#love how slightly different the lines are!!

[rindreamery]

out of breath, got me going like...

attractive things that the blue lock men do.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[gtgbabie0]

-Vi x Reader

Synopsis: {The aftermath of the war seems a little more bearable with your girlfriend there by your side}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

need her. Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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The weeks after the war seemed to last centuries, the hours dragged on painfully slow and it felt like no matter how early you went to sleep, you could never get enough to carry you throughout the day— not that sleeping was easy anyway.

The council meetings were stressful, with each member bringing a mountain of different problems that were all so important in their own right— change needed to happen and each moment you weren’t actively working was wasted, or so you say.

However the exhaustion was turning you into a mess, Vi could see it as clear as day no matter how many times you put on that sweet smile and promised her you were ‘fine’ with a warm hand against her cheek. You weren’t fine.

Vi knew you would crash and burn sooner or later, and by the looks of you, it would be much sooner than she’d liked.

“Stupid damn thing.” You huff out in anger, hands trembling in a mixture of pain and frustration as you try to open the gauze— the damn plastic concealing it might as well have been superglued together and your hands just won’t steady themselves enough to get a good hold.

You grasp at the edges of the sink basin, giving up, the porcelain cold against your clammy hands. It was a slight relief, but not enough. With a ragged breath, you drop your head slightly to avert your gaze from your reflection in the mirror. You couldn’t take it, between your injured eye and the ache in your head, you felt as if you were teetering on the line of insanity.

“Here, let me.” The sound of Vi’s soft voice ripples through the tension that clouds you, her calloused hand presses against your upper back and you sigh in something akin to relief.

A strange feeling of embarrassment curls around your already weary heart, how long has she been standing there— watching you crumble?

You shake your head stubbornly, “I can do it myself,” you tell her, in faux confidence— trying to convince yourself, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip as you try to regain control.

You take the gauze packet in your hands once more before tugging it open harshly, your elbow collides into the bottle of antiseptic causing it to hit the tiled floor with a bounce. It felt like the universe was testing you, laughing at how you kept failing.

“I know you can, just let me take care of you for once, yeah?” Vi whispers, picking up the antiseptic bottle and placing it down on the countertop— her hand falling from your shoulder blade to rest on the small of your back.

But you were so tightly coiled with your own maelstrom of emotions that you continue to try and push her away, her hand fighting yours in a push and pull. You didn’t want her to see you like this, you were better than this.

“I can do—”

“Stop it, stop. I’m helping you.” She interrupts you with a sternness in her tone that it takes you aback slightly.

You nod reluctantly, caving in with a shaky sigh as you let her turn you around to face her by your hips, your lower back resting up against the sink countertop and she notices the way you avoid her gaze, it hurts her a little.

A silence settles between the pair of you as Vi takes off the gauze that covers your eye— revealing the patch that protected the sensitive wound from possible infection. Her knuckles brush along your cheek so tenderly that you can’t help but lean into her touch, it was almost an instinct at this point.

“It’s ugly,” you state, looking up at her through your eyelashes as you watch her frown in disagreement with your words, a small scoff escaping her lips.

“It’s not— it’s healing, you’re not ugly.” She tells you, a gentle firmness dancing through her tone as she continues to admire you through loving eyes and your shoulders drop— it’d been far too long since you let yourself relax, the ache in between your shoulders could attest to that.

“Besides it adds to your flair.” She adds with a small smirk.

“My flair?” You repeat through a breathy chuckle, rolling your eye as a smile begins to teeter against your lips. It felt good to have her like this, gently stroking your face, standing close to you… it felt good to lean on her for support.

Vi’s own smile widens at the sound of your chuckle, such a sweet noise that sends a wave of comfort through her chest. Even though you were exhausted and in pain, you still managed to make her heart bleed in all the best ways, although if she’s being completely honest it doesn’t take much at all for you to bring that out in her.

“Mhm, yep, it adds a certain charm.” She nods confidently, her fingertips gently grazing along your cheekbone to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“It also makes the easiest things feel impossible, everything just feels off.” You sigh, tilting your head to nuzzle against the roughness of her palm ever so slightly.

A sympathetic look flashes through her pretty eyes, god knows it was true— too many times had she watched you lose your cool over what used to be 'simple things' as you familiarised yourself with the loss of sight. Her heart broke for you, she hated seeing you like this and she hated not being able to do more for you, to just take all your pain away.

“I know baby, I know— but you’re handling it like a champ,” Vi whispers, letting her hand drop from her face to grab a clean gauze pad, her eyes flickering between yours and her hands as she readies the fabric— offering you a small reassuring smile.

With careful fingers she places the gauze over your eye, securing it down with medical tape and she winces as you suck a sharp hiss from your clenched teeth, your eyebrows knitting together in pain— Vi quickly pulls her hands away, not wanting to cause you any more pain with a soft “Sorry, sorry,”— but you’re quick to hold her hands in your own, giving them both a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay,” you promise her, looking at her with a faint pleading in your gaze— wordlessly begging her to hold you and not let go, to not pull away, and immediately she knows what you want. She could read you like an open book.

So without a modicum of hesitation, she loops her strong arms around your shoulders to bring you close to her body— wrapping you up in a protective hold and you could practically feel the heaviness on your shoulders lessen as you melt into her with a small pitiful noise that makes her heart clench.

“You’re not alone— you don’t have to do this all by yourself, I’m right here.” She seals the promise with a gentle kiss against your hairline before cupping either side of your face, tilting your head backwards slightly so she can meet your gaze.

Vi watches the way your eye flutters close in contentment when she strokes your cheeks with her thumbs— your fingers grasping at the fabric of her tank top almost as if you were afraid she would slip between your fingers.

But lo and behold she doesn’t, she’s standing right in front of you, cupping your face, with such a reverent expression it causes your breath to hitch in your throat and you think you would cry if you had the energy to.

“Vi,” you breathe softly, a sob threatening to spill over your lips which you conceal with a sigh as she bumps her forehead against your own— her hand rests against the side of your neck before slowly slipping to cup the back of your head, fingertips dragging along your scalp soothingly.

“I’ve got you, right here.” She replies in understanding, pressing her lips to your own in a loving kiss— one that dismantles you completely and you’re finally ready to admit you needed sleep and a day of rest… or maybe two, Vi would be there to ensure it.

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[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 piña colada

synopsis: some women just can't take a hint... good thing Zoro's only got eyes for one girl.

cw: nsfw (oral: female receiving), this woman is really shameless, surprisingly tender Zoro, you two are so in love, kinda magical ngl, etc.

"Hey, there," a woman—who was in the tiniest bikini known to man—hummed, tone low as she approached the lounge chair. "I don't think I've seen you on this island before."

'For fuck's sake...'

Annoyed, Zoro let a heavy sigh out from his nose, not even bothering to glance in the girl's direction as his sunglasses shaded his harsh side eye.

You'd think after seeing eight other women walk dejectedly away from his umbrella, the others would catch the hint?

"Not interested," he stated, curtly, hands firmly tucked behind his head as he looked out to sea.

The woman chuckled, softly, completely ignoring his comment and taking a seat in the sand.

She sat criss-crossed, dropping her hands in her lap and using her arms to slightly push her tits together, attempting to endearingly lean closer to your swordsman.

"Don't be so hasty," she sweetly smiled, taking his rudeness in stride. "Haven't even given me the chance to speak."

"Well, that's 'cause I really don't give a shit what you say otherwise," he sighed, shutting his eyes.

"I can name ten other men off the top of my head that would beg to differ," she countered, slyly.

"I'm not other men."

"You certainly aren't..."

'Walked right into that one.'

His brows flattened, and for a moment he wondered if this was a real person talking, slightly glancing around to see if he could find a camera crew of some sort.

Yet, to his surprise, there was none.

"I have a girlfriend," he dealt the finishing blow, delivering the final line that scared away all the other women from before.

He could finally get some peace and quiet.

"I don't see her here," the woman shrugged, simply, as if what he just said made no difference to her.

Zoro threw his head back with an irritated groan, wanting nothing more than to drop kick the woman away and go back to napping.

This was all Luffy and Usopp's fault.

The crew had been docked on a tropical summer island for a few days, and for all of them, you and Zoro had gone down to the beach together and lounged in the sun—tanning, napping, eating, and drinking in rotation.

But on that particular day, the boys had whisked you away to go explore some cove they found on the beach's edge, leaving your swordsman to fend off the wolves by himself.

And at first, it wasn't that bad.

The girls that approached were polite and had pure intentions, and actually respected his wishes when he said he was uninterested.

But numbers four through eight?

Hell, the woman sitting next to him?

Less so.

"Are you deaf or somethin'?" he asked, brows furrowed as he sat up, not appreciating her comment at all. "I already told you, I'm not interested. So get lost."

"Oh, c'mon," she rolled her eyes with a laugh. "There's no way you actually have a girlfriend. No girl in her right mind would leave her man alone on a beach like this, especially if he was as handsome as you."

"Maybe that's why she's my girlfriend and you're not," he scoffed, sarcastically.

Her brow twitched, the remark clearly striking a nerve as her posture suddenly straightened, her sickeningly sweet tone turning sour in a second.

"Well then, maybe your girlfriend can step up and we can see who's really the shit," she spat, standing from her spot in the sand. "Since she's so fuckin' great, let's see how she fares in a fight."

A smirk rose to the woman's lips, her hand coming to rest cockily on her hip.

"I might not look it, but I'm this island's martial arts champion... And I've yet to lose a fight. So let's see how she does with her face in the sand."

Zoro paused a moment, almost disbelieving, lifting up his sunglasses and taking a breath to see if the woman was serious.

She was.

Deadly serious, actually.

'HA!'

The man threw his head back in a burst of uproarious laughter, the sound causing the woman to jolt with surprise, and slight fear.

She'd never seen his expressions range anything past annoyance, so seeing him so amused seemed almost uncanny, especially since he was nearly howling with hilarity.

But he couldn't help himself.

You, the woman with a bounty over one billion?

You, the woman with the devil fruit of the personified spirit of death?

You, the woman who has fought literal monsters with her bare hands?

Lose to a random martial arts lady on a peaceful summer island?

It was almost too much.

The woman's brows furrowed, face warming at the mockery.

"The hell's so funny?!" she huffed with a childish pout.

Attempting to regain his composure, he wiped a tear from his eye, slightly clutching his stomach as his laughs died down.

"She'd fuckin' kill you," he chuckled, shoulders bobbing. "Like actually."

Furious, the woman broke into a long-winded tirade about why she would win... or how badly you would lose... or something along those lines.

If he was being honest, he zoned out the moment she started talking, something more interesting seeming to catch his eye.

You.

Like a dog with a bone, he watched, mesmerized, as you made your way over, hips looking ripe and tender for the grabbing.

'Goddamn...'

After days in the sun, you'd developed a delectably smooth tan, the sunscreen you had him apply earlier giving your skin an alluring shine.

Eyes scanning over your body, he took in the light (f/c) of your bikini, which had a few complimentary, (o/c) flowers decorating its corners, along with the waist beads resting lazily over your stomach, not to mention the gold anklets and bracelets that littered your ankles and wrists.

You looked good enough to eat—a thought he didn't mind indulging in later.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" the woman continued pestering him, her hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

Huge mistake.

Faster than she could even see, Zoro grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand off and staring her down with a deadly glare, his patience long since run thin.

The woman froze, fear slowly creeping into her chest at the sharpness of his eyes.

He looked like he had half the mind to slit her throat right there.

"I'm only gonna tell you this one last time..." he warned, tone leaving no room for argument. "Get. Lost."

Roughly, he let go of her, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, scurrying back over to the safety of her friend's towel just as you arrived.

"Hey, Zo'!" you chirped, taking a seat on your swordsman's lap as you took a sip of your cocktail, which was in a cut-off coconut.

"Hey, pretty," he greeted with a smirk, placing a kiss on your neck. "Whatchu got there?"

"Some kinda coconut-rum drink," you answered, plucking the pineapple off the rim and taking a bite out of it. "The guy at the bar called it a Piña Colada."

Zoro nodded, "S'it any good?"

"Might be a bit too sweet for you," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But try it."

Leaning forward, he sipped a bit from the straw, his nose scrunching slightly.

It was incredibly sweet.

"Yeah, I figured as much," you giggled, amused by his expression as you took it back. "By the way, who was that girl that went running away from here? She looked scared."

Slightly, you leaned over to glance at her, who was sitting not too far away, and raised a brow as she quickly turned around, terrified by your gaze. 

'The hell?'

"Was she in trouble or somethin'?"

Zoro chuckled, knowingly, his hand sliding up your side to give your hip a lackadaisical squeeze. 

"Nah," he shook his head, finally leaning back and allowing himself to relax in the chair. "Just needed help takin' a hint."

"So... I miss anything while you were on your trip with Luffy?" Zoro asked with a smile, slowly gliding his oar through the sparkling ocean.

You lit up with excitement, suddenly reminded of the events of the day.

"I wish I dragged you along! You woulda loved it," you sighed, leaning back in your spot in the canoe. "Turns out this island isn't as peaceful as we thought. When we went to the edge of the beach, we found tons of monster-sized crabs and lobsters, all of them strong as hell."

You smirked, holding up your fist.

"Me an' Luffy made a game over who could beat the most, while Usopp kept count. And we ended up in a draw."

'Damn.'

That blew his day fighting off women right out the water.

He should've gone with you.

"What about you? Anything interesting happen while I was away?" you asked.

"Eh," he shrugged, moving his oar to the other side. "Nothin' worth mentioning. My day was honestly pretty boring."

But he was hoping to change that.

While you were gone, he found Nami and Robin on the beach, and managed to weave through theirs sea of admirers in order to ask some advice.

Things had been going really great between the two of you, and since you were always so good with surprising him with gifts and gestures, he wanted to try his hand at it.

Of course, he had no idea where to begin.

And while Nami was little to no help, spending most of the time talking his ear off about how brutish and hopeless he was, Robin recommended taking you out to the nearby cove for a romantic night.

So, after scrounging up his island allowance and buying some booze and a canoe, he swept you away, all of the day's tribulations fading to the back of his mind as he watched you sit down in his lap.

"Y'know, this is really sweet of you, Zoro," you smiled, your fingers carefully tracing the scar across his chest. "Makin' me feel all special..."

He nodded, eyes raking over your face with an almost analytical look.

God, you were so fuckin' pretty.

It was almost baffling.

If he wasn't in this canoe—

"Figured you deserved something nice," he cleared his throat, warding off the less than decent thoughts creeping into his head.

He couldn't keep the romance up if he was too busy thinking about jumping your bones.

But little did he know... you were thinking the same thing.

Shifting your position, you rested your knees on either side of him, smoothly moving to bury your face in his neck, placing firm, meaningful kisses on his flesh. 

Instinctively, the man leaned into your touch, one of his hands coming up to steady you at the small of your back, while the other continued to paddle.

Gliding your manicured hands up his body, you rested them on his strong shoulders, using them for purchase as you continued to nip at him.

His chest rumbled with a deep hum at the feeling, relishing in the way your lips felt against his pulse point, sucking a hickey onto his skin.

Yet, just as it was getting good, you pulled away with a soft pop, moving to obscure his view of the water.

"I'm blockin' you. You can't see. What're we gonna do?" you grinned, cheekily, continuing to move in front of him as he tried to peer around you. "Oh, my Gods, we're gonna crash."

He looked up at you with a small smirk and a raised brow, amused, as you continued your antics.

"Oh, no. What's gonna happen?"

Suddenly, his hand roughly pulled you into his side, a soft squeal leaving your lips as he chuckled, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and continue your kissing assault while his two hands returned to the oar.

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you peppered lazy kisses on his skin, your hand coming up to card through the hairs at the base of his neck.

Tenderly, Zoro placed a few kisses of his own on your shoulder, his eye perking at the sight of your destination.

Robin had given him impossibly thorough instructions on how to get there, which is the only reason why you two hadn't miraculously made it to the next island.

"Hey..." he lightly nudged you as the boat approached the shore. "We're here."

Lifting your head, you carefully flew out his lap, touching down on the dry sand as he hopped into the shallow water, walking around to the back and pushing the canoe onto the shore.

"Oh, wow," you gasped, in awe at the beauty laid before you. "This is beautiful! Look at the view"

The moon hovered over the water, making the waves crystallize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky.

The sea breeze wafted your hair and cooled the sweat on your body from the heat of the day.

It felt good to get away from people, the serenity too nice to put off.

Suddenly, Zoro scooped you up, you in one arm and the case of booze in the other as he began walking toward the cove.

"It gets better," he smirked, leading you over to where the tall rocks flattened out and arched upward, turning themselves into a natural cabana.

Placing you down, he quickly gathered some sticks from nearby, before bringing them back and starting a fire.

And as he did so, you couldn't help but marvel at his body, thick, corded muscle flexing and extending under his skin at each minute movement, looking delicious enough to bite.

And that wasn't the blood-sucker in you talking.

You sighed in contentment as you tipped your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above

Finishing up, Zoro plopped down beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side with a proud smile.

"Nice, right?" he chuckled.

You lazily nodded, wanting to stay there forever—among the water, stars, and him.

You peered up at him through your lashes, hesitant to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in them. And you let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head met the crook of his shoulder.

You embraced him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. 

There, you two stayed, holding each other, linked together like magnets.

"You smell nice," he murmured into your skin, taking a deep inhale of you. "Like coconut."

You smiled, shyly, warmth rising to your cheeks at the compliment.

And after a few silent seconds, he pulled away from you, his eyes dark as the night sky.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he stated, curtly, his gaze alight with enamor.

You didn't get to say a reply, too preoccupied with the lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was hungry, your lips moving against each other's like you both were starving for one another.

And you were.

You could tell Zoro wanted the same thing you did when his hands moved below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth.

He replied with his own grunt and pulled away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"I wanna see you," he stated, his voice a deep rumble.

There was a molten tenderness in his gaze that had you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he had in store for you.

So you stripped.

Catching the hint, your hands glided up your back, pulling the string of your bikini top and letting your breasts fall out of the cups, along with the strings to your bottoms.

Zoro's eyes raked over the sight of you as if you were a piece of art he was admiring in a museum.

"Shit," he softly hissed to himself, amazed at the sight of your brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimpered at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts, causing him to move on to other matters.

He leaned in and latched his lips onto one of your nipples, where he began to suckle on.

You threw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fell from your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, especially when Zoro began to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switched, giving your other breast the same treatment.

Your hands found his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the green strands.

You were ruining its somewhat even style, but he didn't seem to care.

He was more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice choked on a broken moan.

You couldn't take it.

All of this was going straight to your core, which was now throbbing and begging for attention between your thighs. 

"Please, Zo'..." you whined, gripping his hair. "I need you to touch me."

With a cocky smile, the man nodded, slowly leaning forward to lay you down in the sand.

Your eyes flitted up to the torch lit beach across the water, realizing any eagle-eyed person could come out and see you naked.

"Wait... what if someone sees us?" you asked, uncharacteristically timid.

A devious smirk rose to his lips, and he pressed a reassuring kiss on your lips.

"Let 'em... They'll be in for a show."

Gently, he pried your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet core.

You watched his face change from playful to downright feral as he stared at your cunt.

You flushed at his expression.

'Gods, give me strength...'

"Zoro, I'm serious—"

He shushed you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs.

"No more talkin', pretty," he growled against them. "All I wanna hear is my name on your lips."

He continued to pepper you thighs in kisses while his hands pinned your legs apart, his hold on you firm.

He didn't want you hiding from him.

And it felt good.

You didn't stop him when he dove right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he was making out with them.

It had been so long since the two of you'd gotten intimate like this, you nearly forgot the way the man worked his mouth.

Especially when he started to flick his tongue against your clit.

His tongue swirled around it and flicked it gently based on your responses.

And shit, you were responding well.

Your body couldn't help but react pleasantly to the sensations—your toes curling; your back arching; your eyes fluttering shut; your mouth falling open into an O as moans and gasps fell from your lips.

Zoro was not only good with his tongue, but good with his hands.

He reached up and played with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues.

"H-Harder, please!" you begged, to which he pinched the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the burst of pain making you gush all over his lips.

"Fuck, Zo'," you moaned. "That feels so good..."

Zoro hummed approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably.

"Keep feelin' good for me, pretty," he said between the wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. "Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head f'me."

Before you could even say anything, he was already tugging you closer by your ankle, earning a squeal from you.

He stood on his knees for a moment, taking you in.

His lust-blown eyes trailed up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you.

Then he inhaled deeply, as if struggling to process the sight in front of him.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," he huskily said.

You had no idea what to say to that.

All you could do was shyly smile up at him as he stared down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he was ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head.

This gave him better access to your pussy so he could easily tongue-fuck you.

As soon as you felt the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit you were in heaven.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your hands found his hair, gripping the blonde strands as your hips began to grind shamelessly into his face.

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed approvingly, keeping up the pace.

He didn't pause or slow down.

He continued to work your pussy just how you wanted, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It didn't take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you.

You couldn't help it.

His tongue just felt too good.

Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risque position turned you on more than you'd like to admit.

Zoro must've realized you were close because his jaw started to move fast, accompanying his tongue-fucking with porn-worthy grunts of his own that nearly threw you over the edge.

"Fuck, Zoro!" you whined. "M'gonna come!"

Eagerly, he hummed into your pussy, pulling his tongue out of your hole and proceeding to suck on your clit while his finger began to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides.

But it was enough to push you further and further down that road to releasing all over him.

His darkened eyes flicked up to yours, staring you down between your thighs.

"Come for me," he demanded. "Come for me, baby. Don't fuckin' hold back."

He grinned up at you, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

He attached his mouth to your pussy again, and ran it until you couldn't help but fall over the edge.

"Come for me," he groaned into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reached higher pitches. "Come for me. Come for me. Come for me."

And you finally did.

That tight knot in your core finally snapped and a wave of euphoria washed over you as you came all over Zoro's face and eager lips with a loud moan.

You saw the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushed, your body shivering and shuddering.

Your back arched and your hips widened into Zoro's face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally faded, you were left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so good.

Zoro lazily cleaned you up, taking care to not overstimulate you as he ran his tongue over your sensitive, twitching core.

Then he lifted his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices.

With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hummed to himself.

"You taste better than the rum."

[koralcove]

thinking about beach times with rafayel with a lover who loves the sea just as much as him.

rafayel who observes his beloved as they stroll through the sea shore as you pick up ocean trinkets – shells, sea glass, little washed up corals and colourful rocks. every found treasure is put into a little net bag for you to show off to him later, reminding him of lemurian kids who would proudly display to their parents their lucky finds of treasures from nearby shipwrecks.

rafayel who finds your enthusiasm of the sea endearing, amused by the way your eyes light up whenever he invites you over to celebrate a sea creature's birthday, because that would mean that you both would be underwater for it. your eyes would sparkle with wonder as it sweep over the aquatic world, fascinated by the vivid colours of corals and fishes nearby.

rafayel who would paint you views of sunsets in places he's been to where he thinks the colours look the most vibrant and the sky soothing. he recalls of a time when you looked out on his window, admiring the intermingling colours of the sky as the salty breeze sweeps over ever so slightly, the temperature dropping as the evening nears. he watches your face as the sun sets down, and whenever he's alone in the studio and the sky dances in different hues, he's reminded of the look of quiet appreciation on your face.

rafayel who's darling loves the water as much as he does, toes always dipping in the cold water of the shores as the waves lap up on your feet. the way you seem to be a natural in it, unafraid of swimming into the bottom with him and even venturing out too far whenever you get too enraptured with sight-seeing by the reef. you're lucky he knows his way around the undersea, and he's lucky that you're not a great swimmer as much as he is in case you decide to wander off again to who-knows-where.

rafayel who always fulfils your request to him singing ballads in lemurian, weaving into the air sweet melodies of his people as you both sway to the rhythm of the hammock he set up outside, knowing how much you love settling there. his heart soars when you ask him to teach you how to sing in his tongue, eager to know and understand his culture better.

rafayel who loves the healthy glow of your sun-kissed skin whenever you take beach strolls with him or play out in the water for too long. he loves the tan lines left behind, tracing over them gently and kissing them.

rafayel who loves the sight of your beach-themed room. collections of shells made use as decor, corals and rocks framed on your wall along with various starfishes scattered... even those handcrafted jellyfish lights and paper mached manta rays you stuck on your ceiling. and the next time he comes around, you and him paint an underwater mural with the sea creatures you like.

rafayel who adores your scent after a long day at the beach. the sea's saline scent clings to you paired with your own natural scent, making his nerves light on fire at the combination that he can't help but kiss you and give himself a small taste. you smell wonderfully like home.

[grahstumhurts]

2. Putting it into gear

Cheerleader!Megan x Loser Band Member!Reader

A/N Not proof read lol so it might have some weird wording and shit.

The late May air is starting to feel slightly humid and hot as it usually does by this time, Megan's waiting outside. Leaning on the side of the school fence looking effortlessly beautiful as she does.

“Hey” you greet her, “What did you need to talk about?” She looks up from her phone, then looks around behind you to see if people are watching.

“Look, I owe you an apology and-” 

“That's an understatement.” You cut her off. “Two years of ignoring me should get me something better than an apology”

“Just hear me out” 

She looks you in the eyes, Her pupils glistening with the caramelised apple colour it's always been.

“Please,” 

“Fine” You cross your arms in anticipation “You gonna tell me or what?”

“I need to fake date you, for friendship reasons I guess.” Obviously that stuns you, A girl you had a crush on for the past ten years of your life is suddenly asking you to fake date her. 

“What?” Your face contorts in a mix of surprise and confusion “Why me?”

“You're the only gay person I know, I’m trying to come out to them and they won't believe me till I date someone who fits their “Gay” vision” She sighs, her face portrays her obviously conflicted emotions. “Look its okay if you won't do it, You don't owe me anything especially since i abandoned you but at least sleep on it for me.”

She pauses, trying to read your face, noticing the slight differences in your eyes.

“I also needed to say sorry, I wasn't there when I promised I would be.” 

“I wont accept your apology for now, you need to earn my trust back, Megan.”

 You sigh at the dilemma, do you chose to help her with her fake dating thing, or do you leave her behind. 

“I’ll help you under one condition, We will stay friends afterwards.” 

You expect her to say no, the wavering tone in your voice saying so.

“Thank you so much, seriously I appreciate this. I owe you, N/n” She hugs you, Her scent lingering of fresh citrus and light berries. Her arms wrap around your waist, you instinctively wrap your arms around her shoulders.

“We need to figure out a plan for this whole situation.” You comment as you two break the hug, still feeling the lingering warmth of her. 

“Are you free this week to meet up?” 

“Tuesdays and Thursdays I meet up with my band, any other day we can meet up after school.”

“How about wednesday? I have practice, can you come watch and we can go somewhere after?” The thought of her friends seeing you makes your skin crawl as your reputation with these “Popular” people is not exactly great. Considering that you and Lara are the ones who stand up to Greg when he feels the need to degrade Yoonchae. You may or may not have gotten into some physical altercations with said Greg. 

“Sure, It’ll sell the idea that we are dating a bit more,” It’s a trade off that is worth it to make Megan happy. You shrug just as her phone rings, Her ringtone was not the same as the one you had remembered her to have. It had been her favourite song, Perfect Lover by Britney Spears. But now it's one of those default ones, Removing some of the personality from her.

“Yeah?"

"Oh, Okay."

"I’ll see you soon, Mom. Love you bye”

You can vaguely hear her moms voice throughout the quick phone call, her familiar tone isn't something you can forget easily. 

“You gotta go I assume?” you pick at your nails, “I can walk you home if you want?” You look up to her, trying to gauge her reaction through her body language. “Unless you dont want me to.. You know what forget i even said-”

“NO!” She suddenly cuts you off mid sentence “I mean, No” She clears her throat repeating her affirmation in a softer tone, “it’d be nice for my mom to see you again, She used to ask me about you all the time.” She presses her lips into a line, her face covered with embarrassment. 

“Lead the way,” You slightly smile at the thought that her mom still wondered where you had been all this time, She starts walking in the direction of her house. Making small talk to catch up on each others lives during the two years of absence, Your hands brushing together as you walk on the pavement.

“I missed you, you know that right?”

The smallness in her voice juxtaposes her usually large demeanour.

“I hoped you did,”

You chuckle slightly,

“I missed you too.”

“This is me,” she stops in front of the house you used to know, “You wanna stay for dinner? I mean you don't have to or anything.”

“Sure, It’ll be nice to say hi to your mom.” She leads you into her house, The recognisable scent of her moms cooking wafting into your nostrils. Filling your senses with memories of years prior. “Do we have to fake date in front of your mom aswell?” You tease her, Slipping off your shoes.

“Yeah, I guess so..” She replies nervously, just as her Mom wraps around the corner from the kitchen. “Hey, I brought home a special someone.” 

“Oh my gosh, YN! I didn't realise you were coming tonight for dinner.” She embraces you in a warm hug. “Feels like I haven't seen you in forever.” She lightly jabs at Megan with her elbow. 

“Just been busy with school work and college applications, you know how it is.” You lightly giggle at Megan’s mom’s actions. “Glad to see you Mrs. Skiendiel”

“Oh please, Yn. You know not to call me that, Just aunty is okay.” 

-

“Wow aunty, this is seriously delicious.” You moan as you wolf down the rice and pork on your plate. “I'm grateful that your cooking skills haven't deteriorated in the period I haven't seen you” You say in between bites.

“Im happy you like it, feel free to come over and eat when you want to, Honey” She chuckles

“Uhm Mom, We have something to talk about with you.” Megan’s words shift the energy at the table. You swallow your latest bite and glance at Megan, Giving her a reassuring look. 

“You guys are dating? I know, it's not that much of a shock.” Aunty takes the words out of Megan's mouth, “I've been patiently waiting when you two would realise your feelings for eachother. I have a standing bet with your mom, Yn.” She matter-a-factly comments,

“No funny business in my house alright?” 

“Yes aunty, I don't plan on doing anything with Megan till she's ready. Don't worry”

You try to clear the air quickly, Megan grabs your hand on the table. Interlocking her fingers with your ring clad ones, The slightly cold metal meeting her warm skin. The embarrassment of your words settling in with the two of you.

“I wouldn't dare hurt Megan, I hope you know that aunty.” You stupidly grin at her.

“I know, Yn. Just double checking, I know how you teenagers can be.” She lets out a deep sigh of relaxation. “I have some work to do. all I need you guys to do is the dishes, can you two handle that?” She squints her eyes at us, 

“Yeah, dont worry about it, Mom.” Megan stands and starts clearing the plates from the table, You follow her actions grabbing plates and silverware and bringing them to the sink in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be in the office working if you need me, Good night you two.” Megan’s Mom announces before the door closes.

“Oh my god i swear that was the most awkward i've been with your mom in forever.” You let out a deep sigh as you lean against the kitchen counter, Megan places down the rest of the dishes.

“Yeah no that was really awkward.” She giggles “Yes aunty i don't plan on doing anything with Megan till she's ready” She mockingly says in your tone of voice. You shove her shoulder lightly. 

“Come on lets finish the dishes, I rinse, you dry?” You stand over the sink, turn on the sink and scrub the dinner plates with a soapy sponge.

“Mhm, sounds like a solid plan” She hums, picking up the drying towel from the towel rack as you start to hand her some rinsed dishes. You cheekily smile to yourself as you get a devious idea. Megan is suddenly met with a warm splash of water from the sink head

“You did not just do that” She looks at you astonished, Mouth agape. “You little shit, Yn” 

“Such hurtful words require punishment” You giggle as you spray her with more water,

“What the fuck!” She squeals, feeling the water soak her shirt, “that's not fair, i don't have a sink to spray you too.” Suddenly it seems as Megan gets an idea for your payback.

“Come here, YN. Give me, your girlfriend, A hug. why don't you?” 

“No! I'm not gonna hug you, Meg. You gotta catch me first.” She roars with laughter as she chases after you in the kitchen. 

“Im gonna get you!” She loudly shouts, Running you into the corner of the kitchen.

“I’ve got you trapped now don't i?” She pants.

“I guess so, And what are you gonna do about it?”

You tease her, She pulls you into a wet hug “Eughhhh, it's so cold” You groan feeling her damp top spread the water on your shirt. She pulls away, Snickering at the sight of your now also damp shirt, 

“You get what's coming for you.”

“Can i atleast borrow a shirt or something?” You pull your shirt away from your chest to unstick it from your skin.

“Yeah, Come on. Let's go upstairs and dry off.” She grasps her hand with yours, Her nails graze your wrist. She drags you up the stairs into her room. You stare in awe, It looks similar to when you were last here but different at the same time.

“You took down the BTS posters?” You take a glance at her as she rummages through her closet for two shirts.

“Figured it was time to grow up i guess” She sighs and pulls out the shirts. 

“You sure it wasnt just your new friends pressuring you? Not that it really matters honestly, just curious.”

“Yes its fine, seriously, YN. I dont get whats your problem is right now, they were just posters.” She throws a purple oversized shirt at you.

“Just asking, No offence and all that” You exhale deeply, “Should i go to the bathroom and change or?” She just nods and you take that as your sign to leave the room.

You reenter the room and she's laying on her bed, Phone in hand. You knock on the door frame, she glances up then pats the side of the bed for you to sit down.

“Sorry by the way. Its not really my place to ask those types of questions.” You sit on the end of her bed.

“Its okay, I'm sorry too by the way. I overreacted a tad.” You observe as she hesitates to interlock hands, You take action as you interlock your pinkies together. 

"I guess i realized how much you've changed. And i guess i wasn't ready to fully realize it." You lay next to her, Brushing shoulders.

[kinardsevan]

motivation monday

one more, just because this is kind pouring out of me right now. more on words never said in a story that didn't end (aka, mel does a helicopter crash fic, but not the one I have planned quite yet).

-

They’re somewhere over the east ridge, about a mile off from the fire when the helicopter suddenly makes a sharp dock to the right and Evan slams his hand against the door, glaring over at Tommy. 

“What the fuck!?” 

Tommy glares back at him as he rights the chopper, getting them back on level flight. Evan narrows his gaze at the man, ire setting into his expression. 

“Did you do that on purpose?” He asks a bit incredulously. 

“I said now was not the time, Buck,” Tommy growls back at him. 

Evan huffs, his eyes widening at the other man. “Then when is, Tommy? Because it’s not like you’ve exactly made it easy in the past few months. You don’t reach out, you ignore calls, you bubble but don’t send any actual text messages. So when the fuck am I supposed to be able to tell you anything?” 

“What could there possibly be to say at this point,” Tommy bickers back. There’s a mild rattle from the helicopter, but Evan doesn’t notice it. “You’ve moved on, as you should. You’re better off without me anyway.” 

“And since when did you get to start making all the decisions in this relationship without me having any input on it all,” Evan argues. “It’s like you decided that whatever I feel isn’t relevant because you get the last word in it all, no matter how I feel.” 

Tommy glances over at him, his expression softened slightly. “Look, Buck-..” “And would you stop fucking calling me that,” Evan growls. “Buck is- is a fucking mask. It’s- it’s distance, a-and a shield, and separation between who I really am and the outside world. Any version of that for you died the first time I let you fuck me.” 

Tommy gulps at Evan’s statement, momentarily silenced at his words before he remembers that he had a point. 

“I- look, like I said, you’re still figuring out-..” 

“I don’t need to fuck other people to know I’m in love with you!” Evan growls at him. “So if there’s some god damn number, please name it so that we can circle back to this conversation.” 

Tommy looks over at him, completely speechless, and the helicopter docks again, sharper this time, and hard enough that their shoulders slam into each other. 

“Tommy!” Evan yells. 

Tommy’s breathing picks up and the way his blood flushes out of his face tells Evan immediately that it wasn’t the pilot who made that shift that time. Before either of them can say anything though, suddenly at least three different sensors on the dash are flashing and blaring with noise. 

“W-what-..” 

Tommy forces a breath down, swallows down the bile desperately trying to rush up his esophagus and pushes the button for the open line.

“Mayday. Mayday. This is pilot Kinard in rescue 1701. I have firefighter Buckley with me. We’re roughly a mile and a half off the east ridge and in distress. I have-..” He glances down at the dash again. “Losing altitude, trying to-..” 

“Tommy,” Evan repeats, panic rising in his voice. 

“Near the cliffs,” Tommy continues. “Trying to find a safer-… we’re going to need assistance. Evan!” 

Tommy’s hand fists around the collar of his turnout, yanking him as far over as he can. This close together, this close to the ground, there’s no hiding the panic in Tommy’s eyes. There’s also no way to hide the same look reflected in them Evan recognizes from every time he was this close to Tommy. 

“I love you,” he repeats, his heart surging in his chest. “I-I love you.” 

Tommy opens his mouth to respond, but they slam hard as the landing skids hit the ground and then the chopper is down with Evan slamming into the door, skidding across the cliff. And then silence. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

later, then | i. rin

�� tags ; gn!reader, pre-relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, rin in his actor era, assisstant!reader. this is sfw but i am an 18+ blog so minors do not follow me lol.

✮ wc ; 1.4k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @rabbbitseason that i had to rewrite a couple of times. i rlly liked being able to write something like this. i hope u like the direction i ended up going in sdjksdj

✮ synopsis ; on his last day of filming rin tried to keep you out of his thoughts.

"Rin-kun,"

He knows your voice well enough to know it's you before he even opens his eyes. "Hn,"

"We'll be shooting your scenes next," You say, tapping his shoulder lightly. "They told me to wake you up."

It's not like Rin to fall asleep on a set somewhere, no matter how tired he is. He's usually the type to push through it no matter what. It's petty, but it feels like he's lost otherwise.

He was exhausted before hand though. Months of shooting and he still can't get used to his schedule.

He's here from a morning flight from France that he took all the way back home to Japan. After he arrived, he immediately hailed a cab and busted ass to get here on time. He would normally rest on his journey but found he couldn't bring himself to actually fall asleep.

Professor Heartbreak is a Japanese TV drama (airing domestically lived and internationally on Netflix) and Rin's first acting role. The series follows a romance between a graduate student caught in a lot of debt and her relationship to one of her pupils, college student and heir to mega corporation.

Rin has never had any interest in acting, and had even less interest in acting in a romance drama. His manager however urged (read: forced) him to take the offer, emphasizing how good it would be for his public image among other things. Of course, Rin still declined but no matter what he did - he couldn't actually seem to get out of doing it.

He's off-season now though he started filming during. He can say with confidence there's nothing he likes about the job. No matter how much his manager or director insists that all he needs is to have a pretty face - there's still a level of annoying obligation he feels towards doing it.

The reception was more positive then they were expecting. Apparently Rin is a half-decent actor. He's not playing a character he feels is so different from him, if not much more cringe.

Rin plays the love interest Yukio. Not very expressive and rich with a tendency to chase what he wants. Generally aggressive about the female love interest.

It doesn't suit him and he doubts he'll do it again. But a lot went into getting the role. If he's going to do it at all, he might as well do it well.

Rin hates shit that's half-assed after all, lukewarm acting doesn't suit him.

Today is the last day of shooting and happens to be one of the last scenes. Shooting is sometimes chronological, but not always. Regardless, after today it'll be the last time Rin steps foot on this set. No more long nights, or trying to memorize lines, no more out of place press runs. The practice season will start again and he can go back to the busy he's been used to since the debut of his soccer career.

That also means it'll be the last time you and Rin spend time in the same room. It's the first thing he thinks of when you wake him.

Rin sits up and carefully rubs his eye, careful not to disturb the makeup he wears for set.

"When the fuck did I sleep?"

You laugh under your breath, handing him a water bottle like you already knew he would want one. He takes it from you and takes a long drink trying to wake himself up.

"Been a little over an hour. Hour and a half, maybe. Did you sleep okay?"

He scowls, just slightly. "It was fine."

"I'm glad you slept well," You add, voice full of mirth and amusement as you read between the lines said all too easily.

He was moody when he came on set with you, worse then normal and refused to sleep. You suggested he rest his eyes and Rin scoffed at you for thinking he's so stupid. He's not a kid you can trick into going to sleepy.

You conceded easily, made a single sly comment about hoping he's all there when it's his turn. It'd be a shame if he had to keep shooting the same scene and ended up home late after all. Enough of a provocation to submit to your stupid suggestion.

Rin supposes this was why his manager hired you in the first place. You're in a temporary position, your contract to be in place until filming is over and Rin's back on normal scheduling. Rin realized pretty early on that you're more like a glorified babysitter then an assistant which is why he didn't have very pleasant expectations of you at the start.

But you're competent. Push without pushing too far. Clever even when it's annoying. You've known each other for a year and the only thing that binds you is work but you're with him all the time. Maybe it's just the job, but it still feels like you know him better then most.

Not like he cares.

Realizing he was tired enough to sleep and goading him into doing it are two separate things though. But you've managed both pretty easily which he can admit is a feat. You're always like that. You remind him a little of another annoying striker in that way.

A quiet settles between you. Rin gropes around for his phone, checking his messages and the time. Still a few hours until the set wraps and no doubt social obligations afterwards. He groans.

"I'm going home after we're done shooting,"

"You can't," You say, apologetic. "Manager says you have to show your face during the after party."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense."

"You're the main male love interest, you should at least drop in for a little bit. Have a beer, unwind."

"I don't like drinking,"

"A soda then. Don't be so stubborn."

Rin huffs, carefully pushing a hand through his hair careful not to mess up the styling. There's a beat of silence.

"Are you going?"

"To the drinking party?"

Rin looks at you as if to ask isn't it obvious. You just chuckle.

"Why?" You tease. "Will you stay longer if I go?"

Rin pauses. And it's quiet for just a second too long before he realizes. You seem to understand the implication almost instantly.

Even before Rin who catches himself just a second too late.

"...I don't mind staying with you until you've filled your quota. If that's what you're asking." You supply.

Rin frowns, faint warmth creeping his neck. "Then do that."

You fight back a smile. "Sure, sure. What time were you thinking of leaving?"

"As soon as possible," He says bluntly. You laugh that time. Brightly. Sincerely.

"Seems like a waste. You can handle fifteen minutes without me, right? Doesn't feel like I need to go if we're gonna part ways so soon anyhow."

Rin pouts. A petulant, ugly feeling in him. He speaks without thinking. "You're saying it like we're never gonna see each other again,"

You both catch it.

"Are we?" You're grinning at him where you stand next to him, eyes cast down to look at his face. He fights off a blush but fails to keep from turning red. Fuck. "Seeing each other again, I mean."

He doesn't know what it is exactly that makes him answer the way he does.. "No shit."

You grin, beam really - and your fingers brush his hand on the couch. Rin jolts, clearly in deeper than he thought.

"Okay. Then let's go together and get something to eat after," You say, coy. "Since we're seeing each other again,"

Rin rubs a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Shut up. Fine. Whatever,"

You laugh again no longer hiding it. He hands his water bottle to you as he gets called onto set. Standing to his feet, he takes a breather to stretch out all his limbs.

You give him a mischievous smile, staring at him openly when something seems to strike you. Like you've just realized something.

"Rin-kun. Bend down a little. I need to tell you something."

Confused but not concerned, he complies without thinking.

You place your copy of the script strategically to obscure both your faces, and in a single split second - Rin feels something soft and warm press against his cheek followed by another giggle like a bell chime. He flusters, instantly scowling and tomato-faced and nearly cussing as you look so self-satisfied.

(Warm. So warm where you linger on his skin. Hot where you've touched him despite how brief.)

"For good luck. I'll see you later then. Knock 'em dead, okay?"

He curses under his breath before they call him one more time and he watches you disappear to go do the other half of your job. He puts his hand to his cheek and takes a breath.

Stupid. He closes his eyes and buries the explosion of feeling in him as he replies to no one in particular.

"Idiot."

[the-au-thor]

A Complete Guide to Delivering Bad News | Spencer Reid Blurb

"You're scared. I'm scared. But we'll figure it out—together."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning: click here!

You crossed the door softly, your steps as silent as a ghost. Even the usual clack of your heels didn’t echo through the living room like it normally would when you had something to say. But this time, you weren’t sure how to feel about it. That sharp, gnawing sensation of uncertainty weighed on you, as though the longer you delayed walking to the study, where Spencer was probably sitting and reading, the more time you have to solve that Rubik’s Cube. Yet, when you turned down the hallway and reached the study’s threshold, you realized it was less like a cube and more like a Penrose staircase.

Frozen in place, you stood just inside the doorway, clutching the straps of your bag tightly, already regretting your choice of heels. You watched him from the shadows in that gentle, looming silence—like some kind of deadly warning: break the stillness, and face the consequences. It was as if Spencer were a mythical beast, an ogre, perhaps, who would be angered by any interruption of his reading. But you knew better. He’d finish the book soon enough, lifting his gaze once it was done.

When Spencer read for pleasure, he took his time, savoring every page. But when it was for work or research, he read ravenously—devouring words, lines, and paragraphs like a starving predator. He absorbed them completely, committing every critical detail to memory. Not a single line was ever lost on him.

It only took him a few long seconds to finish his book before he closed it with an almost annoyed snap. He seemed frustrated—maybe the mystery remained unsolved, and that was bound to irritate him. Running a hand through his soft, slightly unkempt hair that was overdue for a cut, he finally lifted his eyes. His chocolate gaze settled on you, and you could see the surprise flicker across his face.

His hand rose to his mouth, his fist partially covering it—a thoughtful gesture you’d come to recognize as religiously Spencer. Behind his reading glasses, which he’d started wearing again after a mandatory work eye exam, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he saw something in you that he couldn’t quite name.

“Hey,” he greeted you simply. “Didn’t think you’d come by today.”

That was just how he was. Spencer didn’t bother with formalities or obligatory social niceties. No “hello” or “how are you.” He always went straight to the point.

For a moment, you forgot how to speak. Looking down at the tips of your stilettos, you let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I was nearby and thought I’d stop by to say hi. But you’re working on a case, so… obviously, it’s a bad time. I’ll just come back when we agreed.”

You faltered, retreating into your own nervousness.

You didn’t believe in irrational fears. Every fear had a source—either a clear, imminent danger or a subtle, buried trigger. Natural fears, like the instinct to flee from a hungry predator, were different from conditioned ones, like the rising panic in a crowded room with stifling air. Whether natural or induced, you couldn’t yet tell which kind of fear this was.

“Hey, no.” Spencer stood, crossing the room to you in just two strides. His hand gently wrapped around your arm, holding you in place as you glanced down at his touch. “You always do this—you show up, say something half-formed, and then you leave. You don’t have to come over just because it’s a day we planned. You know you can come by anytime, right?”

Your brow furrowed slightly as you shook your head.

“There are planned days because you work,” you replied. “And I respect your work too much to get in the way.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. Slowly, he leaned closer to you, his movements deliberate, testing, teasing. You knew what he was doing—he loved the control, the way he could make you feel completely his without even touching you.

It didn’t take much for you to melt into him. With Spencer, you felt like water—your boundaries dissolving, your willpower slipping. When he kissed you, it was as though every principle, belief, and argument you had vanished. You became something fragile yet intensely alive, caught in the paradox of being both deconstructed and reconstructed by him.

When his lips finally met yours, you surrendered, feeling his breath warm against your skin. Your eyes fell closed, not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was a way to shield yourself from the overwhelming rush of it all, or maybe it was your body’s instinctive attempt to hold onto the feeling, locking it inside where it couldn’t escape.

But then something snapped—you realized it was you, shifting closer to him, pulling him to you as your hands clung desperately to his frame. The fear coursing through you drove you into his arms, like this might be the last time you’d let yourself do this.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind. His hands moved from your cheeks to the small of your back, gentle yet unyielding, like he was afraid of breaking you but couldn’t resist the pull to touch you.

He always touched you. When you ate together, your feet would inevitably find each other beneath the table, a playful connection. On rare, rainy afternoons spent watching TV instead of him reading aloud to you, your legs would tangle in an unspoken agreement of intimacy. Even in the quietest moments, when you rested beside him, he would absentmindedly brush his fingers along your shoulder or twirl a strand of your hair around his finger, completely unaware of how tethered he kept you.

As his hands returned to your cheeks, you knew the kiss was ending. He pulled back, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses to your lips before stopping altogether. His smile brushed your forehead as he rested his lips there, lingering for a moment before taking your hand.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, his tone light. “I was working on some research for an old case that’s been reopened. The FBI wants every department to solve at least one old case. But I could use a break—you have great timing.” His eyes sparkled with intensity as he lifted your entwined hands to his lips, kissing your fingers. “How about Chinese takeout?”

Your stomach churned at the suggestion, bile rising at the back of your throat. Normally, you’d say yes, but today, the thought of eating anything made you shake your head. You stopped him halfway down the hall, unable to speak as a tight knot formed in your throat. The words were there, tangled, trapped, unable to escape.

"I need to tell you something."

You couldn’t look him in the eye, so you focused on the undone buttons of his blue plaid shirt. He wore a gray vest over it, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Normally, you’d call it formal, but on him, it was quintessential. Spencer Reid simply wouldn’t be Spencer without his signature style.

"Hey," he whispered, dropping his smile and replacing it with a worried expression, as if your single sentence had triggered his defenses "What is it? What’s wrong?"

You lifted your gaze, realizing your eyes were clouded with unshed tears, ones you didn’t want to let fall but knew would eventually betray you. You hated being the cliché of the girl who cries before saying something important, but there you were. You also hated how you couldn’t rein in your emotions.

You’d tried convincing yourself to see him as just another man you had to interview. That didn’t work. Then you told yourself: He’s older than yoy; he can only ever be your friend. And finally, you can’t love him. And yet, here you were, in love with him, tears threatening to spill over because of him.

"I’m so sorry," you said, pulling your hand free from his.

You wanted to hold on, to cling to him like your lungs clung to air. But touching him only made it harder. Touching him hurt. Looking at him hurt. Loving him hurt.

When you looked at him again, his expression was pained. Spencer couldn’t help it. His job sometimes required him to mask his emotions, and though he had the ability to do it at will, he never did so with you. He allowed himself to be vulnerable around you, and that made you feel even worse. You wanted to give him the same, but your defensive nature always got in the way, tugging at you like two ends of a rope being pulled in opposite directions.

"Why are you apologizing? Seriously, love, you’re scaring me"

Spencer covered his mouth with his hand, studying you thoughtfully. He was trying not to analyze you—you could tell. He always made an effort because he knew how much you hated being read. He had told you before that he preferred hearing things directly from you when you were ready, instead of taking what was yours to give.

You, on the other hand, nervously tucked your hair back and glanced around again, as if the vase, the mirror, or the coffee table might lend you courage. But if courage came, it would have to come from within.

"I know," you stammered. "And I’m sorry for that too. Normally, I’m good with words, you know that, but..."

"Hey," he said again, softly, stepping closer and gently cradling your face to make you look at him. When his kind brown eyes met yours, part of you calmed, finding solace somewhere between the dark freckle in his iris and his pupil. You closed your eyes to shut him out. You didn’t need solace; you needed the dizzying unease to summon the courage.

"You know you can tell me anything," he paused, giving you space to speak, but you didn’t. "Love?" he called again, but you couldn’t answer. Not if the first thing you’d see upon opening your eyes would be him. "Is it really that bad?"

That’s when the first sob escaped you. It wasn’t intentional, but it was the release of all the panic bottled up over the past two weeks and three hours. Two weeks of sleepless nights, subpar work performance, and the subsequent three hours of pure anguish and tension. Nothing about this was okay.

"If I tell you, you’ll hate me," you said, muffled against the fabric of his vest as he embraced you.

Spencer’s hands traced soothing circles on your back and nape, but he tensed at your words. You’d expected that. You were being so ambiguous he could’ve easily imagined you were about to tell him you had mere months to live. You couldn’t help it. That flickering fear ticked away like the seconds on a time bomb, and your tears continued to flow, defying your determination to hold them back.

"I could never hate you," he said with the certainty of someone stating that grass is green and water, when liquid, is wet. "The only way to deliver bad news is to just say it."

"I can’t do it."

"Then pretend you’re a doctor, and I’m your patient. Follow the protocol," he suggested. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, trying to calm yourself despite the tears that kept falling.

"What’s the protocol?"

"First, the doctor must keep their emotions in check."

You scoffed.

"I already failed at that."

Spencer chuckled.

"Alright, let’s move to step two: practice ahead of time what you’re going to say."

"I did," you nodded, sighing as you tried to breathe normally through your sobs. "But I forgot everything."

"That’s okay. Step three: make sure the environment is pleasant and safe."

You glanced around. Still in the hallway, it was safe but far from pleasant. You stepped back, slowly pulling away from Spencer, and led him to the living room, sitting him on the plush sofa. Instead of taking a seat beside him, as you would’ve preferred, you sat across from him. The space between you felt like a chasm. Spencer looked at you attentively, restraining himself, when it should’ve been you—the one delivering this ethical "protocol"—who was calm.

"What’s next?"

Admittedly, it was more an excuse to stall the inevitable than genuine curiosity, but Spencer had started this game with his suggestion, so you felt he should guide you through it.

"Choose the right moment. Is this really urgent?"

You nodded quickly, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your cardigan and trying to stop the tears, even as more threatened to replace the ones you’d just dried.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Then the next step is to look the person in the eye and explain everything without overcomplicating it,” Spencer instructed.

Without thinking, you automatically looked at him, your expression contorted in pain as you blinked rapidly to chase away the tears.

“Okay,” you said, your voice breaking into a hushed whisper, but he heard you clearly. “Well… two weeks ago, I had that episode, remember?”

Spencer nodded, his eyebrows lifting in alarm at the memory.

“Yes, but you said it was stress from finals. I insisted you see a doctor. Stress can cause fainting spells, but there’s usually an underlying reason. I would’ve felt much better ruling out anything serious.”

You nodded slowly.

“I went to the doctor this morning.”

Suddenly, Spencer’s expression turned as pale as rice paper. A tremor ran through him, and you could sense it even from where you were sitting.

“It’s not serious… is it?”

His chin quivered with acute panic as he looked away, avoiding your eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

You gave yourself five seconds to muster the courage, then let it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a sharp, ringing sound—like a clap too close to your ear that left you dazed and half-deaf. Then came the dreaded silence. You could hear the ticking of the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall, the streetcars outside, even the construction at the end of the avenue. It all swirled around you, as if every small noise now existed inside the room. Even your heartbeat thundered loudly, like a persistent panic alarm inside your chest.

This was what you had feared the most: his silence. You would’ve preferred if he’d yelled, growled, or outright refused to be a father. But his silence was so calm it became deafening.

Minutes passed, and you started to feel suffocated, restless. You fiddled with your hands, glancing at your pale pink-painted nails. You wondered how long it would take before your fingers swelled so much your rings wouldn’t fit. You also questioned if you could do this alone.

You liked kids, and your job would allow you to spend time with a newborn without risking your career. You’d had great parents, who would undoubtedly make excellent grandparents. Your mom—above all—would probably be the first in line outside your apartment, ready to be your main support system.

But you wouldn’t have Spencer, and the baby wouldn’t have a dad.

Life without Spencer… you’d never considered that as a possibility. And you were the type of person who sat down and analyzed every possible option.

Hot tears burned your eyes again, and you decided this was the end of it. You wouldn’t break down in front of your baby’s father. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed the bitter saltiness of your tears and stood slowly, smoothing your cardigan and your hair.

When you finally looked at Spencer, you were startled to see his face filled with distress, still seated in the same position. His eyes were brimming with tears, and he barely seemed aware that you’d moved.

His gaze rose to meet yours, and he finally spoke.

“Do you promise?” he asked in a whisper.

Under different circumstances, you might’ve made a sarcastic comment, but you didn’t have the energy to joke. Instead, you nodded silently.

“I just found out this morning. Honestly, I didn’t even suspect. If it hadn’t been for the fainting and nausea, I wouldn’t have gone to the doctor. My cycle was even normal last month.”

“Yeah, that can happen sometimes. It’s called implantation bleeding. It occurs when the fertilized egg moves into the uterus,” he said, shrugging, “in simple terms, of course. But sometimes… it could be something else. Did the doctor say anything more?”

Your hand rested on your stomach, as it had done instinctively since you’d learned the news. You couldn’t feel any difference, but you knew something tiny was growing inside you.

“They said everything’s perfect, but I have to go back in a few weeks for my first ultrasound.”

Spencer nodded, and for a moment, you wanted to shake him, to force out the words you needed to hear. But you decided to give him the time he needed to process the news.

He frowned, looking confused.

“Why were you scared?”

That word unlocked the fear you’d been holding back, and the heat of fresh tears returned to your eyes.

“Because it wasn’t in the plan,” you mumbled, feeling your nose start to tingle, your chin trembling again. “God…” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and shook your head. “We don’t even have a plan.”

Spencer stood from the couch and pulled you gently toward him, cradling the back of your neck in his hand as he kissed your forehead tenderly.

“I know I said I was being careful, and I was, I swear,” you sobbed, finally letting your fear and sadness pour out. “But I don’t know what happened. The gynecologist said it could’ve been something like a certain food. Even with the most careful use, the pills only have a…”

“98% effectiveness. I know,” Spencer interrupted, stepping back just enough to wipe your face and study you carefully.

You felt like a mess. The tears had left you congested, but none of that seemed to faze him.

“I think I was more prepared for you to explode about it than to act all understanding and loving.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m always understanding and loving.”

You bumped your forehead lightly against his shoulder, embarrassed by your outburst.

“I know. But you once said you were afraid of having kids. You said it was because of your mom…”

“I know what I said,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His warm breath brushed your skin like a caress. “But I didn’t really mean it. I’ve always wanted kids.”

“Really? But what about me? I’m not even sure I’m the woman you’d want to have a family with. I’m so younger than you, and I know that bothers you, even if you don’t say it. Then there’s your job. And I’m not… you know, cool or a badass. I don’t hunt serial killers for a living.”

Spencer laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that made you step back with a frown.

Here you were, spilling your insecurities, and he was laughing in response.

"That’s never mattered to me," he said, shaking his head. Honestly, it’s a relief you don’t “hunt serial killers for a living.” I’d spend my life worried sick about you."

You frowned harder, scrunching your eyebrows together so much it almost hurt.

"Like I do for you all the time."

Spencer nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You’re amazing. The kindest, most caring, thoughtful, and intelligent woman I’ve ever met. “Cool” is honestly the simplest word I could use to start describing you."

He took your hands in his, his eyes dropping to them as he smiled faintly, shaking his head in thought.

"Sometimes, I’m scared that one day you’ll realize you could do better than someone as damaged as me and leave."

You gently pulled your hands free from his and stepped closer, cupping his face in your palms. Your fingers traced the small creases at the corners of his eyes and the ever-present shadows beneath them. You tried to think of something you’d change about him, but nothing came to mind. You shook your head firmly.

"If I wanted to be with someone else, I would be. I’d never play games with your feelings, and you know that," you said with a smile. "I don’t care about your traumas. Do you care about mine?"

He shook his head, his typical shy smile appearing as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"The only reason I ever think about our age difference is because I worry that one day I won’t be able to walk as fast as you."

This time, you were the one to laugh.

"Then I’ll walk slower."

You knew people who had larger age gaps in their relationships. The only reason it ever came up between the two of you was because a few others had noticed. Sixteen years wasn’t that much, and even if it were, it had never really mattered to you. You were 28, and Spencer was 44—a fact that might have concerned others, but for the two of you, it was just a number.

Spencer ran his hand along your arm, his fingers stopping to rest on the hand you still had on his cheek. He smiled softly.

"I can’t imagine a better woman to start a family with than you. And I know the undefined nature of our relationship must’ve worried you."

"What are we going to do?" you asked quietly.

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, first, I guess we’ll have to start looking for a house with a yard," he said, glancing around the room with a laugh "We’ll tell our friends and our parents."

His expression grew somber at that last part, and you immediately understood why.

"Your mom is going to be an amazing grandmother, whether she knows it or not. The baby will know. And we’ll be there to help her remember. I know that."

He nodded, his eyes glistening with emotion, before his smile returned.

"I’m sorry I was so scared. I must’ve scared you too."

He sighed and chuckled, sitting back down on the couch. But instead of letting you stay standing, he pulled you down with him, wrapping you in his arms and encouraging you to lean against him.

"I thought the doctor had found something strange or serious," he admitted.

You laughed softly.

"I didn’t know how to tell you. We’ve never talked about relationships or kids—except that one time you mentioned schizophrenia and I panicked."

"Next time you have a pregnancy scare, I want to be involved. I don’t want you going through that alone."

You frowned, looking up at him in mild surprise.

"I’m barely two months pregnant, and you’re already thinking about another one? You’re insane."

He groaned in mock protest.

"An only child? I was an only child, and I was constantly bored."

"And I’m the middle child with three siblings on either side. Let me tell you—sometimes it’s better to play alone"

"Four," he countered with a grin.

"Two," you replied, negotiating with a smile.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Three, and that’s my final offer."

[junedenim]

wrap my head around it all

a whole new thing

warnings: it's just fluff

word count: 3k

You're eating a bagel. He's drinking a cup of coffee. There's an ache that's been relieved. It feels this way whenever he comes home and he's been home for a month now but he still feels just how good this is, looking across at you as you scarf down a bagel so quickly he fears you'll choke.

"It isn't going anywhere." He chuckles at his own joke. He's ashamed of himself, you don't have to tell him.

And you know that. You wipe your hands on a napkin and throw your head back with a groan. "I'm so hungry."

He grins. "Do you want me to get you another one?"

You hum in thought, taking your time like you're concentrating on solving world hunger. Then, you sigh, your shoulders slumping as your hands return to what remains of your bagel. "No. I'll spoil lunch."

He chuckles and rests his head in the palm of his left hand. His gaze is soft and relaxed, focused on you. "I hate to break it to you but we're way past noon. That is your lunch."

You whine and rub the cream cheese off the corners of your mouth. "Fine. Then, I'm spoiling dinner. How would your parents like it if I didn't eat anything?"

He laughs at your worry and picks up his cup of coffee, dragging a sip from it. "I think they'll understand. Plus, I highly doubt you won't be hungry by dinner time."

Your shoulders slump as you chew the remains of your bagel. "I know, it's dreadful. This constant state of hunger I've been forced into."

"We all appreciate it," Alex assures, hiding his amusement from your frustration. "At least you're not retching every 20 minutes."

You lean back in your chair and drop the dirty napkin with the rest of your bagel's trash. "Small favours, huh?"

"Do you want me to get you another one?" Alex offers again. His attentiveness to you has only grown through the years. Perhaps, now, it's at an all-time high. But he likes being able to take care of you. It's the least he can do.

You shake your head. "No, I'd like to walk around a little now." It's cold, windy, and slightly raining. People are rushing into the cafe from the cold, but you want to walk around in it. He supposes there is where you lose him but he'll tighten his coat, put on a hat, and slip on some gloves if it's what you want. Besides, if it'll stop you complaining about how hot the cafe is then he can't complain.

He fixes the askew hat on your head and opens the door for you. As you two walk down the street, he places his hands in his pockets, forming a loop of his arms. You slip your arm through it, tugging him close, brushing your side up against his. "It's going to rain all week," Alex comments on the weather patterns.

"I like it when it rains." You are smiling through the gloom. In that smile, there's a lifetime of love and it is so strange that it feels so normal for him to feel this way. It was never a gradual thing. It was sudden the first time you talked to one another and he felt that he could reach out to you and you would never push him away. Silver lining is cheesy but all that tension he builds throughout his life is somehow relieved in the glimmer of your teeth.

The mundanity is the craziest. Everything felt like it had to be a big show of things. He had to slick back his hair and play make-believe in every moment but now, it's a sigh of relief. To come home to someone—to come home to you and not have to play pretend anymore. To roll out of bed and not have to decide who to play today, instead, decide where to go for breakfast.

Maybe it's getting older, but he thinks it lies in learning the importance of caring for someone else. He always has with his friends and family and past girlfriends but there's something different here. It's him relinquishing himself to that, allowing you to look after him. To wake up and find you've made coffee or come home and find you've bought him a new shirt. It's simple. Doing the laundry, cooking dinner, grocery shopping. It's so dull but in fact the greatest thing ever. That feeling has only grown as of late.

"Where are we walking to?" He asks.

You shrug and look over at him. "I don't know. We could...window shop or...," you think, tapping your finger on your chin, "go to the park or—"

"In the rain?" He questions, an eyebrow raised.

You smile and lean closer to him. Something you know gets him all twisted up around your finger, and you are willing to do anything you decide. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he reasons, but the grin is already playing on his lips and light chuckles ripple through him as your lips grow closer and closer until you're hovering over his.

"Fine," you decide, shocking him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm cold," you declare. You cuddle closer to him all pouty. It's the way you've been as of late whether the cold of winter or your hormones. "Let's go baby shopping."

"Baby shopping?"

"Yeah, we haven't really done it yet and we could look for cute itty bitty baby clothes," you reason.

The baby is new. Or rather the pregnancy. It's the reason for dinner with his parents. It wasn't planned but it wasn't unplanned. You'd been together for years, married for two, and, well, you, him, and baby makes three. 

You found out a couple of weeks ago. It's changed things for him with the whole caring thing. He's always cared, obviously, but now he finds himself interested in every little aspect of the pregnancy. He'd never thought he'd be that guy who reads the books and talks to your stomach (which you don't know about, he's too embarrassed to do it while you're awake), but things change and he'd never thought he'd be a father but here he is walking into a baby clothing store to buy clothes for his—well, your—baby. 

He still hasn't processed the whole "baby" part of things. He knows there will be a baby but he can't yet imagine having the baby. You being pregnant doesn't even quite feel real yet. You're barely showing and he only feels it might be real when he talks to it. That feels weird to call it it. But he's tried calling it he or she but that's a mouthful. You don't like him calling it it so he started calling it names. 

First, it was normal. "Mary," "John," "Elizabeth," "James," but you didn't like that either because the baby didn't have a name. The baby hasn't even developed that part of them yet. So, he calls it "tot," "bug," "pumpkin," and his personal favorite, "the fetus." You're not sure why but he makes him laugh. Maybe it's the boyish part of him that still thinks boobies are the coolest thing ever.

"Should we really buy clothes if we don't know the gender yet?" He asks as you search through the girlish items.

"A baby isn't modeling for the cover of Vogue. We just need to find an outfit to take the baby home in. A hat and a onesie." You pick up a cute pink one with little pink bows printed across it. "Look how cute and small this one is."

"What if it's a boy?"

You roll your eyes. "Real men wear pink, you know that better than anyone."

He chuckles. "Touché."

You point the onesie back and state, "Besides, we're probably going to have a girl anyway. My family is filled with girls."

"Well, my family has guys," Alex points out.

"What? You?" You laugh at him. "Yes, statistically your parents did have 100% guys."

"Shut up," he mutters as he comes closer and lands a kiss on you. There are the moments that count, that are embedded and embossed deep into his mind. They are small but mighty. It's right up there with shopping for a new shower curtain. It's stupid but it's real. Arguing over whether it should be flowers or ducks (he really wanted the ducks for some reason). You compromised with polka dots, not that that part matters much. It was more doing it with you. He doesn't know why other than it's fun and he loves you. 

You move further down the aisle, looking through bees, princesses, and truck designs. "The baby will be born in August. What screams August to you?"

"Sweat," he replies.

"Be serious," you urge him, your eyes staring strongly at him. He can feel the pupil blaze through him like a laser.

"I am," he says, "I think of sweating, the heat, sun."

"Aw," you coo as a smile grows on your lips. "Cute little suns and if we have a son then it'll be like son and sun. Get it?"

He smiles down at you, struggling to process all of this. "Yeah, I get it." A son, a daughter, a child. It knocks him off his feet. He gets hit with these waves. It's nerves but it's also excitement. The idea that a baby will be in that small onesie. A part of him will be in the world, running off, getting into nonsense. He has a few years until that. Hopefully, he'll catch up by then.

You buy the onesie with suns on it and leave after that. There will be plenty of time to spend plenty more money at the store but for now, you head to the bookstore next door. It's small with aching floors and dusty shelves. You're just trying to kill time until dinner and this seems like a good place to start.

You drag him by hand to the children's book section because despite it being another few years until the baby can read, but you like the idea of reading to the baby every night, even if they can't understand a word of what you're saying. Between Madeline and The Giving Tree, you say, "You know, these are the last couple of months of our lives, it'll be just the two of us."

He picks up Curious George, distracting himself by looking through the pictures. "You say that like you want me to panic."

"No," you assure him, placing your hands on his shoulder, giving them a squeeze. "This is such a special time in our lives. We'll never experience something like this again. Shopping for our baby, nervous, scared, anxious, happy, excited. And I get to do it all with you."

He shakes his head and puts Curious George back on the shelf, turning to you. "You really have a gift."

"What?" You ask eagerly.

Alex takes your hands off his shoulders and squeezes them. "Nothing. You just always know how to make me feel better."

"I know it's hard for you to believe but it goes both ways. I'm panicking too, you know? I have to push a whole human being out of me."

"I know. How selfish am I to be the one who's scared."

"No. It's perfectly reasonable. It's a life-changing thing that'll cry, poop, pee, and spit all over you. I guess, I just take comfort in knowing I have you to hold my hand."

He takes a deep breath and tries to let the stress go. "You're going make me cry next to Harold and the Purple Crayon."

"Well, this is my way of guilting you into changing all the diapers so it works out pretty good."

Alex then gets carried away by a Batman Lego set and despite the knowledge that it can't be anywhere near a child until it's no longer a choking hazard. Perhaps, it's more for Alex than the baby. He doesn't get it because he doesn't want to carry it around for the rest of the day but he's not saying he won't come back for it.

You leave with Harold and the Purple Crayon for memory's sake. The rain has stopped but the wind is still cold and the pavement is soaked wet with puddles. You huddle close together once again.

Alex asks, "Are you cool with the whole giving birth thing?"

You laugh at him. "I don't have much of a choice. Why? Do you want to try?"

"If I could, I would."

"No, you wouldn't, but I appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it's kind of cool. A special thing that only I get to experience. I mean, the thing is growing in me, that's crazy but cool."

"Yeah, the tot is a part of you."

You hum. "I want french fries."

He smiles. "Okay. I could go for a burger."

Fast food being on every corner does have its conveniences. McDonald's is warm, separating you from the world's chill. "My mother had short labours. How long was your mother in labour for?"

"I don't know. You can ask her at dinner."

"I'm definitely getting an epidural. I don't care if it slows the process down. You know I'm in pain from just a headache. I wouldn't survive natural labour."

"Good thing for modern medicine."

"If it was the 1800s you could just give me a bunch of morphine and knock me out."

"I'll tell them to have some ready for you."

You sit in a booth that is mildly sticky but he'll ignore it if it'll ease your feet. He bought the large fries with the intention of it being shared between the two of you but instead, you take it for yourself. He enjoys his burger.

"We should have gotten a Happy Meal," you joke, dipping the fry into the ketchup pile. 

He smiles because despite being freaked out 99% of the time, the 1%—the idea of doing things like this, buying a Happy Meal for his kid—outweighs it all. "Yeah, would've gotten a cool toy too."

"Well, as long as you eat your apple slices." You smile up at him and he blushes. He's been with you for so long and yet he still gets flushed under your gaze, lost in your eyes, falling in love over and over again. It's cheesy and cliche, but that doesn't make it untrue.

He steals a fry away and asks, "What should we name the tot?"

You shake your head. "No clue. Is it weird that that is what terrifies me the most?"

"No, they're going to carry it around with them for their whole life. It's the first major life decision we’ll make for them. Well, after, you know, making them."

You giggle at him with a mouthful of fries. "Yeah. If it's a boy should we name it after you?"

"God no." There doesn't need to be another Alex Turner in the world. That would make things far too confusing.

"What about for a middle name?"

"Nah, the kid is already getting my last name."

"Should we go away? Like a babymoon or whatever it's called?" You ask.

"Sure, if it's anything like our honeymoon." You went to Bora Bora. You didn't see much of Bora Bora. It was your hotel and the water pretty much of which Alex insisted on giving an equal show of things, which you'd be mildly embarrassed by if you weren't so turned on by it. Besides, you came back with no tan lines.

"Shut up," you wish upon him.

He laughs because he really is just a teenage boy who still finds sex to be funny. But it's a lovely sight to see with the crinkle by his eyes and the smile lines forming. You always like him like this. He can be moody and pensive a lot of the time. When he laughs, it feels like he fully lets go, if only for a moment. 

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"A cottage in the woods or something. I don't know. I might be too pregnant to fly by the time we do it."

"You're going to be so cute with a belly."

"Please don't turn into some pregnancy fetishist, Alex," you warn him.

And, no, he won't be going up to pregnant women on the street and asking to touch their bellies but there is something inherently attractive about you being pregnant. It's probably some biological design.

"I can't help it if I want to fuck you."

"Alex!" You scold looking around the McDonald's in shame. Much wilder things have been said in places like this but you still turn red whenever he gets suggestive, especially in this vulgar way like some need has overtaken him and he needs to have you right now. Like he'll take you on the red paint-chipped table. 

He chuckles and bites into his burger. So nonchalant in every way like nothing affects him. It's easy for him to be casual about these things. He's pretty sure a corner of his brain is thinking about things like that all the time. He's pretty sure he thinks of your boobs every night before bed and wakes up thinking about your ass. Again, he's pretty sure it's that inherent biological man thing.

"In a couple of months, you'll be so pumped full of hormones you'll want me to fuck you in the bathroom of this place."

You reach across the table and start smacking him but he just laughs more and more, getting a real kick of this. "Will you shut up?" Truthfully, you kind of want to go jump his bones now.

*

a/n: sigh, just a little something for now. trying to write more but my finals have been a bitch. but winter break is soon...

[soulrox]

DPxDC # -19 Worldbuilding

This is a cumulation of a few prior post ideas and new ones altogether. I'm truly building how Amity Park could be affected by ghosts.

Lady Amy is the city spirit of Amity Park. She had started to come into being during the witch-hunting era of Amity. But until the portal was opened she was an invisible observer of her citizens, unable to truly interact. Lady Amy quickly gained more presence thanks to the constant supply of clean concentrated Ecto coming from the portal.

Daniel Fenton a child who lived and died, but still lives, a half-life, is the one she cares for the most. A child so young is heavily burdened thanks to his own parents' actions/inactions. She helps Danny by making sure his parents and the G.I.W. are unable to hit him. Nudges the shots just slightly so they miss. Helps guide him to safe areas away from people when he's overwhelmed. Danny would be the first person she would speak to.

Years down the line after the G.I.W. has been taken down, Lady Amy really comes out to play. (Good fention parent reaction? or run outta town?) The citizens of Amity Park have learned the truth about ghosts and the Infinity Realms thanks to Danny being crowned king. Lady Amy would tailor her city to suit the needs of her liminal citizens. Ghosts from the Realms would be welcome to live in Amity Park as long as they followed the rules.

The coliseum (#14) is the best enrichment for her citizens. They truly love being able to let loose and fight each other. The ghosts from the Realms also love being able to fight. Several ghosts would jump at the chance to teach others how to fight, shoot, and defend themselves. Pandora would teach a class once in a while.

Animal races would also occur in the Coliseum. Otherworld animals that are the earth's equivalent of horses.

All the schools in Amity would have way more classes thanks to the Ghosts. There would definitely be thousands of teachers in the Realms and giving them the option to teach again to those who would actually like to learn, would be so exciting. Different cultures, races, species, languages and they wouldn't all be even from Earth. (#18) The Infinity Realms are infinite after all. People of Amity would have such a diverse amount of knowledge.

The skateparks would include low-gravity sections to better help people practice new tricks without worry.

The library would be overhauled thanks to Ghost Writer. There would also be added events and programs curated by ghosts. Little old ladies from all walks of life living or not creating knitting groups or otherworld equivalents.

The hospital is taken over by Frostbite and those from the Far Frozen. Only the best practices and medical procedures occur. Getting hurt is harder for liminals but the coliseum gives them the most patients. Veterinarian clients are also overhauled by ghosts.

Lady Amy would create huge treehouses spanning several trees. Making its own little city in the trees. Undergrowth when he took over for a bit had the unintentional side effect of having several citizens connect to the green. And being liminal they would connect really well with the green. They would love the treehouse-style living.

Different sections of the city are dedicated to other styles of living. Like the treehouse area, there are Kryptonian-style buildings, Martian-like areas, a huge lake, and many others. The lake houses many aquatic living and non-living species that would have their own underwater village. The schools would host field trips to each area to show in person the different types of architecture and cultures.

The cuisine available would triple. Lady Amy would do her best to grow all the needed fruits and vegetables for the otherworld cuisine. If she is unable to acquire the seeds herself she would ask Danny. Danny would travel to the other planets (yay space travel) or time travel to obtain it. Animals would also be obtained and looked after by the correct ghosts corresponding to that species of animal. Living people would be taught to care for the otherworld animals too. Lunchlady would be so excited to learn about other healthy foods.

The local channels would host a variety of shows. Ghosts reenact their lives, plays from other worlds, and songs from around the universe. Documentaries on anything and everything. True crime shows that even reveal who the killer is because the victim told them. A talk show that always has a new ghost guest. Skulker would have his own hunting show. Ember hosts MTV-style shows. Youngblood has a dedicated kids' show. A talk show dedicated to past heroes.

The radio would be filled with other world music. Jamming out to a song in an alien language while driving to work. (Find a job out of Amity Park, listening to alien music, coworkers what language is that? Martian.)(Mambo Number 5 in an alien language)

The technology would be literally out of this world. Technus would be in his own personal heaven. (Visiting another city - Holding the latest phone from Wayne Tech, this is ancient) Tucker and Techus would create a dedicated Amity Park internet. Podcasts, videos, and video games made by ghosts. Zone (Twitter) where people share whatever.

While the city is supposed to be XXXX big according to surveys it is of course way bigger when you are in the city limits. The city while not meaning to is slightly disconnected from the rest of the world. They are self-sustaining thanks to the hard work of Lady Amy.

To people of a certain level of Ecto-contamination or Ecto-touched, they feel a pull to somewhere. It's subconscious to them but the pull feels like home, a warm hug, a mug of hot cocoa, unconditional love. The ones who go to explore the pull would be flabbergasted at this city, they've never heard of, but it is the home to seemingly everyone and everything. Superman and Martian Manhunter would lose their minds at all the ghosts of Kryptonians and Martians just chilling.

When the citizens travel, outsiders' perspectives of them would be insane. Amity Parkers would be branded as cryptids.

[lillaydee]

The Arrangement Part 9

Frontier! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

I think i need to preface this chapter by saying I'M SORRY. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 8

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You heard him come out of his room, and heard splashes of water, probably cleaning himself. And then, there was silence, and after a few moments, some quiet sobs and sniffles.

Was he… crying?

What was going on?

You heard his footsteps heading towards your room. You pressed your body tight against the door, worried that he might try to open the door. You were not scared of him, exactly. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he didn’t mean for things to go the way it did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to face him at that moment. You could feel him press himself against your door, whispering your name, his sniffs evident, his breathing heavy.

He stood there a while, but eventually he went into his room and shut the door. You waited a long time, not daring to go out in case he came out. What would you say to him? How could you look him in the eyes again?

Eventually, you went out, washcloth in hand. You could hear his bed creak slightly, as if he sat up to listen to you. You wet the washcloth, wiping yourself. An involuntary hiss came out your mouth from the sting, the light-coloured washcloth evident with blood, even in the low light. You knew that would happen, of course. Your friends, the ladies you lived with, alluded to it sometimes.

Of all the stories you had heard over the years, you gathered that women would belong in one of three categories when it came to intimacy with their husbands.

There were those who gushed about the experience. How life changing it was. How they could not imagine living without it. How it brought them closer as a couple. How much the experience made their lives so much better. How mind blowing. How they never knew ecstasy before then. How in love they were with their husbands.

There were also those who seemed nonchalant about it all. How their lives were unchanged by it. How they didn’t think much of it, neither enjoying it too much nor hating it. How their relationships with their husbands were as it were. How their lives moved on with or without it. How it could sometimes be good, but not so good at other times. How sometimes they come to a finish, whatever that meant, but mostly not. How they tolerate their husbands.

And then, there were those who feared the experience. How painful it was. How they were glad they only needed to do it until they were with child. How they would be glad to live the rest of their lives without going through that again. How it made them fear their husbands. How much worse their lives had become because of it. How annoying. How they had never known pain like that before. How much they resent their husbands.

These were often the women who were glad that brothels existed.

You had always connected the difference between these three groups of women with how they felt for their husbands, when it came to intimacy. Basically, you believed that if they were in love, the intimacy would be great. Being in love, to you, meant there was a spark, a connection on a deeper level. Which, up until now, you thought you had with Joel. So, in your fantasies, you believed that since you felt so strongly for your husband, and believed that he did for you too, the intimacy would be wonderful. That you would belong in the first group.

Obviously, that was all in your head.

**********

You laid in bed, still digesting the happening in the next room. And suddenly, you came to a realization.

He did you a favour by marrying you. Because of this marriage, you now had a roof over your head. Because of this marriage, you were living a happy life in this wonderful new town, making friends, having hobbies, a family of your own. Because of this marriage, you were not back in your old town working for pennies and scraps for something to eat. Because of this marriage, you had the pleasure of his companionship, this man who you now cannot imagine life without.

Sure, he touched you. Showed affection for you. But maybe that’s just what a good husband would do. And he promised you that he would be one for you.

He had kept every single one of his promises. He had treated you well. He had given you everything you asked for. He had never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. He had supported you in whatever you wanted to do. He had been a good husband. He provided for you, protected you, was faithful to you. You trusted him. You knew he would never deliberately hurt you.

So the intimacy was not what you had imagined it would be. Was that so bad? Surely there was more to life than that? Those ladies you had known - even those in the third category - their lives were not miserable as far as you could tell. They lived their lives, persevering, even under the shadow of bad, painful intimacy. And you knew for a fact that their husbands were nothing like Joel. He never laid a rough hand on you. He never raised his voice at you.

See? You had it better than them, at least.

This was your own fault. You expected too much.

You let yourself get lost in the situation you were in, the good that these two months had brought you made you believe this was real.

You forgot yourself. You were not the chosen bride whom his heart beat for.

He married you for the convenience of having someone to care for his daughter, for his household.

This disappointment was your own doing.

You let yourself fall in love with him.

You turned on your side, staring at Ellie’s empty crib. You heart felt as if someone was squeezing it tight. And despite all the things you told yourself, you cried yourself to sleep that night, finally accepting that this was how things would go, that this marriage will never be more than that.

Just an arrangement.

**********

You woke up early the next day. Your sleep troubled by the images of Joel marrying a faceless woman next to your grave, the soil still red, passionately kissing her, his hands all over her body. Your face was wet with your tears, the ones you shed in your sleep.

Your body was wet with sweat. You opened the window to let the cold morning spring air in, the sun just peeking its head somewhere. You sat on your bed, mulling over how you planned to go about being in his presence that day, and the day after that, and the day after that, for the rest of your life. Could you ever look him in the eyes again? You honestly could not imagine going about life without having a constant dose of those brown eyes of his.

So, you decided there and then. When this arrangement began, you told yourself that you would be the best wife you could be to him. And that’s what you were going to do. You’re going to get up and be Joel Miller’s wife. He had kept up his end of the bargain, you should too.

You hissed as you relieved yourself that morning, the pain was searing. No matter. This was fresh. You will go to the doctor if it doesn’t improve. But that might alert Liv and Diana. You must not let them know. You shouldn’t shame your husband like that. He didn’t do this on purpose.

The door to the house opened as you made your way back from the outhouse, a frantic Joel looking relieved when he saw you. His demeanour was awkward, his eyes studying the way you were walking, worry clouding his face. He asked if you were alright, his eyes looking beyond yours, as if trying to read your mind. You gave him a smile, telling him you were alright, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. You went into the kitchen and began lighting the fire, taking a bucket and filling it with water before filling the pot with it, going outside to brush your teeth and wash your face, getting some bacon from the ice box for his breakfast.

The water had started boiling when you finally realized he was still standing there in the living room, just watching you, his face unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, placing the pan on the stove, moving to get the kettle to make his coffee.

He hesitated, before asking you if you were alright again.

“I’m fine. You should get ready. I’ll start making breakfast.”

He stood there for a good few minutes before finally moving, looking defeated.

You prepared his breakfast and Ellie’s formula, some rice flour and squashed peaches added into it, before going over to Maria’s to get her. She was happy to see you, squealing excitedly in your arms. You kissed her over and over, taking in the sleepy, milky, musky smell of her little head, realizing that you missed her.

Another reason to just persevere. You could not imagine your life without this sweet little girl.

Joel immediately took Ellie from you when you got home, showering Ellie with kisses, taking her outside to feed her, cooing and talking to her the entire time, softly laughing at her ‘replies’, clearly missing her too. Before he went to work, he stood in front of the door, looking unsure on his feet, telling you he’s going, so you brought Ellie to him for him to say goodbye. After giving her so many kisses, he hesitated a bit before bending down to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, put his hat on and left.

You told yourself that this didn’t mean anything. Of course it would be awkward. The two of you took a step into a new level of intimacy last night. It’s to be expected.

Right?

**********

Things were like that for about three days. He hardly spoke to you, and you to him. The two of you merely existed and danced around each other. You still sent him his drinks and snacks, kept him company when he was working, read to him at night. But it was with an air of unease that suffocated you both. He kept his distance from you, only kissing you on the cheek when saying hello or goodbye, and immediately took a step back when done. He hardly looked you in the eye anymore, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you whenever you were not looking.

There were no sitting on the bench looking at the view with your arms around each other. He didn’t hold your hands when you went on your evening walks with Ellie together. Every bit of conversation revolved around Ellie, to her, about her. It was as if your relationship had taken a step back, and you felt horrible for it.

By the fourth day, you were no longer in pain when you relieved yourself. Everything went back to normal. But he was still keeping his distance from you. You decided to take matters into your own hands and gave him a quick kiss on his lips before he left for work that morning, making him flinch, keeping his body away from you. But it was an improvement over the last few days, so you didn’t say anything.

That evening, when the three of you were preparing to leave for your walk, you made the effort to place your arm in the crook of his as he held Ellie. He didn’t protest, although the smile he gave you was a bit hesitant. But your arm did remain there for the rest of the walk, and that evening, after Ellie was down, the two of you did sit together to look at the view, albeit not touching.

It took a few more days of that before the awkwardness became unnoticeable. But there was no more hugging, no more passionate kissing on the lips. Your conversations went back to normal, the two of you were laughing again, joking with each other, but his head had remained on his pillow during the reading sessions, and lip kisses remained chaste.

You and the ladies were talking one day, when the dreaded subject alluding to intimacy was brought up. Liv was talking about her excitement to move into her house, just a week or so from completion now. Diana made a comment about how relieving it would be to not to have to worry about boxes and wooden trunks falling on them when they were in the throes of intimacy with their husbands in the wagon.

Oh, the wagon rocking suspiciously and everyone would know what you were doing! Liv added, and everyone laughed, nodding their heads enthusiastically. Even you played along, not wanting any awkward questions to be asked your way. Maria chimed in with something along the lines of maybe settling for being a bit boring and just lying there quietly for a while, and maybe not be too enthusiastic, and Liv said something about not being a boring wife in the bedroom.

They were all laughing until they were bent double. You laughed along, as if it was the funniest thing you had ever heard, but that night, you laid awake to a horrible realization.

What if you were just horrible in bed? Was that why Joel no longer initiated anything with you?

Oh God. No.

**********

That thought didn’t leave your head for days. When you think of the way he couldn’t get enough of touching you before, it made you think that having you that one time turned him off. Did he not like it? Sure, it wasn’t good for you, but surely it would have been good for him, nonetheless? He did… finish, if you were correct in that assumption.  

So why did he not want to touch you? Was he… disgusted by you?

You were so worried by this change, your body had become attuned to any movements from him, any pauses, even any sounds that came from his room. You were awoken one night by the sound of him leaving the house. He was careful about it, his steps careful, his movements light, making sure the door didn’t creak too much. You brushed it off that night, maybe he was just using the outhouse?

But then it happened again the next night, and the night after that.

The fourth night was a rainy one. So you placed a chamber pot in his room, not wanting him to run out in the rain. Even in full spring, Jackson was a cold place at night. The last thing you wanted was for him to get sick. But even amidst the pitter patter of the rainfall, you could hear him leave the house.

Worried, you went out of your room and peeked through the window. You saw him move towards the other side of the house, opposite to the outhouse. You heard him outside, through the wall, behind the house, near the kitchen window. He had stopped walking. What was he doing? You went to the kitchen window, careful not to let him notice you, and peeked through the gap in the curtain.

He was standing next to the laundry table he had built for you, parts of him hidden from view by the table and the barrel he had placed there. His back was to you. His hand was moving furiously in his trousers, his head up to the clouds. You could hear his heavy breathing, even with the rain.

It didn’t take you long to realize what he was doing.

You were frozen. You took your eyes off him, you thought, but you still saw him. You saw his body stiffen and bent over, holding his trousers down for a bit, before rinsing his hands in the rain and tying his trousers back up, settling his breathing, his hands laid on the laundry table while he caught his breath. You were too shocked to move fast enough back to your room, and he entered the house just as you got to your door.

He looked flushed, shocked, like a thief caught red handed.

“What are you doing up?” he asked you.

“Just thirsty,” you honestly shocked yourself at how easy that lie came out of your mouth. “Where did you go?”

“Outhouse.”

“Oh, I put the chamber pot in your room,” you can’t help but notice how flustered he got, how much he didn’t want to be there being questioned by you.

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

You wanted to comment on the lack of water he had on his person despite his claim of walking to and back from the outhouse, but you just told him to dry himself before going back to bed. You closed the door behind you and laid in bed, watching Ellie sleep.

He didn’t want you anymore. He would rather leave the house in the pouring rain to relieve his needs with his own hand than be with you.

You cried yourself to sleep again that night.

**********

That Saturday, he told you he had a job to do in town, asking you if you would like to come with him. You needed groceries, so you nodded and got ready to go, Ellie strapped to your chest since he would be working. You spent the entire journey to town in silence, you even sat far enough from him to for another person to sit in between.

It was as if you gave up. You felt defeated. You shouldn’t have asked him to take you that night. All this could have been avoided if only you had just kept your naughty thoughts to yourself. Before that night, you had a man who cared a lot about you. Now, he was but a husband who lived with you.

After you saw him that night, you distanced yourself emotionally and physically from him. You remained the devoted wife on the surface, keeping him company, cooking and cleaning for him, reading to him, going on walks with him. You were never rude or angry, you remained the gentle person that you were with him. But you didn’t touch him, just as he didn’t touch you. You didn’t talk to him unless necessary, nor him to you. His nightly habits remained, you still heard him leaving at night. Coming back after a while and snoring not long after. Good for him, getting the release he needed.

You knew it was petty. You knew you shouldn’t do it. But you found your heart hurting every time he kissed you on the cheek, or even touched you, remembering the kisses and touches he used to give you before that fateful night. Before he drew back ten steps. Before everything became awkward. So you withdrew, no more touching, no more kisses hello and goodbye. If you didn’t have it any longer, eventually, you wouldn’t miss it, right?

The first time you didn’t kiss him goodbye, he lingered, waiting for you to do so. When he stepped forward to do it instead, you used Ellie’s fussing as an excuse to take her inside for a nappy change. The second day, he moved to kiss you first, but you turned and busied yourself clearing the table. He stopped trying on day three.

You didn’t even know if he was affected by it, if he noticed. You didn’t look him in the face anymore. You couldn’t. It hurt. What if the longing looks and yearning smiles were no longer on it? What if his warm, kind, brown eyes were now filled with emptiness for you, or, even worse, coldness? How could you live like that? And if they were still there, what if you gave in, fell deeper for him, only to feel so rejected again?

Most of all, you just felt stupid. Two months of connecting, getting to know one another, gone just like that. All because you needed intimacy.

Stupid, stupid!

You were jolted back to reality when the wagon stopped in front of the grocers. You climbed down yourself, his steps stopping as he ran around the wagon to help you when he saw you had done it yourself. He placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money to hand to you, but you instead of taking it, brushing hands with him, you held your hand out, palm up for him to place the money on it. When his fingers almost brushed your palm, you jerked back, causing the money to fall to the ground, and you quickly bent down to get it, holding Ellie steady, before scrambling up to get to the grocers.

You didn’t know why you were being so petty. Truth was, you were worried that if you let him touch you again, you would turn to stone. Your heart hurt. And every time he showed you any form of gestures at all, you just felt it hurt even more, knowing that he didn’t want you anymore. You had to find a way to live with that. And so far, this pettiness, it’s making the hurt more bearable.

You went about the town going to different stores to place your order, setting whatever you had picked up in the wagon before moving along to another store. Just as you were getting the last of your orders, Esther came out of the tavern to sweep something into the street, her eyes looking you up and down in disgust, before looking at something behind you, sneering, and telling you that her guess was right. You were not good enough for him after all.

You turned around and saw Joel come out of the brothel, his toolbox in hand, Rose accompanying him, shaking his hand. You rolled your eyes at Esther, he was doing his job, you menace, you thought. You climbed back into the wagon, just as Joel placed his toolbox in the back before climbing into the driver’s seat. You let him coo at Ellie for a while, sitting right next to him as Esther watched smugly, letting the wagon get out of sight before moving away from him as you did before.

You nodded when he asked you if you got everything you needed. The rest of the ride home was quiet.

That night, after you read him the next chapter, you closed the book and quietly got up to go into your own room.

“Elena,” his voice came to you. You turned, eyes on the mattress rather than at him, and answered “Yes?”

He didn’t say anything, but he fidgeted a little bit, before saying goodnight. You nodded and left the room.

**********

The next morning, you went about your routine as usual. Making him his breakfast, getting Ellie ready for the day, feeding her, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, keeping yourself busy, trying hard not to think about the way things were in your marriage. Joel busied himself with the horses, doing some yard work, fetching the water, mending the wagons, before telling you that he had to go to a house near the edge of town for a job after lunch. You nodded, your hands kept busy ladling out some porridge for lunch, placing the bowl in front of him and setting yourself down with Ellie to feed her.

When he finished eating, he made to clear his bowl, but you gently took it from him and washed it yourself. He stood around watching you, fidgeting with his hat, before finally putting it on and leaving. He walked, you noticed, rather than taking the wagon. About half an hour passed before you noticed that his tool box was still at home. Maybe the house had their own tools for him to use? You had your own lunch, and put Ellie down for a nap, before settling down to begin cutting the materials for your new client’s dress.

Maria and Liv came knocking, Maria telling you she forgot that it was Tommy’s birthday the next day. Could you come with her to town? She needed to buy him something, and maybe get something from the bakers? You told her Ellie was sleeping, but Liv told you to go, she could stay with Ellie. Will was working anyway, building something for their newly completed house. So you went with Maria, the two of you walking leisurely, catching up with each other.

She got Tommy a new leather pouch for his money, his was too ratty, she said. As the two of you made your way out from the bakers on the way home, you ran into Tess, arm in arm with a man you had never met. She introduced both of you to her husband, Max. They both looked so happy. Apparently, Max had to follow the Red Cross wagon for a while before arriving in New York, before finally managing to settle and get a job to buy a land. He told you he was looking for men to build, and Tess said that the Miller men could do that? He would be willing to pay. There was no way he could build on his own, not in the time he needed to get the house done, he said.

You and Maria told him you could ask your husbands, they were about to start another build in a day or two, but you will let him know. His land was just a few lots away from the Millers, apparently, so it would be great if they could help him out. As you were talking, Tess suddenly froze. You followed her line of sight and saw him, all the way at the end of the row of stores. It was far, but you would know him anywhere.

Your husband, sans toolbox. Walking out of the brothel with Rose. His face flushed, his hand rubbing his neck, smiling shyly at her, while she gave him a kiss on his cheek, rubbing his arm up and down, a huge smile on her face.

Your body went numb. Cold. Frozen.

The good news was your heart no longer hurt.

The bad news was it had completely shattered.

Gone.

Millions of tiny sharp pieces filling the cavity of your chest.

Your legs stopped working. Tess and Maria caught you by the arms. Maria looked livid. She made to go to him, but you told her no. Just, please, you needed to get out of here, please. Max immediately helped you up onto his stripped-up wagon, Maria climbing in after you, Max telling Tess he will see her later that day.

As Max got ready to start the ride, Joel turned his head and saw you.

To say his face turned chalk white would be an understatement. He walked towards the carriage, his strides long and fast, before breaking into a small run. Tess told Max to go. Now, go.

Joel broke into a run, running after the carriage to the edge of the town, calling your name desperately, as his panicked face got blurry from the heartbroken tears filling your eyes.

Part 10

[emberunderscore]

time to talk words about this edit cause . im normal !!! (also kind of just talking a little about the lyrics)

icarus is the one talking, they're singing the song. their font in this edit is "freehand", their text is yellow and the opacity is at 60% at the beginning

the first "wasteland" is in the worldport, there is added glitch effects (though its not that noticable as the worldport often has glitch effects anyway), the text also has glitch effects and is in a different font. this is because that clip "shouldn't" be there, cause the worldport isn't part of that world so it technically shouldn't count. so its all glitchy because it's been inserted into a place it shouldn't be

"where nothing can grow" shows the area near the quixis pond, the purple trees and wrong grass. nothing can grow there because all the plants have been changed and are now wrong. and the word grow is red, and the opacity lowers to 56% which stays for the following text

"if it weren't for you" the word you flicks through a couple colours: yellow -> red -> light purple -> violet, yellow is because its icarus speaking, red as it's the colour already established to be used for emphasis (though it could also be because they love him and red is used to symbolise love, or for the blood they were willing to spill for him) then light purple for Centross, how they knew him before and violet for, well Violet - the god he has become. the opacity decreases on the first you, down to 50%

"alone" the opacity decreases again, now at 45%

"I know in my heart this is where we belong" this part is shown with icarus standing in front of the decay hole, all the text rises up, as if it's rising out of the hole. Icarus knows this is where they should be. Centross' voice is also overlayed here, where he says "you are exactly where you were supposed to be" which fits really well with the line of the song, pretty much meaning the same thing and on the word belong the opacity decreases again to 40%

the word wasteland appears for a second time, with a different font, now in red, this is how it was always supposed to appear, if it hadn't been wrong. this time it focuses on the decay by the quixis pond. the opacity decreases to 35%

"don't let me.." and centross line "and i can't change that" are like opposing lines, icarus doesn't want to go, they want him to save them but he can't "don't let me die" vs "i can't save you" and they're said at the same time

then the repeated "go" each time the opacity decreases by 5% as it has been throughout the edit, and the colour changes from red for emphasis, to yellow just cause it was clearer to see, purple for rae (it would've stayed purple but for visibility i had to change it back to yellow) then when rae is gone is when it is properly yellow, icarus is alone.

"don't let me" is at 5% opacity and then the final "go" which is there, though it might be hard to see (intentionally) is at 2% opacity, which was the lowest i could put it with it being just barely visible.

the gradual lowering of the opacity is supposed to show icarus getting weaker throughout the edit, its set during the finale when icarus is actively dying so its the gradual change of them getting closer to death, and the reason why the last "go" needed to be just slightly visibly is because icarus doesn't die. they need to be just barely holding on because they do stay alive, and they go on to become quixis.

hey guys i love arcane and me also when icarus morningstar and so therefore . another arcane soundtrack edit for you <3

and then i sprinkle in some prison duo and brothers for prosperity

[personinthepalace]

Edward Bluemel's self tape for My Lady Jane

[an-internet-introvert]

Phil and Orange 🧡🧡

(Feat. Dan)

[wisteriasymphony]

Imagine, for the sake of argument, you are a boy with very large, very hidden feelings. These feelings, thoughts, desires you have are all so… big, so confusing. At times they disgust you, at times you feel they betray the sense of self you've had thrust upon you. But they need focus, they need a path for you to better understand them.

You have three options.

The first is one of your closest friends. She's kind, she's thoughtful, she's creative. You feel safe around her, and she never fails to make you laugh. There's a certain vulnerability to being around her—one you can't fully express as you are but you know is there—and you appreciate that so much. But she is only "just a friend". You are sickeningly short on friends as it is, and often worry about your ability to make new ones beyond the few that have ostensibly latched on out of pity. So you want to keep her as "just a friend", not scare her away with what you're really like.

To entertain desires toward the first is to lose a friendship.

The second is…. well, in all but name, she's your boss. You're fine with that: She's capable, she's strong, she's level-headed. It's no surprise that not just you, but the entire city admires her. She represents a hope that, in hindsight, has been sorely lacking in your life. But she has been incredibly upfront that she returns none of your feelings, and you've decided to respect that. You'd only be making things awkward again by going back on that.

To entertain desires toward the second is to betray a promise.

You meet the third on the way home from a patrol, saving her from a fall—One not as accidental as you initially thought. Out of a lack of anything better to do… you talk. It's only for a few minutes, and you're not even sure she told you her real name instead of an alias. It's hard to tell if anything she says is true, but you believe her. A week passes, and you discover the news that this person you barely met at all is now buried. Dead.

To entertain desires toward the third… is to lose absolutely nothing.

So you think.

[princescar]

Crazy how despite Mikan's love for gory movies and blood, she doesn't do an over the top murder. She doesn't even do a medical themed murder despite it being the main focus of the chapter. (Only one of her victims was a patient and she just strangled her)

Crazy how, when she wants to commit a murder for Junko, she does neck trauma.

That's Yasuke's M.O.