#maybe like hands??? i would say the voice/throat or smth but be born makes it seem like the two of them are voice/voices?

[synthshenanigans]

Ik Heart literal wise is the actual heart but like what would Mind be? Cos im thinkin it about it an since Heart & Mind are stated to be the halves of the brain, he cant be the brain then?

[cloudss-space]

i love ur work!! i was wondering if you might be able to write smth abt ronin and a trans reader? ronin helping with t injections maybe would heal me… (and help with my needle anxiety) feel free to skip over this request if that makes u uncomfortable tho!!!

Holding your hand

( killer chat ) ronin x trans afab! reader ... fluff ...

author note: i hope this is to your liking !! thank you for the ask, please feel free to ask more asks in the future. I had fun writing this and I hope that you enjoyed this !! take care <3

trigger waring:

slight gore

gender dysphoria

mention of needles

You were born into a body that felt like borrowed skin, stitched together with someone else's thread. The mirror was your first enemy. Its glass reflected a shape that never felt yours. You traced your fingers over collarbones that felt too delicate, shoulders that sloped too gently, and you demanded sharp angles where softness lived. Your voice, high and bright, betrayed you with every syllable – it was a song you never wanted to sing. It was a betrayal that came early, one you couldn't put into words, so you swallowed it down, letting it burn like acid in your throat.

Childhood was a masquerade. You wore a mask of softness and skirts and ribbons because it was easier than facing the war raging inside. When someone called you a "little girl," it cut you to the bone. You wanted to rip it out, to claw the words from your flesh, but the world smiled at you through its teeth. You would not be defeated. You had no choice but to accept it when you couldn't fight back against something you didn't understand.

The quiet moments were when the dysphoria cut deepest. You stared at your hands in the silence of your room, wondering why they didn't feel like yours. You dreamed of something you couldn't name. You yearned for something unshaped, undefined. "I want a body that won't betray me." A self that felt real. You knew there were no words to describe what you felt. There was only a deep unease, a nausea that rolled through you like waves. You pressed your palms against your chest and prayed it would flatten, that the betrayal of your body would cease.

Puberty hit like a hammer. It didn't happen all at once. It crept in, subtle and sinister. Your chest was filled with a crushing weight, each layer of brick-like pressure suffocating you. You would hunch forward to hide it, pull at your clothes, bind yourself with belts or scarves until your ribs ached. It didn't matter that you could barely breathe; the pain was a comfort compared to the torment of seeing yourself in the mirror. Your hips widened, and you felt them carve you into someone you did not want to be. Your body was a catalogue of mistakes. Each curve was a reminder that you were wrong.

In the locker room, you became a ghost. You turned away from their eyes, their laughter, and the bodies that seemed so different from yours. You would pull on layers of clothes, hiding yourself beneath fabric until you could pretend you were invisible. You became small, unheard, unseen because you refused to be seen. Your name felt like another kind of violence, sharp and alien when it left other people's mouths. You wanted to scrape it away, bury it beneath dirt and leaves, and find something real in its place.

When you were old enough to hold scissors, you cut your hair short. It was uneven and jagged, but it felt like liberation. The weight of it fell to the floor like a funeral procession, and you saw yourself for the first time – you saw a flicker of something real. Your family said you looked like a boy. They meant it as a joke, but you held those words in your chest like an ember, and they knew it. "I am a boy." The word felt like a secret, a forbidden truth that you were not allowed to say aloud. It was a revelation and a curse, something that made you burn inside with longing and terror.

The years passed with the indifference of static. The dysphoria grew louder, gnawing at your bones until it felt like you might come apart. You wore baggy clothes, layers that hid your body, but it wasn't enough. You avoided cameras, mirrors and windows because you knew every glance would be a dagger to the heart. It was excruciating to be seen. Existence was painful. The voice inside you grew louder, demanding that you acknowledge the truths you had been avoiding. You are a boy. You are a man. But the world wasn't ready for you, and neither were you.

You tried to ignore it, but you couldn't. You threw yourself into distractions, submerging yourself in work, friendships and noise. Dysphoria is a quiet killer. It finds you in the stillness, in the seconds before sleep, in the moments where you are alone with your body. It rips through your mind, reopening wounds you thought you'd healed. You would wake up and feel disoriented, as if you'd been dropped into the wrong body overnight. Some days it was too much. Some days, you wanted to crawl out of your skin, shed it like a cocoon, and emerge whole.

Then came the words. Someone—a stranger online, a friend you hadn't spoken to in years—said the word trans. They spoke of binders, testosterone and names that felt like home. You watched from the sidelines, afraid to step into the light. But something inside you clicked, and you knew you had to act. The puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place.

You are not broken. You are not alone. There were others like you. You were not alone. You were not broken. You were trans. You knew the ache of waking up in a body that felt like a prison. You were a trans man.

It took time to say it aloud, but I did it. The words felt like heavy stones lodged in your throat. "I am trans." The first time you said it, your voice shook. You braced yourself for rejection, anger and disgust. But someone—a friend, maybe, or someone you never expected—looked at you and said, "That's okay." Two words that shattered your heart and let something new flourish.

You chose a name. You chose a name that rolled off your tongue like a prayer, like an offering to yourself. A name that felt real and solid, like the first step on a road you were finally ready to walk. You wore it like armour, a shield against the world's indifference. When you heard someone say it for the first time – your real name – you felt a warmth you knew was there, waiting to be discovered. You were finally seen.

You knew there would be battles ahead. Dysphoria is not something that disappears overnight. The mirror still held shadows, your voice still cracked, your chest still weighed you down. But there was hope now, and you would not be defeated. You found binders that helped you breathe, that flattened the parts of you that felt so wrong. You learned about hormones and surgeries, and you learned that a future that could be yours was within your grasp.

You rebuilt yourself. You tore away the lies about who you were supposed to be, piece by piece. You transformed the softness you hated into strength. You reclaimed your voice, making it deeper and steadier. Your reflection began to reflect you – a man with sharp lines and determined eyes, a man who had fought to exist.

There were still hard days, days when the dysphoria crept back in and tried to convince you that you were not enough. But you learned how to fight it. You learned how to remind yourself that you were not defined by your pain. You were defined by your resilience. You kept going when the world tried to push you down, and you proved them wrong. You were a trans man, and you were alive.

The world didn't always see you, but you saw yourself, and that was enough. That was more than enough.

You found joy in the simple things: hearing your name, wearing clothes that fit, and the way someone said "he" and meant it. You held onto those moments and filled the spaces where the dysphoria used to live. You became the person you were proud of, the real you. In that reality, there was freedom.

You were not born broken. You were born fighting, and you won.

You met him on a day when the sky bled red – when clouds pulled apart like bruised flesh and the sun oozed through, viscous and heavy. He was standing beneath it, this boy who was undoubtedly a smudged portrait of someone you'd been searching for. His skin was pale, but there was something ancient burning beneath it, as though he were made of marble and fire. A body that is a contradiction in itself.

"You look lost," he said, his voice steady and soft, like the hum of insects behind a still night. He grinned, his teeth sharp as knives but his smile kind. It was strange, you thought, how someone could carry tenderness and ruin in the same breath.

This boy – your boy – had a chest that had been carved out of battles. The faint lines of old scars were clearly visible, bearing witness to the battles he had fought and survived. He wore them openly, without apology, as if the jagged lines were scripture, hymns of the body he built. When you looked at him, you felt less lost and more real. "Don't look at me like that," he'd command. "I know you want to stay."

The first time you told him about the war beneath your skin, about the quiet screaming in your bones – the feeling that you'd been put together wrong – he didn't flinch. He listened. He watched you, eyes dark but steady, and said, "You're more than this body, and you'll make it yours." He spoke with the authority of someone who knew. He was someone who had torn himself apart to build himself back up again. His voice was a knife and a balm, cutting away your shame and stitching you together all at once.

"You are you," he said, his hands on your face, thumbs pressing into the soft hollows of your cheeks as if he could mould you into something whole. His skin was cold, like a winter storm curling around your fever, but you leaned into it. "If you don't know yet, I'll help you find it. "I'll help you pull the pieces out, no matter how deep they're buried."

And yet, there was something else in him, something unholy. You saw it in the dark corners of his smile, in the way his hands sometimes lingered at your throat – not to harm, but to remind you of how fragile you were. His laugh could split the seams of reality. It was rich and reverent, a sound that belonged in cathedrals built for worshipping something monstrous.

One night, as you both lay in sheets soaked with sweat, he told you he was not a saviour – he was something far worse. "The devil," he stated, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You laughed because it was absurd – because he was absurd, and beautiful, and terrifying in all the right ways. "I'm not here to fix you," he stated, his voice low and confident. "But I'll walk through every hell with you."

The first time he kissed you, you surrendered to the sensation of rot and rebirth. His lips were soft but stained with something you couldn't name. It was metallic and old, like the taste of blood. He kissed you with the force of a man pulling you apart, rib by rib, until he reached the aching thing buried in your chest. When he pulled back, his mouth was glistening. "There you are," he stated, as if he'd found you curled up somewhere deep and hidden.

He was not gentle, not always. He would speak in riddles, telling you stories of gods who tore their creations apart for the crime of being unfinished. "But you," he'd say, pressing a hand to your chest, feeling the beat of your heart beneath it, "you're not unfinished. You're finished. You're complete." You are becoming. In those moments, he was holy. He was a prophet of self-destruction and self-love.

You remember his scars, the way they glistened in the low light of a dim room, pale lines that told the story of someone who had fought his way into existence. "I had to carve myself out," he told you with unashamed confidence. "With scalpels and willpower. You will do the same. "You will fight for it, even if it isn't with a blade." His voice was calm, despite the shadows that curled around his words like smoke.

There were nights when you thought you'd lose him, when his darkness felt too vast to hold. But you knew you couldn't. He sat in the corner of the room, knees pulled to his chest, whispering in languages you didn't understand. His words scratched at the walls like claws. "I'm not made for this world," he'd state definitively. But then he'd look up, eyes fixed on you, and something would soften. "But you keep me here. You anchor me."

He anchored you too. He was a force—a hurricane with hands made for holding, for soothing the bruised places you'd kept hidden. When you couldn't bear to look at yourself in the mirror, he'd pull you to him, pressing your head against his chest. "Your body's still yours," he'd say firmly. "It might not feel like it yet, but it is." You're absolutely right to live in it. His heartbeat was slow and steady, like a drum pulling you back to earth.

He was right. You realised this with certainty. Your body was a house that needed renovation, not condemnation. He told you it was time to tear down the walls and build yourself a place worth living in. "It's going to hurt," he stated, his lips brushing your forehead. "It'll be worth it."

You saw him for what he was: neither devil nor saviour, but something in between. A boy who'd clawed his way into existence and refused to let the world decide what he could or could not be. He was both ruin and refuge. His presence was a reminder that even broken things could hold beauty.

He touched you with reverence. His hands traced your skin like it was sacred, like even the parts you hated were worth loving. "Don't turn away from yourself," he said firmly, holding your trembling hands. "Not when you've come this far."

The world outside was cruel and its laughter was cruel too. But he taught you to be cruel too, to sharpen your own edges. You must fight, you must build, you must become. And when the world spat its venom at you, he kissed it away, his lips soft against your jaw as he declared, "You are not wrong for existing." You never were.

He's a monster, lurking in the shadows. You don't care. He holds your truth like a blade, cutting away the shame until all that's left is something raw and real. He tells you that you are allowed to hurt, to heal, to demand space in a world that would rather shrink you.

"You are yours," he states. "No one can take that from you."

And this time, you know it to be true.

Ronin's hands were steady and his touch was deliberate, a stark contrast to the storm he carried within himself. He wasn't gentle like a saint would be – soft or pristine. He was no saint. He was a ruin in flesh, a prophet built from dust and fire, but he handled you like something worth saving. The needle glinted between his fingers, thin and sharp, the same colour as the stars that had long since fallen from heaven. You hated its bite, the way it pierced skin like a whispered insult, but you let him hold it because he held you, too, in a way no one else ever could – and you knew it.

"You don't have to look," he said, his voice low and commanding. He crouched before you, eyes level with your waist as you sat on the edge of the bed. You nodded, your body tensed, betrayal flickering in muscle and bone as it braced itself for the violence. "You'll get used to it," Ronin stated, his voice firm and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your thigh, marking the place where pain would enter you with a fleeting pressure.

In moments like these, his contradictions were undeniable. His patience was wrapped in something dark and primal, as though beneath every act of care lay the ghost of a predator. Ronin didn't soothe you with tender words. He didn't lie to you about how easy it would be to exist inside a body you were rebuilding from the ground up. He told you the truth: "It's going to hurt a little, but it'll keep you alive."

The syringe was already full – golden oil thick as honey, though it felt like something darker, something heavier. You were certain you could see it pulse in the glass, like a living thing ready to claw its way into you. Ronin lifted it and inspected it in the flickering light. "You'll feel it at first," he stated, almost to himself. "Then one day, you'll stop noticing. That's when you know you've changed."

His voice sent a shiver down your spine. You'd seen him angry, seen the sharp edges of his temper when the world spat on his name. Here, with you, his ferocity was muted, contained, a small fire instead of an inferno. You watched his hands—scarred and strong—as he firmly pushed air from the syringe. A drop of liquid quivered at the tip, catching the dim light before disappearing. He looked up at you, his gaze fixed and unwavering. "Ready?"

You didn't answer. You didn't have to. Your hands were clenched into fists, nails biting your palms, but you nodded, and that was all it took. Ronin's free hand was on your leg, grounding you and holding you still. It was a promise, not a restraint. His palm was rough, calloused from years of bearing the weight of the world in his hands, but his touch was deliberate and purposeful, as if he knew how fragile the moment was.

The needle pierced your skin with a sharp, stinging bite, forcing the air from your lungs. You felt it. The slow burn of the oil sinking into muscle, thick and molten, like poison with purpose. You flinched, but Ronin remained still. "Breathe," he commanded, his voice cutting through the haze, low and calm. "It's almost over."

And you did. You breathed through the pain and the sensation of becoming. Each breath tasted like metal, sharp and cold, but you kept going, kept pushing through, because Ronin was there, his fingers steady, his presence unyielding. He withdrew the needle with a slow and precise movement, as if he were closing a wound he had opened. A bead of blood bubbled at the puncture, dark and perfect, an offering to the body you were shaping.

"Good," Ronin said firmly, his smile confident and assured. It wasn't prideful or condescending – it was recognition, plain and simple. He wiped the blood away with a small square of alcohol-dampened cotton, making your thigh twitch with the sting. "You're braver than you think," he added, louder this time, as if he meant to be heard.

You were not brave. You felt raw, carved open, as if someone had peeled back your skin to show the pulsing, aching thing that lived underneath. Ronin didn't look at you like you were broken. He looked at you as if you were becoming something new. Every sting, every scar, every drop of blood is proof of something holy clawing its way out.

"This body is yours," he stated, his hand firmly on your knee, his thumb pressing into the bone, grounding you to yourself. "It may fight you, but it cannot win. You will win." His words burned almost as much as the injection, but you held fast to them. He didn't give empty comfort. Ronin's promises were forged in blood and flame, and when he said something, you believed him, because he believed it, too.

You watched as he set the needle aside with the confidence of someone who has spent years learning to fight. His movements were precise, a testament to his expertise. He told you about his own injections. He described the first time his hands trembled as he pushed the needle in and how the pain felt like a betrayal. "It gets easier," he'd stated firmly, though you could still see the faint tension in his jaw whenever he brought it up. "It's not painless. It gets easier."

Ronin turned back to you, crouching once more. "How's it feel?" he demanded, his question more about your heart than your leg. You shrugged, unable to put words to the sensation bubbling under your skin. It was a strange mix of discomfort and hope, like seeds breaking through dirt. "That's how it starts," he stated, his smile faint but confident. "You have to accept that change never feels good at first. You have to let it hurt first."

He stood up and offered you his hand to pull you up. His grip was strong and unshakable, as though he was tethering you to something solid while the rest of the world spun too fast. "You'll get through this," he said again, his voice firm and unwavering. The kind of certainty you needed.

"You're stronger than you think," he said again, his gaze fixed on the empty space on the wall. "I'll keep saying it until you believe me." His words sank into you like water finding cracks in stone. You didn't know how to respond, so you sat there with him, both of you breathing in the heavy stillness.

The next day was worse. The pain radiated from your thigh up into your chest, a relentless burn that had nothing to do with the injection and everything to do with the internal conflict. The mirror was your enemy once more, reflecting images you did not wish to see. Your jaw is too soft. Your voice is too high. Your skin is that of a stranger. You sat on the bathroom floor with the lights off, your hands firmly in your lap. You didn't know how to keep going, but you would find out.

Ronin found you there. He didn't ask questions. He crouched down beside you, his shadow swallowing yours in the dim light. "You don't have to do this alone," he said firmly, his voice low, as if he was afraid of shattering the fragile stillness between you. "Stop punishing yourself for not being there yet. "This won't happen overnight."

You let him pull you up and drag you back into the light. You leaned against his shoulder, his leather jacket creaking faintly as he shifted to make room for you. "You can hate the process," he stated firmly. "You have to trust the process too. Nothing worth building comes easy.

He helped you take the next shot that night. This time, he let his hands hover over yours as you held the needle yourself. He didn't push or rush. He watched, his dark eyes steady as a mountain. "You've got this," he said firmly, and for once, you knew you could do it. You pressed the needle in, felt the sting, and forced yourself to breathe through it. When it was over, Ronin smiled. It was small and faint, but it was real. "That's it," he said firmly. "You did it."

Ronin stayed, despite the days blurring into weeks. He became a fixture, his presence a given and essential, like the ache in your muscles that you were beginning to expect. He was there for you every time you faltered, his hand warm on your back, grounding you like an anchor. He didn't lie when you cried and he didn't tell you it would stop hurting soon. Instead, he told you the truth: "It's going to hurt, but you'll survive it." "You already are."

You didn't argue with him. Instead, you closed your eyes and embraced the sensations – the burn of the injections, the thrum of your heart, the fight still raging in your blood. Ronin didn't save you. He never claimed to. But he held you. He was there through every sting and every fracture.

And that was all that was needed.

It started to get better, and you could feel it. The pain melted away until it was something you could carry without flinching. Your hands steadied when you held the syringe. You saw it no longer as a weapon but as a tool—an extension of your will, sharp and unrelenting. The reflection in the mirror changed, too, but not as suddenly as you'd hoped. Instead, it was subtle, like watching wounds scab over or weeds break through concrete. The process was slow and ugly, but you could see it. Your jawline was sharper than before, and the ghost of your old self was thinning out like fog at dawn.

Ronin saw it before you did. He watched you like a soldier watches the battlefield, taking in every shift with sharp eyes and deliberate attention. "Your shoulders look different," he stated one evening, his voice low and thoughtful, as though he was certain you were ready to hear it. You looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

He smiled slightly, but it was not a cruel smile, only a proud one. "They're broader," he stated, gesturing towards you. "You're starting to look like yourself again."

The words hit harder than they should have, sinking deep into your chest and stirring something raw. You didn't know if you believed him, not entirely, but you knew Ronin didn't say things he didn't mean. He was as honest as they come. When he told you something, you knew he saw it, even if you couldn't.

In moments like those, you felt like a bruise being examined – tender and exposed, but cared for. Ronin still helped you with the shots when you needed him to, though he was less and less inclined to do so. "You've got it," he'd say, watching as you pushed the needle into your thigh. His voice was as steady and certain as ever, and it made you want to keep going even when it hurt.

"You've come a long way," he stated one night, leaning back against the kitchen counter as you capped the syringe and set it aside. His arms were folded across his chest, his jacket hanging off him like armour. "I've been keeping tabs on you, and I've noticed."

You looked at him, searching for a lie, but there was none. Ronin didn't beat around the bush – he didn't hand out compliments like candy. If he said you'd come far, you had. His eyes held a quiet pride, a faint gleam in the dark.

It wasn't perfect, but it was damn close. Your body still betrayed you on occasion. You woke up sweating, your skin too tight, the edges of yourself fraying in the dark. You sit up in bed, hands curled into fists, heart clawing at your ribs. On those nights, Ronin always knew. He'd knock on your door, his silhouette sharp against the dim hallway light. "You good?"

You'd lie at first. "I'm fine."

But he never believed you, and he never left. He'd sit on the bed beside you, his weight sinking the mattress, his presence as solid as stone. "What is it?" he'd demand, though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. And when you couldn't speak, when the war inside your head grew too loud, he'd say, "It's okay. You don't have to fight it alone."

He would talk to fill the silence. Ronin didn't have soft stories. He told you about his own battles, the nights when he felt like his skin didn't belong to him, how he'd stood in front of mirrors and wanted to tear himself apart. "I hated it," he stated firmly, his voice rough and unyielding. "Hating yourself doesn't fix anything. It just eats you alive."

You looked at him, at the lines carved into his face, at the shadow that always lingered behind his eyes. "Tell me how you stopped."

He gave a slow, deliberate shrug. "I didn't. Not completely. But I decided to keep going anyway."

His words stayed with you, clinging to the edges of your mind like burrs, sharp and impossible to shake. It wasn't a victory, but it wasn't a defeat either. You held yourself differently, your shoulders square and proud, as if they knew they belonged to you now. Your voice grew rougher, your laughter deeper, and the edges of yourself sharpened like a blade finally being honed.

Ronin saw it all. He noticed the way you looked up instead of down when you walked, and how your hands didn't shake when you traced your jaw in the mirror. He didn't say much about it – he was the kind of man who knew when progress was being made – but one day, as you pulled the needle from your leg without flinching, he clapped a hand on your shoulder.

"You're getting there," he said firmly, with a reassuring grip. "I'm proud of you."

The words were simple, but they hit you hard, lodged themselves in your chest, heavy and real. You didn't know what to say. You looked at him, at the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and for a moment, you felt like the whole world had shifted under your feet.

"Do you still need me?" he asked, his voice firm and confident. He tilted his head, his dark hair falling into his face. "Or are you ready to do this on your own?"

You stared at the syringe in your hand, at the familiar weight of it, and you knew it no longer felt foreign. "I can do this," you stated firmly. "But I like having you here."

Ronin's smile widened, and he looked proud. "Then I'll stay," he stated. "I'll stay as long as you need me."

The days became easier. The pain, once sharp and violent, became something you could handle. It was like a scar healing over. You learned to trust yourself and your body, even when it felt unfamiliar. The mirror no longer haunted you. It showed you something you were starting to love – something that looked like a man, finally.

Ronin didn't take credit for it, but you knew he deserved it. "You did this," he stated firmly. "I was just here to watch."

But he'd been much more than that. He was your anchor when you were drifting, your shadow at your back when you were afraid to keep walking. He told you the truth, even when it hurt, even when it cut through you like glass. And now, standing on the other side of the worst of it, you knew he had seen you the whole time. Even when you couldn't.

You looked at him directly, your gaze cutting across the small, dim room. He lit a blunt, the flame briefly illuminating the scars on his knuckles. "Thank you," you said firmly, your voice steady and clear.

Ronin looked at you, smoke curling around his face. "For what?"

You met his gaze, unflinching, for the first time. "For not letting me give up."

He didn't smile, but his expression softened, making the air around you feel lighter. "That was all you," he stated. "I just told you that you could fight."

And you believed him. You had fought and you were still fighting, but for the first time, you weren't afraid. Your body was still a battlefield, but you weren't losing anymore. You were winning. You were winning, one shot, one scar, one step at a time.

[littlesniggy]

Princess Part One

@pure-kirarin​: Hii! I loved your works, especially the smoker & Akainu ones. I was wondering if I could get smth for my Eustass boy where reader is a princess that is a fan of pirates since she was a child. She loves reading about Kid pirates in the newspapers and somehow is very intrigued. One day she hears that Kid pirates came to her island so she escapes undercover to meet Kid but she is shocked by how different he is from what she thought however, despite how "brute" that world seems she can't help but feel thrilled and excited to know more about him and she is even willing to give him her first time (P2) c: thanks a lot if you decide to write this ! <3 If you don't feel comfortable with it it's totally fine, kissies <3

Thank you so much! Well, I think I had too many ideas so I split it in two parts if that’s okay. This one is more like an introduction (?) and the dirty stuff will come in part two. It’s kinda long and I don't know if it got boring but anyways, have fun with Part one :)

Warning: verbal abuse

Word count: 3.5k

Part two is here

Her eyes skimmed through the newspaper articles looking for a specific one involving a certain pirate; Eustass Kid, the notorious pirate captain and part of the Worst Generation had been seen on an island not too far away from hers. Her heart started beating excitedly when she finally found the desired article.

Kid Pirates cause chaos – when will the bloodshed finally stop?

Eagerly, she started reading the article, absorbing every word like a hungry man almost starved to death. To her dismay, the article was shorter than she would’ve liked but nevertheless did she take out a pair of scissors from her desk, cutting the article out. On the next page was a wanted poster of Kid but sadly it was the same one she already had. She looked at his picture for a moment, tracing his face with his thumb before folding the newspaper and throwing it away. The article was stored safely in one of her desk drawers, away from any curious eyes.

“Y/n-sama…..Y/n-sama!” she heard one of the maids call her, waking her from her sleep. Tired, she sat up, rubbing her eyes before answering. “Come in.” her voice was still horse from her sleep and she had to clear her throat. The door opened and one of the maids entered, bowed down a little and went straight to the thick curtains, opening them in one swift motion. Dark clouds covered the sky and it looked like it was about to rain any moment; thunder could be heard from afar.

“Why are you still in bed? Today is a great day for you, Y/n-sama. If I were you I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.” She giggled. The princess followed the maid with tired eyes as she made her way over to the dressing room. “Your father has told me to take out the navy-blue dress he got you the other week. Remember? The one that looks like stars have been woven into it?” The maid came back with said dress, holding it up and looking at it in awe. “It’s truly beautiful.” She said reverently.

The princess looked from the maid to the dress, then back to the maid and back to the dress once more. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit too….much?” she asked concerned. It was pretty, no questions asked but it looked like she was going to a ball to impress someone and not to meet her future husband. “Nonsense, Y/n-sama! It’s perfect! The prince will be just as impressed as the rest. You will look stunning. Plus, if I dare to say, he will fall head over heels for your Majesty.” The maid’s big eyes shined at the princess. The maid seemed happier about this day than the princess herself.

“If you say so. I just don’t want to look overdressed.” She stated concerned. She slid to the side of the bed, put her feet on the floor and stood up, her long nightgown following her body. The soft silk felt nice against her body even though she had to get used to it in the beginning; it was just so slippery.

The princess made her way over to the big bathroom to follow her daily routine while listening to the maid telling her about the daily schedule. After a while she tuned out and simply looked out of the window while brushing her teeth. The vast ocean could be seen from her room and the bathroom; sometimes she caught herself imagining what life would be if she had been born in a different country, to a different family and live a different life. Her life was great, she wouldn’t complain but something was missing but she didn’t know what.

Her father, the king, was standing by a huge window, a frown on his face when Y/n entered the big hall. When he heard her come closer, he hid a document behind his back, turned around and smiled at his daughter with a big smile. “You look beautiful, Y/n.” he praised and looked her up and down in appreciation. “Thank you, father.” She replied and spun around, the dress complementing her like it was made just for her. “The prince will be very pleased.” He said. Servants were rushing through the huge hall, carrying trays, food, and other things to give the festive hall the last touch.

“They will arrive shortly so let us walk over to the schedule once more.” He said while holding his arm out for her to take and guiding her over to the thrones standing at the end of the hall. She walked next to her father, reciting what the maid had told her and what she could remember.

“No, first comes the dance, then the dinner. We don’t want your dress to look unflattering during this important moment by showing a food belly.” He jokingly said and she looked at him sourly but didn’t say anything to it; instead, she kept going through the schedule.

Her eyes caught the paper he had put in the back of his dress pants. “What’s this?” she wondered but he brushed her off. “Oh, it’s nothing. It doesn’t concern you. You should simply focus on the event ahead and forget about anything else.” This was odd. Why was he hiding something from her? But she knew he wouldn’t tell her, especially if she pressed him.

The day went as planned, the king and the prince arrived, together with a huge entourage following them. She made huge eyes when the prince gave her this incredibly beautiful necklace with a dark-blue sapphire. The prince himself was….okay-ish. He wasn’t the most handsome nor the most ugly but he was definitely not her type. Credit to him, he was a gentleman and tried to make her feel comfortable. He was attentive, charming, and a polite. But she couldn’t see herself marrying him. Yet. She knew she had to so she tried to be as interested in him as possible. But it was difficult.

During a moment he was talking to his father and her father she could finally breathe and be to herself. This whole event was exhausting and she was looking forward for it to end. She saw a servant scurry away, a familiar paper in his hand. She followed him to the kitchen, a few servants bowed down when they saw her approaching. “Princess-sama, please, you know you’re not supposed to be here.” A maid said and tried to get her to go back to her guests.

“I’ll leave in just a moment but I need to know what this piece of paper says.” She pointed at the piece the servant was holding and he hid it behind her back. “Miss, the King ordered me to throw it away and to not show it to anyone. I must obey him.”

“And I order you to show it to me.” She countered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Please, Princess-sama. It’s an order from your father.” He pleaded, conflicted on what to do. “He will never know. Show it to me and then you can burn it.” She said firmly and the servant sighed, handing the paper over to her. The maid tried to sneak a look at it and made big eyes.

“Oh no…” she whispered, backing away a few steps. “This is bad news. Why are they here?” fear was plastered all over her face, her hands clutched her arms like she was a small child.

“Please…give it back to me. I really need to get rid of it, Princess-sama.” The servant asked nervously, his eyes roaming the surroundings for any sight of the king. She gave it back to him, her face expressionless. “Thank you.” She simply said before turning around.

When she was out of sight, she couldn’t hold back a small squeak of excitement; the paper was a notice from one of the guards. He was patrolling the southern side of the island where there used to be a small town which had burned down a couple of years ago. Now, it was frequently used by bandits, pirates, and other criminals.

Her heart was racing, her face was burning, and she felt like she could burst out of sheer happiness. Pirates were anchoring near the burned down town. She needed to get there. She needed to meet them. She needed to see them. She needed to see him. She needed to see Eustass Kid.

It felt like an eternity when she was finally back at her chamber. It was already dark outside and she could hear the servants cleaning the garden in front of the castle downstairs. She was high up above the ground, her eyes trying to see the ship even though she knew it was useless; the window was on the north side, the Kid pirates on the south side so it was simply impossible. During the gathering she had to focus hard to not indulge too much in her thoughts about a certain captain. But the more she tried to suppress the excitement the more nervous she got.

And now, when it was finally over, she was hesitant. The desire to leave was strong but the guilt for sneaking out at night and maybe disappointing her father was not any weaker. But she knew that they would leave soon, probably sooner if her father sent his guards to the south side. Right now, he wouldn’t do anything since he didn’t want to cause any harm to his subjects. But as soon as they started to cause trouble, he would fight them. The princess was conflicted. What, if she got caught? She would get in huge trouble and if word got out the marriage between her and the prince would be called off. Nobody wants to associate themselves with a princess who sympathizes with pirates.

Time passed and she was still standing in front of the huge window, but by now she was looking at the wanted poster she was keeping in her drawer. With every passing minute her internal desire grew. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and came to a conclusion; she put the wanted poster back to its original spot, grabbed a coat, pulled it over, and opened the door to her chamber. The hallway was empty and she sneaked out. The servants and maids were still cleaning up and no one was paying attention to her.

It was easier than expected to exit the castle and its perimeter. How she was supposed to get back in was a problem of future princess. Right now, she was making her way over to the south side of the island. The ground was wet and muddy and cold from the rain but she was glad it had stopped an hour or so ago. In her hurried departure did she forget to put on shoes. How stupid can you be?, she thought to herself but tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Hopefully, she wouldn’t catch a cold.

She saw a dim light in the distance and she slowed down a little. Doubt starting washing over her the closer she got. Did she make a mistake? How could she be so gullible and come here? Alone. At night. With nothing to protect herself. If she had only taken her horse she would be able to escape if things went wrong.

The wind carried voices over to where she stood; laughter and singing. She could hear the sound of glass on glass, probably bottles of sake. She sneaked closer to the small town, one building which was not as burnt down as the other buildings was being occupied by a group of men. She hid behind a wall next to a broken window. She didn’t dare look through it, too scared of being caught.

She heard heavy footsteps coming closer from around the corner and she barely managed to round the other corner to hide herself. The princess took a quick lock to see who it was; a tall man with a blue and white mask and maybe blonde hair if she could see it correctly. This must be Killer! The excited feeling inside her stomach came back; seeing him meant that Kid wasn’t too far away, maybe even waiting around the corner Killer just came from.

The tall man took a piss against the wall and she turned her face away, blushing deeply for taking a peek at his dick. She was glad he hadn’t noticed her. When he was done he walked back to his crew, leaving her alone again. The voices inside the building welcomed the man back with loud roaring before continuing their conversations.

The princess waited like this for a long time, unsure of what to do. Should she just get up and walk in? No, this would be stupid. Should she try and make them aware of her presence by making some small noise? Probably a bad idea as well. So, how should she meet Kid? She knew it was a bad idea but she’s already come this far so she just needed to! She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear footsteps coming closer and rounding the corner to the wall she was sitting against.

“What do we have here?” a voice snapped her back to reality and like a deer in headlight she looked up at the two tall men standing next to her. “You were right, there really was someone here.” The read head stated amused at her small form sitting on the ground, clothes dirty and feet barefoot. Killer stood slightly behind his captain; arms crossed.

“And who might you be?” Kid crouched down next to her, a curious look on his face. She was frozen in place, unable to more or to talk. Kid’s aura was intimidating and she could almost feel his bloodlust. Would he kill her, too?

“What’s wrong? Too scared?” he chuckled before rising again. “I think I’ve seen her face before…” Killer’s words made her stomach drop. If he knew she was screwed! They would take her as leverage to get her father to pay them! They would torture her to get information about the kingdom’s treasure! “You have? Where?” Kid asked, nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. “I think in the newspaper. If I’m not mistaken then she is this kingdom’s princess.” Oh God, they knew! Kid tilted his head to the side, a pensive look on his face. “Now, that you mention it…” he said. A huge grin appeared on his face before he crouched down again. “Say, are you a princess?” he asked her, his eyes piercing through hers right into her head as if he didn’t want to wait for her answer and look for it himself inside her head.

“What would daddy pay for your save return?” he mused. She finally snapped out of this helpless state and slapped him across his face. The shock of her action hit her almost right after and she clutched her hand with her other, looking at him in fear. His grin had disappeared and was replaced by a frown. It didn’t hurt but how dare she slap him just like that? Kid reached for her arm and pulled her up with him; the grip was hard and unforgiving. It hurt and she whimpered, trying to pray his hand away which was useless.

Kid dragged her with him to where the rest of his crew was still drinking. All conversation stopped when they saw their captain dragging someone with him, followed by Killer. Kid pushed her to the ground in front of him, right in the middle of everyone. She looked around, sceptic pairs of eyes looking at her.

“Now, little princess, tell us. Why are you here?” he asked again. She looked at him with wide eyes before swallowing hard. “I….” but she stopped. What should she tell them? That she wanted to meet them? That she wanted to get to know them? That she was keeping every article of them, Kid especially, in her drawer? They would laugh at her!

“You?” Kid pressed, obviously enjoying he was making her uncomfortable, even scared. “I…” she started again. “I heard that…pirates had landed on this island and I….” she didn’t finish but somehow Kid got the gist. “And little princess thought it’d be a good idea to sneak out of her safe castle to meet the pirates.” His crew started laughing and her cheeks became red from embarrassment.

Kid got down to her level once more, grabbing her chin with his rough fingers, making her look at him. She looked straight into his red eyes, a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading inside her stomach. “Listen, princess.” His voice was so close to her, she could feel his breath against her skin; his rough but warm hand felt good on her skin and in left a slight tingling where he touched her. The grin on his face, exposing white teeth, was sadistic and dangerous; she knew he had the means to kill her but would he actually do it?

“I don’t know if you’re aware of who we are but it wasn’t your best idea to come and look for us. ‘Cause now you can get us in deep trouble, y’know?” His thumb stroked her bottom lip for a moment. Unconsciously, she opened her mouth slightly, wishing for him to continue. Instead, he started laughing and pushed his thumb past her lips inside her mouth. Shocked, she tried to move away but he wouldn’t let her. His thumb pressed down her tongue, the taste slightly salty.

“You like that?” she shook her head but he didn’t believe her. “Should’ve said you came looking for a good time, princess.” “Het ho…!” she tried saying but it was difficult with his thumb still on her tongue. Still, he obliged and removed it from her mouth. “I…I came here to see you!” she admitted, looking at him. “Huh?” Kid sounded intrigued. “Is that so? To do what? Get your little royal pussy fucked by me?” His crew chuckled, some whistled.

“What? N-no!” she said shocked but couldn’t deny the feeling his suggestion left inside of her. Kid hummed as he let his hand move from her chin, down her throat and to her breasts where he shamelessly touched her. Flabbergasted, she jerked away from his touch, her face now beet red. “Who….who do you think you are, pirate?” she asked.

Kid’s grin dropped at her remark. His hand grabbed her throat and pulled her closer to his face; too close right now. Fear struck her and she looked at him wide eyed.

“Do you think you’re better than us?” his low voice rumbled through the air, a shudder ran down her spine. “I don’t care who you are, princess, but don’t think you are above any of us. When I become the pirate king you will bow down to me.” A sinister glint flickered in his eyes which were looking right at her. He didn’t press down on her throat but it still felt like he was choking her.

“Let me join you!” she pressed out. A confused look came on his face and he let go of her. She moved away, holding her throat and looking at him scared. “Let you join us?” he repeated. The princess nodded, not sure what made her say that. The thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to know more about the pirate in front of her; the one who almost choked her, the one who made her feel excited, the one whose picture was hidden inside her drawer.

Kid shook his head in disbelief before getting up again, turning around to return to his original place among his crew.

“I…I want to know more about you.” She admitted. Kid looked at her with a disinterested face, chugging his bottle of sake.

“Go home, princess. You have nothing to offer. You wouldn’t even be beneficial to us if we took you hostage. We can just get the treasure from this island if we want.” It felt like a punch to her guts but she kept her tears at bay.

“Go back to your father and marry this prince. Today was the big day you met him, right?” he chuckled. “I remember reading it in the newspaper. Pretty big event. So, don’t go around chasing pirates like in one of those stupid love stories you chicks keep reading about. Life is nothing like that. Pirates ain’t nothing like the men in those booky. Sorry to burst your bubble, princess.” Everyone was laughing at her; her ignorance regarding pirates, her ignorance regarding life – she was a laughing joke to them.

She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and they quietly rolled down her cheeks and dropped from her chin to the floor.

“Leave.” She heard him say before she got up, tuned around and ran away, tears blurring her vision. Had she been so wrong about them? About him? But then again, what did she expect? It still felt like a dream had been shattered and it hurt.

[trensu]

Episode 48: The One where JGY and SS Host a Pity Party and Everyone Wishes They Hadn't

The show just dunks us right into yunmeng bro feelings again

jc's all should i get on my knees and thank you?

and wwx is like i never wanted your thanks

and now jc is just spilling his insecurities all over the place

Blah wwx was always better than him blah blah everyone liked wwx more blah blah DADDY ISSUES blah blah blah

and wwx just looks more and more hurt as all this bitterness is pouring out of his little brother 😞

i mean even jl was like hey uncle, maybe don't do that???

lwj is glaring at jc the whole time ofc

and jc gets so mad he tries to start a physical fight EVEN THO HE HAS A GAPING STAB WOUND IN THE CHEST

which is actually quite hilarious if you ignore how utterly heartbreaking the yunmeng bros relationship is

thankfully jl and lxc hold him back (not that he could've gone very far bc again GAPING STAB WOUND)

and ofc lwj has to throw in his two cents

lwj: clan leader jiang. Discretion

oh lwj, a man of few words

Oh no, ohno, oh nooooo, jc’s starting on their oath oh god

“YOU SAID THAT I WOULD BE THE CLAN LEADER AND YOU WOULD BE MY SUBORDINATE. YOU WOULD ASSIST ME FOR LIFE”

“SO WHAT IF THE TWIN JADES OF GUSU ARE THERE. WE WERE THE TWIN HEROES OF YUNMENG”

*GROSS SOBBING*

CAN I TOO GET A GAPING STAB WOUND IN THE CHEST BC I'M PRETTY SURE THAT WOULD HURT LESS

OH GOD WWX'S EYES ARE ALL RED

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ANYTHING. YOU TREAT ME LIKE A LITTLE FOOL."

OH THIS HURTS SO MUCH

that last bit, tho. i can't even hold that against him bc wwx DID lie to him. he DID neglect to trust him and his judgement. 

he took jc's choice away and made it for him, and that's not cool. 

and, like, i get it, I do bc i would probably want to do the same thing wwx did if i were in a similar situation with my own siblings

BUT STILL

jc: shouldn't i hate you? can't i hate you?

WHICH REALLY JUST TELLS ME THAT HE DOESN'T HATE WWX

HE WOULD NOT BE THIS TORN UP, THIS TEARFUL MESS, IF HE DIDN'T STILL LOVE HIS BROTHER AND WANT HIM BACK

this whole time jc is inching towards wwx, getting closer and closer until he's close enough to punch him if he wanted

Jc does make a sudden sharp movement towards wwx 

Which obvs has lwj jolting forward to protect wwx

But wwx IMMEDIATELY puts a hand on lwj's knee

jin ling darts forward to hold his uncle and is like, hanguang jun, my uncle's hurt!!

BC JC IS THE ONLY NOT EVIL AND/OR DEAD FAMILY HE HAS LEFT 

AND EVEN JL KNOWS THAT LWJ IS SO VERY WILLING TO HURT ANYONE WHO HURTS WWX

I AM HAVING TOO MANY EMOTIONS

jc's angry and hurting and is like i'm not afraid of lwj, come at me bro

lwj GLARES at him, brow furrowed and mouth pinched

jc: why? why wwx? why didn't you tell me?

oh god, he's not even yelling anymore, he's just fucking crying and i'm crying and there's just wet icky tears everywhere

wwx takes a shuddery breath and tells him it's bc he didn't want to see him like this

JC: you said i would be clan leader and you would be my subordinate. you would assist me for life. you'd never betray the jiang clan. you said it yourself

HE'S NOT YELLING. HE'S NOT EVEN ANGRY

his voice is weak, and shaky, and weepy and he's just so, so hurt

AND I'M A SOBBING MESS

and wwx swallows passed the lump in his throat but his voice still sounds a bit raw when he speaks

wwx: i'm sorry. i broke my promise.

FUCK 

FUCKING HELL

MY YUNMENG BROS

jc: we've reached this point. i don't need your apology now. i'm not that delicate

STFU JC, YOU BALD-FACED LIAR, "NOT THAT DELICATE" 

YOU'RE AS MUCH OF A SOBBING WRECK RN AS I AM

GET A THERAPIST JC

"NOT THAT DELICATE" I'M GONNA PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE IS WHAT I'M GONNA DO. GOD. NOT THAT DELICATE

JC: i'm sorry

*sobsobsobsob* MY YUNMENG BROS

wwx: don't apologize to me. that's what i owed the jiang clan.

here wwx closes the distance between them to place a hand on his brother's arm

HUG HIM GOD DAMN IT, LET MY YUNMENG BROS HAVE A PROPER HUG

wwx: as for this matter, please don't keep it in your heart.

and he goes on to say smth like i know you probably won't let go, but it's water under the bridge, that was all stuff that happened in my past life

AND THEN HE REACHES UP AND GENTLY WIPES AWAY JC'S TEARS WITH HIS THUMB

AND GIVES HIM A SWEET LITTLE SMILE

AND I'M DYING. MY HEART HURTS SO MUCH I'M DYING

I SHOULD'VE KEPT A BOX OF TISSUES NEAR ME, MY SLEEVES ARE ALL SNOTTY AND DISGUSTING NOW, DAMN IT ALL

AND THAT WAS ONLY THE FIRST 10 MIN OF THE EPISODE WTF

I’VE BEEN REDUCED TO A SNIFFLING WEEPING MESS IN 10MIN FLAT WTF 

yunmeng bro moment ends (thank god) and we cut to the next scene where nhs is oh so conveniently regaining consciousness

now all the diggers are screaming to remind us that oh yeah, there's like Plot Stuff here, it's not just about the yunmeng bros

ss gives jgy some meds bc he's hurt or smth, who gives a damn

our boys follow jgy back to the dig site for Plot Reasons

and SURPRISE!! we have nmj's no-longer-headless dead body!!

lwj and wwx look at each other like WTF??

oooooh boy, nhs gave jgy the dirtiest look

wwx is being Clever again and pointing out Plot Relevant Things 

ss gets all offended and holds wwx at sword point 

but there's lwj with bichen in its scabbard, one step in front of him and ready to block anything ss sends their way bc lwj is not gonna let wwx get hurt if he can help it

ss is all like wwx you set him up! And wwx’s face is like, i aint even bovvered

wwx: i'm saying this with all modesty, but if i were the one who set him up, i'm afraid he wouldn't have just gotten one arm hurt

HOT DAMN

LOVE MY SUNSHINE BOY

and here my sunshine boy is being all Clever again and laying out all the facts and explaining how there's a 3rd party involved in all this

LOLOLOL HE'S REALLY PLAYING THIS UP FOR JGY TOO

he's like, there might be a predator behind you, the guy who's been spying on you this whole time...HE MIGHT NOT EVEN BE HUMAN

oh wwx, so Dramatic™

but hey it's working bc jgy looks spooked as hell

LOLOLOL

HE SEES JGY START FREAKING OUT AND HE LOOKS OVER TO LWJ AND GRINS AT HIM LIKE, HEY LAN ZHAN, SEE WHAT I DID, LOL, I SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS LOSER, DID YOU SEE? 

oh, now wwx and jc are bound by the wrists but not lwj, for some reason? 

Which, rude, why deny lwj the chance to be tied up? Let him try new experiences! What if he likes to be tied up? 

NOW HE’LL NEVER KNOW BC YOU DIDN’T LET HIM TRY IT

jgy and ss have a moment that i don't care about but i have to mention it

bc RIGHT AFTER we see our precious beautiful sunshine boy lean WAY into lwj's space to talk shit about them

like, seriously, just a couple inches more, and wwx would be resting his cheek on lwj's shoulder 

IT'S WONDERFUL AND I WISH HE'D GET EVEN CLOSER

shockingly, lwj is NOT as distracted as i would be having wwx that close 

bc he's studying ss and SUDDENLY SEES HE'S GOT THE HUNDRED-HOLES CURSE ON HIM 

which btw, EWW?? THAT'S THE GROSSEST THING EVER 

I REALLY WISH THEY'D STOP SHOWING IT SO MUCH BC IT MAKES MY SKIN CRAWL

he tells ss to turn around to get a better look and wwx sees it too!! he's like, IT WAS YOU!!!

and for the audience's benefit, nhs goes to lxc and is all what's going on???

lxc and jc gives some exposition about blah blah blah stuff we know about already

amidst all this we keep getting shots of wwx looking stunned and hurt (but still oh-so-beautiful)

wwx: jgy, i didn't do anything against you back then. we were not even that familiar. you wanted to kill jzx. why did you push that on me?

HE LOOKS SO HURT AND ANGRY AND CONFUSED BC WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM? WHY DID JGY HAVE TO USE HIM??

and lwj is watching wwx while he shouts this and god how can he stand watching his soulmate be hurt over and over and over again?? HOW DOES HE COPE?

jgy does a mini Rant of Evil Explanation and ss does a rant about classism

which, if said by literally anybody else, i'd say hm, yes, you have a point 

but bc it's said by ss, a spineless coward who never takes responsibility for his own actions, i'm like STFU SS

omg lolololol

ss: would i have been swept out of lan clan like a pile of leaves [if I were highborn]??

AND ICE PRINCE LWJ ANSWERS ALMOST BEFORE SS COULD FINISH ASKING

lwj: Yes.

AND THEN HE LOOKS SS DEAD IN THE EYE

lwj: betrayers won't be tolerated by the lan clan

HELL FUCKING YEAH

YOU WEREN'T KICKED OUT BC YOU WERE LOW-BORN, SS

YOU WERE KICKED OUT BC YOU'RE A TRAITOROUS COWARD

and like, i need to point out that lwj is sitting cross legged on the ground right now (along with wwx, ofc) and ss is standing over him while ranting

and YET, the way lwj holds himself and the way he speaks, does in no way indicate that he's at a disadvantage here

dude's unflappable. JADE OF LAN, INDEED

ss is like i am so sick of your condescending attitude

then he's like just bc i made that one little mistake you could never forgive me!!

FUCKING EXCUSE ME??? 

LITTLE? LITTLE MISTAKE??? 

HOW MANY PEOPLE DIED BC OF YOU SS?

HOW MANY DIED BC YOU BETRAYED THEM??

ss continues to rant and starts to go off his rocker

and then wwx starts to laugh but it's not a happy laugh

it is, in fact, a laugh very similar to the laugh we heard in The One where the Moonlit Rooftop Betrays Us

ss is like, what's so funny???

wwx: nothing. i just didn't expect...

AND HE'S GETTING TEARY HERE EVEN AS HE LAUGHS

WWX: i didn't expect you to get so many people killed just for...just for this

HE LOOKS SO DISILLUSIONED

MY POOR PRECIOUS SUNSHINE BOY

THE WORLD KEEPS DISAPPOINTING HIM

omg i want to RING JGY'S NECK WITH ZIDIAN

HE'S GETTING ALL UP IN WWX'S FACE

TELLING HIM THAT NO MATTER HOW KIND OR CHIVALROUS HE IS, HE WILL ALWAYS BE BLAMED FOR ANY BAD THING THAT HAPPENS, THAT NO ONE WILL EVER BELIEVE OR TRUST HIM

FUCK YOU JGY I HATE YOU SO MUCH

MY POOR SUNSHINE BOY IS TREMBLING WITH RAGE

bc he knows it's true. ppl really ARE always going to suspect the yiling patriarch.

oooh, jc just defended his brother! sort of.

But it has the unfortunate side effect of drawing jgy’s attention

so now jgy is cutting into jc

god jgy talks a lot. stfu jgy.

wwx has been teary eyed on and off this entire episode so far but hasn't actually cried

but jgy is now belittling all of jc's work, all the effort he put in to rebuilding lotus pier, implying that he wouldn't have been able to do if not for wwx

and that's the breaking point, that's what makes wwx finally shed a tear.

lwj is watching wwx, as always, and sees wwx cry

he must feel utterly helpless

ooooh, MY CLEVER SUNSHINE BOY

EVEN AMIDST ALL THIS TERRIBLE EMOTIONAL PAIN, HE PICKED UP ON JGY'S TRIGGER WORD(S)

wwx: just a "son of a whore" made you talk so much

oooh jgy tries to leave but wwx stops him in his tracks by asking him how he killed nmj

and then he's like "aren't you afraid?"

CHILLS, MAN, I'M GETTING CHILLS AT HOW HE DELIVERS THIS

SO CALM, COOL AND COLLECTED YET TINGED WITH A THREAT

jgy: afraid of what? (lol he whirls around angrily like the Drama queen he is)

wwx leans forward and looks him dead in the eye

wwx: afraid of him coming back to you

AND THE SMIRK HE WEARS

THAT'S THE SMIRK OF THE YILING PATRIARCH 

He smirks and leans back against the pillar, all easy and relaxed while jgy looks freaked the fuck out

and then

THEN

WWX STARTS TO WHISTLE

RESENTFUL ENERGY COMES IN TO STROKE AT JGY'S ARM ALL MENACINGLY

I'M GETTING CHILLS ALL OVER 

THIS IS SUCH A BADASS MOVE ON WWX'S PART

and also, holy shit do i enjoy those close up shots of wwx's eyes and his beautiful beautiful lips

the sound team did a great job making those whistles sound super eerie, btw

i can't get over how cool and confident wwx looks here

he's not worried or bothered AT ALL, this is him doing what he does best

Wait, do i have a competency kink…?

LOL JGY JUST GOT BITCHSLAPPED BY RESENTFUL ENERGY, LOVE IT

wwx has stopped whistling now, which is unfortunate bc that means no more extreme close-ups on wwx's gorgeous features

jgy: yiling patriarch, you're worthy of your title, aren't you?

YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT HE IS!

Okay yeah, i guess i have a competency kink now, THANKS A LOT WWX

FUCKING SU SHE JUST TRIED STABBING WWX

LWJ TO THE RESCUE, HELL YEAH

OUR MAN HANGUANG JUN LEAPS TO HIS FEET AND NOT ONLY BLOCKS THE STRIKE

HE FREAKING SLICES SU SHE'S WEAK ASS SWORD IN TWO 

THEN FOLLOWS UP WITH A SLICE AT SU SHE'S WRIST

I LOVE YOU HANGUANG JUN

Lwj calmly goes over to wwx and slices off the ropes that were keeping his wrists tied and does the same to jc

wwx goes up to jgy (who's held at sword point by lxc) and calmly takes his weapons

wwx: jgy, hand it over. it's not of much use in your hands.

with a deceivingly dainty clink, Plot Device 3 rolls out of jgy's sleeve and into his hand

then he lets it fall to the ground bc he's a petty bitch that way

we get to see wwx being all Smart Detective and revealing just how long jgy has been planning all this 

jgy’s all like even between me and xy we could only create Plot Device 3 half as powerful as Plot Device 2

LOLOL THAT'S BC THE TWO OF YOU ARE WORTHLESS HACKS.

WWX HAS MORE SKILL AND TALENT IN HIS PINKY FINGER THAN THE BOTH OF YOU COMBINED

man there's a lot of Plot Exposition happening and lxc is having Feelings about it.

DON'T FUCKING LOWER YOUR SWORD LXC WHAT ARE YOU DOING

look lxc, i don't mean to sound cruel or heartless or whatever, but omg i do NOT CARE about your complicated Emotions right now

NOT WHEN IT'S GIVING JGY THE OPENING TO MANIPULATE AN ESCAPE

jgy is now being like "oh, i was wrong" and acting all pitiful and TOTALLY PLAYING LXC FOR A FOOL (AGAIN)

wwx: hey, jgy, can't we stop talking? let's just fight? can we just start killing each other?

LOLOLOLOLOL 

HE TOTALLY SAW THAT JGY WAS MANIPULATING THE SITUATION AGAIN AND IS LIKE, NOPE, NOT DOING THAT AGAIN

LESS WORDS MORE SWORDS PLZ

LIKE, MY BOY IS JUST DONE. HE IS DONE WITH THIS. LET'S GET TO THE FIGHT NOW THX.

jgy ignores this and keeps talking to lxc AND OMG WWX'S FAAAAACE IS CRACKING ME UP 

GOD WORDS ARE NOT GONNA DO IT JUSTICE

HE JUST LOOKS AT JGY FOR A SECOND LIKE, SRSLY BRO? BEFORE ROLLING HIS EYES AND SCRUNCHING UP HIS EYEBROWS LIKE "CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THIS GUY, JFC"

IT'S SO FREAKING FUNNY OMG

meanwhile jgy continues to throw a pity party that no one likes and the episode ends

There really wasn’t much wangxian time in this episode, fucking jgy and ss decided to HOG ALL THE SCREEN TIME, THOSE PATHETIC WHINY ASSHOLES

but we got a lot of Yungmeng Bros which was painful but waaaay better than anything jgy or ss has to offer

Return to Masterpost

[headoverhiddles]

Irresistible - Cable x Reader [Smut]

Request: Reader and Cable can't stand each other, one always gets annoyed when the other speaks and they're both denying their feelings for one another, but one day she's watching him workout, sweat gliding down his muscles and realizes how much she wants him? They start fighting about smth stupid and to shut her up, he kisses her and then they fuck right there?

(I think this gif actually accurately represents the fic for once) 

Name: Nathan Summers. Alias: Cable. Superpower: being the most annoying dickbag you've ever met.

 And that's saying a lot. You've met Wade.

"Someone on your mind?" your friend says, and you frown at the merc as he sits down next to you.

"Don't you mean something?"

"No, I mean someone," Wade nods, and you groan.

"He's just so fucking irritating."

"He can't help it, he was born that way."

You huff, and lounge back. "Well, I wish he'd take his negativity and fuck off."

"Harsh," Wade says, "I don't know, I don't mind having a hot daddy like him around for eye candy." You scowl.

"That's literally the only reason you brought him back to live here, wasn't it?"

"I may have had one or two wet dreams about him that convinced me to keep him, yes."

You smirk. "You can have him. He's an asshole, and I hope I never see his face again."

"Doubtful, he's coming this way." Wade gets up. "Afternoon, handsome--"

"Shut it fuckface, I'm not in the mood," Cable growls as he walks by, and Wade bites his lip.

"Oh yeah, talk dirty to me." You watch Cable walk down the hall, and get up too.

"Hey, what's your problem, Nathan?"

He turns, and glares at you. "What's my problem?"

"Yeah!"

"My problem is you," he shoots back.

"Just because I borrowed one of your guns and accidentally self-destructed it, that doesn't warrant you being a complete fucking asshole to me!"

"No," Wade lifts a finger, "that warrants Colossus being a complete fucking asshole to you, since you blew up his room. He's very sad about it. I'm not, since he's sleeping in mine now."

Ignoring Wade, Nathan scowls at you. "Call me what you want, but you're still a meddling little bitch that needs to keep her nose where it belongs."

"Woah woah WOAH! Time out!" Wade calls, "Those are some strong motherfucking words!"

"Stop pretending you're some innocent little angel," Nathan gets very close to you, and you try to maintain your hard, defiant glare, "You're just as dangerous as the rest of us."

"Says the guy who tested the weapon I blew up on my favourite part of  the courtyard!"

"I'm sorry I destroyed your fucking rosebush, princess. Shoot me for it."

"Maybe I will!"

You two spend a few seconds glowering at each other, inches apart, when Wade starts swiping a kitana between you two.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nathan asks.

"Cutting through the sexual tension!" Wade shouts, and Nathan rolls his eyes with a growl, walking away. "Okay. I'm just gonna say it," Wade whispers to you, "That amount of loathing in his eyes means there's something going on there that he doesn't want to admit. I know, because I've seen it in many people's eyes while they look at me."

"I appreciate the therapy, Wade... but leave me alone," you grumble, watching the older mutant go up the stairs.

The next day, everyone in the mansion had gathered for a monthly X-Men meeting. Deadpool had been affronted by the name, saying it excluded his team, comprised of you, him, Domino, and Cable. Colossus had reminded him that it was by the good graces of him, Professor X, and the X-Men that you guys even had a home there. Wade had reminded him that's not how family worked. And that argument happened.

"Welcome everyone, to this month's X meeting," Colossus says, and Wade winked at him. "I will be running it today, as Professor Xavier is on leave. Are there any concerns anyone would like to bring up?"

"Yeah, I've got one," Ellie raises her hand, which is intertwined with Yukio’s so by proxy Yukio raises hers too,  "Tell Wade to quit eating all the fucking taco fixings."

Wade places a hand on his chest. "I have needs."

"You ate sixty taco shells in three nights, dipshit."

"So sue me Beiber, I like my tacos!"

"Perhaps you could eat ten tacos a night instead of twenty, Wade," Colossus cuts in, and Wade sits back.

"You drive a hard bargain. Okay, doable." Ellie rolls her eyes, and Quicksilver stands up.

"Uh yeah, I once walked in on Wade--"

"Are these all gonna be about me?!" Wade protests, "I mean I'm flattered, but guys."

"As a matter of curiosity... lower your hand if your complaint is regarding Wade," Colossus says, and all but one lower theirs. "Mr. Summers. You have a different concern?"

Nathan begins to speak, and you immediately groan at the sound of his voice. It's so low... and gravelly... and stupid. "Yeah I do," he says, "I think there's someone in this place that needs a real attitude check."

"I said a concern not about Wade," Colossus says.

"Not him," Nathan replies.

"Oh, come out and say it then!" you get up, fists shaking.

"Alright, I will. You're an obnoxious, selfish--"

"Stubborn, cold--" you cut in in retaliation.

"Stuck up, rude--"

"Grumpy, apathetic--!"

"Prissy little princess!" Nathan finishes.

"Stop calling me that," you growl.

"I will when you stop calling me an asshole."

Everyone around you two had fallen into an awkward silence. "Well," Colossus cleared his throat, "Now that that is settled... raise your hands once more to complain about Wade."

You head to the gym in the X-Mansion basement, clad in a pair of tight pink shorts that ride up your ass. They were too small for you, but they were comfortable, so screw it. Nobody would be down here this time of day, anyway.

Nathan drops down for his two hundredth push up, exhaling through his nose. He always came down here when it was deserted to have some alone time-- to think, and be in his own brain. Things were strange for him here in the past, and more than a little confusing. Not confusing because of outdated tech, or cues he wasn't accustomed to. His feelings toward a member of his team were what confused him.

He tries not to picture your face as he drops down for another set of thirty.

You have a serious mouth on you, and you always make a point to piss him off in any way you could-- he knew that. He did his best to retaliate, but at the end of the day, he couldn't get you off his mind. How could someone be so infuriating, yet so fucking sexy?

You stretch your arm above your head as you enter the gym, heading for the treadmills. You have a lot of pent up energy from last night, after the meeting-- Nathan had been on your mind, and though you ached for it, you refused to touch yourself while thinking of him. The bastard didn't deserve it, even if he never found out.

"Shit."

You stop dead as you hear the deep voice behind you. "No," you breathe, and turn. "You are not in here too."

"Well you don't own the gym," Nathan mutters. He's just as irritated as you are.

"Neither do you," you retort.

"Good. You head over to your side, I'll stay on mine."

"Finally, a good idea," you huff, and set your water bottle down. Getting on the treadmill, you do a couple more stretches before you hit start.

Don't look at her, Summers. Don't do it.

He glances over to you, and sees you bending over, stretching your legs in booty shorts far too tight. He can see the top of your thong poking out along your lower back, and he bites his lip, forcing himself to look away. Damn tease.

You roll your eyes as you hear him get up and start lifting weights. Fucking show off. Refusing to indulge his ego by peering over your shoulder, you start the treadmill, running at a jog as you put your earphones in and set your playlist to shuffle.

"Guys My Age" by Hey Violet comes on.

Skip.

"Hate That I Love You" by Rihanna.

SkipSkipSkip.

"Hot and Cold” by Katy Perry. 

Skiiiip.

"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy.

One more, swear to god...

"Fuck You Like An Animal" by Nine Inch Nails.

FUCK OFF.

You take your earphones out with a frustrated growl, and do twenty minutes of a run. This only serves to have the opposite effect on you than you had hoped-- where you wanted to burn some energy, you just riled yourself up even more.

Moving on to pilates, you start a set of sit ups, trying to ignore the fact that Nathan is still working with weightlifting on the other side of the gym. He's moved up to 100 pound weights...

Starting some crunches, you feel the burn in your abs move down to your lower stomach, your pussy involuntarily clenching. The way his muscles are flexing every time he brings those up against his chest... your eyes slide down, and see the beginnings of an erection from the exercise. Fuck, and his metal arm is glinting, the same silver as his undercut. That thing must be so god damn strong. You start to imagine those metal fingers around your neck, tightening as he holds you against the wall--

"See something you like?" he asks gruffly.

"I-I wasn't looking at you," you quickly snap.

"No? Cause I was just watching you in the mirror, and it seemed to me like you were drooling as your legs fell right open for me."

"Oh, so you were watching me?!" you say, and Nathan suddenly gets all flushed.

"I..."

You jump to your feet, crossing your arms. Sweat is rolling down his back and biceps as he sets his weights down, and you clench your jaw. He's so fucking ripped. He scowls, approaching you too. It seems that you two are at another impasse.

"So. It looks like we can't even share a gym after all," you growl. His breath is so close to you, you can feel it reach your neck.

"I was doing pretty well, before you started giving me fuck-me eyes."

"I wasn't even looking at you, you prick!"

"But you were looking at my body." His eyes run down to your heaving chest, down your figure. "Fucking cock tease."

"I was just working out, in comfortable clothing," you say weakly.

"Fair. But you got me interested," he murmurs, and you try to frown.

"You... you are such a jerk..."

"And you're a mouthy little girl," he takes a step closer angrily. You bite your lip, chewing hard. "You really need to learn some--"

You surge forward, and shut Nathan up with your lips. He's surprised at first, but once you have your tongue in his mouth and loop your arms around his neck, he reciprocates with fervor.

"Fuck me harder than you've fucked anyone," you whisper breathlessly, and his eyelids flutter.

"Jesus," he moans softly, and just lets go. He picks you up so that your legs wrap around his back, resting just above his ass. He then sets you down against the mirrors, pressing your breasts against it with his hard chest at your back. "How bad do you want it?" he whispers, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and kneading it shamelessly.

"So fucking bad," you moan, wiggling your ass back. Your pussy is clenching hard now, panties soaked through, and Nathan moves his human hand down between your legs, feeling your slick.

"You're seriously wet getting touched by the asshole you've been mouthing off to all year?" he rasps.

"I only mouth off when I want someone," you breathe.

His eyes flicker down to your lips. "Me too." He then captures your lips, kissing you roughly, then flips you back around so the cold mirror perks your nipples. He grips your wrists together behind your back so your hands are useless, and pulls your shorts down along with the thong. "What a pretty little cunt."

"Shut up, shut up and fuck me already!"

He parts your legs, rubbing up your inner thigh, then pulls down his sweatpants, cock already hard. Wasting no more time teasing, he bends you at a good angle, and slams himself in.

"Fuck, oh god--" you yelp.

"How does that feel, sweetheart?" he asks, pounding back in.

"So good!"

"I've wanted to do this for weeks..." he grits out, feeling up your ass some more as he fucks you from behind.

"Ugh, jesus, don't stop..."

"Fuck, you're so good," he breathes, dizzying you with a deep, powerful thrust, and you struggle to touch yourself. His metal arm keeps you securely fastened against him, unable to touch-- so he runs his fingers down, rubbing circles around your clit.

"Oh-god," you gasp, pushing back against each thrust, "Nate, Nate--"

"Don't call me that."

"You're so good, oh Nate!"

He shakes his head. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm the best fuck you'll ever get-- ah!"

He chuckles, and continues to thrust hard, shutting you up. Soon, he can feel you squeezing him, and knows your climax is coming.

"Come on," he coaxes, the weight of his body pushing against yours sending you whimpering, "I know you need to come. Now drop that stupid act princess, and let me make you scream for me."

You moan, and all at once, you come hard on his cock. Once you're done, he turns you around again, staring deep into your eyes, and that's what he needs to finally get there. Pulling out, he jerks himself a few times before come spurts out onto the mirror in thick ropes. You watch, transfixed, and then look back up at the older man.

"You fuck good."

He regards your swollen lips, putting his thumb there and swiping across. "You taste good."

You catch your breath, and nod. "Therefore... I think we can come to some kind of agreement." He narrows his eyes.

"Wade's never gonna shut up if he finds out."

"Eh. He never shuts up anyway." You begin to smirk. "It was so hard for me to hate you."

"Yeah. Me too." He strokes his human hand against your face, but you take his metal one, bringing it up to your cheek. Your suspicions are confirmed as he flinches a little and blushes, and you hold the hand there.

"Hey," your expression softens, "I like you. All of you."

"I'm more machine than man. I've only got part of me left," he replies, looking down. You let his human hand fall down to rest on your hip, and snuggle into his metal one.

"That's not true. Now drop the stupid act, princess," you grin, slapping his ass, "You need a shower."

[thefandomlesbian]

Hey idk if you still take prompts but could you maybe write smth like Person C: so how did we practice for you to ask out Person A? Person B: Hey, person A, can I take you out to eat on friday? Person C: and what did you ask Person B: Hey, person A, can I eat you out on friday? Person C: Person B: she said yes though... For foxxay ? You’re writing is amazing btw 💞

Read on AO3 for best experience!

A heavy book dropped onto the countertop in front of Misty where she ate her cold cereal. “We’ve got to talk,” Nan said. Misty blinked up at her, chewing and swallowing her Frosted Mini Wheats, and then she pushed the bowl away to look at the book Nan had given her. She studied the title: Gold Dust Woman: The Biography of Stevie Nicks by Stephen Davis. “You’ve got to talk to Cordelia, and you’ve got to do it now.”

Misty swallowed the lump of mushy cereal in her mouth. “Uh-uh, nice try. Stephen Davis got caught making up a bunch of nonsense in this book. He even got her birthday wrong. Stevie was born on May twenty-sixth.” She met Nan’s incredulous gaze. “Oh. Right. Cordelia.” She cleared her throat and pushed the book aside. “What’s wrong with Cordelia?”

“You’re in love with her.” Misty cringed at the frankness and loudness with which Nan said it, but her apprehension only caused Nan to smirk more. “And she’s in love with you, and you’re both afraid of each other! And I’m tired of listening to your brains rattle on about it! So somebody has got to do something, and I know Cordelia won’t, so it’s up to you.” Nan crossed her arms and raised a purposeful eyebrow at Misty, as if she expected everything to change on the spot. “You’ve got to do something. I can’t handle hearing the two of you think for another day. It’s stupid.”

Misty flinched. “Hey. Miss Cordelia is not stupid!” Nan gave her a pointed look, and after she reconsidered her words, Misty agreed, “Alright, I hear you. But I can’t just march up to her and ask her out. I mean, it’s not that simple--she’s the Supreme. And I don’t think she’s still over the whole thing where her husband tried to kill me.”

Drawing out the stool beside Misty, Nan hopped up into it. “Shouldn’t you be the one to get over it? You’re the one he almost killed.”

She shrugged. “I would’ve just come back, anyway.”

“Well, you’re right. She feels guilty about that.”

The corner of Misty’s lips twisted downward in distaste. She didn’t want Cordelia to feel guilty about anything, especially not Hank’s actions--Cordelia couldn’t have controlled him, and she couldn’t have known. “See, there’s that. And she’s the Supreme,” Misty repeated, in case Nan hadn’t caught it the first time. “She’s got way bigger things on her plate than me.”

“Yet you’re all she thinks about. All the time. All the time, Misty--I can’t sleep because she can’t sleep because she’s thinking about you. And it’s embarrassing to know the things she thinks about you when you’re my friend. I don’t want to think about you that way!”

Misty’s mouth dried up. “What does she think about me?” Nan arched an eyebrow. “Right, right, right, not the point.” She licked her lips. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“You’ve got to ask her out.”

“Nope.”

“Yep.”

“No.”

“Yes.” As Misty tried to slide away from Nan, considering the conversation over, Nan grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her back. “Wait! We can practice. I learned a new spell. Practice on me. Ask me to go out with you on Friday.” Misty blinked a few times as Nan’s body seemed to shiver and expand, growing taller and thinner, until she stared up at Cordelia in the flesh. “Ask me out.”

It was still Nan’s voice. Misty clutched the edge of the countertop with incredulous eyes. “Oh, bon dieu.” Her knuckles turned white. “You gotta knock that off. You’re too pretty for me to think right now.” She was right. It’s weird thinking about your friends like that. Nan crossed her arms and jutted out a hip with a strange look on her face--a look that would have been familiar on Nan but was entirely misplaced on Cordelia’s face. “Right. Um. Okay. Will you go out to eat with me on Friday?”

“Is that how you’re going to start the conversation? Just walk up to her and blurt it out?”

No, but I want this to be over right now. Nan snorted as she thought it, and Misty tried to clear her head before she accidentally thought something meaner. “No. Alright, lemme try again.” Maybe this is the best way. Cordelia’s a real person, not just a figment of my imagination with a pretty face. Putting Nan in Cordelia’s body made her more real. “Hey, Miss Cordelia, how are you?”

Nan laughed. “You’re closing your eyes!”

A hot blush crawled all over Misty’s face. “It’s easier if I don’t have to look at her while I do it! My tongue works better that way!”

Leaning against the counter top, Nan waited patiently for Misty to bring herself back down into reality. “So if you and Cordelia start dating, you’re just going to spend the whole relationship closing your eyes when you have to talk to her?”

“We’re not going to start dating!”

“You will if you do this right! Try again.”

Misty peeled her eyes open and stared right at Nan’s eyebrows. She couldn’t dip down lower; she couldn’t risk looking into Cordelia’s honey-hued eyes and getting lost inside of them. “Alright. Hey, Miss Cordelia, how are you?”

This time, the greeting won Nan’s approval. She smiled. It was almost Cordelia’s smile. “I’m fine, Misty. How are you? What’s on your mind?”

Whole face flaming, Misty swallowed hard. To her credit, Nan didn’t make her stop to correct the blushing problem. “I was just wondering if you’d go out to eat with me this Friday.”

She didn’t stammer at all to her own surprise. “Of course! I’d love to!” Misty ducked her head in embarrassment. “See, it’s not that hard, is it?”

Footsteps drummed on the stairs, and before Misty could answer, Nan whipped back into her own normal shape before Cordelia caught sight of her. She slid the book across the countertop toward Misty and nudged her pointedly before she walked away. She didn’t go far, just into the living room where she was still in earshot. “Good morning, Misty.” Misty blushed at the way Cordelia greeted her. Unfortunately, this gave her pause, and she hesitated. “Are you okay?”

“Um--yeah, yeah, of course.” Misty hopped up from the barstool. “Miss Cordelia, can I talk to you?” She threw out her cereal. It was soggy. She wasn’t hungry anymore, anyway.

Cordelia paused, her brows furrowing with concern. “Of course. What’s up?”

She cleared her throat. “I was just wondering… Um, I was thinking, maybe, would you like it if I eat you out on Friday?”

Cordelia ogled at her like she had grown a second head. From the living room, Nan laughed audibly. It took Misty a long moment of consideration to realize what she had said wrong, and she covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry--I didn’t mean--What I meant to mean, I mean what I said to mean, I mean what I meant to say, I meant to ask you if--Oh, God, I wish were dead.”

Placing a placating hand on Misty’s wrist, Cordelia bit her lower lip, chuckling. Misty looked into her sweet honey-hued eyes and fell into them. She swam around in Cordelia’s eyes like a lake, like an ocean, like she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. “It’s okay. Yes. I’d like it very much.”

“Really?” Cordelia nodded, and Misty dipped down and kissed her, surprising both of them. “Mmf! Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, either--” Cordelia bounced onto her tiptoes and kissed her again.

Behind them, Nan peeked around the corner. Misty shot her a thumbs up without breaking the kiss.