#maybe the 4 hours of sleep i got last night are catching up with me

[omppupiiras]

yes i know i am a grown ass adult but somebody please tell me to stop playing with my food

[7waystreet]

dirty confessions | jung hoseok

This BTS 18+ explicit series will include 7 diary entries (one from each of the bangtan boys) confessing to the dirty thoughts they have about (y/n) and the sinful sexual acts they've part taken in during their lives.

I kindly ask the reader to start with pt.1 and end with pt.7 since it's a series and will contain overlapping scenarios and characters ♡

✬ foreword pt. 1 — seokjin pt. 2 — yoongi pt. 3 — namjoon pt. 4 — hoseok pt. 5 — jimin pt. 6 — taehyung pt. 7 — jungkook

pt. 4 — hoseok

Dear diary (^.^)

I have a confession to make. I fucked Yoongi hyung's new gf (y/n) so good, she squirted a fountain out her pussy while he was sleeping in a tent right next to us~~~ (˘◡˘)

I never thought it would all start out with (y/n) catching a glimpse of my dick when I struggled to take a piss in the dark during our hyung line camping trip. Well, I should say rap line camping trip bcuz Namjoonie kicked Jin hyung out last min for fucking his little sister.

Shit. I was already terrified of being in the woods all by myself, but I got totally scared out my wits when I heard (y/n) sniffling alone like a ghost next to the tree I peed under, my hands scrambling to zip up my pants after I saw her openly staring down at my tip with reddening cheeks. Little did she know the same massive cock would make a stream gush out her pussy later too.

The thought of raising her leg up and pounding her roughly against the tree in the late hours of the night did cross my mind as I approached her sobbing figure, but I had to force those sinful thoughts out of my head while I gently rubbed her shoulder and asked her if she was okay. The overwhelming desire to slip my fingers into her panties and slowly rub her clit to soothe her even more started to make my hands shiver... but what she said out her pretty lips next suddenly made an irrational anger flare up in my gut.

"I don't think Yoongi finds me attractive. He... he never seems to want to get intimate with me."

Shit, if (y/n) was my girlfriend, I would fuck her fine ass all day and all night long until she saw real stars herself... certainly more satisfying than seeing the ones shining in the night sky above us in that very moment. Shit, the amount of stamina I've developed from dancing for years even scares me sometimes... the way I could be thrusting into her for hours... but what the hell was I supposed to tell her? That Yoongi hyung probably doesn't have time for her bcuz he cheats and stays busy fucking the thirsty hoes that line up for him outside his studio everyday? I couldn't break her innocent little heart like that... but I could comfort her with a hug, right? ('･_･')

What started off with my arm tenderly curling around her shoulder led to her getting closer and nuzzling her head into my chest, the way her quiet sighs of breath warmed the skin on my neck making me want to tear her clothes off and enter all of her holes one by one. I eased my way in though, the head pats I was giving her slowly shifting to a relaxing head massage with my fingers running through her soft hair, and she didn't even flinch when I pressed a fluffy peck on her forehead to calm down her tears. If only she could do something in return to calm down my raging boner that was now shamelessly poking into her belly while she hugged me tighter than ever...

All I could think of when (y/n) looked up at me with glistening eyes was the night I'd caught my ex bitch and Yoongi hyung fucking like mad dogs in my own living room... my eyes had shimmered with tears the same exact way after witnessing hyung betraying me so badly (ㅠ﹏ㅠ). My heart had broken into a million tiny pieces and I'd then gone deep diving into any pussy I could find just to heal my hurt, but it quickly got boring and I was worried I might get an STD from the number of cunts I pounded through by the end of my hot streak.

(y/n) was a different case though, and maybe I'm no better than Yoongi hyung, but nothing else mattered when she pleadingly asked me if I thought she was attractive, the only way I could answer being with a kiss on her lips. She seemed a bit taken aback by my move, although she still remained comfortably snuggled in my embrace, her shiny lips slightly quivering when she mumbled those three beautiful words every guy wants to hear. "I'm a virgin."

What better high could even exist than avenging my mistreatment by claiming (y/n)'s tight virgin pussy all for myself before Yoongi hyung could even get there?

It was a piece of cake bringing her into my tent, the way I kept assuring her with my sweet words that I'd be gentle with her making her relax right into my sleeping bag and warm blankets. There's no denying I'm a master at this game of silent seduction, and watching her melt and unfold underneath my touch was the affirmation I needed to pleasure her further into a squirting orgasm, that too the very first time she was having sex.

Shit, I'm getting hard writing this down and remembering that wonderful night... how I'd started off by kissing her neck while we laid down together wrapped in the sheets, my palms simultaneously running along her sides to really get a feel of her perfect curves. She began to tremble the more my hands got lower, but I soothingly coaxed her by assuring her I'd stop if she ever felt uncomfortable, and I of course would've bcuz I'd never force myself onto anyone. She loosened up soon enough though, her cute hands naturally finding their way onto my body to touch my back, a sharp gasp parting her lips when she finally groped my rock solid boner through my pants.

It was adorable how she shyly admitted not knowing exactly what to do next, my hand then guiding hers to slide inside my boxers so she could feel the warmth of my throbbing length. She bit her lip when the tips of her fingers felt my foreskin, her palm slowly wrapping around my girth and moving up and down in a stroking motion to understand my proportions. "I'm scared" she whispered and I felt my ego swell up with pride, the want to experience her untouched walls swallowing me up driving me crazier by the second.

Taking all of our clothes off got us both in the mood even more, and I reminded her not to be loud before I began touching her myself, the soft whimpers leaving her mouth like a melody to my ears when I kept grazing my fingers on her folds. I rubbed and teased her clit so good that she got soaking in no time, her mental strength impressing me as she continued massaging my cock despite her legs flailing when I started fingering her hole to stretch her out. I had to keep kissing her to muffle out her intensifying moans, my tongue slipping into her mouth and tugging with hers as our breaths began to get cut off from the rising heat within our bodies.

The best part was hearing Yoongi hyung snoring from the tent right next to us while I got on top of (y/n), the look of anticipation mixed in with excitement on her gorgeous face still freshly engraved in my mind. She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes when I gradually pushed the tip of my pulsing cock against her folds, easily inching my way into her dripping pussy within a few seconds. Holy shit... I might've lost count of how many girls I've fucked over the years, but I can surely confirm nothing beats (y/n)'s cunt. The pleasure was immeasurable to say the least, the tense feel of her clenching around my length as I nestled deep inside her core something I want to experience more than once in this life. And I'm guaranteed going to get it again seeing just how good I made her feel just within a few short minutes... she'll come back for more.

(y/n) locked into my eyes while I fucked her hard in the g-spot, which was the hottest thing ever, her brows tensing up in a furrow and the veins on her neck popping out when she dug her head back into the sleeping bag from the devastating arousal. I could feel the pressure building up inside her since she constricted her muscles to prepare for the approaching orgasm, a scare flooding my system as my palm dashed to push against her mouth a few seconds after she had screamed out loud from her release.

My cock slithered out of her just in time to watch her squirt like a good little girl, the clear stream of liquid bursting out of her pussy like a fountain, which soaked into the blankets and created a big wet stain. She was so overwhelmed that she appeared as if she was going to pass out from the embarrassment of it all, but I kept kissing and coaxing her to let her know everything was okay and it was beyond sexy if anything. I had to distract her from frenzying on by sticking my dick into her once again, which hushed her up right away, the desperate need to cum myself while pushing (y/n) into a second orgasm now the focus of my very attention, which was both successfully achieved soon enough.

Let's just say the sleeping bag and sheets got so wet from our own cum that I could no longer sleep in them, both me and (y/n) entering Yoongi hyung's tent after doing the unholy deed and sleeping on either side of him to end the night was a bang.

Hyung, if you're reading this, the revenge of getting back at you was no doubt sweet... but pounding (y/n)'s virgin pussy was much sweeter (^_-).

a/n ♡

i imagined the exact opposite storyline for hoseok, where an innocent (y/n) is seduced by his warmth and sweetness vs. yoongi's experience in his confession. hoseok is absolutely aware of all of his strengths and perfectly uses them to fuck (y/n) and get his revenge

— him writing cutie emojis to mimic his own expressions

— him being a scaredy cat (afraid of the woods, thinking y/n is a ghost, his own stamina scaring him, y/n's screams inducing a scare)

— him writing "shit" often like he says out loud irl

— his irl ability to stay on task and have immense self control which the members often praise him for (eases y/n into things and is able to guide her forward slowly despite his deep desire to fuck her)

[ethanmorales]

Misconceptions

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4 - Air

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 4.1k words Requested Tags: @arij3lly@hitoshislut@bjrmaybank@ghostfaceorgirlfriend @in-silverlake @misacc08 Warnings: swearing, smut

It's the beginning of a brand-new school year at Sherman Oaks high. The last year for some of us; me included. But the start of my senior year, ironically, is not the reason my legs are wobbly. Nope, that was all because of Ethan, who had knocked on my window for a late-night visit about 6 hours ago. There were a few things he wanted to try so… let’s just say, it was a good thing my mom had the night shift at the hospital.

It’s only been a week since our first time. Only a week since he admitted having feelings for me. Unfortunately, we didn’t discuss the matter further. My mom had gotten home after his confession, and he practically had to take his clothes and run out the back door before we got caught. We’ve met almost every day since, but we haven’t talked about us. We kiss a lot and of course we have sex, sometimes we even cuddle, and we talk about our days, but we never talk about what we are to each other and at this point, I’m afraid to ask.

I loved every second of the time we’ve spent together. But now that school has started again, I’m afraid. Afraid that things will go back to how they used to be. Afraid that a new girl will catch his attention. I know it makes no sense, after he confessed to having feelings for me, but the heart is a treacherous thing. You can never trust it. I most certainly don’t trust mine. It always makes me feel crazy most times. Or maybe it’s my mind that’s the problem.

It doesn’t help that it’s almost time for first period and I’ve not heard from Ethan yet. He usually texts me as soon as he wakes up. Today? Nada. I even texted him first, but he left me on read.  So, I’m spiraling, just a little bit. I think I’m entitled to in this situation.

I glance around the hallway one more time as the bell rings. I don’t see him anywhere. At that moment, Devi links her arm around mine. “That was the bell ringing just now,” she said, pointing a finger in the air.

I ignored the sarcasm but let her steer me away to our first class.

“I was expecting some witty remark,” she said, when I didn’t reply.

I force myself to smile, “Sorry, head in the clouds today.”

“It’s okay, girl. The first day of school sucks. My sleeping schedule is so messed up from a summer full of all-nighters.”

I quirk an eyebrow at this, “Do these all-nighters have a name?”

Devi shakes her head furiously, “Nope. No name at all.” I pretended to believe her as our teacher walked in the door, closing it behind him. I look back to Ethan’s desk but it’s empty. I hide my phone under the desk and shoot him a quick text.

Skipping on the first day? That’s bad, even for you.

Devi smacks the top of my desk, eyes wide. I glance to the front of the classroom and see the teacher is staring right at me. “Sorry, Mr. Shapiro.”

He sighs, “You guys are lucky I am the coolest teacher ever,” he continues before anyone can respond. “Raise of hands if you completed your summer reading,” pauses, “Yes, the audio book counts. No, the movie does not.”

The rest of the class was a blur. A glance at my phone confirmed that Ethan hadn’t responded. The anxiety in my chest continued to grow as time continued to pass. At lunchtime I still hadn’t heard from him. At this point, I was angry.

Fuming, I stomped all the way to my locker, putting away my books and backpack for the hour. As I’m closing the door, Dominic Stryker leans against the locker next to mine. Dominic was an exchange student that started late last semester. Everyone was surprisingly welcoming to him, but that might have something to do with the fact that he’s hot. Mind you, I only have eyes for Ethan but if I didn’t, the windswept blond hair and bright blue eyes would do it for me.

But Ethan was very much the only person that I wanted, so Dominic’s presence only served to irritate me more.

“Yes?” I asked when he just stared at me, sweeping his hair back with his hand.

Unfazed by my tone, he smiles warmly at me, “Say, have you seen Ethan anywhere? He hasn’t been in any of our classes.”

I frown at this, “Of all the people you could ask, why would I know where he is?”

Dominic shrugs, “I just got a vibe last time, like you were into him or something.”

I huffed. “I am definitely not into him.” I say it louder than I intend to, and some people slow down to look at us. He waves at them, and they quickly carry on with their business.

“My bad,” he says, looking back at me, smiling wider, “Just a misunderstanding.”

I sigh, once I realize that I’m being snappy and rude. “I’m sorry. It’s not been a great morning, I’m a little on edge. There’s no excuse for taking it out on you.”

Dominic slides over the lockers a bit, cutting some of the distance between us; then lowers his voice.

“I forgive you,” he says, “but I might have to seek compensation for the emotional damage.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile does tug at my lips. “Whatever. I’ll buy you a soda. Is that compensation enough?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “How about a meal? After school?”

I suddenly realized that he was asking about Ethan to make sure he could make his move. And I basically gave him the opening. Horrified, I struggle to respond.

“I- uh

“She’s busy after school.” The voice was very close behind me. I turned around so quickly that I bumped into his chest.

“Ethan.” Even at my addressing him, he didn’t look at me. His eyes were fixed on Dominic. For the moment, I ceased to exist.

“I think Y/N can decide if she’s busy or not,” Dominic says, standing up straighter to look down at Ethan. But Ethan seems unfazed.

“I think you need to keep walking before I lose my patience.” Ethan’s words were calm, but I knew him well enough to know this was the calm before the storm. I’ve seen him fight before; Dominic did not stand a chance if it turned into that.

“Guys, please. Just stop. If you get detention this week, they won’t let you come to homecoming.” I was trying to be the voice of reason, but my reasoning was lacking in many ways. My audience could care less about homecoming, for one.

“I’m still waiting for a response, “Dominic says, ignoring my previous statement. “Food after school? I know a cool spot.”

Ethan pulls me to the side so that he can face Dominic without me being in the middle.

“I already told you that she’s busy.” Ethan’s voice was not as calm as before. His hands were balled into fists. I knew I had to stop this now or it would turn into a fight.

“I got a lot going on right now, sorry Dominic.” My words come out quick.

Ethan smiled at this, motioning towards me. “You heard her. Now go find someone else to hit on.”

Dominic’s expression was deadly as he stared back at Ethan, but then his gaze turned to me.

“I thought you were definitely not into him,” he said it in a mocking tone, air quotations in the air. I didn’t know what to say that could make this better, so I just looked at him with what I hoped looked like a silent apology.  He just shook his head in disbelief as he pushed past us, finally leaving us alone.  

Even with his departure, Ethan stays in place, still not looking at me.

“Ethan?” I finally say.

I jump in surprise as he slams his fist on the locker door and I see the metal bend.

“Oh my God,” I grab his arm and pull him away before anyone sees what he did. I haul him through the hallway and take a left, this part of school is empty during lunch time. I find the nearest door and push him through it. I lock the door behind us and turn around. It’s the faculty bathroom, I realize.

“Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into for damaging school property? You don’t need a vandalism strike on your records.”

He finally turns to face me, but the expression on his face is even angrier than before.

“What the fuck do I care about that?” he replies. Before I can start listing the reasons why he should care, he continues, “What the fuck was that shit about?” He points to the door, but I know he is talking about Dominic. I stay quiet for a moment, not sure how to proceed. I had never seen him this angry. Ever. But at the same time, screw him. I was angry at him myself.

“I should be the one asking you, what the fuck was that? I’ve been looking for you all morning and texting you and nothing. You ghost me and then have the audacity to throw a jealous scene over some guy asking me out?!” The volume of my voice rose with each word.

 I half expected Ethan to throw more angry words at me, or to yell back at me, but it was the opposite. His voice low, he responds. “I dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.”

I stare, waiting for the punchline but he doesn’t say anything else.

“You dropped your phone in the toilet,” I repeat, not sure if I believed it.

Ethan let out an annoyed breath, “I was going to respond to your text, and I dropped it. If you texted after the first one that I read, I haven’t seen them. I left my phone in a bowl of rice.”

I scoff, “Your phone is waterproof.”

Ethan gives me a pointed look, “Not if you leave it in water for a long time, apparently.”

“Why would you leave it in there at all?”

Silence.

“Ethan, I am trying to give you the chance to explain.”

He mumbled something under his breath.

I take a step closer to hear him better. “What was that?”

Ethan shakes his head. “My parents were fighting again.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say.

Ethan laughs, but the sound is bitter.

“Yeah. So, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you then. But you letting this dick hit on you while I’m dealing with that shit. Fuck that.”

I suddenly felt terrible, even though I didn’t know what was happening until he explained. We kept ending up in this situation, always with a misunderstanding. But I knew the only reason this kept happening is because our communication was shit. Because I didn’t know where we stood.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was hitting on me until it was too late.” I finally say.

Ethan scoffs – not amused.

“What are we?” I finally ask, exasperated. As soon as the words spill out of my mouth, I regret them. This was the last thing Ethan would want to talk about with everything going on.

Ethan just stares at me. Looking beautiful and tortured.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything,” my voice trembles and I hate it.

Ethan steps closer. “Are you serious?”

I meet his gaze, but I can’t decipher the emotion in his eye.

“I said forget about it!” I start turning to leave, embarrassed at my outburst. Ethan just pulls me into him and kisses me. I’m too stunned to respond to his kiss, which seems to upset Ethan more as he pushes me into the bathroom sink, kissing me more aggressively. I give in and kiss him back. His tongue quickly starts a tug of war with mine as he deepens the kiss. After a moment of this, I can’t remember what we were arguing about in the first place. All I can think about is the way his mouth moves with mine, effortlessly. His hands on my waist, then lower, cupping my butt. I pull away for a moment, “It’s the teacher’s bathroom,” I said, my voice breathless.

“I don’t give a fuck,” is all he says, as he kisses me once more, then stops, “You asked me a question. I’m making my point.” I try to remember what the question was but then we’re back at it and I forget to remember.

Ethan plops me on top of the sink as we continue kissing. I feel one of his hands on my thigh and then moving slowly up under my skirt.

“Fuck.” He groans against my lips. I smile, knowing that he has realized I’m not wearing underwear.

“This better have been for me and not for that asshole,” he says as his fingers caress my opening.

I look at him, annoyed. Smack him in the chest. “Do you really think I care about Dominic?”

Ethan holds my gaze steadily and my heart flutters. Stupid body. Why do you have to react in the most annoying ways at the worst possible times. Who cares about his beautiful caramel skin and beautiful brown eyes. He is a jerk.

“I hope not.” He finally says.

“What?”

“I hope you don’t care about him. I hope you only care about me.”

My heart speeds up. “I don’t care about him or any other guy.” I start to tell him that he was the only one I care about, but I don’t get a chance to tell him. In that moment, he slips a finger inside of me and I gasp in surprise. Ethan holds my gaze as he slips a second finger in. I let out a shaky breath as he starts moving in and out.

“I’m the only guy who’s allowed to do this, do you understand?” His tone was a mixture of anger and lust. I was holding on to his arms for dear life as he pumped his fingers in and out of me, then he presses on my clitoris with both fingers, which makes me moan involuntarily. I claw my nails into his arms to keep myself together.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. Fighting the ache building up inside me and breathing heavier by the second, I nod.

His fingers stop moving suddenly, leaving with their absence, a vengeful kind of coldness and I whine in protest. “Ethannn”

“Say it.” He demands. I frown at him, annoyed.

“Fine. You’re the only one who is allowed to do this.”

He smirks. “Yeah, I am.”

I think of an insult to throw at him but never get to say it. At my saying what he wants to hear, Ethan’s hands spread my legs apart and he kneels, his head disappearing under my skirt. Still, I’m not prepared for the attack from his tongue.

Ethan’s POV

I’m not proud at how I reacted about that dick hitting on her, but when I walked over and heard him flirting with her and then asking her out…  It felt like I was set on fire by some supernatural being. It took all of me not to pummel him right there. The nerve on this fucker; to ask my girl out. But what really fucked me up is that she didn’t immediately reject him. That felt like a stab to the heart. I wanted to burn the whole damn world down.

Once in the bathroom, as we threw angry words at each other I realized what the problem was. We both care too fucking much, but we also hold back even more.

Most of the anger in me dissipates at her words when she finally says what I want to hear, even if she only says them because I told her to. I don’t know how to say the things I want to say, so I decided to show her to the best of my abilities. I drop to my knees and in between her legs and under the shield of her skirt, I kiss her in her wetness. I hear her breathing pick up as I suck at her clit; her hand grabbing at my hair. I groan, turned on even more at the simple gesture. I loved it when she did that.

I pull away and she practically whimpers. “Don’t stop.”

I stand up and look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest moving fast with shallow breaths. I feel more blood rushing to my dick. The pain is almost unbearable now.

“Hang on, baby.” I fumble with the button in my jeans. Once I pull them with my boxers, I let her look at me for a moment, the desire in her eyes just driving me to the edge. I pull her to me for a second, kiss her lips softly and smile.

“Now turn around,” I order.

She looks confused for a second, but she does as she is told. Her doing everything I ask her makes me so fucking horny, she has no idea how much power she has over me. Fueled by an animalistic kind of desire, I guide her to a bending position and hold her hips with both my hands. Without a word, I push myself into her. I see her grab onto the sink to support herself as I drive myself deeper inside her. I give her a moment to get used to the feeling since it’s the first time we have done this.

I can see her flushed face through the mirror and when she makes eye contact with me, I catch the silent plea. At this, I lose whatever is left of my sanity. I plunge myself inside of her. She moans and I follow, as I slip in and out. As I watch our reflections in the mirror, I see when she starts to close her eyes as the pleasure continues to build. I hate the idea of her not looking at me when I’m inside her. I pulled out and turn her around to face me.

“Don’t take your eyes off me.”

I lift her onto the sink again and hold her gaze as I shove my throbbing dick inside her again. At this angle, her head falls back when she screams. I grab her face to make her look at me.

“God, Ethan.” Her reaction eggs me on. I move faster, knowing I have a limited time to make her cum. I was barely hanging on as it is. Our breaths were labored as I continued to fuck her. You could hear her wetness as I moved, but her pussy continued to tighten around me so I knew she was close. I slid out a bit and positioned myself slightly to the left before I pushed myself in again. She screamed, loudly this time. I smiled at finding the right spot and moved faster. This time, as if we were in sync, we came together. Once we rode the wave, breathing heavily, I gently helped her off the sink. After pulling my pants up, I loop my arms around her and rest my sweaty forehead against hers. We both closed our eyes, trying to catch our breath.

“What I was trying to say is… you’re mine.” I finally found the words.

I open my eyes to find her watching me. Her face gets redder. I’m confused for a moment and then realize why she’s upset.

“And I’m yours. I thought that part was obvious.” I say.

Y/N narrows her eyes at me, and I laugh.

“How is that obvious?” she asks.

“I told you how I felt last week. If anything, I’m the only one that should be angry. You never told me how you felt about me.”

“I thought that part was obvious.” She throws the words back at me, her tone playful.  

I smile and kiss her deeply.

“So how do you feel about me?” I ask after we stop.

I didn’t want to admit that it had bothered me so much. We’ve spent the last week glued to each other and not once had she brought it up, so I decided to not bring it up and make an even bigger fool out of myself. But the more days passed, the more insecure I became. That’s probably why I lost my mind earlier.

Y/N smiles softly and cups my face with her hands.

“I’ve been crazy about you for I don’t know how long,” she says. I smiled at her words, the heavy feeling in my chest finally easing.

“Me? But I suck,” I say jokingly.

“Yet I’m still in love with you.” She pushes at me gently, embarrassed. I grin like an idiot at her declaration.

I grab her face and kiss her again. Once, twice, three times.

“Ethan,” she giggles. I bury my face in her neck and kiss her there too, holding her tightly against me.

“I love you too.” I say.

When she looks at me, I see stars in eyes.

A knock on the door makes us both jump.

“Shit.”

Y/N POV

“Oh God, we’re going to get expelled.”

Ethan chuckles at this and I smack his arm.

“Just deny everything. They didn’t see anything so it’s their word against ours.”

I shake my head, “But the door was locked.”

“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up, “You trust me?”

I nod and he smiles.

“Then follow my lead.”

I do. I walk slowly behind him, fighting the soreness in my body and holding on to Ethan’s arm when I notice how shaky my legs are. Ethan looks beside me and realizes. He gives me what seems to be an apologetic smile.

We moved to the door, which was still being knocked on. He turns the lock and opens it.

We’re both surprised to see Paxton standing there, swimming coach uniform on. I don’t think Ethan was prepared to see him of all people. He stays quiet.

Paxton looks at him and then me, almost trying to hide a smile.

“You guys should go. Now. Be thankful it was me.”

I let out a sigh of relief and so did Ethan. We started moving around him and out into the hallway, but Paxton put a hand up to stop me as I was about to walk past him.

“You might want to try being a bit more… discreet next time.” I look at him, confused and he elaborates, stepping closer to not be heard. “You were loud. Like very loud.” I blush furiously at his words and speed away from him. I heard him chucking behind me.

The end of lunch arrives at the sound of the bell and suddenly the empty hallways fill up again, everyone going into classrooms and their lockers to pick up their stuff at the last minute. As we’re moving through the people around us, Ethan’s hand slips into mine and he interlocks our fingers. I quickly looked at him in a question. But he just smiles. We walk to my next classroom, and he walks in with me, hand in hand, even though we don’t share this class. We get to my desk, which coincidentally, is next to Dominic’s. I understand now.

“Thanks for walking me.” I say, shyly. I hear my classmates whistling and adding commentary in the background. I sit down but notice Ethan hasn’t moved from his spot. I look at him in a question. He then bends down and kisses me long. I vaguely hear angry muttering beside me, but I ignore it, lost in the kiss.

“Good afternoon Mr. Morales. I wasn’t aware I had you in this class.” My math teacher had arrived.

Ethan winked at me as he moved away to leave. “I’m out,” he tells my teacher, hands up in surrender, turns around and points at me, “I just wanted to take care of my lady.”

The whole class reacts loudly.

I sink lower into my desk. Still, I smile. He was announcing to the world that we’re together, claiming me in front of everyone.  I couldn’t imagine ever being happier than I was in that moment.

The End.

___________________

A/N: Thank you all for reading! You are bomb! Hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for other fanfics and/or one shots about Ethan. ☺️

Stay awesome, much love xx

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 5)

5. I've found heaven in hell

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol, angst, arguing, tension, tarot readings

Word count: 7,9 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I genuinely hope this chapter is as good as I wanted it to be, but I'm not so sure about it. I tried my best, but I'm certainly proud of the last scene of this chapter. Yes, we finally got to Baratie and Zoro's fight with Mihawk. I'd be very happy to hear your opinions, so let me know what you think <33 Not proofread yet.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

One card fell from her tarot deck from the moment when she started shuffling it: Death.

Nope, she immediately thought to herself. 

The witch let out a theatrical sigh and let the cards back in their place, half of her mind completely ignoring the meaning. 

No way I'm occupying my mind with such trouble now of all times. I couldn't even sleep last night. 

She could think about that later, after she gets a few hours of peace. They were lucky enough to escape from the Marines just a while ago. The answer she received after she came back to her room at the first hours in the morning — when she had just finished her night shift — was ambiguous enough. All she wanted was to breathe some fresh air. 

The witch got up from the bed and was ready to leave the girls' room while pulling a large shirt over the tight tank top hugging her curves, leaving it unbuttoned. The hot weather made her choose some shorts in favor of the usually large pants she preferred. The low heels of her boots created a strong sound with each step on the Going Merry's floor. 

"I still can't believe Luffy was the one to get us at this floating restaurant in the middle of the sea using his nose only," she chuckled at the navigator. 

Nami was glancing one last time into a small rounded mirror she held between her fingers before closing it and shoving it into a bag. 

"Add food to the equation and he could take over my role."

"Well, well, that's quite exaggerated. He might have an affinity for sniffling foods, but you can feel a thunderstorm. That's a big difference," the witch winked. 

"You're flattering me," Nami grinned. 

The witch opened the door of their room and they were instantly greeted with the rays of the sun. She squinted her eyes and walked on the deck with two knives and a gun sitting at her hips. Luffy was already on the dock of the restaurant created in the form of fish with an open mouth. Baratie was written in red neon lights on top of the suspended balcony of the restaurant. 

"Do you think there are marines here?" Usopp asked as he leaned against the railing of The Going Merry. 

"There are skulls on the flags of other ships. If marines are here, they're probably not for business. I wouldn't start yelling about it in the middle of a place filled with pirates," the witch commented. 

Any other words died on top of her tongue when her eyes fell on the swordsman who just left the galley. Maybe the witch should've been more careful while staring so insistently, but gosh, wasn't he always a sight? The dark bluet-shirt clinging onto his chest for dear life, accentuating the muscle lines and — god fucking dammit — the jeans squeezing his legs made her gulp. The signature swords were secured against his left hip. 

She averted her eyes before she could get caught ogling at the crewmate she grew fond of. It was a pleasure to blame it on the doses of alcohol in her veins, but it wasn't the case that time. She was wide awake and sober, so the nature of her thoughts was worrisome, to say the least. 

She was still dealing with the possibility of feelings. A concerning topic for an inexperienced person in the domain of romance. 

Another trouble she didn't want to think of. Maybe Zoro isn't that wrong for drinking with every occasion he gets. 

What made it worse was the lack of attention he gave her, as if she was just a ghost. 

Maybe she was overthinking it. 

Truth be told, she wasn't exactly wrong. Zoro did intentionally look away so he could save himself from embarrassment. He turned away before he swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers curling tighter around the hilt of his sword. He must've gotten insane to start avoiding people. 

"Let's go! I feel like I could die from hunger," Luffy jumped from the ship straight on the dock. 

The witch found the right thing to focus on: the restaurant looked amazing. Not only did it smell so divine her stomach learnt how to talk, but it was also splendid. For a second, the witch wondered if that was a place for pirates and not for some rich business people — they could certainly be found there. Dozens of tables and the constant chattering of people, waiters and waitresses walking around and rushing from one side to the other — it was so lively. 

The fishman greeting the people coming in smiled warmly at them, even if a little strained — a habit he got from his job. 

"You mean there's no free table for our captain, the soon to become King of the Pirates?" Usopp smiled proudly, pointing at Luffy. 

She found it hard not to laugh or chuckle at the interaction between Luffy and the poor fishman who said twice already that there will be an available table in three weeks. When the witch saw Nami shove her hand in her pockets, it was obvious what tactic she'd use. Obviously, it worked, even if Luffy and Usopp were cheering, walking down the stairs ahead of them. 

The witch looked around, wary of any possible threats or drunk people who would get mad about the smallest thing, like the way they looked. Everyone seemed so caught up in their own thing and it eased her mind, some anxiety leaving once her shoulders fell. 

However, there were certain gazes following her silhouette. It was probably because of each confident step she made, the elegance she carried, the force she proved to have with every sharp glance she threw around. Her fingers twitched to grab a hold of her dagger. She figured out there were no imminent threats yet. 

At the table, she found herself between Zoro and Nami. She was conscious the moment she intentionally sat a tad bit closer to the swordsman who comfortably spread his legs after he tried to fit his swords. Sometimes, when she'd shift in her seat, his knee would brush by hers and goosebumps would erupt on her skin. She allowed herself to enjoy the proximity, the way her gaze would linger on his figure when he talked, the low timbre of his voice soothing her soul. 

She had to get used to that idea. 

It ached. Her heart would thump painfully in between her ribs each time it felt like he was ignoring her. He didn't say much to her since morning and something inside of her was bleeding, despite the lack of crimson liquid tainting her clothes. 

The witch hated him for every cold glance thrown her away or, worse, each time he didn't even look at her when she spoke. To protect herself, her lips got sealed for a long while. 

Her attention was piqued by the fight between two marines who seemed unable to swallow up their pride, threatening each other with death, while a beautiful lady sat at the table, looking at them with fear visible on her expression. 

The roll of her eyes and the exasperated exhale she let out spoke for her as the witch rested her elbows on the table and held her face with a hand. 

"Do people always act like that over stupid things?" Usopp frowned. 

"They act worse," the witch scoffed, amused. "The average pirates aren't any better either, you know."

"Bold of you to say that when you're a pirate yourself," Nami shook her head. 

"I've never claimed I'm a lady, so," she shrugged. 

A waiter with blonde hair dressed in a clean black suit appeared by the men's table. There was a specific customer-friendly smile plastered on his face while he tried to calm the waters. 

One of the two men pulled his pistol out just to have his arm being hit by the waiter's feet. In a few seconds only, the other man received the same treatment, getting a strong blow right in the stomach. The blonde waiter rolled on his feet and right after his feet collided with the man's face, he prompted his hands on the table to pin the other pink-haired marine to the floor with a kick in the crown of his head. 

"Good fighter," Luffy pointed out with excitement bouncing in his tone. 

As if nothing ever happened, the man's fingers grabbed at the plate he abandoned on the table and smiled again. 

"No cause for alarm, folks. Please enjoy your meals." 

A normal occurrence, most probably. 

The waiter came to their table with a few long steps. From up close, his handsome features washed away the obvious forced smile plastered on his thin lips. 

"Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?" 

His voice was tinted with harshness and he was definitely in a bad mood, visible despite the professionalism he tried to stick to. 

Luffy grabbed one of the small loaves of breasla on the plate the waiter just placed down in front of them. 

"One of everything, please," their captain spoke with his mouth stuffed. 

"What's wrong with the ambiance?" the witch asked, confused. "Not to flatter, but this place is splendid." 

Something in that man's head misunderstood it as you're splendid, apparently, since his eyes shone like crystals when they settled on the witch's figure. 

Maybe her mouth spoke before she had time to think it over. Bad decision. 

"It became splendid the moment you walked in, perhaps," he smiled effortlessly, his voice dropping an octave. 

Wait… what?

"Thank you?" she blinked owlishly. 

It sounded more like a question. Not the first compliment she received and she also had to admit that most of the men who flirted with her were absolutely gross. This one was decent, even polite — hell, someone could've taken courtesy lessons from him. 

The energy shifted. Or, better said, the man next to her shifted. Zoro just crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Sanji with a glare meant to send daggers through his face. The waiter didn't even bother to look at Zoro. 

"Is there anything I could bring for these two beautiful ladies?" his smile widened visibly once he spotted Nami right next to the witch. "Would you care for an apéritif to start? Or perhaps some drinks, like one of our signature cocktails? Maybe a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet for someone sweet."

His wink was flawless and it would've been perfect if not for Nami's retort. 

"Something wrong with your eye?"

Nami was frowning, taken aback by the comment and equally amused. 

"Very good question," the witch nodded. 

Nami tried her best to stifle a laugh when she realized she was backed up. Usopp was hardly holding back his laughter

"Forgive a man for being blinded by such beautiful ladies," he grinned as if he'd fallen in love not once, but twice in the same minute. "So?"

"Water, please," Nami answered. 

"Still, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?" 

"Regular water in a regular glass. Thanks." 

"A beer for me."

Zoro's voice was threatening and low, sharp gaze still focused on Sanji. 

"A beer for me. I usually have two, but…" Usopp didn't have enough time to continue as he's been interrupted by Luffy. 

"A glass of milk for milk for me!" the straw hat said with his mouth still stuffed with bread. 

Sanji's head turned towards the witch with a smile curling his lips. 

"One of the special cocktails you mentioned, please."

The witch didn't intentionally use that kind voice. It was a habit whenever she talked to strangers to soften her tone and smile out of courtesy and politeness. Probably, her kind gesture has been misunderstood as flirtatious. 

"Any preferences? We have plenty of options you can choose from." 

His smile already reached his ears and she could feel a specific swordsman straightening his back by her side. 

"Nothing too strong, if you may." 

"Of course." 

"Are you done yet?" 

Zoro made all of them turn their attention to him and while usually he wouldn't like it, at that time he couldn't give a single fuck about it. All he did was arch his eyebrow at the waiter and telling him to fuck off as politely as he could, with no cuss words falling from his mouth yet. If Sanji continued to gravitate around their table with that flirtatious smile on his lips, the swordsman might burst a vein on his forehead sooner rather than later. 

Sanji wasn't exactly satisfied to be rushed, but he turned on his heels and left. The witch was still looking at Zoro from the corner of her eye, trying her best to understand what just happened. 

He seemed fine minutes ago. Not too talkative, definitely, but not… so mad either. What has been with that scowl on his face ever since Sanji appeared? He couldn't be enough of a man child to be jealous of someone's flirting—

I'm getting delusional lately, the witch cut off her own thought process. 

"Mad about something, Zoro?" Nami smirked devilishly. 

"Everything's fine." 

Everything was, in fact, not fine. 

The witch was engulfed by her thoughts, fingers pressing and rolling the fork between her fingers after their food was served. She had to admit she was hungry and was trying her best to savor the pieces of meat tickling her taste buds, but it was almost impossible to ignore the shallow sensation in her stomach. 

"Was there anything wrong with your tarot?" 

Nami, who was by her side, turned her head and offered the witch her entire attention. Maybe she's been playing with her food for long enough to get their attention. 

"Not wrong, just something I would've rather not know," she said after swallowing. 

"What did you see?" 

She shook her head softly with a light chuckle leaving her lips. 

"I pulled the Death card." Quickly enough, she realized she shouldn't have started with that. 

"Who's dying?!" Usopp almost choked on his food. 

"It's metaphorical death," she clarified. "The ending of a cycle and a new beginning, whatever that might mean this time," with a shrug, she proved her own uncertainty. 

"Doesn't sound that bad," Zoro commented while he curled his fingers around his glass of beer. 

The young woman still remembered each element of the first tarot card she saw before they left The Going Merry. The skeleton dressed in silver armor on the white horse, holding a flag with the number 'XIII' and the people kneeling in front of it, their clothes painted in golden, blue and white. 

"It usually implies a hard step to take in order to advance. Change doesn't come unless you allow it and transformation is supposed to help you evolve, not regress. Each time, it doesn't come easily and it shakes up your reality first. Simply put, who the heck knows what might happen in the next few days," she clicked her tongue. "Anything is possible."

"What use do those readings have if you can't even find out what's really going on?" Nami arched her eyebrow. 

Fate spoke for itself. 

The witch's eyes fixed on hers, regret hanging around her heart. 

"They give enough clues, I just have to figure them out."

She felt bad for keeping to herself the other two cards she pulled: the ten of swords and the four of pentacles — betrayal reasoned by protecting yourself. The witch knew who this was about and she didn't mutter a word about it, finding it improper to do so. 

"And did you?" 

"Not entirely yet," she bit at her bottom lip. 

She knew her words were probably just passing by the ears of her friends. The witch was well aware they had no reason to believe in such things or listen to her. They could take her words into account or completely ignore them; it didn't really matter, as for her the reality remained the same. 

What mattered was that she knew only half of the upcoming events. The other side was hidden somewhere in shadows and life lessons the cards decided she had to learn on her own. 

"I won't need food for a year," Nami commented after she leaned back against the cushions, sighing. 

"We should do a toast. Come on, grab your glasses." 

The witch's fingers curled around her glass of cocktail with a soft smile. 

"To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!" 

"No, I'm sorry," Nami furrowed her eyebrows. "What victory exactly?"

The witch didn't even get to bring the glass to her lips, Nami's question sinking deeply into her bones. 

"I don't know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…" 

"Two dozen, at least," Usopp interrupted her before taking one more sip from his beer. 

"Plenty," the witch placed her untouched glass back on the table. "It was a disaster, I'm well aware of it. We could've died before reaching a day of sailing with The Going Merry." 

"Then I suppose you agree we were unprepared and uncoordinated," Nami turned towards her. 

There's never been such tension lingering around the navigator since the witch got to know her. The orange haired woman was easy going and talkative, she was skilled and was so strong. Someone used to the harsh world they lived in and yet she seemed absolutely stupefied by the mention of said victory. 

Nami was tense and uncomfortable as she continued to shift in her seat, surprised wide eyes glaring at Luffy. 

"You didn't think to mention your grandfather was a Marine? And not just any marine, a vice-admiral! I don't know about you, but I didn't sign up for that." 

"You raided a marine base," Zoro spoke calmly. "Of course that'll make you a target." 

The witch only let out a soft sigh and straightened her back with a frown. She was equally worried, but… 

"I understand where you're coming from, Nami, but it wouldn't have helped us with anything to know about Luffy's relatives or their status. We're already haunted for merely having a map in our possession."

At their table Sanji appeared again, with a gray plate with a paper in between his fingers this time.

"Your bill, sir."

Luffy pulled his lips together and glanced at Nami before taking the pen and scribbling something. 

"Thank you," he smiled up at the waiter. 

Sanji took the plate and almost instantly, a mischievous grin splayed on his face. 

"No, thank you," and with that, he walked away. 

Whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Luffy turned towards his friends once again, confident in his opinion. 

"I'm not saying it's good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them that they can't just roll over us. This crew, our crew, can handle anything." 

The witch gently smiled at him and leaned her elbows on the table again. 

"We could use your optimism, Luffy, but it's harder than that. At any given time from now on, the simple fact that we're after One Piece is enough of a reason for a Warlord to come after us because right now, we're an easy target. Not to mention the relationship between the Marines and the Warlords. Remember that these seven pirates aren't anyone's toys and if we ever encounter them, it will not always have something to do with the Navy."

"What makes you talk about the Warlords?" the navigator gulped. "They'd be an ever bigger pain in our asses. Average pirates are merciless already—"

Nami stopped herself from talking and looked away. An unusual reaction met with silence from the witch.

"Luffy isn't the only one with relatives—"

"Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?" a hoarse voice boomed. 

The witch could feel a headache appearing along with the old chef who was hobbling because of his wooden leg. She finally gulped the entire cocktail. 

Why was Luffy always getting into trouble? 

"I need a drink," Nami exhaustedly threw her head back. 

"I need dozens of drinks," the witch sighed heavily. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Maybe it wasn't a camaraderie thing to do to their captain, but they were now occupying some seats on the terrace of the open fish mouth. The witch was in between Nami and Usopp on the large couch, with their backs facing the sea, meanwhile Zoro sat on a chair, at the other side of the table. 

The witch had a whiskey bottle from which she poured herself shots once in a few minutes. Usopp had three straws in his mouth and he drank a sweet cocktail from a bowl. Zoro warned him with a chuckle, but he didn't listen. 

Nami, on the other side, was silent as she stared into her empty glass for longer than expected. The witch found it worrisome — she was used to her own phases, but it hurt to watch her friend struggle with something she didn't entirely share. Nami's issue was known by them and yet there was something the witch just grasped onto, a tale told by her tarot. 

"The next drink is on me," the navigator got up from her seat. 

"Nami," the witch's fingers curled around her friend's. 

She squeezed Nami's hand gently and looked up at her with concern in her eyes. The witch rubbed her fingers over her knuckles in a silent plea, her eyebrows knitted together.

You're not alone, her touch said. It's alright. We can make it alright. 

Nami swallowed down hard and barely squeezed the hand who held her before slipping away from them. 

The witch poured herself a shot and gulped it down quickly. 

"Why are you in such a hurry as well?" 

Zoro's voice made her chest burn worse than the alcohol. 

"I'm not going anywhere. I'd just rather not talk," she mumbled as she rolled the small glass between her fingers. 

"You know something that I don't," he concluded quickly. 

Usopp, who sat like an obedient child and listened, blinked curiously. 

"I know a lot of things that you don't, Zoro," she responded with sorrow. 

Saying one single word about Nami while she was gone felt unfair. 

When the orange haired woman came back to them with a bottle in her hand, her conversation with Zoro somehow turned into a guessing game. Usopp, who obviously didn't take the swordsman's warning into account, went to the dance ring and moved like a sea slug — or that's what Zoro said. 

"Are you in?" Nami asked. 

"I'd rather not," the witch lowered her gaze. 

It was easy to admit she didn't want to share anything about herself. Still, she knew better than that; with some shots, her tongue would loosen up bit by bit. 

Her eyelashes fluttered lazily and her gaze fell on the glass she held. The corners of her mouth were slightly curled downwards and she seemed aware of the effect alcohol would have on her. She will succumb into sorrow or happiness, depending on which one clouded her mind first. The lack of answers coming from someone who adored to share experiences and explain was strange. 

Nami looked at her from the corner of her eye and accepted the situation as it was. She'll get the witch to talk one way or another. Something was fishy about her behavior — it was poking Nami's senses. 

The witch leaned against the cushions and turned her head towards the sea, pushing reality out of her awareness. Zoro's and Nami's conversation sounded muffled from her perspective, caging herself willingly in her head. 

Zoro was sitting right in front of her and the witch still thought of him. Her feelings were confusing and analyzing them was a full time job. Maybe it was time for her to accept her situation and deal with the heart aching for him. It was impossible not to think of him, especially when his deep voice sounded like a melody. 

She swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked away the overwhelming sensation settling in her chest. Maybe the present could give her peace. 

"You're unfair, Roronoa," she crooked a teasing grin and turned her head towards him. 

"How's that so?" 

His gaze burning holes into her shouldn't affect her as much as it did. Those black oceans shining shamelessly told her everything she had to know, it made hope bloom in the center of her soul. 

Maybe there was a chance. A tiny little chance hidden in his mesmerizing eyes. 

"She's telling you entire stories, but you don't even bother to elaborate."

He clenched his jaw and scoffed. 

"That's not part of the game," the side of his mouth curled upwards. 

"Now that I think about it, she's right," Nami smirked. 

"Just drink."

With that, they raised their glasses and both glanced at the unusually silent witch. 

"I didn't play the game," she excused herself. 

"That's why you have to drink. You listened and didn't share," Nami arched her eyebrow. "Are you also unfair, Witch?" 

It was Zoro the one who poured whiskey in her empty glass. 

"You two are so sneaky," the witch laughed softly and complied. 

The alcohol burnt her throat and it was the alcohol getting to her head that brought questionable curiosities in her head… How would his lips taste? Would he make her burn harder? A one single touch from him would both ruin and put her back together. 

Alright, I have to find something else to think of. 

Hastily, the witch who sat by Nami's side gulped down another shot of whiskey and got up from the cushions. An idea creeped in her mind when her attention fell on the group of four musicians whose music Usopp danced to. 

"Where are you heading to?"

"Killing some time," she winked at Nami. 

With light steps, she walked to the guitarist and asked for his instrument after he just finished playing. With a nod, he handed her the guitar and she grabbed a chair to sit on. Her legs crossed and she positioned the guitar in her lap easily, like second nature. Gentle fingers tapped the wooden object and her lips curled — it was perfect — before her grip on the neck of the guitar tightened. Her other hand was busy testing the chords, tingles running down her spine at the sensation. 

She hasn't felt that in too long. 

The alcohol was also a reason for her bold action, but the witch didn't care. The fingers of one hand pressed against the strings, while she played with the other hand, giving life to the guitar. Lively sounds rang through the air and the other musicians quickly picked up on the notes. A classic, an old shanty pirates would sing when drunk after victories, but it was more beautiful when she played it. Even her humming and the rare times when her lips would part to let sweet words fall from between them, it was alluring. 

Zoro's attention never left her figure. Her eyes sparkled with freedom and the smile on her face was that of an angel. She was life itself, stuck under soft skin and hidden in her heart. The dim lights of the terrace — the open fish mouth — bathed her in white and warm gold. Her happy face, the smile lines, the crinkles of her eyes, the jovial energy surrounding her; all of these things charmed him over and over again. The longer he looked at her, the worse it got, because he didn't have the courage within himself to avert his gaze from her. 

"You should just admit it," Nami said. 

He didn't look at her when he let out a low "Hm?" 

"Don't you think she's pretty?" 

His head snapped towards her. 

"What are you talking about?"

"Which one of us are you trying to fool, Zorol; me or yourself?"

Uncomfortably, the swordsman shifted in his seat, clenching his jaw. 

"I think you're confused," he responded  with fake confidence while he crossed his arms over his chest. 

"No, you are confused," Nami scoffed. "You were jealous back then, when Sanji flirted with her."

"You're quick to jump to conclusions."

"If Usopp would be here, he'd agree."

"Unfortunately, he's too drunk to even walk straight, so I suppose he isn't here to support your theory." 

"Speaking of him."

Nami just spotted Usopp who came back to their table with a man behind him. A strange man, judging by the hilt of the sword as tall as him — and he wasn't short by any means either. 

"Which one of you is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Zoro turned his head lazily, arching his eyebrow. 

"I don't recall such a name."

The witch's peace has been entirely destroyed by the new appearance, an unwelcome guest. She could spot him easily because of his big elegant hat with feathers and the sword with precious stones on the hilt. 

It was her turn to stand proudly in front of a Warlord she's only heard about from her deceased father. Her back was straight and her chin up high, gaze sharp. 

When the man turned his head to her, there was no mistake it was Dracule Mihawk, his golden irises shining with boredom. Even his perfect posture betrayed the obvious superiority he had in front of some mere children. 

"I didn't know your father had raised a liar. He was honest, from what I recall." 

The witch knew she was her father's splitting image, but how could he know— 

The only thing that stopped her eyes from widening in surprise were the nails digging painfully into her palms. 

"I don't know any Monkey D. Luffy and I certainly have no clue what you're talking about." 

"I have business with your captain. If you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over." 

"I don't know either," Nami responded from her seat. "Right, Zoro?"

"You're Dracule Mihawk."

The swordsman got up from his chair and for a moment, the witch wondered if he was insane or more delusional than her, because there's no other way he stood without a worry in the world in front of him. 

In front of someone who could slice entire ships into pieces. 

"Zoro?" the witch whispered, horrified. 

The man in question stepped by Mihawk and walked slowly, steadily, as if the Warlord was his prey. 

"It pains me to inform you that tomorrow… you're going to die."

Oh, Gods, please don't. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch was left speechless. She couldn't find strength in her legs and she had to sit on a chair when all of them gathered in the valley of their ship.

Zoro wasn't a sane man. He needed to be locked up or someone had to get that stick from up his ass before he had a chance to die out of stupidity. 

She shook her head countless times while Zoro and Nami argued, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips and squeezing her eyes shut. 

"Why do you even care?" the swordsman's cold tone rang in the air. 

"Because you're my friend, you idiot."

Nami sounded close to losing it all. 

The witch already lost it one hundred times. Her heart wasn't beating, her breath was shallow and she was pinching the bridge of her nose to hold back from saying or doing something rude, something she would later regret. The tension in the room weighed on her chest and she wished it was all just a nightmare. 

"You said you don't have any friends," Zoro responded sharply. 

The woman's eyes snapped open. He was more insane than she thought. She wanted to yell, but no raw sound filled with pain left her chapped lips. The witch could only remain rigid while Nami left the room with loud stomps. 

"You're insane, Zoro," she muttered between gritted teeth. 

The witch was tugging painfully at her own strands of her in order to stop the overwhelming feelings from spilling out of her like a tornado. Her shaking fingers curled into her hair and gripped, the burn on her scalp bringing her back to the cabin of their ship. 

"This is a suicide mission." 

"It's his dream," Luffy smiled, "we can't—"

"Zoro, you're gonna die!" she shouted out of the sudden after she snapped her head towards the swordsman. 

She sank her nails into her palms until the sting was painful enough to keep herself stable. It was not to her liking to be pessimistic, to admit that someone wasn't able to do something, but what he wanted to do was not the most intelligent idea. 

"This isn't good, this won't end well at all and you shall know it," the witch continued. "You can't seriously believe you'll get out of there better than half-alive."

The swordsman didn't need to respond in order to answer. His unmoving gaze and straightened back told enough: he wasn't going to change his mind at all, no matter what anyone said. 

She knew it meant a lot for him to become the strongest swordsman in the world, but in his current state he wasn't able to defeat Mihawk. Out of all the people he could've dwelt with, Zoro chose him, that monster of a man. 

"Did you not listen to me when I said 'He cuts entire ships with a mere flick of his wrist'?" she furrowed her eyebrows. "Did you suddenly forget when I clearly warned you all the warlords aren't some mere toys for the big guys in the system, they do whatever the fuck they want!" 

She cussed herself for letting out so many emotions, but she seriously couldn't hold back anymore, no matter how worried Usopp seemed, or how confused Luffy was. They had no clue what Zoro was getting into—

"That's exactly why I'm dwelling with him and not someone else," the green-haired man spoke firmly. 

"Oh, so your dream is to get cut in half by a sword taller than you?" her irritation slipped. 

"Do you really think I trained my entire life to get cut without putting up a fight?"

Even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, one side of his heart was hurt. This entire time, every time they spoke, she openly told him she believes in him, that she trusts him even if it would be her downfall. It sounded like she's been lying this entire time. 

"You know very well I never meant that you're weak, but you're not stronger than him! That's your idea of a swordsman? You can believe, you can even hope for the best to happen, but the happiest situation would be a quick death. And the worst? A torturous one." 

"I didn't take you for someone who wouldn't understand what the pride of dying in a duel means."

"Fucking hell!" 

The witch's tight fist hit the table placed in the middle of the cabin with a quick and hurried motion, her feelings indeed getting the best of her that time. It didn't come to mind the last time she ever acted so harshly. 

He turned her words against herself and he was a professional at doing so. She knew what kind of pride swordsmen and pirates carry, she knew what they considered noble because she's spent years of her life listening to men and women talking about such things. Her father did the same, thought he could get out of any problem, until it brought him his death. 

"Maybe you should have more faith," Usopp intervened in a small voice. 

He was hesitant, the surprise obvious on his face — none of them expected that their most collected crewmate would lash out like that. Luffy was also silent, confused, obviously trying to find a way to get into the thick heads of his friends somehow. The argument escalated quickly and the tension wiped away any ounce of peace. 

The witch's eyes were fixed on Zoro's and they burnt holes through his face. He's seen just as many emotions a night ago, when she told him about her past sailing experiences, about the life she left behind as she desperately tried to find freedom. And if freedom felt like that, he wondered if she really wanted it. He succumbed to the flames of hell in her eyes, but snapped himself out of it. 

She was angry at him, he figured out quickly. 

He didn't like that gaze. He'd do almost anything for her to stop looking at him that way, as if she wanted him away from her, as if his very presence brought her suffering. Almost anything. 

"You see just what you want to see, Zoro. You're deliberately ignoring our worries, thinking we have something against you, thinking god-knows-what about how we're not your friends or whatever the fuck's going through your head—"

I'm worried for you, she swallowed a lump in her throat. 

"Just because me and Nami are trying to stop you, it doesn't mean we're assholes keeping you away from your dream. We might be assholes, but we want you to be alive, not six feet under the ground!" her voice raised slightly at the end again, her breath shallow. 

"You're worried about her, not about me. I don't need your worry." 

"Zoro—" this time Luffy tried to intervene. 

"You're impossible," she faintly spoke, like a ghost. 

She gave up. 

She buried her face into her own palms and sat on a chair, her elbows prompted on her knees. She had so much faith in Zoro, she could barely even point out how many feelings swirl in her heart when it comes to him, but she was aware he was mortal. He could die at any given time. 

"Right, Zoro. Go die with pride filling you up the same way that man's sword will," she bitterly mumbled. 

I hate you, Roronoa Zoro. You and your stupid pride, along with the fucked way I feel about you. I hate it all. 

The poor woman was exhausted, her heartstrings twisting into knots, making it hard to ignore the pain running through her entire being. His name rolled on her tongue so many times in only a few minutes and it made her situation worse, that one word made of two syllables cutting through her chest. 

The witch regretted her words immediately, but didn't say anything for a while. 

Usopp nudged Luffy into leaving the other two alone and it was probably one of the few times when the straw hat understood subtleties without any questions. 

"Take your time and clean your swords, Zoro, we'll be waiting outside," Luffy spoke. 

The witch heard two pairs of steps that walked away, her face still buried in her palms. She gulped and took in a few deep breaths before she moved from her seat, straightening her back and moving to the window of the cabin, hands gripping at the edge of the wood. 

She didn't throw a glance at Zoro. Silence stretched between them while the witch focused on the stars shining in the night sky. 

I shouldn't have been here in the first place, she thought to herself, twisting the blade deeper into the wound. I shouldn't have accepted to come with you. I should've stayed in Syrup Village and left with another ship, to go somewhere far away from you. I should've known better that there's no way in hell I can grasp at the mere notion of freedom.

There's no place for me in heaven and there's no place for me in hell either. I'm stuck here, in this body, with these feelings and this swordsman in this galley. 

I should've known. I should've known I was damned to die on my feet, with a bleeding heart and my back turned at you. I should've—

She gulped down harshly, blinking away the tears. 

I want to stay with you all so badly. 

"Zoro," she whispered his name again. 

Tears stung in her eyes at the sound of his name. It felt like it was the last time she could hear his name repeatedly, the same name carved with silver on her heart. 

"Be careful," she continued, her voice faint. 

"Why do you care?" his bitter tone resounded in her eardrums. "Everyone seems deadly interested in my actions lately."

Only then she turned her head towards him and her ribcage protested when the prisoner that was her heart beat so harshly. 

"I don't need a reason. I simply do. Please, Zoro."

Like the idiot that she was, she begged him to stay alive. A confession was hidden between her chapped lips — she picked at them with her nails and there was blood surfacing on top of the skin. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip, the metallic flavor tickling her taste buds. 

Judging on the way his jaw ticked with tension, he grasped onto enough of her words. Or maybe he refused to do so — who knows? 

"Don't throw your life away. You'll never fulfill your promise if you die today. Be mindful. Don't rush when fighting, don't get angry if he pushes on your buttons and irritates you. Be wise, Zoro."

It was a lost fight on her side. There was nothing she could do to stop him, so at least she had to give him the best advice she thought of. 

When he finally looked at her, her breath hitched. His brown eyes saw through her soul and she wondered if he could also feel how much she cared for him, the way she cared for him. She liked everyone on the ship equally, but her affection for him took a different path, one she's never walked on before. 

He didn't say a word, letting everything sink in. 

Maybe there is a chance he gets what I meant. 

"Be careful."

This time, her voice trembled but she didn't look away. She stood there, staring at him as if it was the last time she saw his eyes open. 

She turned towards the window again, nails digging into the wooden frame. She refused to look at him when she figured out tears could spill over her cheeks like a river if he continued staring at her, burying himself further into her soul. She only wanted him to be safe, because nothing was greater than that. If all of them could be kept away from harm's way, she would have days filled with peace.

Too bad such a thing was impossible in that unforgiving world. 

Behind her, Zoro moved around and left the galley. After a few minutes, he came back with a bottle of oil for his swords. He dragged a chair and sat down at the table, more silent than usually. With utmost care, he took one of his black swords and unsheathed it, leaving the scabbard on the table. He poured some oil on the blade and used a piece of cloth to spread it even from tip to hilt. 

The witch only dared to throw glances with an aching heart. She couldn't bring herself to leave, to stay away from him for too long now more than ever. She swallowed hard before making a tough decision. 

Wordlessly, she moved from the window. Her heavy steps echoed in the room until they stopped right by Zoro's side.

"Can I help?" 

Calm, just like she always tries to be, she spoke with fear clinging to every nerve in her body. She would blame herself for the rest of her life if they would part ways like that. More than her fears and worries, he mattered. He deserved all the pain she was capable of harboring inside her poor heart, he was worth the fight with her own self. 

The swordsman didn't expect her gesture. He supposed she would storm out of the room, that she would scold him or try to stop him, just like before. He guessed she was more sane than him, even if he couldn't bring himself to care enough about that. Her reaction pained him in ways he couldn't explain. 

His fingers pressed the piece of cloth against the blade of his words. He thought of being petty, shutting her down. Why couldn't she believe in him more? Was he that weak? 

He nodded. Like the stupid man that he was, with no need for spoken words, he accepted her help. He watched her blank face, devoid of any life, as she took another sword from the table, following his exact steps. 

Except, her hold on the white sword was gentle like a feather. A careful grip, so it wouldn't slip from her hand, but gentle nonetheless. He stopped whatever he was doing, focusing on the woman who rested her hips against the table, close to him, so close, but, oh, so far away. Zoro watched her unsheathe his Wado Ichimoji and place it on the table. Her hand reached out for the bottle of oil and her other one took advantage of the opportunity, taking the piece of cloth from his own hold. 

Their fingers touched. Hers were cold, but they still burnt his skin. Electric shocks traveled through his body and his chest tightened. 

She poured some oil on the material and then left the bottle on the table, gripping at the hilt of the sword again. She moved the piece of cloth over the blade carefully, as if she's done it before countless times. Left, right, left, right. Everytime she exhaled, her breath was trembling, despite the slow pace of her gestures. 

He paid more attention to the hands holding his sword: they were shaking when she placed the sword on the table. She poured some more oil on the cloth and dipped the tip of her index finger in the same spot. With the same finger, she drew on the blade a symbol Zoro didn't recognize.

With each stroke of her fingertip, she traced lines and connected them in a barely visible symbol: an arrow pointed upwards. 

"It's a rune meant for protection," she explained softly as she sheathed the sword. "It's associated with strength and honor. It doesn't matter if you don't believe in it, because I do and that's enough." 

It was true: he didn't believe in such things and never did. The swordsman never found it reasonable nor did he ever try to figure it out. It didn't mean he denied her beliefs — no, but he was indifferent towards it. 

However, he couldn't act indifferent towards the witch, which he found at that point to be straight up painful. It was painful to look at her and see torment in her deep eyes, it hurt to see sorrow painted on her angelic features when none of them was dead. 

The witch did the same gesture with the other two swords, carefully holding each one of them, as if they were her own treasures, not his. 

"Come back alive," she whispered. 

If he wouldn't have been so close to her, her voice would've sounded like a breath. 

"That's all I ask of you. If you wish so, then no sword will cut through you. Blades can cut steel, but nothing can cut will."

What was she mourning when she said those things? Who did she think of? he wondered. 

May the gods protect you tomorrow, she hoped. They've taken so many away from me along the way. 

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop

[maraschinomerry]

Hi! Could you please write a Lockwood x reader fic involving the prompt: You aren't well, but you don't want to skip training and make them worry, so you continue on as usual, thinking it's not that serious. But that's proven wrong when you faint right in front of them mid-fight. Mixed with the dialogue: "You hold it like this and- why are your hands trembling?" Thank you in advance! 💙

Pretty Boy

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader

Content: mild swearing, whump (fainting as in the prompt), mentions of not eating or sleeping, cute flirty ending

A/N: thank you for such a great request!! I've actually also just got over being not well while I was writing this (I'm fine now and wasn't this bad!) so it was weirdly cathartic ���

Word count: 2.3k

The blissful quiet of the kitchen at 35 Portland Row was shattered by an incredibly loud, almost violent sneeze. You threw your arm across your face just in time to catch it. That was weird. You never sneezed.

"Bless you," Lockwood frowned over the top of his magazine.

That was day 1.

On day 2, you were all out on a case, in a dilapidated Victorian house. In a divide-and-conquer strategy for such a big place, Lockwood and George had headed upstairs while you and Lucy stayed on the ground floor. Fumbling around in the dim light of the dining room, Lucy threw open the curtains to let in what was left of the evening sun, accidentally unleashing a cloud of dust which shimmered in the beam of your torch. You both coughed a little in surprise.

Your coughing didn't stop for the rest of the night.

Day 3 was spent relaxing, recovering from getting home in the early hours of the morning after a gruelling fight with a pair of Type Twos. Or rather, everyone else was relaxing. You were in your room, fluctuating between wrapping your shivering form in your duvet and throwing it off so you wouldn't melt into a puddle. The bowl of soup you'd made yourself for lunch grew cold where it sat untouched on your bedside table.

A sleepless night heralded the arrival of day 4. Your symptoms had mostly abated by the evening, and you desperately hoped to claw back a few hours of rest. By dinner time, bleary-eyed, you forced yourself downstairs to try and get at least one meal of the day. Fortunately, the kitchen was empty, so at least you didn't have to explain your recent lack of presence to anyone. Unfortunately, none of the contents of the fridge were even remotely appealing right now. You settled for a slice of toast which you took back upstairs. Two bites in, you felt your stomach flip. Great. The rest went straight in the bin.

A gentle knock sounded on your door the morning of day 5, after another night of tossing and turning without ever drifting off.

"Yeah?" you called wearily.

Lockwood poked his head in, dressed in a loose Henley T-shirt and sweatpants. "Morning. Just thought I'd check you were alright, you didn't come down for training." Oh shit. You and Lockwood had been doing weekly training together for months - it started not long after you joined the agency, when he'd come down to the basement for practice and found you already there, and you'd ended up sparring. It had happened a few more times, and eventually you fell into the habit of both going down on Friday mornings so much it became an unofficial appointment.

"Oh, sorry," you swallowed a yawn. "I lost track of what day it was. Give me five minutes."

"I sort of assumed you weren't coming down dressed Iike that." He nodded to your fuzzy pyjamas with a smirk, and you tugged shyly at the hem of the top. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Yeah." That was a lie. Lockwood studied you for a moment, and you wondered if he could see right through you, but then he nodded to himself.

"Alright, see you downstairs." He began to leave, but popped back at the last second. "I'm not saying the pyjamas are a bad look, by the way, they're cute, just maybe a bit warm for fighting in." He grinned again, and disappeared. What was that supposed to mean?

—

Five minutes later, as promised, you traipsed down the basement steps in runner shorts and a tank top. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now, but you loved getting one-on-one time with Lockwood and knew how much it would hurt him to break the tradition and how concerned he'd be about you if he found out you'd been ill.

Lockwood gave you another puzzled look. "Are you sure you're okay?" He'd seen you this low energy before, but normally only the day after a case.

You gave the most convincing smile you could muster. "Fine. What's the plan?"

He furrowed his brows once more, before apparently deciding against whatever he was thinking. "Okay, there was a new move I figured out on the last case. I thought I could teach you and see if you think it's any good?" That last part sounded so open and vulnerable. You could imagine what he was thinking - was it a fluke? Was it him overselling his talents? Did it look ridiculous? He got like that sometimes, needed snapping out of it. Reassuring. Your smile was more genuine this time.

"Sounds good, it certainly seemed effective."

You tried your best to concentrate while Lockwood demonstrated the move, really you did, but you were running on empty and the basement was so delightfully cool. Maybe if you just lay down on the floor for a bit, you'd sort yourself out.

"Did you get that?" Lockwood's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, and you dragged your eyes up to meet his, which were nodding to your hands. You hadn't the slightest idea what it was he expected you to have got.

"Uhh…"

To your relief, he mistook your distraction for confusion and stepped closer to help, carefully off to one side to avoid the blade as his hands rested over yours.

"You hold it like this and- why are your hands trembling?"

You barely registered the alarm in his voice, or the uncontrollable tremor that was indeed present and spreading up your arms. Nothing in your body seemed to be responding properly any more. Did you still have hold of the rapier? Why was your chest so tight, not allowing any air in? An invisible wad had trapped in your throat, and you desperately sucked in a breath through your nose. Gosh, Lockwood smelled good. Lavender and bergamot. And he was pretty, too. So pretty. Those deep dark eyes, gazing at you with so much longing. No, not longing. He didn't do that, did he? Plus, he was frowning too much for longing. Concern? You didn't like it when he frowned. You tried to pout, but your lips didn't move. That was annoying. So were the lights. Had they always been this bright? It hurt. Everything hurt. You needed to leave. Now.

Panic took hold of the last working corner of your brain and sent a jolt of electricity down to your legs which finally reacted, carrying you shakily towards the stairs. You muttered something incoherent, mouth not quite as functional. The effort drained the last dregs of energy, and your legs stopped working again.

"Whoa, whoa-" a voice behind you gasped, hasty footsteps echoing. Who was that? There was someone else down here, wasn't there? You couldn't remember. Wait. There was a pretty boy, right? He seemed nice. You tried to tell him you were okay, you wanted to. As you pitched backwards, the silhouette of the pretty boy swam into view, blocking out the harsh lights above. That was better.

Everything went black.

—

You were laying somewhere warm and soft. That was odd. And it was less bright behind your eyelids. Where were you? Hadn't you been down in the basement? With the cold floor and the cold lights… and the pretty boy? Was he still here?

You tried to call out for him, succeeding only in a groan. The surface beneath you shifted by your feet in response, and your eyelids fluttered open a fraction. There he was. Framed by the golden rays filtering through the window behind him and dappling across his dark hair.

"Hey, pretty boy," you murmured. Proper words; that was more like it. Next step: opening your eyes fully.

Ah.

The pretty boy was Lockwood, brows knitted upwards as he shuffled further up what you gradually realised was your bed.

"Hey." His voice was thick, with the hint of a shake. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned again, moving to sit up. Lockwood instantly reached out, one hand on the small of your back and the other lifting the pillows to prop up behind you. "Been better."

Under any other circumstances, you think he'd probably have laughed. As it was, he huffed out a breath and you spotted a brief tic in his jaw. "That's a mild way of putting it. You collapsed in the middle of training. I had no idea what happened, I thought…" His gaze dropped to his lap as he trailed off. The silence clenched tightly around your heart. Eventually, he spoke again, still not looking at you, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. "I was so worried about you."

The tension in your chest pressed down further, and you thought you actually heard your heart shatter.

"Hey, Lockwood, look at me." You raised a hand, still trembling but for an entirely new reason, up to cup his cheek. At last, he looked. Those beautiful dark eyes were watery, and his nose ruffled as he tried to hold back the tears. "I'm okay, see? I'm here, I'm okay, and I'm so sorry for making you worry."

A warmth spread over the back of your hand as he brought his up to meet it. His fingers curled over yours, thumb rubbing calmingly across your knuckles. Whether the calming was for you or him, you couldn't say. "But are you sure you're okay? People don't just collapse like that, and you've been out all day." Your eyes widened a little as you glanced at your alarm clock. Almost 6. Wow.

"Honestly, it's nothing serious. Kind of stupid, actually; the irony is it all happened because I didn't want you to worry." That made him chuckle. That was promising. You continued. "I was ill - I don't know if it was a cold or flu or what - but that wasn't great to begin with, and then with it ruining my ability to eat and sleep I just… didn't have anything left to give."

You don't know what reaction you expected from Lockwood: frustration, confusion, disappointment perhaps. You certainly weren't expecting him to look quite so… guilty? "Why didn't you say something when I came to find you? We could have cancelled training." It came out sharper than you were expecting. Oh. There was where the guilt came in.

"I didn't want to break the tradition."

"To hell with the tradition if this is what it does to you!"

You faltered. Was it just your current condition, or had your mouth gone very dry? "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" You took a steadying breath. "It's not just that. I don't mean it like it's some obligation. I love our sessions! Getting to have that time just for us, having it be our thing, it's the highlight of my week. And it's been a pretty shitty week so I wanted this one thing to be nice."

The fire in Lockwood's words died out, and he almost visibly deflated. His free hand reached up unexpectedly to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Well, I'm glad it means that much to you, but next time will you please tell me when something's wrong? I can survive missing our date more than I can survive missing you."

Hold on.

You were definitely still ill. Your cheeks felt warm and your heart was pounding against your ribcage. That was the only possible explanation. Definitely nothing to do with the fact that the boy you'd been in love with for months had just called your training sessions a date. Oh god, you'd infected him too, his face was flushed. "Date?" you breathed.

"Only if you want it to be, of course, I don't want to jump to conclusions. Although you did call me 'pretty boy' barely five minutes ago, so I'm sure even George would agree with the legitimacy of my hypothesis." Oh, how you'd missed seeing that smirk he'd grown all of a sudden.

"I'm not entirely sure you can take the high ground on this one, love, when you said even more recently how you couldn't survive without me."

"I think so long as I'm right I can. Especially since, if we're going off who said something last, you couldn't even argue without calling me love."

"I wish we were still holding rapiers, I've got a chance of beating you at that."

Lockwood laughed, all earlier emotions replaced with nothing but tender affection. "Get some sleep, and then we can test that theory." He made to leave, but where your hands were still entwined you tightened your grip a little.

"Will you stay? Please? In case I didn't make it clear enough with fainting, I haven't been doing so great at the whole sleep thing."

When he nodded, you wriggled over to one side of the bed, allowing him to slip under the covers behind you. Everything about him felt cosy, and you snuggled towards that feeling. It took him aback for a moment until he draped an arm over your stomach, gently tugging you closer so the two of you slotted together like you'd been designed to fit one another from the start. His breath tickled your ear, but its constant rhythm slowed yours in turn. Your eyelids grew heavy.

"You know," you mumbled sleepily, "you could take me on a proper date. Only if you want to, of course, wouldn't want to jump to conclusions."

He squeezed you playfully. "I think I've got enough evidence to consider it. Lunch tomorrow if you feel up to it?" You hummed a contented agreement. As your eyes drifted shut, a feather-light kiss pressed against your temple. "Good night, love."

"Good night, pretty boy."

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Taken

Pairing: The Grabber x fem reader

Warning: Kidnapping, violence, possible dubcon, manipulation, bad language, toxic, NSFW, abuse, Stockholm syndrome!

A/n: Soo I started writing this story I couple years ago and never got to finish it since my old account got deleted soo Imma have my Frankenstein moment! Hope you like! Also I listen to music to help me write stories soo the song for this story particular is Put Me In a Movie-Lana Del Rey

Ps. I don’t condone anything this character does he’s a bad person like all the other slashers!

First + second person pov! Also alternating pov!

There I was running for my life in the middle of the street. No idea where I was or where I was going just knew I needed to leave. I’ve been with my boyfriend for 4 years now. He was a good man but not anymore. I still can’t wrap my head around what happened to him, all I know is he changed. Let me explain how I got in this situation, to make a long story short I’ll start at this morning.

I woke up to the sound of things being thrown about. “What are you doing?” I asked rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You are a piece of shit you know that!? I should have left you back home! You are worthless!” Your scum of a man shouted at you. “What did I do!?” He turned around and slapped you hard. “You know exactly! Hiding my shit! You are such a child” You held your cheek as you grit your teeth. “You would probably like that huh? I see how you look at any woman!” You spat at him. He completely ignored you as he found his keys. “I’m going to work don’t be a cunt.” He said slamming the door behind him. You huffed looking around at the mess he created, you two had just moved here and got settled in. You couldn’t believe that you left everything for him! Your friends and family just to be abused by him.

Later on during that night you received a call from the douchebag. “Hey I’ll be home late I gotta work overtime.” This was your chance! You could leave him, stop this madness you’ve learned to deal with and take. Well not anymore once the phone hung up you were fast on your feet packing your stuff. It wasn’t a lot you guys moved a lot and when you move a lot you lose a lot too. Your whole life could fit in a backpack and it did. After packing you decided to take a quick shower and brush your teeth. It maybe took you an hour to do everything, you were trying to be quick and thank god you were for when you put your last shoe on, your prick of a boyfriend was walking in the door. “You liar” you thought as you ran to the bathroom locking the door behind you. “Y/n! What are you doing!? Y/n!” He yelled, as he banged on the door you quickly toss your bag out the bathroom window at this point he was practically kicking in the door. But once you crawled out the window and your feet hint the ground the bathroom door gave in. You grabbed your bag and ran hearing the abusive prick scream your name.

And that’s exactly how I got here, running for what felt like miles till I saw a mysterious man and a black van. “Please help me! Please” I said getting closer to the man noticing he was walking a rather large dog. “A man is trying to hurt me! He’ll kill me if he catches me!” I practically yelled. “Okay, okay I’ll help you.. here jump in here.” The man said opening the back of his van. I knew this was sketchy but anything was better then that ex of mine. After a couple minutes I heard him yell. “Hey excuse have you seen a girl about yay high, h/c hair, e/c eyes?” He sounded out of breath as he should be for chasing me. “No I haven’t seen any girl I’ve been walking Samson here.” The man said watching the other breathless man. Hearing his footsteps fade the van door opened. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate it!” The man smiled. “You wanna see a magic trick?” You looked at the man finally noticing he had a top hat and dark shades on which was weird to you since it was night time. Before words left your mouth the man grabbed you and sprayed this sticky liquid in your mouth. You coughed for the taste was terrible and sung the back of your throat. Before the man pushed you back and slammed the door you managed to hit and scratch him . “H-hey! W-what did you give m-me?” You coughed out hearing a hush and the van engine turning on. Samson, the dog bark making your ears ring roughly. You fought as hard as you could but you soon blacked out.

“My neck, my fucking neck. I should snap yours for what you did to my neck.” The man growled before tossing you onto a mattress on the floor. Sitting up I looked at him the best I could, vision still blurry from whatever he gave me. Looking at my surroundings to see what I assumed was a dirty basement. “Jesus it’s covered in blood.” You looked at the man as he crouched beside you giving you a good view of his devilish mask. “It’s like I killed someone. You see that?” He huffed showing me his scratched neck then waving his fingers in my face. “Not like you can see shit.” Starring at the man you grew fearful. “I know that you’re scared but I’m not going to hurt you anymore. What I said about snapping your neck..I was angry is all you did a number in my neck.” He chuckled. “I’m not gonna hold it against you” he said in a more light tone scooting closer to you. “I guess now we’re even.” He said was he played with your hair. “You don’t have to be scared, because nothing bad is going to happen here and on that I give my word Johnny.” The man put up two fingers signaling he swore. “You like soda? Hm? I’ll tell you what imma go get you a soda and then- is that the phone? Did you hear a phone ring?” He got a bit closer to your face so close you could feel his breath if it wasn't for his emotionless mask. “I’m going to get see who it is then I’ll get you a soda and then I’ll come back and explain everything hm?” He stood up and walked to the door turning to take one last look before shutting and locking the door. Gripping the mattress, I looked around seeing this dirty basement was pretty nice. Seeing beside me a black phone, I debated on picking it up but who would I call? I asked myself. Not knowing what was in my system I thought it best to try to sleep it off so I did.

When I woke up the lights were off and the door was still shut. Looking around I was able to get a better view of my surroundings. I grasp the black phone, taking it off the hook and holding it to my ear just to easy my curiosity. "It doesn't work, not since I was a kid. Hang it up." You jumped a little at the sudden noise. Hanging up the phone you turned around to see your kidnapper. The man flipped the lights on. " I know you're scared and want to go home." You stared at the man only seeing his figure due to him not being in the line of light. "I'll take you home soon. Its just..ugh everything is fucked up. I got to be upstairs for a while somethings come up." You nodded a little. "What?" you said softly. "Nevermind what." he said in a tone. "Is it someone up there?" Walking into light you saw the mans mask, it was different he had a big creepy smile and he had a small band-aid like bandage on his neck. For some weird reason you found this mask more comforting then the emotionless one. The man growled. "No one can hear anything if the door's shut I sound proofed it myself, so if you wish to scream or yell do as much as you like, you won't bother anyone." You watched the man grab the door and began to shut it. "I-i don't have a home." The man looked at you and walked back into the room so you could see his face. " I will never make you do anything you won't..like." You backed away a bit, deciding to sit down on the mattress. You were uncomfortable to say the less but for some reason you weren't scared. The man noted your sudden change and shut the door behind him deciding it was best to leave then to keeping the conversation going with you. Once the man left you looked around the room, you found a toilet backed away in a little hall way, old rolls of carpet, and a crack in the cement. Not knowing what to do with your recent discoveries you decided it was just best to try to sleep again. It was annoying but what else did you have to do?

You swore it had been forever since your captor came back down to see you. You sat on the bed with your knees to your chest starring at the door. This isolation was killing you. You stared picking the skin around your fingernails causing them to bleed every now and again. You were anxious, did he forget about you? Were you going to starve to death in this dirty basement? Did someone catch him? Did he not what you anymore? What a minute you thought to yourself did you want him to want you? Snapping out of your thoughts as you heard the door unlock and be pushed open. You sat up letting your knees go. The man walked in with a tray of food. "W-what did you put in that?" You asked as you watched the man walk towards you. "Salt and pepper." He chuckled placing the tray at the end of the mattress he sighed. "Eat it don't eat it. You're already down here, why would I need to drug you?" You were beyond starving, scooting to the end of the mattress you pulled the tray back to the spot you were just in. "Thank you." The Grabber leaned his head to the side watching you through the holes in his mask. As you began to eat the man turned to leave. You nearly choked on eggs trying to speak fast enough to catch him. "Hey! ...Stay." The man looked at you over his shoulder seeing you sitting on your knees. "Please...I don't want to be alone." Watching the man he nodded and walked towards you. You moved to the edge of a corner on the mattress so he could sit on the end, which he did. You noted that the man watched you as you ate and drunk the glass soda he put on the tray.

Once you finished you stared at the man. "What's your name?" "What's yours?" He asked uncomfortable answering the question. "Y/n" You said softly. "That's a beautiful name." You smiled a fair blush forming on your cheeks. You knew none of this was right, especially how you were feeling. Why were you okay with this? You kept asking yourself. "Why did you take me?" Asking softly the man growled a little not liking the question. "I couldn't leave you." He answered, knowing you weren't going to get any more detail you nodded. "Are you the man on the TV? Who took those boys?" You watched his face, his eyes looking for some humanly reaction, but nothing. "That wasn't me, that was someone else.." Not believing him fully you decided to not try to pull more info. "Who was that guy?" Finally asking you a question. "My ex boyfriend bf/n." "Why were you running from him?" You looked down not wanting to talk about it. "He was abusing me. Physically" The man studied your face, scooting closer to you he pushed your hair behind your ear. Looking at his eyes then the smiling mouth of his mask, without thought you reached to touch the mask but as your finger tips grazed the surface the man grabbed your hand tightly moving it away from him. You jumped a little at the sudden movement making the man huff. Letting you go the man stood and walked to the door taking the tray with him. "Wait! I'm sorry I won't do it again." You begged but the nameless man pulled the door to leaving it unlocked. Running to the door you went to open it but you hesitated, leaving the door alone you walked back to the mattress.

After that day you would only see him when he brought you food. You hated yourself for ever trying to touch his mask. He didn't talk to you and he always wore his emotionless mask. You grew to seek his attention and presence. Not knowing if it was the isolation or just the simple fact you were weirdly attracted to him. Not having no sense of time you woke up on what felt like the 50th day, laying curled in a ball watching the phone swing. "Stop it.." "Stop what?" Jumping up you looked at the man seeing he only had his mouth piece of his mask on. "What are you doing?" You said shaky, looking down at yourself just to see if anything was out of place. "I didn't touch you." You looked up at him without lifting your head. "Don't look at me like that." He said with a voice crack at the end. "I just wanted to look at you.." Feeling your breath hence, you pulled your knees to your chest. The man stood from the spot he was just crouching at and walked to you. He sat in front of you starring at you never breaking eye contact. "Your eyes are blue.." He nodded. "My name is Albert. But don't call me that." You smiled softly liking that he was opening up to you, it made you comfortable but it also made these stupid butterflies fly around your semi empty stomach. "Can I call you Al?" You knew who he was, he was The Grabber, the man all over news who took those boys, but you questioned your reality wanting to believe it wasn't him like he said. You did believe it but not in your heart. He nodded as he raised his hand to your face softly brushing his finger against your cheek, you tensed at the contact but relaxed as he continued. Slowly he moved his hand to your chin rubbing it with his thumb and index finger before he rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb. Heart beating fast and loud like a drum you watched him his eyes going back and forth from your lips to your eyes.

"Al."you said breathlessly. Hushing you the man lend in and pressed the lips of his mask onto yours. So many thoughts ran through your head. Should you push him away? Kiss the cold fake lips? Or just sit there? Without thought you kissed the lips of the mask back then pulled away as he did. Albert stared at you his eyebrows raised giving him a sad look. "Al?" He stood up without a word and walked out locking the door behind him, leaving you there alone and confused.

Weeeeelllllll this is part 1 of the story! I hope you guys like it! I'm sorry it's so long but man when I get a story I just can't stop lol anywho part 2 should be up later!

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 4 - BAD LUCK!

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: OPLA Buggy x f!Reader

Synopsis: No good deed goes unpunished, right?

Word Count: 7.2k

Notes: I have a spotify playlist that all of the chapter titles come from + what I listen to while I write this if you are curious- Flashbang

“You're not like me, I'm not like you. I'm not who these things happen to And that's exactly what you say before it catches up to you Before you play with knives and find yourself in two”

xxx

“Come in,” Crina called within seconds of your nervous knocking at her door. You opened it and stepped in. 

“Good morning, Crina,” you said, forcing a smile past your exhaustion. “I was wondering-”

“-if I had anything for the captain’s hangover,” Crina finished for you with a knowing smile. 

“He had a lot to drink last night.”

“Of course,” Crina said, turning around to look through her bottles. “What about you?”

“I’m alright, thank you.” In truth, a sharp sort of headache had poked itself deep into the left side of your head, a reminder of your late night. Running on only a few hours of sleep was uncomfortable, but it would get easier throughout the day. You just had to keep going. 

“I saw some of your show last night,” she said in a would-be casual way. 

You winced. Last night, Captain Buggy had been laughing, but it wasn’t as funny as it was humiliating. Maybe that’s why it was funny. 

“You don’t have to let him embarrass you like that,” Crina told you, turning around with a bottle in hand. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said awkwardly, not meeting her eye.

“If you can’t set boundaries now, you might not get the chance later.”

“It’s fine,” you told her. “I didn’t mind, really.” 

Crina gave you a hard look, but she let it pass, handing you the bottle. “Give him two of these and make sure he drinks plenty of water with his breakfast.”

“I know,” you said, putting it in your pocket. “Thank you, Crina. I’ll bring this back later.”

“Keep them, I’m sure you’ll need them again.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. “Thank you.”

Your next stop was to the galley where you approached the intimidating cook—whose name, you had learned, was Gorr—to ensure that Captain Buggy’s got a proper breakfast. Eggs, coffee, fresh fruit, and bread. It was strange to think the tray was piled with goods stolen from Barley Village, from the people you had known all of your life. But that thought led nowhere good, so you dropped it.

There was a chance you were overpreparing, that Captain Buggy’s hangover wouldn’t be as severe as you feared, but you wanted to be braced for anything. He was awfully drunk last night. Drunk enough, you hoped, that he wouldn’t remember much of what he said. 

Balancing the tray against your hip, you knocked on his door, although you weren’t surprised to get no answer. You had to wake him up every morning. So you unlocked the door, using your back to shut it behind you, and set the heavy tray on the table before gingerly approaching the divide between the anteroom and bedroom. 

Buggy laid on his stomach in a sprawl across his bed, his cheek smushed into the pillow and his limbs stretched to all four corners. To your great relief, you didn’t see or smell any vomit. The only noticeable changes were that he’d removed his pants at some point—though, thankfully, not his underwear—and emptied the cup of water. 

“Captain Buggy?” you said. “Captain Buggy, I’m sorry, but I think… It’s time to wake up.”

He groaned, flopping an arm over his head. You frowned. He would most certainly get angry if you were too pushy, but you had a feeling that if you let him sleep in too late, he’d also blame you. 

“I brought you breakfast, Captain Buggy,” you told him. “If you don’t eat it soon, it’ll get cold.”

He mumbled something that sounded a bit like ‘I don’t give a shit.’

“Captain Buggy,” you said, tentatively touching his shoulder, “you’ll be upset later if you don’t wake up now.” 

He groaned, almost growled, with irritation, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. For a second, you thought for sure that he would yell, but instead he rolled onto his side, reaching up. “Come—c’mere,” he said, getting a firm grip on the front of your sweater before you could think to escape, “no—just, come-c’mere-”

The only type of fight you put up was to go stiff as he pulled you onto the bed and pinned you against him, his hand over your mouth. Once you were there, he relaxed, keeping you in place with his own weight. 

“Much better,” he said, his voice gravelly, vibrating against you. 

You tugged on his wrist to move his hand from over your mouth, but Buggy didn’t budge, his breathing already evening out. He was warm, almost feverishly so. You squirmed, trying to ask him to stop, but the only thing you got was for his palm to clamp down that much harder to muffle your voice, threatening to suffocate you. His other hand settled flat under your neck to keep you still. When you stopped trying to talk and relaxed, so did he. Enough to let you breathe, at least. 

Buggy’s breathing was getting deeper, you could feel his body move with it, pressing hot against your back. In response, you could feel your heart beating faster, picking up in speed as his hand dragged lower, passing over your chest to settle against your ribs, and then your stomach, rubbing slow circles as if he was petting a dog. You squirmed with more urgency to escape his hold, whining to express your discontent. Buggy’s hand kept getting lower. It was an idle movement, maybe he wasn’t even aware of it.

You squeezed your eye shut, so tense that your muscles trembled. Physically fighting him was out of the question, but you absolutely could not handle the way his hand was continually sliding down. 

There was only one thing you could think of doing, but that seemed almost as bad as trying to elbow him or something. You tried again to complain, but all you got was his hand pressing harder on your face.

Buggy’s other hand reached the waistband of your leggings, and that was it.

“Ew, what the fuck!” Buggy suddenly exclaimed, pulling his hand away like you’d bitten him. “Did you just lick me?” 

“Your eggs will get cold, Captain Buggy,” you told him, twisting out of his hold and onto the floor, falling with a painful thud. He watched you scramble to your feet like he was in shock, his mouth open and eyes squinted. “I’ll… I’ll…” You pointed at the antechamber, putting your head down and scurrying out of his room as fast as possible.

With shaking hands, you poured him a cup of water. You had no idea if he was going to get up now, but you didn’t think you could handle going back in there, flushing hot with embarrassment. Luckily, you did hear a thump, and then some grumbling, and then heavy, upset footsteps. You were prepared to apologize, your head down and the words ready.

“Why the hell did you let me drink so much?” Buggy demanded as he came in, frowning and disheveled with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. He didn’t seem to care that his robe was hanging open and revealing so much skin, too concerned with holding his head dramatically. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you told him. Did that mean he wasn’t upset about what you did? You relaxed slightly, trying to stomp out your awkward nerves, trying to get rid of the skin-crawling memory of his body against yours, of his hand on your belly, creeping lower and lower. “Crina gave me medicine that will help your head.” You shook two capsules from the bottle into your palm, holding them out like a peace offering. 

Frowning, Buggy took the medicine and sat down, knocking the lid off his breakfast tray to swallow them with a mouthful of coffee. 

“I ordered you something different, I hope you don’t mind,” you said, sitting across from him. “It’ll help with your hangover.”

Buggy grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t hesitate before picking up his fork, shoveling eggs onto it and then into his mouth. He ate so fast you weren’t even sure if he tasted anything. It was, if you were honest, pretty unappetizing, but being a messy eater seemed to be the pirate norm. 

You sat across from him, focusing on finishing your own meal quickly. You didn’t think about what happened, or last night, or anything. Buggy seemed equally disinclined to engage, although the glazed-over look in his eyes made you think it was more out of exhaustion. 

That, at least, was something you had in common. 

Eventually, Buggy dropped his fork with a loud clatter, downing the rest of his coffee. “Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. “I’ll let you give me a shave.” 

“What?” you asked, looking up. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” he snapped. “You were so eager the other day. Here’s your chance. Don’t mess it up.”

“Oh, um… Yes, sir.” 

Nervously, you stood up, going into the other room. You knew where he kept his shaving supplies, they were lumped in with his makeup. Buggy wasn’t an especially organized man. Even when you tried to tidy things up, it was all out of order by the time you came back. You set up everything on his desk, just like when you removed his makeup, before throwing open the drapes and filling his bedroom with bright sunshine. 

Every piece of the matching set was engraved with a flowery M. Whoever M was, he had great taste, or perhaps a very sentimental loved one. The razor was as fine as the one you had bought for your dad on his birthday last year. Buggy clearly hadn’t taken as good care of it as you would, but that was fine, nothing a bit of polish couldn’t help. With familiar, practiced strokes, you stropped the blade, ensuring it was as sharp as possible. Dad liked a perfectly clean shave, he said that anything less was unprofessional and slovenly. Buggy didn’t seem as particular, but you very keenly felt the weight of his standards. 

“I can’t believe you let me sleep in so late,” Buggy said, stomping his way into the room to drop into his chair, his face scrunching up with displeasure at the light. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said absently, checking the blade and deeming it ready. Buggy watched with his seemingly fixed scowl as you set that aside to whip the shaving cream into a thick foam. It had a simple, clean scent. Familiar, even.

“May I?” You held up the brush loaded with shaving cream. Buggy lifted his chin, letting you coat his face and neck. You wondered what changed that he wasn’t afraid of letting you near his neck with a razor. Did that mean he trusted you? Or was he just too tired to do it himself? 

Either way, you had to force yourself to calm down before using the blade to carefully draw a line out of the cream, starting from the sideburn. It was fine. You had done this hundreds of times, every other day or so for years. Just like when you removed his makeup, Buggy held still, closing his eyes and letting you take care of it.  

You wiped the razor, changing the angle to get the contour of his jaw. It was difficult to not notice in general, but now you had to actively assess the structure of his face, and how could you not admire it? Even Buggy’s nose barely registered as strange and his cheekbones, his jaw, his chin, his neck—so pretty, so different from dad’s features which, although once had been noble and strong, drooped and bloated from age and liquor. 

Stupid, useless thoughts. 

Buggy helpfully drew his lips taut when you shaved around them, allowing you to angle his face to make sure you didn’t cut him.

“Raise your chin?” you asked, wiping the blade. He did, exposing his neck, and you felt a moment of embarrassed doubt. You saw him in so many states of undress, the sight of his bared neck shouldn’t have affected you, especially not when it was only so you could do your job. There wasn’t anything sensual about it, not really. Cursing yourself, you focused on the task at hand, paying no mind to the lines of tendons or his Adam’s apple or the angle of his jaw or anything other than not messing up.   

You finished up on the opposite side of his face from where you started. Double checking that you hadn’t missed any spots, you nodded in satisfaction, wiping his skin clean of any remaining cream to apply aftershave. It had a nice warm smell, although Buggy pulled a face at the sting.

“There you go, sir,” you said, stepping back.

Buggy exhaled harshly, like he was waking up all over again. After yawning and rolling his neck, he picked up the hand mirror on his desk to check your work.  

“Is that okay?” you asked hesitantly. You had done a good job, you knew you had. It was one of the few things that dad rarely ever got upset about.

Buggy shrugged. “It’ll do.” 

Your shoulders drooped a little, but that was dumb. Trying to fish for compliments was childish and cheeky, you had done a job as he asked. He stood up and stretched with his arms above his head, and you ignored his near-nudity, your eye firmly fixed on your hands as you cleaned up. 

“Guess I’m lucky, huh?” Buggy asked. “I mean, the last guy who let you at his neck with a knife got a little more shaved off then just some hair.” You went still, those words freezing you all the way inside out, your breath catching on the chill. Buggy seemed ignorant to your reaction, continuing on without missing a beat. “I gotta piss, go do… I don’t know, whatever your job is.”

Your shoulders drew up defensively, your eye fixed very firmly forward. “Yes, sir.” 

A knot darkened a little eye into one of the wooden planks in Buggy’s office, the imperfection remaining even after it had been cut down, nailed into place, and sanded into uniformity. One eye, that’s it, the only thing that gave it any personality now that it had been chopped out of its tree and cut into shape, separated from its whole to be put to use. Boot prints tracked across it, filth and age wearing down the grain. You stared at its eye and wondered if it was happy with its lot in life, or if it missed the forest. Being a ship seemed more fun than being a tree, but somehow you got a feeling the eye disagreed with you.

“Hey, idiot,” Buggy said, snapping his fingers in front of your face, startling you. “Are you even listening to me?” 

You blinked quickly, shaking your head as you looked over to him, confused. Distantly, you realized he had been talking. How long had you been sitting there? After you left his cabin that morning, you had been a little out of it. Too little sleep, too much excitement and exertion. 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy. I guess I… ” You blinked again, his unhappy expression finally registering. “I’m sorry, Captain Buggy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go mope somewhere else. Your shitty attitude is making it hard to think.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, standing up. “I’ll, um…” He raised his eyebrows, the expression clearly prompting you out of the room. You nodded and left, shaking your head to try and wake up. 

How long had you been in that daze? Sometimes it happened so suddenly, so harshly, and then your day was eaten away with very little to show for it. Being quiet didn’t make your thoughts any more or less tolerable, it was the state of existing separate from the actions of your body. If anything, it was to be overwhelmed by the bad things, by the thoughts you didn’t want to think and the feelings you didn’t want to feel. A little like drowning, watching those little bubbles rise up to interact with a world you couldn’t handle. 

You squinted at the violently bright sunshine, thinking about what to do. You considered finding Crina and asking if she needed help, but the little interaction you had that morning made you hesitate. She saw too much, asked too many questions, made assumptions about you that you didn’t like, and your feelings were confusing enough without her using her mystic divination to make you open up. Since you hadn’t especially endeared yourself to any other member of the crew, there was only one person who could possibly give you guidance.  

When you finally found Cabaji, he was training with a few of the other pirates. You hesitated rather than approach him, hanging back and watching. There was a graceful ease to his movements, a nonchalant elegance. Cabaji made it look easy, swinging his sword around like it was a toy as he practiced different forms and attacks. It was the same as when he juggled. You remembered trying, and failing quite terribly, to juggle the night before.

Juggling, cards, singing, acrobatics, sword fighting, knot tying—the list of your failures had only grown since you joined the crew. And even that was a loose thing. Nobody saw you as a member of the crew, or even as a pirate. 

Cabaji looked up right when you were about to turn away, his dark eyes fixing directly on you.

“Is there something you need?” he called, drawing the attention of the other crewmates he was training with. You shrunk back, pulling your bandana down. 

“No, sir,” you said. “I was just…” Your nervous explanation trailed off as Cabaji approached you. His skin shined with sweat, drawing attention to his exposed chest. He was handsome, you could admit that to yourself if no one else. But he was also intimidating, and you would rather die than be accused of staring at him in any untoward way. 

“Yes?” Cabaji asked, his eyebrow quirking. The other pirates he had been training with stood behind him, watching you with varying degrees of amusement.

“Do you… um, do you think you could teach me how to do that?” 

That wasn’t what you intended to ask, but it felt right. Captain Buggy had made no mention of teaching you how to fight. He was too busy anyway. Crina said it was too dangerous for you to even try. Because you were frail and weak. Because you were easily tired and as breakable as glass. Compared to everybody else on the ship, you were practically an invalid. For so long, you had seen your eye as the thing that kept you from being equals with other people, but now you realized there were a lot of other reasons too. 

But you didn’t want to be like that anymore. You would either force yourself to be better, or you would be left behind.

“How to do what?” Cabaji asked, his expression impossible for you to read.

“Fight?” Your answer made the little group behind him laugh. 

Cabaji shot an irritated glance over his shoulder, shutting them up. 

“I’m sure you’re too busy,” you said. “I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“No, that’s not a bad idea,” he allowed after a moment of thought. “You should be competent enough to avoid embarrassing Captain Buggy. Come over here.” 

Cabaji casually flipped his sword and sheathed it as he turned back into the makeshift training area. The other pirates didn’t laugh at you when you followed, but their eyes were heavy on your skin. He showed no concern for them, stopping and whirling around to face you, his scarf flaring dramatically. 

“The first thing you need to know,” Cabaji told you, “is that if it comes to a fight, you’ll lose. Always prioritize avoiding confrontation or escape. I’ll show you how to hold a sword properly because it could buy you some valuable time, but make no mistake, a real fight will end in your death.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, swallowing your anxiety. “I understand.” 

“Good. We’ll start with your stance. You have to brace yourself so you can maintain your balance while swinging the sword. Like this.” Cabaji drew one foot behind himself, his knees bending a bit as he took a defensive stance. 

You tried to copy him, but your body was stiff and awkward. Behind him, the group stifled their laughter and you immediately stopped, your body snapping back into your nervous posture.

“Ignore them,” Cabaji told you. “This is important. Try again, I’ll help you.” 

“Yes, sir.” You took a deep breath before stepping your feet out, trying to copy his pose. 

“You have to stand with your feet at least a shoulder’s width apart,” Cabaji said, walking behind you to kick your feet further, grabbing and turning your hips. “Like this. If you’re too stiff, you’ll get knocked off balance.”

“This feels awkward,” you said, trying very hard to ignore your skin-crawling discomfort. This sort of physical contact was normal. You were being weird, Cabaji was only helping you. 

“It will be for a while, you have to practice. Eventually, it will become second nature.”

You nodded, trying to relax into the pose. He worked with you on that for a bit, having you find the stance from different positions, showing you how it would help you stay on your feet when he pushed at you. Even though it was just standing, it was oddly tiring. The sun shined so bright, and it was hot. Cabaji was patient. You knew he could tell when you got dizzy spells, but he didn’t say anything, letting you take breaks to get water so you didn’t collapse. Most of the onlookers grew bored of it, realizing you weren’t going to be entertaining, and that made it easier.   

After he decided you were able to stand correctly, he drew his sword and held it out to you. 

“I’ll let you borrow my sword for this,” Cabaji said. 

You looked at the weapon. It was longer than a knife, and you weren't going to use it for anything. It wasn’t similar in any way at all, completely different. You weren’t going to hurt anybody. Taking a big breath, you gingerly accepted the sword. And then nearly dropped the weapon when you realized how heavy it was. Cabaji circled around you to help again, saying nothing about your weakness. 

“Both hands—yes, like that.” You held your breath as he guided your hands on the hilt of the sword, his chest against your back as he showed you how to hold your arms. You could smell his skin, feel the warmth of it. A memory existed there, in the physical impression of being guided from behind. “The sword is an extension of yourself. You have to let it move with you, and know how to move with it.” 

“It’s heavy,” you said, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

“You’ll have to train your muscles,” Cabaji said. “Assuming you can.”

“I can,” you said quickly, turning to look at him only to realize how close he was. You had to look up to meet his eyes. They were so richly dark, a complete contrast to Buggy’s pale gaze.

“Woah, woah, woah, what do we have here?” A familiar voice called, almost as if summoned by your thought. Cabaji quickly stepped away. You almost dropped his sword, only barely avoiding letting it fall as you turned. Buggy’s steps as he approached were slow and steady, but his smile was tight. A pit of sickness tightened in your stomach when you thought about how that might have looked. 

“Cabaji is teaching me how to fight,” you explained.

“Why?” Buggy asked, clearly amused by the idea. “I’ve seen kittens with a better chance at winning a fight than you.” 

“It was my idea,” Cabaji said. 

“No, that’s not true,” you interjected, frowning. “I asked him to show me.”

“Really?” Buggy asked. You didn’t understand his tone of voice, or the tension in the air. 

“I want to be stronger,” you told him. “Like you, Captain Buggy.” 

He scanned you from head to toe in a very obvious, borderline theatrical way before cracking up. Other people, the loose crowd of pirates who had crept closer to watch the scene, laughed along with him. It wasn’t even like it had been last night. He laughed meanly, inviting the others to laugh along with him. 

After a second, Buggy held up a hand to stop the laughter, shaking his head. “Cabaji, get me a sword.” Buggy smiled at you. “I want to see what he’s taught you.”

“Nothing yet,” you said, nervous and insecure beyond words, your ears buzzing. “I don’t think I can-” 

“The only way you can ever improve is through experience,” Buggy said, taking the sword Cabaji handed him and raising it like a challenge. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Stand like I showed you,” Cabaji instructed. There was nothing he could say or tell you to help, not when you only learned how to hold the weapon a couple minutes ago. “Swing the sword down and forward while stepping into the attack with your dominant foot.”

Buggy came to a stop opposite you. You had no idea what he meant by doing this. Embarrassing you? You didn’t understand. Everybody was watching. Your heart beat frantically in your chest, a fresh, prickling sweat breaking out on your brow. 

Feeling more awkward than you ever had in your life, you stepped forward, awkwardly slashing in front of yourself. Buggy didn’t even try to parry your pathetic attack, or dodge it. He seemed to reach into it. Before you could think to draw back, the blade sliced through his wrist. There wasn’t any resistance, but his detached hand hit the deck with a dull thump, his sword hitting with a dull crash of metal.

Your weak, sweaty fingers immediately went limp, dropping the sword with a loud clang. Buggy’s eyes went wide before he shouted in pain, doubling over and cradling his arm while letting out a string of obscene words. You weren’t even sure you knew what half of them meant. 

“Don’t just stand there, idiot!” He yelled hoarsely. “Grab my hand! Pick it up!” 

Unsteady and more than a little sick, your mind whirling with raw panic, you stumbled forward to pick up his detached hand. There was no blood. In fact, the place where it had detached was unnaturally smooth. But it couldn’t have been a prop either, it was warm through the glove. And it was moving. From pinky to pointer, the fingers curled and uncurled. It wasn’t like twitching, it was the deliberate movement of a regular hand. The wrongness made you yelp, dropping it. Instead of hitting the floor again, his hand flipped through the air, meeting up with the stump at Buggy’s wrist. Reattaching as if connecting to something magnetic. He wasn’t shouting and cursing in pain anymore, he was laughing. Everybody who had gathered around was laughing too. 

You felt dizzy enough to pass out, or maybe be sick. The hand you picked up was a real, human hand. Buggy’s hand. But it was right there on the end of his arm, fully intact. 

Even Cabaji was smiling. 

It was a prank? A joke? Your hands shook violently, your ears ringing. Even though it was different, it was the same as it had been. The hollow thump of flesh, the violence, the coldness of fear. 

Buggy grabbed you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his body shaking with laughter. “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.” 

“How?” you asked softly, staring at his hand. It was attached fully, like it had never been separated. Buggy was fine. You hadn’t hurt him. 

“You know what a Devil Fruit is, sweetheart?” Buggy asked.

You shook your head no. 

“Thought not. Basically, I ate a funny lookin’ fruit and now I’ve got a super special trick up my sleeve.” He held out his arm, detaching it in segments before all the pieces popped back together. 

“Oh,” you said faintly, the only thought you could really articulate.

“Sheesh, that got you good. That’s what you get for wandering away when I needed you. Not only that, but distracting poor Cabaji.” Buggy clicked his tongue, leaning down closer to speak soft enough for only you to hear. “I’ll let it slide this time, but from now on, you leave him alone.”  

You cast a sideways glance at Cabaji as he picked up his sword, inspecting for any damage and very professionally ignoring you.

“That’s an order,” Buggy said, his arm tightening. You looked up to meet his eyes. So bright, so intense. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Great,” Buggy said, releasing you before addressing the gathered group with an annoyed scowl. “Everybody, back to work!” 

The pirates dispersed, some of them still smiling or laughing. You did nothing, standing there freezing beneath the hot sunshine. 

Buggy shot an irritated glance over his shoulder. “Babydoll,” he snapped, whistling at you to follow. By now, you responded to the term of endearment like a name, hurrying to catch up as he stalked towards the quarter deck. “Maybe I oughta put a leash on you, keep you from wandering away.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat. You couldn’t trust that if you spoke, your voice would remain steady. It was like, all at once, your lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, and humiliated pain caught up with you, and you tripped, landing hard on one knee, your shin painfully banging into the edge of the top step. Your vision darkened on the edges before you got your arms propped up beneath you, wincing at the pain.

Staring hard at the ground, you saw Buggy’s shadow double back, and then his hand entered your field of vision, outstretched. 

“Need a hand?” he asked. You looked up, a little confused about the kindness. But you weren’t about to reject the help.

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing his hand and using it to get onto your knee. Buggy pulled his arm away as soon as you started to stand, letting you fall back onto the deck with a yelp, his detached hand limp in yours. 

“I know you only got one eye and all,” Buggy said, laughing, “but how did you not see that coming?” 

You frowned, finally feeling the sting of tears in your eye, your chest aching with the little betrayal. After everything else, it just felt so cruel. With a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, his detached hand hauled you up onto your feet before it snapped back into place on his arm. You stumbled forward a few steps before getting your balance, but Buggy was already walking away, heading towards his office. You followed, wincing at the sharp pain lancing up from your shin. 

The relative dark of the map room left you nearly blind, you knocked your hip against the table before steadying yourself again. Buggy threw open the doors to his office, going right to his desk to fall sideways into the chair, one leg thrown over the armrest and the other on the edge of the desk, his head lolling back dramatically for him to rub his temple. 

“Sit down,” he bid you with a wave of his hand, like a ruler directing his subject. You sat, folding your hands in your lap nervously. 

Slowly, Buggy’s expression of dramatic weariness became a smile, and then a chuckle. He dropped his hand, raising his head to look at you. 

“That was hilarious. You shoulda seen your face when I started shouting. I really had you going.”

You frowned, your stomach twisting. It seemed like something you were meant to laugh along with, but you worried if you tried, you’d just wind up in tears. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” you asked.

“You never asked,” Buggy answered, like it was obvious. 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded. 

The silence dragged on and on, but the weight of Buggy’s eyes made it obvious that he wasn’t done talking. Suddenly, he stood up, taking slow steps around his desk. It forced you to look up at him. “What I wanna know,” Buggy said, tapping his pointer finger to his lips as if he was thinking seriously, “is why you went to Cabaji for help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“That’s what you said earlier, wasn’t it?” Buggy asked, “you asked him to teach you how to fight. Kinda surprising honestly, I wouldn’t’ve thought you had the backbone. Maybe you and him are closer than I thought.” 

“No, that’s not… We’re not that close.”

“So you asked him to teach you how to use a sword because you think he’s better than me?”

That question threw you off all over again. You had no idea how good of a fighter either man was, but you had a feeling that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

“No, but you’re very busy, Captain Buggy. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Your answer didn’t seem to diffuse his growing displeasure like you hoped. Instead, his head lolled to the side, a casual pretense that didn’t at all match the disconcerting focus of his gaze. “I had no idea you even wanted to know how to fight. Last time I had to hold your hand through the whole thing, I kinda figured you weren’t cut out for that sort of thing.”

“All pirates know how to fight,” you said. 

Buggy laughed, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed. “Is that what you think you are? A pirate?” 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Eventually, you found your voice, but it was very soft. “I am.” 

“Get real, babydoll. You’re barely a woman, let alone a pirate.”

“Then why did you hire me?” you asked, your cold voice nearly inaudible.

“Because when you were strung up, I saw something in you, something exciting. You showed me that you knew what you wanted, and you were willing to bleed for it. You recognized that to achieve greatness, you have to make sacrifices. But now that you’re here, it’s like you’ve got no vision, no drive to be anything more than the pathetic little thing you used to be. You’re just like all the others. I keep waiting for you to get it, but you won’t let me in.” He sighed, disappointed. “I guess I hoped that if you killed that guy, you could become more than the girl he thought you were, but you’re still clinging onto your old life. Until you let that go, you’re practically dead weight. I may as well send you back to your dad.”

“I am trying, Captain Buggy,” you argued, blinking very fast. “That’s why I asked Cabaji-

“What does Cabaji have to do with anything?” Buggy snapped. “You think that you’ll become somebody just because he teaches you how to toss around some balls or hold a sword? Don’t be stupid. You're trying to run when you can't even crawl.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft enough to not risk letting him hear it break. “I’ll… I’ll be better.”

Buggy crouched down in front of you, grabbing your shoulders. “I really want to mold you into something worth loving, but I can’t do that when you’re so… so frigid and frowny and boring. It’s like you’re afraid of being special.” 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you whispered again, blinking fast. You wanted to keep your face hidden from him, but Buggy grabbed your chin, pulling your face up to look at your expression. What was lurking in his pale eyes? Sometimes his expression was so transparent, but all you could see was the sharp edge of his judgment. 

Buggy released your chin, pushing you away from him as he stood up. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and reflect on your failure,” he said, the bite of disdain clear in his voice. “And I don’t wanna hear that you’re bothering Cabaji again, okay?” 

“Yes, Captain Buggy.”

Curling up in your dark hiding spot amidst the storage crates beneath the forecastle, you cried. Even hating yourself for proving Buggy’s point, you couldn’t stop it from hurting. Everything hurt. Everything was scary. There was no place in the world where you belonged. It was the lesson dad tried to teach you over and over. Fundamentally, there was something wrong with you. Your poor health, your hysteria, your inability to get along with people, your ineptitude. You thought your life would change because your circumstances were different, but that was a silly dream. Unless you changed, nothing would ever work out. 

It was like blinking. If blinking carved out several hours from your life that you couldn’t remember and left you stiff from sleeping curled up in a ball on the floor. 

Waking up from an unintended nap, especially waking up in the dark, not knowing how much time had passed or even where you were, was terrifying. At first you assumed you were in the basement, but the smell was wrong. You weren’t at home. You laid on a wooden deck, not stone. The pain striking up your shin was the first reminder of what had happened, and then everything else fit into place. 

You crawled out from the storage area, wincing at the various aches and pains plaguing your body. Wiping the crust of tears from your eye and fixing your bandana, you made your way to the shared living space with half an idea about supper, and a very strong motivation. Buggy was right, you weren’t trying hard enough. You needed to change, that was what you wanted, that was why you ran away. You could be what Captain Buggy wanted you to be. You had to. 

Luckily, Pippa sat on her bed filing her nails and talking with the man who slept in the bunk next to yours. Marty, you thought he was called. 

“You alright, girly?” Marty called as you approached. “You look a little shaken up.” 

It took a second for you to realize that he was, in fact, talking to you. Given the cold reception you’d experienced so far, it seemed a bit unbelievable, but he was looking right at you. 

“That’s just how she looks,” Pippa said, focused entirely on her nails. 

“That was one hell of a shock the captain gave you.” He laughed. “I’m surprised you hadn’t seen his trick before, he musta been planning doing something like this. Those Devil Fruits are something else.”

“You all knew?” you asked, taken aback. “About his—What can he can do, I mean.” 

“Don’t take it too hard,” Marty said. “He did you a favor. Before now, nobody knew what to make of you. Now you’re… I dunno, you’re more like-”

“One of us. Congratulations,” Pippa said glibly. 

You nodded like you understood, still a little dazed, dizzy from sleeping. “Um, are we going to eat soon?” 

“You’re too late for that,” Marty said.

“Oh,” was the only response you could manage. While your stomach did pitch a bit of  a fit, it wasn’t the first time you’d gone without supper. It was, in some ways, a fitting punishment. You took a deep breath, trying to wake yourself up. Focus. Be brave.

“Pippa?” you asked.

“Yes?” she asked, still focused on her nails. 

“You know things about makeup and stuff, right? And clothes and hair and… I was wondering if you could, um, I don’t know… Show me how?”

“Show you how?” she asked, finally setting aside the file to look at you. 

“I want to,” you looked around at the colorful cast of pirates, “I want to fit in more, but I don’t know how to do any of that.” 

Pippa looked you up and down with an icy gaze, studying you like a test subject before pursing her lips. 

“Are those the only clothes you own?” she asked. 

You stupidly looked down at the loose sweater and leggings you knew you were wearing as if to check. “Nn-no, I have other sweaters and-”

“I’m aware of your collection of ugly sweaters. Don’t you have anything that isn’t entirely hideous?”

You adjusted your clothes, your shoulders curling in with insecurity. “No.” 

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You can’t dress like that anymore.” 

“When we get to port I can buy something else,” you offered, although you realized with a pang of unease that you didn’t know if you were earning money. Neither Buggy or Cabaji had mentioned any sort of salary.  

“No, that won’t do.” Pippa stood up to grab her trunk off your bed, hefting down with ease. With a rattle of metal, she flipped the lid, revealing piles of colorful clothes. “You’re small,” she said, glancing up at you with a frown. She picked through the pile before pulling out something with red and white stripes, giving it a hard look before nodding. “This is too short for me,” Pippa told you, holding it out. “Try it on.”

“Here?” you asked, looking around nervously. 

“Promise nobody’s lookin’,” Marty called from the next bunk, watching with a reassuring grin. 

Not knowing what else to do, you accepted the dress, holding it up. Casual as it was, the garment was lovely, more outrageous than anything else you had ever put on. Thinking about calling that much attention to yourself made your skin crawl. If you wore it, you would fit in with everybody else. 

Buggy said you needed to try. You didn’t have any other choice. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned around to hide yourself as much as possible, pulling off your sweater to exchange it for the dress. It didn’t quite fit, although the hem fell around the right place. Pippa came up behind you to tighten the ribbon-like laces that ran up the back of the bodice, tying them in a bow around your waist. When she finished and you turned around to face them, she smiled approvingly. 

“Much better,” Pippa said. “If your legs get cold, you could add some stockings. I have some that would match.”  

“Can’t I wear it with these?” you asked, pinching your leggings.

“Absolutely not,” Pippa said, wincing like it was terrible to even consider. 

“What if the wind blows the skirt up?” 

Pippa nodded, returning to the trunk to dig around before emerging with something lacy. “These should fit you.” She tossed them at you to hold up, realizing they were like shorts.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked.

“For this lot?” Marty asked, laughing at the idea. 

“I assume you don’t have any makeup,” Pippa said. 

“I’ve never even worn any,” you said, tugging your bandana down. Once you experimented with some of mom’s makeup, really just with the lipstick, you weren’t sure how to use most of the products. Dad did not like it.

Pippa sighed. “I’ll get up in the morning and help you. Maybe do something about that hair too. What do you think about twintails?” 

You touched your hair, pulling it forward nervously. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a freak, aren’t you?” she asked, raising a carefully tweezed eyebrow. “You’ve gotta look the part.” 

[ofthemorningstars]

AS ONE

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut

1.2k words

Ao3 version

Terzo and Omega share a tender morning together.

--------

HUGE shout out to @evereverest2 for their encouraging and inspirational words, and to @puuuders for writing a story based on the prompt I commented that inspired my own story.

All criticisms welcome. Enjoy!

-----------

Terzo opened his eyes slowly, his vision swimming back into focus. His awareness returned in increments and he sorted what he could process. Cool air, warm blankets, and the warmer form of Omega spooned up behind him, arm draped heavily over his side. His ghoul’s bare skin almost burned against his, still naked from their explorations the night before. The comforting heat threatened to lull him back to sleep. He glanced over at the alarm clock that was dimly illuminating the room in a red light. 4:30. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He knew that if he fell back asleep now, he’d never wake up on time to meet the demands of the looming schedule of his ministry duties. 

“Finally, you’re awake,” he heard the ghoul rumble in his ear, voice graveled with sleep. 

“Too early, it seems,” Terzo chuckled. “Why are you up at an hour like this, amore?”

In response his lips found Terzo’s neck, trailing lazily as he hummed against his skin. He pressed his hips against the smaller man, erection insistent at Terzo’s back. “I was thinking about you,” he said breathily in Terzo’s ear.

Terzo inhaled sharply, heat spearing through him. He turned his head so that their lips could meet. The kiss was tender but quickly built until it was deep enough that they both had to pull away to catch their breath.

“Mio caro,” Terzo breathed. “Was last night not enough for you?” he added teasingly.

“Never,” Omega purred, returning to Terzo’s neck, nuzzling. Teeth found flesh, and Terzo groaned. If he felt a stir during their kiss, he was throbbing now. Omega’s hands began to wander leisurely over Terzo’s body, touch burning, until Terzo felt as though he might burst into flames. Sensing his growing desperation, Omega moved down the bed until he could grind against Terzo’s ass. Terzo let out another quiet groan.

“Nnnh… you could've just woken me, mio caro.”

“You need your sleep, Papa,” Omega teased. He was right. Life at the ministry had always been hectic, especially for an Emeritus, but since being appointed to his new position he rarely got time for himself. He had been going for weeks. He felt run ragged. He was dimly grateful for his husband’s consideration underneath the haze of arousal.

“Si, I suppose you’re right.” Another kiss, hungry, full of want and unspoken promises. After a few long minutes it broke to heavy breathing and Terzo pushing back into Omega. Omega rolled onto his back, reaching for the lube on his nightstand that they’d never had a chance to put away. Terzo felt the loss of Omega's form acutely.

“Are you ready?” Omega asked softly in his ear. Terzo closed his eyes and nodded. Terzo lifted his leg and slung it over Omega’s, allowing him better access. Slowly, gingerly he worked his now slicked cock inside of him. Terzo let out a shaking breath as Omega was fully seated, taking a moment to adjust to his beloved’s considerable size. When he was comfortable, he ground down on Omega, hungry and wanting more. Omega began to move in slow, languid thrusts as they groaned together. Omega’s hands started gently caressing, delicately teasing nipples before trailing down. He explored every inch of his lover’s skin that he could access, claws not scratching but gliding, tickling. A palm carded achingly slowly down his stomach and through the v of his hips. Terzo felt an electric jolt as Omega cupped and stroked his balls before finally, finally taking a few tentative, almost shy strokes of his cock. Terzo hissed sharply at the contact, his whole body feeling like it was humming. He found a steady, punishing rhythm and Terzo couldn’t hold back a moan. He was on fire. Maybe a little too on fire…

“Omega…” Something in Terzo’s tone made him pause, briefly going still. “Please, amore, don't stop” he panted. “Just…. Let me go, I want this to last.” Omega chuckled and obliged, resuming his thrusts but releasing Terzo, burying his face into his neck and kissing sweetly. 

They continued on at a steady grinding pace until Omega heard Terzo's breath coming harder, his moans transforming into mewling and growing needier with every thrust. “What do you need, mio amato?” omega whispered in his ear.

“You,” Terzo whimpered, pushing back into Omega's hips, desperately trying to take in as much of him as he could. 

Heat shot through Omega, and he growled low. He loved to hear him like this, Terzo's grip on his control slipping and giving way to want. He never wanted this to end, wanted to stay in this moment forever, to bask in the bliss of the way their bodies fit together and their souls melded as one. But his own grip on his composure was slipping. His thrusting began to pick up speed and increase in force. The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, soft exclamations and the symphony of skin hitting skin. Omega's hand slipped to Terzo's hip, gripping hard, claws digging into the tender flesh. 

Terzo was close. Omega could sense it, could taste it. He chased it ravenously, nearing the end of his own tether. His hand snaked aound to stroke Terzo, hard and fast. Terzo came with a shout tearing its way from his throat, clenching around Omega and tipping him over the edge as well. He shook, snarling, his vision going dark. He was drowning in pleasure so intense that it almost hurt as wave after wave crashed over him.

When he finally drifted back down it was with a whimper of his own. He found himself half slumped over Terzo’s cooling form, his lover still struggling to catch his breath as Omega’s seed leaked out of him. Omega slumped back against his pillow, drained, but did not draw out of Terzo.  Instead, he pulled him against himself tightly, fitting so snuggly into the curve of his own body that if he closed his eyes he could forget that they were ever separate. His tail wrapped around Terzo’s leg possessively. They lay there dozing, completely intertwined, until the sunlight peeking through the edges of the chamber curtains was bright enough that their obligations could no longer be ignored. As they begrudgingly got up and prepared for the day ahead, they both mourned the loss of the other's warmth and promised each other that no matter how long the day, they would return once more to their sanctuary this evening, like always, where they could again be united together as one.

[topaz-witch-tea]

Yanqing’s Happy Family AU: Yingxing’s Parenting

It’s been a while since I last posted something for Yanqing’s Happy Family AU. I took a much needed vacation from work so now I am a lot more energized and ready to write. Work and the fact that my free time is 9 PM - 12 PM makes it hard to write, which is why my work has a lot of typos. I try my best to catch all of them but some do slip through.

Please enjoy my head canons on Yingxing’s parenting. Please feel free to send me asks and messages, you can also send them anonymously if you wish. You can ask about head canons, current, or future works and anything that strikes your fancy. I am opening to answering most things. I hope to have a proper writing schedule set up for me so I can write more. My brain keeps cooking food but I can’t plate and serve them efficiently. 😂

1. Yingxing makes all of the swords Yanqing uses. From his main sword to the spares on his back and even the daggers he hides on his body, Yingxing forged all of them. This was his child after all, how could he let anyone else but the best make his son’s weapons and he was the Furnace Master, and therefore, the best. Improperly made weapons could decide life and death in the battlefield and he would be damned if the reason his child was buried before him was because of poorly made weaponry. He poured countless hours and funds into creating these weapons all to ensure that it was the best. Yanqing, in turn, shared his father’s love for swords and loved collecting them, especially ones his father made. Private auctions or competitions were the only way to get non-custom swords made by the Furnace Master and Yanqing competed in them constantly. Sure, he would spend his entire allowance for the next two weeks just to get his hand on a sword his father crafted completely out of jade, but it was absolutely stunning from a collector’s point-of-view and he simply could not let the opportunity pass him by.

2. Yanqing would collect the swords of other master’s as well, but he would never use them on the battlefield. Until one day, when a new craftsman who had transferred from the Yaoqing arrived on the Luofu. He was an expert in daggers infused with qi and Yanqing was absolutely smitten with them. So much so that he replaced the daggers Yingxing gave him with the qi-infused ones during an minor expedition. The expedition was successful and Yanqing was more than happy with his purchase. Yingxing, however, was not happy to hear he was been replaced with someone else. To him, swords were his and Yanqing’s thing, so to hear that Yanqing no longer carried his daggers but those of another craftsmen was a strike to his heart. He fretted over whether it was due to his skill as a craftsman or maybe the designs were not in style. He took this matter so personally that he had suddenly burst into tears right as he and his husbands were going to sleep. Of course, Yanqing got tired of the daggers in a week or so and returned to using the ones his father crafted for him. They just felt more comfortable and far more suited to his fighting style then anything else he could buy at the market.

3. Yingxing, out of the three, is by far the strictest. His success in life was due to self-discipline and perseverance, something he hopes to impart upon Yanqing. However, “strict” should be taken with a grain of salt. Yingxing will say no to Yanqing when it comes to certain purchases but a successful sword lesson or an excellent exam score is enough to make Yingxing open his wallet. He does try his best to teach Yanqing financial responsibility, but it’s hard for him to preach that when he was doing the same thing at Yanqing’s age.

4. Before every mission, Yingxing checks every weapon Yanqing is bringing with him to the battlefield. It doesn’t matter if Yanqing has polished and inspected each item the night before, Yingxing has to look at it. The sharpness and sturdiness of the blade, the quality of the sheath, even the way it is attached to Yanqing- everything has to be checked. While Yingxing will tell his son that it is for his safety, it is more for Yingxing’s own anxiety. There are times he is unable to follow his child onto the battlefield, and in those moments, his mind spins a thousand horrible scenarios of his child’s fate. To know that all of Yanqing’s weapons are in order is the only thing he can do as he waits for his child to return home.

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' EPILOGUE

~39k+ Hangster AU. IceMav established in background.

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10

This is a very fluffy feel-good epilogue. Didn't quite manage to shoehorn in more of Bradley lecturing and Jake being in there, or as much epistolary as I would like. ENJOY! (~4.5k long)

EPILOGUE

            Bradley was meant to fly last night, but he’d ended up being kept back with something drastic in the lab, so he’d missed his take-off timeslot. Instead it’s fucking ass o’clock and Jake is watching the little six-seater come in to land and he’s pretty sure the swooping in his stomach is because the man he’s pretty sure he loves is inside that plane. It’s been a week of revelations and he can hardly believe it’s only been a week. He watches as Bradley follows the directions of the ground crew before he’s walking toward him, bag slung over his shoulder and he looks great. His legs and ass are gorgeous, but he’s walking with a little jump in his step like he’s immensely happy and Jake’s pretty confident that he’s the reason.

            There aren’t any words, just soft-slow smiles and Bradley has dropped his bag, is pushing Jake against his rental car, hands on his ass as he presses himself against Jake’s front and then kisses him for a solid three minutes, maybe five, and it feels so good to be touching him again, to have him there after just talking to him on the phone in spare moments during the week when they’d both been free.

            “Hi there sailor...”

            “You are such a dork.”

            “Guilty as charged. What are you going to do about it?”

            “Suffer, apparently. Come on, we can go back to bed…”

            “Really now? When I went to all this effort to look good to meet your family?”

            Jake doesn’t mention how his hair is squished from wearing the headset in the plane, his shirt rumpled and buttoned incorrectly. He looks like a wet dream come to life and Jake wouldn’t want him any other way. He throws Bradley’s bag in the backseat, shoves him toward the passenger side and starts the drive back to the house they’re staying at.

            “Adam and Michelle are your brother and sister. Adam’s married to Kelly, they’ve got three year old twins. Michelle is married to Lachlan and they have the five year old, three year old and the baby…”

            “Yep.”

            “I’m not going to remember this right.”

            “You’ll be fine, it’s not like they’re going to quiz you. Also my sister is going to go so easy on you, pretty sure she’d given up hopes on me finding anyone. Bachelor for life.”

            “Yeah, when you’re so ineligible and everything…” Bradley snorts.

            “Maybe I was just waiting for perfection to come along,” Jake replies and catches the immediate flush to Bradley’s face at the compliment.

            Of course his sister is awake when they arrive, his eight month old niece, Emily, passed out on her shoulder and she looks half asleep herself. His industrial strength earplugs have come in handy this week, but parents can’t ignore their screaming offspring.

            “Oh hi, Bradley. It’s nice to meet you…”

            “Hi, you must be Michelle.”

            “Here, let me take her so you can go back to bed…” Jake offers.

            “The other two will be awake in less than an hour –”

            “All the more reason to try and get some sleep now. She’s teething,” Jake says to Bradley, taking Emily from his sister’s unresisting arms and giving her a gentle push toward her own bedroom. Emily doesn’t even stir in his arms.

            “Nice to meet you Bradley, maybe I can have a proper conversation when I’m actually awake,” Michelle says, ambling off and only bumping into one wall as she goes. He shifts slightly, makes his hold on Emily a little more secure and one he can maintain for longer.

            “Do you want kids?” Bradley asks, voice quiet and somber and Jake meets his eye, suddenly terrified he might answer this wrong. This isn’t something they’ve ever discussed.

            “No. Uh. Sorry, is that a deal breaker?”

            “No, it’s definitely not a deal breaker,” Bradley says, and if Jake was going to put money on something he’s say he looked a little relieved. “You just look good like that.”

            “Bradshaw, I look good all the time. I though we’d already established that fact.”

            “We had, this was just one I hadn’t been expecting.”

            “Well, I’m more than happy playing the cool uncle. And helping my brother and sister out. No desire to add any mini-mes to the world.”

            “You’d make very cute babies…”

            “Bradshaw, our babies would be too hot for the world, it’s a good thing they’ll never come to fruition. You want to hold her? She’s dead to the world…”

            “Yeah, sure thing…”

            Surprising him Bradley scoops Emily from him with easy confidence and Jake knows he doesn’t have nieces and nephews, or cousins, or…

            “Plenty of my friends have kids. I’m also the go-to cool uncle,” Bradley says, clearly seeing the surprised expression on Jake’s face.

            “Our powers combined…”

            “And people think I’m the geeky one,” Bradley mutters, but he’s grinning at Jake. His stomach-heart-brain are on that three-seater roller coaster again and he can’t hold it back.

            “I love you.”

            He feels like he might throw up, suddenly nervous he’s said it too soon, or Bradley will run. That something bad will happen. It doesn’t. Bradley gives him a slow smile, it grows wider and wider, his eyes crinkling, his hand reaches up to cup Jake’s jaw and he’s pulling him close, his lips brushing over Jake’s and the kiss is gentle but firm, feels full of meaning somehow.

            “I love you too.”

            Okay then.

…         …         …

            “Bradley, nice to meet you. Haven’t heard much about you of course, he saves all the good gossip for Michelle.”

            “Hey! Michelle and I both like – oh crap… hi kids.”

            Bradley snorts into his coffee, stares up at the ceiling for a brief second in the hope it’ll stop him from bursting into laughter. This has to be Adam and his wife Kelly, each of them holding a toddler.

            “Were you being gross again?”

            “When isn’t he gross?”

            “Hey! I take offence to all of this! It’s slander!”

            “I had to watch your teenage years. You were gross,” Michelle says, looking more awake than this morning.

            “Oh! Do you have photos?” Bradley asks, and Jake squawks with alarm.

            Michelle does indeed have photos and later Bradley enjoys looking through them, although he can see that Jake wasn’t exactly brimming with the confidence and happiness he has an adult. Knows a little more now how his parents don’t talk to Jake; effectively disowned when he came out. The fact that his brother and sister walked away as well tells him that there’s probably even more to it but he’s not going to pry. Jake will tell him if he wants to. He’s smiling down at the photo of Jake on his USNA graduation day, his brother and sister on either side of him when he feels Michelle settle down beside him on the sofa, Emily in her arms.

            “Thank you.”

            “What for?” Bradley asks, a bit confused.

            “For giving my brother what he deserves.”

            “Oh. Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

            She smiles and gives him a one-armed hug before passing him Emily.

…         …         …

            “You look like a natural holding that baby…” Mav says over the phone and Bradley frowns before spying Jake over in the doorway, phone in hand and grinning at him. Traitor.

            “Jake’s sending you photos.”

            “Hangman appreciates my desire for grandchildren.”

            “Hangman knows how to direct your obsession toward something actually feasible. I think Ice is lucky you couldn’t knock him up. Jesus Mav.”

            “I like kids okay? They’re cool. Anyway, he could’ve knocked me up. We’re equals like that.”

            “Ugh. I don’t need to know.”

…         …         …

            Jake hasn’t felt this happy, this settled, since he can remember. Maybe when he was a kid and didn’t have any worries in the world. Now he has his family, Bradley, a formal screening process to begin for the test pilot position and everything feels so good. So right. He doesn’t even have an impending sense that something bad has to happen to balance it out. He simply feels secure and content and it’s heady.

…         …         …

            “Hey, you think you could ask Michelle and Adam whether they’d mind a couple more visitors this weekend?”

            “Did you want to bring friends?” Jake asks, because there is a spare bedroom, but depending on who Bradley wants to bring might mean they don’t have the space. They have the house until Sunday, but they’ve got long drives ahead of them so will be leaving early.

            “No. Mav and Ice want to come. I don’t have labs this Friday and I can rearrange someone to take my lectures…”

            Jake grins at the idea that Bradley’s family wants to meet his, that Bradley is rearranging his work to help that happen. He knows this isn’t normal but it’s also not usual for his family to all be in one place.

            “You want to come a day earlier? Yeah, that’d be great.”

            “Earlier and with extra people.”

            “It’s fine. We’d nearly out-number the kids and be able to let the parents have a date night or something…”

            “Or something huh? You angling for more nieces and nephews?”

            “No! But they might like to have some time together without their kids there. They’ll probably just sleep if their conversations are anything to go on.”

…         …         …

            He watches the plane come in and just waits, the feeling far more familiar now and he’s hopefully going to be watching Bradley fly into and out of his life regularly and he wouldn’t want it any other way, except maybe living together but one step at a time. He watches and then laughs, realizing that Bradley didn’t fly this time, is stalking toward him from where the plane is being towed into a hangar with a slightly annoyed look on his face and Jake kisses him, glad to see it wipes the annoyance clear off.

            “He didn’t let you fly huh?”

            “Of course not. You think I’m allowed to fly when he’s in the plane? He’s far too much of a control freak for that. I don’t want to know what he promised Ice, because there wasn’t even the hint of an argument this time. By the way, Ice is the same with cars. It’s a whole thing. You’ll get it as well.”

            Sure enough Jake is hip-checked out of the way as soon as they’ve exchanged quick hellos and hugs. Jake sure isn’t saying no to sitting in the back with Bradley, but he’s not going to not be an annoying shit about it, tosses a wink at Bradley and links their hands together; waits until they’ve been driving for a minute before speaking.

            “Are we there yet? I’m hungry… Bradley’s breathing too close to me.”

            “I need to use the bathroom!” Bradley adds in, realizing what game Jake is now playing, and he’s laughing.

            “You two are such shits. Can you not act your age?”

            “We’ll start acting our ages when you two do the same…” Bradley says, laughing.

…         …         …

            “Adam, nice to meet you again. Much nicer circumstances this time around.”

            “Pete, good to see you. And yeah, definitely much better. Can I get you a drink?”

            Bradley looks between them, a little confused as to when their paths could have crossed.

            “When did you guys meet?”

            “At the hospital, after Jake’s accident.”

            He remembers Jake mentioning an accident, hadn’t realized it had maybe been serious enough to require family to fly across the country. He’s going to need to ask Jake later, is suddenly filled with the worry that something might happen and he won’t know about it until well after the fact. Hates the idea for so many reasons but it’s definitely the idea of not knowing which is the worst. He needs to add Jake to his own emergency contact info so he’s not left in the dark either.

            Ice is using his text-to-voice app to talk with Michelle and Lachlan, before Mav drags Adam over to introduce him as well and Bradley feels like he can maybe leave them to it and drop the bags in their room.

            “This is a little surreal… my nephews are trying to climb the legs of the COMPACFLT so they can play with the device he’s holding,” Jake says, coming up behind him and wrapping his hands around Bradley’s waist.

            “Ice loves kids, but usually kids are scared of him because he can looks so serious and he can’t talk very well to reassure them now, but he won’t mind…”

            “Oh, I know he won’t mind. He puts up with you and Mav, and now me… he has the patience of a saint.”

            “The patience maybe, but nothing else is saint like and we all know it.”

…         …         …

            Bradley watches as Mav settles himself on the ground, pushing some of the blocks to the side. He remembers Mav playing with him a lot when he was a kid, remembers him bringing him presents, nearly always toy planes, but they’d changed, once his dad had died. He’d gone from being excited about the presents Mav bought to simply being happy to see Mav. And okay, he doesn’t want kids but he does feel a little sad that Mav’s not going to be a grandfather.

            Except… except he can. Mav and Ice both are his dad in every sense that is important, and he knows Mav loves Jake. Their little family unit of three can easily grow to encompass Jake and his siblings and their families over time. Especially given that their own parents are not in the picture and likely never will be.

            “I’m still not having kids Mav, but I’m pretty sure if you wanted to step into the role of grandfather for Jake’s nieces and nephews there’s a couple of positions available for you and Ice. If you wanted them.”

            Mav nods once, simple acknowledgment that he’s heard him, but Bradley doesn’t miss the dampness in his eyes.

…         …         …

            He’s made himself comfortable in Bradley’s apartment as much as he can. Has permission to use his office while he’s on campus during the day and Jake lets himself lounge around and get comfortable. He pours himself a coffee and takes the mug and re-examines the bookshelves, wonders if any of the texts might prove useful to what he’s reading for the test pilot position.

            He’s not really paying attention to anything when he hears a quick knock on the door, before the door is opening and he freezes, sense of déjà vu so strong he has to double check he’s actually fully dressed this time. He is thankfully but he’s wondering how many people have fucking keys to Bradley’s apartment.

            “Oh my god! You’re not Bradley.”

            “Ah, no. Uh…”

            “Oh! You’re the boyfriend! Jacob right?”

            “Jake. Yeah.”

            “Kezia. Nice to meet you.”

            “Uh. And you…”

            “Bradley didn’t warn you I was coming over?”

            “No.”

            “Typical. I’m here to make sure his indoor plants don’t die. I’m his plant person.”

            “Plant person?” Jake asks, a little confused, but he vaguely remembers something Bradley said, about how he couldn’t keep plants alive and maybe that’s why he has a plant person…? His phone rings then and he pulls it out, sees Bradley’s face on screen and accepts the call.

            “Hi.”

            “Hi. I forgot to tell you –”

            “She’s already here.”

            “Shit. Sorry.”

            “It’s fine…” Jake says, but Kezia is moving closer, clearly aware that he’s talking to Bradley.

            “Nice work Bradshaw!”

            “Fuck’s sake…” Bradley mutters and Jake grins, but knows he’s also maybe blushing a little. “I was a little distracted this morning okay, then I was running late.”

            “Got distracted huh? Wonder what caused that?”

            “Yeah, you’d have no idea huh?”

            “None at all. You go do your teaching shit, I’m going to make Kezia a cup of coffee…? Tea? And ask all about your ineptitude with house plants.”

            “He’s useless,” Kezia says loudly, but she’s already heading to the kitchen to make herself a hot drink of some description and Jake thinks he’ll get on fine with her too.

…         …         …

            “Hey kid! I bought you something!”

            “Uh, you didn’t have to do that Mav…”

            “Oh no, I did.”

            Jake opens it and inside the cardboard box is a muzzle, and he looks at in in dawning realization.

            “Are you making a comment about their sex life?” Ice asks, and Jake snorts, glad he can follow the most of the signing now. Wonders if Tom would be so risky with his conversations if more people understood what he was saying.

            “No! Well. I guess I am actually.”

            “Well, hate to break it to you Mav, but that mark wasn’t left by me.”

            “What? What do you mean?” Mav asks, suddenly concerned and Jake will never get sick of being able to wind him up knowing that he’ll think it’s funny at the end of the day.

            “It’s a rope burn…”

            “What!” Mav flushes red and Jake keeps his expression deadpan.

            “Your fault for asking about their sex life,” Ice says, his expression delighted.

            “I wasn’t!”

            “You mean you didn’t want me to wear this in the bedroom?” Jake asks, holding up the muzzle.

            “I meant it as a joke…!”

            “Ah… what the hell did I just walk into?” Bradley asks, looking between them. Ice is laughing so much he has tears at the corner of his eyes, breath coming in rough gasps.

            “Mav bought us a sex toy.”

            “No I didn’t!”

            “A muzzle for me because of that new mark on your neck…”

            “A rope did this…”

            “I don’t need to know!” Mav exclaims, and Jake wonders if he can start turning purple with how red his face is.

            “From climbing Mav. Fucking hell. A rope got caught on a hold and scraped over my neck and gave me friction burn.”

            Jake has joined Ice in laughing, the expression in Mav’s face caught between relieved and embarrassed and Bradley just looking resigned.

…         …         …

A YEAR LATER

            He’s finished his test-pilot training, managed to maintain a long-distance relationship with Bradley in San Diego and himself in fucking Maryland. Now though he’s enroute to Fallon, beginning as an advanced Top Gun instructor in five weeks. First though he has five weeks uninterrupted with Bradley and a piece of land he bought that he has plans for, sitting adjacent to the same piece of land that belongs to Tom. He’s meeting Bradley there, his family coming for two weeks of camping and he can’t wait to have them all in the same place.

            Once he lands in Fallon he immediately rings Bradley, and he’s going to have to reward him for this phone lasting almost nine months when he sees him. The last one had survived over a year, which had been a record when it had slid off the wing of Bradley’s plane and crashed onto the airstrip. Something that’s happened before apparently. Mav has shared a spreadsheet with him for sole purpose of roasting Bradley and he can’t wait to be closer to them all again.

            “Hi…”

            “Hi. God it’s good to hear your voice.”

            “Well, we’re lucky we don’t have to deal with grossly different time zones anymore. Are you going to come up this weekend?”

            “Ah… Yeah. I guess I’ll be this weekend. Although my plans for my romantic weekend away are being crashed by Ice and Mav. They heard about the work you want to do and want to help.”

            “Bit presumptuous of you thinking it was going to be romantic…”

            “I said my romantic weekend, not our romantic weekend. If you’re good you can watch…”

            “Really now?”

            “I guess you can touch if you really want to.”

            “Trust me, I’m going to want to. Been too long.”

            “We’ve gotten very good at phone sex though.”

            “We have. Still prefer you in person.”

            “Of course you do. Anyway, do you need me to pick you up or you got a car organized?”

            “I thought you were still at home?”

            “Not so much…”

            Then Bradley’s walking around the corner of the building where he’s clearly been watching from and Jake drops everything and is kissing him, desperate to remind himself of the planes of his face and body and he pulls back suddenly.

            “What the fuck happened to your moustache?”

            “It’s called shaving?”

            “I thought we were meant to consult each other on major life decisions?”

            “I slipped with the clippers and took one third off. Trust me, this was the better option. I’ll grow it back. Not having one makes Emily cry when I video call…”

            “Fuck I love you.”

            Bradley smiles, kisses him breathless and Jake doesn’t need to hear the words anymore to know he feels the same.

…         …         …

            Bradley’s nervous, because this isn’t the only surprise he has up his sleeve. He knows Jake has plans for their summer, building a cabin similar to Ice’s but a bit away on his own piece of land. Somewhere his family can come and stay, a place for him to call home. Except… he hadn’t particularly wanted to spend their five weeks building, and laying foundations and priming. Mav had fortunately jumped at the chance for a larger project, and between them they’ve laid the foundation, erected the walls, paid to have the roof and outer walls all installed by professionals.

            It’s a much bigger place than the three-bedroom cabin belonging to Ice and Mav. Once finished it’ll easily host Jake’s siblings and all his nieces and nephews, at least while they’re small. He just hasn’t exactly told Jake that he and Mav have been working on it, sometimes under the careful supervision of Ice. Some rooms he’s gone ahead and finished off, getting professionals in again to do the bathrooms and kitchen, glad he hadn’t had to live in the building while it was being built and finished.

            Jake’s bedroom, their bedroom, has been left untouched. Needs paint and drapes and light fixtures. He wants to do that room with Jake, hopes that gesture will help Jake accept that he hasn’t been involved with the rest of the build. He drives past the entrance to Ice and Mav’s cabin and Jake makes a little sound, glances back before realizing that maybe Bradley is taking them to his piece of land first. As far as Jake knows there’s the concrete foundation that he organized to be laid several months ago. That not what awaits him when he turns down the rough drive.

            “Holy shit…”

            “Yep,” Bradley says, agreeing, because it does look impressive. Two stories with wide wrap-around porch, finished so it blends into surrounding forest. It’s much bigger than the original plans Jake had made, but Bradley had taken them and still based all the decisions on them. The internal fixtures are all still the ones that Jake had chosen and he’s still nervous that Jake is going to be upset. He stops the car and gets out, follows as Jake stands there and stares around.

            “What… what happened? Did you do this?”

            “Yeah. Me and Mav. With help from quite a few professionals. Been a busy few months.”

            “Holy shit Bradley.”

            “I mean, happy belated anniversary and congratulations on finishing test pilot training?”

            Jake lets out a little sound that may be a half-hiccup half-sob and Bradley is pretty sure he likes it. He wraps his arms around him, hugs him tight and presses a kiss to his cheek.

            “I love you… so much.”

…         …         …

            “You sure about this?” Javy asks as Jakes stares down at the display case.

            “You know, I’ve never felt more certain about anything more in my life. I can’t imagine a better relationship than what we have, except getting to call him my husband, so… yeah. I’m sure.”

            “Good for you man. So happy for you.”

…         …         …

            He’s an hour overdue his usual second cup. His morning lecture having a student stop him afterwards with a question, and then an online meeting stopping him from just nipping into the breakroom like usual, so it’s much quieter when he walks into breakroom and does a double take.

            What the fuck.

            Hanging from the ceiling vents are mobiles of fucking origami roosters. Lining the windowsills, the edges of the coffee machines, the little tables and benches, lips of the whiteboard where the markers usually sit, the arms of the chairs (at least the ones that actually have arms, it’s a pretty eclectic mix of chairs). Everywhere he looks there are just more and more hiding and he wonders how many students got involved with this. There have to be thousands. There are a few people sitting, seemingly unconcerned they’re surrounded by origami roosters and can’t really move without standing on them or knocking them over. Then he spies Michael in the corner, phone held up and no doubt filming. He stalks over, culprit identified.

            “Dude. What the fuck?”

            “Not my idea actually. I just helped implement it. What do you think?”

            “I mean… points for literal creativity but why?”

            “Jake. Being a sappy romantic.”

            “Jake made these?” Bradley asks, looking around.

            “Only some of them, but definitely that mobile over there. It’s for your cabin apparently,” Michael says, expression dry, but Bradley doesn’t care. He’s flushed with warmth knowing that Jake has somehow managed to pull a prank like this off, gotten his friends and work colleagues and likely his students all secretly folding origami roosters…

            “Man he’s an asshole…”

            “An asshole that loves you. Bradley Bradshaw, will you marry me?”

            He spins around and Jake is there, down on one knee by the shitty coffee machine that never works, there’s a crowd of people now, standing and watching and he gapes in surprise. Jake is meant to be in Fallon, not here. But he’s not… he’s here. Proposing to him.

            “No! I was going to propose this weekend!”

            “Not the answer I wanted to hear Bradshaw. You’re just too slow…”

            “I’m just the right speed when I need to be and you know it.”

            Jake smirks and nods his head slightly in agreement, stands up and moves toward Bradley, wrapping his arm not holding a ring around his waist.

            “You still haven’t answered me darlin’…”

            “Yes you asshole, of course I’ll marry you.”

…         …         …

            Jake stares at the email in front of him and feels an intense flood of déjà vu. He’s emailing a guy about his research into materials for the new plane he’s going to be involved in testing and he’s asked a difficult question apparently.

Thanks, I’ll check with my supervisor and get back to you. He’s got a lot more experience than I do in this area.

            It’s a highly confidential project. He’s signed a lot of forms which he painstakingly read. He cannot talk to anyone about the project unless they’re already in the know and while he suspects that this is exactly the field that Bradley consults on he can’t fucking ask without giving it all away.

…         …         …

            “Hi there…”

            “Hi. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

            “Well, just got reminded how smart my fiancé is.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Mmm… test pilot, consulting with the US Department of Defense Research and Engineering group…”

            “Has it been you I’ve been emailing again? I’d swear it’s not you, but he said he had to check with his supervisor…”

            “Yeah. I’m his supervisor. Mentor really. He’s doing his post-doctorate. He forwarded me your emails and it just got me all nostalgic…”

            “You mean it made you horny.”

            “That too.”

…         …         …

            Bradley is giving a public lecture, a taster for the University Open Day because he’s apparently always a hit with the crowds. It’s not long, only fifteen minutes and is meant to touch on the different engineering disciplines and their applications. He spies Jake about halfway through and stumbles, his words just failing as his brain stalls at the sight of his fiancé.

            “So, when it comes to materials science, often when you know the properties of each material, when you add them together they form something stronger, something better, because they’re added together. Working together. So in this case one plus one is not two. One plus one is greater than two.”

            The grin Jake gives him is blinding.

[naviculariis]

Okay so. Serious post time. I'm gonna put this entire thing under a cut, but I'm also gonna post some TWs here: medical malpractice, uncertain diagnoses, family trauma / drama, grief, anxiety rambles???

But I am gonna take like. A semi-hiatus, just so I can catch up on what I owe.

I haven't talked about this over here, or on Tumblr in general. Only one person who follows me here knows about this bc we're friends on another platform.

So.

Y'all have noticed, my days don't follow a set schedule. I've been unemployed since my campus suddenly closed with very little warning back in '22. Immediately after that closing, we took a small trip to MS to be with family for Christmas, and that trip was... Bad. And on the 1st of last year, I had an accident- i was taking down Christmas lights and fell and busted open my head. I had an untreated, late diagnosed concussion thar no one really... followed up on, and have had slight memory loss even now from it.

So I couldn't work until my head healed up from that.

But that's not the medical thing. That is my mother. In October 2021, my mother went in for a routine stint placement that resulted in loss of almost total blood flow to her left leg for 36 hours. They almost had to amputate, she almost died on the table twice, she was hospitalized for a year. ( we've tried the legal route, but because the doctor never admitted fault on paper, he cannot be held liable & suing hospitals is... Difficult. Even though she has permanent damage, can no longer feel anything below the knee, and has to wear a brace to walk. ) My mother already had a weak heart to begin with due to years of smoking + cardiac disease. This was the first nail, essentially. This damaged her heart... a lot.

Back to the concussion. 4 days after my concussion, she had a massive heart attack that nearly killed her. She flatlined twice on the table. It was after this that we got confirmation that she is in congestive heart failure. My grandfather died from it. It's

... It's hard. We don't know which stage she's in because her cardiologist won't tell us, but we think she's in stage 2, or maybe 3. We don't know. But because of this, I am the one who takes care of 95% of everything around the house & outside. I do lawncare, I do the planting, I do the garden. She can do a lot, still, but when her heart gets going- it's painful. So I've been her caretaker since 2021 when the initial accident happened.

My grandmother is nearly 90 and has... Many health problems but somehow is also doing better than most folks I know. She's a mystery. And my aunt had a double knee surgery but somethings wrong with her knees, and they think the surgeries rejected, so she can't get around well or drive longer than an hour away. My grandmother no longer drives & isn't renewing her license. My mother can drive, but we don't want her to unless ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.

So I'm the only one who can drive them around.

I have my own medical issues [ anxiety, depression, type 1 diabetes, cracked tailbone that never got treatment & is giving me hell for that- ]

So. Basically. A lot of my time isn't my time. And when I do have free time, I do try to write and chat as much as I can. At night, after I get mom to bed, I call my partner warner and we get a few hours together and then we have to go to sleep bc we're in a ldr & their timezone is an hour ahead of mine.

... I'm rambling.

It's just. It's hard sometimes. And a lot of the time I sort of sit on my back porch and cry because I'm doing this- physically- alone. Literally everyone else is 4+ hours away across the state. Or 9 hours south on the Gulf Coast, or 7 hours south in Louisiana.

I do try to stay on top of things the best I can, I really really do, but things slip through my fingers. I'm gonna try my best to get all caught up over this coming week, I think. But if my responses are delayed for threads, for discord messages- chances are, I'm busy with one of my lil ol' ladies.

On top of all of this, I live in a town of less than 900, the nearest city is 45 minutes in any direction, and the nearest BIG city is 2+ hours in any direction. Finding a job that isn't in Healthcare is impossible. And I have nothing against those who are in healthcare- I applaud you. But all of my trauma can be tied back to hospital ERs and any time I step foot into a hospital, I immediately have anxiety & can only hear the night we learned about my dad. So I physically cannot force myself to go into that field.

Which is... a whole other thing, this is getting too long. But I've been searching for a job for the past year and a half, have had 5 interviews, each one ended with "thanks for interviewing! However,". It's hard.

So I just.

My plate is a lil bit full. But I love writing. I love the rpc. It'sa comfort and a joy and I love meeting new friends and making new connections and I want to do this as long as I can but sometimes things get a little slow. That's all.

... anyways yeah. Semi hiatus. Cool.

[munofsilver]

Split Monkey Family Chapter 4

I'm still doing this. Sorry for the long gap between chapters. I have been working on my other stories. I wanted to work on things in my WP folder for once.

Summary: Wukong is determined to learn more about what's going on between Macaque and MK. Meanwhile, Mei acts without thinking again, and Macaque keeps to the shadows with his playful cub. There is no news on DBK yet. Ao3 link.

Macaque returns home to see Yue Yan sleeping in the little nest he made for her, with his clone beside it. The image is funny to Macaque until it reminds him of when Wukong would do that with MK when he was a little cub.

“Maybe I should at least tell Wukong about Yue Yan,” he thinks to himself. 

Then, he remembers all his fights with Wukong and what they were about. 

“On second thought. That might not be a good idea,” he whispers. 

The shadow clone vanishes with a wave of Macaque’s hand. He puts a blanket on his daughter and kisses her forehead. Then he finishes his dinner. It’s a good thing fruit can stay out for a few hours. Once done eating and everything is cleaned up, he checks on his cub again. She is still sleeping while sucking on her thumb. 

Macaque can’t help but smile as he watches his daughter. Then he lays on his bed next to Yue Yan’s nest and eventually drifts off to sleep. 

The second MK and Wukong touched the ground on Flower Fruit Mountain, Wukong was again on his son’s case about Macaque.

“We’re here now; tell me everything,” Sun Wukong’s tone tells MK he is serious and losing patience.

“I told you everything. Dad came to ask if I removed the seal and left,” MK lied. 

Wukong raises an eyebrow. He’s not buying it. 

“You are hiding something, son, and I want to know what it is,” Wukong says, taking back his staff and dragging MK inside. 

“I’m not going to do anything. You know I could never harm you on purpose.” 

“What about the time you hit me with your staff, and I went flying into a tree?”

“That was an accident. I said never on purpose,” Wukong crossed his arms, “I don’t want to play any games. What are you hiding from me, son?” 

MK knows he’s been caught. With a sigh of defeat, he talks. 

“I have been secretly visiting with Dad for a while behind your back.” 

A group of cute little white monkeys are monkeying around on Flower Fruit Mountain when a loud roar scares them all up. One falls from the branch it was sleeping on. Don’t worry; the little fella is fine.

“How long have you been visiting, Macaque? Why didn’t you tell me? When will you see him again? Do you know where he lives? Does he forgive me? Will he ever return? Does he know I still love him?” Wukong asks so many questions without taking a breath in between. 

MK only got two of those questions. He stands there blinking a few times while Wukong catches his breath. After a few deep breaths, Wukong slowly asks those questions again. 

“I only visited with him a few times in the past three months. I don’t know when I will visit him again. He comes to me. I don’t know where he lives. I didn’t tell you well because of reason.”

Wukong crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. He’s not happy with the last answer and the unanswered ones. He doesn’t say anything, making MK more nervous. Walking up to his son, his eyes locked into MK’s eyes. Now, an inch away from the young monkey. Then the Monkey King smiles. 

“Alright, I think now it’s time I tell you about Demon Bull King and his family,” Wukong places his arm around MK as he walks into the living room.

In the morning, MK woke up to his phone ringing. It was Mei, and she sounded freaked. That’s never good.

In the morning, Macaque played the TV in the background while feeding his cub mashed bananas and milk. Yue Yan would rather play than eat. 

“Last night, a huge, unknown sound came from the abandoned construction site, followed by an unidentified light source.”

Macaque drops the spoon and stares at the TV. The news report goes on about what happened last night. It’s a good thing there are no details and no word on MK, Mei, or the Demon Bull family. There is definitely no word on the Monkey King. They didn’t even say anything about a hawk flying around. People are investigating the area, and Macaque is worried about that. 

“I think I need to step out again, Plum Blossom,” Macaque sighed. 

Yue Yan didn’t hear her father. She was too busy having fun.  

“That will be after…..Yue Yan, no.”  

The little cub was playing with her food. Her face is covered with mashed bananas. She tried to feed herself with her hands. She did get some food in her mouth. Macaque picked up his daughter. 

“After I clean you up, I will go. I need to talk to your brother.” 

Yue Yan only giggled, “Play with MK.” 

“We will talk here then,” Macaque smiles as he carries Yue Yan to the sink to wash her face. 

“Mei, we were not on the news. No one knows we were there but my father,” MK pinches the bridge of his nose.

Mei is talking nonstop about how famous they are now that they were on the news this morning. Then MK got a notice saying he had a text. Only one person texts him. 

“I have to go now, Mei. My dad needs me.” 

MK ends the call to see Macaque’s message, only to receive another call, this time from Pigsy. 

“MK, can you get over here and stop Mei? She wants to step up a stand for autographs for some reason.” 

“On my way.”

MK ends the call and rushes out the door, running right into Wukong, standing outside the young monkey’s room. 

“Sorry, Father. Uncle Pigsy needs me at work.” 

MK runs out like his tail is on fire. 

Wukong heard MK talking with Mei, and he knew MK was really going to see Macaque. At least, that’s what he thinks. Besides, MK would never notice a little butterfly following him.

Macaque rechecks his phone. MK still hasn’t responded. He always answers right away unless he is out on a delivery. Macaque knows that MK isn’t at work yet. Checking on his little cub, Macaque sighs. 

Laying on her back, grabbing her feet as a shadow comes near her. Yue Yan looks to see the clone and a shadow portal closing before going back to playing with her feet. 

Meanwhile, at Pigsy’s Noodles, a fight is going on. 

“Mei, no one wants your stupid autograph!” Pigsy yells something he’s good at doing. 

“Of course, they will once they see the news,” Mei is making a sign for her stand.

“What does that have to do with anything?” the pigman sighs while facepalming.

It seems MK came just in time. Pigsy has a vein popping out on his forehead. Standing between them, pushing the two apart, MK focuses on Mei first.

“Hey, Mei, what you got there?” MK starts his act.

“MK! Look, isn’t it great!?” Mei is beaming with excitement. 

She pointed to the sign and gloating about it. MK only stares at it. 

The sign has a picture of Mei and MK calling themselves the News Kids and a badly drawn picture of the two. Mei can’t draw at all, not that MK will ever tell her. 

“Mei, I already told you no one knows it was us….” 

“But they will when I post everywhere that it was.” 

MK’s jaw dropped.

“You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t,” MK begs. 

“Not yet.” 

Mei shows MK the post, and immediately, he takes her phone and deletes it. Before she could complain, MK jumped in. 

“Mei, I just saved you the trouble of dealing with my father’s wrath. When he finds out, do you know how much danger you will be in?” MK bluffs. 

Wukong would never harm Mei, and she knows this. She also knows that everyone has their limits. In her mind, an image of Wukong hunting her down like a wild animal comes to mind. She quickly shakes her head. Then, with MK’s help, she starts to take down the autograph booth. 

Pigsy goes inside to start the day while the two friends clean up. While they are cleaning up, a butterfly and something from the shadows watch them. 

Macaque arrived at the same time MK did. Staying in the shadows as he watches everything unfold. He was about to come out when he noticed a little butterfly landing on the window seal of Pigsy’s Noodles. That butterfly looked familiar to Macaque. 

When Wukong was courting Macaque before they became mates, Macaque was lying near a rock by the riverbank when a butterfly flew in and landed on his muzzle. This butterfly was looking right into Macaque’s eyes before it revealed its true form of Wukong. Both face to face, Wukong pulls Macaque closer into a kiss. 

That butterfly on the window seal looks just like Wukong’s disguise as a butterfly. Playing safe, and because he doesn’t want to face his maybe still mate, Macaque stays hidden. Unfortunately, he still needs to talk to his son. 

The little butterfly that is totally not Wukong keeps pace with MK. As soon as MK arrived at work, the butterfly landed on a window seal, watching the show. It smiles when MK uses Wukong to get Mei to listen. He did get bored watching his son and friend clean up. 

“Where is Macaque, ” Wukong thinks to himself. 

All of a sudden, a shadow portal appears under MK’s feet, making him fall. Right away, Mei jumps back, and Wukong flies towards it. Sadly, he didn’t get there on time. Transforming into his true form, Wukong roars loudly, scaring everyone who hears it.

The clone was staring at the cub on the floor, trying to grab the clone’s tail. The clone would move it out of the way before she could grab it and bring it down again. Like his tail was a cat toy, and Yue Yan was the cat. Everything stops when they hear a loud roar. The clone goes right into a defensive mood. His job is to protect the cub, and nothing will stop him from doing so. Meanwhile, Yue Yan crawls to hide behind the clone’s legs. 

That’s when Macaque and MK appear. The clone relaxes when he sees Macaque. The clone then steps away from the cub. She watches him lift his leg over her as he moves away. Like before, Macaque thanks the clone and dispels him. Yue Yan looks for the clone, wondering where he went. 

While looking, her brother MK picks her up.

“Hello, little sister.” 

“Big brader,” Yue Yan cheers as she hugs MK.

“I will admit this is cute seeing you two siblings hugging like that. Sadly, I need to talk to you, MK. I’m sure you know about what.” 

Both brother and sister look at their father. He is standing in front of MK with his arms crossed and his tail twitching. MK knows his father is serious. He sits on the couch with little Yue Yan on his lap. Macaque sits down next to his children. 

“I saw the news this morning. No one can trace last night’s event to you or Mei. That’s not what I’m worried about. What I was worried about was what Mei would do. It seems you have handled it very well,” Macaque smiles proudly at his son.

MK smiles in return. He does feel proud of himself.

“Unfortunately, people will soon find out that Demon Bull King is free. I don’t know if Wukong said anything about him or not. He may try to pick up where he left off.”

“You said you can make a new seal so we can trap DBK again.” 

“DBK?” 

Yue Yan has no idea who her father and brother are talking about.

Macaque rubs his daughter’s head, “I’ll tell you later, Plum Blossom.” 

“Plum Blossom,” MK laughs. 

“What’s wrong with my little nickname? I had for you, remember Pr…”

“Nothing wrong with Plum Blossom,” MK stops Macaque. 

He remembers his nickname as a cub. He hated it and found it embarrassing. Macaque’s nickname for Yue Yan is better. 

“Yes, I can make a new seal, but it will take time, and we need another mountain to place over him. I don’t think he will let us trap him without a fight. Until the seal is made, someone should keep an eye on him and make sure the Demon Bull King doesn’t destroy the city.” 

MK has a serious look on his face. “I’ll do it. I’m the one who freed him. That makes everything Bull family-related my burden.”   

Macaque places a hand on MK’s shoulder, ‘Not just your burden. I will help in any way I can. Besides making a new seal,” Macaque laughs. 

MK laughs with his father, but the look of guilt is clearly on his face. 

Macaque stops laughing, his hand still on MK’s shoulder, “Remember, son, you’re not in this alone. I’m here for you.” 

“Me too. Me too,” cheers little Yue Yan. 

A small smile appears on MK’s face, “Thank you. Both of you,” he pats Yue Yan’s head.

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

OC ASK THINGIE!! tagged by @tadpole-apocalypse

name: malas!! (formerly "of the bhaal temple", currently "of... my house?" he doesnt get it at all but hes got the spirit)

nickname(s): mal (astarion), arthax dus (by lae'zel, roughly translates to "utter moron" in draconic. theyre besties trust), evae (astarion, tranlsates to "love" in elvish), dragonbro (karlach), bhaalbud (wyll and karlach)

pronouns: he/him very loosely. sometimes he just drops shit like "i wish i were a girl" and everyone in the party has to deal with that for a second before moving on.

star sign: i would imagine capricorn with maybe something in cancer? hes a very responsible "big brother" quiet type but can absolutely be emotional. just like. in private. and then he immediately pretends like nothing happened. IM SORRY IM OVERTHINKING

height: 7'0 (okay last tangent but ironically i was actually working on a drawing of all the companions with my height and body type companions for them. so this was something i was very prepared for)

orientation: gay and asexual!! (he doesnt MIND sex and was totally chill with being intimate with astarion on the grave and shit, he just also doesnt really seek it out or desire it. ALSO i feel like he probably had a phase where he dated girls and kept trying to convince people/himself he wasnt gay)

race: white dragonborn! though in my head hes more of like. a hunk of bhaal's flesh in the vague shape of a white dragonborn. i think actual dragonborn might get an uncanny valley vibe from him if they look at him too long

romancing: astarion :DDDD

fave fruit: im really amused by the idea of this big hulking dragon guy very delicately picking some razzberries or blackberries to eat. so im gonna go with that (someone remind me to draw that later!!)

fave season: winter probably! i like to think that he absolutely thrives in the cold, being (sort of) a white dragonborn

fave flower: canada thistle! technically not a flower but a weed. i have a headcanon that poor malas just destroys every single plant he even considers going near. canada thistle is a very hard to get rid of weed, so i think he would be delighted to find a "flower" that could put up with his creepy death vibes

fave scent: this is gonna sound so weird but like? cooked meat? and rice and that sort of thing. the smell of a home cooked meal is the general vibe (i dont feel like the bhaal temple was super hospitable when it came to making nice food? malas loses his memory and is like "i dont know why but i feel like i prefer this curry so strongly to like. human fingers")

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: secret third thing called i think malas would be indecisive and slowly drink all of them. like back to back. over the span of an hour to try in avoid anyone catching on (astarion is so onto him)

average sleep hours: i think it really depends on the day. like 4-6 days out of the week hes too paranoid and restless to sleep at all/more than like 2 hours a night (concerning all of the elves in the party who can absolutely hear him). and then the other days of the week hes so stressed from questing and staying up the previous nights he just storms into camp and sleeps from then until he is forced out of bed

dogs or cats: dogs but more accurately worgs and owlbears. i feel like he just wants a pet thats also a bit of a feral sweetheart. also big fluffy guy you can ride!! whats not to love?? malas is probably one of those guys who inexplicably gets every cat ever to hate him within seconds of meeting them. and is also probably very upset by this

dream trip: LITERALLY ANYWHERE! malas just wants to see all the shit hes never seen before/doesnt remember. ideally after finding a way for astarion to walk in the sun.

amount of blankets: i think probably none to maybe one or a sheet? hes probably overheating for most of the game, being meant for colder climates and junk

random fact(s): - as bhaal's chosen, malas was much more into the preaching aspect of things. he would still probably be a good preacher if he worshipped any gods - malas can speak draconic as well as a bit of undercommon and deep speech. i feel like he had to like. hear people talk in these languages to even remember he spoke them post-amnesia though - that comic about malas having a giant journal full of everyones bullshit wasnt a joke. hes got a scrapbook full of quests, stickynotes, drawings, diary-type entries, and probably a good few mental breakdowns - this is more of a headcanon abt dragonborns in general but i think hes got a little hoard of pretty doo-dads.

(im so sorry if the images made this unreadable it looks fine to me on computer??? i dont know how to make them smaller either sob) IVE NEVER DONE A TAG THING SO I HOPE ITS NOT JUST SUPPOSED TO BE MUTUALS MOSTLY CAUSE I HAVE TWO ONE OF WHICH TAGGED ME ORIGINALLY tagging @venusmage @mooreaux @grandmother-goblin (i wish i had seen this tav when i did my tav appreciation post!! so cool!!) @ppilotco (AGAIN WISH I HAD SEEN THEM SOONER) @divorcedwife ANDD UUHH everyone else ever forever praying i did this right

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter Four: To Catch a Changeling (4/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visit Douxie’s library

Word count: 1902

Warnings: no!

(Season 1 Episode 7)

Song?: Crush by Tessa Violet

Previous — Next

Masterlist

“You look like shit” Randy hit the counter with some papers distracting Y/n from her computer.

“I feel like shit” Y/n closed the seventeen tabs she had opened looking for information about Killahead, all useless “I haven’t been sleeping well”

They shared a look for awhile. Y/n rolled her eyes. She knew her coworker very well by now. There was only one reason why he didn’t interrogated about her sleeping schedule: he needed something

“What do you want, Randy?” Y/n looked back at the computer, a picture of a rat eating a fry stared back at her.

“Okay, remember my idea of a battle of bands?” He didn’t give her time to answer “Well, I need to help to set it up and I know you are a musical genius so your input would be much appreciated and I won’t be able to do it without you…”

“Aha” She cut him off “Would I get paid?” She raised a brow.

“Yes! And…and the free afternoon right now so you can sleep”

“Wow! you really want me to help” she started to pick up her stuff before he could change his mind.

“Great! Thank you! Here, have flyer”

She took the piece of paper. The colorful flyer made her smile.

Randy always loved music. She remembered when his mother told her the story of how Randy had threatened to steal a guitar if she didn’t buy him one. Music was everything to him and he saw the same emotion in Y/n when they met. She always loved music, even before she could remember.

When she was six, Barbara took her to school for the first time and there, on music class, she touched a guitar for the first time and it felt like coming home.

Y/n doesn’t remember her biological parents but as a kid she liked to think that they loved music as much as she did but, as she grew, she stopped thinking about her biological parents and at seventeen she stopped playing completely until last year. Three months into college she got lost, hopeless. She didn’t like what she was studying and didn’t know what she wanted to do. One weekend, while visiting her family, Y/n heard a piano. Someone was trying to tune a piano and awfully failing. She felt like the strings were calling for her, asking her to end its misery.

Entering the music store she had spent too many hours browsing back in high school she saw two guys not much older than her debating if that is how the key was supposed to sound.

“It’s really not” Y/n got close to inspect their work.

“Hello? You need help looking for something?” The man with the long blonde hair asked.

“You’re doing a shitty job” she pointed to the man with his finger in the key.

“No shit. I don’t know I’m doing” he laughed.

She looked back and forth between them.

‘Maybe I can make a quick buck’ she thought.

“How much for tuning it?” She crossed her arms.

The blonde man looked at his watch and back to his friend and said:

“I’ll give you twenty bucks to tune it in half an hour”

Y/n laughed

“It can take up to two hours to tune it after god knows what you did”

“Hour and a half for thirty bucks”

“Forty five minutes and sixty dollars” she stretched her hand.

“Fifty”

“Deal” They shook hands.

She took her jacket off and started to work.

“I’m Y/n”

“Randy” the blonde said.

Tuning the piano made her feel something she thought lost, the feeling of home and she’ll always be grateful to Randy for that.

“Hello, Y/n”

“Hey, Douxie! How are you?”

“I’m fine. How about you?” He looked concerned.

Y/n knew she wasn’t looking her best. No one would be after the night she had.

“Oh, this awful eye bags? Courtesy of my little brother” she laughed.

“I didn’t know you had a brother”

“Yeah, he is still in high school. How about you? Got any siblings?”

“Nah, it’s just me and Archie” he point to the window of the library where a black cat was grooming himself.

“Oooh he is so cute” Y/n crouched down in front of the window.

Archie meowed and rubbed himself on the window as a response, melting Y/n’s heart.

“Don’t feed his ego too much. He’s a total diva”

Y/n laughed “I thought the guy with groupies would be the diva”

Douxie blushed.

She chuckled. She thought guys like Douxie didn’t blush.

“Are you jealous, love?”

Now it was Y/n’s time to blush.

They stood there, smiling at each other. Y/n found Douxie so intoxicating: his hazel eyes, his blue hair, that smile that brought her down to her knees. Even though they saw each other a few times, she was enchanted by him the first time.

“Would you like to say hi to him…you know…without the glass” Douxie broke the silence. He seemed nervous.

“That would be nice” she smiled.

Douxie opened the door to the library, the smell of books, tea and something else filled her lungs making her warm inside.

The moment she stepped inside, Archie rubbed himself between Y/n legs, stealing her attention from the beautiful library.

“Hello, sweet boy” she sat on the floor to pet Archie more comfortably.

“He likes you” said Douxie. He was leaning against one of the few walls that wasn’t covered in books “He isn’t usually that nice, you know”

Y/n swears she saw Archie roll his eyes but assumed her tiredness was playing tricks with her.

“He seems super nice to me” she rubbed Archie’s cheek and he let himself fall onto her hand.

“Oh, don’t let him trick you. He has a temper”

They both laughed and shared a look. The power Douxie has on her made her crazy. Ever since the day they met at Benoit’s, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time she saw him she would stare at him like if she moved her eyes he would disappear.

“Battle of the bands? Are you entering the contest?” Douxie pointed to the flyer long forgotten on the floor.

“No, I’m just helping set it up. Are you interested?”

“Yes, I have a band…”

“Oh! Ash dispersal pattern, right? Randy is a big fan” she tried to play it cool. She couldn’t tell him that she knows most of his songs by heart “I heard some of your songs. You’re good”

She saw a red tint in his cheeks and this time, she was sure her tired brain wasn’t playing tricks on her.

“Thank you” he scratched the back of his neck “I heard you play the piano you have at the store. I thought you’ll enter”

“Mmmh, I’ve played since I’m kid but I don’t think I’m good enough to enter. I’m helping cuz Randy asked” she looked at Archie, he was belly up between her legs, napping.

“What?! I heard you at the store! You’re nuclear!” Douxie crouched next to her.

Y/n turned her head and looked at him “You think?”

With Douxie so close the world seemed to slow down. They were the only people in the world. Their faces just inches apart. So close that a small breeze could change everything.

“Of course” He smiled

The door opened and the world was no longer theirs. Douxie stood as fast as he could and assisted the customer.

Y/n looked down at Archie, who was already looking at her and smiled. Her face was so hot that she thought it would explode.

She yawned and Archie mirrored, the last of her energy left with Douxie.

“Sorry, Archie but I have to go” she stood up and petted his head one last time “Maybe I’ll see you later. Tell Douxie I said goodbye”

—

Y/n fell on her bed like a bag of sand. Her body gave into sleep before she could take her shoes off.

When she opened her eyes, she was in a forest. Civilisation was nowhere to be seen. The air smelled fresh, familiar.

She kneeled in one of the trees and saw a heart with H written inside. A smile erupted from her chest. She mindlessly caressed the indentation, trying to remember something, someone, but she just couldn’t reach it. Only finding a warmth feeling in her chest.

“Y/n! Where are you?” A man’s raspy voice distracted from the tree “Come home, little bird”

A sword made of sadness and forge by loneliness stabbed her chest. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know where I am” she whispered as a tear fell down her face, burgundy streaks of light surrounded her. Electricity ran through her body burning her fingertips and heart.

She looked at her hands, they were surrounded by red smoke.

Y/n woke up covered in sweat, her heart was racing but she felt fully rested. She looked at her hands and when she saw no red smoke, she relaxed.

Outside the sun had already set. She looked through her phone to see if her brother or mom had sent a text. Jim sent her a text telling her about her study date with Claire. She smiled. Jim had a crush on this girl from his class for a while now and apparently it was going somewhere. She wished him luck even if hours had passed. When she went to answer a text from Randy Toby called.

She couldn’t understand what he was saying, only the words: changeling and dental hygienist.

“Ok, Tobes I’m on my way”

Y/n jumped out of bed and drove as fast as she could to Dr. Muelas office. She would probably get a lot of tickets but she didn’t care. Knowing what she knows now, she couldn’t risk disregarding a call from Jim or Toby.

“Toby? Jim?” She screamed as she followed the sound of struggle.

She got to the door and saw her brother stabbing a troll followed by a flashing blue light.

“There goes proof” said Aaaargh!.

“Oh, my gosh! She’s in my mouth!” Toby coughed. The troll’s ashes were everywhere.

Y/n couldn’t move.

“Oh no! I killed our only evidence of a changeling in Arcadia” Jim pulled his armour off.

“And my dental hygienist” Toby screamed.

Y/n laughed. Toby could make her laugh even on her worst days.

“You finished the fight, Master Jim, and in self defense, for that matter. Vendel may continue to have his doubts but we continue to have our lives. A fair bargain, I’d say” Blinky tried to comfort him.

“He’s right, Jim” Y/n grabbed his brother by the shoulders trying to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her and he was ok.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Toby called”

“And just out of curiosity, what are you doing in Toby’s dentist office?” Jim looked at the trolls.

“I thought it was possible that danger may come to either of you should you cross paths with the wrong changeling. So, we followed Tobias as a precaution” explained Blinky

Aaaargh! Fell from the ceiling making Y/n jump.

Blinky started talking about how he was curious about human’s oral hygiene but Y/n didn’t listen. She was more worried about dusting the troll off her brother before getting to her car.

A/n: 👀

[vintagelacerosette]

Weekly Tag game (Catch up)

Forgive meee I am late but I had the other one in my drafts & I hadn't be able to finish it off yet 😅

I was tagged by these sweethearts 💖💕💖

Jessica @guinguin1984 Julia @blue-disco-lights Deanna @deedala Georgia @iansw0rld

Face @burninface Jaclyn @crossmydna Evie @energievie

Bri @y0itsbri Lyle Lyle crocodile @kiinard Macy @heymacy

Mel @gardenerian Sarah @sleepyheadgallavich Julissa @heymrspatel

Harvey @mikhailoisbaby Kat @mybrainismelted Ling @lingy910y

Name: Shermyn

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (or you): Sydney in the western part  

Ok, so this week we are going to snoop into your google search. Type in each phrase and tell us what the first suggestion is that google gives you!

What is the best way to….rule? (hehe nice maybe my Leo tendencies 🤣🦁

This is what I saw on Quora

1) Become a community organizer · 2) Learn to speak eloquently · 3) Tell people what they want to hear · 4) Sell your soul to the Devil · 5) ...

😂😂😂

Where can I…. watch Saltburn? (it's on my watch list haha) Amazon Prime

How old is…. Taylor Swift? (i didn't search this but i guess she's top result) 34

How long does it take… to get to mars? (wow a fun one) Now quoting NASA, "If jt all goes well, you'll get to the Red Planet in about seven ot eight months." ♂️🔴

How many… states in Australia? Six states 🇦🇺

Who set the record for…. the highest jump? Javier Sotomayor good job my dude 👏

When did….michael jackson die? 25 june 2009 (woah I started 1st year of high school then)

What does it feel like to… to be in love? (ummm ive never searched that but damn a pointed search 😭😭😭) Reddit says "when you wake up thinking of that person & go to bed thinking of them"

Can you…go parasailing in sydney? (So me bc i missed out when i was in the Philippines 🥲) You can't anymore booo 👎

Why do… i sweat so much? Google says could he nerves that trigger it.

Is there a way… to save karlach? I really wanna play Baldur's gate 3 what's gonna happen to her?? I love her?? 🥺

How old do you have to be… to work? (boooo i don't wanna work but i want money 😩) In NSW minimum age for full time work is 17

Where do the… kardashians live? (i don't care) Malibu

What is the best time to… to go to fiji? (aaayee holiday??) June to September

And to finish us off…. What comes up when you type in Shameless? shameless last episode date

11 April 2021 I needed it for my gallacrafts 🥹

Name: Myn

Age: 27

Astrological sign: Leo ♌️

Upon which continent do you reside: Stralia 🦘

tell us how you're feeling right now using 3-5 emojis: 🥶💸🤔🤫🤗

whats your favorite flavor of gum? Juicy fruit but the flavour never lasts long

whats the last movie you watched? Anastasia for my nieces first viewing 😆 It mostly became a sing-a-long with my big sis 🎤

what was your worst subject in high school? Maybe science?

whats the job you stayed at for the shortest period of time? Working for a weekend event at a convention centre for the active wear brand Lorna Jane. I got lost on the 1st day & didn't get paid for that 15 min 😅

whats your favorite thing to do at an amusement park? Try all the interesting foods 😋

what condiments go on top of the perfect hot dog (meat or plant-based)? BBQ sauce & caramelised onions 🌰

cincinnati chili, thoughts? Never heard of it!

do you sleep with a plushie? No my plushies are on a shelf bc I can get kicked out of my room every 2nd weekend bc my sister & her family takes it over haha. But worth it to have my baby niece over 🥰

how do you feel about thunderstorms? No strong emotions. It's cool when boom

what's the last animal you touched? My dog Roxy 🐕 ❤️

grab the nearest item with words on it that ISNT a book and tell me the final word: Tulip on this korean dry shampoo I'm trying 🌷

have you ever forgotten to do an assignment until the night before its due? Oh I was organised at knowing darw but procrastinated the hell out of the assignment until the due date. Then trying to finish the night before 😅 I found an old diary entry calling myself a dumb bitch for doing that to myself & saying to never do it again (she did) 😭

Not tagging anyone bc LATE but if you wanna play consider yourself tagged! 🩷🐇

[woahpip]

Number 14 for the Smut Dialogue Ask Game? Pls?

edwin, 14. "If you don't stop that, I'm gonna end up bending you over the couch and taking you right here."

(send a ship and a number from this list!)

“It was time for bed 4 hours ago.”

Edward, night owl in his old life but not in his new one, was trying to get Winry to sleep.

Time had not changed Winry’s sleep schedule. Firmly in her twenties, she stayed up later, pushed her boundaries even more. Worked harder than she ever had.

Worked harder than he ever had, it felt like.

“Just a few more bolts. I’ll be on schedule after that.”

“Or, you’ll take a few extra minutes in the morning.”

She took a deep breath in, trying to find calm. She’d been doing that lately, an attempt to stop swinging her wrench everywhere when something felt wrong.

“Ed… I  would really like to go to sleep knowing I’m ahead of schedule.”

“I thought the bolts would only get you on schedule?”

She shrugged. “Maybe more than a few.”

He was in love with Winry. Didn’t want to change a thing about her. Even didn’t mind her staying up late.

But he couldn’t remember what time she came to bed last night, or the night before that. Even before that.

“You’ve been pulling all nighters and catching up with naps this whole week. There is time to finish. Please, Winry.”

The please usually got her. She did pause, hand flexing like she was deciding to put it down or swing.

Instead, it tightens another bolt. Picks up another and places it into the automail.

Okay. He has to try something a little different.

"If you don't stop that, I'm gonna end up bending you over the couch and taking you right here."

She raised a brow at him. As long as they’d been together now, there was no reason to be shy. But their dirty talk was usually in the sanctity of their bedroom or whatever long-flung Resembool field they’d run off to looking for fun.

“You promise?” Winry asked.

Another bolt twisted into place.

Ed was up from his chair and on her in a second, pulling her seat out and her body into his arms. By now, both arms were equal and strong again. 

“I love your muscles,” she whispered into his neck, following up with little open mouth kisses.

Ed shivered. He shifted her around until they were behind the couch, flipping her and bending her over. So smooth, so unlike how they used to be: stunted and awkward and not knowing a single thing about the others bodies.

Now they know everything.

“Now, shut up and let me tire you out.”

She giggled. This was not a good deterrent to staying up late. She’d let him think otherwise until he figured it out.