#red wings to play into my angst plot

[angeart]

boatem circus au grian

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent. 

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences. 

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?” 

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever. 

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision. 

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed. 

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did. 

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth. 

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh. 

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition. 

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s. 

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough. 

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick. 

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling. 

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them. 

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly. 

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality. 

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire. 

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek. 

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret. 

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue. 

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead. 

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago. 

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt. 

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily. 

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock. 

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers. 

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats. 

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?” 

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain. 

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways. 

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it. 

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player. 

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly. 

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige. 

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks. 

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever. 

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now. 

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway. 

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh. 

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze. 

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work. 

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift. 

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso. 

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her. 

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this. 

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly. 

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after,  you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look. 

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head. 

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling. 

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself. 

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away. 

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead. 

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other. 

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other. 

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat. 

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely. 

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule. 

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow. 

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel. 

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises. 

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.” 

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile,  “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks. 

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers,  “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Angel of Music (Azriel x Reader)

AN: guys this is always one of my emotional support movies/plays I’ve seen it a million times so it only seemed fair that I give it the ACOTAR collab it deserves. 

Summary: It was the inner circles first time at the theater and from the way the Shadowsinger was blushing they all had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last. (the reader plays Christine Daae in Velaris’ adaptation of The Phantom Of The Opera and Azriel falls in love with her, but he’s afraid that she won’t like him because of his scars because she choose Raoul in the play) Set between ACOWAR and AOFAS

Warnings: Angst because of Azriel’s scars, shy az, but so much fluff, (just a little Az brain rot, didn't take this too seriously)

Word Count: 3,070

It wasn’t the shadowsinger's usual scene. Bustling people dressed to the nines, plush red chairs, gold sconces, orchestras. But Cassian had been tirelessly trying to make Nesta smile, and Ferye wanted to try and get her sisters together, so here he sat in the box that Rhysand had purchased for the night. 

Nesta loved the music and dancing, Elain loved the romance, and Feyre loved the costumes and color palettes of scenes. Cassian wanted to see Nesta smile, and Rhysand would do just about anything Feyre asked of him. 

In all his 500 years of life, Azriel had never thought to go to the theater. When he was a child he heard of his parents going but of course, he never got to go. As he grew the idea of going to see a show simply never crossed his mind.

When the lights went down and the orchestra came to life he spent most of his time watching Cassian, who was watching a very intrigued Nesta. He stayed that way until a clap and a spark echoed throughout the room. At first, he thought there was danger, but as soon as he turned his attention towards the stage he saw the large chandelier raise itself to life bringing the dilapidated stage with it. Golds, reds, and vibrant colors filled the room. 

Still, Azriel had trouble following the plot. But as he watched Nesta and her sisters become entranced by the music and dancing. The loud organ had stirred something in him, but he didn’t truly feel moved until her. 

Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye…

Azriel was sitting in a box at the edge of the theater, but even from this distance, he could tell that she was the most beautiful female he had ever seen.  He scooted to the edge of his seat a tad just to be that much closer to her. Her voice was that of a siren, no not a siren, an angel. His shadows danced around his ears and his wings at the sound of her ballad. Even the rest of the inner circle seemed to be entranced by her spell. 

As the play went on he found himself becoming irrationally jealous of Raoul. The pretty Viscount had not given her a second look at the beginning of the play. It wasn’t until the organ sounded again that the sound of her voice graced Azriel’s ears. The woman walked through a mirror towards a masked man. 

Who was this masked man? Where was he taking her? It wasn’t until Mor rested her hand to where he was gripping his chair with white knuckles that he remembered it was just a play. He sat back in his seat more, trying to tell his shadows to calm down. But as her voice climbed and climbed that beautiful crescendo they twisted and turned around him. 

Azriel spent the rest of the play being utterly entranced by the beautiful singer’s relationship with the Phantom. The masked man was dark and radical, staying in the shadows where no one could see him. He observed her from afar. Much like the shadowsinger did himself in every aspect of his life. 

It was clear to him that the Phantom was in love with Christine. So when Raoul and Christine kissed he nearly felt his heart shatter. The way the Phantom mourned, and cried, it felt all too personal to Azriel. 

I  gave you my music, made your way. And now how you’ve repaid me, denied me and betrayed me…

  From there on out Azriel found himself rooting for the Phantom, the man he saw so much of himself in. He nearly shed a tear when he found out why the man wore a mask. A scared child in a cage made to perform. 

He looked down at his mangled hands sitting on the arms of his chair. He had known a similar childhood and had suddenly wished he had something like a mask to cover such torn flesh. Maybe then the beautiful woman on stage might look at him with that same lovesick gaze, she wore now for Raoul, but he knew that could never be.

For a moment he felt joy, seeing her kiss the Phantom with such passion, such love. Only for that joy to be extinguished like a candle when she walks out with the Viscount. Of course, she would choose him, life does imitate art after all. It wasn’t until the curtain went down and the crowd erupted in thunderous applause that Azriel broke from his trance, standing to applause with them. 

“Well that was wonderful,” Feyre beamed, linking her arm with Rhysand’s. 

“I’ll say, that girl sang like an angel,” Mor gushed, fanning herself with her program as we all made our way out of the box. “Even Azriel seemed to enjoy it,” the female smirked, bumping Azriel with her shoulder. She had seen the lovesick gaze in his eyes. 

“It was so romantic the way Raoul came to rescue her,” Elain swooned, grabbing her sister's other arm. 

“Oh please, the Phantom was the obvious choice!” Nesta huffed at her sister's comment. 

“Nesta, would you like to meet the cast? Maybe talk to some of the dancers?” Feyre asked, changing the subject quickly before conflict arose. 

Nesta thought for a moment and spoke again, “Yes I would.” all she said. 

Of course, it was an easy task for Rhys to sweet-talk his way backstage, the inner circle sticking out like a sore thumb as they weaved past props, costumes, and the ensemble. Azriel’s eyes stayed ever vigilant, unable to let go of years of training as they walked down a dark hall. A cast member opened a door at the end of the hall to reveal mirrors with glimmering faelights around them. Vanities with every manor of makeup and costume jewelry. Two men he recognized as the actors who played the Viscount and the Phantom. 

The Phantom had washed off the makeup that made his face look scarred. Once again Azriel wished he too had that ability. Rhys and Feyre shook both their hands introducing them to the whole inner circle, but Azriel paid no mind. His hazel eyes were searching for a hint of her.

“Oh y/n there’s someone who wants to meet you!” called out one of the actors. 

“Oh, really who?” called a voice so melodic Azriel just knew that she had to be an angel. 

His shadows wisped around him frantically, calling out her name in his ear, like they were excited to finally know it. Rhys and Feyre’s eyes looked to their friend and smiled at one another. 

She walked around from a changing screen, tying the strings of the robe she was wearing that looked similar to the one she had worn on stage. She nearly stopped in her tracks as she saw her High Lord and Lady staring at her. 

“My Lord, My Lady,” she bows. “It is an honor.”

“No, no, please don’t bow,” Feyre rushes over, bringing the singer upright. “If anything we should be bowing to you. You sang like a goddess out there, you are truly talented.”

“Why thank you, my Lady, I’m truly happy you enjoyed the show,” she smiled and Azriel’s heart all but glowed. 

“Please call me Feyre,” the High Lady smiles, extending her hand. 

“Y/n,” the singer replied, taking her hand and shaking it. 

Azriel kept to the sidelines as the inner circle conversed with the cast and crew. Feyre and Rhys praised the play director and claimed they would be purchasing their box for the rest of the season. Nesta picked the brains of the dancers and their instructor, Cassian listening dutifully behind her. Elain chatted up the Phantom and Raoul, both actors seemingly falling for her, once again showing how life imitates art. 

Mor talked to y/n, about what? Azriel didn’t know. But the second Mor caught Az gazing at y/n she held out a hand to him. 

“Y/n I’d like you to meet Azriel, spymaster for the night court,” Mor said, beckoning Azriel over. 

Azriel quickly put his hands behind his back, not wanting to scare her with his scars. He could’ve sworn he saw her cheeks tint a shade pinker as he approached, looming over her in size. 

“How do you do?” y/n asks.

It takes a second for Azriel to realize that her angelic voice is speaking to him.

“Oh um, very well thanks.” he stutters, already feeling like a fool. Gods she was even more beautiful up close, he found himself suddenly longing for the box that offered him sanctuary, or a mask like the Phantom had. 

“Did you um, enjoy the show?” she probed and Azriel realized that Mor had conveniently dismissed herself. 

“I did,” he said quickly. “You have a beautiful voice, I could’ve listened all night.” 

Once again he swore he saw y/n blush as she looked down at her feet, “Thank you, though I think I fell flat a little in the first song. Opening night and all,” she laughed nervously and oh Cauldron, the sound of her laughter was enough to make Az take one step towards her. 

“No it was perfect, all of it.” he spat out, not standing to hear her say one more bad thing about herself. 

“Well thank you Azriel,” she said and by the fucking Cauldron she smiled at him. His name fell off her perfect lips and she smiled at him. He must’ve been dead and somehow gotten to heaven, there was no other explanation. 

The rest of the inner circle watched the pair intently. Feyre sank further into Rhysand’s side as they both realized they were watching Azriel fall in love in real-time. The yin and yang of the pair was near poetic and Feyre told herself she would pain this exact moment tomorrow morning. 

“Y/n why don’t you come to dinner with us? We would love to hear more about you,” Rhysand smiled.

His words broke the trance y/n was in, “Oh my Lord I truly wish I could, but I have an early day tomorrow and my apartment is clear across town.” She apologized. 

“No worries, it sounds like we will all be back for tomorrow night's show as well. Though I would hate for you to walk home alone,” Rhys smirked trying to get Azriel to bite at the bait.

“Not to worry I make the trek all the time,” she smiled, picking up the many vases of flowers people had left for her on her vanity. 

“Azriel could walk you home, couldn’t you Az?” Mor chimed in and Azriel shot her a look. 

“Uh, yeah I could if you’d like,” Azriel mentioned stuttering over his words as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Oh no I wouldn’t want to take you from dinner with your family,” she assured him, picking up two large vases of flowers. 

“Not at all, I would be honored to walk you home,” the shadowsinger said a little too quickly. Feyre tried to stifle her laugh in Rhys’ side, she had never seen her spymaster so flustered. 

“Okay then,” the girl smiled and soon enough they were off down the cobblestone street, their way lit by dim faelight. 

y/n’s pov:

“Your shadows are incredible,” I smile watching as the dark wisps carry the various vases of flowers down the road. 

I had been more than happy to have the High Lord’s shadowsinger walk me home. In all honesty, I was captivated by the male the moment I set eyes on him. Sure he was hard, dressed in black, and over a foot taller than me. 

A sane woman might’ve kept her distance from the male, he was dangerous after all. But I knew the moment he spoke that he wasn’t a threat. There was a quiet and gentle calm underneath all that darkness.

“Thank you,” he says and I swear I see him blush. “They seem to really like you.” 

“They do? How can you tell?” I laugh as one of the little fellas brush against my cheek like a cat brushing against an ankle. 

“They went wild when you were singing tonight,” he chuckles, seemingly remembering how they danced. 

“Really?” I ask balking a bit. 

“I’m serious, give it a try,” he smiles, motioning for me to sing again. 

I shrug and clear my throat before singing a line from the play, “Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me, strange angel,” I sang softly and sure enough the little shadows danced and swirled around me. Threading themselves through my hair and around my arms where they held my vases of flowers. 

“That’s amazing,” I breathe finally watching the small wisps die down, hiding behind their master like they were shy. 

“You’re amazing,” their master spits out and then blushes. ‘

I can’t help but feel myself blush too, shying away from the hulking Illyrian. He didn’t look so tough as his shadows carried dozens of flowers behind him. He had walked down the street with his hands behind his back the whole time, not needing to lift a finger. 

The little purple door I’m so used to seeing comes into view. Outside the cottage are dozens and dozens of roses and the light inside is out. 

“I leave these here,” I say gesturing to the flowers I’m holding as I set them on the front porch. 

“Why not take them home? Were they not gifted to you?” Azriel cocks an eyebrow as his shadows place the flowers neatly next to the ones I set down. 

I laugh starting back down the path towards my place, “I get so many, I can’t possibly keep them all. Marla is an elderly woman who lost her husband years ago. It brings her joy to have them, so I leave them for her. Besides it’s not like they’re from anyone special,” I shrug, subtly dropping the hint to Azriel that I’m not otherwise engaged. 

Azriel pauses beside me and approaches a rose bush blooming near one of the cottages. Drawing his dagger, he carefully slices off a vibrant red rose. Before offering it to me, he painstakingly removes every thorn with the same blade, as if to protect my hands from even the slightest prick.

“You deserve to have at least one flower,” he says offering me the rose. 

I blush and go to reach for it when I catch sight of his hand. The mangled and marred flesh. I can’t help but feel my breath hitch as I wonder who could’ve done such a thing to such a gentle soul. The scarred hand pulls back a bit as if realizing my staring. 

“I guess I’m more Phantom than dashing Viscount,” he utters sadly, referring to my play and my role in it. My heart shatters as I see his broken expression. 

“You know,” I smile, taking the rose from his scarred hands. “I always thought that Christine should end up with The Phantom, he was clearly the better choice.” 

His head whips up as if I’ve uttered an inconceivable phrase. “Even though he had ugly scars?” Azriel inquires, his face tight like he might not want to hear whatever answer I provide.

“Who said he was ugly?” I laugh, did this beautiful specimen of a male truly believe he was ugly because his hands bore scars? 

“So you would choose the Phantom?” he cocks an eyebrow as if trying to read if I was telling the truth.

“In a heartbeat,” I affirm confidently and honestly.

He takes a step towards me, his form getting even bigger, “and what about scarred hands? Is that a deal breaker?” he probes, holding out his hands so I can see that they both harbor similar markings.  

I shake my head taking another step towards him, appreciating the beauty that is him. From the white scars that ran up his hands, to the shadows that danced around him like they they were whispering to him.

“So if I asked you to dinner after your show tomorrow?” he queries taking a step towards me as well.

“I would ask you where we are going?” I reply feeling my cheeks heat up. Was he asking me out? I tried to push the butterflies down in my stomach.

“Rita’s ?” he shrugs, stepping forward. 

“Sounds like a plan,” I smile moving towards him more, like I was compelled to.

“I’ll swing backstage after the curtain closes,” he smiles, seemingly becoming more confident in himself as we step closer together just a few feet apart.

“I’ll put your name on the list,” I say, feeling his presence pull me in. 

“And if I were to send you flowers? What kind would you like?” he interrogates further. 

I think for a moment, no one had ever asked me what flowers I might like to receive. My eyes look around as if searching for inspiration until they land on a blue siphon adorning his chest that’s right in front of me. 

“Something blue,” I blush knowing that when I see the cobalt flowers on my vanity I will know they are from him. 

“Consider it done,” he smiles and I suddenly realize that we’re mere inches apart now. 

I turn to my right where the blue door to my house beckons to be opened. Pulling out my keys I unlock it and use my shoulder to shove it open as it always gets stuck. 

“Well,” I say shyly. “Thank you for walking me home,” 

“Anytime,” he smiles looking down at his feet. 

The sight of the bashful warrior on my front doorstep has me melting. His face is so beautiful and perfectly carved I can't help but lean up on my toes and kiss his cheek. I almost regret it when it’s over but the violent red of his cheeks makes me smile again.

“Well goodnight,” I say, trying not to let my words shake in the process. 

“Goodnight,” he smiles, brushing a hand against his freshly kissed cheek.

I close the door and place the single, thornless, rose he cut for me in a vase. It isn’t until I turn on a light that I hear him take off into the night and I swear I hear him let out a grand whoop from way up in those clouds.

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202 , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark , @cheneyq

[solspina]

how good are you at angst vesp…

can i get angst scenarios for guilliman, horus, sanguinius, konrad, and my beloved leman russ :3 plot is entirely yours!

i’m horrible with angst but my inbox is open for a reason, ask and you shall receive. also, this isn’t edited or revised so i’m sorry for mistakes :(

tw: the usual, blood probably, spoilers, horus and sanguinius’ stories are tied together

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Roboute Guilliman had known you since childhood. A great friend of his family, beloved by both his mother and father, both whom shared lighthearted jokes about the primarch being united with you in marriage someday. They were never jokes to him. A life with you was what he wanted, a dream of his.

And yet a sword pierced his father’s heart and your hand was on the blade. You may as well have placed a second blade into Guilliman’s chest just as deeply as you had the first, the way that your face held no remorse and your body trembled from exhaustion. His father had tried to fight you, the story told from the several bleeding cuts littered your body, as did blood that came from no cuts at all. Your hands were soaked in red.

And just as the stories told his father would be avenged by the hand of Guilliman. He went down a hero, and you unknowingly went down a traitor of the imperium, your name in no history books.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus Lupercal had been there when his brother had rejected your incredibly obvious advances at him, too caught up in his self-centered idea of godhood to understand what your words truly meant, that there was meaning behind them. He had been there, he had comforted you, hung his arm around you once his brother had left the scene, and yet you rejected his own offer when he had asked you to join the Sons of Horus and leave your old life behind, just as you had told Sanguinius you wanted to.

And what a loyal little thing you were. Your arms outstretched over his brother’s body, begging him not to deal the final blow. Sanguinius was in the midst of taking his final breaths, and you wouldn’t let Horus have the glory of ending his “perfect” brother’s life. You were small, you were not enough. He made sure he left you alive and unharmed to watch the angel be thrown to the other side of the room before he struck him one last time. You still ran after him as if playing fetch and part of him wished you were, so that maybe you would tear the angels wings from his back and hold them like they were your trophy.

Horus took the moment you had your back turned to stab you in it, making sure you would never reach the angel. Perhaps he would grant you both one final mercy. As the shadows crawled from the depths to pin Sanguinius against the wall like a crucified sinner, he made sure you were pinned just the same next to him. If you were going to be loyal, fine by him. You would be loyal in life and in death.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Sanguinius knew he was beloved by all, it was part of his daily life if he were being honest. When you approached him, small and trembling, to tell him you loved him, he laughed. To love a being you viewed as your god was standard, was it not?

No. you loved him. He’d seen the way humans had behaved around each other when they felt love. They held each other close in their arms. Caressed parts of each other tenderly, hands, arms, faces, gentle touches he’d long accepted he could never have. The humans who surrounded him idolized him far too much to lay their hands on any part of him, for he was far too pure. He’d accepted that this love from godhood was the only love he would ever obtain. Humans may be capable of loving primarchs, but not mutants, not him.

And yet you were the last thing he saw before his vision faded to nothing, the last thing he felt before his heart ceased to beat. You kneeled over him, a feeble and weak human attempt to protect him from the unforgiving strikes of Horus. You could not protect him. He lay with his back against the wall, bleeding, weakened, your primarch robbed of his glory. You grabbed his hand, holding it as gently as you possibly could. Horus seemed to hesitate, allowing his brother a moment of peace as you held his hand. You had been stabbed by Horus too, a fatal wound for a human, yet you remained strong for your primarch, your hands running delicately through the feathers of his broken wing.

Sanguinius took his final breaths, and yet he smiled ever so slightly. He was loved. The final blow had ended both of your lives, the shadows that approached to hang the angel on the wall like a trophy grabbed your body alongside his, hanging him up as if he had been crucified, and you in the crease of his wing. In life and in death, he realized far too late that he was loved.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Had you rejected Konrad Curze, he would’ve felt no different than his usual daily attitude. By some miracle, though, you hadn’t rejected him. You hadn’t turned away, you never would turn away and that you promised him. A promise you would break, inevitably.

It was incredibly tough to help him recover his mental health following his difficult childhood, incredibly draining, at that. So when his health started to decline during the heresy, you could no longer take it, and your promise was nothing but severed twine scattered across the floor. He’d try to track you down, to make things right, to make things better.

You were gone when he finally reached you. Physically there, but your heart no longer beat in your chest. He had become a primarch, stronger than he was on his home world, and even at his strongest he had failed you.

Execution seemed too merciful of a fate for him, but he’d take that mercy with open arms.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Leman Russ, the emperor’s most loyal (self proclaimed) son knew nothing but loyalty after being raised by wolves. Your loyalty back to him was an easy pledge, and he loved you dearly, no more than he loved the emperor and his cause.

When you fell to sickness upon his cold planet, your immune system had obviously and inevitably weakened to a near impossible point of return, and it was during a clash with a squadron of plague marines. Leman kept you as far away from the front lines as he could. He would be unable to forgive himself if you died, or worse, fell into the clutches of Nurgle.

But by Nurgle’s grace, you were granted freedom from your sickness. You hadn’t died, no, that would be too simple a fate for you. The unforgiving clutches of chaos would make sure you never felt this ill again. You’d never turn your back on the chaos god, lest your beautifully gruesome gifts become gifts no longer.

Leman spared you one final sorrowful gaze as you retreated with your newfound army, your skin already discord and your eyes looking like they could fall from your once gorgeous face at any second. For a moment, he swore he saw the same expression in your chaos filled eyes. Sorrow, fear, heartbreak.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

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

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

[greetingfromthedead]

Sanctuary (Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: After finding yourself at Death's door you seek sanctuary from your longstanding foe Knives.

Series: Kiss With a Fist

Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up

Tags: Angst, Hurt, Blood and Injury, Plant Reader, Winged Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Comfort, Protectiveness

Word count: 1.1k

Author's Note: According to the vote it looks like an enemies-to-lovers story with Knives is gonna be my next big project and this scene has been stuck in my head for a while now so have a sneaky little oneshot sneak peak.

Bloodsoaked wings flap in the dark night sky. Every stroke of them is painful and torturous, a reminder of what you have escaped. Just a little bit more until you reach safety. Is it safety or perhaps is it your doom? A feeling of unease creeps into your clouded mind, but this is the only place you can think of retreating to. The city lights far below twinkle, but to you, they are nothing but a blur through your tears. You must keep moving forward, determined to survive by any means necessary.

The strength is seeping out of your body quicker the closer to the building towering above the rest you get. The broken wings carry you to the domed roof, but there is no energy to land in any graceful manner. You crash onto the rough surface, feeling the last of your energy slip away. You tumble down, bloody fingers unable to grab hold, as you begin to lose consciousness. With a loud thud, you hit the balcony, your vision fading into black. You can just barely see the bloody smears you left on the windows and the emblems of July. Slowly, you close your eyes, trying to fight off the darkness. You wonder if he will find you before it's too late, or if this is the end of the line for you.

Knives is on his way back from meeting with the doctor. He is on the last leg of his plan, and his goals are within reach. Years of collecting Plants are coming to an end, and soon he will be able to get to his brother and set in motion the final stage of his plan. He can show no more mercy to the southern area; they may be under your pesky protection, but the time to play games is over. It's time to finish what he started and take back what is rightfully his. But it is yours too. It doesn't matter; you have made your choice. Now you have to face the consequences. Yet the thought stings something deep inside Knives, but he is unsure what or why. He has already shown you too much lenience in the decades leading up to this day; you are his enemy, no matter what you say. Anyone siding with humans shall die with them.

He is ripped from his thoughts by a loud crash echoing through the building. It comes from outside, and he is lost as to what could have caused such a ruckus. His analytical mind races through options as he heads to the exit nearest to the sound. Could it be one of The Beast's flying worms? No, they would know better than to disturb his peace. Anger and disgust twist his face as he is prepared to rip to shreds anyone and anything daring to set foot in his territory.

As he enters the atrium, he sees moonlight shining in through a sheen of red smeared all over one of the windows. He moves confidently closer to see something dark moving just outside the glass. It looks enormous, but he has no fear. He has nothing to be afraid of and is ready to face whatever lurks there. He pushes open the door and steps outside.

The sight is nothing like what he expected. The deck is covered in blood and feathers, and in the midst of it all is a figure so vaguely familiar. The back bears multiple pairs of wings, but some of them are nothing but bloody stumps; others are bent unnaturally in a way that makes his stomach turn. The feathers are sticky with blood and the figure's head is bowed in despair. He takes another step closer, and the mass shifts slightly, the gaze creeping up along his legs until they meet his eyes. Your face is bruised and battered; an iron shackle is around your neck, the chain of which is clattering against the floor.

Anger rises in Knives stomach, boiling into his chest and setting his icy eyes ablaze. He moves even closer to you, back straight and fists clenched. The sight enrages him and pulls him apart at the seams, unraveling his carefully crafted mask of indifference and calmness.

"Who did this to you?" He growls, voice low and dangerous. He reaches out his hand to your meek form and continues, unintended words slipping over his lips: "I will destroy them. There won't even be anything left of them once I am done."

Your hand grabs onto his forearm with more speed and strength than he thought was left in your body. Your desperate fingers are digging into his flesh. You hold on to your years long opponent with everything you've got. The man you've stared down across battle fields, the tyrant, who has been threatening to take the Plants from the towns and villages under your protection. The man you've despised in the past is now the only one you can turn to.

"No," you say resolutely, looking into his blue eyes. "Don't leave me. You're the only one I trust not to kill me."

He stands frozen for a moment as he looks at your face, tears streaming down your darkening face. He squats down and reaches behind your neck with his free hand that you aren't clinging on to. The weight is taken off your neck as the shackle falls to the ground with a loud clatter. His cool hand strokes over the reddened skin, soothing the burn caused by the iron. You lean into his touch, grateful for the relief.

You feel safe in the presence of your longstanding foe. It is a strange feeling, but you can't deny the comfort it brings. The feeling washes over you and settles into your bones. It sets your mind at ease, and you can no longer fend off the darkness. You succumb to the bliss, and your fingers loosen the grip on his arm as you can no longer support your body. Before you hit the hard concrete, he has stopped your fall, and he carefully turns you, mindful of the sprawled out wings. His eyes glide over your body, covered in wounds and bruises. His gut feels heavy with more than just boiling anger. A strange sickly feeling ties knots in his entrails, and he picks your limp form up off the floor. He is considerate of the open wounds and broken bones as he cradles you in his arms. He heads back inside, the bloody wings trailing on the floor, leaving a trail of blood and feathers.

"You're safe," Knives says in an icy tone as he carries you away.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[fyrewalks]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what made you pick up the muse you have? why have to choose just one muse? fun fact - i used to have three separate blogs and eventually just moved everyone to a single multi.

is there anything you don’t like to write? just the standard list of plots that are no-no's for most people, beyond that i ain't too picky

is there anything you really enjoy writing? angst, relationship development (both familial and romantic), introspective threads

how do you come up with your headcanons?  songs, tv/movies, and an overactive imagination

do you write in silence or do you play music? music or a tv show i've watched a billion time. should probably write in silence more so i get things done.

do you plan your replies or wing them? i might think of or jot down ideas when i'm saving things to my drafts and don't have time to reply; sometimes i'll check in with my writing partner to see what they think, but mostly i'm just winging it.

do you enjoy shipping? yes, always! i love writing ships. it's what i want to write and have the most fun writing.

what’s your alias/name?  oliver

age?  25+

birthday?  october

favorite color?  green

favorite song?  currently - forever by noah kahan

last movie you watched?  twenty seven dresses (a classic imo)

last show you watched?  avatar (cartoon - doing a rewatch after the live action)

last song you listened to?  blood runs red by matt maeson

favorite food?  spicy garlic parm chicken wings (or a good steak)

favorite season?  fall

do you have a tumblr best friend? @parameddie @heartsbreaking @nursc just to name a few :)

tagged by : @heartsbreaking tagging: you, the cutie on the dash reading this!!

[starlightandetherealshadows]

Gotta be honest I was excited for V at first but there is a limit to being an asshole and it sort of put me off (not that it'll stop me from whisking Zero away like BITCH IF YOU GONNA PLAY DENIAL YOU DONT DESERVE THEM *flirts harder*).

But that's not the reason for this ask. I just wanted to say my MC is a weird combo of Zero and C personality wise so it's gonna be interesting to see V react to that (whether we end up as friends of rivals will depend on them *shrugs*). My MC in IFs usually is kind and genuine, but more on the reserved/introverted side (think ray of sunshine mixed with aloof) so I don't know how it'll fit in the dynamic. Maybe the code will perceive him as stoic or just reserved, who knows.

Anyway I'm excited and on my way to be besties with the aliens 🤗

Hi darling,

Yea V isn't for everyone, and tbh if they turn y'all off that means I've done my job of making them seem real and someone with character flaws that can't be overlooked as "sexy red flag RO purrr" so everytime y'all are like "actually i don't like V" an angel gets its wings.

Hm let's see,

MC stats and traits are Friendly or Stoic, Charming or Intimidating, Passive or Stubborn, Genuine or Sarcastic

Violent or Merciful, Selfish or Selfless, Optimistic or Cynical, Cautious or Impulsive

From what you've described, it sounds like your MC will fall closest to Friendly, Genuine, Optimistic, and Cautious.

V's attitude towards MC in this case might become "jealous because MC is so much better for Zero than I could ever be" and they're not gonna like...push MC down a flight of stairs or anything but they'll be snippier and more broody. (also keep in mind there's a whole plot that is outside of all these romances so it's not like it's all romance angst and development 24/7)

Zero will become more outwardly protective of MC if they aren't the type to clap back at V. They let you fight your own battles, but if they notice you're more reserved, they'll be more likely to say something in the moment in your defense.

I hope this makes sense ahhh i have such a weird headache rn?? Head hurt :(

All my love,

Cheye

[piperslovebot]

Ranking every episode for Jeia

1. Dirty Double Booker - They break my heart in this episode, but also have so many cute moments. Jay trading shifts at work, their kiss, how in the beginning of the ep they’re just holding hands, the bicep scene, Jay’s arm around Leia, Leia trying to make things work with both Jay AND Gwen. There should’ve been Jay/Leia/Gwen triangle srsly. Jay being so understanding about Leia making plans with Gwen. Like I said, the ending breaks my heart so badly.

2. Kids In America - Now THIS one gives me so many emotions. I loved their cute moments in the beginning of this. At first, even as a Jay/Jeia stan, they rubbed me the wrong way because I had this feeling Jay was stringing Leia along but now looking at it, it seems like he’s just cherishing those last few moments. Also Kitty making Jay realize he shouldn’t be scared, him wanting to make things work, the “I will spend every day making it up to you” scene. Like HOW are they not the endgame? Come on people! Also Leia’s face post kiss.

3. Boyfriend Day 1 - I LOVE how Jay stood up for Leia and was hellbent on not letting her take the blame. And that speech to Red 🥹. Giving E/D fr. Also them saying the same things at the same, the phone thing, and their hug: ADORABLE! And don’t even get me STARTED on the ‘bye babe! Aww!’ scene! Literally the cutest ever.

4. Summer Storm - It’s not really my fave, mostly because I’ve watched that episode several times haha. But they were cute here. It was nice seeing Leia wanting to take another step and going to Nikki for relationship advice. Also them dancing at the end 🥰. I wish there were more episodes in s1 so we could see them flourish.

5. The Birthday Girl - THE Jeia episode. Leia’s fantasy for them as Kelly and them going together, Jay coming back to wish her a happy birthday, their first kiss, them FINALLY getting together, and them leaving in the car was nice (before they were pulled over ovo). The one thing I didn’t like tho is how Leia was so willing to change herself just to get with Jay. I’ve explained my feelings on this here.

6. Lip Smackers - I’ve discussed my issues with Leia’s plot but I loved the Jeia here. It really solidified that Jay’s feelings for Leia ARE genuine. Before I just thought it was some comedic joke where it’s ‘haha Jay flirting with the New Girl’ (like what friends did with Rachel/Joey early on), but this episode solidified that it was genuine. And it seemed like this was where Leia started to feel the same way about Jay. Also the car scene is A+, like E/D much?

7. Free Leia - While I think it’s more a Geia episode than a Jeia one, I loved their little moments here.

8. That 90s Pilot - Same as Free Leia. I also loved seeing them walking out together and Red being like ‘WTF’. I can only IMAGINE what would’ve happened if E/D was there. J/L just gave such couple vibes in that scene.

9. The Rave - Also not my fave tbh. Like it was fun seeing them be all chaotic but I hate the end where Leia is ‘playing the player’ and ‘Kelso-ing the Kelso’. And how it’s literally applauded in the end?? Gwen herself said that she was just winging the ‘you’re a goddess, own your power’ and that Leia should go after what she wants. Yet Leia still does this?? I do cut her slack because she 14 and Jay is probably the first guy she likes.

10. Step By Step - I love the angst for them in this episode, but once again the whole ‘playing the player’ bullshit. And the way Leia and Gwen literally LAUGH and are PROUD of Leia basically giving Jay a mental breakdown is disgusting. Which is why I hated making gifs for Geia in that episode.

[phecdasolar]

HEY HEY HEY TRAFFICBLR I RETURN WITH ANOTHER FIC IDEA SO BUCKLE UP

Okay so, I adore reaction fics, they’re my absolute favorite breed of fanfic, whether it be the characters watching their show/media, or there’s an unseen spectator, living through the events with the cast, I just adore the concept okay! So picture this:

3rd Life, but none of the participants know each other, other than this little feeling in the back of their head like ‘I feel like we’ve met before but idk where or when.’ Now, here’s where the unseen spectator aspect gets added!

While all the 3rd Lifers are going on about the game as we know, the Hermits (and Empires ppl if you want) who didn’t participate, and who DO know and remember their friends, are watching them with ZERO CONTEXT as to what’s going on!! The second all the participants got snatched up to play the death game, so did the Hermits, but they got put in spectator mode!

So they’re all having to stand there, completely helpless and unable to interfere, as their friends go to war and start murdering each other!!! And even when they die, they can see the ghosts of their friends but the ghosts can’t see them!!

Like dude there’s so many events in 3rd Life that would definitely cause a few heart attacks and/or tears, but picture the cactus ring!! Grian and Scar, circling each other, fists bloody, the bloodthirsty ghosts of their deceased friends howling in their ears, screaming for more blood! More pain! More death! Until there’s only one life left-!

Picture the horror on the Hermits’ faces as the friends they once knew and loved have become twisted near beyond recognition in death.

Picture their fear when Grian wins, and shuffles over to the cliff by Pizza’s grave, dripping red, eyes dead, wings limp, ghosts still HOWLING for blood, and they realize what comes next.

Picture the terror and screams that fall on deaf ears as they try to hold him back but their invisible hands find no purchase and he plummets.

Picture the horror when they all wake up and the severity of the situation sinks in. Memories are returned, realizations are had, panic attacks occur, and now those who weren’t participants have 8 heavily traumatized Hermits to deal with, ntm Empires having their 3 traumatized emperors(?) as well!

AND then there’s also the case of Martyn, BigB, and Skizz, who to my knowledge were not on any specific SMP at the time of the series, so for the sake of plot instead of sending them to the void like Martyn in that one fic (love that btw <3) they can spawn in on Hermitcraft or Empires to make things angstier! As a treat uwu (Martyn preferably on Hermitcraft bc haha Dogwarts angst!)

I hope that came out as somewhat understandable, but yeah! If anyone likes this idea and wants to write it then by all means, please go for it!! Just credit me for the idea, @ me or send me the link and we’re all good :D if I had the time and patience to write this myself I would but alas I shall leave it up to the community~ And even if no fics come of this, it’s still a cool idea, no? ;]

[resplendentdare]

Meet the Mun

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

I wanted to write someone Stranger Things related but I was far too nervous and intimidated to write a canon character so I decided to create an OC! And thus, Saskia was born.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Honestly, not much! I guess the only thing I'm not a massive fan of is smut but that's just because I think I'm not good at it lmao.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

I love writing everything; romance, angst, fluff, horror... you name it.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

I get heavily inspired by the world around me; books, movies, shows, music - they all give me ideas for headcanons.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

I almost always have something on in the background, either music on Spotify or I have Euphoria or Skins playing on the TV since those shows really get me in the zone of writing Saskia.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

Unless I've planned something plot wise, I wing everything.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

I'm a shipping whore, I just want my baby to be loved lmao.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Buffy.

ᴀɢᴇ?

26.

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

17th August.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Blue and red.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

Labour - Paris Paloma

Tomboy - (G)I-DLE

Live to Survive - MØ

TV - Billie Eilish

Unforgiven - LE SSERAFIM

Playing With Fire - Blackpink

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Freaks of Nature.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Supernatural.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Kill This Love - Blackpink.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Sushi.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Summer.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

I got two; @fatalframez and @ragewithinthestorm <33

Tagged by: @bestiadentro Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it!

[inbetweenknacksandnooks]

Rules

DNI If you're homophobic transphobic, or a man.

I'm only going to be writing for characters I'm comfortable with writing. Any characters in red on my masterlists are characters I won't write for. I might eventually be able to write for them, as the main thing that might be putting me off might just be a lack of knowledge about them, personality-wise, backstory-wise, or otherwise. So while a character might be in the red as of now, that doesn't mean it'll be like that forever.

I will NOT write for male characters from any of the fandoms I'm in.

Likewise, I also WON'T be writing for M!Reader ever.

I can't do X OCs, and will instead do X Readers. If your OC has a specific quirk, or something unique that you want me to translate into my writing (ex: you have an OC that's a really bossy Halovian with black wings and is a "bad singer" and you want them to be shipped with Robin) then make it less specific. Like say something like, "Could you do a Bossy!Reader X Robin and throw in how their first date would go?" or something along those lines. Basically, narrow down your OC, and disguise it as a Reader request. This rule is primarily put in place so that others who decide to read don't feel alienated because it's too specific.

I'm absolutely chill with angst of nearly-all kinds of angst, though I might be a bit rusty. However, I won't do suicide angst, angst of active abuse (angst reflecting on past abuse is fine, though). My angst needs to have a happy/non-sad ending no matter the kind.

Smut-Specific Rules

DO NOT REQUEST SMUT OF CHARACTERS I'VE LABELED IN PURPLE

Nothing with typically-gross fetishes or kinks (p!ss, feces, r@pe, CnC, I personally can't do anal, so I won't.), but I'm fine with lighter stuff (foodplay, BDSM, temperature play and similar stuff)

Don't expect top-tier stuff

I usually prefer for my p0rn to have a plot. Not necessary to put it into the request, but it's heavily advised, so that I'll know where to go and so that I'll have more ideas on what to do.

If you're not sure what's allowed, then just ask me.

Not really rules, just warnings on how I write.

I'll usually be writing for GN!Reader, Fem!Reader, or AFAB!Reader. I can probably write for MtF!Reader, but I'm not trans myself, so it'll probably be clunky and noticeably off for me to write for that if it's a steamy scene.

I'll likely only do smut if it's requested. If I do write smut, I'll mostly be focusing on the thoughts and feelings of the Reader character, rather than sensations or what exactly is happening.

I don't tend to make the Reader very generic in terms of their reactions, or backstories (if they have them). They aren't exactly my self-insert, it's just that I find it fun to think up some backstory or other scenarios the Reader has been in. Just pretend it's an RP or something and roll with it. If you want me to avoid doing this, you can put something in with your request.

My main strengths are headcanons, and fanfics. Drabbles are not my strong-suit because making something 100 words or less makes me sad (Booo! Get off of Tumblr, Nack!). I get that non-drabble works are not for everyone, so the closest thing you'll get to it would be my headcanons.

If I do angst I need it to have a happy ending. You have been warned.

You CAN request multiples. You can even request more than 3! However, keep in mind, that if it gets beyond 5 characters I WILL split the post into parts so that they can all be detailed and nice-looking.

With all of that sorted and out of the way, I hope you enjoy this blog!

[lolthswcrn]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

respond to the prompts out of character!

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? Hyperfixation is my only reason tbh lol. Sornin was my first and only BG3 PC, and as I played him more and more, I wanted to explore his character and write him. The BG3 community was exceptionally active where the Dragon Age one has come to a halt (once more), so I decided what the heck.

is there anything you don’t like to write? Introduction threads are awkward and forced, I find. I don't really care to have them unless they're exciting in one way or another. I also don't like to write scenes that have already been played out in the media (game, movie, whatever). I'd rather just skip over it and focus on the muses at hands and how they can interact with each other.

is there anything you really enjoy writing I like most things, lol. I really like putting muses into situations where they are FORCED to interact and discover each other, though. Things that get reactions out of them, that make their characters grow and connect. I love relationship building. I also love pining :'D It's been a long time since I've had a really in depth relationship with my muse(s), and I miss it. The angst, the fluff, everything... I miss that, but I do feel like I just haven't had that... connection with anyone for a long time (and maybe that's just on me because I'm in a state of permanent tiredness and busy).

how do you come up with headcanons? Entirely randomly, lol. It's not something I actively sit down and plan, they usually just hit me right outta nowhere lol. Then I'm like OH! That's a thing for my muse!? Okay, let's write that out so we remember and can explore that!

do you write in silence or do you play music? Music is my life, lol. Music is ALWAYS playing. If I don't have music playing, then just assume I'm dead.

do you plan your replies or wing them? I generally wing them. Again, I've not had much time to REALLY sit down and plot with someone, so I usually just open up to reply and my hands do the rest. *shrug*

do you enjoy shipping? Yeeeeessssss please. All the ships <3

what’s your alias/name?  Owl.

age?  33.

birthday?  October 20th.

favourite colour?  Red.

favourite song?  Show Me How to Live by Royal Hunt. 10 minutes of pure emotional power/progressive metal.

last movie you watched?  Terminator 2: Judgement Day. Hasta la vista, baby.

last show you watched?  I'm rewatching True Blood.

last song you listened to?  Kingmaker by Pretty Maids.

favourite food?  Chocolate (: Sushi.

favourite season?  Late Autumn, winter.

do you have a tumblr best friend? No, I'm too old and boring for most people lol.

Tagged: Stole from @never-surrender :) Tagging: Steal it from me!

[aster-tiger]

The Raging Witch

Law x OFC, Zoro x OFC, Luffy x OFC, Zoro x Luffy, Law x Zoro, Law x OFC x Zoro

Warnings: swearing, pr0n with plot, shameless smut, bisexuality, consensual k!nk, 3some, b0ndage, emotional slow burn, developing relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, bonding, mating (not abo), post Punk Hazard, post Dressrosa, changing pov (no head hopping), mm relationship, mmf relationship, english is not my first language, no beta we die like men

You can find the whole story on AO3

Chapter 23: The battle

The man sitting across from her stared at her in silence. The red eyes were the only visible part of his body. He was entirely covered in black leather clothes and his face was obscured by a leather mask.

His huge body towered over her and made her feel small, the giant black wings only amplified the effect. But the most off putting was the flame burning on his back.

She came to Onigashima with several other girls to entertain at the Beast Pirates’ party.

The moment she set foot on the island she was led away from the other courtesans.

She was guided to a huge sitting room with tatami matts and two portale tables, one small and one huge. They were both laden with alcohol, but not sake. It was rum, vodka, gin, cognac and tequila.

She hoped she wasn't expected to drink all of it. She could drink just fine but a mix like that would make her pray to the porcelain gods for hours.

She kept her head bowed and waited until the huge man would say anything, but he took his time and she grew bored.

What was the deal with men in Wano and the silent treatment?

She raised her head and met his gaze. He was staring at her anyway, so fuck the pleasantries.

"Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?"

"I was told you were searching for me," his voice was a lot smoother than she expected from a man with his reputation.

"I am searching for my father," Rage replied with slightly creased brows. "My mother was not a petite woman but she wouldn't be able to accomodate a man of your stature."

He looked at her like she was stupid. 

"Don't play dumb with me, if you want to live," he stated as if he was giving her an advice.

She arched a brow. "Fine."

"Show me the scars."

She was expecting it, so she wore her kimono loosely and skipped a few layers. She turned around and pulled her arms from the abundant sleeves. The garment fell from her shoulders and pooled around her waist.

There were two vertical scars on her back, designed to suggest that a pair of wings was once cut off from her back.

"When did this happen?" he asked in an icy tone.

She imagined he was displeased with the idea of losing his precious wings. She would gladly be the one to chop them off for him.

"I have no memory of the incident that gave me the scars and my mother never spoke about it. May I cover myself?"

"You may."

She pulled her clothes on and turned to face him.

"I've heard you can fight," he mentioned casually. "Show me."

The door to the room slid open and several men walked in. They were all gifters, their bodies were modified by the artificial devil fruits.

So he wanted her to fight them. She had no problem with that. She pulled on the decorative belt and dropped it to the ground along with the opulent outer layer of the kimono.

Apparently the Beast Pirates were planning to fight her one on one, but she had other plans.

She summoned haki to her arms and legs and with extra speed she jumped between them. She punched the first one underneath the sternum. He bent in half, she drove an elbow into the back of his head and threw a kick behind her, striking another pirate underneath the chin. His head snapped back and he almost fell down. 

She didn't have time to follow up. She had to spin away and block a punch thrown at her middle. She intercepted the arm and with all her strength she dropped to the ground. There was a loud snap and the arm gave under her hold, twisting unnaturally.

The gifter roared with anger and threw her against a wall. She spun in the air so she wouldn't crash. Instead she pumped haki into her feet and pushed from the wall with extra speed.

She crashed into the gifter, her fist aimed at the bridge of his nose. They both crashed against the opposite wall. The bone under her first cracker and blond spilled all over the pirate's face. She followed with another bone crunching punch and stepped back. His body sagged and started sliding to the floor so she helped him get down faster with a kick to the top of his head.

She spun around and went all out on the rest of the gifters.

She didn't pull her punches or hide her speed and strength, there wasn't any time to play the long game. 

Kin'nemon's plan was already in motion, miraculously unhindered by Luffy's stupidity. In three weeks the revolution would start. The Red Scabbards would try to overthrow the shogun and take down Kaido. She had limited time to find and secure her target. If the alliance succeeded she'd have more time to reach her goal. But if the revolution failed, she'd have to act quickly.

Soon she was standing amongst broken and bloodied bodies. Her clothes and hands were smeared with blood. She wiped her hands in the fur of one of the pirates and sat opposite King. She reached for the nearest bottle and took a drink. It was tequila and she feigned a cringe at the beverage. It was a lot stronger than Wano's alcohol. As a person born and raised in Wano she wouldn't be accustomed to drinking such strong liquor.

The taste brought back memories of wild parties. She missed having fun at a club.

"I see you don't pull your punches," King's voice broke the silence.

She caught his gaze with a crooked smile.

"Was I supposed to go easy on them?"

He didn't answer, just stared at her.

"You would just send stronger men to fight me. Why bother?"

He looked towards the door and yanked his chin. More people poured into the room to carry out the unconscious gifters.

King motioned his head again, this time at Rage. Someone came closer and stood behind her. Next she new, something cold touched her neck and all her strength fizzled out. Her head hit the floor and her vision swam, distorting the view of King's huge body.

It all went away as quickly as it happened when the cold thing pressing on her neck was removed.

"So you are a devil fruit user," King's voice reverberated through the room.

She pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her nose caught a whiff of a strange smell and she tensed up.

She turned her head and saw a broad chest covered in coarse hair and clad in a black kimono. Her eyes traveled up and met a cruel gaze of deep set beady eyes.

It was the fucker who hurt Yoshiko.

He was holding a baton covered in sea stone.

She let disassociation fall over her to cut off the burning fury that exploded inside her.

She swept her gaze over the goat bastard and dismissed him, turning to King.

"I am not like your men," she declared, her tone calm and even.

"Show me," it was an order.

Like hell I will.

She braced herself for the pain. But she couldn't stop the agonized scream when the transformation began.

It was pure pain of muscles being torn from ligaments and bones being broken.

When the pain subsided it wasn't relief that she felt. No. It was pure resignation. She wanted to curl up and die.

A sudden rush in the bond felt like a slap. Zoro's consciousness became more vivid despite the distance between them. 

He prodded angrily like he wanted to say "Stop sulking and get up, you have shit to do."

Alright, alright, stop nagging.

She shoved at the bond and he backed out grumpily.

There was a flash of Law's exasperation, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

She took a deep breath and the tension in her body uncoiled. The brief interaction with her mates soothed the anguish caused by the transformation.

She pushed from the floor and coiled her tail to sit on it.

The floor around her was a mess. The table was toppled over. All the bottles were shattered and the liquor was spilled all over the floor. The air reeked of strong spirits.

She disregarded the mess and found King's red gaze. He was staring impassively, but the flame behind his head seemed brighter.

"This is the extent of the magical powers. It's not very useful. The only advantage is that sometimes I don't feel anything. It is very convenient in certain situations."

The silence stretched, while he stared. The flame on his back flared, casting ominous shadows on the walls.

The only sound was the rasping breath of the vile goatman. She wanted to tear out his windpipe so the aggravating sound would stop.

But it would be too quick death for him. She wanted him to suffer for every child whose finger was on the disgusting necklace around his neck.

"You will stay on Onigashima," King declared, disrupting her bloodthirsty thoughts.

"In what capacity my lord?"

"I will accept you as my daughter," he answered and reached to unclasp his mask. He pulled it off and revealed his face.

To Rage's surprise his looks were stunning. His brown skin contrasted with his silvery white hair. The left side of his head was shaved. There was a tattoo covering the skin from his ear to his left eye. He was quite a looker.

"Thank you, my lord," she bowed her head. "May I have a request as your daughter?"

"You don't waste time," he stated dryly, displeased with her words.

Typical of men who abandoned their offspring and didn't feel obliged to make up for years of absence.

He probably thought it was so generous of him to even accept his own child.

"The man standing behind me stole something that wasn't his to take. I would like to take it back."

"And what was that?"

"He raped a child."

"Was it your child?"

"No."

"Then I deny your request. If you want to join Beast Pirates you should get used to men doing whatever they like."

____________________

As soon as he escaped from prison, he headed towards Amigasa Village.

He could sense Zoro was heading in the same direction. So he pulled on the bond in hopes of meeting sooner with the swordsman.

Halfway to the village he met with his crewmates who were on their way to bust him out from the prison. They filled him in on recent developments. 

The plan was in place. Straw Hat took over the mines in Udon and the mafia leaders showed up with their underlings. The Straw Hats cook broke out the samurai loyal to the Kozuki clan from shogun's prison. And Zoro stumbled upon a stash of weapons. There were ships being prepared to transport the troops to Onigashima in a few days.

He sent away his crew and promised to meet them the next day.

He knew he should go with them. It was safer, wiser. But he needed to see Zoro, needed to see for himself that the swordsman was alright. He needed to touch his mate, to feel him one last time before they went into battle.

It could be their last chance to be together.

Rage was already gone and out of reach at Onigashima. Right under the enemy's nose.

Every day he was bombarded with her pain, anger, the empty void of detachment. There wasn't even a sliver of her cheeky happiness anymore. It was all hard focus and pain.

He was afraid she wouldn't survive Onigashima. The thought that he wouldn't see her ever again paralyzed him.

He needed Zoro. He needed to see at least one of his mates, feel them, hear their voice. 

This wouldn't happen if you weren't so greedy.

He wouldn't feel like this if he never bonded. But he wanted a shortcut and chose to bond to make up for all the time he lost.

And now he was petrified to lose it all.

Because it was the best thing that happened to him in his entire life. He was so greedy he wanted it all to last forever.

"Look who's back, it's the spoiled brat."

In front of one of the run down houses stood Daria, Rage's quack of a medic. As usual she was smoking a cigarette. There were blood stains on her hands and on the loose strands of her green hair.

"Fuck off," Law replied without slowing his stride. "How many patients have you lost today?" He spat out with disgust.

A satisfied smirk crawled on her lips. "Two didn't make it through surgery."

He toyed with the idea of killing her after the whole debacle was over. Rage would be angry for a while, but she would get over it. She didn't have the same relationship with Daria like she had with Mira.

The quack laughed at the death stare he sent her. He walked away, she wasn't worth anymore of his attention.

Zoro was right in front of him, standing beside two beautiful women.

He yanked at the bond and their eyes met.

The swordsman's attention focused on him and everything else didn't matter anymore.

Zoro walked towards him, grabbed him by his wrists and pulled him down the road through the village.

"Toaro! You're here!" Someone shouted to his left. "Where have you been?"

"Later," Zoro snapped in response.

He led Law to a small house on the outskirts of the village. As soon as the door was closed behind them they're lips collided in a hungry kiss.

Law pulled aside the kimono to touch Zoro's skin. He glided his palms over the wide span of the swordsman's chest, reveling in every second of the contact. 

He wanted more.

He pulled at the belt and let it fall to the floor. Then he dropped to his knees and took Zoro's cock in his mouth. He didn't tease the swordsman, like he liked to do. This time he swallowed him whole on the first go, greedy for the feeling of the heavy cock stuffing his throat.

Zoro's surprised grunt reverberated in the room, and he grabbed Law's head to slow his movement. 

Law obliged him. He wanted Zoro to feel good, he wanted to feel his pleasure in their shared connection.

"I'm going to come," Zoro's strained words reached his ears.

He couldn't decide if he wanted the swordsman to come in his mouth, to taste the cum on his tongue. Or if he'd rather have Zoro come around Law’s cock, while he fucked him into oblivion.

The decision was made for him, when Zoro pulled away with a sharp jerk of his hips.

The swordsman kneeled beside Law and caught his lips in an openmouthed dirty kiss.

Law pushed Zoro to the floor and lodged his hips between his partner's legs. He shoved their erections together and got irritated at his own kimono being in the way of full contact.

He pried his hands from Zoro's skin, yanked his belt off and shook off his kimono. 

He pushed his cock against Zoro's, reveling in the contact. Their cocks were dripping with precum that was smeared all over their lengths with every move.

He pushed his tongue into Zoro's mouth, craving more of the swordsman's taste.

He sped up, his movement becoming more frantic. He was enveloped in his mate's scent, had Zoro’s taste on his tongue and could feel his warm skin and hard cock. 

The bond was wide open, they felt everything together. It was but a moment until they'd drown in pleasure.

Strong legs wrapped around his lower back to still his hips. Zoro's arms pushed at his shoulders, disengaging their mouths.

Law almost whined at the loss.

Zoro's green eye pinned him with a firm stare.

"Slow down," Zoro uttered, framing Law's face with his hands. "We have time, so fuck me properly."

Law took several calming breaths, pushing down the frantic neediness. "Ok."

Zoro smirked and tipped his head to give Law a kiss so soft he would never expect it from the swordsman.

Zoro let go of Law’s face and reached into the opulent sleeves of his kimono.

Next he knew, Law was handed a small bottle of lube and a condom.

He smiled at his lover with appreciation.

His own supplies were taken away after he was searched by Hawkins' minions before they threw him into a cell.

He threw the crinkling rectangle to the floor and uncapped the lube. He coated his fingers generously and smeared the lube around Zoro's hole. Pushing the lube inside his ass with one finger.

Zoro grunted and rotated his hips so Law had better access to his ass. The swordsman’s cock rested against his abs, weeping precum profusely.

Law reached with his free hand and stroked the thick cock. He smeared the precum over the tanned skin, reveling in the glistening shine it gave to Zoro's abs.

He caught Zoro's gaze before adding another finger. The swordsman's face was flushed with arousal. Zoro’s gaze lost focus when another finger stretched his ass. He threw his head back with a grunt, exposing the thick column of his throat.

Law leaned to lick his Adam's apple and suck on the heated skin, leaving red marks all over Zoro's throat. He added another finger and felt the vibrations of Zoro's moan under his lips. He bit into the thick muscle on Zoro's neck.

The swordman's desperate moan vibrated again and a strong hand grabbed the back of Law's head.

"Don't bite," Zoro sounded breathless. "I'll come if you do that again."

Law licked the bitten skin.

He twisted his fingers and his fingertips brushed Zoro's prostate.

The swordsman's immense pleasure shot through the bond. Law grunted, pushing down his own orgasm. He removed his fingers swiftly.

With the other hand he reached for Zoro's face to look him in the eye.

"I don't want the condom. I want to feel you on my cock with nothing between us. I want to pump you with my cum," he rasped with need.

A sharp smile stretched Zoro’s lips. "Do it."

Law caught his lips in a brief wet kiss. Then he smeared lube on his cock and pressed the tip against Zoro's loosened ass. He held Zoro's gaze when he slowly pushed inside.

Zoro's lips parted and intense satisfaction flooded the bond. The swordsman's gaze lost focus, but he didn't break eye contact.

Law was fully inside and he had to take a few breaths to gather his wits. He was enveloped in tight warmth that squeezed around him when Zoro clenched his muscles. The sensation was overwhelming. The bond was sucking him in, merging his pleasure with Zoro's. He wanted to feel more, remember more, so he pulled from the bond enough to think clearly.

Holding Zoro's gaze he moved his hips several times at an agonizingly slow pace. He slid his arms under Zoro's shoulders and with a sharp snap he buried himself deep inside the swordsman.

A guttural moan escaped Zoro's lips and he threw his head back, his earrings clinking together.

Law continued his slow but deep thrusts. Each time reveling in how tight and hot Zoro felt around his cock.

He reached to tilt Zoro's head so he could watch his lover's expression every time he was speared with Law’s cock. He loved the wanton sounds that were leaving Zoro's lips. He was the reason for the sounds and he basked in every moan.

"Law," Zoro grunted after another deep thrust. He grabbed Law's hips and pushed them forcefully, adding force to another thrust.

It was Law's turn to let out a strangled moan.

Zoro pushed on Law’s hips again. He let the swordsman control the force of the thrusts for a while.

But enough was enough.

He pulled from the firm grasp and withdrew his cock.

Zoro was opening his mouth to voice his protest but Law flipped him face down.

He straddled the swordsman’s tights and spread his ass cheeks to shove his cock into the gaping hole.

He moved his hips languidly, his cock burying shallowly inside Zoro's ass. 

He enjoyed the view of Zoro's naked back. The muscles flexed exquisitely every time Law pushed forward. 

"Stop teasing," Zoro scolded while twisting his head to look at Law. "Fuck me like you mean it."

"You said we had time," Law kneaded Zoro's firm buttocks then grabbed his waist and thrust deeper. "I rather enjoy the view."

He moved his hands over Zoro's back.

"Enjoy the view when we're all spent."

He could sense Zoro's impatience in the bond.

He leaned down and threaded his fingers through Zoro's hair, grabbing it by the root.

"Ok," he breathed against Zoro's ear.

His chest molded against Zoro's back. With the changed angle his cock was buried deep into the swordsman's clenching ass.

Without any warning he started trusting fast and hard, fucking Zoro into the floor.

The swordsman grunted with appreciation. Then let out a breathless moan when Law sank his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Pleasure exploded in the bond. Law clenched his teeth harder and pumped his hips faster. He pushed against the pleasure in the bond, blocking their orgasm with sheer willpower.

Zoro's fingers scraped against the floor as he writhed under Law. His mind was enveloped in mindless lust constrained by Law's will.

He pushed his hands under Zoro's chest and with one strong move he pulled them both to a kneeling position.

Zoro's swollen cock jutted forward, swinging heavily in the air and dripping precum.

Law wrapped his fingers around the weeping cock, stroking it in the same pace he fucked Zoro's ass.

He bit again into Zoro's heated skin and let go of his grip in the bond.

The constrained pleasure rushed with the force of a shockwave.

He forgot how to breathe, who he was, where he was.

They were one, molded together by the raging wave of overwhelming ecstasy that had no end and no beginning. It was bliss and pain of their bodies violently clenching in simultaneous release.

Their cocks pumped their seed all over their hand and inside them, filling them up.

They crumbled together to the floor, unable to stay upright. Their muscles suddenly too weak to support their bodies.

They laid on the tatami matts, their bodies and minds connected. They didn't try to move or talk, it was unnecessary. Everything they needed to know was in the bond. The satisfied, warm and sated feeling swirled lazily within them, filling them with happiness and love.

The feeling of unity subsided gradually, until Law became conscious of his surroundings. Warm light of the setting sun penetrated the room with its golden glow.

He nuzzled his nose in Zoro's hair, inhaling the swordsman’s scent.

He pulled his cock out and rolled Zoro's boneless body so he could look at the swordsman's face.

He wanted to express what he felt with words but when their gazes connected he realized he didn't need to. Zoro already knew, they both felt it in the bond.

Law leaned down and captured Zoro's lips in a tender kiss.

The anxiety he felt on his way to the village was all gone. Wiped by Zoro's strong belief in their victory.

"We're going to survive this," Law whispered against the swordsman's lips. "And we're going to be together."

He felt Zoro's smirk. In a split second he was sprawled on the floor with the swordsman's broad body pinning him down.

"We will win," Zoro declared with a sharp smirk and caught Law's lips in a firm kiss.

And then fervent shouting carried through the village.

"Luffy!"

Thrilled voices called Straw Hat's name only to be drowned in overjoyed laughter.

"Your captain's here," Law mumbled into the kiss.

"Mhm," Zoro hummed and deepened the kiss, preventing Law from speaking.

They cleaned themselves the best they could with the small amount of water they found in the house. They put on their clothes and went out to meet with the Straw Hat's captain.

Alarm bells rang in his head the moment the center of the village came into view.

Rage's crewmates were standing in a loose circle around the crowd that came to greet Luffy.

Law scanned the crowd in search of Rage's first mate. 

She was sitting nonchalantly on a wooden box in front of one of the houses. Mira was casually leaning behind Kisa with her legs crossed at the ankles.

Before Rage went back to Flower Capital she healed Mira's injuries. Law used his powers to provide her with a new leg. He didn't ask who the person donating their leg was or if they were doing it willingly.

He needed to put down Rage's idea of killing Luffy, so he was inclined to look the other way this one time.

It seemed Mira was adjusting well to the new limb. Rage was happy to see her walk. And hopefully the murder plan was tanked. 

Or so he thought.

By the looks of it, Rage's crew didn't get the memo and they were preparing an attack.

Law pushed through the circle of women and made a large room to signal he wouldn't be putting up with any of their shit.

"What do you think you're doing?" He addressed Kisa.

Penguin told him that the woman came back with one of the mafia bosses she was assigned to. After she showed up she immediately took control of her crew as the first mate.

"Everyone wanted to meet the golden boy," she replied, giving Law a scrutinizing once over then did the same to Zoro. A faint smirk pulled at the corner of her lips.

"Hey!" Straw Hat stood in front of Mira. "You're the one who tried to help me when Kaido knocked me down. Thank you and I'm sorry you lost your leg."

He stood still, his eyes fixed on Mira.

She pushed from the wall and offered him her hand.

"I will forgive you if you'll win Rage back," she said with a smile. "And bond with her."

He didn't make any move for a while, just stared at Mira. Then he shook her hand.

"It's a deal."

A loud snicker sounded on the street.

"He'll never make it," the crazy blond girl, Annika, laughed. "Once Rage hates someone, that bitch is as good as dead." 

"Shut your mouth," Zoro snapped in response.

"What's so special about him anyway?" Jessie, the mechanic asked. "He looks like he has two brain cells left that can't find each other in his empty head."

"Hey! Watch your mouth!" Several of the Straw Hats protested.

"He's not even good looking and he's short," Daria joined in, her hair was still stained with dried blood. "I bet he has a small dick too."

"He can inflate," Zoro drawled and gave Daria the bird.

"What the fuck moss head for brains!" The Straw Hats' cook protested. "Have you ever heard of the term TMI?"

"Shut up, stupid cook," Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so he's bi!" Annika laughed again. "Then he could be stupid, short, have a small dick and Rage would still fuck him. She has a soft spot for bi boys."

Law glanced at Luffy, who watched everything with one brow raised.

He nudged Zoro's side with his elbow. "Why are we talking about my dick in front of everyone?"

A bout of sinister laughter rolled around the village's center.

A sharp whistle shot through the air. "Ok, ladies, enough of the friendly banter. Gather up, we have some introductions to do."

At Kisa's order the women moved to stand together.

Law noticed there were only a few of them still missing. Makonde and two of the dark skinned silent women were nowhere to be seen.

Kisa remained sitting on the wooden box with Mira standing silently beside her.

"Straw Hat Luffy, let me introduce Rage's bounty hunting crew The Raging Witches."

All their gazes were focused on Luffy like he was a target to eliminate with extreme prejudice.

"Hey," Luffy raised his hand in greeting like he was oblivious to the death stares.

"Sanji," Kisa turned to the blond cook. "Rage wanted me to make a special introduction."

The cook looked surprised and Kisa waved towards her crew. The woman parted and Veronica walked to the front. 

She was clad in skin tight leather pants and a corset. Her auburn hair fell in opulent waves on her naked shoulders. She was stunning as always.

"Veronica, this is Blackleg Sanji, second highest bounty of the Straw Hat Pirates. He is an excellent cook and the  third son of the Vinsmoke family," Kisa's voice broke the silence. "Sanji, this is Veronica Fanucci, a sole heiress to Fanucci crime family. She is a real mafia princess, soon to be a queen of the West Blue crime world."

Veronica walked up to the cook with an enticing swing to her hips. Sanji seemed to be frozen in the spot, his cigarette laying on the ground by his feet.

"It's nice to meet you," she greeted in a rich, melodic voice and leaned in to give the cook air kisses on both sides on his face.

Anger vibrated on Zoro's end of the bond. Law glanced at the swordsman, who was glaring daggers at Kisa.

"I'm in love," the cook blurted out suddenly. 

The bond erupted with fury.

The woman chuckled melodically. "How very forward of you Vinsmoke Sanji."

"I'm not a Vinsmoke," the cook shot back with a firm tone.

"That's alright. I can give you my family's name," Veronica offered in a charming manner.

The cook reeled back, disbelief painted on his face. "Are you asking me to marry you?" Unease was clear in the cook's voice.

"Yes, darling. However I need to make it very clear, I will require both a husband and a wife. Me and my wife would need to give birth to at least one child each. Also as the head of the crime family I would require my husband's full support in maintaining my position. If you find my conditions agreable, I would be delighted to have you as my male spouse."

Zoro was seething and Luffy's eyes were obscured by the rim of his hat. 

But the cook melted. 

The proposal was a dream come true for someone so focused on chasing women. He would be marrying not one stunningly beautiful woman, but two. Two women who he was supposed to fuck and breed.

"No," came a loud statement from Luffy, who was glaring at Kisa.

"The offer was not meant for you, Luffy," she brushed him off  with a tone meant for a small child. "You want to bond for life with Rage. Don't you want something similar for your nakama?"

"He doesn't know her at all."

"Veronica and Rage have a lot in common. You wanted Rage from the moment you met her and insisted on a lifelong commitment just after a week. Why would you deny Sanji a similar experience?" 

Law didn't approve of the whole situation but he was impressed. She had Luffy in the palm of her hand. Either he could protest and admit that bonding with Rage was a reckless decision. But then he would break his promise to Mira. Or he could step down, giving in to the manipulation. Either way, she had him.

"Bullshit," Zoro snarled, his voice seething with anger. "If Rage and the walking doll are so alike, why does the cook get the opportunity to be a father and we don't?"

Law would smile at the swordsman's brilliance, if it wasn't for Kisa's satisfied smile.

"Because Sanji is so much different from both of you. He vowed never to hit or harm women. You can't say the same about yourselves. I've seen marks on Rage's skin that you left. Would you ever hit your woman, Sanji?"

The cook snapped his head towards Kisa. "I would never do that."

There was a wave of chuckling from Rage’s crew, the tones varied from dark, to amused to pearly giggles. Some of the women were eyeying the cook like a toy they just couldn't wait to play with.

"She asked for those brui-" Zoro's protest was cut short by dirt exploding in the spot where Sanji was standing.

The cook landed a few feet away, managing to avoid the blast, but had to dodge blades flying at his chest. He stepped to the side, managing to pick one of the blades from the air.

"That's mine," a woman with crimson hair jumped in front of the cook, raising her hand for the blade.

She was so thin and pale she seemed delicate, her slick hair was brushed back reaching only the nape of her neck. Her yellow eyes seemed to be too big for her slim face and the sharp smile could match Zoro's most feral grin. Everything about her screamed danger.

"Please don't throw it at me again, miss." The cook answered, presenting her the knife handle first.

"Ok," she smiled even wider while slipping the knife in a holster strapped to her tight. Then launched an rapid kick at the cook, followed by another when he jumped back.

She was a flurry of movement, throwing punches and kicks with vicious force and precision. Her fighting style was similar to Rage's, but she didn't get blank and impersonal like Rage did. This woman was emanating killing intent so thick it was unnerving even for Law.

The cook was dodging most of her attacks, but didn't even make an attempt to block her. Which was a glaring mistake. When the first punch landed she seemed to gain speed and viciousness, like a shark smelling blood.

Law glanced towards Kisa. The woman was following the fight with a stoic expression, her body at ease.

She caught Law's gaze. "Don't interfere," she warned. "Mira might have forgiven Straw Hat, but the rest of the crew did not. There needs to be blood spilled for them to even consider working together again."

Law grit his teeth. This wasn't an easy situation to handle. Luffy did make a huge mistake. If making amends meant one of his crew got roughed up it was a low price to pay.

Zoro's side of the bond became deathly still. The swordsman was standing by Luffy's side, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump into the fight.

There was a strangled grunt coming from the cook and Law looked back to the fight. 

The woman delivered a fist to the cook's sternum. The force of the blow threw him back. He found his footing and was gone in a blink of an eye. He appeared a second later, high above them, hovering in the air.

The feral woman vanished the moment she spotted him. She appeared behind the cook with a kick aimed to his head. She struck him and he crashed into the ground. She followed him down with a knife in hand. 

The cook threw out his hand to block the blade. It sliced right through his palm, sinking up to the handle. 

Blood splattered on the cook's face. The woman grinned manically and reached for another blade. 

She went flying, tackled by Luffy's steaming body.

The Straw Hat's captain sprang after her. He knocked her into the ground with a sickening sound of shattering bones. Luffy grabbed her by the collar and yanked her up with a loud sneer.

"Don't go after Sanji ever again," he growled.

He punched her in the face so hard she was thrown back with another sound of breaking bones. She landed motionless, right by Kisa's feet.

The first mate didn't move an inch, as if she wasn't fazed with her teammate being injured. She reached into the sleeve of her kimono and produced a swirling ball of energy. One of Rage's healing techniques.

Kisa passed the ball to Veronica.

"Give this to Sanji, so he can heal."

The leather clad woman obliged without a word, she took the ball and brought it to the cook. She kneeled on the ground by his side and offered him the ball with a gentle smile.

The cook looked mesmerized. He reached out with his injured hand, the knife still lodged in his palm.

Veronica grabbed the handle and yanked the blade out without an ounce of hesitation. Then she pushed the swirling ball into the wound, lacing her fingers with Sanji's.

The cook's body tensed and a strained grunt escaped him. He leaned forward with gritted teeth and his free hand squeezed into a tight fist. But the hand laced with Veronica's didn’t even twitch.

Then it was all over and the cook was panting with relief.

"That was impressive," Veronica praised in her rich voice. "You are perfect. I hope you will consider my proposal."

She brought his bloodied hand to her lips and placed a tender kiss on his knuckles. Then she pulled him up and made sure he could stand on his own. She released his hand and with a last smile walked away to stand with her crew.

"You went too far," Luffy spoke, steam still swirling angrily around him. "I'm the one at fault. If you want revenge, beat me up, not my nakama."

"But then you wouldn't understand how Rage felt when Mira was crippled. It's another level of pain when your nakama get hurt because of you," she answered, unbothered by his anger. "Isn't that right Kira?" She spoke to the woman on the ground.

One glance was enough for Law to know that the feral woman had most of her ribs broken. She was fighting for every gulp of air. Half of her face was disfigured and bleeding from the force of the punch. One of her eyes was already swollen shut.

"I didn't punch her that hard," Luffy admitted with a deep frown. He stood next to Zoro, his body was back to normal.

"She has fragile bones," Kisa explained without turning her gaze from the woman by her feet. "That's enough, Kira. Get up." 

The redhead let out a wet gurgle that sounded like a morbid chuckle. She rolled to her side, put her hands on the ground and pushed herself to a sitting position. Her chest had an unnatural shape.

Law's instincts screamed to go help the injured woman. She could have a ruptured or collapsed lung. Her ribs were broken and dislocated, it could cause more injuries if she moved around. She could have a concussion. The swelling over her eye could cause optic nerve damage. He couldn't just stand and watch.

There was a ripple over the woman's rib cage, like something was moving under her skin. With a series of loud snaps her chest regained a healthy shape. 

The redhead pushed her body up, standing jerkily to her feet.

"Fix your face," Kisa ordered.

The rippling of skin was caused by bone snapping into place. The edges of her broken skin were knitting together, the swelling going down in a manner of seconds.

The woman looked exactly the same as she did before attacking the cook. The only difference was blood smeared all over her face.

Her lips stretched in a feral grin.

Law's skin crawled after the morbid show. "Are you a devil fruit user?"

The woman slowly turned her head from right to left, her intense gaze focused on Law.

Mira took a step forward. "Kira can heal really fast and she doesn't feel pain. She's a perfect decoy. An enemy thinks he took her down, he turns his back on a broken woman lying on the ground and he gets stabbed in the kidney."

"You are all insane," Law spat with disgust.

"That may be true," Kisa replied, standing tall. "But we get the job done without stupid mistakes."

_____________________

"Drink up old man, you're falling behind!" She knocked her bottle of sake against a barrel that stood in front of her.

"I should throw you into the dungeon for your insolence, you brat," Kaido rumbled without any heat in his voice. A crooked smile stretched on his face.

"You wouldn't, I'm your best drinking buddy," she replied with a wide grin and took a long drink from the bottle. Her powers were amped to flush the alcohol from her system as quickly as possible.

Kaido snickered then grabbed the barrel and drank all its contents in one go.

"That's more like it, grampa!" She yelled, then turned to the other pirates. "Hey, sing that song about the ugly whores!"

King put down his bottle with a loud thud. "Behave yourself!" he scolded. "Act like a proper woman of your status."

"But daddy," he pouted theatrically, "I'm a courtesan born and raised. I did all those things from the song. Are you ashamed of me?"

King's jaw clenched so hard she could hear his teeth grinding over the music.

Kaido’s laughter boomed in the hall.

"Don't aggravate your father, brat. Didn't you learn your lesson from last time?"

She was covered in stitches and bandages. Her ribs hurt every time she took a breath and the pain got even worse when she laughed. The slash on her right cheek stung when she spoke.

It was the effect of the ‘attitude training’ King put her through after she talked back to him.

She suspected he also had an ulterior motive. He wanted her to get stronger. His daughter had to match Kaido's son.

"I'll take whatever comes my way," she winked at King. "I'd rather die than submit to a man's will."

That seemed to strike a chord. Both Kaido and King looked at her with an ominous glint in their eyes.

"But, I will make an exception for Yamato. He is fine as hell," she gazed dreamily towards the door then looked at Kaido with a wide grin. "Hey, gramps, give me your blessing to marry Yamato!"

Kaido roared with laughter.

"Didn't you have a fight?"

"Nah, he was just upset he missed the last orgy. I'll make it up to him."

"What orgy?!" A throbbing vein popped on King's temple.

"Don't get angry at me, daddy. You said men on this crew do whatever they want and I should get used to it. So I didn't stop them," she shrugged and drank the rest of her sake. She didn’t let any of the vile pirates touch her, but she did orchestrate a splendid orgy for them.

She braced for King to hit her, but it didn't heppen.

The large doors were thrown open. Shackled Charlotte Linlin was brought into the room by Queen and his man.

Rage's eyes grew big in surprise and her heart skipped a beat.

She heard that Big Mom's ship approached Wano, but King struck it down and it toppled from the waterfall.

Why was Big Mom alive? Why was she here?

"So you've shown your face here at last, Linlin," Kaido rumbled, reaching for his bagua.

"Kaido," she greeted with an ugly grin. "How many decades has it been?"

Kaido his subordinates an angry look. "What are you doing? Take the chains off her!"

The Beast Pirates hesitated. They all looked like they were going to piss their pants. Even Queen looked stressed as fuck.

The moment Big Mom was unshackled she took the sword from her hat.

Both eprerors launched at each other. Their unleashed haki clashed furiously with an ear splitting roar.

The amount of power made Rage freeze in place. Her throat went dry and her heart dropped.

She never felt this much power at once.

The whole island shook as the fighting continued. Thunder rolled through the sky whenever Kaido and Big Mom clashed.

Rage followed their every move, analyzing and searching for weak points.

The fight continued through the night until it came to an abrupt stop. The emperors came to an unexpected agreement to form an alliance to conquer the world.

Kaido and Big Mom sat together while eating and drinking like they were the best of friends.

At one point Big Mom asked King to join her crew. She managed to gather almost all of the world’s races in Toto Land. Only three were missing, Lunarians being one of them and King was the last one of his kind.

He denied her request on the spot without any hesitation, even when she threatened him.

"And who is this little girl?" Big Mom asked with an ominous shine in her eyes.

Rage almost choked on her sake. She was sitting by King's side, hoping to appear insignificant next to his huge form. She wanted to sit in to hear the conversation but she didn't want to be a part of it.

"That brat is King's kid," Kaido supplied between gulps of sake.

Big Mom pursed her fat lips while scrutinizing Rage with her watery eyes.

"She reminds me of someone. Come closer child."

Rage didn't want to go anywhere near the monstrous woman. But she couldn't afford to appear weak and fearful in front of all these pirates.

She stood in front of Big Mom and looked the woman in the eye with a polite smile.

The woman extended her huge arm and brushed Rage's hair from her face. The touch was surprisingly gentle.

"I've seen you somewhere," she stated, her gaze glued to Rage's face.

"She's a splitting image of her mother," Kaido put down his empty bottle. "The Queen of Sin City."

Rage froze. All blood drained from her face and her breath caught in her lungs. 

They knew who she was. Her cover was blown.

"She's the rumored princess of Sin City? The one who was saved by the Straw Hats and Trafalgar Law?" Big Mom brushed Rage's face with a fat finger like she was petting an award winning dog. "Then why did you call her King's daughter?"

A nasty smirk appeared on Kaido’s face. "She came undercover acting as King's bastard daughter, born to one of Wano's whores. Ironically, her real mother slept around so much there's no telling who her real father is. It might as well be King." Kaido took another gulp of sake. "I already have several supernovas under my command. Straw Hat and Eustass Kid are in my prison. It's a matter of time until they'll break and become my underlings. Same with her."

So they played along with the sharade because they wanted her to serve Kaido.

Big Mom made a displeased sound. "Don't be so greedy, Kaido," she shoved a huge piece of meat with a bone into her mouth. She turned her vicious eyes to Rage while she chewed. The bone crunching sound bounced from the walls of the huge dining hall. "So you are one of the Naga. Come to Toto Land, I'd love you to marry one of my children."

A shove in the bond yanked her from the stunned stupor.

"Only one? Sorry lady, but I don't do monogamy," she answered with a weak attempt at a grin.

Big Mom grinned and she patted Rage's cheek.

"A girl after my own heart. Is it true that Naga's link their minds with other people?"

"Yeah, we can do that with as many people as we want and make them obey us." Rage replied with a pleasant smile.

"So where are yours?"

"Why would I need any? I have my own crew that's loyal to death."

"She's bonded with Roronoa Zoro and Trafalgar Law," King replied flatly.

Alarm bells rang in Rage's head. There was a traitor in the alliance!

"So you're here to fight Kaido with the little rebellion?" Big Mom laughed and patted the top of Rage's head.

Rage snorted and smiled wickedly at the huge woman. "Haven't you heard? I was pardoned by the Marines. My wanted poster was recalled and I was granted a bounty hunter's license."

She glanced at Kaido, who stopped drinking and scrutinized her through squinted eyes.

So they didn't have all the information. That was good.

"So what are you doing here pretending to be a common whore?" Kaido asked.

She shrugged and gave him a wide smile. "You're losing your edge old man," she ducked to avoid King's slap. "I'm new to this bounty hunter's game so I'm after easy money and quick fame. Whoever fails, I'll be taking their heads to cash in the bounty."

Big Mum laughed. "You are very brave and very stupid, girl."

"My mom says the same about me," Rage wiggled her brows at the huge woman, making her laugh even louder.

The laughter suddenly stopped and Big Mom looked at her with a wicked smile. "But you made a mistake allying with Straw Hat."

She reached for her giant sword and raised it above her head to strike at Rage.

"You're mistaken," Rage added quickly. "I want Straw Hat Luffy dead."

She poured all her hatred for Luffy into the words and it seemed to pique Big Mom's interest.

"I sense an interesting story," Big Mom put down her sword and reached for her sake. "Tell me, what did he do that you want to betray his little alliance?"

"He betrayed me first."

_________________

She was thrown into a cell, shackled and collared. The sea stone cuffs suppressed her powers and she couldn't heal her injuries.

She was forced to fight one pirate after the other for Kaido's and Big Mom's amusement. If she wasn't putting a maximum effort into giving them a show she would be severely punished. And that fucking bagua delivered a mean blow.

She wasn't given much food except for a watery soup and a half bowl of rice.

She was exhausted. She wanted to sleep, but the guards made sure to wake her up every time she nodded off. When she was so exhausted she didn't wake up to their shouting, they threw seawater on her. So she was curled up in her cell, shivering, weary to the bone and the salty water got into her wounds and stung.

She tried to send a message through the bond to Zoro and Law, but they didn't know the signal. It was the sole time when she regretted breaking the bond with Kisa. Kisa knew the code, five quick pulses through the bond was a signal for being compromised. Three tugs and a burst of power meant traitor.

Why didn't she teach this to her other mates? It was a deplorable neglect on her part.

She was lost in self hatred and went through the darkest possible scenarios. 

She didn't notice when the guards left and Yamato was standing on the other side of the cell door.

"Rage," he called. "Your real name is Rage, right?"

She sat up and stared, sniffing the air. There was only Yamato in the jail block.

"Yeah, I'm Rage D. Veshti," she croaked, her throat was dry and sore. "What do you want?"

"You don't look so good," Yamato stated the obvious without any concern in his voice.

"No shit. Let me out and I'll get better really fast."

Yamato threw her a careful look.

"Was it true what you said to Kaido? That you will side with whoever wins?"

Laughter bubbled in her chest. "Did they send you to soften me up and confess to my ulterior motifs?"

"Answer me, Rage," Yamato's tone was demanding. But there was something in his beautiful eyes that made her pause.

"Why should I trust Kaido's son?"

Yamato raised his arm. There was a silver cuff around his wrist.

"Do you see this? If I try to leave Onigashima the cuffs on my wrists will explode. Kaido didn't want me to run away and fight for Wano's freedom."

"Why would you want to fight for Wano?"

Yamato looked her firmly in the eyes.

"I was there when Kaido killed Oden. I detest my father and I will become the next Oden to free and protect this country."

Rage leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She expected Yamato to be so much more than another Oden's fanatic. This beautiful trans man with stunning looks quickly caught her attention. She went out of her way to befriend him. He was skilled and powerful but in the end he was another deluded idiot.

"I will fight Kaido, I never planned for anything else," she admitted without opening her eyes.

Something hit the floor next to her thigh and a clanging noise reverberated from the walls.

She snapped her head and opened her eyes.

Her cell door was wide open and Yamato held the bars.

"Hurry up then, your friends are here," he jerked his chin towards the floor next to Rage.

There was a key next to her leg. 

She grabbed it and got her shackles off.

The swell of power made her feel much better. She healed the most serious injuries. But she didn't have enough juice to heal herself completely.

For a second she pondered if she should drain Yamato, just to be safe. But after looking at the beautiful man she couldn't bring herself to harm him. She decided to go with her gut feeling and trust Yamato.

"Do you have a key for the collar?" She asked when she walked out of her cell.

"If I had that I would take off my wristbands," he declared with a shake of his head. "The Red Scabbards and their allies are heading to fight Kaido. But Kaido has all his troops gathered here for the feast. The difference in numbers doesn't play in our favor."

"How many Beast Pirates are here?"

"Fifty thousand."

That was a lot. She was counting on some of the troops to be taken down before the Fire Festival. Her girls should have already implemented several plans to mass murder the grunts. Either they didn't succeed or there weren't as many dead as she hoped for. 

"So what's the plan?" she asked Yamato.

"We'll join the Red Scabbards and we will eliminate as many Kaido men as possible on our way."

"Works for me," Rage cracked her neck and ran after Yamato.

She grabbed several men on the way to the ground floor of the castle. Her strength was replenished but she was still hungry. Her reaction time was slower than usual due to being sleep deprived.

The hormones could get her a boost of energy, but she wanted to leave that for the time she really needed it.

Then the battle begun. The shouting of charging men, guns and cannons being fired, the screams of pain. Explosions shook the castle walls.

She used Conqueror’s Haki to put down as many grunts as possible, then she went after the ones still standing. 

She pumped haki into her attack. She struck the first grunt standing in front of her and his body exploded. She covered her face before she was showered in blood, chunks of tissue, bones and the contents of intestines. The stench was abysmal and she regretted using the stupid technique.

She blew a hole in another guy's chest. It looked like an entry wound of a large caliber bullet. Innocent looking entry point in the front and minced meat at the exit point. At least the shit was blown away from her.

She needed to get rid of the collar, it could blow her head off at any moment.

She let out her haki to put down all the beast pirates around her. She closed her eyes and focused all her haki at the one task. One swift pull and the collar was off her neck and flying through the air, right at the new batch of pirates coming her way. It exploded and when the dust settled the corridor was painted red. Some of the pirates were screaming in pain. The one closest to her was waving his arm in the arm, it was squirting blood from blown off hand.

"How did you do that?" Yamato landed beside her, his eyes wide in shock. The chains on his cuffs dangled around his legs.

"Magic," Rage replied dismissively. She had no desire to pull off Yamato's cuffs. He was Kaido's son after all. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially when there was a battle raging all around them.

They made their way forward, Yamato guiding them through the castle. Every now and then the pirates called out to Yamato, urging him to fight on their side.

Rage could sense Zoro and Law, but they weren't in the same place. Law was at the back of the island, while Zoro was close by at the front of the castle.

She followed the pull, ignoring Yamato's calls. She ran into the castle’s live floor, where the fighting seemed the most intense.

There were the samurai, the yakuza, some of the Straw Hat's and her girls! She spotted Zoro the moment when he was hauled into the air by Marco the Phoenix. The swordsman disappeared into a hole in the ceiling. Marco was attacked by a giant pterodactyl.

King.

A shiny object jetting through the air grabbed her attention.

She jumped on the banister, balancing on the crumbling stone, right above the fray. She unleashed her Conqueror's haki in one short burst.

The signal worked and Reid's shinny surfboard was speeding her way. Rage jumped on the board and grabbed onto Reid.

"Take me to the team," she ordered and a few seconds later they landed behind the fighting women. They were lined up in an offensive formation, working together to take out as many opponents as possible.

Makonde and Kisa were right by her side, the moment the board touched the ground.

"Do you have any food?" was the first question that flew out of her mouth.

She was handed two protein bars, the standard rations issued to every team member.

It wasn't much, but the protein and sugar were enough to take the edge off hunger.

"You stink," Kisa scrunched her nose and frowned.

"I'm acutely aware of my state," she replied. Then she pointed to the ceiling, where King was trading blows with Marco. "Bring him down. I want him dead."

__________________

The pain in the bond fritzed his mind for a split second before he slammed shut the connection.

Zoro saved them all from Big Mom’s and Kaido’s combined attack. Law managed to grab him out of the way of the blast and the swordsman crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain.

“Zoro! Are you still alive?”

“Oohf, I…I think so…”

“It’s a real feat you blocked that, if only for a second! Thanks, man!” Even Kid was impressed by Zoro's action.

Meanwhile Luffy charged Kaido  head on, prompted by his anger at Zoro being hurt.

Law didn't have time to assess the damage. They had a plan to get rid of Big Mom. His powers didn't work on the monstrous woman, but a well aimed boulder threw her over the edge and into the sea.

Her cloud was confined by Kid's powers and Zoro slashed to pieces the flame so it couldn't save its owner.

“Hey! Pirate Hunter! Let Prometheus go!” Kaido lunged at Zoro, ready to bash the swordsman into the ground.

Law popped Zoro away and used the moment to aim an attack at Kaido. It only made the emperor angrier and he bashed Law with his bagua.

Law’s back hit the hard rock and his breath was knocked out of him.

“Law! That flame’s gonna go and save Big Mom!” Zoro yelled as the flame and the sword flew over the ledge after Big Mom.

“Let him go, the plan might as well be a failure if anyone dies.”

“The point was to separate the two of them. We’ll deal with Big Mom,” Kid and Killer rushed down after Big Mom to make sure she was dead.

Law found himself the only one standing before Kaido.

Luffy was on the ground, unconscious. Zoro was barely standing, while Kaido laughed standing over Luffy.

“Even while unconscious he still stares at me. What should I crush first? Those eyes or his brain? Maybe his heart?”

“Listen, Law,” Zoro reached for his swords between strain breaths. “What I’m about to do is the limit of my ability.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“If we can’t break through, we die. After this, it’s all you!” Zoro put a sword between his teeth and pumped haki into his arms. “Hey! Kaido! That’s my captain.”

The swordsman's energy was swirling around him. The sword Enma shined with ominous energy. Zoro lunged at Kaido, swinging his swords and directing all the energy into the blow.

A wide slash cut through Kaido’s skin. Blood burst from the wound and covered the scales on his chest.

“Boy, don’t tell me you can use conqueror's haki too!” Kaido looked surprised while he turned to Zoro.

Law did feel something resembling conqueror's haki. But he didn’t have time to dwell on the issue because Kaido aimed his bagua at Zoro. The swordsman was crumpled on the ground, unable to move. But when Law moved to get him, Kaido aimed his attack at Law and knocked him back. This time Law tasted blood in his mouth.

He heard another attack and agony erupted on Zoro’s side of the bond.

Kaido stood over them, barely out of breath.

“What a shame. If you’d come with me, we could have conquered the world…”

“With you?" The unexpected voice startled Law. "We’d never go with you, idiot. We love the samurai. Mark my words, you’re going down.”

Luffy was on his feet, facing away from Law. His head was bowed and his voice grave.

"After taking that hit from your club, I figured it out. You can infuse things with conqueror's haki."

Kaido burst out laughing. In a split second he lunged at Luffy.

"Only a handful of the very strongest can! Not a dead man walking!"

Kaido's hit didn't land. Luffy blocked the bagua without even touching it. A split second later he delivered a blow to Kaido's gut and followed with a haki infused blow to his jaw.

Kaido was knocked down and Luffy cracked his knuckles.

"Zoro, Torao, thanks for protecting me. You can go down now. I'm going to beat him no matter what it takes. Go ahead and let everyone know!"

"Quit your pathetic yapping," Rage's cutting voice carried around the roof.

Law turned his head. His gaze found Rage and five other women from her crew walking towards Kaido.

Her clothes and skin were smeared with blood. Her hair was singed and there were burn marks on her clothes. There were cuts and bruises on her skin which made Law worried. She should have healed that easily, why didn’t she use her powers?

When he peeked into the bond he found it throbbing with power. But it felt different than usual, it was forcefully pumped to the brim.

Rage was dragging something behind her. There was a shag of white hair wrapped around her fist.

She swung her arm and the object went flying.

Law's eyes went wide in horror when the severed head rolled on the ground in front of Kaido.

The emperor stared. His face was frozen in disbelief. For a long moment he didn't move, then his eyes switched to Rage.

"You killed Alber," his voice was ice cold.

"Was that his real name?" Rage scowled in distaste. "Hilarious."

"You're dead."

Kaido was ready to lunge, but Rage brought up her hand to gain his attention.

"Before you throw your angry fit, you need to know something," her tone voice was calm but commanding. The power trashed in the bond, looking for an outlet. She strained to contain it. "Even if you come out alive from this battle, you will lose everything. Look to the horizon," she pointed her finger towards inland. There were towers of smoke rising to the sky from far away. "Your weapon factories were blown up. Beast Pirate's ships are set on fire at this very moment. Your money vault is being emptied as we speak. The wine served to your crew was laced with venom. Even if the Beast Pirates manage to win this battle, most of your underlings will die a slow, painful death. There’s no cure for liquified organs"

Kaido burst out laughing.

"I don't care for your lies, girl."

"Then you are another stupid old man," Rage replied with a sneer. "Me and my crew, we did this shit before. You think you're special? You're just another mission to us. We had three months to set everything in place. Three whole months of flying under your radar. We got into your factories, into your barracks and your kitchens. We were the stumbling maids, the stuttering laundry washers, the kitchen maids, the factory workers and the whores you fucked. Everything we did was to make sure, you'll lose everything even if you win."

Movement caught Law’s eye. On the edge of the roof, right behind Kaido, Reaid appeared. Her surfboard was piled high with unmoving bodies. She made a hand sign and the women by Rage’s side slowly spread out, fanning out in front of Kaido.

“Thank you for waiting,” Rage addressed Kaido. “My girls are in place thanks to you patiently listening to my rant.”

“Hey! I’m taking him down!” Luffy protested.

“You can fuck off, if you want to live,” Rage sneered in response.

Then she vanished.

Kaido’s roar was followed with an explosion, when his thunder bagua connected with Rage’s punch. The conqueror’s haki exploded all around them and the explosion made a crack in the clouds above them.

“Take Zoro and go down,” one of Rage’s crewmates was suddenly by his side. She had black skin and short cropped blond hair. “We won’t be holding back and you’ll be caught in crossfire if you stay.”

Fire exploded all around Kaido, when Makonde spit out her venom.

Without any pause, two more black women slashed through the flames and right through Kaido’s skin.

He roared and retaliated with his dragon breath.

A body dropped from the sky a few meters from Law. Reid was pushing down bodies from her board, spreading them all over the place.

A huge swell of power caused him to turn to the fray.

There was a chain around Kaido’s neck held tightly by a big black woman. Rage was charging Kaido with haki infused fists and legs.

“Go, now!” The woman by Law’s side barked. She reached for her weapon, blades on a long chain and dipped them in a bag of silver powder. Then she jumped into the fight.

The last thing Law saw was Rage landing her punch, followed by a powerful kick. Blood flew from Kaido’s mouth. Then the world exploded in flames again.

He grabbed unmoving Zoro and carried him away from the roof.

[vulpes-fennec]

Pumpkin Fields Forever 🎃

Summary: Post-ACOSF Elain accompanies her family to Velaris’s Harvest Festival. Will her day take a turn for the worse when Lucien shows up?

“Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn’t matter much to me”

**This is a silly plot mixed with classic Elucien angst // I just wanted to get in the autumn mood. Thinking of writing more parts depending on how busy I get in the next few weeks**

Read: AO3

The annual Harvest Festival located on the outskirts of Velaris was in full swing when Amren, Varian, Mor and Elain arrived in the afternoon. Rambunctious Fae children bounded across festive stalls. Old friends gathered over beers. Local musicians played folksy tunes. And the slight chill and dusty scent of fallen leaves affirmed the Night Court was well into autumn.

The two Inner Circle ladies walked ahead, discussing trade negotiations with the Hewn City and housing arrangements for visiting Day Court scholars. Despite having accompanied them to the Harvest Festival, Elain couldn’t help but feel left out. She was not privy to Night Court political matters, and there were only so many times she could ask Varian about his pet fish. 

When she spied Azriel and Gwyn bobbing for apples blindfolded, Elain jumped at the chance to join a livelier group. Gwyn’s chestnut red hair was tied back in a ponytail as she repeatedly dunked her head into the tub with grace. Azriel, on the other hand, looked positively disheveled with dark locks plastered to his forehead and futile attempts to not inhale water. “Come on, Gwyn! To the left! No, the apple moved! Just past your nose!” Elain joined Nesta and Emerie in shouting encouragement. 

Cassian, Azriel’s sole cheerleader, was flapping his Illyrian wings in excitement and bellowing “Let’s go, Az! We can’t let the ladies win this round! Really, how hard is it to grab a little apple?” 

Elain couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face as Gwyn emerged victorious and threw her arms happily around the females. “Take that, Shadowsinger!” Gwyn crowed as she smugly bit into the fruit. Azriel only smiled back in amusement, pretending to grab her apple.

It’s so obvious that they like each other more than friends.

Gwyn and Azriel were closer than ever after the Great Rite, which meant the distance between Azriel and Elain only grew. But what could she do? Everybody eventually grows tired of me and moves on. My human friends, who pretended not to know me when Father lost his fortune. Graysen, who broke off our engagement when I turned Fae. Even Nesta, who has more in common with her new “sisters” over things like Valkyrie training and smutty books. 

Feeling melancholy again, Elain told Nesta, “You all should go on without me. I’m going to visit the flower stall.” 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Gwyn asked. “I’ve been meaning to buy Clotho a small plant for her desk.”

Elain shook her head. “I take a long time with flowers, and it will only hold you all up. Thank you, though.” The priestess nodded before rejoining her friends. 

Elain watched Gwyn link arms with Emerie, excitedly pointing out the fall decorations. Azriel trailed behind them, his shadows buzzing and twirling in the breeze. And Nesta and Cassian strolled with hands clasped, the picture of a contentedly mated couple. 

Elain pushed away the feeling of being left out by turning her attention back to the vibrant magenta and orange blooms. One perk of having turned Fae is the ability to distinguish subtle notes in flower scents. After Elain decided to purchase packets of fall flower seeds for her River House garden, she wandered into the petting zoo across the corridor. 

“Hello there,” she cooed at the chickens strutting around the grassy enclosure. “You’re quite the beautiful chicken.” The illustrious orange bird preened at her soft compliment, making Elain feel bad for eating chicken the night prior. She gently stroked the sleek feathers, observing the bird as it pecked for grubs to eat. 

Finally, some respite from the prying gaze of the others. The chickens didn’t hold her to impossible standards of poise and agreeable manners. And Elain could be herself, no one to impress. 

But when Elain entered into the sheep and goat arena, she heard it: ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Drat! Oh Cauldron, why must he be here? Elain crouched down, willing the baa’s of the sheep and happy shrieks of children to drown out Lucien’s heart. Maybe if I stay hidden among the throngs of fluffy sheep, he will pass by. She even gave the sheep in front of her a few aggressive rubs, in hopes of masking her scent with the sheep’s earthy one. 

Elain’s knees burned from her crouched position after a few minutes of hiding. Just as she was about to move, a frank sensation of horror unexpectedly shot through her chest, eliciting a gasp. Danger! Danger! Her instincts screamed at her. Mate! Danger! Elain shot to her feet, startling the sheep she had just been petting. A familiar flash of ruby red hair appeared at the opposite end of the pen. 

Help! Mate! He’s injured! The intolerable instincts forced Elain’s feet to deftly side-step sheep, goats, and Fae children, since reaching him became the utmost priority. 

Lucien Vanserra was stuck in an awkward half-crouch, half-standing position. For a good reason. A particularly curious sheep had snagged a lock of his brilliant hair in its mouth. His russet eye was wide with almost comical horror as he tried to tug his hair out of the sheep’s stubborn bite. 

Help! Save him! Elain wasted no time at all. “Get off of him!” she shrieked as she grabbed the sheep around its rotund, sausage-shaped body and heaved backwards. 

The sheep did not budge. Cauldron, this is a bit embarrassing. And very uncouth. Why are sheep so heavy? Elain dug her heels in the ground and yanked again with all her strength, finally hauling the sheep away. A bite of pain bloomed from her ass as she hit the ground. 

“Ow!” Lucien yelped. The sheep had resolutely refused to let go of his hair, causing him to stumble forward. 

His hands hit the ground on either side of Elain’s shoulder. Decades of warrior training had prevented Lucien falling on top of her after all. Warm earthy brown met dark russet and blazing gold. Elain could hardly breathe as she registered Lucien’s broad shoulders hovering over her, the strands of his ruby locks softly brushing her cheek—touch him, smell him, see him! My mate! 

No, he’s nothing to me. I do not see him, I do not smell him. I will not touch him. 

My mate! Touch— 

The frustrating combination of his proximity, the mating instincts, and her stubborn mind kept her rooted to the spot, frozen.

Lucien was not so sluggish. He’d quickly whipped out a small dagger and sliced at the lock of hair, freeing him from the sheep’s grip. In the next second, he practically leapt away from Elain as if she was a hissing cat. 

The pesky sheep standing next to Elain swallowed the last strands of Lucien’s hair and looked immensely satisfied. Elain turned her gaze to Lucien, who was staring at the sheep with an outraged expression. 

The sheep took a step forward and tried to catch another bite of Lucien’s long hair. Elain couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her mouth as Lucien jumped back nervously, brandishing his dagger at the sheep. “Oh, don’t you dare!” he snapped. 

The animal let out an indignant bleat in return. “You’ve scared it!” Elain accused. She gave the sheep a few reassuring pats, but it was not convinced to stay. 

Lucien’s eye flickered with caution, as if he wasn’t sure if Elain was addressing him. “Me? You’re the one who wrestled it to the ground! And it was eating my hair!” 

The hysterical upturn of his voice when he spoke of his ruined hair had Elain giggling again. Realizing what she’d done, Elain covered her mouth in embarrassment. Don’t interact with him, she chided herself. You don’t want a mate, so stay away from him. 

Noting the shift in her mood, Lucien turned away to sweep his silken locks out of the reach of hungry sheep. Elain watched in fascination as his well-practiced hands secured the bun with a leather strap. 

But when Lucien offered the same broad hands to help Elain up, she averted her gaze. She would get up on her own, ignoring his outstretched hand. Ignoring the twang of disappointment that rippled through the bond. 

But ignoring him while standing next to him was not easy. Was Lucien always so tall? And his scent, which could only be described as fresh apples, dry leaves, and dappled sunlight. Elain had always taken shallow breaths and used distance to mildly dilute his scent during family dinners. But now, in such close proximity, even the musk of the animals could not keep it away. 

“I appreciate you saving me from such an audacious animal,” Lucien tried to speak. “Sheep only eat grass…this proves my hair is irresistible to all females.” The corner of Elain’s mouth twitched slightly at his jest. 

Unfortunately, only an awkward silence transpired from Lucien’s attempt to make conversation. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. The racing of his heart was louder, stronger. They had not been in such close proximity since the war with Hybern two years ago. “Well. I’ll take my leave then.”  

“Why are you here?” Elain abruptly asked. No trace of irritation, just plain curiosity. 

There was a pause. “I have always attended the Harvest Festival in the Autumn Court and…as you may know, I am no longer welcome there.” Lucien swallowed, trying to find the words. “I…I came to the one at Velaris to see how it might compare to the ones…to the ones I used to enjoy.”��

Elain blinked. She knew why Lucien was exiled from the Autumn Court: Beron murdered Lucien’s lover, Jesminda, and Lucien fled to the Spring Court, killing one of his brothers in the process. It never occurred to her that despite all the bad memories, there were still parts of his old court that he missed, that he couldn’t get back. 

It struck a chord in her, as she recalled her difficulty in adjusting to Velaris life. How she tried to plant gardens, enjoy baked goods, collect pretty things like she always did in the human lands, but it was never the same. 

“I see,” she responded slowly. What do I say now? What should I do? A slight tugging on her skirt drew her attention downwards. Now a goat was trying to eat her skirt! “Let go of me!” Elain waved her hands frantically at the goat, shooing it away. “I’m leaving this petting zoo!” Elain announced indignantly as she strode quickly (for a lady never runs) to the gate. She could sense Lucien following her out with long strides.

“Those animals are voracious,” Lucien’s rich voice remarked once they were in the clear. “Rhysand should have a word with the shepherds. They must be starving the poor things before these events.” 

Elain suppressed the urge to chuckle again. Instead of looking at Lucien, she inspected the hem of her creamy orange skirt. Lucien waited patiently, a few steps away. I thought he said he was going to leave, she grumbled internally. I don’t want to deal with this.

His face was all sharpness when she finally faced him: the chiseled jaw, jagged scar, and intricate metal eye. But Lucien’s russet eye was soft, and full of longing as he gazed at her. Elain felt her breath catch again at his intensely autumnal scent. Mate, my mate, her instincts screamed. Touch him, smell him, see him! It was unbearable. 

“Is your skirt alright-” Lucien had begun to ask.

“If you came alone…I would not mind having a companion for the festival,” Elain blurted out at the same time. 

Lucien’s eyes widened. “If you are sure…then it would be a pleasure, my lady.” A shiver ran down Elain’s spine at the words “my lady”. Graysen had always referred to her as “Miss Archeron” and Azriel simply called her “Elain”. Lucien was the only one who referred to her with such formality. If she inexplicably liked it when he called her that, would she end up combusting if he called her by her name? To think of him calling her names like “honey” or “sweetheart”…

“Where do you wish to go next?” 

Read: Part 2

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Cross The Line•

Summary: “And they were roommates” predictable self induldent Denki roommate content lmao. Friends to lovers, pretty fluffy

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Itty bitty angst, Lots o’ tension, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (female receiving), Quirk use during sex, Cumplay.

Word count: 6,984

A/N: Y'all I did it I wrote mostly plot are y'all proud of me for not being useless and horni for one fic. I mean it gets horni at the end but there is plot so yeehaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Son of a bitch!” You yell as you hurl the eyeliner across the bathroom, at your wits end after messing up for the third time. It hits the door with a sharp crack before it falls to the floor.

You kick the cabinet, successfully stubbing your toe in the process.

“Shit, shit shit shit.” You tumble backwards as you hop on one foot, planting your ass right on the toilet lid with a loud groan.

“You remodeling in here?” A chirpy voice says from the other side of the door.

“Fuck off, Denki.” You bark as you hold your busted toe.

He just chuckles as he opens the door and strides in, he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms while you scowl up at him.

His signature smirk is painted across his face, yellow hair sticking up in every direction. As usual, he’s going without a shirt, leaving him in just a pair of loose basketball shorts.

They hang just a little too low, exposing the waistband of his briefs, framing his defined adonis belt…

“You’re gonna need a bucket for all that drool.” He says, raising his eyebrows as his smirk grows into a smile.

“Oh please, I was noticing how scrawny you look.” You retort, letting your foot drop to the floor so you can stand.

“You got a date?” He nods at your dress, eyes lingering at the slit that exposes just a little too much thigh.

You and Denki are just roommates, that’s it. You’re also both incredibly horny, bisexual disasters. Naturally, there’s attraction, lingering stares, and moments of tension, but it never goes past that.

Just roommates. You can’t cross that line. Kirishima had introduced you two after meeting in class one day, convinced you would hit it off. You sure as hell did. You cliqued pretty much instantly, both full of chaotic dumbass energy.

Eventually, Kirishima moved in with his boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo. This left Denki with no roommate, which meant you got an invitation.

You were hesitant at first, moving in with somebody after a few months of friendship was a big step, but you and Denki just worked. Neither of you kept a schedule, you shared one brain cell, and you always made each other laugh.

So, of course you moved in. Two years later, it’s still you and Denki against the world. You take care of each other, he’ll bring you candy and a heating pad when you’re on your period, you’ll make him soup and play with his hair when he’s sick.

You’ve seen each other naked, heard each other have sex, and helped each other score hookups. You pick each other up when you’re sloppy drunk, and nurse each other through the hangover the next day.

You have not, and will not, cross the line of a sexual relationship with each other. You can’t afford to, neither of you can lose the movie nights, the screaming bad music in the car together, or the two in the morning waffle house runs.

“I did, but I’m not going.” You huff as you stomp over to the sink so you can wash off the makeup.

“I can’t get this stupid eyeliner right, I’ve tried like a million times and I can’t fucking do it.” You scrub your face a little too hard, turning your skin a bit red in the process.

“Want me to do it?” He asks, he says it like it’s obvious. It kind of is, the kid is wicked good at eyeliner, he does it nearly every day.

“If you pinky promise you won’t make me look stupid and sabotage my date.” You glare at him, hinting at a time when he did in fact sabotage a date.

“That was one time, which you thanked me for in the end, because the dude was a total fuckboy.” He holds up his hands in a defensive posture.

“You’re a total fuckboy, and you did not have to tell him I had fucking herpes.” You throw your wet rag at him, which he catches skillfully.

“I’m a whore, not a fuckboy. Big difference.” He says as he tosses the rag onto the side of the sink.

“What would that be?” You ask as you bend down to retrieve the eyeliner before handing it to him begrudgingly.

He accepts it with a grin, golden eyes lighting up as he pulls the cap off of the felt pen before giving it a good shake.

“Fuckboys are so selfish, they always leave someone wanting.” He shifts so he’s standing in front of you as you lean back against the counter.

He places one hand under your chin so you’ll tilt your face up for him.

“A whore keeps someone satisfied.” His voice drops slightly as he looks down at you.

You don’t look down at his lips, or his collar bones, or his abs…

“You’re such a flirt.” You say, crossing your arms, trying to put something between the two of you.

“Hell yeah I am, now close those eyes for me.” He winks and you roll your eyes before closing them.

His hand slides up from your chin so you can hold the side of your face, his thumb lifts your eyelid slightly.

The feeling of his hand touching your face so gently shouldn’t make your heart rate increase, the feeling of his breath on your face shouldn’t make your knees a little unsteady. Most of all, Denki being this close shouldn’t be making you this dizzy.

You’ve walked in on him jerking it, you’ve even walked in on him balls deep in somebody else. You and Denki are close, you’ve stood this close before, with less clothing, why does it all of a sudden feel so different? No, it doesn’t. It can’t.

You feel the felt tip of the eyeliner press into your eyelid, he moves so fluently. He flicks his wrist at the end of the line, he shifts and does the other eye with the same precision.

“Open.” You do as he says, blinking up at him, raising your eyebrows in question as he looks you over.

A pleased smile creeps onto his face.

“You’re real pretty, ya know?” He says softly, grabbing your chin gently so he can turn your face from one side to the other.

The compliment makes your cheeks grow warmer. Your eyes dart down as you shift on your feet a little bit.

“You’re a sap.” You grumble before turning to check his work in the mirror.

It’s perfect, just a delicate little wing that enhances your eye shape. Perfect for a first date, Denki has always been better at makeup, and it’s always driven you just a little insane.

“What else are you gonna do?” He asks, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You say as you grab your mascara and start applying it.

“Well are you gonna do anything with this?” He ruffles the top of your hair, you drop the mascara so you can bat his hand away.

“Dude, knock it off.” You say, you try to sound pissed, but start laughing when he wraps his arm around your neck so he can put you in a headlock.

“Only if you let me fix the rat’s nest on your head.” He laughs as you struggle to pull his arm off.

“I can do my own hair you sparky bastard.” You reach over and pinch his side.

He yelps and releases you from the hold, he raises his hands up and gives you a mischievous look.

“Oh, you want sparky?” Small snaps of electricity start to emit from his palms.

“Denki Kaminari, if you zap me I will suplex you.” You warn him, looking around for something you can grab to defend yourself with.

He’s much quicker than you though, and his arms around your waist in an instant. He hoists you up into the air and sits your ass on the counter. You feel the little shocks popping at your sides as he pushes you so your back is pressed against the mirror. Your senses are invaded by his warmth and the smell of Axe body spray, a smell you’ve grown to love.

“Denki, no! This shit always makes my hair all frizzy!” You protest as involuntary giggles leave your chest.

“Aw, sweetheart, are you sayin’ you can feel electricity between us?” He wiggles his eyebrows as his fingers stall.

“I will puke on you if you say any more cheesy shit.” You warn him, trying to keep your face straight, but you crack up at the melodramatic expression that crosses his face.

Then he delivers a particularly strong zap to the meat of your hip.

You don’t have time to control the way your body reacts. There’s no chance for you to keep your back arches, or the way you let out a fuck. The way you shiver is a little too intimate, your voice a little too broken. All of which Denki pays a little too much attention to.

You both settle and freeze, his sharp eyes meet yours. You’ve seen Denki Kaminari look serious a grand total of twice in the time you’ve known him. The first time was when you were ridiculously sick last winter, fever and chill with the works. The second time is now.

He watches you carefully, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Did that tickle?” He questions, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It- yeah- it also fucking hurt, asshole.” You grumble, pushing at his chest so you can hop off the counter.

You try to shove past him with your head down, desperate to get out from under the weighty tension in the bathroom. Denki grabs you around the wrist though, stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes meet as another wave of nerves washes over your body.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” His voice is steady, but tentative.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice is just above a whisper.

Though, there certainly was.

You both stand there for a brief beat of thick silence, watching, waiting. You must imagine the way his lip twitches, the way his body shifts forward slightly…

No fucking way.

You turn on your heels and make your way out of the bathroom quickly.

You’re in your room with the door closed in no time. You lean against the back of it, catching the breath you didn’t realize you had lost.

What the hell was that? And why did it feel so… good?

No. Fuck no. Not with Denki.

You get ready in a huff, positively full of angst and confusion.

You shove it all down. It’s normal, right? To have a bit of tension with somebody you know so well, live so closely with, care for so deeply. You and Denki know each other. That’s all.

Your outfit isn’t much, but it’s enough for a first day. The colors are flattering against your complexion, the fabric clings in the right places. It’s nice, just nice.

You walk quietly from your room to the living room where Denki is sitting on the couch, legs spread wide with an arm across the back. Looking absolutely delicious- fuck- no not delicious. He just looks like Denki.

“That’s cute.” He says, he motions up and down with his phone, directing his comment at your outfit.

“Thanks.” You say a little too shortly, feeling the guilt immediately.

“I’ll be home later.” You say as you grab your keys from the dish.

“Be safe.” He calls after you.

Fuck.

***

Your date is an absolute disaster, nothing short of a trainwreck. It’s one of those dates that drains you. You politely nod as they ramble on about themselves, laugh at the bad and very insensitive jokes, and indulge in the small talk. Most of all, you miss Denki. You contribute very little, enjoy nothing, and wait for the end of the dreadful two hours you set aside for this.

You pay for dinner quickly, declining their offer for drinks, giving some bullshit excuse about having to work in the morning and being tired. You’re off tomorrow, and you’re wide awake.

You’re itching to get back to your apartment, dying to tell Denki all about your date’s wet cardboard personality. Hopefully, the bizarre moment you shared in the bathroom will be ignored and buried.

Never to be seen again.

You bust into the apartment, shuck off your bag and kick off your shoes. Denki is no longer on the couch, but at the kitchen table huddled over a cup of tea. The lights are all low or off, leaving him in mostly darkness. His posture is odd, slouched, defeated almost.

“Who died?” You try to joke, usually able to earn a chuckle with that line.

Denki doesn’t chuckle though, he sniffles.

“Sparky? What’s wrong?” You’re on him instantly, feet moving on their own.

Your hands are on the sides of his face, pulling up so he has to look at you. Your heart clenches and your chest burns as soon as the small amount of light catches his face.

His left cheek is painted with a deep red and purple bruise. His bright eyes search your face as you take the sight in, and you’re suddenly filled with fiery rage when you see how heartbroken he looks.

“Who the fuck-”

“It was my fault.” He cuts you off, grabbing your wrists so he can pull your hands off his face.

“Denki, what-”

“I told him we would hook up, so he thought we would. When I got there he had a bad vibe so I tried to leave… but he didn’t like that and he-”

You hush him when his breathing picks up, when you see tears well and his lip quiver.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” You pull him against your chest, making a mental note to find and throttle the bastard that did this.

But that can wait. You and Denki had both returned from dates fairly busted up. The bruises were always one that were wanted though, never like this. A bad date was always laughed over, never cried over. The very thought of somebody laying their hands on Denki like this… it makes your skin crawl, it makes you want to kill.

His arms are around your waist immediately, hands grabbing as your clothes, pulling you closer. You hold each other for a long while until you feel his leg start bouncing and his fingers start to twitch.

You pull back and look down at him. He looks so displaced, so frantic and caught off guard. He needs something to do. Something to focus on. You can tell he’s not ready to talk, but he’s ready to be distracted, talking will come later.

“Will you help me get this shit off my face?” You ask gently, sliding your hand through his hair.

He blinks hard before wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah- shit- I’m sorry, how was your date?” He asks, doing a shit job as pulling himself together.

“Don’t be sorry. It was awful. All they talked about was their college glory days.” You sigh, thumb running over his forehead.

“That didn’t win you? What’s wrong with you?” He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

There he is, or at least he’s trying.

“I missed you the whole time.” It slips out, runs away from you. You mean it though, god do you mean it.

He looks up at you with that same uneasy, distraught look. It almost makes you buckle. You feel pulled to fall into his lap, wrap yourself around him and press sweet kisses into his neck. You can’t, you know you can’t. He would probably be pissed if you crossed that line.

He doesn’t answer, he just nods silently, eyes falling to the ground as he stands up.

“Let’s get that shit off your face.”

You end up perched on the counter again as he wipes your makeup off with a warm cloth. It may seem backwards, him taking care of you, to most people it is. During your time together, you’ve learned that Denki feels useless if he isn’t helping.

When something is hurting him, he’s healed by pouring into someone else, so you let him. You’ll ice his bruise later, bring him water and medicine once you help him scratch this itch.

He takes his time with you, wiping away the makeup he did for you. The dull ache returns to your chest as he works. The soft glow of the bathroom nightlight is your only illumination, giving the room a painfully intimate environment.

He slowly wipes the cloth across your forehead one last time, laying it on the sink before bringing his hand up to hold your chin like he had earlier. You can’t help but glance at his bruise and simply hurt deep inside. You hate that you weren’t there, that you couldn’t stop it.

He breathes for a moment, looking at the planes of your face, eyes lingering in your lips for a bit too long.

“Pretty…” It’s a soft confession, something far too tender for the nature of your relationship.

His admittance settles somewhere deep within you, it wraps itself around your heart and warms it. It’s almost overwhelming and definitely terrifying.

“Do you need to eat?” You kill the building flames immediately, stamp them out with a stubborn foot.

He doesn’t mean it, he’s just vulnerable, he’s just emotional. You’d be an asshole to give into it.

“I could eat.” He sighs.

***

“This is so fucking stupid.” Denki laughs, irritated by the default plot line of the chick flick on tv.

You had ordered your favorite takeout, too much of it, to share as you watch. Slowly, you had pulled him out of his shaken state. With plenty of talk about your awful date, several good laughs, and the occasional soft spoken “you’re okay”. Denki is now settled with his head in your lap as he criticizes the lazy drama of the film.

“Why won’t they just stop being stupid and just… like each other?” He whines, gesturing at the tv with an inpatient hand.

“Dude they can’t. It would ruin the tension for them to like each other right now.” You explain.

He sits up and huffs before grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“But they could work. They could really work.” He says as he stuffs his face.

He seems so genuinely thoughtful, despite his grievances with the quality of the movie, he’s involved.

“Maybe they could.” You say, watching him instead of the movie.

He feels it when he looks at you, squeezing his ribs, trickling down his spine. The overwhelming, almost blind urge to lean in and kiss you. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“Could they?” He whispers.

You’re both frozen, trapped in the beam that’s suddenly shining down on you. It exposes every crack and corner of your relationship, leaving you both ripped open and afraid.

He’s leaning in again like he did in the bathroom, closer and closer and closer… until he grabs his damn drink.

Fuck.

A blush spreads across your cheeks, stomach aching with embarrassment. You pull back, shoving yourself under a blanket. You weren’t too obvious, right? You didn’t lean in too much… right?

He takes a long sip then sets the drink down harshly, not enough to make you jump, but enough to make you pay attention.

“Can we stop, please?” He says as he stands up, he runs his hands through his hair and huffs before he starts to pace.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound as oblivious as possible.

“Dude.” He turns on you, looking exhausted, eyes begging you for something.

“Denki- I, you need sleep…” You stand up and start to tidy, not really doing anything though. Just picking up cups and setting them down to look busy.

“I don’t need sleep.” He snaps before grabbing you by the shoulders. His eyes are wild, frantic, searching.

“What do you need?” You ask, hands shaking at your sides. His body sags, hands releasing you so he can hug himself.

“I don’t know.” It’s short and rushed, and he leaves you no time to respond before he storms off to his bedroom. His feet stomp, the door slams, and you fall to the couch in a heap.

This cannot be happening, not to you and Denki. You both just need sleep, you just need to brush it off and start again tomorrow. He’s emotional. He’s just emotional.

You turn the TV off, sneering at the couple kissing on it. You clean up slowly, setting dishes in the sink to be done tomorrow.

It’s ok. You’re ok. Emotions run high after bad dates, after traumatic events. It’s human nature. That’s all, you and Denki will be ok, you always are.

Your shoulders draw up when you hear his door open again, staying busy at the sink as you heard him walk into the kitchen.

“Can we talk about it?” His voice is unsteady, it tugs on your heart as you spin to face him.

“Talk about wha-”

“Please. Don’t.” He sighs as he steps towards you.

He’s too damn pretty when he’s tired. His cheeks get all pink, with glassy eyes and a shiny nose. Even with his busted cheek bone, he’s so… pretty.

Denki’s feelings have always run hot, he loves fast and hurts deeply. You can’t even begin to imagine the tsunami of emotion he must have pounding against his chest. You see it in his eyes though, something is breaking him.

“We could work.” He closes the distance between you even more, giving you no room to hide once your backside hits the counter.

“Denki…” You put your hands on his chest, trying to put something between you two, trying to cling to the line that’s been drawn.

“We could. Just- you don’t have to answer. Just think about it.” And then he’s gone again, away to hide in his room. Leaving you shocked and overwhelmed.

We could work.

You could, and you know it, you’re just not ready to accept it.

***

Sleep doesn’t come well, or even at all. You do think about it, all night. It’s the only thing on your mind as you toss and turn and huff. The sun is already peaking up into the sky, bathing your room in a hazy glow.

We could work.

Just because you could, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be foolish of you to try. This is a friendship neither of you can afford to lose. You have some confidence that it could indeed withstand an awkward attempt at a relationship… but what if the attempt wasn’t awkward? Denki had told you, drunkenly, how much he loved you. He slept next to you when you cried, held you and talked you down. He knew how many sugars to put in your coffee and how you never bothered to match your socks.

Over time, Denki had memorized you as a person, and you had done the same for him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to have in a partner? Someone who knows you, someone who makes it safe to be known.

Knock knock

It’s a courtesy knock, something he does to let you know he’s coming in. You never keep your door locked, and he’s always allowed in.

“Mornin’.” He says with a scratchy voice as he peaks into your room.

Fucking hell. Why does he have to be so pretty all the time?

“Mornin’.” You reply

You pull the blankets up around your chest, you realize now you’re in one of his t-shirts, not uncommon, but entirely too intimate given recent events.

He sits on the edge of your bed, all messy hair and puffy eyes. He offers you one of the coffee cups he’s holding, and it smells divine. You accept it as you sit up right, crossing your legs and clinging to your blankets.

His bruise is darker, yellow around the edges with deep red and purple splotches. It gives your chest the same tight feeling, something helpless and angry.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line.” He says quietly.

“You were right, I was emotional and I needed sleep and I definitely shouldn’t have dumped it on you.”

He fidgets while he talks, leg bouncing as his fingers dance around his mug. You reach out to rub his back, but he flinches. He fucking flinches.

Neither of you speak, but you meet each other’s eyes. He looks sorry, so sorry. He looks embarrassed and scared and guilty.

Slowly, you grab both cups and set them on your nightstand. You open your arms to him, still not speaking, not opening the door for him to apologise for something that isn’t his fault.

He falls into you easily, arms around your waist with his face against your neck. He crumbles there, unable to articulate, only able to cry. You hold him close, rub circles in his back and play with his hair. You let him go as long as he needs to, sitting with him, hurting with him.

“Denki?” You tread carefully, using your softest voice.

He looks up then, with a rosey face and searching eyes.

“You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

Something you’ve never seen before flashes in his eyes, something soft and warm, something that makes you want to fall forward into him like he just did with you.

You don’t, though, you stay still.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Then, with all the caution and care in the world, he places a kiss on your forehead. It’s so simple, it’s been done a million times between the two of you, but it sits differently in your chest this time. It stays there, taking up space, spreading through you. That feeling of wanting to cross a line.

“Do you want to make breakfast?” He asks as he wipes at his face with his sleeves.

“Of course. You want those big ass waffles I make?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

His grin is slow to appear, but it does appear, and it’s as dazzling as always.

“I always want some big ass waffles.”

***

The rest of the day is spent in close proximity with each other, not unusual, but like everything else the past twenty four hours, it feels different.

You share you sit with knees touching while you eat your waffles, pee with the door open, he puts the toothpaste on your toothbrush for you. It’s all so normal for you two, but god it feels so different. It feels more important, it feels more… wholesome? Maybe? Not quite, that word isn’t entirely applicable. Neither you to Denki are wholesome in any capacity. Then a horrible thought scrambles into your mind.

It feels romantic. It feels domestic. It feels like a relationship.

It hits you while you’re helping him clean up the mess you’ve made cooking dinner. It’s in the way his hand ghosts over your waist when he slides behind you, the way he gets you more to eat without asking him to, the way makes you laugh so naturally.

Fuck.

You love him, you know this as a fact. You love him more than anyone, he knows you inside and out and you know him. You’re just now realizing in exactly what way you love him. He holds your hair when you puke, he rubs your back when you cramp, he pretends to be your boyfriend to scare off bad dates. He loves you too.

“Denki.” Your voice is quiet, your hands shake.

“Can we talk about it?”

His whole body tenses as he sets down the plate he was rinsing. He turns slowly, as if to avoid frightening you.

“Can we?” He asks gently, hopefully.

You step towards him, twisting your fingers around each other anxiously.

“This… works, doesn’t it?” You ask, awkwardly gesturing between the two of you.

He closes more of the distance, standing only inches from you.

“It does, and it could.” He says gently.

“What If it doesn’t?” You wonder out loud, fear creeping up your spine.

“Then it doesn’t.” He says simply.

“And we’ll be ok?”

“We’ll be ok.”

You stand in silence, keeping an eye on each other as you both process the information. He does that leaning thing again, like he wants to be closer. Then you panic.

“But it would be stupid.” You say as you turn away, wringing your hands around each other while you pace. He lets out a sigh and throws his hands up, exhausted with the back and forth.

“Right, because you and I would never do anything stupid.” His voice is rough, impatient, unfamiliar.

“We can’t afford to be stupid with this, dude. Can’t you see that?” You argue.

“Then we can be careful with it, we can start slow, we can ease into it.” He’s nearly begging, stepping towards you again.

“Ease into what!?” You turn on him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t play dumb.” He crosses his arms, you mirror him, both skittish, both afraid.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we won’t talk about it ever again. You have my word.” He offers, but he doesn’t want to.

You stand there, weighing your options, chest seizing as you watch his vibrant eyes search your face.

You can’t tell him you don’t want it. You can’t lie to him.

“I- Denki… I can’t lose you. We can’t fuck this up.” You feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness in your throat, the very idea of being without your best friend makes you panic.

“You won’t fucking lose me. You have me, all of me. We won’t fuck this up if we just keep doing what we do.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but he breaks a little.

Another moment of heavy silence is spent between you, chests rising and falling rapidly, hands twitching as minds race.

Denying this any longer would be a crime, a horrible waste of time. Something snaps then, something gives in, and the line is crossed.

His hands are at the side of your face and his forehead falls against yours. Breath is hot, hands are needy, hearts are aching.

“Please, god, please.” You grab at his wrists, not to push him off, to pull him in, keep him close.

“I want you, need you, please.” You confess.

And then your soul is in flames. He shudders and his lips are on yours as soon as he can get them there. All at once, and not soon enough, the line you had both been clinging to is crossed. His hands hold your face so tightly as he works his lips against yours, kissing you with all he has left, letting loose all the times he’s wanted to before. It’s all consuming, it’s mind numbing, it’s (no pun intended) fucking electric.

He walks you back as he kisses you urgently until your ass hits the counter, his hands are on the backs of your thighs instantly. He whispers a quick jump against your lips. You do exactly that.

Now seated on the counter, you spread your legs so he can settle between them. He slides in perfectly, lips still hot and greedy against your own. His hands cling to your hips while yours claw at his back.

He breaks from you, panting with his pupils blown wide.

“Can we do something stupid?” He asks between puffs of air.

“Please, Denki, please.” You sigh, grabbing at his shirt. He grabs it by the collar and rips it off, revealing the body you’ve seen so often, but now you get to know it.

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He whispers before pressing his open mouth against your neck.

The words send a shock all the way down your body. The sparks fly and then settle between your legs where you feel his hard length pressing against your heat.

“Haven’t shaved.” You say, slightly embarrassed.

“Like I fucking care.” And then his hands are at your clothes, pulling them off and throwing them away until you’re left completely bare for him.

His skin feels like heaven against yours, warm and dewy and right.

“Gonna make you feel so good, fuck.” The last word is said with a tone of disbelief.

His hands slide up your sides, gathering your breasts so he can tease your nipples with his thumbs.

He smirks against your neck when you gasp and arch against him, pushing your bodies even closer together.

“Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He taunts.

“You’re talking too much.” You let out a breathy laugh at his teasing before planting your hand on top of his head and pushing him down.

He gladly falls to his knees, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder like it’s life or death before finally looking at your soaked center.

“Oh my fucking god.” He sighs.

“I wanna tease you but holy hell, I gotta-” He’s on you before you can brace at all, his tongue licks along your slit slowly, almost reverently.

And then he moans. It’s something whiney, something achey, escaping from the back of his throat.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pull away, he finds the spot that makes you jump and sets up camp. He kitten licks your clit until your hands are pulling at his hair as you gasp above him.

It’s all so much, it’s all so good. Especially when he finally presses two fingers into you. He steps a gentle pace, a soothing push and pull that feels incredible. He works and works and works until your thighs are trembling and you’re babbling praises.

“Denki- fuck- there, right there, fuck fuck fuck.” He eats you so sweetly, with so much precision.

You almost anticipated him being more reckless, more sloppy. He isn’t though, he takes his time, learning your sweet spots, finding the angle that makes you crumble.

And he does.

You reach your end when he flattens his tongue and curls his fingers, massaging every part of you. His name falls from your lips in a broken cry, hands tug at his hair as your thighs squeeze his head.

He helps you through it, licking and fingering slowly to ease you back down, letting you feel every last nerve erupt in pleasure.

“Fuck that was perfect, you’re so fucking sweet.” He sighs against you.

You don’t answer, you can’t, you just grab at him until he gets the hint to stand up.

“Need you inside me, please, Denki please.”

“That’s funny.” He says thoughtfully, pulling down his sweats and briefs to reveal his very hard, very pretty dick.

“What?” You ask, breathless as he steps between your legs. He grabs at his length and gives it a few lazy strokes before pressing his head up against your cunt. The action makes you shiver and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Didn’t think you were one to beg.” He says with a trembling voice, body buzzing with anticipation.

Then he presses in, replacing any smart remark you may have had with a gasp. It’s definitely a stretch, but god it’s incredible. He fills you so well, presses all of the right spots as he slides in.

“Denki- shit.” Your head falls back against the cabinet, your brain turns to mush as you try to fully comprehend how you ended up here, most of all how you went so long without this.

“So fucking tight.” He pants as he bottoms out, his praise makes you clench, which in turn makes his head fall back with a sweet little gasp.

He pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth, his top lip pulls up almost like he’s in pain. You know he isn’t though, he’s just savoring it.

With a frantic hand, you reach up and grab at the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull him back down against you, both moaning into the kiss when he moves his hips back slowly.

Your lips are messy against each other, bodies working together, finally colliding the way they’re meant to. He keeps his hips moving, setting a perfect, smooth pace. His hands settle on your hips as your stay in his hair.

You’re more vocal than usual, moaning out little praises, needing more and begging for it.

“You feel so good, don’t stop, baby- feels so fucking good.” Your lips quiver as you speak, making you sound so weak and needy. That mixed with the affectionate name does something to Denki, something that names him break a little more.

He buries his face into your neck, whispering a harsh fuck that sounds strangled and desperate. His thrusts get a little faster, his hands grab you a little tighter, and all you feel is Denki.

Your whole body buzzes, in your fingertips, the backs of your thighs, you feel him everywhere.

You don’t even consider the mess that you’ll make on the counter, don’t mind the bruises he’ll leave on your hips, it’s all worth it. So fucking worth it.

“Look at me, look at me when I make you cum.” One of his hands comes up to hold your face as he speaks frantically.

His words set off a cloud of butterflies in your stomach, every sensation building, becoming more intense. You nod pitifully as you lean into his hand, chasing your high with each of his deep, filling thrusts.

The feeling of his hand on your hip reminds you of the last time he had you sitting on a counter like this. You remember how he shocked you, how it went straight to your cunt, how much you loved the feeling.

Body jolting with each thrust, your hand falls over his on your hip. You give him one look, and his eyebrows shoot sky high.

“Yeah? You want me to shock you?” His voice climbs as he speaks, so high and pretty and needy.

“Yes, fuck yes, please, Denki.” You plead, you’re so damn close, you just need that final push.

He doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you ask so sweetly, his palm starts to spark, biting at your skin. You cry out and throw your head forward, the electricity drives you up a wall, absolutely hooked on the sensation.

“That’s it, cum nice and hard for me sweetheart.” His other hand moves down to thumb at your clit and that’s all it takes.

“I’m gonna- ohmyfuckinggod- Denki! Shit!” You sob against his skin as he zaps you just a little more. It makes you delirious, you shiver and jolt as your hands claw down his back.

He fucks you through it, moans and praises fall from his lips as you crest. Your walls quiver around him, almost finishing him off too. Somehow, he keeps it together, he holds his pace until he’s sure you’re on your way back down.

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He coos as his thrust become more shallow, “Oh fuck.”

He pulls out and jacks himself off only a few times before he’s spilling onto your thigh, painting the skin hot white ropes.

Your hand darts down to gather his release on your fingers before bringing it to your lips. You make a show of licking it up, popping your fingers from your mouth as your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh you dirty fuckin’ girl.” He muses, he gathers the rest up with his thumb so he can press it into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb, looking up at him with a doe eyed expression.

You never dreamed you two would ever end up here, feeling and tasting each other in the filthiest of ways, but god it feels so right.

You stay there for just a moment, clinging to the high and each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As your breathing steadies, his hands are placed gently around your waist, thumbs playing at the bottom of your ribs.

You share a moment of silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Wanna talk about it?” Denki asks, a smile playing at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, head falling forward so you can lean your forehead against his collar bone.

You start to press soft kisses across his chest, he hand slides to play with the hair at the back of your head.

“I don’t think we have to.” You kiss up his chest until you’re looking up at him.

“This works, doesn’t it?” He asks fondly, looking as stunning as ever, bruise and all.

“This works.” You confirm.

With that, he ducks down suddenly, arms sliding around you so he can throw you over his shoulder.

“Denki! What the hell?” You laugh, pounding at his back playfully.

“If we aren’t talkin’ we’re fuckin’. This isn’t a one and done deal baby.” He says as you round the corner to your bedroom, he throws you on the bed so you land with a bounce and a giggle.

“I hope you don’t have plans for the next six hours.” He falls into you, kissing all over your neck and collarbones.

“Hey.” You say quietly.

“Hmm.” He responds between kisses.

“I love you, sparky.”

He pauses, looking up at you with his luminant eyes.

“I know.” His face splits into a teasing grin.

You punch his shoulder, pouting dramatically.

He inches up the bed, caging you with his arms so he can cradle your head with his hands. He looks at you thoughtfully for just a moment before leaning down to kiss you.

It’s gentle and careful this time, slow and thought out. It makes you absolutely melt.

“I love you too.” He whispers against your lips.

It does work, it works beautifully. It was a slow and not so steady road, but you two knuckleheads did it. You crossed that damn line.