#next battle is going to be nearly impossible

[dontron-9000]

YYIIPPPPEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

The ourple boy did it!!!!!

@autismswagsummit

Quarterfinals

[imaginedisish]

Inside Out (Logan Howlett x f!reader)

A/N: Oh my god I'm back again. This is another soft!Logan fic. I couldn't hold myself back from writing this one. The next fic I have planned is going to be devious and diabolical, I promise, but for now, here's another angsty, soft and smutty Logan one shot. Couldn't stop listening to "Inside Out" by Duster while writing this one. I think it fits. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Summary: After a tense battle, you and Logan have it out (in more ways than one).

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ Minors DNI! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, PIV (unprotected...wrap it up, this is fiction!), Allusions to PTSD/mental health, Frenemies to Lovers, Fem!reader, AFAB!reader, Mutant!reader, Telepathic!reader (with heightened senses/visions), cannon typical violence/allusions to death, non-sexual intimacy becomes sexual intimacy (not sure if that warrants a warning), angry!Logan, reader has hair (length/texture/color not described!) major angst, probably grammatical errors, I think that's everything.

Word Count: 4477 wow

You and Logan are surrounded. You can hear the other members of the team nearby in the forest, screaming, grunting, fighting. Guns going off, ricocheting against trees. And now, there is a circle of government-sanctioned mutant hunters pointing their machine guns and rifles directly at the two of you. 

Your heart beats out of your chest. How the fuck are you going to get out of this? It seems impossible. Sure, you and Logan can regenerate, but not nearly fast enough. You’re outnumbered 2 to at least 40, and more to come. Maybe this is the end. Maybe there’s no going home this time. 

But then, an idea crosses your mind. Briefly. A flash. A shot in the dark. But it’s there. And if you’re strong enough, it might just work.

You wince as another presence weaves itself through the fabric of your thoughts. No, Charles shouts in your mind. It’s too dangerous. 

You shake him off, forcing up your mental shields. Logan recognizes that look on your face. He can tell you’re up to something. He has always been able to read you like a book. 

“Don’t you dare put yourself in danger,” he mutters under his breath so only you can hear him. “We are all walking out of here, and you’re no exception.”

You close your eyes. “When I tell you to get down, you get down.”

“Absolutely not!” His nostrils flare. The government agents cock their guns. 

“Lo, get down.”

“Fuck no!”

You can feel it coming—feel their fingers bracing their triggers. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Everything is silent for a moment. You can hear everything. Nothing. There’s a squirrel running up a tree just a few feet away. A cold breeze sweeps through your legs. Peace. 

It never lasts long, does it?

“NOW!”

BANG! The shots ring out, echoing against the branches, the sound shaking the trees. 

With half your focus, you shove Logan to the ground, and with the other, you stop each and every bullet pointed in your direction. You stop the agents too, freezing them in their places. Dense, heavy sweat builds upon your brow. You’re trembling, your hands stretched out towards Logan and the agents, but you’re still in control. You can hold on a bit longer.  

You swallow harshly, forcing the bullets to rain down to the ground. With the twist of your hand, you remove the magazines from each of the guns and unload them, the ammunition falling to the ground, too. With the agents still under your control, you bend their wrists just enough so that they sprain; just enough so that they can’t fight back. 

And then comes that sudden, familiar shift in your body and in your mind. You’re weakening, losing control, struggling to breathe. You growl in agony, your head ready burst from the pressure of hanging on too long—but you have to finish this. You have to save your friends. 

You have to save Logan. 

With one final push of your hand, you send the government agents flying deep into the forest, screaming in pain at the sheer force it takes. You fall to your knees, down on the ground next to Logan. You try to catch your breath, your chest heaving rapidly. You cough, choking on your own breath and saliva as the taste of metal burns at the back of your throat. You swallow it all down. One more second of that, or a few more agents to fend off, and you might not have made it. You might have died trying. 

You regain some of your energy after a few moments on the ground. It’s not until you try to stand that you notice Logan’s hand on your back. He tries to help you up, but you shake him off. 

“I’m fine,” you protest, dusting off your uniform. 

“Fine?” Fuck. He’s angry. “You call that fine? You almost died!”

You turn to face him. He wants anger? Oh, you can show him what anger fucking looks like. “We would be dead if I didn’t do that! I did what I had to do!”

He prowls toward you. His claws are still out. “Are you fucking crazy?” He’s backing you into a tree now. “Tell me, what the fuck was that? What did you think you were doing?” He retracts his claws as he pins his hands into the tree, right next to your head. The bark scratches into the rips in your uniform. 

You condescendingly poke his chest with your pointer figure. If he’s going to treat you like a child, you’re going to do the same to him. “Saving your ass, that’s what!” You shout back. 

“This is not the time or place for you two to have it out.” Scott’s grating voice fills your ears. He is the last person’s opinion you’d like to hear right now.

You and Logan snap your heads to face him. “Shut the fuck up, Scott!” You spit in unison. He throws his hands up and backs away. 

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Logan practically growls. 

You shake your head, your nostrils flaring. “I was protecting you!” You shout. “And I did! It worked!”

The rest of the team starts to board the jet, but Logan shows no sign of budging. Storm crosses her arms as she stands in front of the ramp. “Logan, let’s go.” 

He doesn’t move an inch, still caging you in. “I’ve got the bike. I’ll take her with me.”

“My bike!” Scott calls from just inside the ship. Logan shoots him a death stare. Even you roll your eyes at the comment. 

“Logan,” Charles chides from next to Storm, his voice a warning. 

You tilt your head past Logan to see Charles. “It’s fine. I’ll go with him. We’ll meet you guys at the mansion.” 

Charles nods. You swear you can see a faint smirk spread across his face, but he’s turning around and wheeling himself up the ramp before you can truly make out his expression. 

The ramp shuts behind him, and the jet powers up to leave. “So how are we settling this, hm?” You ask, cockily. Logan works his jaw, staring down at you with a fury you’re not quite sure you’ve seen before. “What would you like to do, bub?” You smirk. “What, you gonna tell me we’re supposed to be a team or something? Thought that wasn’t your style.” You know you’re being harsh, using his own words against him, ripping into him, but you don’t care. The jet takes off, but neither you nor Logan pay it any mind. 

His tongue swipes his bottom lip, and you can’t help but watch. You try to ignore how much you like the sight of it. Of him. 

“Never,” he seethes, not wavering an inch. “Never do anything like that again.”

“Why?” Is all you ask, knowing full well you’re poking the bear. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done.”

He ignores you and presses on. “I swear to God, if anything ever happens to you, I will punch a fucking hole in the goddamn universe so big that…” He trails off, his eyes searching your face. There’s a shift in his expression. “So fucking big that…” But he still doesn’t finish the sentence. His eyes are glossed over, like he’s holding back tears. 

You’re suddenly embarrassed. You can’t keep his stare, his eyes locked on you. You look down at the leaf-covered ground, and you realize just how dirty you are. Blood on your hands, under your nails, caked into your skin. You’re finally understanding the gravity of the moment—of what could have been if your plan didn’t work. 

“It was the only way,” you pause, feeling tears sting behind your sinuses, burning as they reach your eyes. “Only way I saw it ending without you d-dying.” You have to choke the words out. “C-couldn’t lose you,” you mutter, hoping he can’t hear you. 

“And what?” He says, not backing down. “You think you’re the only one with something to lose?”

“N-no,” you stutter softly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just—”

“I’d rather die than live in a world without you.” He says finally. He pushes himself off the tree and away from you. He turns, walking towards wherever he parked the bike. 

You look at his back in disbelief. “W-what?” “You fucking heard me,” he shouts, not bothering to stop and wait for you or to elaborate further. You push your back off the tree and follow him through the forest. 

“Slow down!” You call out, still not quite fully recovered from using your powers. But he keeps pressing forward. “Logan!” You call again. “Please, I—” You stumble a bit, almost falling over, but you catch yourself just in time. You reach out to a tree for support, gripping a low branch tightly in your hand. You suck in deep, shaky breaths as you let your eyes fall closed. 

Logan shouts your name in the near distance, his voice filled with panic. His footsteps crunch the leaves of the forest floor. You can tell he’s sprinting with every twig that cracks beneath his boots. “Fuck, are you okay?” He’s next to you now, his arms enveloping you, reaching around your waist to offer you support. 

You can feel your tears bubbling to the surface, threatening to burst. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, opening your eyes to look up at him. “I just didn’t see any other way.”

“I know.” His voice is gentler now, calmer. He helps you straighten up, taking a tentative step and watching as you take one too. He walks slowly, making sure not to rush you, keeping an eye on your every move. “I’m sorry too,” he says. “What you do…you just scare me sometimes.”

You hope he doesn’t see the tear that slips out the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “I scare myself. I still can’t control my powers. I know I’m a monster.” You can see the bike in the distance, so you take another step, but Logan stops. “I just feel so inside out sometimes, like I can’t be comfortable in my own head never mind my own skin.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice is steady now, firm. His grip around your waist tightens, keeping you in place. “You’re not a monster. You’re beautiful—” He cuts himself off. “What you can do, is beautiful.”

“Then what is it that scares you?” You need to know. 

“You’re just so selfless. What you did back there…” He pauses. “You knew you could die. I saw it in the way you were standing. The way you looked at me. It was reckless.”

He searches your face, your eyes, your lips for an answer. “You’re no better,” you huff out. Logan smirks, guiding you towards the bike yet again. “It’s just what you do when you care about someone.”

“I know.” His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I know,” he repeats. 

He helps you onto the back of the bike, holding your hips as you straddle the seat. His hands linger longer than they should. He squeezes softly before letting go and walking to the front. He straddles the bike himself, grabbing the key from his jacket pocket and turning it into the ignition. The bike springs to life. 

“Hang on, alright?” He calls out over the roar of the engine. You nod against his back, slipping your arms under his jacket and around his waist. He kicks the stand up, and the bike rumbles underneath you as he presses on the gas. You tighten your hold on him as the bike jolts forward. 

You rest your head on his back, letting yourself fold over him completely. He’s warm and solid underneath you. You shut your eyes, too tired to watch the tires speed across the black pavement. Aside from the engine, the tires against the street below, and the wind, there’s no sound. No one around. It’s just you and Logan. Alone. 

You feel him breathe in deeply. “Don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t make it.”  You can feel the words reverberate in his back. “I mean it.”

“But I did,” you say, lifting your head so that you can speak against his ear. “I’m right here.” He hums in affirmation, and you rest your head on his back again. You hesitantly reach your hands under his shirt this time, arms wrapping around him as tight as possible. You know this is pushing the boundaries of your “friendship,” but he doesn’t stop you—doesn’t push you away. He just hums again. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, and shut your eyes. 

“Good.”

The ride back to the mansion isn’t terribly long, and you wish it could’ve been longer. Logan drives the bike into the garage, taking the keys out of the ignition and kicking out the stand. You lift your head, and before you can even think of getting up on your own, Logan is wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you off the seat. 

You let him hold you there for a moment. You try to tell yourself that this is just a hug between friends, that this whole situation is what happens when you care about someone too much. But it’s hard to lie to yourself when you feel so impossibly strongly about someone. 

He drops his arms from your body and silently takes your hand in his. He guides you to the door that leads to the mansion, keeping you close. 

It’s dark once you step inside. Everyone must have gone to bed. It likely took you and Logan five times as long as the jet to get back to the mansion. Quiet fills the halls. There’s not a stir, not a creak, not a step. You can sense that everyone is asleep, or at least in their rooms. 

“Lo?” You whisper. He squeezes your hand. A surge of confidence racks through you. “Can you stay with me?” You’re not quite sure what you mean by that—what you expect him to do if he stays. All you’re certain of is that you don’t want him to leave. 

He nods, leading you up the stairs. “Won’t go anywhere, sweetheart.” He guides you down the hall towards his room. “Let’s get cleaned up, okay?” 

He opens the door and guides you in, shutting it carefully behind him. He lets go of your hand, the sudden emptiness making your palm feel cold. How do people become so important, so quickly? How can someone letting go of your hand hurt so bad when they’re still just a few feet away? You’re not sure, but you know this feeling is dangerous. 

He’s rummaging through his drawers for a few seconds before he pulls out a t-shirt and places it on the dresser in front of him. He grabs another set of clothes, closes the drawer, and carries them over to you. He extends the shirt out to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. That’s what he is right now: soft. You’re not used to this side of him. 

You take the shirt from him, smiling back. “You should shower. You can use mine.” His head tilts towards the bathroom on the other side of his room. You nod and pad over, opening the door, turning on the lights, and closing the door behind you. 

You keep moving, undressing and turning the water on. It doesn’t take long for the water to heat up, the steam fogging every inch and surface of the room. You step inside the shower, letting the water run down your body. Your eyes fall closed while your mind searches for some kind of peace. You try to recall what Charles often told you: Calm your mind. But it isn’t working this time. Your mind is racing. 

You envision Logan’s angry, fearful face; his concern and panic. Charles’s call that it would be too dangerous echoes and reverberates. You see yourself dead on the ground, Logan holding your lifeless body in his arms. Even worse, you find yourself imagining that it didn’t work at all—that you couldn’t save the team, never mind yourself. This time it’s Logan’s body you see, on the ground, dead. Just like that, your whole world can slip out of your hands and turn to nothing. 

Choked sobs escape your throat as you let yourself fall to your knees. There’s a piercing, splitting pain somewhere deep inside your head. These visions, these feelings, this pain—it’s physical and mental. And it’s too much. It’s not the first time you’ve had visions like these after a fight or a mission, but it is the worst episode yet. 

There’s a knock on the door, followed by Logan calling your name. You try to answer, but your voice is caught in your throat. Logan knocks harder, but you still can’t speak. “I’m coming in!” The door swings open and his eyes widen as he sees your crumpled form on the shower floor, face stained red with tears. 

He shoves the shower door open, practically cracking the glass in the process. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how naked you are, but it’s clear Logan isn’t. His gaze is trained on your face. “I-it happens, sometimes,” you stutter, reassuring him that this is normal. “A-after missions.”

Logan’s shoulders relax, his eyes softening with understanding. “I know what you mean.” His hands come up to your arms, rubbing gently. “Let me help you.” He gestures with his head toward the shower. You nod and watch as Logan takes his shirt off. He stands to take off his jeans, and you look away, taking the moment to force yourself to stand. You hear him step into the shower and slide the door shut behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, swallowing harshly. 

Logan stands behind you, less than a foot away. The shower is just big enough for the two of you. “Nothing to be sorry for. Just let me take care of you.” 

“Okay,” you whisper. You hear him shuffle a bit, squeeze a bottle, and shuffle a bit more. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks. 

“Y-yeah,” you answer. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating. But before you can think about it too much, his hands come up to your wet hair. He massages shampoo into your scalp, his fingertips scrubbing ever so gently. You feel your shoulders settle—your body relax. No one has ever done anything like this for you before. 

You watch as the dirt trickles down your body to the drain. After a few moments of massaging, Logan nudges you forward a bit, and you take the hint to step under the water fully. You close your eyes as he scrubs the shampoo from your hair. 

When he’s done, he removes his hands from your hair and slides them down to your neck, and then to your shoulders. You step away from the water, almost bumping into his chest in the process. 

“’M’sorry,” you mumble. 

“No more apologizing, darlin’.” His hands come off your shoulders. You feel lost without the contact. You listen as the bottle pops open again, and Logan quickly scrubs the shampoo into his own hair. You instinctively step forward to let him rinse, and he does.

You take a deep breath, trying to concentrate and calm down now that his hands aren’t on you. But it doesn’t last long. He opens another bottle, pouring more liquid into his hands. 

He rests his hands on your shoulders again. You can feel the body wash run down your arms. “Can I…” Logan trails off, his hands firm, unmoving until you give the word. 

“Mhm,” you hum. His hands start to work the soap into your arms, up to your neck, your collarbone, stopping just above your chest. “Logan,” you murmur, letting yourself lean into him. You feel his heart beating against your back. His breath fans over your shoulder.

You can tell he’s losing his composure, the way he slouches around you, inviting you in. This isn’t something friends do. You two aren’t friends. This is something more. 

And he knows. 

“There’s no coming back from this,” he whispers, his lips at your temple. “If we do this.”

You push back further into him. “Who says I’d want to go back?”

Your back is suddenly met with the cold shower wall, your chest flush with Logan’s. His lips press into yours, swallowing your moans as his hands come up to your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly. He moves down your body quickly, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline, your neck, the center of your chest, your stomach, stopping just above your clit. 

“Relax,” he soothes, his thumbs brushing your hips. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands before pressing a kiss to your clit. You shudder at the feeling, whispering his name and throwing your head back. 

He licks a long stripe up your cunt, landing on your clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking roughly. He laps at you hungrily, like a man starved. One of his hands resting on your hip comes down in between your thighs, experimentally sliding through your folds, teasing your entrance. 

It feels so good, but you want him—need him—closer. He inserts two fingers, gently pumping in and out, flicking your clit with his tongue at the same time. 

“Logan,” you whine. You look down at him, his head buried in your cunt. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with lust. You’re already close. But it’s not enough “Need you, now. Want you here.”

“I’m here,” he mumbles against your core. You’re shaking, melting underneath him. 

“N-need you,” you beg again. “Please.” 

He sucks on your clit one last time before removing his fingers from your cunt and standing up to meet you.

His hands rest on either side of your head. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. “Are you sure you want this?” His voice wavers just a bit, a slight tremble shaking the usual steadiness of his words. He looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes—his jaw working, as if he’s searching for a sign that you’ve changed your mind—that you don’t want him anymore. 

But you’ll always want him. You always have. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter. He wraps one hand around the back of your neck and uses the other to hoist one of your legs around his waist. His hard cock rubs against your stomach as he moves to line up with your entrance. 

“Wanted you this whole time, pretty girl.” He thrusts into you, sinking down to the hilt. He stays there for a moment, pulling you into him, his free hand grabbing your ass and picking you up so that both legs wrap around his waist. 

He uses the wall as leverage, fucking you into the tiles at your back. Once he’s sure you’re stable against him, his hand leaves your ass and comes in between your bodies, searching for your clit. He begins to stroke, drawing perfect circles there, while his cock hits that sweet spot inside you. 

It’s perfect, everything about this moment is perfect. It all feels so good. You moan his name, his hips rutting into you over and over again.

“Doing so good for me,” he husks, biting the skin just under your jaw, licking the spot where your pulse point is, peppering kisses there. You wonder if he does it because it’s a reminder that you’re still here, still alive, still breathing. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.” 

His words work to coax you off the edge, each swipe of his fingers and thrust of his cock bringing you closer to your orgasm. “L-Logan,” you stutter, his name—him—the only thing in your normally noisy mind. This is what peace is. This is the calm you’ve been searching for your whole life: it’s him. 

You can feel his pace growing faster, his cock pushing deeper, stretching you out as he plunges into you. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, kissing your pulse point again. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your walls flutter around him, your clit becoming overstimulated and sensitive as he flicks roughly. You’re so close. “Lo—” but you can’t find the words. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he mumbles, his forehead pressing to yours. “Want you to look at me when you come. Can you do that for me?” 

You moan a yes as he buries his cock deep inside you, before pulling out and pumping back in again. 

You can feel your eyes growing heavy, but you keep them open, watching Logan as he pulls your orgasm from you. “That’s it. I’ve got you.” His words, the bass of his voice, him, it all sends you over the edge. He works you through it, still circling your clit, his pace growing sloppier as he chases his own orgasm. 

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist. He knows what you want. “Inside,” you whisper. 

“Oh f-fuck,” he moans, coming inside you, filling you up. 

His thrusts begin to slow, his hand leaving that space between your bodies. You feel like air, weightless, drunk off the way he makes you feel. He carefully slips out of you, but he doesn’t put you back down on the ground. He simply readjusts, picking you up in his arms and carrying you out of the shower. 

He sets you down on the bathmat and crosses the tiled floor to the towel rack, where two towels conveniently hang. He wraps one towel around his waist as he strides over to you. He starts to dry you off, rubbing you gently, kissing each spot he dries as he goes. He’s worshipping you, taking care of you. No one has ever taken care of you like this. 

Once he’s finished, he wraps you up in the towel, and picks you up again. He carries you back into his room, resting you gently on the already turned-down bed. He crawls in after you, discarding his towel in the process. You toss your towel to the side, too. You nestle in under the covers, and Logan does the same. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You can feel that peace again, that calm from before, when he was buried inside of you. It was him. It was always him. Your mind is quiet, no longer all loud and inside out. 

“I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, his legs tangling with yours. 

You bury your face into his chest. “Don’t let go.” But you know you don’t need to ask. 

His mind is already made up. 

“Never will.” 

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: an argument with the boys puts your relationship on hold CW: angst no comfort, breaking up (sanji), reader gets hurt, and over 600 words each

pt. 1 | pt. 2

────────────────────₊˚.༄

Monkey D. Luffy

The Sunny swayed gently on the open sea, the rhythm of the waves doing little to soothe the tension that crackled in the air. The ship’s usual harmony, filled with laughter and chatter, had been shattered by the argument unfolding on deck.

“You’re seriously impossible, Lu!” you snapped, your voice rising in frustration. Your chest heaved as you stared him down, fury blazing in your eyes.

“You keep charging into battle without thinking, and we’re always left picking up the pieces!”

Luffy stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his straw hat tilted forward. His usual grin—bright and carefree—was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his face was set in a rare, serious frown.

“So what?” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “It worked, didn’t it? We’re fine!”

“Fine?!” you repeated, incredulous, your voice rising an octave.

“Sanji’s limping, Zoro’s covered in bandages, the ship’s a mess, again, and you—” you jabbed a finger toward his chest—“you nearly got yourself killed over some stupid treasure we didn’t even need!”

Luffy threw his arms in the air, his voice growing defensive. “It was shiny! I wanted it!”

You groaned, rubbing your temples as you turned away for a moment, trying to reign in your growing frustration.

“Lu, it’s not about the treasure!” you finally yelled, spinning back toward him.

“It’s about how you never listen to anyone! One day, your recklessness is going to get someone killed!”

The deck fell silent, the rest of the crew lingering nearby, pretending not to eavesdrop as they exchanged wary glances.

Luffy’s jaw tightened at your words, his posture stiffening. His carefree demeanor, the one you had come to rely on, was replaced by something cold and uncharacteristically sharp.

“You’re the only one who seems to always have a problem with the way I do things,” he said, his voice low but cutting.

You froze, staring at him as his words began to sink in.

He took a step closer, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“If the way I run my ship bothers you so much…” He hesitated, as if daring himself to say what came next, but when he spoke again, his tone was firm, biting. “…then maybe you should leave.”

It felt like a slap across the face. The air around you stilled, and for a moment, you couldn’t even process what he had said.

“Luffy,” you said, your voice softer now, as though testing to see if you’d heard him right.

But he didn’t take it back. He just stood there, his face stony, his gaze unreadable.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and unbearable. The rest of the crew watched from their spots, wide-eyed and frozen. Even Zoro, who typically stayed out of these things, had shifted slightly, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana as though bracing for the worst.

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to swallow past the lump rising in your throat. The sharp sting of his words echoed in your mind, cutting deeper with every passing second. When you finally spoke, your voice was low but steady, masking the turmoil inside you.

“Fine,” you said, the word dropping heavily between you.

Luffy’s eyes widened just enough to show a crack in his hardened expression, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t take it back.

Your voice quivered ever so slightly as you drew in a shaky breath, but you straightened your shoulders, determined not to let him see how deeply his words had cut. “I’ll be gone by tonight,” you said, firm and unwavering despite the ache in your chest.

His breath hitched, and for a split second, his resolve seemed to waver. “No wait—” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step forward, his hand lifting like he was reaching for you.

But you didn’t stop. You turned on your heel and strode toward the stairs, your head held high even as your vision blurred. By the time he worked up the courage to say more, you were already gone, leaving behind a silence even heavier than before.

Roronoa Zoro

The dim glow of the setting sun reflected off the water as you stood on the dock, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The once serene atmosphere was marred by the frustration bubbling inside you as you paced back and forth, stealing glances at the path Zoro should’ve come from an hour ago. The excitement you’d felt earlier now replaced with frustration and disappointment.

Finally, you heard the familiar shuffle of his footsteps, followed by his exasperated grumbling.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zoro muttered as he approached, scratching the back of his neck. His face was impassive, as if showing up an hour after your agreed time wasn’t a big deal.

You exhaled sharply, your patience already frayed. “Late? Zoro, you’re not just late—you’re ridiculously late. Again.”

“I got lost,” he said bluntly, like that was supposed to excuse everything.

“You always get lost,” you shot back, exasperated. “I’m not mad about that—I get it, directions aren’t your thing. But you didn’t think to ask someone for help this time? Or maybe even leave a little earlier?”

Zoro let out a short sigh, his arms crossing over his chest. “What do you want me to do? It’s not like I meant to get lost. I tried.”

“Then maybe next time we can just go together,” you suggested, your voice softening slightly despite your frustration. “That way, we can avoid all this and actually enjoy our dates.”

Your words were meant to be a compromise, a way to avoid another night like this, but Zoro’s face darkened at the suggestion. He scoffed, the sharp sound cutting through the cool evening air.

“Go together?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “What, you think I need you to hold my hand everywhere? I’m not a kid.”

“Zoro,” you blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility in his tone. “That’s not what I—”

“No seriously,” he cut you off, his voice growing louder. “That need of yours to control everything—it’s annoying.”

You froze. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped moving, his words hitting you harder than you thought possible.

“Controlling?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “Annoying?”

Zoro faltered for a moment, his expression shifting as if he hadn’t meant for the word to come out. But instead of apologizing, he doubled down, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its bite.

Your lips parted as you stared at him, completely thrown. You had only wanted to help, to make things easier—for both of you. But now, he was looking at you like you were the problem.

“I… I didn’t think trying to help you was so annoying,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I just didn’t want us to keep missing time together because you—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head as the lump in your throat grew.“Forget it.”

“Wait,” Zoro said, stepping forward, but you instinctively took a step back.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, your voice tight as you forced a bitter smile. “If me trying to help makes me so controlling and annoying, then I won’t bother anymore.”

“Babe, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice firmer now. “I get it, Zoro. You don’t need me, and you sure as hell don’t want my help. Message received.”

You turned away before he could say anything else, your heart twisting painfully as you walked back toward the ship.

Zoro remained motionless, his chest heavy as he watched you walk away. His hand started to lift, a silent urge to call out to you, to stop you—but it faltered, falling limply to his side. The realization settled in like a weight: in his frustration, he hadn’t just lashed out—he’d driven away the one person who always tried to understand him. And now, he could only watch as you disappeared.

God Usopp

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through as you sat on the Sunny’s deck, fidgeting with your hands. Usopp had been distant for the past two days, barely sparing you a glance and keeping his responses short whenever you tried to talk to him. It wasn’t like him—not with you.

You stole a glance across the ship where he was working on one of his gadgets, his movements tense and hurried, the usual care he put into his work noticeably absent. You’d been patient, waiting for him to come to you, but whatever was bothering him wasn’t going away.

“Usopp,” you finally called, your voice gentle but firm as you stood and walked over to him.

He didn’t look up. “What?”

The coldness in his tone made you flinch, but you pressed on. “Can we talk? You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” he muttered, fiddling unnecessarily with the gadget in his hands.

“Yes, you are,” you said, standing your ground. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

At that, he froze, his fingers tightening around the tool in his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said flatly, but his voice lacked conviction.

You crouched down beside him, your brows furrowed. “Then what is it? Why won’t you talk to me?”

He finally looked at you, his jaw tight and his eyes flickering with frustration. “Why’d you call Luffy?”

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“Two days ago, when you were in trouble,” he said, his voice louder now. “You didn’t call for me. You called for Luffy.”

Realization dawned on you, but before you could respond, he continued.

“Was I just not good enough?” he asked, his tone bitter. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it? That I’d just screw it up and get hurt?”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, standing up abruptly and taking a step back. “Just don’t. I get it. I know I’m not as strong as Luffy or Zoro or Sanji. I know I’m not the first one people think of when they’re in danger. But I thought… I thought maybe you—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as he clenched his fists. “Forget it.”

You stood as well, your chest tightening at the hurt in his voice. “Baby, listen to me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You are strong and very capable. I called for Luffy simply because he was closer. That’s it.”

But he didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the deck. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “I just… I need some space, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Usopp, the one who always sought you out, who always seemed happiest when you were by his side, was asking you to leave him alone.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting. “If that’s what you need,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you space. But I’m not giving up on this, Usopp. Or you.”

He didn’t respond, only nodding slightly before turning his back to you. You lingered for a moment, hoping he’d say something, anything, to stop you from walking away. But the silence stretched, and eventually, you had no choice but to leave him be.

As you walked away, your heart ached for him, for the insecurities he tried so hard to hide. You could only hope that when he was ready, he’d let you help him see the truth—that in your eyes, Usopp was more than enough.

Vinsmoke Sanji

The evening sun bathed the deck of the Sunny in golden light, but the sight before you felt anything but warm. Sanji stood at the railing, surrounded by a small group of women from the port town you’d just docked in, his eyes sparkling as he lavished them with compliments and dramatic promises of eternal devotion.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed over your chest, watching the scene unfold before you. It wasn’t the first time Sanji had acted like this, and you had always let it slide, convincing yourself that he would stop eventually. But now, the painful truth settled in, and it felt like a dagger twisting in your chest.

When the women finally left, giggling and waving, you stepped forward, your footsteps deliberate. “Sanji,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

He turned, his usual cheerful expression faltering when he saw the look on your face. “Oh, my love! Did you see those ladies? They were absolute angels—”

“Why do you keep doing this?” you interrupted, crossing your arms tighter.

“Doing what?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head.

“This,” you said, gesturing toward where the women had just walked off. “Flirting with every woman who so much as glances your way.”

Sanji blinked, his confusion deepening as he processed your words.“My love, what a wrong? You never complained about this before?”

Your jaw clenched, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “That’s because I thought it would stop once we got together. I didn’t think that as your girlfriend I would still have to compete with every pretty women you see.”

His eyes widened, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “But, sweetheart, it’s not like that. You’re not competing with anyone I—”

"It is like that Sanji, and honestly, I can't keep doing this," you interrupted, your voice trembling. "It's clear we're not on the same page when it comes to what’s acceptable in a relationship."

The air between you shifted, thick with the weight of your words, each one hanging in the space between you like an unspoken truth.

Sanji’s mouth opened slightly, his brow furrowing as if he were about to protest, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, as if the reality of the situation hadn’t fully hit him yet. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to say, his voice a little rough, “Why does this feel like a breakup?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. Every word felt like it was trapped, lodged somewhere deep inside, fighting its way to the surface. But you couldn’t hold it back any longer. Your eyes never left Sanji’s face, watching the shock and confusion slowly morph into something you couldn’t bear to see.

“That’s because it is,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible, the weight of the words pressing down on you.

The finality of it echoed in your ears, louder than you ever expected. You wanted to say more, to explain, to somehow make him understand that this wasn’t easy for you, that it wasn’t what you wanted. But the truth was, you had already said everything you needed to. This was the point of no return.

“Wait,” he said, stepping closer, his voice desperate. “Don’t do this baby, please. I didn’t know it bothered you. If I had, I— I would’ve stopped. I’ll stop now. I swear.”

You looked away, willing yourself to stay firm despite the raw emotion in his voice. “It’s not just about stopping, Sanji. It’s about the fact that you didn’t even realize that your actions would hurt me. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a problem with flirting with others.”

“Please, my love,” he said, reaching for your hand, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“I can’t, Sanji,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, each step pulling you further from him.

Sanji stood there, his hand outstretched for a moment longer as if he could reach out and somehow make you stay. But the weight of your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He had lost you—not because he didn’t care, but because he hadn’t shown you he did in the way you needed.

───────────────────₊˚.༄

one piece masterlist

question! how do you guys feel about a queer version of the smau’s with fem or gn reader (idrc) for nami, robin, vivi, perona, boa, and yamato?

it’s in my drafts and i’ll still post it when done just wanted to see if the gays see my vision 🤭

i have two more (one request) for angst but i'll have those up soon now that i’m free from the shackles of school.

anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed :).

not proofread and caps may look weird typed this on my phone and computer 😭

(had to re-upload this didn't realize it posted before I was done)

[mostly-imagines]

Scenes From an Afternoon Odyssey

jason todd x fem!reader

aka a day in the forest

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: reader wears a bra

middle picture art by spaceboykenny

You’ve nearly reached the peak of the slope, the uphill trek putting quite a toll on your legs. Jason insisted on holding your hand because his longer stride tends to put him several steps ahead of you. The sun beats down on your backs, the uptake in the heat of the day actually feeling quite nice compared to the chill that’s swept over Gotham recently.

Upon arriving at the flat plane, you take in a pretty array of sunflowers and a thoughtfully placed bench.

Jason halts his steps, looking back at you. “You need a break?” He asks, noting the way your breathing has become a bit labored.

You hum, taking a deep inhale. “Just for a second,” you say, plopping down on the bench.

He reaches behind him to fish the water bottle out of the pocket of his backpack. “Drink some water.” he says gruffly, holding the bottle out to you.

You don’t particularly feel like you need water again just yet, but you know better than to try and fight him on something related to taking care of yourself. It’s a losing battle and he’s proved it time and time again.

You take the drink from him, taking a couple sips. He eyes you with disapproval, bringing his hand up to tilt the bottom of the bottle up more. You down a few gulps, trying not to smile.

He takes the bottle back from you, taking a couple gulps of his own. Once the water returns to its pocket, he sits down next to you, hand massaging your thigh. In turn, your hand moves up to the nape of his neck, playing with the short hair there.

Despite your claim, you sit for longer than a second, listening to the birds chirping and the leaves rustling in the wind. It really is a beautiful day and Jason knew a great trail that’s hardly ever busy. It’s aways away from Gotham, but any excuse he can take to get the two of you out of the smog filled city, he’ll take.

Between the serenity of the scene in front of you and the warmth of his touch on your thigh, your breathing steadies pretty quickly.

You peer at the path ahead, taking note of how level and easy it looked. Your hand flattens on the base of his neck as you turn to him, “I could beat you in a race.” You say decidedly.

He huffs out a laugh, meeting your eyes with a glint of amusement shining in his own. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile, nodding, “Been waiting for a chance to prove it.”

You stand up, turning around to take his hand and pull him up with you. He does most of the work for you, pulling his weight up himself.

“You wanna go?” He smiles, looking down at you.

“Do you wanna go?” Your smile grows impossibly, and Jason decides right then and there that he’d do absolutely anything to see you light up like that again.

You figure a sprint is your best chance, you’re not willing to bet that you can beat out a vigilante when it comes to endurance. Especially considering the uphill incline almost took you out.

You settle on a finish line about 30 feet away, and as you position yourselves to start, you feel your overconfidence begin to cave back in on you. His stature swamps you out, and it's becoming clear that you’ve got no real chance here. In any case, you’ve committed and this is happening.

“Ready…set…” both of you have the idea to start before you say go, taking off with haste.

You’re laughing as you run, which isn’t doing you any favors with keeping ahead of him, though you’re able to maintain a pretty neck and neck match.

Did he let you win? Yeah. He’s a gentleman, of course. He’s right on your tail though, and lifts you up from under your arms as you cross the finish line, nipping at your neck as you giggle.

He sets you back down gently, “Alright, fast girl. You need a drink?” He tucks some stray hair in your face back behind your ear.

“No, I’m...” You pause, scanning around. You point at a big tree along the side of the trail ahead. “You see that tree right there?”

He glances over, “Yeah?”

You take off sprinting for it without another word. And apparently cheating is a quick ticket to him dropping the act and beating you without an ounce of mercy.

You’re sitting on a relatively level branch in a tree next to Jason, one of your legs resting on top of one of his. You swing your free leg back and forth, biting into your sandwich.

There’s a couple juice boxes balancing in the small space between you, both half empty. He’d laughed at you when you picked them up from the store on the way there, but he drinks it all the same.

He holds your ziplock bag of chips out to you and you take a small handful, popping them into your mouth. When your hand moves to return to your side, he takes it in his own and presses your knuckles to his lips gently.

With a sly smile, you watch butterflies dance around each other and listen to birds singing their offbeat songs. And you think about Jason. You think about how he held you in his arms last night so you could fall asleep while he read. How on the way up here he’d held your hand as you balanced across the stones, forcing him to walk at a much slower pace than he’d probably prefer. You told him he could walk a little ahead, but he’d insisted on holding your hand so you didn’t “slip and bust your head open” in his words.

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s combing through his own set of memories of you too. It’s a bit silly to spend so much time dwelling on these warm memories about someone that’s only right next to you, but you’ve both found it’s hard to stop.

It used to scare Jason, how often you occupied his whole mind. He’d never felt such intense adoration and devotion before that he’d nearly mistaken it for fight or flight. It was foreign and strange, and it felt like danger. But it didn’t take long for the effects of his love to kick in like a drug, and now he can’t get enough of you.

But you don’t feel like a drug, you feel like a cure. You make him feel like himself again, like death never got a hold of him and like he’s an innocent soul anew. You treat him like it, at least.

Maybe it’s silly to fall into such a deep pit of thoughts about you when you’re right there, smiling so bright over at him and gleefully pointing out a couple of squirrels that are fighting over an acorn. But he’s happy to let you take up as much space in his head as you want.

You sit with your legs dangling off the pier, shoes cast aside so you can enjoy the cool water. Jason sits a few feet behind you, laying down against the wood of the dock, the sun beating down on his face.

The water is a beautiful blue marble reflection, and the sun radiates down on your skin, sending warmth throughout your body which combats the light breeze handily. You lean down and dip your hand into the water, letting it run between your fingers like thread.

“Can we swim?” you pipe up, looking over your shoulder at Jason.

He raises his eyebrows at you, “You didn’t know there was a lake up here.” He means he knows you don’t have a swimsuit under your clothes.

You shrug, “There’s no one up here.”

He scans around mildly, before looking at the water. “Yeah, okay.” He tugs his shirt off his back, coming to a stand.

You grin, pulling up the material of your own shirt from your waist. Once it’s swept over your head, Jason’s left in just his boxers and not a moment later you’re in a similar state.

He smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and it takes you no time at all to realize where he’s going with this. He lifts you up off the ground and dives off the dock, submerging you both in the water.

You bob back up out of the water, not even trying to suppress the glee on your face. And somewhat to your surprise, neither does he.

You’d had dinner at the manor with his family last night and you were still a bit attuned to Jason’s closed off, stoic mood that he gets in around them. He feels something akin to insecurity when he openly emotes around them. Vulnerability, maybe. Either way, you know he hates the feeling and will avoid it at all costs so it’s nice when it’s just the two of you and he gets to act like himself.

Unlike Jason, you can’t quite touch the floor of the lake, so you tread with the water wavering at your neck. The water barely reaches the start of Jason’s shoulders as he stands before you.

He closes the small space between you before his arms make their way under your thighs, lifting you up out of the water slightly. He looks up at you with a lazy smile as you wrap your legs around his body. Your cheeks warm and you hold his face in your hands, leaning down to kiss him with heat.

He deepens the kiss, thumbs rubbing at your thighs as his head tilts back. Your thumbs stroke at his cheek in turn, smiling against his lips.

He actually whines when you pull away, chasing your lips. You rest your hands on his shoulders, simpering down at him.

“Alright, slow down, hotshot. We’re not doing anything in a lake.” You laugh, pushing the dripping white streak back with the rest of his wet hair.

He huffs, “If there was anyone around here I promise you would not be half naked right now.”

You push yourself off of him, dropping back down into the water. “Other people are the least of your concerns,” you say, grinning and splashing him in the face, backing away with haste.

He blinks the water out of his eyes, laughing. “That’s how it is?”

You bite your lip as he approaches and you continue to retreat. “Can’t have you losing focus.”

He raises his brow at you, wearing a smile that says that you should know that was a mistake. He proves it as he dives after you, lifting you up over his shoulder and tossing you into the water with an unfair amount of ease.

You’re a bit hidden away in the tall grass, the scent of lavender flowers placing you in repose. You’re laying with your head in his lap, eyes closed as he pages through his book.

He’s reading out loud, though if you’re being honest, you haven’t fully processed a single word he’s read in at least ten minutes. He’s good at making you relax with his voice, and the amount of exercise you’ve gotten in today is doing nothing to slow it down.

You can’t think of when he started playing with your hair, but it feels soothing and frankly it’s making you very sleepy. Between the gravelly lull of his words and the rustling of the flora throughout the field you’re about to pass out.

“I’m gonna fall asleep.” You mumble, eyes shut.

His hand stills and he extends his book away from his body so he can see your face. “Sweetheart, there’s not a chance in hell you were awake that whole time.”

“I was,” you say, blinking up at him blearily. “I was just resting my eyes.”

He looks down at you skeptically. “How long have we been here?”

You click your tongue, “Like fifteen minutes.”

“It’s been an hour and a half.” he says simply, flipping his book shut from the last page as proof.

“It has n—” you look up at the sky and notice the sun is in a wildly different spot than it was when you’d first laid down. You’re almost completely in the shadows of the trees now. “Wh—why did you let me sleep for so long?”

He hums lowly, “You looked peaceful.” He pauses, “Pretty.”

He looks at the sky, squinting. He nudges you off his lap gently, coming to a stand. “Come on. The sun’s gonna start going down soon.”

You groan and he pulls you up to join him, your fatigue tailing after you. You lean your weight against him and rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes again. “Let’s just stay here.”

You feel him shake his head. “Can’t stay here, sweetheart. Who’ll feed the strays back home?”

He’s right. You can’t leave them to dumpster dive again.

You groan louder as you pull back and stand up straight. “You did not mention that the trail was so long.” You look down at your sore legs and try to stretch them out a bit to get energy back in them.

When you look back up at him, he’s swinging the backpack on, but he stops midway, dropping it to his side again.

He slugs his backpack over your shoulders, turning his back to you and bending down a bit. You take the hint and jump up. He catches you with ease, hoisting you up higher.

He starts down the grassy path out of the field, sidestepping flowers and bumblebees as he goes. Your head lulls to the side and ends with your cheek resting on his shoulder.

He bobs you up, “If I’m carrying you all the way back to the car you have to stay awake.”

“If you’re carrying me all the way back to the car, what difference does it make?” you grumble, eyes fluttering.

“Keep me company.”

You pick your head up and press a kiss to his neck. “I can do that. What do you want to eat tonight?”

He hums thoughtfully. “You wanna get pizza?”

You nod, pleased. “Big day for us.”

You have one arm draped loosely over his shoulder and the other lags by your side. “Are you going on patrol tonight?” You ask him.

He peers back at you haphazardly, “Uh, no—will you hold onto me, please?”

You’re nowhere near falling, but you know that’s not why he wants you to hold onto him. You’re happy to oblige though. You wrap your arms around him, crossing them over each other so you can hold onto his shoulders.

Seemingly content, he continues, “No, I’m not. Wanna stay in with you.”

“Aw. Going soft on me?” You rag.

He hums deeply, “Or maybe I'm just sick of being around Dick.”

You scoff, “Well, if you’re gonna be mean.”

“I’m literally carrying you right now.” He shrugs you up a bit in emphasis. Fair enough.

You look up and can see the pinking hues of the sky in between the leaves of the trees, glowing down softly on you. Your mouth twists into a contemplative frown. It takes you a moment to piece together where you’re at, but you eventually realize you’re only halfway back to the car. “I don’t think we’re gonna make it back before sunset.”

“That’s okay.” He tells you.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, a bemused pout on your face. “You hate it when I’m outside after dark.”

“I hate it when you’re alone outside after dark.” He corrects.

“Ah.” You nod, thoughtfully. “But now I’ve got my strong boyfriend to protect me, right?”

He scoffs but you’re just upset you can’t see the flush on his cheeks that you’re certain is there.

Though he shows no signs of struggling, you’re beginning to feel guilty that he’s spending his day off lugging you around.

“I can walk.” You offer, pushing yourself up a bit, ready to jump down.

“I know.” He says simply, shrugging you up higher.

[lovesick-joey]

Good Job.

"You really went on your own?"

Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.

"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."

Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"

Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."

"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."

As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."

Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.

"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"

Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?

Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.

He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.

"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.

It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"

"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."

What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"

Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"

Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.

"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."

"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."

Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."

Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."

The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?

Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.

"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"

"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"

Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.

He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.

TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes

[ladybirdswritings]

HUNTRESS, FIC — emperor geta x reader.

DESCRIPTION: the blood of the emperor’s brother is on your hands, a betrayed huntress facing death in the colosseum. your every move watched by the vengeful emperor who loathes you as much as you despise him. but amidst blood, betrayal, and survival, hatred begins to twist into something dangerous. NOTES - little enemies to lovers fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one;

The thrum of hundreds of drums cocooned your ears in an awful medley, vibrations snaking like vines across your very skin.

Here and now, standing before scorching iron twisting into mangled gates, you allowed a chill to kiss your skin.

You were afraid—very afraid—and for good reason. But even so, gladiators didn’t cower before their fate.

It was a good thing that wasn’t what you were.

This was all just an unfortunate consequence of one painfully violent decision.

For my brother… you had whispered into the chill of the winter season as you plunged a gold, ornate blade into the chest of the wrong ginger.

Sure, the younger one was no better than the older. Even so, it was not his crimson you had wished to coat your hands with, for he had not killed Pietro. Geta had.

And Geta would kill you too. Whatever growled beyond these iron gates was no better than a gruesome death.

“Huntress,” Lucien called, clad in bronze armor and pleated wraps. You winced.

“Don’t call me that.”

But he paid you no mind as he stepped forward, wrapping your lanky arm in a cuff of gold.

“It’s what you are, what you must be, if you intend to slay whatever beast lurks beyond these gates. Listen to me: do not be foolish in there. Do not give them a show. You run, and you hide in the very dirt if you must. Here.”

With a worried glance toward the guards, he hastily pulled out three violet berries and pressed them into your palm. His calloused skin guided your hand to wrap around them.

“This is poison. You squeeze, and it erupts into a sea of death. Use these, and you may survive.”

May.

It was too awful a word—too insignificant.

“Bring out the girl!” a horrid, broken voice roared to his many peasants. The iron groaned in deep complaint as the gates began to part.

It was then that you felt every bit the weak, fearful girl you truly were. Your doe-like eyes locked on Lucien’s. His palms gripped your biceps, a huff of frustration escaping him as he scanned your face—perhaps to remember it. Then he leaned forward to press a warm kiss to your forehead.

He was saying goodbye.

“You will survive,” he murmured against your skin. All you could do was nod with a gulp as he pulled away.

Facing the liquid gold rays of the sun now blinding you, you stepped through the gates.

Despise was not a strong enough word to describe just how much these people loathed you.

So destroyed over the death of half of their precious emperors. You scowled at the thought—the same emperors who kept them on pretty leashes.

Slickened tomatoes crushed beneath your boots as you limped forward. You were no better than Pietro here, and it seemed as though history was only going to repeat itself.

Bruised beneath the bronze armor, thirsty and starved, they had purpled your skin, nearly dislocated your hip, and robbed you of any sustenance that could aid you in this impossible battle.

They had cheated, just as they had with your brother in this awful colosseum.

You would die on the very same dirt as your brother had—your twin.

Even so, a vicious grin tugged at your lips when your eyes locked on the lone ginger emperor scowling down at you. His jaw was taut, his arms littered with veins, but his eyes—they gave him away. Dark. Exhausted.

Even if you were to stain his dirt with your blood, he would remain as you were now: a lone twin. His brother in the dirt, too.

Perhaps your revenge had not been such a disaster after all.

“Traitorous whore!” he screeched at you, and the peasants roared in agreement.

His words were no bother. You’d fight well enough—and when you died, you’d die with a smile.

“Bring out her death!”

Vibrations crawled up your calves as you squeezed the oak wood bow clasped in your hand—your only weapon.

The gates opposing you parted, welcoming two awful horns held back only by frayed rope and a growling man atop the beast.

“He shall impale you as you impaled my brother!” Geta growled from his castle above, his voice guttural and animalistic.

“BEGIN!”

His roar was so vicious you swayed on your feet.

Perhaps the bow was meant to deter you from survival, but you were grateful for it now. With your weak bones, you had no chance of surviving close battle. No chance of escaping a sword fight or a seething rhinoceros.

But your bow—you could fight from afar.

Thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum. The beast neared closer, working into a charge so vicious it drowned out the crowd’s excitement. You could feel Geta’s eyes scorching your skin.

He did not simply want you dead. He wanted you mangled.

“HUNTRESS—KILL THEM!” Lucien roared from behind the gates, snapping you back into the present moment.

Your purpled hands trembled as you grabbed an arrow and loaded your bow. You had to treat this as any other time—locked away in the forest with just you, the glades, and your bow.

A rhinoceros could be no different from a fawn, right? Animals—all the same. And you were starving now, just as you had been all the other times you hunted.

Closer, closer. You steadied your rapid breaths best you could— imagining doe-eyes approaching as opposed to horns and squinting as you found the place between the beast’s brows.

Closer.

Even closer.

A moment more and you’d lose your shot, so you released the tension-bound arrow.

Laughter—cruel, cold, and entirely at your expense—rattled the stadium.

Your eyes fell to the ground, where the arrow landed not two feet away from your boots.

No, no, no.

Your fingers trembled against the string. It was loose.

Bastard.

Your eyes flicked to Geta’s, cold and swimming with satisfaction. He had rigged your bow.

And the beast was still charging.

“HUNTRESS!” Lucien’s cry was lost on your ears as you steadied your feet. Your heart hummed like a bird in your chest.

You hissed as sharp pain licked the flesh of your wrist. Violet trickled from your cuff.

The berries.

Crying out in exasperation, you shook the berries free.

You would be impaled in a moment, but at least the poison would piss the wretched thing off.

With a cry, you crushed the berries in your palm, tossing the violet liquid into the air just as the horn grazed your bronze armor.

And you waited.

No darkness or light found you.

A screech so awful it could have burst your eardrums shook the colosseum. The beast reared back, thrashing in a violent dance before collapsing to the dirt.

Its tongue slack, its eyes white, it crushed the man commanding it.

You breathed then. For the first time.

As your eyes lifted, you found a flicker of awe in Geta's gaze-beyond his rage.

The colosseum roared in disbelief as Geta flipped the fruits and wine before him, storming away.

And you breathed.

Alive.

[melliemell]

HEYA GUESS WHOS BACK~

THE FIC U WROTE W THE POCKY PROMPT WAS SO GOOD LIKE ONG?? SOO NOW IM BACK FOR MORE >:)

IM THINKING.. CHRISTMAS THEMED DATES!! COZ ITS THE XMAS SEASON WOULD THEY HAVE ANY CUTE DATES U NORMALLY CANT HAVE IN THE SUMMER? (EXAMPLE; ICE SKATING) (also I’d prefer if u wrote for Dazai and Ranpo again i cannot get enough of those idiots 🙏🙏🙏) THX IN ADVANCE~ -Annon who still hasn’t found their glasses… seriously where are they😭😭

Omg hi again!! I'll have you know I've been listening to Christmas songs on repeat as I wrote this. My brain is fried and so ready for the Holidays. I blame u for this.

And please don't go around blind like that, I pray for you and your glasses, nonnie

BSD Cast ft. Christmas Dates

(Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Sigma, Chuuya, Atsushi)

Dazai - Drunk Decorating

“Whaat? Gimme the unicorn here, I have a feeling about this.”

And you’d watch in horror, giggles bubbling out of your lips as the dumbass would duck-tape the poor plush to your Christmas tree, eyes sparkling with child’s delight. The alcohol swirling about in both your veins would’ve started manifesting at some point during the evening, all according to Dazai’s precise calculations. Totally.

If there was one thing Dazai was good at, it was being unconventional. Decorating for Christmas while being drunk off your asses was not on your to-do list, but boy does it leave an impactful memory. Nobody remembers whose idea it was. Most of the night consisted of snippets of hyper-intense clarity… followed by what the actual fuck random scraps of memory. 

Did we really snatch the Agency’s decorations from reception? Of course not, duh. Why is Ranpo’s overcoat hanging from our Christmas tree? How mysterious. You’d be giggling uncontrollably at everything as the night progressed.

You’ve never struggled so hard for your life as when you had to outrun Dazai’s lanky frame, his sticky fingers at the ready to steal whatever shiny ornament you fought tooth and nail to secure. All efforts would end up futile though. Especially when you’d find yourself barely keeping your balance atop Dazai’s shoulders with no clue as to how he managed that.

With tape in one hand and his encouraging instructions as your guide…

Your ceiling had never looked this sparkly and hideous.

Get prepared for an intense hangover and even clingier Dazai the next morning. He will not, under any circumstances, let you leave him alone for the whole day. Suffering together is an act of love, after all.

Ranpo - Snowball Fight

The moment the first snow hit, it would be like a switch had turned on in Ranpo’s behaviour. He’d be used to your antics by now so being extra aware of his surroundings–just in case–was a mandatory tactic for survival on his part. Especially the more it snowed…

You knew how much Ranpo loved being coddled and cuddled all the time, so it came as no surprise his complete despise of cold weather, the sensation of freezing in wet clothes making him shudder in distaste. 

He always had a grumpy face on, cheeks flushed and lips pouting as you waddled through the snow every time you had to leave home. 

He was adorable… and completely at your mercy.

You both knew what was to come. The first snowball would barely scrape his hat, Ranpo’s body spinning around quickly to face you, eyes betrayed. 

“Aw, come on! I knew it.”

He’d whine a lot, making you giggle even more as you prepared for the upcoming battle.

Ranpo’s not a very agile person, but his observation skills combined with years of practice being with you made him nearly impossible to hit, dodging like his actual life depended on it. There was no mercy for you either, taking every hit with pride as you chased each other down the snowed path. 

It would go on until you were both freezing, you grinning like a lunatic and Ranpo’s face of defeat bordering on exasperation. He’d absolutely not like you tackling him down on the snow either, hair soaking and nose as red as it could get. Shame he looked so cute like that; it’s not like you could help it.

Get prepared for extra snuggles as you get back home. That and Ranpo’s cold feet being shoved against your calves the moment he had you locked in an unassuming hug. 

Sweet, sweet revenge, here it comes.

Fyodor - Ice Skating

Fyodor’s not a very social person if he could help it. Spending quality time in a quiet, peaceful place was more down his alley than being jammed up beside people, most of whom were probably barely able to stay on their skates to begin with. An unpleasant hassle, in his opinion.

It would take some convincing and a good dose of bribing before you had him sighing in defeat, your hands interlocked as you towed him along to the skating rink. 

Of course the bastard knew how to skate. Of course. 

Very careful around you, and absolutely refusing to hold onto your hand until you got the hang of how to balance properly. Ungodly amount of patience, even if you caught a whiff of annoyance from him here and there– it was mostly directed towards people veering too close for your comfort, making you clutch harder to the railings, your progress forgotten every time. 

A surprisingly encouraging teacher, with praise where praise was due. Yet strict enough for it to feel more like a coaching session than an actual date. That is, until you figured out how to glide your skates without support, smile wide and exited as it matched Fyodor’s content nod of approval. 

Hands interlocked as he pulled you along, the fun of it engulfed you more as your worry slowly dissipated. Dragging Fyodor to the centre of the ring on wobbly legs was harder than expected, but the sappy kiss you managed to pry out of him was all worth it. 

There was something about silly little romantic moments like those that melted your heart on the spot. And having Fyodor pull you flush against him, hands cupping your cheeks as he rubbed some warmth into them–yeah, you could only look at his lovely violet eyes, your gaze filling with affection.

Sigma - Christmas Shopping

You know how a cat looks when it gets excited to see its human get back? No? It’s the exact same thing with Sigma. 

He’d be all swirling emotions and anticipation on the inside, yet barely any signs of it slipping through his demeanor of collected calmness. You might even mistake it for indifference for all the Christmas shopping you have to do. Maybe even a chore that needs to be done than a fun activity for you two.

You’d be so wrong. 

Christmas is a family holiday; the time of year you spend with your loved ones. At home. He’ll be home, with you. And he has to choose whether orange or red garlands would go best with your kitchen curtains. Sigma’s this close to losing it and having a full breakdown from how happy he actually is that Sigma.exe has stopped working properly. 

Constant battle between being happy with whatever you choose to buy, and the internal desire for everything to be perfect. He has to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had. Would absolutely go crazy on the shopping lists. You mentioned something offhand that you liked? There’s three of it waiting for you the next day. Can’t choose on a tree? Why, you can have one in the living room, and one for your bedroom too. He’ll take care of it, don’t you worry about anything.

Sweats the whole time as he tries to take care of it all.

Absolutely needs reminders that you’re in this together, and no, you being there with me is enough, Sigma. I don’t care for anything else. Refuses to let go of your hand anywhere you go, basking in the warm feeling of being loved to the fullest.

Chuuya - Cabin Getaway

Absolutely his idea. 

As absurdly far away from the city as you could get, deep in the mountains with the most beautiful view that steals your breath away. You’re afraid to ask how much it cost. Better not. 

Warm blankets with and a fireplace to snuggle by, any ambitions for trying your skills at setting up dinner were soon forgotten. Not when Chuuya’s chest was firm against your back, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your shoulders. You were practically melting into him, losing yourself in his warm breath beside your cheek, the deep, low tone he talked with as you enjoyed each other’s company. He was so full of passion usually, the emotions spilling out of him in a constant stream of need for action. 

Not now. Now Chuuya was… here. All soft smiles and light laughter as he poured more wine into your glasses as the night progressed. Talking about life and its meaning, enjoying the moments to the fullest. Having his arm thrown around you as he kept you close was a bliss you never wished to end.

The night was long and filled with a sense of being right where you were meant to be. And when you rose up, pulling Chuuya by the hand as hooded eyes met yours, his grin widening–you found yourself kissing him then. And you didn’t stop until you were both stumbling back to the bedroom, your clothes leaving a trail behind you.

He was all yours for the taking, warm and willing for your every whim. Such a lovely place he found, it’d be a shame not to have a bit of fun… everywhere. 

Finding your clothes in the morning was definitely a hassle, one both of you couldn’t stop laughing about even as Chuuya’s hat definitely wasn’t supposed to be hanging from the chandelier.

Atsushi - Sledge Date

It was an idea you’ve both had for a while. Neither one of you knew how to navigate a thing like that, but hey–it was happening.

Atsushi swears he did not steal a sledge. He only asked Dazai if he had one by chance, and he was so kind to offer it half an hour later, all wide grins and wiggling eyebrows. You’ve never seen Dazai own a thing like that, let alone have it at such a quick disposal. Maybe it was best not to ponder too much over it.

The moment you saw the hill you were meant to glide gracefully down from, you stomach did a double flip. Yeah, you were both going to die, this was not the cute little slide rides you had imagined. 

It took Atsushi some encouraging words and a promise to not let go of you no matter what, and you were gingerly sitting behind him, hands gripping firmly around his torse as you glued your stiff body to his back. His hand rested atop your own, warm and soothing as he rubbed your knuckles.

Atsushi was surprisingly calm about this. Maybe he felt your need for a secure presence beside you or he just naturally took on the role. It didn’t matter, really. Not when he didn’t shut up the entire time, whether it be panicked rambling as you slid down or his general chatter. 

Atsushi kept throwing glances behind him, checking in on you each time you went down. And he held your hand firmly as you groaned from having to climb back up every time. His attentiveness was cute, even more so every time he asked you how you felt. Knowing you had someone who didn’t get annoyed at your complaints or belittled your worries felt… nice. Yeah, really nice. 

You couldn’t wait to shower him in kisses once you got back home.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! In celebration of the Ithaca saga release (and yes, I am still sobbing over that ending), here's an Epic au that's been rolling around my head for far too long! Enjoy!

In a few mythology stories, there is a theme of "if you kill a monster, you become a monster yourself." And, with the theme of Odysseus abandoning his humanity and becoming a monster being so prevalent in the second act, why not take it one step further?

What if, when Odysseus nearly killed Poseidon with his own godly weapon, some of that divine power found its way into Odysseus? What if the combined power of wielding the trident and the act of defeating a god and spilling his ichor ascended Odysseus unwillingly into godhood?

And, given what Odysseus was doing when he attained godhood, what of Odysseus specifically became the god of monsters?

By the time Odysseus has finished mutilating Poseidon and sails the short distance to Ithaca's shores, the ascension is already almost complete, despite Odysseus's resistance to it. When Odysseus finally sets foot on Ithaca's beach, he is no longer human at all. He is, in many ways, no longer himself.

Sure, he looks human enough at first glance, but his shadow writhes with twisting, monstrous forms, and his form blurs around the edges if one looks for long enough, as if he had to put conscious effort into appearing human.

It takes all of Odysseus's concentration to both keep himself looking human and to put one foot in front of the other, determined to ensure that the first time his family sees him again, they see him, not some monster.

But then, Odysseus finds the suitors. He hears Antinous speaking of killing his son and doing vile things to his wife, and suddenly, Odysseus doesn't feel like holding back the writhing, howling beasts under his skin anymore. No, no, he is going to revel in releasing them on these dogs.

Odysseus, still unseen by the suitors, lets his mortal disguise disappear in an instant, and a horrible roar has the suitors all stiffening with primordial terror, their minds frozen at the sight of something that their instincts screamed was a predator, unlike anything they had seen before.

The beast that they now beheld, which seemingly appeared out of nowhere, was horrific, with its body shifting and changing between all manner of monsters. One moment it was a hydra, then in the next it was a minotaur, and then it took the form of a chimera. The suitors watched in grotesque horror for a few seconds as the beast's body could not decide on a shape, its head and eyes and limbs always shifting, before the monster took a step towards them, its clawed foot shaking the ground.

At that, the suitors suddenly realized that this was real and that they were in a room with this creature. And then, all hell broke loose as the 108 suitors screamed with terror and scrambled away from the monster in all directions.

Then, the hunt began.

The monster chased them down the long hallways of the palace, killing any suitor it got its hands on. Some were shredded by its claws, others trampled under its feet like bugs, and some were even devoured with a single bite of its jaws. And all the while, The beast showed no mercy, no remorse, and no signs of that its bloodlust was even remotely slaked.

One suitor, when cornered by the beast, got on his knees and begged for mercy, only to be crushed with one swipe of a club that had manifested itself from the beast's body, which now took the shape of a savage cyclops.

Soon, blood painted the walls and floor of the palace, while the surviving suitors armed themselves for battle. After all, it was impossible to flee from the beast, so their only chance was to fight it.

However, at the armory, Telemachus appeared, back from his diplomatic mission and demanding to know what was happening, asking the suitors about the beast. Then, Antinous, one of the only surviving suitors, got an idea.

He ordered the others suitors to hold Telemachus down and tie him up as he explained his plan. They could still go through with their previous plot if they played this well enough.

After all, the beast out there was clearly either a punishment sent by the gods or a god in of itself. And the only way to appease a god was through an offering or sacrifice.

So, the suitors could present the bound prince to the beast as a sacrifice, which would appease the gods. After all, a blood sacrifice of a royal held great significance.

And when Penelope was mourning her poor, sacrificed son, Antinous and his men would be hailed as heroes by all of Ithaca for appeasing the monster, and Penelope would have no choice but to wed one of them.

Telemachus was screaming with rage and fear behind his makeshift gag as Antinous finished explaining his plan to the other suitors, who enthusiastically agreed to it.

Together, the suitors dragged Telemachus, his limbs bound with rope, out into the hallway, where it took the monster only a matter of seconds to find them.

Telemachus' eyes widened with shock at the sight of the monster, with its ever-changing limbs and body. The only constant feature on the beast was its ferocious glowing red eyes, which chilled the prince to the bone.

Antinous kicked Telemachus forwards towards the beast, sending him sprawling out over the floor.

"Great beast! We know not why you are here, but we humbly apologize for whatever wrong this kingdom has done to you! Please, accept this honored sacrifice: Telemachus, the prince of this land, and leave us in peace."

The monster, for the first time since it appeared, stood still, though its form still shifted fluidly. The suitors watched with baited breath as the beast ever so slowly inched forwards, towards a squirming and terrified Telemachus.

As the creature got closer, however, its form stopped changing as much, until its seemed to stabilize, taking on the shape of a giant human figure, but its body and face were featureless, simply a mass of shadows, except for its ever-present red eyes.

The now human-shaped monster picked Telemachus up in of of its hands slowly, handling him far gentler than it had any of the suitors. On the ground, Antinous and his men watched on in barely-contained excitement, overjoyed that everything was going as planned.

"I take it that you accept and are appeased by this sacrifice, great one?" Antinous, ever confident, spoke up.

The beast was still silent, giving no indication that it even heard Antinous, with all of its attention still focused on Telemachus, who was convinced that this was the end for him.

Gingerly, the creature rearranged its hold on Telemachus, until it was cradling him in its arms as a human would with an infant. The suitors look on in confusion, unsure what to make of this. What kind of monster cradled its sacrifice? Why wasn't it mindlessly slaughtering the prince just as it had the other suitors?

Then, the creature's gaze shifted from Telemachus to the suitors, filling them with an instinctive fear that told them to run. But before they could even take a step, a massive serpent's head shot out of the creature's chest, devouring all of them in a single bite. Telemachus, still bound and gagged, screamed with terror at the sight of it.

The beast, with Telemachus still trapped in its arms, started lumbering its way through the halls again, swiftly killing any remaining suitors it came across while the prince shook with terror in its arms.

After a while, the beast had finally killed the last of the suitors, leaving a trail of mutilated corpses and blood throughout the entire palace. There would be no one left inside the palace except for Telemachus and... his mother.

Telemachus came to this horrifying realization as he recognized exactly where the monster was heading. It was going to his mother's room, and the reinforced door would not protect her from this creature.

Telemachus renewed his struggles against his bindings, begging as best he could from behind the gag, "not her, please, not her!"

But the beast, of course, did not listen, and continued its path of destruction until it reached Penelope's door, still carrying the furiously squirming prince in its arms.

The doors, reinforced with bronze, did not stand a chance against the monster's strength, and Telemachus was forced to watch on in horror as his mother screamed at the sight of the beast, and he could do nothing as the monster grabbed ahold of her with a gigantic hand.

Telemachus had felt helpless and useless many times over the years as suitors invaded their home and disrespected his mother, but that was nothing compared to the sheer hopelessness and terror of seeing his mother struggling in the grasp of this monster and being unable to even move.

Now that Penelope was in his grasp, the monster slowly, almost gingerly, made his way to the throne room, trampling the scattered and bloodied corpses of the suitors that were in his path.

There, in the middle of the throne room, the beast finally sat down, halting its rampage through the halls of the palace at long last. Penelope and Telemachus, still trapped in the monster's arms, held each other as close as they could, trembling with fear at the massive, gore-covered monster that held their lives quite literally in its merciless hands.

(But little did they know that, as the hours went by, the monster would slowly shrink, diminishing in size, until it revealed a man, a very familiar man, underneath it all. And that man would like nothing more than to hold his family close for as long as he can.)

And that's all for this story! I might do a continuation if the inspiration strikes! Please let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[therealcocoshady]

The Hoodie

A/N : Hey guys ! I'm sorry, I'm not uploading a lot, these days. I have been drowning in work for my PhD dissertation... Also, I've been super sick. I actually allowed myself a break for daydreaming about snuggling in Marshall's hoodie 👀. Anyway, here is a little blurb and I hope you enjoy it ❤️.

Summary : you are dating Eminem and you are sick while spending a few days at his place. Ever the thoughtful boyfriend, he comforts you and gives you one of his favorite Detroit Lions hoodie.

CW : Fluff

The Michigan wind whipped through the trees outside, rattling against the windows.Marshall sat at his desk in the corner of his home studio, trying to focus. Beats thumped softly in the background, lyrics half-formed in his mind, but something wasn’t right.A small cough echoed from the bedroom, reminding him why he couldn’t concentrate. You had been battling a nasty cold for days now. You’d tried to play it off at first, but the stubborn fever, the constant sniffling, and the exhausted look in your eyes were impossible to ignore.He sighed, running a hand over his face before standing up. He was busy and he had tons of work to do for his upcoming projects, but he didn’t like the thought of being locked in the home studio while his girlfriend being sick in bed. It felt incredibly selfish. It was bad enough that he had to spend part of what should have been a lazy weekend with you working, and he wanted to be there to comfort you. You’d been together for a little while, nearly a year, and, though he’d been guarded at first, he had come to care for you deeply and it was time to put the feeling in action. 

He walked down the hall, pausing at the door to the bedroom. You were curled up under the thick comforter, your nose peeking out from the blankets. Your hair was a mess, but even like this, he couldn’t help but think that you had that effortless beauty that always caught him off guard.“You okay?” he asked softly, stepping into the room.You peeked one eye open, offering him a weak smile. “Been better,” you rasped. “But I’m surviving.”Marshall frowned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “You should’ve told me earlier how bad it was. You’re burning up.” You chuckled lightly, but it ended in a coughing fit. You waved a hand dismissively once it passed. “Just a cold. I didn’t want to bother you.” Marshall shook his head. “You ain’t bothering me. You should’ve said something.” He stood up, heading toward the closet. “Hold up. You’re always freezing. I got something for you.”

You watched him curiously as he rummaged through a pile of clothes before pulling out his favorite Detroit Lions hoodie. It was old, worn in, and oversized, but it was the softest thing he owned. “That’s your favorite hoodie.”, you pointed out. He smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, but you’re cold. And if you get better faster, maybe I’ll get it back sooner.” He tossed it onto the bed next to you. “Put it on. You’ll be warmer.” You hesitated for a second but then reached out, grabbing the hoodie and slipping it over your head. As soon as the fabric touched your skin, you melted into its warmth. It was so soft and smelled faintly of him—of cologne and something uniquely Marshall. You buried your face in the collar, sighing contentedly. “Okay, you were right. This is amazing.” Marshall chuckled, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “Told you. That’s a certified Detroit classic right there. Ain’t nobody who wouldn’t feel better wearing it.” You gave a small laugh, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but a bit of the tension seemed to leave your body as you got cozy in the hoodie. “I’m not giving this back,” you teased, your words a little slurred as you started to drift off. Marshall smiled faintly, watching you. “You keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”. 

After a few days, you finally got better. You hadn’t let go of the hoodie. The warmth, the smell, and the comfort it gave you had become your safety blanket. Standing in the kitchen, you caught your reflection in the window—there you were, swimming in his oversized hoodie, the faded Lions logo worn down from years of wear. As much as you loved how it made you feel, you knew you couldn’t keep it forever. You knew it was his favorite and you had come to understand that he could get very sentimental when it comes to certain items. You heard Marshall come in behind you, his steps heavy on the wooden floor. He dropped his keys on the counter and cracked open a bottle of water, taking a long sip before leaning against the kitchen island, watching you with that half-smirk of his.

“You look better,” he commented, his eyes flicking to the hoodie you were still wrapped up in. You tugged at the sleeves, glancing down at yourself. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better. Thanks to this, mostly.” You gestured at the hoodie, then gave him a sheepish smile. “Speaking of which, I should probably give it back.” Marshall raised an eyebrow, setting his water bottle down. “Why would you do that?” You let out a soft laugh. “Because it’s yours? And I’ve been hogging it for days now. I mean, it’s your favorite.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. “It was my favorite,” he said, his voice low but teasing. “But now it’s yours.” You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean? You love this thing.”. “Yeah, but I love seeing you in it more.” Marshall shrugged casually, but there was an earnestness in his voice that caught you off guard. He reached out, gently pulling at one of the sleeves, the fabric falling long past your fingertips. “You look good in it. Better than I ever did.”. Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile, though you tried to downplay it. “I don’t know, you kinda rocked the baggy hoodie look,” you teased. Marshall chuckled, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Nah, you can keep it. I’ll grab another one. It’s just a hoodie, anyway.” You bit your lip, looking down at the oversized garment again, fingers tracing the worn-out logo. It felt like more than just a hoodie. It felt like a piece of him—something intimate and familiar, something you never realized you needed until now. “But it’s not just a hoodie,” you said softly, glancing up at him. “It’s yours. It smells like you… and it’s—" You paused, realizing how cheesy you were about to sound. “It’s kinda special.” Marshall gave you a small, crooked smile. “Yeah, it’s special. And that’s why I want you to have it. You’ve been through a lot this past week. It makes me feel better knowing you got something to hold onto when I’m not around.” You looked at him, your heart warming at the sentiment. He wasn’t always good with words when it came to this kind of stuff, but when he was, it hit you right in the chest. You stepped closer to him, arms wrapping around his waist, your face pressed against his chest. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled but sincere. “For everything.” He rested his chin on top of your head, his arms coming up to hold you close. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t forget to wash it every once in a while. I don’t want my hoodie to smell like Vicks forever,” he joked, the vibration of his chest making you giggle. You pulled back slightly, smirking up at him. “No promises.” Marshall laughed, shaking his head, but his smile lingered as he looked down at you, still tucked into his hoodie like it was made just for you. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s not about the hoodie. It’s just... I like knowing you’re taken care of. Even if it’s something small like that.”. You tilted your head, your eyes softening as you gazed up at him. “You’re sweet, you know that?”. He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start with that,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched as if he couldn’t hold back the smile completely. You laughed and stood on your  tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Too late.” For a moment, you both stood there in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms, the hoodie now a symbol of something more between you. It wasn’t just about the comfort it gave you—it was about how it made you feel connected to him, even in the simplest of ways. As you settled back against his chest, Marshall kissed the top of your head, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet of the room. “Keep the hoodie,” he said again, this time almost a whisper. “It’s yours. Like me.”

[wpdarlingpan]

Snow Falls… In Love

Part 2 ❄️

Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader

Female Prounouns

Word Count: 2k

Summary: an innocent girl from district 12 is Coriolanus Snow’s tribute. She wins the capitals heart through her love and kind eyes. Now he never wants to let her go, she was his tribute. At first it was admiration, but not it’s grown into something bigger. Love.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, mentions of murder, normal hunger games warnings, self-deprecation

Click which part you’d like to read below! ❄️

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Finale)

The kiss they shared was monumental for Coriolanus. It was as if every puzzle piece fell into place for him. His confidence overruled the idea of Y/N getting murdered in the games the next day.

But that’s all she could think about.

Y/N adored Corio, after all he’d done to keep her alive and favored it was impossible not to. It was difficult for her to process that fact she found someone this special but she would soon die in the games.

“Corio, I-“ she spoke before cutting herself off, figuring out the best way to say it. “I don’t want you to think I have a chance in that arena. Hope is a dangerous thing.”

Coriolanus was silent, staring into her eyes intently as he moved to grab her chin with a firm grip.

“You are going to get out of that arena. The other mentors? Their focus is on making their opponents strong. They will look past simple solutions in favor of brute strength. You will get out of this because of you are your strengths, agility and wits.” He never looked away, not even for a second. He didn’t even let go until he thought he got his point across.

Y/N hesitated but nodded as he goes to hand her a compact case before stopping.

“What is this?” She questions at his hesitation. Not because it’s his mother’s but because he was afraid she open it or something before he could explain. He would never put her in harms way.

“Do not open it until absolutely necessary. Do not smell it or even touch it util that point. Even just a little of it could kill you.”

Y/N understood that he wanted to ensure she’d have a weapon within moments of the timer starting. She nodded as he continued to talk about a hiding space.

“Thank you Corio, thank you for everything you’ve done to keep me alive.” Tears gathered in her eyes, silently falling as he wiped them.

“This isn’t goodbye, I will see you when you win the games. I will see you everyday when I wake up and at the end when I fall asleep.“ Coriolanus leaned in and kissed her softly as he wiped her tears with a plain handkerchief before he retreated back to his house. Not home because he truly believed his home was with you.

~*~

Coriolanus watched the games reluctantly, the blood spilled seem to engulf the screen. He stared at the screen holding Y/N.

The second the countdown stopped they were off. Y/N turned around in fear to see a spear being thrown towards her as she attempted to duck out of the way, but it still managed to cut her arm causing her to whimper in pain.

Yet It didn’t stop her as she ran into the vents, it the hiding place snow suggested but good enough. She was even able to lock it before anyone could notice.

The battle outside was loud. The clangs of metal crashing echoes through the arena. The sounds of screams and grunts as someone’s life vanished in mere moments.

Meanwhile Coriolanus was internally on edge. It wouldn’t show through his poised posture or the indifferent look on his face but the way his heart was beating faster.

There were no cameras in the vents much to Lucky Flickerman’s despair and promises to add one next year.

By sundown there was nearly half of the tributes left.

It was late at night and dark in the arena, most of the tributes were sleeping or staying in their hiding spots since it was dangerous to go out in the dark.

That’s when Sejanus snuck in. He saw the way they hung up his friend from the districts. The torture he went through while he was living lavishly in the capital with his daddy’s money.

To which he used to give his friend a proper District 2 send off.

Unluckily or luckily for Coriolanus it was his responsibility to get him out.

~*~

Y/N peaked out the vent when she heard talking. A voice sounded familiar but with how far away they were it was hard to tell for sure.

Corio couldn’t pass up this opportunity so as his friend gathered himself, he ran up to the vent.

Y/N was on edge until she saw the face of Coriolanus Snow.

The tears instantly began running as she went to along it but be stopped her.

“I have to get out of here. I’m not supposed to be here. But I had to see you, I couldn’t leave without hearing your voice in person. I’m sorry I can’t get you out.” He reached through the vent the best he could and they held hands. “There’s significantly less tributes left from earlier. Your chances are bettering Y/N, now it’s time for you to believe in yourself.”

“I will be okay, I will see you later Corio.” Y/N spoke as her voice wavered. Would she? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t bring herself to fully find comfort in his words.”

“See you later my love.” Corio spoke without truly thinking of the implication of the pet name but couldn’t find himself to be bothered as him and Sejanus ran out of the arena, no other tributes even hearing the sound of the gates closing for the last time until the winner was announced.

~*~

Y/N had begun to sneak out of the vent at night to stretch her legs. Risky but necessary after spending days sitting down in the vent, her breathing silent as tributes would walk by, not sparing even a glance at the vent.

That was until one did notice.

Y/N got out of the vent on the third night, pushing the door open quietly as she stepped out on alert.

What she didn’t know though was there was someone else in that part of the arena. They were crouched in a corner, blending into the shadows the best they could at the orders of Coral.

Tanner got up slowly, reaching to grab his weapon, before running at Y/N.

She heard the rocks cracking beneath his feet before she turned to the noise. His sickle was raised high, a battle cry falling from his mouth as he swung right at Y/N. She dodged it.

That was until she lost her balance and slipped down the slanted rocks.

~*~

Coriolanus was the only one left at the viewing auditorium. He watched closely as Y/N was crawling out of the vents.

He looked around the frames of the arena, checking peoples positions to ensure the safety of his tribute.

That’s when he saw Tanner.

Corio watched in apprehension as tanner ran at her. He was hitting buttons on the keypad urgently, looking for anything to help her after the whole faulty drones thing.

But what else could be done?

~*~

Y/N felt her head slam onto a rock, leaving only a concussion hopefully due to the lack of blood.

Tanner made his way down, almost making a game of cat and mouse out of the chase as he slowly lurked closer.

Y/N pushed her self up even with the disagreement of her head as she went to run before feeling a slight weight in her pocket. Reaching into her pocket as she kept an eye on him, she got ahold of the little ‘gift’ from Corio.

The second Tanner got closer Y/N open the container and blew the entire contents into his face before throwing the container to the center to keep her hands free in case it doesn’t work.

Nothing happened… at first.

Then he collapsed as blood drained from his nose.

Coriolanus watched as Tanner’s feed cut with a look of admiration at Y/N’s ability to defend herself. Because that’s what he saw it as, self-defense.

Y/N saw it as murder. She knew what was going to happen. It was between the two of them. They wouldn’t make friendship bracelets and stop fighting. This was life or death, she had to make her choice. The feeling of the poison in her hand made her decision for her as it brought a familiar blonde to the front of her mind.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less as she watched the light fade from his eyes before shutting them. A quiet promise of hoping he had a better time in the next life before shutting herself in the vent.

With the Rebels attacks increasing, Volumnia Gaul decided the game was over. There was no chance for a Victor. They all would die.

This was not something Coriolanus took into account.

He ran as fast as he could before stopping at the entrance of the doctors building.

Coriolanus had to make a plan… and fast.

~*~

Y/N and the others heard the commotion of something landing in the arena, followed by the sound of crunching underneath it. It was dangerous but they all inched forward as Y/N got out of the vent, watching from afar. Of course she was curious but it was the capital. There was no influence she could have but only hope for the odds and they never seemed to be in her favor.

Wovey was the first to get close

“Is it done? Can we go home?” Tears built in the little girls eyes.

The item began cracking before a sea of snake engulfed the girl like a wave upon an ocean pulling her under the tides.

All of the tributes screamed as they attempted to run for safety. There was just too many snakes, the bites would slow them down before their inevitable death due to the amount of venom flooding their system.

It was down to Coral and Y/N.

Y/N had stayed up by the vent and watched as Coral attempted to reach her but was stopped by the snakes wrapping around her arms and legs.

Then there was one.

Y/N didn’t move, maybe if she didn’t run they wouldn’t be alarmed and kill her? Maybe they would go right past. But that was hope, and she would be hypocritical to have it.

The snakes circled up her arms and legs as Y/N urged herself to calm down. This was her last few moments and she only waited for the inevitable pain of stinging bites resonating throughout her body.

It never happened.

They just slithered around her, coiling themselves as if to comfort.

~*~

Everyone was confused on why the snakes attacked everyone else but Y/N. It didn’t make sense until Coriolanus spoke up

“She calms them! You saw how empathetic she was in the interview” he looked around to see the nodding heads as he hid a smirk “They won’t hurt her. Let her out!”

Tigress yelled to let her out as well. She saw what Y/N was doing to her cousin and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost her.

This brought the crowd to a chant.

Then finally, the games were over.

“The Victor of the 10th annual Hunger Games is… Y/N L/N!” Lucky announced the winner as the room cheered. Corio only talked to Tigress and Sejanus before rushing out of the room to find his love.

After all, there was no proof he cheated.

The compact was shattered upon impact with the snake container.

The white handkerchief had been deemed a tributes.

There was no evidence Coriolanus Snow and Y/N L/N cheated in the games. It was only their secret.

They say love is a weakness.

Especially in the Hunger Games.

But it made the two of them stronger. It was the two of them against the world from the start.

Snow fell in love, but what would it take to keep her with him?

The world may never know

Until the last and final part of their love story.

~*~

Note: Hey Everyone! I hope I did you guys justice with how much you liked the first part. I appreciate all the love and it greatly inspired me to write and finish this story. I know there wasn’t much fluff in this chapter but this plot had to be told.

I will be publishing a part 3 ❄️

Taglist: @diannana @olivetree420

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 2)

summary: with the stakes of your relationship on the line, can rafe pull off the impossible to win you back?

word count: 6k 🫣

a/n: i love you all for the love on this lil' series!! ♡ toxic hockey rafe has me in a chokehold, so i promise this will not be the last you see of him!! apologies in advance, you will basically be attending a full hockey game here, i tried my best to explain all the lingo!

(part one)

The arena was packed even though you were there early, arriving alone because the other girlfriends and wives were always late, which simply wasn't in your DNA.

Your dad was a coach growing up, so you spent countless hours in empty rinks, arenas and stands; his rule for games was that you were in your seat early enough to see the starting lineup and the national anthem, no exceptions. Truth be told you liked being there when the lights went down, when the music amped up, you loved the anticipation of a new game.

You didn't mind sitting in the cold seat, hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that you got from the same concession stand every time. Hockey players were notoriously superstitious and by extension now you were too; just like they had their pregame rituals, so did you: same parking spot in the VIP lot, same hot chocolate from the same concession stand, same seat in section 106. You were in the lower bowl of the arena, a few rows back from the ice, facing the bench, nearly eye-level with the team.

You let your mind wander and tried not to think about Rafe but it was impossible, this place was Rafe to you; from the feeling of the cold air on your cheeks and fingers, to the damp and crisp smell of the ice and the sounds of the fans and ambient pregame music, all of it was a part of your love story, all of it was him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt like you thought it would, rather it felt like coming home after a semester at college, foreign but familiar.

You swiped at your phone, a nervous tick, even though you knew there wouldn't be anything there, which was a good thing, Rafe needed to be focused on the game, so you slid your phone into the cupholder next to you and resorted to tapping your heeled foot nervously.

The seats around you filled quickly and sure enough the other girlfriends and wives arrived just as the lights were dimming, offering cheek kisses and sympathetic hugs, well aware of your situation. Your best friend Morgan slid in next to you, pulling you into her side.

"It's selfish, but I'm glad you're here" she said, loud enough to be heard over the music and the announcer as her brown eyes traced your face sympathetically.

"I'm fine" you lied with a forced smile. Totally fine you thought. Not the love of my life who broke my heart then skated over it trying to win me back in the middle of the semifinals.

You decided to keep all of that to yourself, because truthfully it was ridiculous. It was juvenile. And it was never going to happen. And you didn't want it to happen anyway, you reassured yourself. Right?

You shook your head as you turned your attention to the starting lineup as Rafe's name boomed over the loudspeaker, the cheering noticeably louder from the crowd. He was a fan favorite, beloved for his fast and aggressive style of play. He wasn't afraid to two-hand someone when the referee wasn't looking, to stand up for his team, to battle for the puck. He was chippy, gritty, and he's on the first line tonight you thought to yourself, a spot reserved for the very best players, putting them in the best scoring position. But surely that's not in any way related to our deal... you mused.

You stood on your tiptoes to see him over the crowd in front of you. He was standing at center ice under the spotlight, his helmet tucked under his arm as he shuffled side to side on his skates, face unsmiling, focused as he looked between his feet and the empty ice in front of him. Your heart leapt uncontrollably at the sight of him; God he's beautiful you thought as your body hummed in recognition and longing, completely betraying you.

The tension and animosity in the arena were thick. You had faced the opposing team a few times in the regular season and it did not end well.

As in, you'd lost every time.

As in, Rafe left the last game with a five-minute major penalty and a black eye after an all-out brawl.

Now the fans were itching for a rematch and you were simply hoping for everyone to leave in one piece. That was the difference between being a fan and being someone who cared deeply for the boys on the ice, it wasn't a spectacle to you anymore. You watched as Rafe's wingers Nick and Andrew stood beside him, followed by two defensemen and your goalie as the national anthem wrapped up.

Everyone took their seats as the lights came back on and the music came on again too, urging the fans around you to cheer, and for you to resume the incessant tapping of your foot as you leaned forward in your seat, laser focused on the guys lining up for the faceoff.

"Girl, you good?" Morgan asked, taking in your nervous energy.

"Hmm?" you responded distractedly, barely glancing at her. "Yeah, yeah m'fine" you said.

You were always more into the game than the other girls, but that didn't account for the clear tension and anxiety rolling off of you in waves, nor the way you were immaculately dressed, which didn't go unnoticed either.

Rafe skated to center ice, equally sized with the opponent at faceoff as the referee dropped the puck. It had barely clattered to the ice before Rafe had gained possession, shouldering his opponent out of the way and barreling towards the offensive zone with a burst of energy like a gunshot that had the crowd almost immediately back on their feet, pulling you along with them.

"OK, I'm sorry, what is happening here?" Morgan said as she watched him.

He was a man possessed, head down, focused, ignoring his teammates as they called for the puck to set up a play, like he was trying to do it all himself. Like he was trying to score. He flipped the puck towards the goalie, who blocked it and possession shifted as he skated backwards on defense, your heart settling in your chest.

Rafe always played with intensity, but with the way he was playing now, he wouldn't make it through the first period. You thought there would be a reprieve on defense, but he was diving for the puck, playing to steal rather than defending his zone. He looked like a maniac.

Until it worked.

The crowd was back on their feet as he and Nick had a breakaway two-on-one, both of them racing towards the net together with only one defender standing between them and the goalie, the rest of their teammates striding to catch up with them. Nick called for the puck, slapping his stick on the ice, but Rafe deked the defender, faking him out before approaching the goalie and tipping the puck into the small pocket over his shoulder, swishing it effortlessly into the net.

The arena erupted as the goal horn blared and you found yourself jumping up and down, overcome with excitement and emotion. You could physically feel your heart beating. This is totally normal you thought. It's totally fine to score a goal in the first two minutes of the game, on his first shift, against the toughest team in the league.

You watched players pile on him in celebration before they all skated back to the bench, bumping fists with their team before taking a seat on the bench. Your eyes were glued to him, and his were on the jumbotron above center ice, watching his own replay before the coach approached him, grasping his shoulder angrily, and you could imagine why. He had been reckless, he had been lucky. Rafe nodded, but ultimately shook him off and refocused on the resumed play. Players zoomed in front of you and your eyes zipped to follow them before you glanced ever so briefly back at Rafe, who was unmistakably looking at you and smiling.

You swallowed to hide the emotions on your face, not giving him a single inch as you focused on the play.

You loved watching hockey, but it felt different when Rafe was on the ice, like he was a magnet, the only thing you could focus on, and his next shift was no different. He was playing like a madman and within seconds you could hear the coach shouting. Rafe turned up emptyhanded this time and the coach was visibly angry as Rafe skated to the bench, going so far as to yell back at him, which had you holding your breath; you had never seen him do that before.

Nick reached for Rafe's shoulder to calm him down and then they started bickering back and forth. Your attention was now split between the two of them and the action on the ice when you saw Nick physically rear back at something Rafe had said, the motion grabbing your full focus. Nick covered his face with his gloved hands, looking back at Rafe and then repeating the motion before he glanced up at the stands, at you, and shook his head, resigned. Were they talking about you!?! you thought. Had Rafe just told him what's going on?

You were so caught up that you missed the play as the other team scored. The game was tied 1-1. The arena echoed with boos as their bench erupted in cheers. You looked up at the clock: 2 minutes left in the first period.

Rafe and Nick got onto the ice for their last shift and the second the puck dropped, they were off as a duo, Nick's intensity now matching Rafe's own; they were bodying guys, tag-teaming as they raced into the offensive zone. Nick had the puck and passed to Rafe, and almost immediately Rafe was cornered by two extremely large defensemen who pinned him to the boards as they tried to steal the puck. But he wouldn't relent, throwing his elbows and trying to wiggle free, desperate and angry as the buzzer sounded for the end of the period.

And yet they didn't let him go. The crowd started shouting and everyone was on their feet as Rafe dropped his stick, turned and grabbed them both by the front of their jerseys, shoving them as the benches emptied and other players joined in, piling on top of one another until you lost sight of Rafe in a mess of limbs, equipment and jerseys. You were craning to see over the ecstatic fans, egging on the fight as the referees raced to break it up, pulling bodies off of one another until they reached Rafe.

His helmet had come off and as the referees skated him towards the locker room, he was shouting at the opposing team who skated after him, riling each other up before he yanked himself out of the ref's grasp and marched off the ice through the tunnel.

Period 1: Game Tied. 1-1.

You let out a deep sigh before collapsing back in your seat. You took a shaky inhale before exhaling and you felt a set of eyes on you.

You turned to see Morgan looking at you with an eyebrow arched.

"You're really going to sit here and act like you don't know what's going on? I know that boy texts you his every thought."

You opened your mouth, an excuse, a lie ready before she interrupted you.

"-- And I KNOW you didn't block him like you said you were going to, so don't try me. What the hell is going on?"

You bit your lip at that, glancing between her and the ice where the zamboni was running clean lines across the cold surface.

You gave a halfhearted shrug, "You know how much he wants to win, how much this means to him."

She doubled down her glare.

You sighed, avoiding her gaze before looking back to her.

"I made a deal with him" you nearly whispered.

A few of the other girls snuck by you both, causing you to shift in your seats as she leaned in and whisper-shouted at you:

"I'm sorry what!"

"If he scores four goals tonight, I said I'd get back together with him."

"You're joking" she said flatly. "Please tell me you're joking."

You pursed your lips with a small shake of your head.

"The two of you" she said as she let out an exasperated laugh. "Unbelievable. You can't stay away from each other and yet you’re willing to bet the stakes of your relationship on a game. I can't" she said, throwing her hands up in defeat.

She paused, getting serious for a moment.

"Are you sure you even want to get back with him, is that really such a good idea hun?"

"Morgan, he's never going to score four goals, it's like, impossible."

"Are you watching the same game I am?" she said emphatically. "Cause your mans sure is gonna try and you better ask yourself what you're going to do if he does."

There was a whisper of truth to what she was saying. It was probably impossible, but not completely out of reach. And what would you do? Your heart trilled. You would be ecstatic the devil on your shoulder said. You would be screwed said the angel.

Your phone buzzed in the cupholder next to you and swiped it open.

You grasped at your phone. Rafe never had his phone between periods, none of the players did, it was basically sacrilegious. They had just enough time to get treatment, catch their breath, hydrate and listen to their coach and he was on his phone!? You put yours down and tried to rearrange the smile creeping onto your face as you saw the teams rejoining the ice for the second period.

Just like before, Rafe was off like a rocket, but the other team was on to him this time, doubling his defensive coverage, making it nearly impossible for him to skate, let alone make a play. He had put a target on his back with the fight at the end of the first period, so even when he didn't have the puck, you could see the other players go after him, a stick in his skates, a slash at his side, heads turning to chirp at him as they lined up for faceoffs. But he didn't slow down for a moment, battling twice as hard now, coming back to the bench after each shift uncharacteristically exhausted, heaving with his elbows on his knees.

You watched him and felt overcome with emotions as the realization hit you: Rafe wasn't good at expressing himself, he wasn't a 'feelings' person, he didn't always know what to say, which is why sometimes words came better to him over texts when he had more time to think about it. But hockey? Hockey was his language. He couldn't tell you how sorry he was, how much he wanted to fight for this, but he could show you. He could play for you, he was playing for you, putting his body on the line, trying his all-out hardest, not a single person in the arena could deny that as they watched him tonight. He wanted this. Badly. Which meant he wanted you, badly. You felt a flush of warmth in your cheeks that had nothing to do with your lukewarm hot chocolate as you watched him slide up the bench for his next shift.

You looked up at the jumbotron. There were only 12 minutes left in the second period, and the game was still tied at 1-1.

What were you going to do if he scored four goals?

What were you going to do if he didn't? felt like the more pressing question. He was running out of time. If something didn't happen now, he would have one period left to score 3 goals, and that was simply not going to happen. I shouldn't have made the number so high you thought guiltily.

Your eyes glanced back to the ice as he clambered over the boards in the midst of a shift change. He was skating methodically, not slower, but maybe more strategically and you were sure his energy was waning even if it didn't look like it.

Suddenly, Nick picked the puck off an opponent and Rafe raced to skate with him, crossing into the offensive zone with several of their teammates. Nick had a wide open shot, and he brought his stick back for a slapshot before turning at the very last moment and passing to Rafe who had positioned himself near the goalie. The puck banked off his stick and ricocheted into the goal.

You were on your feet again, jumping up and down in Morgan's arms as the boys piled onto each other. The crowd was alive again as the team took a 2-1 lead, 5 minutes left now in the second period.

Morgan looked at you, shaking her head before shouting something you couldn't hear over the crowd. You shook your head back before she leaned in closer.

"Is Nick in on this shit?" she yelled.

You looked at her, confused.

"Why else wouldn't he take that shot? It was wide open."

The idea of Rafe recruiting his best friend and linemate into this made you lightheaded and giddy. As you looked back at the bench, the two of them were shoulder to shoulder, looking right at you and Nick waved, a goofy little smile on his face for the briefest of seconds before his attention returned to the game.

Period 2: Eagles winning. 2-1.

The period ended and you spent the last intermission glued to your seat as everyone around you got up to get food and drinks, your mind spinning.

One period. Twenty minutes left for Rafe to score 2 goals. It was still nearly impossible, but didn't feel as insurmountable as before and you still weren't sure what you wanted the outcome to be. You were staring into middle space, questioning your entire relationship when your phone buzzed again in your cupholder. You swiped it open.

Two hearts.

Two goals.

You smiled widely, rolling your eyes before giggling like a little girl. You wanted to respond, and your fingers lingered over your screen, but he still had no business being on his phone, and what could you possibly say anyway?? "Nevermind!! Let's get back together despite all the shit you put me through!"

Ugh.

The third period was simultaneously the slowest and quickest 20 minutes of your life.

Rafe was battling, and the other team battled back, getting chippier and chippier as the teams exchanged penalties and breakaways, but the score stayed the same. You could feel the crowd's excitement at the prospect of scraping through this game with a one-goal lead; a good enough result to make them happy, but you couldn't deny the disappointment you felt as you were playing an entirely different game.

As time whittled down you felt yourself getting emotional as the odds were stacked against Rafe, stacked against both of you. Ten minutes. Eight. Five. Three. You could feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes as your foot continued to tap, eyes glancing anxiously between Rafe, the bench, the players and the jumbotron that counted down the time unceasingly.

Morgan reached for you, winding her arm around yours and grabbing your hand, a sad smile on her lips. You both knew this wasn't going to happen. There was just no way. You could sense that Rafe could feel it too, he was getting more and more desperate, scrambling after the puck, making sloppy mistakes that made you feel guilty, the most so when the other team scored… tying the game.

And then what felt like the final twist of the knife: with less than 1 minute left, they scored again, capitalizing on the dashed morale of the Eagles to take the lead 3-2. It was like someone sucked the air out of the arena. Rafe was on the ice, on his knees and all of the players looked so defeated.

Fuck fuck fuck was all you could think as they regrouped with their coach to come up with their last play, their last chance to tie the game. You leaned forward, desperately trying to read lips as if you could somehow decipher the plan. The ref blew the whistle and the coach sent guys on the ice, leaving Rafe behind, and your stomach dropped: he wasn't even going to get a chance.

Rafe argued and you could see him yelling and gesturing wildly as the coach yelled back. The ref blew the whistle again and you knew they were dangerously close to getting a delay of game penalty. A ripple of confusion went through the crowd as they watched the argument unfold and you wished you could sink into your seat and disappear.

The coach shouted something that seemed final before Rafe took one look at him, ignored him and skated onto the ice, swapping with Nick who slid onto the bench, head bowed, ashamed, as the coach berated him.

At this point, Rafe had been on the ice way longer than he should have, he was making mistakes, and now he was putting his career, his contract on the line as he stepped up to take the faceoff.

The puck dropped and the battle ensued as the teams fought back and forth. Their team took a shot on goal that had you holding your breath as the time ticked down.

There were less than 20 seconds left as the puck rebounded towards Rafe and he guided it with his stick, taking off down the ice faster than you'd ever seen him skate; in just three strides he had nearly covered the length of the rink, leaving all of the other players trailing behind him as he squared off with the goalie.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" the crowd shouted.

You were on your feet, grasping Morgan's arm for dear life, certain you were leaving a mark as you continued to hold your breath.

Rafe shot the puck and it hit the goalie's leg pad, but bounded right back to him.

"Three! Two!"

He shot again and the goalie fell forward, but the crowd behind the goalie erupted and the official lit the lamp behind the goal - he had scored.

The puck had slid between the goalie's legs and Rafe exploded with energy, ripping down the ice and jumping into the glass in front of you as his team piled on top of him and the crowd went ballistic as fans threw their hats onto the ice to celebrate his hat trick - three goals scored.

You were jumping and screaming with the other girls, a few tears escaping your eyes in relief and excitement, overwhelmed at the entire situation.

Three goals.

He'd scored three damn goals, a new career record for him. And now they were in overtime.

Period 3: Game tied 3-3. End of regulation play.

"Wait! Wait! What the hell happens now!?" Morgan asked breathless, looking to you as the only girl that knew a thing about the rules.

"Overtime" you huffed, trying to calm yourself. "Another 20 minutes, first team to score wins."

"Was that part of the deal?" she asked.

"It wasn't not part of the deal?" you said. "We didn't really get into specifics" you laughed, rolling your eyes.

You glanced at the bench as both teams hydrated and listened to the coaches. Rafe's teammates were still all over him, smacking his helmet, arms slung around him. The coach said something to him and he put his hands up in surrender as he sat on the bench and his teammates took the ice.

Your eyes were glued to Rafe but unlike before his didn't meet yours and for a second, you didn't know how to take that. You craved that acknowledgement from him, but you also recognized the look on his face; he was totally 100% focused, eyes fixed on the action on the ice. He wants to win you thought. Or maybe his focus was for something else.

Within a few minutes, his line was up and they jumped on the ice. He was playing smart now, conservative, concentrated and gathered, a stark difference from before. He was strong on defense, backing his team up as they played perfectly off of each other, which paid off when Nick stole the puck and shouted as he passed the puck up the boards to Rafe who sprinted after it, just a stride in front of a defender.

"Oh my god" you heard Morgan mutter as everyone stood to their feet and even though the roar of the crowd was deafening, you swore you could hear every scrape of Rafe's skate against the ice, the clatter of the puck as the play moved in slow motion to the beat of your heart.

Another stride and Rafe was alone in the offensive zone, the defender just a hair behind him.

Was this really happening? Was he about to end the game, to score a fourth goal?

Another stride and he was eyeing the goalie, lining up his shot.

He maneuvered his stick and just as he was about to shoot, the defender dove, thrusting his stick in Rafe's path, causing them both to tumble onto the ice and into the goalie, the puck sliding away, abandoned as the refs blew their whistles. No goal.

Rafe was down for only a second before he stood up, grabbed his stick and swung it with full force, snapping it in half over the boards in front of him in rage and frustration, causing the fans behind the glass to jump and spill their beer on each other.

Two of the refs were frantically skating towards him, waving their arms and blowing their whistles, but your eyes drifted to the head referee who was standing next to the officials box, watching a small computer screen, a replay. Almost immediately he nodded, handed back the screen and raised his fisted hands over his head and crossed them and you let out an uncontrollable shout of excitement as you grabbed for Morgan.

"What! Oh my god! What is going on!!?" she shouted back, and all you could do was laugh and shout as you jumped up and down and pointed to the referee.

"You are the ONLY ONE HERE who knows what that means!" she shouted. "What does it mean!!!?"

"A PENALTY SHOT!" you shouted back.

Your eyes shot back to Rafe who had clocked the same thing and was skating back to the bench. The equipment manager handed him a new stick and now the arena was abuzz with the same information as the announcer explained that Rafe would have the chance to score one on one against the goalie, with all of the other players off the ice. A golden opportunity.

The fans were ballistic. You could barely hear yourself think, could barely process your emotions as you struggled onto your tiptoes again to see over the raised hands and jumping fans as Rafe skated methodically to center ice, alone.

He skated back and forth, side to side with crisp turns like a predatory shark before he stopped at center ice, hands on his stick on his knees, eyeing the goalie before his head turned slowly and he looked right at you. Even amidst the chaos, you could see his signature smirk before he refocused and gathered the puck in his stick.

He was going to score.

You just knew it. You knew by the look on his face, by the stride of his skates, by the confidence in his gait.

"He's going to score" you said out loud, quietly, to yourself, a revelation before you turned to Morgan who was solely focused on the scene unfolding on the ice. You tugged on her sleeve, desperate for her to understand the weight of what you had just said.

"He's going to score, Morgan" you said, louder, matter-of-factly.

"Well SHIT I hope so!!!!" she shouted back without looking at you, now completely wrapped up in the game.

She didn't understand.

He was going to score.

And that meant he was going to be yours again.

Your eyes found the ice and you watched as he approached the goalie, goading him out of the goal, faking him out before wrapping the puck around his leg and tipping it upward.

The goalie dove backwards at the last minute and 15,000 fans held their breath as his gloved hand extended, brushing the edge of the puck, causing it to wobble, but without enough force to change the course of fate as the puck swooshed into the net.

The goal lamp lit up.

The goal horn sounded.

And if you thought the arena was loud before, it reached a new level as fans screamed, shouted, jumped up and down and embraced each other.

You felt realization ripple over you, your gaze stuck on the ice. Stuck on the image of the goalie flat on his back, defeated. Stuck to Rafe who had ripped his helmet off, discarded as he let out a roar of victory before getting bombarded by his teammates who piled on him in celebration.

End of OT. Eagles win 4-3.

Morgan yanked you into her by your shoulders, hugging you and jumping up and down, but an unexplainable calm had settled over you, gluing your feet to the ground.

You should be excited, you were, but instead you felt like you were having an out-of-body experience. What the hell had just happened? Rafe had scored four goals, had led his team to the finals. Had he done it for himself? Of course. But wasn't a part of it for you too?

You turned and looked back at the ice, desperate to catch his eye, to talk to him, to figure this out as chaos rained around you. The players skated to center ice with their sticks raised to salute the fans before skating away, Rafe leading them quickly into the tunnel without so much as a look at you. Not even a cheeky smile or a blown kiss, which you used to get after every game. What the fuck.

Morgan shook your shoulder.

"Babes, now what?!" she asked, excited, curious, anxious.

You looked at her, lost. You had no idea. Did you text him? Were you just back together again? How did this work?

The lights dimmed as the announcer drew the crowd back in to introduce the three stars of the game - recognizing the three standout players of the night. The third star was your goalie, who stopped an unimaginable number of shots and you cheered for him as he skated solo onto the ice in a spotlight, taking a spin around the ice before tossing a t-shirt into the crowd to an excited fan.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, your mind incapable of thinking of anything but Rafe. You grabbed your phone. No new texts. The players were all in the locker room by now. Sure, they were partying and celebrating, but if he had time to text you in the middle of the game, couldn't he text you now??

Nick was the second star of the game and you glanced up from your phone to see him doing the familiar skate around the ice, waving to Morgan who blew him a kiss back, but you glanced back at your phone, willing a text to appear, opening and closing your texts, refreshing the app, messing with your wifi. Surely it was the internet connection you thought, now desperate to hear from him.

"Come on Cameron" you murmured to yourself.

"Okay, what is he doing?" you heard Morgan laugh and you looked down to the ice to see Nick still circling around, backwards, forwards, pumping up the crowd who roared around him as he gathered a t-shirt to throw. You were thrilled for him, really, but you resumed your focus on your phone. Should I turn it off and turn it back on again? you thought.

The lights dimmed further and the deep voice of the announcer reverberated, "Ladies and gentlemen, your first star of the game, with an unprecedented four goals, including your game winner--"

"Uhhh YN" you heard Morgan say.

But you were too distracted, too afraid to look away from your phone in case you missed a text coming through.

"--Rafe Cameron!!!" the announcer said, the spotlight shining on the tunnel, and your eyes shot up at the sound of his name, only to find the ice empty.

You felt Morgan tug harshly on your sleeve and when you finally looked back to her your stomach barrel-rolled and your heart shot into your throat.

Standing unmistakably next to her in the aisle was Rafe, still fully suited in his gear and pads, towering over everyone like a giant, his skates traded for his training shoes. Pieces of his hair were clinging to his forehead and his face was rosy with exertion, sweat dripping down his temple in rivulets.

He was smiling confidently at you, and unlike the last time you had seen him in your car, his eyes were unwavering and transfixed on yours, even when the fans around you turned around and noticed he was there, even when phones were whipped out and shouts and cheers went up, he ignored them; he only had eyes for you.

"How--" you started to say, your phone completely forgotten as he started to nudge his way past the people at the end of your row to walk fully into the seats next to you.

"Ohmygod, ohymgod" Morgan was saying as she clambered out of the way of his bulky frame and suddenly he was towering in front of you.

He was breathing heavily; with how quickly he made it up here it was no wonder he had been sprinting off the ice and into the tunnel. His face searched yours, eyes twinkling, flitting over your lips, searching for a sign, a signal, a hint of how you were feeling. And you weren't sure you could have expressed it even if you could form words.

He leaned down next to your ear and you could feel the sweat and the heat radiating off of him.

"That was four" he said, breathless and husky before pulling back, but not as far as before, his nose brushing yours.

The spotlight was sweeping the empty ice, looking for him as the announcer tried awkwardly to fill the air time, wondering where he was.

All you could do was meet his gaze, staring into his crystal blue eyes.

And all you could see was your Rafe.

Sure, he had his issues, but you knew he was sincere, you knew he was trying and you acknowledged that despite everything he was probably the love of your life.

"We didn't agree on overtime goals" you said loudly back at him to be heard over the crowd.

For a moment you could see fear, panic and a hint of hurt cross his face; if you didn't know him as well as you did you wouldn't have seen it, it was nearly indetectable. But he took one look at your sly smile, your blushing cheeks, your eyes rimmed with tears.

"C'mere" he said roughly, ignoring you as his warm and sweaty hands that smelled unmistakably like his gloves grabbed your face and pulled you towards him as his lips enveloped yours, engulfing you, bold, brazen and completely unabashed as he full on made out with you, chaotically, his tongue slipping into your mouth, even when you tried to wiggle away, more out of a sense of decorum than anything as a feeling seeped through every inch of you like he was mending every wound in your body.

He was sweating all over you at this point, but you didn't care. You could feel it dripping on you. You could taste it in his kiss, mixed with the tang of yellow gatorade and your fingers grasped for purchase on his jersey as you tried to balance yourself against the force of him pressing into you.

The crowd around you erupted, as the flash of pictures being taken lit the two of you. He was unrelenting and you could feel yourself flushing as much from his attention as from the heat radiating off of him. It definitely went on longer than it should have, longer than any right-minded couple would have made out in front of thousands of fans before he paused just long enough, his lips still hovering on yours and said through a growl, "You're mine, baby."

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444, @rafescurtainbangz, @romiiq, @dkjndfnmdfmdmnd, @warriorblu, @ietss, @tiaamberxx, @zyafics, @maybankslover, @saintchxx4, @akirkland, @cameronspecial, @f4ll-for-you, @diduzzula, @user123453226780536, @zizuras, @imabigback, @rowans-posts, @mymultiveres, @drewsphswife, @fangirlwithlou

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Burning Love

Chapter 8

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was a beautiful morning.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as Four snoozed beside you. One of his legs had managed to hook over yours during the night, pulling you impossibly closer, but you couldn't have cared less.

It was rare that things went your way in life, which was probably why the moment felt like a dream come true. Your thoughts kept circling back to the moment he admitted his love for you, and it took everything in you not to squeal like a child.

He loved you, and, well, you found that you loved him too. It had seemed impossible, considering the circumstances, but there was no way in hell you were going to complain now.

"Mmm..." a sleepy groan left Four's mouth, and his hand tightened around your shoulder, as if he was testing whether you were real or not. Earthy green eyes blinked open, and you couldn't deny the rush of heat shooting down your spine when his first instinct was to smile up at you. "Morning."

"Morning," you echoed, shifting slightly to test the wound on your side. When only the dullest of aches could be felt, you grinned. "I think I'm on the mend."

"Yeah?" He hummed. "I'm glad."

"So am I," you thought back to a certain one of his admissions last night. "Someone's gotta figure out what's going on with you."

You felt Four's grimace before you saw it. "...Right."

"Sooo," you dragged the word on as long as you could. "Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess first?"

There was silence; a long, embarrassed silence that did nothing but intrigue you further.

"...How much do you know about the Minish race?" He asked, still half-hiding in your neck.

You blinked, unable to comprehend why he kept bringing it up; you weren't going to judge him. "I– well, they're mice-like creatures that only good children can see, right?"

"Er, not mice, but the rest is true," he sighed and you resisted the urge to pat yourself on the back. "They're... known for having strange reactions to emotions, specifically...."

"Love?" you finished, brain swirling with vague ideas of where this was going.

"That's one of them," Hylia, he sounded so nervous that your heart couldn't help but ache. "When a Minish loves, it's... it's not something that can be defined so easily. They're driven to do anything for their love, even if it means hurting themselves or others."

"You're not going to hurt me," you whispered, only to be met by a huff.

"That's what I said."

"Oh," you had no idea how to respond to that, so you pressed forward. "Is that what happened... you know?"

"Yes," Four answered, and, for a moment, you could have sworn his hands tightened like claws against your arm. "It's called a... rut."

You froze, a tidal wave of deja-vu washing over you at the use of the term. "That's– like a wolf?"

Four cringed against your neck, and you immediately regretted your previous choice of words. "Well, yes, but that's a... crude description of it," just as you blurted: "Oh my Hylia, I am so sorry."

A spark of electricity skittered down your spine at the gentle press of his lips against the base of your neck. "It's fine, I know you're new to this."

"Yeah..." you trailed off, still feeling bad about the accidentally racist comment. "But that doesn't excuse it."

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "It sounds embarrassing, but it's still a part of my past."

You nodded, albeit sheepishly, and gathered your remaining strength to finish the blasted conversation: "What does that mean, then?"

"Pardon?"

"You said it was... like a wolf," Hylia, why did it sound so wrong to say?  "Does that mean...?"

There was silence as a shudder seemed to pass through Four's body.

"Four."

"...Yes."

You fell silent as the pieces began to form; the fever had only been a precursor to the change, and nearly a week had passed since symptoms first began to show, which meant he had been battling this alone for nearly that long.

"I'm so sorry," you breathed. The hand on your shoulder pulled back, and Four sat up in all his mussed-hair glory, expression slightly panicked, a noticeable waver in his tone when he spoke next.

"Don't apologize, I was the one who lied."

You shook your head, sitting up despite the leftover soreness. "I could have helped."

It was as if time had stopped. Four stared at you with more concentration than a starving man at a feast, and you felt a shiver of heat pool in your abdomen... until his expression shifted to one of hard resolve. "You know I can't–"

"Why not?" You countered swiftly before laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Four, so tell me what I need to do."

But Four maintained his shell-shocked gaze, seeming to become more panicked at your admission. "You're injured–"

"Then get a healing potion," you challenged. "And don't you dare make excuses; we're fixing this. Now."

Four didn't know whether to kiss you or run away. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to take you then and there, while the cacophony of voices in his brain yelled that he was mad if he was truly considering doing something so reckless to you while you were recovering from a wound he failed to protect you from.

He made his decision when you leaned forward to plant a kiss on his lips, quickly cupping your face to pull you in for another. Your hands found his shoulders, kneading lightly at the strong flesh in a way that made him want to pin you down and show you just how much he loved you.

But that was dangerous. A rut was not to be trifled with, and he would sooner die than push you into anything you weren't comfortable with.

"Four," your voice, now deliciously breathy, called as you shifted closer, nearly chest to chest with him. His hands ached to feel your skin beneath them, stroking and teasing and making you scream–

You arched into him as the kiss deepened, followed by a lightly-pained whimper that had alarm bells dinging inside his head.

"Wait," Four mumbled against your lips and you paused, eyes widening slightly. "If we're– you need a potion."

"Okay," you responded with a smile, watching as he stumbled off the bed to the door. Four pushed the heavy wood open, scanning the hallway for any signs of the others, only relaxing when there was none to be found. He was about to dart over to Hyrule's room when his foot nudged something on the floor.

It was a health potion, conveniently placed next to the frame. Too convenient, Four realized when he picked it up, noticing the note tied to the neck of the glass, which read a scrawled rendition of what he could only guess were the words 'have fun'.

"Four? What's that?" You called from behind him, and Four quickly tore the note off, allowing it to fall to the ground as he retreated into the refuge that was your room. Your eyebrows flew up as soon as you registered what he was holding. "...Is that a potion?"

"It was outside," Four didn't bother hiding how he had come across the item, uncorking it and handing it to you. You downed the liquid like a champ, grimacing cutely at the taste. He took the empty bottle and set it on the nightstand before climbing back onto bed.

As soon as his knees touched the fabric, your hands were on him again, movements far steadier than they'd been before. Four leaned into your touch as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, then both cheeks, and finished off on the tip of his nose. You drew back, eyes studying his face with a calculated gleam that he couldn't wait to ruin. "How do we do this?"

"Like before," Four murmured, and your lips were on his again, an arm wrapping around his back while the other tangled in his unconfined hair. The air around the two of you felt as if it had ignited, setting his body ablaze as he kissed you.

Four could have stayed like this forever, until your gentle hands coaxed him into your lap, and he became painfully aware of the true scope of the predicament. Your abdomen pressed firmly against his arousal, and he could only whimper as more heat pooled in his pelvis.

You swallowed the noises with ease, fingers digging gently into the flesh of his thighs as you arched experimentally against him. A thick moan spilled into the kiss, and your grip tightened minutely as you broke apart, panting softly.

"Is that good?" you asked softly, and he nodded, feeling slightly sheepish, though it didn't last long when his hands flew to your shoulders, hips lightly rolling against your stomach. Four leaned forward to kiss the front of your neck, lips brushing your bobbing throat with as much tenderness as he could muster. You sighed breathily and pulled his hips closer.

"I'm not made of glass," you murmured, nipping the outer lobe of his long ear, and Four couldn't have been more in love. "So don't treat me like I am."

"I know," one of his hands skimmed your side through your tunic, passing directly over the wound. You shivered some, and he made his decision. "But I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know," you echoed, and there was something so tender about the way you looked at him; like he was something to be treasured... like he was your treasure. Four felt his throat go dry at the realization, and he became painfully aware of how right Twilight had been. He was going to have to do something real nice for the rancher when this was over. "Now c'mere."

Your fingers dipped under the hem of his tunic with a hushed: "is this okay?" Four nodded helplessly, and you lifted the fabric off of him in one fluid motion, though he felt slightly self-conscious as your eyes roved over his form. His figure had always been a bit of a sore subject, whether it be height or... other attributes, but he couldn't help but feel, well, he felt rather loved at the appreciative sheen in your eyes. "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" was the first thing you murmured, and Four tried not to choke at the onslaught of emotion rushing through him.

"Once," he answered, feeling slightly bashful under your reservation-less gaze.

"Shame," Hylia, you were biting your lip. "What do you say we fix that?"

"How... do you propose we go about that?" He asked, knowing full-well what you meant. You grinned, pecking the tip of his nose.

"I have a few ideas."

The hand not glued to his thigh traveled slowly up his side with an almost featherlight touch, ghosting over the toned curve of his chest, and he let out a shaky exhale, shivering as a familiar tightness formed in his lower belly. You grasped him by the roots of his hair, and he could barely just stop the noise that threatened to spill from his lips when your other hand splayed directly over his abdomen, gingerly feeling the tight muscles. "Can I touch you here?"

"Y-Yeah," Four gulped thickly, nearly cutting himself off with a low moan of your name when you lightly cupped the bulge in his pants. Your answering chuckle rang in his ears, tongue darting out to flick the tip of his left ear.

Four swore under his breath as heat shot through his bones, licking hotly in every nook and cranny of his body. Your hand delivered a gentle squeeze to his clothed arousal, and, for a moment, he believed that you could very well have been a goddess sent from above to reward him for his sacrifices, to soothe the aches of all the blood, sweat, and tears he spent protecting his home. "Please," he pleaded, and you took mercy, slipping your hand beneath his waistband to free his throbbing cock, only to wrap your hand around the swollen length.

Four keened at the feeling of your soft, warm hand enveloping him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands shot to wrap around your back, burying his face in your clothed chest while you laughed softly. "Feels good?"

As if you even had to ask, Four thought as you began to pump your hand experimentally. The hand in his hair kept his face firmly nuzzled between the sloping flesh of your breasts, and he wanted nothing more than to taste your bare, salty skin under his tongue. Preferably with your beneath him, calling his true name in a delicious haze of pleasure while he pounded deep into you. His teeth ached to bury themselves in the meat of your shoulder, marking you as his for as long as this lifetime would allow, but he forced himself to focus on the positively sinful motion of your equally sinful hand, muffling his noises in the solid warmth of your sternum. "Please, (Y/n)–"

"It's okay, I've got you," you coaxed lovingly, pulling his head up to connect your lips once more. He was panting by the time you broke apart, a familiar coil tightening in his belly. "That's it," you cooed, and his orgasm hit him like one of Wild's bombs, thick ropes of cum spurting out to coat your hand and his stomach. Four buried his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, wailing against your skin as you stroked him through his high. He felt boneless as the pleasure slowly faded, practically collapsing against your sweet body.

"Hylia..." he breathed, and you laughed airily.

"That good, huh?"

He didn't like how you said that; not because it was offensive or mean, but the clearness of your tone reminded his fading mind that you hadn't received anything in return for your efforts. Four frowned–there was no way in Hyrule he was letting that stand. "We're not done yet."

You blinked owlishly. "We're not?"

"No," Four intoned as he applied pressure to your shoulders, pushing you flat against the bed. You went willingly, staring up at him as he sat– no, perched, on your hips, holding your lower half down with his own. He leaned down, arms coming down to cage your upper half. "Now it's my turn."

You gulped thickly, a sure sign that you knew exactly where this was going, and he felt a rush of pride. Good. He wanted you to want him as he wanted you, to crave him as he craved you, to understand exactly what you had done to him... and to understand exactly how he was going to repay you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He asked, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses down the slender column of your throat. "I can't think straight around you."

"That's funny," you responded breathlessly, giggling softly when his nose brushed the sensitive flesh. "I could say the same about you."

Four laughed against the base of your neck, delivering a soft nip to your clavicle. You jolted, cheeks flushing pink as you yelped, but you said nothing to refute the action. "Has anyone told you how amazing you are?" He asked, and you grinned.

"Once."

You laughed softly at the tail end of the word, and Four wanted to make you laugh for as long as you would let him.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up far enough to reveal the bandaged expanse of your stomach. A twinge of guilt shot through him, but you seemed to anticipate his reaction quicker than he did. "It doesn't hurt," your hand cupped his cheek. "You gave me a potion, remember?"

He did, but it still felt wrong to–

"Four, I can hear you thinking from here," your voice tore him back to reality. "I'm fine, promise."

Four blinked, stared at the bandages once more, and took a deep breath. He trusted you enough to speak up for yourself, which was exactly what you were doing now, so how could he deny you? "You're right," his hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, nestled just below your breasts. "Can I?"

You brought him in for a kiss, and it told him all he needed to know. Four brought the tunic up over your head, tossing it on the dresser with a grunt, leaving you in only your bindings and some leggings. He wanted those gone, and soon.

He began by dipping his head down, planting a steady kiss to your sternum, feeling the hard bone and smooth skin beneath his lips. His hands traveled up your sides until they reached your covered breasts, squeezing the mounds of flesh experimentally. You hissed and he swiped his thumbs curiously against your peaked nipples, and his tongue felt heavy at the thought of what else he could make your body do.

"F-Four," your hand tangled in his hair, clenching and unclenching in a way that sent shivers down his spine. "That... That's good."

"I know," he murmured, tongue tracing the small peak of your nipple over the bandages, and your chest shook as you giggled. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you responded, head falling back against the pillows with a soft sigh when his tongue swiped at your breast again, and it was everything he had ever wanted to hear.

Four hummed into the flesh of your breast, fingers tugging at the edges of your bindings. They needed to go. Now. He was just about to apply pressure when you gasped, batting his hands away. "Don't you dare! Do you know how long it took me to tie this?"

A whine that surprised even him slipped past Four's lips, but he dutifully sat back on your hips, hands still poised on your ribcage. "I can–" he began, only to have his hands batted away again.

"Nu uh, butts are for sitting," you sat up, hands reaching back to undo the bandages, and he was suddenly in your lap again, leaking cock bobbing insistently between your bare abdomens. "Don't even try to pretend you weren't going to tear them."

"I wasn't..." he said, like a liar, sitting obediently as you pulled the bindings from your chest, revealing your glorious breasts to his eager gaze.

"Oh, shut up," you cut in, though there was no real heat behind your words, not that he particularly cared when you leaned forward, inadvertently pressing his face directly into your tits. Four's hands immediately shot up to cup the sensitive flesh, relishing in the way your breathing deepened. His mouth watered as images of your breasts, dripping with spit and reddened from the attention he was about to lavish them with. "Ah-- Four."

"Yes?" He asked through a face-full of boob.

"You can... um, use your mouth," you trailed off, averting your eyes with a deepening flush.

Well, since you asked so nicely...

Four dove in with gusto, capturing a hardened nipple in his mouth while his fingers worked slowly against the other nub. You threw your head back with a soft whimper, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, and he took the opportunity to push you back down on the mattress, chest-to-stomach as he suckled on your trembling breast.

"Mmph!" You slung an arm over your eyes, and Four felt himself frown, capturing your wrist and yanking your arm above your head, holding it there. You yelped, but he merely sucked harder, scraping his teeth gently over your pebbled nipple, and a shocked moan left your parted lips. Good; he would be damned if he missed any one of your noises.

"Please," you groaned, the sound traveling straight to his cock. Your nipple slipped from his mouth with a lewd pop, and Four scooted up your body to press your lips together for the nth time. He could only imagine the noises you would make when he was buried deep inside you, and he was hellbent on discovering them.

"What is it?" He asked when you separated, gaze never faltering from your half-lidded one. Your flush darkened, eyes averting sheepishly, and he knew he had struck gold. "You can tell me," he coaxed, toying lightly with your nipple.

You bit your lip, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. "I... I want–"

"Use your words," Four encouraged, partly because he wanted to know what you wanted and partly because he liked seeing you squirm beneath him. He kissed the corner of your mouth, but you turned your head to close the gap once more. When you pulled away, he was pleased to see the look of resolve dawning in your eyes.

"I want you to touch me," you said, and he was more than happy to oblige, sitting up slightly to slide one of his hands over the seam of your leggings, drawing a pleased rumble from the depths of your chest. You sat up on your elbows, face flushed darker than he'd ever seen it. "Can you... my pants?"

Right. Pants. Four looked down and realized you weren't the only overdressed one here. Wobbling slightly, he slid to the side, shucking off his pants and undergarments before shifting back to start with yours.

"May I?"

Your nod was firm, and he quickly dragged the offending garments down your thighs and off of your legs, revealing your glistening sex to his awestruck gaze. Four tossed the material in the same general direction as his own clothes before focusing every ounce of his attention on you.

You were gorgeous; down to the gentle slopes of your calves, the quivering flesh of your thighs, the toned muscles of your stomach, and the heaving curves of your breasts, all just begging to be marked by him. Four could hardly contain himself as he scrambled back over you, the head of his cock poking insistently against your abdomen due to the height difference.

Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a sweet kiss as your chests pressed together, heartbeat to heartbeat. He could have stayed like that for an eternity, cuddled against you like he belonged there.

"So," your voice broke him from his stupor, a mischievous glint in your perfect eyes. "What now?"

"Now," he reached down to slide his fingers against the soaked lips of your cunt, the pad of his thumb catching deliciously against your swollen clit. He could feel the warm, sticky heat of your arousal and it was driving him wild. You shuddered, and he ducked his head down to deliver a playful lick to your quivering stomach. "We find out what you like."

"O-Only if you let me do the same to you," you shot back in a noticeably shaky voice, tossing your head back to moan lowly when his teeth nipped your right breast hard enough to leave a small mark.

"Tell me what you want," Four echoed his past self, watching your every expression as his fingers delved into the searing depths of your cunt.

"Touch me?" you pleaded, and he did just that, capturing a bouncing teat in his mouth and sucking with enough force to have you mewling. His cock was rock-hard, glistening pearls of pre leaking down the weeping tip, but he forced himself to fight the raging instincts swirling inside him. There would be time for him later, when you had gotten more than enough of your share for everything you had done for him.

Four slid his fingers free of your velvety walls, bringing them to his mouth. He slowly licked the appendages clean, savoring the flavor of you as he maintained eye contact, relishing in the way your eyes went completely wide as you watched the spectacle. You tasted warm and sticky, like water on a dehydrated man's tongue, and Hylia knew Four was completely and utterly dehydrated for you. It was only when your eyes darkened and you whispered "do that again," in a vaguely commanding tone did he chuckle, licking a stripe up his pointer finger before they dipped back down to reacquaint with your dripping sex.

Four's heart fluttered when your cunt tightened around him, curling his fingers experimentally against your gummy walls. He had never done this before, but the other blacksmiths he worked with had been rather transparent with their encounters--a fact he was coming to appreciate more and more as the minutes ticked by. "Good?"

"You have no idea," you sighed. Four grinned, pressing deeper within you. He crooked his fingers again, brushing a vaguely spongy spot within you, and you jerked like you'd been electrocuted, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle what he was sure would have been a moan loud enough to wake half the inn. He repeated the motion, chuckling when your body shook again, cunt slicker than ever.

"How do you feel?" He asked in a half-joking tone, rubbing tender circles on your puffy clit.

"G-Good," you ground out, hands fisting the sheets. Pride blossomed in his chest at the desperate lit in your voice. "Four, I'm going to–... ah, if you keep this up–"

"You're so pretty," he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, taking the rounded lobe between his teeth, and the moan you let out was positively sinful.

"S-Stop talking," you panted, and he could have laughed if the look on your face wasn't so memorable. He crooked his fingers again, drinking in the keen that left you. You were close, he knew, and he was determined to give you as much as you had given him.

"I'm not lying," Four murmured, releasing your ear in favor of dipping down to suckle tender hickeys at your collarbone. "And I don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

"Shit," you swore, and the curse had never sounded better from your lips. He could feel his dick throbbing harder and harder, positively aching to bury itself within your warm, tight walls, but he steeled himself. "D-Don't stop, please."

Four chuckled, curling his fingers rather harshly against the spot from before while his thumb practically tenderized your poor clit. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Your cunt clenched down on him in rolling waves as you cried out, hips nearly arching off the bed if he hadn't pushed them down, forcing you to accept every ounce of pleasure he had to give. You thrashed in his hold, thighs shaking and head falling back against the pillows as your climax raged through every nerve in your body, so brightly blinding that you could hardly focus on anything but the feeling of his nimble fingers working you through your high. Only when your moans began to pitch into the realm of overstimulation did he stop, pulling away from your cunt with a lewd shlipp sound.

Four brought his fingers to his mouth again, licking them clean with a smug expression. You tasted almost as good as you felt, and he was sorely tempted to get a taste from the source, but the impatient throbbing of his leaking cock forced him to reconsider. Leaning forward, he cupped your sweat-streaked cheeks as you panted for breath. "Can you go again?"

Your eyes cracked open, peering at him through your lash line, and Four couldn't help but swoon at your disheveled gaze. "...Wha?"

"Do you want to keep going?" He rephrased, hoping to Hylia you said agreed.

Your eyelids slid shut, and he was about to call the whole thing off until your voice broke through the fog. "Y-Yeah, just... I need a moment."

"Take your time," Four murmured gently, settling flush against your body with his head resting snugly against your sternum, relishing in the small giggle that left you. One of your hands began caressing his hair, a rumble of satisfaction rattling within him.

"How are you feeling?" You asked after a comfortable silence had passed, and he could have kissed you right then and there.

"Great," he replied. "You?"

"More than that," thank Hylia, he thought. "...Have I told you I loved you yet?"

Four shot up in a flash, staring down at your face, wearing an expression that was too genuine to fake. A wave of heat shot through him, and he was almost positive the grin splitting his face was borderline embarrassing.

"I love you," you continued, and Four nearly choked at the onslaught of emotions rushing through him.

"I–" his mind felt fuzzy, like it was filled with love-soaked cotton. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to kiss you, so he did. You returned it with a passion he thought only existed in children's stories, only breaking apart when your lungs burned from lack of air. "I love you too."

You cupped his cheek, kiss-swollen lips upturned in a blinding smile, and Four was sure he had ascended to the heavens, because there was no way the goddesses were this kind. "How do you want to do this?" you whispered, pressing featherlight kisses to his jawline.

Four's mind stuttered, but his mouth was already moving. "H-However you want."

"Then lay on your back," you purred, and it was quite possibly the sexiest thing he'd heard in his life. Four did as he was told, rolling off of you and landing on the unoccupied side of the mattress with a soft thump, sticky beads of pre dripping down his length.

Without missing a beat, you clamored atop him, straddling his hips as your hands planted themselves on his bare chest. Four's hands rested on your trim sides, just above the generous swell of your hips, groaning as your burning center pinned his cock against his body.

You bent down, hands still on his chest, and pressed your lips to his. Four moaned into the kiss when your core rubbed deliciously against his dick, sending shockwaves of pleasure down to pool in his pelvis. He was so hard it nearly hurt.  "Are you ready?" you asked as soon as you separated, and he could only nod helplessly, watching with wide, awestruck eyes as you guided the head of his arousal to the drooling lips of your pussy, giving him one last grin before you sank down.

The two of you groaned in tandem as you took him inch by glorious inch, until your hips connected with a lewd smack. "Link," you whimpered, and he was convinced he had died and gone to heaven. "Y-You feel so good."

It took everything in him not to roll you over and show you just how good he could make you feel, so Four gave a pleasured groan and reached up to fondle your breasts. You wiggled and panted, sending searing bolts of heat straight to his dick.

"A-Are you alright?" The smithy whispered, fearing you had hurt yourself.

"I-I'm fine," you responded breathlessly, wiggling a few more times. Four watched in awe as you raised your hips, using your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself, and slammed back down with enough force to knock the wind from him. He squirmed beneath you as you repeated the motion, drawing moans from both your throats. The cycle continued as you kept pace, rising and falling with more conviction than the sun itself, with Four gripping the meat of your thighs, mouth spewing frantic encouragement as you practically pounded him to the bed.

The air was filled with heavy slapping noises, broken, off-kilter moans, and heavy panting, but Four couldn't have cared less as he coaxed you to continue riding him. Only when you moaned, long and loud as his cock grazed your sweet spot, and your scent practically doubled, did Four act.

You yelped when abruptly he sat up, grabbing your wrists with one hand and using the other to flip you, somehow managing to keep his cock buried deep inside you as he forced you, face down and ass up, on the mattress. "H-Hey--" only to be cut off when he pulled out and slammed back in, knocking the words from your mouth.

You screamed a broken rendition of Four's true name as he rutted you like an animal, balls slapping against your oversensitive clit with such ferocity that you nearly came right then and there. "You have no fucking idea, do you?" Four's voice snarled in your ear, but there was something dark embedded in his tone that had you crying out.

A shrill wail left you when his muscled front pressed firmly against your back, his hand ducking beneath your hips to rub deft circles on your overstimulated clit, while the other wriggled under your body to deliver a hearty squeeze to your right breast. The coil in your belly tightened unimaginably... until it broke and you gushed all over him like a tidal wave.

Four growled, slamming his hips to yours with a drawn-out groan. His dick throbbed, and ropes of hot seed spurted into your clenching core, all but coating your walls with his essence. He rocked into you for a few seconds, exhausted out of his mind, and caught your hips when they began to sway.

A short whimper left you when he slowly pulled out of you, a large dollop of cum blurting from your abused cunt, gathering your spent body into his arms. Four brought you to the head of the bed, tucking you under the once rumpled blankets as black spots danced in the corners of his vision, settling beside you with a contented sigh. You made a noise and immediately wrapped your arms around him, cuddling him to your chest like a teddy bear.

For a long while, neither of you said anything, basking in the comfortable silence.

"...I can't believe you didn't tell me," your tired voice filtered through the room.

"I can't believe you didn't run away screaming," he shot back, voice reverberating against your sternum, and the soft smack you delivered to the back of his head was so worth it.

"Idiot," maybe so, but he was your idiot. "I was in a war, remember? You can't scare me."

"That's what you think," said Four, adjusting his head slightly to better hear the steady beat of your heart. He had already been laid bare beneath you, both physically and emotionally, so what was the harm in another one of his secrets coming to life?

"...Four."

"Yes?"

"Please tell me you're not four remlits in a Hylian body."

Four blinked, temporarily detaching from your skin to process the absurdity of that particular statement. "...Excuse me?"

You coughed and held him tighter. "I had to make sure, it's really hard to tell when Time's making stuff up or not–"

"Time said that?!"

"It's not a big deal," you deflected, sounding far too nonchalant for someone who had been pounded less than five minutes ago. "So, are you going to tell me or do I have to answer three of four riddles correctly?"

"I can't believe you just said that," he interrupted with a deadpan, and your wide grin only made it marginally better.

"Thanks, neither can I."

"...I'm going to bed," said Four, settling back against your chest, quietly pondering how in Hyrule he had managed to survive thus far without you. Sweet, wonderful, devilish you, who had captivated him since day one. "Sleep well, my love."

"Only if you do too, honey bunch," you teased back, giggle-yelping when he pinched a nipple in retribution. "Listen here, you little s–"

"Can't hear you when I'm asleep," Four responded in a sing-song tone, snuggling closer with a relaxed sigh. 

THE SMUT IS HERE!!! You'll all be pleased to know that this isn't the end of this saga, so stay tuned for more!

[muiitoloko]

Title: In-Flight Turbulence

Summary: Lionel’s exasperation over your economy class choice ignites a battle of wills, where fiery tension and steamy attraction are impossible to resist.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: implied sex

Author's Notes: A sequel that nobody asked for 😅

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Lionel’s voice was sharp as he crossed the room, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Are you bloody serious right now?” His baritone voice was low, tight with barely controlled anger. “Economy class? We’re going to Italy, love, not a quick bus ride to Manchester.”

You stood your ground, arms crossed, refusing to let him steamroll you. “Yes, economy class. Because that’s what I can afford, Lionel. I’m not going to let you pay for everything. I don’t need you to—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you so bloody stubborn?” Lionel threw his hands up in exasperation, pacing the length of your small living room like a caged animal, his hooked nose flaring slightly. His frustration only seemed to magnify as he glanced at you, standing there with that determined look in your eyes—the one that made him want to tear his hair out and kiss you senseless all at the same time.

“I’m not being stubborn,” you said firmly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m being practical. I don’t need to be coddled, Lionel. I’m not some girl you can impress with first-class tickets and five-star hotels.”

Lionel growled under his breath, his patience fraying by the second. “Oh, so now I’m just trying to impress you?” His words were laced with sarcasm as he stalked toward you, his broad shoulders blocking out the light. “Maybe I just want to spoil the woman I love without her turning it into a bloody battlefield every time.”

You flinched at the word ‘love,’ but you didn’t back down. “Spoiling me isn’t the point, Lionel. I want to contribute to this relationship too. And that means paying for my own damn plane ticket.”

He stopped directly in front of you, towering over you with that commanding presence that always seemed to fill the entire room. His dark eyes bore into yours, the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Economy class? Economy?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. “You expect me to sit in business class while you sit in the back with your knees crammed against the seat in front of you like some peasant?”

“If that’s what it takes,” you snapped back, your chin tilting up defiantly. “I don’t need luxury, Lionel. I need you to understand that I’m not some trophy for you to buy off with lavish gifts.”

Lionel’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing as if he was trying to hold himself back from grabbing you and shaking some sense into you. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he growled, his voice thick with frustration. “I could buy us both first-class tickets with the snap of my fingers, and yet here we are, having a bloody argument about it.”

You didn’t flinch, standing your ground. “Then go ahead. Buy your first-class ticket. I’ll be just fine in economy.”

His eyes flashed, and you could see the storm brewing behind them. Lionel Shahbandar was not a man used to being told no. He was used to getting his way, to charming or intimidating anyone into bending to his will. But not you. You were different. And that drove him wild.

“Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with a dangerous calm. “Fine. You want to be independent? You want to pay for your own way? Go ahead, love. But don’t come crying to me when you’re cramped up next to some sweaty businessman while I’m sipping champagne up front.”

Your eyes narrowed at his mocking tone, your temper flaring. “I won’t cry, Lionel. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

Lionel’s lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes were still dark with anger. “You’re so damn proud,” he muttered under his breath, stepping closer until his chest was nearly brushing against yours. “It’s infuriating.”

You could feel the heat of his body, the tension crackling between you like an electric current. But you refused to back down. “And you’re so damn controlling,” you shot back, your voice rising as you shoved him in the chest. “Why can’t you just let me have this? Why does everything have to be your way?”

His eyes flared, and before you could blink, his hands were on you, gripping your arms tightly as he backed you up against the wall. “Because I don’t want you to settle for less than you deserve,” he growled, his voice low and rough. His hooked nose was inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. “I want to give you everything, and you keep pushing me away.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could say a word, Lionel’s mouth was on yours, his kiss hard and demanding. His lips were rough, his tongue insistent as it parted your lips, claiming you with a fierce urgency that matched the anger still simmering between you.

You moaned into his mouth, your body reacting instinctively to the heat of him, the raw passion that always seemed to ignite whenever you fought. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

Lionel’s hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pressed his hard body against yours, grinding his arousal into you. “You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against your lips, his breath ragged as he kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. “Lionel…” you breathed, your resolve crumbling as his hand slid up your thigh, pushing your dress higher.

“You think I’ll let you sit in economy class?” he whispered harshly against your skin, his voice dark with lust as his fingers brushed against your underwear. “Not a fucking chance. I’m going to fuck you so hard on this trip, you won’t even remember there’s a back of the plane.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching into him as his hand slipped beneath your panties, his fingers finding the wet heat between your legs. You moaned, your head falling back against the wall as Lionel’s mouth covered yours again, his kiss hot and demanding.

“Stubborn woman,” he muttered against your lips, his fingers teasing you, slipping inside you as his thumb rubbed slow, deliberate circles over your clit. “Why do you make everything so difficult?”

You whimpered, your hips rocking against his hand as he worked you with expert precision, your body already trembling with need. “Maybe I like driving you mad,” you whispered breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him.

Lionel growled, his cock hard and straining against his trousers as he thrust against you. “I’m going to fuck you so good, love,” he whispered, his voice rough with promise. “And when I’m done, you’ll be begging to sit in first class with me.”

Lionel stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching you as you joined the line for economy class check-in. His dark eyes narrowed in disbelief, the faintest of smirks playing on his lips as he shook his head.

"Bloody stubborn woman," he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his tousled hair. "If you want to be miserable, so be it." He didn’t care, he told himself. Not one bit. He made his way toward the sleek, velvet rope marking off the first-class check-in area, greeted by a beautiful woman with a professional smile who seemed all too eager to assist.

"Good morning, Lord Shahbandar," she purred, her eyes twinkling in recognition. "Right this way, we’ve been expecting you."

Lionel shot a glance back toward the long, winding queue of economy passengers where you were still standing, tapping your foot impatiently, your arms crossed as you waited your turn.

“Expecting me, are they?” he muttered to himself as he followed the woman, all the while his mind wandering back to you and that ridiculous line you were standing in. His jaw tightened in frustration as the woman behind the counter checked his passport. “Fine, let her suffer,” he thought, though a flicker of doubt gnawed at him.

After a swift and luxurious check-in experience, Lionel breezed through security, bypassing the crowds, and found himself sipping an espresso in the first-class lounge. He should have been reveling in the comfort, in the exclusivity that came with his wealth and status, but every now and then, his mind wandered to where you were.

"Probably still in line," he muttered, his lips curling into a half-smile as he imagined your annoyed expression. "Good luck with that."

Boarding time arrived, and Lionel strode confidently toward his business-class seat, eyeing the plush seats, the extra legroom, the polished wood tray table. It was everything you refused, and the fact that you’d chosen the cramped quarters of economy baffled him.

But as he settled into his seat, adjusting his cufflinks, something gnawed at him. The more he thought about you sitting in economy, the more it irritated him. His foot tapped impatiently, his mind wandering from the upcoming trip to the idea of you cramped next to some sweaty passenger, trapped in your tiny seat, and possibly… miserable.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, the frustration building. He didn’t even realize his hand was already in the air, summoning a flight attendant.

Moments later, Lionel was storming down the narrow aisle of the plane, his large frame awkwardly brushing against the backs of seats as he made his way to economy. He grumbled under his breath as he passed by each row, narrowing his eyes at the cramped conditions.

The woman seated next to you was politely asked to move, and though you hadn’t paid much attention, you noticed when Lionel Shahbandar himself suddenly appeared in the aisle, looking thoroughly out of place. He muttered curses about the “bloody cattle class” under his breath, his hooked nose flaring in irritation as he shoved his carry-on bag into the overhead bin.

“Lionel?” you said, blinking in surprise as he sat down next to you, clearly too large for the cramped seat.

He scowled, folding himself into the space beside you with no small amount of difficulty. “Don’t even start, darling,” he growled, his baritone voice dripping with exasperation. “I’ve just given up the best seat in the house to sit in this… this bloody shoebox with you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You gave up business class? To sit here?”

Lionel muttered something under his breath, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to adjust his long legs in the tight space. “Yes, well,” he muttered, shooting you a sideways glance, “you should be thanking me. Some poor woman’s sitting in luxury now because of you.”

A laugh bubbled up inside you at the image of Lionel squirming in economy class, all his usual charm and arrogance completely misplaced in this setting. “I didn’t ask you to do that!” you said, barely able to contain your amusement.

Lionel shot you a dark look. “I know, but seeing you in this… sardine can of a seat, I couldn’t bloody help myself.” He paused, his lips curling into a mischievous grin as his eyes flicked to the tight space between you. “Besides,” he purred, his voice dropping lower, “if I have to suffer, I might as well enjoy the view.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, right. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to enjoy stuck here in economy.”

Lionel made a face at you, his dark eyes narrowing playfully, but you only laughed softly and snuggled closer to him. Despite his constant complaining, you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying this—being close to him, wrapped in the warmth of his body, while he muttered under his breath about the cramped seats and pitiful snacks. You rested your head on his shoulder, a soft smile playing on your lips as he continued his rant.

“These bloody snacks,” Lionel growled, holding up a tiny bag of pretzels as if it were the ultimate insult. “What do they expect me to do with this? Feed a hamster?”

You stifled another laugh, knowing that while Lionel could be a rather stingy man when it came to certain things, this time, you had to agree with him. The airline’s meager offerings were a far cry from the lavish spreads he was accustomed to.

“I don’t know, darling,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “I think you could survive on pretzels for a few hours.”

Lionel scoffed, tossing the bag aside in disdain. “Please, if I wanted to starve, I’d go on one of those ridiculous detox retreats all the nouveau riche are obsessed with.”

You snuggled deeper into his side, feeling his body relax slightly as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. Despite his constant grumbling, you knew he loved having you near. The two of you spent the rest of the flight like that, with Lionel occasionally complaining about the seating or snacks, and you trying not to laugh at his misfortune. There was something strangely endearing about seeing him so out of his element.

When the plane finally landed, you both grabbed a taxi to the hotel, exhaustion settling over you from the long flight. As soon as you arrived, you collapsed into bed together, the soft, plush mattress of the hotel room a welcome change from the horrors of economy class. It wasn’t long before both of you drifted off into a deep sleep, the tension of the day melting away.

Hours later, you were jolted awake by the sound of Lionel screaming in horror.

Your heart raced, panic flooding through you as you sat up in bed. “Leo! What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away, his face a mix of disbelief and fury as he held up his iPad, thrusting it toward you. “Look at this,” he snarled, his baritone voice thick with outrage.

You blinked, still half-asleep, but as your eyes focused on the screen, you saw it—pictures and videos of Lionel sitting in economy class, crammed into the tiny seat with a scowl on his face. Passengers had clearly recognized him, snapping photos and filming videos that were now plastered all over various gossip sites. Headlines like “Bad Boy of the Art World Slumming It in Economy Class—Is Lionel Shahbandar Broke? ” flashed across the screen.

“Oh no,” you murmured, trying to stifle a giggle. “They think you’re broke?”

“Broke?” Lionel hissed, his hooked nose flaring in indignation. “They think I’m some pauper, flying economy like I’ve lost my fortune overnight. This is a bloody insult!”

You couldn’t help it; a laugh bubbled out of you, despite knowing how much this was bruising his ego. “Oh, come on, Lionel. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” he repeated, glaring at you as if you’d just suggested the unthinkable. “Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation? The Lord Lionel Shahbandar, flying economy like some commoner? I’m supposed to be untouchable, damn it!”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face. “Well, at least they didn’t catch you complaining about the pretzels. That might’ve really sealed the deal.”

Lionel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is a bloody nightmare.”

“Leo, relax,” you said, scooting closer to him on the bed. “It’s just gossip. They’ll move on to the next scandal soon enough.”

He lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint as he smirked. “Oh, I don’t think so, love. They’ll milk this for all it’s worth.”

“Maybe you should’ve just stayed in business class like you planned,” you teased, poking him in the side. “Then your precious reputation wouldn’t be in shambles right now.”

Lionel growled playfully, grabbing you and pulling you onto his lap. “You’re the reason I ended up in that bloody sardine can of a seat,” he muttered, his lips brushing your neck. “I’ll make you pay for this, love.”

You arched an eyebrow, grinning as you looked down at him. “Oh? And how exactly are you going to make me pay?”

His eyes darkened with lust, and his hand slid up your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s just say,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I’m going to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with.”

Before you could respond, Lionel flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him as his lips claimed yours in a heated kiss. His hands roamed your body possessively, his touch firm and commanding as he ground his hips into yours, his arousal evident through the fabric of his trousers.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your lips, his baritone voice dripping with desire. “And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be screaming my name so loud, they’ll be writing about something else entirely.”

You gasped as he nipped at your neck, his hands sliding beneath your clothes, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin beneath. “Lionel…”

“Mmm, that’s right, love,” he purred, his lips brushing against your ear. “Say my name. Let the whole bloody world know exactly who owns you.”

You moaned, your body arching into his as his hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your wet heat. “Lionel…”

“Good girl,” he growled, his fingers working you with expert precision, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your body respond to his every touch. “Now, let’s see if I can make you forget all about those bloody gossip sites.”

As Lionel’s lips trailed down your body, you couldn’t help but smile. Even in the face of public humiliation, he was still the same cheeky, mischievous lion you’d fallen for—arrogant, infuriating, and completely irresistible.

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 15)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2311

A/N: wow it's been a while I have no excuses I just have a soul-draining full-time job and no free time. Enjoy! I missed you all <3

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 15, Next Chapter

You spent the whole Sunday sulking as you walked around Hogsmeade trying to lift your own spirits. You couldn't take it anymore. On one hand you thought about how maybe you just need to go one a date with someone else to break this fixation you had on Remus on the other hand you felt like you may have a lot more than just a crush on him and that no one will be able to replace him. You simultaneously wanted to bump into him and to not see him for a few days. But something pushed you to try and force him into bumping into you. So you pulled out the marauders map and saw he was in his classroom. You went to the corridor adjacent and sat with a book waiting for him to walk out, yet the next time you checked the map he was in the library so you headed straight there. Once you arrived to the library he was nowhere to be found, you checked the map and saw he was walking towards the courtyard you followed him but couldn't catch up with him until you saw him disappear from the map. You knew he left Hogwarts, and you knew he was avoiding you as he probably saw where you were using his own map. It was hopeless. He was impossible.

Your next interaction with him was Monday morning in class, one of the only places he couldn't avoid you, especially that you knew he couldn't skip classes as he had to do so at the end of each month anyway. When you walked in Remus's eyes flicked to yours and then straight to the floor to avoid yours. He kept his composure well during class but spent the whole hour tapping his finger on his wand and falling over his words. He barely answered questions and took deep breaths. After the lesson finished he let out a sign simply saying "that's all, thank you very much. Remember keep studying I know you'll all do great." In this moment he gave you a short glance breathing in, closing his eyes slowly and turning to walk up to his office. As everyone funnelled out you followed him. "Professor, I have a question about one of the exams." You said nearly running up to catch him as he was already half way up the stairs.

"Miss L/N, I can't go into too much details about exams you know this. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I won't be of much use to you."

"But professor I just want to understand more." You pushed hugging your books for comfort and looking around as some students were still in the class, he shifted his body weights to his other leg.

"I'll be honest I've never ran a class through exams, you know I'm new to all this. It would be better for you to speak to a different professor on this subject." He pained and you knew you were both speaking in double meanings at this point.

"But you're the one I want to speak to as you are the one who teaches defence against the dark arts."

"Was I not clear that I'm not the right match for you on this topic when we last spoke about exams, I suggest Professor McGonagall could help." He said looking past you at the last few girls in the room both you aching for them to leave you you could speak normally as he knew you wouldn't leave and there wasn't much you could say like this.

"Yes I do understand that Professor however what she explained wasn't that clear either, it left me with a lot of questions specific to defence against the dark arts." At this moment the last two girls left saying "bye Professor Lupin." He said goodbye to them before turning back to you and saying "Follow me, let me see if I can help." You followed behind him, he held the door open for you and let you in his office first before shutting the door behind you, you didn't make yourself comfortable in the room but rather stood by the door. "You shouldn't speak to me like that while there's other students around." He said in a low tone.

"I needed to get your attention somehow."

"You know you've always got my attention." He words were almost a low growl.

"But you avoided me all Sunday."

"It's what's best for you." He took a step closer closing the space between you forcing you to look up if you want to look into his eyes.

"How do you know what's best for me?"

"Trust me I do." He leaned down his lips were an inch away from yours.

"Really?" You asked and his lips met yours as he moaned a "mhm" in confirmation. He pulled away to say "you know you really shouldn't act like that in my classroom while there's other students still leaving, begging me to talk to you, to give you attention." His words were making hot flashes go through your body as you said nothing just looked up at him. "Do you understand?" He asked and you nodded.

"Good girl." He said the words catching you off guard. He walked away from you to go and lean against his desk as you stood in the same place confused.

"I thought you were avoiding me?" You asked not understanding his sudden change in behaviour.

"I am." He said signalling for you to come closer with his hand and you followed his command. He stood up straight in front of the desk as you looked up at him he picked you up and put you down on the desk so you were now sitting on it.

"How is this avoiding me professor?" You ask him as he looked down at you, he got on his knees in front of you, his head at desk level as his hands moved up and down your thigh.

"Well right now we don't have to discuss all the stuff I'm avoiding." He said moving his head between your thighs and teasing you through your clothing.

"How are you so sure?" You asked as you resisted all the feelings he was sending through you.

"Because dear you can't even think straight and I haven't bent you over my desk yet." He said standing back up leaving you aching for him.

"Please don't stop." You said looking into his eyes that seemed a lot darker in this moment. He began to kiss you as he undressed you and you unbuttoned his shirt. He grabbed you by your hair to turn you around and bent you over his desk. You felt his body against you before he leaned down to whisper in your ear he took a deep breath and then he let you go and walked away sitting on the sofa opposite the desk while saying "I can't do this."

You turned around in confusion to see him buttoning back up his shirt, you quickly fixed yourself before questioning him. "What do you mean you can't do this? You started it!" You attempt to protest.

"and I'm ending it."

"So what happened to wanting to bend me over your desk?"

"I can't, I care about you too much. I don't want to throw you around this room like an object of desire. Don't get me wrong I do desire you, and you do something to me when you out me on the spot in public like that but I can't treat you like this."

"What if I want you to treat me like that?" You asked afraid of moving anywhere closer to him in the room.

"Then you don't understand your own worth." He simply stated.

"So now you won't speak to me or even sleep with me anymore?"

"You know I think it was William Blake who said sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires."

"Well if you studied Blake like I did you would know Blake is telling you to act on your unacted desires, unless you're telling me you would rather kill a infant in its cradle than kiss me again."

"You've got it wrong dear. I may have been homeschooled by my parents but don't underestimate how many hours I spent reading. The enacted desires are the things you should murder. If you nurse them, they must be in a cradle. They are the baby in a cradle so strangle your unacted desire, don't act on them."

You felt almost embarrassed at you pointing out school, you didn't know he was homeschooled but it made sense with his condition and the fact they moved constantly, it added up and now not only were you angry at Remus for his recent actions but you felt guilty for your own words. You didn't reply, the silence was thick before Remus breathed heavily and continued to speak.

"Therefore it's time for me to strangle mine, if you remember the day we went to the British Museum I asked you to promise that if you developed any strong feelings for me to tell me so we could cut it off before either of us gets hurt." He said and you nodded slowly to show you're following along. "Well I may have not been too truthful and I feel neither have you, and it has resulted in us both becoming victims of our own misfortune."

"Are you saying you have strong feelings for me Remus Lupin?" You asked feeling both nervous and excited.

"Not exactly, what I'm saying is there was a line that I tried to set and I believe somewhere that line became blurry. So after you left on my birthday I decided to establish that hard line again. I decided we will stop sleeping in my bed, we will stop all the cuddling nonsense and all the softness. However I simply can't do that Y/N, I can't be as stern and strict as I want to be with you."

"That's okay, I want to cuddle with you."

"I'm aware however I told you that day, I would like to take you on dates, I would like to walk around and hold your hand, I would like to bring you to see my friends especially during my birthday but we can't do that, I told you it will hurt to not be able to live in public, I didn't want to risk the pain for you. You deserve so much more than this." He looked weak.

"Can you not tell you're what I want no matter how many times you deny me?" You were almost in tears.

"I simply don't believe you understand what you're signing up for with me, and it's emphasised by you asking me to take you on dates, to go see Sirius, to go to my cottage. I always told you those weren't options with me especially while you study here but you didn't listen." He was angry but also frustrated like he was mainly fighting with himself.

"What if I didn't study here?"

"What? Y/N don't try and ruin your education?"

"No, as in when I finish. What happens then?"

"Then we're free, but then you have the burden of being associated with me.  I fear that the stigma attached to me will affect you before you even have a chance to become the amazing witch you can be."

"I don't care." You simply shrugged. "But would you take me on dates?" You asked and he thought for a second.

"Of course if you're not my student there no reason not to." He replied thoughtfully.

"Would I be able to visit Sirius with you?"

"It would be encouraged." He replied instantly.

"Okay, then we'll continue this whole conversation when I finish."

"So what happens now?"

"You tell me, you're the one who knows what's best for me." You said and he laughed for the first time since you entered this room. "Touché."

"I think we hold off for a little bit, you're right you know, I'm not being truthful about how attached I am to you. And I haven't been really seeing my friends this year because all I can think about is you." He gave you a sad but understanding nod. "So I think I should come here less, but I don't want to stop coming. Maybe we become a bit more casual, see each other every so often, I'd still like to be able to come for tea, listen to music and sometimes kiss you if that's okay."

"It's always okay." He said with a soft pained smile.

"Okay, so we do that, and when I finish school you can ask me out and show me what dating Remus Lupin is like, deal?"you put your hand out for him to shake.

"Deal." He said reaching out to shake your hand. "Would you like to stay exclusive still?"

"You don't?" You were caught off guard.

"No I do, but I'm not in my last year of school, I'm asking you?"

"I don't think I would be comfortable finding out you're kissing someone else, so could we please stay exclusive even if we don't see each other as often?" You asked nervously.

"Of course dear, now what would you like to do stay here with me today or go back to your friends I won't be offended if you leave right now."

"I'd like to stay." You said and he reached out his hand to pull you to sit beside him.

"I'm very proud of you for putting your foot down like this, don't get me wrong it hurts to know I'll see you less but I think you've acted more mature than me in all this."

"If we had it your way we would still be smoking and flirting on the bridge." You pointed out as Remus put and arm alright you and got comfortable making him laugh. You felt safe, and like you made the right decision. You hoped.

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: sorry for the angst I had to do it.

Tags (if you aren't here but want to be leave a reply and I'll add you or DM me to get removed):

@thesoundresoundsecho @ahoyyharrington @merleisapartygod @sting-0f-ennui @starchaser-lily @ashisabitgay @livingordeadwhoknows @v0relino @evie-beanie @whotfskai @admiringyou @lily-mylove @kirubi @ghostbandghostcodghostface @rockymiles @99tech99 @almizz1

@standepechemode @lovingdilfss @artvoyager @sofacover @bubblegum9468 @spidermansolosurfav @harleyanderson2004 @kissmeunicornbaobei @marine-mayday @beelzebzb @universallyblizzardlove @liv2post @amoraneuro @xluansstuff @sizzlingthingnerd @bethsvrse @mrsgweasley @that1nerd-20 @juuleesa @idek-what-to-put @itsmynothing @marriedtoremuslupin019 @lolwey @tiedyedghoulette @jvlka18 @ivet4 @ss28

[caffedrine]

Silvio Ricci - Beyond the Connection Between the Past and the Present – Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

Many things in this world are more impossible than the fantasy stories written in books. Emma reminds herself of this as she watches the passionate battle between Silvio and his younger self, Chibi-vio.

Silvio shouts that there is no way in hell he’ll lose to some snot-nosed kid who only knows how to doggy-paddle. Chibi-vio snaps back that Silvio is annoying, it’s not his fault Silvio started late. And if anything, he should let go of his leg. Silvio shouts back that just because he’s small doesn’t give him the right to take shortcuts. Chibi-vio laughs derisively, it’s Silvio’s own fault for not choosing the route. For an adult, Silvio is very stupid. Silvio calls his younger self a brat, and Chibi-vio tells him to bring it.

Chibi-vio shouts that he’s just caught his tenth fish, and the score between them widens even more. Silvio notes that this proves that Chibi-vio is a true brat, he only cares about shitty quantity over the quality of Silvio’s larger fish. Silvio advises that if he aims for victory, even if by numbers, always go for the ‘big one’.

Chibi-vio is amazed at the fish Silvio pulls out of the water – the color, the shape, and the size! He thought that fish was legendary. Both he and Silvio gaze at it in awe.

Emma recounts the day – first, they had raced on the beach, then they competed who could swim faster to a nearby isolated island. Next, they competed over who could row a boat faster, then they climbed trees to see who could reach the top first.

This fishing battle was just the newest contest between the two.

Chibi-vio complains that Silvio is just some rich guy who jangles a lot. He has absolutely nothing in common with him. And all he wants to do is play games! Silvio insists this is the better way of doing things.

Emma is trying not to laugh at Chibi-vio’s antics. The memory of him calling Silvio ‘some rich guy’ still brings on giggles.

(Picture this for Chibi-vio, but less rich)

She is a bit put off by Silvio going all out against a child, but that is Silvio’s way. Besides, Chibi-vio seems to be enjoying himself. She remembers stories she heard about Silvio’s childhood where he had no friends or opportunities to play. Maybe that’s why neither version of him is holding back.

Emma calls out to them, if they collapse in the sand, they’ll dry all up. She brought them jelly snacks and water.

Silvio remarks that Emma is very kind, and Chibi-vio reluctantly thanks him. She thinks that he’s not sure what to make of her, he’s been watching her as much as he’s watching his adult self.

Silvio snaps at his younger self, telling him to watch it, he’s claimed that big piece. Chibi-vio snaps back that he saw it first, so it’s his. Silvio shouts for Chibi-vio to stop kicking him, calling him a bad child. Chibi-vio snaps back that he’s also a bad man.

Emma cuts in, saying that she won’t give snacks to a child who won’t get along with them. Grumbling, Chibi-vio gives in.

Both of them start eating quietly, giving Emma a chance to get a closer look at Chibi-vio.

Again, they are so similar. Even Chibi-vio has a beautiful way of eating that makes her fall in love. His hair is soft and silky, and his eyes droop a little. He looks like a miniature of Silvio – and she wonders if his reactions are the same.

Chibi-vio jerks away from her hand touching his cheek. He demands to know what she thinks she is doing. Emma apologizes, explaining that she wanted to try something. Chibi-vio turns red and starts walking away, wondering aloud what she wants to try.

Maybe the reason he’s embarrassed by her touch is different, but it’s the exact same reaction Silvio has.

Very cute.

Silvio is gloating, what is even with that reaction? Chibi-vio looks so stupid when he gets upset over such a little-

Silvio nearly leaps in the air and jumps away, shouting at Emma for hugging his arm so suddenly, even after he told her to warn him. Emma asks what she has said or done that implies that she’s listening to him. Chibi-vio points and laughs at Silvio, asking why he’s so shy even though he’s an adult. Silvio shouts at Chibi-vio to shut up, this one is special, and he is no way at all embarrassed when anyone else grabs him.

Besides . . .

Chibi-vio is appalled. Emma can’t believe Silvio would just grab her and kiss her in front of a child.

Shaking and pointing, Chibi-vio demands to know what this rich man, no, wait, this rich pervert thinks he’s doing with this face-hugger display. Silvio asks who is the shy one now.

Emma grumbles over Silvio’s lack of maturity. On the other hand, she enjoyed the kiss, so maybe it’s catching.

Very softy, Chibi-vio says not to do this, and Emma begins to nod. Suddenly Chibi-vio shouts not to embarrass him, he’s sure he can kiss Emma without feeling embarrassed, unlike a certain pervert. Before Silvio or Emma can react, Chibi-vio jumps Emma and lightly kisses her cheek.

Smirk, smirk, Chibi-vio has absolutely no problem kissing Emma, in fact, he enjoyed it. It’s a cute reaction, but Emma doesn’t think she likes this.

Silvio shouts at Chibi-vio to not touch his woman without permission. Roughly, he grabs Emma’s face and begins wiping at her cheek with a cloth. Emma complains and Silvio tells her to endure it, after all, he’s being nice to her.

He calls this nice?

While Emma whines and rubs at her cheek, Silvio whirls on Chibi-vio. He lunges at Chibi-vio, grabbing him, and begins to wipe a Chibi-vio’s mouth. Chibi-vio shouts at this rich pervert to let go and stop.

If Silvio is a rich pervert, that makes Chibi-vio a moody pervert. And stop squirming!

Emma begs them to stop fighting as Chibi-vio screams as Silvio.

[theanimeroom]

NSFW UNDER THE CUT | MINORS DNI

NOVEMBER 12TH, 2023 — 2:30AM

NNN CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

TODAY IS THE DAY KAGAMI TAIGA LOST NO NUT NOVEMBER.

he knew that he would lose the challenge, that’s exactly why he was so confused about why he agreed to it in the first place. it was aomine’s fault, really. had it not been for him, kagami would have been without restrictions, free to press the thick skin of his cock head into your tight little pussy, your voice desperately calling out for him.

but alas, here he was, almost two weeks into no nut november while trying to stay strong. aomine was still in the challenge, only spurring kagami to push further until he at least lasted longer than him. you thought it was stupid, the little battle that was going on between them. but something about the way kagami would get more aggressive when riled up by aomine, especially when regarding basketball, prevented you from speaking up.

and although kagami didn’t think about it, two weeks was just as long for you as it was for him. he wasn’t the only one struggling, holding themselves back for the sake of the challenge, you were too. ever since he clued you in on him participating, you had tried to be on his side. you kept your hands to yourself and tried to stay wholesome as much as you could. but there was only so much that a woman could take before they started to break, and you were starting to reach your limit.

the both of you were holding on, using short interactions to tide each other over until the cold weather of december started to chill on your skin.

that task proved to be nearly impossible when after 12 days of suffering, you seemed to grow a bit too impatient for your own good.

it was only a good morning kiss, one so small yet it went so far. you hadn’t even made it out of bed yet, but the feeling of his lips against yours was enough to ignite the flame in your lower belly. you didn’t mean to grind against his thigh, you really didn’t. but he just felt so good against you, it was almost as if you moved on instinct.

kagami didn’t waste a second digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip, helping guide you as you rode his thigh. “look so pretty riding my thigh like this…” his voice was deep and thick with sleep, legs tangling with yours under the duvet. “makes me wonder how you’d look on my cock instead.”

and that’s exactly how you ended up perched on the man’s lap, cock head prodding at your g-spot with every shuffle of your hips. he was just as lengthy as he was girthy, filling you up to the brim so good you could barely even breath.

you cried out as you bounced with everything you had, thighs burning and aching but you refused to move your hands from either of his pecs. the leverage allowed you to find the perfect angle, each bounce sending shockwaves through your body.

kagami watched with glazed eyes as you used him for your own pleasure, a groan rumbling in his throat as his head fell back. this position would always be a favorite of his, service to reverse cowgirl, of course. the redhead was indeed an ass man through and through, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love the sight of your tits bouncing with every connection of your hips to his.

his hands gripped your waist tightly, so much so that you weren’t surprised the next morning when there were dark purple fingerprints embedded in the skin the next morning.

his face was hot as his jaw clenched, helping guide your movements when you started to become sloppy, fatigue starting to set in for you. this didn’t go unnoticed by the bulky man you were straddling, feet planting themselves on the bed before rolling his lower body against yours.

“fuck!” your mouth dropped open as he pushed in until you were sure he was kissing your cervix, body immediately losing all ability to hold itself upright. kagami was fine with cradling you against his chest though, one hand lacing through the strands of your hair as he pressed you to his skin.

“getting tired on me baby?” he inquired, smiling fondly as you could do nothing more than nod weakly, heavy breathing trying to level itself out as you gained a moment of reprieve. “hmm don’t worry, i’ll make you feel so good.”

and indeed he did, hips bucking up until you were nearly being launched into the air had kagami not been holding you so close. with wide eyes you felt your body set ablaze instantly, teeth sinking into his shoulder as your mind started to blank.

if your eyes hadn’t been rolled into the back of your head you would have peeped the way kagami bit at his bottom lip, lower stomach stirring as your walls squeezed him so perfectly.

the fact that he was supposed to be participating in that stupid challenge only crossed his mind briefly the moment he felt his release impending, but could only scoff as he remembered that you were currently wrapped in his arms, fucked out and needy for him.

that single thought was enough for him to rid himself of any and all other unnecessary thoughts outside of you and how hard your cunt was about to make him come.

“this is so much better than that fucking challenge,”

don’t plagiarize, it’s not nice <3

©️ theanimeroom