#one piece x goth reader

[snowywolf1005]

SANJI X WEDNESDAY ADDAMS READER X VINSSMOKE FAMILY

WARNING: CURSES,

Okay, the vinsmoke family invited sanji, and you, to go their home. Sanji was so nervous that you would fall in love with his brother.

But you wouldn't, because sanji is the first man to fall in love with you. But sanji wants to make sure you're okay with his family.

You and sanji left the sunny ship, and then you finally met sanji sister. Rejiu, and then you and sanji go met, sanji brothers and his father.

And how did it go? Um... well. "Well, well, well, what sanji brought us today?" Said yonji, then niji looked at you with wide shock. "Is that what I think it is?!" Said niji.

"(Y/N) Adam," said judge, sanji face became so nervous hearing his father said your name.

"WOW, it really is (Y/N) Adam," said ichiji, smirk. "I heard she is the strongest on the straw hat crew." Said rejiu,

"Well, in that case, how about introducing to us. My name is ichiji, " he said, holding your hand and kissing it.

It makes sanji very disgusted from his brother, you same as well. You hated him already, the one who can kiss your hand is sanji.

"Got a say. That dress is good on you, but it needs red, " he said, looking at your dress. Niji and yonji were jealous.

Oh yeah, and here your dress:

Yeah... you don't like that color. "Really!? She be more beautiful, when she can wear with blue" said niji, "shut up, she was to wear green!" Yonji yelled.

They started arguing, and then you looked at sanji, who looked at the ground. You hold his hand. He looked at you and made him feel everything was all right.

But until ichiji grabbed your arm, you pulled you torward him. That made sanji mad, "you dating with him!?" Ichiji yelled, yonji and niji smirk.

"I'm sorry to say, but sanji is getting a bride for our family convention. So you did a real man, " said niji, laughing at his weakly brother.

"Yeah, you need us, not him," said yonji. He put his hand on your waist, and it made sanji really pissed off. "Get it off," you said, yonji looked at you, "I said. Get your hands off me, ".

You punch yonji cheeks, causing him to fly out, and hit his back against the wall cause to Crack. Everybody was shocked to see, yonji got up and looked at you.

You gave him a death glare, "Well, you kind of sexy one, I like strong-minded girl like that," said niji smirk at you.

Yonji tch, judge was impressed by your skill, he heard all about you on the newspaper. He was thinking of making you marry each one of his three sons.

Cause he knows how powerful you are, and you will be great having his grandchildren. You didn't want that. You only love sanji.

You'll do anything for sanji, and he will do as well. "Y-you... bitch!" Yonji yelled, and he was about to attack you, "that enough, " said judge.

You looked at him, "There no fighting in family meeting, that enough today," he said, looking at you.

After the fight today, you and sanji get a different room, which means you're see each other. As you go in, you see lots of pictures of niji, yonji, and ichiji.

Hanging around the walls. Do you want to burn this picture to Hell, but you can't. You took a warm bath.

You missed sanji, you always sleep together. Like you laying top of his chest and warp around you. You missed that.

But then again, you stuck sanji family forever.

Hey, guys!!! Thank you for reading this!!! I hope you enjoy it!!! And if you want more, just give me your best headcanons, and comment below!!!

[luxthestrange]

OP Incorrect quotes#54 He already on his knees-

What was going to be a steamy night...turned into a debate of giving Zoro & Perona a new sibling

Y/n*Sees only one sheet of paper*That's all you prepped?

Mihawk: Yes, I just searched my heart and then wrote down how I was feeling-

Y/n*Cackles in his face grabbing him by his collar down to your eye level* I'm gonna eat you alive, you dumb son of a bitch.

Mihawk*Nervously nods and turned on*-Cool, And then we'll have kids together?

Y/n*Pecks his lips as your hands hold his face tenderly* Yeah~ It's gonna be great~

Part 5 of:

[latanyalove]

I don't know if you do requests, but could I ask for a Mihawk x Rescued! Former slave! reader. Lets say she was saved when he tried to destroy Don krieg's battle ship, and she is brought to the mansion and make friends with Perona. But she tries to leave when she realizes she has feelings for him and she feels like dead weight. But he catches her trying to sneak out because he's Mihawk, duh.

Okay, but jokes aside, she gets corner by the baboons and Mihawk shows up and they skedaddle. And then flufffff

Thank you for bearing with me for this chonky request.

Stay

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Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Y/N

Content: Trauma

A/n: This will probably be a series since I want to add pieces that will make it a better story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! WC: <3

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In a tumultuous sea battle between the infamous swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, and the notorious pirate Don Krieg, a mysterious figure caught Mihawk's attention amidst the chaos. As Mihawk's blade clashed with Krieg's forces, he noticed a young woman, a former slave.

Her appearance was a stark contrast to the opulent attire and extravagant weapons of the pirates. Yet, despite her disheveled appearance, there was an air of resilience about her. Mihawk couldn't help but be intrigued by this woman, wondering what hardships she had endured and what secrets she held within her.

Unexpectedly, her eyes met his from that far distance, and Mihawk felt himself freeze for a second, captivated by the intensity and determination he saw within her gaze.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this young woman than met the eye, and he vowed to uncover the secrets she held, even if it meant venturing into uncharted territories.

"Hey! Focus on me!" Don Krieg yelled, releasing at least a hundred missiles at Mihawk.

With a swift movement, Mihawk deflected the bombs with his sword, effortlessly dodging the explosions. He knew he had to concentrate on the battle at hand, but the image of the mysterious woman lingered in the back of his mind, fueling his curiosity.

As Mihawk engaged in a fierce duel with Don Krieg, his sword danced through the chaos, effortlessly parrying each strike with calculated precision. The clash of steel reverberated through the air, echoing the intensity of their struggle.

Mihawk's focus remained unwavering, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic woman, her presence adding an element of intrigue to the already tumultuous battle.

After swiftly dispatching Don Krieg and his forces, Mihawk turned his gaze towards where the young woman had stood, only to find an empty space devoid of any trace of her.

"Where did you go?" He muttered to himself, placing his sword into his scabbard. . . .

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Why is Dracule Mihawk here?! You thought finding cover behind a tree to catch your breath would provide a momentary respite from the chaos. You leaned against the trunk to feel the pointy edges against your back, confirming that this wasn't a dream.

The only time that the ship stopped on land was because of the best swordsman in the world. What luck did you have?

"It's okay," you reassured yourself, "All you have to do is wait it out and run somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's away from here."

"Where are you supposed to run to when it is an isolated island?"

You jumped at the voice behind you and quickly turned around to see Dracule Mihawk sizing you up. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, as if trying to unravel the mysteries hidden within. The thought of running away vanished as you realized that escape was futile in the presence of the world's greatest swordsman.

As he continued to study you, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his interest in you than mere curiosity.

"What do you want from me?" you muttered, fear gripping your voice.

The intensity of Mihawk's gaze only deepened as he leaned closer, his words cutting through the tension-filled air, "You're different. There's something about you that intrigues me."

"Are- Are you going to kill me?"

"Why would I? You do not pose a threat towards me," Mihawk answered, taking a small cautious step towards you. "Do you?"

"No!" you blurted out, your voice trembling with fear and confusion. Mihawk's gaze softened slightly as he observed your reaction, a hint of curiosity still lingering in his eyes.

"Good," he said before turning around and walking away, leaving you standing there, still shaken from the encounter. His departure only deepened the mystery surrounding his interest in you, leaving you to ponder the true intentions of the world's greatest swordsman.

As you tried to make sense of Dracule Mihawk's presence on the isolated island, a realization struck you - he must have arrived by some means other than the sinking ship. Perhaps he possessed his own means of transportation.

"Wait!" you yelled, trying to stand up, but your legs felt weak and shaky. Mihawk glanced back briefly, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Is there a way off this island? Can you help me escape?" you asked, desperation evident in your voice.

Mihawk fully turned around and said, "I have my boat, but it won't be easy. The waters surrounding this island are treacherous, and only a skilled navigator like myself can navigate them safely. If you're willing to take the risk, I can help you escape."

With a glimmer of hope in your eyes, you gather all your courage and reply, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get off this island. Please, I'll do anything."

Mihawk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction, "Very well. In that case, prepare yourself. Our journey off this island begins now."

Without wasting a moment, you quickly stood up and followed Mihawk, determined to seize this opportunity for freedom.

The anticipation of what lay ahead filled your heart with a mix of excitement and trepidation, as you embarked on a perilous journey alongside the enigmatic swordsman. . . .

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"This is your ship?" you asked, shocked to see the small ship that Mihawk owned. It was nothing like you had imagined, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Mihawk gestured for you to come aboard.

"This ship may be small, but it's fast and maneuverable," Mihawk explained. "It was originally designed for one person, but I'll made an exception for you. We'll need to make some adjustments to accommodate both of us, but it should suffice for our journey off this island."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt as you continued to stare at the small ship. It seemed inconceivable that such a modest vessel could withstand the treacherous waters surrounding the island.

Nevertheless, you pushed aside your reservations and reminded yourself that Mihawk was regarded as the world's greatest swordsman for a reason.

You stepped onto the ship and made your way to the back, settling into a small space that had been cleared for you. Mihawk, on the other hand, took his place on the main seat at the front, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

As the ship began to move, you couldn't help but feel a combination of nervousness and anticipation, wondering what awaited you beyond the treacherous waters.

You decided to make yourself as small as possible, curling up in a corner to not take up any space. The gentle rocking of the ship and the soothing sound of the water soon had a calming effect on you, lulling you into a deep sleep.

It was the first time that you had slept for so long without any interruptions.

Either it was because you had to change shifts with another slave or a guard thought that you were too comfortable and decided to give you a massage which left you many bruises on your back.

Though you woke up to the sound of the ground crunching beneath you, you realized with a start that you were no longer on the ship.

You opened your eyes to see that you were being carried by someone. Panic surged through you as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It was then that you noticed the familiar face of Mihawk, his expression unreadable as he effortlessly held you in his arms.

"Calm down," Mihawk muttered, his voice soothing and reassuring. "We've reached our destination. You fell asleep on the ship, so I carried you off. We're safe now."

You looked at where they were heading and saw a huge dark castle in the distance, its towering spires piercing the night sky. The sight sent shivers down your spine, as you couldn't help but wonder what mysteries and dangers awaited you within those ominous walls.

"What is that?"

"That's my house," Mihawk said casually, as if mentioning that he owned a small cottage by the seaside.

You couldn't believe your ears as you stared at the imposing castle, realizing that you had just stepped into the lair of the world's greatest swordsman.

"Why are we at your house?"

"Because you need to get bandaged up and I need to rest," Mihawk replied, his eyes scanning the castle's surroundings for potential threats.

"My house is equipped with everything we need to tend to our wounds and recover. Plus, it's the safest place for us right now."

You kept quiet as you saw the castle get bigger and closer, the sense of foreboding intensifying with each step. The eerie silence that enveloped the surroundings only added to your unease, making you question the true nature of Mihawk's "house" and what secrets it held within its walls.

"We're here," he said in a very nonchalantly tone.

As you looked around, you noticed the thick iron door of the castle slowly creaking open, revealing a grand entrance that seemed to lead into the heart of darkness.

Your heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity, wondering what awaited you on the other side.

As you entered the castle, the lights switched on by themselves, illuminating the grandeur of the place. The flickering candlelight danced off the intricate tapestries and ancient suits of armor, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere. It was clear that this was no ordinary home, but a place steeped in history and power.

"Mihawk! Why are you back so early!" a voice came from inside the castle, echoing through the grand halls. You followed Mihawk's gaze and saw a figure emerging from the shadows, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was a woman. With her signature pink hair and a frilly black dress, she exuded an air of both elegance and mischief.

Her wide eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the sight of you in Mihawk's arms, clearly intrigued by your presence in their mysterious castle.

"Perona, this is our guest for now, treat her with respect," Mihawk stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Perona's eyes widened even further as she assessed you, her curiosity turning into a mischievous smile.

"Oh, how delightful! A new playmate," she exclaimed, her voice dripping with excitement and a touch of malice.

As you tried to process Perona's words, you felt a chilling breeze on your back. Startled, you turned around and to your astonishment, you found yourself being held by a translucent, ghost-like figure instead of Mihawk.

The figure's eyes glowed with an ethereal light as it floated effortlessly, its presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"Come along!" Perona said excitedly, also floating and headed upstairs, her frilly black dress billowing around her.

Reluctantly, you followed Perona, your eyes fixed on the ghostly figure that carried you. Its ethereal presence seemed to be bound to Perona, as if it were her loyal companion in this eerie castle.

As you ascended the stairs, you stole a quick glance down to the first floor, where you had caught a glimpse of Mihawk before. However, to your surprise, Mihawk was nowhere to be seen.

It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving you alone with Perona and the mysterious ghostly figure. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled over you as you continued to follow Perona deeper into the heart of the castle.

"What's your name?" Perona asked, floating closer to you with a mischievous grin. Her pink hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the castle as she eagerly awaited your response.

"My name is Y/N," you replied, feeling a mixture of apprehension.

"Y/N? That's such a good name," Perona complimented as she continued to float, leading you deeper into the castle. The ghostly figure holding you seemed to emit an eerie glow, its presence becoming increasingly unsettling as you ventured further into the unknown.

Perona finally stopped in front of a door and quickly opened it, getting inside. The ghostly figure followed suit, its ethereal form gliding into the room.

As you stepped into the room, you were immediately captivated by its opulence. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, and the furniture was ornately carved with delicate details.

The room was filled with plush cushions, silk curtains, and a grand canopy bed fit for a princess. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the space, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. It was as if you had stepped into a fairytale, and for a moment, you forgot the eerie presence that had brought you here.

"This is my bedroom," Perona said as the ghost placed you on the edge of her bed.

"It's really nice," you said, speechless of the sight of the room.

Perona chuckled, her mischievous grin widening. "Now let's get you a bath and some new clothes, the ragged look does not fit you," she joked, gesturing towards a luxurious en-suite bathroom.

The thought of a warm bath and fresh attire was tempting, but you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air.

As you tried to stand up, your legs did not cooperate with you and started to make you fall. Panic surged through you as you grasped for something to hold onto, but all you could grasp was thin air.

Luckily, Perona was beside you and was able to catch you in time, preventing you from falling to the ground. She held onto you, her ethereal grip providing a surprisingly strong support, and helped you regain your balance.

"Are you okay?" Perona panicked, concern evident in her voice as she held onto you tightly.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you muttered, trying to downplay your momentary loss of balance. But deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was seriously wrong with your body.

"Let's get you a bath now, maybe that will make you feel better," Perona suggested, guiding you to the bathroom.

The bathroom was an extension of the opulence that permeated the rest of the room. Marble countertops, gilded fixtures, and a large clawfoot bathtub took center stage, surrounded by intricate tilework and a crystal chandelier that sparkled overhead.

Perona guided you into the bath with utmost care, ensuring that you were comfortable every step of the way. She adjusted the water temperature to your liking and gently helped you settle into the luxurious clawfoot bathtub, making sure you were fully supported.

As the warm water enveloped your body, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and gratitude for Perona's kind and attentive nature.

Unable to take the silence anymore, you decided to make a joke.

"Is this how you treat all your guests?" you joked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hugged your knees close to you.

"Actually, you're our first guest," Perona said, kneeling beside the bathtub. "But I must say, you're making quite the impression already. We've been waiting for someone like you for a long time."

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, facing Perona.

"You see, that old man Mihawk has been so lonely for all his life, it was time that he had some love in his life," Perona explained, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and affection.

"What do you mean?" you said, feeling your face heat up at her words, unsure if you had heard her correctly. Perona's eyes softened as she looked at you, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Mihawk has been searching for a companion, someone to share his life with. And it seems like fate has brought you to us."

"That can't be," you protested, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "He only brought me here because he pitied me since I was the survivor of the fight that he was in. I can't be the companion he's looking for."

Perona's expression remained gentle as she reached out to touch your hand. "Believe me, it's more than just pity," she reassured you. "Mihawk sees something special in you, something that goes beyond mere circumstance."

You kept quiet, thinking deeply about what she said. Did the greatest swordsman in the world really think that about you? Fall in love with a small peasant? No way.

"Let's get you clean first," Perona said, getting the shampoo and rubbing your hair, getting the dirt out.

As she continued to wash your hair, she whispered, "You may doubt it now, but Mihawk's feelings for you are genuine. He sees in you a strength and resilience that he admires, and that's why he brought you here."

As Perona continued to massage your hair, her gentle touch and the soothing sound of the water made you feel incredibly relaxed. Despite your doubts, the weight of the day started to lift off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel yourself drifting off to sleep in her caring hands.

"Y/N, Y/N?"

You quickly straightened your back and looked at Perona, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "Yes Perona," you said softly.

"I'm done washing your hair, is my massaging that good?" Perona teased, standing up to stretch her legs and arms.

You blushed and smiled at Perona's playful comment. "Yes, Perona, your massaging is amazing. I've never felt so relaxed before," you admitted, feeling grateful for her presence and the unexpected turn your life had taken.

"My treatment isn't over yet, you need new clothes," Perona said excitedly, running out of the bathroom to find some clothes that would fit you properly.

As you watched her leave, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filled your heart, wondering what other surprises this new chapter of your life would bring.

Slowly, you got out of the bath and walked over to where the towels were hung from. As you dried yourself, something caught your eye in the mirror; it was your back.

It was a painful reminder of the abuse you had endured throughout your life. The scars crisscrossed your back, telling stories of pain and suffering. As you stared at your reflection, you felt disgust and guilt fill your heart.

How was Perona not disgusted by you? How could you show that to her? She must have pitied me as well.

"Hey Y/N, are you okay?" Perona asked, her reflection showing in the mirror as well, standing at the doorway. She looked at you with genuine concern in her eyes, her expression filled with empathy and understanding.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said, quickly covering your back with the towel. You didn't want Perona to see the scars and be burdened with your past.

"I've got your outfits ready," Perona informed, her voice filled with excitement. "I picked out some clothes that I think you'll love."

You nodded, walking out of the bathroom and seeing the different outfits on the racks. Perona's taste in fashion was impeccable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you imagined yourself wearing the carefully selected clothes.

Though all of the outfits were dresses, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. As someone who has always been in pants and shirts, you wondered if Perona truly understood your personal style.

Nevertheless, you decided to give the dresses a chance and hoped that they would make you feel as confident and beautiful as Perona saw you.

"Sorry, all I have are dresses."

"It's okay," you assured, taking the first dress and going back to the bathroom.

When you properly looked at the dress, you realized that this was a bad idea. It was a style that you would never choose for yourself. Maybe it was because you are only able to wear one set of clothes - too frilly, too feminine, and completely foreign to you.

But Perona had put so much thought and effort into selecting these outfits for you that you decided to suck it up and wear the dress. You wanted to show her that you appreciated her gesture and were willing to step outside of your comfort zone for her.

Plus, who knows, maybe trying something new could be a positive change for you.

As you looked into the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of shock at the person staring back at you. The dress completely transformed your appearance, making you almost unrecognizable to yourself.

Despite your initial hesitation, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that sometimes stepping outside of your comfort zone can lead to unexpected growth and self-discovery.

You walked out of the bathroom and immediately looked at Perona for her reaction. Her eyes widened as she took in your appearance, and a wide smile spread across her face. "You look absolutely stunning!" she exclaimed, her excitement evident in her voice.

"Thank you," you replied shyly, grateful for Perona's kind words and validation.

"This is why we need to show you off to Mihawk," Perona stated happily, her eyes gleaming with excitement. You couldn't help but blush at her words, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation building up inside you.

Lost in your own thoughts and the rush of confidence from trying something new, you were so absorbed in your own bubble of happiness that you didn't even hear Perona's statement about showing you off to Mihawk.

Then you felt as if you had been picked up again by someone.

Startled, you turned your head to the side and made eye contact with the ghost, who had picked you up once again.

"Let's go," Perona smiled, floating again and led the way. You clung onto the ghost, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity as you followed her through the halls, eager to see where this unexpected journey would take you.

As you followed Perona through the halls, you couldn't help but admire the grandeur of Mihawk's mansion. The elegant decor and intricate artwork displayed in every corner showcased his impeccable taste.

It didn't take long for Perona to lead you to Mihawk's study room, and as you entered, you were immediately struck by the air of wisdom and power that seemed to emanate from the room.

Mihawk seemed oblivious to your presence, deeply engrossed in the book he was reading. His intense focus and the way he furrowed his brows as he turned the pages only added to his mysterious aura.

"Mihawk, I brought Y/N here," Perona said with a hint of pride in her voice, gesturing towards you. "Doesn't she look stunning?" she exclaimed, treating you as if you were a prized possession on display.

When Mihawk looked up from his book, the both of you had immediate eye contact, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of you.

It was as if time stood still for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze as he took in your transformed appearance.

Did he not like your dress? Did he not like you getting too close to Perona?

"Perona, can you leave the two of us alone?" Mihawk ordered, his gaze never leaving yours.

Perona then whispered, "Good luck, even though you might not need it. Mihawk has never shown such interest in anyone before. You must have made quite an impression."

Perona nodded and floated out of the room, leaving you alone with the enigmatic swordsman.

The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were running through his mind.

"Come sit here," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.

As the ghost moved, it gently dropped you onto the chair beside Mihawk. You sat in the seat, trying to steady your nerves as you waited for him to speak. The silence in the room was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was to come.

Even as you tried to settle into the chair, Mihawk's piercing gaze never wavered.

"Is there something wrong with your legs?"

You turned to him in surprise, your eyes widening at the unexpected question. "No, nothing's wrong with my legs," you replied, slightly puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Perona's ghost carried you all the way here,"

"I tripped once and Perona was overreacting by making me get carried," you explained, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have had.

Mihawk's expression softened ever so slightly as he nodded. "I see," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

The awkward silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension between you and Mihawk. You wondered if there was something more he wanted to say, or if he was simply contemplating the situation. Either way, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and anticipation as you waited for him to break the silence.

"You look beautiful by the way," Mihawk said, finally breaking the silence. His compliment caught you off guard, and a blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Thank you," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in Mihawk's words sent a wave of warmth through your body, calming your nerves slightly.

"Do you want to stay here?" Mihawk asked, his piercing gaze still fixed on you.

The question caught you off guard once again, and you found yourself searching for the right words to respond, unsure of what staying in this enigmatic swordsman's presence would entail.

"I like it here, but I don't want to intrude," you said, hesitatingly. The words escaped your lips as you tried to convey your mixed feelings of both comfort and reservation in Mihawk's presence.

"You are not intruding at all," Mihawk started, his voice calm and reassuring. "Perona seems to like you, so you can stay as long as you like." The weight of his words lifted some of the uncertainty from your shoulders, allowing you to relax a little more in his presence.

"I- I can stay?" you said, looking at him with surprise, the words escaping your lips before you could fully process them.

Mihawk was surprised by the sudden eye contact but quickly regained his composure and looked back at his book, nodding. It seemed like he was trying to regain his composure and maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. The permission to stay in Mihawk's presence felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and acceptance in his words.

"Do you like dresses?" he asked, not lifting his eyes off his book. His question caught you off guard again, and you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well this is my first time wearing something other than ripped clothes. Why do you ask?"

"We can go shopping after you recover, if you'd like," Mihawk suggested, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I appreciate the offer, but I feel like I would be using you if I accepted. I don't want to burden you or take advantage of your kindness," you said, your voice filled with sincerity and concern.

"You're not burdening me at all," Mihawk reassured, his gaze unwavering. "Helping you is my choice."

"You're very generous," you said, overwhelmed by Mihawk's kindness. The offer to go shopping after your recovery was unexpected, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his willingness to help.

"I understand that nothing can repair all you have gone through," Mihawk replied, his voice filled with empathy.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes. "To have someone like you, someone who understands, by my side... I can't thank you enough."

As Mihawk was about to reply, the door opened dramatically and revealed Perona, who had a mischievous smile on her face. "Oh, sorry for interrupting your conversation!" she exclaimed, causing both of you to turn towards her in surprise.

Startled by the sudden movement, you jumped in your seat, your heart racing.

"What do you want?" Mihawk muttered, a sign of anger showing in his tone. His interruption was abrupt, and his gaze shifted from Perona to you, as if silently asking if you were okay.

Perona's mischievous smile grew wider as she said, "I just wanted to let you two know that dinner is ready."

Mihawk sighed and glanced at you apologetically before turning his attention back to Perona. "Thank you for letting us know, Perona. We'll be there shortly," he responded, his voice calm but still carrying a hint of frustration.

Perona nodded, chuckling mischievously before floating away, leaving you and Mihawk alone once again. You took a deep breath, grateful for the brief interruption that allowed your racing heart to calm down.

"Can you walk?" Mihawk asked, placing his book on his desk.

"Yes, I can walk," you replied, relieved that your momentary panic hadn't caused any physical limitations. Mihawk nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said, standing up from his chair. "Shall we head to dinner then?"

"Yes," you said, standing up as well, and you followed Mihawk out of the room, feeling a sense of comfort knowing that he was there to support you.

As you continued to follow him from behind, it reminded you of your life just a few hours ago.

When walking was not a choice at times but a command enforced by cruel guards who would yell, "Walk faster!" while pulling the chains that were wrapped around the necks and arms of the slaves.

You were only able to answer with a 'Yes Master' or a 'Yes sir'. Other than those two, you would be severely punished depending on who heard your wrong answer.

Unfortunately you were a slave that was passed across many ships for all of their lives and you weren't familiar with that rule yet. Your last ship made you do everything in silence, even cry in silence that you even thought you had lost your voice.

The punishment you had to endure in Don Krieg's ship was indescribable. From physical beatings to starvation and isolation, every day was filled with unimaginable pain and suffering.

It was a constant battle for survival, and the fear of making a single mistake haunted your every move.

"Are you coming?" a voice said, making you jump.

Without thinking, you answered with "yes master," your conditioned response from years of slavery.

But as the words left your mouth, you quickly realized where you were and who you were with. The weight of your past life lingered in that moment, reminding you of the scars that still remained, even if they weren't visible.

You quickly corrected yourself, realizing that you were no longer in that dark place. The presence of Mihawk and the safety of his house provided a stark contrast to the horrors you had endured.

His eyes filled with concern as he noticed your sudden startle. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, extending a hand towards you.

"No, I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention," you said, shaking your head.

The memories of your past sometimes still caught you off guard, but being in Mihawk's presence helped ease the lingering pain.

Feeling a sense of comfort, you slowly wrapped your hand around his arm, finding solace in his presence. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes of the trust that was slowly growing between the two of you, helping to heal the wounds of your past.

As you continued to walk in silence, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the freedom you now had. Each step forward was a reminder of how far you had come from the days of bondage and suffering.

Finally, after walking in silence for a few more minutes, you and Mihawk reached the dining room. The sight of the beautifully set table and the aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, instantly making your stomach grumble with anticipation.

As you approached the dining room, Mihawk graciously pulled out the chair on his right side for you. Gratefully, you settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the nourishing meal before you.

Perona then floated in from the kitchen and sat in front of you, her mischievous smile lighting up the room. "I hope you're hungry," she said playfully, her ghostly form exuding an air of excitement.

It was clear that she had put her heart into preparing this meal, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging in this newfound family.

"Let's dig in, Itadakimasu!" Perona said, sitting down. The words marked the beginning of a joyful feast, as you and Mihawk joined her at the table, savoring the delicious food.

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment as you stared at the unfamiliar cutlery in front of you. Forks and knives were foreign objects to you, as you had never used them before.

"What's your dominant hand?"

"Huh," you said, looking at Mihawk. "I'm actually ambidextrous, so I can use either hand."

Mihawk chuckled softly, reaching across the table to hand you a fork. "Well, I guess it's time to learn something new," he said.

You took the fork and stared at it, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. As you held it in your hand, Mihawk leaned in and gently guided you through the proper way to hold and use it, patiently teaching you the art of dining with cutlery.

As you held the fork for the first time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unfamiliarity and anticipation. The smooth metal against your fingertips felt foreign yet strangely empowering.

With your heart pounding, you cautiously brought the fork to your lips, trying to mimic Mihawk's guidance.

You fumbled with the fork a few times, dropping food and feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Mihawk and Perona, however, remained patient and encouraging, assuring you that it was completely normal to struggle at first. With each failed attempt, he offered gentle guidance and reassurance, reminding you that learning something new takes time and practice.

With a cautious grip, you tentatively speared a piece of food and raised it to your lips. As the flavors mingled on your tongue, you couldn't help but smile at the small triumph of mastering this new skill, savoring not only the taste of the meal but also the sense of accomplishment that came with it.

You looked at Mihawk in shock, and you could see the slightest smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was as if he had anticipated your reaction and took joy in witnessing your triumph over the unfamiliarity of using cutlery.

"You're a quick learner," Mihawk said with a proud glint in his eyes, rewarding your efforts with a nod of approval.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a sense of gratitude for Mihawk's patient guidance.

You started to eat, savoring each bite and enjoying the newfound skill of using cutlery. As you looked up, you noticed Perona's gaze fixed on the two of you, her eyes shining with happiness.

"What is it?" Mihawk asked, also noticing Peroma's staring.

"It's- It's nothing!" Perona replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her meal once again.

You found Perona's reaction endearing, her blush adding to the charm of the moment. However, Mihawk scoffed, dismissing her behavior as nothing more than a triviality, before taking a sip of his wine and returning his attention to his meal.

You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, but you decided to focus on enjoying the rest of the meal and savoring the newfound skill of using cutlery.

What would she think if she saw me now? In a fancy dress, at a fancy castle and with fancy people.

You smiled sadly at the thought, knowing that she would never have the opportunity to witness this moment. Her absence was a constant ache in your heart, but you took solace in the fact that you were carrying a piece of her with you, her spirit guiding you through each small triumph and reminding you to cherish every moment.

Mihawk had noticed the sadness behind your smile, but his silence on the matter only deepened the mystery of his thoughts.

The fancy castle exuded an air of grandeur and opulence, with its towering walls adorned with intricate tapestries and sparkling chandeliers illuminating the exquisite dining hall.

The dining hall was a breathtaking sight, with its grand chandeliers casting a dazzling array of light that danced off the polished silverware and fine china.

The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and noble conquests, added an air of regality to the already opulent space. As you took in the surroundings, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and privilege to be in such a luxurious setting.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" Perona asked curiously, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.

Her question brought you back to the present moment, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you thought about the adventures that awaited the next day.

"I will be going out to meet up with someone," Mihawk stated, taking another sip of his wine. His cryptic response piqued your curiosity, leaving you wondering who he was meeting and what plans he had in store.

"Who?" Perona asked, her eyes filled with curiosity as she awaited Mihawk's answer.

"That is none of your business," Mihawk answered, his tone curt and final.

The air around the table grew tense as Perona's curiosity clashed with Mihawk's guarded demeanor, leaving you caught in the middle, torn between wanting to know the answer and respecting Mihawk's privacy.

"Oh well, that means the house is all to us," Perona cheered to you, her excitement palpable.

You couldn't help but smile, grateful for her lightheartedness in the midst of the tension. It was a reminder that even in moments of uncertainty, there was still joy to be found.

As the evening wore on, you and Perona continued to share stories from your past, exchanging tales of adventure and hardship. Mihawk remained a silent but attentive presence, his gaze fixed on you both as he listened intently to every word.

It was a rare moment of vulnerability and connection, as you realized that despite his guarded demeanor, Mihawk was genuinely interested in getting to know you on a deeper level.

It would not be too difficult for you to get used to this, you thought to yourself. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

You woke up trapped on a slave ship, embarking on a harrowing journey of torture and suffering. As you lay restlessly in your sleep, you found yourself waking up in a familiar place.

It was a dark and damp room, with shackles tightly binding your ankles and wrists. Panic consumed you as you realized you were a prisoner on a slave ship.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you noticed a group of guards surrounding you. They were cruel and merciless, their faces etched with twisted desires. Each guard carried a whip, which they eagerly used to inflict unimaginable pain upon your flesh.

So it was a dream, you thought sadly, remembering the feeling of being in a majestic dress in a castle with Mihawk and Perona.

As you got up to the yelling of the guards, you realized that the dream was just a temporary escape from the harsh reality of your situation. The pain in your limbs and the stench of the ship's hold reminded you that you were still a captive, desperate for freedom.

The guards showed no mercy as they tormented you. They would strike you with whips, leaving welts upon your body. The whips were adorned with sharp metal spikes, causing excruciating pain with every lash. The guards laughed and taunted you, reveling in your suffering.

It became clear that the guards' sadistic pleasure was their primary objective. They enjoyed inflicting pain purely for their own amusement. Their laughter echoed through the ship, reminding you of your helplessness.

As the days turned into weeks, the slave ship continued on its journey. The stench of sweat and fear filled the air. The guards kept us confined in cramped, unsanitary conditions. We were subjected to constant hunger and thirst, our bodies ravaged by disease and malnutrition.

Your suffering was unrelenting and, as we sailed further, our despair only grew stronger. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

You woke up sweating profusely from the nightmare, your heart pounding in your chest. The vividness of the dream left you shaken, unable to shake off the feeling of despair and hopelessness that had consumed you from your nightmare.

You looked around and saw you were in a fancy yet empty room. The grandeur of the furnishings contrasted sharply with the emptiness of the space, leaving you with a sense of eerie solitude.

The silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but question whether this was another illusion, or if there was a glimmer of hope for escape after all.

You remembered how Perona showed you to this guest room last night, assuring you it would be a safe place to rest and you could decorate it later.

You then slowly got up from your bed and made your way to the door as you walked slowly. As you turned the handle, a rush of anticipation filled your veins. The creaking of the door echoed through the empty hallway, and you cautiously stepped outside, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the deserted grounds. The stillness of the night was unsettling, as if the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation. The moon cast an ethereal glow on the desolate landscape, illuminating the path ahead.

The late hour meant that Perona was likely to be asleep but you were unsure of Mihawk. You weren't able to identify any sleepiness from him during dinner unlike Perona, who was complaining about how she needed her beauty sleep for one hour until you volunteered to wash the dishes for her.

As you tiptoed down the corridor, every step was carefully calculated to avoid making any noise. The silence enveloped you, amplifying the sound of your own breathing.

You knew that any sudden noise could alert Mihawk to your presence, and the consequences of being caught were too dire to contemplate.

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering who could be roaming the house at this hour. Could it be Perona, unable to sleep and wandering aimlessly? Or perhaps it was Mihawk, patrolling the premises to ensure the safety of his guests.

The unknown nature of the situation only heightened your anxiety, and you knew that you had to proceed with extreme caution.

Despite knowing that it was wrong, your curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't resist the urge to explore the castle further. The allure of the unknown beckoned you, and you silently made your way towards the source of the footsteps, determined to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the walls.

You made it to the grand staircase without any disturbance, its grandeur and elegance captivating you as you ascended each step. The soft moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows added an ethereal touch to the scene, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor below.

As you walked down the stairs, the footsteps grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways. The sound resonated with an eerie intensity, sending shivers down your spine and intensifying your sense of unease.

When you reached the end of the stairs, a figure emerged from the shadows, completely unaware of your presence. Their footsteps faltered for a moment as they glanced around, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The figure standing before you was none other than the legendary swordsman, Dracule Mihawk. Clad in his signature black attire, Mihawk exuded an aura of mystery and power. His long, flowing black hair framed his chiseled face, accentuating his piercing, hawk-like eyes that seemed to hold a depth of knowledge and experience beyond measure.

The sharp angles of his jawline and the confident set of his shoulders portrayed a man who was both formidable and unyielding. As he moved with grace and precision, his black cape billowed behind him, adding an air of elegance and drama to his every step.

It was clear that this was a man who commanded respect and demanded attention wherever he went.

You had always heard stories of Mihawk's fearsome reputation and his unmatched swordsmanship, but now, as you looked at him up close, you couldn't help but notice his striking features.

His sharp eyes softened as they met yours, revealing a glimmer of curiosity.

The harsh lines of his face seemed to soften, revealing a hidden attractiveness that you had never noticed before. Despite the air of mystery and power that surrounded him, you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to his handsome and enigmatic presence.

"Y/N, what are you doing awake so late?" Mihawk asked as he fully faced you, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and concern. His piercing gaze remained fixed on you, as if trying to unravel the mystery behind your presence in his grand mansion.

You stumbled for words, caught off guard by his sudden attention, unsure whether to reveal the truth or come up with a plausible excuse.

Finally, you mustered the courage to respond, "I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't resist the allure of exploring this magnificent place."

Mihawk's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Curiosity can be a dangerous thing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of warning.

"I understand the risks," you replied, meeting Mihawk's gaze with determination.

Mihawk nodded before gesturing you to come over, "Y/N, come here," he said, his voice holding a touch of intrigue. As you stepped closer to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. What could he possibly want with you?

As you got close enough, Mihawk slowly reached for your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm yet gentle, as if he held something precious.

"I'll be back before tomorrow evening, but if you have any problems, just call me on this," he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of reassurance.

As he released your hand, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty filled the air. With the Transponder Snail now in your possession, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you in the coming hours.

You watched as Mihawk opened the door, said goodbye before walking into the forest. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving you standing there, holding the Transponder Snail in your hand, filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation about the adventures that lay ahead.

Feeling tired, you closed the door and headed back to bed, placing the Transponder Snail on the desk close by.

The events of the evening replayed in your mind, and as sleep finally claimed you, you couldn't help but wonder where Mihawk was going, and how you would be involved. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

"Good afternoon Hawkeyes Mihawk, what honour do I have for you to be here today?"

"I have something that might interest you, Garp."

"And what might that be?"

"Have you ever heard of a devil fruit that allows the user to control its own aura and even the aura from other living beings?"

"No, I haven't. Tell me more," Garp replied, his curiosity piqued. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Part 2?

[hannahbarberra162]

Country Mouse, City Mouse Chapter 2

Now on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 2 - Oh, Fiddleheads.

“Would you like to view the accommodations of the castle?” Mihawk addressed you, after completing a tour of his farm. You were a little impressed, he hadn’t done a terrible job. Especially since this looked like his first foray into farming. You’d definitely seen worse. He was a man of few words, telling you only the names of the fruits and vegetables he’d planted. That’s ok, you didn’t mind silence either. You were sitting on your haunches and making a rough sketch of the farm with paper and pencil you’d had in your sack. You stood up and said “sure enough.”

The afternoon sun had come and gone, and you were hungry. “By the way,” you said, walking towards the castle “I’m not much of a cook. I can grow your food but I cain’t cook it. Er, not well by any means. I can try, but you might not like the results.”

“It is no matter. A cooking schedule has already been established. Perona and I switch off, as Roronoa is also…not inclined towards cooking.”

“Oh, there are other folks here? And they don’t help you on the farm?”

“Roronoa is dedicated only to his training. Perona prefers to remain in the castle.”

“Oh, she’s what I call an indoor cat. Ain’t nothing. Takes all types to make the world run.” With that, you continued walking in silence together. You didn’t feel the need to say anything and neither did he. Walking along together, you occasionally pointed out wild edible flora. “Let’s keep our eyes on that fiddlehead fern. Once they’re ready, they taste great sauteed.” Mihawk looked over at the fern but said nothing. 

Upon reaching the castle, he opened the large door with ease. “After you,” he said gesturing inside. It was a grand place, you supposed, all bricks and tall ceilings. “There are many unused rooms inside the estate, you may select whichever suits you.”

“Oh no need, I’ll just be here to eat. Maybe to bundle vegetables when the harvest comes.”

“What do you mean.” he said the question as a statement, as though the thought of not living in the castle was unfathomable.

“This ain’t my kinda place. Too grand for the likes of me,” you said with a kind smile. “I saw you have a shed out by the farm. I’ll live in there. Nice ‘n comfy.”

“The garden shed is not a suitable accommodation.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind hunkerin’ down outdoors. Weather seems fine tonight.”

Mihawk sputtered. You’d rather sleep in the grass than in his grand castle? 

 “You alright there, Boss? We already fightin’ each other?”

“There is no fight. If you wish to live in the shed or outside like the animals, you may do as you please. Beware the humandrills. I will give you no further warnings.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Mihawk POV

You did know your craft of farming. He enjoyed listening to you talk about the wild vegetables and their practical applications. You did not feel the need to prattle on when there was nothing needing to be mentioned, something he appreciated. You had a certain spark that made everything more interesting. It was charisma, he realized. Not like Shanks, who weaponized it to manipulate those foolish enough to fall for it. You were artless in your charming personality and it shined through your words and actions. You were not unpleasant to be around, which Mihawk appreciated.

He was going to show you around the castle when you told him your preposterous idea of living outside in the shed. He had never heard of such nonsense. But you were an adult woman capable of making your own foolish choices. He didn’t have to understand it. 

It was Perona’s turn to cook dinner, and he could smell the stew she was finishing. Perona, as temperamental as she was, had a knack for cooking. It was easier to tolerate her outbursts on a full stomach. He walked you to the kitchen and showed you the attached mess room. Though he had a penchant for eating in the dining room, they most often took their meals in the mess. Perona was floating about, putting the finishing touches into the stew.

“Ooooh, what do we have here?” Perona said as she floated about, encircling you. “Did you finally get a servant like I wanted? This one is dirty. Ew! Make it wash!” Perona said as she grimaced in disgust. You just laughed at her words, taking her insults in stride. You did not even comment on the fact that she was floating about with her hollows following.  

“Ain’t no servant, but I am dirty, no denyin’ that. I’m Y/N, I’m workin’ the farm for a few. You must be Perona. Heard a lot about you, but didn’t do you justice. Why you’re as beautiful as the day is long,” you said, tilting your head to the side and smiling. You had quickly surmised the way to Perona’s heart - through her ego. 

“Ah, don’t be so silly! In these old rags? I’m usually so much cuter!,” Perona was waving you off while smiling and blushing. 

“No, I mean it. I’ve never seen hair like yours before - just the crowning jewel of your look. You must tell me how you get it that way.”

Mihawk would rather eat Roronoa’s cooking than hear about Perona’s hair care routine…again. But the two of you were having a spirited conversation as the table was being set. He noticed you correctly placed the plates, bowls, cutlery and glasses according to the rules of etiquette. Roronoa joined the rest of you in the dining area. He grunted as a means of expression.

“Roronoa, this is Y/N. She is aiding my work on the farm.”

“ ‘M Zoro,” he said, sitting down to eat the plated food.

“Nice to meet you Zoro,” you answered. Though when you said it, it had an amusing twang. It sounded more like “Zoh-roh.” Roronoa said nothing and you didn’t engage with him further.

Dinner passed easily between the four of you. You talked with Perona about various topics he found exceedingly tedious. However, he was pleasantly surprised to see your table etiquette extended past table settings. He had been subjected to Roronoa’s unrefined eating style, often eating without utensils. Perona would talk with her mouth full of chewed food, a truly odious habit. You, however, held all your utensils correctly, cut your meat with the knife in your right hand, chewed with your mouth closed, and had placed a handkerchief in your lap as a napkin. Mihawk was pleased to see that there was at least one other person on the island he could bear to eat near.

After the meal, you helped clean up alongside Roronoa. Mihawk poured himself a glass of wine, and offered you one as well. You accepted, and he poured glasses for Perona and Roronoa as well. He felt it was acceptable to have a toast to new beginnings. He handed you your glass and raised it. You did the same. 

“May our harvests be bountiful and may we have the time to enjoy it.”

You smiled, and gently clinked your glass against his. Roronoa chugged his entire glass in one go. Perona sampled the wine and stuck out her tongue, declaring that it wasn’t “sweet enough.” You sipped gently and thanked him for the glass. Hopefully the humandrills didn’t kill you tonight, he thought to himself. You were becoming rather useful to have around.

[exotic-tomie]

Hear me out i need someone to write one of these scenarios into a one-shot or multi chapter firm and @ me in it if you do write one i wanna read em and these scenarios have been in my head for a while

Okay so #1 readers boyfriend is a dick he ignores her, flirts with other girls, they argue all the time, one day reader snaps when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and decides to make him feel like how she feels so she calls kid or killer or heat (preferred 😍) or wire over to get revenge on her boyfriend 😏 bonus points if the boyfriend walks in on them

#2 a heat x reader where heat, killer, wire and kid are in a band and reader goes to all of their concerts and heat notices her and decides to talk to her (you can make up the rest)

#3 killer x masked reader i cant really think of a story line for this one so just make one up

#4 eustass kid x brutal female captain reader where eustass kid sees readers ship and decides to attack it thinking its another weakling new pirate but in reality they are strong enough to hold their own against him bonus points if reader can knock him down at least once (the rest is up to you)

#5 wire x reader who has a crush on him but is to shy to tell him so she runs away from him whenever he enters the room and he gets tired of it so while reader is in her room he goes in and locks the door so they can talk

#6 wire or heat x goth reader and i dont mean those e-girl goths 😐 i mean this 😍

[itzjaza]

OML PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO TRAD GOTH GF AND TAZ (LOML)AJHFBFBFHDJDJDJDHD I NEEEEEED TAZ😍😍😍😍😍

P.s I literally love you bro 😭

Makeup Routine, Taz S.

Taz loved to watch his girlfriend Y/N get ready. She was a traditional goth, with a passion for dark makeup and all things dark, mysterious, and spooky. One day, Taz found Y/N getting ready for a night out, sitting on the floor with her makeup spread out in front of her. He eagerly sat next to her, handing her her brushes and makeup items, excited to see her transformation. "Babe, can you hand me that black eyeliner?" she asked, reaching for the eyeliner with her long, black-painted nails. Taz eagerly obliged, holding out the liner for her to take. "Thanks, doll." She said with a smile, leaning forward to draw the liner along the edges of her eyes, her hair falling to one side of her face. Taz watched in awe, amazed at her artistry. As Y/N continued her makeup routine, Taz couldn't help but admire her beautiful, pale skin and dark, expressive eyes. She was so beautiful to him, and he felt lucky to be able to sit next to her and see her true beauty. As Y/N finished her makeup, she stood up, revealing her stunningly beautiful and unique goth look. Her hair was styled into a simple yet pretty bun, and her makeup was flawless, featuring a black smoky eye and black lipstick. Her outfit consisted of a simple black tank top, a short skirt, fishnet tights, and some accessories. Taz was blown away by her beauty and style, and he couldn't wait to spend another night with his gorgeous, trad goth queen.

[thewillofdeez]

thewillofdeez's Fanfiction Masterlist

Here's where you can find all of my published One Piece completed works and WIPs. All of my works can also be found on AO3 under the same name, thewillofdeez.

One Shots

Let Me Spoil You - Smoker x Reader, 18+ Twenty Questions - Goth fam with some Mihawk x OC Incompatible - Shanks x Reader angst Mihawk vs The Seals - Light goth fam silliness A Very AkaTaka Birthday - Mihawk/Shanks/Reader threesome, 18+

Alphabet Series - WIP, updated as I feel like it

Dracule Mihawk NSFW Alphabet - 18+ Dracule Mihawk SFW Alphabet Shanks NSFW Alphabet - 18+ Shanks SFW Alphabet (Law, Beckman, Smoker, and maybe Buggy, Marco, and Izou to come. Maybe others too, IDK.)

The Warlord and the Revolutionary - WIP - Mihawk x OC, goth fam - currently all ages but that might change

Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitors Chapter 2: The Longest Night Chapter 3: The Reunion Chapter 4: Reminiscing Chapter 5: Laughing in the Rain Chapter 6: Over the Transponder Snail Chapter 7: Bonding Chapter 8 coming soon-ish?

Worth the Risk - COMPLETED - Smoker x OC - 18+

Chapter 1: Confession, Part 1 Chapter 2: Changing Currents Chapter 3: Decisions Chapter 4: Confession, Part 2 Epilogue

50/50 - WIP - Shanks x OC and Beckman x OC - 18+

Chapter 1: Meetings and Propositions Chapter 2: Conditions and Compromise Chapter 3: Old Friends and New Chapter 4: Rescue and Reconciliation Chapter 5: Strength and Love

Unpublished WIPs

Love and Business - Cross Guild with Mihawk x OC

[cl0wnwormzz]

Hello,

My name is Aya. I am reaching out from Gaza to seek your help in saving my family. I am raising funds to evacuate my family from war-torn Gaza. Every passing minute endangers our lives and increases our suffering, especially with the constant bombing and the lack of food and water supply. 😞😞 Please, extend a hand to save our souls and make the world hear our cry. 💔

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is (#217)✅️

Best regards,

Aya

https://gofund.me/4f615392

Please repost this and donate if you can. I can’t donate so i’ll put random tags 🩷

[creamecafe]

A Goth! Reader HC of One Piece Characters is coming soon!

Stay tuned!

[eustassslut]

Bed of Nails -Van Canto

Another song for Kid and his gf for your collection:)

the link to the song on YouTube for anyone who wants to listen!

thank you for your submission, it definitely gives Kid and his gf's vibes when they're together. i especially think it would be the song for lolita gf and Kid since they are the definition of opposites attraction like the song talks about.

this would be the type of song he would add to his sex playlist or listen to when he shares headphones with his gf and sing to them. it's exactly how Kid thinks about his gf in his head. but this is going onto my Eustass Kid playlist.

[figthoughts]

˗ˏˋ fig’s masterlist ˊˎ˗

all my one shots, drabbles and fluff pieces .ᐟ ✧ ˚ 　· . listed in oldest to newest fics. mdni with 18+ please.

dean winchester [ supernatural ]

— one shots

⭑ dean fucking you with sam asleep in the same room 18+

⭑ dean being a sub with his gf for the first time 18+

⭑ dean winchester and his sweet little angel gf 18+

⭑ sleepy motel mornings with dean

⭑ sub!dean needing to taste your pussy 18+

⭑ dean winchester coming home to gf!reader after a hunt

⭑ grumpy!bf!dean being overprotective of baby

⭑ “do you wanna just have sex while we wait?” 18+

⭑ manhandle 18+

— drabbles

⭑ opposites attract 18+

⭑ deepthroating dean 18+

⭑ dean winchester finding out you got a new tattoo 18+

⭑ dean winchester kink headcanons 18+

⭑ dean winchester x chubby!reader 18+

⭑ random dean and sam headcanons

⭑ dean winchester finding out his gf wears glasses

⭑ dean winchester x chubby!reader headcanons

⭑ jerking off sub!dean 18+

⭑ dean x angel!reader headcanons

⭑ loverboy!dean 18+

⭑ dean winchester x goth!gf!reader

⭑ dean winchester x reader using their safe word 18+

⭑ how loverboy!dean proposes

⭑ dean holds your hand when he’s eating you out 18+

soldier boy [ the boys ]

— one shots

⭑ combat knife 18+

⭑ soldier boy can’t keep his hands out of your pants 18+

⭑ soldier boy finding your onlyfans 18+

⭑ night time bj with soldier boy 18+

— drabbles

⭑ “you like fuckin’ a supe?” 18+

⭑ just more one 18+

⭑ soldier boy taking your virginity 18+

⭑ soldier boy’s birthday 18+

⭑ “say it, baby. words.” 18+

⭑ soldier boy x chubby!reader 18+

⭑ soldier boy finding out his gf wears glasses 18+

⭑ soldier boy bites 18+

⭑ soldier boy x reader using their safe word 18+

⭑ soldier boy needs skin-to-skin contact 18+

⭑ soldier boy who ties your hands to the bed 18+

⭑ “can you just shut the fuck up for once?” 18+

alec mcdowell [ dark angel ]

— one shots

⭑ heat 18+

— drabbles

⭑ “fuck me like you hate me” 18+

other

— one shots

⭑ sam winchester aftercare 18+

⭑ helping beau arlen relax after a stressful day at work 18+

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated! mwah!

© figthoughts, 2025. please don’t steal, rewrite or reupload my writing anywhere.

[snowywolf1005]

Hello everyone, today is December.

So... you have three weeks to request of one piece.

Here's the list...

1. One piece x mexico

Like strawhat x mexico.

2. One piece x chimera reader

3. Asl x mother reader

4. One piece x lunala reader

5. Sanji x wednesday addams reader

6. Zoro x demon slayer reader

[luxthestrange]

OP Memes#1

*Taps Mic and looks at readers*-Dracule Mihawk has no "Top" bone in his body, Goth boy is a BOTTOM,he is a pillow princess-COME AT ME!-I AINT AFRAID

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 10

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, family issues, generational trauma, self-growth, personal issues (and dealing with it), hurt and comfort, hmmmm…. let’s leave it at that for now :) A/N: Final chapter, guys! Thanks so much for reading <3

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“Oh, what the hell—since when do you cook?”

“Bitch,” you laugh, nudging past them, the ceramic pot still steaming in your hands. “Do you want the risotto or not?”

The scent of garlic and pecorino permeates the air as you stand in front of the small foyer of the duplex where your friend—questionable, at the moment—lives. Your most recent culinary masterpiece, deemed safe (enough) for public consumption, rests between your hands in silent offering to the skeptic figure who’s barring you from crossing the threshold. 

It’s still warm, and you’re not one to brag, but you think you’ve outdone yourself with this one. Not that it matters—everybody’s a fucking critic these days.

“Risotto?” Khol parrots in disbelief. “You don’t show up in forever, suddenly you’re all cuoca straordinario or some shit. Get out of here with your Mario ass–”

“Don’t mind them,” Anna interjects from behind your biggest hater, all cheer as she plucks the pot from your hands. “This smells amazing, actually. Come in!”

With that, she vanishes inside, leaving you and Khol alone in the doorway. You give them a knowing look.

“Oh wow,” you remark, all mock surprise. “You live together now?”

Khol rolls their eyes, already tired of you. “You missed the biggest arc of the last five months, but yeah.”

You step inside, and right away, something feels… different. It could partly be due to how much time has passed since you last visited, and it’s clearly still their place—the brooding industrial-emo aesthetic remains intact, still suspiciously close to resembling the lair of an angsty comic book antihero on acid—but it’s been overtaken by bits of boho-chic scattered all over the space.

Where there was once nothing but charcoal, vinyl, and concrete, there are now textures. Colorful woven throws drape artfully over the arm of the leather Eames sofa they won off a Craigslist bid. Tasseled pillows have multiplied across every seat surface like some kind of fabric-based contagion, while pothos vines dangle lazily from macramé hangers, stretching towards the moody Edison bulbs like they’re trying to escape the existential crisis of living here.

And then there’s the rug. Oh god, the rug. 

A comically massive tufted ‘Flower Power’ rug sprawls across the center of the room, a swirling explosion of pinks and oranges—a final, cutesy fuck you to the apartment’s formerly depressing atmosphere before Khol’s new roommate staged her cheerful coup.

It should’ve been a hilarious sight, like a chaotic school art project where every kid picked a different medium to color and refused to compromise. But somehow… it works? 

Against all odds, the goth cryptid and the hippie gremlin have found domestic equilibrium.

“Love what you did with the place, Anna,” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door. “It doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old’s fantasy bedroom anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Khol laughs, shaking their head. “As if you’re one to talk. Last time I visited, you still had that stupid-ass sofa. Is it still there?”

You sniff haughtily. “Excuse you, but that’s a custom piece. You wouldn’t get it.”

"Alright, you two," Anna says, leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, one hip propped against the frame. "Both of you have terrible taste in decor. Now, I have a fabulous Prosecco to pair with the risotto." She tilts her head, shooting her partner a pointed look. "Khol, darling, be a dear and grab the crystal from the cupboard?"

"Whipped," you sing as Khol, predictably, does exactly as told. They don’t even bother with a comeback, just flashes you a lazy middle finger over their shoulder as they disappear from view.

You grin, shaking your head. The moment stretches into something easy, comfortable. It’s nice—being here, bantering like no time has passed. You let yourself sink into it, tugging off your beanie as you cross the room.

The creaky couch welcomes you like an old friend, and you flop down unceremoniously, stretching your legs out, rubbing your feet against the oversized monstrosity of a rug that is... honestly, pretty fucking comfortable, actually.

Anna follows suit, settling beside you with far more grace, tucking one foot under the other.

She watches you for a moment, expression warm but slightly inquisitive. “We haven’t seen you in a while.” 

You exhale, tipping your head back, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. "Yeah, sorry. Been a little out of it these past… couple of months, I guess."

Anna makes a quiet noise, something between understanding and acknowledgment. "You’re doing okay now?"

The easy answer sits on your tongue—yeah, of course. An automatic response, a reflex built from habit. Another front to put up, another lie to slip behind.

But you’ve been working on this. So instead, you take a breath and say,

"Not… really." 

The words feel foreign, heavy, but oddly freeing as they leave your mouth.

Your gaze flickers to the side table—framed photos of Khol and Anna, smiling, sunlit. You don’t linger.

“I mean, better now compared to, maybe, a few weeks ago. I’m getting there.”

Anna’s brows lift slightly—not in surprise at the sentiment itself, but at the fact that you admitted it out loud. There’s something thoughtful in her expression, something softer around the edges. “Good. That’s good.”

You can tell she means it. Maybe even more than you expected.

"Yeah."

There’s a brief lull. You catch yourself tugging at the edge of your cardigan—a nervous habit you never quite broke. The warmth of the apartment is settling in you quite comfortably, but there’s something about sitting still under Anna’s gentle scrutiny that makes you restless.

From the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable clink of glass, followed by a muffled, “shit.”

Anna exhales, long-suffering. “I don’t know why I even bother buying nice things.”

“‘Oy,” Khol’s voice carries from the other room, “get in here and help. We have, like, seven things to carry.”

You take that as your cue, trailing after Anna into the kitchen. Between the three of you, it’s quick work—bowls of warm, brothy risotto in hand, glasses of white wine balanced carefully between fingers.

By the time you step back into the living room, Khol is already dropping onto the blue accent chair near the window with all the dramatics of someone who’s worked far too hard for far too little.

You settle into your usual spot, Anna beside you. You don���t touch your food. Your appetite’s still in remission, though it’s been steadily improving lately.

Khol notices. “Now, why the hell aren’t you eating?” They shoot you a side-eye like you’ve personally offended them. “I knew it. You put something in this, didn’t you?”

“Jesus, Khol,” Anna sighs, exasperated, already two spoonfuls in. “Your diet was literally gas station burritos and eight-pack Coors before I moved in. You’ll live.”

She pauses, though, casting you a look. “Don’t get me wrong—this is really good.”

“Ha,” you retort as Khol prods suspiciously at a floating mushroom. You glare. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

“Alright, alright.” With an exaggerated sigh, Khol finally takes a bite. They chew once, twice—eyes narrowed in concentration, acting like some hard-ass seasoned judge from Top Chef. You can practically see them digging for something snarky to say—until, begrudgingly, they nod.

“Shit. This is actually pretty good. Who are you?”

You preen at the praise.

For a while, there’s nothing but the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic, the occasional satisfied hum. It’s… nice. Comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

You’ve missed this.

Missed being here. Missed being with people.

Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last few bites of risotto, Khol angles their head toward you, their curiosity piqued. “How come you’re free today? You on leave or something?”

You swirl the drink in your hand, watching the light catch on the amber surface before answering. “Oh, I quit my job.”

There’s a beat of silence. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but Khol just blinks at you. "Huh. Finally."

Anna looks mildly more concerned. "You quit?"

You nod, stretching your legs out beneath the coffee table. “Yeah. The OT was getting ridiculous, and they had me working night shifts again. That was kind of the last straw for me.”

Khol grunts in agreement. “Good fucking riddance. That job was killing you.” They pause for a beat, turning serious, contemplative. “You’re not hung up about it, are you? You’ve been bitching about that job for ages.”

You exhale through your nose, staring at the rim of your glass. “Yeah, no. I’m glad I left.” The words come easily, and they’re mostly true. But still—there’s something about suddenly having all this space, this aimless in-between, that makes you antsy. 

A thought strikes you, and you glance up. “Hey, you know if Marion's still looking for someone to work part-time at the bistro?”

Khol raises an eyebrow. "You looking to apply? It’s minimum wage, just telling you in advance."

"That’s fine," you assure them. "I just need something on the side. I’m doing freelance work right now, I just want something to fill in the gaps."

Anna perks up at that. "I think that’s a great idea. I can hit up Marion later, but I’m pretty sure they’re still looking."

Khol stares at you, and for once, they don’t have a quip lined up. No sharp-edged humor, no quick banter—just a quiet look of something almost foreign on their face. Pride. Maybe even relief. You’ve worried them. The realization jars you like a pebble dropped into a clear pond, sending ripples through the stillness of your self-imposed isolation. You hadn’t meant to, not really. It wasn’t like you deliberately wanted to disappear... But you did, didn’t you? You let the days blur into weeks, then months, telling yourself naively that no one would notice if you just—vanished for a while. Five months, to be exact.

You press your lips together, clearing your throat against the tightness creeping in. “Thanks,” you say, quiet but sincere. “Really.”

Khol snorts, and the moment shatters. “You can show your thanks by knocking ten percent off the cocktails when we visit.”

You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Get me the job first, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Anna grins, raising her glass. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

––––

You get the job.

You stand in front of the fogged-up mirror, dragging your palm across the wet glass. The reflection that stares back is warped, smudged—half-formed, half-there—but unequivocally yours. 

A month ago, you wouldn’t have been able to say that with certainty. Back then, the figure in the mirror had been more ghost than person—distant, spectral. Fractured. Someone you watched from the outside, not as a host of the flesh you inhabit. 

Now, though, the pieces are starting to slot back into place. Some are still missing, and others don’t quite fit as they once did. You doubt it will ever return to how it was… But slowly, a familiar shape is coming back into focus. More than the shadow of a woman, but you.  Time moves like water carving through rock—gradual, barely perceptible, but steady. Inevitable.

The shifts are diminutive. A morning where you wake up feeling less crushed by the weight of grief in your chest. An afternoon where you suddenly break into laughter, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard it in weeks. A quiet night where you go to bed without feeling like you’re stuck frozen in an endless loop of wishing, waiting for the impossible.

You’re here, alive. Present. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you’re doing more than just holding on.

(You think he’d be proud of you.)

And the thought doesn’t leave you aching the way it used to.

––––

“You think I can handle taking care of another living thing? Like a plant?” You ask Maru, glancing at him lounging by the window, right where a sliver of afternoon sunlight spills across the floor. “I mean, I raised you well enough, I think. But you’re pretty self-sufficient anyway.” Maru looks unimpressed. His tail flicks once—dismissive, uninterested—before he returns to grooming himself, utterly indifferent to both your question and your sudden enthusiasm for gardening. “Well, if your dad can grow plants in that dungeon he calls a base, I’m sure I can manage,” you mutter unconvincingly. “How hard can it be?” 

–

By the middle of the second week into your little project, you begrudgingly admit that your tiny repotted begonia isn’t exactly thriving. You don’t want to be a pessimist, but the (browning) margins seem to curl inward—more than they should, if the reference pics on that “Indoor Succulents” blog you’re subscribed to are anything to go by. 

You eye it dubiously, trying to stay gung-ho about the whole thing, forcing yourself to look up care tips again. It’s just a plant. Not rocket science. So you do the research, gather more supplies, and give it another shot. You reposition it closer to where the sun lands—earning a disgruntled hiss from the sunbathing feline—and sprinkle a careful amount of water just beneath the leaves, closer to the root. Then you lean back, waiting, tapping your foot impatiently like it’s supposed to just... fix itself.

–

The next few days pass with you watching it more than you’d care to admit—checking, hoping, second-guessing yourself. 

You narrow your eyes at the leaves, more russet than Inca Flame red, still hanging limp like a sad testament to your lack of skill. 

But you keep at it, because you’re nothing if not stubborn.

–

A single flower has bloomed.

You stand there, spray bottle in hand, caught in quiet awe at the metallic pink sprout peeking through the foliage. It’s small, delicate, barely more than a bud, but unmistakably there—nestled among heart-shaped leaves that, for the first time in weeks, look alive. Brighter. 

A faint smile tugs at your lips. It’s not groundbreaking, not by a long shot. But it’s something.

The fragile blossom clings onto dear life, stubbornly seeking the sun rays, inching toward the warmth it needs to grow—larger, stronger.

You can’t wait to bear witness to it. 

––––

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation; all you could recall past the sweat blurring your vision is the memory of being in front of the reception desk, pen in hand, scrawling your name onto the sign-up sheet for beginner boxing lessons. 

It’s not… something you planned on doing, really. You’d been showing up for the past week, trying to convince yourself that fitness was something you could get into. Something you could stick with. But this one’s more of an impulse decision, fueled by a mix of post-workout endorphins and the misplaced confidence that sometimes follows after an extra few—unpremeditated!—minutes on the elliptical. 

It all started with a casual glance at a flyer taped to the wall beside the water dispenser.

GET TOUGHER, FASTER, STRONGER! SIGN UP NOW!

The cheesy tagline stared you down as you were in the middle of refilling your teal green AquaFlask. And for some dumb reason—sheer curiosity, definitely not because it reminded you of a certain someone—you thought: Why not?

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you’d marched straight up to the nearest staff at the counter, credit card in hand, and asked to sign up. Now, as you stare at the buff woman currently goading you to hit harder, reality sets in and you feel a little lightheaded. Even slightly delirious.

“Up, up–” your trainer urges, somehow not even remotely out of breath, despite being thirty grueling minutes into the session. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, red-faced and sweating like a fucking pig. “Keep your arms up at all times, alright?”

You pant, nodding weakly, fixing your posture. She gives you an approving nod in return.

It’s part of the whole self-improvement thing, anyway. Pushing yourself. Fitness, jazz, and all that. You’ve never had much inclination for sports or anything remotely physically taxing, as far as you can recall.

…Or maybe that decision was made for you the moment you tried out for volleyball in high school and took a spike straight to the face. A memory so humiliating, that your brain did you a favor and buried it deep in the recesses of your mind. 

But things are different now! You’re trying new things. You’ve done wall climbing, aerobics, even pulled a hamstring attempting HIIT Tae Bo. And if getting punched in the face is the next step in this… wellness journey, then, well, so be it. You’ll take it with a brave face and, hopefully, minimal bruising to both body and ego.

You slog through two sets of combos and thirty jab-straight-hook-uppercuts, punching like your life depends on it. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic child, and you’re about one bad punch away from toppling over.

Then, mercifully—

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

Oh, thank god.

“You did good,” she tacks on, flashing you an encouraging smile, like you didn’t just spend the last half hour flailing at the focus mitts with all the grace of a wrecking ball.

You stare at her, unconvinced. Did I? Because from where you’re standing—wobbling, really—you’re pretty sure you looked closer to an overstimulated toddler throwing hands with gravity, but sure. It must’ve been in the fine print, to segue in a little positive reinforcement. Probably to keep people from bolting after the first session. 

Not that you’re planning to. No, of course not. You’re just... reevaluating some things. Like your life choices. And your capacity to lift your arms tomorrow. As you trudge your way out of the yoga-studio-turned-boxing-area, still gulping for air and very aware of the soreness settling into your limbs, someone calls out.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn your head, blinking in confusion. A guy—mid to late twenties, give or take—jogs up to you, looking offensively too fresh compared to how you feel. “Oh, hi. Sorry, do you mean me?”

He laughs as he slows to a stop, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yeah, you. I saw you training with Coach. Just wanted to say—you’re improving.”

You blink. Wait, what?

A wave of mortification rolls through you. Shit, you didn’t know you had an audience. “Uh—thanks, I guess?”

You shift your weight awkwardly, clutching your boxing gloves tightly against your chest.

His grin turns sheepish, as though he realizes how that might’ve come off. “Fuck, sorry. That came out weird, didn’t it? I swear, I wasn't, like, watching the whole thing or anything.” He makes a vague gesture to his left. “The studio’s right in my line of sight when I did my TRX reps. Hard not to notice.”

You force a smile. “Ah, yeah. Figures.” 

“I’m Byron, by the way,” he offers, sticking out a hand.

Now that you get a proper look at him, you notice he’s got this kind of… geeky charm going for him. Curly hair, sleepy brown eyes behind round, rimless glasses, and shy boy-next-door vibes—except for the fact that he’s jacked.

(Honestly? Work.)

You give him your name, still smiling awkwardly. You’re about to wave goodbye and turn away when— “So, what are you doing later?”

Um.

You hesitate. “I’m, uh… heading straight home after this?” Your voice comes out a little more uncertain than you intended, mostly because you’re not really sure why he’s still talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he replies quickly, glancing down like he’s suddenly nervous. “I just… thought I’d ask if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime?”

Oh.

It takes a moment for the question to fully register. The first thought that pops in your head is: Wait, how does he know I’m a barista?

… The second thought is one of pure disbelief. Holy shit, did I just get asked out? At the gym? By the Temu version of Peter Parker?

Your face burns hotter than it did mid-workout, caught completely off guard.

“I—woah, um.” You stumble over your words, eyes quickly darting away from him. “Sorry, I already have… a boyfriend. If—if that’s what you’re leading up to.”

You say it like a question. He picks up on it.

“You don’t sound too convinced,” he comments with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “If you’re not interested, you can just say that, you know.”

A prickle of irritation flares up, followed by something sharper—something that stings. You push it down. “No, he’s just… not around.” “Ah.” He clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Long distance?” “…Yeah.” You have no idea.

He shrugs, undeterred. “Alright, no pressure. We could always just hang out as friends, if you want.”

I… don’t think I do. “Um, maybe?” you answer instead, forcing out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he says, his grin widening. “You can even introduce me to your boyfriend,” he emphasizes the word out, “when he gets back. Does he work out? We could all hit the gym together.”

Social anxiety is afraid of this man, you think belatedly. Unfortunately for him, you’re the very embodiment of what fears him.

You’re so out of your element that all you can manage is, “He boxes too, actually.”

“Yeah? He any good?” 

That gets an involuntary snort out of you. Unthinkingly, you say, “Could probably beat you up.”

Byron laughs, startled but amused, shaking his head as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—message received.” He flashes you a wide smile. “Well, if you change your mind about the coffee, I’ll be around.” He jerks his chin toward the pack fly by the corner. “There, usually.”

Okay, nerd. Despite yourself, you can’t help but find the whole thing slightly hilarious. Then again, you find humor in the dumbest things. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You offer him a quick, half-hearted wave, trying (and failing) to mask your embarrassment with an exaggerated, too-casual show of nonchalance. It’s so painfully awkward, you can feel yourself internally dying from the cringe of it all.

Without another word, you spin on your heel and start speed-walking away, practically running back to the safety of your personal space.

Smooth.

––––

It’s another relatively easy night at the bistro. You’re on the last two hours of your shift, and you’re carrying a single glass of roseberry mule to serve at table four. As you round the corner, you catch sight of a student, glasses perched low on her nose, completely absorbed in a thick coursebook on Programming Languages. Papers are scattered across the table, and she looks to be utterly engrossed in her readings, unaware of the world around her. 

You don’t want to bother her more than necessary, about to set the drink down on the only clear space—by the iPad propped up on a tablet holder to her right—when something red catches your attention.

A familiar pair of crimson eyes stops you dead in your tracks.

For a moment, you feel like you’re suspended in time. The sharp memory of a similar instance where you’re in her place, and he’s there, keeping you company while he’s polishing a gun burns through your brain, and you don’t–you can’t think—

You stand there, rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and unmoving. Then, the girl’s gaze shifts to you, and a hot flush spreads across her cheeks, betraying her surprise.

With swift fingers, she locks the screen with a quick flick on the power button, pulling you away and breaking you from the echoes of the past.

“Oh, shit,” she giggles, a nervous edge to her voice. “That’s embarrassing.” 

You shake your head, forcing yourself back to the present moment. “No—no, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle weakly, setting the drink down beside her with shaky hands. “Cute guy, honestly.”

That makes her giggle louder, her eyes bright with an almost conspiratorial glint. “Oh my god, you have no idea.”

Fuck—you can’t breathe.

––––

The night hangs thick with stifling heat, accompanied by the steady ticking of the clock as you catch your breath, your broken moans too loud in the heavy silence. The sheets cling to your feverish skin, damp and uncomfortable, as your body moves in a rhythm that feels unnatural now, but still—but always—familiar.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid breaths as you force the draconic toy deep inside you. The heat, the fire—it licks at your skin, making your whole body yearn for more. To chase more of the feeling, to chase more of the memory of him. 

Errant strands of hair stick to your forehead, your chest flushed and burning, a quiet throb spreading through you with every friction, every desperate movement.

Your body aches, a relentless thrum urging you to push deeper, to find something—anything—to fill the gaping hole inside you, a wound you’ve tried to stitch shut over months, now threatening to tear its way open again, once more ripping from the seams. 

A sharp pressure builds inside you. Your body stretches too far, too much, struggling to take in what it can’t quite handle. It burns in a way that hurts, but you need it. You need to feel more, to fill the emptiness, to grasp at something that feels real.

“Yours, yours–” you tremble, desperate. “Yours. Just yours. Please.”

-

-

-

You lie in the wake of it—pleasure fading into something heavier, regret creeping in like a shadow, waiting as always.

“I miss you,” you whisper in the dark. You always do.

You try to ignore the pull of it, the sharp descent that comes with the high.

You were doing so well.

But it’s fine. You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

The words swirl and echo in your mind, until they’re swallowed by sounds that ring hollow. You let the moment wash over you, sinking beneath the weight of the tides, where sorrow and longing blur with the fleeting warmth of what you can’t keep.

Tomorrow will be another day. Another chance to try again.

For now, you let go of your grip on the fragile raft of sanity you’ve built, painstakingly, for months on end.

Tonight, you let yourself drown once more in the somber depths of loneliness and despair, confined within these four walls that feel—once more—like a penitentiary.

––––

The plane begins its slow descent, and through the window, the world comes into view—large swathes of land interrupted by winding roads that seem to follow no rhyme, nor pattern. A river glints faintly beneath the fading sun, while the sky turns a dull blue, a washed-out slate, streaked with the last embers of daylight.

Below, the small city stirs.

Tiny specks of color flicker to life, lanterns strung along the streets like beads on a thread, marking the season, an ending, and the inevitable turning of time. A chill hangs in the air, the wind whipping past you from the half-open window of the taxi, sharp and crisp in a way that you can only find in the province.

Your hometown. 

It all rushes past in a blur of light and shadow, an eclectic mix of old and new—some buildings unchanged, others unfamiliar, as if they’d sprung up in the years you’ve been away. It’s been a while since you last came back, long enough for the roads to feel... foreign, almost. Though muscle memory stirs when the car takes a turn. One you could have easily navigated even with your eyes closed.

Only your sister lives here now, her and her family—a couple of hundred miles far. Far enough to feel like another world, yet close enough for the past to catch up the moment you lay eyes on the old two-story house tucked away on the quaint cul-de-sac of this suburban neighborhood. 

The residential property was left to her, scrawled onto the title in an act of generosity, perhaps. Or maybe as a weight your mother never intended to carry, something meant to anchor her eldest child while she carved a different life for herself elsewhere. Free-spirited as she is, she left with the ease of someone shedding an old coat, slipping into the shoes of another, barely a glance over her shoulder.

But houses remember. And as you step out of the vehicle, your feet meeting the rough asphalt that once belonged to your childhood, you wonder if they remember you too.

"Maru, Maru!" Your five-year-old niece cries the moment she spots the grumpy feline peering through the mesh of his portable prison.

"What—no excitement for me too?" you tease, ruffling her hair. She giggles, scrunching up her nose.

"Auntie, hi! Hi!"

You snort at her enthusiasm, setting the carrier down. The second you pull at the zipper, Maru springs out, landing with a soft thud before stalking off with his usual air of disdain. Your niece shrieks with delight. 

"Ah! Cat!"

"Well, there go the chances of her socializing with her brother," your sister remarks dryly from the doorway, sauntering closer. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey," you greet, hoisting a handful of paper bags. "Where do I dump these?"

She eyes the bags. "Any of those for me?"

"You have three kids, and one of them insisted on a Lego set. Do you know how much those cost?" You shoot her a flat look. "You’re getting socks."

"Wow, stingy." She huffs but takes some of the bags anyway, hitching one onto her hip as she grabs your other hand-carry.

You step inside, and the house greets you with a riot of lights and color. Plastic tinsel and bright string lights drape across every visible surface—along the bannister, around doorways—leaving no space untouched by the festive chaos. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of baubles and sentimental ornaments collected over the years.

The room feels swallowed by the exuberance of it all, an almost overwhelming jamboree of holiday cheer.

It’s gaudy, excessive, and completely over-the-top, but beneath it all, the bones of your childhood home remain unchanged—familiar in a way that settles deep in your chest. The Narra wood floors are still scuffed with the marks of time, there’s still the distinct tang of turpentine mixed with waxy resin and citrus you’ve long since associated with home, and the odd decorative masks still line the far wall, their painted expressions frozen mid-celebration.

Your eyes land on the canvas floater above the mantel—a whimsical cross-stitch of three women flying kites, their stitched dresses rippling in imagined wind. You remember it well, though you never quite understood why your mother had chosen that particular scene to painstakingly sew into existence. Still, it belongs here, another piece of the house's patchwork history.

Your gaze shifts to the couch, where Andrew, your sister's husband, is sprawled out, one arm lazily draped over the backrest, the other holding his phone.

He flicks his gaze up at you, offering a half-hearted wave before turning back to whatever has him so absorbed on the screen. Beside him, your three-year-old nephew is perched on his knees, bouncing with energy as he mirrors Bluey's movements on the TV with exaggerated enthusiasm, his tiny arms flailing in childlike glee.

You sigh inwardly, rolling your eyes. Typical.

“There’s a few more hours before dinner. Want to hang out in the kitchen while I roast the ham?” She asks casually, setting down your bags by the foot of the stairs. “Actually, scratch that—you’re in charge of the punch.”

“You just want a head start on the drinks,” you tease, the banter flowing easily between you. “Hey, where’s the little squirt?”

She points toward the small crib, near the island counter. “She finally stopped crying, thank god. Don’t wake her up, or you’ll be the one in charge of putting her back to sleep.”

The two of you slip into the kitchen, where the air already carries the promise of dinner—cloves and brown sugar blending nicely with the lingering scent of citrus. A tray of ham sits on the counter, prepped and ready, the scored surface glistening under the fluorescent light. 

Your sister pulls a bottle of Luisita Oro Rum and Agimat Gin from the second-to-last cupboard and places them on the counter in front of you.

"Go ham," she quips.

You give her a flat look. "You think you’re funny.”

She shrugs, unfazed, and turns her attention back to where she’d left off before your arrival. 

The two of you fall into a natural rhythm, the kind that comes from years of cooking together. You work your way through cans of Del Monte, the metallic clinks filling the space as you drain the syrup and dump chunks of mixed fruit into the large punch bowl.

Your sister leans against the counter nearby, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the oven door, as if sheer willpower alone could make the meat cook faster.

In the background, the soft drone of the TV drifts in from the living room, punctuated by your nephew’s occasional giggles.

There’s no rush, no need to fill the silence with anything more than the occasional clang of utensils against glass and the low humming of kitchen appliances. The day is winding down to a close, and for now, everything is alright.

“So, Mom called,” she says casually, one arm braced on the counter as she leans in, glancing at you. “Kept calling, actually.”

“Mm.” You reply noncommittally, shaking the last can’s contents into the crystal bowl, watching as the fruit chunks bob lazily in the pool of alcohol.

“She’s worried about you.”

You don’t answer.

“She was. She is.” Her voice shifts, more serious now. She watches you closely, noting your lack of reaction. “You know that, right?”

Your fingers tighten around the can opener, but you pull your gaze away from the bowl. “I know.”

She sighs, resigned, already familiar with this song and dance. Familiar enough to know there’s no winning this one, not tonight. Not anytime soon. “I am too.”

You blink, before looking away. “Oh.”

And maybe she does worry—your mother. But any hope of truly knowing is swallowed by the chasm between you, the one that keeps your conversations at surface level, never breaching the depths beyond. 

Your body, born from hers, perhaps more alike than you realize, might have been brought into this world with the same pains that she’s carried. The pains of separation. The unresolved hurt of being unwillingly removed from your person—her former husband, your father—and that if you and your mother were closer, you could have opened up about your own situation. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel like a ship that has lost its ballast, drifting endlessly in the same turbulent seas for the longest time.

But you are your mother’s daughter, and she is her mother’s daughter. There is the truth that the women in your family are not the best communicators, nor do they wear their hearts on their sleeves. So you were born mute and overly sensitive. Pain drips from you, unnoticed, like a purposeless leak in the heart. You’ll carry it with you until you die.

“But you look… okay,” she observes, cocking her head. “Are you okay?”

You swallow. For the same reason you compare your mother to a storm you can't outrun and your sister to an intermittent drizzle, you find it easier to admit, “I haven’t… been okay for a while.” 

Not wanting to bring the mood down, especially on a day like today, you quickly add, “Things are better now, though.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Could be a little more specific there, but I’ll take it.” She gives you an exasperatedly fond look. “You let me know if that changes anytime soon, ‘kay?”

Your lips quirk in the faintest semblance of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

–

It’s ten minutes before midnight.

You’re leaning against the island counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, nursing a glass of the fruit punch (though it’s mostly gin, with the teensiest amount of fruit), watching your sister’s family at a distance as they eagerly wait for the clock to strike twelve. The blinds of the large living room window have been pulled up, giving an unobstructed view of the sky, ready for the first firework to light up the dark.

For a moment, you feel like an outsider, watching through a lens, as if you’re not quite part of the scene. There’s a strange sense of detachment—voyeuristic, almost—as though you're peering in on a private, intimate moment. 

Your sister cradles the infant in her arms, and that all-too-familiar pang stirs to life—the same one that always does when you look at her.

You can't quite place what you're feeling, exactly. It’s tumultuous, and it’s complex. Andrew’s practically dozing off in his seat, and you see your sister shake her head in mild annoyance. Your nephew, fighting to keep his eyes open, starts to fuss.

Something tightens inside your chest.

“Andrew,” she hisses, startling the man awake. He blinks, disoriented, before spotting their son and the early signs of an explosive tantrum.

He sighs, and pulls the boy closer to him. “Hey, hey, little guy. Look at the sky. In just a couple of minutes, the lights are gonna go boom-boom.”

Your nephew sniffs, his eyes blinking up at him as he processes the words. “Boom-boom?”

“Yeah! Just like the one we watched on TV!”

The kid’s face visibly perks up at that, bad mood quickly forgotten. “Boom-boom!”

You watch as your sister’s gaze softens, and a small smile replaces the earlier frown on her face.

And in that instant, you understand.

You look at your sister and, for a brief moment, all you see is a wretched mirror of yourself. She is all of your fears, all of your failures, and all of what you could’ve been rolled into one. Barely in her mid-thirties, and yet already carrying the weight of a family: three kids, a husband who feels like a faded echo of your father—a man who didn’t quite measure up, who never did, and just as unreliable. 

You feel the suffocating weight of it all, of being tied to a place that’s meant to be a home but feels more like a tomb, marking the passing of dreams unrealized. She’ll grow old here, buried in the same soil you both sprang from, fading into the landscape of this town that swallows its own.

You look at her and you almost feel the repressed pain of missing the last semester of college to give birth, the lament of a missed opportunity that life has stolen from her. 

You feel her pain as if it’s yours. You feel it in the marrow of your bones—her blood flowing through you. “3…” You look at her, and it feels like seeing someone bound, held down by an anchor around her foot, unable to break through the surface of freedom. You look at her and you see dreams once aglow, reduced to cinders. You look at her and see—

She glances up at you.

Oh. “2…” In the fleeting moment where your eyes meet—eyes you two share with your mother—you feel so small.

Just a kid. Shortsighted and unfairly dismissive. Too blind to see your sister’s quiet victories, too selfish to admit you’ve diminished them just so you could feel less alone about your own failures. A child grasping for meaning, unfair in the ways only children can be. “1…” And in the fraction of a second before midnight, it's as if you’ve been doused awake. 

You see her anew—what seemed like monotony is really the bedrock of stability; tenacity in place of routine. An almost single-minded doggedness to make something out of this life. You see the steadfast strength she possesses, the kind that gets her up every morning, to face the world and all its demands without question. With purpose. 

You see resilience. Compassion. Traits that you’ve always lacked, that you’ve long resented, the same traits your mother never learned to embody.

And now you see your niece in her arms, born from this, and you name the indescribable feeling that dwells in you—borne from the pure look of adoration in your sister’s eyes for her youngest daughter—as envy.

You know, with utmost certainty, that she will be okay, because she has your sister as her mother, and she is so, so loved.

As you watch them, something inside you shifts—a deep, aching realization. 

You see… home. Something you've always longed for but never truly found. “Happy new year!” The spell breaks. The two of you startle at the sudden eruption of fireworks, the distant chorus of car horns blaring from the streets outside.

Your niece and nephew jump and shriek, their laughter ringing through the room, celebrating something they barely understand but find joy in anyway. The baby in your sister’s arms lets out a wail at the commotion, and she is soothed instantly with murmurs of soft assurances. Her father struggles upright—then, with no small amount of effort, leans forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

The image before you is far from perfect, but it’s theirs.

“Auntie, auntie!” The little rascals cry out in unison, their voices overlapping in excitement. “‘appy n’year!”

A breathless, almost pained laugh escapes you. Still, you smile as you respond with your own, “happy new year!”

You’re tired—tired of running, of measuring yourself against the ghosts of your past. Tired of carrying the weight of a childhood that’s left you with more questions than answers, of making excuses for wounds that should have healed long since. You've spent so much time mourning the growing pains, the irreparable, that you never stopped to see what’s in front of you. 

This moment, this realization, feels like the final missing piece in the fractured puzzle of who you are.

The new year arrives, marked by the crackle of fireworks and the loud cheer from your family.

This time, you won’t hesitate. You’ll choose to embrace the change, both good and bad, with open arms. With the quiet resolve of someone finally ready to move forward.

You lift your gaze just as a brilliant burst of red explodes into the night sky, its iridescent glow bleeding into a softer silver before fading into the dark. 

A warmth settles deep in your chest—bittersweet, but steady. A quiet peace.

Happy new year, my love. . . . . . . .

.

.

.

.

. . .

The air at the threshold of Vagrant’s land is restless. Volatile. A hazy distortion ripples through it, folding and unfolding, like a lost mirage—an area of transition between worlds. Porch collapse, he calls it. 

Sylus has stood here countless times, watching the way this anomalous disturbance twists the very fabric of this reality, how it flickers in and out of form, erratic. Impossible to predict. 

It had taken him longer than he likes to admit to understand the phenomena for what it’s truly worth. Not just an alternate space caused by some spartan energy field. Not just any other protofield. But a thread. A connection. A door. 

A fault line between realities, an entryway that hums with the possibility of you.

Since the moment the idea took hold, he had thought of little else. It has consumed him in every waking moment; his entire being seeming to bend toward a singular purpose—getting to you. He had torn through endless streams of data, followed every unstable pulse of energy, mapped its fluctuations down to the smallest inconsistency.

Nights bled into days, and days bled into weeks, until he can no longer keep track. Not that the passage of time meant much to him at this point. 

He’s worked tirelessly through the stillness, through the storms of uncertainty, through the aching silence left by your absence. Ever since you’ve exchanged your temporary goodbyes. 

He had measured everything he could—the unstable frequency of radio signals streaming through the interstice. He had traced the influx in real time; recording the rate of deterioration, isolating the waveform, and filtering out outside interferences. 

But for all the data he gathered, for all the precision in his calculations, the core of this phenomenon remained just out of reach. His knowledge on the matter is rudimentary at most. He could waste years observing for abnormalities, trying to decipher how its presence has disrupted the very threads of this universe, but the why and how of it all will still elude him. 

Still, theory matters less than function. He doesn’t need to understand the full depth of it. He only needs to harness it.

It’s a gamble.

Contrary to whatever reputation he’s earned for himself, Sylus has never been one to play his cards recklessly. He deals in certainties, in probabilities stacked in his favor, in risks that—while dangerous—are still within his grasp to control. He has never been the type to leap without knowing where he’d land.

But this is different.

He has never needed to, before. Never had a reason to throw himself into the unknown with no assurance of survival, no way to predict the outcome.

He had no reason to—until you.

Now, it matters less whether or not the odds of his survival are abysmal, that he has no precedent to follow. That your world might reject him entirely. None of it matters. Because if the choice is between staying and never reaching you, or plunging into the great, endless unknown—

He’ll take the leap, every time. Without hesitation. 

He’ll leave this world behind, step beyond the edges of everything that has ever defined him, and venture into lands unseen, uncharted. Unknown. He doesn’t know what awaits him on the other side. If he’ll make it there in one piece. If he will make it there at all.

Sylus has never really questioned why he’s the anomaly in this world. The curiosities of his existence are yours to ponder. After all, he finds that he doesn’t care much of the answer as much as he cares about being with you.

Because wherever you are—that is home. 

He takes a step forward, and the universe dissolves into a blinding light.

-

-

-

Sylus wakes to the sensation of weight.

Something presses on him heavily, sinking into his limbs like gravity itself is wrapping around him for the first time.

The ground beneath him is unfamiliar, uneven—tangible in a way he’s never felt before. His fingertips press into the damp earth, leaving the faintest imprint, yielding beneath his touch. The scent of soil rises around him; a rich, bitter brown. 

This world does not recognize him, yet it cradles him like its own all the same.

Above, the sky erupts.

Fireworks split open the night, streaks of color exploding and dissipating in an instant—too fleeting to hold, too bright to ignore. A flashbang of incandescent reds and fluorescent greens, followed by bursts of crackling gold and shimmering silver scatter into tiny pinpricks before fading into the darkness.

The air is heavier here, denser in a way that feels almost… alien. It clings to the contours of his new form, seeps into his lungs with every breath. 

And oh, how it burns. Not in pain, but in its sheer presence. It rushes into him not as mere oxygen but as something real. Something palpable. He’s lost in the sensation. 

He exhales. Then winces. 

Immediately, he feels it—the weakness. The brittleness of this new body. Gone is the invulnerability he once wielded so effortlessly, the certainty that nothing could touch him unless he allowed it. 

That certainty is gone now, stripped away the moment he crossed the threshold.

He is flesh and bone. Finite. Mortal.

A lesser man might have feared it.

But in the middle of this empty field, miles away from civilization, Sylus can only laugh. 

He tips his head back, reeling from the sheer impossibility of it all, eyes tracing the brilliant display above—as if committing it to memory, a coronation of sorts. Of existence. Of arrival. Of a life finally his own.

Reborn. And for the first time in his existence, he is alive.

––––

It’s summer—the summer that marks two years since he left. 

Two years. It’s enough time to feel the weight of it, but not enough to make the events feel like something that happened a lifetime ago. 

The seasons cycle once more, as they always do, pushing time forward with a steady, indifferent rhythm. And with that change comes a familiar pang—a bittersweet ache, neither grief nor regret, just the weight of knowing that nothing stays the same. Mono no aware. 

You’re closer to thirty now, and the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as it did before. Your hair’s in a pixie cut—short and sleek, although the edges are a little ragged from the half-assed trimming you gave it a few days ago. 

It would have made you feel stupid, once upon a time, for trying out something drastic for a new look. Instead, you just take it for what it is—one more thing you did because you wanted to. Like the rest of the choices you’ve made over the past two years. It’s yours. Uneven, impulsive, maybe a little questionable. But yours.

It’s liberating. Even if it makes your head look like a pencil. 

The voice—the one that picks at your face, your body, your thoughts, everything down to the last imperfection—never really shuts up. It’s quieter now, easier to ignore, but it still lurks in the background, waiting for an opening, a moment of weakness. Maybe it always will. Maybe that’s just the price of being human.

But you don’t fight it anymore. You don’t let it drag you down to a breaking point. You carry yourself differently now, you'd say. No pep in your step just yet, but you don’t feel the need to drag your heels either. Literally and figuratively. 

The change has come in waves—sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh—but it’s there, marking you, marking the passage of time. Just like the earth, just like the seasons, you’ve shifted and grown. And perhaps that’s enough.

The sky is ablaze now, a deepening canvas of pinks and purples as the sun sinks lazily to the west. The fiery orange light spills through the large windows, bleeding into every corner of the room, and the world outside seems to slow, caught in the hour before dusk.

You’re behind the counter, wiping down plates with the kind of ease that comes from repetition, the motion so ingrained in you that it barely registers anymore. It’s all routine—the rhythm of it, the quiet hum of the bistro, the clinking of porcelain. The air is thick with the sticky smell of warm pastries, and it’s the sort of evening that feels almost liminal. A moment suspended in time.

You hear the soft tinkling of the door chimes, signaling the arrival of another customer. 

It’s a soft, unassuming sound, barely noticeable against the evening lull. You swipe your hands across your apron, turning on instinct, your mouth already forming the usual greeting. 

“Hi, welcome to—”

The words die in your throat.

It’s a slow unfolding—almost a gradual realization that stretches across the seconds like the last rays of sun dipping beneath the horizon. He stands in the doorway, a figure outlined in gold, and his presence fills the space between you, no barrier that separates, and it feels... impossible. Unimaginable. Inevitable. 

His height is the first thing you notice. He’s taller than you expected, and you know he’ll tower over you, even at a distance. His hair is dark now, the color of midnight, almost—not the silver you once traced with your fingers in your mind. The cut is still similar to what you’ve always known it to be, though a little more unkempt, as if he’s lived in this body long enough for it to take on its own wear.

Then his eyes. The red is gone—no longer the shade of crimson that used to see right through you, those sanguine pools you once loved. In its place, a stormy grey, deep and impossibly expressive, pulling you in like an undertow. The color is striking, alien in its own way, yet there’s a warmth buried beneath it—and the familiarity of it tugs at you.

Even with the changes, even though you’ve never met the person standing in front of you, you’ll know him anywhere. 

There’s a shift in the room, a subtle, yet unmistakable change in the air. It’s as if the whole bistro has drawn in a breath—and you with it. Time stretches thin, each passing second expanding into what feels like an eternity.

Your eyes lock—and for a moment, nothing else exists. 

It’s as if the world has shifted off its axis. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s as though a piece that’s always been missing has finally snapped into place.

Something settles in you, something foreign and indescribably familiar at the same time.

Sylus smiles.

“Hello, my love. Have I kept you waiting?”

It feels like home. 

____

“Now I found myself this kind of love, I can't believe it I'll never leave it behind I thought I'd never get to feel another fucking feeling But I feel— This love, this love, this love Oh, I feel it.”

End A/N: So this is done! Wow! I'm kind of proud of myself for writing something this long in the span of, idk, three months? Basically, the entire duration of my "vacation" back home. Now with another term and a busier schedule coming up, I really wanted to finish this series before life catches up to me. *sobs* Anyway, I'm so, so happy about the reception of this fic, and you've all been so sweet :') Again, thank you for reading! I'll see you in the spin-off, or whatever shit I put out next haha <3 Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira

[cassieopeauh]

What is this feeling?

Pairings: Elphaba x Reader x Galinda

Summary: You are in love with the two most well known girls at Shizz. They both love you, but loathe each other and loathe that the other loves you. They try to steal you from each other and win you over. Intercourse is had. Feelings are hurt. Everything works out in the end.

Word count: 5100

Warnings: SMUT⚠️, like so so so much smut ya’ll. Porn with some plot. Eating out. Fingering. Thigh riding. Grinding. Slight dry humping. Bra used as gag. Semi public sex. Y/n is lowkey a bop. Brief dom/sub dynamics (the roles are reversed a few times cause y/n is written as a switch) brief hate sex. Angst. Feelings are hurt. Apologies are said. Based off movie knowledge only. They all make up and get together in the end. I think that’s everything.

A/n: Galinda and Elphaba are probably a bit ooc in this srry. I’ve only watched the movie but have been listening to the musical soundtrack for years. Plz don’t roast me if I got some of the stuff about shizz wrong 😢.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“What is this feeling so sudden and new?” Galinda whispers to herself as she watches you below from her shared dormitory balcony.

She shifts her body so her head lays up her arms which lay atop the stone wall surrounding the balcony, as she dramatically sighs and continues to dreamily look at you from above.

Her usually confident and cocky persona felt like it crumbled to pieces whenever she was around you, leaving her uncharacteristically awkward and nervous. Vulnerable. Thus, to her, confessing to you seemed out of the question.

She had tried to wish away these pesky feelings, but to no avail. She had fallen hard.

She watched as you walked over and struck up a conversation with her irritating roommate. Oz, you were so much more kind than her. You had been going out of your way for the last week to befriend the girl because you saw the unjust treatment of her and knew it was undeserved. The same girl that has been nothing but a thorn in her side since they were unfairly roomed together.

Meticulously manicured nails scraped against the concrete beneath her grasp in deep jealousy, as she watched you and Elphaba’s conversation become a bit “too friendly” for her liking. She felt like she was going to scream if this kept up!

“It’s not fair! I am ten times more perfect in every way than that little goth prude! Why does she get first dibs on everything I deserve?” She said aloud to no one. Theatrically slumping down behind the balcony wall and draping her arm over her face.

If overcoming her fears of confessing to be with the one person who had made her feel a true connection with meant keeping her little rival from having what she wanted…

She made up mind right then. She was going to push aside her fears, put on a confident mask, and use her natural charm to snatch you away from Elphaba.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“I felt it the moment I laid eyes on you.” Elphaba was never one to want much, never one to think herself attractive or desirable from the perspective of others, but you had brought out a part of herself she thought she had buried along with all her other wishes.

You were both still new to each other only having been friends for a few weeks, but Elphaba now having understood her feelings saw no reason to wait any longer. Always one to never hold back when it came to speaking her mind, despite fear of rejection, she asked you to accompany her to a secluded part of Shizz so she could communicate her feelings to you.

“I don’t know what to say…” you replied.

It wasn’t that you weren’t overcome with a sense of giddiness whenever you were around her. It was that while having feelings for Elphaba, you had also been harboring the same kind of feelings for your other gorgeous friend Galinda.

You were also well aware of your two love interests' rivalry, knowing no that if you were to start a relationship with Elphaba, the pink obsessed blonde would take it as an act of betrayal.

But at the same time you couldn’t bare to turn down Elphaba, with how much you liked her and knowing her deeply rooted insecurities and how much she must have overcome just to confess to you.

You were fucked either way.

“I… I need time to think… please don’t take it the wrong way, I like you! I do..I just… it’s complicated.” Your heart withered at the sight of Elphaba in front of you putting on a brave face and masking her disappointment. Concealing her feelings and pretending she doesn’t care what people thought of her was her specialty.

“I… understand…….I think it’s best I go now.” Elphaba cast her head downwards as she didn’t want you or anyone to catch a glimpse of the newly forming barley concealed tears. She was so stupid to think you could reciprocate her feelings.

“Elphaba wait!” You called after her, but she carried on striding away from you. What could you say to her anyways? Nothing you could say could soothe the black hair girl’s pain of rejection. It wasn’t even a full rejection! Oh Oz why did you say that! Why does liking more than one person have to be so complicated!

Little had you known a certain blonde haired socialite had followed behind you and Elphaba after overhearing the ravenette asking you to follow her somewhere more private. That same girl had eavesdropped on conversation from behind a stone pillar a safe distance away.

She was now more determined than ever to win you over in light of her now confirmed suspicions of Elphaba having a crush on you as well.

Her heart initially felt like it had broken upon hearing you say you liked her back, and then mended itself at hearing you half reject her. Giving her hope for a chance. She was usually so confident, knowing what she wanted and taking it. That half a second of heartbreak and vulnerability was enough to let her know not having you was simply not an option.

——————————————————————

“What is this? What did you do!” Elphaba’s morning routine was immediately halted as she stepped out of bed at the sight of a wall of pink decor, suitcases, lamps, bags, etc.

“Oh that? I’m simply making room. I’m having y/n over for a girls day after our plans for today. Oh and of course I had to hide your hideously plain side of the room.” Galinda hadn’t even bothered to raise her head to look in her roommates direction as she spoke to her. To busy going through the steps of her complex morning hair routine.

“What? Why would y/n be coming over here? You’re much too stuck up for her to willingly be around.” Elphaba said. Annoyance clear in her voice. The mention of you had caught her off guard though, especially since the two of you hadn’t talked since that mortifying confession.

“I’ll have you know y/n and I are actually friends. And I’m not stuck up, you only happen to think so because you’re the bottom rung of the popularity ladder! You’re simply jealous of the fact y/n would rather be friends with someone perfect like me!!” Elphaba didn’t need to see her face as she could practically hear the girl's smug look in her voice.

Elphaba felt that familiar tingling sensation of the magic building up inside her at Galinda’s harsh words. Words that were unusually cruel for the girl who claimed to be ‘oh so good’. Words born out jealousy and insecurity for the affections she held for y/n.

Just as Elphaba felt like a burst of magic might leave her and crack a second balcony window, a set of four knocks came from the dorm door with the many carved details and brass trim.

A glance between them. One of masked anger and one of feigned innocence with a smugness behind it. Galinda got up to open the door.

“Y/n hiiiii!!!! I’m ever so glad you could make it! Let me show you in!” The blonde took you by the hand and brought you in, closing the door behind her.

“Oh and I don’t believe you’ve met my roommate! This is Elph-“ She started with faux politeness. An attempt at making things more awkward between the two girls in front of her and then whisking you away infront of her rival in a show of pettiness.

“Oh, we’ve met…” You trailed off. Sheepishly avoiding the ravenette’s gaze.

“Yes… we have…” Elphaba suddenly felt very exposed, awkwardly standing. The floor had suddenly become very interesting.

“Oh well I’m so glad that my very best friend and my roomate already know each other! Well, we better be going now, come along now sweetness!” Galinda threw a not so inconspicuous wink your way, much to the bewilderment and then jealousy of Elphaba, still stood in her nightgown.

“Oh! Uh…Alright! Coming!” You were thrown off balance by the sudden use of a pet name only to come to and scamper after the pink figure fading down the hall. Not before casting one last longing glance at Elphaba. Both of you shared a look before you too disappeared down the hallway.

As Elphaba closed the door shut the sound of a window pane breaking shot through the silence you left her in. A magical manifestation of her jealousy and sadness.

——————————————————————

*Thud*

Galinda, empowered by her regained confidence, pinned you up against the empty classroom door. Both her hand on your waist as she looked down at you with blown out pupils and unsteady breath.

“Oh… y/n, I know this must be a sudden shock but I positively just couldn’t resist anymore!” She rubbed her thumb across you hip where her hand laid as her eyes flickered between you eyes and your lips. You stayed frozen between want for the girl in front of you and want for the girl you had left in her dorm.

“I do wish you feel the same… I haven’t felt like this about anyone… a few flings here and there, yes… but I really care for you… I… feel vulnerable.. around you.” You could see the sincerity in her eyes as Galinda watched for you with baited breath.

“I… I feel the same way, b-“ Galinda cut you off with a hungry kiss, her brain only having registered your words of reciprocated feelings

Your brain suddenly feeling like mush in the midst of Galinda’s onslaught of heavy open mouthed kisses. Your hands wandered up to grasp the back of her head, tangling in her golden curls. You completely forgot what you were even going to say.

The taste of her lip gloss mixing with your own, while Galinda nipped at your bottom lip. Per usual, Galinda got her way, as you opened your mouth for her to explore. Galinda wasted no time.

The two of you parted momentarily. A string of saliva connecting your mouths, both of you panting, before the blonde dove right back in. Simultaneously lifting her leg slightly so her knee was wedged up against your core. You made a noise that was instantly swallowed up by the girl pinning you to the door.

“Is this okay?” She asked, seemingly just now remembering her manners.

“Yes… please don’t stop.” The blonde went back for another kiss before her mouth started traveling along your jawline and then to your neck. Your head turned sideways and up to give her better access. You had lightly started to grind down on her leg that was in between yours.

Galinda had started to hastily mark you, not caring if anyone saw it on you. (Maybe hoping a certain someone would see it). As she worked her way down to your clavicle her hand started to unbutton your shirt. Helping her shed your outer clothes and being left in your bra, she took a moment to admire you.

“You’re beautiful..” She said as she unashamedly raked her eyes up your exposed skin up towards your face. Giving you a gentle kiss this time. Your hands cupping her face, while her hands reached around your back to unclasp your bra, dropping it to the floor.

Hands began to grasp and fervently pull at your breasts as the intensity of the kiss came back once more. All noises being lost to the blonde in front of you.

Some of the fog left your mind as the sounds of someone walking outside the door and down the hall brought you back to reality.

“Wait.. *pant* someone might come in..” A slight look of fear graced your features. Surely you would be expelled for this kind of behavior.

Galinda only smirked in reply. She held you face with one hand, flicking the deadbolt on the door with the other.

“Guess we’ll just have to be quiet then” Pulling you from the door to the mahogany teachers desk in the center of the room.

She hopped up on the desk and slightly leaned back. Patting her thigh while looking at you expectantly, you complied. Climbing up and straddling her thigh you couldn’t help but wish Galinda was a little more exposed, like you were.

Settling down with your clothed core pressed against her thigh, you gave just the slightest of pouts as you reached up and gently tugged at her top while locking eyes with her.

She let out a breath chuckle.

“Oh baby… you want this off?” She watched as you nodded and then guided your hands to unbutton her blouse and revealed her bra underneath.

Your eyes hungrily swept over pink silk that barely concealed hard nipples. Your hot breath fanning down on her now mostly exposed chest. Once again taking the lead, she guided your hands to her back, where you unclasped her bra. Tossing it aside.

“Wow…” was all you managed to get out, making her lightly giggle. You looked at her, and after receiving a small nod, you experimentally ran your hands over her breasts. Thumbs stopping over her nipping and gently rubbing.

She let out a quiet moan which encouraged you to continue. Her noises slowly building up in their frequency. She then took control again by leaning forward and capturing you in a kiss and bringing your hand to her face.

“Let’s get you out of this skirt…” she smiled at you. You stood up, putting on a little show for her, as you removed your skirt, undergarments, and shoes. Giving her a little spin and then climbing back to your original position.

“There we are… now.. take what you need sweetness.” Her words commanded you to start slowly grinding your now unclothed core against her thigh. Her hands went to guide you by your waist, as you held onto her shoulders for support.

“Oh…Oh my..” your breathing picked up as Galinda urged you into a faster pace. Moving her hips back and forth to meet you halfway. Her leg by now being soaked in your arousal.

“Oh.. that’s right sweetheart…keep going..” Galinda praised you as you grinded down harder. Clit dragging across milky white thighs. That feeling of heat starting to build up more and more in your lower area.

Panting now, as your noises started to grow, Galinda connected your mouth to keep the noise to a minimum so no one would hear. Your little whines and moans being muffled by pink lips.

What felt like too soon, you had started to get close. The pink clad girl could tell by the way your hips started stuttering in their pace.

“Come on sweetness… come for me..” Galinda panted, getting worked up just from the sight of you getting off on her thigh.

Her words seemed to help push you over the edge, as you came. A loud whine escaping your lips. Riding out your orgasm for a few seconds before slumping into Galinda. Both your bare breasts pushed against each other. Your head resting on her shoulder, while her fingers rubbed up your back and in your hair and gave tiny little kisses to your neck.

“You did so well… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you like that.” The blonde whispered in your ear, causing good bumps to appear along your nape in her wake.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time as well…” you said while catching your breath.

You stayed in that position of embrace. Waiting for you to recover from your exertion.

After a minute, you started to feel Galinda squirming a bit below you. You sat back so you could look at her.

“Do you want me to..?” You said.

“Please.” She replied.

You slowly peeled yourself away from her and slightly sat back. Hands resting on her thighs, feeling the slick from where you were a minute ago.

You tugged at her last remaining garments, as she helped by maneuvering herself in order to remove her skirt and underwear. Eyes raking over her. Taking in every aspect.

Leaning in and giving her a quick peck on the lips before trailing kisses down her neck. Then to her sternum. Next, her navel. Then finally reaching the place where she needed you most, you glanced up to her eyes once more before shifting your mouth forwards.

She let out a breathy moan as your tongue made contact with her slick. You took a couple of long licks before focusing on her clit. She tasted sweet. Your hands found their places around her upper thighs

Your movements continued to coax airy whines and moans from her. These only spurred you on more. Now deciding to add one finger in the mix, you experimentally poked your right ring finger at her entrance. That elicited a slightly louder moan. Heat pooled in your stomach at that.

You slowly started pumping your one finger in and out of her core while still continuing to lick at her clit. Galinda’s hands were suddenly in your hair, pushing you further into her and groaning.

Deciding to add another finger, you slipped a second one into your rhythm. Stretching her out further. After a particularly loud moan though, you stopped your movements which in turn brought out a whine and a pout from Galdinda.

“Why… *pant* why’d you stop?” She questioned. Not a fan of being teased. You brought your head up to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry, you were being a bit too loud. Someone might hear us. Here… this should solve the problem.” You took hold of her previously discarded silk bra and brought it up to her face.

“Are you okay with this..? Being.. um… gagged I mean..?” Galinda’s pout was replaced by a smirk and a little laugh at your sudden shyness. She thought it was adorable.

“Of course, now I can be as loud as I want. To show you how you make me feel.” She grinned and took hold of the bra you held out to her. Clamping her teeth around it and leaning back to give you access once more.

You returned to your previous position and activities. Speeding up to get her back to where she was. You heard her muffled noises, much more frequent and high pitched. It was clear she had been holding back a bit before as to not be heard and subsequently caught.

Her hand returned to the back of your head as she grinded her hips against you. Getting closer, her grip tightened and her hips started to fervently rut and buck up into you.

With one last drawn out muffled whine from her, you felt her come on your hand. Feeling her walls flutter around your fingers, you helped her ride it out before pulling away. Crawling up to her once more, you sucked her juices off your fingers before pulling the bra out of her mouth to bring her into an embrace as she had done for you. Letting her rest.

Once she had recovered, she leant back to pull you into another kiss. This one was slow and full of love. Parting to breathe you both only paused for a second before going back in for another.

No words needed. Only the moment.

——————————————————————

A set of four knocks sounded on the intricate door.

“Galinda’s not here!” Elphaba called out to who she assumed was one of her roommate's little henchmen. Galinda had left for the afternoon to meet a secret importer for a new collection of dresses she was sneaking into Shizz.

When the set of knocks continued after Elphaba had called out, she sat up from her study material, and strode over to the door to open it.

“I told you she’s not he-…” Elphaba was greeted with the sight of your face. Holding a small sheepish smile.

“Hi… I was hoping we could talk?” You looked up at her through your lashes with baited breath. Hoping you hadn’t ruined things with her.

“I thought you’d be out with Galinda. Seems you two are never apart these days.” She replied with a displeased look on her face. She was no fool. She knew there was likely something going on between her roommate and you.

It was true though. Galinda had insisted you stayed glued to her side since your “girls day out”. Practically dragging you along on a leash. Not that you minded being around her all the time, but it left you no time to resolve things between you and Elphaba.

“I… I wanted to come and apologize for not speaking to you since… last week.” You guiltily looked away. You had been rather horrible to her for not speaking to her. And sleeping with her roommate who she loathed.

“Go on.” Elphaba crossed her arms. Giving you a blank face.

“Well… I’m ever so sorry for not talking to you. I like you, I really do! It’s just… I also like someone else and if I were to be with you it would hurt them. Though I see that the opposite has happened and I’ve hurt you instead.” You tried to keep your composure while you apologized, but it was clear that your eyes were becoming watery.

“Galinda…” Elphaba stated what was already known. The sound of defeat in her voice. Her posture sulked downward.

Your eyes widened as you took a few steps toward her.

“Oh no! Please you must believe me that I never wished to hurt you! I just-… I want to be with both of you! But I know that’s not possible because you two hate each other and I wish her friends weren’t so cruel to you and it’s all so complicat-!” You were cut off by green lips silencing your rambling.

She pulled back. Tears in her eyes as you looked on with shock on your face.

“Please, I’ve never been one to want anything. I shouldn’t let myself want anything. But I just want you. You hurt me, I can’t forget that, but I can’t stand that she has you. Please just be with me… even if it’s just for this moment…” Her words were heartbreaking. She had endured more than her fair share. Given so much, yet received so little.

“Anything you want…” You gently reached up and caressed her face. Leaning in and connecting your lips and a soft and tender kiss. Tasting salty tears from where they had fallen from her emerald eyes.

Growing more confident, Elphaba brought you both inside the dorm and shut the door with one hand. All while never leaving your mouth.

What started out as slow and emotional had started to become more passionate. Hands sliding up to tangle in hair. Being pulled closer by the waist.

Your hand moving down to tug at her button up.

“Would you let me take care of you?” Your voice barely above a whisper. Waiting for permission.

“I’ve.. I’ve never…because of my greenness… no one’s ever…” Elphaba nervously sputtered out.

“That’s alright… if you want me to, I can lead. All you have to do is let me take care of you. You deserve it Elphie…” You said as you looked into her eyes.

“Okay… please just know… I am green everywhere…” She looked so vulnerable at that moment. Fear of rejection due to her complexion having been hardwired into her brain.

“I don’t care about that, Elphie. I think you’re truly beautiful. All over, inside and out.” You said with a smile of reassurance. And with a small smile and nod in return, you went ahead.

Careful fingers danced their way from one button to the next before pulling the white shirt over her shoulders and down her arms.

She gasped at the foreign sensation of fingers ghosting over her black bra covered nipples. Hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Let’s get you somewhere where you can relax, pretty lady.” You giggled slightly at the evident blushing at your use of a pet name. Guiding her over to her bed. Laying her down on her back with you sitting in between her legs.

“What now?” Elphaba asked, not knowing what to do or what exactly came next.

“Next, I’m going to get you ready. And then I was going to use my hands. Are you okay with that Elphie?” You watched for her response. Making sure to give her plenty of warning and above all ensure her comfort and enjoyment and give her room to say no.

“I trust you…” Her eyes conveyed the same thing she said. Her hand reached for yours to hold.

A small smile graced your features as you leant forwards to kiss her. Hands dragging along exposed collarbones until they reached the bra clasp and undid it. Sliding it off through her arms.

Hands started to gently grope at her bare breasts as your hips slowly pushed forwards into Elphaba’s to add pressure.

“Mmff!” The girl below you’s moan was muffled by your mouth on hers. She held your waist. You started to slowly grind into her. The both of you getting worked up.

Continuing your movements while slightly changing the rhythm now and then. You watched as the girl beneath you slowly relaxed.

When you thought you had made her wet enough, your grinding ceased and you moved over to straddle one of legs to make room around her core.

Breaking apart while one of your hands trailed up underneath the girl's long skirt. You once again made sure.

“Is this okay?” The words felt familiar to your ears..

“Please.” So did hers.

Reaching her undergarments, you felt around to find the seam. Your fingers finally finding purchase around them as you pulled them down and over her legs. Watching the string of arousal that attached to it as you tossed them aside.

“You’re so wet… that’s good.” Looking up to meet her blown out pupils.

You moved so you were laying over top of her while keeping your hand around her core so you could make out with her to ease the tension.

Your middle and ring finger trailed up and down her slit. Collecting the slick and rubbing it around on your fingers.

Next, you gave her clit a gentle rub, eliciting a whine from the ravenette. You continued to rub and then press down with your thumb, while your other fingers circled around her entrance.

Finally, you stuck a single finger into her. Her body reacted by bucking up. You were getting riled up just watching her.

“Nngg, t-that’s, so so good.” Elphaba’s usually reserved nature was coming undone.

You added another finger and sped up the pace. Thrusting them up into her while letting the back of your palm rub her clit.

“Good girl… that’s it.” You praised her. Elphaba’s noises were becoming more frequent. You could tell she was getting closer by the way her walls were gripping your fingers, trying to suck them back in.

Speeding up your movements and then latching onto one of her nipples was enough for the witch to climax.

Her loud moan came with the fluttering of her walls. Suddenly, for just a few seconds, the both of you were floating, before gently landing back down on the mattress. She had unknowingly used her magic.

Her pants slowly subsided. After pulling your hand away and licking it clean, you trailed kisses from her chest to her face, where you peppered light kisses around her mouth.

“You did so well… you’re so beautiful Elphie…” you whispered into her ear. Rubbing her shoulder then going to nuzzle into her neck.

Elphaba, still coming down from her high, wrapped her arms around your back, and planted a kiss on your head.

“Do… would you like.. a turn..?” She slowly said, unsure of her words.

“No, but thank you for offering, sweet girl.” She could feel you smile into her neck.

“I just wanted to show you how much I care for you. You don’t have to give anything. You deserve all the pampering in the world.” Your genuine words brought liquid emotion to the girl with the emerald eyes.

She pulled you closer. No more words needed. Just the moment.

——————————————————————

You were screwed.

In the last few weeks, the two girls you had slept with rivalry had only grown since you had seen both of them. Both of them going out of their way to try and best the other to get closer to you.

They openly loathed each other, no more fake politeness or toleration. Simple unadulterated loathing.

Galinda would sweep you away from Elphaba to sit with her and her friends at lunch. Then Elphaba would retaliate by making sure you sat next to only her during class.

All the back and forth and the complicated feelings was making your head spin.

Currently you were on your way to the two girls' dorm to return study notes Elphaba and graciously lent you.

As you approached the wooden door, knocked, then opened it halfway, you stopped. What were those… noises… you were hearing? They sounded… angry? But also…… oh. Oh.

You pushed the door open the rest of the way and froze.

Galinda and Elphaba. The two girls who swore loathed each other. We’re in bed together. Naked.

Phrases like, “I hate you so much, ohhh!” And “I hate you m-more, she doesn’t *pant* deserve you. Ahh!”.

…

What the fu-

*thud*

Out of shock, you had dropped the heavy notebook you were carrying. Both girls let out a little shriek and sprung apart as though they had burned one another.

“Um… i-I…. Uhhhhh…. Glad you two aren’t fighting anymore……???” You nervously stated. Feeling very awkward at interrupting what was happening between them. Though at the same time ecstatic that they were finally getting along in their own weird way.

“Y/n!” Both of them said at the same time. They glanced at each other and then back to you. Your cheeks flushed and eyes looking anywhere but them. Everything was quiet and still.

….

“Well…. You might as well get over here and help.” Galinda’s unwavering confidence had come back into play as scootched over and patted the empty bed space next to her.

“G-Galinda!” Elphaba stated in shock at her roommates sexual confidence in adding a third.

Both looked at you and waited for a response.

“Uhm…. O.. okay” You replied quietly, still embarrassed.

You closed the door and walked over Galinda’s king sized bed.

You let out a help as Galinda yanked you into bed and into a fiery kiss. Her giggles reverberated through the room. Elphaba laying beside you so she could trail kisses along your neck.

Your head was reeling under the sensual onslaught from the two girls.

This was exactly what you wanted. Your girl problem dilemma was over. They both liked you, you liked them, and now they liked each other. This could really work out.

Your heart's deepest desire was fulfilled .

[moonstruckme]

hello mae! all your spooky drabbles have been amazing, you’re so talented! i was wondering if i can request a poly!marauders spooky drabble where they have a horror/slasher marathon and both reader and sirius are being insufferable trying to predict who’s the killer and remus is just being the voice of reason to all their theories and james just enabling them, asking them questions and its all fluffy?? thank you! hope you’re having a great spooky season 🎃🫶

Thank you lovely!!

cw: suggestive content

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 821 words

“It’s that actress,” Sirius muses, voice softened the way it always gets when you play with his hair. “What’s her name?” 

“That one?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Mia Goth.” 

Sirius adjusts his head on your chest. “Right, her. She never really plays the innocent, does she?” 

“Mm, you don’t think they’re trying to trick us?” 

A door opens down the hall, and you jump a little. Sirius chuckles, giving you a squeeze where his arms are wound underneath your jumper. “Chicken.” 

James waltzes into the living room looking properly rumpled. He’d dragged Remus away as soon as your workerbee boyfriend had gotten home, sequestering him in your bedroom. 

“Our entertainment wasn’t good enough for you?” Sirius asks as he sits down. 

James lifts Sirius’ legs, shuffling underneath so he’s closer to both of you. “Remus was gone all day,” he says simply. “I missed him.” 

“I can see that,” you laugh, poking at a red mark on his neck. “Jamie, what happened here?”

“Shh.” James nestles in close to kiss the skin by your ear. “You should see the other guy.”

Remus walks in, nimble fingers buttoning his shirt, but not before you spot the half dozen hickeys scattered about his chest.

“You deviants,” Sirius gripes. You suspect he’s a tiny bit wounded at being left out of the lovefest. “Movie night is supposed to be for all of us, and now you’ve missed half the middle.” 

“The middle’s always the most predictable part anyway,” says Remus, sitting down and putting his feet on the coffee table. 

Sirius kicks at him vengefully. Remus catches his foot, casting him an unimpressed look while he presses his thumb into the ticklist part of Sirius’ arch. Your boyfriend yelps, yanking his foot back. His fingers tighten around your middle. 

“Who are we thinking the killer is?” James picks up the bowl of kettle corn he’d abandoned on the coffee table earlier, scooping up a handful. Remus silently collects the pieces that fall onto the couch. 

One of Sirius’ hands comes out of your sweatshirt to take a piece. “Maybe Mia Goth.” 

“Ahh, I see. Who’s that?” 

“The blonde one there,” you say. 

“Oh, her.” James murmurs to Remus, “Have we seen her before?”

“Yeah, Jamie.” 

“I don’t know, I kind of wonder if it could be the mom,” you say. “You don’t usually see any real adults in these. It seems like the setup for something.” 

Remus hums. “Have any of her kids been killed?” 

You frown. “Well, yeah.” 

“I wouldn’t put my money on her, then.” 

You and Sirius exchange a look. Remus has a pretty stellar track record when it comes to guessing the killer in these films. You both want him to be wrong, but he’s likely right. 

“You never know,” says Sirius. He’s begun tracing patterns into your skin with his fingertips, phantom tattoos over your ribs. “They always have a partner in these things. Her partner could have betrayed her by killing one of the kids. Or she could be a psychopath that wants to escape the constraints of her domestic life, and this whole thing is just a way to kill off her kids without anybody suspecting her.” 

“Diabolical,” James mutters, shoving more kettle corn in his mouth. Three pieces tumble to the couch, which Remus picks up. 

“You guys always get caught up in the tropes,” Remus says. “It keeps you from seeing the logical choice.” 

Sirius frowns up at you. You pet his head. “You’re no fun,” he says to Remus.

“Oi,” Remus laughs, “I’m only trying to help you.” 

“They don’t want to know who the killer is, love,” says James, leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder consolingly. “They want to shoot off theories and then be surprised by the end.” 

You and Sirius gawp. “That’s not true!” you say. 

James looks genuinely confused. “It’s not?” 

“No! Obviously we want to know who it is.” 

“That’s it.” Sirius waves them away with a sweep of his hand. “Go back to your debauchery, leave us to enjoy our film.” He snuggles close to you, leaning up to kiss the underside of your jaw. “We won’t let them spoil it for us, sweetness.” 

“Wait, no,” James laughs. “We’re sorry.”

“We won’t spoil anything,” Remus vows. He leans around James to give you a soft look, and you feel your lips tilt up unwillingly. 

Sirius regards them both coolly. “You’ll be good for the rest of the film?” 

Remus’ eyes flash with amusement, and he grabs Sirius’ foot again, the threat potent. 

“We’ll be good,” James agrees. 

You and Sirius look at each other, both pretending to deliberate whilst suppressing your grins. He’s much better at it than you are.

“All right,” he says magnanimously. “You can stay.” 

“Good. It is our flat, too, you know.” James grabs a heaping fistful of kettle corn, bringing it to his mouth. 

Several pieces overflow, falling to the couch. Remus sighs. “Honestly, James.”