#or at least use a general x reader tag or reader insert
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#im sorry but im so fucking sick of having to filter out new variations of these tags every 2 days because i come across some new thing-#-recommended to me in a tag i follow#x reader stuff is fine in general like i’ve never read any or had the desire to but you do you! however#-the way i have come across some really creepy stuff via people not tagging their posts#please at least use a general ‘insert fandom name’ x reader tag or something so its easy to get rid of#bc i do not want to see another fucking miguel o’hara x .teen???? reader again#this wasnt even via looking through the spiderverse tag itself this just Appeared On My Dash because i follow the spiderverse tag#threw up in my mouth a little!
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I don't really mean for this to sound mean, at all, and this is honestly meant to be a sort of constructive criticism but I've been at my wits end these past few weeks when going through stories of some of my favourite characters because all I've been seeing are characters x reader stories being tagged as so only for them, in the end, to turn out to have been character x oc stories all along. I know some people probably do not care to tag correctly their posts, and some probably do so with the intention of posting them in hashtags that are intentionally misleading for the sake of readership and likes, and whatever not, but Tumblr is not ao3 where you can filter out certain characters or certain tags to clear the search of any unwanted characters or triggers and etc, etc because at its core Tumblr is a blogging platform where certain dedicated people and fandoms post fanfics of their favourite characters, which is why it does not possess such a feature like ao3 in the first place. I understand that new writers, probably, also cannot differentiate between a reader-insert and an actual original character created by them for their stories. But I fear it may be, common knowledge that when someone is specifically looking out for an x reader story they more than likely do not want most of the tag to be filled with people self-inserting themselves in the story through an oc. I know that no reader-insert will ever truly be a reader-insert because there is no way that the person reading the story will ever come close to the personality or appearance that is needed of the reader to make the story work but all I ask, at the very least, is for people to be honest about what kind of story they're putting out there and to not mislead people by posting stories that have nothing to do with the tag that it's been posted under only because it involves the character it's being matched with.
Again, this is only a general criticism, and it's not supposed to target anyone. Also, my main aim is not to be either rude or mean but it's something that's been going on for a while and that has been frustrating me so I felt I had to finally speak up about it.
Also, ps for certain writers, if you don't like using Y/N maybe reader-insert-centered stories are just not for you, because by then naming the reader it automatically makes the story an oc story.
#benjicot blackwood x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#gojo satoru x reader#nanami x reader#hotd imagine#rhaenyra x reader#geto suguru x reader#jjk#hotd#fanfic#alicent hightower x reader#aeron bracken x reader#davos blackwood#images#tags#writers on tumblr#choso x reader#creative writing#fanfic writing#daemon x reader#cregan stark x reader#genshin impact#zhongli x reader#genshin impact x reader#diluc x reader#genshin x reader#neuvilette x reader#honkai star rail x reader#jingyuan x reader#dan heng x reader
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Numbers Game ~ Chapter 40


One More Chance

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???
Numbers Game Masterlist
Word Count: 12.7k+
Ao3 Link
Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link
Chapter Tunes: Run Rabbit ~ ALT BLK ERA | Broken (feat. Amy Lee) ~ Seether
Summary: The Hunt is nearing its end, but it's still too early to tell who your favorite is. At least not before that red-haired Hunter claims the final date tonight.
Ch. 39 Recap: Detailed recap is directly below the cut!
Author's Note: This one is big, and not just the wordcount. I hope you enjoy the ride! 🥰
Dark Content Warning: No bracketed scenes, but brace yourself for Uncle Cedrick and some Sylvad family bullshit. And ya know... the feels, as usual 💜
Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷♀️
Extra Tags/Warnings:
Alternate POV Symbols:
���� ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | 🐈 ~ Kat |⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes
!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! This fic (And This Chapter in Particular!) contains spoilers for current One Piece plotlines!!! Sorry y'all, I've been trying to keep most spoilers small or vague details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.
Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Ch. 39 Recap:
Reader had to say goodbye to the man of her dreams on Uncle Cedrick's orders. He claimed that he was being generous, but that Iceburg didn't have anything they couldn't buy.
Crocodile tried to find anything useful in the recordings of his sweet girl at the asylum, but all he saw was that fifteen year old girl breaking, and that doctor praising her for admitting what she was: a monster.
Kat struggled to pretend while her sister had to keep smiling at the villainous Vinsmokes.
Mihawk found purpose again, a feeling he'd forgotten. He kept up his hunt through the seedy underworld, following the trail of greed while he left a trail of blood behind him.
Reader managed to relax and enjoy the second date with Katakuri. That Sweet Commander was too sweet, but Reader still couldn't make any promises.
Shanks felt desperate as his failures kept growing, until he finally hit his mark. He had sworn to become a villain to save Buggy's star, yet he would have preferred violence over the threats he made against Katakuri's little sister.
Reader managed to avoid being alone with Yonji during his second date, at the cost of his soldier's pain while he beat them bloody. She praised him, and managed to pretend during the breakfast the next morning. Neither Kat nor Reiju had joined them for breakfast, and the thought of her sister being happy helped Reader keep up her smile.
Now, the Hunt is nearing its end. The wedding will be in two days, but first Reader must face the final date, and the red-haired traitor that wants to claim her for himself.

One More Chance

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
Run, little rabbit. Please, run away.
This island was lush, abundant, a thing of true beauty.
Yet the sight of that wild rabbit hopping through the courtyard made you want to scream. If only you could move, you would run to it, protect it from the hunters and their hungry arrows, their greedy fingers, their gluttonous mouths.
That little bunny never stood a chance.
Uncle Cedrick had already snapped his fingers for his bow, all eyes on him while he aimed for the helpless creature that was stupid and unlucky enough to interrupt him.
Looking away didn’t save you from the little horror. The image of the rabbit’s extravagant death was spread too large across the screens, and your cowardly move to look away only trapped you more.
A hunter’s eyes tore through you, and you choked down stupid hope that you might survive longer than the creature that was bleeding its life away onto the pretty cobblestones while leeches and wolves applauded its dying breaths.
Those soft, brown eyes were arrows, and you knew that you were nothing to that greedy hunter but something to capture, to claim.
You were nothing but a little bunny to him, and tonight it was his turn to win you. To claim you.
His lips curled just slightly, a wicked little smirk that would have made your skin crawl if you hadn’t been holding in every piece of yourself that you could.
The screen behind that red-haired hunter showed a servant lifting that prize into the air, blood staining all that pure, white fur.
You returned Shanks’ smile, hoping that your death would be as quick as that little bunny’s if he was the one that caught you.
Hoping you would feel his blood on your hands first.
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
The Great Red Haired Shanks was drowning. He couldn’t fucking hear a thing, could hardly breathe unless he could watch the rise and fall of her breath, nearly bolting across the courtyard whenever she’d hold it in for too long.
Her eyes caught his, and cruel hope filled him.
Shanks smiled at that wounded star, aching for tonight.
I just need one more chance.
Y/N’s smile was perfect. So very sweet that the leeches around him began to swoon over the berries they’d bet on him winning the lovely heiress.
Her smile was anything but sweet. That charming pirate had seen behind the mask, catching just a flash of hate shining through every glance she sent his way.
I’m gonna save you, Y/N. I promise.
“Sorry about the mess,” Cedrick bragged while he drew everyone’s attention back to himself and his twisted, little game. “I know you all have been dying to hear from our lovebirds after that delightfully savage tournament last night—”
“My apologies for the interruption…”
Cedrick managed to rein himself in, but Shanks caught that flash of rage in his eyes when the towering hunter cut him off. He didn’t seem to be as good at pretending as Y/N, at least not when someone else was hogging all the attention.
“But of course, Katakuri,” Sylvad bowed his head just a fraction while the hunter kneeled before the little stage he shared with his niece. “You’re well known for your impeccable manners, so I imagine it must be important.”
“It is.”
Shanks didn’t want to watch this. He’d already downed the sparkling wine they’d poured into another carved glass for him this morning, so there was nothing to help him swallow his shame.
He had promised to become a villain for her. It was for her. For Buggy. For Mihawk.
He had to save her.
But that wounded star had stopped breathing again while she waited for that sweet commander to speak.
Was it really for her?
She still wasn’t breathing.
It wasn’t for her, was it? I came here for Buggy. For Mihawk. I came here to soothe my own fucking guilt.
No. I came here to use her again. To get what I want.
Shanks wasn’t good at pretending, unless his own delusions counted. He had truly believed that he was a good man.
What kind of man believes he’s good? Believes he’s better than others because he does what’s right? What he decides is right?
Who the fuck am I to decide what’s right?
Even with waves of self-loathing and guilt crushing his greedy heart, that Emperor of the Sea couldn’t stop.
He just held his own breath until she stopped holding hers.
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
Of course. Of course, your last hope was kneeling before you. It felt like the cruel twist of a knife that you could tell he wasn’t smiling beneath those feathers. You were a fucking idiot for getting attached, for getting to know this lovely dream too well before it ended.
Katakuri’s deep voice barely reached you, hitting just enough to confirm what you already knew.
It’s over.
“I am so sorry, Y/N,” that voice failed to soothe. “I want to stay with you, to take you with me, but my family needs me now. I must protect them. I’m sorry—”
“I understand,” some alien part of you spoke. Leeches made noises over your sweetness, but you weren’t sweet. You were empty. A doll with nothing inside. “Thank you, Katakuri. I hope your family is safe.”
Those crimson eyes saw you too deep and you needed to scream. The need was so intense, it felt like the screams were tearing you apart. So close to falling to your knees,
Leave. Just leave. Go away. Please!
Family. What a fucking joke.
Fuck. Now you were about to start laughing. This was not good.
Katakuri had moved slightly, but he tilted his head while he studied you. He seemed to pull his hand away before he’d reached for you, and you were grateful when he left without another word.
There were so many words around you now. So many sticky, pointless words, some of them from your own lips.
You were hardly there while you made it through the interview with Yonji, hardly there while you praised that rabid, little puppy dog whose hands pulled you too close. Like you were his favorite chew toy.
A flash of red caught your eye, but you couldn’t look at that other hunter while you praised the one beside you on the stupid, green couch he’d brought with him.
Numbers. Counting. Math. That would help you get through this.
Three minus one is two.
Two minus one is...
One hunter would leave you drugged and strapped to another table, only this time you’d be dissected, violated, forced to birth monsters until you died.
The other hunter made you sick with hate, with disgust. The traitor that broke Buggy’s heart, that used you to steal him away, only to abandon him again. A dangerous man, a monster. Just a fucking leech that couldn’t get what he wanted from your dead father, so now he would hurt anyone in his path to tear it from your flesh.
A hunter claiming his prey, with not a thought for the pain the rabbit must feel while its heart’s blood spilled at his feet.
Either choice meant death.
Pros and cons.
You weren’t naive enough to think that you had a real chance at killing an Emperor of the Sea. Even if you did, you’d be trapped on a ship full of terrifying pirates that he’d threatened to punish you with the first night you met.
Both options were torture, but red grew in your mind. It spread, slow and thick like the blood of the man that was killed just for insulting you.
Shanks had hurt Buggy. He would hurt him again if he got the chance.
I’ll kill him for Buggy. At least I can do something for him before it’s over. If I can kill him, then everything else is fine.
But you couldn’t kill him tonight. Tonight, you would pretend, you’d please the monster, so he’d steal you for himself. Tonight, you would use him to forget the world.
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~
Red Haired Shanks was always searching. Not for treasure or glory, but for the perfect tavern.
For years, every tavern was fine, filled with bunnies and booze, laughter and ease, but every now and then he’d find what he needed.
“There you are,” Shanks whistled as he raised his mug. “You never know who you’ll run into at a tavern, eh, old friend?”
“We’re not friends, asshole,” Buggy spat, already so flustered and cute when Shanks leaned against his shoulder at the sticky bar top before he leaned away. “We’re enemies.”
“Come on, Bugs, it’s been a couple of years since last time, hasn’t it,” the redhead coaxed. It felt as though the world was falling away, nothing but that lovely clown and the unacceptable space between them. “At least let me buy you a drink. Something sweet?”
He held in his laugh at the way Buggy frowned, the way everything about him was so bright, so vivid. Shanks studied every movement until he saw the shift in those crystal eyes, and he couldn’t help but scrape his bottom lip through his teeth at the feeling of victory it gave him.
“Ugh, fine! But only because you owe me,” the clown sighed, his skin a bit flushed beneath his greasepaint while he downed his drink.
“Lead the way then, old friend,” Shanks purred. His body was tingling when he gestured toward the nearly empty tables in this shitty, wonderful tavern. Finally, the world felt right again.
~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~
~~~~~~
~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~
“Just follow me, star,” Buggy soothed your panicked breaths. “You know your captain will catch you, don’t you?”
“Yes, Captain, it’s just—oh gods!”
You were too breathless to pout at his smug laughter while you clung to him, the only anchor within reach. Buggy had guided your steps, holding your hands while he floated beside you, but you’d barely moved across the tightrope before slipping off, and into his waiting arms.
“Come on, I’m not about to let my flashy financial advisor go splat,” he teased, and you couldn’t hold in your squeal while he floated you in circles toward the ceiling of one of the many true circus tents in Buggy Town.
“Financial advisor’s usually work at a desk, you know,” you pleaded, closing your eyes against the striped tent that spun around and around, faster and faster. “On the ground!”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
The heat and danger in your clown’s voice sent your thoughts away. No frustration, no fear, just Buggy. Right here, right now.
“My pretty star shouldn’t be stuck on the ground,” he taunted while he floated even higher. “Will you shine up here with me, baby? I won’t let you fall too far.”
“I know, Buggy,” you managed to gasp while he tossed you just enough to shift your position in his arms. He stopped spinning to let you cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist while you tried not to look down. “I know you’ll save me.”
Those words felt dangerous, but the look in Buggy’s eyes made everything disappear. His slow, crooked smile sent warmth through your body, even while he spun through the air again.
“Of course I will,” your clown yelled a bit too close to your ear, and you giggled before he kissed the sound away. Buggy ate at your lips, desperate for the taste of you. His hunger pulled little moans and whines from your lips while he gripped you tighter around his body.
Still hanging on to him with your arms around his neck, you grinded against the hard length of him, always so fucking needy for you.
“Fuck, baby,” he broke the kiss with a groan. Gloved fingers dug into the meat of your ass, until he wrapped one arm around your back to hold you steady, still bobbing too high above the three rings you kept forgetting were there. Until he tugged the glove from his free hand off with his teeth, letting it fall and fall while his bare fingers teased along your thigh. “My girl’s so fucking good for me. Can I—”
“I need you, Buggy.” You had said that the night you met, that truth growing more with every moment that he stole you from the world. “Please—gods, yes!”
He was still floating, still standing in the air while you clung to him, yet Buggy managed to curl his fingers beneath the costume he’d picked for your tight rope act. He pushed that shiny fabric aside before working himself into you while your eyes watered at his wicked praise, his panicked thrusts, his pretty little noises.
You wondered how he got the leverage to fuck you like this, as though he were standing on solid ground while he held you. Then he hit so fucking deep, using the weight of your body to bounce you onto him, and you were too far gone to wonder anything at all.
All you could do was take him, take every delicious feeling he gave you. Still, as terrifying, and thrilling as fucking so high in the air should have been, you couldn’t fight against the dangerous hope that this feeling was real.
It was stupid. Naïve. You had tried again and again to shove it down, to just enjoy it while you could.
Buggy made you feel both safe and free. It couldn’t be real.
Right now is good.
“Gods, star… You feel perfect,” Buggy moaned through stuttering thrusts. “Come for me. Shine for me, baby. Just. Like. That.”
His name from your lips turned to screams while you came together, floating through space like stars in the sky. He couldn’t seem to stop his own pleasure, forcing his come even deeper inside you as though he could carve his own home within your twitching body.
“You don’t want me to stop, huh, dollface? Want me to—
No more dollface. No more Sylvad smiles.
“Hey, Star, what’s wrong,” your clown panicked when you were frozen by those hopeful thoughts. He cursed softly when he pulled himself out of you before racing down too fast. You shut your eyes against the spinning world, surprised by how many tears spilled when they closed.
Buggy caught every tear that fell, and you smiled at him when you felt him making strides across something thicker than air.
“You okay, baby?” Anxiety rippled off him when he laid you on something soft to look you over. “I’m sorry, did I—”
“I’m okay,” you choked out while you touched his hand that cradled your cheek. Relief moved across his features, but not enough. “Thank you, Captain. I’m just happy to be here with you.”
Your clown paused, and his eyes flashed with anger, with disbelief. You hated that look and all the disgusting people that must have trained that reaction into him.
Then those crystal eyes melted, warmth seeming to fill him to the brim before he squeezed your cheeks.
“Well, I wasn’t about to leave such a flashy girl behind, but if you really feel like thanking your captain, I can think of a few—"
“Buggy!” Laughter spilled from you now, even as you struggled against his grip on your face. Your giggles slowed when he stared at your lips, brushing his thumb across your mouth. The taste of your own tears nearly stopped you, but your sweet, lovely clown kissed you before breathing his next words against your skin.
“I like the smile better.”
The warm tears that fell now were joined by more laughter, and more dangerous hope, while he kissed your true smile again and again.
~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
The dress was pretty.
It felt light and soft against your skin. A comfortable sundress to enjoy a picnic under the stars. Your locket even fit the theme, but you still kept it tucked away when you weren’t fidgeting with it.
Yet, you preferred the other stupid costumes you’d been forced to wear.
“That red looks lovely on you, sweetie,” your mother gave a flawless smile. She leaned against the vanity to beam at you while her stylists finished your hair. While you tried not to bite them.
At least it wasn’t your mom dolling you up today.
Closing your eyes against your mother’s perfect smile, you fought to shove out the image of a broken doll in a red dress.
The trill of a transponder snail tore a gasp from you, and the voice that followed was worse.
“Delaine, be a dear and bring your daughter to my office. I need to check in on our little bride before the final date.”
“Of course, Cedrick,” your mother purred while she gestured for the servants to finish up. “We’ll be right there.”
Delaine Sylvad kept her smile while she led you to him. She gave you to your uncle once again, and she hummed when he brushed his lips against her cheek before she obeyed his order to leave you alone with him.
Your mother left you without a second glance.
“My, my, Y/N, what a sight you are,” Uncle Cedrick praised. His eyes raked over you as though admiring a prize horse before gesturing toward the beautifully carved, but uncomfortable seat across the desk from his own cushioned chair. “Take a seat, niece. We need to have a little chat.”
Emptiness flooded your mind slowly, fog rolling in until the world felt dull.
Good.
“Enough of that,” he snapped his fingers in front of your face, cutting off your escape. “The Hunt is almost over, niece. I need to know who your favorite is.”
“It’s too early to tell,” you recited. His smug little smirk only proved that your instincts were right.
“Not to worry. I believe I can help with your decision,” your uncle laughed, so at ease.
Uncle Cedrick toyed with a decorative arrow that he’d displayed on his massive desk, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off it while he started tapping the side of it against his palm, gesturing with it while he spoke.
“It really is your choice, Y/N,” he taunted, twirling the arrow a bit before pointing it at you over the desk. Aiming straight for your heart. “Do you remember what your choices were before the Hunt? Did you figure out the pros and cons?”
Nothing matters.
“I can be well.” You only clenched your jaw a bit. “Or I can be unwell. And I want to be well, Uncle.”
“That is all I want, you know,” your uncle lied, his voice dipping low. It might have sounded gentle if you didn’t know what he was. “I only want what’s best for you, and for our family. That’s why I am excited to tell you about a little extra deal I made.”
He wiggled the tip of the arrow in front of your eyes, grinning as though it was all a game. You managed not to flinch, but your eyes closed against your will for a moment to fight against the dizziness the movement had caused. His smile had deepened after your show of weakness.
It is a game. His game.
“Aren’t you going to ask about the deal?”
“What’s your extra deal, Uncle,” you drowned in impotent rage.
He sat back with a laugh, bringing his pristine shoes up to rest on the corner of the desk. You were suddenly aware of the tension in your own body, your legs shaking slightly beneath that red fabric.
You shook more when he ordered the servants and guards from the room before pulling a small snail from his desk. He patted the creature, his fingers grazing the horned shell until its eyes flashed red.
“Well, I might be getting ahead of myself,” Uncle Cedrick tilted his head back and forth while he twirled the arrow in lazy circles. “Tomorrow your Hunters and I will discuss the arrangements. If they don’t agree, then they are out, but if all goes well…”
“Fuck.”
“Do pay attention, dear. You have a date with an Emperor to get to, so I’d hate if I had to repeat myself.”
An apology forced its way through your lips while you watched him sweep all that splintered wood onto the floor. Your uncle caught you slipping away again, so he’d broken that arrow over his desk, startling you back to whatever fresh torment he had in store for you.
“You have your choices,” he started, and his handsome features were finally starting to warp, a hint of the monster that only you could see. No one else saw what he was, or they were just too greedy or scared to admit it. “Now that you’re well, you will fulfill your duties as a Sylvad and marry a suitable match. You get to choose between an Emperor of the Sea, or a Prince of the Germa Kingdom. Such a spoiled, little bride.”
“Yes, Uncle.” Your voice was sweet, and you almost laughed at how skilled you’d become. It would never be enough. “Shouldn’t I be leaving for my date soon?”
“You’re quite right, dear niece,” your uncle agreed. He lowered his legs from the desk, brushing a few splinters from his slacks before smiling at you again. “Vinsmoke Judge and his partner have some riveting plans for their new research institute. I was considering sending an offer to fund some of their ventures after the Hunt, but they proposed a deal that I just couldn’t refuse.”
You couldn’t count your breaths. There weren’t any while he left you waiting again.
“If you choose to marry the Emperor, then one of the Princes will marry Kathryn instead,” Uncle Cedrick announced, cheerful while you struggled to understand. “Such a fine match, and after all these years of waiting for her selfish sister to stop holding her back…”
“No.”
“Yes,” he mocked your desperate tone.
You were awake now, no drifting away, no escape. Just fear and denial flooding your veins.
“They’ll use her, Uncle. Those princes were born without feelings. They’re vicious!” The monster before you looked pleased while you fought to steady your voice. “You can’t give her to them. You won’t.”
“I can and I will,” Uncle Cedrick seethed, eyes wide with fury as he slammed his fist onto his pretty desk. Just for a moment, he let you see how he truly felt when something in the world dared to displease him.
His show of hatred stilled your breath, but that snarl was followed quickly by his charming, Sylvad smile.
I liked the snarl better.
You had to bite and chew the inside of your lips, sick laughter nearly ruining you again. Your uncle pressed his finger to your lips now, shutting you up.
“Please, mind the hysterics before your date,” he scolded, removing his hand from your skin to pet the horned snail again. Its slow eyes drooped, that red fading out while he studied your face.
Looking for signs of weakness.
His fingers drummed against the gleaming wood of his desk; your eyes caught on the movement. He kept that abhorrent rhythm going until you wanted to claw at him. Finally, he traced those fingers down the side of his desk until he winked in time with a sound like a snap, like something clicking into place. The painting on the wall beside you moved, the little cedar trees opening a window to another room.
An enclosure.
Uncle Cedrick hummed a cheerful tune while he leaned through the window to pet the massive projector snail. Always so many fucking snails. He guided it to aim toward the opposite wall until its eyes cast something you knew you didn’t want to see.
The selfish urge not to look was shattered when you heard her.
“Let me see my sister,” Kat demanded, the words icy with rage. She gritted her teeth, flinching away from the hand that dared to reach for her face.
Your sister wasn’t restrained. She didn’t look hurt.
Kat was sitting between two monsters on a pretty, green couch.
“Don’t worry so much, princess,” Niji purred, thankfully pulling away from her.
“Yeah, the last date is starting soon,” Ichiji soothed, unable to hold in a satisfied laugh. “We can watch your sister all night.”
They weren’t touching her right now, but you were already running toward the door when he cut the feed.
“That’s enough,” your uncle sighed while you struggled with every door out of the massive office. He’d locked you in a cage with him. “You know very well that I am not bluffing. Now, do you understand your choices, or do we need to— “
“You can’t hurt her,” you declared, willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare.
No. No. Not real. Not her.
He just smiled, gently stroking the horned snail until its red eyes glared at you.
“They’re gonna breed her! Torture her! She could die!” There was no change in that charming face. “Please don’t let them hurt her, Uncle. Please, she’s your daughter!”
Words that you’d never spoken hung in the air, and your ears rang with aching silence as though your body had tried to pull them back into you.
If only that ringing silence could have stayed to spare you from his sadistic laughter. He was still cracking up while he relaxed back into his seat, gesturing for you to join him.
“My little smarty. Did you think that was a secret,” Uncle Cedrick mocked while he caught his breath. He dabbed the moisture from his eyes as you slumped into that uncomfortable seat across from him. “I must admit, your mother and I were sloppy at best when it came to hiding our transgressions. Only a fool like my brother could have missed something so glaringly obvious.”
Uncle would have dragged you back anyway, but you fought to stay present. Only your nails on your thighs through that thin, red fabric kept you here.
she needs me
“I’m disappointed in you though, Y/N. I thought you were smart enough to keep your mouth shut.”
“but...”
“But what,” he scoffed as he leaned over the desk to pinch your cheek. You were too lost to even flinch.
“you won’t hurt her you won’t let them—”
There was no fighting it. Your body was starting to carry the inevitable future for you, although your mind was still small. Parts of you had run away, but he didn’t bother to chase them down.
“My daughter has the opportunity to elevate the Sylvad line.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but you winced at the force of it. He leaned back, his pretty shoes on the desk again, but you couldn’t let your eyes wander there. If you looked away from his gratified gaze you would disappear.
You had to stay.
“Finally, I can bring our family the respect, the honor we deserve.”
Uncle Cedrick’s mask fell just enough to show that monstrous hunger. That greed. What do you get for the man that has everything? What more could he possibly be hungry for?
It felt like it had always been you. Your pain, your humiliation, your supplication.
But your suffering was just the bonus prize.
“Arbo never cared about leaving a mark on the world,” your uncle spat now, his revulsion growing with every word. “No ambition. No pride. He rejected every opportunity to lift our family name above the merchant class. No, my idiot brother just wanted to spoil his selfish, little numbers girl.”
“stop”
He would never stop. He kept going, even as your body started rocking back and forth, breaths going heavy and wrong.
“Your daddy was always weak-willed. Pathetic.” Uncle laughed at the tiny sob that escaped your lips, even while you chewed on your flesh to keep them shut. “Arbo’s obsession with you held us all back, Y/N. It even got him killed. That sentimental fool couldn’t even wait a fucking week to fetch his ungrateful brat a toy boat—"
“please”
Broken doll.
Broken sobs tore through you now, and you curled in on yourself. Breathing hurt, you couldn’t see, couldn’t hear over the horrible, broken noises.
nothing now nothing now nothing—
“Stop crying.”
Dolls should be quiet and still, so that’s what you were. Just a doll when he knelt beside you. Not real when he touched your face, sneering at the pathetic tears on your skin.
Uncle Cedrick held his broken doll by the chin, but his words couldn’t hurt something that wasn’t real.
not real
can’t feel
“The choice is yours, dear niece,” came a voice that meant nothing. “Marry a Vinsmoke, or your sister will take your place. If you don’t want the pirate then you know what your options are, but Kathryn will wed one of those princes if you don’t.”
One more burning tear stained your cheek while his fingers pressed just a bit more into your skin, still careful not to tarnish his little doll. Your uncle never needed to use his hands to hurt you. He’d broken you just fine with his words.
Now he had trapped you into this reality, this world that he owned, because you couldn’t let yourself slip into nothingness. You couldn’t be that selfish again.
“I’ll marry Yonji,” you spoke with a voice like your mother’s, “but only if they let Kat go. They can’t touch her.”
Uncle Cedrick patted you on the head when he stood, and you counted your breaths while he picked up his transponder snail from its decorative table. He sat in his comfortable chair, placing the snail he’d dressed to match his own image beside the horned snail that was beginning to slump while its eyes still flashed red.
“Kat will be staying with her future brothers in law until your vows have been sealed,” he declared, the threat sending fresh terror to rip through your heart.
He stroked the horned snail again to let it rest. His fleeting mercy was given only to the toys that bent to his will.
“Don’t fret though, niece. I won’t let my daughter become anyone’s mistress, not even a prince. She’ll never be a cheap whore like your mother. Speaking of,” your uncle trailed off before making a call, your mother’s, ‘hello, Cedrick,’ floating from the snail’s sticky lips. “Delaine, dear, please come tend to your daughter. She could use some freshening up before the big night, and we can’t have her running late.”
You stayed here. Distant, but not empty. Suffocating with a gentle smile while your mother dolled you up.
“Don’t forget the rules of the Hunt, dear niece,” Uncle Cedrick reminded you as he guided you to the courtyard. “Our guests are here to have fun, so be sure to show the Emperor a good time. Can you do that, smarty.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
~~~🌲~~~
There were no stars out yet, but you stared into the golden sky all the same. Your pretty dress and the picnic blanket beneath you did nothing to keep the gentle breeze from sending shivers over your skin.
The theme of this date was crueler than your uncle could have known, but it was your own fault for choosing it from the list. Another opportunity to torture yourself, and now you wallowed in it.
Stargazing.
Waves and waves of grief poured through you while that darkening sky revealed each star like a mirage. Hope had done nothing but torment you, yet you couldn’t wish it away.
You had felt true love before meeting your fate. If your sister was safe, then everything was worth it.
Bargaining with the stars above while distant eyes enjoyed the show was a balancing act. It took all your strength to keep your pitiful cries inside. No matter how many times you tried to push it down, your mind went back. Back to that strange, little island you’d almost called home.
The steadiness you held impressed even you. It almost pushed you into laughter, until guilt finally won out over grief.
Buggy had given you so much. All you’d given him were lies and betrayal. You had abandoned him just like all the rest, and now you couldn’t even die for him. You couldn’t kill the monster that hurt him.
You couldn’t stop your disgusting desire to betray him again.
Pretty, shining stars were dancing above you now, yet you kept your relaxed position, not even digging your nails into your palms. Those stars dug into you instead. They pierced through your sick heart while you tried to soothe your own guilt, and you clung to that beautiful locket while you gave yourself permission to hate yourself even more.
Pretend. That was all. Just one more night to pretend.
One more night to forget the world, even if it meant letting that traitor use you again, for no other reason than to numb your own pain.
Selfish. I never deserved you, Buggy. I wish I could kill him for you, but I… I wish—
A shooting star cleared your mind for one, shining moment.
Why is it so dark?
“Hey there, little bunny. Sorry about the wait,” said a domineering pirate that knocked over the basket of food when he walked across the picnic blanket.
The leeches were loving the chaos, and the growing chill in the air made you aware of how long you must have been lying there. That Emperor of the Sea was late, and he’d left you for the vultures to pick at, squawking with pleasure while you’d been fighting not to cry.
He was still late.
“The chief didn’t feel like stargazing, so we set up his tent for your date instead. Hope you don’t mind.”
That tall gruff man offered his hand, and you were too foggy to resist. A few strands of his long gray hair fell over his eyes while he got you to your feet, but he only shook them aside. He kept his warm hands on you, smirking when he caught your eyes widening at the impressive flex of muscles across his arms and chest.
“The name’s Benn,” he shared with too much heat in his voice. That name spiked your heart rate, even more now as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze, pulling you against him.
Leeches were louder, but there were more voices close by that you couldn’t make sense of yet.
“Don’t be scared,” Benn scolded when you tried to step away. “The crew’s only here to make sure your date doesn’t get interrupted.”
“Yeah, the Captain’s got big plans for you,” shouted a deep voice from behind you. It was too close, and more taunting hollers and whistles followed.
Somehow, humiliation broke through your guilt and grief, and you gave another useless attempt to get out of this man’s reach.
“What do you mean,” you growled, too much rage in your voice.
“That’s a question for Shanks, bunny girl. I’m just the delivery man,” Benn shrugged, his eyes still heavy on your skin. Then the overwhelming pirate threw you over his shoulder and ran, to riotous applause and laughter. The Red Hair Pirates flanked you, teasing and taunting along the way.
Benn moved so fast that you almost missed it while you struggled in his arms. He’d placed one of those muscular hands on your ass, smoothing down the thin, red fabric of the sundress while he charged on. The image of his groping touch was blown up across the screens for all the guests to revel in. They gorged on your humiliation, still cheering and jeering so loudly you could hear them through the forest he’d carried you into.
Maybe I can kill him tonight.
That vengeful thought was doused quickly by the memory of your waiting sister, so you had to swallow it down. Remember your place.
This world belonged to greedy, monstrous men like your uncle, and like this Emperor that had ordered for you to be delivered to him like a meal. The Hunter and the prey whose blood would stain his hands while he feasted on its flesh.
Might as well close your eyes and try to enjoy it. You knew what this hunter could do, and the threat of danger reminded you of how sick you were.
Breaking out of the tree line again, you recognized this rolling set of hills, even though you could only see behind your captor while you bounced over his shoulder.
So many scrapes, bruises, and grass stains had followed you and your sister home from the spot you’d named, “Upside Down Hill.” The two of you would roll down the slope again and again into the basin-like stretch of grass until it was filled with laughter and squeals. It was surrounded by hills, just more piles of dirt, but that dip in the world had always felt a bit special. Magical.
That had to be where you were headed when Benn’s steps tilted down, as though you were descending into the earth itself.
You weren’t.
You were carried like a sack of potatoes through the thick flaps of a tent, the scent of the traitor filling that warm space.
“Package for you, chief,” Benn grunted as he tossed you onto a bed in the center of the large, captain’s tent. If you weren’t too busy catching your breath and trying not to flash him while you sat up, you would have bitten the fingers he ruffled through your hair. “Ooh, look at that fire. You didn’t tell me you caught a bratty, little bunny.”
“Out,” Shanks ordered, and the power behind that single, quiet demand made you freeze like prey, yet again. Your anger meant nothing against such a beast. “Make sure no one’s within earshot. Bunny and I need some privacy tonight.”
“Aye, chief,” Benn submitted as he turned to leave, his job complete. That older, powerful pirate nodded in deference toward the hunter that held your gaze.
Shanks’ eyes weren’t soft. He stared at your heaving chest while he lounged on a pretty, red chair; your body was still frozen except for the desperate breaths that pounded through you. Every instinct told you to run.
Run away.
There was no point in running anymore. Just let the beast devour you one more time. Just stop thinking, just feel something before you married a fate worse than death.
He kept you waiting in silence long enough that you broke loose, aching to feel anything but this. You crawled across the bed toward him, ready to beg. Shanks went to his knees, and you nearly wept with need, but he avoided your greedy hands to pull a small box from under the bed.
“You kept me waiting out in the cold quite a while, Emperor,” you purred, pushing that red fabric higher up your thighs while your fingers traced along the skin. His eyes were frightening now, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered. “I thought you were going to keep me warm.”
Shanks clenched his jaw as he looked down at the box, setting its contents onto the red chair while he slumped onto the worn rug beside it.
Confusion and terror filled you in equal measure while the traitor patted the little, horned snail.
A jamming snail.
What more was this monster planning to do to you that he’d need this much privacy? Surely, he’d save any real punishments for after he owned you. The presence of his crew in the surrounding hills made your mouth dry, but the memory of his manic eyes while he’d played with you didn’t fit with whatever was on his face now.
“Shanks,” you muttered helplessly while the snail’s eyes turned red.
The Hunter crawled to you, sitting on the floor at your feet while he took your hand in his.
“Stop.” The plea was useless when it left your lips. You didn’t know where it came from, only that those brown eyes looked soft again. Too soft.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” the leech lied too fucking well. “I’m sorry for everything. Please, believe me. I came here to bring you back to Buggy. He’s waiting for his star.”
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
“Fuck you!”
“Bunny, I…” Shanks was pathetic again, useless against this woman’s rage. Y/N had ripped her hand from his grasp to crawl off the bed until it was between them while she paced. She kept glancing at him and forcing her eyes away, as though the sight of him made her sick.
Maybe it did.
“Really,” she spat, near manic while her hands clawed into the air as she spoke. “Winning isn’t enough for ‘The Great Red Haired Shanks?’ You have to fucking torture me too?”
“It’s the truth, bunny—Y/N,” Shanks nearly whimpered as he crawled around the bed, careful not to spook her as he drew closer. He had to keep crawling while she tried to keep the bed between them, disgust in every frantic movement. “I promise, if you marry me, I’ll take you home to Buggy. Home to the Cross Guild. I’ll do anything, please, believe me!”
That wasn’t… I didn’t.
There was no way that his last, desperate words had been a command. He could never do that to an innocent. Never to someone he cared about, someone so sweet.
The Emperor of the Sea was choking now, the air in that little tent burning into an anger so vicious that he winced, almost shielding his face from the blast of it.
How can she carry all this inside her, he wondered, cowering yet again.
“Believe you,” Y/N mocked while waves of cruelty suffocated him. “Even if I believed you, I know what you are.”
She’d seen through him from the start.
“You think I’d think better of you for using me to get to Buggy,” Y/N challenged, gritting her teeth while she leaned over his slumped form. “I think I’d prefer it if you used me for berry, or to destroy a Jewel Tree for your magic fucking boat. Knowing you, you’ll try to do it all, won’t you? The Emperor wants EVERYTHING!”
Buggy’s star was shining with white, hot rage, stunning the greedy Emperor at her feet. She was so good at hiding, so very good at pretending. Yet, Shanks was awestruck at the sheer weight of hatred she could hide inside that precious body.
“Out,” Shanks ordered again, feeling his first mate’s concern before the man stepped too far into this storm of murderous wrath.
“Chief,” Benn checked in through the flap of the tent. Y/N’s eyes went wide with fear and fury at the sound of his voice before turning that malicious gaze back onto the trash at her feet.
“Get out,” Shanks commanded, the flavor of domination too familiar. Too easy.
He held his breath to brace for her fear, but Y/N just slumped onto the bed, her body loose while her head lolled to the side to meet his gaze. The tent was still thick with her emotions, but they seemed to slow. Less heat, but a feeling of sickness grew, nausea pouring through him.
The sight of exhausted tears in her eyes made him unable to tell which one of them those feelings belonged to.
“Why don’t you get out, Shanks? I know you don’t want me. I’m just in the way.”
“Shh, bunny. Don’t say that, please.” He almost touched her hand again, catching himself before another wave crashed down.
A wave of madness, of cruel laughter that ripped his worthless heart to shreds. She writhed on the bed, mocking and taunting, spitting words like acid to sear his flesh until nothing but bones and burning truths remained.
“You want me to be quiet so you can pretend I’m not there? You can fetch Buggy his star and sail away together on your magic boat. I’ll just sit in the corner so you can have everything you fucking want.”
“No, please—”
Shanks couldn’t think. It felt as though he’d lived too long without shame, and now an ocean of it was being forced down his throat.
He couldn’t breathe while that wounded star sneered at him.
“Don’t you fucking dare tell me, ‘no.’ I watched you. You took him from me, even when we were—I know I had no right to feel that way after everything but…” Y/N pulled him close, dragging him by the collar of his cloak while her voice cracked with pain. So sharp and jagged, Shanks could feel it in his own body, deeper than all the rest.
He’d caused so much pain.
“You made Buggy forget about me,” she sobbed, anger still present in the air like a weapon within reach. “You pretended I didn’t exist, but I forgave you. I told you to fucking take him, Shanks! You promised me!”
“Y/N—hey? Bunny,” Shanks panicked. The air around them had gone calm, everything soft and heavy when the woman before him went limp. He reached for her pulse, dreading that it would be as still as the air she’d been dominating a moment before.
Maybe she passed out? She couldn’t hide all that energy so quickly, couldn’t—
His fingers found that miraculous pulse on her neck, drumming slower and slower, until his own spiked at the touch of her hand on his. Y/N sat up straight as she held onto him. She stayed so calm while she begged.
“I can’t go with you, Shanks. I told you already, remember?” She made him dizzy, trying to remember something vital, but he couldn’t look away from her. “You promised that you would take Buggy and make him happy, but you lied! You promised me that you’d love him with everything in you.”
Buggy.
Shanks shook himself, but it was too late to save those words. Words he’d always meant to say to his oldest friend but never found the right time.
I don’t deserve it anyway.
He pulled back enough that she was pulled forward slightly, refusing to free his cloak from her shaking hands. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as though she was trying to keep her tears at bay, but their failures had already stained her cheeks.
“You promised. So, leave,” Y/N demanded. “I want to stay. Please, make him happy.”
“Bunny,” he gasped while he reached for his last chance, fumbling with it as though he wasn’t the ‘Great Red Haired Shanks.’ Finally pulling it free, he held the key between them and almost huffed a laugh at the adorable look of confusion on her face.
This whirlwind of a woman had overwhelmed him so thoroughly that he’d nearly forgotten the little key in his pocket. This key that he might have worn down into nothing if he held onto it another night, the tiny bit of metal like a worry stone to soothe his wretched soul.
Y/N was still staring at it, brows furrowed until he cleared his throat.
“That’s a pretty necklace you’ve got there, bunny,” Shanks breathed, a little freer now that Buggy’s locket had spilled from that red dress. He was feeling too much hope, but he was too damn selfish to fight it. “Whoever gave it to you must have good taste.”
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
~~~~~~
~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~
Somehow, no matter what corner of the world they’d passed out in, the air always tasted sweet when he woke with Buggy in his arms. Shanks had never been a morning person, yet his body seemed to crave that feeling as much as his heart did.
His body seemed to grieve the loss of it, a split second of fear before he melted into the pleasure of feeling his lover beside him.
“Mornin,’ Bugs,” he teased, trailing his breath along Buggy’s shoulder while his little morning whines got louder.
“Shanks…”
His eyes rolled back at that perfect sound. He needed to make it louder, needed to hear it again and again. Shanks held himself back, though he was nearly drunk on Buggy’s sleepy moans.
He had to savor this.
Buggy wasn’t ready to come back yet, but the future Shanks held in his mind made every goodbye all the sweeter. He didn’t want to dwell on the absence when he could look forward to every chance encounter. Especially when each time they parted brought them closer to that lovely future.
He didn’t see any other future ahead, except for the days he drank his doubts away.
Buggy would join him in the end.
“Of course you will,” Shanks almost commanded as he whispered along Buggy’s ear.
“I will—what? Ah, shit,” Buggy squirmed away when he caught eyes with his lover, though he didn’t squirm very far. “You’re still here? You’d better pitch in for this room since you—Fuck. Idiot…”
“That’s no way to greet a guest,” the red-haired pirate teased, his hand curled around Buggy’s body until he found his clown waiting and ready. Until Buggy started moaning again and the rest of the world, the rest of time, disappeared.
“You’re more of a PEST than a guest,” the clown complained before Shanks gripped his balls, tugging slightly until Buggy relaxed against him. “Asshole.”
“Is that an invitation,” Shanks chuckled. He left kisses now while he pressed his cock against the squirming, grumbling clown. “Missed me, didn’t you, Bugs?”
“Shut up and fuck me already,” Buggy ordered, though his voice was breathy while he fetched the lube with a floating hand. Now he was squirming so well, lifting his thigh to let Shanks in. The red-haired lover played and praised, fingers reaching and stretching before he claimed his clown.
Perfect.
“Knew ya missed me, baby,” Shanks growled, triumph coursing through his veins when his body found Buggy’s again. Still lying on their sides, his hand reached around to grasp that swollen length while his own, brutal cock made all those pretty whines return. “You’re so good for me, Bugs.”
“Fuck, please,” Buggy whined when Shanks stopped stroking him. He gave out the cutest, little yelp when Shanks nipped at his neck, still pounding into him when he replied.
“Please what, baby? Missing my touch already?”
Buggy turned to look at him over his shoulder, those beautiful eyes so desperate while he frowned.
Shanks snatched that blue hair, and Buggy disconnected his head from his neck to turn into that hungry kiss. He was rewarded with that greedy hand back on his leaking dick, but Shanks bit the clown’s lip to keep him from ending that delicious kiss.
The red-haired pirate drank in those precious noises now. They kept going while Buggy twitched and came in his hand. Such perfect noises while Shanks filled him up, so fucking high while he shoved himself deeper and deeper. Only the urgent need to breathe could have broken that kiss.
His clown stayed for a bit. Shanks ached to keep him now, but he took what he could get. Buggy stayed in his arms long enough to catch his breath before he was bickering again.
Shanks smiled at Buggy’s frown, even while he floated away.
It wouldn’t be the last time.
~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
A key.
A missing key.
The onslaught of emotions you’d just drowned in seemed like nothing compared to the sickening mix of horror and hope that little key had sparked.
“No.”
Shanks looked pained at your cowardly word, but he didn’t reply, and he didn’t move.
The key was just there, and you wished you didn’t have to know.
A laugh, twisted and terrible, left your lips when you reached for it; your shaky hand was smeared with makeup and tears, and the thought of your pathetic cries was too much.
This was too much.
“I can help—”
“DON’T TOUCH ME,” you screamed, batting that greedy hand away while yours fumbled with that warm lump of metal. That chain of guilt and brightness slipped easily from your neck, yet the loss of its weight was heavy, pulling you deeper into the quiet earth beneath you.
It’s just a picture. I’ll get to see his face one last time. That’s good.
You hadn’t looked at it in a while, and the pressure of more stupid tears burned your throat as you traced your fingers over the pretty pictures. That ship and its shining star. That six and its spade. That keyhole and it's no longer missing key.
The locket fell with its key, just a lump of metal on the bed while you held onto the true source of that warmth. You cradled an ear in your hands and somehow the raging storm of emotions within you went still.
It wasn’t the sick stillness of escape. This stillness was quiet and warm. Soft and secret.
It made you forget the world.
It was just you, and Buggy, and his ear that had gone pink like it always did when he got flustered, when you praised him, and kissed him.
For just a moment, you were free. The vision was so clear that you laughed with gratitude. The most precious daydream played out in that one glorious moment, and it made everything alright.
Everything had been worth it.
“Thank you for saving me, Buggy,” you breathed over his skin. “But I need you to stop. I need you to let me go.”
“Bunny, wait,” cried the red-haired hunter when you placed that lovely ear in his hand. “Please, tell me what you need. I’ll do anything.”
There was no mirror in the tent that you could see, so you did what you could to clean the mess of makeup and tears from your face. Shanks followed you while you searched, while you stretched your body that felt so perfectly light without that chain.
Everything was fine now.
There was just one last thing…
“Please, love him,” you smiled up at the Emperor while you cradled his cheek. “You owe me, Shanks.”
Bells. Distant, but drifting through the hills. Soon you would leave this magical tent, this dip in the world.
Better to end it now before the pain hit again.
“Let me go, Shanks,” you sighed, still giving a true smile when he blocked your path to the exit. “I want to—”
“I’ll kill him for you,” the monster vowed, those soft eyes gone hard as steel. His voice clawed through your stillness, until fear filled your veins. It started slow like poison, drifting up from the floor until you were nearly paralyzed beneath his looming form. “Let me end it right now, bunny. All these leeches deserve it, don’t they? Cedrick deserves—”
“Don’t you dare hurt him!”
Too much fear and rage slammed through you, so you couldn’t even laugh at the dumbfounded look on his face.
The bells were closer.
“Same goes for you, Buggy,” you let out a hiss, regretting that your last words couldn’t be sweet. “Tell Crocodile and Mihawk, too. If any of you hurt my family in any way, I will never forgive you, or myself. I will hate you all with everything in me.”
“But…” Shanks tried, but his mouth hung slack, his shoulders slumped while he still stood in your way.
“No buts, Emperor,” you mocked. Your precious moment was gone now, replaced by anger and disgust in the only weapon you had. You were disgusting, but it would all be worth it. “If you hurt any member of my family, I will kill myself. You’d have to keep me in a fucking cage, but I’d still find a way. Now, let me go.”
The Hunter didn’t move, but he didn’t stop you from going around him.
The night air was cool and sweet, but the fluffy robe wrapped around you like burning chains. You closed your eyes until you were shut away, not wanting to gaze at the sky again.
You’d seen just a piece of your true love tonight, and no other shining stars could compare.
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
She was gone.
Red Haired Shanks stared into the space she’d left for what felt like decades, frozen in shame and disbelief, until glinting red caught his eyes.
“Wait, Bugs! I…”
The jamming snail’s glowing eyes drooped, slowing until the creature slumped within its horned shell. It looked nearly as sick as the failed hunter felt.
Shanks collapsed onto the bed, resisting the twisted urge to kiss Buggy’s ear, to take comfort, to take and take like he always did.
He’d failed them all. He couldn’t do anything.
And now he’d wasted his chance to apologize, not willing to risk the slim chance that he could still do any fucking thing to help.
He returned Buggy’s ear to that locket. It was a new, lovely worry stone for him to use.
I’m no hero. Just an asshole.
Sick laughter surprised that Emperor of the Sea when it spilled from his lips, the memory so bittersweet as it flooded his mind.
Y/N’s first accusation.
It hadn’t been that cursed island; it was that sweet, sick girl. She had held up this mirror, and Shanks could only thank her, pitiful and weak while he cowered beneath his own reflection.
“Too much fun,” Benn asked, that deep voice too soft while he leaned over the bed to look him over.
Every bit of his life felt like a lie.
“Nothing another bottle won’t fix, old man.”
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
Nothing was real. Waking, breathing, moving, all felt wrong. It was supposed to be over already, yet you still existed in this unfamiliar body.
You still had to function for a few more days and Kat wasn’t there to remind you to eat.
Your mother did the bare minimum, beaming at Shanks while she tasted all the dishes on the breakfast spread to encourage you to act like a normal, pretty doll.
How could you eat when the Emperor of the Sea kept his eyes on you?
The Hunter had almost been late, and he almost smelled like wine, but his voice was soft and villainous, and his gaze was a cruel torture. Temptation and punishment for your weak, selfish wants.
Yet, nothing could have weakened you more than the knowledge that Buggy was listening.
Shanks would keep him close, and any word you spoke would reach him.
How could you eat when you were being flayed alive?
“You must have had quite the date,” Uncle Cedrick quashed what remained of your useless hope. “Seems you wore out the little bride already. Need some coffee, niece?”
There would be no escape, but Kat would be safe, and Buggy would be loved.
That’s good.
Everything else is fine.
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
Red Haired Shanks had woken early.
Stupid, fucking birds were chirping too fucking close, the sharp sounds piercing through his skull. None of the bottles he’d drunk had fixed a thing.
The pain of the bright, loud morning outside his tent hadn’t woken him; that warm lump of metal in his fist was enough. His clown was there, listening to his failures that piled higher and higher. He could have suffocated beneath the weight, as though this grassy basin was being filled with a mountain of dirt.
He could have laid there until the end, let the earth bury him away. The Emperor was nothing but a coward, relieved that he could drift into darkness on his own now. He didn’t need the pomp and circumstance, the admiration or the trust he’d been gifted by so many.
Visions of laughter and smiling faces poured through like poison.
Shanks did want all of that. He wanted the life he’d made, and the comfort and steadiness that only being a hero could grant.
Yet, it was never enough.
More than anything, Shanks wanted to be a hero for the people he loved.
I’ve been going about this all wrong.
Shanks pieced himself back together, struggling not to think out loud. He held that warm metal in his pocket to keep from speaking to the piece of his love that dwelled within it.
I came here to be a villain, the red-haired hunter reminded himself while he watched Y/N fading away behind a smile and an empty plate. Shanks worked the crowd during their vapid interview, still disgusted by his ability to charm, and bewildered by her ability to pretend.
Y/N seemed truly empty now. Broken.
It’s not over yet.
She had slipped from his grasp, all that energy inside her gone cold. He’d spent so long chasing her, yet that precious little bunny had never been his prey.
“Dear friends and Hunters,” his true prey beamed. Cedrick Sylvad had taken the stage again, controlling this insatiable crowd with ease. He seemed to glow when his game was played out, when his toys followed his every whim. “It’s been an honor to host you during this Hunt. Only two remain, and in two days’ time, one of these Hunters will claim her.”
Shanks followed his prey’s guiding motion to stand beside him, the green-haired prince flanking his other side.
Leeches. Vultures. Pigs.
The horde of vermin writhed and squealed with pleasure, as though Shanks couldn’t kill them in an instant for treating him like a toy, just there to amuse them.
“We will have a day of rest tomorrow, so our Hunters and their lovely doe can think on their choice,” Sylvad announced. He dared to put his hand on Shanks’ shoulder, so at ease while he enjoyed the attention. “I wonder which of you will be joining our family… Either way, this wedding will be one for the books!”
Shanks nearly ended the man on that stage when those owning fingers squeezed his shoulder, shaking for just a moment as though showing off his new toy.
He couldn’t kill him. Couldn’t.
But Shanks would hunt him all the same.
~~~🔴~~~
The next day was dark without that wounded star, her fading light still more beautiful than anything on this greedy island. No amount of wandering, or jokingly asking for his little bunny, could guide him to her.
Even her mountainous rage and despair were absent from the air, as though she’d faded away completely.
It would have been easy to find her. He could just take her. His power shook beneath his skin, tempting, calling, seducing. Like an addict, Shanks had to ward off every bargaining thought.
If he wanted to be a hero, he’d have to do this the hard way, which was harder with every passing hour that his prey kept him waiting. Everywhere he looked, his own stupid face was displayed beside that cocky prince. Decorations and invitations to a wedding that was more of a game than anything else flooded the space.
Shanks frowned at one of the banners again, zoning out on the foggy treetops and decorative arrows and leaves.
Antlers were the only hint that Y/N was involved in this wedding at all. They framed the title, ‘The Hunt Is Over,’ leaving the faces of the Hunters to float above the trees, arrows pointing down toward the tantalizing question that so many had already lost berry over.
‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’
~~~
~~~
It really was pretty. If Shanks didn’t want to rip out their throats, he might have praised whoever designed the annoying sign that he couldn’t stop staring at.
“Excuse me, Emperor Shanks?”
The pretty servant girl cleared her throat. Her eyes flew wide with fear when she met his stony gaze, until he remembered that he wasn’t there to slaughter them all. She blushed at his false smile, his charm enough to cover the violence humming within, at least for this pretty girl that led him deeper in deeper into the monster’s den.
“There's my favorite Emperor,” Cedrick welcomed Shanks into his gleaming office.
Every perfect item seemed in its perfect place, except for a wooden chair along the wall beside the desk. Y/N’s uncle motioned for Shanks to sit across from him in a cushioned chair that matched his own, but that wooden chair left a hint of disgust on the pirate's tongue that he had to choke down.
He tortures his food before he eats, doesn’t he?
Shanks had to focus now. He had to charm this beast. Yet, it was all he could do to soothe the beast within him when Sylvad ordered his guards and servants from the room.
He couldn’t kill him. Shanks couldn’t go against her wishes, but he knew he was right on this.
Cedrick Sylvad deserved to die.
“May I confess something rather embarrassing, Shanks,” he smirked, like a child that already ate all the sweets. It was all the pirate could do to keep pretending, so he nodded while he reached for the offered glass of whiskey to have something to cling to.
“Of course. You’re one of my most fashionable friends now, aren’t you?”
The beast laughed with pleasure while they tapped their glasses, hunger in his greedy eyes before he spilled his secrets.
“The truth is, I’m a bit of a fan,” Cedrick laughed at himself, and then at Shanks’ blank face. “I was enamored with tales of the Pirate King growing up. The thought of being so powerful that the world declared you a king… I couldn’t get enough of those stories. Quite a cliché fantasy for a second son, I know. Yet, here I am, sharing a drink with Roger’s apprentice.”
“To Roger.” Shanks raised his glass again, hoping that the old man couldn’t see him now.
“To the One Piece,” Cedrick urged, a manic glint in his eyes while they toasted again. “And to Hunters and Kings that claim what’s theirs.”
The man laughed while he opened a hidden window into a room beside the desk, so many glinting shells in that luxurious snail enclosure. The beast was having so much fun, almost giddy while he played with his toys.
The newest was a familiar, horned snail, but its red eyes stayed dormant for now, while he lined up a large projector snail to face the opposite wall.
“Shanks, I am about to share some delicate family secrets with you. Regardless of whether you accept the terms of this marriage contract or not, I hope that you will take them to your grave.”
The beast dropped his smile with this somber tone, but Shanks could still taste it. He was having fun.
“You have my word,” Shanks lied.
“I’m glad to hear it. I am going to show you something quite shocking, and quite dangerous. Please hold your questions until the recording is over, and the horned snail is active.”
He didn’t wait for a reply before dimming the lights for the show.
Shanks almost killed him then. His own Haki fought against him, and he had to conquer himself now, otherwise that greedy island would be nothing but dust.
That wounded star… It was a nightmare. Endless clips of that broken girl reaching her breaking point, sick laughter filling the space while Shanks fought not to reach for the locket.
Many of the scenes were in a hospital—an asylum, but the Emperor swallowed down more bile as other scenes followed Y/N through the world, as though everywhere she’d gone had been owned by this monster and his fucking snails.
Each clip was short, but they all showed him what Cedrick wanted him to see.
~~~
‘Don’t worry,’ the young girl cackled while she rubbed her hands over her face, smearing lipstick down her chin while her little sister cried at her side. ‘It’s just dolls! Just pretend. Just a brokendollbrokendoll—'
~
‘I’ll make you poor, and dead. Don’t forget, your daughter’s not well!’
The wounded star was older as she breathed her rage against her mother’s face. A hint of fear showed in her mother’s eyes before Y/N walked away, harsh laughter following her through the halls.
Her laughter.
~
‘Everyone here wants to help you, Y/N,’ floated an unnervingly soothing voice from off the screen while Y/N struggled with the restraints at her wrists. ‘We want you to get well.’
‘And I want you to fucking DIE! Haha HA!! That's right, you piece of shit, I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!!—‘
~
Y/N had no laughter or tears in the last clip. Just fury on her face while she lunged across a breakfast table toward her smirking uncle. Dishes shattered as she sent things flying, but she seemed to break more once the guards and servants pulled her back, soothing voices guiding that empty girl away.
~~~
“My apologies, Shanks. I know how shocking it must be to see such a sweet, young girl for the monster she truly is,” Cedrick sighed, the corner of his lips hinting at his delight. He swapped out his toys now, the visions of nightmares replaced by the jamming snail’s red eyes. “Please, allow me to explain.”
The Emperor of the Sea couldn’t speak, but the beast didn’t seem to mind. Cedrick filled their glasses again and enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
“My dear brother was quite sentimental, if you recall,” Cedrick began, almost including Shanks in the conversation. “He cared for my dear niece so much that it broke the poor girl’s mind when he passed. After all these years of treatment and support, I’m afraid that Y/N will always be sick. That last clip was just a few weeks ago, you see.”
The burn of whiskey on his tongue. His mind couldn’t focus on anything else.
“I’ve done everything I can to protect her, and the people around her,” Sylvad bragged, resting his feet on the edge of his desk. “Unfortunately, Arbo put us all in a difficult position with his will. That sick girl is his sole heir, and she’ll only become the heir when she marries. Even more dangerous than that, he declared that whoever my niece marries will own half of our family’s company once the vows are sealed.”
Shanks remembered to act surprised, but he still couldn’t speak. Cedrick nodded at his furrowed brows and continued on.
The beast knocked on the wood beside the jamming snail, drawing the Emperor’s eyes. Controlling even him.
“I’m sure you can understand why I’ve gone to such lengths to protect Y/N from her father’s blunders. The poor girl isn’t well. Putting her, let alone whatever villain that decides to take her for himself, in charge of her father’s legacy would be cruel. Shameful.”
“Of course,” Shanks managed to say something, although he wasn’t sure what.
The beast seemed pleased by the sound, his tone shifting while he tilted his head back and forth.
“I have had the great honor of guiding my family through this storm,” Sylvad dragged on. “I will do everything to protect the Sylvad family legacy, so I have allowed my sick niece as much freedom as possible, but it’s time to set things right. She’s unwell.”
He had to stop sinking. Shanks had to wake up.
Had to fix this.
“So, she needs a husband that can head the company? I didn’t think—”
“Y/N needs a husband that will sign their half of the company to me so that I can continue to run it without exposing how vulnerable and violent Arbo’s favorite daughter is.”
Finally. Finally, fucking getting somewhere.
Cedrick pulled a crisp sheet of paper from the drawer beside him, laying it out along with a wooden pen carved and etched with gold branches and leaves.
“This seems a bit rushed,” Shanks teased, trailing his fingers across the contract. “What if Y/N doesn’t choose me? What if I decide to take her and elope instead?”
“Such a pirate,” Sylvad chuckled, as though praising a favorite pet. “As you’ve seen, my dear niece has been sick since she was a child. We have kept it hidden to protect her dignity and the family’s reputation, and although we’ve kept the full details of Arbo’s will hidden as well, it wouldn’t matter. Y/N can’t get married.”
He gave a deep laugh now, leaning his head back after Shanks’ confused expression.
Shanks was going to kill this man if he kept this going much longer.
“Due to a legal conflict of interest with the stipulations in Arbo’s will, Delaine wasn’t able to take on the role after he passed, so my sister-in-law came to me for help. As Y/N’s conservator, it has been my duty to keep her healthy, and to provide as much freedom as is safe for someone in her condition.”
The realization hit the Emperor like a punch to the gut, but he sipped his drink to keep from showing it.
He really does own her.
“So, don’t go getting greedy, friend,” Cedrick scolded, tapping the contract between them. “Even if you steal her away, I must give consent and sign the documents for her marriage to be binding. Worry not, I’m sure you’d rather be out on the seas than mired in paperwork. You’ll still gain plenty of wealth, land, resources, a butchered Adam tree… Hells, I can even call in favors for you if you need certain areas cleared on your path to the One Piece. The Sylvad family takes care of its own.”
Shanks looked it over, noting that all he said was true. All it asked of him was to transfer over his portion of the Sylvad company immediately upon marriage. If he married Y/N, her uncle would win.
He signed it. He was here to charm the beast.
“Wonderful,” Cedrick purred while he studied Shanks’ signature and added his own. “Now, regarding the question of Y/N’s choice… I’d like to offer you another deal, in case my dear niece chooses the prince. You will gain everything from this agreement, except you will be marrying a younger, healthier, less… traveled bride.”
Cedrick pulled a picture frame from the top drawer of his desk, smiling at it before he laid it between them like he had the contract.
Kat. Y/N’s little sister, beautiful, even without the matching family smile.
“I understand if you’d like to punish the brat that cost you the Jewel Tree Adam all those years ago,” Sylvad beamed over his steepled fingers when Shanks met his gaze, “but I assure you, Kathryn will make a much finer Queen.”
“Both of these deals favor me,” Shanks tried, lost in the riptide of this man’s little world. How could he charm the beast when the beast kept pulling him closer, offering more and more? “What is it that I’ll be bringing to the table? There’s no company to sign away for Kathryn, is there?”
“I’m a fan, remember?”
The pleasure in those words shifted the air in the room, and Shanks was too busy trying not to be sick to figure out why.
“Follow me, Shanks, I’ll prove it.”
He obeyed, following the man that owned too much across the large room to stand before one of the many paintings of cedar trees along the walls.
Sylvad was humming again when he pressed the side of the gilded frame. The painting swung out on a hinge to reveal a few smaller frames that held various wanted posters and newspaper clippings inside, but Cedrick drew his attention to the article in the center.
It was old, so many secrets protected behind glass and gold.
“That article doesn’t say much,” the beast sighed, letting Shanks read it, as though the pirate could read a thing right now. “But the author is a friend of mine, so I got to hear Morgans’ real take on the God Valley Incident. Rumors that even that old bird wouldn’t risk putting to paper, but if they’re true… Well, I’d be an even bigger fan.”
The Emperor could just leave. Run like a coward from the sick desire in his enemy’s eyes.
But he had promised.
“What do you mean,” Red Haired Shanks asked. He hoped he could tear that question from the world, so he’d never have to say those fucking words again for the rest of his life.
Cedrick took in a breath, wetting his lips before gripping the Emperor’s shoulder again. He couldn’t know how close to death he was.
“Sylvad’s are good at keeping secrets, Shanks,” he promised before leaning close enough to breathe the secret along Shanks’ ear. “My nieces would be honored to carry the blood of Dragons.”
No. Run away.
Shanks couldn’t run. He’d promised to become a villain to save her. A monster.
Cedrick Sylvad dragged that greedy hand along his arm, not even flinching when the Emperor looked down his nose at him.
This trash thinks he can own everyone, doesn’t he?
“Do you agree to both offers, Shanks? Will one of my nieces be mother to a— “
“Of course, Cedrick,” the monster purred. “How could I resist?”
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
~~~~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!
Author's Note: Wowzers, this one was a lot. I've had this chapter outlined since before the Hunt began, but finally getting to write it felt intense. I think I psyched myself out, lol. I hope you enjoyed it! Also, who's ready for the wedding?? I have some wedding plans drawn up already, but I had to stop myself from focusing too far ahead until I got to this point, so I don't have a chapter estimate yet. Knowing me, this might be a lengthy wedding, lol. It'll definitely be a wild one though 🥰

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Chapter 41

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#cross guild smut#mihawk smut#sir crocodile smut#buggy smut#one piece smut#cross guild x reader#mihawk x reader#sir crocodile x reader#buggy x reader#crocodile x reader#cross guild polycule#shuggy smut#shanks smut#shanks x reader#one piece x reader#one piece fanfic#dracule mihawk x reader#crochawk smut#crocodile x mihawk#fem!reader#reader insert#x reader#use of y/n#smut#numbers game#turtletaub fics#cw dark content#cw mental illness
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𝙋𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝙀𝘿
☾ sfw & nsfw headcanons for dating soap JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. oral (female receiving). female reader. WC | 2,063 x
SFW
☾ in his mind, he was already your boyfriend before even becoming official. soap is fiercely LOYAL and dedicated - just as soon as he realized the depths of his feelings, he was yours before you even knew it. stopped so much as looking at other people, much less thinking or fantasizing about them. for soap, you were it. he just had to convince you to go out with a guy like him, which is very soap. not always looking before he jumps.
☾ he loves calling himself your boyfriend, or calling you his girl. soap isn’t one to try and make it lowkey or anything. he wouldn’t be unprofessional - disrespecting or making you look bad is the last thing he wants. but soap will insert the fact into mundane little conversations whenever he can. the team quickly gets tired of it long before he does.
“soap, you joining us for drinks after the debrief?” “don’t know,” he says, sounding awfully CHIPPER for someone who might miss out on a night at the pub. “gotta check in with my girl, see if she wants to do anything tonight. missed out on lunch with her, y’know.” he was still beating himself up over that. you kept insisting it was fine - you both have crazy schedules sometimes. but soap didn’t want to make it a habit of blowing you off. gaz nodded like he agreed - soap didn’t think he really got what it meant to be your boyfriend.
☾ his favorite thing in the world is making you laugh, and he does it so easily. and a lot of the time, he doesn’t even mean to. soap can be blunt and cheeky sometimes, and his smart mouth has gotten him in hot water more often than not - but he’s always very happy to make you laugh, even accidentally. always acts kinda proud when his jokes land perfectly. or if he’s not in a great mood, but ends up saying something that makes you laugh, it always brightens his mood.
☾ while he usually finds one petname and sticks with it, soap is known to call you different ones - each worse and more SAPPY than the last. they’re never spoken seriously, he just enjoys seeing your nose wrinkle and look at him as if he just tracked dog shit into the house. it’s one of his favorite ways to tease you without feeling like he’s going too far, like he does with some of his mates.
with his nose buried against your neck, and the slowly thump of your heart vibrating on his chest, soap was damn near close to following you into unconsciousness. it had been a chaotic last few days - the mere chance to cuddle up with you in bed had him relaxed beyond the point of needing a quick fuck to tire him out. at least until you shifted your legs, and your icy toes pressed against his legs. “fuck, lass. toes are fuckin’ freezing,” he hisses against your shoulder. you just hum, not bothering to reply, more interested in finally falling asleep. he hums in return, and condemns himself to the icy torture. “lucky i love ya, my l’il popsicle.” “jesus, johnny.”
☾ generally enjoys going out on dates than staying home. of course, if you’re more of a homebody or he just doesn’t feel up to going out, a home date is perfectly fine with him. but soap likes going out and experiencing things - most of all, he wants to show you off. absolutely loves walking down the street with you on his arm, or you pulled against his side. tries to get some leave every few months so you two can travel somewhere, but usually, soap’s idea of a good date is simply going somewhere and having fun.
☾ gets super soft when you start getting comfortable around him. before the relationship began, you two were good friends - there was already a layer of comfort and familiarity before, but it’s different when you start dating. so one night, when you both are just chilling on the couch, and you start cackling at a joke on the TV or ugly-crying during a sad scene, soap just REVELS in it. he’s heard how far some people go not to show certain sides of themselves to their partners, and he’s super pleased that you don’t feel like you need to do that with him. on the flip side, soap immediately gets super goofy with you right off the bat, so it’s not like you’re alone in your silliness.
☾ don’t think you can outkiss this man. don’t even try to challenge him. soap mactavish is a man made for kissing and he will do it all day if you let him. your eyes in the morning to wake you up, on your cheek before he leaves, your hand after meeting up for lunch, your lips when he gets home at the end of the day, your neck while doing the dishes, your forehead after a good fuck before falling asleep. soap loves being able to kiss you whenever he wants and he takes full advantage of that privilege.
☾ arguments aren’t super common, but they do happen. soap can be stubborn and sometimes doesn’t see the wider picture. he forgets to take your feelings into account. arguments are usually resolved pretty painlessly, since soap knows he can be dumb sometimes and he doesn’t let his pride get in the way of apologizing. even still, he likes to go out of his way when it comes to make ups. he doesn’t like feeling guilty and can go a little overboard in comparison to the argument.
“so, you forgive me yet, bonnie?” “hmm,” you draw out the hum, even if the smile on your face negates the tension, “i haven’t decided yet.” suppressing his own grin, johnny throws his hands up in defeat. reclines back in his chair with a sigh and a shake of his head - always with the theatrics. “yeah, i figured ya say that. but i’ve learned to never enter a battle without a secret weapon.” “making up for a fight is a battle for you, is it?” your question, though a joke, made him pause. “well, no, i didn’t- fuck’s sake, lass. take it easy on me.” johnny stands, his hands clapping together. “i was listenin’, though. i know you feel all alone when i’m gone so much, and i’m sorry. wish i could change it.” of course, you knew he couldn’t just uproot his whole life. some of the things you said during the argument weren’t even exactly how you felt - just something said in the moment. “johnny, hold on, i didn’t mean-” “hey, hey, i’m not done.” he backs away from you toward the bedroom. “last thing i want is you to be here feelin’ all LONELY again. so i got something to fix all that.” he finally turns and makes for the bedroom door. when you stand and follow to watch, you notice how carefully he opened and slid right past. like he didn’t want you coming in. but you realized right away it was because he didn’t want something getting out. “a puppy? john, this is-” “great, right? can cuddle up to him when i’m not here!”
☾ definitely thinks about marriage super early on, but doesn’t really bring it up because he doesn’t wanna come off as weird or creepy. but honestly, soap knew you were the one right away. he’s not out looking at rings or wedding venues - he just kinda ACCEPTS that he’s gonna marry you. might make little jokes or comments here and there. jokingly calls you his wife or “the missus.” so when he eventually does pop the question, he’s a little taken aback when you’re caught off guard. and then he remembers that, oh yeah, he’s always been mentally married to you since basically forever.
NSFW
☾ it’s not hard at all to tell when soap is in the mood. he’s going to get very touchy if you let him - from soft grazes of his fingers along your skin to straight up groping your ass when you walk by. he is an absolute menace when he’s horny. loves coming up behind you when you’re doing something and just squeezing your hips and kissing your neck. grinds his cock against your ass, as if it isn’t painfully obvious how wound up he is.
☾ foreplay with soap is more fun than anything. there are rare moments when he’s silent and serious and focused, but mostly, he likes to keep it light. makes you laugh before sucking on your tits to take your breath away. says some dumb comment when you’re grinding against his thigh to distract you, only to suddenly change pace and laugh when you whimper. he sees sex with you as something to 100% ENJOY and making sure the both of you have fun with it…
☾ …that is until soap gets completely pussy-drunk off you and just shuts the fuck up and enters this kind of tunnel vision when he’s eating you out. it happens a good 60% of the time - he starts out his usual light and teasing self, kissing your thighs, asking you if you want to fuck his mouth. but just as soon as he gets his tongue on your clit and his fingers buried knuckle-deep, it’s so easy for him to just get lost in it. will make you cum twice before he realizes it, and is almost confused when you’re begging him to stop, or at least give you a break.
“fu- fuck, johnny! i can’t- shit, you need to stop.” those words seem to finally break him of his little trance. your little moans and whimpers of his name are always MELODIC in a way that makes him want to hear more and more. but hearing you ask him to stop makes soap blink and pull his face away - lips parted in his panting, chin glistening. “okay, bonnie?” he asks, a hand squeezing your hip. you’re breathing hard. skin flushed. chin tilted upward with your eyes closed and he wonders just how hard you came. or how many times. “i’m okay,” you answer quickly. “just…need a break. or just fuck me - that works too.” a wide grin spreads over his face, and when he pulls his fingers free, the soft squelching sound almost makes him shiver. “just said the fuckin’ magic words, beautiful.”
☾ not at all picky with positions, so he usually just tries a bunch of different ones or follows your lead. there’s something to enjoy with all of them, so how can he have a favorite? fucking you in missionary gets him on top, where he feels so big and strong and loves feeling you hold onto him like your life depends on it. when you ride him, he gets to watch your face the entire time, or play with your tits, or do anything he wants. getting you in doggy is great when soap is feeling especially FERAL and just wants to drive into you, grabbing your ass, tugging on your hair when he feels like he can’t hear you well enough. gun to his head, he can’t pick just one.
☾ soap does have a preference when he cums. as fucking fantastic as it feels to cum inside you, there’s something otherwordly about pulling out and painting your skin. he saves creampies for slow and sleepy sex (or when you beg for it), but every other time? soap is cumming on your back, your belly, your thighs, your face, your tits. anywhere and everywhere is fair game for him. he’s definitely taken a picture when the sight is too good to leave to memory. eventually deletes them because he doesn’t want them to somehow get out, but not before using it as wank material while he’s away.
☾ very gentle and attentive with aftercare. sex with soap isn’t especially rough or intense most of the time, but he still doesn’t slack on it. kissing you good and proper after you both cum, letting you know just how much he loves you. always gets something to clean you up and talking while he does so - soap is a chatterbox anyway, but more so after sex because he doesn’t want you to start feeling awkward. lots of cuddles and touches when he climbs into bed - but be warned, he does tend to nod off pretty soon.
#call of duty x reader#cod fanfic#cod x reader#call of duty smut#soap x reader#soap smut#johnny mactavish x reader#soap mactavish fanfic
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Roped In - A Collaborative Event 2025
Let’s Knot Complicate Things, eh?
Fuzzy Cuffs - Whether it’s a starter set, or a full on BDSM club, this is for the consensual and the sensual, the frisky and the mutually agreed upon risky <3
Rope Burns - For the darker appetites. From the yandere to the non-con. This is for the stuff that leaves an impression that lasts.
Unleashed - Whether it’s fuzzy cuffs, or rope burns, this is for those times when the rope’s not the only thing that has a knot >.> When the smile has too many teeth, or when it’s claws caressing your skin.
How to join?
Send an ask to me, specifying which character & prompt you will be writing/drawing for. Also tell me which of the three categories your work will be for!
When you post your piece, please make sure to tag me in the post and use the tag #RopedInCollab. Once you’re done I’ll add you to the Masterlist!
RULES:
~ Any fandom is allowed and we don’t have to be mutuals for you to join!
~ Anon is not allowed - you must be 18+ to join and I need to be able to link your work when you’re done anyway ^_^;
~ NSFW and SFW are allowed, just make sure you tag your works appropriately!
~ Fics and Art are both allowed, as are OCs, x Readers, Canon x Canon, Poly, etc.
~ Try to keep your fics at least 500 words (no maximum), any format is allowed: headcanons, bullet points, drabbles — all the way up to a multi-chapter if you want (only the first part needs to be done within the event’s timeline!)
~ Post your work during July 2025 and tag me so I can add it to the Masterlist \o/
Clarification and Example:
As long as some level of kink is in the story, it's good - from fuzzy handcuffs to full on shibari - it can be alluded to (referencing kink, but not actively experiencing it in the story), or be set in a bdsm style dungeon, the choice is yours
The prompts don't have a list cause it's just an open deal, you decide the prompt and just let me know what you want to write. (If you really need a prompt list, I can whip (heh) one up, just let me know).
The three categories are basically [standard] [dark content] [monster fucker]
So a submission would be something like: I'm writing Canon x Reader, Fuzzy Cuffs, beginner session.( or established relationship, or [insert here]) And that's all I really need to track it for the event.
Extra note: Shout out to @nagumoan inspiring the layout and general vibe of the collab with here dance with the dead event from 2023
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Not so bad, after all.
╰┈➤ PART I.
pairing: neteyam x fem!metkayina!reader
summary: When neteyam and you met each other for the first time, they were overwhelmed with feelings they have never felt before.
wordcount for this chapter: 2.3k
tags: love at first sight, misunderstanding, arranged marriage/mateship, unrequieted love, betrayal, angst, happy ending, etc.
wordbank: 'eveng = child. mawey = be calm. skxawng = moron/idiot. uturu = a request for safe harbor/asylum. tsahik = spiritual leader. olo-eyktan = clan leader. paskalin = sweet berry (?).
A/N: UNEDITED, just word vomit. Tsu'nari is the name I used as a place-holder for reader-insert. I'll try to not use it as much...i'm also new to tumblr and the fandom in general so i hope i'm not doing something wrong??? 😭😭😭 I was going crazy thinking about neteyam and couldn't sleep so i created a tumblr account to posted all these word vomits. I also posted it first on AO3. Sorry for this word vomit, uh... Enjoy?
TEXT DIVIDERS CREDITS TO @cafekitsune
masterlist
part ii.
part i.
When your parents joined Eywa’s embrace and you only had your grandfather as your own remaining kin, you knew your life wouldn’t be yours to live. He often said you have an immense potential for greatness, that you were born to lead. You have been expected to accomplish a lot since you were an ‘eveng, and your grandfather saw something in you that he believes would help the clan.
He’s a vital elder who wields power under the olo-ekytan, helping in the matters of the clan. You knew his ambition for you and your family, but you never once complained for you know what is your duty and responsibility.
“I’m doing this for you, paskalin. You are born for this, and Eywa bears witness.” He once told you, when you refused his proposal to study under the Tsahik as a tsakarem.
He cupped your face, “I’m running out of time, paskalin. I’m doing this to ensure that once I embrace Eywa’s loving arms, you would be in good hands.”
He thought the only way to ensure that you live a good life is to set you up with the olo-eyktan’s oldest son. When you heard of it, you wanted to disagree, thinking everybody else would too. You didn’t expect that in one typical eclipse, Olo-eyktan would call you and look at you with approval. “You will grow up into a fine young woman. Learn well under the Tsahik. Do you understand me, girl?”
You agreed, sneaking a glance at the Tsahik and saw her looking at you with an unreadable expression. She actually never consented, at least verbally, but she also didn’t protest it. She was just watching you, assessing your worth like she would do herbs and medicinal plants.
“Mother is not one who speaks a lot. Her lack of protest is her answer, you know that right? I’m excited for your tsaheylu with Ao’nung, tsmuke. You would make a fine mother and Tsahik of the clan.” Tsireya exclaimed when she learned about your engagement.
You find it ironic how your clansmen says they know you, of what you will become, but never once heard your silent scream for freedom. They never picked up on the fact that you weren’t happy at this arrangement. But then again, does happiness even matter when duty and responsibility hold the clan together?
“Is there even a problem?” Ao’nung asked you when confronted him about the issue. He seems genuinely perplexed as to why you kept asking him about his thoughts. Then you understood. The reason why the olo-eyktan and the Tsahik agreed wasn’t because of your potential to become a Tsahik. It was always about Ao’nung and his thoughts, and it should've made you flattered. That the future olo-eyktan finds you suitable to lead the clan side by side by him. But it only made the burden on your shoulders heavier.
Eywa was the last one you sought. You asked her for guidance, a hint of what future holds for you. But she only said to wait. That its not the time yet, so you compromised. You accepted everything and remained silent.
Never expecting in one typical wild day for your life to change forever.
When you heard the familiar call of the horn, you didn’t hesitate to ride your ilu back to the shore. You still many herbs you need to pick, but you knew by the sound that something major had happened in awa’atlu. Whatever that is, the sound of the call seems urgent, requiring the attention of the everybody. When you looked above the surface, you happen to see several figures with skin shades darker than regular people of awa’atlu. Not far behind ere banshees you rarely see in the ocean. Your people were surrounding these darker Na’vis, murmurs and gasps could be heard across the beach.
You saw Tsireya not far away, also riding her ilu, so you decided to whistle to get her attention.
“Who are those, Tsmuke?” You asked her when she came near you.
“I don’t know yet, tsmuke. We must hurry.”
You saw the people making way for Ao’nung and Roxto, who the two foreign boys greeted with politeness but was met with disrespectful snickering.
“Look, what is that? Is that supposed to be a tail?” You heard Roxto speak in Na’vi, wanting to touch the tail of one of the guests. This earned a look from the two boys. Ao’nung laughed at Roxto’s comment, seemingly agreeing to his friend, making you frown. What a skxawng! Is this how a future olo-eyktan should act to guests?
Tsireya and you reached ashore, pulling the attention of the darker na’vis into your direction. At this moment, your eyes met with golden ones of the tallest among the children. His eyes seems piercing, scrutinizing you before giving you a small smile with intensity that you froze and stopped walking.
Tsireya didn’t fail to notice this as she giggled, whispering to you. “Tsmuke, let’s go.”
You cleared your throat and looked away from those golden eyes, your heart still racing, wanting to beat out of your chest for reason you cannot understand. Mawey, there’s no reason to be afraid. They are the guests, not you.
Thinking once is not enough, Roxto opened his mouth again, “It’s too small, how are they supposed to swim?”
You eyed Roxto with contempt, thinking to yourself. Did it not occur to you that they are not Reef Na’vi? Skxawng.
Tsireya, who’s nearer to the Roxto, swatted his pointing fingers and warned. “Do not, Roxto, Ao’nung.” Before smiling to the two. It didn’t escape your eyes and ears when one of them softly mumbled a greeting towards your sister that made her giggle.
You took this chance to hide among the people as they gathered around the visitor, observing them with fascination. You have seen Na’vi in this color, most of them are land Na’vi, thus their difference in terms of skin color and tail shape. Their arms were thin, unlike the reef people’s wide forearms.
When you heard your clansmen’s whispers, you couldn’t help the gasps that escaped you. It is actually Toruk Makto and his family, the Omatikaya people!
Your heart raced even further as you watched the father of this foreign forest na’vis, the Toruk Makto Jakesuli that defeated the sky demons and brought victory and peace among several clans. It is a tale that your grandfather often tells you at night when you cannot sleep. He must be the eldest son of Toruk Maktob and his mate Neytiri te Tsakaha Mo’at’ite then. That’s why you felt like that because he’s the son of a mighty warrior and he himself had passed his iknimaya.
You wondered what made Toruk Makto and his family come here in awa’atlu. What could be their reason for visiting a clan from so far away, with lots of baggages and storages in their ikrans. Thankfully, the olo-eyktan has finally arrived in his tsurak along with several hunters and warriors. He landed in front of the Sully family, greeting them with respect. The Tsahik has also arrived, giving you a glance as she passed by you. You knew what that glance meant. She wanted you to be infront, to accompany Ao’nung.
You wordlessly followed her. You tried to ignore the prickling sensation directed towards you as you emerged in front in Ronal’s tow, ignoring the shiver that went down to your spine when you stood face to face with the oldest sully son.
“Why do you come to us, Jakesuli?” Tonowari’s deep voice silenced all the awa’atlu people, all wanting to hear Toruk Makto’s response.
Jake looked at his family and spread his arms wide, “We seek uturu!”
You can hear the collective gasps of your clansmen, the suddenly shift in Ronal’s tail movements indicated her disbelief and displeasure, “Uturu?”
The rest were a blur to you as you looked down at the sand in your feet. Uturu has been asked, and no matter how Ronal dislikes the idea of Na’vis with demon blood seeking asylum in awa’atlu, tradition is not something to be questioned. Safe harbor was requested, and Tonowari shall deliver.
“Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless. My son Ao’nung and my daughter Tsireya will show your children what to do.”
You watched Tsireya guide the Sullys into the village, while Ao’nung looked displeased at his father before looking at you pointedly. You nodded at him with a smile, which made him roll his eyes and follow Tsireya.
“Girl,” Ronal called you.
“Yes, Tsahik.” You bowed your head respectfully as her hand landed on your shoulder.
“Watch over Ao’nung, make sure he does no mistake that will disgrace the clan.” Without waiting for your response, she walked away along with the Olo-eyktan, talking in hushed tones. You watched them silently before looking at the direction where Tsireya and the Sully family walked to.
Neteyam watched the forest slowly faded away from his sight, as they bravely faces the unknown future of their family. No matter how it hurts him to leave his home, Sullys have to stick together. They couldn’t afford losing another one of their family under Quatrich’s knife, and endanger the Omatikaya People for the second time. Their people had lost too much.
He looked at his father, who seems to have aged a lot overnight. His distressed mother who’s forced to leave the place she had spent her life protecting, his youngest sister nestled in her bosom, confused and sad leaving her grandmother alone. His brother Lo’ak who has been silent all the way, still blaming himself for getting his siblings under the enemy’s hand, and Kiri who’s reluctant to leave her ma behind.
And him… who spent his life striving to become a warrior like his father, excelling as the future olo-eyktan of Omatikaya.
The return of the sky demons changed their future into something unrecognizable. Neteyam hated it, he hated not being able to see what future holds for him and his family now that they were forced to leave. All his life, he had everything under control (except Lo’ak) and at least he had a grasp of what’s supposed to happen.
Can they really adapt like his father said? Will the Metkayina accept their request for uturu? What could be waiting for them in unfamiliar environment they have never been exposed to?
They are not meant to be in the ocean. They are forest people, meant to be swinging through vines and flying their ikrans until eclipse. They are meant to fight with bows and arrows, not with spears. Fight in the forest, not the ocean.
Neteyam cannot help but to doubt, helplessness emerged from his heart and clouded his vision.
“Trust Eywa’s plans, Neteyam. She will guide you to the right path. Do not fear, for she will be there to watch over us.” Mo’at told him the night before their flight, giving him a small smile and a tight hug, assuring him that there’s always light at the end of the darkness. Eywa’s light.
Metkayina people are different from Omatikaya in many ways. Not only their physical appearance, but also their way of life. Neteyam wasn’t afraid to admit that they were beautiful.
Especially you. The moment he laid eyes on you, he felt his heart skip a beat, a flutter on his stomach that made him flustered internally. When your gaze connected with his, he couldn’t help but to hold his breath. He kept staring at you, tracing your features and wanting to catch your eyes, but you seem to avoid his, hiding yourself amongst your people.
Neteyam felt his stomach flip as realization dawned on him. Perhaps, you also thought him and his family are weird, so you hid yourself. Neteyam looked away, confused by his own reaction. Lo’ak seems to pick it up as he gave Neteyam a knowing look. Neteyam gave him a glare, thinking that Lo’ak is just the same as him, flustered when Tsireya and you emerged from the shallow waters.
Neteyam calmed his racing heart and thoughts, attributing it as tiredness. It didn’t help that he’s also on edge due to the Metkayina’s reaction towards him and his family, especially when Tonowari questioned his father about the war against the sky people. He wanted to talk but a simple flick of tail from his father stopped him.
When he saw you behind Ronal and stood face to face with him, he wanted to greet you, but you never once looked at him, simply staring at the sand in your feet. Ronal began questioning his sibling’s blood as Na’vi, making him angry but unable to do anything, so he directed his gaze at you. Thinking it was the reason for your refusal to look at him in the eyes.
“Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless. My son Ao’nung and my daughter Tsireya will show your children what to do.”
It didn’t escape Neteyam’s eyes when Lo’ak smiled at Tonowari’s words. Making him wonder about you. Are you not Tonowari’s daughter? Why are you with Ronal?
He looked at you one last time and saw Ronal speaking to you with all seriousness, making him even more curious about your identity. With narrowed eyes, he followed his family into the village.
The next day, Tsireya came early to the Sully’s marui, intending to fetch the Sully children and teach them the ways of the water. Strangely enough, she was alone with no Ao’nung in sight.
“Will he not come with us? Does he dislike us?” Tuk asked aloud, making everyone flabbergasted. Neteyam quickly covered Tuk’s mouth, afraid that she’ll make it even worse with her next words.
Tsireya didn’t take it to heart as she laughed, stealing glances from Lo’ak. “It is fine. He will come, because someone will watch over to make sure he does his task.”
Neteyam’s heart skipped a beat, the scene of you with Ronal yesterday appeared his mind. “Who?”
Tsireya paused, suddenly clueless on how she will introduce you to the Sully. Ao’nung’s future mate? The next Tsahik? Her closest companion and sister at heart? Before she could speak, Lo’ak elbowed Neteyam. “We’ll know in the future. Tsireya seems a good teacher and i’m sure we’ll learn without Ao’nung.”
Neteyam ignored the loss he felt inside and followed his siblings as Tsireya led them to the shallow waters.
Mawey. Stop this. Why are you acting this way? Neteyam chastised himself inwardly, crushing the budding hope in his heart that you were somewhere in these shallow waters.
#neteyam x reader#reader-insert#avatar#atwow#avatar the way of water#neteyam#Lo'ak x Tsireya#Ao'nung x reader#neytiri#jake sully#kiri#tuktirey#roxto#neteyam x na'vi! reader#neteyam x metkayina!reader#neteyam x female reader#james cameron avatar#avatar 2009#avatar 2#atwow neteyam#neteyam sully#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#neteyam x you
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pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker
word count : 3.5 k
masterlist | ao3 link

summary
in which anakin skywalker chooses to run away with you before all is lost in mustafar.
tags : au, angst!!, hurt/no comfort
warnings : toxic love, dark fic, ptsd, and reader being so dependent on anakin, suicidal behavior
notes : my reader character being a healer is my self indulgent insert 😭
i've sat w this 4 so long cause i was like 'realistically, what would happen if anakin ran away?' and i think i've finally made up my mind abt it.
time is moving fast for this fic because i wanted to cover so much, so heads up for the skips!
ALSO, ear-ringing apologist perspective. if u can't handle reader being blind to faults, this is not for u haha!
likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!
Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.
At least, it was something you want believed in.
The clone war that raged on revealed just how much people can be persuaded to do horrible things when their survival is at stake.
You underestimated that instinct yourself. The burning desperation to not lose your Anakin Skywalker. You thought, you would have killed for him, the way he would for you.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to tell you how Anakin became irredeemable.
It was a blur how you flew to Mustafar despite it. You needed Anakin to admit to it, you needed to take him away from what he'll become.
The crimes he committed made you feel sick, septic like a festering wound.
But, whether you love what you love.
Or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.
You've been so alone. So much so, you can only define a time with Anakin, and without him.
It was gradual. It couldn't have been some higher power that destined you to him, He had been a General of a war, and you, the Healer. It was all odds, that you fell in the right place at the wrong time.
An unwilling hero, and a glorified murderer.
He was crafted to be a tool in the war. Divinely created by the Force with the purpose of bringing balance. And in a war, that meant doing damage, killing.
Every victory he had was a stark contrast to yours.
Every life he takes, be it a droid or a separatist, is a win. And every life you lose is a name added to the long list of casualties.
You and Anakin were opposites.
So, the shock of it remains, because somehow along the way, Anakin loved you. And you loved him. You had each other to cling to.
The terror of What if it doesn't last, What if there's no one else? What happens if it goes back to being alone? persists.
And you might not belong anywhere else.
But you were his. As he is yours. Not in the manner of possession. Yours in the way of devotion.
Mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love.
You knew that Anakin's love was conditional. You were only the one in front of him. You didn't misunderstand. You let him use you anyway.
It's not like you were loving him unconditionally, it was because you were terrified to be lonely.
At least, in the beginning, you believed so.
Most days were occupied by your duties. And Anakin would love you in a way that is shaped like fingers wrapped around a throat. Incessant. Hungry. Teeth deep in possession. Making up for the little time, holding you against him as if he was bracing himself that someday you won't be around.
It felt like he was always saying goodbye.
So, though your heart was nearly breaking out of your ribs, you flew by yourself to Mustafar.
A pile of lifeless Separatist figures greeted you in horror.
It was true. Anakin had gone to the dark side. What he did with those children...
The fear consumed you like a corrosion, but still, you stood in front of him, begging him to come back.
Anakin had carried a deep malaise when you had found him. It was almost emanating from his blood-stained robe, a coldness, a deadly assurance.
"You're not supposed to be here," Anakin says in a strangled voice. His hands firmly holding your arms.
The color of his eyes startled you. It was like looking at a ghost, and all that was left was an unending rage. You fought to not let your fear swallow you.
"Anakin, we have to go" Your lips quivered, not entirely sure what you were planning.
There will never be escaping the things he's done.
You want him to go away with you, anyway.
Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.
For a while, it was quiet. Anakin's glossy blue eyes were gazing at you, in conflict, and begging to be understood.
"I can't... Don't you see? I've restored justice to the galaxy" He abruptly lets go, and turns, concealing his face away from your sight. "The things I've done... I can't, there's no running away from it"
The guilt he feels leads him to think that the only path now is through the one he sacrificed his morality for.
"No," you struggled, voice failing to hide your anguish. "Anakin, you can't let this be your fate. Run away with me." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears.
A life of loneliness. With no one, the way it used to.
Then, Anakin half turns. He surveys your willingness to take him as he is. Maybe, even wanting to believe it.
You have always loved Anakin, even the parts you have not understood.
Perhaps, this was the similarity that bound you together. Burning devotion. One that allows you to see past your moral code.
You gave so much to the war. You'd run yourself spent from the hours. You fought so hard to keep people from dying. You'd never taken anything but this. A chance at life. Away from it all.
"I would've done anything you asked of me" His voice reveals his devastation.
You stepped forward, "Then come with me, Leave it all behind, I need you"
You held your breath, half convinced that this may very much be the end of things.
But Anakin takes your hand, and you don't waste a minute more to take him away in your ship.
Your hands shook the entire time.
The galaxy was silent when the war ended.
Mace Windu's attempt to assassinate the Chancellor made the Jedi an enemy of the Empire.
It triggered an Order that made clone soldiers turn against their Generals. The Jedi are hunted down for treason.
You and Anakin will never find security again.
The atmosphere was thick with emotions that were strained by the abruptness of events. It was making it so much harder to breathe. To live with the truth of it.
All three years of the war are reduced to two moments; Anakin falling into Palpatine's manipulation, and Anakin choosing to run away with you.
You caught yourself slipping away. Tucked in a corner of your mind where you can feel safe.
The healer's oath replays in your mind, the cruelest reminder.
Blind to faults, blind to good. Serve to save, not to see.
As the jedi healer, you weren't allowed to deny patients. You wondered whether that played into role when you stomached all the horrible things Anakin did. Serve to save, despite, despite, despite...
You landed in a remote place on your home planet of Hapes.
It was a secluded cabin that you used to go to when you were younger. Surrounded by a lake that stretches as far as your eyes can see. It was the first thing that came to mind when you set your ship on autopilot.
Anakin was quiet the entire time.
You, too, became paralyzed by the events that has unraveled.
For a few days, it remained like that.
Though the event has passed, your body can't quite regulate.
It still feels as though someone will find you. And take Anakin with them. You knew your hypervigilance was a consequence of your trauma, but knowing doesn't mean you can let the feeling go.
Even Anakin responds to mild stressors as if he was still in the war. He'd not let you off his sight the first few weeks.
You felt as though Anakin was trying to process everything in his mind. And you grew terrified of his growing silence. Knowing Anakin meant knowing his tendencies to vacillate violently. The reality of what he had done would set and it'd twist into something septic. An unending shame.
You were convinced that he'd have killed himself from it.
But then he'd stare at you deeply as if he was committing you to memory. He'd coddle your face in his palm. He'd hold your hand, hands that are capable of so much rage, and so much tenderness. He'd hold you tight against him in bed, the way he used to.
He can't quite communicate it through words yet, so he'd rely on his touch to let you know that he was still here. Your anxieties eased after. He needed to detangle it on his own. You'd be there whenever he is ready.
Obi-Wan Kenobi appears the next month.
It was through luck that you were the one to open the door.
You knew Obi-Wan would want Anakin to answer for the crimes he's committed.
You won't let him.
"What do you want?" You say cautiously. Stepping forward to the Jedi Master to stop him from entering your new home.
Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows at your action. He gazes at you for a moment before speaking up. "You know what he's done, [Name]"
"The Republic has fallen. The system that replaced it won't hold him to what he's done. It's the very reason for its existence, anyway"
Obi-Wan's eyebrows flashed hearing your words. It seemed as though you'd be the last person he'd expect to exhibit such... heartlessness.
"And what, do you intend to keep him here forever?"
You looked down, fiending an expression of indifference you learnt from Anakin.
"I'm more selfish than he is"
Obi-Wan sighs. There were no more Jedi Council to hold Anakin accountable. You wonder if Obi-Wan had gone looking for him out of the responsibility he felt he had. You could use that.
"If you have any love left for Anakin, You'll leave him with me" You persuaded.
Obi-Wan sharply looks at you. You knew he was being torn apart by his mind and heart.
The door swings, revealing Anakin who appears behind you.
Anakin's arm extends to put you behind him. Obi-Wan was caught, stricken by the sight of his apprentice. You held on to Anakin's forearm.
You held your breath.
Then, Obi-Wan opens his arm to hug Anakin.
Anakin froze, perhaps not expecting his Master to embrace him after...
He turns his head to look at you, then back to his Master. And he reluctantly wraps his arm around Obi-Wan.
You exhaled finally.
You saw Obi-Wan's glossy eyes as he pulled away. He may not forgive Anakin for all the things he's responsible for, but his love for him surpasses all the anger he has.
Gaining his master's acceptance, Anakin became recognizable once more.
However, Obi-Wan could not stay. Perhaps, he's grown sick of stomaching the love he had for Anakin. It was not an easy feeling to be fond of.
When Obi-Wan left, Anakin finally came to you.
It hauntingly paralleled the moment he broke down after he lost his mother. After he gave in to his rage. Only this time, he didn't hold the pose of defiance and came undone, weeping for what he'd done.
You held him and told him that what matters now is what he'll choose to do.
And in the months that come, Anakin has fought to deserve your forgiveness.
He wanted to earn your love.
As a healer, your experience with foraging natural medicine made you more equipped to build a sustainable life. In six months, you were able to make this house by the lake a place to call home.
But, Anakin is being dragged through time. He'd do his best to help, but you can feel his... silence. The weight of it, this was not the life he was groomed to have. He has always lived off the adrenaline. The absence of it makes him constantly feel as though he is at the other end of the high.
It'd worry you whenever he comes home late from a hunt. He's always been reckless, that much hasn't changed. He'd come home covered in tissue deep cuts, bruised muscles, and a dead-pan look in his eyes. It was a topic that you tried to communicate— and a topic Anakin would respond defensively to.
"It's nothing" He'd dismiss whilst you were dressing the wound.
You'd press the clean gauze over his skin, on the brink of anxiety. He'd wince and take the gauze from your hand.
And you'd stand up and leave, because your patience would have run out by then.
It upset you how he always stands on a cliff to wait for the winds to swoon him over because he won't jump, he won't make that decision himself.
Your breaths were shallow as you tried to calm down after yelling about how his passivity over danger was eating at you. You needed him to try. Because you can't save him on your own.
"I'm sorry" Anakin looks down, receding. " I just don't know how to do this" He admits, eyes wide, childlike, helpless.
And you thaw, breaths shallow as you fought to not cry from the anger.
"Anakin, if you don't..." You began, looking down at the ground as if the words would appear before you there. "if you don't want this anymore, you can go"
Because the entire year you have spent in this cabin, it felt like time has frozen. You hoped that in time, you and Anakin would find the courage to move past the war. Of course, it was futile, you can never take back what you've given to the effort.
Whatever is left of you and Anakin is all there is now. And sometimes, it feels like there is nothing. Just ghosts of who you once were. You weren't sure if being with you was making any difference at all.
You were selfish, but not enough to keep him as he wastes away. You'd let him go, even if it'd cripple you forever.
Anakin grabs both of your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up to him.
"Why do you think I came with you?" Anakin's voice was stern. His eyes fixed, determined to imprint words to your heart.
You held on to his arm, swallowing your anguish. "I only meant that if I'm not doing you any good, you should—"
"And where would I go?" He interrupts, unrelenting.
"I don't know" You admitted. You're ruining him. You've done this to him. You should let him go.
His grip loosened, and his lips kept opening and closing as if he was eating up the words before letting it leave his mouth.
"—I'm trying, [Name]"
"I'm giving you my life, I don't have anything larger to give" His voice breaks, and his head dips. "I'm trying" he repeats.
You felt his tears warm against your clavicle. Your fingers tangling with his hair.
"I know, Ani" You coo gently. "We'll try together" You promised.
It was becoming clearer that he was alleviating his sins by trying to kill the entity that once controlled him. It was also becoming harder to see a monster when all you see is Anakin, the love you abandoned everything for.
Anakin, who was sold as a slave, and then freed, only to be chained to another lifelong servitude through the Jedi. Anakin, who was dropped in the middle of a war, and made responsible for a child whilst being a child himself.
The Jedi Order relied on his nature of winning, despite not agreeing with his tactics. He'd be patronized for his violence, which his life would soon be defined by. Anakin's worst action is murder, the same way his best action is murder. Because if he doesn't answer to the shots fired, he'd be the one receiving them.
He was never afforded any space to become anything else.
Except when he's with you.
Anakin can become cruel, the same way he is loving. Two truths can exist at the same time.
And with the months that flew by, you watched as Anakin continually chose to not let his darkness define him.
You were learning things about him that you couldn't have had during the war. The way he neatly keeps inventory of his tools. The intense focus in his eyes when he is concentrating. The way the wood creaks— the cadence of his steps. All committed to memory because no one else can know him the way you do.
He told you, you saved him. And you wept, unsure whether what you did was really an act of selflessness.
Living with him became easier. No more effort to try to gain his love. No approval, no admiration to attain. There is no role to play, no one to convince. Just, being. There was so much time, and the only thing that mattered was; how long do we have each other?
Most days, Anakin would carry his grief so well, that you'd forget it was even there. He'd work to minimize it, to live with it. However, when the dark comes, he has no control over his dreams. and the overwhelming shame and guilt seep.
It had been two years when you woke up abruptly to find the space beside you empty.
You grabbed your robe, the cold midnight air felt crisp against your skin. Finding Anakin was easy. He'd always wander towards the edge of the lake, staring at the moons.
"It's cold, Ani, come back to sleep" You urged, but Anakin's gaze was far away.
He has chopped some of his hair, and it looked the way it used to during the war. It startles you sometimes to remember how young he still was.
"I had a dream" He speaks softly, arms finding a way to snake around you so he'd press you against him. "It felt as real as you now" His gaze lands on you.
It terrified you to ask, but you did anyway.
"We had a child"
Oh.
You chuckled in surprise. Stepping back to process what he said. It just never seemed to occur to you, then. Though you have never dismissed the idea, it just felt like you were barely surviving to try to raise a child.
Anakin smiles when he realizes he made you flustered. "Good thing it was only a dream?"
You let out a breathless laugh, somehow relieved that Anakin was not seriously considering it.
"Yes," You weren't ready. You may never find it in yourself to ever be ready.
"We're not bringing a child now, not like this"
Anakin's expression melts, "Yes, the empire is growing stronger" His guilt resurfaces.
"I never imagined it to be like this for us," He thinks out loud,
"We have to make the best of what we have" You sigh.
"I've been thinking" Anakin begins, "maybe, there is still something that can be done"
You try steadying your breath, somehow bracing yourself for this moment; when he'll want to fight again.
It was everything he was made for. You knew that, you just didn't think it'd be in under a short period.
Something was screaming inside you. A fear, that you thought had gone when you ran away with Anakin. It was telling you that you were going to lose him. And you, selfishly, want to stop him. He can't... if he goes, he'll die. And you can't even begin to imagine what'll happen to you if he dies.
"How?" You asked despite yourself.
"Ahsoka mentioned something about a rebellion," He says, voice thick with something he hasn't had before. Hope.
"The galaxy needs changing" He steps forward.
You shook your head, overcome by the anxiety of it. "Anakin, I'm never going back"
He turns on his heel, eyes narrowed at your proclamation. "I didn't ask you to come back"
You tilt your head, "Of course, you weren't" Though you knew you were being unfair, just the idea of it was sending stress already.
Anakin's eyebrows knit. "I'm only thinking out loud, it's one thing to consider it but another to act on it" He defends.
Though, you know this is where it begins. And you were responding defensively because you knew where it would lead.
Anakin will forever feel as though he has to restore the galaxy to how it was before he helped destroyed it. It won't be long until he'd despise himself for choosing to stay here with you. Especially since it's been drilled into him that he's supposed to be the one to bring balance to the force.
Whether he loves you or lives in a divided ceaseless revolt against it, what he chooses to love is your fate.
His purpose or you.
Going would give him his closure.
Going would anchor you to the hells of your biggest fear.
"Anakin, please don't go where I can't follow" Your voice broke, begging. It was selfish to want to keep him for the second time.
And you weren't sure whether your love would be enough for Anakin to stay.
Not when it only brought him here, a home by the lake, forever standing on thin ice that always threatened to break under.
You were living under the false pretense of security. All of this, the house, the lake, the isolation, are reminders that you and Anakin will never go back to normalcy, no matter how much you pretend.
A knife may dull, but its purpose remains to cut.
Anakin's expression softens and he presses his lips on the temples of your forehead.
You were slowly understanding that the entire galaxy's fate was carried inside Anakin Skywalker.
The chosen one.
Every decision he made was informed by that pressure. No matter how personal, it always builds to a path that he can't control, because it's already laid out for him.
Created by the force, to be used by the force.
So you can't find the heart to be angry when he left.
You decided it would be hopeless to try to stop him. Anakin has this view that everything in his life, he has to work to earn. To deserve.
Even this... freedom that you have.
He has to contribute to it, in this perverse grandiose action as to fight the Empire. So he can accept that you do indeed love him.
He has to seize this opportunity with Ahsoka. He is more autonomous of his power now. He is once again engaging in something that's risking his life. He can fulfill his destiny.
It didn't make it any less painful.
You had to inspire confidence in him, otherwise, he'd doubt. So, you pushed all your feelings away and smiled when you kissed him goodbye.
You never left the war. The two years you stole were only stalling the inevitable. Perhaps, two years was too generous.
"Bring him back, please" You took Ahsoka aside. Ahsoka nods uncommitedly. For, she won't promise what she can't deliver.
And once again, you have found yourself alone.
He swore he'd have done anything for you.
Just not this one.
His belief that he has no inherent right to life; and has to work to earn anything made you feel as though you were his... prize. A trophy. In which he'd fight for to retain but not value enough to take care of.
He should've stayed. It's good he left.
Because now that you have nothing, you're finally able to detangle how Anakin doesn't love you. Not in the way you thought. Anakin loves that he has you.
You have always put his wellness first, that now, when you are not so worried by walking carefully around his hurt, you are able to feel yours.
Perhaps, losing Anakin was good. You can finally put yourself first. Whilst he still seeks answers in the past
There is no going back to the way it was. You tried living 'normally' and it just became a bitter reminder that you are forever changed.
Acceptance of that and lending yourself a little more compassion might just be the beginning of your healing.
footnote
i'm obsessed with the writing style where authors strikes through the text ! it's such a smart way to imply that the character that's narrating is choosing not to allow those thoughts and so it looks like it's been scribbled out .
also, quoting ka applegate on relationships not lasting outside the war :
"wars don't end happily. not ever. often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. some people who were brave and fearless in a war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. "
#anakin skywalker#anakin (ciella's ver)#star wars#sw#anakin x reader#anakin x you#star wars anakin#anakin#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin star wars#anakin skywalker fic#fanfic#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x female reader
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𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐂𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬
Yan! Circus Performers x GN!Reader
(Feel free to insert the Yans yourself, I will tag some that could work by the ending)
TW: Body horror and details (Yans and Reader), general Yan warnings, proceed with caution. (Gore level: 1.5)
Darker than night, deep in the woods you'll find Standing alone, a circus that no one knows
Was it a mistake for you to wander into the woods? With a pamphlet in your hand, you strayed into the woods to see the circus. The pair looked so adorable, the two of them looked alike as though they were only mirroring each other. Although their face looked sad, the two sounded cheerful…. as though they were trying to cover their cries…
Children who can't even carry the trembling limbs they were born with
Master of all, nearly ten meters tall Watching the show, eyes that will slowly grow
Yet no one had ever seen the Master of the Circus.
All who perform smile with faces torn Happy with glee, strange as they look to me
You looked at everyone. The pair of Aces looked into you as they laughed merrily, reminding you of the Ace that you never got in a game of blackjack. The other performer offered you their hand as though they were asking you for a dance. A dance, with a performer that was at least 6 meters tall, oh how amazing.
Shall the fun start? Follow me to the Dark Woods Circus Please, join the festivity
The pair of Ace ran into the circus, and their laugh rang endlessly. The tall performer's back was tapped by another performer who was just as tall as them.
They smile as they dream of their mother's embrace
Come and see the two-headed (freak) of nature
The pair of Ace smiled eerily, both of their hands clasped to each other, the cloak covering their bodies taken off revealing stitched bodies. ""Oh what fun! Come, child of human! Kekekekeke…"" Their laugh was just as mirrored as their appearance and fate!
Gaze at a siren, her flesh deformed
"Don't you find me beautiful, dove? Do you perhaps envy me? Truth is that I envy you instead." They held your hand, their eyes unable to find yours and yet they envy your beauty.
Fear the all-eating beast and his love for cold Decaying meals that once were warm
The man's arms were bound to his back, the only thing he could do was feast what was placed in front of him! The woman next to him buried her head into her knees, her surroundings were painted in red wine. "It's delicious, they are delicious, Mother, it tastes so good. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm SORRY" "Kekeke, do you have more for us to eat? We'd like to eat you but… a shame… love… heart… kekekeke…"
Did we ask to breathe? Did we ask to only be abused, Living in bodies like these?
The pair of tall performers started dancing, twirling, spinning lovingly as they tried not to step on you. Their eyes stared into each other, dared not to make any mistake with their steps. ""Perhaps it would be nice for the three of us to dance together?"" Their voice rang as their eyes looked down, staring into yours. "It won't hurt that much, dove" "They'll just break and attach a new pair of legs on you, dove"
When you look at me, what is it that you see? Now a face rotting and torn at the seams
"See? I knew you were beautiful." The pair of Ace took off their blindfold, their eyes bore into yours. "So beautiful, a pair of legs, a pair of eyes, and a face that doesn't rot! You look like a dove!"
Through the pain I scream, how "it hurts so badly" "But we can't help it or do anything"
"Don't you think you'll look even more beautiful if you look exactly like one?"
As the girl would weep, telling me this sadly We perform, always the circus repeats
"Or perhaps we could clip your wings." "That way, you are forever bound to us." The pair laughed again, this time their hands were unclasped, reaching out to you.
How I love the show! How I love it all so! Can you see how fun a circus can be?
The pair of Ace jumped, their voice filling the whole circus as they cheered endlessly.
As our flesh decays and our eyes melt away With a face rotting, it's fun every day
""Because we've found ourselves an injured Dove!! Cheer to everyone, Cheer to the deformity of our Master!!""
How I long to die, why am I still alive? Anyone help me escape from this life
"We have captured the Dove's heart! It decides to rest here!" "Let's clip their wings so that they can rest eternally!" "We'll share our food! The best lump of meat you could ever taste of!" ""Fear not, for the Dove could dance even without its wings"" """" Why do you look terrified, Dove? We LOVE you! We CHERISH you! We WANT you!""""
"You can never leave", yes, I have a feeling Long ago, someone had told this to me It is impossible for anyone to say and feel
"Welcome to the Dark Woods Circus"
A pair of hands placed upon your shoulder, their lip brushed the tip of your ear. Everyone bowed down toward the subject behind you.
"Master," Everyone greeted.
--- LOG END ---
(!Proceed with CAUTION!)
"Come visit the Dark Woods Circus!"
You handed people the pamphlets, your smile never leaving your face. While people could not see what was under the fabric covering your skin, you could feel your back throbbing with each second.
The rose sewn onto your face never withered but you could feel your sanity did. You could feel your guts dissolving all the meat you ate, they were no longer upset about the change of food. They were generous enough to share a rather large portion of it although they tend to bite you randomly.
The pair of Ace occasionally showed you tricks on how to fly while their hands roamed all over your skin.
The siren would sing for you while they felt their skin against yours.
The tall performers would also teach you how to twirl with them, although it truly was a shame they couldn't dance with you, perhaps just yet.
------
Pair of Ace : Lyney and Lynette, Lucy-Lucius
All-Eating Beast: Dottore and Collei, Childe, Sampo, Killeon and Dorothy
Deranged Siren: Columbina, Venti, Jingyuan, Blade (sorry not sorry), Mysrymie
Tall Performers: Diluc and Jean, March and Danheng, 03 and 004
Master: Arlecchino, Pierro, Tsaritsa, Neuvillette, Unknown God, Zhongli, Kafka, ???
(Platonic, sharing, or not depends on you)
--- After notes
Lump of meat = Rotting meat or human flesh
Siren = Leg-less, immobile
Pair of Ace = 1 shared body
Tall Performers = man-made legs
Reader = clipped dove
#yandere lyney#yandere lynette#genshin x reader#yandere dottore#yandere collei#yandere columbina#yandere arlecchino#yandere diluc#yandere jean#yandere neuvillette#yandere pierro#yandere venti#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere tsaritsa#yandere insert#gn reader#yandere danheng#yandere march#yandere sampo koski#yandere kafka#yandere blade#yandere jingyuan#yandere zhongli#yandere childe#yandere vocaloid
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/ LUCID WAVE /
Jones, an aimless businessman, purchases a program called LUCID WAVE that records your dreams via microchip for you to replay them on desktop. Convincing himself that his dreams are foretelling his future, it starts to grow into an addiction when he goes premium and alters his recordings into cinematic experiences, neglecting his priorities.
TRIGGER WARNINGS - death, some swearing
AUTHOR'S NOTE - this was my midterm assignment for my Creative Writing elective in my final year of college, Feb 2024, however this version is longer and I tweaked more things. My goal was to initially write a genre fiction that the reader could look over the first couple paragraphs and go, “This would make a really good Black Mirror episode.” Pls give it a like, reblog + feedback !
AS OF THIS MONTH + MOVING FORWARD I AM ABOUT TO DROWN IN BILLS - I WILL BE MOVING OUT DUE TO RENT ISSUES, SO POSTING MY ORIGINAL WORK TO PROMOTE MY WRITING COMMS IS EFFECTIVE. NO PRESSURE BUT PLEASE COMMISSION ME <333 SHARING THE LINK AND REBLOGGING IS GREATLY APPRECIATED
Tags (no pressure to read this at all) @locke-writes @moonlit-imagines @arrogant-sonofa-bitch @libraryoffandomsuniverse @littlemissvincentvega @alienoresimagines @murswrites @spacetalbot @eriimyon @royaltywhxre
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As soon as I woke up, I took two steps to my computer and sat down. I learned by now to wait at least four seconds for the logo to disappear, then, by muscle memory, click the X of the popup that makes its presence on my screen. This occurs as soon as the microchip was inserted. I logged in with my Face ID. Error.
I blink my eyes a bit to wake myself up. Then I logged in again. Error.
“Jesus Christ.” I finger comb the knots out of my hair, leaned back in my chair, and stared blankly into the camera for a second attempt scan. The robotic-like voice chirped through the speaker.
“Welcome, Jones!”
“Shut up.” I pressed the X on the next ad then headed straight to the top left hand corner to make a new Dream Pod.
The left hand side showed the sidebar of my documents saved, a quarter of my recorded dreams were used as live wallpapers for my PC.
White or blue-white skies in my dreams are common when I go to sleep after drinking. I went to bed after downing five shots with Romus then collapsed in my bed, dropping my microchip on the ground and finally dabbing the gel on my temple. The microchip beeped and I blacked out.
There were times where I passed out in my bed or my couch, completely forgetting to apply the gel and microchip to record my dreams. On such slip ups, I end up having the most eventful dream or nightmare. LUCID WAVE won't generate a cinematic experience for you. Those were frustrating.
Today is casual.
I journal the title, DREAM 47, and hit PLAY, sipping my cold, unfinished coffee from yesterday.
I couldn't look up on my dreams so I couldn't make out the colour of the sky, or if there were skies in my dream. Ahead of my point of view I was riding a skateboard, however. I have never skateboarded in my life, not even as a young boy. Too many injuries happen when you’re basking in the great outdoors. The visuals on the screen were blurred, but I paused the playback and adjusted the quality. I hop off the skateboard and it rolls away into the bushes - something I would have done if I felt impending doom of a knee scrap. In my point of view, I couldn’t tell if I was even wearing a helmet riding this skateboard.
A boy in a sticker-patched helmet who looked to be at least twelve ran up to me, his voice echoing like tunnel vision. His speech was inaudible, but I could read his lips. “Hang in there, Jones.”
“Huh?” I hear my dream-voice mutter.
The kid scoots past me to skate down the bowl.
I immediately recognized the boy to be one of the neighbourhood kids that recently adopted his pet hamster. What was he doing in my dream? Whatever. He's an alright kid, never came across as bratty.
The next frame showed someone handing me a bowl of lightsticks people wear around themselves at raves. Raves make me ill.
The person who handed me the bowl of lightsticks nods at me. It wasn’t anybody I recognized in particular.
Someone calls my name through the music and I spin to my right and wave at… the high school valedictorian from ‘94, who was now apparently a hot–shot chief social media officer for LUCID WAVE.
“How’s the job hunting?” Saul yells over the rave.
Dream-me scoffs.
But then the blinding neon lights and the stage stripped apart. Saul wasn’t beside me anymore, and the ravers were all gone. The grass was gone. The music ceased. Now it got dark. I was lying in bed. I muttered under my breath as I tried to switch the filter to make it back in colour, but it turned out to be the filter in itself. The abruption was in a grayscale filter, almost too saturated and blotchy that it looked like a silent film.
From the corner of my screen, a humanoid hung upside down from my ceiling.
This was what I was waiting for while I was conscious in my sleep. I remembered it so well. Last night I was having mild dreams, then it crept into sleeping paralysis.
The humanoid blinks then crab-walks over to my side of the bed. I laugh in excitement as I quickly cropped the 5 second frame of the humanoid in my dark room and saved it as a sidepod, coining it “UNTITLED 1920s SHORT HORROR FILM."
After I hit save, the screen dims. Would you like to continue to third visual? The screen asked me. I click YES.
Third dream, I was in some sort of banquet hall with a bunch of people, and I seemed to have time travelled. Everyone’s too cyperpunk. Their appearances made them seem like it was wrong to consider them humans anymore. I was the only one in the room without any sort of body modifications done on me.
Over time, I noticed a pattern. Each dream that had to do with my personal life lasted an hour. Each dream that had to do with my career lasted twenty minutes less. Any other dream that was just unhinged and random, if I was riding a giant cow in Southcentral L.A wearing a divesuit, it would be no less than ten minutes.
Another thing I noticed, my dreams since Night 1 were not in chronological order, which makes my job harder.
Third dream was queued.
I checked the features of the third dream. It lasted a bit and it occurred around 4AM, this dream was not what I remembered compared to the skateboard and cyborg meeting.
Time check. 07:28AM. LUCID WAVE played another unskippable ad and I blew cold air in my mug. As I sipped slowly, I realized it was still the cold coffee I never finished the other day, so I began to pour it down my system. The ad ends and the visual comes to view. My fingers press the mouse, proceeding to edit the next scenes of my “dream movie", when I nearly spilled cold, leftover dark coffee onto my lap.
It captured it so slowly that I was so sure a man in a black suit was speaking into a microphone. His smile was big with tears of joy in his eyes. He was giving a speech to me and whoever was beside me. When I turned to my right, a woman in white appeared, holding my hand. I felt a surge of warmth when the pixels clear up a bit to accentuate her smile. She was beautiful. I have never seen her before, but I felt as though I knew her my whole life.
The man in the black suit giving his speech raised his champagne glass in the air, “Y’all, I can only say so much but my speech is slurred. I’m ending the speech there.” A roar of cheers and hollers erupt in the background. “To the bride and groom-”
In a split second, the screen began to glitch and I let out a cry of despair and irritation. I helplessly stare at the program crashing on me.
WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING A LUCID WAVE OUTAGE DUE TO HIGH TRAFFIC. TOO MANY MOVIEZ FOR THE SNOOZIES. WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK! REFRESH OR CHECK BACK IN A BIT! 🛌🌙💤
I let out another yell. If I paid premium, my user would be prioritized during the outage and I'd be back to viewing and editing within five minutes. The longest I waited for the piece of shit to light back up was a whole day. When I couldn't wait any longer, I took a nap in the middle of the day, foolishly forgetting to apply the sticky gel on my temple for the microchip to capture my dream of me meeting my favourite Twitch streamer.
As I waited, it dawned on me like the sun that was rising above the buildings just now. This was yet another piece of evidence of my theory, that I could be making money off of, but all I could do first was dissociate in my seat. LUCID WAVE is a menace if it’s just faulty wiring, but I hope I’m wrong about that.
My expression darkens. DREAM 47 was significant today, but not because of sleep paralysis. I've gone nuts about this, but something in my gut tells me that I'm dreaming of my future. The beautiful bride in my dream smiled at me like I had hung the moon, and I am aching to find out more about her.
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Romus arrived. I winced as I handed the package and remote to Romus. “It’s all yours.”
“It’s rare nowadays to give up a hologram projector,” he says. “Now, be straight with me. Are you sure you want to give this away?”
“I’m nearing nine-hundred bucks to pay LUCID WAVE premium.”
Romus chuckles lightly. “God, not that stupid iMovie app for sleep.”
“You’ve read the reviews, right?” I counted the wad of cash he handed me. I mentally counted three-hundred dollars to add to my first making of six-hundred after selling some old clothes and my massage chair. “One guy made his into a manga series on his social media. I sent him an email asking what program he used to make for his–”
“Can I borrow your car?” Romus cuts me off. “Just a quick beer run. I’ll be fast.”
“I sold my car.”
Romus blinked. Before he could question me on it, I ushered him out of my apartment so he could figure it out on his own.
I sigh in relief, stuffing the nine-hundred dollars all together and stashing it safely in a manila envelope. I withdrew everything at the bank the next day and avoided the bank teller’s inquiry about the 200 credit card debt from last autumn. I clicked the GO PREMIUM WITH LUCID WAVE+ option at the side of the screen as soon as I raced back to my condo.
The little comment flew up on screen when the cursor hovered over the option.
GO PREMIUM WITH LUCID WAVE+ Unlock special editing tools Skip the ads Skip the waiting room of WAVES (LUCID WAVE users) during outages Access community discussions on dream interpretations Sleep aid which includes ASMR, ambiance, relaxing music and meditation!
As soon as I continued to sign up for premium, my heart sank. It was a $999.99 monthly prescription. I was short on $99.99. I buried my head in my hands, knowing that my mysterious bride in DREAM 47 was still blurred out in the playbacks, and being short on a hundred dollars tore me apart. I am almost certain I am seeing the future before my eyes on my recorded dreams, of my life when I’m in my mid 30s, married and more alarmingly extroverted than I could ever imagine myself being. I’m seeing a version of myself that I don’t recognize at all. It’s a sheer distortion, but in this dream, as well as the collection of others, it’s my ideal life.
That was when I looked down at my Rolex that cost me the electrical bill wrapped around my wrist…
̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶
In DREAM 39, I was an intern for my former job’s rival company and it was a higher pay than my last job. I finally knew what was going on with the clarity enhanced with the premium effects.
My beloved Rolex was gone. I’m glad I sold it to someone who had half his hair dyed red, otherwise I wouldn’t have known that the woman in my dream, a glimpse of my future, destiny, whatever I should call it, is named Cynthia and she is my wife. That dawned on me for the rest of the evening as I downed my beer that Romus shared from his run. The new features during playback allows me to adjust the blurriness of the wedding reception and my best man’s speech. It wasn’t Romus.
I didn’t sleep. Rent was due in a few days. I submitted the transaction on my phone with half of my severance pay before opening LUCID WAVE. The mental note I made that I was down to $60 in my savings left my mind immediately when I unclipped the microchip from my temple and plugged it in, feeling the oiliness of the device on my fingertips. I made a mental note to buy cleanser.
Four seconds. The LUCID WAVE logo to disappear and it took me straight to the homepage without X-ing off popups on gambling Casino apps.
I grabbed the eye drops from the pencil cup and shook it before squeezing two drops in my left eye. Then I made a blank face and stared into the camera, trying to log in.
“Welcome, Jones!”
I headed straight to the top left hand corner to review the rough cuts from DREAM 39-47. For three weeks, I went straight to work like an editor in post-production of a high-grossing film. A month's worth of dozens of dreams I collected from night and midday naps...
Cynthia and I were married in my dreams. Putting all the pods together and splitting some frames apart felt like finishing a puzzle. Cynthia was beautiful. The clarity settings on LUCID WAVE+ emphasized her boasting smile. When we walked on the beach in DREAM 48 on our honeymoon, I felt like we were floating in mid-air that caused abruption of our footprints in the sand.
My honeymoon dream was saved into a film: "CYNTHIA."
Romus calls me at around 7am as I adjusted the volume of last night's REM. DREAM 113. “Yeah?” I put Romus on speaker.
“You are full of shit,” He says.
“Look who’s talking,” I chuckle lightly, hovering my mouse to the end of the playback, and lowered the clarity of the sun shining in my dream so I could see Cynthia yelling at me about something I couldn’t fathom. Cynthia points at me in first person point of view as Dream!Me argued back while looking back and forth at the road.
“Jones?” Romus yells over the other line. “JONES!”
“Yes, I’m still here.”
“Jones! What is happening to you?” Romus exclaims.
I blink in surprise. Romus and I insult each other playfully, but I could tell this was different, just by hearing his voice this early in the day. Though I couldn’t place the last time we were together, confusion washed over me. Did I do something wrong?
A slight pause. “Huh?”
“Remember when you said you’d make it to my AirBnb?”
My heart sank, reading the date on my dekstop. Romus turned 27 two days ago.
“Romus, I am so sorry–” I plead as Cynthia continued yelling at me in DREAM 113, or DREAM 39, whichever sidepod it was I was editing into a film, tears pouring down her face. The audio like a faint echo, and that was why I couldn’t hear anything. I pressed several buttons and amplified the speakers.
“Screw you.”
“I’m so sorry about missing your birthday,” I said. “I was caught up with my own shit that I just forgot.��
“What own shit? You’re not even working!” Romus yells again.
I was too far gone, but DREAM 113 intrigued me. My heart sank even deeper as the playback went to its last minute and Cynthia was inaudibly yelling at me. I kept playing around with the editing tools for the audio to reset.
From the corner of my eyes, I could see that Romus was still on the phone, yelling at me, but I couldn't hear him. I tuned him out. I turn my full attention back to Cynthia. Why was Cynthia yelling at me? Why was she crying?
“You know what your deal is, asshead?” Romus scoffs. “It’s that goddamn dream-maker thing. You missed my birthday, Jones. My birthday and my Dad’s funeral. That shit has got to go, man. You’re still at home doing nothing but staring at a blue screen until you turn blind!”
“Romus, I’m hanging up.”
“If you hang up, I am no longer your friend,” Romus warns. “You will never see or hear from me ever again.”
“I’ll live,” I snap.
“How can you live with the fact that you pawned your great uncle’s Medal of Honour?!”
“I needed money, Romus.”
“Then get a job!” My eyes rolled at his response. He yells again, “I work at a sketchy bodega! You have a f–cking marketing degree! I’ve referred you to my sister’s manager and she never heard back from you! Guess when that happened? Last week!”
“I needed to see Cynthia!” I mutter.
“Cynthia isn’t real!” Romus screams. “Your dreams are not real! That dream program is lying to you! Your brain is melting because of that thing! Cynthia isn’t REAL—-!”
A scream rings out of my vocal cords as I watched in my dream point of view, Cynthia’s head slamming into the windshield after the black pickup truck collided into us at the front of my car. I jumped back, falling out of my chair and landing on the floor, taking the chair down with me.
My ears began to ring and Romus’s calls from my phone echoed away until it became nothing but incoherent sounds. Romus finally hangs up.
My eyes blurred until a tear ran down my cheek in the same pace as sweat trickled down my temple, wiping the stain of the microchip.
Cynthia’s eyes glazed at me as we laid in my car flipped over to the side of the road. Her eyes stay opened for a long time until she took her last breath right in front of me.
The playback ended, but now my screen was blurred.
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#genre fiction#black mirror#original writing#original work#writing commissions#writing community#fiction writing#creative writing#sci-fi#sci fi writing#black mirror inspo
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Do No Harm: A Matt Murdock x Reader Series
PREVIEW

Masterlist | Series Masterlist (coming soon)
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Doctor!Reader
Set during: Daredevil Season 1
Summary: Two years ago, you fled across the country, leaving your past far behind you. Dedicated to helping those in need, you only barely escaped the shadows that haunted you. But you managed; you changed your name, acquired an entirely new identity and a New York medical license – all for a chance at a new life. You somehow managed to get a job at Metro General in Hell’s Kitchen, rented a new apartment and made new friends. The person you claimed to be did, anyway. Everything was going well. Too well. Until one day, you run into Matt Murdock. In an instant, the safe haven you built for yourself starts to unravel, and you find yourself forced to face the very life you tried your hardest to escape.
Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, implied/referenced child abuse, substance abuse, canon typical violence, injury, mental illness, strong language, eventual smut, Black Suit, medical jargon (but I’m not a doctor), Reader has a fake name that is used for a big portion of this story ("Olivia Carter"), no y/n
A/n: I've been watching a lot of medical dramas lately to cope with the drama of life. This is how this idea came to life. I couldn't help myself. As mentioned in the warnings, Reader has a fake name due to her history, but it still a reader insert. I use "you" and she/her pronouns when referring to the Reader. So you can either see her as an OC or as yourself. I hope you guys enjoy this little gem! See more information below.
18+ for EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI!
More under the cut.

ONE: Night Shift (coming December 1st)
Excerpt from Chapter 1
[…] Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.
Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.
He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—he can’t get hurt again.
It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. […]
-> Story Aesthetic

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! I do separate ones for all of my series because not everyone who filled out the tag list form wants to read an entire series. So, this will be tagged separately and only those who want me to.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x f!reader#matt murdock x ofc#female reader#reader insert#medical drama#no y/n#series#do no harm#charlie cox#matt murdock imagines#lizzi writes#preview
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A Freak and a Basket Case— The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic
The good lord (me) intended this to be an OC x Eddie fanfic, and by god, that’s what y’all are getting from here on. The original reader insert series will be discontinued for now, unless I really get the urge to go back and revisit it.
For now, just enjoy what I originally wanted. Which was over 3,000 words of self indulgent OC fanfic to help me get past these dark times. Life is too short to worry about being cringy.
Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses).
Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive
Pairings: Eddie Munson x OC
Word Count: 4,088 words
[Next Chapter] — [Master List]
Chapter One - Don’t Talk to Strangers
“I'm danger, I'm the stranger.
And I, I'm darkness, I'm anger, I'm pain…”
Hawkins, Indiana was going to be hell on earth. Of that, Alejandra Perea was certain.
She didn’t want to move here in the first place. This whole situation was horseshit. Spur of the moment pendejadas from the family matriarch in command of a newly formed triad where there had once been a quartet. Leaving everything behind, even if it meant new and exciting things on the horizon, it wasn’t necessary. The family did not need a fresh start over in a new state.
No, what everyone needed to do was to start looking harder. She could still remember the advice given to her nearly a year ago, as it was the only solid and reliable advice she had received at the time. Expand the search area, but make sure at least one person stays at the home base. Keep the name in the media as much as possible, even if it meant taking out another loan to buy airtime on the radio stations locally. Question everything. Look for abnormalities, and above all: report, report, report!
Doing something was better than doing nothing, and if Alejandra’s family was any kind of concerned, they would be more aware of the rampant corruption and blatant conspiracy afoot throughout this whole situation. She could see the truth laid out in front of her, especially when there was a way to physically connect the dots. Soon she’d need another Big Chief Tablet to jot down her notes, and since the one sad little general store in town didn’t even have what she needed, the lack of consistency and the unfamiliar stationery was already making her panic.
So instead of playing pretend— telling herself that she would bide her time until she could find a way back home— Alejandra decided she was going to do what she did best when she wasn’t listened to: shut out the entire world, and focus her attention inward as her plan formulated.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…
“Sit up right, huevona! You’re going to mark my seats.”
Reluctantly, Alejandra slid her feet off the tan leather bucket seat, hoping that the battered treads of her Chucks left marks. Instead of facing her mother’s lecture, Alejandra spent the morning commute looking out the window with a scowl. She wanted to be anywhere but here. This podunk midwestern vibe was horrible. Unfamiliar. A hostile environment of mostly blue collar workers that could sniff out even the most light skinned Latina in a crowded room. Like a petulant child, she kept her thick framed glasses smudged with the oil from her cheeks. Just so she wouldn’t have to actually see Hawkins.
Her mother – Carla Perea– obviously noticed the scowl, and she sighed deeply before trying to speak again.
“I know you’re not happy, but this is a new start for us. Try to make the best of it, huh?”
Alejandra kicked at her blue Jansport backpack.
“And why couldn’t we just have moved somewhere else in New Mexico?! Chingao, you didn’t even think about it, you just put your finger on the map and ya!”
“Watch your mouth, Alejandra.” mom snapped, “And stop with that mocho talk! You know it wasn’t just putting a finger and ya. We needed a fresh start, and Hawkins was the best choice we could make. It wasn’t as impulsive as you make it out to be, it’s what’s best for all three of us.”
“And what the hell about dad?!” Alejandra demanded. “Huh?! How the shit are you honoring your marriage vows by just abandoning him like that?! Better or for worse my fucking asshole!”
Her mother's eyes narrowed as she drove. Obviously her daughter’s backtalk had hit a raw nerve. One of Alejandra’s new found talents was shit talking, the same venomous spitting that only cobras in certain parts of Africa and Asia had mastered. It had only been a year and some change since she’d honed the skill, but this kind of irate wit was too well honed for it to be new.
This talent had been latent. As if waiting for the perfect opportunity…
“What’s done is done.” Carla hissed, knuckles going from tawny brown to white grip, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.
“It’s been over a year, it’s time to accept he’s not coming back. Basta!”
“Bullshit…” Alejandra hissed.
And she would have kept going, if not for Carla deciding that morning to wear her leather belt around the waistline of her denim dress. And not just any belt. Oh no… It was the thick one with the sterling silver Gary Reeves buckle.
The thing about Gary Reeves: his silver work conchos with the fine needlepoint lines hurt like a motherfucker. Especially if there weren't any soft turquoise chunks on the front to cushion your ass from a chingazo. Alejandra wasn’t wearing the right kind of clothes for a fight, anyway. Months of trial and error taught her that her Wrangler culottes – along with a paperback copy of Heretics of Dune tucked in the back pocket– were the only acceptable armor if she wanted to talk shit back to her mother.
So instead of pushing her luck, Alejandra quietly resigned herself to her repetition. Unwilling and unmotivated to start a battle, when her mother was armed and willing to pull off into a Hawkins public parking lot to humiliate them both.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
The Dodge Aspen continued down the unfamiliar streets at a snail’s crawl. Cars boxed them into the single lane going down Cherry Street towards the cluster of schools. Even though the realtor had boasted about the house’s proximity to the finest education in Roane County, the motorists of Hawkins, Indiana managed to turn a ten-minute drive into almost forty-five minutes. Luckily, Carla had anticipated this.
By five thirty that morning, mom was already blasting a mixtape of los classicos, banging on Alejandra’s bedroom door and setting off the barking of the family’s two dogs. Tiffany had almost tripped Alejandra in the bathroom, both dog and girl yelping as Alejandra stumbled and nearly smacked her head on the counter. Scruffy had refused to go outside into the dog run, so everyone stopped what they were doing and aided in chasing him out the back door into the yard with Tiffany at his heels.
And then that darned cat…
Unruly and orange Ripley had puked all over Jaime’s work pants, while he screamed at Alejandra to help him find another pair in his mess of a room. Useless from years of mi hito syndrome, he complained when his sister refused vehemently to take time from blow drying her curls to iron his creases. They’d gotten into a screaming match, until Carla finally conceded to do it for her son to “keep the peace”.
It had been a shitshow of a morning, an omen of things to come.
Carla blasted the horn at a green Gaucho with a white stripe that nearly sideswiped her, the dented vehicle trying to cut in front of their sedan into the lane and nearly taking out a couple of other cars with it.
“Pinches babosos!” Carla growled under her breath.
Alejandra was too pissed off to laugh.
The two women stayed in silence for some time, until at last Alejandra spoke up.
“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with raza at least? Like California?” she muttered, watching the faces of a group of younger teens crossing on bikes at the light.
“I’m light skinned, and I bet I’m the darkest one at school… A la chingada mujer.”
“What does it matter if there’s no raza here?!” Carla demanded, pounding her fist on the tan leather of the middle console, “Get over it. There’s no way we could have managed in California. I’m not going to kill myself working three jobs with your tios in Lynwood!”
“Enserio, mom?! You waited until right at the start of senior year, you didn’t want to wait?” Alejandra whined.
“Wait for what? Wait for you to fail another year in Pojoaque?!” Carla hissed, clearly fed up with her daughter’s bullshit, “I’m not waiting on you to pull your head out from your ass. So shut your mouth, and quit complaining or I will pull this car over. I swear to God.”
Alejandra shut her mouth. She tucked herself into the side of the passenger door with arms crossed, laying her head on the cool glass of the window and curtaining her teary brown eyes with her dark hair.
What could she say back to that?
Her mother was right. A reminder that she was a failure wasn’t necessary. The reminders of lost scholarships and a tanked GPA would follow her the rest of her life. And sometimes, if Alejandra pressed hard enough on the backs of her thighs, she could still feel the sting from the welts she’d gotten for failing senior year back at Pojoaque High School.
This change was stupid. A lot had changed in the past year. Too many things.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
The reasonably happy, vibrant teenage girl that her mother knew was gone. Instead she was replaced by a bitter, angry young adult at eighteen years of age that had her innocence ripped away too young. Alejandra was now compulsive in her actions. Self-soothing in the oddest ways as old, pre-established habits became worse or new symptoms developed.
Pacing up and down the hallway listening to music on full blast was not anything new, chewing on the cuffs of her clothes or on the floss of her friendship bracelets was. As was the rebellion of dyeing all of her clothes some shade of black or gray. Carla had lost her mind when she saw all of the blouses, skirts, and Gunne Sax dresses had been dyed one weekend. It had taken hours to get the stains out of the washer and out of the bathtub at the old apartment back in New Mexico. Chalk that up to another lesson from the Gary Reeves belt.
And then she started failing all of her classes…
Much like any child, Alejandra had always been a bit of a space case. Living half in her imagination and reading weird books, or bothering her parents with second hand anecdotes of aliens and weird monsters. Like any other student, she wanted to spend her afternoons at play rather than at the family dinner table doing homework. Yet that had all been innocent fun. Science fiction books and fairy movies did not a troubled teen make, but lately that vivid imagination was shrouded in grimdark. She read gory novels of true crime and abductions, of both the supernatural and natural genre, rather than bothering with anything like cracking open a chemistry book or meeting her tutor at the library for help with remedial math.
Obsessive thoughts, spiteful biting comments, obsessions with dark media, lashing out and isolating away from everyone… This was not normal. This was not Alejandra Perea’s normal. To everyone else, it wasn’t like her not to care about things.
But she did care. Just not about the things everyone else thought was important.
She currently cared only about two things: the death of Frank Herbert, and Hector Filemón Perea.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…
“Mija, I know this isn’t ideal. But you’re strong. You’re going to do fine. Just please… Please try to make the best of this situation. Do it for me, huh?”
The scenery of green trees scattered among the brick-and-mortar buildings of Hawkins held no interest for Alejandra as she ignored her mother. Normally, she would have been captivated by all the greenery. Save for a few day trips to the Jemez Mountains, Alejandra had spent the majority of her life staring at the same desert scrub brush, sand wastes, clay mountains, and adobe houses. Along the road, there were trees and quaint little homes painted daisy yellow, gray white, or the occasional brick and mortar Georgian style home if the occupants were wealthy.
Not one person had the familiar mud brick walls or coyote fencing made of latillas and bailing wire.
Hawkins had boasted four seasons, farmlands with adorable animals, and that unique charm only available in a majority blue collar midwestern town. New Mexico had maybe three seasons and pissed off raza, but she would have given up four seasons and Midwestern charm for the sand and red clay mountains any day. New Mexico was closer to what was important.
New Mexico was closer to dad…
It only got worse as the car approached the high school. Carla pulled into the drop lane; the car still idle as she stared her daughter down with a hard gaze.
Absolutely no move was made to exit the vehicle despite the impatience of the cars behind them. Alejandra stared at the collective student body of Hawkins High with disdain, downright disgust even. As if she would rather swallow glass than get out of the Dodge. She began chewing on the sleeve of her large jacket, already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead from the balmy morning with high humidity.
“Stop chewing on it, you mensa, you’re going to ruin the sleeve!” Carla barked, swatting her daughter’s hand.
Alejandra moved the cuff away from her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she focused on fishing in the pocket of her oversized jacket for her one escape that didn’t have wheels. She produced a battered Walkman with a scratch and sniff sticker on the back. After opening the tape deck, she rooted through the various jewel cases of cassettes in her Igloo Playmate, yanking out a well loved tape from the depths and popping it in.
She pressed play. The volume was turned up so high that her mother scowled when she heard what was blasting from the orange foam speakers of the headphones.
“Come on mija, you couldn’t pick something happier for your first day?”
“Nope.” Alejandra growled, pushing the Walkman into her jacket pocket, “I’m not picking shit else. I’m going to play this fucking tape so loud, that everyone is going to stay far the fuck away from me. Fuck these people, and fuck you too.”
Despite her mother’s sputtering protests and grabbing hands she unbuckled herself, threw open the car door, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and slammed the car door on the way out as she ran towards the double doors.
Not even a whole minute had passed, and already Alejandra was making enemies out of the preppy crowd of Hawkins High. Stomping her way through throngs of students to the front office, she bumped the shoulders of anyone who got in her way, nearly sending some lanky string bean of a freshman flying into his little group of friends.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, frigid bitch!”
She barely heard him over the music, but she did catch the insult.
Who cares? Kick rocks. Kiss my ass. Fuck yourself with a bent tire iron, you little fucking twerp.
I will face my fear… I will permit it to pass over me and through me…
She hoped the coordination of the day would repel everyone too, not just her shitty attitude. Unlike everyone else who had set up their first day back ensembles with care the night before, Alejandra threw whatever she had on hand on. That morning she came to school in a black cardigan layered over top a gray linen dress, black tights layered with dirty socks, beat up Chuck Taylors that had been everywhere from White Sands to TRC, and her dark brown curls straightened with her trusty Gillette Supermax, sprayed in place with a liberal amount of Aquanet. The piece de resistance was the jacket. Even though it was the end of August, she wore a large Carhartt jacket covered in kitschy buttons and patches. Even in the hottest months of the year, that damn thing never came off.
“What are you wearing that jacket for?” asked the school admin assistant, in lieu of a good morning.
Alejandra shrugged noncommittally as she removed her headphones. She stood awkwardly in the front office, and was about to say some smart ass remark when the admin’s hard stare stopped her sharp tongue short.
“... you’re going to boil alive before lunch…” muttered the admin, fanning her neck with a manilla folder, “Heavens to Betsy, I’m sweating just looking at you!”
“... I’m a new student. May I have my school schedule, please…?” Alejandra grunted.
“Ah.” nodded the admin, pulling open one of the drawers on her filing cabinet, “Name?”
“Alejandra Perea…”
“There’s no one here by that name. I only see an Alexandra Pera here.”
Alejandra winced.
Are you fucking kidding me, bitch? Where on my fucking birth certificate did it ever say fucking “Alexandra”?! And how in the hell is “Perea” too difficult for you to say?!
“Yeah… That’s me.” she admitted, then couldn’t help herself, “Alexandra Perea.”
The admin stared down from her imposing cherry wood desk, eyes laser focused at Alejandra from over the top of her large bifocals. Evidently, she did not appreciate being corrected.
“Young lady…” snapped the admin, tapping her eggplant colored nails against a file folder, “We do not tolerate troublemakers at this school. I suggest you quit playing your little games, and say your name correctly when asked. Is that clear?”
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you-...
“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am…” Alejandra muttered, looking at her shoes as she took the class schedule and locker assignment from the admin.
The headphones went back on as soon as the admin was done talking. That poor Walkman was blasting so loud, everyone else in the hallway was forced to listen in on James Hetfield’s vocals. That fucking bitch of an admin pissed Alejandra off so much, she could not help but lunge at and startle a few innocent girls in pastel color culottes as they passed by. It was her one line of defense; to deter the general populace of Hawkins High, she had decided to be a goddamned menace to anyone who could not give her a detention.
It was unfortunate really, because no matter how hard Alejandra tried to deter everyone away, it took her ten minutes to realize that Hawkins High– home of the Tigers– had fangs that could snap even the most ironclad of wills in half.
She was drastically underprepared for the high schooler’s reception to her take no shit attitude. One big dude in a letterman that she shoulder checked did not hesitate. He checked her right back, right into the tan lockers lining the halls. The resounding crash of her body colliding with metal was loud and embarrassing, causing a few passing members of the pep squad to point and laugh. As they passed they said hateful, evil, ignorant shit, screaming it into Alejandra’s ear while yanking her headphones off. They wanted her to hear everything. One even yelled out a slur.
All the hate caught her off guard, and she almost checked someone else by accident.
“Watch where you’re going, fucking gap tooth bitch!”
A foot flashed out from some wastoid and sent Alejandra toppling. She would have hit the floor and broken her glasses, had not her oversized jacket caught on the door handle to the girl’s bathroom. She hung there for a few seconds, and felt everyone’s eyes on her. Ugly peals of laughter followed. Her face turned crimson.
I will permit my fear… no… I will allow… No! I… I will permit my fear to pass over me and… and through me…?
It was fucking humiliating. She wanted everyone to go away and leave her alone. Yet in her hubris and rebellion, the attempts at being a badass only ended up attracting every kind of attention she did not want.
Pulling herself off the handle, she immediately threw open the door and hid in the girl’s bathroom. Pushing past a girl in a blue gingham sundress and a strawberry blonde side ponytail, she ran for the nearest empty stall to lock herself in. The tears could not wait until she was sure the bathroom was empty. Loud and uncontrolled sobs began to emit from her throat, the noises so awkward she did not hear the whispers of the other girls as they exited the facilities.
Fuck this day. Fuck this town. Her arm was hurting from where she hit the lockers, her pride was wounded, and Alejandra wanted out. If she could just run away now and hitchhike with the first car she saw, she would do it.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
This was not how the second senior year was supposed to go. Senior year was supposed to be the last hoorah. A happy time to start preparing for reality. For college plans. Not a time to be stuck in a small Midwestern town that felt like a foreign country. And certainly not a time to be dealing with racist, shit attitudes.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…
Dainty footsteps approached the stall as Alejandra bawled like a baby, a soft knock on the door making her freeze.
“Go away!” she cried, voice small and hoarse from the sobbing.
I will face my fear…
“… Hey it’s… It’s going to be okay…”
A soft, delicate voice answered. Not one familiar tone in that voice, the only hint to the identity of the one speaking was a pair of powder blue pumps at the opening of the bottom of the stall. Alejandra did not know the girl, nor did she want to.
“Go away…” she begged, face burning with embarrassment as she groveled like a prisoner for her freedom.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me…
“Please… Please just go away and leave me alone!”
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see that you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, cabrona… Quien te tiene?
The blue pumps hesitated, but eventually walked away. Leaving Alejandra to her sobbing.
She sat there on the toilet crying until the late bell rang, and everyone had cleared out of the bathroom to their first period class. With her glasses all smudged up from tears and snot, she took a moment to wipe them off with the hem of her dress, and eventually exited the stall with her tail between her legs.
Stopping at the sink, she began cleaning up. Alejandra took off her glasses and began washing her face with cold water. Blotting with a paper towel, she took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, before making up her mind.
She would not be going to class today, or ever again for that matter.
Every part of her mind was made up. Now it would only be a matter of time to find an out.
The gears were turning as she put her headphones on, fast forwarding the cassette to her favorite song before sliding the orange headphones over her ears. Maybe she could walk home, steal Jaime’s ranfla to make her escape. No, probably she should walk down the road to the elementary school and steal the Aspen. Mom’s sedan was inconspicuous, and it would blend into the sea of cars on the freeway better than Jaime’s well loved blue 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo.
Besides, the Chevy was out of the question until Jaime got back from work at the Hawkins Water Utility, and she was not going to wait that long for him to come home. The elementary school was a closer walk, and as she walked out of the girls bathroom without checking if the coast was clear, she began to formulate how she was going to break into and hotwire her mom’s car (she knew how to do neither of these things, but she thought a good old college try couldn’t hurt).
As Alejandra power walked to the front entrance double doors, she heard nothing. Saw only the sweet promise of freedom. Walking quickly, unaware of the noise she was making, and drastically underprepared for the biggest shock of her life.
She felt herself being snagged by the backpack straps, her heart dropping into her ass as she was pulled to a chest.
The headphones were yanked from her ears, and a low voice with hot breath began muttering in her ear.
“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess.”
Alejandra jumped ten feet, and screamed.
“FUCK ME FREDDY!”
“ Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken. ” - Frank Herbert
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x original character#eddie munson x oc#stranger things original character#stranger things oc#original character#original character fanfiction#A Freak and A Basket Case
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no offense but why are you tagging stuff for grace as “x reader”? Its annoying, if i wanted oc stuff id look for it on the correct tag
Hello :) I tagged it as "x reader" because my Yuu is basically a self-insert, and generally, I like making the content of my Yuu and the characters in a way that others might like to insert themselves or their own OCs in, like some sort of visual x reader lol—some people do that (hell, I do that), and that's totally fine by me.
To me, Yuu can either be a character on their own or just the player/reader embodied in a certain look. Whoever relates to it relates, and whoever doesn't doesn't, but the content still remains, so the imagination can fill in or replace anything. It sounds very logic-gymnastics when said out loud, I guess, but that's just the way I see it. Plus,, in the majority of the posts I made for my OC, it's always been in a vaguely romantic sense, specifically with Malleus. Additionally, "x readers" don't always have to be romantic. So when I add both the tags "x reader" and "twst oc" in my last post (which I'm assuming is what made you send me this ask), it's simply to express that there's at least some certain relationship going on. Again, that's just the way I see it, and I understand that my point of view isn't always gonna fit with others'.
allow me to add that this tag will be used by me even when I actually write "x reader" stories (obviously) and sometimes they WILL contain drawings of my OC as a way to illustrate the scenes-- for the reasons stated above. I really hope this makes sense haha,,,, It's really easy to just scroll past and ignore any post that you think doesn't fit in a tag, people make mistakes, and maybe they also have specific reasons for why they add a certain tag,,,, and I apologize if my post was a hindrance (I really did try to add a cut to make it as short as possible ^^;).
#i understand the frustration but sometimes context clues do apply#i did reblog my main post and add that last bit with malleus and the kiss mark#so the x reader tag somewhat applied#ii ALSO added an x oc tag too just to be sure jsyk#i really don't mean to be rude or anything ^^;#mal's asks
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4: A Special Need
This is a rather unusual story about a girl (reader) who comes across a special little friend that she likes very, very much. But does she love it more than she loves her boyfriend (Sebastian)?
Summary: Imagine: you have a weird little "hobby" that you don't want anyone to know about, but then things take a turn for the worse! In other words: Sebastian finds out about his girlfriend's little secret! Will he be jealous or will he accept it?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader Genre: Smut // Words: 6.2k // [READ ON AO3]
WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! "Object" insertion! Tentacles/Teratophilia*! Angst! Vaginal sex! Kink shaming? (Additional tags on AO3!) (Side note: if you find the idea of using a squid as a sex toy weird/uncomfortable, please think of it as a dildo/vibrator/butt plug, maybe that'll make it easier to read!) Read at your own risk!
← CHAPTER 3 - // - CHAPTER 5 →
4
Once you accepted the fact that you carried around a tiny squid in your insides that would occasionally hum and throb and poke around in there, you didn't feel as weird about it any more (because you were too busy being aroused by it).
At first it was indeed strange, especially since the small creature seemed to test your boundaries by prodding your walls and keeping you stimulated throughout the whole day – which made basic interactions with other human beings very awkward when you suddenly flinched or winced or let a surprised moan fall from your lips, but the more it teased you, the better you became at ignoring it, or rather it seemed to learn that it couldn't be doing this all the bloody time. Maybe it also slept sometimes, you had no idea.
What you did know, was that it needed constant warmth and wetness, because when you tried putting the squid into a water bowl to keep it safe, it splashed about and crawled out of the bowl immediately, humming angrily as you picked it up off the floor. You started talking to it then, telling it you couldn't have it inside your pussy all day long, but it only hummed more angrily, its tentacles clawing at your fingers, its whole body shaking in what you thought was indignation.
Because the moment you lowered your hand and brought it close to your centre, it calmed down, almost purring now, and so you sighed, went back to the bathroom and let it crawl inside you once more. The more you did that, the less disturbing it became as you watched the creature disappear inside you, but it never stopped being arousing, and that made sitting in classes (or sitting in general) very difficult.
That first day after you found it – or it found you – might have been one of the strangest days of your life, and you'd clearly had your fair share of strange days. Despite being buried deep within your tightness, the little squid reacted differently to different surroundings, different people you talked to, different smells, noises, etc., by either forcefully crawling deeper, pinching your walls as it did so (which hurt) or by rubbing its tentacles against those spots that made your legs weak (which was also bad when you tried to use those legs but at least it felt better).
You knew then that it preferred the damp dungeons to the thin air of any of the towers, the quiet of the library to the bustling of the Great Hall, and weirdly enough the cold echoes of the Undercroft to the warm and bright atmosphere of your personal Room of Requirement, where you used to spent most of your time.
And looking at the data you collected, you realized that tiny squid was a lot like your boyfriend. Though whenever you spent time with Sebastian, the thing inside you was still on the fence if it liked him or not, especially since he couldn't keep his fingers to himself and tried on more than one occasion to invade your nowadays already occupied most personal space.
You managed to keep him away from your folds as best as you could without raising suspicion, mostly by distracting him in returning the favour, but you knew you'd have to find a solution to your little problem if you ever wanted to sleep with him again, which you wanted, every damn minute of the day, especially since you were so highly stimulated all the freaking time.
And as you couldn't (and wouldn't) leave your little friend somewhere it didn't like to be, your only solution was to stuff it somewhere similarly wet and warm and tight, but the first time you even tried to coax it there by pushing two fingers into your bum to ease its passage, it forcefully crawled back into your other hole, raging inside you for the next few minutes, causing you to almost lose your footing as you tried to make it back to your dorm room without your legs giving way under the constant stimulation.
Gasping for air, you could barely close the curtains of your bed before you were on your back, panting heavily as you wrestled your clothes off your body until you were able to press both hands between your legs and ride out the sensations caused by your angry little pet. When you came with a loud moan, it stilled inside you, and you realized then that it was feeding off your juices, calmed by the contractions of your body, and while you were still breathing hard and shivering from your intense orgasm, you pushed a finger between your folds and beckoned it to come out.
Its tentacles wrapped around your finger, and you gently pulled it the rest of the way before you brought the tiny squid – that didn't look as tiny any more now that you thought about it – closer to your face. It was glistening and warm, its scent mixing with yours, and when you pressed your lips to its wide head, it hummed against you. You still didn't exactly know where its eyes were, but you looked at it and it seemed to look back, and suddenly it jumped off your hand and crawled between your sticky thighs again.
You sighed, but then you felt it prodding against the tight ring of muscles curiously, and you inhaled deeply as you spread your legs wider and lifted your hips slightly, then used your own juices as lubricant as you pushed your middle finger into your tight arse, eliciting a quiet moan from your throat. The squid kept poking at your hand, and when you retrieved your finger, it pressed into you instead, its wide head struggling to fit, but its tentacles pushed it further until it was swallowed by your eager body, the rest of its long form sliding in with ease.
You thrashed your head back and groaned at the sensation. Between waves of pleasure and growing doubts about what the hell are you even doing, you slowly came to terms that this was your new normality. A normality you wanted to have, because it would have been easy to bring the squid back to the Lake, but you didn't want to part from it, not when it could give you all these kinds of sensations you had never experienced before. And apparently it liked to be with you too, because why would it crawl into your bum otherwise?
The blush became a constant feature on your cheeks as you traversed the castle with your little friend in either of your holes, switching it up whenever you needed to, and as you became accustomed to shoving it into your body at will, it too became accustomed to your rhythm and always did what you wanted from it.
That was until you were lying on the couch in the Undercroft with Sebastian one late night, kissing and cuddling, arms and legs entangled (because despite having your own little special sex toy friend, you still love being with him, your male human friend, for countless reasons).
As you roll on top of your boyfriend, the squid inside your bum starts stirring, and you gasp into his mouth unexpectedly, wincing slightly as you feel the creature crawling deeper as if to get away from whatever is happening outside its warm, wet den.
The sensation has your muscles clenching as you try to pull it back, really not wanting it to slip into your bowels, and your concentrated face makes Sebastian frown deeply. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly, his hands cupping your flushed face.
You nod distractedly, almost unable to breathe at this point. You've currently realized that every time you have an orgasm with the squid inside you, it would feed off it and grow, being a lot bigger now than it was when you first saw it crawling out of your pussy. Hence whenever it moves inside you now with its thicker tentacles clawing at your muscles, you'd feel it a lot more.
Inhaling deeply, you try to ignore the movement inside you, not sure what to do about it anyway, so you focus back on the freckled face in front of you and smile warmly before you lean in to kiss him, but he stops you, his eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you're alright?” he repeats, and you frown at the question. “You've been slightly off the last weeks. What's wrong?”
There it is, the question you've been dreading to receive. Of course he would notice the change in you, and carrying around a little sea creature in your insides that would occasionally bring you mind-blowing orgasms surely was a change you couldn't easily hide for too long, at least not from him. He is too perceptive for his own good. Yet despite being very open with him about basically anything, you just couldn't bring yourself to admit to the fact that there is something else that brings you great joy now.
Because Sebastian Sallow is still the most jealous boy you've ever met. And usually that isn't a problem because you barely give him reasons to be jealous, if at all, but having this tiny creature giving him a run for his money, so to speak, would make even the most not-jealous person furious, you just know it. And even if you obviously haven't replaced him for the squid living inside you, it might look to him like you have.
He is always sad when he has to say goodnight to you in front of your common room, knowing he would never be able to join you in your bed (and always tells you it's not the same to sleep on the lumpy couch in the Undercroft together), and if he finds out that this small creature can and has for about a whole month occupied the space he so desperately wants to be in, how can he not be absolutely devastated about it? (Also you don't want him to think you're weird for getting aroused by having a phallic-like creature crawling into your holes...)
So you kept it to yourself.
You hate lying to him, but it's for the better. “Nothing,” you answer his question with a smile, quickly leaning in to claim his mouth for another kiss to keep him busy. “It's just all the stress... the exams... the assignments... the fear of the future,” you add with a laugh, accentuating every word with a lingering kiss. “Don't worry about me, I bet all seventh-years feel like this these days.”
He hums against you in response, a deep sound that vibrates through your body, reminding you of the thing pulsing inside your bum. Clearing your throat, you put your hands on Sebastian's face and gently caress his cheeks.
“If you distract me tonight, everything will be better, I'm sure,” you whisper and wink at him, and with another deep hum leaving his throat, he grabs your shoulders and rolls you around until your back is pressed into the lumpy cushions of the couch, and he's hovering over you, his eyes dark and intense, and you shiver deeply upon seeing the hunger within them.
You're both out of your clothes in no time, and all you can think about is being close to him, become one with him, feel his skin on yours, share the sweat and slick, the moans and groans, hear his deep voice issue all these sounds that drive you crazy with lust while his hands grip you tight enough to leave marks, and you need those marks, as a reminder that he is the most important person in your life, and vice versa. And no strange magical sea creature will ever come between you – or so you hope.
Because suddenly your thoughts are back with the pulsing thing lodged inside you, and it's not the first time you wonder how it would be for Sebastian to find the squid there on his exploration of your body. Every possible scenario you've come up with is worse than the last, and you dread the day it will eventually happen. Maybe today isn't that day, you think as he starts moving his hands along your sides whilst kissing you deeply, and you squirm beneath him, hoping he isn't too adventurous today.
You've talked about anal sex before, yet never done it, but you know he wouldn't try something new without asking you first, and as he's busy kissing along your neck and working in more love bites, you assume your arse is safe for tonight, or rather that what is hidden inside. As your body starts reacting to his touches, you feel the squid pulsing even more, adding to the growing tension inside your stomach.
And tense you are, inside and out, and you don't even know why. This isn't the first time you had sex while that tiny creature was inside you, but that's the thing: it used to be much smaller then. You might have overdone it with your alone time recently as it only has become bigger in the last days.
Your mind is spinning as you're caught up in the never-ending cycle of thinking about possible what if scenarios, and you're so distracted that you barely feel Sebastian's preparations, his fingers working swiftly, and only when he pushes his cock into you with one single hard thrust, you come back to your senses and cry out in a mixture of shock and surprise as he buries himself completely inside of you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare up at him, propped up on his arms as his dark eyes wander over your face.
You hold onto his wrists as you start bucking your hips against him in an attempt to move along as if you haven't been lost in your own mind for the last minutes or more. He remains bent over you, his thighs pushing your legs upwards as he shifts only slightly against you. When he rests his heavy erection inside your tight walls, you can feel the squid pushing against your muscles from the other side, wanting to join the action apparently, and your eyes widen as you realize that he must feel it too, so you quickly start grinding your hips against him, clenching your walls deliberately, even grabbing the back of his neck to pull his face down to yours.
He obliges and meets your trembling lips, his kiss soft and careful, but you quickly make it messier, needier, as you deepen it with your tongue slipping into his mouth. With a deep grunt he leans down on his elbows and kisses you back with just the same amount of fervour, maybe even more. You wrap your arms around his neck and start pushing your hips upwards against him until he finally moves as well, drawing back and plunging in, over and over again, quickly falling into a steady rhythm that is both fast and deep, and it doesn't take long for you to completely succumb to the sensations.
Moaning against his lips you feel the tension inside your stomach erupting into a wave of pure pleasure as it washes over you with a force that makes your thighs twitch, your toes curl and your muscles contract violently, and in doing so you feel your insides convulsing, moving, and in your haze you barely feel the gentle caresses of these eight little arms you've grown to love so much over the last weeks. Yet once you realize that the squid is about to slip from your bum, it is already too late.
Despite being caught in his own haze as he ruts into your core with reckless abandon, he seems to feel the foreign touch as well, and you see it all unfold in slow motion. You feel too weak to do anything as your orgasm still shudders through your body, as your walls clamp down on his cock, your limbs too twitchy to control, so when his brown eyes widen slowly before he leans back on his knees and stares down at your connection, you don't have to see the tentacles wrapping themselves around his base to know what's going on.
With a deep growl that could also be a yelp or guttural scream, Sebastian jolts off you, slips from your depths as if you've never even been connected, and takes several steps away from the couch, completely ignoring his precum leaking cock, as his shaking hand points at the small creature crawling over your centre. Yet it's not the fact that there is a strange little squid seemingly coming from nowhere that has touched him at the most inappropriate time, it's the fact that you remain so calm and collected as you lie on your back, looking from the squid to your boyfriend and back, and not sharing in his panic.
That's when he explodes.
“What the fuck is that?” he yells with an anger you haven't heard from him in years.
“Sebastian...” you manage to croak out, your voice just a breathy whisper as you lower your hand towards the creature that seems to lean towards your touch, when it's suddenly grabbed by a bigger hand. “No!” you call out and sit up quickly, ignoring the trembling of your own legs, and quickly grab his wrist, keeping him from hurling the poor creature through the entirety of the Undercroft.
The stare he is giving you chills you to your bones. “What are you doing?” he says threateningly quiet, and you know he is more than pissed if he resorts to talking in this low tone.
“Don't hurt it,” you whisper, gently prying his tight fingers open to free the small squid from his crushing hold. To your surprise he lets you, and when he watches you cradle the creature between your hands, his mouth falls open. “It didn't mean any harm...” you add softly.
“You... know that thing?” he says in an even quieter voice, slipping from shock to disappointment to indignation.
You inhale deeply, feeling the squid's little arms coil around your fingers. “I... I do,” you then admit, biting your lip as you look back up at Sebastian, meeting his wide eyes that narrow as he takes in your words.
“You keep a pet squid around?” he asks in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Where do you even keep it? Where did it come from?”
That's when your face turns bright red, and you turn away from him, trying to find an answer that wouldn't humiliate you completely. “It... wasn't supposed to crawl out...” you whisper barely audible, your eyes frantically searching the couch and its surroundings for a possible storage place. Before you even consider a different answer than the awful truth, you feel a warm body behind you as Sebastian points past you towards the pile of clothes on the ground.
“You shouldn't keep a squid inside the pocket of your robes,” he comments, and you are tempted to laugh at how innocent and easy it would have been to tell him just that. That you keep the squid in your pocket, instead of where you really keep it.
“Yes...” you breathe, your voice about to break before you clear your throat. “You're right...”
“I suppose it got curious, huh?” he says then, leaning over you to take another, much calmer look at the creature in your hands. “Why is it so... wet?”
His words cause you to gasp and shiver. “Uh... m-magic,” you then stammer the lie that could have been the truth all along. “Keeps it... wet...”
Suddenly you feel very stupid, not just that, disturbingly weird, downright demented and perverted and absolutely disgusting, as you realize you could have kept the squid in a different kind of environment, if you so much as thought about it properly, but your lust for the sensations it invokes in you has been clouding your mind, making you think it is normal and the only way to shove that thing into your holes to keep it safe.
Shaking your head, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep the tears of frustration down. The creature in your hands pulses slightly, its tendrils nudging your fingers. Next to you Sebastian is watching you almost the same way the squid seems to look at you. His anger is completely gone from his face. He tilts his head, and out of the corner of your eye you see him examining the elongated body of the squid and its wide head, and you hear it in the way he inhales deeply, that his mind is slowly aligning with yours, despite everything.
“Where do you really keep that?” he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder deeply. “Because, you know, I've noticed something about that little guy...”
You hold your breath as you stare at your palms and the thing on them.
“It's rather... phallic looking, isn't it?” he keeps whispering, leaning closer to you, his warm body pressing into yours. Your hands start to tremble, and you yelp quietly when he suddenly closes his bigger hands around yours, seemingly supporting the squid on them. “Is that why you've been so distracted lately?”
His question impales you like an icicle, numbing you with a sudden cold rushing down your spine. He knows. He knows exactly where that thing has been and what you've been doing with it these last weeks, and the realization makes your heart stop. But he doesn't sound angry, he sounds... amused. Almost mocking. Definitely teasing.
And you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Preferably you and the squid, so you're not alone in your eternity in hell. Even thinking that makes you want to groan loudly, show your frustration about yourself and the situation and how you've handled it and the fact that your boyfriend knows and doesn't explode in rage and how absolutely embarrassing and mortifying and humiliating it all is and –
When you feel his lips on your burning cheek, you freeze, blinking slowly. “Red suits you, love,” he whispers and walks back to sit down on the couch, crossing his legs slightly as he looks up at you, the smuggest expression on his freckled face you have ever seen.
Swallowing hard, you meet his gaze, but you can only bear it for so long before you look back at the squid lying in your hands, gently humming, seemingly observing the scene around it – and the mayhem it has caused by slipping into your pussy in the first place. For a moment you project your anger and frustration at the stupid phallic looking thing, and it seems to sense the shift in your demeanour as its tendrils tentatively close around your fingers, gripping strongly while it pulses against your skin, trying to remind you of the good times it's given you.
“You two want to be alone then?” Sebastian's voice cuts through the little moment you had with your unusual pet, and when you look up at him, he laughs deeply as your eyes narrow and you throw him the darkest gaze you might have ever thrown him. He laughs even more at that. “Come on, love, don't be so tense... you might squish the little guy.”
“Stop!” you call out in rage as you stare at him. He raises his eyebrows, the laugh frozen on his face. “Stop with the... innuendos and the... the... just stop!” you whine out and turn away as tears start flowing down your cheeks.
You feel horrible, childish and embarrassed and deeply disturbed at your own actions. For a moment you want to hurl the squid through the Undercroft for real. But you don't, you keep it safe between your trembling fingers, as you chew on your lips and let out quiet sobs, your tears dripping from your chin and down onto its long body.
Behind you, you can hear the quiet squeak of the couch and then the tapping of bare feet coming closer. “I'm sorry,” you hear his deep whisper close to you. He still keeps his distance, but you can feel the warmth of his body, and for a moment you are tempted to turn around and throw your arms around him and bury your wet face in his chest, but you don't move, you can't, you don't know how to handle the situation.
Luckily for you, despite taking a piss out of you initially, Sebastian is better at talking than you give him credit for sometimes. “Listen,” he starts quietly, hovering behind you. “I didn't mean to belittle you like that. Or even judge you for it. That's not my place. I'm here to support you, you know that, right?”
You inhale deeply, chewing on the inside of your cheek nervously.
He keeps going. “You know, having... certain desires is something completely normal, or it should be, even if society may think differently. But it doesn't matter what others think, me included, when it comes to your happiness. And if that... thing in your hand makes you happy, then I am happy too. For you. If this is a way for you to decompress, to relieve stress, then that's totally fine. I know I can't be with you every hour of the day to do exactly that, so I am glad that you found a different way to keep your mind... well, not busy, the opposite really, uh, to keep your stress levels low by... uh... doing whatever it is you're doing...”
The more he struggles to find the right words, the more the corners of your mouth twitch. He's trying, and you love him even more for it. Holding the squid in one hand, you lower your other hand and slowly turn around to him. His gaze moves from your hand to your eyes quickly, and seeing the slight blush on his cheeks warms your heart.
But despite his stammering, he doesn't seem to be done. “And you know, I think it's... incredibly sexy to have a girlfriend who knows what she wants...” he whispers softly, giving you a warm smile as he extends his hand and gently grabs your free one. “Even if it's fucking a phallic looking sea creature...”
Your mouth falls open, and you are tempted to slap him if only you had a hand to do so. He chuckles softly and leans in to press his lips to your cheek as you struggle to free your hand from his grip.
“I'm sorry,” he says again, looking deep into your eyes as you stare at him, still indecisive whether to forgive him or not. Then again you should be grateful that he's actually trying to understand your situation instead of just fussing about it. Weirdly enough he doesn't even seem jealous. And why should he? You would never replace him with a little squid. Right?
Then again, a magical little creature like that would never look at you like he does now, saying he doesn't judge you and then still make jokes about it. But maybe that is who he is, always resorting to humour when things get too serious, too tough, too outlandish? Too strange to understand? If you look past your own lust-filled mind, you do realize that it's strange, of course it is, it's abnormal, it's – no. No, it's not. It's what makes you happy, like he said. It's only embarrassing because nobody tries to understand the needs you have.
And if that need is – yeah, we get it.
Sighing deeply, you close your eyes, press your lips into a thin line, and focus on the soft pulsing that thrums through your hand as you hold the little squid. Not as little any more, which makes the whole deal even harder to understand, but maybe it's not about understanding after all. It's about acceptance. Before anyone else, you realize you have to accept your own desires, no matter how twisted and disturbing and wrong they may be, and once you can do that, others will too – as seen by the patient gaze Sebastian is throwing you as you eventually open your eyes again.
He gently squeezes your hand, and you squeeze right back as you try to smile at him. His other hand is at your face then, as he wipes at your wet cheeks. “Come on,” he whispers and pulls you back towards the couch without another word. You follow him without hesitation. He sits down, and you sit beside him, placing the squid on your lap, watching it lie there for a moment in the groove between your closed legs, its tendrils twitching, lazily moving over your thighs towards your hidden centre.
“Eager little guy,” Sebastian comments quietly as he wraps one arm around your shoulder, joining you in watching the creature move on your lap.
“It sometimes reminds me of you, you know?” you whisper then, your voice hoarse.
He laughs. “Really?”
“It's eager, as you said, but also considerate, and seems to be able to read my mind and does everything I want... it's always there for me, it makes me happy, very happy...” you list quietly before turning your head to him, smiling shyly. “Just like you.”
He looks at you silently, his eyes warm.
“It's also, obviously, a great lover, but you knew that already, right?” you add with a smirk that finally breaks his silence as he barks a loud laugh.
“Is it better than me?” he teases, nudging your shoulder.
“Comparing people is really an unhealthy thing to do, you know?” you whisper with a quiet chuckle that makes him raise an eyebrow. “You are both very unique in everything that you do.”
His eyebrow rises even higher at that.
You lean closer and grab his chin to tilt it down before you kiss his lips softly. “Don't be jealous,” you whisper. “You have no reason to be. I love you, Sebastian,” you add, kissing him again.
He keeps staring at you before his eyes wander down to your lap where the squid is trying to press itself between your thighs, eager to get away apparently. “Maybe it is jealous...” he says quietly.
“Oh it most certainly is, it acts weird when I'm with you, it –”
His eyes narrow playfully. “Now, exactly where do you hide it, when you're with me?”
Your face turns bright red all over again. Hitting his chest, you groan. Instead of saying anything, you inhale deeply and shift on the couch, slowly opening your legs as you do so. The squid's tentacles grip your thighs as it sees its chance, and while you know what's about to happen, you look up at Sebastian, who stares at your crotch with his eyes wide and his mouth open and his face just as red as yours as he witnesses how the not so little creature presses his long body between your tight folds and vanishes inside your body in a swift motion that makes you shudder deeply.
“Bloody hell,” he whispers with his voice slightly higher than normal. “That's...” You see his lips moving, but no more sounds come from him. It's almost amusing if it wouldn't be equally mortifying. But then he finishes his sentence, and it's your turn to stare at him. “Hot. That's hot. I don't know what else to say, but you have no idea how much that turned me on just now...”
Your laugh is both surprised and soft, and when your eyes wander over his body, you laugh even louder. “Oh I have some idea...” you whisper, your hand gliding over his thigh before you pull his legs apart slightly, revealing his proudly erect cock.
He meets your gaze and smirks at you before his hands find your face and a second later his lips yours as he smashes his mouth against your own. You gasp into the sudden kiss, but quickly grab the back of his neck and kiss him back almost desperately. Happy to be back on normal terms with him, and not just that, apparently on even better ones.
You had no idea he would react like this. Not once in your many what-if-scenarios was this the outcome. And you're glad that, despite it all, he can still surprise you like that.
Somehow you end up in your original position, back pushed into the cushions of the couch with Sebastian leaning on his elbows and his body weighing down on yours. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, while deep inside you, the squid starts thrumming against your walls, mirroring the tension that's building in your stomach.
“So,” he whispers between kisses. “Seeing that my... favourite hole of yours... is currently... occupied... how about I... explore your other one... tonight?”
You laugh against his lips. “You don't like to share a hole?”
He frowns at that. “Would it want that?”
“Would you want that?” you ask back.
“No, no, would you want that? I'd imagine that might be rather... painful?” He watches you closely, shifting slightly on top of you.
“Painful for whom?”
“You!” he exclaims with a surprised chuckle. “Or... it? Or me? Does it bite? What if it gets jealous and strangles me with those... tentacles?”
Your turn to chuckle. “It might get territorial if it's too tight, you're right,” you then agree, smirking at him.
His concern turns into that smug expression you love and hate so much. “Better leave it alone in there. Besides, it did have its chance in your... tight... little... bum,” he then says, accentuating his words by slipping his hand under your body and teasing your puckered hole with careful little prods. “Didn't it?”
You squirm against him, laughing softly. “And you won't be sad that you're not the first to breach my... little bum?” you ask quietly, biting your swollen lip.
He gives you a playful pout before he smiles widely. “Nah, it can have that. I was your first in everything else,” he says proudly, leaning closer to kiss you deeply. “Your first kiss,” he adds and moves his hand around your hip and towards your centre. “Your first love, your first... lover, your first boyfriend, in that order,” he laughs softly, and you feel his fingers teasing your folds.
As he does, the squid inside you starts stirring, humming almost angrily, and soon enough you feel the familiar tickle of its tentacles pushing past your entrance, and when they do, you see Sebastian's eyes widening as he quickly withdraws his hand. He leans back on his knees and stares at the little tendrils protruding like angry little antennas before they slip back into you, vanishing out of sight. He clears his throat and shakes his head, exhaling a laugh.
“I might never get used to that sight...” he whispers, a slight blush spreading over his freckled shoulders. “How does it feel?” he then asks, looking back at you.
You rub your warm cheeks. “Really good,” you admit. “It's humming right now, and it can make its body soft or hard, depending on... well, what I need. And the tentacles... tickle nicely, but they also have a really strong grip, and some can become bigger and –” You stop talking as you notice the smirk on his lips, and you blush an even deeper shade of red.
“You sound happy,” he then whispers and surprises you yet again.
You smile shyly. “I am,” you reply before you reach out your arms to beckon him closer to you. He complies and lies down on top of you, his weight pushing you into the cushions. “And not because I have a... phallic looking thing inside my pussy, okay?” you clarify with a laugh as you press your lips to his warm cheek. “I'm happy because you accept me for what I am... what I do... what I... need...”
He cradles your head between his big hands and kisses you softly. “Of course, love,” he says quietly. “I'm here for you and your needs... even if I'm sometimes an idiot about it...”
You poke his jaw in response and grin at him. He smirks against your lips. “Thank you,” you whisper and close your eyes as he leans closer to plant soft kisses on your forehead, your temple and your eyelid.
“Don't thank me yet, I will ravage that sweet little bum of yours tonight,” he then says and leans back on his arms, smiling down at you despite the dark gleam in his eyes. “Right?” At least he still asks you about it.
You chuckle and nod. “Please do,” you breathe softly, biting your lip.
That's all he needs to hear before he scrambles off you and grabs your waist, almost forcefully flipping you onto your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp-laugh, feeling your insides churning in anticipation, which in turn makes the creature inside your tight walls pulse and thrum almost aggressively, its body hardening as it prods against your soft flesh. You gasp under the sensation and when Sebastian lifts your hips up and starts kneading your bum cheeks eagerly.
Your face is pressed into the cushions of the couch as you try to get into a more comfortable position. Your heart is thundering inside your chest, and you just know this will be a night to remember, all parties involved will make sure of that, you can already feel it in your aching muscles.
← CHAPTER 3 - // - CHAPTER 5 →
Notes: Originally this is where the "short fic/long oneshot" ends, but I kept writing and writing, and two more chapters came from my fingers... so there'll be more, much more of this filthy little tale!
*Also I'm not too sure I labeled this right. A squid isn't technically a monster (even though it's closest because of its tentacles and magical nature I guess?), so it's not technically Teratophilia (attraction to monsters), but I also don't want to call this Zoophilia (attraction to animals) because even though a squid is more or less an animal, it just gives off a different vibe. Maybe it's more akin to Ophidiophilia (attraction to snakes)... Difficult thing, these niche kinks.
The time I spent worrying about the correct label when this is just a silly little smut fic. Oh well.
Thanks for reading!
[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]
#mysmut#smut#reader insert#x reader#female reader#f!reader#fem reader#dirty mind#ao3 writer#ao3 smut#sebastian sallow smut#hogwarts legacy smut#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy#sebastian x reader#sebastian sallow x reader#thirsty thursday
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this is 100% a little hypocritical given i have written explicit content before and probably will again, but it's giving me whiplash how the jjk x reader tags are almost all, like, brain-meltingly graphic smut lol.
i've been on here (hqblr/jjkblr) since 2020 and i feel like the most popular reader inserts have usually been a mix of non-explicit and explicit?? but everything i come across now definitely skews more in the direction of purely smutty. which i totally do enjoy sometimes! and smut can be done super well and artfully, and often is by all the talented people on here.
i do, though, sometimes miss the innocence, i suppose, of old hqblr and jjkblr—or at least my corner of it—that was full of musings about characters' personality types and favorite foods and how they'd dress, etc. again, i have nothing against people who exclusively write smut because it's a skill, and is really hard to do well, but i'm so nostalgic for my old cadre of folks who would write these really sweet, innocent fics where the climax was always just a very detailed kiss and not, well, a climax, LOL.
and maybe that's mostly a result of that generation of tumblr writers growing up and wanting to either live mostly offline. i was like 16/17 when i started this blog, and i think a lot of my moots were around that age, so a lot of us have gone off to uni or even (gag) work now. or maybe those same writers, as they've grown, have wanted to expand into more adult-style fics, which is probably a natural progression of creative expression.
but i also sometimes wonder if the culture of hqblr and jjkblr has just been irrevocably influenced by the attention economy—fics that get "straight to the good part" i.e., the sex, are usually shorter and more consumable than something that lacks smut, or doesn't include it as a central focus. it's almost like the death of youtube in the wake of short form content like reels or tiktok. we don't really have the desire or wherewithal to sit down and read a long piece when there are so many shorter (and often well-written, of course!) smut-focused pieces to read quickly.
obviously this isn't merely a smut versus non-smut issue. my shorter pieces have almost always been liked and reblogged more than my longer ones. but i have found, anecdotally, that the very "successful" short hq and jjk fics now are fairly explicit. and this is, of course, a neutral observation, as i have also read and enjoyed (and continue to enjoy!) fics that include sex. as well as write them! my point is just that i sometimes miss the long fic, romance-oriented culture that used to be pretty prevalent on here, in equal part to smut, rather than being secondary to it.
anyway. tldlr; i love and appreciate all creators, smut or non-smut focused, short form or long form, i am just a nostalgic mf and miss those randomly incredible 12k word fics you guys would publish on here and get a thousand notes for. which is definitely still like, an ao3 thing, but tumblr is fun because it's interactive and communal in a way that ao3 is not
#idk#just some ponderings#again and again i love all you uber talented smut writers#im just a sentimental person#and i miss user wackatoshi#come to think of it this is maybe mostly a grieving the loss of all winter's old fics LOL
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comment from this bruce banner fic/spurt
Oh my gosh, I got one! 🙄🖕🏾
Reading comprehension is such a valuable skill, I wish you dumb, ignorant assholes would get some. I was asked such an inane ass question for what reason, exactly?
On a more serious note, though, I know this person likely knows why I used the descriptive words I did (and on a fic tagged with #black!reader in a plethora of different ways at that), but that just means that I also think people should learn about being considerate of others who aren’t them (and who don’t LOOK like their lighter skinned — likely white, let’s be honest — assess) and who aren’t interested in fucking catering to them like the entire goddamn world does too. 😁😉🖕🏾🖕🏾🖕🏾🖕🏾
If you don’t like people writing specifically for themselves and other black people (or other poc and less represented groups in general) then don’t read their (often appropriately tagged) shit. It’s very simple; fucking off is free after all. Please refrain from subjecting other people to your bullshit and casual racism (and racism/bigotry period) without their consent, it’s ugly. These people like the commenter above run into fem!readers and other broadly specified traits for reader-inserts all the time and don’t have any issues, but the second they see a black!reader all of a sudden they throw a fit and feel the need to be a casual piece of shit to black people (and then turn around once confronted and try to play as if they weren’t being incredibly rude, hating ass bitches) because NOW these broadly specific traits on reader-inserts are the antithesis to the community, but only when black people get involved and aren’t as ignorable as they’d like.
This is one of my favorite fics too; people just have to insert themselves into everything and ruin it, don’t they? Fuck. Screw treating me like a person with feelings and shit, huh?
Just come into my fic to cause a problem out of nothing (hiding how uncomfortable being met w/ unfiltered blackness without warning made them — and how that’s fucking racist — behind what they think are “reasonable” objections to me writing black!reader-inserts) and to make sure I don’t forget all about the racism that never leaves me even in fandom spaces (even in the fandom spaces I curate specifically for ME as a damn safe space). It is so rude and delusional to try pushing your standards for x-readers that are actively regressive and hateful onto others as if you’re some type of authority or doing some type of morally “good” action. Trying to frame your actions as if they’re not fueled by racism doesn’t make them NOT racist; if you want to come at me like a racist bitch I’m going to call it like I see it. Fuck you, sincerely.



- I’m posting this for receipt purposes.
The last comment the initial commenter made was soon deleted afterwards so I wasn’t able to capture it — or even read it, but at least this horrid encounter is over with.
This is what I was able to capture of the final shitty comment, however:


Nothing but more ceaseless pettiness (and not even towards me) and more avoidance of acknowledging the actual issues I was bringing up because this person really only wanted to pick a fight and be a jackass; which is likely why all their comments to the contrary were so easy to debunk, it was never about fighting for ‘inclusion’ it was about trying to get me to buck under their negativity and making me feel badly for writing black!reader-inserts for black women.
The asshole’s blog as it was when this conversation occurred:
#if you read the whole interaction this person came at me rude as hell and then wanted to switch it up after I confronted them and#still act ignorant to the crux of the issue that its black!reader-inserts they have a problem with#don’t be this person#this bullshit is uncouth#and rude and disrespectful#because otherwise I would’ve gotten shit from them for making the r-i have curly hair and be female too#but no the only “issue” brought up was the descriptions of blackness I used#fuck you if you do this shit#bitches like this (female and male) are full ass jokes#alright I’ve gotten it out of my system I’m done now#fandom etiquette#vague posting#kind of#i just need to vent#and cover my ass incase bitches wanna act up#and start lying#i speak bitches
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At least fucking tag "reader insert" when you post mary sue reader masturbation fantasies.
We don't want to see that shit on every single fandom and character tag making every single ship tag UNUSABLE. Blocking that shit is impossible if you don't use the general tags instead of fandom specific tags
Hey did you know that there are multiple tags for the same thing? Crazy right? Try blocking the tag #x reader. It's the tag i use. Other than that I use x reader in the title and the whole fic is under a read more. If you read my stuff, it's because you pressed a button to do so. Try to be nicer next time too. There is no reason to be mean to strangers on the internet and if you feel like there is, go to therapy. Hope you get better 😘
#fr why you gotta be rude#im just out here vibing#did you see the shrek fic? is that it? what were you doing in the shrek tag?#gayden things
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