#moon fic: maybe i'm weak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

outofconcheol · 2 months ago

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The Sun Also Rises (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: dancer!Minho x ballerina!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, strangers to lovers, travel au, 18+

summary: sometimes, one night is all it takes to change everything. and that's where Minho meets you.

warnings: pov switches, feelings of burnout and poor mental health discussed, alcohol, swearing, alcohol, kind of a language barrier (Minho can understand but is bad at speaking English), lots of tension, they're literally idiots I can't, Hyunjin being the voice of reason, Kento Yamazaki also makes a cameo (twinnn where have you been)

word count: 8k

a/n: consider this my early bday gift to me (and Minho), since both of our bdays are coming up in October. this is based on the film Before Sunrise. I'm very happy with how this fic turned out, it feels very me, so i hope you enjoy! thank you to Beezy @hobeemin for the lovely banner!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension abound, lots of kissing (too much for two people who just met), grinding, beach sex (be cautious when attempting irl), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), pull-out method (again be cautious and wrap it before you tap it), cumshot

The night breeze rustles through the trees, and even though it's late, the city teems with life. Whispers can be heard around every corner, the clinking of wine glasses muddled with the sound of laughter. Minho’s stomach rumbles, the warm, spicy scent of paella wafting from somewhere nearby, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten since this morning.

For a brief moment, he misses the food back in Korea – the deep, earthy flavour of a steaming pot of doenjang jjigae from his eomma’s kitchen. He should really call his parents – they’d probably want to know how their son ended up lost and halfway across the world, stumbling through Gracìa on an empty stomach.

To be fair, Minho didn’t even know himself. If he was Hyunjin, he could have said that he was attracted to the abstract, flowing architecture of Gaudì, and he wanted to study it. Maybe if he was Jeongin, he’d point to the numerous shops and boutiques that lined the streets of Barcelona, a fashion lover’s paradise.

But he was Lee Minho – a failed dance school drop-out, kicked out of his own crew because one day, the music had just stopped. And so did he, frozen in the middle of the routine, before he made a break for it and ran. The weak link in the chain. A note slightly out of tune.

The discordance of it all didn’t escape him – being here in such an enchanting city, when inside it felt like he’d stumbled and stumbled until he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be able to dance again.

And he only had himself to blame.

The streets continue to wind, Minho’s sluggish feet under their spell, going wherever they lead. He remains a prisoner to his thoughts, the sights melding into a blur around him, until suddenly, he hears it. Around the corner.

Music.

And not just any kind – real music. The jovial sound of a live band, so different from the synthetic beats he was used to when it came to choreographing. His feet have a mind of their own, entranced and leading him straight to the source of the sound.

The scene he stumbles into is beyond what he could have imagined for this time of night – under a canopy of twinkling lights, were dancers. Dancers everywhere, twirling and prancing like they were out of a storybook, perfectly in tune with the music.

Minho ducks behind a tree, his foot tapping in sync to the beat, and watches them dance, their toes skipping from right to left as they move back in forth in a circle. It’s beyond captivating, and he longs to join them.

He wonders if they recognize him as one of them, or if he seems like just another plain tourist, happily enjoying the feeling of getting lost in a foreign city.

The circle stalls, the music changing into a slower, more enthralling lilt, to signal the entry of someone new. Minho’s eyebrow quirks when the sea of people parts, the moon’s spotlight now on a solitary figure.

His breath catches in his throat as he spots you – nimble movements a stark contrast to the rustic giddiness of the common crowd. He knows you must be classically trained – movements precise and ethereal, your meticulous form a stark contrast to the fluidity that surrounds you. He’s spellbound with the way you move – a vision of grace, so different from the swift, powerful movements he was used to executing, watching how the music takes hold of you, like you’re a marionette on strings, letting it lead you wherever you need to go.

Time ceases to exist the longer he watches, taken with the elegant lines of your body, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s so lost in his mind that he doesn’t notice when the music stops, until he feels the rustle of a figure next to him.

Minho turns in surprise, and tumbles backwards into the tree.

It’s you. The dancer.

Your doe eyes look up at him in concern, and it’s only then that Minho feels the sharp twang of pain from colliding with the sturdy trunk, rubbing gingerly at his shoulder.

“Are you always this clumsy?” Your lips curve in a lovely grin, and Minho feels his ears grow hot.

“I’m sorry, I’m new here, I didn’t…” he manages to choke out, too drawn in by the way your eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief.

“Sooo, should I call you New Here, or…” you trail off, and Minho pauses, a few silent breaths passing between you before he finally gets it. His name. You were asking for his name.

“Minho.”

“Ah. Minho. I’m ____.”

“You dance well,” Minho manages to blurt out.

The words felt heavy on his tongue, like it’d been ages since he’d talked to someone unfamiliar, too caught up in his comfortable ways. His schedule had been simple. Eat, sleep, dance, repeat. And of course go home to feed the cats. But being here felt like challenging everything he’d known.

“You noticed?” You raise an eyebrow in question, and Minho can tell that you’re wondering whether he’s being genuine or saying it just to say it. You were probably used to it – fleeting tourists who flirted for a brief moment before disappearing into the night, too captivated by your beauty to act reasonably.

Maybe he was a fool then too.

“I dance as well. Not here though. Back home. It’s different,” he steps closer, heart warming when you don’t back away, honoured that he’s won your trust. Dance was a language he could always speak, no matter where he was in the world.

“Different isn’t always bad,” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “What do you dance?”

“Hip-hop,” he rambles, feeling his shyness dissipate when you tune in to the conversation. “It’s not like you, I mean you were–, wow, but I like to tell stories. When I dance.”

He feels himself grow warm at his stilted words, silently cursing the fact that he hadn’t taken Chan up on those English lessons when he’d met up with him for coffee last time. But he never imagined he’d be here.

Your smile only grows as you nod your head along with his words, understanding exactly what he meant.

“So, Minho, what brings you here? To Barcelona.”

Minho bristles, unsure how to answer the question. There were so many reasons, and you were a complete stranger. Did he dare reveal the truth?

“Here, I can be lost, I think,” Minho whispers, hoping you’ll know he means in more than ways than one. “Seoul is different. I think too much. The noise hurts.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I moved here six years ago, and sometimes it feels like I’m living inside a painting. It’s both magical and lonely sometimes.”

A flicker of relief washes over him. You understood him. Minho had been searching for so long for someone who understood – his friends could comfort him, but they didn’t really get it. The paralysis he felt.

“You’re kind. Kind and good at dancing,” he grins shyly, bunny teeth poking through his lips.

“You’re good with words,” you tease back. “You should have been a writer instead.”

“Too late for that now,” Minho sighs, his entire figure slumping, and he watches you freeze. He wants to tell you it’s not your fault he feels this way, that you didn’t do anything, but the words remain clogged in his throat.

“Well it’s barely 10pm. I wouldn’t say it’s that late,” you say, voice filled with warmth, and Minho slowly comes back to himself, giving you a chuckle.

“Can I, you, we, go somewhere? Together?”

Minho watches you pause for a moment, scared that what he’d offered caused you to hesitate. But something about you made him want to keep talking to you, even if it was only for tonight.

“Sure, I’d love to.” He watches your eyes scrunch in enthusiasm. “I can show you some of my favourite places around the city.”

You beckon to him with a hand, gesturing to the shadowy streets. Minho gulped – this was the biggest risk he’d taken since being here, almost a risk as big as leaving Korea. But with the way you’d captured him from the very first moment he’d seen you tonight, he wondered if it might just be one that paid off.

The night air hums with a new kind of energy as Minho follows you through the streets – whereas before, it all seemed a blur, now the city had truly come alive in his eyes. He peered through the windows of every building you passed, watching happy patrons laugh with each other, the heady buzz of alcohol in their veins.

Minho’s stomach only grumbles louder at the thought of booze, a pang of hunger hitting him. Embarrassed, he braces a hand around his stomach, hoping you haven’t caught on —

But you’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for, already turning around to face him.

“Okay, I definitely know where we need to go first,” you flick his arm, and Minho yelps at the surprising amount of force in the tiny jab. “You can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Minho wants to tell you that he’d never planned on dancing at all, wasn’t even sure if he could anymore, but you’re forging ahead, on a mission.

A couple of blocks later, and Minho is hit with a tantalizing array of scents – the zing of freshly ground spices, the florality of fresh fruits, and the richness of cooked meats.

“Welcome to one of my favourite places in Barcelona,” you grin, gesturing to the wide variety of stalls laid out in front of you both. “Please take your pick.”

Minho knows exactly what he wants, heading straight for a stall serving paella. He’d passed too many damn places with the stuff already, he wasn’t going to miss out on it this time.

You following along, practically skipping with him, eyes alight with excitement.

Minho falters when the kind old gentleman running the stall greets him with an ¡hola!.

“I, uh, uno, por favor,” he stutters, ears burning with embarrassment.

You step in, gracefully saving Minho from his shame, quickly tittering off a huge order to the stall owner, and Minho feels himself relax.

“He said it’ll take a little bit for the food,” you tell him. “Do you want to explore for a bit?”

Bobbing his head yes, Minho wishes he could so badly take your hand as you weave through the market. But he wasn’t sure if you’d find that overstepping. Whatever he felt, all he knew was that the night seemed endless in the best way, full of possibilities.

The loud voices of the vendors and the clanging of different pots meld together like s symphony in his head, and Minho feels his cold limbs fill up with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come out of this trip being able to dance again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees something that makes him stop in his tracks. He taps you on the shoulder, and your face falls with concern, but when you turn to see what he’s pointing at, your eyes light up again.

“Hola,” Minho approaches the flower stall more confidently this time. The fresh scent of many different blooms makes him think of his mother’s garden in Korea, full of mugunghwas. He sees the brilliant hue of a bouquet of red carnations, and silently puts up a finger, his eyes darting to you.

The lady running the stall understands him immediately, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She grabs one from the bunch, taking special care to trim the stem. Minho rummages around in his pocket for some spare change, handing the lady more than she probably charged him for, but his heart thuds as he turns around, holding the flower out.

“For you,” he says shyly. “You’re a good guide.”

He watches your lips part in a surprised oh!, and your entire face changes colour when he holds out the flower, suddenly becoming just as shy.

“Oh Minho, you shouldn’t have… thank you.”

You take the flower from him, thumbing at the soft petals and inhaling the sweet scent. You’d received hundreds of flowers in your lifetime, huge bouquets filled with every single kind you could think of, but somehow Minho’s humble gift of a single stem makes you feel the most special. Like he actually sees you.

The two of you remain there for a few moments, unable to follow the exchange with words, until you catch the lady from the stall eyeing you both curiously.

“I think… I think maybe we should go eat,” you finally manage to breathe out, breaking the haze of the exchange. You weren’t sure why it had been so charged, a still moment amidst the hectic market, but it felt like something you’d want to hold on to.

"___?” Minho looks at you, his voice soft. “I’m glad I came here. With you.”

You met his gaze, heart beating just a little faster.

"Me too."

Belly full, Minho follows you again through the city. Anyone looking at the two of you would think he was a little lost cat, following you around. But really, it was the opposite. Something about him made you want to stay with him. In your six years in the city, you hadn’t made very many friends. You chalked it up the the demanding nature of your job, saying you were always tired after dance practice and your feet were sore from wearing pointe shoes 85% of the time.

But you knew that was mostly an excuse. Right here, right now, it felt nice being with someone. Sharing things with someone. It only made you think of what would happen when the night would end, and Minho would leave, your loneliness welcoming you into the abyss once more.

Turning the corner, you spot it. The cozy bar was tucked away on a quiet street, its silence punctuated by the soft clinking of glasses.

Pushing the wooden door ajar, you lead Minho into the small, quaint space, filled with flickering candles and the scent of citrus and spices. The bartender sees you come in, waving a hand in greeting, and his grin only widens more when he sees Minho trail in behind you.

“Hello Kento,” you wave back, and Minho pauses again, studying the man across the bar.

“おはようございます (ohayu gozaimasu),” Minho’s low voice rumbles among the quiet din of the bar, and your jaw drops open in surprise. Minho does nothing but wink, moving to a quiet corner to pull out a chair for you.

Kento comes by to take your order, tempting you both with some of the fine-label vermouth he keeps under the bar, and you watch Minho quietly converse with him for a few moments, exchanging hushed words in Japanese.

His voice is pretty, you think. In another life maybe he could have been a singer.

“You’re full of surprises,” you tease him, watching him fidget with his napkin.

“Tokyo is close by to Seoul,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “And I like to watch animes.”

“Where did you come from Minho? Why haven’t we met before?” You give him a wide grin.

Minho becomes quiet, his handsome face marred by what seems to be a dark cloud.

“Leaving Korea was not my plan,” he manages to grunt. “I have things there. My cats. An apartment. Dancing.”

“So what made you do it?” The words slip out, and instantly you regret them, watching pain twinge on his face. You’d hit an unexpected nerve.

“I’m looking for something,” he admits. “I don’t know what it is. My friend Hyunjin told me about Barcelona.”

“Well I think we were always meant to meet then. Hyunjin sent you to me so I can help you,” you reach over, grabbing his hand within yours. Under the dim light you study it – muscled and with prominent veins. He had a dancer’s body for certain. “Us lonely dancers only have each other to rely on huh?”

“Dancing made me happy. I, uh, what’s the word, like clothes, they–” he stumbles through his thoughts, but you don’t need him to voice them.

“Fit. It makes you feel like you belong.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?” you blurt out, instantly regretting it when he recoils. “I’m sorry Minho, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Kento swings by then, with two glasses of vermouth, rich, and slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Watching Minho knock back the alcohol, you see his body loosen up, instantly feeling the tension from the previous conversation melt away.

“Have you ever had a bad dance?” Minho asks, brown eyes glimmering with interest.

“Oh, many times,” you respond with a light laugh. “One time, when I just moved here, I slipped during a performance of Swan Lake in front of a huge crowd. I locked myself in my apartment for a week.”

Minho chuckles, but then leans in, like he’s genuinely concerned. “How did you recover?”

You know he’s probably talking about the smarting ankle you must have had, but you think he means more.

“I walked in the next week and continued dancing like nothing happened, But it took time to get over. The pressure to be perfect can be overwhelming sometimes.”

Minho nodded, understanding the weight of expectations when it came to doing what you both loved.

“I want to let go,” he says, gaze softening. “But it’s hard.”

“I believe in you, Minho. You’ll find the music again.”

“For you, I’ll try,” he teases softly, but you can hear the hint of determination in his voice.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled. You realize this entire time, you hadn’t let go of Minho’s hand. And he hadn’t made you either. Pulling him up with you, Minho yelps in surprise, barely having a second to wave goodbye to Kento before you’re dragging him through the door, back out into the cold night.

“I think I know something that may help.”

Buzzing from the alcohol, you drag Minho deeper into the neighbourhood, the glow of the streetlights casting a warm golden hue over the cobblestones.

Heat radiates from where his palm meets yours, a soft breeze helping to calm the racing of your heart. Eventually, you hear it – the echo of a faint tune reverberating from the nearby buildings, and you know you’re almost there. A group of street musicians come into view, their lively jig fading away to a slower, more sensual melody.

“You’ve been talking this entire time about being bad at dancing, but I haven’t seen you actually do it,” You giggle, eyes gleaming with mischief. You take a few steps towards the middle of the square, beckoning Minho with a playful grin. “Come on.”

You watch Minho stall, and your heart races, thinking maybe you messed up. Maybe it was too soon for him, maybe he was scared and didn’t want to try again.

“Here? In front of everyone?” he replied, chewing nervously at his lip.

“Why not?” you challenge. “Forget everyone else. It’s just you and me. Two people who love to dance.”

You squeeze Minho’s hand in yours, squealing in shock when he pulls you close to him, arm wrapping around your waist. Leaning into his chest, you inhale his warm, woody scent, feeling yourself shiver.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But don’t think badly of me.”

“I could never,” you whisper into his neck.

Minho chuckles at that, stepping back to dramatically bow, before sweeping you into his arms once more. You move into the open space of the plaza, surrendering to the rhythm as the notes of the music envelope you both. Pressing lightly into Minho, your hand comes to rest in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me more about you,” you breathe against his lips. “I want to know.”

“My cats, they’re called Soonie, Doongie and Dori, they live with me in my apartment,” he smiles, pride taking over his expression when he thinks of them. “You?”

You twirl free from him, dress flaring for a moment,, then spin back, hand finding his once more.

“My mother was a ballet dancer. She hurt herself when I was young and could never dance again. It’s why I chose to follow her,” you admit, finally letting yourself break free from the walls you’d built.

You let your arms float gracefully above your head, marveling at the way you and Minho moved together. His movements were fluid and free, a sharp contrast to your precision, bodies weaving together like the finest tapestry. The air between you crackled, the pull between you like two halves of a magnet.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho says, his gaze intense as it meets your eyes, then travels, to your lips, down your neck, even further. You feel a throb between your legs, sparks erupting across your skin everywhere he touched.

The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to pulse with every beat of the music. The world no longer felt as big or scary anymore, narrowed down to the two of you, everything else fading into the background.

Suddenly, the scene around you spins, and you’re looking up at the stars, Minho’s face hovering above yours. You lean in, lips ghost against his jaw.

“Am I distracting you, Minho?” His breath caught at your query, and he sighs, drinking in the subtle scent of your skin.

You gasp when he spins you around, back meeting his front. Shivers run up your spine when he leans in, chuckling in your ear.

“Yes, but I like it,” he groans, low voice ringing in your ears, and everything around you fades as you begin to move together. Hips swaying side to side, Minho’s palms settle below your waist, so close to where you need him, and you whine softly. Even though you’re turned away, you can feel his smirk in your ear, and it all feels like it’s too much. Yet you don’t want it to stop.

The haze lifts with one particular thrust of his hips into you. A small moan leaves your mouth, and everything clears, and your heart begins to race. Shakily, your eyes meet Minho’s, surprised to find them blown out in deep pools of lust.

Minho’s shaking fingers cup the line of your jaw, his lips pressing against yours. You comd your fingers through his hair, sighing against him, finally giving in. He kisses you first with the utmost gentleness, pulling back to search your eyes for anything wrong.

Despite the chill in the night air, you’ve never felt warmer.

When you nod no, Minho leans in again, his previous gentleness giving way to hunger, the tip of his tongue gliding past your lower lip, sighing at your taste. You feel like you’ll keel over if he’s not holding you, all the blood in your body rushing away from your head.

When he finally pulls away, breathless and wide-eyed, you feel your words clogged in the back of your throat.

“I-,” you struggle, seeking brief respite from the emotions coursing through you, but not wanting the moment to end.

“I didn’t expect this night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, filled with awe.

“I’m glad it did,” Minho replied.

Looking around, you realize the music had long stopped, the band dispersing, no sign that they were even there to witness you and Minho’s dance.

“Do you have to go?” Minho asks, and his voice sounds impossibly small, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You pause. So much waited for you ahead – performances, errands, the struggles of daily life in a foreign city. But you decided that right now, you had more than enough time to leave that behind.

Shaking your head, you nod no, air swirling with the thrill of the unexpected. And you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

Minho feels the breeze ruffle his hair, and lets his eyes close, shoulders sighing in relief. The lapping of the waves against the shore becomes even louder, the sound of traffic and other people fading away. The sand squishes in between his toes, and he lies back on his jacket, looking straight up at the stars. For the first time since he’d left Seoul, Minho felt completely at peace. Whereas uncertainty scared him before, now he completely welcomed the unknown. After all, it was what had lead him to you.

Minho feels his body heat when he thinks of you two dancing in the square, your face looking up at his, the feeling of your soft lips. It’d been so long since he was last with someone – dance always took over his life, leaving little time for love. But he thinks that maybe he’d been going about it all wrong.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see you lying right next to him on top of your coat. He can feel the warmth radiating from you, your hair tousled by the sea breeze and flying in the wind.

He really wants to kiss you again.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, letting the rhythmic crash of waves fill in for the unspoken words in between you.

“Hey,” you interrupt the quiet with a whisper, like you’re afraid to shatter the serenity of this moment.

“Hey,” Minho says back, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. His fingers linger a little too long on your cheekbone before he drops it.

You stare at him, swirling patterns in the sand between you.

“I get it, you know. How you feel. I feel it every day when I dance. Ballet is beautiful, but it’s also... constricting,” you sigh. “Sometimes I just want to be free – free to dance, to live, to love.”

Minho nods, feeling a lump in his throat.

“I also want that. But I’m scared. What if I’m free and I’m still not happy?”

There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness in his voice.

“I think happiness finds you when you least expect it,” you say gently, your voice like a gentle pat on the back.

Minho had never expected you at all. But he was glad you were here anyway.

“Can I kiss you?” He manages to choke out, heart racing as he takes in the way the moonlight casts shadows against the curve of your jaw and the softness of your lips. The urge to touch you again felt almost unbearable.

The space between you vanishes, and Minho sees you smile, leaning in closer, and his heart thuds in his chest. He reaches out again, pulling you towards him.

Your lips meet softly, shy and tentative compared to the way he kissed you in the square. It’s as gentle as the lulling of the waves, and Minho feels the world fade away, only able to register the cold sand underneath him, and you.

As you broke apart, breathless, Minho sees you search his face.

“What’s on your mind, Minho?”

Minho knows he’s always been pretty poor with words. Chan was the lyrical one in the friend group. Where Minho thrived, and always had, was action. So he decides to show you.

. . .

Minho leans in again, capturing your lips with a fierce urgency, releasing a euphoric sigh into your mouth. Not wanting to push more than you’re comfortable, he wants for you to respond, fingers carding into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in his chest.

You wonders if he knows you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand.

“I want you,” Minho finally manages to say. The words are strained, like he’s been holding them back for too long.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” your own voice cracks.” I thought you were just being nice.”

Because the truth was, you’d wanted him the very first moment you saw him. He may have thought little of himself, but he was a vision in your eyes. A masterpiece to be admired, a person to be cherished.

Minho pulls you into him, body meshing with yours, until you can no longer tell where he ends and you begin. You gasp when you feel his hardness underneath his jeans.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles against your lips. His hands cradle your face, before reaching his arms behind you, fingers ghosting down the the curve of your spine.

Kicking your shoes off, you feel his fingers run up and under your skirt, skimming against your bare legs and he your breath hitch, chest rising and falling in the pale light of the moon.

Lips falling to your neck, he inhales your sweet jasmine scent, teeth grazing lightly against the soft skin. You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He slides over you, using one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to slide your your dress down to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

The clink of his belt rings in your ears as both your clothes finally finish falling away, and desire pools between your legs. Sliding up against your warm coat, you spread your legs for him, a low hum escaping his parted lips at your messy arousal gleaming on your thighs in the low light. Trailing his eyes back up to your lips, he inches towards you, his breath tickling your bare skin as he leaves kisses on your jaw, your collarbone, in between your breasts. The veins in his arms bulge as his hands come up to cup both your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his fingers until they stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

The teasing doesn’t stop, his lips enclosing over the hardened buds, messily sucking on them. While it felt amazing, you knew the sun would rise soon, and the time you had with each other was limited. You trap his hand in yours, guiding it to your throbbing clit. He nudges your legs, coaxing you to spread them further, before plunging a finger inside your wet heat, sliding it in and out. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, your pleas for more being answered swiftly as he slides a second one in, laying his head on your stomach as more and more of your arousal coats his fingers. You mewl, unable to contain your volume as you swallow them deeper, loving the rough drag against your slick walls. His thumb grazes your clit, rubbing it in slow, delicate circles before speeding up, rubbing faster, and his grunts of determination are what push you over the edge as you come.

Breath leaving you in heavy pants, your lips find his desperately, and he teases you with his tongue, his hard cock rubbing up against your wet entrance. You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pushing his cock in deeper, bucking his hips against yours as your nails dig into his back. “You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Minho, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the burning in between your thighs..

“That’s it,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, pulling out and jerking himself off, white ropes of cum splashing against his toned stomach and onto your stomach before slumping against you.

You can feel his his chest heave with the weight of his breaths, your sticky bodies curled around each other. You begin to shiver from the breeze, and Minho cradles your sticky body in his arms, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo)” he whispers against your cheek. You don’t know what the words mean, but you hold them close anyway.

When the first light of dawn washes over the beach, orange and pink and purple poking out from between the clouds, you both know it’s time. It’s hushed – an eerie silence falling in between you and Minho as you scramble to throw your layers back on, the sticky feeling between your thighs a reminder that it hadn’t all just been a dream.

From the corner of your eye, you see Minho hum absentmindedly to himself, running his fingers through his hair to tame the messy strands, and your heart lurches.

The silence remains as you bid the sea farewell, the familiar streets of the city you called home greeting you once more. Only this time, you felt like a stranger, unsure of where your relationship stood. You supposed the same could be said for the man next to you.

It takes a few short moments before you’re seated at a café, stirring your coffee pensively. The rich, bitter aroma mixes with the salt from the sea that sticks to your clothes, and you feel nauseous. Across from you, Minho was gazing out at the horizon, his expression pensive.

You knew it was only supposed to be temporary. One of those single brief moments where two strangers met each other, eventually passing like ships in the night, both of them holding onto the memory forever. So why did it hurt so much?

“Are you ready to go back to work?” Minho asked, his voice warm and gentle, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’ve been rehearsing for weeks. But…”

You hesitate, heart feeling heavy.

“I know,” Minho finishes your thought. “It feels different this time.”

“I love ballet, I really do,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “But dancing isn’t my whole life. I think I’m just like you Minho. I’ve been searching for something real, something that goes beyond the stage.”

You watch Minho’s face twist, like he wants to say something, and you already know he would have asked you if you’d found it. Because he’d been searching for the same thing. It felt so cruel to have it ripped from your grasp the moment the sun began to rise.

You shared a moment of silence, the weight of everything hanging between you. You took a sip of your coffee, but instead of calming you, the warm liquid only makes your heart race.

“What are you going to do?” You asked Minho, watching his face jump to meet your gaze. “After tonight?”

“Go back to Seoul,” Minho struggles to keep his voice steady. “Maybe take a break from dance, to try something new.”

“Do it,” you encouraged, voice wobbling. “You owe it to yourself to explore what brings you joy. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

The café soon begins to fill with the clink of dishes, the laughter of patrons, the aroma of freshly baked pastries. It felt surreal, almost like a scene from a movie.

Minho reached across the table, his hand covering yours. “Thank you ___. For everything. I wish I knew how to say more.”

You squeezed his hand gently, eyes glistening. “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise you won’t forget this.”

You won’t forget me.

While you and Minho labour through finishing your breakfast, the clock behind you continues ticking, each passing second a reminder that time was running out.

By the time you leave, the sun has fully risen, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Walking side by side, you travel deeper into the city, the streets blurring into each other until you come upon a familiar one. The one that leads to your apartment. It was over.

“What did it mean?” you ask him, voice tinged with sadness. “What you said on the beach?”

Minho’s smooth voice had lingered in the back of your mind all morning, and you wished you knew Korean, that you could say something back to him. Like he’d tried for you.

Minho looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips, though his eyes were clouded with emotion.

“I can’t tell.”

Both of you knew it was because it might change everything.

You falter, wondering if you should say something, make a promise to keep in touch, to meet again. But it seems so useless, knowing Minho would probably never come back, and you’d never scrap together the time or money to fly to his side of the world.

You settle for throwing your arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. You bury your head into his neck, committing his familiar scent to memory, wishing it could last forever.

When you pull away, you’re already backing down the street, Minho’s somber expression looking after you.

“I guess this is it,” you said, voice trembling slightly.

Minho nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Take care of yourself, ___.”

The knot in your stomach only grows tighter when you see him step away, tears pricking your eyes. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, the sunlight catching in his hair.

As he turned the corner, you whispered a silent wish to the rising sun, that no matter what happened, that Minho would be happy. And that if he was, maybe you could be too.

Adjusting your pointe shoes, the soft strains of music fill the air. You stand on your tip toes, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. What looks back at you looks the same as it always has – perfect form, straight posture, the picture of elegance. But only you know there’s something different now, a wild longing in your heart.

It had been months since that one night with Minho, but he’d never left your mind. Somehow, even though he was oceans away, his ghost trailed after you everywhere you went. When you spun, you could almost feel his hands around your waist, guiding you in a duet. When you came home to your apartment, you wished he was there, the two of you laughing over a cup of coffee. Every time you smelled the ocean breeze, you remembered his lips meeting yours, bodies tangled together in the sand.

He was everywhere and nowhere to be found, all at once.

When practice ends, you chat with your fellow dancers, wishing them a swift goodbye before running out the door.

When the longing built to its worst, you always knew where to go, the warmth of Kento’s bar waiting for you at the end of another rough day. Before, he would tease you, asking where your “special friend who spoke good Japanese” was, but now he only slides a matcha in your direction, his eyes sad while he chuckles about how you needed to cut back on the vermouth.

In a daze, you scroll through your phone, heart dropping when you realized there were no photos of Minho in your phone. The date remained a figment of your memory, like he’d never existed at all. And you had nothing to look back on.

Tears prick your eyes when you realize how stupid you’d been. So caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even thought of asking for his number, or any contact information. There were a million people named “Minho” from Seoul to wade through every time you opened social media to check.

You wondered if Minho thought of you as often as you thought of him. What was he doing now? Was he happy?

Sighing heavily, you decide you’ll probably never know the answer.

Until your phone buzzes.

. . .

Minho sighs deeply, his muscles aching from another grueling day in the studio. He feels Soonie brush against his feet, his oldest friend curling up into a ball at his feet, and he reaches down to scratch between his ears. Looking out over the balcony, the twinkling city lights of Seoul gleam back at him, but his thoughts are full of another place. And another person.

No matter how much he immersed himself in his routine—classes, rehearsals, and performances—something felt off. His friends would joke about his trip, saying he’d come back a changed man, like a monk who’d found enlightenment, but his serious expression always shut them down.

He hears footsteps on the balcony behind him, and Hyunjin comes to sit next to him, holding out a steaming cup of noodles in his hands.

“Eat hyung,” he scolds Minho. “You have to be exhausted from practice today.”

Minho accepts the cup, picking up a few with his chopsticks, but decides he can’t stomach them, staring absently at the cup.

“Hyung, I don’t mean to pry, but,” Hyunjin sounds unsure, like he’s poking a sleeping dragon. “What happened in Barcelona?”

Minho shoots up at Hyunjin’s perceptive question, knowing his pabo face was terrible at hiding things. Especially from his best friend.

Whereas Minho struggled to find the words with you, they all came flooding out in front of Hyunjin, recalling everything from the moment he saw you to how you continued to linger in his mind even now. How he couldn’t shake you no matter how hard he tried.

Hyunjin listens along, nodding his head in understanding, and finally leans back, brushing a hand over Soonie’s fur.

“Hyung, I know you’re stupid, but like, have you ever thought about just reaching out? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand, it’s–”

“Complicated? What is so complicated about it? You like her. It sounds like she likes you. Why waste time on the what-ifs?”

Hyunjin pats him on the back, saying that if the weekend rolls around and Minho doesn’t have an update for him, he’ll threaten to air-fry him.

Minho sighs, taking a deep breath. He pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, thumb hovering over your username. He’d found you right after he’d left of course, easily putting your name and Barcelona together. But he’d never been able to take the final leap to reach out, to build on whatever had started that night.

But now, he decides he’s done wasting time.

When Minho steps off the plane, the air in Barcelona is thick with the smell of orange blossoms and the distant strumming of Spanish guitar. It had only taken a few messages back and forth for you two to fall into the same easy rhythm. Hyunjin teased him for constantly checking his phone for notifications from you, but deep down, he knew that his friends wanted him to chase whatever made him happy.

It hadn’t taken much longer for him to decide to decide to book a flight, seeing an ad for the ballet troupe’s latest performance on your Instagram story. Now, as he watches the streets pass by in the cab, he feels like he might be nauseous, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

But then he thinks back to how one night hand changed everything, and decides that you’re a chance worth taking.

When he arrives at the performance hall, Minho ducks by the crowd, slipping into the plush velvet seat. Around him, the audience buzzes with excitement, but Minho pays them no mind, his eyes trained on the stage, dark for now.

When the lights go down and the curtains draw back, Minho has to hold in his breath. It was exactly like the first time.

You, in your silver and white costume, gliding across the stage like a wisp of smoke, letting the music lead you wherever you needed to go. Your performance cries with unspoken passion and longing and Minho wonders if all this time, you’ve felt the same way, unable to let him go like he had with you.

Minho doesn’t know if minutes or hours pass before the music finally stops, but he pushes his way through the audience, moving against the crowd to find the backstage exit. To find you.

. . .

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come back here, this is only for performers��”

The security guard’s voice booms at the door to the dressing room, and Sakura, your fellow dancer, nudges you, rolling her eyes. A laugh bubbles in your throat, wondering what crazy person had made their way backstage, but then you hear it.

A voice that stops you in your tracks. One you thought you’d never hear again.

“Please, I just need to –, please,” it begs, and you’re up out of your chair before you can even stop yourself.

Pushing past the guard, your eyes widen in disbelief when you see Minho outside. He looks different now, hair longer, and maybe the colour had changed, but the real difference is in his eyes. No longer empty, they light up when they see you.

“Minho?” You whisper, unable to believe that it’s actually real. That he’s actually here.

“Surprise,” he grins, taking a step towards you.

The security guard eyes you both suspiciously, Minho in his long trench and crisp pressed slacks, and you in your sweats, the remnants of your shimmery makeup still lingering on your face, before he slips away.

“What are you doing here?”

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo). It means that I want you to stay together with me,” he admitted, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you both.

Tears of happiness shimmered in your eyes as you moved closer, closing the distance between you two.

“I thought you were just being nice,” you joke, but it comes out a sob.

Minho took your hands in his, and you feel the warmth radiate from his skin.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles, reaching over to thumb away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. His lips fill the spot where the tear had once been.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your temple. “I have to show you something.”

. . .

Hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of Barcelona greet you both once more, only this time, everything had changed.

Minho comes to a pause right then, feeling the weight that he’d been shouldering for months finally lift from his shoulder now that he had you in his arms again.

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

You looked around, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “This is where we danced that night.”

“Will you dance with me again?,” he poses, his chest filled with fear and trepidation, but also hope.

You take a step back, sinking into a deep bow in front of him. Minho grins, catchind your hand to spin you back towards him. The world around you faded as you began to move together, time stopping for the both of you.

As he slowed, breathless and beaming, he feels you burrow into the crook of his neck., whispering against his skin.

“Am I distracting you Minho?”

Minho tilts his chin up to meet your gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yes, but I like it,” he breathes, closing the gap to crash his lips against yours. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Minho.”

The sun would rise again tomorrow. But this time, you’d be by his side.

a/n pt. 2: this reminds me of Collision!Minho a bit, they're like two sides of the same coin haha. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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innerfare · 3 months ago

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Ace’s Type

Summary: A collection of random headcanons describing Ace's type

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Someone who knows what it's like to be a freak, to be cast out from society. (I'm imagining him with a girl from Skypiea with cute little wings, maybe even antennae, who was treated much like a mermaid and hunted for her unusual appearance and was maybe rescued by Ace; might need to write a fic about this.)

Due to a childhood crush on a certain barmaid, low-key has a thing for green-haired women. It isn’t essential, but if a woman has green hair, she possesses a unique ability to turn him into a blushing mess, which he finds annoying considering he so quickly grew accustomed to turning them into blushing messes. Will fight anyone who teases him about his green hair weakness as it’s actually something of a sensitive topic for him. (Even had the slightest crush on Zoro when he met the Straw Hats for the first time, wouldn't have initiated anything with the swordsman but wouldn't have turned him down, either.)

The most important thing for Ace is freedom, would have to be with someone who values it just as highly as he does (not just for him, but for themselves, too). Could easily be a one girl kind of guy (trust issues, wants something constant, steady, and dependable) but doesn’t want to settle down with that person. Rather, wants that person to run around the world with him. If you want to stay home and wait for him to come back, fine, but he'd prefer you go with him.

Someone who has a way with words. He doesn’t, so he’d think of your ability to put words to thoughts and feelings he’s had his entire life as some form of magic.

Someone who thinks he hung the moon. He won’t understand why you think that, but your starry-eyed devotion to him will awaken something in him. Someone who giggles at his dumb jokes, who stands in awe and says, “whoah, cool,” when he shows off a new move, who lights up when he enters the room. Someone who thinks it’s cute when he swoops in and steals food off their plate, who will playfully punch his arm, someone who laughs when he throws them over his shoulder. Someone with a youthful energy.

But the youthful energy can't veer into immaturity. He wants and needs someone wise beyond their years, maybe even an old soul, someone who counsels him against acting rashly without nagging him to stop taking risks entirely. Someone who understands he's a risk taker and has measured criticism of that rather than a complete opposition to it.

Someone who understands that he struggles with emotional vulnerability and will meet him where he is. Also, someone who applauds him when he does put himself out there, someone who will never judge him for his feelings or reject his attempts at connecting. Someone who has very high emotional intelligence.

He secretly, desperately craves the softness he never got in his childhood. Being cradled as he sleeps, having his hair brushed off his forehead, having food prepared and served for him, someone fussing over his little scrapes and cuts, etcetera.

Sweet. Wants someone who smiles/lights up when they see him, who says please and thank you for every little thing. Someone with very good manners and a singsong voice like Makino. Someone tough enough to negotiate for and take up space aboard a pirate ship, but without being callous and cold. Someone soft and warm, who doesn’t let the ugliness of the world get under their skin and is optimistic about the future- not just their own future, but his future, too.

Someone very observant. He has a lot of trauma and baggage that he never talks about, and he would fall head over heels for someone who can read between the lines.

That being said, someone on the quieter side. Doesn’t want to be constantly asked if he’s okay, but wants someone who will notice he’s not and find a way to help him through it.

Finally, someone who gets flustered when he flirts with them. He takes great pride in his ability to make you blush. If you're the type with cheeks that flush pink, even better.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #fire fist ace #portgas d ace #ace #ace x reader #whitebeard pirates #spade pirates #one piece makino #ace headcanons #one piece headcanons

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f-t-e · 1 year ago

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I started watching SUPERNATURAL in November 2020. I know, I know. My partner and I had been isolating alone since March. The timing felt right. I went though a wild amount of upheaval and trauma over the next year and SPN was there for me through it all. It was THE show at THE time and it kept me afloat when I needed it the most. Since November 2021 I've written just about 110,000 words of SPN fanfic, a number that seems unbelievable to me, and that too has been a real blessing to my creative life, no matter what haters say. (why didn't I write my own novels in that time? Because I have a hobby, Karen, and I love it.) And I've read about 500000x that much fanfic, which has been the biggest blessing of all. (ETA: oh right, if you want to read my fic, you can find my stuff here, I wrote a fic where Dean reads books. Lots of books.)

I know I'm a nobody in this fandom but I thought on this, our #DestielDay, I would submit my own humble rec list. I've curated this very deliberately: every fic here has just about 4000 hits or less (most under 3000) and all were published in 2020 or after. So, sort of a rec list for some lesser known and newer fics, something you maybe haven't stumbled on yet. Especially thank you to @jewishcharliebradbury, her rec lists gave me a place to start back in the day and I have tried to model the depth and quality they brought to their lists. I tried to link to everyone's tumblr, but if I missed one, let me know.

Most of all, thank you to everyone who has EVER created something for this fandom, from 2005 to 2023. I am so thankful and, honestly, honored to be among your number. You're not supposed to be cringe and say a show saved your life...but SUPERNATURAL saved me, it really did. See y'all when the movie/reboot drops, to quote Ryan Gosling in The Notebook: IT WASN'T OVER, IT STILL ISN'T OVER. And I'm glad.

-----

Finale Fix-It & S15 and Beyond

What The Moon Was Saying by Amiril (@runawaymarbles)

This is hands-down one of the coolest “Dean Rescues Cas from the Empty” fics I have ever read and the concept is brilliantly structured to mirror the literal and metaphorical things Dean needs to give up and let go to get free. Every scenario is very satisfying and they make sense, is there any better feeling? Dean is very open in this, but in a believable way that still has edges. And, oh, the reunion is so good. Plus all the family stuff. Just excellent, exactly what you want in a fic like this: lovely, well-written, smart, fulfilling, all the pieces clicking, the show but better.

Awake and Annoying by skycruise

I love the use and passage of time in this one, it has some real impact, and I love the way Dean gets into the Empty (so smart, fits just right) and what I REALLY love in this one is the way it lets Dean be really clear-eyed and honest about his relationship with Sam, both the strengths and the weaknesses. And the last line, very clever and moving inverse of one of fandom’s favorite things.

Living the life you chose by allthismusic

THEEEEE post finale Sam Winchester-Outsider-POV this fandom needs. Sam is absolutely awesome in this, the most believable, loving, realistic mix of “I knew all along” and “I had no idea” versions of Sam, landing somewhere I think that’s really true and in character. It fills in and develops so many gaps and silences in what the show let Sam know in the absolute best way. Best Brother Sam is a weakness of mine and he really shines here, there for Dean in the best ways but also coming into his own, I love it so very much. (this author also has a very great 2022 Big Bang fic, hugely recommend that one too.)

your ear to the wound that whispers by EmandFandems (@lazarusemma)

Who doesn’t love a HANDPRINT FIC?!? And boy this is such a good one. It follows Dean and his thoughts on the handprint from the first touch all the way to fixing the finale and it simply buzzes with longing and desire, tenderness and rawness. It’s great insight in lot of ways into Dean’s journey. It’s short but fulfilling and oh that very perfect last line. (this author also has a lot of great Jupernatural content.)

Somewhere Off in the Dark by magickastiel

Another awesome fic that traces Dean’s shifting/growing feelings for Cas from when he shows up in his hotel rooms to a HEA fix it after canon. Dean, again, is handled so deftly in this one, his confusion and sorrow at all the times Cas is slipping away from him all the way through the things he won’t let himself know. He feels really true in this one, sharp and tender in the best Dean ways. Also it has an agonizingly romantic end, you love to end up there.

Pins and Feathers by theskywasblue (@buttherewasnogod)

This author has so many freaking good SPN fics, omg it was almost impossible to pick just one to include on this list. Go treat yourself with their entire list because there’s so much good stuff there! But this one, oh I am a sucker for a finale fix-it that lets Dean be this tender. While I LOVE fics where he just jumps right into Cas’s arms (and write them lol) I also feel like this is so true to Dean too: that “maybe I misunderstood, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, maybe he doesn’t still –” And on top of all that, it’s a “they go the beach” fic and it gets the details of it so right, sand in your toes and all. Tender, amazing slow-burn, real, hot, full of heart and longing and everything unspoken and just waiting. Very satisfying!

i loved you first by kalmialatifolia

A set of four short fics that create an entire world of feeling and emotion. These feel like little whispered stories told under the covers, very atmospheric. There’s one very sexy one, a haircutting one (so good) and they’re just intimate. All together a great set and did I mention they’re in the “Cas saves himself” genre which is mmmm an underrated treasure.

no other faith is light enough for this place by anonymous

A fix-it fic that has a particularly unique and beautiful visual of both how and why Cas comes back. The mechanics behind it are fairly standard but the way this author creates the visual of it, the sheer emotion and force behind it and how it happens, it really stood out to me and stuck with me. It’s Dean being brave enough to really feel and the way that just blossoms – lovely, aching, full-tilt wonderful.

no proof, one touch by TakeThisWaltz (@watchinghimrakeleaves)

One thing I absolutely cannot get enough of is fic where Cas is hiding out from Dean in heaven. It just hits. And the only thing better is Dean chasing him down and the WAY he does it in this fic, methodically and – well the method (sobs) it is so endearing and OBVIOUS and gives Dean a chance to shout in all the best ways. This one is just real sweet and kind of goofy and if they have to be in heaven, I want them to still be these same two dorks.

Stay by redbrickrose

This is a post S15x18 from Cas’s POV and I think it’s very true to where he would be in the moment of getting yanked out of the Empty: resigned, hesitant about what he has in front of him, still a little in shock. And then. And then. Sweet and simple and Dean gets a chance to say, say, say it. This author has a good post series AU and a lovely little spate of S15 codas, all good. And then wrote this in real-time in the week after 15x18 Despair and right before 15x19 Inherit the Earth aired (could you just sob over the possibilities?!) and then hasn’t wrote anything since and that’s a shame but, like, yeah I get it.

like a one-two punch by Muir_Wolf (@muirmarie)

Don’t you love a short fic that feels like it’s a whole novel? This goes AU after 14x20 Moriah but it is a truly delightful twist on how Chuck could’ve reacted there and it makes Dean sharp as a knife, which is one really resonant image woven through this fic. Great imagery here and so many clever solutions for the lazy plotting of S15, including simply one of my all-time favorites in any fic ever solutions to Cas’s deal (genius) and getting rid of Chuck. Brilliant like a puzzle box yet still full of so much fucking joy.

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes)

The fact that this was written in October 2023 and is so agonizingly good fills my heart with joy and tells me Destiel will never die lol. Cas, in particular, is great in this – he’s having a hard time adjusting to being in a body and with all the fuzz of the world. I love fics where Cas struggles with coming back from the Empty and this uses a really unique approach to it: Cas facing sensory overload and not knowing how to feel but wanting it all. Lovely, hot, Dean is just right in this too.

Earlier Canon (pre S15)

Proverbs 13:12 by starlingcas (@angelcasendgame)

Many might say I am biased because Renu has beta’ed everything I have written in the SPN fandom and they can read my brain and make everything I write better. But it’s not just that. Renu has done something beautiful and delicate in this fic, which is about Dean and Cas getting trapped in a net together (forced proximity trope, yes please) and weaves a web of its own; pulling you in just as they are pulled together. This is set mostly in early S14 (before fixing the finale in the most heart-healing way) and captures that feeling so well. There’s so much that’s unsaid between them yet still conveyed and Renu absolutely nails that, along with the tender longing that was always there. This is a fic to relish.

you may tire of me (as our december sun is setting) by deludedfantasy

You know how the show just sometimes is like “uh so anyway uh then Cas…uh…left.” and it just doesn’t make one lick of sense? FINALLY FINALLY a fic where Dean says “I’ll go with you,” and then goes because he actually would do that. This is a post Tombstone fic so it is exactly where/when he WOULD go and it is tender and hesitant and aching in just all the ways it would be between the two of them at this time. It’s about needing to keep someone in sight, it’s about having another chance to say something so important, it’s slow and soft and just right for the characters in this place. I could read this one about 100 times.

the anatomy of flightless birds by cowlovely (@dollhousemary)

This fic is basically the way you feel when you get all cozy and snug underneath your favorite blanket. This is a domestic-life-in-the Bunker S9 fic where everyone behaves like they are in character and not just like they have to get Cas off screen because the writers panicked. You’ll just want to curl up in this fic and savor it the way you wrap your fingers around a hot beverage on a very cold day, there’s no better way to describe it.

virtue by JenTheSweetie

I think I’ve read this about 100 times and it still gets me everytime? It’s a five things fic about Dean and Cas hooking up and it’s all you’ve ever wished for. This is set in an amorphous S8 and it is not just agonizingly hot but also romantic and very funny. It feels really in character! Sam is hilarious, Dean is clueless but bowled over and letting himself be swept up, Cas is delighting in every second and smarter than he lets on and it ALL feels fated and lovely and sexy and just splendid. (this author only has 3 SPN fics but they are all so good and if you try sometimes, well you just might find is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of Dean learning the differences between “needing” and “wanting.”)

Romance at the Motel 6 by shelia_amour

This fic makes me feel like Stefon from SNL. This fic has everything: Cas and Sam pretending to be married, just the right amount of jealous Dean, Dean randomly pretending to be married to Cas, Dean realizing maybe this isn’t so fake after all, motel vibes, Cas in Dean’s clothes, Cas getting bee slippers. If you are not sold on this already, we are very different people. So good, aches just right. (set in a kind of “whenever” of canon, but I like to put it somewhere in S8.)

que sera sera by Purple_Starflower (@hauntedpearl)

The epitome of how fanfic unfolds for us all the things that COULD happen. You can’t PROVE to me Dean and Cas never snuck off to snuggle and feed Dean’s touch-starvation early in S13. I had to check when I finished because I just couldn’t believe this fic was under 4000 words because it feels so full of touch, longing, the things unspoken, and all the ways Dean was reaching, reaching, reaching. The best kind of ache, and everything by this author is lovely.

the hard edge that you’re settling for by lesspopped (@trekkiedean)

This is some S10 Demon!Dean that made my stomach hurt and my heart ache and I absolutely loved it and I absolutely hated it and it all felt so REAL with who Demon!Dean was and could have been. There’s a TW for mildly dubious consent in this, but to me, Cas was so agonizingly true to who he was/where he was at this point in canon too. This fic is gloriously, claustrophobically intimate. I say unbearable because as a reader you know that this closeness, this intimacy, is what Dean wants/craves/deserves but can only give himself as a demon and the author does an exquisite job at getting all that across. Hurts so good!

four of swords by sundryvillians (eurythmix) (@perenial)

Can the world ever have enough post 12x12 fic? The answer is, of course, no. Dean and Cas bake bread and in the soft space of creating something with their own hands, get so close to the words Cas said. It’s about healing and anger and making something just because you are so tired of everything breaking. If that alone isn’t enough to convince you, let me also throw in this is another one of those “possible off-screen moments in canon” that gives them something honest and tender and raw and it feels so very possible.

Fifteen Prayers From the Faithless by koyas_cat

Short, achy, that sweet sting. A set of prayers for Cas from the beginning to the end, full of all the things Dean doesn’t let himself say outloud and just reflecting the changes in their connection over alllll the years. So good.

#spn #spn fanfic #destiel fic #fic recs #destiel day #deancas fic recs #supernatural #destiel #happy anniversary #don't forget you're here forever

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shuenkio · 7 days ago

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Love, maybe ? | Sjy ❤︎ 엔.하.이.픈 💌

Paring: Jake X M!reader | Genre: Fluff&Soft .

Synopsis: Base on 'love maybe' by bbm~

Cw: Non.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A❤︎N: Been a week now so I'm back with Jake fluff fic 🥹 idea never come across my mind for a while, hoping you can enjoy also some parts may be error, bare with meh.

"This must be love, baby. Cause I never felt quite this way—

I think this is love, baby. Get weak when you call' my name—" ♫︎ Pause

"Hey M/n! Wanna go play basketball with me ? We need one last person are you in?"

Suddenly, you did. The way his voice was calling for you, alluring, floating, in your ears just making you feel weak in your knees. Think this is love? Maybe?

"Cause oh? Something bout' the way you make me feel like-" ♫︎

"M/n M/n!! I heard the new restaurant downtown has the best steak review, could you go check it out with me? My treat, you going mate? No? But I'll take that as a yes come on" Jake take hold of your hand, intertwine together as once, dragging his feet to his destination where he could show you his favorite thing without knowing, He was your favorite thing, even when you didn't even tell him yet.

"I don't know why, can't control it take hold of me— is this for real?" ♫︎

Sleep less night, boring night when you didn't get any good night text from him. Isn't it weird that you'd be crazy by waiting for his text on your notification? Though you and Jake are just buddies and nothing else. Somehow it makes you insane, no? Whether it'd affect your friendship with him or not, this is driving you silly, can't bottle your feelings any longer as you decide, your life for now.

Confession?

Yes or No

"I give up, just take my HeaRt—" ♫︎

The unexpected night out with Jake, after the prom party, you and Jake decide to go back home together. It was a peaceful night, the clear sky making the moon light shine bright across the whole city and pavement, making it feel safer than ever. Before reaching home, Jake decided he'd gaze at the lake a bit, it was his favorite place after all, under the big willow tree and a single bench.

The moon, reflection on the soothing streaming lake, is both comfort and nostalgia at the same time. As he sat down, taking his time to restore his battery. And so did you.

Two boys sat on the same bench under the big willow tree while viewing the scenario in front of them. You get the deja Vu feeling when you were a kid, sitting alone, feel better that nobody could ever make you feel enough like this.

Also this is the perfect timing, the perfect place that you could pour all of your heart into anything, the bottle heart that is begging to be able to be free right here, and so is the person In front of you, he was the one who made you feel like this all along, should you take a risk ? On the other hand, you thought this was probably the last you could be close to him because, who knows how Jake would answer and respond to your confession? Would he like boy? Would he still be the same with you after you confess? Would he love you back?

"Jake? Can I tell you something, from my mind?"

"Yea... No need to be shy, tell me everything" Jake state, throwing rock to the surface of water, not spare any glance just yet, enjoying the atmosphere.

"you sure we'd be the same if I tell you how I feel?"

"oh come on M/n nothing could go worse, with me I'm Jake" Jake snort under his breath, as he continues what he's doing, probably would not expect what could come at him.

"I like you Jake! And I hate that... I know you'd never like boy, and I know I shouldn't like you but I can't help at how you make me feel even though in fact, we're best friends. I'm sorry" You explain, already prepared how the outcome would reveal. Stare blankly at the lake, knowing too well Jake is catching off guard by your statement right now.

Your intuition is correct, Jake catches his air stuck in his throat. The last thing he worries about is happening right now, beside him, near him, and close to him. Yet he knows, that he can't be overrated at your confession. But his body didn't cooperate with him well, Jake's heart stuttered, a rush of warmth spreading through him as your words settled in the air between them. You liked him. And the truth was—he felt the same.

He calmly replied.

"weird, isn't it? took you long enough to catch up." Jake paused, letting the silence build just enough to make you wonder.

"I’ve been on the same page this whole time."

"same page? Which mean— *gasp*"

"I like you too, idiot"

"Cause I don't know what else to blame— no" ♫︎

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theghostofsoap · 9 months ago

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No Force on this Earth (Could Keep Me From You)

Fandom: Call of Duty x Star Wars

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley/John "Soap" MacTavish

Rating: Teen +

Tags: implied torture, force bonds, blood mention, angst, hurt/comfort

Notes: this fic was massively inspired by @felixeis003 and some lovely CoD x Star Wars art they did of Ghost and Soap <33 it truly got the hamster wheel in my mind going

(Check out the art here!!!)

Also now on Ao3!

Soap wasn't sure how long he'd been here. He and Gaz had been together on assignment to investigate a moon where a particularly strong force signature had pinged recently. There was suspicion that a Sith artifact was located there and they wanted to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands.

Unfortunately, the entire thing had been a trap. He was pretty sure Gaz had managed to make it out when he'd dove into a swarm of droids. The last thing he remembered was seeing the familiar face of Count Dooku before falling unconscious.

Ever since then, he'd been kept in a cell. A few times he'd been poked and prodded. He wasn't sure what they wanted with him, but the combination of minimal food and the Force suppression collar around his neck was making the time tick by like molasses. Most of the time he meditated while trying to overhear any speck of information that he could, which wasn't much.

The sheer emptiness of it all was almost worse. Maybe they were trying to drive him mad with silence and isolation.

He just had to hope that Gaz was coming back with a rescue party. He wasn't even 100% sure if he was still on the same moon. The only thing he could see from his confinement was the metal-lined hallway and the empty cells beside him.

During his fourth rest cycle, he heard footsteps down the hallway. He did his best to keep calm, taking in slow, steadying breaths. The person who came around the corner was a face he hadn't seen in a while.

The dark cloak swished out behind them as they came to a halt. The smirk on their face was the same one Soap remembered from the few times they were in lessons together.

"Well Phillip, you certainly weren't who I was expecting to see today." He drawled.

"After all these years and they couldn't quite beat the snark out of you could they? And that's Darth Gravis to you," Phillip replied.

Soap snorted. "Really? Darth Gravis? I'm sorry, but I'm nae gonna take you very seriously when I still remember you tripping into the fountain during our forms."

Phillip's eyebrow ticked, but otherwise he kept his face a mixture of arrogant and angry. "When I heard they'd gotten their hands on you, I told them isolation wasn't going to work. But I needed time to get here and I wanted to make sure I was the first one to get my hands on you John." He tilted his head and two droids opened up the cell. The smirk on his face grew as he took a step forward. Soap just stayed in his lotus position.

"By the time I'm done with you, we'll see how seriously you take me."

It had started simple, things Soap had expected. His ribs were bruised and each breath came out with a slight wheeze, but he could take it.

The harder part was the intrusions. Being cut off from the force while feeling someone else's slimy, icher of a presence oozing through his thoughts and tearing down his walls was agonizing. He held in his screams the best he could, making his tongue bleed in the process.

"All those feelings and you're still in the precious Order, huh? Do you think that big bastard actually cares for you that way?" Gravis drawled one time as Soap was hunched over on the floor, trying to catch his breath as blood trickled out of his nose.

"I watched the footage, you know. We keep most footage of the 'important experiments.' It'd be almost admirable that he isn't dark if it weren't for the fact that he's just so weak. You should've seen him. Pathetic honestly the way he-"

Not many things had gotten to Soap, but with his shields already low and his emotions in fray, hearing him talk about him that way made Soap snap. He lunged forward, slamming himself into Gravis's legs. With his hands still bound behind him, there wasn't much he could do before the droids grabbed him and threw him back against the other wall.

Gravis laughed as he stood up and dusted himself off. "My my, got you riled up didn't I?" He spit to the side. "Let's see if you're just as pathetic as he is."

------------

Ghost hadn't felt Soap in 5 days. While he didn't constantly check on their force bond, he didn't realize how much he felt it until it suddenly shut off.

He can remember the moment it happened with stark clarity. He'd been helping around at the town he was currently staying in, carrying some supplies to help rebuild a health center that had collapsed, when it was like everything went silent.

He froze mid step as he rapidly tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. He couldn't even pinpoint what was wrong or why everything felt slightly off until he assessed his bonds... and realized he couldn't feel Soap.

Ghost didn't have many force bonds still. The ones he had with his old master weren't the strongest and the ones that had been almost forced upon him during-

Well, he didn't have many force bonds anymore for a reason. Soap was about the only one, though Price had one too.

Ghost didn't know what to do. He'd immediately tried to reach out to Soap's comms to no success. The last thing they'd talked about was that he was going to be away on a mission with Garrick-

His comm rang.

He answered without hesitation. Maybe it was Soap from a different-

"Soap's gone."

It was Garrick. Ghost clenched his comm unit as he stared at the holographic form of the other Jedi, who seemed just fine-

"Where."

"We were on a moon in the Pelgrin sector. It was a trap and he was taken." Garrick said, getting straight to the point.

Ghost immediately started walking back to where he was staying. He had a small ship. It would take him at least 3 days to make it that far. He was already plotting his course when he realized Garrick was still talking.

"-ooku but I don't know if he's still on that moon. Ghost. The Order is going to want to try and go after him too but they won't just storm in. I don't- You know why I'm calling you, right?"

Ghost grunted. Of course he did. The Order wouldn't be as efficient as he could be, with their bureaucratic tape. There were very few things he missed about the Order, but the political ties that had developed over the recent decades wasn't one of them.

"I'm on my way. If you get any updates, contact me." He said, disconnecting the call before Garrick could say anything else.

His ship already had rations on it, but he made sure to gather a few more as well as a few additional medical supplies before leaving, despite wanting to peel out as soon as possible. When he punched in the route, he cursed under his breath at the time. Every moment felt like one too many, and he couldn't even be certain that they'd still be there when he arrived.

But he'd have time to make some calls along the way, put some feelers out. He knew who he could trust with this information.

As it was nearing the last day of his trek, he'd gotten word back that Soap was likely not far from where he'd been taken. A ship had been spotted briefly in orbit tucked behind a nearby asteroid. One wouldn't easily spot it if they didn't know what they were looking for.

Ghost took in a deep breath as he started to make a plan. The main thing he had to do was get in, but once that happened-

Well, he wasn't worried too much about whatever might be between him and Soap. It wouldn't be there long.

-----------

They didn't move him afterwards. He was left lying in a cooling pile of his own blood. His forehead was up against the metal floor as he tried to take slow breaths despite his protesting lungs which were both sore and burning as he stretched the cauterized wounds across his chest.

"I'm one with the force and the force is with me." He whispered to himself softly. He took in a slow breath through his nose but it was interrupted by a cough he tried to suppress. He spit up some blood and groaned, trying to take better note of his body.

It felt like half of him was offline, a combination of numbness and tingling stretching across his system. He worked slowly, wiggling each individual finger before he finally felt like he might be able to lift himself up to a seated position.

That's when he heard the gunshots.

He froze, uncertain at first where they were coming from. That's when he realized they were deeper in the building.

... Was someone here for him finally?

He felt a stronger wave of renewed motivation flow through him as he managed to get back to a seated position with only minimal groans and winces of pain.

"I'm one with the force and the force is with me." He said again, slightly firmer as he tried to calm the ringing in his ears so he could take better stock of where the fighting was happening.

It sounded like it was closer. Was it getting closer?

Suddenly the door down the hall opened, but the gunshots didn't get louder. Instead, he heard the familiar thrum of a lightsaber igniting.

"Well, well, what did I tell them? I knew he'd come for you." Gravis said as he stepped into the cell Soap was in. His red saber crackled angrily as he slowly lifted it, coming to a stop just under Soap's chin.

Soap took in a shaky breath as he looked up at Gravis, holding his chin as steady as he could.

"Sidious has been wanting him back, for another test run. He's certain he can break him this time." Gravis drawled. "I'm not sure why he wants that pathetic thing, but you were just bait." He smirked. "Don't worry, your usefulness hasn't run out yet. I think it'd be more impactful if you were around during the conditioning this time. Toy with his mind a bit. Or maybe we can make him kill you himself, hm? See if we can turn that rage the right direction-"

Another door opened and this time the gunshots were next to none. "Darth Gravis! The force user, he's-" a droid started to say when suddenly the sound of metal hitting the floor rang through the hall.

"My my, took you long enough to get here Simon," Gravis said, looking over but not moving his saber an inch. "Go on Johnny, say hello to him. It's only polite."

Ghost's eyes snapped over to where he was seated on the floor. Despite not being able to feel their force bond like he usually could, Soap could still catalog the emotions running across his face. Ghost's eyes went from him to the puddle of the blood on the floor and back up to the lightsaber at his throat.

Soap saw his hands tighten on the grip of his saber.

"You're just as feeble as I remember Gravis," Ghost rumbled, "Could never pick a fair fight because you knew you'd lose. Beating up on someone who's chained up and disconnected from the force? Does that make you feel stronger?"

Soap saw Gravis's expression flare with anger. The saber was immediately withdrawn and directed towards Ghost.

"You were all but scraped off the floor when you 'escaped.' You know he LET you go right? Someone as simple as you could never have made it out on your own." Gravis snarled. "I've seen the tapes. You're not even worth his time!"

Ghost slid into a fighting stance, not breaking eye contact with Gravis. "And yet he's taking his time trying to lure me back, when he's got a lap dog already drooling to do as he says. Do you feel replaceable yet mutt?"

Gravis snarled louder and immediately launched himself towards Ghost, who blocked him flawlessly. Where Gravis's attacks were fury and erratic, Ghost was as steady and smooth as ever. He looked like he was hardly breaking a sweat as Gravis danced around him.

"Face it Gravis, you were always meant to beg for scraps. If you were truly good enough you wouldn't be the one running errands to try to lure in another apprentice would you?"

This made Gravis lunge, but it was exactly what Ghost wanted to happen. He quickly grabbed Gravis by the shoulder, blocking his saber and throwing him to the floor. He stomped onto the hand that was holding his saber and Gravis shouted as he dropped it.

Ghost stared down at him for a moment.

Gravis glared, reaching up a hand, clearly about to use the force, when Ghost's expression finally broke. He curled his upper lip before gripping the air in front of him, easily lifting up Gravis from the floor before quickly slamming him back into it.

Ghost only looked at his limp form for a moment more before he immediately spun and sprinted over to Soap.

Soap looked up at him, cracking a small smile, though he was sure the blood covering his gums wasn't helping. "Hey Ghostie."

The brooding man dropped to his knees and quickly reached around Soap's neck. Soap felt the collar's latch release before he heard it, as the feeling of the Force flooded back into him.

It was like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long.

"Oh Force," he breathed.

Immediately the next thing he felt was the cacophony of emotions flooding off of Ghost. "Ghost, I-"

"Don't move Johnny," Ghost said, his tone gruffer than normal. Johnny held still as Ghost deftly cut through the cuffs keeping his hands behind his back. When his hands were free, he slowly moved them around to his front, rubbing his wrists gently.

"Thank you," he said, realizing how fucked his voice sounded. He's sure it wasn't helping the growing concern Ghost was expressing.

"How broken are you?" Ghost asked.

"Ah, it looks worse than i' is," Soap said, but his point was a bit ruined when he had a coughing fit at the end that left him light headed.

Suddenly, the world around him shifted. He yelped and his position adjusted. Soap blinked and realized how close he was to Ghost's face now, the strong arms wrapped around him.

Ghost didn't look down at him, taking long strides back through the facility, completely ignoring the graveyard of droids around him. "I have medical supplies on the ship. I'm going to put you there before I come back and... finish what needs to be done in here."

"Ah've seen my share of death before Ghost, you didn' have'ta shield me from that."

Ghost let out a slow breath but didn't reply.

"Aye, you can' ignore me when I'm this close'ta your face," Soap said.

Finally he saw the hint of a smile under Ghost's usual face scarf. "Mm, I could try."

"Ah you could, but I don' think you traveled all the way here to save me because you don' like me."

Ghost glanced down at him, his brown eyes showing just as much as their force bond revealed. "... Johnny."

Johnny reached up a hand and cupped Ghost's face. "Thank you for comin' for me."

"My head's too quiet without you in it," he replied, pausing for a moment. "... I'll always come for ya Johnny."

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but his heart was too happy to make it at the moment. "I know you would Simon."

#call of duty #ghoap #ghost x soap #cod mw #tas141 #cod x sw #star wars crossover #call of duty crossover #ghoap fanfic #ghost x soap fic #angst #hurt/comfort #apple's fics

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naomihatake · 1 year ago

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In search of freedom (Ch. 7)

7. What do you wish for?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

⠀⠀⠀⠀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: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end

Word count: 8,4 k

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

A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)

I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

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

"What is your dream?"

While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy.

When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from.

Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her.

The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up.

His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper.

Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily.

"I want to be free."

One simple wish that could have so many connotations.

"I don't see any rope around your wrists."

His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound.

Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars.

Faint, shy, but it was there.

"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."

"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?"

"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future.

Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words.

He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights.

"Are you free now, then?"

With a gulp, she shook her head.

"No."

One word. One heavy weight on her soul.

"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman.

"I have no clue."

The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes.

Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed.

However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life.

Like her father.

She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day.

A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago.

Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster.

When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like.

If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right?

"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts.

His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time.

He was simply stating a probable truth.

Then I suppose I should get rid of my—

No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her.

Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she?

"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me."

She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall.

Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body.

Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm.

No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's.

The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".

The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced.

Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it.

Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control.

Power.

The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face.

Power.

It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling.

Power will never take control of me.

Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect.

Her vision and mind has never been clearer.

The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head.

Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest.

The fishman stumbled and dropped her.

His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins.

The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention.

The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.

On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table.

People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath.

Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte.

The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control.

She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her.

That fucker—

Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with.

However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat.

In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight.

The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away.

His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive.

But not for much longer.

Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well.

The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness.

The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth.

Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—

"Arlong, wait!"

Nami.

The witch snapped her head towards her friend.

The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder.

"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map."

The map.

"I got it for you, just like I said I would."

The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward.

"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?"

Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger.

"Exactly what you knew all along."

It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong.

She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist.

"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers.

"Let go."

Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes.

"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator.

Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall.

"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow.

When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place.

No fucking way.

The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all.

Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt.

"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"

"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map."

"I don't believe that," Luffy denied.

"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."

Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—

The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him.

"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."

The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time.

Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion.

"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."

"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately.

Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body.

She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground.

Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man.

"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump.

Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt.

She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.

"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook.

The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him.

The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything.

On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room.

"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut.

Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright".

She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her.

Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong.

The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day.

Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset.

Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face.

Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt.

The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow.

Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.

Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her.

Or am I?

Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue.

Pain. That was right.

The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth.

Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core.

Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore.

However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm.

I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering?

With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet.

I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world.

A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life.

As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.

She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled.

He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing.

Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes.

Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards.

Only if it would've been reality.

"Zoro!"

Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her.

"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—

"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear.

He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice.

Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally.

"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts.

He was alive.

The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below.

While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward.

At least one thing went right, didn't it?

After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically.

"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes.

"She did," the witch responded faintly.

There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window.

Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long?

"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.

From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder.

"We'll find a way."

There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble.

But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment.

What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving.

Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong?

There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence.

However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more.

Weird, he concluded.

His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost.

"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality.

There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning.

"You acted like a captain."

"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line.

"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed.

Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day.

Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship.

"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly.

Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait.

"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."

Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow.

"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?"

"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck.

She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth.

The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands.

Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope.

"I just want to know if Nami's okay."

"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued."

The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air.

Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now.

"Her tattoo says different," he said.

The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole.

Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck.

"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him.

Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center.

"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him.

However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air.

Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment.

"Nami made her choice."

The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.

"You don't know why," Sanji retorted.

As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed:

"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."

"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips.

"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed.

Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder.

"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded.

"I know Nami's reason."

All of their heads turned to the witch.

Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch.

The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important.

"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified.

"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news.

The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain.

"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice.

None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time.

"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."

A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way.

"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."

It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant.

It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition.

"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."

"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud.

Maybe he should've kept that to himself.

"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"

The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends.

"He stole something. Her freedom."

Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void.

"Witch?" Usopp nudged her.

"Yes?" she turned towards him.

"Did she tell you all these things?"

There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question.

"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts."

The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else.

She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive.

He should've taken that nickname literally.

"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain.

Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:

"I want to hear her decision for myself."

"That's for the best," the witch nodded.

There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded.

Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later.

A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand.

Obviously, she failed.

When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed.

The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor.

When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind.

"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred.

With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one.

Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day.

By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack.

She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off.

She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore.

The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again.

Oh, god dammit.

She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh.

She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way.

It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead.

Right.

The edges of her mouth curled in a smile.

"What?"

"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed.

Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"

His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland.

"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.

The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up.

The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night.

"Zoro," the witch whispered.

She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless.

"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?"

That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud.

"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea."

"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness.

"Been told that before."

I really missed that voice.

"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."

Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through.

"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."

No crying over you for being almost dead.

The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof.

"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine.

"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."

"I say you should get some sleep."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember.

Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him.

Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body.

He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time.

Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye.

Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her.

He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing.

She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings.

She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body.

She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why?

Everything snapped.

The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids.

Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again.

Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages.

She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight.

"Hey," she heard more of a background sound.

She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber.

When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut.

This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed.

Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else.

She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again.

Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes.

"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled.

He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night.

"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out.

Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight.

"Breathe in."

Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul.

It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again.

She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion?

"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."

It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly.

"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased.

"I am. You should sleep."

"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."

"I'd argue about that."

She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became.

Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack.

Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes.

The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed.

The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why?

"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart.

"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."

Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought.

"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."

"Oh."

Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily.

She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her.

Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking.

He wanted to do something, but what?

He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs.

The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep.

He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware.

He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.

Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him.

The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing.

What am I doing? he scolded himself.

He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much.

Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place.

What the fuck am I doing?

Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him.

Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either.

First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity.

I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.

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 @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop @zoromyluv

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moonstormsx · 2 years ago

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i got a bit more written for chapter 3 of my ongoing fic, so yay to that! about 1.2k in, and i'm aiming for about 5-9k on this chapter so not too bad, all things considered. if you all are interested, this fic is essentially just me trying to be as medically accurate as possible about the aftermath of that crackstone fight. in other words, wednesday should've been waaaay more injured than what she's shown to be in the show. there will also be a bit of obvious pining, some panic attacks, some oblivious pining, etc... if that sounds like your thing, give it a look!

#wenclair #*moon writes #moon fic: maybe i'm weak #i also need to preface this by saying that i am not pursuing a medical degree #i have just done several hours of research spread out over time #i am in fact an english language and lit major #so there will still likely be some medical inaccuracies but we're trying here #if my lit degree has taught me how to do anything #it's to research and bullshit my way through it

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midnight1199 · 4 months ago

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Fated To Meet You

PAIRING: Jake Sully x Reader

WARNINGS: slight!angst, avatar!reader, fem!reader, can't think of any more rn, AU, happy!ending hopefully, not beta read

NOTES: Hello dear readers, this is my first time posting a multichapter fic on any platform so crossing my fingers that I do justice to your expectations. I'm not a native English speaker and English is my second language so please let me know where I can improve my writing skills. Moving on, please enjoy the story!

SUMMARY: The first time you saw him, you felt pity for him—Jake. Maybe that was the spark that would lead to the inferno of feelings you would hold until your last breath on Pandora.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Uprooting your current life and moving to an entirely different planet for a new beginning came as a surprisingly easy decision for you to make. Your fascination at your grandma’s storytelling of the lush green forests surrounded by trees as tall as the grim concrete skyscrapers, the sounds of life of the various creatures of the forest almost as prominent as the grinding of the metal machinery on Earth was what drew you to sign an application on a piece of paper which basically would sign your life away for the next 18 years to an organization called RDA.

Getting selected for the Avatar program as a xenobotanist was not something you expected. So you spent the next year and a half learning about the native flora and fauna life of the alien moon, Pandora. The week before your team was supposed to board the ISV Venture Star, you came to know of the death of your friend and colleague, Tom Sully. Killed for the few papers in his wallet. That is when you also learn of the RDA’s plans to send Jake, Tommy’s twin brother, in his stead to Pandora to prevent the monetary loss of losing an Avatar driver and subsequently wasting an asset.

You had only met Jake once when Tommy had brought him to the Training camp for a tour, and aside from greeting each other, there had not been any further interaction between you two. So, to say that seeing Tommy’s identical copy roll into the port almost gave you whiplash would be an understatement. Meeting eyes from a distance, you could only nod and wave at him before being hurriedly ushered by the staff toward the med bay for a final checkup before being put into cryosleep.

A dry mouth and blurry eyes were the first things that you noticed before your ears picked up on the med tech staff announcement. “You’ve been in cryo for five years nine months and twenty-two days. You will be hungry; you will be weak. If you feel nausea, please use the…” His voice fades to the background as you float to your assigned locker, you vaguely notice another hand reaching to the locker next to yours. You follow the hand to a familiar face – Jake. Jake barely looks at you before he grabs a bottle of water from his locker and floats away to his assigned seat to prepare to land. “They did not even have the courtesy to rename his locker,” you mumble. You brush a hand over the embossed ‘Sully. T.’. “See you on the other side, friend” you whisper before grabbing your items and floating off to your seat. The entry into the Pandoran atmosphere goes by in a blur. The dystopian dull grey of Hell’s Gate sticks out like a sore thumb between the beauty of the lush greens and emeralds around you.

You are rushed out of the Valkyrie shuttlecraft, breathing mask secured on your head, and the RDA militia screaming at you to hurry along. Carrying your knapsack, you make your way to the mess to watch Colonel Quaritch’s speech in silence. You can’t deny that the man has a flair for dramatics. “You're not in Kansas anymore. You're on Pandora, ladies and gentlemen. Respect that fact every second of every day.” You watch from the corner of your eye as Jake rolls in on his wheelchair, meeting your eyes for a split moment before redirecting his attention to the man’s speech. “If there is a Hell, you might want to go there for some R & R, after a tour on Pandora. Out there beyond that fence, every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubes. We have an indigenous population of humanoids called the Na'vi. They're fond of arrows dipped in a neurotoxin that'll stop your heart in one minute. And they have bones reinforced with naturally occurring carbon fiber. They are very hard to kill. As head of security, it is my job to keep you alive.” He glances around. “I will not succeed. Not with all of you. If you wish to survive, you need to cultivate a strong, mental attitude. You got to obey the rules: Pandora rules!”

You zone out as the man starts listing the rules you needed to obey. You wonder if the others standing in the room with you realize the hypocrisy of the Colonel’s speech. Reading between the man’s words was easy and the message was clear – Kill or be killed. The RDA was expecting you to follow their orders without question and you would be damned before you let a few military goons browbeat you into submission.

Post briefing, you head out towards the labs as instructed. “Jake!” A loud shout rang through the hallway. Norm Spellman, a fellow Avatar Driver, rushed past you towards a clearly taken aback Jake. Internally sighing, you quickened your pace to catch up with both of them, wincing slightly at hearing the end of Norm’s introduction, “…Wow! You look just like him. I’m-” “Norm Spellman”, you cut in, “and I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Jake. We went through Avatar Training with Tom.”

“Yeah, he mentioned your names—both, uh, both your names. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Why don’t we explore a bit? Check out our Avatars?”, smiling you nudge Norm to walk ahead. He petulantly calls you a bully but ambles on ahead. Snickering, you head behind Jake and push his wheelchair ahead. “Hey, I’m sorry about Norm. He’s a bit awkward with introductions, subtlety isn’t his strong suit”, grimacing slightly you continue, “the guy is all brains and no grace but he’s good at heart…”. Jake shrugs and glances back at you. “It’s alright, no harm done.”

Following Norm, you find yourselves in the bio-lab. “That’s your avatar right there.” You point Jake towards an incubated blue form in a large blue tube-like structure. A similar female figure in another tube grabs your attention and you head towards it. Your Avatar looks exactly like you except leaner, taller, and very very blue. She’s curled up in a fetal position, twitching occasionally, as if dreaming. You press a hand on the glass. This was what your training had led you to. A step away from your dreams. A step away from Grandma’s stories.

The meeting with Grace had gone as one would expect an open can of milk sitting in the most humid part of the house for a week to smell, that is to say, bad—Grace Augustine; xenobotanist, xenoanthropologist, and Head of the Avatar Program on Pandora. You had known of Grace through her books on the Pandoran flora, so when Dr. Patel—a scientist for the Avatar Program—introduces you to Grace, you’re sure you’re about to faint.

“Grace, I’d like you to meet Norm Spellman, Y/N, and Jake Sully.”

The woman turns around, puffing the cigarette smoke out, and walks towards you. “Norm, I hear good things about you. How’s your Na’vi?” “Awvea ultxari ohengeyä, Nawma Sa'nok lrrtok siveiyi”, the man responds. You and Jake watch as they continue conversing, with you catching bits and pieces of the conversation. Admittedly, your year and a half of training did not center around the necessity of learning the language. You’re still better off than Jake, who you see is lost and zoning out.

“Uh, Grace? This is Y/N”, Dr. Patel adds pointing at you, “and Jake”. You step forward to shake hands with the older woman, “Ma’am. It is an honor to work with you! Your books on Pandoran botany were the materials we used at the Academy.” You lean in closer and continue, “I can’t wait to explore in person!” Grace nods once and drops your hand. Your smile drops along with that clear dismissal. She turns to Jake and you see him move to offer his hand. “Ma’am-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know who you are, and I don't need you. I need your brother”, she turns to Dr. Patel, “You know, the PhD who trained for three years for this mission-”

“He’s dead.” Jake lowers his arm, “I know it’s a big inconvenience for everyone.”

Grace stays silent as she stares back at Jake. You want to step in before the conversation escalates but are too nervous to slice through the mounting tension. The silence lingers between the five of you before it is broken by a furious Grace storming off. Your shoulders slump, all tension leaking out before exhaustion hits you. The emotional rollercoaster of the day completely drained the energy out of you.

Dr. Patel sighs and turns towards Jake, “Here tomorrow, 0800. Try and use bigwords.”

He leaves you staring after him as he follows after Grace. “That went well…”, you hear Norm mutter. “Let’s just head to the dorm, guys”, you say as you move towards the said dorms, “and don’t forget to video log your experience. Don’t need the Wicked Witch of the West on our asses for that.” Jake and you share a laugh while Norm huffs and stomps his way toward the dorms. You turn to follow after him but a hand grabbing your arm stops you. “I saw you trying to step in y’know, earlier”, Jake murmurs, “Thanks for caring about Tommy, he had a good friend in you.” It’s the complete exhaustion and defeat in his voice that makes your heart pang with grief. A week—that was all RDA had given to the man before you to grieve his dead brother. His dead twin brother, someone whom he had once shared a womb with. You smile softly at Jake and take his hand in yours. “I didn’t do it for Tommy”, squeezing his hand you continue, “I did it for you, Marine. Figured somebody needed to give you a break.” A hurried staff rushing past you snaps you out of the moment and you clear your throat while pulling your hand away from Jake’s.

“Let’s head to the dorms, shall we?”, without waiting for a reply you hurry ahead. Jake following after you after a short moment of silence.

#jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #jake sully #female reader #fem!reader #avatar!reader #human!reader #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully fanfic #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar fanfiction #alternate universe

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romanarose · 1 year ago

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Addicted

Steven Grant x fem!reader

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Moon Knight Master List

Marc's part here : Jake's part here

Summary: After Marc fails to take you in, Jake makes his attempt. When that fails, it's up to Steven Grant to bring you into the Innead before Khonshu has his head.

A/N: I started this series before I started @romana-after-dark and I went back and forth on whether or not to put this fic there or here. I opted for here, despite the darkish contents, as this is where the first 2 parts were. However, I ask you HEAD THE WARNINGS! While this is not dub con or non con, there is blood and knife play. As always, I extensively tag my fics to a fault, so if you read something you dont like and I warned you, that's on you, not me. Of course, as always, If I miss something, please let me know!

A/N2: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE 9 MONTHS TO WRITE LOLOLOLOLOL

WARNINGS: PIV sex, lots of oral (f receiving), squirting, bondage, knife play, blood kink, (it's established they like wild sex and they consent), lil degrading, that's it? I think?

***************

"I'm so addicted to all the things you do when you're going down on me in between the sheets

Oh every sound you make, with every breath you take, it's unlike anything when you're loving me"

A knock on a hotel room door only ever spelt trouble for you, but when you opened the door to see your handsome nemesis, you couldn’t help but smile, warmth gathering in anticipation.

You open the door, leaning against the frame. “And you must be Steven Grant, pleased to finally meet you. Should I make a run for it before we fuck or shall we skip to the good part?” You tease him, but all he does is smile at you.

He’s got a soft look on his face, a gentle but knowing smile; almost a smirk, really. “Pleasure to meet you. And no, we wouldn’t need any of that nonsense this time, will we?”

“I don’t know, pretty boy, you tell me.”

Steven was standing with his hand stuffed in his pocket, a dusty blue button up with birds on it in a contrast to Marc and Jake’s clothes. Steven wasted no time walking in the hotel room like he owned the place, forcing you to back up until you were against the wall, his firm body pressed up against yours. “Now, shall we skip the pleasantries?”

“Strictly business, are we? Not even bothering with a spiel about taking me in, this time?”

Hands are on your body, gently sliding up and down the sides. “Oh, I will be taking you in, love.” His face was close, lips grazing over yours in shared breathes. “But first, I’m taking my time with you, and isn’t that better than a quick romp in the woods or the alley?”

He was cute, this one. You were certain Steven would fold much easier than Jake, certainly easier than Marc, the soft little man he was.

“Same rules as always?” You ask, taking a quick nip from his pouty lower lip to see what he’d do, but Steven just smiled.

“You want to stop, we’ll stop, but I’m bringing you in either way.”

“Yeah” You scoff at him, laughing a bit. That’s what the others said. “Okay, whatever, just ki-” You were cut off by Steven claiming your mouth, forcefully kissing you as his body pressed against yours.

Reaching for his pants, you go to undo his belt but Steven’s hand catches you. He pulls away from the kiss, dragging your lip out between his teeth, an eyebrow cocked in your direction. “Now darling, you know you aren’t in control, right?”

His expression made you a little weak in the knees, but you were not deterred. It was a bit of a cat and mouse between you and Jake, so maybe you just needed a little power play. You would need to distract him, after all, if you were going to make another run for it. But first, an orgasm. They were quite good at that, if you remember correctly.

Keeping your wrist gripped in large hand, Steven kissed you as he undid his pants and stepped out of them, leaving his boxers on. “If my memory serves me, we’ve never been full naked in front of each other, is that right?”

You nod, trying your best to look submissive and innocent. “Yes sir”

He smiled at that. Got ‘em.

“That’s because Marc and Jake don’t know how to treat a lady, how to take their time…” Steven's eyes grazed up and down your body as he unbuttoned your pajama top, exposing your breasts which he brushed over with his hands with a soft murmur of ‘beautiful’. “They’ve never even tasted you, little dove, and isn’t that just a shame?” When you didn’t answer, Steven gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him, tsking a few times. “I believe I asked you a question, darling. Marc and Jake never put their face between your legs, have they?”

“N-no sir” Yeah, that’s it. Fake submission… it still faking, right?

“That’s right, smart one, aren’t you? Now,” Relinquishing your face, Steven guided your hands to the hem of his shirt. “Would you like to do the honors?”

You give a small, quick nod and pull the shirt up and over his head… he was gorgeous. Their body was toned, strong, but soft at the belly, pecs looking juicing and ready to be sucked on.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, rolling your hips to feel his hard cock in his boxer briefs.

Once given permission, you put your hands on his body reverently. Slowly, you kiss him, then make your way down his jaw, sucking on his neck and down to his chest. You lick and suck and nibble a little bit before making your hair to the desired location. With Steven undressed and you only with your shirt unbuttoned, you could get Steven worked up enough, distracted enough…

“Good girl, good fucking girl” Steven groans out when you start sucking on his nipples, alternating between them. You feel him pull his dick out, throbbing in his hand as he starts to furiously masterbate. “Keep going like that, make daddy proud, little dove. F-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of you, just- god, god the mouth on you.”

As his pumping grew more and more erratic, you can see he’s hanging his head back as Steven pleased himself to the feeling on you sucking on his nipples, ready to cum just from that. It was a shame honestly, you bet he’d look so so pretty cumming like this… but you weren’t getting taken in. When you reach for the bedroom drawer, trying to find your knife while he’s distracted, all movements from Steven stop and you find yourself being flung against the wall, face pressed into the plaster.

“F-fuck, you cheeky little thing. Thought you were going to distract me with orgasm, were you?” He was panting heavily, an irritated voice and hot breath in your ear as he restrained you against him, his cocked pressed into you.

“Yes daddy” You giggle; you were foiled, but wouldn’t be deterred. How’s that song go? You get knocked down, but you get up again, aint ever gonna keep you down. Isn’t that song about alcoholism? Whatever.

“Hm, guess since I can’t trust you on your own, we’ll have to tie you up.”

Oh no. Well, that couldn’t happen, how do you escape when you’re tied up? How do you stab him, shoot him, whateer the fuck you were going to be doing and playing with his blood after like the sick bitch you are with your hands tied. You can’t.

You try to make a break for it, turning to run for the door but with his fast reflexes, Steven grabs your hand and yanks your body until you are pulled flush against him.

“No more flying away, little dove.” His mouth is on you again and you try to stay focused, try to kiss him so breathless that he lets go, try to distract him enough you can leave… but you find it’s you being swept away as he lays you down on the bed, his warm skin pressed to yours and wastes no time taking off your shirt just before your back hits the bed. With grace, he begins with his fingers at your bare sides, trailing up, up, over your side-boob, onto your arms. You move with him, wanting to encourage the gentle scratch so you raise your arms above your head, relaxing into his touch with your eyes closed. He was so soft, so sure of himself, so in control and tender you almost felt like you were in a lovers arms. With a big sign, you allow yourself to sink into the soft hotel bed, arms raised up so that they brushed the headboard.

The headboard that you now realized you were tied to.

“W-what? What the fuck?” You twist and turn trying to see what the fuck he tied you up in, and when you arch your back to look upside down, you realize you were tied with a strong gauzy material; it looked like what Marc’s suit was made out of. Oh god dammit.

“See love, isn’t this just better?” Steven ran his hands back down your naked top, pulling your shorts and underwear down as he began nestling down on the bed, preparing to lay on his stomach with his head between your legs. “Now just relax, and I’m gonna take care of you and your dripping wet little cunt.”

You tug at the bondage but it’s no use; you’re stuck.

“One more time, little dove.” Steven said as he began to massage your mound, eliciting a sharp gasp. “This what you want?”

Unable to fully response, you simply moan in agreement, until a crisp slap is delivered across your face. “Now, now, darling. Use your words.”

“Yes Daddy”

Steven’s mouth was on you in a second, fully enveloping your puffy, needy pussy that craved him so bad. You were addicted to them, you didn’t foresee this being the last time. It couldn’t be.

It seemed they were just as hungry for you.

Steven ate you out, and you mean ATE, strong arms wrapped around your shaking legs to pin them into place as he devoured the meal in front of him. If you could silence your own heavy breathing and moans enough, you could hear little whimpers escaping Steven’s mouth. Make no mistake, however, he was not submitting to you. Anytime you tried to tell him where to go or move you hips to guide him, you were reminded who was in control with sharp bites to your thighs and tummy.

“I know exactly what I’m doing love, I’m taking my time.”

And take his time he did. Steven sucked and licked and nibbled his way through you, building up the pleasure brick by brick before he ever even slid those fingers inside… and when he did… christ.

Steven knew exactly where he was going when he did, curling them up until he found the spot that made your body jolt upwards. With one arms occupied deep inside you, he was only holding you down with the other and this allowed for more movement… but when you looked down at him, the look in his eyes as he gazed through those thick eyelashes told you that you needed to keep still. You didn’t want to cross him.

When your orgasm approached, it felt different to say the least, but you assumed the build up and edging was leading to a mind-numbing orgasm. You try to tell him.

“Daddy, daddy I’m gonna- oh fuck- I’m-”

“In my mouth” He pants heavily only breaking away from you for a second. “Need it in my mouth” was all he got out before separating licking between your folds while the slick fingers previous inside you rubbed on your swollen clit.

This was more than a big orgasm, this was something different completely, something wet and filthy and sloppy and it gushed out of you and into Steven’s waiting mouth. He was LOUD, moaning as he drank you down the results of your squirting spilling out all over his mouth. When Steven’s wet face finally came out from between your legs, there was a slight smile on his face and a dark look in his eyes.

Steven was enraptured with you.

“Need to fuck you.” Was the string of words from his wet mouth, coming out so fast it was nearly all strewn in one. Steven scrambled his way up your body and thrust in between your legs so fast, all you could do was cry out for more, more more, until he silenced you with a kiss; mouth still wet from your cum. “Tight little thing” He was breathy, sweat beginning to gather at is skin and his breath hot against your neck. “No longer Marc and Jake risked it all to fuck you, but they didn’t make your squirt, did they?” Steven bit down hard where your neck and shoulder connected. “Did they, little dove?”

“N-no! Oh god, Steven, Steven, Steven- oooohhhh” You neared the edge again, the frantic, desperate way Steven was claiming you taking you to where you needed to be despite the ache and pull on your wrists above you. You tug again, hoping for them to loosen, hoping to find some sort of edge of him, a step ahead, something to get him the way you got Steven and Mark, and looked to the knife on the bed side table. You had to get it somehow.

But Steven noticed, and sat up on his knees, never stopping his movements on you. He followed your eyeline to where the knife lay, and couldn’t help but scoff. “You really think you get to use that on me, do you? Fucking brat!” His hips sped up pace, making you scream, until he got an idea. You did it to Marc, he could do it to you. Steven reaches for the knife. “Might have to teach you a lesson, little dove.”

You know exactly what he’s doing… but you can’t find it in yourself to protest. You want them to own you.

“F-f-fuck, Steven, shit, do it, please! Please Steven!” You beg for him, tears at the edge of your eyes threatening to spill over.

With a sly grin, Steven traces the edge of the knife over your skin, testing the waters, but when you don’t protest and in fact make sounds of pleasure in time to his frantic thrusts, he presses the knife deeper into you. You can feel the warm blood slowly drip down, staining the sheets that will certainly scare some hotel worker, and the euphoria of the pain sends you barrelings towards the climax. As you near your collective precipice, Steven picks up speed and drops the knife on the bed. Perfect. Once he feels you cumming on his cock, walls pulsing around him, Steven pulls out and jerks himself onto you, painting up your skin.

The picture he paints is soon smeared, Steven slumping over your spent body and taking you in for softer, passionate kisses. As he does, Steven places his hands over your wrists and as soon as the strong gauze-like material releases you from your hold, you quickly attempt to reach for the knife, fully intending on stabbing Steven like you had done to Marc and making a break for it, but Steven and those Moon Knight reflexes caught you.

“Little dove’s wings just can’t be clipped, can they?” He says to you, voice soft and dolly empathetic. He knew what was coming if you didn’t succeed in taking power back.

You smirk up at him. “A girl’s gotta try?”

He smiles back. “I supposed you do. Here.”

Steven grabs your wrists and as the bandaging reappears you think you’re about to go for round 2, but then you feel it, the suit repairing your skin. When they leave for the final time, there is no scar, only left over blood.

Steven leaned over you, both hands pinning your wrists next to your head. “Now, my darling…” He says, cocking his head to the side. “What are we going to do about you?”

*************

WE'RE DOOOOOONNNNNEEE what do you think? Is Steven gonna take her in? it's for you to decide!

I had so much fun with this series! Again, if dark and smi dark interest you consider following my side blog. I ahve a yandere jake and a darkish jake, a D A R K joel series and few others, more coming out

Gotta say, ive been finishing up a lot of series lately that have been hanging around forever and it feels GOOD to get if off my chest.

likes are sweet, reblogs help spread my work and comments mean the entire world!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @luke-o-lophus @milkymoon2483 @kittyofalltrades @luciannadraven33 @the-fox-den @gingermous @jake-g-lockley @sofi786 @lunar-ghoulie @stealfromthedevil @pimosworld @stevengrcnt @80pairsofcrocs @kingtwhiddleston @marys2sblog @ahookedheroespureheart @drinkingwithkhonshu @fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @whatthefishh @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @littlenosoul @mikaelak @runa-falls @lokisv7lkyrie

#steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight #fem reader #steven grant fem reader #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader smut #moon knight smut #dark #darkish!steven

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year ago

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✧⁠𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖✦

🌸→ headcanons

🌼→ fics

🪻→ blurbs

All 🐙🐬🦈

《captured melodies》 — you were their favorite siren, but they had to watch as you got taken away🌼

《at your service》 — how he is with an acts of service lover 🌸

《to the happiest place on earth》 — going on a date with them to Tokyo Disneyland 🌸

《slipped away》 — he took your affections for granted until you slipped away🪻

《definitely not prophetic!》— you keep having these incandescently happy dreams of him🪻

《tangled mers》 — they're just silly little mers🪻

《once upon a dream...?》 — you've been having dreams with a faceless man that treats you like you're his world🪻

《he's home》 — he's finally home after being away for so, so long🪻

《we're here together》 — dating him at school 🌸

《forgive me, love?》 — he can't really stay mad at you at all🪻

《not so secret》 — receiving a bouquet dedicated to you from a secret admirer🪻

Azul Ashengrotto🐙

❝Helping unfortunate folk like yourself—that’s what I live for.❞

《may i have your attention?》 — how does he react when you tickle him? 🌸

《attention, please?》 — he tickles you back in revenge for not paying attention 🌸

《wings of pure white but a devilish smile》 — you reveal to him that you're an angel, but you don't act like one at all 🌸

《the warmth of your arms》 — what are his sleeping habits with you? 🌸

《his unconditional acceptance》 — you're insecure about how skinny you are, but he'll love you regardless 🌸

《an exchange for a spark》 — sometimes you get more than what you asked for in an exchange🌼

《love will find a way》 — you had to raise your child without him, but it is your child, who brings you back to him 🌸

《this time》 — your cowardice cost you from confessing to him once, but maybe you can get a second chance this time🌼

《a letter never meant to be delivered》 — you find a letter left on his desk and find his feelings for you have overflowed onto it🌼

《the doodles that drew us together》 — he thought all his life he didn't have a soulmate 🌸

《rewrite the stars》 — if the stars say we're not meant to be, then why don't we just rewrite them 🌸

《i'm a mastermind》 — what if he told you none of it was accidental🪻

《clingy octopus》 — he's just a weak octopus in front of you🪻

Jade Leech🐬

❝If you’d like all your dreams to come true, then come here.❞

《amber and sea glass》 — how curious, a human child always by the shore but they don't fear him 🌼

《i'm wishing on a fallen star》 — it's your wedding day, but he's not the one next to you 🌼

《embers of loves's flames》 — his love was like a fire, but you never wavered in yours 🌼

《harveston's warmth》 — he notices you're shivering in the cold and helps you keep warm 🌸

《ensnared by the stars》 — you waltzed right into his trap, but maybe you had done so willingly 🌼

《cook your way to your man's heart!》 — the way to a man's heart is through his stomach! 🌸

《won't you focus on me?》 — he tickles you back in revenge for not paying attention 🌸

《the edge of adventure》 — anything would be thrilling if he's the one by your side🌼

《never too late》 — you had to raise your child without him, but it is your child, who brings you back to him 🌸

《a short break》 — a short break wouldn't do any harm after you've worked hard for so long🌼

《a fool's heartstrings》 — a fool in love can be so easily flustered🌼

《a letter never meant to be delivered》— you find a letter left on his desk and find his feelings for you have overflowed onto it🌼

《minds alike》 — you wanted to move forward in your relationship with him, and where else but a glowing mushroom cave?🌼

《rewrite the stars》 — if the stars say we're not meant to be, then why don't we just rewrite them 🌸

《unspoken pleas and hidden confessions》 — you can do nothing but say goodbye to him, but maybe there's someone waiting for you🌼

《moon and stars》 — the moon and stars could be yours if you simply asked🌼

《pay attention!》 — when they aren't paying attention to you, what better way to get their attention than a tickle attack? 🌸

《of scheming hearts》 — if you're born into the enemy family, you suppose the best solution would be to simply switch sides 🌼

《ode to the scheming eel》 — the world would never know how wonderful he is, but he was a treasure beyond compare🌼

《tipsy embers》 — when it feels like the two of you are the only ones left, a little liquid courage goes a long way🌼

《crafty spouse》 — you like embroidering little mushrooms in his clothes🪻

《tell me you love me》 — how could you even know if the person he fell in love with was real or not?🌼

《taisho jade》 — historical au thoughts🪻

《i'm a mastermind》 — what if he told you none of it was accidental🪻

《gathering suspicion》 — in which he convinces the entire school you're dating before he even confesses🪻

《hiking dates》 — in which you have too little stamina to keep up 🪻

《everlasting mementos》 — you've left twisted wonderland, leaving behind a simple bouquet of flowers for him as a parting gift 🌸

《is it love or just really nice flowers?》— jade likes giving you flowers, it probably doesn't mean anything special though… right?🌼

Floyd Leech 🦈

❝I’ll be gentle when I squeeze you, so come on over here.❞

《wouldn't mind》 — he hated monotony, but you always seemed to bring a spark of excitement 🌼

《he lives in you》 — you had to raise your child without him, but it is your child, who brings you back to him 🌸

《wooden charms》 — you kept avoiding him! what did he do wrong?🌼

《his cleaner shrimp》 — you had only meant to help him once, but he attached himself to you straight away🌼

《unspoken pleas and hidden confessions》 — you can do nothing but say goodbye to him, but maybe there's someone waiting for you🌼

《such lengths》 — if your fiancé is the one to kill you in an arranged marriage you can't refuse, then why not seduce said fiancé so he won't kill you?🌼

《ode to the spontaneous eel》 — though he came off as intimidating, you quickly learned how much warmth he held 🌼

《gone to madness》 — if doing the same thing over and over was madness, then you supposed you weren't far off from insanity 🌼

《grumpy eel》— he's surprisingly childish when he's mad🪻

《forgetful eel》 — he is not only forgetful, but also unpredictable 🌼

#masterlist #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland

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raayllum · 19 days ago

Note

FROM 2. 0. 2. 2.

TWENTY-TWENTY-TWO

2022

CHAT WTHHHHHHH I'M GENUINELY SHAKING-

Oh it goes back even further than that (though I'm glad you enjoyed "i care if i am guilty," Burrs and I had a lot of fun writing it!). I think the earliest I'd put "Callum realizes Rayla is his one deep truth (and connects to the Moon arcanum)" in a fic was actually my first CHET based fic from Nov 2020!

Callum’s hand settles on the strap of his satchel. He thinks he’s going to be sick. The moon is bright over their heads. Rayla’s voice rings in his ears. I’m the weak one. That’s why people die. That’s why Viren is still out there. All I do is hurt people... You are the strongest person I know. I—I’m not worth it... You can live without me. He looks up at the moon for a moment and closes his eyes. Just for a second. He can’t prove her right. His gaze is hard as it lowers back down to Claudia’s level. The sky arcanum had been fresh air after drowning, barrelling over his senses. The moon arcanum is quieter, as it clicks into place, nestled somewhere behind his heart and in between his ribs. Lujanne had said it was all about appearances—he keeps his face calm, masking the storm inside—but really, it was about the truth all along. Callum takes the cube out of his bag and holds it out to Claudia as proof, before stowing it away, his jaw clenched. Because the truth, as it turns out, isn’t true. It doesn’t matter if the truth is objective or real or not. If it’s requited or returned or deserved or not. Its definition goes beyond that; the truth is what it pertains to you. What matters most. What always will. Your south star when everything else changes. The moon’s phases may change from dark to light, but they are still always the moon. That is what it means to love. “Take me to her,” Callum says tersely. Because how could he choose anything else?

So the fact that 1) the one truth epiphany happened in s6, 2) Callum had to accept that maybe Rayla would never change and decided to love her anyway in S4, 3) connecting to the moon arcanum is seriously on the table for S7, and 4) the connection could also happen in the same season he's going to play into Aaravos' hands likely with said cube is very funny to me. Bonus points if rather than in fic where he connects and then plays into Aaravos' hands, it's the inversion I've been hoping for for a while now of Callum playing into Aaravos' hands and then breaking free/connecting

#thanks for asking #predictions achieved #a-very-sparkly-nerd #rayllum #what a throwback to both those fics #my fic #thosefiveadoraburrs #moon arcanum callum truther #i think him receiving sun in s7 could also be very very fun #but i'm very much leaning towards moon

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kitorin · 1 year ago

Text

11:56 pm - 11th of November : s.akito

contents. shinonome akito x gn!reader, 2.485k words, fluff, no warnings really, rushed, mizuena mention

happy birthday to my love <3 wish i had time for a full fic but it is what it is

It's the dead of night when Shinonome Akito's night is interrupted.

The sky's pale blue was washed away long ago, by the brooding navy of the night, the sun bid the world farewell and traded places with the moon. Both inside and outside was desolate, with the winter wind's whispers and moths pursuing the weak light of the street lights being exceptions. Not even Ena was awake, for once sleep, due to lassitude's victory.

Typically, Akito refuses to sleep so recklessly, always brushing his teeth before a certain time and avoiding screens half an hour before bed. It was too late for his liking, fatigue rubs at his eyes, urging him to close them and fall into restful slumber.

But today's sort of special.

In twenty minutes (now nineteen) he'll turn seventeen— a mere year away from eighteen. He knows it's a big number, inching closer to graduation and eventually adulthood. He doesn't exactly feel thrilled, nor fearful. There's a sliver of yearning to be a carefree primary schooler again, other than that he felt quite stoic towards the matter.

Yet he still decided on waiting 'til midnight. Just for the sake of it, no rational or particular reason.

Borderline foolish, really. He'll feel a sense of achievement when the clock strikes twelve, then retreat to the blankets of his bed right afterwards.

Two taps sever the silence of the room, abrupt but loud.

Akito immediately looks up from his book to the door, instinctively. But his mother always notifies him with the gentle call of his name (while Ena yells at him instead), and his father simply doesn't bother with knocking. Ena passed out almost instantly when she came home (an hour or two ago), and his parents maintain a healthy sleep schedule.

"Yes?" He says, pushing his chair out of the desk, the wheels quietly rolling against the carpet. When he opens the door, he's met with nobody. A quick scan of the corridor produces no results. There were no footsteps, and no one in his family was immature enough to do knock and run in the dead of night (maybe Ena, but she wouldn't be bothered to sprint away).

Fear approaches him, its cold grip tightening around his chest. Suddenly he regrets watching Youtube videos about gruesome murders and true crime documentaries on Netflix.

With a shaky inhale, Akito prepares himself. He hasn't got the faintest clue from what, but he's ready to throw a front kick if needed.

The knocking happens again, this time a lot louder. Now it's obvious that it's not against wood, and cautiously, he turns to his window.

It's you.

The whole situation makes his heart skip a beat, both because you're perched on the window sill outside, and that he's not alone in his room (well technically, you were still outside).

Concern makes him act quick (especially with the shoulder bag you were wearing whilst precariously hanging onto the window), he opens the window and you're greeted immediately with a scolding when you enter.

"What the hell? Why are you here, this is the second fucking floor— Are you crazy?"

"Happy birthday!"

The ebullience reinforcing your voice catches him off guard, silencing reprimands. You were just saved from a highly likely (and fatal) injury, yet you're smiling as if you're on top of the world.

"Don't ignore me. How are you up here?"

You shrug, unfazed by his worry. "There's a tree."

"I can see that idiot. What you didn't was the things that could've happened. What if you fell down? I could've been asleep and no one would've been able to help you and—" Akito senses himself edging towards a mental breakdown, from the simple thought of something happening to you. Terror strangles him, and his words can't be uttered smoothly.

You seemed to take notice of this panic. "But I didn't fall. I'm okay. I wouldn't've done this if I wasn't confident in my own capabilities."

Unstable, though deep, he breathes in, focusing on how the air enters and exist. There was no need to think about what could've went wrong when the right thing already occurred.

He clears his throat, embarrassed at how emotional he got earlier. "Was a text not enough? Why'd you come here?" You didn't make an attempt to break in at An's house, nor Touya's or Kohane's. Why his specifically?

"Because today's special. It's your birthday." You unzip your bag, but instruct him before taking anything out. "Close your eyes, it's your gift."

He does as he's told, and he listens to your shuffling around the room and your possessions.

Electric guitar floods the room, accompanied by piano in the background. The tune rings a bell in Akito.

An entire stadium of ego, the wintry rationality.

Akito knows this song. Uninterrupted Indigo. Both the lyrics and music were created by Shishishishi (formerly known as Chosauce), there's two original versions of the song, one where the composer himself performed while the other featured Hatsune Miku.

But these vocals weren't the composer's. Nor Miku's

They were Akito's.

Heat permeates his cheeks rapidly, his eyes open without waiting for you to ask him to. He finally grasps input on what you're doing.

His record player is open and placed on his desk. The transparency of the case permitted the moonlight through, its pale complexion revealing the vinyl record slowly rotating in the dark.

Only now he just noticed that it was sort of the record player's birthday too. Precisely a year ago his mother gifted it to him, as his love for music was nurtured the more he spent time performing. Akito had told himself that he'd buy vinyls, but it completely slipped his mind (they were expensive, too). Streaming services were much more tempting anyways, their convenience were unmatched and he could listen to music whenever, wherever.

He only indulges in his own covers to review where he can improve, never for his own enjoyment. What is there to enjoy when it's the very reason why he struggles so much一why he's so unworthy of his dream that no one seems to have faith in.

Akito's about to say something, ready to criticise his vocals.

"I love this song, but I love the way you sing even more. It's my favourite. Anything you create, as well."

Suddenly the harsh things he wanted to say were gone.

He's heard you compliment him before, but each time feels just as magic as the previous.

"Did you know I fall asleep to this? I don't know if that's weird, but it's so comforting, the vocals and lyrics."

His voice, comforting? Being labelled as your favourite was surprising enough, but for his singing it be a source of comfort and joy almost made his jaw drop in disbelief.

Akito's scepticism of your words doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"I know you don't like your singing. And that's fine. But there are plenty of things I didn't like about myself too. Yet I love them now, thanks to you."

He knows what you're referring to, how when you mentioned suffering from self esteem, so he wrote something he found admired about you on a page per day in a notebook, 'til it was full.

"I wanted to do something similar for you too. Though I don't think I'm very good at it, I want you to view yourself the same way I do. Beautiful and perfect, just fine the way you are. Even if people try to accuse you of being any less."

Akito's heart throbs, both with appreciation and desire. Yearning blossoms within him, pining thorns strangle his heart as it frantically races. Teeth dig into his lips, and red pervades his cheeks for a reason other than hearing himself sing.

"If you like it, then it's more than enough for me. It makes me happy beyond words that you enjoy my music." He notices the record's case, a photo of him from when you went camping together, when you spent the night sleeplessly; roasting marshmallows and laughing until you struggled for air.

It's always you. You're the one who does reckless shit for his sake, you climbed up a tree to the second floor just to say happy birthday. You do the things you hate with a passion if it meant the slightest more comfort for him. It's always you who notices when his throat is overworked, or when tears threaten to spill.

It's only you.

The initial grin on your face dissipates, concern growing. "Do you have a fever? You're really red." A hand comes up to his forehead, and he's quite certain it reddened him even more. "You're heating up." Even when you're frowning he can't help but stare.

"And this is why I like you." Akito breathes out. He didn't want to confess, not yet, at least. Yet the words still found their way out, he might as well ensure they're told in the right way. "I can't help but want you more and more with each second. I can't think properly when I think of you, let alone when you're around."

The timing was horrid really, but though he'd much rather look at you in proper lighting, something about the shadowed room and sliver of moonlight highlighting your face is charming. "So then, may I be yours?"

This is what he means when he says he can't think. Look at him, confessing at midnight, on the day of his birthday, too.

"Of course." With a blink of an eye Akito finds himself wrapped in the warmth of your arms. "I like you too, Akito."

The weight on his shoulders which he didn't even noticed was lifted, finally free from his fear of awkward rejection. There's no more fighting his emotions to maintain composure in front of you, no more worrying about you accepting another as yours.

Now, turning seventeen didn't seem so bland.

"Thank you for tonight." He murmurs into your ear. Something inside of him pleads him to kiss you, whether it may be. But the mere thought of planting one on your cheek seemed impossible, let alone meeting his lips with yours. "Thank you for staying safe out there."

"Sorry if I scared you. Sleep now, you must be tired. We have a big day for you planned." And there it is, the cheery grin he'd never get sick of. "There's more to your gift too."

Akito doesn't want to sleep, not when his crush of over a year reciprocates his feelings. Lethargy was nowhere to be seen, right now all he wants is you.

"Mind if I pick up my bag later today? It's a lot easier to climb without it. The rest is just water and snacks I brought just in case, feel free to have 'em." You're already half out the window.

"You can't just like me back then leave."

"What do you suggest then?"

"Stay the night." He'll deal with his father's scolding. He'll answer all his mother's questions and he'll even tolerate Ena's teasing. If it meant you'll stay, that's fine (he doesn't feel alright knowing you're travelling late too). "Your parents are away, I'll deal with mine."

"If you say so then." Akito goes to his closet, where his futon is stored. You pull him away, almost making him fall over.

"We're sharing a bed, please? We did it at An's, why not now?"

But that was as friends, and he barely confessed a few minutes ago. "I'm fine with that." Adores and entertains the idea of it, though he doesn't know what to do. What if he's too cold? Kicks in his sleep? Snores?

You already indulge in his blankets, lifting them up to let him in, he accepts the invitation, and ends up regretting because his face is hot enough already.

You find your arms snaking around his waist. "Is this okay?"

The unfamiliarity of the contact flusters him, but he doesn't hate it. "Yeah, really good." His voice is a breathless whisper, a bit shaky from being so nervous.

"Can I do more?"

He nods.

Your chin is nestled on his shoulder, the sensation of your hair against his neck slightly ticklish. He can smell your breath, the saccharine scent of haichus and the other sweets you adore.

"Good night."

You mumble it back, and for the first time in a while, Akito feels at genuine peace.

"What are you studying in school?"

You list off your subjects with confidence, subtly hinting at success and awards in them, all while wearing a sweet smile.

"Mum, there's no need to interrogate them." Akito finally swallowed the large bite of pancake he was on, the rest of the dish shining in the dining room's light, soaked in maple syrup.

Mrs Shinonome didn't seem to care. "I need to know the kind of people you're hanging out with, you never bring anyone home. I've been worried that you didn't have any friends." Socially, he was doing fine, Weekend Garage was a much more appealing place to hang out, with the live bar and cafe. "They seem like a great influence. Studying difficult subjects and still doing well, they're well educated. I hope you start rubbing off of them."

"Akito, it's fine, really. She's fun to talk to." It was entertaining to watch her talk about Akito as a child, while Ena poked fun at them. She was sweet, complimenting your skin and marveling at your jewelry, while thanking you for being Akito's friend for so long.

He murmurs in response. "That's only because you saw baby photos of me." There was that too.

"To be honest my impression of you wasn't very nice. It scared me to see someone else in Aki's room." A sip of her tea, Akito's mother rests her chin on her palm. "How did you get inside? You didn't find the spare key or anything, did you?"

"Actually, I cl一"

"I let them in. I asked them sort of last minute. Y'know, waiting until midnight together." Ena watches Akito keenly, eating her pancakes as her gaze remains on him as he speaks.

"Awww, that's so cute." Ena comments with a grin. "So, how long have you been dating?"

Akito scoffs. "We're not dating dumbass."

"Then I guess y/n's holding your hand under the table because it's cold?"

"Ena, shut the fuck up, you haven't told Mum about being in love with Akiyama either."

The sudden change in atmosphere makes you purse your lips, the sight of what seems to be a war exclusively between siblings.

"Language!" Their mother scolds them, but too preoccupied to do it as she flips part of the table cloth up to see better. "You really are holding hands- And Ena who is Akiyama?"

You weren't the only one being interrogated that morning, the siblings exchanged heated words throughout their mother's quest to learn more. But amidst this chaos was you, chuckling in your seat at the ordeal.

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi, @chigirizzz

#lowkey kinda ass AND unproofread but who gaf #i fell asleep while working on it (MY BAD)#shinonome akito x reader #akito shinonome #project sekai x reader #project sekai #akito #shinonome akito #pjsk #prosekai #project sekai colorful stage #colorful stage #vbs #vbs akito #prsk #prsk x reader

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my-moony-and-padfoot · 4 months ago

Text

To be with you

Word count: 2 500

Just a good old sick fic <3, hopefully you like it

“Moons?” Remus jumped slightly as he heard the voice. He wasn't expecting Sirius to be back yet, but hummed anyway, smiling at him though it faded as he took in the glassy eyes, slightly reddened nose and even paler skin than usually.

“What's up, love?” He asked, closing his book and setting it down onto the side table, Sirius sniffled, reaching for Remus' hand who gladly gave it to him, all the more worried at the lack of response from Sirius. “C'mere.” Remus whispered, pulling him to sit on his lap, the boy complied, curling up to Remus the best he could in the small space of the armchair. “What's wrong, baby?” He whispered into his hair, wrapping a protective arm around him, holding him close.

“Don' feel well.” He whispered quietly as he shivered.

“Aww, that's no good.” He held his hand up to his forehead for a moment, feeling how warm he already was. “You feel quite warm. What's bothering you?”

“My head hurts, throats all scratchy. I'm cold.” He mumbled, pressing himself closer to Remus, head tucked underneath his chin, as if seeking warmth off of his boyfriend. “Dizzy.”

Remus nodded, kissing his head. “Did James tell you not to go to practice?”

“Said I'd fall off my broom.” He yawned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Won't. I never do.”

“First time for everything, hmm? But, I'm siding with him on this one, you look like you'll pass out any minute.” Sirius shook his head.

“You're my boyfriend, you're supposed to be on my side.” He mumbled, and Remus laughed quietly, running his hand through Sirius' hair.

“Whatever you say.”

“M’right.”

“Of course you are. You're always.” He grinned, getting an annoyed, weak smack on his chest from Sirius. “I have some tea, wanna sip? Might help the sore throat.”

Sirius nodded, coughing slightly, as he sat up, Remus handed him the cup, and he held on with both hands, trying to be careful. “Thank you.” He whispered, taking a sip, the warmth soothing the growing pain nicely. Remus just smiled, kissing his temple and holding him by his waist.

“Should we go upstairs, have a little nap?”

“No.”

“No? Why not, baby? You're tired, and sleep always helps when you're poorly.” Sirius nodded, handing the mug back to Remus. “You can have it.” He said, knowing the boy had taken his offer of a sip a little too literally. Sirius smiled, taking another sip of the tea. “Why don't you wanna sleep?”

“Wanna be with you.”

“Who said I wouldn't be with you?” Sirius shrugged, not looking at Remus. “We can cuddle up better in bed, love. Get you a blanket to get you all warm, sound good?”

“You're warm rem.”

“Mm, maybe, but a blanket would be warmer.”

“We have to go to dinner soon.” He argued tiredly, glancing at Remus, who nodded, rubbing at his side.

“Are you incapable of walking back down from our dorm in a few hours?” Sirius nodded, reaching to set down the much emptier mug on the table, looking at Remus. “Why're you arguing with me on this, love?”

Sirius shrugged. “Wanna stay here.” He mumbled, leaning back against him, sniffling and wiping his nose into his sleeve.

“Okay.” He said, rubbing Sirius' side and kissing his head. “Lets move to the sofa at least, so you can-”

“No.”

He didn't even bother to ask why not because Sirius didn't often make sense when he was feeling sick. He often got emotional, and he'd argue against things that weren't exactly reasonable like moving to a much comfortable place.

“Okay baby.” He whispered. “Whatever you want. Can I at least grab you a blanket? You're shivering.” Sirius nodded, and Remus reached for the Gryffindor coloured blanket that was laying on the sofa next to them, draping it over Sirius and tucking it around him the best he could.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, curling up to Remus even more, head tucked into his neck. He wiped his nose into his sleeve before he pulled the blanket even better on him covering most of his face.

“Try to sleep, love. I'll wake you up in a bit, okay?” Sirius nodded, listening to Remus' calm breathing and the soft rustling of pages as he continued to read, it was comforting in a way.

It was difficult to fall asleep with the growing headache, the annoying pressure in his sinuses, and when he was so cold. But eventually, he managed to fall asleep, only to be woken up into a coughing fit an hour later. He sat up, coughing into his arm as Remus rubbed his back gently. When he stopped coughing Remus handed him the tea that was still warm, probably because of a spell, but Sirius wasn't sure.

“Better?” He nodded, sniffling as he handed the cup back to Remus before he leaned back against him. “I think you'd be better off in bed, love. Prop yourself up and get all comfortable, yeah?”

“Okay.” He whispered, rubbing his nose into his sleeve, to try to get rid of an itch. “But um- with you?”

“I'm going to go down to the kitchens first, then I'll be with you.” Sirius nodded. “Is there something you'd like to eat?” he shook his head this time. “You gotta eat something, baby.”

“No.”

“You do. Your idiot ass skips breakfast every morning, and you didn't eat well at lunch either, can I please get you something?”

Sirius nodded. “But cuddles?”

“Sirius, it'll take me less than half an hour, you'll survive.” He shook his head, sniffling. “What's the matter? Why don't you want to be alone even for a moment?”

“Don' feel well.”

“I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry about that, but it's not like you're gonna die if I'm away for a moment.” Sirius nodded, though reached up to wipe his eyes. “What's upsetting you, baby?”

“M’not sure.” He said, shaking his head. “My head's all- I can't think.”

“Okay. Hey Sirius, look at me?” Sirius lifted his head, looking at Remus, who brought his hand up to his forehead, then cupped his cheek. “You feel really warm, love.”

“My brain is melting.”

“Like you have one.” Remus smiled, leaning to kiss his forehead. “Let’s get you into bed, okay? I'm gonna go down to see Poppy, get something for that fever and-”

“Alone?”

“For a moment, pads.” He said. “It won't take me long, nothing bad will happen in half an hour, plus James and Pete are going to come up soon, practice is over. I can ask them to spend time with you if you really don't want to be alone.”

“I don't wanna get them sick.”

“We share a dorm, they're probably gonna get it anyway.” Sirius looked horrified at that, eyes widening as he looked at Remus.

“I'm gonna get you sick.” He whispered, his voice wavering with unshed tears. “Rem- why didn't-” He tried to get up in his panic, but Remus just pulled him back to sit back down.

“It's okay.” He soothed, slowly running his hand up and down his back to calm him down. “I don't mind. It's not like I'd leave you to tend to yourself when you're so sick just to avoid getting sick myself. And we share the same dorm, we sleep in the same bed, Sirius—I'd get it anyway.”

“Don't want to get you sick.”

“Always hits you and your poor immune system the worst, doesn't it? It's gonna be fine, even if I do get sick.” He said. “Not the end of the world, baby.”

“O-okay.”

“Besides, if we both get sick, we can force Jamie to take care of us.” Sirius gave him a small smile, feeling slightly better though he'd still rather keep his germs to himself. “Let's go to bed, yeah?” Sirius hummed, slowly getting up, almost doubling over as he sneezed into his arm. “Bless you, love. Here.” He smiled, handing him a tissue.

“Thank you.” He whispered, tucking the used tissue into his pocket, glancing at Remus as he got up, grabbing his things before taking his hand and leading him up to their dorm.

“You get comfy in bed, and I'm going to go see Poppy okay baby?” Sirius nodded slightly, looking up at him as he sat down onto the bed. “Gonna get you something to eat too.”

Sirius nodded again. “Promise to be back soon?”

“I'll be as quick as I can.” He smiled, kissing his forehead, knowing he was still nervous. “Don't worry so much, nothing's going to happen when you're alone.”

“You can't know that.”

“Just trust me baby, it's only the fever talking, yeah?” Remus said, brushing his hair back, as he nodded. “I can wait until James and Pete come back if you'd like.”

“ ‘s fine.” He sniffled, wiping his nose into his sleeve before looking back at Remus who looked really worried. “Be back soon.”

“I will.” He smiled, kissing his head before he left their dorm. Sirius quickly changed out of his clothes into something more comfortable and warm, then he crawled under the covers, trying to get himself warmed up. He couldn't find himself to fall asleep though, he was tired and really wanted to, but he couldn't, not without Remus being there. Besides, if he'd go to sleep now, he would be woken up soon anyway when Remus would come back so it was quite pointless.

He smiled slightly when the door opened, though it quickly faltered when it was only James, not that he was unhappy to see his best friend; just wasn't who he was waiting for right now. “Hi pads.” He said, smiling sadly before he walked over to his bed, stuffing his quidditch gear underneath. “Saw moony downstairs, he said you're not feeling well. See, I was right for once.”

“Shut up.” he whispered, turning to look at James, who grinned, looking at him from where his head peeked behind his bed. “Where was he?”

“About to go see Poppy I think, or maybe he was coming from there — didn't really catch it” He said, ducking back underneath his bed searching for something. “Me and Pete were going to play chess, have you seen my board? I thought I left it here.”

“On your nightstand.”

“Oh- ouch. Thanks, mate.” He said, rubbing the top of his head as he sat up. “I can stay with you if you don't wanna be alone. Or me and Peter could come up here, keep you company.”

“It's fine Jamie.” He whispered, stifling a cough into the blanket, before looking back up at James.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, gonna sleep anyway. It's fine.” He whispered, giving James a small smile, who nodded, grabbing his chessboard and turning to go back to the common room. He closed his eyes as the brightness from the lights James had turned on made his headache grow even more painful.

After a while, he heard the door opening, and he turned around in bed, looking up at Remus as he walked over to the bed. “Hi, baby.” He smiled, setting a plate and a cup onto the nightstand before sitting down on the bed. “I take it you're not feeling better?” Sirius shook his head, coughing into his arm. “Poppy gave me some medicine to give to you, got you some plain toast and more tea.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, slowly sitting up and grabbing the plate Remus had set down. “Moony? Could you um- braid my hair? It gets in the way an-”

“If you'd like.” He smiled. “I'll be right back, eat up.” Sirius nodded, watching as Remus got up and went to the bathroom, coming back a moment later with a glass of water, and a few hair ties. Sirius moved to sit near the edge of the bed, so Remus could braid his hair. He ate the rest of his toast while Remus' braided his hair, leaning against him when he felt him tie one of them off. “What baby?”

“Nothing.” Remus smiled, brushing his hair behind his ear from the side he had yet to braid. “Jus’ wanna be with you.”

“That's very sweet, love. But I do have to braid the other half of the hair before cuddling with you. Unless you want half of it to be tangled and all up in your face.” Sirius nodded, but didn't move, just kept staring up at him, sniffling after a moment and wiping his nose into his sleeve. Remus leaned to kiss his head, nudging him gently to get him to sit back up. “C’mon sit up, darling.”

Sirius did so, grabbing the teacup from the bedside table before Remus could start to braid his hair. He smiled when he felt Remus kiss the top of his head when the braids were done. He got back under the covers as Remus changed into more comfortable clothes before coming to sit down next to him, and Sirius could cuddle up to him.

“Medicine.” Sirius shook his head, hiding his face into Remus' stomach. “Yes. Poppy said you gotta take it. It'll make you feel better.”

“Won't.”

“Yes it will,” He said, running his hand over the braids he had just made. “Please love?” Sirius shook his head, mumbling something Remus couldn't really make out. “I won't give you cuddles if you don't take your medicine.”

“That's not fair.” He mumbled, but sat up, glaring at Remus as he handed him the small vial, but took a sip of it anyway. It tasted awful, so he was glad when Remus handed him a glass of water to wash off the taste. “You can't bully me when I'm ill.”

“I can always bully you.” He smiled, pulling Sirius into a hug and kissing his head. “How else would I get you to do things, hmm?”

“Ask nicely, dumbass.”

“Asking nicely doesn't work with you, darling now does it?” Sirius huffed, but leaned closer to him, curling up to Remus. “Aww, c'mon y'know I'm right.”

“You're not.”

“Sure,” He said, rubbing his back. “But look at you, I told you no cuddles, and you immediately take your medicine.”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, coughing into his arm and closing his eyes. “ ‘m all fevered it's not fair.”

“Okay. I'll try to be nice to you.” He smiled, kissing his head as Sirius gave him a weak smack on the chest, he just laughed, holding him a bit closer. Remus slowly moved them so they could lay down, Sirius just curled up more to him, letting out a content hum when the blanket was pulled better over him. “You all comfy, baby?”

“Mm,” He mumbled sleepily, sniffling and rubbing his nose into Remus' shirt to get rid of an itch. “I love you, moons.”

“I love you more, angel.” He whispered, rubbing his side gently from under his jumper. “Try to sleep, yeah? You'll feel better after a bit of sleep.” Sirius nodded, hiding his face more, letting the quiet humming and a hand running over the braids lull him to sleep. “Sleep well.” Remus said, kissing his head before continuing to hum, knowing how noise helped Sirius sleep.

A/N:

Hellooo,

Hopefully you liked this, I did.

For once I have managed to write something without angst, quite weird isn't it? Maybe I'm finally evolving as a writer, or as a personal idk

Have a nice day/night/something, remember to take care of yourself<3

See you around, maybe.

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