skincare routine that gives him the softest, glowiest skin that radiates this godlike, ethereal aura. 

He smells like freshly-washed sheets and nice cologne. The cologne he wears is softer on the nose—contains notes of vanilla and lavender. (I imagine his cologne smells like Le Male Le Parfum. If you haven’t smelled it—you need to.)

His zipper charms jingle when he walks.

The place he lives is covered in his signature print. His bedspread? It’s that upside-down pull tab pattern. Towels? Absolutely. His walls??? Covered in wallpapers with his print. 

As much as he enjoys taking you out on dates, he prefers nights in at his place. Staying in is much more intimate—the two of you can hold each other close while sipping on some nice wine and enjoying each others’ favorite media.

Speaking of which, Bruno loves sharing his favorite media with you.  Whether it be listening to the music of Miles Davis or cuddling up to Il Postino, he’s honored that you take interest in his favorite things. And of course, he loves hearing about it the things you like. It warms his heart when he watches you get all excited and happy as you infodump. 

He’s a romantic lover, but not a cheesy one. His acts of love are genuine—he’d do anything just to see your beautiful smile.

It’s stated he enjoys Miles Davis, so it’s evident he enjoys Jazz Fusion. I believe he’s also into prog rock and classical. He has a nice vinyl collection.

Bruno is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to wine. He appreciates the art of it and enjoys wine tasting.

Bruno doesn’t drink a ton of wine—a glass with dinner is usually the extent of it. He likes to keep his mind clear and sharp in case a situation arises, prepared for anything. He doesn’t use any substances other than alcohol. (As much as I like the idea of taking bong rips with Bruno, we all know it wouldn’t happen. MAN I wish it would though.) If he were to get drunk, it would take him about 4 drinks.

In a world where nobody died, Bruno was promoted to Underboss after Giorno took over.

Bruno takes a lot after his dad; he’s got that protector complex. Children pick up and model behavior from their parents. His dad wanted to protect his family from the cruelties of the world, so it’s no doubt he would feel the need to protect you too. He’ll sacrifice his whole self just to keep you safe. (I go into a lot of detail about this in this post.)

He has a fuck ton of money (he is underboss, after all), but he’s still a reasonable spender. Growing up poor, he likely inherited some of his parents’ spending habits. It’s not that he won’t get nice things for himself every once in a while (nothing too egregious,)—I just don’t believe he’d buy himself a mansion.

…you did ask for a list of favorites, and my favorites happen to include some NSFW ones. They’re under the cut ;)

Bruno Bucciarati isn’t shy with his tongue. He loves oral sex—and he’s damn good at it, too. (all that sweat-licking has given him practice 😂) Tasting you is his biggest turn-on to him—it’s as if he’s tasting your arousal.

He’s a switch, able to play the role of a tormenting dom, or a discomposed sub.

Dom!Bruno revels the power in-balance between the two of you. He’s a highly ranked member of Passione, for one. He wants to make sure you know your place—maybe he’ll make you call him by his last name instead of Bruno as a way to “respect” him, giving you an even greater sense of subordinancy. He also happens to be the wielder of Sticky Fingers, which, come on—he definitely uses his ability in the bedroom. Sticky Fingers is the best stand for sex. (And I am willing to bet money on that.) His ability can be used to separate things, attach you to things, dismantle your body, etc, etc, etc…. You can get incredibly creative with those zippers. And come on, he tortures people. No doubt he’ll wanna carry some of that freaky attitude into the bedroom with him.

Bruno is always in control of everything, so relinquishing his authority and letting someone else take control can be an incredibly freeing sensation. Sub!Bruno becomes intoxicatingly high off your touch, slowly unraveling until he’s a complete mess, having lost all sense of composure.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#59: The Eternal Love (1.06)

What The Ones Who Live made clear is that even before this world belongs to those who can fight, it really belongs to the ones who love. The ones who don’t let this world permanently change or destroy their ability to love. And so of course that means this world belongs to Richonne. 😌👌🏽

And Rick and Michonne’s indestructible everlasting love is at the foundation of this finale’s explosive final act 💥❤️...

The events of the bridge in season 9 and the devastating aftermath that kept Rick and Michonne apart for years have now led them to know that there are ways in which they won’t always be the ones who live. But even though they won’t literally live forever, they know their love will. Their love is eternal. 🥹

Just when all seems lost, Richonne sees Beale step out of the tent and they make a run for it. Michonne tells Rick to pull the flag down over them as she douses them in liquid to fend off the effects of the explosion.

Pearl is in shock seeing Walker Beale and before she can fully process it, the bombs and gas explode, instantly killing all those CRM higher-ups…except Pearl somehow. 🤔 Now, outside of plot armor, I'm not exactly sure of a plausible explanation for how Thorne survived this with how close and unprotected she was. But we move. 🤷🏽‍♀️

gif cred: @nerd4music

The base is smothered in that chlorine gas and the CRM soldiers have turned into walkers. Rick and Michonne are okay as they stay under the flag and are covered by the water. Pearl shows up with a mask still on the prowl and Rick tells Michonne that he’ll rush Pearl for her gas mask while Michonne grabs the other one.

Michonne asks, “Why you?” And Rick replies, “You’ve got the sword. We go?” And Michonne assents, saying, “We go.” It's a small thing, but I like how this moment always reminds me of their Say Yes scene when Rick tells Michonne he gave her eight walkers to take out because she has the sword.

Next, Rick and Pearl get into a fight and Pearl yells that he destroyed their chance and "destroyed the whole world." Which Pearl, ma'am, that's a little much. The CRM is not the world. As Rick passionately said in ep 1, this isn’t everything.

Pearl and Rick continue to fight and neither are holding back. Pearl starts to get the upper hand but then she grabs Rick’s hair and you already know how Rick feels when someone tries to touch something that belongs to Michonne - so he has to yeet her.

gif cred: @nerd4music

When he tosses Pearl, he gets surrounded by CRM walkers. There’s something symbolic about Rick being surrounded by these masked CRM walkers. They’re like the embodiment of the dead soldier Rick lived a long time as and how the CRM was constantly trying to consume him. They tried to turn him into just another lifeless member of their force and now they try to turn him into another lifeless delt. 

Pearl looks like she’s trying to aim her gun at Rick but then she joins the long list of people who learn the golden rule - never come for Rick in front of Michonne. You’ll get handled everytime. 💯 So sure enough, Michonne approaches and takes a swing at Pearl with Beale's sword.

I gotta hand it to Lesley having to take on a role where you go toe to toe with both Rick and Michonne. Thorne had to go at two heavy hitters back to back. 😅

gif cred: ricksmarlene/nerd4music

Now, Pearl's fight with Michonne goes a lil different because she doesn’t ever get the upper hand in this one.

Pearl says, “You were the one he was always trying to get to. How did you get to him?” I like that she says, always trying to get to. She knows Rick was real relentless in his pursuits to get to Michonne. 👌🏽

And then one thing Michonne is never afraid to do is tell you about yourself so, knowing what she knows about Pearl from Rick, Michonne says, “I didn’t give up. I didn’t give me up like you did.”

According to Richonne, there is always time to throw a little shade. And as Pearl has tried them both, not even poisonous gas was gonna stop Michonne from letting Pearl know...

But also, I like Michonne noting how she didn’t give up and didn’t give herself up because Michonne knows if you lose yourself you lose your way. She knows it from personal experience, as we saw at the start of her TWD journey.

It makes sense that Michonne was the only character in TOWL who refused to give herself up. Her briefly having to be Dana was like a more external version of the way the CRM internally makes everyone feel like they have to trade who they are to be what the CRM expects them to be.

While Michonne tried to play along to honor Rick’s request for five seconds, she ultimately decided that this place does not get to change her because what they make you is a cog in their machine and so detached from who you are at your core. Again, when you give in to that you lose yourself and then you lose your way.

And considering Michonne's way is meant to lead her back to her babies she was never going to let them take her from her. Then once she found her husband, she was also never going to let them take Rick from her again either.

Even when Michonne left that apartment in ep 4, while I think she was always going to make a choice that led her back to her kids, I don’t think Michonne would be able to live with just knowing Rick was out there externally and mentally imprisoned. So I think at some point she’d absolutely try to save him again. She’d have to. Saving him is saving her, it’s saving their family and it’s always been made clear that Michonne will never give up on her family. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Determined to find Rick yet again during this fight with Pearl, Michonne yells “Where is he?” a couple times until Pearl finally tells her to turn around.

(Side note: I always feel like this whole exchange between Pearl and Michonne would have been the perfect organic opportunity to have Michonne declare she’s Michonne Grimes. Like if Pearl asked who she really is, after having asked her a similar question in the arena in ep 3, and Michonne said her name is Michonne Grimes...that would have had me turning up, ijs 🤩) 

Rick is struggling as the pile of CRM walkers grows and nearly overtakes him. Pearl fires shots at the walker that Michonne ducks behind. And then the way Michonne rises up when Pearl's murder attempts against her don’t work...it’s giving baddest chick in the game. 💅🏽

And Pearl seems to be realizing she’s come face to face with the baddest as she gets more desperate and says, “You don’t understand. In a dead world, love is dead.” Michonne shakes her head and says, “Love doesn’t die. Watch.” And then she grabs Beale’s sword and plunges it into Pearl as Pearl gets to learn this Dana lady is real good with a sword. 😋

Again, it’s quite ironic for Pearl to die by Beale’s sword. The sword she swore on and the symbol of the CRM philosophy she so badly wanted to believe in ended up being her demise.

And Rick had it right - he and Michonne really are the sword that kills and gives life. So much so that both Rick and Michonne used this same sword to take out two opponents within a short time span of each other. A couple that slays together stays together, it’s just the truth. 😌

gif cred: @nerd4music

Michonne repeats, “Love doesn’t die” and again I'll admit I wasn't crazy about the dialogue throughout this fight scene. It was a bit heavy-handed and I felt the 'love doesn’t die' sentiment could have perhaps been expressed with more subtlety and subtext but again...we move. Plus, Danai’s such a gifted actress that she makes that line work more than it would in lesser hands. 👌🏽

'Love doesn’t die' is clearly said one; because it’s one of the main messages of the show and two; because they want you to worry for a second if those are famous last words based on what happens next.

Cuz then Rick is swarmed by walkers with seemingly no way out and he has to use a grenade which leads to Michonne just seeing a big explosion.

In a moment that parallels Say Yes, Michonne drops her sword when she thinks she’s seen Rick explode. The moment also parallels Rick's last full TWD episode, as now Michonne has to think she's seen Rick blow up for the second time after he seemingly 'exploded' on that bridge. You just know that tragic bridge memory popped into Michonne's head after hearing the grenade. 😞

gif cred: nerd4music/michonnegrimes

I was thoroughly convinced that they were not going to have either Rick or Michonne die in a show called The Ones Who Live so I was positive Rick survived this explosion. Even tho, for just a split second there I did have to acknowledge this is the final episode and it’s a finale where Rick and Michonne aren’t as untouchable as previous finales so...maybe…but fortunately, the universe loves them some Richonne so Rick survives by covering himself in walker bodies. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

When Rick emerges, he immediately goes to Michonne and she runs to him and they embrace which is heartfelt. Especially because the last time something like this happened and it seemed Rick had blown up, they weren't able to run into each other's arms afterward and instead had to go years without seeing each other again. So you know it means a lot to them to be able to hold each other right now like they so longed to do that day on the bridge.

gif cred: @nerd4music

It's sweet that even amid these circumstances, Rick and Michonne still seek this moment of connection to let each other know they're glad they're okay. And there's big Say Yes vibes with this hug being similar to how they ran into each other's arms and embraced in 7.12, so you know I’m here for it. 🥰

As they make their way out, they stand over a wheezing Pearl and she expresses that she’s come to see that Okafor was right, but she adds, “You just have to hope Beale was wrong.” And then Pearl hands Rick the mask and it’s sorta like a final peace offering between them.

Rick silently takes the mask and then he and Michonne fight their way through walkers and make it to some upper ground. Again, the walkers have some practical use as Michonne uses them as a stepping stool. And it’s sweet seeing Rick urgently pull walkers away who are trying to grab at Michonne. 😊

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick gets one more signature him-against-the-horde moment as he shoots a bunch of walkers. It made me think about the many iconic Rick vs Everybody moments he's had over the years in TWD.

And, being the resilient man he is, of course, Rick Grimes is the one still standing after all those fights and faceoffs.

So then Rick makes it to the top of the platform as Michonne helps. Once they're finally out of the swarm, Rick and Michonne remove their masks and have a moment as they look at each other and look around at their plan being a success.

I love the little moment of Rick putting his arm around her and then Michonne putting her arm around him. 🥰That’s another thing about Richonne - they’re gonna make any moment a coupley moment. 👌🏽

gif cred: @taiturner

So as they zoom out and we get a shot reminiscent of the end of the TWD pilot ep, I love how in contrast to the pilot - Rick isn’t alone this time. 🥹 He found his other half in this crazy apocalypse and Michonne is by his side through it all. Including taking down the most powerful people in the most powerful military.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

After looking around, Michonne and Rick start to hop from platform to platform to get up out of there. They did it, y’all. Mission accomplished. 🥳 As always, our beloved Richonne proved that they are...

And now, at long last it was finally time for Richonne to complete their ultimate mission and go home. 😭

And home isn’t just a place. For Rick and Michonne, most of all, home is their children. 👌🏽🥲

[sunberies]

Okay but when does Poppy really realize she's in love with Branch in Silver Linings? Did she only realize once Rosie is revealed or did she once the one night stand happened? Or did the small crush already mean that? I'm asking cause usually a small crush only means passive and slight romantic feelings so does it mean more to her? I HAVE QUESTIONS-

OK OK LISTEN I know I have not really talked about the before but I’m still fucking around with it. But but but, Poppy knows that she like, really likes Branch before they do anything. Like she figures it out a week before THE INCIDENT, but she doesn’t get to see him that whole week. So she’s sitting there with this revelation that she really likes him, and she can’t see him(she’s busy, there’s a party or something going on I haven’t decided yet) so it’s just all building up.

When they finally do get to see each other and hang out, it’s super tense, and Branch can’t figure out why, but Poppy knows. She’s kinda really flirty with him and he just sorta,,, ignores it(he doesn’t think there’s any way she likes him like that, she’s probably just joking) but they’re hanging out, which just means Poppy follows Branch around while he does his chores and she talks his ear off the whole time. It starts getting late, and Branch is like “we should probably be heading back now” but she doesn’t want to leave yet, so she convinces him to stay out a bit longer. Also timeline, it’s June, (I live in the desert so I’m not the best when it comes to knowing when rainy season is) they get caught out in a pretty good rain storm and have to take shelter in this hollowed tree (that one drawing I did of them LOL)

I like to think that rain storms are pretty dangerous for trolls since they’re so tiny, like a puddle would be a lake to them right? So anyways, they’re in the tree, close quarters, Poppy is trying to keep the mood light, Branch is freaking out (when isn’t he?) eventually things happen, they spend the night in the tree together. I’ll make a separate post about the aftermath cause this one is LONG…

But that’s like, the basics I hope? But Poppy knows before this that she likes Branch. I also used “small crush” as a joke, cause everyone around her can see that she likes him more than she’s letting on, even before she notices. I am currently working on trying to write everything out, but I have NEVER written a genuine fanfic before so have mercy if I ever decide to post it…..

Bye bye, love you guys🙏

[idleinteen]

Crack theory: Lila, Vincent, Chloe, Tomoe, Sublime and her family are all working together to take down Ladybug

Clues:

Chloe was mentioned by Vincent who in fact said very good things about her, that she was Adrien’s replacement in the fashion world, and both Vincent and Chloe are using the bee as their sign. In the pictures of Marinette with drawings over her face that Vincent showed, it reminded me so much of when Chloe in Evillustrator drew on top of Marinette’s face some glasses and a mustache in a drawing that Nathaniel made. Chloe HATES Marinette so it would make sense for her to be involved with everything that happened in Revelator.

Chloe and Lila already worked together back in Season 5, she wants to take down Marinette and Ladybug as much as Lila, even before she started helping Lila with her plans Chloe already loved to mess with Marinette, and now with the fact Lila has the Butterfly Miraculous, Marinette’s downfall can finally happen and I’m sure Chloe would love to be part of it.

Vincent mentioned that he was sponsored by Tsurugi Electric Cars, it’s interesting how Tomoe is associated with someone who wants to ruin Marinette’s reputation.

We already saw Tomoe smiling back in Sublimation after she made a deal with Sublime and her family, almost like she was planning something.

Tomoe helped Gabriel in most of his plans and didn’t care about putting others in risk if their plans succeeded.

After Gabriel is gone and Ladybug is lying to the whole world about Monarch’s identity, Tomoe would take the opportunity to take down Ladybug once again, and now with a new holder, she will continue Gabriel’s legacy along with Lila.

Gabriel’s death is a good motivation to continue going after Ladybug and Chat Noir and their miraculous, I don’t think Lila would be able to pull all of this without an intelligent adult like Tomoe on her side.

Isn’t it suspicious how similar the episodes Sublimation and Volpina are? Almost like the similarities mean something. Marinette in both episodes starts to follow everywhere a new girl from another country who gets too close to Adrien, she transforms into Ladybug and makes a mistake and because of that someone gets akumatized.

Ladybug breaking Sublime’s prosthesis are clearly a good reason for someone to start hating her.

We know Sublime’s mom had a grudge against her and she even got akumatized because of it, Caroline is a lot similar to Gabriel, both of them demand their children to be perfect and can’t stand any sign of “imperfection”, we know someone who was exactly like Gabriel and that was Tomoe, and we know she was involved with everything Gabriel was doing as Hawk Moth and especially when he started being Monarch, and at the end of Sublimation we see Sublime’s family and Tomoe making a deal, all of these connections and parallels could mean they’re involved.

We know that someone was watching Sublime and her family in her trial while writing something in their notebook, if the episode Sublimation is after Revelator, Vincent can be totally the guy we saw spying on them, we know that Vincent is being sponsored by Tomoe, so this means that they are working together, so maybe that’s why Tomoe was smiling, because she read everything Vincent wrote in his notebook and will use Sublime and her family against Ladybug.

All of them have different motives to go against Ladybug and Chat Noir and why they want the earrings and the ring:

- Tomoe wants to avenge Gabriel’s death.

- Vincent wants to collect as much secrets as possible.

- Lila wants to delete the Kwamis existence.

- Chloe wants to keep ruining Marinette’s life.

- Sublime and her family want Sublime to have legs.

[danikamariewrites]

what do you think about eris x reader, where reader is rhysands sister and they’re secretly mated, she uses her powers to glamour any scent of a bond. No one knows and since she’s also an emissary it’s not suspicious of her to be at the autumn court to visit the high lord. one night they’re at a ball and are drinking when someone in the ic, maybe amren, starts making fun of eris. Reader has to bite back her protective and possessive need to defend her mate. Eris overhears and floods the vond with calmness and love. She holds her glass so tight it shatters and she’s absolutely fuming and says:

” stop talking about him like that. ”

” c’mon y/n we always make fun of people we dislike what’s up with you ”

” i don’t care, i don’t want to hear that shit again or i’ll punch you in the face. ”

She walks away and everyone are shocked, eris follows her when no one sees and she’s just so angry but he helps her calm down and kisses her. The IC goes after her and catch them. She says she doesn’t care and will not tolerate any disrespect towards her mate and is so protective of him. Eris is so happy and feel so loved. They are a bit weary at first but after a few snarls from reader they stay quiet and are happy for her😍👀

Starfall Revelations

Eris x reader

Warnings: slight angst, blood, small injuries

Your nerves were at an all time high as you finished getting ready for Starfall. Eris would be coming tonight and tensions would be high.

The family still doesn’t know about the mating bond between you two. Since you’ve been long distance you and Eris have been taking things slow. Definitely slower than you like, but the little tugs on the bond he sends throughout the days always make you smile.

Placing the small tiara on your head your chest tightens. Anxiety taking root at the center of your body causing small shakes in your limbs. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you force yourself to relax.

A wave of reassurance comes down the bond as you open your eyes. Your heart warming as the anxiety in your chest dissipates. Smiling, you open your eyes and stare at your reflection, sending thanks and love to Eris.

—

Standing off to the side of the dance floor you adjust your skirts a little. While you are wearing your usual stunning black ensemble there are hints of autumn crimson throughout your outfit. You wanted to show Eris that you’d have a piece of him with you tonight even if he couldn’t be by your side.

You wanted to be near him though. The bond was restless sensing him so close. You both agreed to one dance tonight so you wouldn’t raise suspicion. As you waited for your favorite song a few of your family members come to join you.

The conversation starts normally, just joking with Cassian and poking at Amren’s constant sour attitude. You turn to pointing out all the people who are dressed a little funny and pointing out which governors are most annoying. Cassian does a funny impression of Governor Balekin.

You notice he spots Eris by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Look, look. It’s little fox boy mingling with normal people. Do you think he knows how to actually hold a conversation that isn’t threatening?” Amren huffs out a small laugh, a concerning smirk pulling at her deep red lips as she sips her goblet of blood.

“Now Cassian, Eris can’t help it.” You didn’t hear the rest of Amren’s words. Just an angry ringing in your ears. The need to defend your mate was overwhelming. The rage building in your chest was almost at its boiling point. But you couldn’t, you wanted to keep your secret.

As the two kept laughing at your mate you felt Eris send love down the bond. A message echoed through the bond, “It’s ok little star, just ignore them. Our dance is soon.” You could hear the smile in his voice which calmed you.

Snapping back to reality what Cassian said next set you off. You gripped your wine glass so hard it shattered in your hand. The shards digging in and cutting your palm. You wince at the pain as you put pressure in the middle of your palm. “Woah, y/n. Let me help you,” Cassian said, his voice laced with worry.

“No!” You snap, stepping back from them. Amren even looked shocked by your outburst. “If I ever hear you speaking about Eris that way again Cassian I’m going to punch you so fucking hard Madja will have to give you new teeth.” You practically growled, baring your teeth at him.

“Y/n we make fun of Eris all the time. What’s going on?” You let out an annoyed sound and stomp away to go bandage your hand.

No one around you seemed to notice, too enthralled in the Starfall festivities. Eris noticed. He felt your anger come back and he immediately found you. He waited to make sure Cassian and Amren weren’t watching him so he could follow you.

Eris caught up to you as you were half way down the hall to the kitchen. He jogged to catch up to you, gently grasping your shoulder. “Y/n wait.” You turn to him, silver lightly lining your eyes. “I know. That was stupid and I shouldn’t have yelled at Cass but I just…I had to defend you.”

Your mate cups your cheek. “Thank you for defending me little star. Now let’s get a that hand bandaged.” You nod in agreement. “There’s a little first aid kit in the kitchen.” Eris rests his hand on the small of your back and guides you to the kitchen.

He lifts you to sit on the counter as he pulls out the first aid kit. Holding your hand out to Eris he starts to pick the glass out with tweezers. Every time you winced Eris would kiss your wrist. After he wrapped the bandage he placed a kiss in the middle of your palm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, running your good hand through his short fiery hair. “I’ll always take care of you little star. Just like you’ll always defend me.” You gave him a small smile, “I love you Eris.” His whole face lit up. His eyes twinkling with love and adoration. “I love you too y/n.” It was the first time you two had ever said that to each other. And you were overjoyed it was this intimate moment that you let the words slip from your mouth.

Eris pulled you into a gentle but passionate kiss. It was full of longing from the distance and politics keeping you apart. In that moment you knew you never wanted to spend another moment away from Eris. You could feel the bond in your chests twining together, glowing brighter than any star that would fly across the sky tonight.

Pulling apart you caught your brother looking stunned in the corner of your eye. You jumped letting out a small yelp. Eris quickly turned, glaring at Rhys and semi blocking you with his body. His instincts to protect you in such a vulnerable moment kicking in.

“I’m sorry…I was just checking on you. Cass told me you hurt your hand but clearly your fine.” Rhys’s signature smirk graced his lips at the end of his sentence. His nostrils flared as he scented the mating bond dripping from the two of you. A cool night breeze mixed with autumn leaves and warm apples. “When we’re you planning on telling me sister?” “When we figured it out.” Your response coming out more formal than you’d like.

“Have you told on me yet?” Rhys let out a slight chuckle, “Oh they’ve seen everything. You know how protective Azriel and Cassian are, but they’ll get over it.” “And you, brother?” “I’ll adjust. Come back when you’re ready. I had them hold off on your song until you get back.”

Rhys gave Eris a slight nod which he returned then left. You jump down from the counter wrapping your arms around Eris’s waist. “Come on you, let’s go have our dance.” Eris smiled down at you pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And all the dances after that.”

[phneltwrites]

Sunday Snippet

Still rolling around in some exes who are fake dating

Wilhelm’s eyes are lined red and his mouth is a single line, frozen, pale as a statue. Then he cracks open and Simon thinks, finally. He’s ready to fight. He’s ready to remember all of the reasons he should be angry instead of sad. “That’s—you—” Wilhelm presses both hands into his eyes, fingers just beneath the bone, skin indenting. Simon watches him struggle to breathe, in shaky, exhale in three chunks. The type of breathing that hurts, that leaves the throat raw and Simon’s tricked, trapped into echoing it, inhaling with Wilhelm, exhaling like he’s scraping the inside of his throat. Wilhelm takes his hands off his eyes and they’re open, trained on Simon with the vortex inside them. There’s no space for Simon to fall into them. “When you… I think… I feel…” he exhales. “That’s not fair. That’s not fair, Simon. I don’t know what… You’re the one who said it didn’t have to be me who did this job. I listened. And I know it’s stupid, that my life is stupid and my problems don’t count, but it’s my reality. I have to live this, and I’m trying, I’m trying to—not drag anyone down.” Simon wanted to stop him as soon as he started talking, little interruption noises forming and dying in the back of his throat, but Wilhelm isn’t stopping, lips red and shaking but the words are still coming out clear. “You wanted me out of your life, and I left, and then you invited me back in, so I’m here. What do you want from me?” He waits, expectant, mouth half open. Simon wanted him to stop, wanted the pause, but the words get stuck. Stay with me. “Just tell me what you want.”

Simon wants him not to go.

Wilhelm’s right. The only bonus he got from their breakup was not having to watch Wilhelm get destroyed by his position. A state that he ruined for himself by pushing his way back in. Now all he has is Wilhelm’s absence. Close, but not with him. If Wilhelm gets this, he won’t even have that. He could never have imagined a world where Wilhelm didn’t get crushed, got free, got better, and Simon doesn’t get to see it. 

That’s a future he can’t bear. 

He wraps his arms around Wilhelm’s neck and throws himself into a kiss. It’s their worst one so far. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed when Wilhelm’s lips are sadness swollen, but it’s the first one Simon has gone too hard for, too fast. His nose bumps Wilhelm’s cheek and his feet slip from leaning up and off-balance. He has to gentle it back. Wilhelm’s hands come up around Simon’s waist, his spine, holding him secure. After that, it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s been a while, but their bodies haven’t forgotten how to be together, yet. This is them, as they should be. Joy and rightness pop in his heart. He smiles a little, reckless with it, revelling in the way the curving of his lips changes the feel of Wilhelm’s. 

His hands wander, over Wilhelm’s shoulders, down to his shoulderblades, a familiar home for his fingers. Wilhelm shivers and then he gasps, tilting his head back and breaking the kiss. He steps away from Simon and Simon wobbles, his front going cold.

“I can’t, I can’t do this again,” Wilhelm says. His voice is strained. Bleak. “You know I’d give you anything, but you can’t ask me for this.”

Confused, Simon closes the gap. He reaches for Wilhelm’s hand, settles for his elbow when Wilhelm doesn’t reach back. “I mean it.” Maybe Wilhelm thinks this is a fleeting moment, a request for an evening—but it could never be that way between them. “We could be us.”

Wilhelm shudders. “For how long?” Simon’s heart thumps. This isn’t what he was expecting. He didn’t have a plan, but if he’d imagined it, then as soon as he kissed Wilhelm, Wilhelm would kiss him back and that would be it. “I’m just as fucked up as I was and sooner or later I won’t be able to hide it, and then you’ll—” he swallows. “And it’ll be my fault, but I can’t survive it. Not again.” After everything, this is what makes Wilhelm cry.

[wind-to-your-sails]

The Man Named Winter, and What He Saw

A very fun realization… Peer Past the Veil is within Winter’s colors. The chaos of red magic lets him break down the order of the House, and the natural grounding of green magic lets him turn that breakdown into a revelation on the plane’s true nature. This does mean I am currently conjecturing that the maze of staircases seen on this card is normally invisible, which may yet prove false, but the nature of this card supports that conjecture for the moment.

So, what is the true nature of the House that is revealed by this card? Well, you see how the focal point of this image is a sphere? That isn’t random creepy eye imagery. That’s the planet of Duskmourn itself, where Valgavoth dwells, and has dwelt since time before time. The Below is the basement of the world, the focal point of the House, and as Zimone’s scans in this tangle of stairs confirm, the only place that Nashi could possibly be.

But look at it. Look at where the Below is in comparison to the isolated human figure. It is smaller in this image than the moon appears from most card art set on a planet’s surface. The opening to get there is the Quiescence, which has already begun and which can only last months at best, while the distance measured from this point is ten years of walking at the least. Our party teeters on the edge of utter despair, confronting the enormity of the impossibility of what they’re up against, when Winter reminds them about the first thing they learned about the House; it shifts.

Step back from this peek through the curtain, and then peek through the curtain again from the next room over, and you’re at a completely different point on the plane relative to the Below. Their destination is impossibly far away but simultaneously unknowably close. All they need is a guide. All they need is Winter.

But this isn’t just a cool moment. The fact that Winter can cast Peer Past the Veil is the reason that he is everything we know he is. The card says as much, that seeing the true nature of the House makes it impossible to ignore. Very few survivors in Duskmourn realize what the House is. Some think of it as a finite structure that can be escaped from as surely as it can be stumbled into, some acknowledge its warping of space but assume this is a very clever illusion and they’re still stuck in the same building where the door appeared, some have heard the stories about Valgavoth’s rise but assume they are merely dealing with a hollow world, like Ixalan. Winter is one of a very rare few who knows that the House is the entirety of the plane. And that isn’t something that’s easy to know.

What would you abandon, at such a revelation? Hope of escape is always the first thing to die here, but to have the very concept obliterated from your mind is not something that happens every day. Beholding the true scale of the House, what value remains in anything? Communities of survivors are grains of sand in the floorboards, moments of beauty are such tiny specks of light they cannot be seen through the ugliness. Everything is in the House, and the House is everything. To paraphrase Susanna Clarke, “The Horror of the House is immeasurable; its Cruelty infinite.”

No wonder Winter is Like That.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

The first gif cause Sanji is fine in this Gif, and the second gif adds to the story also lmfaooo

Chapter 28: A Dangerous Gamble

A/N: We are back at it again with another chapter! Don’t worry you guys I’m still creating that masterlist. But when I tell you the next chapters are cooking! Like we getting, all of the action. also Ive been seeing alot of edits on TT with these guys along with a few more I have in store and when I tell you I went FERALLLL!!!! Like someone hold me! Thank you guys so much for the follows, the likes, the comments, the interactions just everything! I cant wait for you guys to read what I have in store! But without further ado, let the adventure begin!

Word Count: 6.2K 

Sanji X Reader, Sanji X Y/N, One Piece X Reader 

Sanji POV.. 

“Yeah, we barely escaped, both the Navy and Doflamingo,” I spoke to Usopp via the transponder snail, my voice tinged with frustration. “Also, have any of you guys seen or even heard from Y/N?” My heart raced with worry.

“Wait, why? What happened?!” Usopp's voice cracked with concern.

“I lost her... and no one knows where she is,” I admitted, my hands tightening around the snail. “Doflamingo has something planned for her, and it pains me that I’m not there with her.”

Usopp’s expression turned grave. “We’ll find her, Sanji. We have to. Don’t lose hope.”

“I’m trying not to,” I said, “but it’s hard when I can’t even get a lead on where she might be. Every moment counts.” 

“What's worse is we’re heading to Zou, so I won’t be able to kick some ass in order to find her,” I said into the transponder snail, taking a drag of my cigarette. My frustration was evident in my voice.

“What? Sanji, you’re not planning on leaving us here?!” Usopp’s voice came through, filled with alarm.

“Hold on a minute,” Franky’s voice interrupted, “What are Luffy and Law up to?”

As I was about to respond, I heard Franky’s question. “Zoro and Kinemon are outside the Colosseum trying to find Luffy so they can bring him up to speed. After that, they’re going to look for Y/N.”

“And Law?” Franky asked.

“Well…” 

Law POV… 

With the Sunny crew heading to Zou and the remaining Straw Hats carrying out their plan, I made my way to the bridge with Giolla. The blade was close to her neck, a constant reminder of the precarious situation we were in. My mind kept drifting to Y/N. I can only hope you are safe and far from Doflamingo’s grasp, I thought.

Footsteps echoed closer, the fog obscuring the figure’s approach. I tightened my grip on my sword, preparing for whatever was to come. As Doflamingo emerged from the mist, his mocking tone cut through the air.

“What’s the point in letting half of the Straw Hats escape?” he taunted. “The rest of them are still in Dressrosa. All I have to do is hold them hostage, and they'll hand me Caesar in exchange for them.”

“Many have underestimated them and paid the price,” I replied defiantly. “Do you really want to add your name to that list?”

“At any rate, my pirate alliance with the Straw Hat crew is coming to its natural conclusion. Do I have to spell it out for you? From the moment I met up with them, I was using them. They'll be destroying the SMILE factory, and as much as I want to revel in killing you, Kaido is going to do that anyway.” I retorted, gripping my blade tighter. “Beside, I want to make you pay for what you did thirteen years ago” I said, my anger evident. 

“Make me pay... for what happened to you thirteen years ago?” “Come on, Law. Holding Giolla hostage isn’t going to change anything.” Doflamingo’s laugh was chilling. 

“You're right. That’s not all you lost. With Caesar gone, you no longer have a hold on the SMILE factory,” I said, my voice dripping with contempt.

Doflamingo’s smirk widened. “My, you are still mad. Grudges aren’t good for your health, you know.”

“This isn’t a grudge,” I retorted, my eyes burning with determination. “I’m seeing his dream through to the end!”

With that, I launched a series of relentless attacks at Doflamingo. Each strike was fueled by the anger and frustration I felt

Sanji POV…

“You better protect my sweet Robin, understand, Usopp!” I said into the transponder snail, the urgency in my voice unmistakable. “And also, keep an eye out for my Y/N!” I added, as I took a drag of my cigarette. I hung up the call, letting out a long sigh. “This anxiety is killing me,” I thought, running my fingers through my hair. “Y/N could be hurt, injured, or worse…”

I shook those thoughts out of my head, trying to stay focused. “Is everything okay, Sanji?” Chopper asked, his voice filled with concern.

“I was just making sure that Robin is safe since she’s with Franky and Usopp right now. I wanted to let them know to keep an eye out for Y/N if they see her,” I explained, my voice tinged with worry.

“Okay, so if Kinemon and Zoro are with Luffy, that means they would need to find Y/N, right?” Chopper said, trying to piece things together.

“Well, knowing mosshead, that’s going to take 50 years, since he’s lousy with directions,” I grumbled. “Damn it! I knew I should have stuck with my gut and stayed.” I grabbed at my hair, a habit I developed when smoking didn’t ease my anxiety anymore.

“I’m awfully worried about Traffy and Y/N, though,” Chopper said, his voice low.

“Traffy is a big boy; he can handle it,” I replied. “Y/N, although I know she can handle anything, knowing what that creep wanted to do to her and what he planned on doing to her makes me sick.” I clenched my hands, the frustration and helplessness boiling within me.

 Momo began recounting a memory he had of Doflamingo, but my mind drifted away to thoughts of someone who wasn't Y/N. “Ahh, why are you happy?!” he exclaimed, breaking through my reverie.

“Don’t worry, being taken hostage isn’t all bad, especially when it’s a beautiful woman doing it,” I said, swooning with a blush on my cheeks.

“You’re obviously thinking about something else; at least pretend to care!” Momo chided.

“That reminds me, Violet said she’d be okay too,” I said, as my mind wandered to our last moments together.

Flashback

“I’ll be fine. I talked to my friend, and I’m certain the government will protect me,” Violet said, as we rode the toy horse together.

“Really?” I asked, still concerned.

“Just trust me,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“Okay, I’d feel better if I could go along with you, but as long as you’re safe, I…” I started to say before Violet reached for my hand.

“You’ve done enough. How can I ever show you my gratitude?” she asked, her eyes filled with sincerity.

I blushed at her words. “Well, you could give me a kiss on the cheek, and then maybe a little kiss on the lips,” I said, my voice tinged with shyness.

With that, I felt the warm impact of Violet’s lips on mine. The kiss was soft but filled with gratitude. I was about to ask for more when Violet suddenly pulled away.

“Oh no, it would seem your ship is under attack by flying fish!” she exclaimed.

“What! What are those?!” I shouted, bewildered.

“No time; you must go!” she urged.

As I skywalked into the sky, leaving Violet behind, I headed back to the Sunny, the urgency of the situation driving me forward.

Flashback end

I sighed deeply, shaking the memory from my mind. “I hope Violet is okay,” I muttered.

Zoro POV… 

Ten minutes before Y/N called…

“Hey!! I’m up here! You guys wanted to talk to me!” Luffy yelled, his voice echoing through the Colosseum.

“Luffy! Quiet down! We don’t want anybody to hear!” I yelled back, trying to keep my frustration in check.

Luffy laughed, clearly unbothered. “Wow, sorry! I was just happy to see you!”

“Ahh, so you met with the green-haired man. At first, I was apprehensive about trusting him, but he seemed quite eager to offer his assistance,” Kinemon said, his gaze scanning the area.

“Where is he now?” I demanded, trying to keep my focus sharp.

“I don’t know. He just, like, passed out…” Luffy said, sounding somewhat unconcerned.

“Passed out?! What the hell is wrong with him?!” I exclaimed, my frustration mounting.

“Hey, by the way, have you seen Y/N yet?” Luffy asked, changing the subject.

“Actually, yeah. She just called,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady.

“Really?!” Luffy’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”

“Something about her being safe and that she’ll call back in a few minutes,” I replied. “I’m worried about her, Luffy. She said she was chased down by three men block after block.”

Luffy’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Three men, huh? That doesn’t sound good. We need to find her as soon as possible.” 

“I agree,” I said, my voice grim. Just then, a call from my transponder snail went through.

“Hello?! Y/N?!” I said urgently.

“Y/N?! Where have you been?!” Luffy’s voice crackled through the line, his grin evident even over the transponder snail.

“Hey, Captain. How’s it going? I was checking on your fight. I wish I was there to kick some ass too!” Y/N said, her laughter coming through, which was oddly comforting.

“Same here, Y/N,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm even though my concern for her was growing.

Y/N began to explain that Doflamingo had been tracking her since she arrived and that three men had been chasing her block after block. My rage spiked with every word.

“Where are you?!” Luffy demanded, his tone sharper than usual. It was one thing to mess with him, but to mess with his crewmate was a whole other story.

“Don’t worry, Luffy. I’m safe. I’m with…” Y/N said, but I couldn’t quite catch the last part. Her voice was muffled, and it sounded like she was with someone, but the connection was poor.

“I have a plan, but I want to ask your permission first,” she continued.

“What’s the plan?” Luffy asked, his focus entirely on the call now. 

“I’m going to have Doflamingo take me to his palace,” Y/N said, calm but with an edge of seriousness that instantly put me on alert.

“Wait... AS IN KIDNAPPED?!” I yelled, my voice immediately rising. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND?!”

“Yes, as in kidnapped,” she replied, unfazed. “I need to draw him away from the Colosseum. Once I’m in the palace, I’ll try to dismantle his operation from the inside. It’ll buy you guys time to get there so we can finish the job.”

“This is insane!” I snapped. “You’re not just walking into a trap—you’re running into it! How many things can go wrong here, Y/N? Do we need to pull out the list? You’re going up against a warlord who is psychotic, you could get thrown in a dungeon, or worse! And we won’t even know where you are!”

There was a pause, then Y/N responded with that annoying calmness. “I know the risks, Zoro. But it’s the only way to distract him long enough for you guys to make your move.”

Luffy, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly chimed in. “Y/N, this is risky, even for you...”

“I know,” she answered, her voice steady. “But I can do this. If I can get him off the streets and into the palace, it’ll give us the upper hand. You just need to trust me.”

“Trust you?” I scoffed, rubbing the back of my neck in frustration. “I trust you, but this plan is reckless even by your standards! Do you even know what you're up against?”

Another pause, and then Y/N let out a small laugh, which irritated me even more. “Zoro, I’ll be fine. Just make sure you guys get to the palace. I’ll be waiting.”

Before I could protest more, Luffy jumped in, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Okay, Y/N. If that’s what you want, we’ll trust you. But you better be careful! We’ll get there as soon as I figure a way out of this Colosseum.”

I clenched my fists, not fully convinced. “This is still a terrible idea... If anything happens to you, I’m coming to drag your reckless ass out of there myself.”

Y/N’s voice lightened, trying to ease the tension. “I know you will, Zoro. But you won’t have to. Just be ready when it’s time.”

The call ended with that, and I stood there, my frustration boiling under the surface.

“Damn it, why does she always have to make things difficult?” I muttered. 

Luffy turned to me, his expression serious. “We gotta trust her. She wouldn’t do this if she didn’t believe it would work.” 

I sighed, still irritated. “I don’t like it. But if Y/N’s already in, we need to make sure we’re ready to follow through. This is going to get messy.”

Law POV… 

I struggled to stay on my feet, each breath feeling heavier than the last. The pain in my knees throbbed with every movement, but the thought of Y/N—captured, helpless—burned in my mind like a raging fire. I couldn’t let her be taken. Not her. Not after everything.

Doflamingo’s laughter grated on my ears, his voice full of mockery. “You look like you’re about to collapse, Law. Just how much longer do you think you can keep this up?”

I glared up at him, blood dripping from my wounds, but my focus was elsewhere—on Y/N. She was out there, trapped in his twisted web, and I was running out of time to save her. My hands tightened around my sword, trembling from the exhaustion.

“You can mock me all you want, Doflamingo,” I growled, my voice low but filled with fury. “But I’m not done yet. I’ll tear you apart before I let you lay another hand on her.”

But my body betrayed me. I could feel my stamina slipping away, the strength in my legs faltering. “Room!” I called out once more, though my powers flickered, weaker now. I felt my ability straining to stay active, but I refused to stop.

Doflamingo smirked, casually flicking away my efforts like they were nothing. “Pathetic,” he said. “But keep struggling, Law. It’s amusing to watch you crawl while I’ve already won.”

His words pierced through the fog of pain in my mind. I knew what he wanted—he wanted to see me suffer, to see me broken before he took Y/N away forever. The thought sent a surge of rage through me. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

I tried again, pushing my body to its limit. My sword swung, aiming for him, but Doflamingo dodged it effortlessly, almost playfully. His string bullets followed, slamming into my legs again, sending me crashing to the ground.

The pain was blinding, but worse than that was the sickening feeling of helplessness creeping in. I bit down hard, forcing myself not to scream, but I could barely move.

Then, his transponder snail rang, cutting through the chaos. I looked up through blurry vision, seeing Doflamingo’s smirk widen as he answered the call.

"Hello, this better be important," he said, his voice dripping with malice. The words that followed made my blood run cold.

"Sir, we got her… we got the girl, young master!" came the voice on the other end.

I froze, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out the sound of everything else. Y/N. No. This can’t be happening. She can’t be in his hands.

Doflamingo's laugh cut through me like a blade. "I knew she couldn’t run forever. Tied up nice and snug, is she?"

“Yeah, she is. She's tied up. Meet us at the Colosseum at the front, so you can take her,” the voice said.

Doflamingo’s eyes glinted with sadistic glee as he hung up. He turned to me, relishing in my helplessness. “You hear that, Law? Looks like your little princess is mine now. And you? You’re going to watch me take her. Let’s head to the Coliseum, I want you to see her all tied up, broken, and realize that you couldn’t save her.”

The weight of those words crushed me. Y/N. My breath hitched, my vision narrowing to a tunnel of fury and desperation. I forced myself to move, despite the pain, despite the exhaustion.

But unfortunately, Doflamingo launched one more attack, his strings cutting through the air with deadly precision, and before I could react, my body gave out and fell to the ground, powerless. As darkness crept in, the last thing I saw was his cruel smile, and the only thought in my mind was that I had failed her. 

Zoro POV…

"Hey, mosshead! Any updates on Y/N?" Sanji's voice crackled through the transponder snail, sounding as impatient as ever.

I rolled my eyes at the snail, which mimicked his curly eyebrow expression. “Now you listen, curly brow…” I started, but then paused. “Actually, yes. She was able to get in contact with us.”

"WHAT? You did?!” Sanji's voice shot up an octave, panic immediately kicking in. “Is she okay? Did Doflamingo do something to her?!”

The transponder snail mimicked Sanji's frantic expression, and I could practically hear the others in the background, freaking out—Chopper, Brook, and Momo wailing in unison.

I sighed, trying to stay calm. “No, she says she’s safe. But…” I hesitated, knowing this was going to cause a scene. “She’s got a reckless plan.”

"RECKLESS PLAN?!" Sanji shouted, his voice nearly causing the snail to vibrate. "Mosshead, what did you say to her? Why didn’t you stop her?!”

“Tch, hey! It’s not my fault, curly brow! She decided this on her own!” I snapped back, gripping the transponder snail like it was his neck.

“Mosshead!” Sanji growled through the snail, his voice dripping with frustration. “What the hell is she thinking?! You didn’t just let her go, did you?! You know how dangerous Doflamingo is!”

I clenched my teeth, trying not to let him get under my skin. “She’s planning to go head-on with Doflamingo,” I said flatly, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

The transponder snail’s eyes widened comically. "SHE'S DOING WHAT?!" Sanji’s voice boomed through the receiver. "Why didn’t you stop her, mosshead?! Do you even understand what Doflamingo is capable of, what he plans on doing to her?!"

I gripped the transponder snail tighter. "You think I didn’t try? She’s as stubborn as hell you idiot! She’s doing this for a reason!"

There was a tense silence, only interrupted by the muffled sounds of Chopper and Brook still panicking in the background. Then Sanji's voice came through again, quieter but no less furious. “If anything happens to her, mosshead… I’ll make you regret not stopping her.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of his words. “I know,” I muttered, my voice low. “But if it comes to that, I’ll be the one to cut down Doflamingo. I won’t let her fall.”

Before Sanji could respond, a deafening crash echoed in the distance. I snapped my eyes open, and the transponder snail mimicked Luffy’s frantic expression as his voice boomed through it. "Doflamingo! And Traffy!" he shouted. "What the hell is going on?! Traffy, why are you fighting Mingo?!"

We barely had time to process what Luffy was saying before we saw it. Doflamingo had his gun drawn, pointing it directly at Law.

Bang! The gunshot rang out, and Law’s body jerked back, blood spraying from the wound. “Damn brat,” Doflamingo growled, taking aim again.

Bang! The second shot tore through the air, hitting Law once more, sending him crashing to the ground. I cursed under my breath. “Not good!”

Just as Doflamingo was about to fire a third time, a sudden, blinding yellow light zipped through the chaos, cutting through the tension in the air.

"Get away from him!" a familiar voice yelled, echoing across the battlefield. The bright light morphed into a swift kick, slamming into Doflamingo’s chest and sending him flying into the nearby buildings. The impact was so powerful that the walls exploded into debris, raining down across the area.

As the dust and debris began to settle, a figure stepped forward, racing toward Law, who lay crumpled on the ground, barely clinging to consciousness. “I’m sorry, guys,” the familiar voice called out, softer now, filled with regret. “I was a bit late.”

The figure knelt beside Law, gently cradling his head, their voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry, Law,” they repeated. “I couldn’t stop the first bullets... but I’m here now.”

As the last of the dust cleared, the blinding yellow light faded, revealing the face of the person who had saved him. My heart skipped a beat, disbelief and relief flooding through me.

"It’s Y/N!" I shouted, my voice filled with a mix of shock and relief.

Y/N POV… 

As I watched Zoro and Kin'emon from my hidden spot, my heart raced with anxiety. I knew the odds were against me—this plan had a 95% chance of backfiring—but there was still that 5% hope, and I had to cling to it. My eyes flicked to the Colosseum again. “Sabo should be in there by now,” I thought, trying to reassure myself.

I reached for the two small hidden blades strapped to my sides, pulling them out as I remembered the lesson King had given me about these blades. His voice echoed in my mind, calm and mysterious. 

Flashback…

“These blades, although they seem ordinary, can create quite a damaging effect,” he had said as he handed them to me.

I had stared at them skeptically. “So, what do they do?” I had asked, turning them over in my hands.

“They are meant to enhance your skills while helping you channel your abilities,” he explained, leaning back in his chair like it was obvious.

I had been frustrated by his cryptic explanation. “Well, how the hell am I supposed to use this?” I had muttered, annoyed that he was speaking in riddles rather than giving me straight answers.

He had simply smiled. “Once you channel all that energy, you will soon learn of their true purpose.”

End of flashback…

Now, standing in the shadows of the Colosseum, I gripped the blades tighter, trying to channel the energy within me, just as he had instructed. I could feel the familiar warmth building in my hands as a yellow light began to glow faintly around the blades.

Suddenly, a massive impact shook the ground, sending debris flying everywhere. I instinctively covered my face with my arms, the sharp dust and rocks pelting my skin. “Doflamingo must have arrived,” I thought, heart pounding in anticipation.

But when the dust cleared, my breath caught in my throat. Law. He was lying on the ground, bloodied and unmoving.

“Law?!” I whispered, shock and confusion hitting me like a tidal wave. "What the hell happened to the plan with Caesar? Did it fall through?"

The urgency of the situation took over as I heard two gunshots ring out, echoing through the air. Doflamingo had just shot Law again. My heart pounded as I saw him preparing to strike once more. Without thinking, I lifted my left leg, the yellow light around me intensifying, and dashed toward them.

"Get away from him!" I shouted, channeling all my strength into a kick aimed directly at Doflamingo’s chest. The impact sent him flying back, crashing into nearby buildings. Debris exploded across the area, shrouding everything in dust. As the light around me began to fade, I heard Zoro’s voice, full of disbelief.

"What the hell just happened?" he muttered.

Breathing heavily, I looked down at Law’s battered form. His lips trembled as he muttered broken words: "Cora... Y/N…" My heart clenched as I knelt beside him, cradling his head in my hands. My voice cracked as I whispered, "I'm sorry, Law. I wasn’t here in time to stop the first bullets... but I’m here now." The ache in my chest deepened, seeing him like this.

"Tell us what’s going on, please!" Sanji’s voice rang out through the transponder snail. I barely registered it as Zoro approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Y/N...” Zoro said, his tone more gentle than usual.

"What?! What’s going on?!" Sanji demanded again, his voice filled with panic as it crackled through the transponder snail.

Murmurs began to fill the air around us. I could hear the marine soldiers in the distance.

"She struck a warlord!" one of them gasped in disbelief.

"That’s Princess Y/N, she’s with the Strawhats!" another soldier pointed out, his voice trembling with both shock and admiration.

"No way... she actually landed a clean hit!" whispered another.

Kin’emon approached, bowing slightly in my direction. "It would appear that Lady Y/N has now arrived," he said, his tone filled with admiration and respect.

Before I could respond, Sanji’s frantic voice came through the snail once more. "Let me talk to her! Please!"

Kin’emon moved to hand me the transponder snail, but before I could take it, the sharp crack of a gunshot filled the air. My body tensed.

Doflamingo emerged from the dust, walking toward us slowly, a twisted smirk on his face. "My, my, that kick nearly took me out. I’ve got to hand it to you, princess," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "I’m liking this side of you."

I stood up, my heart burning with anger. "Doflamingo…" I muttered, my grip tightening around my blades.

"Y/N, wait!" Zoro called out, his voice filled with warning.

"Y/N!" Law rasped, barely able to speak, his voice weak but desperate. “Tell me what’s going on?!” Luffy’s voice echoed from the Colosseum

I stared down Doflamingo, my mind racing. The tension was thick in the air, and everything seemed to freeze for a moment. Doflamingo’s smirk deepened as he approached, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "Princess, I was told you were captured, bound like a helpless little bird. It seems my subordinates were mistaken."

I grinned defiantly, reaching into the waistband of my skirt and pulling out a small momento I’d taken from the thugs. "Maybe you should hire better help next time," I said, tossing it at him. It struck his chest, and he glanced down, his amusement flickering into irritation.

"So, you’ve got some fight in you after all," he said, his tone mockingly impressed. "I thought you’d be running by now."

I held my ground, my fingers tightening around the blades, the faint yellow light beginning to glow again. "I hear you’ve been looking for me," I said, my voice steady. "Well, here I am."

Before he could respond, Luffy’s shout rang out from behind the bars. "Hey, Mingo! You’re gonna pay for what you did to Traffy!"

Doflamingo turned slightly, glancing back at Luffy with a smirk. "Law? That little brat used to work for me," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Didn’t he tell you? Some ally you’ve got there."

My breath caught at his words, my gaze flickering to Law, who lay battered and barely conscious. But I couldn’t let this rattle me, not now.

Doflamingo’s attention snapped back to me, his grin widening. "Now, where were we? Ah yes... I was just about to capture you."

He moved forward, his fingers twitching as he prepared his strings. But I wasn’t about to let him think he had control. "Doffy," I said, smirking, "your subordinates—at least the one I knocked out—called you that. Funny, I thought you enjoyed the game of cat and mouse. What’s the fun in capturing me so easily?"

Doflamingo chuckled, clearly entertained by my defiance. "A game, is it? Alright, Princess, let’s play." His fingers twitched, strings flickering in the air. "But remember, I always win."

I clenched my blades tighter, the yellow light flaring to life. "We’ll see about that, Doflamingo. Let’s find out who’s really in control here." 

I gritted my teeth, the glow from my blades flaring even brighter. "Kinemon, Zoro, get Traffy out of here!" I barked, my eyes locked on Doflamingo. I lifted my left leg, ready to dash toward him, determined to land a strike.

But just as my blade was about to meet its mark, I felt an immense force slam into my arm, redirecting my attack into the sky. "What the—?" I gasped, trying to react quickly, but the same weight crashed into me again, this time with enough force to send me flying into the Colosseum wall. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and blood dripped from the corner of my mouth as I slid down to the ground, stunned by the sudden assault.

"Y/N!" I heard Zoro shout, his voice full of alarm as he turned his attention toward me. The weight of everyone's gaze shifted to where I lay, struggling to get back on my feet, the air thick with tension. "Y/N!" Luffys voice cut through the chaos, a note of alarm piercing through as he turned his gaze toward me. For a brief, tense moment, it felt like time itself had slowed, all eyes converging on my injured form. "Are you alright?" Luffy’s voice, filled with concern, crackled through.

I struggled to rise, my body shaking with pain. "Yeah, Luffy, I’m okay," I managed to reply, though my voice was weak. "But what the hell was that technique?"

As I fought to regain my balance, I saw Zoro and Kinemon charging toward Doflamingo. "Pirate Hunter Zoro and Foxfire Kinemon," Doflamingo drawled, his tone mocking. "I also noticed that Momonosuke is unguarded aboard your ship." Kinemon’s face tightened at Doflamingo's words. "Don’t listen to that bastard! We would never let him take Momo," Zoro shouted, his anger palpable.

But before Zoro could strike, the blind man from before intervened, delivering a powerful blow that pinned him down. "Zoro!" I cried out, my heart sinking as the sight of him struggling to break free filled me with dread.

Doflamingo smirked, his eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement as he shifted his focus to Kinemon. With a swift, unexpected move, Doflamingo struck Kinemon, sending him crashing into the ground. "Kinemon!" I cried out, my voice trembling with urgency and frustration.

I struggled to push myself upright, clutching my sides where pain radiated. My grip on the blade tightened, the yellow light and electrical charge flaring brightly. "Hey, Doflamingo!" I called out, lifting my left leg. "Forget about them. This is our game."

Doflamingo’s attention snapped back to me, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. "Ah, my defiant princess," he drawled. "Your spirit is truly something to behold. Once I capture you, you’ll discover just how much fun I can have with someone as spirited as you."

"That’s what you think!" I retorted, gathering all my strength. I dashed toward him, using the momentum to leap into the air and aim a tremor kick at Doflamingo. But as I extended my right leg, it suddenly stopped in mid-air, restrained by an invisible force.

I gritted my teeth, trying to break free from the unseen grip. "What’s going on?" I shouted, my frustration mounting. Doflamingo’s laughter rang out as he floated up to my level, his presence imposing and taunting.

As I tried to attack with my right hand, still clutching the blade, another invisible force wrapped around my wrist, pulling it back. I struggled against the restraints, my heart pounding in my chest.

Doflamingo floated closer, his face mere inches from mine. His gaze was cold and calculating as he gently grasped my chin, forcing me to look directly at him. "So close, my princess. The power of the String-String Fruit is quite remarkable, wouldn’t you agree?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "It allows me to control and manipulate anything I desire." Doflamingo’s smirk widened as he stared into my eyes, his malevolent gaze unwavering. Slowly, he moved his hands from my chin, trailing down to my neck. His touch was cold and commanding, the invisible strings still binding me tightly.

"Ah, such fire," he taunted, his fingers tightening around my throat just enough to remind me of his power. "You really are a fascinating specimen, Princess. The way you fight against the inevitable, it’s almost endearing."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm and disturbing against my skin. "You see, my strings can control everything from the smallest details to the most grandiose displays. And right now, you're tangled in my little game. You're not just my captive; you're my plaything."

I glared at him, the struggle evident in my eyes. "I’m not done yet," I said, my voice resolute despite the pain. "I won’t let you win." 

Summoning the last of my strength, I quickly maneuvered my free hand, still clutching the blade. With a swift, decisive motion, I cut through the strong bindings constricting my right hand. The strings fell away, freeing my arm. Without hesitation, I moved to sever the bindings on my right leg, slicing through them with precision. As I fell from the sky, my body propelled downward by gravity, I saw Zoro emerging from the debris, his face filled with determination.

“I got you!” Zoro shouted as he dashed forward, managing to pull me from the perilous height. He caught me in mid-air, his grip firm and reassuring as he guided me safely to the ground.“Thank you, Zoro,” I said, still feeling the tremors of pain as I tried to stand.

Kinemon hurried over, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. “What’s a navy admiral doing with Doflamingo?” he asked.

My eyes widened in shock. “You mean to tell me that blind man is a navy admiral?” I asked, the revelation hitting me hard.

“Kinemon, is Y/N okay?” Sanji’s voice crackled through the transponder snail, filled with worry.

“Hey Sanji,” I said, trying to stay calm despite the sharp pain. “I’m okay. Sorry for worrying you.”

“Y/N…” Sanji’s voice choked up, filled with worry, but before he could continue, a sharp, searing pain tore through my left shoulder. I cried out, dropping to my knees as the pain overwhelmed me.

“DAMN IT!” I shouted, gritting my teeth, fighting against the agony. I looked down and saw blood trickling from a fresh wound—a bullet had struck me.

Doflamingo’s mocking voice echoed through the chaos. “Ah, look at you, princess. Already on your knees for me,” he sneered, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.

My eyes shifted to where Doflamingo was now holding Law,standing behind the Navy Vice Admiral, a smug grin on his face . “Don’t you dare!” Kinemon shouted, his voice filled with fear and frustration.

I managed to stand, determination burning in my eyes. "If he wants to fight dirty, then fine," I muttered, sheathing my blades. My body still ached, and the sting in my left arm reminded me of the situation’s urgency. Turning towards Zoro, I locked eyes with him. "There’s been a slight change of plans," I said quietly, still clutching my injured arm.

Zoro's brows furrowed. "What change of plans?" His hand was already on his sword, sensing something wasn’t right.

"I’m going to let Doflamingo capture me here." I leaned in closer so only he could hear. “I didn’t expect the Navy Vice Admiral to be involved, which complicates things. But the original plan stays. Capturing me here will still keep the plan in motion."

"Like hell it will!" Zoro snapped, his voice low but brimming with frustration. His grip on his sword tightened as if ready to strike. "You're not doing this alone."

Before he could make a move, I had already stepped forward, forcing myself into the spotlight. "Trust me, Zoro. We don’t have a choice."

“Doflamingo!” I shouted, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pain. “I thought this was our game of cat and mouse. Are you scared already?”

Doflamingo’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “Princess, such bravado. I must admit, I enjoy this side of you. It makes the victory all the more satisfying.”

As Doflamingo held Law like a puppet, I clenched my left hand, activating the power of my ring. I leaped into the air, raising my right leg, ready to deliver a powerful tremor kick. But just as I was about to strike, the navy admiral used his power to halt my attack mid-air. I was slammed back to the ground, crashing heavily into the dirt.

“Y/N!” Zoro yelled, his voice full of desperation. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

I struggled to rise. The air around me grew heavy, and invisible strings began to wrap around my body, lifting me off the ground. Doflamingo’s laughter echoed around us, cold and mocking.

“Wake up, Sir Law! Lady Y/N, are you alright?” Kinemon shouted, his voice filled with panic.

“Are you kidding me!” Zoro shouted in frustration, his voice crackling with anger and fear.

Doflamingo’s voice carried a sinister edge as he spoke to Fujitora. “Let’s take this conversation back to the palace. There’s much to discuss, and I’m eager to see how this little game ends.”

As Doflamingo’s strings tightened around me, I came face to face with him once more. His grip was unyielding, the pressure making it hard to breathe. I met his gaze, and despite the pain, a smirk formed on my lips. “Phase 1 of the plan is complete,” I thought to myself as the world around me started to darken.

As I began to slip in and out of consciousness, the smirk on my face remained, a silent declaration of our progress.

Zoro, visibly frustrated, prepared to make another move. But before he could act, the navy forces readied their weapons, their presence creating an impenetrable barrier. Doflamingo’s laughter filled the air, mocking and cold. “Look at that,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “It seems your friends are in quite the predicament, princess.”

I fought against the strings, trying to regain some control, but it was futile. Doflamingo stepped closer, his face twisted into a sinister grin. “I’m going to savor this. I plan to enjoy every moment of it.”

As I was lifted away, the last thing I heard was Kinemon’s determined voice cutting through the chaos. “Both Sir Law and Lady Y/N have been seized.” The words lingered in my mind as consciousness began to slip away, leaving me with a mix of defiance and resignation.