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fleurspun · 3 months ago

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Questbound

Summary: A kiss locks the victory of your quest, it's only unfortunate that your quest companion is Luke Castellan—the bane of your existence and ex-lover. Note: I'm back hello hi this time with PJO! I do have Grishaverse drafts to release (someday) but that's for another time!! This is also cross-posted on Ao3 Word Count: 6.9k

In your many years at camp, the best advice you could probably give somebody is not to date another camper.

Not if they’re a fellow counselor.

Especially not if it’s Luke Castellan.

You learned that lesson the hard way years ago, when you were both a lot younger, with spunkier attitudes and clouded minds. It was a relationship wrenched raw with gritted teeth and hushed arguments, emotions clawing at throats and frustration gnawing at the mind. It was nothing short of tiring, and the only remark worth saying was that it wasn't worth it.

(Sort of. You’re a little too proud to admit that you had your fun during the relationship, and that you really did love Luke, or at least loved him to the extent that adolescent teens could. It was carefree and stupid and full of shared, sappy love-sick grins—and that wasn't so bad.

But you were both childish and angry, nonetheless. And that tipped the balance more often than you would have liked.)

Your breakup was a nasty, bitter fallout that screamed and thrashed all the way back down into the depths of forgotten pasts. After that, you and Luke fell into an explosive and rough dynamic of being at each other’s neck at every passing second, which seemed to have attracted attention from the gods above—and because the gods have such a unique sense of humour, one in particular has decided to grant you and Luke a quest.

And quests meant a trip to the attic of the Big House, and a meeting with the hippie-tie-dye Oracle of Delphi.

“Piss off the aunt lately?” Luke sucks at his teeth, ducking under the beams of the ceiling. You can feel his shadow melt into yours when the attic forcibly squeezes the two of you into the walkway cluttered wall-to-wall with quest paraphernalia.

“I didn't. You might have.” you scoff, suddenly a lot more conscious that your back was pressing into his chest, “You did break that poor girl’s heart from Aphrodite’s cabin a week ago. It’s sad, she was sobbing over her barbecue at dinner.”

“Keeping tabs on me, now?” he snickers, “That’s a new low, even for you.”

“I’m going to smack the shit out of you if you don't shut up, Castellan.”

You see Luke at the corner of your eye step ahead of you, giving a theatrical display of zipping his lips shut before snapping into a sleazy grin when you roll your eyes at him.

The Oracle of Delphi finally comes into sight at the edge of the attic, and Luke has to settle a hand across the base of your spine to keep you moving along when you freeze upon seeing the figure. Visiting the Oracle always left an uneasy feeling that settled like sediment at the bottom of your stomach, and Luke knows exactly, despite the low lights of the attic, that you would be picking at the skin beneath your nail.

He taps his finger on your spine to grab your attention, teasing spelled on his face, “Scared, smart girl?”

You swallow thickly before breaking away from his hand, “In your dreams, crook.”

Luke offers you a small chuckle as he anchors his palms on the beams near your head to keep you from bumping into them when you stalk along the attic, wary of the menacing figure right in front of you.

The skeleton is perched near the stained glass window, and silence simmers in the air so thick it almost shrouds your heartbeat in a muffled vacuum. After a few heavy seconds, the Oracle of Delphi slowly creaks into animation. There’s this odd pull of energy surrounding the flimsy skeleton, perfuming a spine-chilling and nerve-wracking pulse into the air, and into whatever summer clothing she had draped over her bones.

“Oracle of Delphi, we’ve come to seek your guidance.” Luke utters, and you cross your arms behind him, observing the decrepit and stop-motion-like movement of the figure. The skeleton encapsulates the feel of the Oracle in a snap of a finger, her arms creaking into animation and her skull snapping to your direction.

There are no eyes in the vessel as of the Oracle, but you can't mistake the sharp stare she gives you as she utters out the prophecy guided by the goddess of love, Aphrodite. And when she does, you feel a burdening weight forming on your shoulders and a thousand prickling needles at your spine.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.

Because to find a “second wind” and bring life and victory to your affairs, the quest from Aphrodite meant that you would have to share a kiss with the Hermes head counselor, your spiteful ex-lover, and the absolute bane of your existence, Luke Castellan.

What a funny joke this was.

—

“Well?” you’re cross-legged atop the ping-pong table, staring accusingly at Luke.

Luke rolls his eyes at you, sharpening his dagger against the wall of the dimly-lit Rec Room, “Well, what?”

The two of you ended up in the counselors’ meeting room just below the attic of the Big House after the prophecy sinked in enough for you and Luke to move down somewhere to confer.

“We’re contesting this with Chiron, aren't we?”

You observe Luke from the table, watching intently as he sighs in frustration, returning the dagger to its leather holster, giving you his full attention now.

“We aren't and we won’t.” he asserts, “And get off the ping-pong table, you’ll break it.”

There’s considerable pressure to his words, but you were never one to back down from his intimidation, so you stand your ground, “I’m going to contest this, Castellan. Whether you like it or not.”

“Under what possible circumstance?” He reasons with slight exasperation, “You know they won't let you contest a prophecy—from Aphrodite—off all gods.”

“It’s a clear case of conflict of interest.” the table creaks, and you heed Luke’s advice to hop off.

“That conflict of interest is a deliberate choice from the goddess. Besides, it’s a kiss. One kiss.” he sighs—you’ve been conferring about the prophecy for a while now, and every second is one wasted on argument instead of preparation, “Do I affect you so much that having me kissing you is such a huge deal? What, afraid you’ll come crawling back for more?”

You squint your eyes at the insinuation.

“The kiss isn’t a big deal for me. I don't care about that, you, and whatever relationship we had in the past.” your voice loses its venomous edge when you see Luke watching you intently through lidded eyes. His gaze is a pressuring expression, as if prompting you to speak more, and your mouth slips beyond grasp when you scoff, “You could kiss me right now and I wouldn't bat an eye.”

Oh shit.

The realization of your statement sinks in the second it leaves your lips. A gasp is stuck in your mouth, and you keenly watch Luke for a reaction.

Luke doesn't shoot his usual retort, taking his sweet time before getting off the wall with a grunt. He walks toward you with a heavy gait, one that echoes in the room as if in mockery of your position.

He finds himself almost between your legs, standing a breath’s width away. Luke chases your gaze when you snap your head the other way.

“Huh,” he smiles, and you feel the sinister intent behind it in your stomach, “Do you wanna repeat that for me?”

There’s a stern look on your face, refusing to budge out of self-preservation and dignity, and he tuts in response, “Look at you. You never change, do you? Pouring out emotion but never committing to it. You’re still all bark and no bite—” he whispers with a rough edge, “Like you’ve always been.”

Luke’s words are an obvious, honest-to-gods ploy. It’s nothing more than plain bait, and he’s waving it in your face to see if he can get you off your high horse and into the ground where he wanted you, and he knows if he pushes this narrative a little further, he can get you to bite down.

You blink, and feel the irritation bubbling, choked into the back of your throat. He didn't have the right to tell you about emotions when he was the one that left after the slightest bit of actual reciprocation.

A second passes and you try to give him a chance to take it back, but he only gives you a cocked eyebrow and a look as if impatiently waiting for your verdict.

He persists, and you huff before staring at him straight in the eye with a burning defiance.

Luke thinks, oh,

He’s fucking got you.

A sharp finger jabs itself into his chest, and Luke finds it exhilarating to have you on your toes, “I said,” the tone of your voice is as tense as a rope pulled taut, “You could kiss me right now, and I wouldn't do so much as bat an eye.”

Your pride is deadly as it is precarious—this is affirmed when Luke plants his palm on either side of your figure on the table, stepping an inch closer to where he has to crane his neck down to keep you in his sight in response to your dispute.

Luke leans his head forward, the mocking grin etched right in his mouth, “You’re sure?”

You aren't, but you’ve gone so far now that retracting your sentiments is equivalent to admitting complete defeat.

And defeat to Luke Castellan was a defeat you could never stomach.

So you persist.

“Try me.” you lift your chin as if to push him further to do what he’s been threatening to. You decide there was a large chance of Luke bluffing, so you prompt, “You don't have the balls to do it, Castellan.”

The heartbeat in your ribs thrums and pounds at your bones, a clear display of your body knowing that you should run before anything untoward happens, but your burning pride keeps your feet planted on the ground.

Luke is the closest he’s ever been since you broke up, head slanted into place with his mouth just above yours. The position is familiar, and you hate that you feel it in the pit of your stomach; Luke was so terribly close. He studies your most miniscule of movements, eyes wandering and lingering on your jaw, your neck, and your lips.

The action is an arrogant, self-assured display of power, fueled by the slight, unwanted flush on your face ignited by the suffocating proximity and the sandalwood perfume on his neck—and when he tips closer, it hits you that maybe Luke wasn't bluffing at all.

So, you do the next best thing after realizing you backed yourself into a corner: you close your eyes and wait for Luke’s mouth on yours.

…

Except, it never comes.

You peek your eyes open with a slow wind, Luke has a smug satisfaction written all over his face. He slips his mouth just above your ear, breath hot and searing when he whispers, “Liar.”

You swallow your dignity into your stomach at the realization that he just humiliated you to your face, and you whisper back at him with a hardened gaze, “I’m gonna make you wish you were dead, you damn crook.”

“Do your best, sweets.” the endearment is an offensive spit in your face. Luke takes a step back before stretching his limbs with a faux yawn as he walks to the door, “Good luck with the contention. Let me know how it goes.”

—

Luke knows you like the back of his hand.

He knows you inside out, from your oddly niche allergies, to the callouses you have on your fingers because you used to compete in unauthorized, handwritten poetry competitions with the campers from Apollo, Demeter, and Aphrodite before Chiron shut it down.

(The poetry competitions somehow turned into betting games, which were also unsanctioned.)

He knows you’re just about the most brilliant strategist at camp, as proven by the quest paraphernalia displayed in the attic that you’ve managed to snag along the way, but you let the younger campers like Annabeth hone their skills and take center stage during camp games.

He knows you have marks on your neck that map out the shape of the Lyra constellation, traced from your neck down to the bottom of your collarbone, and he knows, by heart, how long it takes to kiss the stars, one by one, before you give out on your knees.

Most of all, Luke knows that when you despise somebody, you despise them with a burning hatred that singes and ignites everything around you with charring smoke and flame.

And that’s what he exactly gets for being the ex from a relationship felled by a spiteful fallout: your loud hatred, concentrated resentment, and your sweet, sweet unbridled attention in the quest.

Frankly, Luke supposes having your attention is worth it, despite being rooted in bad faith and distrust in his actions.

“My feet are killing me.” you suck at your teeth, eyes glued to the thickets, “This route’s going to wear us down faster than Aphrodite could ever do.”

You’ve done nothing but go and complain about Luke’s decisions for the past couple of days, and it’s a deliberate call on your end—being annoying and insubordinate just enough to piss him off, but never too much as to jeopardize the quest and its goal.

To be fair, you were the daughter of a war goddess. Your words held weight, and not to mention considerable influence and accuracy on your calls on strategy and quest location planning.

It was just that you were using your mother’s gifts to piss the hell off Hermes’ kid.

It’s a lure dangled just above his face, just out of reach to push Luke to his very limit. You’re convinced it’s an art form in itself, the act of patience and persistence in getting somebody to break.

But you haven't had much luck, because as the world would have it, Luke knew what you were doing, and decided he wasn't going to give you the slightest bit of satisfaction by displaying irritation.

He’ll do just about anything to keep your eye on him.

“Are they, now?” Luke answers, a few steps away from you. He keeps walking, and when he doesn't hear your feet shuffling behind him, he turns around, “Sore?”

“Deadly.” you groan, rolling your ankles off the ground. In your defense, the trail ahead was rigorous, bumpy, and slippery from the recent rainfall. Not to mention the elevation gain throughout. You had more than enough of a right to complain, “We should’ve just cut through the highway instead of playing hiker.”

There was some truth to your assertion��it really would wear you down, but not so exaggeratedly.

Luke crosses his arms, a usual telltale hint of irritation, but none of it is present in his voice, “And be picked off the asphalt by a rogue Fury?”

“At least a Fury would take the pressure off my feet.” you grumble, and continue walking forward when you realize Luke just wasn't biting down. You look to the sky in an attempt to clear your head.

In your reflections, you fail to notice that Luke’s gone quiet with mischief, and you see your clear fault of letting your guard down when you get picked off the ground and hauled over his shoulder like cattle.

“Castellan—” you gasp, your vision in a whiplash, “What the hell! Put me down!”

Luke secures an arm over the back of your knees, the other one supporting your hip on his shoulder. He speaks to you with no hint of a struggle, “You wanted to put the pressure off your feet, right?”

“And the first solution that came to mind was to carry me on your shoulder?” you say in disbelief, propping yourself up with your arms on his back, “That's not how things work, you freak!”

“You’d rather I carry you in my arms?”

“I’d rather you put me down on the ground!”

“And let you hurt your small princess feet?” Luke coos in a voice so sickeningly sweet, it makes you feel as if nauseous from a sugar rush, “You know I’d never let you do that.”

“Gods, I hate you.” you grumble with a voice hinting resignation. You go limp on top of his shoulder when you realize there’s no point in arguing with him, “You’re the worst.”

“Get used to it.” Luke says, starting to walk the trail into the forest, “The worst hasn't even happened yet.”

“And that’s supposed to be what?”

He taps you thrice on the back of your knee, “I’ll let you figure that out on your own.”

—

It’s hard to forget that you and Luke are exes by the way you two fall quickly into a routine when left alone. Despite the rough start to your quest that resulted in petty arguments, derailments, and relentless teasing, your disgruntlement with Luke has sort of fizzled out into something a little more tameable, something malleable under shared snickers and a few will-they-won’t-they situations.

It starts off in treks where he takes your pack without a second thought when your breathing lags a little more than usual because you weren't as physically inclined as you'd like, in moments where you catch him forking away at the raisins in your bread so you wouldn't recoil at the sight, and during slow days when the journey is oddly peaceful, and the two of you wordlessly take detours to see pretty trails that Luke gets a little too excited over.

It ends with Luke falling from a spiraling tree root sprawled on the soil, and with flowering wounds on his hands and face.

“You’re a mess.”

You frown over the soft orange spires of the campfire, watching Luke with a pitiful red bruise birthed from his own actions. He’s fussing over his own wounds, and he tries, really, to the best of his abilities, but Luke hasn't attended a first aid class from Apollo’s cabin in years—and it’s showing in the way he tries to treat the bloody marks on his face.

“You’re pitiful.” You comment, looking down at his hunched figure over the sprawled kit. It doesn't help that it’s nighttime and he struggles more and more with adequate light without burning himself on the bonfire, “A disgrace. Pathetic.”

“I’m hurt.” He says, going back to applying an ointment that comes out way too watery because he doesn't know you have to shake it, “I’m hurt and you’re being mean to me.”

You can hear the obvious dramatisation in his voice, evident in the way he draws out his vowels. He’s pitiful and pathetic—just like you said—but for some reason, you find yourself slumped on a log next to him, stealing the balm from his hands.

“Give it to me.” You grit through your teeth, like you’ve been forced to help him by some unknown force, “Best swordsman in 300 years, and he cannot apply healing ointment on himself.”

It’s a comment made under your breath, and when you shake the tube and apply the cream on his arm, you miss the small smile Luke gives you.

The air is so cold with the night air and ripe with tenderness, and the two of you don't miss its hint when you touch Luke’s chin to move his head to the side, applying ointment on the gash lining his cheekbone.

“I’m shocked you’re not even recoiling at this.” You mutter, lathering out a pea-sized amount on his face, “You must hate it so much.”

It’s rare that you strike up a conversation first, but it seems like the intimacy of the moment has gotten to you, so Luke entertains you, “At what?”

“This.” You sign to the two of you, “I’ve done this to you a lot before, but it embarrasses you every time, doesn't it?”

It always started with you having to fuss over him, and with Luke being pissed off—and ended with an fiery argument without fail.

It was a stupid thing to argue about; but when you’ve just passed the honeymoon threshold of a young relationship, everything felt far too intense far too early.

Luke cannot find it in himself to answer immediately, a little embarrassed by the idea of his past actions, so you pacify the situation by talking, “I get it, you know.” You hum, “I was overbearing, and young, and overexcited.”

“And I was stupid, and angry, and cowardly.” Luke answers, an airy chuckle coming out of his lips, “I think we’re just fair. Actually, I might've been worse.”

You shrug, keeping your concentration on the gash. Luke’s eyes are peeking at the side, taking a look at you through feathered eyelashes.

“Hey, smart girl?”

A hum of acknowledgment lets him know you’re listening despite the utter focus on his cheek.

“I really was stupid back then for a lot of things, wasn't I?”

You stop momentarily. It’s wordless knowledge, knowing what he’s referring to, but you aren't sure you want to mull it over right now. The moment is too dangerously intimate to dabble in something so sensitive, so you decide to respond by whispering out an “Mhm.” before continuing on.

Luke watches you and your concentrated look, your lips jutted out and your nose in a slight scrunch. He feels like he’ll physically melt at the feeling of your hands cradling his face.

You’re finished with fussing over his wounds, and in a state of effortless muscle memory from all the times you had to do this to him before, your grip on his chin unconsciously angles him to face you, and you move to give him a peck on the side of his lip.

You’re so precariously near when you catch yourself and jolt into freezing. There’s only a breath’s width between you and him. It leaves you with Luke’s eyes gazing right into yours, eyes as wide as deer in headlights.

You can hear nothing but the crickets of the forest, the crackling of the firepit, and the ring of your slowly accelerating heartbeat. The time stills into a simmering tick.

Luke’s eyes flicker somewhere down in a split-second, and he squints at you, “Were you going to give me a kiss?”

You’re taken out of the trance, and in a flash of panic, quickly push Luke’s face away from yours, “You look horrible up close, Castellan.”

It’s an offhand comment, but Luke doesn't seem to mind when he scoffs out a comment of his own, “Oh please, we’ve made out a lot closer before.”

A red flush comes out of your face, shocked that he would bring up something so old, “And I hated every second of it every single time.”

You didn't—but his ego doesn't deserve to know that.

“If you hated it so much, you’re about to seethe at the next act of our quest,” Luke shrugs, stretching his arms into the ground behind him.

“And that's what, now?”

“Prophecy says you owe me a kiss, remember?”

—

Oh, shit. You forgot about the kiss.

Completely blinded by your deliberate attempts to usurp Luke’s decisions as primary of the quest, you seem to have forgotten the damning condition of your victory—to share a kiss with your past lover.

Simply put, Aphrodite was bored and decided it was time to pair together people who hated each other to death and make them kiss like dolls.

Was it to rekindle buried feelings? Maybe. Was it to drive the offsprings of gods into insanity? Oh, absolutely.

But whatever Aphrodite wanted to achieve by having you and Luke venture out into the world, it still doesn't do so much as change the thoughts plaguing your head for the last few days.

When was this kiss going to happen?

Since leaving the camp, and after that shred of intimacy that night, every passing moment became ripe with untouched tension, thick enough to cut through with a knife and a saw. You felt your heartbeat pound into your ear at the times when Luke would pull you close when he knew a creature was watching a little too intently, or when he would sit between your legs and let you fuss over his shoulder to have his minor wounds treated.

Normal occurrences at a quest, but with the prophecy looming over your head like an unrelenting shadow of misfortune, you were always distracted at the thought of: is this it?

Your agitation with the prophecy and your fear at the thought that Luke would smoothen you into kindness put you on edge, and soon enough your composure unraveled like loose threads and your formerly safe antics almost cost you and Luke your lives.

But it wasn't always you making the trip a hassle.

Your heavy, dragging breaths fill the tight brick alleyway just on the outskirts of the city you cut through to make a “harmless” shortcut Luke hounded you into taking, where you caught the attention of a rogue minotaur hungry for demigod dessert. Now, you have burnt soles and a creature hot on your tail.

It was a shortcut no different from the one you had insisted on taking, but Luke reason that the alternative trail was the same amount of time, with less elevation, and with more places to get food and water—but before you could leave, you realized why the town felt a lot more deserted than usual.

Luke pulled you inside the slim space by the arm, clutching you close into his body and angling you away from the mouth of the alleyway. He has one hand clamped over your mouth and the other on the base of your spine, pulling you so intensely near that you can smell his perfume and feel the ridges on his chest.

You hear the minotaur’s guttural growls and heavy gait echoing with a sharp thud, slowly and slowly until it disappears out of earshot. It’s only then that you feel the heartbeat pounding into your bones once the adrenaline runs out of your bloodstream.

You seem to realize the minotaur’s disappearance a lot faster than Luke does, with his hand remaining over your mouth and his body still pressed close to yours.

Oh, he was so incredibly close.

The flush on your face deepens at every single passing moment, your fingers picking at the skin beneath your nails, with your body becoming hypersensitive to every point that touches his, fueled by the force of the two brick walls squeezing the two of you together. His body feels warm from the constant running that led you to this moment, excreting bodily heat that seeps into yours the longer he holds you close.

When Luke gazes down after ensuring that the minotaur was out of the immediate area, he finds you studying him with a wide set of eyes. He doesn't say anything, mostly because his ego is enjoying the show, watching you stare at his chest, and his arms, his neck, before ending up on his eyes.

You retain eye contact, and Luke cranes his head to your side to check on you. Luke liked getting in close for things he only wanted you to hear, so when he tipped his head down to ask if you were alright, you stalled—like deer in headlights—and panicked at the feeling of his face so close to yours. You break out of Luke’s hold when the panic seeps into your bones, and you stumble onto the open streets.

You crane your gaze to the left—and meet eyes with the minotaur.

—

The hotel off the highway is dingy and obviously seen better (and more graceful) days, with peeling wall paint, dusty carpets, and a receptionist with a mean streak who barely cares for the customers arriving. The ringer on the desk barely makes a sound over her nail file.

She files her nail with a vigorous back-and-forth, the scratching of the material screeching into your ear like nails on a chalkboard. The bright purple of her hair is mirrored by the bubblegum in her mouth, deflating in a scandalous pop when she decides to entertain you.

Well, not you exactly, but the view of the tall, handsome man standing just behind you. Who was, believe it or not, clutching his injured shoulder.

(Minotaur’s fault; not yours, directly)

You can see the instant attraction in her eyes when it lands on Luke’s figure, and you feel a dull sensation in your ribs.

“Well,” she smacks her lip, looking as if she wanted to undress Luke with her eyes, “Two separate rooms, I hope.”

“Excuse me?” you say, stopping halfway from digging into your bag for the money.

“Two rooms, right?” the receptionist rolls her eyes at you, dragging her words along the floor. She fetches two keys on the counter but keeps them beneath her palm, batting her eyelashes at Luke, “Hey, you—pretty boy. I’m a pretty good masseuse, you know.”

You press your lips together, holding back the incredulous expression your face is dying to spit out.

Two customers annoyed and frustrated at each other, looking for a room; one with a bad shoulder, and the other a sleeve catching on a doorknob away from crashing out into misery.

And the damn receptionist decides it's time to snag a quick hookup?

She continues her little show of seduction, leaning over the counter in her slightly-undone button down. There’s venom and honey dripping on her voice, and a bony finger catches itself on her lip, “I can heal that shoulder of yours real good if you let me come up to your floor.”

It’s unbelievable at this point, you decide. You could tolerate this a lot better if you were having a better day, but today was not that, at all.

Your anger, burning hot and bright, slowly becomes slightly clouded by a churning feeling at the bottom of your stomach when you realize you haven't heard Luke answer—nor did you know how he was reacting to the woman at all.

Was he enjoying the attention? Was he considering blowing off steam with her? Did he like it?

Why do you care?

You don't. That’s what you put your resolve on—and there are more serious things to think about, like how you’re on the verge of failure in your quest. He could fool around with anyone, and that wouldn't be your business. It shouldn't be your business.

Whatever turns him productive enough to lead you to completion of Aphrodite’s favor.

Your thoughts are on the verge of collapse, but as if by some wicked timing, the receptionist shakes you out of your trance and pushes you into irritability tenfold when she slips over to you one key.

“Here’s ‘ya room. Leave your boy to me, hm?”

You feel like a kettle, slowly boiling until it’s time to explode and spill over scalding hot insults and lectures about the lack of decency being given. You’re about to start when you feel a chin nuzzled into your shoulder and a hand at your waist.

Luke whispers in your ear, “She’s not worth it.”, staring at the receptionist dead in the eye before exchanging the one key for money.

“Just one room. We’ll be fine, alone.”

The elevator ride is dragging, and you’re standing on opposite sides as if Luke wasn't just clinging on you from the last minute as a response to the flirty receptionist. He looks at the floor with a restrained expression, and you have a flat frown on your mouth. It takes what feels like decades before the carriage reaches your floor.

The doors open into a narrow hall, dimly lit with matching dull carpets from the lobby. Your room isn't in any better shape than the rest of the building. It might be worse when the door shuts and another misunderstanding erupts.

“What happened back there?” Luke asks, his voice pulled taut by tension, but held back by the need to not escalate the situation, “Why did you freak out on me?”

Luke knows you’re keeping something secret, you’ve had a shift in behaviour that he doesn't exactly recognize, but feels familiar all the same.

You keep his gaze leveled to yours, “I’m not the one at fault here, Castellan. We wouldn't have been there if we took the original route.”

“Fine,” he groans, “It was my fault we ended up in that stupid alley in the city outskirts. I didn't factor in why the map wouldn't mark it as a route in the first place. But that’s not what I’m asking, isn't it?”

“What are you asking then?”

“Why’d you freak out on me in that alley?”

“And that’s such a big deal?”

“It’s a big deal because that meltdown of yours cost us an injury, supplies, and now transport money that we have to use on this hotel.” he stalks closer, tone suspiciously clear of malice, “You’re smart. You know we don't have enough time or resources for the quest, no?”

“I know that.” you snarl. You don't even know when you stood up, “Shit happens, Castellan. I can't control when and where I panic.”

“But you can.” he shrugs. You have no idea when he got so close, “I may not know what happened, but I do know you—you’re calm, collected; you hate being driven by emotion and you are Athena’s favourite child for a reason.”

You look away to the side, refusing to make eye contact, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying,” Luke drawls, as if the answer is staring at you, “Either your skills have downgraded for absolutely no reason at all, and you’ve become a shame of a daughter of a war goddess—or, something else has shook you to your core entirely. Something, or someone. That’s my guess.”

It was true—you were shaken by the prophecy and let the panic from it settle far too deep into your bones, but you were a lot more pissed by the way Luke was speaking to you. As if he knew you from the inside out, and to hell with him thinking that way.

He didn't have the right.

“You wanna know the reason, crook?” Your finger jabs into his shoulder, and you have to look up to his towering height to meet his gaze and get your point across. You were at such a close proximity now, it's as if you could taste the smugness in his voice.

He rolls his eyes, and shrugs mockingly, “Well, don't keep me waiting.”

You let out a good exhale before you postulate.

“The prophecy got under my skin.” Luke senses the tinge of nervousness in your voice, the end of your sentence faltering into a low mutter, “As much as I want to be the perfect quest companion you need so bad, the prophecy that we would have to eventually kiss crawled into my head and won't leave my consciousness since.” your voice tries to remain steadfast, “Every time you’re near, I think about the kiss, and I panic because I wouldn't know what to do with myself and I wouldn't know what to do with you. Happy now?”

You pull out a sharp exhale, “You make me nervous, Castellan. You still make me nervous.”

Luke stares at you like gears are turning in his head, his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips. The realization of what you just said hits you in the ribs, and you feel as if the oxygen in the room is too little to keep you alive and breathing. You swallow your pride and your embarrassment, wide-eyed and on your toes.

You almost move to ask Luke to say something, anything really, but he cuts you off wordlessly when his hand weaves its way into your hair and his mouth finds its slot against yours.

Time grinds into a halt, and you realize that in all the times you imagined the prophesized kiss in shameful fever dreams and trances, you never expected for it to be this: Luke kisses you like he’s been starving for months. He’s deprived and angry and desperate and moves as if there wasn't anything else he’d rather be doing than to dishevel you in the middle of the room and leave your knees weak and trembling like he used to.

Oh, gods. The kiss is like water, like a delirious thirst in your bones finally quenched and an itch you’ve been dying to scratch. You’re stunned at first, but find yourself kissing him back just as quick and just as desperate.

“I waited far too long for this.” he rasps into your mouth, tongue swiping on your bottom lip to open your mouth, “Couldn't get my mind off you even when we broke up.”

“Shut up, Castellan, for once.” you breathe out, and Luke can’t help to restrain himself when he smiles against your lips.

“I tried everything to get close again.” He says in between kisses, “Who knew we only needed a damn quest?”

The two of you are sprawled on the creaking twin-bed mattress, and Luke, despite his bad shoulder, hauls you into his lap with a burning intention to keep you there. His lips trace from pecking at your lips, to nibbling at the skin behind your ear, to tracing down searing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the bottom of your jaw.

“Castellan, I—” you gasp, melting between his mouth and the hand that’s running lines over your hips.

“That’s not my name.” he mutters between kisses, turning you over with your back to the mattress, “Say my name, smart girl.”

If you were in any sort of proper thought, you’d be flushed red and annoyed at Luke for speaking to you this way—but all rationality is thrown through the window when his lips are on your neck.

You swallow your pride, your dignity, and everything in between, “Luke.” it’s a whimper when it comes out, and he pulls you in impossibly closer.

He hums in satisfaction, dropping his head over one of the moles on your neck. Luke gives it a small lick before smoothing it over with a kiss, “Vega.”

To your collarbone, “Sheliak.”

Down to the mole just above your chest, “Sulafat.”

He’s naming the stars in the Lyra constellation, and your mouth lets out a choked moan, “Luke, shit—”

Luke pulls away after one more quick peck, and he doesn't waste time admiring your figure from head to toe. You’re resting against the white pillows, breathing heavily with a disheveled look when he asks, “You good?”

The moment finally sinks into your mind in a panicked, cascading waterfall of information—that you’ve just shamelessly made out with your ex after a frustrating run, and that you were basically pinned against him on a bed.

It’s a wash of fresh, hot shame. Before you can help it, words spill out your mouth in an attempt to save face.

“That,” you blink, still a little hazy from having Luke’s mouth on yours.

“Go on,” He says, patiently, “Take your time.”

“Well, that’s—uhm” you inhale, “—don’t take that personally, Castellan.” you rasp out, trying to hide the weakness in your voice, “That was just for the quest.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nod cautiously, “We’ve got the prophecy out the way now, haven't we?”

You doubt you were convincing him any more than you were convincing yourself when Luke gives you a sickeningly sweet grin. He’s still pinned over you, like he refuses to be anywhere else.

“Mhm,” he coos, “Sure it was.”

“That didn't mean anything to me.” you repeat, to yourself more than anyone, “And that didn't mean anything to you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Luke shrugs, now falling into the pillows next to you. He closes his eyes, sinking into the bed, “That meant the world to me.

There’s a mixture of confidence and lack of hesitation in his voice, and when you prop yourself on your elbows to look at him, he was disheveled with smeared lip gloss all over his mouth, and he looked the happiest he’s been in days.

“Hear that?” he goads with a lilt that sounds suspiciously like bait, like he’s prompting you to retaliate, “I said the kiss meant the world to me.”

You find it unimaginable to believe him, but when Luke gathers your hands in his and places them against his lips with a soft exhale, you feel your stern resolve melting at every passing second.

“You don't mean that.” Your voice sounds even weaker now, like you’re hanging on by a thread.

“I do. I mean every single word.” Luke kisses your knuckles, softly whispering, “I can prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

It’s scary.

It’s a scary realization to know what Luke’s asking for, and an even scarier realization was the fact that you were willing to give him another shot.

A second wind. Like what the prophecy asked for.

“You’re lucky I tolerate you, you crook.”

In your many years at camp, still, the best advice you could probably give somebody is not to date another camper.

But when you’re tasked to go on a journey with them promising a kiss at the end, maybe it wouldn't hurt to give it a chance.

Especially if it’s somebody like Luke Castellan.

“The luckiest alive, smart girl.”

—

“That’s my victory, then, forehead-spawn.”

A sultry voice echoes in Olympus. Aphrodite leisurely fans her face with a smug look, satisfied by the outcome of the prophecy.

Athena gives her nothing but a disgruntled expression.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #riordanverse

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lesaurita · 7 months ago

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♡︎ Izuku Midoriya as your boyfriend ♡︎

Pairing: fem!reader x Izuku Midoriya

Genre: fluff

Warnings: suggestive content, jealous!Izuku, sub!Izuku

•° first of all: he's the number 1 babygirl.

•° every hour of the day, no matter what you're doing, he'll take pictures of you. His gallery is just full of your photos. every week his lock screen changes to a new photo of you. And then he loves looking at your beautiful smiling face at night in his bed before falling asleep, so he can dream of you. When you ask him if it's necessary to take all these photos, he answers that they're useful during the times when you can't be together because of missions.

•° do you really think that the photos are enough for him? Nah, Izuku clearly has a talent for drawing, and he certainly won't waste it by only disdaining sketches of other heroes. No, in his room he has a drawer dedicated only to you, inside which there are a lot of notebooks portraying you.

•° you don't have to talk, for him even just looking at you while you share headphones and listen to your favorite songs, with a breathtaking sunset in front of you. That's enough for him.

•° he lets you do any hairstyle on his messy hair. He loves the warmth of your hands in his hair and most of all he loves your laugh when you pass him the mirror to show him the many pigtails you've made on his head.

•° speaking of laughter. HE LOVES YOURS. He would die to hear it one last time. Let's be real, he's not the funniest person in the world, but he puts his all into putting a smile on your face, accompanied by the melody of your laughter.

•° he obviously has a praise kink, tell him how good he was at something: school, missions, even the silliest one and you'll immediately notice the blush on his cheeks.

"Izuku, baby, you did so good today on patrolling. I'm so proud of you." you praise him while placing your hand on his cheek.

"t-thanks, baby. You d-did good too." He's literally pout in your hands.

•° PDA is scared of Izuku. he loves showing you affection both when it's just the two of you, and outside, no matter where you are. Kisses, hugs, arm around your waist, your head resting on his shoulder. He doesn't care if anyone is watching you.

•° it might not seem like it on the surface, but ohh HE'S A JEALOUS JEALOUS JEALOUS BOY. Despite his puppy-dog appearance, he wastes no time when someone stares at you for a few seconds too long to put an arm around your shoulders and turn you towards him, so that he is your only view. Not to mention when they hit on you.

"so, you free tonight, pretty?" a boy a little older than you leans against the bar counter where you're sitting at.

"sorry, but I'm not interested. I have a boyfriend." You try to dodge him off.

"oh, c'mon." He reaches for your face "I don't see him around". Before he can lay even a finger on you, a hand slaps the boy's hand away, and based on the look on his face it must have hurt.

"you didn't see me, but bet you felt that." He couldn't leave you alone even to go to the bathroom, ugh.

•° his only reasons for living are two: to become a hero worthy of being called such and...you. He worhips you so much, you're a goddess in his eyes who can do no wrong. You're just out of this world for him, not real.

•° SUBMISSIVE!! Oh this boy is the definition of submission. In bed he becomes a real mess for you, the control is yours and you can do whatever you want with him, he won't say a word, don't worry.

•° he's the kind of guy who gives you little gifts almost every time you go on a date, or rather every time you see each other. It could be a bouquet of flowers, an origami heart, etc...

#izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #deku #deku x reader #mha izuku #mha x reader #izuku midoriya x you #izuku x reader #deku x you

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thatsmistertoyou · 4 months ago

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maybe a hot take idk

look I know many people are upset about the pricing/fee situation of the TIT livestream (me included, I was pissed as hell that I got a large surprise fee), and I hope everything gets sorted out. I’m proud of the phandom for being loud and demanding fairness from the platform. you will not get shit past us.

I understand that. however, I completely disagree with some opinions I’ve seen (mainly on twitter but whatever) that charging for the stream at all is greedy, especially for people who have already paid to see the show. this is a weird take imo because this stream is supposed to be an opportunity for people who didn’t get to go to see it with an audience as a communal experience. but if you already spent money and don’t want to spend more, don’t!

and I don’t know anything about anything but based on the very little information dnp have provided about the cost of touring, I really don’t think they have the option to just do the stream for free. this is just my opinion, but based on how dan said he lost money touring WAD, i would not be surprised if the livestream paid for the rights he needed to release it for free on YouTube (and the extremely important rights to play All Star in the credits). just because he wrote and performed it doesn’t mean he owned it. it would not surprise me at all if the profits from the stream don’t go to dnp only.

and also, Things Cost Money, including livestreams. I think the platform has really showed their ass, but if we remove them from the equation for a second - everyone who put on TIT, including Dan and Phil, deserve to be compensated for their work. I don’t expect them to bleed money into this project forever just because it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m sure they’re doing just fine financially, but they are not and never have asked anyone to take food off their table to support them.

I actually find it really disheartening to see just how many people were like, legitimately, personally angry with dnp before they had even had a chance to respond to our concerns. I’ve been around long enough to remember when they announced TABINOF, there was an uproar about how they were sellouts because they were writing a book just like every other youtuber, making a shitty cashgrab when they had nothing to say. in the 2 days before we knew what the book would even be about, the Discourse had never been more annoying or mean spirited.

and it made me wonder, what are yall doing here if you assume the worst like that? have you just been waiting for the masks to slip? are you appalled that they participate in the heinous capitalistic act of selling their labor like everyone else? have your years of support not earned a little bit of grace when there’s a miscommunication?

I’m not saying approach everything like ‘they’ve never done anything wrong once in their whole lives and never will’, but the vitriol that seems to come out at minor fuck ups is alarming. some of yall do not like them and it shows. (I am looking directly at twitter dot com now)

I find that attitude really sad. after the TABINOF drama, I promised myself I’d never lose sleep over phandom nonsense again, so I’m going to bed, just had to get some thoughts out there. 💙

#mine #idk i had thoughts

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st4r-th0ughts · 5 months ago

Text

I’m breaking down, I’m sorry.

masterlist

(platonic) corrupted? Ancient GN! reader cookie x Ancient Heros

Clotted cream Cookie x reader (+implied very very slight one sided Ancients x reader)

BAKENOHANA (NAKISO) ▶︎ •��၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:31

ׂ╰┈➤

tw/cw: Reader’s a bit of an asshole so be warned, thier also a flirty one. The Beast Cookie is my own OC (personally I don’t want to just refer to them as beast, they and whatnot bc it would be confusing) and some of the cookies in flashbacks are as well. Reader also has anger issues and probably an identity crisis so yay, written before Beast Yeast Ep.8

note(s): not proofread! this takes place in a slightly altered version of the crk timeline. Golden Cheese is present during the Cookie Odessey story, and the request of Reader’s strength is during Cookie Odessey right after Day 4, instead of Golden Cheese’s kingdom being located after the whole Cookie Odessey instead. This doesn’t affect any lore much tbh

special thanks: this entire fic was kickstarted by @brittle-doughie based on thier Virtue of Compassion! Reader. While the story is completely different, your fics are the ones that gave me the motivation to write this.

summary: O Light of Gaiety, tell me so, how do I let go of the sorrows of the future?

ׂ╰┈➤

gaiety, /ˈɡeɪ.ə.t̬i/ happiness and excitement.

sorrow, /sor·row/ deep distress, sadness, or regret especially for the loss of someone or something loved

——

A gasp escapes you as you stare ahead of you, your soul jam glowing brighter in your scarf accessory, your hand moving close to grip it unconsciously, looking around at the walls, as if they were melting by the second and closing in on your form.

“This again? I’ve been seeing these halls for the last few nights.”

You murmur quietly, your throat feeling dry as you stare at the overwhelming melancholic feeling of the stale air around you, the environment making you feel dulled and sorrowful by the minute.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve come across the place. Ever since you helped Pure Vanilla regain his soul after being corrupted by the Beast of Lies and Deception’s powers, you’ve been having similarly resounding nightmares he’d described in one of your late night talks.

Only this time, there was no one here. And the loneliness of the silence was making you go nuts. You place a hesitant foot forward, and immediately, the abyss shifts to form a hallway. Cracked, paint peeling from its thin, greyed wafer walls, the icing that held the place together slowly melting into puddles, the sounds of soft, despaired whispers echoing through your mind.

You slowly walk through the hallways, and you stop at a turn, and gazing down it, showed you a collection of mirrors, and curiously prompted you to turn and walk down there instead, almost as if you were supposed to.

The reflections were not of you, but of your memories. Cheerful. Happy. Just like your Virtue. Despite the overwhelming feeling of sorrow enveloping you like a cold hug, a smile forms on your face as your hands fondly press against the glass.

The first memory you could set your eyes upon was your ascension as your kingdom’s ruler. You had pledged your oath, swearing that all cookies who inhabited the land of Gaiety and Joy, would be the most joyful, well taken care of cookies in EarthBread. Kneeling down, you had felt the crown settling neatly on your head, fitting perfectly.

Your friends were proud as ever. Pure Vanilla and White Lily were smiling tenderly in joy at your coronation, Dark Cacao, stern as ever, had the slightest hint of whatever he could call a smile on his face. Hollyberry was hosting the widest grin you think a cookie could make, and Golden Cheese was the first to give you a proud speech of you sharing your riches with her, though it was with sheer fondness and no malice.

The next frame housing a mirror was your regaining of your souljam. After the Dark Flour War, your efforts to try and hold your friends together failed, and in a fit of rage at feeling inadequate, and the despair that as the Virtue of Gaiety, you failed to keep your friend’s spirits up and keep them together in dark times, you smashed your souljam into fragments, leaving them to be scattered by the harsh winds of the Sugar Powder Desert as your heart and Virtue chilled to the core.

You ruled your kingdom with the same grace you had before, smiling during public walks and appearances. But within your walls, where only your soldiers and confidants remained, your heart was as cold as stone, mind as scrambled as cookie crumbs on a battle field. Gingerbrave and his friends entered your kingdom to try and speak to you, convince you to return to the Ancient Cookies’ sides to fight Dark Enchantress Cookie, and they’d brought to you your souljam fragments. The sight of it had made you snap, recalling all those terrible memories you had tried so hard to repress, and you’d taken the souljam and smashed it again, sending the group out of the palace with threats of imprisonment and execution.

It was only after Dark Cacao, Golden Cheese’s and Hollyberry forcefully pushed past your guards and Pure Vanilla had pleaded with you to listen to them, to your life old friends. They made you face them head on, even if your weapons did clash in your fury, even as you accused them of turning their backs onto you even as you tried to help them, and on their own citizens. Your soul jam had called out to you, just as gentle and as joyful as it was when you destroyed it.

“Reader Cookie, come. It is time… you open your heart, to your loyal subjects, to your friends. To become the kind, gentle ruler you once were.”

You remember the overwhelming guilt that swallowed you whole at once as the Light of Gaiety spoke to you, hearing your voice in its gentle and tender state that you hadn’t used in centuries made you stumble as you held the cracked gem in your hands, and you recall Pure Vanilla and Golden Cheese’s hands holding you upright as Hollyberry and Dark Cacao stood in front of you to offer support if needed.

“O Light of Gaiety, forgive me. I have made… so many grave errors in my pain and grief. I am not worthy of being one of the Ancient Heroes.”

You had murmured softly, cradling the gem in your hands as the cracks slowly started to heal, and you witness through the mirror at how the Ancients, the cookies you called your closest friends, had such heartbroken expressions on their faces. It made your heart ache as well, though it had been a few months since that event as a quiet sigh left your lips.

“For years, pain has ebbed away at your joy, wearing and chipping you down into a cold and closed off cookie whose hurt is unable to be shared with anyone.”

“Your pain will not go away even if you accept me into your life again, Reader Cookie. But you should trust in the cookies around you. To help you regain your values and virtues of Gaiety, to be the cookie your subjects, your friends, need again.”

The image fades from the mirror as it cracks, your hand jerking away as you sigh quietly. On your scarf’s ribbon, your souljam starts to shake, your eyes darting as you come face to face with another mirror, its corners cracked and some shards even missing, compared to the other pristine and intact mirror that had housed the last two memories.

The imaging was grim. It was the time of when you felt your friends were slowly becoming distant. Shells of the strong, powerful warriors you once knew. In the mirror, it simply reflected your form, hunched over and weeping softly as your souljam laid dark in front of you.

Voices of your friends filled your mind, words not of care and kindness, but of spite and malice you knew they could never direct towards any cookie, much less to you, and you recoil as the glass breaks, your mirror self’s cries echoing faintly throughout the warped hallways.

The weeps slowly ebb away as you realize it was no longer your sobs, but it was of another cookie. Soft, grief filled sobs that would have filled a normal cookie with so much despair and sorrow they could have burst into tears on the spot, unable to move. But you weren’t ordinary. At least, not anymore.

So your step into the room where you could locate the weeping, and your heart stops for a beat. A hunched figure, exactly how you saw yourself in that mirror, crying into their palms as they face away from your form, their front facing the window that cast a dim light over them.

Your souljam starts to shake uncontrollably, and you hold it down with a firm hand as you stepped cautiously to the cookie, their head turning abruptly to face you as tears streaked their sorrowful face, and you jump back.

“Oh Reader Cookie… my last missing piece of my sorrowful soul…”

The mysterious cookie reached out, standing up as their hands reach out to you, stopping as you stepped back, and they tilt their head, a curious but sad look in their eyes.

“You… you seem… familiar. Like we’ve met before.”

You uttered softly, in both subtle awe and disbelief, and the cookie’s voice is soft and grief filled as they reach for your soul jam, which you held firmly as it trembled violently, trying to break free.

“Of course we’ve met before. You… Reader Cookie, are my Virtue.”

Your eyebrow raises in confusion as your ever so faint awed smile disappearing as the cookie stepped towards you, their hands finding your face, feeling you, as if you were their greatest masterpiece.

“Your… Virtue? I don’t understand…”

Your eyes widened in realization. As your eyes meet the mysterious cookie’s, a gasp erupted from your throat as their pale, cream colored eyes gaze sadly into yours.

After the events of Pure Vanilla’s corruption, you had buried yourself in books dedicated to the Beast Cookies, determined to know as much as you could about them to make sure your friends didn’t suffer further tragedies. Nights spent combing through books, skipping meals and locking yourself in your personal study.

Sleepless nights led you to a book that described a cookie from the ones graced with the power of the souljam. That sixth cookie blessed with divine power was the Virtue of Feeling, and was the only one to not be corrupted like the rest of the Beast Cookies, but instead, disappeared off the face of EarthBread after witnessing their friends be corrupted and sealed away.

Dawn Extract Cookie. The cookie described to possess the sweetest and glossiest cream colored eyes in all of EarthBread. One look into them made the cookie feel the emotions of them, whether negative or positive. It was said Dawn Extract Cookie’s souljam had splintered into many pieces as opposed to their beast cookies’ souljams being split into two.

“Of all my souljam fragments, you are the only one that manifested a physical form without my input, and the only that could astray from that fragment without much repercussions.”

Dawn Extract murmured softly, their hands finding your face as they slowly felt every faint crack from battle, every small wrinkle from your joyous smiles, and their hand pulls away as they step back. You finally caught a glimpse of their soul jam. It was identical to yours, but its cracks were visible, it looked like someone had badly glued them together. And its middle was missing.

“No. No. No, this can’t be-”

You stutter as your hand runs through your hair, staring down at the mirror that had appeared at your feet, watching the ripples of the glass contort as your features distort into swirls.

“I have- I have parents! Siblings, i grew up from a freshly baked doughball into a cookie! How could i- be your souljam?”

Your voice trails off into silence, and since entering this nightmare, you feel the sorrow that has been weighing you down start to chip away at your spirit.

“My souljam has given you false memories to pacify the need for knowing your past, your origin. You are my souljam. You are the last of my Virtue.”

Dawn Extract Cookie’s voice is soft, it would be comforting if it was not for the fact that your life as you knew it, as you thought you knew it, was completely shattered.

“Give in to your heart’s sorrow. Give in and allow your grief to become one with mine. You feel guilt. You feel sadness. Let them consume you.”

The Beast murmured, tears trickling slowly down their face in translucent, thin streaks, making them look almost comforting as their hand reached for you, the aura of despair growing stronger.

You snap out of your sorry state. You wouldn’t. You won’t give in. You didn’t fight for your kingdom, against Dark Enchantress Cookie, cry and scream as your friends walked away from you one by one, allowed them to come back into your life, and took back the Light of Gaiety that you’d shattered into pieces.

“No. I am Reader Cookie. I am the Virtue of Gaiety, and my desire to see cookies smile across EarthBread.”

You can’t tell if your affirming yourself, or if your trying to push back against Dawn Extract’s calm words, stepping back as they stepped closer to you, though their steps were slow and calculated, they were not menacing.

“Resisting is futile, Reader. You may hold the Light of Gaiety in your hands, but you are a part of my own powers. You hold Sorrow in your heart, and it will eventually consume you as it did me.”

Dawn Extract’s voice echoed in your mind, ringing in your ears as you recoiled violently, the Beast’s form towering over your crouched figure as you winced as their cold hands gripped your chin, forcing you to gaze into their grief consumed eyes, chilling you to the core.

“Witness, how your Sorrow will consume. Witness how your friends will all perish and become just as twisted as the Beasts whom I called friends.”

You feel yourself fall backwards as visions flash through your mind, and your heart sinks into your chest, your souljam falling into Dawn Extract’s hand as it slowly retracted into the final piece in the Beast’s own gem, your hands reaching blindly as you screamed for your soul jam to return, to not leave like your friends once did.

Hollyberry was first to fall. You watched as her Passion start to slowly waver and finally break, her strong love for her kingdom, her friends, her family, crumbled entirely, and she became indifferent to them, indifferent to the suffering she started to cause.

Dark Cacao fell next. His Resolution was strong and took longer than Hollyberry’s Passion to fade out, but eventually, his determination to keep his kingdom safe, his unwavering care for his subjects, became half hearted, second guessing and delaying both his advisor’s and his decisions, and his kingdom soon crumbled.

Golden Cheese’s Greed soon became corrupted, her need for gold, riches, land and resources making the loyalty and care for her subjects and friends she had placed above all treasures become nothing, meaningless to the Golden Sovereign as they had no monetary value.

White Lily’s Virtue of Freedom soon became a value akin to her dark counterpart, the wretched Dark Enchantress Cookie, but perhaps even worse. She ended up capturing the Faerie Kingdom who once saw her as a hero, under the guise and illusion she was keeping them ‘safe’, and when they rebelled and eventually perished at her hand, she sought to do the same for the rest of Crispia.

Pure Vanilla stood strongest, though his heart broke completely at watching all his friends save for you turn to the dark side, and in his heroic stricken heart, he immersed himself in a world of lies, where none of the bad things that had befallen upon all of you ever took place. His deceitful world, however, ended with corrupted whatever remained untainted of Crispia, causing the whole world to fall and be destroyed in chaos.

You hit solid ground, but you made no move to get up, slowly getting into a half kneel position, tears streaming gently down your face in thin rivulets as the visions plague your mind. You feel your heart slowly breaking, as you desperately tried to deny it.

“No… no… they.. they would never…”

Dawn Extract slowly stepped in front of you, their footsteps light as they came to a halt, and you could hear the sorrow, the pity and sympathy in thier voice as you feel your tears stream faster, their cold hands wiping them away from you in a masked attempt at comfort.

“But they will. It is inevitable. Your friend, White Lily Cookie, has fallen once, though not to her souljam.”

The Beast bends down in front of you, thier glossy cream eyes gazing into your deeply as you feel your heart slowly be wretched further into the depths of inexplicable sadness, your determination that was oh so strong, crumbling further by the second.

“Who is to say your other friends won’t be next? You saw it with your own eyes.

You tried so hard to deny that reality. But this Beast was one who had witnessed thier own friends be corrupted and turn into amalgamations of monstrous, almost demonic beings. This… this was your fate as well. To see all the cookies you loved with your heart be crumbled and destroyed.

“I… what was the point of fighting at all? If we… if we were all simply going to become just as corrupted as the Beasts we battle against?”

You mutter softly, your knees making contact with the ground as you quietly weep into your hands, the tears blurring your vision as you feel your form be swallowed by the darkness of the abyss of despair.

“Is this… how sorrow feels like?”

You whisper to yourself as the coldness of the dark consumes you into its depths, your vision fading to black as you mindlessly reach your hand out to the light that was fading faster by the second, your tears never ending as the abyss embraces you.

—— (Pure Vanilla POV Centric)

Pure Vanilla quickly strode through the hallways of the winding and curling hallways of an unfamiliar place that his souljam was guiding him and his friends through. He’d woken up from a sweet dream where he could fantasize about a world and life where him and his friends never experienced the tragedies and hardships that befell them.

His friends strode quickly behind in equal speed, the Consul of the Creme Republic having the most worried air surrounding him, despite the plainly calm though slightly stressed out expression on Clotted Cream Cookie’s face.

The Ancients have each other glances as he pulled on his sleeve slightly every so often as he gazed around the twisting hallways. They didn’t blame Clotted Cream. After all, he and you, despite the short amount of time you had known each other, had gathered some sweet affection.

It was a rather heartwarming thing to see, honestly. After seeing you break down in their arms after seething at them, regain back your souljam, helping you recover from years of isolation despite being in a kingdom that was built and thriving on your endless love and grace, despite being surrounded by citizen cookies who adored you with all thier hearts.

Pure Vanilla sighed softly as he tapped his staff on the uneven mirrored floors gently, his closed eyes fixating upon a large, ornate mirror with gold plated markings, his Light Of Truth shining and wavering more rapidly than before, and he felt his friend’s soul jams doing the exact same.

The group gathered in the front of the mirror, watching the milky glass swirl before them as their reflection faded and out came the memory that, save for White Lily Cookie and Clotted Cream Cookie, could recognize almost immediately. The day Gingerbrave had came to the other four Ancients in a despaired state, saying that you had smashed your souljam into pieces and sent it to be thrown into the fireplace.

You were pacing around the throne room, muttering angrily to yourself as you gave the Ancients a harsh glare, silencing any words they had tried to get out, your footsteps quick and rapid, your eyes almost staring through them.

“So, you all- come back to your senses only now? Only after decades, only after I establish a beautiful kingdom, where cookies are prospering, running on the streets, and have the best military and political party at my side, you want me to risk it all for a war you don’t even know you can win?!”

You slam your fist into a wall, your generals flinching back at your fury, your closest advisors slowly making their way to your side to calm you down, though you push their hands away with as much controlled rage to get your point across.

“Reader Cookie, you may not like what I’m going to say…”

HollyBerry’s voice rings out, her voice muffled through the mirror’s reflection, White Lily and Clotted Cream’s faces the only ones visibly surprised as the other four winced slightly as they recalled you, the Virtue of Gaiety, loose their temper so quickly.

“…but we are all just as responsible for Dark Enchantress Cookie’s return to EarthBread! After the Dark Flour War, we had done nothing to prevent her return!”

Your form stops in the mirror, and only then, did they all manage to get a vision of your face. Your once graceful and kind face contorted in pure bitter fury and rage as your voice chuckled bitterly.

“We? WE?! We are responsible? Tell me, my DEAR friends, who was the one who tried to keep our crumbling friendship together, and it was STILL futile?! ME! It was only ME, who tried!”

Your voice was shaking, filled with so much hate, rage and sorrow that your advisors themselves stepped back entirely, as you storm towards the Ancients who were standing at the base of your throne steps, gazing at your enraged form with shock.

“You do not- get to lump me with your- your foolish mistakes, when I did everything, EVERYTHING in my power, to keep us together! As friends!”

Your gaze, so piercing, and so fierce that even through the mirror’s glossy reflection, the cookies surrounding them shudder slightly at how your eyes, blazing with fury, if looks could kill, they would drop crumbling two times over.

“Hollyberry cookie, you- left your kingdom, abandoned your Light of Passion, all for exploration, abandoning your kingdom, leaving them vulnerable to attacks, and allowed a dragon- of all things! To take over your kingdom you were once so proud of.”

“Dark Cacao, you allowed yourself to become a- a useless king! You left tribes to fend for themselves, to rely solely on themselves against the terrifying monsters of the kingdom! All for a wall that crumbled the moment the threat you worked oh so hard to keep at bay rose up!”

“Golden Cheese Cookie, you decided instead of accepting your losses, and trying to find your still living subjects, you let yourself be lost in a world of digital bliss where your citizens were stopped in time, suffering the loss of the outside life, of being able to grow. Is that the Golden Sovereign’s Greed?”

“And Pure Vanilla Cookie. Had you not decided to be a- coward, and simply faced your fears head on, we would not be in this situation. And you are all here, asking me to give up all I have left for a war? You don’t even the decent to bring White Lily with you to change my mind. See yourselves out.”

The words were sneered, jeering, almost, as if the very intent was not to make them see the errors of their ways, but to hurt them as much as possible, and make their heart twist and clench in their dough. Even as the imaging fades from the mirror and the soul jams glow, subtly prompting them to move forward, the silence hung over them like a heavy cloud.

It had been a few months since that whole fiasco occurred. Even though, the four eventually did get you to join their side, the tension was still palpable. You refused HollyBerry’s invitations for drinks, avoided Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese’s attempts at talks and discussion like the plague, and Pure Vanilla’s effort were just as fruitless even as he knocked on your door during your stay in the Vanilla Kingdom. During meetings, you barely gave your input, only making the effort to speak and let your old self shine through most when flirting relentlessly with the Consul, much to your old friends’ chagrin. Meals was without your presence, and from what they could gather, you’d only eaten after everyone had been cleared of the hall.

White Lily was no different, even after you had met and reunited in the Faerie Kingdom, you were distant. Barely spoke a word to White Lily or Pure Vanilla, even words exchanged between Gingerbrave and his friends were short and rather cold. They understood, it was evident that while guilt plagued your heart, anger and the feeling of betrayal ran just as deep. Shadow Milk even poked fun at your obvious resentment and behavior, which only served for your negativity to fester deeper.

It was evident your icy exterior was starting to melt away, as Pure Vanilla recalled quietly to himself about his own corruption into the Truthless Recluse, how you had used your own dough as a shield between Gingerbrave, Strawberry and Wizard Cookie, your body cracking as you tried to reach through the Virtue of Truth’s heart to locate the cookie you knew was the kindest out of all of you.

Pure Vanilla had almost broke down after coming back to his senses, seeing how he’d failed to protect his friend again, apologizing repeatedly as he healed your broken wounds, and you’d simply smiled and patted his back reassuringly. The same smile the ruler of the Vanilla Kingdom remembered all so well when he first met you, during better times.

He wonders whether those times will ever come back. Whether the times when the group would get together around a campfire, laughing and smiling, before the burden of being a leader, before the burden of having the purest powers in the whole of EarthBread was entrusted upon you all. Your smile, he was sure, brought just a bit more joy to the Ancient’s faces.

He is snapped out of his thoughts as they come across another mirror, the surface rippling and wobbling as a low hum emitted from it when they tried to move closer to it, prompting the group to step back. The milky white surface cleared, showing you hunched over in your chamber rooms of your castle, they presumed, soft sobs wracking your form in the mirror.

“I- oh Witches, what have I done?”

Your cracked voice echoed in their ears, broken and defeated, and Pure Vanilla immediately recognized the regal clothes you wore, it was the same day that you had torn them apart, ripped their esteem and hope to shreds and thrown them out without a second thought that day.

“I feel so much… anger. I thought I would feel liberated, I felt all my hate drive me to say such terrible things…”

“But I feel empty.”

The imaging fades as the mirror cracks, perhaps to keep your dignity before it is completely wrecked, or a twisted game by the Beast that resides here to infiltrate the cookies’ hearts with sorrow. The only sound that the hallways echoed around them was the subtle weeping that made their hearts fill with an odd melancholy.

fin.

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astraljedi · 5 months ago

Text

With you, I serve

With you, I fall down - Joaquin Torres

This wasn't requested and I haven't written in a while for Tumblr, but I suddenly had the itch to write this after watching Captain America yesterday. I've loved this man since forever and its a shame that I started so late to write for him! Warnings: Contains spoilers from Captain America: Brave New World, angst, mention of war & combat trauma, severe injuries (burns, surgery)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female OC

Word Count: 2,931

Song: epiphany by Taylor Swift

A/N: For every Joaquin fic I write, I’ll be using my OC. It makes writing easier for me when I can create a character with a backstory. I don't include any detailed descriptions of the OC, other than that she's female.

You can find Part 2 here

Unknown Location, Military Base – 08:45

“I want to make this clear: everyone in this room is considered the top of your class as pilots. Your classmates are not your enemy—ego is your enemy,” I begin, scanning the faces of the pilots seated before me. “We are all here for one reason: to protect those who need protecting. We might butt heads during flight practice, but get this through your skulls. We defend the helpless, and we all make it back alive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the class chants, posture rigidly straight. I stand at the front of the room, just beside the podium I refuse to use. With a nod, I dismiss them to retrieve their flight gear and prepare their planes for their first flight evaluation.

As I gather my belongings to do the same, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen—unknown caller ID.

“Captain, a word.”

I turn to see Colonel Matthews stepping into the classroom. I’ve been under his wing since I started my career and he was still a lieutenant. I enlisted after my mother passed during deployment, and he gave me the support and time to grieve. But he also made sure I knew I was more than my mother’s legendary career. I built my own, becoming a pilot and now a flight instructor.

“Colonel, of course.” I set my phone atop my files and face him.

“What do you think of the class? I need your honest opinion.” His brows are nearly stuck together, and he shifts on his feet, the stress written all over his face.

“Well, on paper, they look good, but I haven’t started their evaluations yet,” I admit. This assignment was suddenly dropped on me, so I only had a few hours to go over their files last night. I barely slept, and during my morning FaceTime with my boyfriend, he didn’t hesitate to scold me for it. As if he has any room to talk when he can knock out the second his head hits the pillow, while I need a full ritual just to get a decent six hours. “I’ll have a solid opinion after their flight practice.”

“Good. With what happened at the White House, Celestial Island, and whatever the hell decides to show up next, we need the best.”

When half the world disappeared, we adjusted and survived. But when suddenly everyone came back, it was chaos. And things just keep happening. Now we live in a new fear—what if the Blip wasn’t the worst? What if something bigger is out there?

“We do.” I nod. “And I know I can push these pilots to their full potential.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why you’re here.” He smiles, patting my shoulder. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

I force a smile, ignoring the faint ache in my chest. “Thank you.”

He glances at my still-vibrating phone and raises a brow. “Looks like someone really wants to talk to you.”

I hesitate, then pick it up. “Excuse me, Colonel. This might be an emergency.”

With a small nod from him, I step into the hallway and answer. “Hello?”

“How’s my gorgeous girl?”

My body melts against the wall as my shoulders loosen, the stress of the morning fading instantly.

“Better now that I’m talking to you.” My cheeks burn. It’s just a phone call, and yet he flusters me so easily. “Why are you calling from an unknown number? Is everything okay?”

“Not really—but we’re okay,” Joaquin sighs. “Listen, I’m going off the grid with Sam. I don’t know when I’ll be able to call or when I’ll be back. That’s all I can say for now.”

I sigh. I really miss him. It’s been weeks since I last saw him. We didn’t even get a proper date night. Instead, we ended up tearing down a wall in the house and pulling out carpet so filthy I don’t even want to guess when it was last cleaned.

“Don’t worry, yo entiendo.” That’s the thing about this job—you never know when you’ll be pulled into a mission or how long you’ll be gone.

“Please try not to worry too much,” he says gently, as if he can already sense my anxiety kicking in. “I’ll call when things clear up.”

I’m proud of him. I really am. But that damn Falcon suit still terrifies me. Some nights, I have to drag him away from working on it and into bed with me. Usually, that’s not an issue, but he’s too damn excited about having his own suit.

“Yo siempre me voy a preocupar por ti, Torres.” I push away the image of him falling from the sky, replacing it with something softer—his smile. The one I catch in the rare quiet of the morning when our schedules align. The one that greeted me at the airport after my deployment. The one he wore when he finally asked me out.

“I have to go,” he says, voice quieter now. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” My throat tightens. “Try to be careful. Please.”

“I’ll try.”

The Following Day, 22:00

“Today wasn’t terrible,” the exhausted group of pilots sighs. Some throw themselves onto the sofa, while others collapse onto the floor.

I could’ve gone easy on them—it’s only their second day with me. But that’s not my style. They’re decent pilots, and with a few tweaks, they’ll graduate as the best.

“Captain Estrada.”

I turn as Captain Sofia Ramos, my best friend, rushes into the common room, her face tight with urgency. “You need to see this.”

My gut clenches. I already know. Even before she grabs the remote and turns on the small TV mounted on the wall, I know.

Joaquin.

The broadcast cuts to footage from Celestial Island, the contested territory between America and Japan. My eyes lock onto the screen, and suddenly, no one else in the room exists. Just me and that damn TV light.

No. No, no, no.

I silently beg any god who will listen as I watch the Falcon in the background, disarming missiles—missiles fired from American fighter pilots.

“Everyone, clear out,” Ramos orders.

The pilots groan but comply, irritated that they’re being kicked out when Captain America is on-screen. They don’t get it. They don’t see what I see.

While everyone else watches Sam, my eyes are locked on the blurry figure in the background, engaging with the other pilots.

“What are they doing?” My voice is barely above a whisper, desperate. Every time Joaquin moves, nausea churns in my stomach.

“All I know is that our guys fired first,” Ramos says, her tone clipped. “It looks like Cap and Falcon are trying to stop them.”

I hear her, but I don’t respond. I can’t. My entire focus is glued to the screen. Paperwork be damned—I have to be here.

Sofia kneels beside me, wrapping a steadying arm around my shoulders. I always worry when Joaquin’s on a mission, not knowing where he is or who he’s fighting. But this—this is my worst nightmare. A front-row seat to him in combat, in the Falcon suit he spent countless hours perfecting. And I can’t do a damn thing.

“What are you doing?” My breath catches as the camera pans to Sam, with Joaquin in the background, flying straight toward two missiles.

“Shoot them down,” I beg the screen, as if he can hear me.

One missile explodes harmlessly in the distance.

The second—

Joaquin flies straight into it as it detonates.

The camera jerks away, refocusing on Sam.

“No—get him back! Move the camera!” I cry, scrambling to my feet, legs unsteady beneath me. “Did you see him fall? Please, tell me you saw him.”

I turn to Sofia, cheeks wet with tears, pleading for an answer neither of us has.

“If he fell, rescue will get to him,” she says firmly, pulling me into her, holding me tight as my body shakes from sobbing. “You and I know how it feels to be on that side. They have only the best there. He will make it home.”

I cling to her words, but fear sinks its claws deep into my chest.

“If I have to pull rank, I will get you on the next flight when he gets back,” she promises.

I nod weakly against her shoulder, unable to say anything past the lump in my throat.

Washington, DC - 14:34

In the end, Sofia didn’t have to pull rank. Colonel Matthews himself got me on a plane and straight to the hospital.

But now, standing outside, I can’t get in.

“Ma’am, I can’t let you in there. Only authorized personnel are allowed.”

I’ve been arguing with this officer for more than ten minutes, but he won’t budge. He won’t even listen.

“I’m his wife! I need to see him,” I shout, my voice cracking. Desperation claws at my throat, but the words don’t seem to reach him.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You haven’t been cleared to enter the building.”

My hands shake as I pull out my military credentials and shove them toward him. “I work for the Air Force. Isn’t that clearance enough for you?”

His expression doesn’t waver. “I’m sorry, but no.”

I exhale sharply. Behind me, the press stirs, their voices rising, cameras flashing like lightning in a storm. But I can’t be bothered to care.

“You don’t understand—no one will tell me anything. I need to know if he’s okay.” My voice breaks, the hours of agony finally taking their toll. The waiting, the silence, the unanswered calls—it’s been unbearable. Joaquin could be—

No. I can’t let my mind go there.

“Vanessa?”

The familiar voice makes my head snap up.

Sam.

I could’ve kissed his feet right then and there.

“Sam! I need to see him, please.”

He looks like hell. His face is bruised, exhaustion etched deep into his features. His eyes, heavy with worry, probably mirror my own.

Sam doesn’t hesitate. “Officer, thank you for doing your job, but she’s with me.” He reaches for my hand, pulling me gently to his side.

The officer stiffens. “Of course, Captain. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam shakes his hand before leading me inside.

I pick at my nail beds as a nurse guides us toward a gallery room.

“Are you sure you want to see him like this?” Sam asks, his voice low.

I nod. If I try to speak, I’ll break.

He hesitates. “He’s on the table now. He has burns, and it’s not pretty, sweetheart.”

“I’ve been at war too, Sam,” I say carefully.

Sam exhales, then pushes the door open. I step inside first, my pulse thundering in my ears.

I’ve spent years in the force. I’ve seen injuries—horrific, fatal ones. I’ve suffered them myself.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for this.

Joaquin lies on the operating table, his body covered in burns, his skin raw and blistered. Doctors and nurses move around him in a blur, their voices overlapping as they work tirelessly.

My knees buckle.

Sam catches me before I hit the floor.

“It’s one thing being kept in the dark when he’s away,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of machines. “But watching it happen on TV was a living nightmare.” My throat tightens. “I can’t take my eyes off him now. I’m scared that if I blink, he’ll be gone.”

Sam is quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper, he says, “I’m sorry.” His hands are deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense. “I tried. But I failed the kid.”

I shake my head immediately. “Don’t you dare, Sam Wilson.” My voice steadies, sharp with conviction. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, and neither will he.”

His jaw clenches. “I could’ve done more.”

“You carry the weight of the world, Sam. We do the best we can out there—we try to save everyone. But sometimes, we can’t.” I reach for his arm, squeezing gently. “You saved the day. You both did. And I’m grateful you made it back home.”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “You would’ve beaten my ass if I didn’t bring him back in one piece.”

A small, watery smile tugs at my lips. “If the both of you had died out there, I would’ve brought you back just to kill you myself.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, and I nudge his arm playfully, the moment of levity breaking through the weight in the room.

But when I look back at Joaquin, the lump in my throat returns.

“You two are important to me,” I say softly. “Don’t ever forget that.”

And as I watch the machines breathe for Joaquin, I silently pray he heard me too.

A Few Days Later - 13:11

“Surgery went well. There were some complications, but thankfully, he’s stable now,” I say into the phone, my voice still laced with exhaustion.

“I’m glad, honey.” Sofia’s voice is a balm on the other end. “You had me scared for a second there.”

“Thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve completely broken down in front of everyone.” I exhale, pressing my fingers to my temple. The memory of that moment—when the weight of everything nearly crushed me—is still fresh. If Sofia hadn’t cleared the room before I shattered entirely, I don’t know what I would’ve done. “Honestly? I blacked out. I don’t even remember getting on the plane. It wasn’t until Sam was walking me toward the hospital that my brain seemed to wake up.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No. They put him in an induced coma to help his body heal, but he’s been stirring more lately. It won’t be long now.” My voice softens. Joaquin was there for me when my body endured its own battles—now it’s my turn to return the favor. For now, Sofia and Colonel Matthews will oversee my squadron’s training while I stay behind to help Joaquin recover.

“I have to go, but keep me in the loop, babes.” We exchange quick goodbyes before she hangs up, off to oversee flight maneuvers for the team.

I tug at the sleeves of Joaquin’s favorite football hoodie—the one I’ve been practically living in since the moment I stepped into the hospital. His scent lingers in the fabric, the only comfort I’ve had in days. The only time I’ve left his side has been when Isaiah or Sam dragged me away to eat or take a quick shower.

Even now, my stomach twists in knots. Sam brought me food, a thoughtful gesture, but I can barely stomach more than a few bites of fries before nausea wins again. I wrap the leftovers back into the paper bag and sit on the bench in the hospital’s courtyard, letting the late afternoon breeze wash over me. Sam had forced me outside, insisting I needed fresh air that wasn’t recycled through hospital vents.

Eventually, I make my way back inside, my steps heavy with exhaustion. The press has finally cleared out, leaving the entrance eerily quiet. I offer the nurses a small, tired smile as I head toward Joaquin’s room, already dreading another night on that stiff hospital sofa—the damn thing might as well be made of cardboard.

I reach for the door handle but freeze.

A sound echoes from inside.

Laughter.

My pulse spikes.

I push the door open, my breath catching at the sight before me.

Joaquin. Awake.

He and Sam are laughing about something, the warm, familiar sound hitting me like a punch to the chest.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Joaquin says, his voice rough, tired—alive.

Just like that, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over.

His face has more color now, the rawness of his injuries still evident but softened by the warmth of his smile—the same smile I fell in love with all those years ago.

It’s only been a few days. But it feels like a lifetime.

“Come here,” he murmurs, opening his arms.

I don’t hesitate. I slip onto the bed carefully, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. For the first time in days, the world outside disappears. Neither of us notices when Sam quietly slips out of the room giving us some privacy.

His arms wrap around me, firm despite the exhaustion in his body. A quiet groan slips from him at the movement, and I start to pull back, worried, but he tightens his hold—well, as much as he can.

“Don’t you dare, wife,” Joaquin teases, his thumb brushing my shoulder.

I let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I needed a way to get in and stay here with you.”

“I love the sound of you being my wife, but for now, let’s focus on that fixer-upper you begged me to leave an offer on.”

I roll my eyes. “Begged? Please. I barely had to convince you.”

He chuckles. “The second you mentioned an outdoor kitchen and a barbecue pit, I was done for.”

I grin. “Don’t worry. I’m in no rush.” Because right now, I have everything I need—him, here, safe.

“Mrs. Vanessa Torres has a nice ring to it,” he muses.

I tilt my head, smirking. “Mrs. Vanessa Torres-Estrada sounds even better.”

His lips curl into a slow smile. “You got yourself a deal.”

He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my empty ring finger before pulling me in for the first real kiss we’ve shared in weeks.

And for the first time in days, I finally breathe.

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres x reader #captain america: brave new world #spoilers #the falcon #joaquin torres fic #danny ramirez x reader #danny ramirez fic #danny ramirez imagines #the falcon imagines

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fairestwriting · 1 year ago

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Hello there! Love your writing! How about my sweet Savanaclaw boys finding out that their crush (or S/O) sleeps cuddling a plushie of their respective animals (like a wolf for Jack). Thanks! I love Jack so much :)

me while jumping at the opportunity of writing the man: i hate leona

Leona Kingscholar

He is canonically a very smart and perceptive guy. But somewhere in my heart I just know he wouldn't fully make the connection for a while. Just trust me on that one.

Kind of pokes fun at your "cat" plushie. What's with that thing, Herbivore? Aren't you a little too old for stuffed animals? Though he steps back if it makes you genuinely upset, which isn't what he's going for, he's just being an ass as a joke again. A part of him thinks it's really endearing, even before it really clicks for him.

He kind of feels vaguely jealous of the plushie. If you bring it while you two are sleeping together he'll pull the what do you need this thing for, I'm right here kind of shtick.

Confused on why you sleep with a plushie in the first place, more confused about why this stuffed cat looks so weird... oh, wait.

He's stupidly proud when it actually clicks. Of course he won't tell you it went over his head for the longest time, but all of a sudden, he's all smug whenever he sees you with the plushie, saying you could've just called if you missed him so much.!

Ruggie Bucchi

Takes a hot second to make the connection, but a lot less than Leona. The delay is mostly because he's never expected to see a hyena plushie of all things.

Actually loves it because it reminds him of the kids back home a little. He asks where you bought it, how much it was, tells you a little story about a kid he knew who wanted one just like that.

He won't explicitly ask to hold it but you should offer it, he loves your little buddy, he's already said you should come to him if you ever need to get a tear patched up. Doesn't even have it in him to make a joke about it being childish, at most tells you he'll keep it a secret if you look embarrassed.

When he does notice though, while poking at the plushie's little ears absentmindedly, he's the one who gets flustered. Oh no, that's really cute kind of realization.

He wants to sound cool when he says that, you know, if you want to sleep with him, you can just invite him over, but he does fail pretty hard. He can't help it, though, it's just way too endearing to him.

...Besides, he's already offered to co-parent the toy. If it doesn't have a name, it's just a matter of time before Ruggie asks and "jokingly" comes up with suggestions.

Jack Howl

Only one who thinks it might have to do something with him... but he's kind of too flustered to say anything about it for a good while.

He bashfully reassures you there's nothing wrong with keeping plushies around even if you're not a kid, maybe letting it slip that he thinks the little wolf is pretty cute... then pretending he didn't say anything.

Jack overthinks it a bit. Wolf plushies aren't that uncommon, right? You probably had it before you met him. He's too shy to ask if you had it before you met him.

He'll settle on... asking about the plushie itself. It might not have anything to do with him, but he knows pretty quickly that he wants it to. If you're not dating yet, he'll use the almighty excuse of asking about it because he needs to get his little siblings a gift.

Either way, though, the next excuse he gets, whether it's Christmas or your birthday or whatever, you find yourself with a very neatly wrapped box in your hands, and Jack nearly hiding behind it. Just saw it in a shop near home and thought you might like it, he says.

Whether your previous plushie was based on the exact same type of white wolf he is doesn't matter. If it is, it's getting a twin. You bet he scoured the shops to find it, blessing his luck on wolves being animals plenty of people love. He has a small, shy smile on his face when you take it.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #lis writing

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harryslittlefreakk · 1 year ago

Text

obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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limerence-17 · 2 months ago

Text

when i kissed the teacher

warnings: 18+ mdni MASSIVE age gap reader is 24/ joel is 58/59. sex (p in v not protected,) oral m! and f! receiving, thigh riding, fingering, slow-burn crush feelings, joel is painfully oblivious as usual. this is half edited just as a heads up!!

word count: 6.6k words (this one’s lengthy folks!)

A/N: this was based on an idea I got from someones post a while back so if that's you here you go!! this is also how I deal with grief from losing joel lmao. please go easy on me I'm back from my writing hiatus!! all comments are appreciated xx

You were a teacher, one of only two in Jackson, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were pretty damn good at it, too. It came naturally to you, unlike holding a gun, or going on patrols.

The only patrol you ever did ended with Tommy taking the gun back from you, shaking his head and asking you how you survived on your own for two years before you arrived.

You replied, shrugging your shoulders. “I hid.”

Ever since you arrived in Jackson five years ago, you’d picked up on teaching rather quickly. Others in the town had told you that you had a natural gift with the kids. A maternal instinct, even. Now 24, you had seen your fair share of life.

All those times you got up in front of a room of kids, or had spoken to their parents, or run education events at the Tipsy Bison helped you with your confidence. You’d never felt more proud of yourself.

It was late that evening when you’d been chaperoning a Jackson school dance you’d planned. The kids' ages you taught ranged from 5 to 18, but you cared about them all just the same. One in particular was a 15-year-old girl named Ellie, who always cracked jokes during any lesson you’d come up with.

One time, you showed them how to create electricity from a potato.

Every ten seconds, Ellie had a new question.

“What’s with the string thing?”

“Can you peel the potato?”

“What if I used a French fry instead?”

“Was McDonald's worth it, do you think? I probably would’ve gotten a Big Mac.”

“Ellie!” You cry out defeated, although a small smirk would escape your lips as the rest of class would burst into laughter.

She strolled up, one hand on her hip, the other slung around her friend’s shoulders, stumbling in exaggerated slow motion. She had a large grin plastered on her face and was out of breath. Likely from all of her hilarious dance moves she’d been sporting earlier.

“Y’allright Ellie?” You asked, giving her a half-worried and half-amused smile.

“I am having…” Ellie inhaled, as if she had to stress the importance of this next part as her eyes widened, “The best night… of my life!” You let out a laugh and snorted, surprised at how genuine it felt.

You weren’t one to play favourites as a teacher in this new apocalyptic world, but the first time you met her she’d showed up in class and told you a poorly timed joke and won you over.

You’d never met anyone so optimistic in your life. Ellie was indeed your favourite.

“If Joel shows up, warn me. I’m bolting through the back.” Ellie said.

You sighed, frowning as she skipped back to the dance floor. “Ellie!” But Ellie was too far away by now for her to hear. The band carried on, playing a range of folk songs, each one more upbeat than the last.

You felt a chill run up your spine at the thought of Joel Miller coming to the dance tonight.

Needless to say, when it came to her dad, you were a puddle.

Adoptive dad, or maybe not a dad at all. Just a man watching out for her.

────── 〔✿〕──────

He’d arrived with Ellie just over two years ago, and you never forgot the first time you saw him, all salt and pepper with his massive flannel jacket and that stoic look on his face, his brows creased and forehead slightly wrinkled.

He was stupidly handsome. Unfairly handsome. The kind of man who looked like he walked straight out of a pre-apocalypse Marlboro ad.

You were two years old when the world went to shit, so it’s not like you had a decent amount of memories of whatever handsome men there were back then. But you had movies and magazines. That was good enough.

Until Joel strolled in on that horse with his biceps and slight dad bod.

With a face like that, you’d expect him to be a real cocky son of a bitch, but you were shocked to find out he was quieter than a mouse. Quieter than anyone you’d ever known.

His house was down the street where you’d walk every morning to head into the Town Hall, where you’d host classes in the early hours of the day.

Joel kept his garage door open every morning. Most times, he’d be organizing the bullets for his shotgun or tinkering with some wood sculptures inside. He’d never glance over, but his oblivious nature was a perk. It meant that you could get a decent glance at him almost every morning without him knowing.

It was your favourite part of the day if you were being honest with yourself. You’d settled into a routine. You would wake up, style your hair as best as possible, wear your best jeans and wait until you turned the corner to his house.

But there was one recent morning when Joel wasn’t there, not on his porch getting ready for patrol or in the garage working on his very grandpa-like hobbies. You couldn’t help but sigh as you continued to walk down the concrete. To your utmost shock, you heard a voice. Your name was being called out from behind you. When you whipped your head around, it was Joel, and he walked out from his front door down the steps of his porch towards you, paper in hand.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and your hands went clammy. You’d spoken in front of crowds before, but he had a way of unravelling you.

“Hello?” You sounded so ridiculous, swearing your voice just cracked, so you cleared your throat once more, hoping he didn’t realize as you approached.

Though you pretended to be busy fiddling with your bag, you knew the charade was hopeless. Joel was very close to you, only about two feet away.

Did he catch you staring? Was this the moment he finally said something? Was this how you died? Humiliated on the streets of Jackson because Joel Miller had noticed your pathetic little crush? No. You should’ve known. Joel only cared about one thing, and that was Ellie.

“You’re the one teachin’ Ellie, right?”

“That’s me.” His eyes flicked to your face, down your shoulder, maybe to the way you held your bag, then quickly back up.

“Thought so. Got this paper here…”

He stepped a little closer to hand you the paper. Your hand brushed his or nearly did? Whatever just happened was enough to short-circuit your brain. Until you looked down.

To be honest, you hardly remembered what you wrote on any of the kids reports, and you didn’t even know if any of the parents read them, considering how the majority were occupied with the state of survival in Jackson.

“What about it?”

Joel scoffed, as if it was something you should’ve already known. He pulled his reading glasses down from his head and put them on, and snagged the report from your hands and began to read out loud. Jesus Christ, he was handsome. His calloused hands traced the paper, a fleeting image, and his hair looked soft, bouncy, and evenly cut. Come on, please focus, you repeated to yourself, nonsensically in your head.

Joel cleared his throat.

“Ellie is a bright kid, although prone to ditching multiple classes. Ellie has been repeatedly caught smoking behind Town Hall, and her peer group is an influence to be aware of…” Joel trailed on, each word becoming louder across his tongue and lips.

“She in trouble?” He asked, now removing his reading glasses. His look was pleading, and his doe brown eyes softened as he met your gaze. It made your stomach jump.

“E-Ellie…” you stammered, clearing your throat, trying to steady your voice.

“Is a bright kid, truly. But I think she might be going through some changes, having a hard time finding out who she is. It’s something all teenagers go through. Since you’re her dad, is there anything else I should know?”

Joel tucked his reading glasses into his flannel pocket and shook his head, looking at his shoes. “Ain’t her dad. Just tryin’ to do right by her.”

“Right…I knew that… but either way… if you are looking out for her, it would be best to start by having a heart-to-heart with her?” You asked, although it was more of a statement.

Joel rubbed his thumb along the folded paper, slow and deliberate.

“Figured you’d be better at that kinda thing.”

You laughed, a little louder than anticipated.

“I’m not her caregiver, Joel… I teach a lot of the kids here in Jackson, and if she means as much to you as you say… it’ll mean more coming from you.”

Joel mumbled, leaning backwards slightly, “Right, right…”

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer.” I appreciate you talkin’ to me, ma’am…” Joel said quietly. He turned around and slowly made his way up to the porch.

Your shoulders tensed. Your stomach flipped. Ma’am? Joel Miller had just called you ma’am? You were practically 30 years younger than him, and that’s what he decided to go with?

Had your hair turned grey overnight? Were the bags under your eyes suddenly five times darker than when you last saw them? Christ, maybe you shouldn’t of gotten that haircut.

Your heart had still been beating excruciatingly fast, but you could breathe a little easier now that he’d walked away.

Then it hit you. Joel Miller didn’t even bother to ask your name, or maybe he didn’t even care.

────── 〔✿〕──────

The scent of snow, cracked wood panels, and cedar filled the hall. In fact the smell of wood was so overbearing, you hardly noticed the giant fireplace that was running on the far right of the hall. There were lights, warm toned and they strung around the entire ceiling across the hall.

You had been talking to a few parents at the dance that night, one in particular was a stubby, short, mousy brunette named Jean. She had glasses that were too small for her face and freckles, and a few grey hairs. She was lovely in every manner, and you’d been chatting about setting up that evening.

“I honest to god don’t know how you deal with all of them day in day out? I reckon the clickers outside would be easier,” Jean said, as she took a sip from her Chardonnay.

You chuckled in response, awkwardly putting your hands into your pants pockets.

Only then did you realize Joel had entered and was waiting patiently to the side, as though he expected someone. Or maybe he just wanted to see what Ellie was like in this environment. You were distracted by him walking in that you hardly heard the words Jean perked up to say.

“Handsome innit he?” Jean said, causing you to draw back into reality.

Your cheeks flushed. “Huh?”

Jean followed your gaze. “Heaven help me, but that man is fine. The flannel one. Joel, right?”

You knew better. Joel was older, much older. He had to have been almost 60 by now, with the salt and pepper that had grown into his facial hair. But he was off limits, your student’s father, practically 3 times your age. You couldn’t have these stupid schoolgirl feelings for him. No, this was inappropriate, and you knew better.

Maybe it was sympathy, maybe it was just a desire to break the silence, but a sudden urge to talk to him overcame you. But some part of you, that one that cared about Ellie and the other kids in Jackson more than anything, was telling you that you just had to go and speak to him. You had to see what he was doing here and if he was alright.

“Excuse me, Jean,” you said quietly as you touched her shoulder and began to walk over to Joel.

“Joel,” you said, trying to sound casual.

His eyes lingered for a second too long at your face. You wished you had time to touch up your hair or wear some more makeup. Maybe then he’d finally say more than three words to you at a time, but this was the best it was going to get.

“You checking on Ellie?” You asked, standing beside him casually. Neither of you were facing each other, you were both facing the dance, watching Ellie.

Joel nodded. He was a man of few words. You weren’t sure what is was about that that did something to you, but it made your chest tight and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be like that in bed. Jesus, stop it, you thought to yourself.

“Apparently she’s having the best night of her life,” you replied, a smirk drawing across your face. This caught his attention now, and he raised an eyebrow.

“She said if you showed, she’d bolt out the back,” you said, smirking.

Ellie was now doing some bizarre interpretive dance with her friends, Dina and the others. She laughed so hard she had to grab her stomach and lean forward. You could’ve sworn you saw a small smirk appear on Joel’s lips but it faded quickly.

“I hardly ever see her in town…” Joel began, slowly easing into the conversation. “Reckon I’d stop by…”

“She ignores you or something in public?” You asked, obviously meaning it as a joke. But Joel just gave you a cold, sincere look.

“Most times…” His voice caught quieter now.

You ran your hand over your lips and cold nose, taking a deep breath before you responded.

“Well…she’s a teenager, Joel, it’s what they do. I bet you and I were both like that at the same age,” You replied.

“Hard seeing her grow up is all…”

You brush your hair to the one side of your face, You sniffle, realizing just how cold it is in the hall with the main doors opening and closing constantly. Joel turns to look at you, his eyes are focused on your movements. It’s not creepy, and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Joel just observes you for a moment longer than anyone else would.

“Ain’t you like 25?” He asked, his head now quipping to the left of him so that he was facing you. He looked curious at first, but then shook his head in embarrassment.

“I-I meant no offence, it’s just that… well… weren’t you a teenager not too long ago yourself?” He asked.

You chuckle, now warming up to being around Joel. The butterflies that were once embodying you have now subsided, and you inhale quickly before responding.

“24…” You start, ensuring that he has the right age. “And yes I had to grow up fast, just like I’m sure Ellie did. The only difference is that I ended up in Jackson by the time I was like…18, so I didn’t know there was much to life besides FEDRA and survival.” You reply honestly, which piques Joel’s interest.

“Didn’t know you were with FEDRA,” he replies. His brown eyes are soft, compassionate. It’s then that you notice the black t-shirt he’s wearing and how it hugs his frame so nicely. If you were to inch in more, you would’ve been able to smell that woodsy cologne he’d put on more properly, but you didn’t dare. This was a family event, after all.

But you did wonder why he put it on. He wasn’t exactly a sociable man, and it’s not like he had a wife. Did he wear it for himself? Surely not for Ellie. Was it for you? No, that seemed ridiculous.

Joel tugged at his belt. He needed his hands to be busy, like if they weren’t, they might do something reckless.

“My parents were in FEDRA, then they died. Was on my own for a while until Tommy and the gang found me hidden in some cabin over by Crawford’s Lake,” you say.

Joel’s gaze is now focused on you, taking in every ounce of meaning behind your words. He even seems to be less tense, his shoulders now loosening, and he’s stopped fidgeting with his belt buckle.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, his voice soft, and there’s a slight twang in his words.

“S’alright, it brought me here to all of you.”

You give him a warm smile, although Joel’s a rather tough one to crack. You realized you don’t feel so nervous anymore. You had started to open up to being near him, close enough that you could smell the cedar pine and firewood against his jacket. You could smell hints of rosemary and whiskey. He smelled amazing, so amazing that you had to cross your legs slightly to stop the arousal that was growing in your jeans from overcoming you.

This was a fucking family event, and you needed to get a grip on yourself. This wasn’t the time to fantasize in your bed at night.

But then you could see from the corner of your eye how Joel had looked down at your crossed legs. He sighed deeply before he cleared his throat and crossed his arms. He turned back to face Ellie and the others, dancing. He was exceptionally quiet, almost uncomfortably so.

His arms were crossed, jaw tight. Watching Ellie.

You stood beside him, close enough, your shoulders nearly brushed. He didn’t speak, not yet, but he didn’t move either. Like maybe he was waiting. Or maybe he just wanted you to piss off.

You could feel that it was getting uncomfortable, how long you’d stood there beside Joel. You figured it was time to return to Jean and others until Ellie had stirred up a bit of a commotion over by the band.

“You can play the song… come on… pretty please…” Ellie begged, placing her hands in a prayer position. Dina and a few others were trying to pull her back.

She was drunk. Great.

When her one friend pulled her backwards, Ellie stumbled over their feet and tripped, falling onto the ground. The band stopped completely now, and all eyes were on Ellie. You didn’t think twice as you quickly jogged over to Ellie. Joel did too.

“Ellie, come on, let’s get you up,” you said, brushing hair behind your ear.

“I got it,” Joel replied coldly. His soft brown eyes from earlier were now darker. He looked at you as if this were somehow your fault.

You stepped back as he helped Ellie out, arm slung over his shoulder. Eyes and whispers followed them. Joel’s voice was shaky but firm as he spoke to everyone.

He turned just enough to be heard.

“Ain’t nothin’ to see. Move along.”

Your vision began to blur, your eyes grew hot. She was your student, after all, and this was your idea to host this, plus you had no idea how she ended up drunk. You turned back, glancing at all the faces in the hall as they looked to you for reassurance or words of encouragement.

“Alright, everyone, we can wrap it up for the night. Thank you for coming out!” You tried to sound positive and crack a smile, but internally, you were an embarrassed mess. I’ll see you all on Monday,” you said to the rest of the kids.

The band started to slowly pack up, and other students groaned as they reconnected with their parents, and others started to mingle with their peers as they began to help clean up.

You waited until the eyes on you lessened, and then grabbed your jacket and hat, quickly making your way out through the front door.

The snow crunched under your boots, sharp and loud in the quiet night. Each breath burned cold in your lungs as you neared Joel’s place. They had to be inside by now. You stopped twice as you made your way over, wondering if you should head back. Or maybe just walk all the way home. But then you remembered your responsibility to Ellie, and quickened your pace, walking up Joel’s porch and knocking on the door before your anxiety could overcome you.

You could hear some commotion inside, and it took a while for someone to answer the door, but eventually someone did. Joel.

He was out of breath, and a little dishevelled and stressed. There were beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, and his forearms were peeking out as he leaned against the door frame.

“Ain’t a good time,” he said flatly.

“I know, I know, but I had to make sure Ellie was alright,” You replied, sincerely meaning every word.

“Look Joel… I feel responsible, but I swear to god I don’t know how she got the drinks.” You said. Your brows creased into a pleading look, and you bit your lip gently as you played with the buttons on your jacket nervously.

Joel sighed, closing the door, then stepped closer on the porch.

“She’s real drunk,” he said, voice even, low. That much we both knew.

You nodded, eyes stinging.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve had eyes on her. On all of ’em. I didn’t think—”

Joel cut you off with a look, tired and sharp.

“Yeah. Well. You didn’t.”

Your stomach twisted. You could already hear the whispers waiting for you tomorrow. And Joel? He clearly wasn’t a fan of yours tonight. Maybe he never would be.

“I understand,” you replied, although your heart felt heavy. You shook your head and started to turn around. “I won’t bother either of you no more…”

“Wait…” Joel’s gruff voice started, and you turned your head back around to face him, now standing at the bottom of the porch stairs.

“Suppose it wasn’t all your fault…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck lazily.

“I’m no good with the kid. Should’ve watched her better.” Joel couldn’t even meet your gaze as he admitted the truth. His honesty surprised you. Joel wasn’t exactly known for fessin’ up in Jackson. Or speaking full sentences, for that matter.

“Is she… asleep at least?” You slipped your hands into your jacket pockets, the cold starting to settle into your fingertips. You’d rushed out of the hall too fast to remember your gloves.

“Yeah… she crashed the second I put ‘er into bed,” Joel replied. He licked the inside of his cheek, looking at the floor, around the street, anywhere but directly in your eyes.

“Reckon she’ll have quite the headache tomorrow,” he carried on. You scoffed.

He scoffed too.

And just like that, the tension cracked, just for a second. You’d both been there before. Maybe more times than you’d admit.

“You wanna… come in for a drink or somethin’?” He asked. The question baffled you instantly. Joel wanted you to come in for a drink? Were you dreaming? You had to pull yourself together quickly because, as much as you were about to say yes, you wanted to not sound desperate or needy.

You wanted Joel to want you more than you wanted him.

“Oh I don’t wanna bother Ellie if she’s sleeping..” you started, although you were instinctively already taking off your hat.

“Not in the house darlin’, I was thinkin’ more like in the garage,” he said, grabbing his flannel like it was the easiest decision he’d made. Darlin, you thought. Had he slipped the word out by accident? Or did he just so happen to call everyone that?

“Isn’t it… cold in there?” You asked, figuring it had to have been below freezing in there with the snow you’d been having lately.

The snow pattered gently on the ground, onto your hair, and against your eyelashes.

“I got a heater in there,” Joel said matter-of-factly. You nodded, figuring as much with how much time he spent in there throughout the year.

You followed behind him, his boots crunching into the snow with every step. It felt oddly surreal, walking into the garage you’d walk by every morning. Almost illegal even. Which seemed ridiculous, but it truly did.

Once you stepped inside, you saw the wooden table, covered in wood chips and tools and half completed sculptures. There was a measly couch against the back wall with a few posters lying around. There was a small kitchenette on the left side, and the heater was large, prompted up on the left side. The warmth of the heater hit your cheeks like a ton of bricks, and it stung from how cold you were. It was strangely warm and comforting for a garage. The worst part of it all? It smelt a lot like Joel. All carved wood, sandpaper, cologne and pine. It was driving you crazy.

Joel took his jacket off, revealing his wide biceps and black t shirt once more and tossed it against the couch arm. He sat down with a sigh, elbows resting on his knees, hunched slightly forward. You stood there awkwardly in your coat, waiting for Joel to tell you what to do.

“Just toss it on the couch, don’t worry bout it,” He said, his voice gruff. You did as told, revealing your red long sleeve and jeans once more. Although this time your shirt clung to your body tighter because of the cold, and you didn’t have to look down to realize your nipples were peaking through your top. Joel coughed, eyes flicking to the side like he hadn’t just seen what he saw. Like he didn’t want to.

“Uh so… drinks, right?” You asked, trying to break the tension. You were quiet, but Joel was a million times quieter. It made it hard to know whether he ever flirted or not.

“In the fridge,” he stated, pointing at the fridge in front of you. You walked over and grabbed a beer, which was coincidentally the only drink in the fridge. No surprise there. You tossed him one, and he slowly opened it, and you both took your first sip in silence.

“You can uh… sit down if you want,” he said shyly, looking over at the room on the couch near him. You smiled softly as you sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Do you… like teachin’?” Joel asked, clearly breaking the silence.

“Well I know it’s nothing like how schools were back in 03’, but it’s fun. They keep me motivated. Ellie especially.”

“She ain’t too much of a bother, I hope?”

“You mean besides tonight,” you shuffled your knees closer to him, almost instinctively, and take another sip of your beer. “The girl’s alright.”

Joel nods, but you can tell he’s just trying to come up with what to say next rather than actually process what you’ve just said. You’d never met anyone this awkward, not even the horses back at the Jackson stables.

You figured he would just say something about the snow, or his sculptures, or Ellie again, so when his next words came out of his mouth, you damn near spit out your beer.

“Why’re you always watchin’ me when you walk by every morning?”

“What?”

Jesus he noticed. Joel actually noticed that.

“I know I’m older but… I ain’t blind. So… what is it? You got a problem with me or somethin’?”

“No… no Joel not a problem…”

“I too loud?”

“No you’re not loud…”

Joel huffed, now leaning backwards, legs spreading as he placed his arm against the top of the couch as he faced you.

“What then?”

You swallowed hard. Was it the right time to be honest with him? Would it draw him closer to you, or would he just kick you out of this garage for good? He was so oblivious to the obvious answer, it was almost sweet. For someone considered to be Jackson’s number one fighter, it surprised you he was so painfully socially inept.

“Do I really have to say it out loud?” Joel raised an eyebrow. You sighed.

Just rip the bandaid off, you thought to yourself.

“You’re a handsome man, Joel. It ain’t like you’re bad to look at,” you began, your eyes now roaming over his torso and stomach that peaked every so slightly through his t-shirt. His eyebrows raised at this comment and he scoffed, shaking his head leaning back once more.

“I ain’t handsome, I’m pushin’ 60 darlin’.”

You scanned your eyes over his body once more, now making it more obvious. Joel caught on as he furrowed his brows at your gaze. Of course he caught on. He was relatively easy to toy with and you liked that about him, but you playfully wondered to yourself just how submissive he really could be. The idea was too good to put to rest.

So you shifted yourself closer to him, enough that your knee brushed with his. His eyes widened at the sudden touch and his eyes frantically looked at yours, back at your chest and then back to your lips. Joel’s knee was touching yours. He didn’t move it away.

“You know Jean?” You asked, feeling more confident with every sentence you spoke.

Joel’s eyebrows creased into a confused look.

“From the pantry?”

You chuckled, rubbing your cold nose. “Yeah, from the pantry.”

“Well, she was telling everyone tonight just how handsome you really are. Plus, all the moms seemed to agree with it.” Joel scoffed loudly this time.

“Pfft.”

“No, I’m serious!” you said, grinning.

“One mom said she’d even climb you like a tree!”

Joel whipped his head toward you, eyes wide with something between horror and curiosity.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Can’t really say I blame them,” you teased, tracing small circles on your thigh with your thumb. Joel looked down at your hand, then back up into your eyes.

There was a moment. It was so tense you could only hear the hum of the heater, and a few drops of water from the sink. His eyes were locked onto yours and slowly, he moved his hand to reach your thigh, now slowly circles against it in replacement of your own.

“You wanna ride me darlin’?”

You shook your head softly, your lips pouting as you met his gaze.

Joel took it as a hint, the clearest one of all and you shifted forward, allowing his hands to meet your hips as he carefully guided you onto his lap.

His face was inches away from you now, and his large hand casually made its way to the base of you head, grabbing a handful of your hair as he caressed you. He took in every inch of your face, but something was holding him back.

“Christ… you’re young…” Joel trailed on, looking at your chest, your neck and back to your eyes.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said in a hushed gruff voice.

You straddled him gently, not enough to set him off but enough to feel him stir underneath his dark jeans. He groaned at the feeling. This man was so touch starved. And so were you.

“Joel… we need to do this.” You were practically begging now, whining with each word and each straddle.

“It’s dangerous sweetheart,” Joel said, although his hands didn’t match his words. He moved both hand to the base of your stomach, toying with your jean zipper, slowly unzipping them. His eyes remained locked on your torso, he didn’t dare to meet your gaze.

“What? You fucking Ellie’s teacher?” You teased him by pulling your shirt up over your head, revealing your bra, one strap was already hanging down your shoulder.

Joel groaned, nipping a soft bite at your shoulder as he slowly pulled the other strap down. He bite softly at your neck as his calloused hands gently unbuckled your bra, revealing you now half naked straddling his lap.

“If Ellie found out,” he carried on. Although he was running out of excuses and you could feel just how erect he was through his jeans by now.

“She won’t find out.”

He really gave in now, both his hands gripping your tits as he massaged them, moving his thumbs against your nipples.

“Fuck…” Joel moaned, soaking in the feeling. You tossed your hair back, allowing him to appreciate the view.

“So you want me to fuck you baby girl, huh? That it?” He asked, his hands moving to your back, guiding you closer as he mouth moved up to kiss your neck. Joel traced long wet kisses against your neck, moving from one side to another.

You gripped a handful of his hair, closing your eyes from the sensation as you let out soft moans before responding.

“Yes… please I’d like that…”

Joel stopped kissing your neck, and met your gaze once more. His hair was messy now, his lips plump and his brown does eyes were on you.

“You’d like that?” He asked, clearly unimpressed with your response.

“You ever been properly fucked?” He asked. His voice was so deep, so southern and it practically could make your orgasm just on its own. Without warning, his hand tucked itself into your jeans, through your panties and against your clit. He rubbed small circles against your clit, slowly and meticulously.

Joel kept looking at you.

“Only once…” you replied, your breath starting to shake from his touch.

“He get you all wet like this baby girl?” Joel circled two fingers against you more feverishly now. You shook your head.

“N- not like this…”

He pulled his hand out from your jeans, picked you up by your hips and laid you down on the couch. His body was over you now, and you felt submissive to his touch. He slowly guided your jeans down, along with your panties.

You realized just how exposed you were by now and how unfair it was for you to be naked and for him to be fully dressed. So you waited until he got closer and tugged at his black t shirt. His eyes were wide as he look down to his shirt and then back at you.

“Want me to take it off?” He asked. You nodded very quickly. Joel scoffed, but obliged, slowly taking off his shift. He was clearly insecure about his body, he was older, a lot older. But it didn’t scare you away, if anything it turned you on beyond belief.

“Hopin’ I don’t scare you off now,” Joel groaned.

That was the final straw, you needed him and you needed him to understand just how badly. You reach up, grabbing his cheeks and pulled him in tightly for a kiss. His body was pressed deeply against you. His bare chest against your bare chest.

Joel kissed you longingly. You weren’t sure what kind of a kisser he’d be. But he surprised you in the best way. His kisses weren’t short, they were long, and he always parted his mouth just enough to grant your tongue access. Until eventually you did, allowing the two of you to just linger in the feeling of both of your tongues dancing with each other. He pulled away and traced kisses against your neck, down your chest, slowly circling his tongue against your nipple. He kissed your stomach, placing both hands against your hips as he made his way between your legs.

It was bright in the garage but you didn’t care, all you cared about was how good this felt.

“Jesus fuck me…” Joel murmured as he glanced at the wetness between your legs. He place his two fingers against your entrance, and swiped up quickly. So quickly you hardly had a chance to react. You gasped at his brief touch and he groaned as he did it once more.

“Want my fingers inside you darlin’ huh? That it?”

“Y-yes Joel, I want you to finger me.”

“You’re such a good girl,” he pressed down against your stomach with one hand and used his other to insert one finger, followed by two, eventually three. He was warming you up and didn’t plan on slowing down at any minute. He fingered you hard, and although you were moaning loudly, calling out his name between his pulses, Joel was moaning louder than you.

“That’s it, go ahead and touch yourself for me,” he carried on, noticing how your hand kept gravitating to your clit but pulling away. You followed his command and rubbed your clit feverishly as he pumped his fingers into you.

You were getting closer, really close and Joel had started to notice. So he pulled his fingers out and gripped your hips, putting your one leg up to make room for him as he got down on his knees, positioning his head between your legs.

“Christ I gotta taste you…” Joel grunted as he licked your entrance softly, groaning at the first lick. He looked up at you with his doe eyes and you nodded, allowing him to continue.

“Please…”

“Please what baby girl?”

“Please eat me out.”

Joel didn’t waste anymore time, he mouth suctioned on your clit. His wet licks were fast and strong, his tongue was powerful against your folds and he cupped his hand against the base of your ass. He was trying to push himself further into your clit. He was fucking starved for this.

“Fuck…” Joel groaned, his mouth back on your clit.

“You taste…” His tongue was moving quickly in and out of your entrance. You had to bite your fist to try to get yourself to not cum.

“Like heaven baby girl…”

It only took a few more minutes of Joel eating you out relentlessly before he pulled away after hearing your come down.

“How was that?” He asked, as if he wasn’t just nose deep against your clit just thirty seconds ago.

“Fuck me Joel you’re really good at this,” you replied, scoffing a little sweaty now.

“Yeah?” You nodded and he motioned for you to sit down on his lap, but you took the lead this time, slowly unbuttoning his belt.

“What are you…” Joel teetered on, but you shushed him softly.

You pulled him out from his boxers, shocked to see just how erect he already was. The tip of dick was dripping precum, and you graciously accepted it by moving you mouth down and swirling your tongue around the top of his dick before spitting on it and moving your head down more. He slowly moved your head down, moaning out obscenities with each bob of your head.

“Jesus that feels… so fucking… fuck that’s so good…”

Of course Joel was a head pusher.

He pulled your head up after a while, explaining how he wasn’t ready to cum yet and got you to slowly sit down on top of him. You grabbed his dick gently and slowly positioned it into your entrance. As you sat down, you both let out a moan, closing your eyes from the pleasure. You moved up and down ever so slightly at first, until you opened your eyes once more to meet Joel’s gaze. Now you’d begin to move more quickly. Up and down, bouncing against his dick. Joel’s breathing became ragged and his hands cupped your back as he tucked his face into the corner of your chest. He would lean back and grab your tits, watching as you continued to ride him. You were like a drug for him.

“Baby girl I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come!”

“Come for me Joel,” you replied firmly.

And he did, grunting as he nipped at your shoulder. You slowed down your pace, riding slowly against him before removing yourself from his waist.

You casually began to put your clothes back on, Joel did as well but albeit a lot slower than you.

Joel put his flannel back on over his black t shirt and cleared his throat before looking over at you.

“I hope I didn’t uh… disappoint you or nothin’” He said, now back to the usual southern drawl, that low gruff of his.

You gave him a small smile, putting your hat back on.

“I should go check on Ellie,” he replied.

“Want me to come with?”

Joel smiled for the first time.

“I’d like that.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #joel is needy

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yup-thats-me · 4 months ago

Text

— Reward • S. Park

pairing; Seonghwa x fem!assistant!reader summary; Seonghwa deserves an early reward for all his hardwork, doesn't he?<3 warnings; skirt fetish (?), bathroom sex, allure to smut, bj, cum drinking

Of course, he was nervous. Was that even a question? This is Seonghwa's debut as a model! As he had said, this was his dream. And now that he's come so close to achieving it, he's getting a cold feet.

"Getting nervous, babe?" whispered Seonghwa's assistant and lover into the male's ear.

He looked at Y/n, his eyes silently begging for something, anything, from his sweet girl. He can hug her here; no one will question him. But a hug simply won't quench his thirst. His body is asking for something more indecent, something more scandalous.

Seeing Y/n walking around in that pencil skirt that so devilishly hugged her curves had already made his pants a bit too tight from the moment he saw her.

"No, love. I'm okay."

But he simply can't out and say it. He should at least have to pretend to have self-control as much as that is a lie; Both of them knew how turned on Seonghwa gets whenever y/n wears this skirts. Maybe she had done this intentionally.

Nothing could go past y/n's eyes, however. She did, in fact, notice Seonghwa keeping his hand in front of his trousers. Maybe she shouldn't have worn his favorite skirt, but in her defense, she wore this as a form of reward. An early reward, if you will.

Smiling, she hugged his side. "Meet me in the washroom in a bit.''

With that, the woman left the changing room, winking as she left through the door.

If anyone had been watching the two of them, they would've been confused at why the singer and model were smiling from ear to ear at something his assistant said.

Seonghwa, however, didn't care. he was practically jumping on the balls of feet. He knew Y/n gets him, but not to this level. He really had pulled a baddie.

Barely making it to the two minute mark, Seonghwa rushed off; sprinting to the washroom. In the rush, he almost ran into a stylist. Bowing profuselfy, he helped her pick up the things she had dropped. "Where are you going, sir? Your turn is in fifteen minutes," the girl said.

"Be right back, gotta use the restroom!" Seonghwa run off smiling like an idiot.

The washrooms, thankfully were unisex one. All the better for him. As he stepped, there as Y/n leaning against the wall.

Smiling, she pulled Seonghwa into one of the empty stalls. "C'mere, sweetboy."

And like the obedient puppy he was, he grinned as Y/n kelt down before him, slowly undoing his trouser.

"So wet for me, baby," Y/n remarked, his painfully hard cock leaking precum.

"Your fault," pouted Seonghwa.

With a proud smirk, she kitty-licked the head, making the man throw back his head at the growing pleasure. Licking a strip from the base, Y/n slowly put him in her mouth, the head touching the back of her throat, and he wasn't even entirely in yet.

Hollowing her cheeks, she messaged whatever she couldn't fit inside. "S'good, baby, s'good."

Having done this so many times, it didn't take too long for Seonghwa to come undone on her tongue. With a proud smile, she got up gulping down the salty liquid.

With a love-sick smile, Seonghwa wiped the corners of her mouth with a tissue. "You're such a minx."

"Says you," smirked his lover.

Glancing at her watch, she gasped. "You're gonna be late!"

Quickly putting on his trouser, Seonghwa ran through the doors only to come back a second later to kiss her goodbye. "Thank you, darling. Gonna make you proud," he winked, running off again.

Seeing him own the runway in the big tv screen in the backstage, Y/n could only smile. He's getting it real good reward when they reach the hotel.

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4ranghaes · 6 months ago

Note

i absolutely love the way you write about bnd and how well done ur ot5 post are 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

this being said if you’re comfortable i’d love to see your thoughts on how bnd would send nudes/what type of nudes they send and how they’d be about it!! even what type of nudes they’d ask for. whatever you’re up to writing!!

take care of yourself <33

bnd sending and receiving nudes! ੈ✩‧₊˚

ot5 bnd x reader [smut, fem!reader]

a/n - okay i know a lot of these aren’t NUDES but i wanted to add visual references without putting dicks on your tl😭 and these are nicer to receive from boys than cock and ball pics anyway… also i didn’t add reference pics for sending cause i didnt want to limit body type/skin colour for reader !

warnings - NSFW PICTURES UNDER CUT!!!!!! MDNI!!!!

sungho🎀

sending - so originally, i thought about teasing photos taken in the mirror, revealing stomach and v-line but now, after looking, i think sungho would revel in sending you pics like this, showing off his body he’s so proud of and works so hard on, especially taken at or straight after the gym… however, i would say i think he’d still send v-line pics (not pictured) just like how he posts mirror selfies, you can see everything from his beautiful face to his slim stomach, happy trail leading down to his pubic hair, leading to the base of his dick and nothing more. ughhh omg i need him

receiving - sungho’s so sweet he’d never want to pressure you into sending nudes, even though he loves receiving them. seriously he’d never ask for them, any nudes sent are completely of your own free will. having said that, you’ve come to figure out what he likes and doesn’t like, and what he likes is thigh pics. panties, lingerie and BOWS WRAPPED ROUND YOUR THIGHS! he loves when you’re kneeling, thighs and stomach included in the pic. he also would love the classic mirror selfie in underwear, doesn’t matter if it’s fancy or not - he just loves seeing you on display for him.

riwoo🦦🍡

sending - absolutely inspired by the photos posted after the new years video… i think riwoo would generally be quite shy about sending nudes, and a sexting convo would usually be started by you, him only initiating when he’s on tour and so, so lonely. but he sends you little laying down pics, pants hanging low, waist on show because he knows how much you love them. i also think (not shown) he’d send full dick pics, just at a downward angle holding his hard length in his hand, simple but he has a pretty dick yk, has to use it to his advantage. one time, after begging and pleading you even got him to send one with a ribbon tied round the end.

receiving - once again riwoo on the whole is just super shy about nudes, so much like sungho, any nudes sent is your idea and usually catches him completely off guard, even if he’s alone on tour, he’s still hiding his phone, staring like he’s not allowed to, like he’s doing something wrong. if you forced him to have an opinion though, the ones where you’re fully clothed, either holding your tits, or your nipples visible through the material, or cleavage poking out the top. anything to do with your boobs, while you’re still dressed he loves… feels like he can perv, even though you’re already his completely.

jaehyun🪻🐕

sending - there’s no rhyme or reason to when myungjae sends you nudes, he’s so horny most of the time, you’ll be sat at your desk in the middle of the day and you’ll receive a 5 minute long video of him masturbating, beginning to end. he’s not discriminatory about the photos/videos he sends. i chose these two references just cause they reminded me of him… in the first, the fashion and the earphones, it just has his vibe - and i think he’d absolutely send you pictures of marks you left on his body throughout the day, different to the way taesan does it though, he’s not showing off, he’s pouting, trying to gain your sympathy. with the second, it’ll be his first day off in ages, he’d send you pics he’d taken during sex until you’re finally receiving pics of his hard cock, turned on by his own doing - and eventually a moaning audio…

receiving - he’d LOVE when you match his freak and send videos of yourself beginning to end masturbating and unlike riwoo and sungho, myungjae absolutely would and DOES ask again and again for you to send pics and vids… he does this normally which you appease with boob or lingerie pics, the usual basics. but when he’s on tour, he’s begging more and more desperately, you like to treat him. videos either masturbating or teasing yourself, begging him by name to come home and let you cum - even if he’s not usually a dom, he loves the illusion of the videos, it’s his own personal porn…

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛

sending - wound photos!!!!! i’ve spoken about this on other people’s blogs but i go insane for masochist taesan, whether that’s sub or dom i think he’d love being scratched, marked up, slapped and more, and afterwards he’d love to send you photos of the wounds. the photo below’s a bit tame but i couldn’t find any i liked… he’d take some straight after sex, when bloods coming from his lip and his back and shoulders, and his body’s bruised and swollen, but he’d continue to take them through the week, giving you updates on your artwork <3 also, like the second photo, you’d go a while no updates and then he’d send just photos of his bare, unmarked skin, basically begging you to come and mark him up. on the more nsfw side, he’d also send moaning audios as he stroked his cock, maybe when he’s in the studio alone, and he’s stressed, he enjoys rubbing one out and sometimes, he doesn’t want to be quite so alone…

receiving - taesan would be one who wouldn’t ask explicitly for photos, but if he sends one, it’s only natural for his girlfriend to send one back, right? (also if you’re the one to send the nudes unprompted, just know the sex afterwards will be a punishment, no matter how much he liked them). he loves when you do the same back to him, sending him updates on marks and cuts he left on your body, bruises on your thighs, hand marks all over, and even if you’re not one for pain like taesan is, he loves leaving hickies up your boobs and neck, and he wants updates on those too. apart from that, lingerie pics are the best for him. he wants to see whenever you get a new pair, modelled immediately over text, or even when you find an old pair at the back of your drawer while cleaning out. or, it’s laundry day and you have no other options. whatever the occasion, he just wants to make sure he’s included.

leehan🪸🐠

sending - leehan, like with most other things in life, is obviously unusual, but also very casual in his attitude. he’d love sending pics like the first one just completely unprompted - no prior conversation happening and you reply like …‘how dare you’… he loves teasing you like that. because of course you’re horny now, look at your boyfriend! he usually does that when he’s just bored, not horny. but when he’s horny, he’ll send pics like the second, cute photos disguising his bulge or his bare torso underneath. i also think on a real nsfw note, he’d enjoy sending videos of his face as he jerks off, he loves how it’s teasing you as if testing whether you know the face or not beforehand, because you open what you think is just a handsome video of your boyfriend - before you notice the slick sounds in the background and the low moans starting to escape his mouth…

receiving - he’d love to see videos or audios the same way he sends them, and he’d be shameless in asking for them - special requests and all. ofc leehan wouldn’t always be knowledgable to the fact that they’re coming though - for those ones, he loves just photos of your body in underwear, not lingerie, simple underwear. lingerie feels too stuffy, underwear feels like all the times he’s about to fuck you, just seconds before… specifically he loves mirror selfies when you’re sitting, high waisted panties framing your tummy, or kneeling in the same way. he loves receiving these unprompted, and he’s shameless at looking at them too, in the middle of the practise room, full brightness, sat next to the other members.

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 3 months ago

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Helping Kid lose his virginity and him developing feelings for you would involve… (part 1)

Virgin!Eustass Kid x courtesan!crewmate!reader. This is part one of two. (moodboard)

*****

🔥 Eustass Kid has never cared about sex.

🔥 If asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain why exactly; it’s simply something he has always been indifferent towards, just like he has never had any interest in learning to play an instrument, or in devoting his life to any path other than piracy. He has never experienced the desire for a partner, whether for companionship, affection or simply desire; love is a word he doesn’t even know the meaning of, and he has always thought relationships are a waste of time and energy that might be better employed otherwise. Kid knows most of the adults in his crew have sex at least semi-regularly -whether among them, with prostitutes and one-night-stands they meet in some random city, or with the civilians of the island that serves as their base- but he never longed to do the same himself, content with his own company and the platonic closeness of his crew.

🔥 Essentially, he doesn’t feel any need, any pulsion like the ones he has seen so many people fall prey to or let control their life. He occasionally gets erections, usually in the morning or, even more rarely, in other moments, but never in response to some particular thought or fantasy he had, or because someone he has seen has attracted his attention. Whenever that happens, he takes care of the problem in the privacy of his own cabin or whatever other closed space he can find, quickly, dispassionately, feeling a brief moment of fleeting pleasure he then dismisses to focus on whatever other task is at hand.

🔥 Kid has never cared about his looks, but he knows no one would ever describe his face as handsome, and that he looks more menacing than attractive, which is something he’s quite proud of; he usually only needs to glare at anyone whose presence annoys him for them to scuttle away. He is a strong, infamous pirate, the captain of a powerful crew; who cares if his ugly mug looks like something out of a nightmare, and children start to cry if they only meet his gaze? Piracy is no beauty contest after all, and a pretty face has never protected anyone from being caught by the Marines or vanquished by a rival crew.

🔥 Surprisingly, people do find him attractive occasionally. Kid knows there are people who are attracted to pirates the way others are to celebrities, maybe for some sort of fascination with danger and power. A few times some tavern wenches have flirted with him, and one, no doubt inebriated to the point it had dampened her survival instinct, even pushed him against a wall and kissed him - to which Kid, after a moment of stupefaction, reacted grabbing the woman’s throat tight enough to almost crush her windpipe. “Touch me again and I’ll snap your neck.” he warned before letting her go, and the woman literally ran out of the room. The episode, ten whole seconds of it, disgusted him in a way Kid couldn’t fully explain; if kissing felt like this, he reasoned, he much preferred focusing on piracy and battle rather than romance, thank you very much.

🔥 So here he is, twenty-one years old, still a virgin, with less experience in matters of sex and romance than many preadolescents. He has never reflected that his situation might be unusual or something to be embarrassed about, especially for a pirate and a captain at that, until one night Kid meets with a few other pirate captains in a bar. The men are more acquaintances than friends or allies, but they and their crews are powerful enough to have earned Kid’s grudging respect - a rare honour indeed; they are all several years or even decades older. The beer flows freely, and after a while the discussion shifts from maps and treasures and those blasted Marines, to a dramatically different topic - conquests, the amorous kind. The captains boast about the number of their past partners, their prowess as lovers, even the age they lost their virginity at. The longer the discussion goes on, the more outlandish the stories become: one swears to have seduced a Marine admiral, another to have slept with three siblings at the same time… there’s even a captain who boasts to have fucked his way out of Impel Down.

🔥 Completely uninterested, Kid nurses his beer, thoughts focused on a map he had hoped to obtain from another of the captains; he is about to pull the man aside, when suddenly the others realise he hasn’t said a word in almost an hour. “What about you, Kid? Someone on your crew warming your bed?” “Do you have a girl or a guy waiting for you on your island?” “What sort of person do you like?” they ask, with a curiosity Kid finds completely uncalled for. He shrugs and, blissfully unaware of the shitpile his sincerity will cause, answers truthfully: that he doesn’t have a lover, he never had one, and honestly he has never cared about sex and relationships and all that crap.

🔥 The others stare as if he had claimed to be Gold Roger reincarnated; silence has fallen in the usually noisy bar. “Are you saying… that you are a virgin?” “Yeah, why?” Kid asks, still in the dark… and then the whole table -the whole room, it seems- erupts in a loud, choral laugh - not about a joke that has been just said, but about him. “I can’t believe it! Are you serious? You’ve never been with anyone?! What a laugh!” “What’s wrong, Kid? You can’t get it up? At your age?” “I never pegged you as the shy type!”

🔥 Kid is so flabbergasted it takes him a moment to realise what is happening. They are making fun of him -something no one in the world has ever dared since he was maybe twelve, and still scrawny for his age- laughing at his perceived weakness and inability to attract a mate. At first he tries to explain that his virginity is a deliberate choice -he is simply not interested in having a lover, preferring to focus his time and energy on piracy and the annihilation of his enemies, he could find someone to sleep with if he wished to- but the others don’t listen, and keep laughing, and laughing; other pirates and even civilian clients of the bar approach, and are told the story, and join in the mocking.

🔥 Kid’s temples are pulsating; part of him is still unbelieving this is really happening. The other men are also powerful pirate captains, but don’t they know who he is, and what he is wont to do to anyone who disrespects him? He killed his first man when he was only fourteen! He vanquished a ten-ship fleet because the commander had expressed doubts -out loud, unfortunately for him- that a man as young as him actually deserved his high bounty! How dare those bastards make fun of him, and call his-his masculinity in question? He could have sex if he wanted to, all the sex he wants!

🔥 The laughs continue, unheeding of his awkward attempts to explain, and Kid feels like he’s floundering, at the mercy of waves he can’t swim through. What’s worse is that he can feel himself blushing -it’s not his fault! He’s a redhead, for God’s sake, he blushes easily! It’s not like he’s embarrassed…!- unable to retaliate in kind against the teasing he’s receiving. “What’s wrong, Kid? Are you still waiting for your true love?” the men joke “Or do you go soft before you get to put it in?” “Come on, guys, the poor boy is simply too shy, leave him be…”

🔥 In the end Kid uses his fists to shut them up; a brawl erupts, and Kid holds his own against half a dozen opponents. In the end the other captains shut up and promise to never broach the subject again, but he can see they are still thinking about it, smiling amused as soon as they think he can’t see them. “You know, Kid, if you need us to… introduce you to someone, we’d be happy to help. There’s nothing shameful about being shy, especially at your age.” one of them offers kindly, which only serves to deepen the humiliation Kid is feeling. “I am not shy! And I don’t need any help from you bastards!” he says, and leaves the bar without having discussed the map he was so interested in.

🔥 What was meant to be a relaxing, even pleasant night of drink and talk ended up being the most humiliating experience of his life; Kid knocked around those bastards who laughed about him and called him shy -he! Shy!- but it didn’t make him feel better, since he knows they will continue making fun of him in his absence, and even spread the word among other crews. Eustass Kid is still a virgin, can you believe it? Poor boy probably doesn’t even know how to talk to someone he likes, let alone bring them to his bed… This is what they will say, and this disgraceful reputation will follow him wherever he goes.

🔥 Part of the fault is his, Kid has to admit; what was he thinking, discussing such a private matter, and openly acknowledging his own shortcoming, with others outside his crew? Even he, who never gave a shit about sex, should have known the others would mock him for it. Unfortunately it’s too late to take back his words; on the other hand, he reflects as he stomps across the harbour in the direction of his ship, almost wishing someone would try and pick a fight so that he can blow off some steam beating them to a pulp, there is another way to make up for his mistake, and regain the respect of his peers…

🔥 “So yeah, I need to have sex; at least once, just to know what all the fuss is about and prove to the others I am not a failure or unable to-to perform.” he says the next day as he and Killer are together in the captain’s cabin. They have spent an hour discussing the ship’s course, the provisions to buy to restock the pantry, the need to appropriately castigate a rival crew that has started throwing their weight around on an island part of the Kid Pirates’ territories and other serious matters, but the first mate could see the captain’s mind was elsewhere. He has asked him, and Kid promptly emptied the tank about the way the other captains had made fun of his virginity. “The problem is, who with? I don’t want to just go to some brothel and pay a few hundred berry to the first prostitute available. Any dipshit can do that; it has to count, you know?”

🔥 Killer nods slowly, his expression vaguely amused behind his mask. “You know there’s nothing shameful about being a virgin; and it’s not like you to care about what others think.” he points out, and Kid grunts in reticent agreement. The truth is, he is pretty confident in his strength and in that of his crew, which are at least on par with those of the most famous pirates in the world; but this sex thing is different. In this, he is shamefully at a disadvantage, completely in the dark regarding a topic most men his age know well. This is what frustrates him: for a man so proud of his reputation, being belittled and ridiculed about something he objectively lacks in respect to others is absolutely unbearable. He needs to regain his honor, which means losing his virginity in a way that he can boast about to the other captains, who will then respect him again as one of them.

🔥 But how? The truth is, there is no one he is even vaguely interested in, not to mention that he doesn’t want the wrong sort of gossip to spread over the Sea, should he not… perform well on his first time. It is humiliating to even just consider the option, and Kid is not usually a man who doubts his abilities, but even he knows a person’s sexual debut can be awkward and less than perfect, especially when their theoretical knowledge is lacking at best as in his case, and he doesn’t want the other captains to learn that he underperformed. Whoever his first partner will be, he needs to make sure they will keep their mouth shut…

🔥 Killer has listened to Kid without commenting for a while. “Maybe there’s another possibility.” he offers in the end “You could ask (name).”, and at those words Kid actually stops mid-rant, and reflects.

🔥 (name). In other words, you.

🔥 The idea is reasonable, for more than one reason. First of all, since you are a member of his crew, a person whose loyalty he has already had the chance to appreciate, Kid is confident you will keep the matter to yourself if asked, in order not to have the whole crew gossip about his sex life and previous state of tardive virginity. Also, he suddenly realises, you are the only person he knows for whom sex has been not only a personal matter, but a professional one as well.

🔥 After reflecting on it for a while, Kid decides to follow Killer’s advice and discuss the matter with you; he arranges for you to be on guard duty on the bridge that night, so that you’ll be alone, and then approaches, resting his back against the ship’s side as he meets your eyes, arms to his chest. “You were a prostitute once, right?” he asks, bluntly as is his wont. If you are surprised your captain chose the middle of the night for a chat, and by the topic he chose to address, you don’t let it on. “The correct term is courtesan, not prostitute, but I guess the essence is the same.” you concede, not at all bothered or upset “I worked in a pleasure house for several years.” “And… were you good?” “Let’s put it this way: do you remember your first bounty, captain? That, at the peak of my career, would have been enough to pay for a night in my bed. Just a night, for a… standard service.” you explain, and Kid can’t help feeling impressed.

🔥 “Why did you leave it, if you were so successful?” he asks, and you explain that you were actually forced to leave, after killing a client who had tried taking from you more than you were willing to give - and not pay for it. Unfortunately, the man was a relative of the city’s lord, so you had to run in order not to be put to death; you were travelling to another, far away country, planning on finding another pleasure house to work in, until the day you found yourself caught up in a bar brawl.

🔥 Kid doesn’t need to be reminded of that part of the story; he and his crew were at that very bar, and then suddenly a group of pirates had assaulted a single, apparently inoffensive woman, who then proceeded to beat the crap out of half a dozen opponents, all on her own, barely breaking a sweat. Kid recruited you on the spot, and you have been part of the crew ever since. “May I ask why the sudden interest, captain?” you politely inquire, and Kid sighs, privately admitting you have a right to ask, and feeling uncomfortable nonetheless.

🔥 “You can’t tell anyone, alright? No one in the world, neither within this crew nor outside. I am not joking, (name); if you blab about this to anyone, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” “I won’t tell anyone, captain; you have my word. So… what did you want to talk about?” you ask, and Kid is suddenly grateful the night is pitch black, no trace of stars above you, because the darkness hides the furious blush on his face. Stammering a bit, for maybe the first time in his life, he tells you about his problem, and no amount of darkness could conceal the astonishment on your expression; you stare at him, flabbergasted, until Kid brusquely orders you to close your mouth. “I’m sorry, I… I am just surprised. I never thought you would be interested… and you want me for your first time? Captain, I… I don’t know what to say. I am very flattered…”

🔥 That last word makes an alarm bell sound in Kid’s mind; and it is his impression, or suddenly you are blushing as well? “Don’t start getting ideas, alright? This is not… it’s nothing personal; I’m asking you because this is a business you know, having done it before, and I can trust you’ll keep your mouth shut. We’ll do it, I’ll pay you what you want, and never speak of it again.” he says, feeling, for some reason, the need to make things clear “And… you can say no, if you want. I know I’m your captain and all, but… in this, you are free to refuse, no repercussions. It’s a business deal, nothing more.”

🔥 A moment of stillness follows, the gentle murmuring of the waves surrounding you. “I see.” you answer, your voice devoid of any emotion “Well, this is a part of my life I thought I was done with, but I guess there would be nothing wrong with it. And I agree it’s better if we keep it secret, especially from the crew. So, uhm, shall I come to your cabin?”

🔥 Kid hadn’t expected you to propose you immediately get to work, even though, he has to admit, it makes sense not to waste time. A surge of panic, akin to nothing he has ever felt in battle, against the strongest enemies or when it seemed his chance of survival were almost nil, fills him; he is not ready! He needs some time to… well, to prepare. Kid knows sex is not a mission one needs to plan in advance, or an exam for which to study, but he is not walking into this without having taken some time to decide what to do. Consequently, he tells you it’s better to wait for the ship to reach its next destination: you’ll meet in an inn in whatever town you harbour at, so that none of your crewmates suspects what you are up to. You nod, admitting his alternative makes sense. “Then… I’ll wait for you to tell me when and where, shall I? I will do my best for it to be good for you, captain.”

🔥 Kid mumbles that it’s fine, he doesn’t need it to be memorable as long as he knows how it feels, and no one else can make fun of him anymore. He lingers in front of you for a moment more, before realising he should let you return to your duties. “‘night.” “Goodnight, captain; I’ll see you soon.” you say, and there’s no particular feeling in your voice, no hidden meaning in that simple promise, but Kid feels the need to close the conversation as soon as possible. He grunts, turns, and quickly walks away, not needing to look behind him to know you are still staring at his retreating form.

🔥 All things considered, Kid reflects once he has returned to the privacy of his cabin, it went well; you didn’t make fun of the fact a man his age is still a virgin -not that he feared you would; even his closest crewmembers know disrespecting the captain is the easiest way to be beaten to a pulp and then thrown overboard, and moreover, you simply are not that type of person- you accepted his proposal, and you decided when and how meet. The navigator told him it will take a couple of days to reach the next island, so he has all the time to - to psychologically prepare for his task; he knows you will keep your mouth shut, and he doesn’t feel like he has something to prove, but he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t even know how sex works.

🔥 Because he does. Of course he knows, he’s a pirate for God’s sake! And yes, he’s never done it before, but shouldn’t sex be something people simply know how to do, instinctively? How difficult can it be?

🔥 He should feel relieved that the first part of his mission was successful, and he is. On the other hand, Kid spends the next two days prey of a rising, mounting anxiety, counting the days and then the hours separating him from the moment the two of you will meet to suit the action to the word. He’s even more irascible than usual, so much that the others start wondering whether their captain is worried or angry about something; Killer, who has been informed of his and your plans, sighs and points out it’s not fair of Kid to take his frustration out on the crew. “You know, it will probably be pleasant, very much so if (name) is as… talented as she claims to be; why don't you just relax?” his first mate and partner proposes, and he’s right, Kid has to admit, but the advice doesn’t make him feel better: his planned meeting with you attracts and scares him at the same time, something he can’t wait to experience and, at the same time, he has to stop himself from cancelling.

🔥 During those two days, every time his path meets yours, you simply smile and say “Hello, captain.” the way you always had, which is good, because the last thing Kid wants is for the rest of the crew to perceive some weird tension or secret between the two of you. At the same time he is sure, sure enough to swear his life on it, there’s something different in the way you look at him, or in how at times you touch his arm to attract his attention -something that has never bothered him before- that wasn’t there before; an intention, an unsaid promise, as if your hand had gotten warmer against his skin, or your eyes communicated a message without the need for words. Kid does his best to act normally, with the others and especially in your presence, but he not always can; specifically, at times, when he sees you walk briskly across the deck, or sitting at a table in the mess hall as you play cards with the others, he has started wondering how your body looks under your clothes.

🔥 Finally, the ship drops anchor at the harbour of a large town. Kid wanders around on his own for a while, finds the perfect spot -a small, out-of-the-way inn on the outskirts, the sort of place where no one pays too much attention to the other guests and their business- and rents a room for the night. “Make sure it’s clean.” he adds menacingly, for some reason he doesn’t really know himself, and the innkeeper assures him it will be done. Kid returns to the ship, discreetly reaches the cabin you share with the other women and slips a piece of paper under your pillow, with the time and place for your appointment. From now on, changing his mind and forgetting the whole thing will be impossible; Kid sighs, and then steers himself for what is to come.

🔥 “You know, you should take a bath; no woman wants to touch a man who is covered in grime and smells like a dumpster.” Killer, who seems to find the whole matter highly amusing, suggests later, and Kid mumbles that he doesn’t smell, and in any case he is not going on a date with his girlfriend, he has no intention to doll up to impress you, since you have seen him bleeding and sweating a thousand times already, but he does take a bath, and changes his clothes. “Have fun!” Killer wishes him, and Kid groans, already fed up.

🔥 He leaves for the inn with plenty of time to spare, preferring to arrive at the room first and then get settled, but mid-way he stops at a bar and drinks, trying not to think about why he’s doing it. Liquid courage, they call it; Kid always thought he had plenty of it, but today he stands corrected. By the time he finally reaches the room he’s still early, and he does feel a little better; he opens the door… and freezes.

🔥 “Hello.” you murmur, smiling at him. You are lying on the bed, the sheet pulled up to your shoulders but thin enough Kid can easily see you are naked under it, and the shape of your body; you came early too, no doubt because you wanted to surprise him -or who knows, maybe because you couldn’t wait for what you are about to do…- and unforeseen circumstances are something Kid usually dislikes, but this time… this time he can’t help feeling happy, even thrilled, as he looks at you, now sitting on the bed, as you invite him to approach with your hand. “Why don’t we get a little more comfortable? You can take your clothes off, if you want. Shall I… help you?”

🔥 Kid has suddenly realised he is not ready to have you touch him. “I can do it by myself.” he mumbles as he starts taking his coat off, and a couple minutes later he’s naked save for his briefs. He slowly walks to the bed, sits by your side, and feels himself blushing as he notices the appreciative look you are casting him, shamelessly focused on the bulge under his navel. He is hard, seriously hard, for the first time in his life due to something real rather than some vague desire or involuntary blood flow; he wants you, he realises with a shiver, he really and deeply does… and he can’t wait to see what you have in store for him.

🔥 “You are very handsome, you know.” “Don’t be daft, not even my mother has ever called my ugly mug handsome.” Kid defends himself, suddenly nervous; the only compliments he has ever been paid regard his strength and ferocity, or his high bounty, but this feels different - more personal, more intimate, and he doesn’t know how to react. It does feel good, in a way, but at the same time, he can’t help feeling weak for it… “You must think I’m an idiot, still a virgin at my age.” “Not at all; one can be too young, but never too old for sex.” you reassure him “I was a little surprised to know this was to be your first time, but I guess you have always been more interested in piracy and in becoming stronger than in finding a partner, haven’t you? So… how would you like to do this? We can talk for a while, if you want, or we could discuss what you’d like to do and prefer to avoid; nothing you tell me will leave this room, you have my word.”

🔥 Kid knows he can trust you, and discussing boundaries and preferences does seem reasonable. Nevertheless, the last thing he feels like doing is chatting; from his position by your side, he can see the shape of your breast under the sheet, your erect nipples visible through the fabric, and the view is making him almost unable to swallow. What is happening to him, all of a sudden? This feels weird; his whole body is reacting to your presence, and you haven’t even touched each other yet. His rationality is slipping, the same impulses he so often deprecated in others taking over; he is no longer in control, of the events and of himself, and the thought is terrifying and humiliating, but he can’t help letting himself go…

🔥 “Kid? Is everything alright?” “Yeah, sure. I was just thinking…” Kid hesitates for a moment more; his ideas regarding sex are vague at best, but even he knows what the best way of starting is… “We can… I mean, is it alright if we k-kiss? You can still say no, you know.” he makes clear. As you discussed already this is just business, not a relationship or any other thing involving feelings, but he’s determined not to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. Kid doubts you have liked every person who has paid to have sex with you, but this is different - he is different, or at least he plans on being. He waits, almost holding your breath, and sees you smile happily. “I thought you’d never ask.”

🔥 Kissing it’s weird. Weird and awkward, at first, like being forced in a dance he doesn’t know the steps of, his mouth and yours meeting again and again, and he instinctively tries too hard until you whisper “Ssh, it’s fine, take your time.” and he wants to answer but he can’t, because no matter how strange it does feel good, no, it feels amazing, and he’s already breathing hard as he feels your lips, silk-soft and warm, caress his. A moment later you slip your tongue in his mouth and Kid groans, a loud, uncontrolled sound expressing an emotion he thought himself unable to experience: lust.

🔥 He kisses you back, finally finding the rhythm as his tongue meets yours, and when he feels you moan his large, powerful body shivers; his heart is pounding, hot blood running in his veins, and his mind is filled with lurid images he can’t wait to turn into reality. The kiss lasts until you are both gasping for breath. Kid has closed his eyes without realising, and when he opens them, he sees you smile, looking like the cat who got the cream. “So? How was it, captain?” you ask licking your lips, and Kid groans in response before kissing you again .

🔥 You kiss some more, and Kid is already sure he’ll never get enough of it until the sheet covering you slips away, you move to straddle him, and suddenly he’s holding your naked body in his arms. Kid has never been this close to a woman, and he gulps, having blushed again. You smile, and “It’s alright; you can look at me, and touch me, if you want.” you say gently, and he wonders if perceiving what he was too embarrassed to ask for is an ability you have acquired during your past as a pr- as a courtesan or it’s due to the years you have spent as crewmates, but he doesn’t ask, too busy as he is drinking avidly in the view offered to his eyes. The mere sight of your breasts is enough to make his mouth water, and then his eyes slip downwards, towards your core, and Kid forgets how to breathe.

🔥 He is hesitant as he starts touching you, despite your explicit consent afraid he might hurt you or doing something unpleasant; nobody better than him knows how strong you are, so it’s not like he’s going to kill you just squeezing you a little too harshly, but he’s terrified you might change your mind. Once more, you seem to understand why he’s hesitating, because a moment later you have taken his large, strong hands in yours, and are guiding them in exploring his skin and flesh. “Touch me.” you murmur; you are being kind and patient in your role as teacher and helper, but even Kid in his ignorance can see you are sincerely enjoying what you are living together; you want him, you really do, your desire intense enough for your eyes to burn with it “Fuck… Kid, touch me please, I need to feel you…”

🔥 You rarely swear, which fills Kid with a sort of pride he had never experienced before. He grins to himself as he shapes your body under his hands, like a sculptor moulding clay, and your skin, warm and smooth, is the most beautiful thing he has ever touched, including the scars and half-healed wounds memento of some past battle; he lowers his face to kiss them, and he kisses your breast, deliciously soft under his tongue, and you moan, holding his head in your hands. “Oh, God, Kid…” you cry, pronouncing both names with the same worshipful intention “Oh, yes, darling, don’t stop…”

🔥 Darling. No one had ever called him that, unless it happened when he was very young, but he likes it, he likes it very much, so much that kissing is no longer enough. He is harder than ever before, painfully constricted in his black briefs, and no matter how deliciously pleasant -how sweet; God, is this the first time he describes something as such, even in the privacy of his thoughts?- it is to feel your skin under his mouth, he wants more…

🔥 This time, rather than stopping what the two of you are doing to ask, Kid decides to act; he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and he hears you moan, your hips moving as you begin rubbing yourself against his turgor. “Oh, God…” “Feels good?” Kid asks, just to hear you say it rather than because he has reason to doubt, and grins when he sees you nod, and whisper that yes, it feels so good, and you can’t wait to see him and feel him inside you, and well, few would describe Eustass Kid as a generous man, but this time at least he il willing to satisfy your request.

🔥 The desire roaring in his stomach notwithstanding, Kid feels himself grow tense once a new kiss has pushed him on his back, and he feels your fingertips brush against his waistline. He wants you to touch him, he does so much it’s driving him crazy, and he also knows you are not going to hurt him, but he can’t help it, because no one has ever known him so genuinely, beyond the infamous reputation and the power and the danger. He has completely lowered his defenses for you, letting you see him as intimately as no one has ever done before, and the thought is terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

🔥 You meet his gaze, and after Kid nods in assent you delicately free him from his briefs, exposing his hard cock, proudly erect. “Fuck. It’s so beautiful…” “Is… is it?” “Of course it is, Kid; it’s beautiful, big and strong, exactly as you are.” you assure him, and for a moment Kid can’t help wondering whether you’ve seen better, and bigger, during your years at the pleasure house, but that incertitude lasts only for a moment, because you are now sitting on his lap, slowly pumping his shaft before impaling yourself on it, and Kid can’t help but stare as your body swallows his, the friction eliciting a pain he is forced to bite his lip not to express, but it feels good, it feels better than anything he has ever thought could exist, good enough he might lose his mind for it. He grabs your hips as you begin moving above him, the room filled with the lurid sound of your flesh slapping against his. “Don’t stop.” he growls, and you nod, your face an image of pleasure and lust that takes his breath away.

🔥 He wakes up with a start soon after dawn, for a moment confused about his whereabouts, and then disappointment fills him as he realises the other half of the bed is empty; Kid quickly dresses himself and returns to the ship.

🔥 “So? How did it go?” Killer discreetly asks when captain and first mate meet on the bridge; Kid grunts in reply, unwilling to share the events of last night, even with his most trusted crewmate. “It went alright; we did what we had to.” he succinctly says before walking away. He spends the day taking care of various tasks, not fully sure of what he feels. On one side, he’s satisfied the matter is closed, he is no longer a virgin and doesn’t need to worry to be mocked again by the other captains again; on the other, he can’t help feeling unsatisfied, not by your rapport itself, which was all that he had hoped for and then some, rather by the fact that it will not happen again.

🔥 Or will it?

🔥 You and Kid stay clear of each other during the day, both of you making sure the rest of the crew has no reason to suspect something unusual has happened between you. But it has, it definitely has, and Kid can’t believe until twenty-four hours ago he thought a single time would be enough, and he wouldn’t leave that bed you had shared wanting for more. And he does, he does so much it feels it gnawing at him, and he feels himself growling every time he sees one of your crewmates platonically patting your back or touching your hands with theirs as you form a chain to carry parcels on board. He has no right to ask more of you, not when your initial arrangement implicitly stated you would only have sex once, but he can’t help it. Last night’s memories -the silky softness of your skin; the warmth of your kisses; the lovely sound of your voice moaning his name in a never-ending litany… how tight you felt around his cock…- keep filling his mind every time he catches a glimpse of you on the bridge or as you have lunch with the others in the mess hall, and he’s quite sure no man has ever died for lack of sex, but he can’t deny this is exactly what he feels like…

🔥 Duties on the ship are rigorously divided and scheduled, but Kid has Killer task you with arranging the supplies bought that day in the ship’s small storage room, after dinner; the first mate complies, even though “You know.” he points out gently “You can simply go to her and talk, without the need for subterfuge.”. Kid privately agrees, but he prefers not to risk being seen or heard by others; later, once the rest of the crew has gone to bed except for the men keeping watch on the bridge, he meets you in the storage room, as you neatly arrange the parcels’ content on the shelves. You don’t seem surprised to see him. “I knew you would come see me. Is… is everything alright? I’m sorry if it wasn’t as good as you hoped, the first time can be a bit awkward…” Kid shakes his head, mumbling that had he something to complain, he would have done it already. He wishes he could ask if it was good for you as well, if he was able to give you pleasure despite his lack of experience, but he’s too proud to.

🔥 “I haven’t paid you yet.” he points out, and you shake your head gently before answering that you could never accept any payment from him, since what you did was a favour to a crewmate rather than a job, and in any case… “In any case what?” “Well, I must admit I… I had forgotten how sweet it could feel; I don’t know whether it was because we knew each other or because you are an extremely handsome man, but… well, I think last night was one of the best of my life. I really mean it.”

🔥 So you did like it! And, as incredible as it sounds, you find him attractive! Emboldened, Kid takes your hand to pull you to him, holding you close enough to feel your body shiver at the contact. “What do you say we repeat the experience then?” he asks, and he sees you beam. “I was hoping you’d ask.” You walk to Kid’s cabin together, and “We need to be very quiet, lest the others…” you begin, and then Kid is kissing you before the door closes behind you; clothes start falling to the floor, and Kid slips his hand to cup your core, eliciting a moan his mouth is quick to swallow. “This time I want to stay on top.” Kid murmurs in your ear, and you hurry to nod, an adoring smile in your eyes. “Everything you want.” you murmur, pressing yourself against his body, already rock-hard “Do whatever you want to me, captain, I promise I won’t say no.”

🔥 It’s a sort of promise few men would be able to resist, and Kid doesn’t even try; he manages to control himself just long enough to have your body naked in front of him, then he picks you up to carry you to his bed, your mouth quickly finding his in a new, hungry kiss. It’s still awkward between the two of you, since it’s only his second time and last night he let you take the reins, but Kid has been waiting for this since he woke up in the morning without you by his side, and perhaps is the fact that he’s taking you in his bed, or that you told him explicitly he was able to give you pleasure despite that being his first time, but your lovemaking is for Kid ever more intense than what you shared last night. You do need to be quiet, since the last thing he wants is for the rest of the crew to know what you are up to, but for Kid hearing you whisper and moan his name in his ear is more than enough; seeing the naked, unadulterated pleasure in your eyes as he moves inside you and waves of pleasure rock both of your bodies, makes his head spin.

🔥 He’s careful in penetrating you, even after you’ve assured him you’re more than ready and you’ll tell him if you want to stop; he hasn’t forgotten you’ve been with other men already -a thought that keeps making him angry, even though he couldn’t explain why- but when he feels his cock entering you as if you were made for it, made for him, it’s hard not to delude himself into thinking no one has ever pleasured you like he’s doing. “You’re beautiful.” he grunts, and he’s not sure who’s more surprised to hear him utter those words, you or himself. Beauty is something Kid has had scarce opportunity to appreciate, or to care about in his life, but as he looks at your naked body sprawled on his bed, your skin bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the window, he knows you are beautiful, and he, like the avid and greedy man he’s always been, wants you to himself.

🔥 You end up having sex twice, barely catching your breath in the middle; in the end you’re both exhausted, but Kid feels amazing, sated and proud of himself for the pleasure he’s seen reflected in your eyes. “May I stay for a while? I can tell the others I was busy in the storage room.” you ask, uncertain but hopeful, and Kid, who hadn’t even considered the possibility of you leaving, nods and holds you against his body. He doesn’t complain when you start playing with his hair, and grins to himself when you tell him you have always admired it, its bright colour and how it compliments his skin tone. You enjoy a few more minutes together, holding and touching each other, before you need to leave; lying on his back, Kid observes as you quickly, silently retrieve your clothes, and then kiss him one last time. “You know, I could always put you down for another shift in the storage room tomorrow night.” he proposes, and you smile at him. “As I said, captain, whatever you might decide is fine by me.” you say “More than fine, in fact.”

🔥 That’s how it starts between the two of you. From then on, you visit Kid in his cabin almost every night; you can never stay too long, since your cabinmates -not one, not two, but five of them- would notice your prolonged absence, but you make those brief rendez-vous count to the last second. When you enter, Kid is always there waiting for you, often naked already to save time, and invariably hard. “Took you a while!” he says, even though you are almost always on time or even early, and before you have time to react he’s taken you in his arms and is kissing you passionately.

🔥 Sometimes, when your lovemaking has ended but you still have some time before you need to go, you talk - really talk. You have spoken a million times before, having been part of the same crew for years, but since you are quieter than most, a perfectly companionable person but used to keep her private life to herself, Kid had never realised how little he knew about you, and about your life before you joined his crew. So, night after night, as the two of you lie together side by side, your hand moving up and down his body -”You have such a nice physique, you know? I have been enjoying the view, captain, whenever you couldn’t notice.”- or him enjoying the sensual feeling of your breasts pressing against his side, you share your past, confiding in Kid like you have never done with anyone else.

🔥 “My younger sister and I ran away when we were barely a couple of kids, to escape the hell our life at home had become after our mother had died. We lived on the street for a while until a pleasure house’s madam saw me as we panhandled and offered me a place to live in exchange for work. I accepted; my sister was hired as a maid for the house, even though I wished she would let me rent a room for her somewhere else, and so we were able to get by. As I said, I made good money; I planned to put aside enough to buy a house for the two of us, or to work until my looks allowed me to attract clients, until a client decided the fact that he paid for my company gave him the right to use me as he wished, despite my protestations. I didn’t mean to kill him, I was only trying to defend myself, but he forced my hand… and then I was forced to leave, in order not to cause trouble for the other courtesans. My sister still lives in that town; I send her part of my wage every month, but she has a good job, and got married two years ago.” you explain, your cheek resting on Kid’s chest.

🔥 “You did good killing that bastard.” he comments. “Thank you; and to think, he wasn’t even the client who hurt me the worst.” you say with a sigh. “Why?” Kid asks, curious despite himself, but you shake your head decisively. “That’s a story for another time. So…” you add with a smile, letting your hand slip downward, past his chiseled abs and the patch of red hair on his abdomen “Since we still have a little time, what about we check how long you can resist before I make you come with my mouth?”

🔥 Kid has found heaven between your thighs, your tight, warm pussy taking him every time with a delicious friction that makes him forget his own name, but what he likes the most is having you go down on him. Given the fact you’re still much more experienced than him -even though, he’s pleased to recognise, he’s improving by the day- he enjoys being in control, which usually means sitting on the edge of the bed with you kneeling between his thighs, his hard cock filling your warm, soft mouth, your head moving up and down as you use your lips, your tongue and even -cautiously- your teeth to give him pleasure. To have you focus on his needs rather than your own feels exhilarating; he hasn’t found the One Piece, but in those moments he feels like a King already.

🔥 At times, to be fair, you do give in to your own needs, and as you service him, running your tongue up and down his shaft, Kid can see you slip a hand between your legs to relieve the pressure. Sometimes he pretends he didn’t see, or at least that he doesn’t mind seeing you taking care of something other than him, but Kid has never been known for his generosity, and so it is that most of the times he grabs your wrists and orders you to focus on what you are doing, and on him, with the unspoken promise he will reward you as soon as you’re done and he’s had a moment to catch his breath. He never goes back on his promise.

#One Piece #Eustass Captain Kid #Eustass Kid x reader #Bellona's stuff #100 notes

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temis-de-leon · 3 months ago

Text

The brothers reunite with Trans!MC - Part 2

Main Masterlist

Part 1

C/W: MC previously had she/her pronouns, but it's only mentioned once. MC now has facial hair, again only mentioned once, and has changed names.

A/N: it may look like I lost interest by the end, but that's not true. I'm just tired af and my writing got a little sloppy; please forgive me for it. Also, please tell me if I need to change anything. I know nothing about the trans experience.

It’s all chaotic and almost scary.

As you may understand, Satan isn’t keen on being used as a cushion, let alone by a stranger, and it so happens that a human man is comfortably sitting right on top of his stomach.

At the assembly hall.

In the middle of a council student’s reunion.

You swear you’ve never seen him change into his demon form so quickly, his bright eyes staring at you with a poison-like intent and his tail swishing behind him like a rattlesnake’s.

You also swear you’ve never stumbled on your feet so awkwardly, tripping over nothing and falling again, thankfully on the carpet this time.

They’re all aggravated for a moment, provoked by the presence of an intruder landing right on top of their brother, but… there’s something about you that makes them reconsider.

Maybe it’s the colour of your eyes? The shape of your face, familiar yet unknown? If they took the sharp edges and smoothed them down, making them rounder, or shaved the facial hair to reveal the base of your features…

There’s a spark of recognition in their eyes, and Mammon murmurs your old name with uncertainty. Hearing it out of his lips stings for a second, and you spare no time correcting him, but that doesn’t make things better.

If not MC, then are you her brother? They didn’t know you existed. Should they know you exist? Did you have a falling out with MC? Should they be mad at you?

All it takes for their rambling to stop is for you to roll up your sleeves, lift the hem of your shirt a little and show the pact marks you share with them. They never changed, and the surgeries and hormones never altered their appearance; they actually adapted to the new shape of your body.

You always found comfort in its symbolism. Now, you just had to make it a reality.

Explaining is way simpler than you thought it would be, and you can’t help but slightly berate yourself for thinking it would be hard.

They’re demons, after all! Gender and self-expression aren’t viewed the same in the Devildom as it is in the human realm. Asmo regularly dances around the line of femininity, and the rest of the guys have dressed as women before, after all.

They can’t understand what the big deal is at first, but if you tell them all the social and psychological complications, they will be deeply sympathetic.

They won’t mind if you still want to keep some things private and will be there to listen if you want to talk, but either way, you aren’t getting away from them. At the end of the day, they missed you, and you’re finally back.

Plus, it’s not like you’re just reuniting. They’re meeting you again.

Lucifer says he doesn’t mind how you look, but he isn’t being entirely sincere. Because he knows about masks, you see? And it pains him to learn that you had to wear one for most of your life. He acknowledges your bravery in recognizing what you wanted and in pursuing the correct path despite adversities. It sounds corny and expected from him, but what can he say? He’s proud of you.

Will he tell you that, though? Not with those exact words… Actually, not with words at all, but he’ll let you see. It’ll be obvious in the way he accepts whatever you throw at him without questioning and acts like that was the truth the whole time. Your name, your appearance, your new confidence… Everything.

Mammon doesn’t know how to feel. It’s not like he has a problem with you, obviously; that would never happen as long as he breathes. Still, he can’t help but feel a bit hurt. Didn’t you trust him to confide in him? To share your troubles and your doubts and the weight of your insecurities? He would’ve been there for you the whole time and maybe even tried to sneak into the human realm to keep you company when you needed it the most. The thought of you just lying there on a hospital bed is going to keep him awake at night.

At the same time, which is the worst part of all, he has guilt eating him alive. When you left after your first year, he printed pictures from your outings: little dates and hangouts you had here and there, together and with the rest of the family, and hung them on the walls of his room, hoping to relive the memories each time your absence hurt too much. Should he now throw them away and leave that part of you behind? Start anew?

Deep down, what he worries about the most is the possibility of having lost the person he fell for. Tell him your heart hasn’t changed and that it’s okay to remember the past fondly, and you’ll have him trailing behind you in no time.

Levi, in a similar note to his older brother, also has concerns about the idea of losing his Henry. It is an existing trope in media, after all: leaving old things behind to embrace your new self and start a better life. So, what if he is part of those old things? What if you no longer need him? What if he reminds you of stuff you don’t want to remember? He’d literally die if the price of your happiness implied abandoning him.

Thankfully, though, in his case, you won’t need to intervene and coax him into a calm state; he’ll actually rant in a circle and walk himself back to relaxation. You are his best friend, and the connection between you is genuine and strong, resilient against all kinds of changes.

Besides, a hero isn’t defined by his armour. It’s still you underneath, and he admires you to no end; he always has and always will.

Satan asks you a million questions. Being curious is part of who he is, and he likes understanding what’s happening around him, especially when it concerns you. Plus, the only communication you’ve shared for two years has been strictly telematic, and he is aware of how much information can be lost in translation.

He wants to know about how everything came to be, how you knew what you wanted and how you got it. The medical procedures, how they changed you, what’s ahead of you, what type of help you received…

However, be aware of the consequences if you tell him you got no help.

Be scared if you tell him someone hated you for your choices.

Asmo is, by far, the most excited about the whole situation. He’s well known across all the realms for his daring personality, his borderline narcissistic self-love and the way he expresses himself, so for you to finally be more comfortable in your own skin is like a gift straight from heaven.

He takes you shopping in search of your definitive style, and he offers to paint your nails and even your makeup just like he does with his brothers. Of course, he’ll understand if you don’t want to do it and he won't push, but, you know, there’s nothing more masculine than being comfortable with it!

The twins have very similar reactions, meaning that they barely react. Yes, of course, they’re stunned for a long moment when they first see you, but once the air is clear and you explain what has happened over the last couple of years, the only thing they care about is the fact that you’re finally back. They’ve both missed you like crazy, especially Belphie, and as long as it is you, everything else isn’t that important.

Beel is more than ready to offer his expertise in the gym if you want to grow muscles and become more masculine. He’d be helping you, and you’d be spending more time together, so, all in all, it is a win-win situation for him.

Belphie is subtler in his approach. Just like Lucifer, he treats you with complete normality, but he enjoys the deep talks in the planetarium late at night. There’s an intimate bubble around you, and he feels like no one but he has ever been closer to you, so he’s in pure bliss.

Overall, the situation has a strange undertone; no one can deny that. It is you, but it’s different. You’re still brave and kind but happier and more confident. There’s an edge in your behaviour that pulls them like moths to a flame: the feeling that an invisible barrier that they didn’t know existed is now gone.

And somehow, they’ve managed to make your future brighter once again.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @raidoactivebrain

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