#none of these people have ever known peace

[mercless]

🗡 riot and their sibling dramas

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[prael]

Rivalry

Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex

(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut

words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist

School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.

It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.

The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.

Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.

You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.

Everyone except her.

There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.

"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."

"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."

"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"

The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."

The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."

The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."

"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."

"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"

This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.

"I know you."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."

You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."

You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."

"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.

You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.

A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"

That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."

"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.

"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"

You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."

She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"

A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.

You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.

Nothing.

You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.

Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.

Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.

"What the fuck are you doing—"

You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.

It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.

There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"

The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."

You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"

She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."

"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"

She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."

She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.

There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.

Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"

"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.

She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"

"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"

Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."

"Right back at you."

Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"

"I've seen better."

"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.

"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."

Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"

"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.

"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.

Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.

Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.

"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."

Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.

"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.

And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.

"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.

As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.

As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.

You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.

"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."

"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."

"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."

"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.

She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"

You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.

"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.

"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.

You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.

When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.

"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.

"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.

"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.

Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.

"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.

"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."

Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.

It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.

As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.

"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.

"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"

"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."

"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.

She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."

Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.

"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.

This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.

"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.

You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.

Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.

"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.

You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.

All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.

"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.

"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."

Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.

For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.

"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.

Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.

"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."

"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.

"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."

"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I know there will."

[chastiefoul]

—finally giving up on your unrequited love ft. alhaitham

a/n: ouch i hurt myself writing this. wc: 1.6k words of yapping about unrequited feelings

once upon a time you were grateful for alhaitham’s indifference, the lack of anything he was being when you’re badgering him with chatters, a detailed description of your day, concerns over him, and the occasional gifts.

it seemed like a blessing once, like acceptance. the slightest open of the door, thinking you could invite yourself in and he’d embrace that fact. but as his apathy remain constant and unchanging, you’ve come to realization—an embarassing one at that.

that indifference, that should’ve been a sign for you; alhaitham will never return your feelings.

-

 a stroll a day, keeps the stressful thoughts away.

however today’s walk is just not doing it for you, once you decided to wake up from the dreamland you thought you’ve been living in. a faraway and unrealistic vision of a life where you end up together with the akademiya scribe. an exaggerated sigh escaped you at your own daydreaming. usually by now you’d be quick on your feet to visit the scribe, however the overdue revelation you had last night made you finally think twice before doing it. and only because of that now you’d realized just how much of your life was centered on the grey-haired man, which was a scary discovery, knowing just exactly how little you mattered to his.

you found an empty bench mid-walk, immediately sitting on it. you leaned back, both of your hands holding your weight as you look above. the sky was clear that day, but your mind was clearer, as if a thick fog has finally been lifted.

seriously, what have you been doing all this time? giving your all to someone who wanted none of you. alhaitham’s curt nod, his brief and short responses really should’ve been a clue as to how he felt about you. yet you kept being stubborn, and sometimes hope was human’s greatest enemy. what should have been a bare minimum gesture he did, your mind managed to twist it into something more; clinging to it like a water on a desert. when it turned out that was exactly all there was to it—a mirage.

you chuckled sadly. even remembering those pathetic displays, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully regret having this feeling towards alhaitham. those moments where you’d steal a glance at him and felt like the world was okay. you would not allow yourself to forget that as you became more selfish, wanting him to look at you and feel the same. but here you were, reluctantly learning to accept the fact that he may never does.

suddenly a shadow loomed over you, shielding you from the sunlight you didn’t realize was so bright.

a familiar blond invaded your vision. “(y/n)?” he called out unsure, not expecting you to be there. “oh hi there, kaveh,” you lightly said, as if your heavy train of thoughts hadn’t existed at all. you adjusted your sitting position, shifting yourself to the side as you spare an empty spot beside you for him to sit. kaveh swiftly took your silent offer up, making himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden bench. “i spotted you from afar and you seemed a little troubled, hopefully i was wrong?” the ever so kind kaveh spoke up, and you couldn’t help but smile. kaveh always felt like a friend more than alhaitham ever was, albeit knowing him after you got to know the scribe. you weren’t even sure if the grey-haired man would ever mention even a word about his roommate if it wasn’t for you hanging wround on his office on a peaceful lunch break when the fuming blond barged in and yell at him about a key.

as it turned out, it’s a known fact that most people became quiet irritable when it comes to being in contact with the curt and aloof scribe, since kaveh has been nothing but a good friend since the day he gave you a weird look about wanting to get close to the acting grand master.

“it’s kind of complicated to say,” you started, thinking of the words as you went on. “let’s just say i’m having a quite bittersweet moment.”

you rested your gaze on the bustling street in front of you. he nodded in reply, “i’m guessing it’s more bitter than it is sweet?” he asked genuinely as you smiled once more despite not feeling a drop of mirth. “i suppose so,” you replied curtly, not knowing what to say to his keen observation. keen and exactly correct.

it’s the kind of bitterness that lingered. a kind of flavor you’d expected, since you’re the one who put it in. still, when that sharp taste hit your tongue you couldn’t help but flinch. after all, things don’t stop affecting you even though you saw it coming from miles away. you just hoped the sweetness will get stronger overtime, overpowering as it wash down the unpleasant aftertaste.

kaveh mirrored your smile in return except his looked particularly patronizing, as if he could sense your helplessness.

“will you tell me what happened?” his voice sounded gentle, a care you’ve never heard from the man you’d give a limb to for him to say things along that line. how do you even begin to answer such a simple question? nothing happened, and that’s why it was the problem. the fact that you’re the only one who’s mulling all over this, being so conflicted to what he thought must be nothing. a pain so overwhelming that’s swirling all over your chest while his biggest inconvenient that day was probably a typo made in a document made by a lousy student.

the whole thing just sounded so... pathetic.

“nothing happened... it’s just, i have decided to finally give up on something,” you try your best to sound nonchalant despite having no bravery to look at him, scared that he didn’t look like he believed you.

“well, i might know a thing or two about it. sometimes when an architecture project is too... unreasonable,” kaveh paused, the word tasted like a sour lime on his mouth. “there’s no way but to give it up. especially if you take a step back as take the whole picture from many aspects; in my case, there are budget, location, materials, and so on. there would definitely be some regret about letting go especially an ambitious task, however i think many of my past-self would really like to give the present-me a big gratitude for not forcing it through,” he rambled on, despite having no idea what were you referring on. “even sometimes, the reward was just not worth the risk, you know?” he ended it at that, throwing the question at you.

you swallowed on nothing, but you needed that to let out a reply.

“yes, i do know.”

“yeah? does this mean in your case, whatever you were fighting for was not worth it in the end?”

oh, that’s the worst part. you knew, you knew it with your heart, body and soul that it would be so worth it if there’s an outcome, a scenario where alhaitham might return your feelings. oh it would be so worth it. you could smile, just imagining how worth it would it be.

but that was all it was. an unattainable imagination. an ending that you couldn’t allow yourself to be so cocky to reach.

kaveh waited for your respond patiently, but when the silence had gone for too long he moved his stare to you. he widened his eyes, his gaze softened.

“i don’t think you’re as okay as you made yourself to be,” he said softly, as you felt your cheeks wet by the uninvited tears, running along freely across your face. yet, you couldn’t make an effort to stop them, your heart knew more than anyone you needed that. to feel the sadness, to recognize it.

to let go of the fact that alhaitham will never return your feelings.

kaveh was just quiet as you sobbed quietly, putting a handkerchief silently at the space between you both. there is no empty consolation, no comforting words, no small pats on the back. there’s just silence, a little safe bubble for you to cry in without people coming over to you and asked why.

giving up is such a funny thing, how could doing it hurt more than to keep trying even though you received no sign of reciprocity at all? but you knew the answer of that.

when there hasn’t been a rejection, it’s in everyone’s nature to have hope. a hope that there’s a chance of obtaining something you’ve wished for. a chance that something could happen.

giving up means finality. a state of accepting an outcome you hadn’t wanted. a result you never asked for. an ending where all that’s left was what should have and what could have. a harsh reality people could only accept as it dangled the possibilities and visions of what ‘could have happened’ if you’d just kept trying right in front of your eyes.

like chasing your own shadow; a fun thing to do when you’re a child, but now it’s just a fitting metaphor, reminding you of a fool’s way who love in such a pathetic way.

-

once upon a time you were grateful for alhaitham’s indifference, the lack of anything he was being when you’re badgering him with chatters, a detailed description of your day, concerns over him, and the occasional gifts.

but now it’s definitely a curse. after all, anything that has to do with love was not indifference.

it was never, indifference.

---

the urge to write this in alhaitham pov........................ should i?

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

[grandline-fics]

Hello! Hope your having a good day today! Can I request mihawk, shanks and buggy with the prompt "sleeping separately after an argument" You can just do one of the characters listed if your busy! Or change them into a different character it's totally fine with me! - 🪼

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Sleeping separately after an argument

WARNINGS: slight angst, arguing couples, ends in comfort 

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy

WORDS: 4,199

A/N: Thank you for this request! It's my first Buggy request and first time writing for him so I hope he's to your liking. I tried to keep things varied with these and are on the long side to include a happy ending.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

MIHAWK

“So what? You were never going to send word to me that you were safe?” You’d demanded glaring at your lover that you hadn’t seen in months. Ordinarily you were used to the time and distance apart but he was always in contact with you in some regard. This time however you had no idea about his whereabouts, not until that stupid poster fluttered out of your morning newspaper and you travelled across the sea to Cross Guild to see him for yourself, otherwise you doubted he’d have ever contacted you. 

“Well you would have known from the poster’s existence that I was perfectly safe.” Mihawk answered coolly. He hated how he was speaking to you but in his clear view of the world, in the long run this would be best. Underneath his calm exterior, seeing you stroll into Cross Guild had both sent a mix of conflicting feelings through him. On the one hand he loved the sight of you and wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and welcome you properly. On the other he felt unnerved. He hadn’t been expecting you, if he had known perhaps his approach would have been more thought out but you were the only person to ever rattle him.

All he knew was he needed you gone so he could clear his head and he needed you out of Cross Guild before Crocodile came sniffing around. Acting on instinct, he’d abruptly taken your arm and led you out of the room filled with people. He didn’t need them listening in on any private conversation of his. However you’d only let him get as far as the corridor before you pulled out of his grip and began to interrogate him over his actions. Mihawk refused to tell you the truth, he refused to admit his only worry. Now that he no longer had the protection of Warlord, you would have a clearer and larger target on your head if anyone knew you were romantically involved with him. As much as he knew you could look after yourself he didn’t want to bring any added hassle to your life, nor did he want you to change your life by remaining in Cross Guild just to give him the peace of mind you were safe. “You’ve wasted your journey coming here.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Dracule.” You snarled meeting his steady, impassive stare with your own burning in intensity. You knew he was being guarded for a reason but after all this time you were frustrated and hurt that he wasn’t being honest with you. After all you’d handled together and after proving you were strong enough to be considered his equal, he still wanted to push you away. “You don’t get to stand there and throw some generic one-liner at me. I know you better than that and I deserve better than that. Now talk to me properly and explain yourself.”

“Since when have I ever had to explain my movements?” Mihawk asked arching an eyebrow at you while you continued to glare daggers at him. It never ceased to amaze him that you could always meet his stare. “Cross Guild is new and needed my entire focus, you would have just been an unwelcome distraction and a possible liability.” 

As much as his words hurt, they baffled you even more. Hopelessly you stared up at the man in front of you, trying to understand. None of it made sense. You both knew your lives took you in separate directions and you’d never once tried to force yourself into his business just as he respected yours. The only thing you both ensured was contacting the other if something unexpected happened so neither of you worried. Had he just done that, you wouldn’t have come looking for him. You stared at Mihawk and saw he wasn’t going to give in or tell you the truth, whatever his reasons were it was clear he didn’t respect you enough to be honest then was there any point in saying anything more. 

Mihawk watched as something switched in your demeanour and the spark in your eyes seemed to snuff out. He didn’t move as you approached and reached out. When your fingers skimmed against his jaw he had to steel his nerve to not give into the temptation you always brought him. It only got worse when you leant in and pressed your lips against his. Mihawk felt his resolve begin to snap but the kiss was over just as fast as it began. You pulled back and stared at him, no longer with understanding but firm resolve and finality. “I’m glad you’re safe and I wish you the best of luck with Cross Guild.” 

With nothing left to say you left Mihawk, heading for the entrance to let the stubborn man you loved get back to his new focus only to stop abruptly when Crocodile stepped around the corridor and all but blocked your exit. You stopped and looked at the man you knew mostly from newspapers and reputation. You kept your expression even as Crocodile stared down at you, his keen observation taking you in before drifting up to Mihawk who glared warningly at his business partner. “Leaving so soon?” He asked simply, returning his attention back to you. “You just got here.”

“I was never planning on staying.” You answered dryly, stepping around the broader man only to sigh when he called after you.

“It’s too late for sailing though. There’s plenty of rooms for you to stay in if Mihawk’s room isn’t to your liking.”

“Not necessary.”

“Suit yourself, just know there’re undercover Marines camped out at the only inn on this island. I use the term ‘undercover’ lightly. Still better to know now just in case…” Crocodile’s voice floated towards you and you stopped walking. You turned to watch the man light a cigar, completely at ease. Briefly you flickered your gaze towards Mihawk and you bit your tongue. Looked like you were becoming the liability Mihawk had predicted you’d be. 

“Just show me to a room.” You muttered to a smug Crocodile. “I’ll be gone by morning.”

Mihawk couldn’t sleep. In the times he was apart from you he had adopted a talent for forcing his body to rest at least a little and grab naps here and there through necessity. However when you were both in the same vicinity as each other he could never sleep without your body beside his. Knowing you were just a few rooms away was like the cruellest form of torture. Now that he’d had the time to actually think about it all and his actions, he knew he was an idiot and had reacted and let his worries for you direct him when he should have just talked. Mihawk let out a low growl and rose from his bed. Crocodile was a smug, interfering bastard and had made sure to stop by and casually inform him which room you’d be staying in so he found you in no time. Knocking once he waited. 

Slowly you opened the door, your eyes stinging with tiredness. After all the tossing and turning you’d done your body was exhausted and so nearly ready to give in and let you sleep. Then Mihawk had to disturb that by knocking. His golden eyes scanned yours and he frowned to see the dark circles. Another thing for him to apologise for. “The last thing I want is for you to feel forced into stopping living your life how you want to. I was worried that with my Warlord status now being gone you’d be targeted to hurt me were people to find out we’re a couple. I know you can look after yourself but I’d hate to think you ever got hurt because of me. I acted poorly and pushed you away without thinking because had I really thought about it, not having you in my life was the worst thing I could think of.”

“You should have just told me sooner. You get so much more talkative when you’re sleepy, did you know that?” You asked with a small smile. “So I’m not a liability or unwelcome distraction?”

“Never a liability.” Mihawk swore, relieved that you’d stepped away from the door and allowed him to move closer to you. “A distraction most definitely but always a welcome one.”

“So I can stay?” You asked, leaning into his touch as his hand cupped your face and lowered his head so your foreheads touched, finally getting to enjoy the reunion at last. 

“For as long as you want.” 

SHANKS

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Shanks demanded angrily as he stared at you, his eyes zeroed in on the large and painful looking bruise against your cheek and your bandaged leg.  

“What do you mean ‘what the hell was I thinking’ Shanks?!” You snapped back viciously. Why the hell was he blaming you for something that was clearly an accident. “I was thinking about stopping one of the recruits from getting crushed, obviously.” 

“You weren’t even meant to be there in the first place.”

“It’s a good fucking job I was there.” You retorted, holding your ground fiercely and unwaveringly. “If it hadn’t been for me, they could have been severely injured or killed. Why are you berating me for doing the right thing?” Shanks rarely admonished you or anyone on the crew for that matter. Usually looking out for other members was something he praised. This was just so out of character for him. All you wanted was an explanation, to just understand what it was you’d done that was so bad to deserve all of the animosity. “Had Benn or Lucky been in my place would they be getting this tirade?” From outside the room you and Shanks were arguing in, Benn and Lucky shared a nervous look. Why did they have to be brought into this? Everyone on board bustled about, trying to see to their tasks without making too much noise from fear of drawing yours or Shanks’ ire.

“That’s not the point. This is about-”

“No, it very much is the fucking point.” You interrupted, your blood boiling and patience fraying. “Answer the question. Would you be speaking to them like this had they done the exact same as me?”

“They’re my right and left hands. You’re…” Shanks stopped clumsily and stared at you. This was the crux of the matter. You were different, he cared for everyone on his crew but to see you hurt had made him realise just how much he’d loved you and never faced that feeling before. He had been terrified that afternoon when he’d heard the yells, the heavy crashes of cargo falling after the ropes securing them had snapped from the strain and their age, and came across the seen of you lying on the ground. For a moment he’d feared the absolute worst and because of that, he’d reacted badly and still he was too scared to vocally tell you why. “You’re…”

“Right…” You sniffed slightly, nodding as the pieces seemed to fall into place for you. “I’m just the Captain’s current bedwarmer.”

“What? No!” Seeing the hurt in your eyes at your misinterpretation of the relationship you had, managed to jolt him out of his anger. He took a step toward you, reaching out and watched as you flinched and stepped back. “I didn’t-”

“Don’t bother.” You uttered, continuing to the door. “I’ve had enough of this.”

For the rest of the day you stayed as far away from Shanks as you could but no matter where you were you could feel his stare on you. It felt strange to not be so close, to let your presences mix together in a balanced sense of warmth and strength but at the moment you didn’t want to be near him. You didn’t want to listen to the sound of his voice that usually reassured you and made you smile. Exhausted by the events that led to the argument and the argument itself, you retired to bed early when you’d finished your dinner. Shanks said nothing but watched as you walked away, his frown deepening when he saw you walk in the opposite direction of his quarters that had also doubled as yours since you two got involved. With a long sigh Shanks rubbed his face, as much as he wanted to go after you he wanted to respect your wish for distance. 

Despite your desperate need for rest and sleep, it just wouldn’t come. You’d tossed and turned in what had been your old bed that now felt unfamiliar, simply unable to let your mind settle. With that being coupled with being unable to get comfortable in anyway you let out a long sigh and rolled over, staring at the ceiling in frustration. How did it come to the point that without Shanks your body was like a stubborn toddler, refusing the sleep it wanted and clearly needed? Absently your hand settled over your chest and you closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than the man who you’d fallen for yet had been hurt by. Suddenly from outside your room you heard a muttered curse and dull thud. Dragging yourself out of bed you opened the door and looked down in bewilderment to see Shanks curled up in the corridor with a pillow and blanket. At the sound of the door opening he’d slowly rolled onto his back and looked up at you cautiously. “What are you doing?” You asked tiredly, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You didn’t.” Your tone and expression was even but underneath it all you were unsure. “Answer the question, please. What are you doing down there? You could damage your back if you’re not careful.” 

“It’d be the least I deserve for speaking to you the way I did.” Shanks muttered, his shame evident. “I didn’t want to sleep in our bed, not without you. It didn’t feel right and I also wanted to give you space but…I still wanted to be near. This was the only thing I could think of.”

“Our bed?” You repeated with a tilt of your head. 

“Yes our bed, in our quarters.” Shanks insisted as he sat up but remained firmly on the floor. The fact that you were even willing to speak with him and that you hadn’t slammed the door in his face was enough to give him the courage to say what he should have that morning instead of running his mouth without thinking. “You’re more to me than some ‘bedwarmer,’ you always have been and I’d been too much of a coward to admit it. When I saw you hurt I feared the worst and just panicked. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I had and I certainly should have told you how much I love you before now. For all of that I’m so sorry and will do what I can to make it up to you, only if you’ll let me that is.”

“Okay, three conditions and I’ll forgive you.” You conceded after a few heavy seconds and you fought to hold back your smile at the sight of Shanks’ face lighting up immediately.

“Name them.” He swore with no hesitation, watching as you knelt down beside him.

“First, I get your favourite pillow for the next month.”

“You can have it forever.” Shanks grinned, his hand sliding over your waist as you inched closer. “Next?”

“You carry me back to our room so we can sleep.” Immediately Shanks had you scooped up and was off the floor in a fluid motion that pulled a surprised yelp from your lips. In no time at all you were both back in what you now knew to be your shared quarters and not just his. Shanks settled you on the mattress, making sure your head was cushioned by the pillow you’d only jokingly wanted before he crawled under the covers and held you close. In unison you both felt peace settle over you both, the sleep that your bodies had refused was now creeping through you now but Shanks refused to fall over just yet. “What’s the third condition?”

“Tell me you love me again.” You murmured, your eyes already closed and body pressed against his chest. Shanks sleepily chuckled and held you tighter, vowing to never risk letting you go again. you were his heart after all. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

BUGGY

Everyone knew Buggy had a short fuse. They knew that a good mood could turn sour without any warning, all it would take would be the wrong thing at the wrong time and he’d implode his fury on the closest thing possible and it wouldn’t matter if it was to blame or not. Today it seemed you were the focus for his anger. You’d walked into the big top merely to tell your lover that he was needed by both Mihawk and Crocodile. “Hey Bug-”

“No!” You stopped mid-step when the clown’s head detached from his body and whirled through the air and glared down at you. Stunned, you could only stare into his angry eyes and listen to his vicious rant. “I have had it with the sheer incompetence of everyone! How hard is it to listen to simple instructions?” You were sure that Buggy didn’t have any idea that it was you that he was shouting at. When he got like this all he really saw was the person’s outline and no discernible features. Still though, you opened your mouth to try and calm him before his face got as red as his nose but he just got lost in his anger that had reached boiling point. “What did I just say?! Get the hell out of my sight before I use you for target practice!”

The idea of Buggy hurting you caused the amused smile and light laughter to appear out of the sheer absurdity of it all. You were the one Buggy loved, he’d never bring you harm. But all Buggy saw and heard was insubordination, mocking his authority and his status. Now that Mihawk and Crocodile were around the big top was the only place he still had any power. For someone to laugh at him here was only adding fuel to the fire. 

His hands detached and grabbed your upper arm, hauling you off your feet so you were now eye level with him. Only now did he blink through his fury and realise who it was he was about to physically punish. But still he was angry and his lack of authority had made him shaken. If he immediately apologised now, he’d seem weak. He needed those who followed him to see he was in charge. You saw the recognition in Buggy’s eyes and thought he'd lessen his hold and set you back on your feet but instead he kept you in the air. “Why do I tolerate you and your lack of respect? Just be grateful for my mercy. Keep out of my way and out of my spotlight! Is that clear?” 

 Ever since the founding of Cross Guild you'd done your best to reassure Buggy that he was still important and still powerful. You’d navigated his low self-esteem and tantrums for years, knowing him longer and better than anyone. You loved him and you knew he loved you but this made your own anger begin to light. His behaviour like this towards you would not be something you'd let him get away with but you also didn’t want him to lose face in front of the crew who were watching with held breaths. “Crystal clear, Captain Buggy.” You responded in an empty monotone. “Thank you for your mercy. The spotlight is yours and yours alone. If you can let me go I’ll keep out of your way, it won’t happen again.”

“G-good.” Buggy quickly uttered and set you on your feet before releasing your arms. His mind was slowly clearing as he watched with uncertainty as you fixed your clothes and headed for the door. Absently he wondered why you’d been in here in the first place. Dread filled his stomach now, had you come in just to visit him and unintentionally been brought into the firing line? You opened the door and refused to look his way. 

“I’ll let Mihawk and Crocodile know you’re busy, Captain.” Your remark made his eyes bug out and he was frozen in place. What did those two want with him now?! Panic filled him as he abruptly dismissed the crew and he hurried for the door you’d left through. When he was in the hallway he saw you were heading for one of the lounge rooms and not Cross Guild’s meeting room, Buggy sighed in relief. He made a mental note to talk to you after and hurried for the meeting. 

As the day wore on, Buggy’s mood lifted significantly and the morning’s incident with you was unfortunately pushed further and further to the back of his mind. It wasn't until the evening time that he realised he hadn’t seen much of you. When he passed Alvida he asked if she’d seen where you’d gone. Alvida regarded him silently, confusion pulling at her features. “On your way to apologise?”

“What does my flashy self have to apologise for?” Buggy asked with a confident grin. 

“Well this morning, remember?” Alvida asked with a smirk as realisation flickered in Buggy’s eyes. “Yelling at nothing subordinates is one thing, but your lover? You need to talk to them. Sadly I haven’t seen them since you told them to keep out of your way. Hope you find them.” Buggy watched hopelessly as the woman continued on her way, not even bothering to assist him in finding you. Grinding his teeth anxiously, Buggy continued his search. He finally found you in your shared room and with a sigh of relief, believing he didn’t need to apologise after all he flopped himself down onto the bed. 

“Been looking everywhere for you. Hey, where’re you going?” He immediately sat up when you moved for the door, watching you turn to look at him with a frown. 

“Keeping out of your way Captain Buggy.” You explained. “As per your orders.”

With a sigh Buggy prepared himself to finally apologise. “You know I didn’t mean it. Not with you.”

“But you don’t make mistakes, Captain.” You shook your head, not allowing him to talk him way out of his actions so soon. “Don’t worry I’ll keep out of your spotlight.”

“There’s no spotlight here-”

“Where you are, the spotlight follows that includes here.” Your eyes moved to the bed he was lying on. The last time you and Buggy had slept separately was when he was in Impel Down and it had been the worst time of your lives but you had to do something. Buggy knew that you’d have to be severely hurt by him to even consider putting yourself through that and he knew he was to blame for it. So he could only numbly let you leave to have some space from him. “Sleep well, Captain.”

For hours Buggy tried to sleep but it just refused to come. Even though he knew your body wasn’t beside him, his hands still searched across the cold mattress in the hopes of finding you and his head always turned towards your pillow, eyes desperate to find your face in the dark. With a sigh, Buggy rose, his lesson well and truly learned. Trudging down the silent hallways he moved to the lounge he’d seen you head towards after he’d yelled at you that morning. Stopping in the doorway he saw you lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with heavy eyes that stubbornly wouldn’t close. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your circus, Captain.” You mumbled, still looking at the ceiling and too tired to move. “You don’t need to ask me for permission for anything.”

“Yes I do.” Buggy insisted, slowly walking into the room and stopped at the foot of the sofa. “You’re not some subordinate and the second I realised it was you I was shouting at I should have stopped. I should have apologised. Any orders I have are for those morons, never you. I’m sorry you had to do this to make me see that.”

Finally you dropped your eyes from the ceiling to observe Buggy, seeing he was free from his makeup and flashy outfit. Not Captain or figurehead, just your Buggy. Slowly you moved your blanket aside to wordlessly invite Buggy to join you. Tiredly you smiled when he wasted no time in moving down to lie with you, his arms circling you and his lips pressing lovingly against your cheek. Buggy relished the way you relaxed against him but knew he still had a hell of a lot of making up to do and come the morning he’d do jus that until you were sick of his flashy apology and spoiling you.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

[danikamariewrites]

Stress Free

Poly!Batboys x reader

Warnings: none

There’s something comforting about the people who love you most knowing exactly what you need. And when you need it. Knowing you don’t have to take care of yourself alone is a comforting thought.

You have not been yourself for the last few days thanks to stress from work. It happens every once in a while, and your mates catch on pretty quick. You just wanted peace and quiet today. To not work or focus on anyone or anything.

Rhys got you started on your day. A gourmet breakfast with zero work talk. Just comfortable silence between the two of you.

He brought you over to the couch, already set up with your favorite blankets and pillows. Rhys massaged your jaw for a while, helping get rid of the ache caused by clenching it from stress.

Rhys leaves you with a kiss on your head and the promise that he’ll be back after working for a bit. You watch the snow fall from the sitting room window. A mug of steaming tea sitting on your chest with your hands wrapped around it.

You feel peaceful just sitting here doing nothing. Relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Just as your eyes were fluttering closed a shadow floats over your hand, twining up with the steam of your tea. You smile at the dark mist. It tells you Azriel is close.

You turn your head to the entryway, finding Azriel leaning against the wall with a soft loving look on his beautiful face. “How long have you been standing there?”

Azriel shrugs, silently making his way over to you. Sitting on the end of the couch he pulls your blanket covered feet onto his lap. “Only for a bit. You looked so peaceful I couldn’t help it.”

You hum looking back out the window, taking a sip of your tea. Azriel’s thumb lightly traces circles on your shin as he watched the snow fall with you. The two of you sat in comfortable silence until Cassian, very loudly, made his presence known.

You and Azriel lock eyes, giving each other the same happily annoyed look.

Cassian kicks off his boots before entering the sitting room. “Hey baby.” He holds the side of your head pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Hi Cass,” You squeeze his free hand lovingly, leaning into his touch.

He plops into one of the large armchairs fit for Illyrian wings. Propping his feet up on the coffee table he lets out a groan. “How has your day of relaxing been?”

“Wonderful until a six foot seven, clumsy Illyrian interrupted my peace.”

Cassian gives you a dramatic shocked look. “I am here to help you relax you know.” You shrug playfully. “I’ll believe it when I see it, my love.”

A breathy chuckle comes from Azriel, his gaze still focused on the flurries of snow. “Get ready to be the most relaxed you’ve ever been sweetheart,” Cassian swipes your book off the coffee table. Flipping through the pages dramatically until he comes to the spot you stopped at last night, clearing his throat.

Cassian’s deep voice soothes you. Making you think of warm nights cuddled up to your mates as one of them reads while another plays with your hair.

You loosely hold Azriel’s hand that rests on your thigh. Your eyes closing at the soft feeling of his thumb rubbing circles on your palm. Cassian’s voice lulling you to sleep.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: none

Summary: You’re plagued by the kid who lives in your neighborhood, the kid you know has a crush on you. You left town, you lived your life without him, and now you’re staring at him face to face after years. Something about him has changed and now you can’t help but want him back.

Square Filled: art student au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

As soon as the last bell at school rings, you race off campus to start the walk home. It’s not a far walk but you enjoy the silence you get from it. Your house is filled with little brothers and sisters and it’s hard to get a moment of peace. Your parents do the best they can but you know it’s hard for them. You’re the oldest so you’re expected to help out which is why you also enjoy your time alone.

You walk around the corner and notice the sixth house down from yours with the garage open. You’re not sure how you feel but something washes over you knowing what’s going to come next. Maybe it’s annoyance or irritation or indifference but the same thing happens every single time you walk home from school.

The only kid that lives there, Spencer Reid, loves to come out and walk with you the rest of the way to your house. He’s a nice kid but that’s all he is--a kid. He’s two years older than you are but you’re much taller than he is. If he is going to get a growth spurt, he’s getting it late in life or maybe his family are just short people. He’s not enrolled in your school because he’s mega smart and needs higher education to stimulate his brain.

You slip past his house in hopes you can enjoy the rest of your walk in silence but you hear the garage door slam shut and footsteps padding down the driveway.

“Hey, Y/N! Almost missed you.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you shake your head.

“How was your day?”

“It was fine. It’s just school.”

“Today was my first day of college and it was exhilarating. I have to admit, I wish you were there. Or I wish I was enrolled in your high school like all the other normal kids. At least we’d be together.”

You knew he had a crush on you after the first conversation you ever had with him. He called you pretty and vowed he’d walk with you to protect you against predators. It was cute at first but not you’re interested in someone like him. Like you said, he’s nice and has the potential of being a good boyfriend but he’s short and you don’t go for short boys.

“Sure, Spencer.”

“Listen, my mom gave me some money and I wanted to see this new French film that’s playing across town. Do you think you’d want to maybe go with me?”

Never has he ever had the balls to ask you out. Now that he has, you need to put a stop to this. He’ll get over the crush and you won’t be humiliated every time you go out in public. Does that make you selfish? Maybe. Does that make you a douche? Definitely. You stop outside of your house and look down at Spencer who has a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Spencer, listen, you’re a nice kid but it’s never going to happen between us.” Spencer’s face falls but he doesn’t say anything. “Grow over six feet and then we’ll talk, okay?”

You meant that as a joke but you don’t stick around to see if he laughs. That’s the last time you ever saw Spencer Reid.

Now

Today is the day. You’re given the opportunity to feature your art in one of the most successful art galleries in the country. You studied at Princeton and got a degree in fine arts before interning for known artist Benjamin Hale. He’s so successful that he has hundreds of galleries across America with dozens more across the world. He was impressed with your portfolio and offered to let you study underneath him while creating your artwork in private.

He offered you a chance to showcase your work in one of his new galleries. According to him, he needs new blood in this gallery and you’re the perfect fit for it. Your speciality is portraits, realism, and photorealism. Your favorite things to draw are people but there is something about being in nature and drawing what God put on this Earth. You have an eye for making your paintings look real and raw, and you’re able to capture people’s emotions henceforth the realism part of your art.

You only have about a dozen works put up in your small corner of the gallery but you’re proud of it all. You might not sell anything tonight and that’s okay. When you got the word out that the gallery was going to open, people agreed to come once they saw free food and wine was going to be handed out. Still, you appreciate everyone coming.

The place is packed mostly for Benjamin’s work but you see some people enjoying your work. You’re in the back room getting more wine for the servers when one of them joins you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Lori. I’ve just gotten the box of wine for you guys.”

“I just came back here to tell you that someone just bought all of your things.” You’re so shocked that you spring up but hit your head on the corner of a shelf. You yelp in pain and rub the sore area before backing out of the dusty corner. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What did you just say?”

“Someone bought all of your work.”

You don’t wait to hear what else she has to say. You’re already out the door and rushing into the main room. You look to your section but don’t see anyone lingering around. You’re not paying attention to where you’re walking when you almost run into someone. The man grabs your shoulders to prevent you from falling and lets out a chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

Wait you know that voice. You look up at the man towering over six feet tall. Damn, he grew up.

“Spencer?”

“So, you do remember me.”

He lets go of your shoulders and allows you to take a step back from him. Damn, not only did he grow but he grew more handsome since the last time you saw him. Well, he was fifteen the last time you saw him but still.

“How could I forget the little boy who followed me for two years?”

“Yeah, I kind of had a crush on you,” he chuckles.

Oh, he even has a beautiful smile. Damn, I really was a dick to him back then. You try to ignore the pang of sadness at his use of “had” and not “have”.

“I know you did. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

“Looking for someone?” he asks before you have a chance to leave his side.

“Yeah, someone bought everything I have out.”

“It was me.”

You pause and turn to look at him. He has a slight smirk on his face, and something in your head clicks into place. You look at him up and down and notice how he’s trying hard not to be overly confident in his decision.

“So, what, you got older and taller and now you think you’re hot shit?”

Spencer shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the one looking up, not me.” Your jaw drops several inches at his remark. “So, can we talk now?”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me to grow over six feet and we’ll talk. Well, I’m over six feet now. Will you let me take you out?”

You have no clue what to say to that because your mind is reeling from the last thing he said. Someone calls his name and you both see a black man, two blondes, and a brunette waving him over. They point to their watches which means he is either late or they have to go. He digs in his pocket and produces a business card. Only it’s not a business card. He’s in the fucking FBI.

“How about this?” He hands the card to you. “Call me when I can pick this stuff up and maybe we’ll talk then.”

He leaves your side and joins his friend group without another look at you. Is it shallow to want him now? Maybe. Are you going to try like hell to make up for lost time? Definitely.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

Hi love! I hope you are doing well ☺️

If possible could I request a Aemond X reader? Maybe something where he takes notice of a hobby reader likes and surprises them with something related to it?

Piece de Resistance

Pairing: Aemond x Wife Reader

Summary: Aemond stumbles upon your love for the arts, painting, drawing, sketching, and the like. <3

Warnings: none I don't think, Aemond being a cute and supportive husband. a good moment of domesticity :)

AN: Hello! I absolutely love this request! I hope I did it justice haha. Thank you so much for submitting it! The picture is from Pinterest! It's St Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne.

It wasn’t often you got a moment to yourself nowadays. With your husband acting as Prince Regent in his brother’s absence, you and he both were kept rather busy. Him with the Small Council and issues of the realm, you with the petty social gossipings and happenings of the Court. So rare moments of peace and quiet like this were highly coveted.

Your marital chambers echoed with emptiness as you entered and looked around. The curtains you had chosen fluttered in the breeze. Aemond had not wanted them, but ultimately he conceded, never being able to say no to you. 

He must be in a Small Council meeting, you thought. Or perhaps training with Ser Criston, letting off some steam. Your husband seemed to have an ever-constant knot of stress in his shoulders and neck. You’d tried to massage it out many a time, but it never seemed to budge, or it ended in a much different sort of activity –

Under your armoire, lay a dusty, maroon-red box. You bent down, moving to pull it out of its little hiding spot. You had snuck it under there after you had moved into Aemond’s chambers. The day after your wedding. Aemond had insisted that you move to his quarters as soon as possible. He didn’t like being separated from you more than necessary. If he could, he would have you seated on his lap in Small Council meetings or even when he sat on the Iron Throne. But alas, that was a touch too far, and people would talk. As they always do –

Your husband was kind and dotting, if not overprotective and possessive of you. You had known one another since you were children. Your house and family coming to visit the Court, your mother and the dowager Queen had been friends since their youth. They had hoped that you and Aemond would get along well, and you did, famously so. When he had lost his eye, you had come to the Red Keep, to offer him comfort and company. You had never left after that. 

Your fingertips graze over the top of the box, as you rest it on top of your bed sheets. Leaving an empty trail in their wake. The lock lay rusted and golden on the front, pulling a small key from the pocket of your skirt, you unlock it. A small, soft resounding click bounced off the walls. As you gingerly opened the lid, the stale smell of linseed oil filled your nostrils. Small metal tubes of colorful paint lay untouched in the box. Clean bristles and dirty brush handles scattered about, small rolls of blank canvas. All of which lay, unmoved, unbothered, from the last time you had used them. 

When you were little, you had complained to your mother once about the bore of your lessons. For your tenth name day, she had brought in a painter from Highgarden to tutor you. He had taught you how to mix colors and paint the prettiest flowers. As you grew older, he taught you more complicated things, like ladies in bushy skirts, and golden dragons in the sky. An odd prophecy of your future.

Taking some basic colors, red, blue, yellow, and white, some brushes, and a small roll of canvas, you set up shop at your dressing table. For the time being, altering it into a makeshift desk. Deciding to paint what you knew best, you began to sketch out a dragon among roses, with some charcoal that you had borrowed from Aemond.

He wouldn’t miss it, you thought. He had a small goblet full of charcoal and quills, hiding amongst the piles of books and scrolls on the table. Which he used to plot his war games, or occasionally take dinner with you. When you both grew tired of his family and their bickering. 

The dragon began to take form on the canvas, it looked slightly like Vhagar, large, old, and wrinkly. Her age showing in her face and eyes. Around her, you drew roses, peonies, daffodils, lavender, a great colorful bouquet. Once you had begun mixing the paints, on a makeshift pallet made of spare parchment paper. The other sounds of the world seemed to fade away, the monotony of the act being therapeutic. A much-desired mindless activity in the middle of the war you all found yourself in. You would never voice this to anyone, but it was silly to you. The hubris and hypocrisy of your husband's family was vast and great, and deadly at the worst. The blood of the dragon ran thick and hot, volatile and dangerous. 

You had become so absorbed in your work that you hadn’t heard the door open, the faint call of your name. Lost on the wind perhaps. Aemond stood, leaning a shoulder against the door frame, a small smile playing at his lips, watching you, intently. He knew and had seen you become absorbed like this in a book or some piece of writing, but he had never seen you do this before. Paint.

The colorful oils stain your fingertips and wedge themselves beneath your nails. The same stale smell of the linseed oil met his nostrils.

 An odd sort of smell, he thought. He crept a bit closer, as close as possible not yet wanting you to know he was there. He silently rested his sword on the bed, the sheets muffling any noise it may have made. You were humming softly to yourself. An old hymn your mother used to sing to you. 

As he crept closer, Aemond could make out the picture you were working on. The colors came to life before his eyes, the eyes of his dragon staring back at him. 

“Gevie (beautiful)” He muttered, under his breath.

Startled, you jumped a bit, smudging one of the petals on the peony you were working on. “Shit” you breathed out.

“Aemond, Husband, I had not heard you come in!” You stand, turning to face him, stepping in front of your work as if to hide it.

Aemond chuckled a bit, noticing the pink tinge to your cheeks, embarrassed at being caught. He lifted an eyebrow, and gestured to the painting behind you, 

“May I see it?” He asked, his gaze meeting your own. After a slight pause, you stepped aside. Aemond walked past you, placing a loving hand on your waist, holding you to him slightly. Aemond has developed a habit of always having a hand on you, as if scared you were going to be snatched away, stolen from him. 

Again, he muttered a “Gevie” under his breath. He turned to look at you, your face twisted in anticipation of what he may think. You had hidden the hobby from him not out of malice, but rather out of embarrassment. Other ladies and some lords of the court had mentioned that painting was a poor man's job and that someone of “noble blood” needn’t concern themselves with such silly things. You had been worried that he would have agreed with them, not liking it. 

“I didn’t know you painted. This is lovely,” The hand on your waist moved to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind your ear, it had fallen loose from your braids. 

“I was afraid you would disapprove –” 

“Why on earth would I disapprove my love? This is beautiful, you have a talent”. Your cheeks turned impossibly more pink at his praise and approval. 

“Actually, I would like it very much if you were to paint something on my sword. Vhagar perhaps –” He trailed off thinking, “Or maybe the seas or those flowers are quite lovely too–” You had placed a finger over his lips, laughing. Aemond stopped talking, kissing the digit instead. 

“Yes husband, I would love nothing more,” Your smile matched Aemond’s from before. 

“I would like to show it off–” He murmured against your finger, kissing it again. You moved your hand to his cheek, cupping it lovingly. This small moment of domestic bliss was needed, for the both of you. 

“Well then, go and fetch it, and I shall get to work,” With the excitement of a little boy, your husband retrieved his sword from the bed, unsheathing it, placing it on the desk in front of you. The previous painting moved to the windowsill, to dry. Aemond pulled up a chair, sitting beside you. 

He rested his elbow on the corner of the table, chin in palm. The only free spot on the table, not littered with paints and brushes. You began to work, and he watched you, with nothing but love and admiration in his eye. He could sit here, happily, forever, watching you work, with the setting sun twinkling on the ocean water outside of the windows. Your delicate hands painted the hard metal of his sword. He would let you paint the whole damn keep if it made you happy. And now, with the conqueror's crown resting upon his brow, maybe he would –

Tag List:

@helaenaluvr  @anukulee   @stuckinaf4nfiction

@darylandbethfanforever9

[wileys-russo]

jenni hermoso ”i knew i would find you from here” a house party

j.hermoso II never too late

"i'm just gonna get some air!" you yelled over the music, kissing your best friends cheek who nodded, downing your drink and dropping the cup on a table on your way out, exhaling at the sudden peace and quiet of the backyard.

you pretended not to notice the few couples littering the back patio, curled up together in darkened corners and pool chairs taking advantage of the privacy as you wandered a little further away, sitting down at the edge of the pool.

this was supposed to be a high school reunion of sorts, though it felt a little sad to watch some of your now near thirty year old classmates try to re-live their 'glory days' most of the class now married, engaged or on call for their kids babysitters.

you of course had none of the above, having chosen to study right out of school and though you had a very high paying well respected job to show for it, you couldn't help but feel robbed of some other aspects of life you'd been too careless with.

"i knew i would find you here."

speaking of things you'd missed out on.

you looked up at her voice, a smile settling in your features as you took in the woman in front of you, no longer the awkwardly tall teenager you'd messed around with in empty classrooms during your free periods.

"jennifer hermoso fuentes." you smiled, pushing yourself up to your feet, stomach fluttering a little at the knee buckling grin she sent your way. "in the flesh, hola hermosa." the girl opened her arms for a hug as you settled into them, laughing as she jostled you side to side gently, kissing your cheek.

"of all people i expected to run into here, you weren't on my list jen." you admitted, the two of you breaking apart and taking a seat beside one another, legs dangling in the pool.

"mm and why is that?" she asked with a curious smile, leaning back on her hands and watching you. "a title winning national football campeón? slumming it at a house party with us campesinos." you teased as she playfully rolled her eyes and flicked you with water.

"what can i say? the honor is yours." jenni winked and you'd be lying if you said your stomach didn't do a little flip just like when you were a teenager.

"vale enough about me now! y tú? what are you doing with yourself?" jenni finished catching you up on everything around a half an hour later, bumping her shoulder into yours as you shrugged.

"-but sometimes i feel like i blinked and ten years has gone by, and i have a career sure but i do not have much to show for it in a way of a personal life." you wrapped up your summary, cheeks blushing pink as you looked away.

"what are you-" you questioned as the taller girl grabbed your hands inspecting them. "checking for a wedding ring, i would hate to be flirting with a married woman." jenni grinned cheekily as she dropped your hands and you couldn't help but smile.

"you have not changed." you chuckled at her abrupt boldness, jenni never afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve, one of the most honest women you'd ever known even if sometimes you did not ask for her honesty.

"i have too! i grew up, i am an adult." jenni stuck her tongue out at you as you shook your head. "big child in an adults body maybe." you teased, pushing her as a comfortable silence fell between the pair of you, the faint pulse of the music inside as the night ran late and the party started to slowly die out.

"hey you have something that none of the idiotas here have." jenni stated as you gave her a curious frown, caught off guard as she leaned in and pecked your lips.

"you've kissed a world cup winner!" her lips curled into a wicked grin as she lay down looking up at you and you had to laugh, touching your lips where they tingled a little at the familiar sensation of kissing her.

"maybe you have changed..." you mused, leaning down closer as she quirked an eyebrow, playful glint in her eyes. "...you used to be a much better kisser." you whispered, patting her chest and sitting back up as she looked up at you incredulously.

"es que tan?" jenni sat up quickly, clearly offended by the statement which only amused you more as you nodded. "sí, de verdad." you confirmed, features painted into a smirk.

"mmm well maybe you have changed too princesa." jenni echoed as you now raised an eyebrow at her, though before you even had a millisecond to comment you were plunged underwater, feet hitting the bottom.

"you used to be a good swimmer!" jenni laughed, doubled over as you resurfaced coughing and spluttering, eyes narrowed into a filthy glare.

but you hardly had a moment to condemn her as she dove in to join you, popping up in front of you with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a pearly white toothy grin.

"i did not miss you cabrón." you spluttered, treading water as the footballer swam even closer. "yes you did." jenni nodded, hovering right in front of you now, her face only a few centimeters from yours.

"i did not." "you did." "you wish." "maybe i do."

another silence fell between you as your eyes roamed one anothers faces, drinking in every little detail both new and old that had stayed or appeared in the ten or so years you'd not seen her up close.

"why did we break up?" you were caught a little off guard at the abruptness of her question, sighing at the way her eyebrow creased curiously.

"i don't know jen. you were getting serious with football, i was going to university. we just...we went down different paths of life that didn't cross over." you struggled out an answer, neither of you really holding any ill will with the other but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't occasionally found yourself doing a little internet deep dive into what your ex was up to.

"i only came here hoping i would see you." again you were caught off guard by her statement, searching her eyes for any signs that she was messing with you but only finding blunt honesty, her speciality.

"well...here i am." "here you are." jenni smiled and those butterflies appeared as you reached across to push a few wet strands of hair from her forehead, shivering lightly as a gust of wind blew hitting your damp skin.

"vamos, lets get dry." jenni nodded toward the steps, the two of you swimming over, jenni hopping out first and extending a hand to help you. "you didn't think this through, did you?" you questioned, motioning to both of your soaking wet bodies and not a towel in sight as she smiled sheepishly.

"well...i'm not staying far from here. i have a very spacious shower in my hotel room, and lots of towels, comfortable bed, movies on order, snacks." jenni grinned hopefully, poking at you as you smacked her hand and wrapped your arms around your wet form.

"are you asking me to come for a sleepover hermoso?" you teased as the taller girl chuckled and shrugged. "maybe. but just, with a little less sleeping." she hinted with another wink that had your stomach twisting, offering you her hand with a charming smile, brightening as you grabbed it and the pair of you headed off toward the side exit.

maybe it wasn't too late for some things to work out for you after all.

[fortheloveoflatinum]

Rewatching Star Trek DS9: Past Tense (The Bell Riots)

The thing I love most about time travel episodes is that the future hangs in such delicate balance. Also - the gentle reassurance that we matter. You matter. I matter. This isn't utilitarian calculus; it's a philosophy that holds that we all have immense intrinsic value and are all capable of shifting and shaping the course of the future.

Spock: [to Kirk] Save her, do as your heart tells you to do, and millions will die who did not die before. - Spock in the TOS Episode, "City on the Edge of Forever."

And Kirk, despite everything - despite his love for this woman, despite what his heart tells him to do - knows that in order to save the Federation and the future he has had such a magnificent hand in creating; if he wants a just and equitable future to be forged, it all hinges upon one small, 'insignificant' woman - it serves to show that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few - Kirk lets her die to save those millions of people - but also proves that the good of the few - or the one - can indeed outweigh the good of the many.

It's a simple, human truth that we are all significant in some way. When we go, it's not what we leave behind that matters - it's how we lived.

Captain Picard: Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives. But I rather believe than time is a companion who goes with us on the journey, and reminds us to cherish every moment because they'll never come again. What we leave behind is not as important how we lived. - Picard in the movie Star Trek: Generations.

And in the DS9 episode Past Tense: Parts I and II, this fundamental truth is also proven true. That one person - any person, every person - matters. Not because of the wealth they've accumulated, not because of their fancy house or their six-figure salary or their corner office - but because they smiled at a crying child, because they sparked hope in the hopeless, because they were kind, because they were generous with their time and because they lived to serve the greater good.

Life. It's not about what you own - it's about who you touch. Even transported to a barbaric 21st century too much like our own - with just the clothes on their back - even their combadges stolen - Doctor Bashir and Captain Sisko touch people. Their presence changes things. So much so that the ripples of their actions change the future for every Federation member, because Starfleet is gone and all that remains of it is the crew of the Defiant.

I remember the Ray Bradbury story, "The Sound of Thunder," with its eminent metaphor of stepping on a butterfly and altering the future. But what if we step on a butterfly in the present? Surely, the future is altered. Everything we do - matters. Everything we do has ripples across the timeline of the future. None of us are islands unto ourselves. This tangled web we weave, it's a tapestry and its threads are those of the people we've loved, everyone who we've ever known and whether we were cruel or kind to them matters.

What can you do? Start by smiling. A smile from a friendly stranger can save a life.

Michael Burnham [to Spock]: “There’s a whole galaxy of people out there who will reach for you. You have to let them. Find that person who seems farthest from you and reach for them.” - Michael Burnham in that one Discovery episode where they go to the future and also there's an epic war going on in the background

Reach for someone, anyone; everyone. Only then can they reach back for you.

Be kind, to the Earth, to each other, to all creatures. Don't step on butterflies or kill bees.

What can you do? Watch Star Trek, and live by Starfleet values. Find a moral compass, and let it guide you. Remember that science and education are the answer, just as much as peace on Earth and - eventually - beyond.

[strangesmallbard]

currently thinking about why some targaryen names are reused and not others. i think it’s mostly intentional, if not always. there are surface-level plot and characterization reasons why, but i also think these choices reinforce certain targ family narratives overall + reveal the patriarchy-laden marrow of the whole thing. none of these thoughts will be in logical order but bear with me LMAO.

i've already posted a bit about aegon, but also: the targaryens are trying to rebirth aegon i again and again and they always fail bc aegon i was always an ideal, not a real person who existed. aegon i was also an imperial conquerer; anyone who tries to live up to him will once again re-enact that violence on themselves, their family, and the people he subjugated. there’s “viserys” and never a living visenya; a warrior queen may have built this dynasty, but only her sons can take her place. the first rhaena targaryen, who had a similar political disposition to visenya, was denied the same power. (she was also named after rhaenys, known for being more gentle and kind-heated despite her own active participation in the conquest).

all three women/girls named rhaenys were, in different ways, overshadowed by male family members. rhaenys became a unwitting martyr to aegon (and visenya's) imperial cause, while rhaenys 2 was denied the throne in favor of viserys. rhaenys 3, meanwhile, is murdered during wartime; her younger brother was (maybe) saved to preserve rhaegar's bloodline. a bit like her first namesake, she becomes an unwitting symbol for oberyn's vengeance.

and there's more! king aenys was considered weak compared to aegon; no other children were named after him. maegor was considered too cruel, even by targaryen standards; no other children were named after him—except, of course, the royal quarters in the red keep are in a building called maegor's holdfast. his legacy follows every targ born since, even though they openly scorn his name. little prince jaehaerys and princess jaehaera both die horribly because of a succession crisis that jaehaerys i helped cause. jaehaerys ii brought his namesake’s incest back, dooming his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren before they were ever born.

meanwhile, rhaella names dany because the last daenerys brought peace to westeros (according to the targaryen pov); all dany craves is that peace, even though she only knows how to express that desire through the violent vestiges of her ancestors. young griff inherited the Aegon Curse, despite his dubious origins. will it matter at all, in the end? as the banners are raised in his name? and there's the jon snow of it all, the secret targaryen named after his uncle's father figure. not his father's hoped-for visenya, nor another aegon. i hope he doesn't have a targaryen name at all, in the end. i think that would be much more powerful than anything else.

[panickedscribbles]

I've been thinking about Star Wars discourse lately, and I think a lot of the reason so much of the fandom is constant back and forth arguments is because a lot of the time, two characters can be right simultaneously while also disagreeing completely with each other.

Take the whole "Too old, he is" thing.

On one hand, obviously wrong. Anakin is nine, he's at most a few years behind, and textually managed to catch up pretty well. Like, if Palpatine and the Sith Plan weren't constantly messing him up, there is every possibility that Anakin could have become a well adjusted Jedi. Nine is by no means too old to learn a skill.

On the other hand, the council demonstrates perfectly in that scene that they are completely unequipped to deal with a nine year old who hasn't been raised in their culture, especially one from a heavily traumatized background. The pop-quiz they ask him would be perfectly acceptable for a nine-year-old youngling, but Anakin literally just walked in. They are giving an end-of-year exam to a kid who has never even seen a school. And they assume this is fine, because that's just what you do with nine-year-olds.

More to the point, they are completely failing to take into account the previous nine years of his life. They ask a kid, who up until all of about 18 hours ago had been enslaved since birth, to be open and honest about his emotions, in a room full of complete strangers, most of whom answer to "Master"! They have somehow engineered a situation so psychologically damaging that Palpatine is taking notes in the corner, entirely without realizing. When the council says they shouldn't take him in, they are one hundred percent right. Nine is WAY too old when you've spent that time as a slave, and are being entrusted into the care of people who have never had to raise a nine year old who wasn't raised like they were.

Or how about Anakin not being made a master. Was he right to insist he get the title, or was the council.

Well, Anakin should be made a master, you see, because,

He's one of the main Generals fighting and coordinating the war

And he's one of their most successful warriors. Like, he's the guy they call in whenever they need an impossible mission completed

He's more or less the face of the war effort, as "The Hero Without Fear"

As an ex-slave, obtaining the title of Master would be a huge psychological weight lifted off his shoulders.

Since they're making him part of the council for espionage purposes, making him a master as well serves as better cover

Giving him more reason to stay loyal to the Jedi after they just asked him to betray the trust of one of his oldest and closest friends wouldn't be the worst idea

Like, if ever there was a reason to give someone a promotion, those are some pretty good ones.

However, on the opposite side of the issue, literally none of that has any bearing on "Mastery" as the Jedi define it. Being a Jedi Master is all about mastery over oneself, having a deep understanding of the force, and a certain level of inner peace.

You'll notice that at no point does being really good at large-scale violence, being well known for being really good at large-scale violence, or wanting it a lot factor into being made a Jedi Master. Everything Anakin is good at, Everything Palpatine, and the war, and the council have pushed Anakin into being good at, do nothing to bring him any closer to Mastery, and in fact often push him further away from it.

In both of these examples, you can make a very compelling argument in either direction. Hell, you can make a compelling argument in both directions at the same time. And I think that's really neat.

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter four: This is why you don’t leave your Aeon unsupervised (In which you get kissed, again)

Warnings: References to violence, mentions of castration (not graphic) heavily not edited (RIP first draft, you will not be remembered)

“Ohoho this is neat!”

“It’s not neat man— more like dead meat.”

“Come on don’t be a downer! Look bro, it’s your very first wanted poster!” Boothill roughly grabbed you closer to him in good spirits as he grinned widely at the paper he’s holding with another hand— specifically, your very first wanted poster.

“I’m happy I have one but the problem is— it looks so…” You cringed, seeing your pose with a chair. Well at least they didn’t get their details wrong. “I don’t know, fuckass??”

Boothill snorted. “Nahhh don’t sweat that darling, it’s your first one after all. You should have seen mine, it’s wayyyy uglier than yours.”

“I didn’t expect to be known as some chair using murderer though.” You mumbled, it wasn’t exactly a complaint considering it was and had been technically your weapon ever since you occasionally roped yourself in Boothill’s shenanigans. “I’m just gonna have to pray the other people in the express won’t look at me weird once they see my face on the news.”

The chances of it happening were slim— you didn’t like media attention, whether it be for the purpose of turning you into a subject fit for a National Geographic™️ documentary or have your entire face on the news. Thankfully you weren’t in the level of a stellaron hunter yet, but damn the IPC sure knew spite.

“I don’t know why they even bothered with putting a bounty on my head, it was just some lackeys I helped you with sending out six feet under— wait, was it because I castrated one of them using the back of my shoe?” You blinked, brows furrowed as you continued to stare at your own poster some more as Boothill cringed and hissed through gritted teeth.

“Probably.” He said— although lacking balls himself, he felt a tinge of sympathy for the poor lad whose jewels you’ve severed using a blade you have very creatively embedded in your shoe. “Some of their folks can get reeaal petty.” He drawled. “Friend of theirs that escaped probably put that bounty on your head because they’re scared they’d be next on the clock chopping board.”

In your end you did say “Say goodbye to deez nuts!” and brutalized that poor poor man so much his friend pissed themselves and peaced out.

“Pffft.” You laughed. “Clock chopping board—“.

“Yeah yeah laugh all you want.” He rolled his eyes. “That aside, you’re a pretty thing. If you go around killing them while accompanying me they’re bound to remember your face.” He tapped you on the cheek lightly.

“Thank you?” You said, unsure.

There’s a ring in the air that you identified to have come from Boothill’s phone.

“Welp, time to go.” He said, snatching a shot glass and downing the last of the whiskey and swallowed the bullet that accompanied it.

“Later darlin’, still got some business to do.”

“Good luck!”

—————————

“It’s nice to finally meet you, time hasn’t been very kind.”

What the fuck?

Green eyes, blond hair and good looks, the man that stood before you was none other than Kirschtaria Wodime— wait no, wrong name and fandom, it’s Otto Apocalypse?? No, you internally shook your head, wrong again.

This bitch was Void Archives, and he’s the source of Welt’s old man yaoi PTSD.

And you were probably going to have a rivalry, because unfortunately for everyone in this train including yourself; he didn’t pretend he was pretentious, he was the pretentious prick.

“Well, hello and nice to meet you I suppose?” You blinked, unsure of how to approach him as you awkwardly extended your hand for a shake. Void Archives took it, surprisingly gentle with how he grasped it before giving it a firm shake.

“Void Archives.” He introduced himself but you already know that, he didn’t though.

“[Name].” You replied.

In your opinion, this man smelled suspicious. Very very suspicious, and a bigger red flag than you. (If he had the face of Otto Apocalypse then it was an automatic sus banner plastered on his profile for you, but the bit— Void Archives, doesn’t know that you know.)

You scowled the moment he was out of the room, clear displeasure displayed into your face as you thought of another way to deal with another shitshow— except the Express was involved. You didn’t know much about what happened, but you do know he caused some not so good shit for everyone.

On the bright side, you would meet Dan Heng.

Dinner was served and pleasantries were exchanged, with you remaining uncharacteristically reserved towards Void Archives. If the other two people in the express noticed this, they don’t speak of it.

———————-

You retreated to your quarters for that night and returned to your true body, surprised to find Yaoshi there with you, sitting idly as if waiting.

“I see that you already have a name.” They smiled sweetly. “And a more formed body too.. yes….this one suits you just fine indeed.” One of their many hands rested on the top of your head, taking a lock of hair in between their fingers as they looked at you with the thousands of their eyes adoringly. “You have grown well, I am glad.”

“Welcome back?” You managed to utter, much like your encounter with the Void Archives, Yaoshi too made you at a loss for words.

“You were waiting for me?” They came closer to you with a pleased expression plastered on their disturbingly ethereal face as you heard the stretching of branches and the sound of limbs being torn off again.

“You did promise you would come back to visit.” You told them. “Were you here for a while?”

“No, but I was watching you.” They shook their head gently. “You spread freedom and sow in seeds of kindness, will you liberate more from suffering?”

“I mean, I don’t like having to see shit like people being constrained. So technically, yes.” You replied to them, and they seemed pleased with that response, holding your waist with another pair of arms, caressing you in a way you would have felt as a maddening and yet detached kind of love had you been a human.

Now that you thought about it, it was no wonder Yaoshi’s followers seemed.. a little crazy.

However their hold on you seemed to be personal. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

“How kind,” They said, voice remaining sweet and expression tranquil as they pulled you closer and closer, til you’re caged in the branches and the thousands of arms— they’re ensnaring you in a hug, or at least you thought it’s a hug.

“You liberate people of their suffering, lessening their burden in the cycle of being.” They sighed like a maiden in love. Briefly, you thought of the man whose balls you severed with the back of your shoe and felt the urge to rebut Yaoshi of what they said, but ultimately chose not to speak as they didn’t seem to tire in adoring you.

You found it a little off putting but you couldn’t judge; they were free to feel anything towards you as much as you were free to think of anything towards them. They were a fellow Aeon, although if you were a mortal, you would have found this interest towards you incredibly terrifying, knowing full well how their love always ends.

While losing yourself to mara and growing branches and leaves in your body wasn’t sexy, you weren’t going to restrict Yaoshi in feeling things, so long as they don’t cause trouble to your little train.

“May you be as free as those whom you chose to be free, Kind Freedom.” The branches receded and so did their arms, with only two hands to cup your face gently. “May we meet again.” After they uttered those words, they kissed you just as they did before when you were just new to the world, then left.

If you were a human, you think you would have just gone cathartic from too many things happening at once, because what the hell was their business in kissing you in the mouth before dipping??

You did remember that Yaoshi said that they felt as if they knew you before, and thinking about it now, were the Aeons acutely aware of you watching when you were playing the game behind the screen?

No, they wouldn’t be. But you’d like to think they could feel your presence, just not identify you.

It was in the simulated universe too, so there was no way unless they actually fully interacted with you outside of it as the Trailblazer. You thought of it some more, recalling past conversations, then you remembered Lan stating your presence felt familiar too.

It still didn’t really explain why Yaoshi would be compelled to kiss you as if you were a lover— but on god, you hoped not. As disturbingly beautiful as your fellow Aeon might be, you’re well aware and lucid enough to acknowledge they’re a big fat red flag.

For a moment, you wondered if they’d ask you to marry them next, worse, they could just tell you you’re married to them and call it a day.

Could Aeons even marry?

There’s a lot for you to think about, but you brushed the thought of a marriage when you remembered the other train passenger— Mr. Blonde Prick. You groaned, at that time not noticing the noise you made was heard by the cosmos.

It was a groan for you, but for the humans who heard it certainly did not sound like it.

You told Welt to shut off the broadcast in the next day the moment you heard a very familiar intro, not wanting to hear your voice documented and broadcasted for everyone to hear again.

———————

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V (HERE),Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII….

And there we go for this chapter! This is just pure brain vomit but enjoy :33

[blood-smiles]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓...𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃

Long ago, it was said that humanity thrived together as a whole in peace and harmony, they all went to the same places and had similar experiences, they shared and traded food and items, the peace was always kept because of laws, the air was pure and the water was clear and tasteless, complete perfection.

But where was that now? It’s the year 2313, it’s been a long time since that chapter was ripped from the ancient book of humanity,

You wrapped a mask around your head, clicking your tongue as your fingers fiddled with the leather buckles of the mask,

After a struggling with the mask for a few seconds you finally succeeded in fastening the item to the back of your cranium,

The thick belt wrapped around your head and behind your ears, the borders of the leather digging into your skin and leaving an aching red imprint on your head,

You steadily got up from your couch, walking over to the deserted shopping cart in the corner, putting your hands around the cart’s bars and lifting it up from the floor, putting it back on its wheels as it used to be,

You rolled the cart around your laboratory, listening for squeaks or strange sounds, when you made sure there wasn’t any problems with the cart you put it aside momentarily,

You ran over to one of your counters as snatched a pair of goggles from the metal surface,

Securing them on your eyes as best you could, your hands grabbed the flimsy fabric of your coat and pulled up the hood, you were all geared up and ready to go.

Your hands gripped the bar of your shopping cart, your eyes scanning the inside of the empty shopping cart, the once silver metal was oxidizing, slowly turning into a murky brown tint,

you pushed your cart through your run down town, waving at acquaintances and kicking little pebbles out of your way,

This is how your everyday life went, around 5 p.m you would get geared up and go into the junk yard to look for unwanted “trash” from Ether,

most of the time what you found wasn’t even trash, maybe a little worn down, but these people were throwing away full shampoo bottles and moisturizers! You wish you had that problem..

Ether was the island above the slums or better know as “the pit”, Ether was known as the place only peasants like you could wish they could end up there, which wasn’t ever going to happen,

Only the richest of the rich or elite are allowed up there, and the people down in the pit were uneducated and poor, having nothing more than a button and a few pieces of clothes to their name,

Truly pitiful, and you were no different, the only thing you had was a run down laboratory your father left behind,

He was supposedly a smart man, one of the first developers of the species known as “Androids” yet none of his work was given credit towards him, which ended him up here, in the pit.

You knew how to repair an android, but coding one was beyond your abilities, you worked as a handyman for a few silver coins, that’s how you went on about life,

You developed your skills as you went, and apparently the only note worthy trait you had was your ability to salvage broken things,

You kicked away some trash with your muddy boots, the rubbish flying far away and into the piles of trash,

“Fuckin’ trash..” you complained under your breath, your heavy duty boots clinging to the sticky mud underneath, making unpleasant squelches in the mud,

The sound of clanking was heard when the piece of trash hit a surface, your ears immediately pricked up,

Whipping your head into the direction of where the trash fell, you immediately let go of your cart and jogged over to a pile of crap,

You stepped onto the unsteady heap of trash, your knee beginning to buckle under your own weight, warning you that you were about to loose your footing,

You fell forward, wind brushing by your ears as you began your descension , sticking your arms out, you braced for the impact,

with a loud clank you landed on top of a scrap of metal, your hands laying on a hard, cool material, you pushed yourself off the object to get a better look on it,

it seemed to hold a humanoid shape, but it by no means looked like one, instead of a face it had a screen, which was pitch black and roughed up, split right through the middle, nothing you couldn't fix.

It didn't have the look of a typical android, it seemed like it was missing its silicone skin, a normal android look closely alike to a human, this one looked more like a robot,

Its body was large, made of a sturdy material, despite having no muscles it did have something alike to it but made of steel, the shine being dulled by the dirt,

your eyes trailed to its chest, which was steel, a shocker. It seemed to have a symbol on its left pectoral in an electric blue tint, while its right one seemed to have a name tag, but the letters were scratched off, what looked deep jagged scratches on its chest, whoever did this either didn't like their name or didn't want anyone to see its real name,

that logo.. That was the logo of the best android engineers in Ether, Its obviously an android, but its strange that they would throw out androids,

your eyes wandered down the android's body to its legs, which were missing, cables poked out of the holes where its legs were supposed to be,

you rand your hand down your face, where were its fucking legs? You couldn't take it home without its legs! You put the Android's upper body on your back, then letting it slip off your back and into your shopping cart with a loud bang,

you began to look around, lifting rubbish with the tip of your shoe, peeking under all surfaces until you saw what seemed to be a foot poking out from a pile of soggy cardboard,

you pulled out the limb with your whole body weight, the sheer height and thickness of that single limb was impressive, the leg stood in height about where your waist was,

you tossed the heavy limb in your shopping cart with the Android, you walked around for about 40 minutes, looking everywhere for the other leg,

just when you were about to give up you tripped over something, looking at what made your hit the ground, you realized it was the leg you were looking for,

your heart beat happily in your chest as you pushed the heavy cart back to your house lab,

you had a dopey grin on your face the whole way home, you couldn't help but have a pep in your step, you were already thinking of how you would name your new Android,

"(Y/n)? O-Oh! It is you! How are you, sweet pea?" You could recognize that voice anywhere, if it wasn't the the village doctor!

You turned around, smiling widely at the man, still in his clad white uniform, hair tie slipping down his long ginger hair, and those characteristic cracked glasses, it was Kairo.

"Heya Kairo! 'm good, jus' pushin this home.'" You waved to him weakly, your calloused hands tired from pushing the cart,

Kairo jogged up to you, stopping only inches away, he brought a hand up to his face, his cheeks adorned with alight dusting of pretty pink,

"I recall asking you to rest, didn't I? You better have a good reason to be wearing yourself out like this.." the ginger scolded, crossing his arms across his chest, his magenta eyes staring you down something alike to a mother’s disappointed gaze,

Kairo was an absolute blessing to have down here in the slums, he was the doctor and used to be a scientist, his knowledge in both fields was greatly appreciated, especially since it seemed the world had it out for you and your physical well being,

he got kicked out of Ether many years ago, you were about 13 when he got dropped in the pit,

He really stirred the pot when he got here, no one even tried getting closer to him due to their reluctance about him and his origins, no one here trusts those who were born in Ether,

Kairo got pushed away, glared at, kicked and even sometimes people spat on him, no one really knows what he did to get him off Ether,

Yet it is still a fact that even if the others have warmed up to him, they still treat him exponentially different from the other habitants of the slums,

you were the first and only one to extend your hand out to him in times of need, you gave him a safe haven when he needed it most, and just for that fact he has sworn to always be with you, through thick and thin, he will protect you and put you back together time and time again, just how you loved him, he will love you back tenfold.

your smile turned bashful, wiping your sweaty hands on your shirt you started trying to recount the events of today,

"..So then I decided to take him home to repair him back up! He's in pretty good shape, I jus need ta' wire his legs back on then fix his screen, give him a lil' bath and I will be done with him!"

Kairo looked back at the robot with narrowed eyes, a dark shadow casting over his pale features,

you felt oddly unsettled by his sharp gaze, this side of him was completely unknown to you, and gee was it scary.

"..Where did you find this thing?" He asked—no, demanded, his voice dropping an octave lower, the sharpness of his tone wasn't quite directed at you though, but more at the robot in your cart,

"Uhm, I found him in the Junk yard.." You rasped out, your throat feeling constricted, words barely audible out of the feeling of fear you had, this mood of him was awfully uncharacteristic of him, it really creeped you out,

Kairo seemed to notice your state, the last thing he would want was to make you fear him.. for now, he will let it go.

"I see.." the taller male responded, a tinge of worry in his voice "Well, all I ask of you is to be careful, you don't know where it came from, and personally, I don't want to see you hurt.." He hugged himself, looking off to the side shyly, his gloved hand reaching up to twirl a strand of his cantaloupe colored hair around his finger,

the carefree smile you had earlier started returning as you saw Kairo softening up again, you were glad he wasn't upset at you,

you ran up to him, momentarily leaving your cart and new companion behind to give him some affection,

your arms wrapped around his slender waist as you cuddled his chest, your cheek pressed up right next to his heart,

Kairo's breath hitched, a kaleidoscope of butterflies going off in his guts, the wings of the small insects making contact with his insides, the pleasant feeling didn’t help the flush in his face spreading like a wildfire,

his longer arms wrapped around your neck, hugging you closer to him, he pressed his lips against your forehead gently, intentionally catching a whiff of your hair's scent, ‘my sweet baby.. You really don’t realize what I feel for you, do you?’ His eyes fluttered closed, long eyelashes ghosting over his tired under eyes,

these were the moments with you he could kill for, he would do anything to be this close to you always, skin to skin, heart to heart, and hopefully one day, lips to lips.

The ginger reluctantly let go, crossing his arms once again as he gazed at your retreating form longingly, his mind couldn't help but wander back to that specific Android, dangerous thoughts leaking into his brain continuously like a broken faucet,

"If you do something to her, I will rip your fucking head off.."

But you on the other hand were giddy as fuck, you had already unloaded the android and sat him down on your lab counter,

lifting his left leg up you propped it below the wires hanging off the holes of where his legs were supposed to be in,

you connected the wires carefully, melting them together once again, soon you connected the legs into his hip socket, a loud clicking noise let you know you did the job correctly,

you did the same with his right leg, another loud click reached your ears, you pulled on the legs as best as you could from different angles, and they wouldn't budge, not a single creak or sign of the limbs wanting to detach from the body anymore,

and with that you moved onto the cracked screen of the head of the android,

you somehow managed to seal the cracks and give the mask a polish to leave it looking good as new, you were pretty satisfied with the results,

you scrubbed off the dirt and grime off the metallic protective plates, you scrubbed and scrubbed every single crevice of its body until the robot was spotless and shining under the dim lighting,

he was beautiful.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, anxiety coursing through your veins, sweat beads ran down your skin, dampening your shirt,

you opened the back of his cranium, cables wrapped in metallic material linking to the back of his head, a blue power button inside all the wires and mother boards inside, green and silver peeking out from inside his head,

you pressed on the button, then stepped back, crossing your fingers that he would come to life, you clasped your hands together in prayer,

buzzing came from the Android, limbs twitching, sparks coming from its joints,

soon, the screen on its "face" lit up, something alike to a smiley face being displayed on the black screen,

it looked down at its hands, closing and opening its fists, kicking its legs, it realized it was alive once more, that it was moving and that it was okay,

you didn’t know how to react, should you be happy? Scared? It was all so conflicting, you wanted to jump out of happiness but at the same time you wanted to run away, cry and vomit.

It turned its head to you, the gentle sound of ticking coming from deep inside his metal plates,

The sound of its metallic feet hitting the murky ground startled you, making you jump violently, you would have jumped out of your skin if it came closer,

It seemed to stop when it saw that you were scared, and so it stopped, it stared at you, not moving an inch from it place,

slowly, it extended its long arm, opening its robotic palm and holding it out to you, (e/c) looked down at its hand, analyzing how his joints popped and twitched,

you were starting to regret taking the massive machine home, Kairo was right, this Android totally had something off about it,

but even as your common sense screamed at you to stay back and run away, it all was drowned out by the overlapping thoughts buzzing in your head,

how much could this thing sell for? It was modified, Obviously, it was crystal clear that these modifications had been done illegally,

you carefully put your smaller hand in his own, you looked up at the screen that was his face warily,

“a-ah..” the android made a noise, was his voice box broken? You tried repairing him as best as you could, but his voice box was something you unfortunately didn’t know how to repair,

he pointed a finger towards you, tilting his head while making more noises,

“ah.. ah?” Was it asking you something? It gently tapped your arm, pointing at you,

oh. It was asking you for your name.

“oh.. You can’t speak, can you?” It shook its head, putting it hand on its throat to emphasize,

“well.. I’m (Y/n), and.. It’s nice to finally meet you..?” You coughed into your fist as you finished, awkwardly shifting from side to side,

an emoticon of sorts appeared on the metallic male’s face visor, it seemed… happy?

“Aaah?” It pointed to itself, looking down at its name tag, only to realize that it had completely scratched off,

it stayed silent before looking up at you, gently guiding your hand to its chest, where it’s name tag once resided,

“..You want a name?” It nodded, pointing to itself once again,

“..I actually was thinkin’ about what to name you.. Welcome to the world, Exo.” You gave it a toothy grin, watching as how the screen visor of his suddenly showed a blue glowing heart,

It took you by surprise when the droid grabbed onto you by under your arm pits, lifting you up to his height,

you watched as how the glowing blue heart on his visor beat like how a heart would, and it only seemed to be getting faster,

it brought you closer to it, holding you like a baby, it rubbed its cheek(?) against yours, the uncomfortable friction of its glass screen making contact with your own,

And that’s when you heard it, a low rumbling sound resounded from its chest, the vibrations melting against your skin,

is he fucking purring..?

“I’m glad— urgh.. you liked your name..” you barely made out, trying to create some space between both of your bodies, however the bot wouldn’t move a centimeter away from you,

after pleading with it, he decided to put you down,

it gently pat your head, before putting its hands on its knees to observe you more closely,

“uh.. Okay, Well.. You can just follow me around, I want to see how good of a job I did at fixing you..” and with that you walked out of your laboratory,

a larger hand grabbed onto your sleeve, you already knew who it was so you didn’t spare him a look,

you let him grab onto your sleeve, the cool feeling of it’s metal fingers making contact with your skin,

Exo didn’t know what to make of things, he was especially surprised when he woke up to a little human greeting him,

he couldn’t see anything, but from the noises and fleeting touches around his body he could tell that someone was trying to fix him up,

and then he could see everything, from the little scars on your skin to the exact shade of your eye color,

his memory board felt empty, he tried to remember, but his mind was a blank slate, it was like trying to squeeze water from a stone, impossible.

but one thing he did know was that he was eternally indebted to this cute human, Exo wanted to assume that this was his creator, but he knew better, his real creator didn’t care about him,

he knew he was thrown off somewhere high, he didn’t know when or from where, but just that action showed him that whoever created him had no care for him,

But.. You took the time to fix him with your caring hands, you didn’t have any obligation whatsoever to even touch him, but you did,

from looking down at his own body he could tell you spent countless hours polishing his body, not even a crevice of his body had a single spot of filth,

his joints were smooth, his movements were swift and elegant, something he never thought he would be able to regain,

you might as well be his owner now, you are so small.. So frail, he looked down at you and he felt this inexplicable feeling of wanting to grab you and cradle you like a human baby,

your smaller form was so comfortable to hold in his arms, he could accommodate his body to your liking,

he understands that his chest isn’t the most comfortable, under the heavy metal plating there is soft layers of silicone that could help with trying to make you more comfy against his body,

he wished nothing more than to communicate with you, to tell you how much he appreciated you and how he wished to serve you in the way you served him,

but the only type of noise that made it out of his mouth (?) was pathetic moans and sighs, that was no way to communicate with you,

He heard the voice of a man earlier, his sensors picked up on his heart rate, it was.. familiar, he knew that rhythm from some where.. but he can’t quite remember from where,

this mysterious man’s heart beat spiked up as soon as you approached him, his breathing turned slower and heavier,

Exo heard you call out to that man, apparently his name was Kairo.. the android repeated his name in his mind, Kairo, Kairo, Kairo.. That was an unusual name..

then he spoke, and his voice hit home, he still had no idea who this man was, but his hate for him tenfolded,

Exo hated how he spoke to you, his voice was so warm and welcoming towards you, pure love and adoration in his tone, he just knew that man wanted to shove his tongue down your throat, repulsive.

but Exo has claimed you long ago, ever since you picked him up and ever so gently put him into your cart he had vowed to be by your side,

‘Kairo’ directed his tone towards him and Exo didn’t like it one bit, his tone was so sharp, the iron-clad Android could feel the intensity of ‘Kairo’ on him, his eyes feeling like they could burn through the thick layers of metal of his body,

Then he felt a warm calloused hand on his shoulder, gently running up and down the ridges of his armor, that touch made him melt into a puddle of goo,

making him forget about the developing grudge against Kairo,

however he knew that wasn’t going to be the last time he would see him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Several days had passed since you had booted Exo’s system up, and it was safe to say that the last days had been nothing but bliss,

it was like he was lying on cloud nine, he started to believe that he had been blessed by some force and sent you down, it was nothing less than euphoria.

You, however had to head into town, and Exo could never dream of making you go alone, never in a millennia would he allow that,

So he decided to accompany you, his large hand clasped around your own, your hand gently grabbing onto his pointer finger,

Exo kept a close eye on you, trying to sense of something was amiss, your heart beat seemed steady, your glucose was normal and your oxygen levels were okay,

he wished he could just carry you so you wouldn’t need to walk, he wouldn’t want to wear down your fragile bones!

but you refused his offer.. you said that you were ‘too old for that’, Exo really didn’t want you to be embarrassed, he decided to let this slide— for now.

his steps were heavy behind you, loud thumps being heard when his mechanical feet hit the ground,

you were pushing your cart through the dust and dirt, while Exo was carrying your backpack and money, who were comically small compared to his large and broad body,

you snickered to yourself as you looked back at him for a split second, he seemed to notice, suddenly his screen lit up, a blue heart blinking on the screen,

“a-ah..” he moaned out, tilting his head close to his right shoulder, you really wished you could understand the damn thing, but it seemed to be able to communicate through moans and exhales,

“Ya know I have zero idea what yer sayin’, right?” You sighed as you looked away, your cart wheels getting jammed on a rock out of nowhere,

it had you clicking your tongue as you bent down to pick the rock out of the old wheels,

the bot bent down to assist you, kneeling right next to you, there to help you if you needed anything,

“(Y/n)! What a coincidence! It has been a bit since we have last spoken, you aren’t running away from me are you?” The familiar voice of a certain admirer rang out from above you,

“hah? ‘Course not, You are my favorite person in this old dinky town..” you gave Kairo a crooked smile, dusting off your pants to face him fully,

his eyes softened, a gentle smile marking his plump lips, sometimes you really forgot how pretty Kairo was,

“..Y-You really think so..?” Aw shit, did you say that out loud? You nodded your head either way, an embarrassed flush warming your cheeks, Kairo put his hands on his face trying to hide the blush heating up his whole face, his hand gently extended out towards you,

Kairo was about to put his hand on your head, however his hand was stopped by a silver encased one, the mechanic fingers tightening around the Ginger’s arm,

“…” a certain chrome plated male stopped Kairo’s arm from going any further,

“..Huh. And who do you think you are?” Kairo retaliated, veins sprawling across his arm and porcelain face, an unnatural look to his other wise doll like appearance,

his glasses slipped down the slope of his nose, showing a pretty little bump on his upturned nose,

his thick brows furrowed, his pretty face twisted into a menacing scowl, his lively magenta eyes losing the shine they had when they met with your (e/c) eyes,

Exo on the other hand didn’t show a sliver of emotion, the screen visor he possessed didn’t show the emoticons he tends to show, instead a pitch black screen was shown,

Expo refused to utter a single sound, which was somehow more menacing than anything, fear instilled deep inside you, slimy tendrils of uncertainty and the urge to run pooling in your intestines,

“ha..haha— How about we calm down?” You suggested as calmly as you could, which was not very good since you were about to piss your pants,

You didn’t notice your hands shaking violently, your fingers and hands being unable to keep still, you were so distracted trying to tone down the situation you forgot about keeping calm yourself,

Both of the men turned to face you, noticing your shaken up state they seemed like they were about to stop,

the duo simultaneously reached out to you, trying to touch you, they seemed to have gotten distracted from their fight, however they were far from over,

“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Can’t you see she is scared? Tsk.. what a disgrace, to think you would care about a human being.. Touch her and I won’t hesitate to pull those cables out of your fucking head.” Kairo threatened, his hand balling into a fist

“…” the bot just stared at him, unresponsive.

This was your chance to book it out of here, a crowd of people were coming your way, you took advantage of their ‘moment’ to get away,

you blended into the streets, luckily you had a few silver coins on you, so you could hang out until Exo came to find you, which he always did,

you could apologize to Kairo later and spend some well deserved time with the ginger, not today though.

shit.. Did they team up to come after you? Because.. they aren’t where they were going when you looked back..

Is it just you or.. Are two people breathing down your neck?

[mitsua]

Redamancy

Loving someone who loves you back.

🪼: so this was supposed to be an Izuku snapping at reader but I couldn't bring myself to write about this man being mad... I´m sorry not sorry but maybe in the future I could actually get that done. Maybe? Idk today I wanted to cry myself to sleep.

Warnings: rude people, mentions of self-depricating thoughts (but none explicitly written), low self-steem, crying

Genre: reverse comfort Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya × GN! Y/N Words' count: 1.26k

Izuku's known as a selfless man, a selfless hero—your selfless hero at that.

He's always looking out closely while on patrol to do not let the slightest suspicious thing get out of his sight and catch danger in any form that may present itself, day by day.

People recognize him, greet him, smile polightly, shout excitedly, ask for a photograph with him, a signature—yes, his status has really given him a grand popularity.

But just as much as he greets back, gives small chats, returns a bright smile, shouts back, takes photographs and gives off signatures, he also encounters rude people every once in a while.

He brushes it off, he really tries to when it does so happen.

His first thought being 'they might just have a bad day, everyone has it!', always empathazing and letting people's disrespect get lost in the wind.

Until that wind comes back in a hurricane when the bad day hits him instead.

He brushes it off, or so he thinks. But he knows and you know too—everything anyone's ever told him got into him one way or another.

Thus making him the person you're so proud of to call today your husband, yes, you admit Izuku has this great mindset of turning the imposible—even if it's with tiny steps—a little more possible with progress.

He has a contagious positivity, you know it and he knows it.

'Then why can't I be positive today too? They need reassurance,' he thinks as he just got on a mission out of the city on places were being too powerful or too weak were seen badly.

He's tried greeting, smiling, but has only received scoffs and some offensive comments towards heroes in general. A tiny percentage of the poblation going too far and talking about him in specific being the last drop to spill the glass.

He gets in his hotel room—after being ignored by the workers when he entered and gave a small 'goodnight' out of his habit of being polite—plops in the bed and moves his hands to rest on top of his eyes.

'Don't cry,' he pleads himself. 'They're way more debastated here, you must show a reassuring attitude to let them see heroes mean no harm.'

A tear falls, then a second one and a third one.

It's not until he's fully sobbing with all the harsh emotions he bottled up in the day or even when he was still in the city that he hears his phone had your shared favorite song as your contact's ringtone that he stops spiralling further. A videocall from you.

"Hi! I just wanted to call to tell you goodnight quickly, I know you must be tire-" a sob. You heard him sob once, then twice.

"Izuku?" You got worried, he still hadn't said anything and he got his camera turned to the ceiling that could barely be seen due to the lack of light in the room.

Thinking he might have had a rough day you come up with a quick plan to help him.

"Hey, I know you're usually the one talking but I'll kindly request to do so tonight," you ask and even though he didn't answer either way you spoke again, "alright, and-well, I know I said I'll talk but I'd like to do something else as well..."

For a moment there was complete silence, then bed sheets being shifted around and a couple of grunts coming from your side. It gave Izuku's mind the chance to start wondering towards self-depricating thoughts again, until he heard something close to a documental.

"Aaand with that final blow Pro-hero Deku achieves victory and citizens' safety once again! ...Watch him throw his fist in the air meaning peace has been brought to us again!" A male commenter's vivid voice declared. "Deku helped a grown adult cross the sidewalk, look at this cute pictures!" Then a female's. "Oh, I'd kill to get Deku to patrol in my city," a foreigner's voice mentioned exhasperatedly.

You were showing him a copilation of videos fans of his had made of all his greatest and little heroic actions. Each of them spoke so highly of him—discussed and analyzed his movements and in-the-moment decisions through and through—just as he once did with the heroes he admired. He now was one of them, people admire him.

He could see and feel people's positivity reaching out to him, to help him too. By now, his tears had stopped, only a few sniffles could be heard.

"And last but not least," you whispered to do not break the comforting low volume tonight's call has had, "So, what do you think about Deku?" a reporter's voice. Izuku perked up at this and you internally celebrated you could see more of his face now that he's grabbed his phone with both hands and brought them closer to watch the video you were reproducing in your laptop.

He recalled that voice and that question. "The kindest and brightest people I've ever met, really." You answered.

This interview had been made by fans all across the country once the news about Deku's fiancé were leaked out. You turned to admire Izuku who had been surrounded with more paparazzi. The camera caught it all.

He remembered hearing that voice only faintly behind him.

You've both had been returning from a date and (un)fortunately been caught by a fan of his. People crashing into each other to get a hold of you two. They managed to separate you from him to interrogate you individually as on their plans.

But once he started politely answering some of their questions, he couldn't hear anything else than his voice and cameras' clicking.

You never told him they had interviewed you too, how could he not seen or thought about that?

Izuku observed keenly through the whole thing. You only spoke praises and your eyes, oh your eyes, they kept solely on his form.

Sure, you apologized a couple of times for going out of topic or speaking too much—'just as I'd do,' he thought—but kept on doing it seemingly in an unconscious manner.

"Why'd you choose Deku?" their last question. "Izuku, he has taught me about many good things in life I can no longer count them with both hands, he's been the sweetest and most honest being I've known-also, a greatly empathetic and understanding person, and for that I admire him even more, but also know about some of his struggles and as my love grows stronger each day my heart begs to help him, I want to help him too."

Your eyes got glassy as you spoke, the people got silent, internally crying for such words from you and both of you being so lucky for being with each other. As some started cheering you both and cooing, you'd made it closer to him until you could catch him by surprise in the middle of his last question with a peck on his cheek.

Then the screen turned black.

Now you both were sniffling...

"I love you Izuku, I really hope I can show you and help you just as much as you've done for me." You expressed firmly, closing your laptop and smiling through some tears.

"Thank you, thank you so much-I-I really appreciate I do-don't know what to say-" "-don't worry, there's no need Izuku, I, I just hope my message has gotten through..."

"It did," now that he had the screen closer, it enlighted a bit more his face and you could see him smiling too. "I love you too."

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