#shakes fist at aces

[autisticlalna]

navigator

[okartichoke]

some things i never posted

[sodapopbuoy]

CANDY CANDY FULBRIGHT !!!!

[glasskoi]

how do you feel about SmoAce? niche nowadays but it's def one of the foundational "ace being into older men" ships

i like it! im ngl im of the honest opinion that it would be hard for them to work as an actual couple, so i tend to see smoker as the guy ace had good but regrettable sex with when he was in a really bad place. i think it wld be fun for ace in the moment, but a very shaky foundation for an actual relationship, especially with ace so deep in his guilt & revenge. that being said i do find smoker a rly fascinating character & i think with enough sillyness i could easily make them work

[gallifreyanhotfive]

The "average Gallifreyan has a kid" factoid is actually a statistical error. The average Gallifreyan has zero kids. The Doctor Georg, who fucked off in his TARDIS one day and has 35-40+ kids and counting, is an outlier and should not have been counted.

[drowsyfiish]

my green trench coat is being stolen for a Halloween costume and I still don’t even know what the flip in gonna be ????

[arseniccattails]

Ended up chasing a miniature donkey that got loose. How do I get into these situations.

[altruistic-meme]

really wish I had milk exclusively bc I really want to dip my oreos in it.

[pupsec]

𐔌 、toji　ﾉ　desperate for money, he takes a job from the dark web: break into a girl’s house for a twisted roleplay she’s willing to pay thousands for 𓈒　◟

cw: dubconノCNC roleplay ノ home invasion ノ explicit content ノdark themes ϑϱ

୨ৎ dead dove: do not eat！minors, blank & ageless blogs will be blocked ୨୧

You’re home alone.

That fact alone isn’t strange—it’s your night off, you’ve got leftovers in the fridge and no plans besides a bath, wine, and maybe one of those trashy novels you pretend you’re too good for. Your apartment is silent except for the quiet hum of the AC and the occasional creak of an old wall settling. Just the usual. Familiar.

And then you hear the front door open.

Not a knock.

Not a jingle of keys.

A click. A turn. A push.

You freeze on the couch, phone mid-scroll, your whole body tensing like a rabbit catching the shadow of wings overhead. There shouldn’t be anyone. You live alone. You don’t have roommates. You didn’t order food. No one should be here.

Your heart stutters.

You think about calling the cops—but something holds you back.

Something primal and wrong and crawling, like instinct knows before your brain does: it’s too late.

Heavy footfalls echo on the hardwood. Measured. Slow. Predatory.

You shoot up off the couch, but he’s already there.

Tall. Broad. Dressed in black. Combat boots. Tactical pants. A long-sleeved shirt tight enough to stretch across brutal muscle. A ski mask over his face. And in one gloved hand, a gun.

Pointed right at your chest.

“Don’t move.”

You do. Of course you do. You stumble back like a fucking idiot, lips parting to scream—but he’s already on you. That gun presses right against your sternum, and his other hand is fisted in your hair, yanking your head back.

“Scream and I shoot.”

Your breath hitches.

You believe him. God help you, you believe every syllable.

“What do you want?” you gasp, your voice breaking under the pressure of a fear that smells like sweat and adrenaline and the faintest twinge of arousal. “I don’t have anything, please—”

“I’m not here for your things.” The voice is low. Rough. Feral. “I’m here for you.”

You shake your head, confused, terror-stricken—but he’s already shoving you, guiding you backward, pushing you toward the hallway that leads to your bedroom. The cold steel of the gun never leaves your chest.

“I have money—” you offer, voice high, trying to stay calm. “I—I can get you cash, or my phone, or—”

“I told you. I’m not here for money.”

Then you’re in your room.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a dull thud that feels like a coffin sealing. Then he steps closer—looming over you, eyes unreadable behind the mask—and shoves you down onto the bed.

You struggle. You can’t help it. You twist and thrash and claw, but his body dwarfs yours. He’s pure muscle and violence, kneeling between your thighs and grabbing your wrists in one massive hand. The gun is pressed to your neck now, cold and unyielding.

“Move again,” he growls, “and I’ll paint your fucking walls with your brains.”

You whimper. Nod.

Then he rips your shirt open.

The sound of fabric tearing is violent, obscene, louder than your ragged breath or the frantic thump of your pulse. Your bra is next—cut in half by a blade you didn’t even see him draw—and your tits bounce free, nipples already hard from fear or the rush of blood, you don’t know.

His hand is at his belt next. Pants dropped. His cock is thick, long, heavy, the kind of weapon your body has no business trying to take.

He doesn’t even undress you fully. Just yanks your shorts and panties down around your ankles, leaving you bare and vulnerable, your cunt wet and twitching in spite of your fear.

“You sick little thing,” he murmurs, dragging the head of his cock along your slit, smearing your wetness. “You’re fucking soaked. Is this turning you on?”

“No,” you breathe, but your body says otherwise.

The next sound you make is a scream—muffled by the gloved hand he shoves into your mouth—when he thrusts into you hard and fast, splitting you open without warning.

It’s brutal. Deep. The air punched from your lungs.

You try to thrash but the weight of him pins you down. The gun’s pressed against your cheek now, kissing your skin like a lover, cold metal dragging through the tears on your face.

“You feel that?” he hisses, voice close to your ear. “You feel that cock splitting your little cunt open? You fucking like this?”

You hate how it feels. You hate how it hurts.

You hate how your cunt grips him like it needs him.

His hips slam forward again, hard, each thrust forcing a whimper from your throat. The way he fucks you is punishing, relentless. He doesn’t care if you cum. He doesn’t care if you bleed. He’s using you like a thing.

And god, it’s disgusting how much of you wants it.

“You were waiting for this, weren’t you?” he grunts, slamming into you. “Just lying here in this pretty little house, hoping someone like me would come ruin you.”

He pulls out suddenly—makes you cry out with the emptiness—and flips you onto your stomach. Then he yanks your hips up, grabs your hair like reins, and fucks back into you even harder, the gun now nestled against the base of your skull.

Your pussy is raw, soaked, stretched around him so tightly you can barely breathe. And still you take it. Still your body sings for it.

“Please,” you sob, not even sure what you’re begging for.

“Please what?”

“Don’t stop.”

A low, dangerous laugh.

Then his pace increases. Your ass is slapping against his hips now, the sound sick and wet and loud, echoing through the room like music from hell. You’re crying and gasping and clawing at the sheets as he ruins you from behind, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other presses the gun harder against your skull.

“I should blow your brains out,” he growls, fucking deeper. “But then I couldn’t keep this sweet little hole for myself.”

You feel the orgasm build before you even realize what it is. It sneaks up on you—hot and mean and wicked—curling your toes and making your legs shake. And when it hits, it wrecks you. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, milking him, screaming his name like you fucking own him.

But you don’t.

He finishes a heartbeat later, deep inside you, cock twitching as he fills you with hot, thick cum. He holds there—still buried in you, panting against your neck—before slowly pulling out.

Your cunt is wrecked, leaking, red and trembling, abused in the most obscene way.

He stands.

Tucks himself back into his pants.

Leaves you there on the bed, ruined and soaked and twitching.

Then, casually, he pulls out a phone. Checks a message. And blinks.

“Oh.”

You watch him from where you’re curled on the bed, barely able to breathe, still shaking.

He glances at you again.

Shrugs.

Wrong house.

[alpali]

There was nothing more you hated than overly cocky guys. Especially when they had the talent to back it up.

That’s how you felt about Oikawa Toru.

The ace in the volleyball team, the ace in his studies, the ace with the ladies. His whole presence was infuriating to you.

You had to admit yes, you had no reason to hate him. But you were a little hater at heart. So of course when you catch his attention. He is not leaving you alone. “There’s my favorite girl! How’ve you been hm?” He quips, taking the empty seat right next to you. You glare at him with at least what you think is the most deadliest look ever. But to him you look so adorable he bites his lip, trying to stifle a laugh.

“What do you want shittykawa.” You grumble and his face pales.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging with Iwa-Chan.” He blinks and you blink, your face contorting in anger once again.

“Who the hell even is that!” He visibly looks relieved and sets his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Anywho, how do you feel about coming to one of my games. I’ll dedicate all my killer serves to you.” He winks and you look disgusted.

“I’d rather die.”

He pouts.

“When are you gonna stop acting like you hate me.”

“This isn’t an act.” You mutter.

He grins.

“You know you’re really pretty when you’re mad.”

“Don’t you have a bajillion minions to tend to? Leave me alone.” You roll your eyes.

“Who needs them when I have you!” He smiles and he means it. But you’ll never know that.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

When you’re gone for a week. His demeanor begins to diminish. At first he just thought you were avoiding him. But now he was worried. And it was starting to affect his volleyball playing.

“I thought this girl hated you anyways. Why do you even like her.” Iwaizumi crosses his arms.

“You don’t get it.” Oikawa sighs.

“Just admit it, you like the chase. Once you get her you’ll get bored and dump her like you do with the rest.”

“You make me sound like a terrible person!”

“You are.”

“Am not!” Oikawa says, sticking out his tongue.

Oikawa sighs once again as he’s on his way to his first class, he had a routine. He grabs a coffee, pops his head in your class, teases you to no end, then goes to class.

Hes about to walk past your class until he sees you peacefully sleeping on your desk. He blinks, watching from the outside as your chest rises and falls. His heart beating a little faster. He walks in, squatting in front of your desk. He knocks on it a few times and your eyes drowsily open.

“Class is gonna start soon sleeping beauty.”

You look a little dazed, you don’t even look that mad at him. His cheeks flush up at how pretty you look. His face inches away from yours. His hand shoots out to your face.

“You’re drooling.” And Oikawa giggles, completely enamored with you.

You push his hand away but he quickly holds it. But what shocks him the most is you aren’t letting go. However you snuggle back in to your arm.

“It’s my first day back. Go away.” You grumble. Which doesn’t even sound like it has any malice intent behind it.

He gulps, not used to you ever being this…normal with him. He holds your hand for a little longer, basking in the moment.

“Fine. Only because I think my heart is going to explode.” You send a glare at him but to him it’s just a meaningless pout.

“See ya later cutie.” He winks at you.

He completely fawns over that interaction for weeks. His volleyball team is tired of hearing it at this point. “Yet she still hates you.” Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“I’m getting closer! I feel it.” Oikawa clenches his fist, a glint in his eye.

“You’re so delusional.” Iwaizumi laughs and Oikawa crosses his arms.

When Oikawa is leaving school he sees you sat on the grass, sat under a tree. He immediately perks up, walking over to you.

“Hey~” He smiles and you narrow your eyes at him but they lost their full emotion. He plops down next you, your hair blows with the wind and he sighs, lovesick.

“Stop looking at me.” You pout, your cheeks heating up.

“I can’t.” He smiles and you huff, yet you look conflicted. And that worries him. He’s about to ask what’s wrong but your words cut him off.

“Why do you even like me—or keep talking to me.” You cast your eyes to the side, picking at the grass.

He’s taken aback.

“I don’t know, I like the way you make me feel.”

“You mean you like the chase?”

He groans.

“Are you sure you don’t talk to Iwa-Chan?” He throws his head back, your blank face answers his question.

“No it’s not the chase. I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never felt this way before.” He blushes but you’re still not convinced.

“You don’t even know me.” You scoff and he pouts.

“You don’t give me the chance to!”

Which he is right. You pull your knees to your chest, your red cheeks on display.

“Why do you hate me.” He asks and you answer without missing a beat.

“Because you’re cocky. You’re not humble and you get everything served to you on a silver platter. It’s irritating.”

He frowns at that because you’re completely wrong and he lets the hurt be evident on his face.

“That’s not true…” He seems small and you look at him skeptically.

“Ok maybe I do like to gloat. But I’ve earned it. I worked very hard to get where I’m at.”

It’s silent.

All that’s heard is the wind rustling the leaves above.

“Sorry.” You mumble and he blinks at you.

“Guess I misunderstood you.”

You still don’t meet his eyes but he brightens at that.

A chance.

“That’s ok. Can we start over?” He wiggles his brows and you roll your eyes. Yet a smile cracks onto your face.

“Yea, we can start over.” pt 2

[arkaiveofurown]

he was harsh to you

Pairings: Crocodile x Reader, Ace x Reader, Law x Reader, Mihawk x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words each

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

my masterlist here ♡

----

Crocodile

The tension between you and Crocodile had been building for days. He had been aloof, and his sharp, biting remarks were starting to wear on you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle his bluntness—hell, you were used to it by now—but today, it felt different. It felt personal.

You had just come from a successful mission for the Cross Guild, but the celebration was overshadowed by Crocodile’s attitude. You were standing near the map room, reviewing your next move, when he stormed in with that familiar scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have something better to do than stand around wasting time?” Crocodile snapped, his tone cold and dismissive. “I don’t need a babysitter. Get your act together.”

You felt your blood boil at his words. “Excuse me?” you shot back, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. “I’m doing my job just fine, thank you very much. Maybe you should stop trying to belittle everyone around you.”

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he stepped closer. “Belittle? I’m trying to get through to you. You’re so damn distracted, it’s pathetic. You’re wasting your potential.”

“Wasting my potential?” You clenched your fists, holding back the sting of his words. “How about you stop trying to micromanage everyone around here? I’m getting things done, but you just don’t want to see it, do you?”

“Getting things done?” Crocodile scoffed, walking over to the table and slamming his hand on the map. “You’re dragging your feet. We’ve got a Guild to build, and you’re too busy pretending everything’s fine. If you think this is going anywhere, you’re living in a fantasy.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m doing exactly what needs to be done. But if you think I’m just here to be your damn soldier, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Crocodile’s eyes flashed with something darker. “Soldier? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re part of the team—if you can manage to act like it. But from what I’m seeing, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the anger bubbling up in your throat. “A liability? I’ve been working harder than anyone on this ship, and you can’t even see it. Maybe it’s easier for you to blame everyone else for your own failures.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low. “What failure? I’m not the one who’s failing here. It’s you, with all your whining, trying to act like this is a charity. This is a Guild, not a damn playground.”

You could feel the heat rising in your face, but you stood your ground. “You’re impossible. You always think you’re right and that the world revolves around you. Maybe you need to take a long look in the mirror and realize that you’re the one who’s out of line.”

Crocodile didn’t flinch. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You either get in line or get out of my way.”

That was the breaking point. You took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to lash out. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice shaking with frustration. Without another word, you turned and stormed out of the room, the slam of the door echoing in your wake.

----

The silence in the ship’s quarters felt suffocating. Crocodile’s harsh words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over, and the weight of the argument was crushing. You hadn’t expected it to escalate like that, but there was no denying it now—you were hurt, and you couldn’t pretend otherwise.

You hadn’t bothered to leave your room, locked in your thoughts, lying on the bed with your back to the door. The sting of Crocodile’s words felt like a constant pressure on your chest. You’d been part of the Cross Guild for so long, fought alongside the others, but why did it feel like Crocodile just saw you as a tool? A tool that he could discard when it suited him.

You hated the feeling of weakness that crept in with the tears you’d been trying to hold back. But when it all became too much, they finally fell. Quietly at first, then in desperate, broken sobs.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to cry until you did.

Hours passed, and you thought you’d hear the sounds of Crocodile’s usual cold demeanor at your door. But it never came. No knock, no footsteps—nothing.

You sat up from your bed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Crocodile might not have said anything more, but his absence was almost worse. It felt like he didn’t care enough to even check if you were okay.

----

The next day, things were still quiet between you and Crocodile. He wasn’t avoiding you, but he wasn’t making any overt moves either. The silence felt heavy, like there was more left unsaid, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to approach him first.

It wasn’t until you were sitting alone in the ship’s main hall, watching the crew go about their usual duties, that you saw him again. He was standing near the door, scanning the room as though he was looking for something—or someone. His gaze fell on you, and for a moment, you thought about getting up and leaving.

But then, something unexpected happened.

He walked toward you, his steps deliberate, his usual air of command unmistakable. But there was no arrogance, no cold indifference. Instead, there was something almost… hesitant, as though he was unsure how to approach.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. Not demanding, but more… tentative.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Crocodile sat down beside you, but there was a clear distance between you two. Still, he didn’t break the silence. Instead, his eyes flickered to the floor and back to you, unsure of how to even start.

“I’ve been thinking,” Crocodile began, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t do ‘soft’ well. I never have. I push people away because it’s easier than getting close. But with you… I shouldn’t have done that.”

You stayed quiet, listening. This wasn’t the Crocodile you were used to, and it threw you off. But you could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I treated you like you were disposable. Like I could just push you aside because I don’t know how to handle emotions,” he continued, his words laced with the rare honesty he usually kept buried. “I’m not saying I can change overnight, but I… I can try. I can do better. For you.”

For a moment, the room felt too quiet, too heavy with the weight of his confession. You weren’t sure what to say, but you couldn’t deny the effort he was showing. It wasn’t just words. It was him trying—genuinely trying—to be someone better for you.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he added, his gaze meeting yours directly. “But if you’ll let me, I want to show you that I’m not just some heartless bastard.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Crocodile wasn’t the type to offer grand gestures, but this... this was different.

He shifted in his seat, as if he was fighting the urge to stand up and walk away. His usual confidence was tempered by something more vulnerable, and it made the tension between you two feel palpable. Still, there was something unspoken in the air, something you both knew needed to be addressed.

After a moment, Crocodile pulled something from his pocket, a small, worn notebook. He placed it between you two with a rare hesitance, as though it was heavier than it appeared.

“I don’t usually carry things like this,” he started, his voice rough but not harsh. “But... I thought you might find it useful.” He tapped the notebook once. “It’s full of notes—things I’ve learned, strategies, things about our crew that could be useful. Not much, but it’s something I’ve kept for myself. Thought it might help you... since we’ve been working together.”

There was no flashy gesture, no grand promises—just this small act of vulnerability. Crocodile wasn’t one to share his notes or insights with just anyone, much less someone he had been pushing away. It was his way of showing he trusted you more than he had before.

You stared at it for a moment, processing what he’d done. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t over-the-top, but it was honest. It was him offering something personal, a piece of his world that he didn’t usually share.

“I know I’m not great with words,” Crocodile continued, looking away, his usual guarded expression back in place. “But I can do this. I’ll show you I’m not just some cold bastard.”

You let the silence stretch between you as you reached for the notebook, running your fingers over the pages. It was simple, but it meant something—he was trying. And that was enough for now.

"Thank you," you said softly, glancing up at him. "This is... more than I expected."

His eyes flickered to yours for a moment, something unreadable in them. "It's just a start," he muttered, standing up. "I’ll keep trying. But you’ve got to meet me halfway, too."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. It wasn’t perfect, and there were no sweeping gestures, but this... this felt real. And that was a good place to begin.

---

Ace

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting golden hues across the ship. You and the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates were enjoying a rare moment of calm as the ship slowly drifted across the sea. The deck was lively with the crew, but you found yourself chatting with Thatch, who was always kind and welcoming.

The conversation was lighthearted, the two of you laughing over some silly story. But through the corner of your eye, you noticed Ace’s figure standing by the mast. His eyes were fixed on you and Thatch. You didn’t think much of it, assuming Ace was just being his usual quiet self. But then, you saw his expression—dark, his jaw clenched, fists tightly gripping the railing. His eyes narrowed as he watched you, and it felt like a cold gust had suddenly blown through the deck.

Before you could finish your conversation with Thatch, Ace stormed over. You barely registered his approach before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Thatch.

“Hey! What the hell, Ace? What’s going on?” you said, trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

“Don’t hey me,” Ace snapped, his voice low and seething. He was angry, and it was obvious. “What the hell was that about?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused. You looked back toward Thatch, who was watching the exchange, a slight frown on his face.

“Don’t play dumb,” Ace growled. “You’ve been all over Thatch today. Laughing, touching him, flirting like it’s some fucking game. What, am I not enough for you?”

Your heart dropped at his words. “Flirting? Ace, we were just talking. It’s nothing like that. You’re making it into something it’s not.”

“Really?” Ace scoffed, his eyes darkening. “Don’t act like I’m blind. I’ve been watching you. The way you’re acting with him, it’s obvious. You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t see it?”

You felt the heat rise in your chest. “Are you seriously accusing me of something right now? You’ve known Thatch for years, and now you’re acting like this over nothing?”

Ace’s grip tightened on your wrist, his face flushed with anger. “Nothing? You think this is nothing? You think I’m stupid? You’ve been laughing with him, leaning into him, all damn day! It’s like I’m invisible to you when he’s around!”

“Ace, calm down!” you snapped, pulling your arm from his grip. “You’re overreacting. This isn’t about Thatch! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

Ace stepped closer, his voice growing colder. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You don’t get it, do you? I’m standing here, and I’m watching you smile at him, touch him, like I don’t fucking matter. And what the hell am I supposed to think?”

You couldn’t believe it. “You’re acting insane. You know I love you, right? You’re my partner. But you can’t just jump to conclusions like this—this isn’t jealousy, this is possessiveness. It’s not fair to me.”

“I don’t give a damn what you call it,” Ace sneered, crossing his arms. “It’s not just a little joke anymore. It’s like you’re fucking ignoring me every time he shows up, and I’m tired of it.”

You clenched your fists, feeling your frustration boil over. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the one I want. Not him, not anyone else. I’m not some fucking flirt, I don’t need your jealousy getting in the way of everything. You’re acting like a child.”

“A child?” Ace barked out a laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “Look at you. You’re so fucking perfect with everyone else. But when it comes to me, I’m the one left questioning if I even matter to you.”

“Ace, you’re being ridiculous!” you yelled, your anger flaring. “This isn’t how you should be acting. You’re pushing me away with this shit!”

“I don’t care if you think I’m ridiculous!” Ace shot back, his face turning red with fury. “I can’t fucking help it. It just hurts to see you giving attention to someone else when you’re supposed to be mine. What am I supposed to do with that? Just ignore it like you’re not doing anything wrong?”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you couldn’t even find a response. You stared at him in disbelief. The person you knew, the Ace you loved, wouldn’t talk to you like this. He wouldn’t accuse you, wouldn’t twist everything into something ugly. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

Ace ran a hand through his hair, his expression shifting from anger to frustration, but his tone was still harsh. “I’m just saying what I feel, alright? Maybe I should just stop caring. Maybe I should just let you do whatever the hell you want without giving a damn.”

You felt a sting in your heart at that, but you didn’t let him see it. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, then go ahead. Push me away. Make me feel like I don’t matter. Do what you need to do.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you!” Ace snapped, his voice getting louder. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m not enough for you! Like you don’t need me anymore!”

“Ace, stop acting like I’m the one who’s wrong here,” you said, stepping back from him. “This is about you—your insecurities. You need to figure this shit out before you start blaming me.”

“I don’t need your lectures right now,” Ace spat, his eyes wild with frustration. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m the one with a problem. You’re the one making me feel like this!”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the tension between you two, thick as smoke. You didn’t know what to say anymore. His words hurt more than anything, and you could feel the emotional distance growing between you.

“Ace,” you began, your voice quieter now, though still edged with anger. “I’m not going to keep fighting with you like this. If you want to think that I’m the problem here, then fine. Do whatever you want. But I won’t be dragged down by your jealousy. I won’t.”

You turned to walk away, but Ace’s harsh voice stopped you. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m trying to make sense of this! Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in all of this!”

You didn’t stop. You kept walking, not giving him another glance. If he couldn’t see how much you loved him, if he couldn’t get over his own jealousy, there was nothing more you could say.

And in that moment, the distance between you and Ace felt wider than it ever had.

----

The moment Ace walked away, everything felt cold. You didn’t know how long you stood there, just staring at the spot where he had left you. Your hand was still aching from his grip, but it was the sting in your chest that hurt more. He didn’t trust you, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You didn’t want to cry, but the tears started anyway. It wasn’t just that he’d been angry—it was the way he’d accused you, made you feel like you weren’t good enough for him. His words burned like fire in your mind, and they refused to go away. You rubbed your eyes furiously, wishing it would stop, but it didn’t.

You made your way below deck, avoiding anyone’s eyes. But even in the silence, the weight of Ace’s accusations pressed against your chest.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor interrupted your thoughts, but you didn’t look up.

“Ace…” you whispered, voice barely audible, as you heard him stand in front of you. His figure towered over you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

He stood there for a long moment before letting out a long sigh.

“I messed up.” His voice was quieter now, filled with regret.

You didn’t answer right away, the hurt still raw. He continued, as if to reassure you.

“I know I was harsh,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

You finally looked up, his face full of guilt. It wasn’t the same anger you had seen earlier, but it didn’t make it better.

“Ace, I don’t deserve that,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’ve been treating me like… like I’m the one doing something wrong. You don’t trust me.”

“I know,” Ace muttered. “I was jealous, and it made me stupid. I didn’t think. I just… acted.”

“You can’t just accuse me like that, Ace. I thought you knew me better than anyone.”

“I do,” he said quickly, kneeling in front of you. His voice cracked slightly. “I do know you. And I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I overreacted like that. It’s just…” He paused, staring down at the floor, lost in thought. “I get scared sometimes, you know? That you’ll leave me. Or that I’m not good enough.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them made the weight of them hit him too.

You swallowed hard, still trying to hold yourself together. “It’s not about you not being good enough, Ace. But you made me feel like I was the problem.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I promise. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

He reached out then, carefully pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm around you, and despite everything, it felt like home.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Ace whispered against your ear. “Just... please don’t leave me.”

----

Later that evening, Ace approached you once again. He wasn’t going to let this slide with just words. This time, he was determined to show you how much you meant to him.

He found you on the deck, staring out at the sea. The sunset had painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. He hesitated for a moment, but then walked up to you, standing still for a few seconds before quietly sitting beside you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I’ve treated you,” Ace started, his voice calm but serious. He wasn’t going to let this be a quick fix. He had to prove he was serious. “I was an idiot before.”

You didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t pull away either, so he took that as his sign to continue.

“You deserve better than me just saying ‘sorry,’” Ace continued, looking at you with those soft, apologetic eyes. “I want to show you, not just tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, Ace stood up and reached into his jacket, pulling out something small wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a beautiful hand-carved wooden pendant—one shaped like a flame, a piece of his own soul carved into it. He placed it in your hand, his palm warm against yours.

“I made this for you,” Ace explained, his voice low. “It’s not much, but it’s a reminder. Every time you look at it, I want you to remember that I’m here. I’m trying to be better. For you.”

You stared at the pendant, surprised that Ace had gone this far. He wasn’t known for his sentimental side, and seeing him take the time to make something so personal was a first.

But that wasn’t all.

Ace lowered himself to one knee, taking your hands in his, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced by something deeper. “I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m far from it. But I’m gonna fight for you, every damn day, if it means showing you that you’re mine and that I don’t take you for granted.”

His eyes held sincerity, not just for a moment but for what felt like eternity. He wasn’t asking for immediate forgiveness; he was showing you that he understood the weight of what he’d done, and he was willing to carry that burden.

“I’ll be better. I’ll prove it to you, one step at a time,” Ace added, squeezing your hands gently. “I’m not gonna run from it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You felt the weight of his words settle between you, but it was the actions—the carving, the kneeling, the rawness of his apology—that made the difference.

And in that moment, something shifted. His effort wasn’t just in the words, but in the way he had approached everything differently. The care, the vulnerability, the openness—it was something you hadn’t seen from Ace in this way before.

“Thank you,” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

Ace’s face softened, and he pulled you into his arms gently. “I’ll never stop showing you, okay? I’ll never stop trying.”

You could feel the warmth of his embrace, but it was different now—sincere, unwavering, and full of effort. He wasn’t perfect, but this was the Ace you had always known, the one who, when he cared, gave everything he had.

“I know you won’t,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, knowing that even in his flaws, Ace’s heart was real and his effort was exactly what you needed.

----

Law

You were in the medical bay, carefully organizing the supplies, running through the routine tasks that kept you busy and, for the moment, kept your mind off the chaos of being aboard the Polar Tang. The quiet buzz of the ship’s engine was a subtle backdrop, almost soothing, but it wasn’t long before Law entered, his heavy boots echoing in the small space.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade.

You turned, surprised to see him standing there with his arms crossed, a frustrated look on his face. "What? I’m just getting the medical supplies organized," you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. You had been with him long enough to know when something was off, and you could feel the tension in the air.

Law didn’t even spare a glance at the supplies. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you, sharp as ever. “It’s a waste of time. Don’t you have something more important to do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What’s wrong with organizing the medical supplies? We can’t afford to let things get disorganized—especially if someone gets hurt. You should know that.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “This again? All you ever seem to do is waste time in here. We have real problems going on, and here you are, playing nursemaid.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you tried to stay calm. “I’m not just playing nursemaid, Law. This is a crucial part of the crew’s well-being. You might not see it, but when someone gets injured, we need everything in place.”

Law snorted, walking further into the room with no regard for the way his presence weighed on you. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been the one patching up the crew for years. I don’t need some reminder of how ‘important’ this is.”

His eyes glinted with something cold, making you feel like you were the one being irrational. “And yet, every time I come in here, I see you fiddling with bandages and vials like it’s some hobby. Maybe if you spent more time actually being useful, we wouldn’t be in half the mess we’re in now.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your face, your patience wearing thin. “Useful? I’m always useful, Law! You’ve never seen me just sit around and do nothing. I’ve been with you through thick and thin. What the hell is your problem today?”

Law didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and hard. “You’ve been off lately, not getting your hands dirty, avoiding the real work. Every time I turn around, you’re in here with your head buried in paperwork or fiddling with stuff that doesn’t matter. Are you even trying to help anymore, or is this your way of slacking off?”

You felt your pulse quicken, the sharpness of his words stinging like a slap across the face. “You know what? I don’t need this right now. I’m trying to do my best, but I guess that’s never good enough for you, huh?” You crossed your arms, pushing back the feeling of betrayal that crept up your throat.

“I don’t need your excuses,” Law replied, his voice colder than before. “You know what this crew is like, and you know what’s at stake. The sooner you stop pretending like this is all a game, the better.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I’m done here.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, stunned. You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

You sat alone in your room, staring at the wooden floorboards, your mind replaying the harsh words from earlier. His anger had caught you off guard, and it stung in ways you didn’t expect. You’d never seen him like that—so cold, so dismissive. What had you done wrong?

You hadn’t meant to upset him, not at all. You were only trying to help, to get through to him, but it seemed like he didn’t want to hear it. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt. Was this how he really saw you? Was everything you did so easily misinterpreted?

The tears came, slowly at first, then in a rush, spilling down your cheeks as the weight of the argument settled in. You wiped at your face, trying to push back the emotions, but it was useless. His words lingered in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

You felt small in that moment. Small and insignificant. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore his feelings openly, but you thought—no, you hoped—that maybe, just maybe, he’d let you in. Now, all you had were the fragments of a conversation that had broken everything apart.

You stood up abruptly, wiping your eyes and trying to pull yourself together. There was no point in crying, not now. But the silence in the room felt like a weight you couldn’t escape, and your heart ached in a way it never had before.

----

The next morning, the air between you and Law was thick with silence. It felt like a weight neither of you wanted to lift, but both of you knew it needed to be addressed.

You walked down the corridor of the ship, your mind replaying everything that had happened last night. His words, his cold tone, and how they made you feel—like an afterthought, like your feelings didn’t matter. You needed to shake it off, but it lingered.

As you neared the deck, you saw Law standing near the railing, staring out at the horizon. His usual composure was gone. There was something about the way he stood there—quiet, almost brooding—that made your chest tighten.

You stopped a few paces away, unsure whether you should approach or just walk by. But you didn't want this hanging over you any longer. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way toward him.

Law didn’t acknowledge you at first. His gaze remained on the horizon, but there was a noticeable shift in the air as you got closer.

“You were right to be angry last night,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. The words caught you off guard.

You blinked, surprised by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, his hands gripping the railing a little tighter. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was out of line. I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter, and I… I don’t want to make you feel that way again.”

There was no excuse, no deflection. He didn’t try to rationalize it. The rawness of his admission made something in your chest loosen.

“You fucked up,” you said, voice low but steady. “It wasn’t just about the words, it’s about how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t… important to you.”

“I know,” Law replied quietly, his voice carrying more regret than you had ever heard. “And I don’t want you to feel like that, not ever. I don’t want to make excuses… but I’ve been so caught up in my own shit that I couldn’t see what I was doing to you.”

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. His words were hard to process, but there was something in them that felt different—something that wasn’t typical of Law.

He met your gaze, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves. “I won’t pretend I know how to do this right, but I will try. And I’ll show you through my actions, not just words.”

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of everything. “Actions? Like what?”

Law's gaze softened, and he stepped away from the railing, facing you fully. “Tonight… let’s take a break from the ship. No work. Just us. We can go somewhere quiet, somewhere we don’t have to worry about anything else. I’ll listen, I’ll be present. You deserve that, and I want to show you I can do better.”

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, the hesitation in your chest slowly melting away.

He didn’t need to explain it further; you could see the change in his expression, the way his eyes weren’t as guarded. The rawness of his apology spoke volumes, and his willingness to make an effort, to actually show you, made you feel something different—hope, maybe.

The night came, and as promised, Law took you somewhere away from the hustle of the ship. The moment felt intimate, unspoken, and just… peaceful. You didn’t have to say much; the quiet between you two now felt like understanding, not tension. No grand gestures. Just time spent together, away from the chaos, showing each other what words sometimes couldn’t express.

----

Mihawk

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light across the castle grounds as the night stretched on. You stood near the balcony, overlooking the vast, quiet expanse of Kuraigana Island, trying to ease the tension that had been building between you and Mihawk for days. You didn’t understand it. He had always been quiet, always withdrawn, but this... this was different.

You had tried to speak to him earlier, but each time, he shut you down.

You walked up to him now, your voice breaking the silence of the night. “Mihawk,” you started softly, “we need to talk.”

Mihawk didn’t even look up from his sword. His posture was perfect, as always, but his eyes were distant. “I’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

Your stomach twisted. “You’ve been like this for days. I don’t even know what’s going on with you anymore.”

“I told you, nothing is wrong.” Mihawk’s tone was clipped, cold.

You stepped closer, frustration rising. “That’s not true. You’ve been shutting me out. You barely say anything when I’m around. It’s like you don’t even want me here.”

He sighed, setting the sword down on the stone table, the movement deliberate, almost as though he was choosing his next words with care. “I’ve been thinking.”

You crossed your arms, taking a step toward him. “About?”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze dark and contemplative. “About this whole… situation.” He gestured vaguely toward the castle, as if the whole life they led was part of the problem. “About us.”

You frowned, stepping closer still. “Us?”

He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed, but he kept going. “I’m not the kind of person who… needs company. I don’t need someone hovering over me, asking questions all the time.”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the sting of those words more than you cared to admit. You’d always known Mihawk was a man of few words, but hearing him say it like this hit harder than expected. “So, what? You’re saying I’m annoying?”

Mihawk’s gaze flickered briefly to your face before he looked away, uncomfortable. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Mihawk?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because that sure as hell sounds like you’re pushing me away.”

He stood up straighter, his eyes hardening for a moment, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something raw, something almost vulnerable. “I’m not pushing you away,” he muttered, though the words sounded like they were meant more for himself than for you. “I just… don’t know how to let people in.”

You stepped back, a sharp breath leaving your lips. His words were a dagger in your chest. “You don’t have to be perfect, Mihawk. But this… this is just too much.”

His face hardened again, the vulnerability disappearing behind that familiar, cold mask. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy.”

You recoiled, shaking your head. “It’s not sympathy, Mihawk. I’m trying to be here for you, but you won’t let me. You keep pushing me away.”

There was a long silence between you, the kind that stretched out too long, too thick to ignore. Mihawk stared at the floor, visibly struggling with something you couldn’t quite understand.

Finally, he sighed, his voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

Your heart shattered with those words. The finality of them, the coldness, the impossibility of it, made it harder to breathe. You turned quickly, not wanting him to see the sting of his words on your face.

Without another word, you walked off, your steps heavy and purposeful.

----

You didn’t wait for him to speak. You didn’t need to. Mihawk’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating everything between you. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

You walked away before the sting of his words could settle, the sharp edge of them cutting through your chest. You didn’t care that he was still standing there, staring after you.

Your feet took you to your room in the castle, but even as you closed the door behind you, the world outside seemed to close in. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands, trying to push the burn behind your eyes. But it was useless. The tears came, slow at first, then faster. You pressed your palms against your face, desperate to stop them, but they kept coming.

Why? Why did he say that?

Your heart ached, and you couldn’t figure out what hurt more—the words themselves or the realization that he didn’t want you around. Mihawk. The man who had kept everyone at a distance. The one who had never once asked for anything. And you—you—had thought maybe you could be the one person to change that. But you were wrong.

----

Meanwhile, Mihawk sat in his study, his mind tangled in his own thoughts. He stared out at the night sky, trying to drown out the regret gnawing at him. What have I done?

He had never been good with people, never good with emotions. I didn’t mean it. She shouldn’t have to feel like that.

His words had come out too easily, without thinking. He had pushed you away when all you had done was show him care, patience... love.

He let out a frustrated breath, the weight of his mistake pressing harder on him. She doesn’t deserve this.

He rose from his seat, walking to the window, gripping the ledge with clenched fists. What now? He had always been alone, but the thought of you not being there, of losing what little connection he had with you, hurt more than he could admit. He wasn’t sure how to fix it. He never knew how to fix things.

She’s not going to forgive me easily, is she? He sighed, the silence in the air heavier than the night sky before him. I have to make this right... somehow.

----

The following morning, Mihawk woke with a single thought in mind. He couldn’t stand the tension, the silence between you two. The words from the night before echoed in his head, but now all he could focus on was the idea of making things right.

You were still distant, and he knew he couldn’t just speak his way out of it. He had to show you, to prove that he cared, even if he had never learned how to express it properly.

He moved to the kitchen of his castle early that morning, preparing a quiet breakfast, his hands methodical as he selected fresh ingredients from his garden. He was no stranger to cooking—having lived alone for so many years meant he’d developed the skill, even if he didn’t often share it with anyone. But this time, it wasn’t about the food. It was about showing you, in his own way, that he didn’t want to lose you.

Mihawk worked in silence, chopping vegetables and herbs, carefully preparing a dish that, though simple, was made with genuine effort. He took his time—something rare for him, but he knew it was necessary.

Once everything was ready, he set the table, the soft clink of porcelain and silverware the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

After a long moment, he took a breath, walked down the hall, and knocked on your door.

“Y/N,” Mihawk’s voice was quieter than usual, almost tentative. “I’ve made something. For you.”

You were sitting at the small desk by the window when you heard him. You turned slowly, your expression unreadable, and saw him standing there with a plate of food in his hands.

For a moment, there was silence between you, and Mihawk seemed to hesitate, unsure how to approach you. Then, finally, he stepped forward, setting the plate down on the small table beside you.

“I... I don’t know if this is what you wanted, but it’s what I could do,” Mihawk said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “I’m not good with words, but I wanted to show you I’m sorry.”

You stared at the plate for a moment, then back at him. You could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—his posture was less rigid, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t expected this. He was never one to cook, and yet, here he was—offering you something he had prepared himself.

Tentatively, you reached for the fork, your fingers brushing against his as you took a bite. The taste was simple—fresh vegetables, some herbs—but it was good. Better than you expected, considering Mihawk's usual reliance on swords rather than culinary skills.

“It’s... really good,” you said softly, your gaze lifting to meet his.

Mihawk’s features softened, and for the first time, a small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I wanted to do something... something more than just apologizing. Words aren’t enough.”

You set the fork down, your hand resting on the table between you. “Mihawk,” you began, your voice barely a whisper, “I know you don’t always know how to show it. But you don’t have to shut me out. I just... I want to be here for you.”

Mihawk stood still for a moment, looking at you, taking in your words. It wasn’t easy for him to admit his feelings, but here, now, in the quiet of his castle, he finally let his guard down, even if just a little.

“I... don’t know how to do this,” he said slowly, his voice low. “But I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand gently. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest with me. That’s all I want.”

For the first time, Mihawk let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he sat down beside you. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“I will,” Mihawk said, his voice steady now. “I will try, Y/N. I’ll try harder.”

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of a simple meal and the weight of unspoken promises, you both knew that this was just the beginning—Mihawk, for the first time, letting someone in, and you, ready to stay by his side, no matter how hard the journey ahead might be.

[brights-place]

[TWST] First years & Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Stupid Slang Prompt by: bakuhve

A/N: I HAD TO WRITE IT OKAY IT WAS SUCH A GOOD IDEA LOVE BAKUHVE FOR EXISTING YOU GORGEOUS HUMAN BEING! Banner art is by @maenongdeuce on x @/ List: @c0ralrubi , @writingbluerose , @bakuhve, @goose-things, @s0mething27, @kingheinrey, @gracegarnet, @honey-inthe-moon

Summary: [MC] joins the first years on a recent trend in TWST, GEtting the prefect to read off twisted wonderland lingo from a paper meanwhile the others take a gulp of water trying not to laugh. The only thing though that made it funnier was the fact that [Mc] was staring at the piece of paper like it was the most unhinged thing in their grasp

You blinked in surprise, staring down at the sheet of paper in your hands before glancing up at the group of first-years, who eagerly gave you a thumbs-up.

The moment the video started, Ace barely managed a snort before immediately choking on his water, sputtering and coughing in an attempt to recover himself. You haven't even started on speaking, your lips twitching up seeing how Ace reacted before you even said the first thing on the paper, Deuce, caught between concern and stifled laughter, clamped a hand over his mouth, while Epel burst into uncontrollable cackles at how quickly Ace had lost his composure. Meanwhile, Jack stood off to the side, arms crossed, exchanging a puzzled glance with Sebek, who looked equally bewildered by the scene unfolding before them. Ortho, positioned slightly apart from the group, blinked in amusement before letting out a cheerful laugh, muffling it behind his robotic fist. "I DIDN'T EVEN SAY ANYTING YET DAMN?!" You exclaimed smacking Ace who grinned. Grim, who had been lounging off to the side munching on his tuna, barely spared a glance before blinking and going right back to eating.

After a brief pause to let Ace stop dying, the group restarted the recording. You stood in the middle, gripping the paper like it held the secrets of the universe. With a deep breath, you squinted at the words, already side-eyeing the group, who were barely containing their laughter.

Your e/c eyes scanned the paper. “…‘Where the huzz at?’” A chorus of barely restrained giggles filled the air. Epel’s shoulders started shaking violently, and Ortho, standing beside you, blinked as his pupils dilated. His scanners were running at full capacity, desperately searching his database for any form of context. “‘Skibidi… tuah…? Hawk tuah rizz?’” you continued, blinking in confusion. Jack’s tail stiffened, wagging slightly as he tensed, trying not to laugh. The water in his mouth swished dangerously from side to side. Deuce, meanwhile, was already tearing up, his hand clamped over his mouth as he turned away in a last-ditch effort to maintain his dignity water dribbling onto the floor as he sucked it in. Ortho, despite being a robot, looked like he was about to short-circuit from secondhand embarrassment, while your own awkward grin only made the situation worse.

Then came the final blow

“Level 10 Gyatt…?" you mumbled, mispronouncing the word entirely.

That was it. Ace completely lost it. The redhead was gripping your shoulder like his life depended on it, cackling so hard he went limp, before suddenly spitting out another mouthful of water. It dribbled down his chin as he wheezed, clutching onto you tighter for support. Deuce, in sheer panic, smacked Ace’s back probably not to help, but just to distract himself from laughing. Sebek stood stiffly to the side, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the madness. He turned to Jack and Epel, hoping for answers, but found only barely restrained chaos.

“Fine Shite?” Epel, in that exact moment, wheezed so hard he started choking on his water, doubling over and nearly collapsing to his knees. Jack’s tail wagged like crazy as his ears twitched, his restraint barely hanging by a thread.

Sebek, utterly lost, turned to Deuce with the intensity of a man demanding answers to the universe’s greatest mysteries. He gestured wildly, his hands cutting through the air like he was conducting an invisible orchestra of confusion. “EXPLAIN!” his eyes practically screamed.

Deuce, however, was in no state to answer. Face red and trembling from suppressed laughter, he barely managed to choke down his water before doubling over, wheezing "Negative 1000 aura" You uttered with a raised brow.

Ortho knelt beside Ace, patting his back with the solemnity of a grieving widow at a funeral. Ace, still sprawled out on the floor, was wheezing so hard that he looked like he was about to pass into the afterlife.

“N-Negative… 1000… aura…” he gasped between ragged breaths, tears streaming down his face. You surveyed the utter carnage before you, the sheer stupidity of the situation making your brain short-circuit. With a deep, exhausted sigh, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“…What the hell did I just read?” Epel, positioned beside Ace, let out a laugh so violent it sounded almost inhuman. His legs flailed in the air, kicking wildly as he cackled like a dying horse. Deuce turned to you, still laughing but visibly fighting for his life to not end up on the floor alongside the others. Jack and Sebek, however, remained standing barely. Jack’s shoulders twitched like he was trying to physically restrain himself, and Sebek stood stiffly, looking dangerously close to short-circuiting.

Ortho, ever the curious observer, peered over your shoulder, scanning the paper before pointing at the next phrase with his mechanical finger. “There’s more,” he helpfully informed.

You hummed, looking down before hesitantly reading aloud, “…Raise your ya ya yas’?” Silence filled the room before Jack exploded.

The wolf beastman bent over, gripping his knees as his entire body shook with laughter. His canines flashed in a wide grin before SPLOOSH the water he had been holding in his mouth shot out like a geyser.

Right onto Ace and Deuce’s already suffering faces. Sebek, who had been holding in his composure like a dam about to burst, could no longer take it. His patience snapped like a twig in a hurricane.

“WHAT ARE THESE SAYINGS?! WHAT DO THEY EVEN MEAN?!” he bellowed, eyes wild as he snatched the paper from your hands, shaking it as if that would somehow force it to reveal its secrets.

Jack, still doubled over, was barely holding himself together. The rest of the group was done. Sebek, however, was not.

He stormed over to you, planting himself at your side, his booming voice practically rattling your skull as he yelled at the others, demanding explanations while trying to read the paper. Before anyone could answer, Epel, still weak from laughing, tried to take a step only for his foot to land right on the puddle of water Jack had spat out.

He went down like a crate of spilt apples.

“AH—!”

With an ungraceful thud, he tumbled forward right onto Deuce.

“AGH—DUDE?!—”

Deuce yelped, the sudden impact knocking him clean off balance. He flailed helplessly for a moment before crashing straight into Ace, who was only just recovering from his previous collapse.

SMACK—THUD!

Ace let out a shriek of laughter as he lost his footing, landing square on his ass with a loud oof.

The room fell into stunned silence, everyone processing the absolute disaster that had just unfolded in real-time.

And then

“…‘Ohio Oni-chan’?”

The second the words left your mouth, the room ERUPTED. Ace was gone, his laugh turning into a dying wheeze as he clutched his stomach. Deuce slammed a fist into the floor, absolutely done. Jack had to physically turn away to keep himself from collapsing. Ortho let out a gleeful robotic giggle, his eyes flashing brightly as he recorded everything for future blackmail.

Sebek, however, did not look amused. His eyes twitched violently, his entire body stiff with frustration.

You sighed, lips twitching despite yourself as you took in the absolute mess before you the heap of bodies on the floor, Jack barely holding it together, Ortho just enjoying the show, and Sebek, who looked like he was questioning his entire existence.

Honestly… you couldn’t even be mad. A grin tugged at your lips as you shook your head. “…What a disaster.” you muttered grinning

[cuzxai]

too close for comfort - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: just a lil blurb— trying to be quiet with the team around you (no pnv)

It’s always the worst motels when the cases go too long. This one’s got buzzing lights and a TV remote that barely works and they somehow crammed four beds into a room that’s really meant for two. You were the last one in, which meant the dreaded pull-out couch. You didn’t mind, you’d spent a few nights in worse but the second Spencer in behind you with his go-bag, you knew. Of course it’d be him. Morgan and Hotch were already passed out. JJ and Emily had staked out the last real bed. So now it’s just you and him, pressed together on a mattress thinner than your patience and you can feel every inch of him against you. Chest to back. Arm draped over your waist. Nose buried against your neck.

He’s warm. He’s twitchy. And he hasn’t stopped squirming since the lights went out. “Spence,” you whisper, barely above the hum of the AC. “You good?”His breath catches against your skin. “Yeah,” he says quickly, too quickly. “Sorry, I just… you’re really soft.” You can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes. “That a compliment or an excuse?”Silence. “Both?” It’s not what he says, it’s the way he says it. A little breathy. A little embarrassed. Like his brain’s moving faster than his mouth and he knows it. His hand shifts a little on your waist, fingers spreading out like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. “Spencer…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again but he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t pull back. His hips press forward just the slightest bit and that’s when you feel it. The slow roll of him against your ass, nothing but too-thin sweats between you and his breath stutters out against your shoulder like he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. “You’re hard,” you whisper, not even teasing—just a fact. “I know,” he groans softly. “I’ve been trying not to move but you—you’re making it impossible. I can’t—” You shift back into him gently, giving him the tiniest bit of pressure. He gasps. “You want to?” you ask. “Like this?” He nods against your neck and when he remembers you can’t see him, he breathes “Please.” You hum, lips curling slightly. “Just be quiet. You’re gonna wake the others…” That’s all it takes. His hips stutter forward again, this time firmer and slower. You feel the way he tries to pace himself, like he’s calculating the friction and pressure and angles in his head but it’s all failing because his brain’s mush right now. You can hear it in his breath, feel it in his grip—tightening around your waist, then smoothing down to your thigh.“God, I’m sorry. I know this is—mmph—stupid,” he mumbles. “I just need it, I’ve needed it all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about you in this little t-shirt and how warm you are and—fuck, I’m not gonna last, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you whisper, voice soft but solid. “You’re okay. Just keep going. You feel good.” He moans into your neck, trying to swallow it down halfway through, like he knows one sound too loud might get you both killed by a grumpy Morgan or Emily. The thought almost makes you laugh but then he ruts forward a little too hard and it punches the air right out of you. His hand finds yours where it’s fisted in the sheets. Fingers lacing. Holding tight.“I’m close,” he whispers, frantic now. “Please, can I? I need to— oh god.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Let go.” He chokes on a sound. You feel him shake against you, feel the way his hips stutter and then press flush as he gasps, going still for a second—then stiller. You just lie there for a second, listening to his breathing even out, heart still hammering through his chest.“…That was so embarrassing,” he mumbles into your shoulder. You smile.“Maybe a little,” you tease. “But you came so fast, I doubt anyone noticed.”His laugh is muffled and mortified. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“…No, I really don’t.” You lean back into him and squeeze his hand. He’s still hard, even after and you know he probably won’t stop thinking about this all night. But you’re okay like this—quiet, hidden in the dark, sticky and tangled and slightly wrong in the best kind of way. You’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.

[lady-lauren]

❥ PORTGAS D. ACE X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: ~surprise~ he's the virgin, experienced reader, face sitting, praise, use of "good boy", creampie, Ace goes pussy drunk but who can blame him

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“Have you eaten pussy before, pretty boy?” 

The rosy pink that blooms around his freckles tells you no. Your sheets stick to the sheen of sweat across Ace’s skin, his tattoos glowing in the lamplight. His brows are pinched as he fists his hard cock, twitching against his stomach as he tugs from base to leaking tip. 

“Bet you taste so good,” he offers a classic grin, tongue sweeping over his canine as dark eyes stare at the naked juncture between your legs. 

Convincing the charming second division commander to let you…teach him was a more difficult task than you expected. He’s still shielding innocence behind bravado. No one else on the crew knows he’s a virgin—he only told you after one too many at the bar, when your hand started tugging on his belt and his face flushed red beneath the shadow of his hat.

It took weeks of gentle prodding and lustful teasing to fully wind your siren song.

You grip his chin, pressing your mouth to his in a greedy kiss that has him groaning. His lips are soft, plump and hot, so comfortably melding into your movements, slanting and sucking and whimpering. He’s a quick learner, so happy to please.

Quickly, you replace your mouth with a thigh, Ace’s warm lips ghosting across your skin as you settle your hips above his face. The view of him is immaculate, all perfectly carved muscle and his fat cock drooling between thick thighs.

Strong arms lock around your legs, eager to bring your wet cunt to his mouth and lick a testing, teasing hot stripe between your folds. 

“Easy,” you gasp when he presses the tip of his tongue to your swollen clit, “I don’t wanna smother—”

“I’ll die happy,” he pulls your weight farther down, shoving his face between the fat of your thighs. 

“Slow,” you rock your hips over his mouth, lashes fluttering as he listens and gives you several long, languid rolls of his tongue through your folds, “just like that, yeah.”

Ace hums at the praise, cock jumping and begging for attention. 

Big hands bruise your hips and thighs as he grips you for dear life, groaning and pulling like he’s going mad beneath you.

“Use your tongue on my cl—” he acts before you hit the last consonant, making your tummy flutter as he swirls sloppily around your clit. 

“So messy,” Ace mumbles into your pussy, slurping and sucking against your swollen bud. Your thighs shake as you moan, pressing your hands against his plush chest to gain balance.

“You like the taste of my messy pussy, Ace?” your words are breathy, losing their edge as webs of pleasure start to crawl underneath your skin. 

“Fuck yeah, taste better than I dreamed,” his affirmation vibrates to your very core.

Your vision blurs with bliss, yet you can still make out his dripping cock, swollen red and weeping and begging for release against the black, downy hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin as his cock bobs for you. 

His cock is so tempting, veiny and fat and just the perfect length to make a girl scream. How he’s kept to himself for so long, you’ll never know.

“Oh, you’re so, so good,” you moan and jerk your hips from his ministrations, “put your tongue in me, please.”

You feel the way he grins at your plea, wicked and self-satisfied. His tongue is slow to leave your clit, laving against it with too-hot, too-teasing flat licks. Then he presses his tongue against your tight hole, gathering your slick onto his tongue before pushing into you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” your legs start to tremble as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good,” it’s all a messy whisper, just hot air into the dimly lit room.

Ace dutifully fucks you with his tongue, groaning and grunting into your wetness. His cheeks squish against your thighs, freckles smothered with slick. He’s quick and eager, breath hot as he drowns in you.

“Good boy, oh god, yes.” 

Praise makes him shiver, makes his hips buck as his cock searches for you.

But then his tongue is back to soothing over your wet hole, lapping slowly and pulling you away from the churning coil within your belly.

“Please,” his voice is muffled by your cunt, wet lips moving against your folds, “p-please, wanna feel you on my cock. Your pussy’s so soft.” 

Oh, that breaks you. He’s so good, he deserves to know what it feels like to have a woman wrapped around his pretty cock.

“Okay, okay, baby,” he moans at the pet name, kissing your cunt and slipping his tongue over your clit as you pull yourself from his hold. 

The look in his eyes is desperate as you straddle his hips, spit-slick pussy rubbing against his aching cock. 

“You ready?” you ask softly, leaning forward to brush long, dark hair from his face.

His bold front cracks as he grasps your hips, rutting the underside of his dick into your folds.

“Fuck, yes, please—” 

Air is stuck in his throat as you line his tip to your entrance, popping his fat head into your heat. 

“Oh god.” Ace groans and rolls his head back against the pillow.

“Watch, baby, watch how your cock stretches me.”

Obeying, his thick neck tilts up so his eyes can latch onto where you begin to sink down. 

You take it slow, gummy walls sucking him in inch-by-inch. You take note of how pleasure twists his face, makes him hiss and his pupils dilate. 

“So tight, holy fuck, your pussy is so hot.”

The stretch of him makes your eyes roll, feeling so full as you finally seat yourself on his cock. He’s so sensitive, cock throbbing and hips bucking like he’ll explode at any moment. 

“We’ll go slo—”

“No, no,” Ace sits up in a flash, shocking you as his arms lock around your back, trapping you to his chest, “I-I need more, need to feel, ah,” he grunts as the shift in position has his cockhead knocking into your depths, “more.”

He’s crude in the way he thrusts up into you, hard and fast. You moan and it keeps him going, crushing you against him as he buries his face in your neck. 

“Feels so fucking good, oh my god, baby, I—” he loses his words to pleasure, groaning as he starts a sloppy pace. He’s needy, clawing at your skin, kissing your throat.

“Oh Ace, mhm, you like the feel of me?”

“Never felt something so good in my fucking life.”

Desperately he pushes you down onto the bed, gripping the back of your knees as he uses his strength to thrust into your cunt. He’s wild above you, sweat dripping down his forehead and jaw clenched as he chases a new high. 

You mewl at the position, back arching as you reach for his thighs, pulling him into you.

“T-this okay? Am I hurting you?”

“Don’t stop, baby, keep going.”

You moan as he puts more weight on his hands, rolling your hips back.

The purr in his chest makes your lashes flutter, ecstasy rippling down to where he thrusts hard between your legs. Your pussy squishes around him, a thick vein on the underside of his cock pressing hotly to your walls.

You’re already so close to the edge from sitting on his face, clit puffy as his pelvis pushes into you. He slows down a bit, catching his breath and just grinding himself into your heat. 

Ace whines, overwhelmed as he searches for some kind of absolution in your cunt. 

“Does that feel good?” he releases your knees and leans over your body, fisting the hair at the nape of your neck as he presses a messy kiss to your mouth. 

“So good, you feel so good. Go faster, rub my clit, see what it feels like when I cum.”

“Yeah,” he moans as he sits back on his knees, eyes transfixed on the thick ring of cream you’ve left around his base, “gonna make you cum.”

Having a goal kicks him into a new gear, makes his hips move with a purpose and steady quick pace. 

Ace paws at your bouncing tits, thumbs rolling over your nipples and pinching when they harden. His touch is clumsy and a bit delicate and it makes you hot. 

He’s never felt a woman like this before, never lost himself into the chaos of bliss. 

You’re his first and that does something wild to your ego. To have a man like Ace beg for you, to be able to teach him how to fuck you, it all makes your head spin.

A big hand smoothes down your stomach, pausing right at where you spread around him. 

He takes a few moments to keep barreling into you, getting high off the sounds you make. 

“How should I…?”

“Thumb,” you gasp right as he hits a good spot within you, “circle your thumb over—”

You whimper as he listens to your demand, the thick pad of his thumb swirling over your clit in tight, fast circles. 

“Fuck! That’s it, so good, right there, yes!” 

You’re sure the thin walls can’t keep your screams to themselves, but you’re past a point of caring. Your focus is solely on the liquid heat building where Ace’s thumb rubs against you, lightning and shivers racing down your spine. Your legs go limp and your hands twist in the sheets, hips slamming over his cock as you chase the falling edge of pleasure.

“God you’re so fucking hot, wanna feel your pussy cum, baby. Wanna feel you get so fucking tight and milk my dick.”

The mouth on this man. You knew he’d be vocal but his words make you drunk, dizzy. A whiplash of his naive confidence. 

He keeps tight circles on your clit, his other hand reaching down to cup your ass and slide his thumb next to where his cock spears into your folds. He spreads you there, like he’s curious to see what happens, to see how your pussy reacts and feels. The extra tug makes you feel fuller, wetter as he smears your slick.

“Come on,” he’s starting to falter a bit, cock throbbing, “come on, cum for me, please, please cum for me.” 

His pleading throws you off the cliff, makes your cunt clamp down around him and wring every ounce of pleasure from your body. He bullies in one last thrust, creating a fresh, euphoric jolt splinter down your body. 

Your eyes open just in time to watch Ace come undone, head thrown back as he empties his balls into your tight pussy. His muscular chest rises and falls slowly, cheeks so pink he looks sun kissed. He’s pretty all blissed out, yet so powerful above you.

“You okay?”

Your voice is a little hoarse as you grab his attention, his eyes shining down on you with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

“Wanna do that again,” he groans and lays over you, wrapping his arms around your body and keeping his messy cock lodged deep inside of you, “want you to show me all the positions.” 

“All of them? There’s so many—”

“You promised to teach me, baby. And I bet I can make you cum every time.”

You know better than to bet against him.

[ducksido]

What if yuu died?

(I'm feeling angsty >:]) ((I kept crying while writing this))

DWARF'S MINE:

Grim

Grim is the first one to notice.

They were bickering, as usual. Yuu told him not to wander off. He called them bossy and sauntered ahead. He thought Yuu was right behind him until he heard the rumble.

When Grim turns around, the mine is collapsing. He hears a scream—their scream—and then nothing.

At first, Grim is in denial. “They’re probably fine! Just hiding like a scaredy-cat!” he yells, ears flat, tail bristled. He digs at the rocks, paws trembling, not because he’s weak but because he’s scared. His tiny claws scrape until they bleed.

Later, when the truth settles in, Grim doesn’t talk for days. No bragging. No yelling. He just curls up on the couch in Ramshackle, staring at the door like he’s waiting for Yuu to walk through it.

He starts blaming himself. Quietly. “I shoulda protected them… I’m the Great Grim, right? What good is all this power if I couldn’t save 'em…”

Ace Trappola

Ace puts up a wall.

He makes some stupid comment at first. “They seriously died that easily? Weak…”

But his voice cracks halfway through. He avoids eye contact with Deuce and walks away before anyone can see him clench his fists.

Later, Ace returns to the mine alone. He just stands at the spot where the rocks fell, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Dumbass… you weren’t even supposed to be here. What were you thinking, coming down here without magic?”

If anyone tries to talk to him about it, he brushes them off. But sometimes, when no one's looking, he stares at Ramshackle’s gate like he wants to go up and say something—but always turns around.

Deuce Spade

Deuce takes it hard.

He was right there. He thought he was being responsible. He was supposed to look out for the magicless student, right?

“I failed them…” “I should’ve noticed something was wrong…” “If I’d just reacted faster…”

He says things like that a lot. Grim won’t talk. Ace won’t listen. So Deuce just keeps repeating it to himself.

He visits Ramshackle and helps clean it up. Makes sure the firewood is stacked, the beds are neat—even though no one lives there anymore. “I just… want to keep it ready. In case they come back. Somehow.”

Crowley

Crowley is... complicated.

Publicly, he spins it as a “tragic accident”—“A rare, unfortunate incident during a school-sanctioned task! We shall honor our lost guest!” He uses big words and flashy speeches, and pretends like this wasn’t his fault.

But when he’s alone in his office, he looks at the file with Yuu’s name and wonders if he ever even really tried to help them.

He sent a magicless teen to mine with unstable students and monsters.

He knew they were different. Vulnerable. And yet, he brushed it off.

There’s a note he writes but never sends, addressed to the mirror that summoned Yuu:

“This realm took what it never should have touched. And now it has blood on its hands.”

He keeps the key to Ramshackle on his desk. Every time he sees it, he flinches.

RIDDLE'S OVERBLOT

Grim

He saw it happen.

He was right there—he saw the blast coming, and he tried to drag Yuu back, but they slipped from his grip.

“Yuu?” he calls out, paw nudging at their arm. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, this ain’t funny. Get up.”

He tries to laugh it off at first. Grim doesn’t do death. He doesn’t understand it. Not really.

But when the healers come and shake their heads, when no one responds, something inside Grim shatters.

His magic starts reacting wildly. He growls and sparks with unstable fire, yelling at Riddle’s unconscious body like it’s his fault. “You ruined everything! They’re gone and it’s because of YOU!”

Afterward, he won’t eat. Won’t talk. He curls up in Yuu’s bed with their uniform jacket tucked under his chin, tail limp.

“They promised we’d figure stuff out together... Now I gotta do it alone?”

Ace Trappola

Ace flips out.

Not right away. First, it’s disbelief. “No, no, they’re gonna get up. Right? Deuce? Tell me they’re fine.”

Then, it’s anger. At Riddle. At Cater and Trey for not stopping it. At himself.

He slams his fist into a wall so hard his knuckles bleed. “I should’ve pulled them out. I saw the signs. I knew something was gonna happen.”

He gets snappy. Bitter. Starts arguments with anyone who tries to sugarcoat it. “They didn’t ‘pass peacefully.’ They got caught up in some overblot crap that wasn’t even their fault!”

He avoids Ramshackle. Too many memories. Too much guilt.

But he keeps Yuu’s student ID in his jacket pocket.

Deuce Spade

Deuce cries.

He tries to hold it in, tries to be strong—because that’s what he thinks Yuu would’ve wanted—but the tears come anyway. He sobs into his hands when no one’s looking, shaking with the weight of regret.

“I promised to protect them…” he whispers.

He keeps up their dorm. Keeps bringing food to Grim, even if the little guy won’t touch it. He visits Crowley’s office demanding answers, demanding justice, yelling that this shouldn’t have happened.

Deuce becomes the one who remembers the little things—how Yuu liked their tea, the dumb jokes they told, the way they always said "I've got your back" even without magic.

And he makes sure everyone else remembers too.

Riddle Rosehearts

When he wakes up from the overblot and hears the news, he goes silent.

He doesn't cry. Doesn’t scream. He just… shuts down.

He asks to see the body. Crowley says no.

So Riddle walks to the rose maze himself, stands in the spot where Yuu fell, and just stares at the blood-stained petals.

“I didn’t mean to…”

He says it to no one. Over and over. A mantra. A curse.

He writes an apology note but tears it up. Who would it even go to?

Trey and Cater notice the shift—Riddle becomes harsher on himself. More rigid. Less confident. Because deep down, he knows:

Someone died because he lost control.

Cater Diamond

Cater’s smile doesn’t slip right away.

He’s used to filtering his emotions. Used to staying “on brand,” even when he’s horrified. So when he sees Yuu’s lifeless form after the magic storm clears, he just… freezes.

“H-Haha… no way, right? This has to be a prank. Right, Riddle?”

No one answers. Grim is howling. Ace is screaming. Deuce is crying.

Cater’s hands start to shake.

Later, he’ll post nothing. Not even a filtered picture. He'll ghost Magicam for a while.

He tries to visit Ramshackle once, to drop off a bouquet of marigolds and forget-me-nots—but the door creaks open and he sees Grim curled up on the couch, and he just can’t do it.

“I didn’t even know them,” he murmurs to himself, “and it still hurts this bad… What about the ones who did?”

Trey Clover

Trey stays composed. He always does.

He takes over when everyone else is falling apart—helping stabilize the overblot aftermath, escorting Riddle away from the scene, offering Deuce a tissue, shielding Cater from seeing too much.

But when he's alone in the kitchen later, making a tart for no one, he lets himself break a little.

His knife pauses mid-slice. A cherry slips and stains the counter red.

“I should’ve noticed Riddle was this close to snapping,” he mutters. “If I’d stopped him sooner…”

Trey doesn't cry. But guilt clings to him like powdered sugar on a fresh cake. Yuu wasn’t his responsibility, but they were in his dorm's garden. Under his vice-leadership. And that’s not something he forgets easily.

He leaves a note at Ramshackle with a box of treats:

“For Grim. I know they liked sweet things. —Trey”

Dire Crowley

Crowley is the one who has to “make it official.”

He stands before the gathered first years, his usual flourish gone. There’s no fanfare, no dramatic cloak-swoosh. Just a stiff, solemn tone.

“It is with deepest regret that I must confirm… the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm has passed, following the incident involving an overblot.”

He doesn’t look anyone in the eye.

When the students leave, he stays behind in the hall, staring at the cracked mirror that once brought Yuu here.

“They were never supposed to be involved in magic,” he mutters. “I was supposed to protect them…”

He writes a formal report. Then another one. Then a third. None of them feel right.

Later, Crowley visits Ramshackle and sets down a key with a tiny raven charm beside their bed.

“I promised you safety. I failed. May this place remember you better than I did.”

LEONA'S OVERBLOT

It’s live. NRC's Spelldrive match is being broadcast across Twisted Wonderland.

Leona’s magic erupts like a sandstorm hurricane—spikes of sand and flame. Yuu is running, dragging an injured Grim, trying to reach Jack.

Then comes the roar.

Then silence.

The sand settles. A figure lies limp in the wreckage.

There’s a gasp on the feed. The camera zooms in— —and the world watches as the magicless Prefect, the one who stood beside overblots and chaos, lies still on the battlefield.

Grim

Grim doesn’t even process what happens at first.

He sees the sandstorm. The explosion of magic. He hears Yuu scream—and then nothing. Just silence.

He claws at their body. “Get up! Hey! I said get UP!”

He tries to use his magic. Tries to warm them up with a fireball. Nothing works.

He sobs until his voice is hoarse. He doesn’t leave their side—not when the teachers show up, not when the sun sets, not even when Crowley tries to move him.

“You said we were gonna leave this place together, remember? You promised…”

After that, he never says their name again. But he whispers it in his sleep, tail curled around their favorite pillow.

Ace Trappola

Ace punches Leona.

No questions, no hesitation—he hauls off and decks him right across the jaw, shouting “You bastard! You KILLED them!”

It doesn’t matter that Leona’s still recovering from the overblot. It doesn’t matter that he gets dragged off. He’s shaking with rage.

Ace’s grief comes out as fire. Loud. Angry. Messy.

Later, he sneaks into Ramshackle alone. He rifles through Yuu’s drawers, looking for something—a hoodie, a note, an old snack wrapper. Anything that still smells like them.

He finds a photo they all took before the Spelldrive match.

He keeps it in his wallet.

Deuce Spade

Deuce kneels beside Yuu’s body and doesn’t move for a long time.

He holds their hand. It’s still warm. He begs the healers to try again. Begs the staff to do something.

“They can’t be gone… Not them. Not Yuu…”

He starts blaming himself. “If I’d been faster. If I’d trained harder. If I’d just been stronger—”

He throws himself into becoming stronger after that. Pushing past his limits. Studying harder. Training until he drops.

But he never stops wearing the little Ramshackle pin Yuu made for him, safety-pinned to the inside of his collar.

Cater Diamond

Cater completely drops the act.

No more filters. No cute captions. No jokes.

He vanishes from Magicam for a full month. When he comes back, it’s quiet. Just a black square and one line:

“Miss u, bestie.”

He tries to keep smiling around others, especially Grim, but it’s clearly forced. His voice cracks sometimes.

“I never even said goodbye… How could I not say goodbye?!”

Cater leaves a bracelet at the edge of the Savanaclaw field where they fell—green and silver beads, their initials on it.

He comes back every week to make sure it's still there.

Trey Clover

Trey becomes the one who takes care of everyone else.

He comforts Grim. Checks on Deuce. Calms Ace. Brings food even when no one eats.

He tries to be steady, reliable—but even he has his moments.

Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, when he’s baking and the scent of vanilla fills the room, he sees Yuu laughing by the counter and has to sit down before he breaks.

He brings a box of strawberry tarts to Ramshackle and places it on their bed, whispering, “You always liked these… right?”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is devastated.

He stares at their body with wide, horrified eyes. His throat closes. He stammers something—rules, overblot laws, consequences—but the words fall flat.

He visits their grave alone. He brings roses, red and white.

“I should have stopped Leona. I knew something was wrong. I should have said something. Done something…”

He reads old messages Yuu sent him. Keeps rereading them, like they'll change.

When Heartslabyul hosts a tea party in their memory, Riddle personally makes sure it’s perfect.

“They deserve nothing less.”

Jack Howl

Jack grits his teeth.

He says nothing at first. Just watches in silence as the healers pronounce Yuu gone.

But later, he trains. Harder than ever. His knuckles split. His legs ache.

“If I’d been there a second earlier… I could’ve shielded them.”

He doesn’t cry, but he starts carrying himself a little more respectfully. For Yuu.

At Ramshackle, he leaves a desert lily by their bed—a flower that survives in harshness. “You were tough. I’ll honor that.”

Dire Crowley

Crowley looks… older afterward.

He gives a dramatic speech at the memorial. Everyone assumes he’s playing it up again—until he chokes up mid-sentence.

“This school was supposed to keep them safe…”

He writes a letter to the Headmage’s council, arguing that overblots are no longer “rare accidents,” but institutional failures.

He also writes one to Yuu.

It sits in his drawer, never sent.

“You deserved better. From this world. From me. I only hope the next life is kinder.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona doesn’t say a word when he’s told Yuu didn’t survive.

He just stares. At the scorch mark in the dirt. At the faces of the others—Grim sobbing, Deuce shaking, Ace screaming at him. He says nothing.

He turns away.

No apology. No excuse. He doesn't even try to defend himself.

Later, alone in his dorm, he leans against the wall with a clenched jaw, grinding his molars. His overblot haze is gone, but the image of Yuu—burned into his memory—won’t leave.

“Tch... They were a nobody. Just some magicless brat...”

But he’s not saying it to anyone else. He’s trying to convince himself. Because deep down, he knows that’s not true. Yuu stood their ground. Faced him when even Savanaclaw students ran. And they died because of him.

The next day, Leona doesn’t come out of his room.

The week after that, he’s quieter. Less sharp-tongued. Still dangerous, still smug—but there’s a heaviness in his voice now.

He doesn’t go to the memorial. But he sends a small wrapped parcel to Ramshackle with Ruggie.

Inside: a faded Savanaclaw armband and a simple note.

They had guts. —L

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie wasn’t close to Yuu, but they helped him once.

Shared a snack. Laughed at his dumb jokes. Treated him like a person, not Leona’s errand boy.

So when he sees their body, something shifts.

“…They’re really gone?”

He doesn’t cry. He’s too used to loss for that. But his stomach churns as he watches Grim howl and Ace get dragged away from Leona.

Ruggie knew this was gonna happen eventually. He just didn’t think it’d be Yuu.

He feels the tension in the dorm, hears the whispers from other students, and suddenly everything feels too loud.

That night, he lights a candle in the Savanaclaw lounge. It’s small, cheap, something from the Night Market.

He stares at the flame and murmurs, “Rest easy, alright? Sorry we never got to hang out more…”

Then he turns and gets back to work, because someone has to clean up the mess.

But he steals food from the cafeteria a little more often now.

For Grim.

AZUL'S OVERBLOT

Grim

He can’t even scream this time.

He runs to their body, but the water’s still seeping away. He tries to drag them out. Shouts for help.

He sobs into their clothes, claws clenched around fabric, whispering over and over, “No no no—come on, come on—don’t do this, please—”

He tries breathing fire, again and again, like maybe the warmth will bring them back.

Azul’s contracts burn around them. Grim doesn’t care. He curls around their chest and doesn’t move for hours.

Ace Trappola

Ace laughs.

It’s a broken sound, too sharp to be real.

“No way. No way they’re— They can’t be— This is stupid. They survived Leona. They survived Riddle. They’re Yuu.”

He looks at Azul like he wants to kill him, but then just… stops. He walks over to Yuu’s body and sits down beside them, knees to his chest, silent.

Hours later, he mutters to no one, “I didn’t even get to say sorry… I called them annoying this morning…”

Deuce Spade

Deuce falls to his knees.

He shakes Azul by the collar, shouting “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” before Jack pulls him back.

Then he kneels by Yuu and clutches their hand like it’s an anchor. He doesn’t move for a long time, even when everyone else starts to leave.

He wears their Ramshackle pin on his blazer after that. Cleans it every morning.

When he does tests, exams, in a track race, he whispers under his breath, “Watch me. I’ll make you proud.”

Jack Howl

Jack stands frozen in place.

His tail bristles. His claws dig into his palms. But he doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t cry.

He walks over and picks up the tattered scarf Yuu always wore, brushes the ink off it gently.

“They were a good one,” he says quietly.

He trains harder after that. Says less. But anyone who enters the Savannaclaw training field will find a small stone marker in the far corner.

“To the one who stood tall without claws.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie curses.

“Damn it. Damn it all.”

He kicks one of the broken tables. Then another. And then he stops—because he sees Grim, curled and shaking, and his chest aches.

He drops to a squat beside him, puts a hand on Grim’s back.

“They were… They were somethin’ else, huh?”

He steals food from the Lounge that night. Loads of it. Drops it off at Ramshackle with no note.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he swears to himself: No one else from their circle dies on his watch.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s the first to arrive after the overblot ends.

He sees the ink, the body, the shattered remains of the contracts—and doesn’t speak. Not at first.

“…You actually went and got them killed, huh?” he mutters to Azul.

Leona walks over to Yuu and crouches low. His tail flicks.

“Should’ve told you not to play hero again. Should’ve made you stay out of this.”

He leaves a desert lily by their side and walks away before anyone sees his hands shaking.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is catatonic.

He collapses when the overblot fades. The moment he sees what he’s done—who he’s killed—his voice dies in his throat.

“No… No, no, no… I didn’t mean…”

He vomits ink.

He sobs behind his hands.

He screams at the sea for days afterward.

He locks himself in his office and doesn't come out. Not for weeks. He can’t even look at his own reflection.

Eventually, he stops using contracts.

He burns every single one.

Jade Leech

Jade is… quiet.

Too quiet.

He kneels beside the body and closes their eyes. Straightens their sleeves. Brushes the ink from their lashes.

Then he looks at Azul—torn, sobbing—and doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t smile after that. Not in the Lounge. Not in class.

When asked, he only says: “They were… sincere. And brave. It's a shame. A true shame.”

He visits Ramshackle every now and then, leaving wild mushrooms at the doorstep.

Floyd Leech

Floyd doesn’t take it well.

First, he laughs.

“Eh? Seriously? Shrimpy’s dead? Just like that?”

Then his smile vanishes. Completely.

“...No fun.”

He walks into the Lounge’s VIP room and trashes it. Rips through furniture. Breaks the glass. Shatters the chandelier.

No one stops him.

After that, he won’t talk about it. If someone mentions Yuu, he gets quiet.

He goes out swimming in the ocean for hours. Sometimes all night.

When he comes back, he’s always more tired.

Dire Crowley

Crowley stands at the edge of the scene, looking like a ghost.

This is the third time now. Third overblot. Third time Yuu has nearly died. Except this time…

He pulls his hat down, voice tight. “I failed them. Again.”

He doesn’t perform this time. No grand speeches. Just silence and shame.

He drafts a dozen letters to Yuu’s family—then throws them all out. What could he say? "Your child died in another world under my care?"

He declares a school-wide mourning period and cancels all contracts indefinitely.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is.

JAMIL'S OVERBLOT

They were too close. Always too close.

In trying to protect Kalim, in trying to talk Jamil down, they stepped into range—and one of the snake-like braids struck. Fast. Precise. Poisonous.

No one noticed the bite at first. Not even Yuu.

But as the overblot fades, and the sand settles, they collapse—pale, lips turning blue, their breathing labored until…

It stops.

And the music dies with them.

Grim

He’s the first to notice something’s wrong.

He shakes Yuu’s arm, pats their cheek. “Oi, this isn’t funny—come on, we’ve gotta scold Jamil, right?”

But their chest doesn’t rise.

Grim screams. His voice cracks.

“YUU?!”

He doesn’t leave their side for the rest of the night, paws clutching their arm, growling at anyone who tries to move them.

When Ace and Deuce return, he nearly attacks them just to stop them from seeing.

Jamil Viper

He sees the bite. He knows exactly what it means.

He knows.

He drops to his knees.

“...No… no no no…”

His voice shakes. His hands tremble. His overblot form may have faded, but its consequences linger like venom in his blood.

He killed them.

No tricks. No schemes. No brainwashing. Just murder.

He doesn’t run. He doesn’t speak. He just sits in the sand, staring at his hands, unable to move.

He’s silent for hours.

When they drag him away, he doesn’t resist.

Kalim Al-Asim

He doesn’t understand at first.

“Yuu? What are they doing? They’re just sleeping, right? Right, Jamil?!"

But Jamil won’t meet his eyes.

And when Grim doesn’t answer—when Grim starts sobbing—Kalim’s smile falls. Shatters.

“No… no, no, this isn’t…”

He grabs Yuu’s hand and holds it like he can warm it back to life.

“Please—wake up—we haven’t even gone swimming yet! You promised!”

He cries hard. For hours. He tries to take the blame, keeps saying:

“It should’ve been me. I was the one he hated…”

Azul Ashengrotto

When Azul sees the body, he goes eerily quiet.

He slams the lounge door shut, tells Jade and Floyd to cancel operations for a week. When they ask why, he just mutters:

“Yuu’s dead. Jamil’s overblot.”

That night, Azul goes down to the sea and throws in a silver pen—a token Yuu once gave him when he helped them with a contract.

He doesn’t talk about it afterward.

But he never lets a client leave with a dangerous deal again.

Jade Leech

Jade lowers his when he sees the body.

“…How unfortunate.”

He’s quiet for a long while. He plants a rare desert flower in a terrarium—a tribute. Waters it every morning.

When questioned, he only says, “They were brave. It is a shame bravery rarely guarantees survival.”

But his smiles are smaller now. More thoughtful. Especially around Jamil.

Floyd Leech

He gets quiet.

Too quiet.

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t grin. Just tosses a beach ball into the ocean and watches it float away.

When asked, he mutters, “Shrimpy was s’posed to come back. I was gonna show ‘em how to really swim…”

And then, with no warning, he grabs Jamil by the collar and slams him into a wall.

“You bit them, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t hit him. Just glares, then shoves him down and walks away.

He doesn’t show up to class for three days after that.

Crowley

He returns in high spirits, sunburned and humming—until he sees the school’s flag at half-mast.

“What happened—?”

Grim hits him with a fireball before he can finish his sentence.

When Crowley sees Yuu’s name etched into the memorial stone, he drops to his knees.

He doesn’t even try to justify himself.

He just whispers, “I left. Again. And they paid for it…”

And for once, Crowley vanishes from public view.

Not even the staff can find him for days.

Ace Trappola

He bursts through the gate, duffel in hand, bragging to Deuce—until Grim tackles him, claws shaking.

“They’re gone,” Grim wheezes, “They’re gone, Ace!”

Ace laughs. “Huh? Quit messin’ with me—what do you—”

Then he sees Deuce’s face pale. And the memorial stone. And the empty Ramshackle doorway.

“…No. No, no—this is a joke, right?!”

He punches the wall until his knuckles bleed.

Deuce Spade

He drops his bag the moment Grim tells them.

“No way… No—they were fine. They were fine when we left—”

He clutches his stomach and falls to his knees. “Why weren’t we here? Why didn’t we come back sooner?!”

He visits the grave every morning for a week. Leaves flowers. Doesn’t say much in class.

His grades improve. His magic sharpens.

He swears it won’t happen again.

Riddle Rosehearts

He stares at the nameplate on the stone.

“…They died protecting someone else?”

He places a red rose beneath the inscription.

“They never followed the rules… and still had the nerve to leave before I could thank them.”

His voice is brittle.

After that, he disciplines his dorm a little less harshly.

He gives Grim his leftover tarts in silence.

Trey Clover

He sighs deeply, brows furrowed.

“…I should’ve known something like this would happen.”

He helps Cater plan a quiet tribute in Heartslabyul. A tea party with Yuu’s favorite sweets. No rules. No scolding.

Just stories.

Trey keeps their seat open.

Cater Diamond

He cries in the hallway.

No selfies. No filters. No pretending.

Just raw, ugly crying.

“Why didn’t I get more pictures with them…?”

He organizes a social feed in their memory. Posts their art. Their dumb selfies. Their best moments.

It goes viral within NRC. Students from all dorms comment:

“They helped me.” “They stood up for me.” “I miss them…”

Leona Kingscholar

“…Damn snake.”

He growls low, tail twitching.

He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t threaten. Just walks out of the dorm and stares at the cliffs until sunset.

He was starting to respect them.

Now he never gets the chance.

Ruggie Bucchi

He’s pissed.

At Crowley. At Jamil. At himself.

He sneaks into the infirmary late at night and punches the wall once—just once.

Then he wipes his eyes and leaves, like nothing happened.

But he leaves offerings at the stone every week. Small things.

Bread. Buttons. A lucky toothpick.

Jack Howl

He stands before the memorial with flowers in hand and says nothing.

Not a word.

But he starts training harder.

When he duels, he whispers: “Hope you’re watching.”

VIL'S OVERBLOT

The air is thick with smoke and glamour. Vil's overblot form collapses, and the world finally breathes.

Everyone thinks it's over.

Until Yuu sways.

Until their lips tremble with blue.

Until they fall with no warning.

Grim reaches them first, and then all hell breaks loose.

Grim

He’s laughing at first. “We did it, right?! Right, Hench—?”

He sees the foam on their lips.

“No.”

He shakes them. “No—NO! Don’t you dare pull this crap—wake up! You said we were gonna get celebratory tuna!”

He shrieks when they stop breathing. He claws at his own face, trembling so hard he can barely speak.

When someone touches him, he bites them.

“DON’T—touch them—don’t take them away!!”

Ace Trappola

He rushes to Yuu’s side, shouting their name. Shaking them like that’ll undo it.

He looks to Deuce. Then to Grim. Then to Vil.

“WHO DID THIS?!”

He’s crying—actually crying—and it’s not cute. It’s ugly. Angry. Messy.

“I should’ve noticed—I should’ve—why didn’t I—?!”

He tries to do CPR. Tries to cast a healing spell. Anything.

None of it works.

Deuce Spade

He goes quiet. Stone-faced.

He tries to carry Yuu’s body like they’re still breathing, like maybe warmth and motion will bring them back.

His voice is hoarse: “I’ll take them to the infirmary. I can fix this. I can fix this.”

He doesn't stop walking until someone physically pulls him back.

When he finally lets go, he drops to his knees and sobs into his hands.

Jamil Viper

When he sees the foaming poison, the slow purple hue crawling over Yuu’s veins…

He knows.

“…Vil used poison,” he mutters, numb. “And they were too close.”

He staggers back, staring at his hands like he’s watching it happen all over again.

“Not again,” he whispers. “Not again.”

He turns and walks away. Doesn’t look back.

This time, he cries alone.

Kalim Al-Asim

“Yuu…?”

He kneels beside them. Touches their cheek.

“Yuu? Come on, wake up—it’s over, we won! You said you’d teach me how to bake that cake, remember?”

He keeps babbling. Keeps smiling. Even as tears start to fall.

Even when they don’t wake up.

“…They were always smiling,” he whispers. “Even when things were scary…”

Epel Felmier

He starts shaking.

He was right beside them. Right beside them.

And he didn’t notice.

“They were fine—they were still standing—they were smiling—”

He screams into his hands. Then punches the ground until his knuckles bleed.

Vil tries to stop him.

Epel shouts, “DON’T!”

And turns away, teeth bared in grief.

Rook Hunt

The first thing he says is quiet. Reverent.

“…They died beautifully.”

Everyone stares.

Then he kneels down and closes Yuu’s eyes gently.

“They were a soul full of light. To burn out in such a theatrical, bittersweet way… it’s almost poetic.”

His voice breaks.

He looks at Vil.

“Mon Roi. What have you done?”

Vil Schoenheit

He knew.

He knew what was in the poison. How fast it worked. How potent it was.

And still—still—he let it happen.

When Yuu collapses, his voice fails. He runs to them, brushes their hair back.

He presses his forehead to theirs.

“…You idiot,” he chokes. “Why didn’t you move? You should have stayed behind the curtain!”

He doesn’t say much after that.

But he cancels his return to the stage.

Forever.

Crowley

He returns to a somber, shattered NRC.

When he hears what happened, he doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t excuse himself.

He walks into Ramshackle dorm, sits in the dark, and whispers:

“I keep failing you.”

He shuts the dorm down for a week.

He leaves a golden brooch on Yuu’s old pillow.

Trey, Cater, Riddle, Leona, Ruggie, Jack

Trey makes a cake and leaves it at Ramshackle. Says nothing.

Cater posts one last selfie with Yuu and doesn’t log into Magicam again for a month.

Riddle reprimands Vil for days—then visits the grave in silence.

Leona grits his teeth, then throws a spell book across his room. Doesn’t talk about it.

Ruggie mutters, “Figures someone like him would mess it up,” then wipes his eyes.

Jack makes a point to place wildflowers near their grave every few days.

Jade whispers, “They died protecting others. Admirable… but costly.”

Floyd just says, “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh…” and doesn’t smile for a week.

Azul throws himself into managing the lounge, late at night he stares at a framed picture of him and Yuu and cries.

Hornton

He’s fixing the stage with his magic. Alone. Quiet. Restoring the ruins left behind after Vil’s rampage.

Then he sees it—Yuu’s name on the memorial plaque. A candle burning low.

He stares.

His magic falters.

“…No.”

His voice shakes.

“...No.”

He vanishes from the stage.

Later, students find the ruins of a blasted tree behind Ramshackle.

And Malleus is there. Silent. Still. Staring at Yuu’s favorite bench—the one they sat on during night talks.

He places a glowing crystal beside it. It hums softly. Mourning.

“No one else sat with me in the dark,” he whispers. “No one else called me ‘Hornton.’”

IDIA'S OVERBLOT

Grim

He's inconsolable.

Screaming. Thrashing. Clinging to Yuu's unmoving form. There's soot on his fur and tear tracks down his face.

“They were just—they were just joking about food! We were gonna go home, we were—they PROMISED!!”

He tries to breathe fire in grief, but it sputters out into smoke. He curls into their chest and won’t let go.

Ace Trappola

“No.”

He walks up. Stares. Backs away.

“No. No—no, this isn’t—that’s not funny, Yuu. Get up.”

He turns to Deuce. His voice is cracking.

“They’re gonna sit up. They’re just messing with us, right?”

But no one laughs.

He kneels down and covers his face with both hands.

Deuce Spade

His entire body locks up.

“I should’ve—gone in with them. I should’ve…”

His fists clench so tightly they bleed.

He kneels beside Grim and takes one of Yuu’s hands in his. Quiet.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Jack Howl

He has no words. Only a silent, thunderous grief.

He lowers his head respectfully. Closes Yuu’s eyes with trembling fingers.

He doesn't cry. But his voice is hoarse for days.

Later, he trains until he collapses. Trying to make sure no one else dies again.

Ruggie Bucchi

“…Sh*t.”

That’s all he says at first. He turns away.

Wipes his eyes before anyone sees.

But he leaves a meat pie at their grave later. Wrapped in a checkered cloth. No note. No message.

Just something Yuu said they always wanted to try.

Leona Kingscholar

He scowls. Says they were reckless. That it was bound to happen.

But the minute no one’s watching, he storms off into the desert garden and roars so loud it shakes the windows.

When he comes back, he’s dragging an ancient herb said to revive the dead.

It doesn’t work.

Trey Clover

He finds Grim later in Ramshackle.

And quietly makes enough food for two, even though only Grim eats.

No one sees him cry.

But he starts baking a certain kind of cake more often—one that only Yuu ever asked for.

Cater Diamond

He doesn’t post anything on Magicam for three months.

He tries to smile. He jokes. But his heart’s not in it.

He visits Ramshackle every week and leaves flowers—sunflowers, yellow and bright.

“You always made things feel warm, y’know?” he whispers.

Riddle Rosehearts

He keeps it together at first.

But when he’s alone? He breaks.

He slams his fists into the desk. Screams into the void.

“They didn’t have magic! They shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have had to go alone!”

He writes a law in Yuu’s honor: “No student shall face a magical threat without backup.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s hands shake when he sees Yuu’s body.

“They gave me a second chance,” he whispers.

“And I couldn’t even…”

He shuts down the Lounge for a week.

He orders every contract reviewed. Removes every dangerous clause Yuu once called out.

He leaves an ornate seashell at their grave. Etched with: “For the one who believed in me.”

Jade Leech

“…A tragedy.”

His tone is calm. But his eyes are not.

He takes off his gloves and places them over Yuu’s hands, folding them gently.

“I suppose I must find a new mushroom for mourning,” he murmurs.

He visits often. Leaves nothing but silence and prayers.

Floyd Leech

At first? Nothing.

Just blank staring.

Then: “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh?”

He doesn’t cry.

But he drags Idia by the collar and nearly kills him.

“You owe them. FIX IT.”

It takes four people to pull him off.

He doesn't smile after that. Not for a long time.

Idia Shroud

At first, he thinks it’s a glitch.

Then he sees them—unmoving, burned at the edges, body limp in Grim’s arms.

He doesn’t scream.

He just stares. A long time. And says:

“…I killed them.”

He doesn't resist when Floyd attacks. He wants to be punished.

Later, he shuts himself inside the lab. Ignores Ortho. Refuses food.

All he says, over and over, is:

“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.”

Ortho Shroud

“No. No, no, no—please wake up! I can scan you—I can rebuild you, I can—”

His voice distorts.

“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE NII-SAN BEHIND!!”

When Yuu doesn’t stir, Ortho’s eyes dim.

He flies off.

And no one sees him for three days.

Crowley

He was there. Watching from the surface. Powerless to go down with them.

When Yuu doesn’t return, he collapses to his knees.

He says nothing.

But every night after, the gate to the Underworld glows dimly. Lit by a single enchanted candle.

Burning for the student who dared cross the River Styx.

MALLEUS'S OVERBLOT (may be inaccurate)

Grim

He holds your hand as you fade, clawing at the thorns like they'll move.

“Don’t go. You—you always saved everyone!! I was supposed to protect you—!!”

He’s wailing.

When it’s over, he curls into your chest and doesn’t speak for two days.

Ace Trappola

He’s the first to scream.

“WHAT’S THE POINT OF WAKING UP IF THEY’RE DEAD!?”

He runs at the thorns. Punches them until his fists bleed. Until Deuce pulls him back.

He curses Malleus. Then curses himself.

Then, eventually, just sits on the floor. Staring.

Deuce Spade

He kneels beside your body.

His voice cracks as he says:

“I became a better person because of you…”

Then, in a whisper:

“…I don’t know how to be good without you.”

Cater Diamond

“No… not them… anyone but them…”

He sobs. No filters. No jokes. No posing.

His Magicam goes dark again. He locks himself in his room and cries into their old photos.

Trey Clover

He can’t breathe when he sees you.

He covers his face. Kneels.

“I should’ve done more. Been there. Helped you—something.”

He leaves a tiny tart beside your grave, baked with your favorite flavor.

Riddle Rosehearts

His voice is a whisper. Unsteady.

“They were the only one who understood me... even after everything I did...”

He places a rose—red and thornless—on your chest.

And kneels, head bowed.

Leona Kingscholar

He stares down at you. Quiet.

“I told you not to play hero,” he murmurs.

He sounds tired. Angry. Hollow.

But he watches over your grave when no one else will.

Silent. Guarding. For hours at a time.

Ruggie Bucchi

"...Tch."

He turns his back. Walks away.

But hours later, someone finds a crumpled note by your bed.

"Thanks for feeding me."

Jack Howl

He stands still for a long time.

Then salutes you with quiet reverence.

“You had more heart than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He trains harder than ever after that. To live by your example.

Azul Ashengrotto

He drops to his knees.

“This wasn’t part of the deal…”

His voice breaks.

“I would've traded everything. Just—just to keep them safe…”

He cancels all contracts for a week. Shuts down the Lounge. Cries behind locked doors.

Jade Leech

He gently closes your eyes.

And, for once, doesn’t smile.

“Even rare orchids wither in the frost,” he says.

And places a white lily beside you.

Floyd Leech

“…Shrimpy…”

He pokes your cheek.

No response.

Then he howls. He tears up a hallway. Slams a wall with a fist that cracks stone.

He doesn’t laugh again for a month.

Kalim Al-Asim

“No no no—you were supposed to live!! You saved me!! Why didn’t I save you!?”

He sobs into Jamil’s shoulder.

He lights candles in your memory every night.

Jamil Viper

He closes his eyes.

He doesn't speak. Just mutters a single word:

“Unfair.”

But later, he visits your resting place, presses a charm into the soil.

“I owed you more than I gave.”

Vil Schoenheit

He holds you like glass. Like something sacred.

“Your final act was... selfless. Poetic. Tragic.”

He speaks at your memorial.

And always leaves a pristine white rose.

Epel Felmier

His shoulders shake.

He refuses to speak at the ceremony. But he carves a tiny wooden charm for you.

He carries it in his pocket. Always.

Rook Hunt

Tears fall freely.

“Ah, mon trésor… such beauty, such sacrifice…”

He writes a ballad in your honor. He performs it in the forest, alone.

Idia Shroud

He stares at you with wide eyes. Whispering to himself.

“No. No. Not again. Not another one. Not like Ortho—!”

He curls into himself.

And when he reboots Ortho later, he hugs him like he’ll disappear too.

Ortho Shroud

He powers down for a full day.

And when he reactivates, he asks:

“Why didn’t I detect the danger? Why couldn’t I save them?”

He makes a digital backup of your voice. It plays when he’s alone.

Lilia Vanrouge

He lowers his head and whispers in old fae tongue.

“They were brave.”

He sings an ancient lullaby only fae children know.

And your grave is tended by wild roses from then on.

Silver

He brushes your hair back.

“I thought we’d all wake up…”

He places a dream charm on your chest.

“So you’d never be afraid. Not even now.”

Sebek Zigvolt

He yells.

First at Malleus. Then at the world. Then at himself.

“They protected you, my lord! And now they’re GONE!”

His voice breaks.

He kneels beside your grave.

“They were… a knight.”

Malleus Draconia

When he sees you fall, his world ends.

The thorns fade. The dreams collapse.

You lay still in his arms.

His voice is a whisper. A plead.

“No. No no no. This isn't what I wanted…”

He doesn’t overblot again.

He just… disappears.

Some say he wandered into the thorns. Others say he turned into mist.

But on quiet nights, a low voice murmurs:

“I wanted eternity with you.”

Crowley

For once… he takes responsibility.

He wears all black.

He lays a feathered mask at your grave.

And whispers:

“You were the one good thing I never deserved.”

[pboogerswbb]

AFTER THE STORM

camp counselor!Paige x camp counselor!reader In which reader is forced to spend a summer bunking up with Paige Bueckers, very quickly realising how annoyingly charming she seemed to be, having everyone else wrapped around her finger. But as time goes on, Paige seems to grow on the reader - all culminating in a shared night in a cozy tent and forced proximity.

Warnings: smut (oral & fingering, outdoors), language, enemies to lovers, plot Wordcount: 8.2K A/C: enjoy this while i work on the next parts of So It Goes :) have a good summer everyone!

-

The very first moment you met Paige Bueckers you knew you didn’t like her. You didn’t like much of anything about this situation you’d been forced in. Summer spent amongst pine trees and mosquitoes, looking after preteens was a far call from the hopes of parties and yachts. The three rowboats on the lake could not make up for that. But for the sake of your scholarship for college, you were willing to sacrifice a lot. Even your entire summer.

You’ll give it to her, she was disarming - that lopsided grin and those sparkling blue eyes. She had everyone wrapped around your finger, making the group of college kids easily laugh with her sarcastic comments as the supervisor was offering a safety briefing to all the counselors on the night before what would be a long month.

“Kids aren’t allowed any sharp objects in their cabins-”

“Oh, shoot, there goes my plan with these knives I brought with me,” Paige groans jokingly and begins to dig through her backpack. A chorus of laughter and chuckling fills the room, making the blonde girl smile to herself arrogantly. Like she was expecting it. You didn’t like that. She tried too hard for your liking

What you liked less was when you found that you would be sharing a room for the next four weeks with her. 

“And you two will be staying in this one,” the supervisor unlocks an oak door into a wooden cabin divided into multiple rooms. You stand behind Paige, who’s already peeking inside, heaving her bags onto the table.

As you struggle up the front steps with the overpacked suitcase, the blonde is quick to hurry to you, wordlessly snatching the bag from your hands and carrying it up. The muscles of her arms and back are carved in the moonlight as you follow annoyed. You could’ve easily gotten them up the stairs yourself. Besides, she could’ve asked. Could’ve introduced herself. But she seemed to have introduced herself to everyone but you.

“You know I coulda got that,” you say as the wind slams the door shut behind you. It might’ve been summer but not quite as warm as you hoped for. Although, maybe it was a blessing. This cabin did not seem to have AC.

“Sure princess,” Paige mumbles, the unwelcomed nickname only egging you on further. Who does she think she is?

You follow with your arms crossed as Paige looks around the small, dim room, checking every nook and drawer. It smells like pine and summer, but also a hint of a cologne that must be coming from the girl. She seems to be looking everywhere but at you, blue eyes scanning around. There’s a gnawing in your stomach, a twist. You wish she would at least look at you. I mean it’s the polite thing to do.

“Top or bottom?”

Your brows raise in shock as you take in her words. “Huh?”

She lets out a dry laugh that reminds you of the boys at frat parties, heaving her back onto the top bunk. She seemed to have decided for herself. Ignoring her, you grab some pajamas from your bag and hurry into the bathroom. It was time to wash the day off and prepare for the early morning tomorrow, for when the kids would arrive. 

But as you open the bathroom door, your toiletry bag crashes to the floor with a loud slam. There’s a spider, roaming all over the sink, easily the size of your fist.

“You okay?” Paige is quick to get up and peek from behind your shoulder to find what’s got you so distressed. Turning around, you bury your face into your hands to try and shake the image out of your head. You hated spiders.

“Spider,” is all you can muster up, walking out of the bathroom. The blonde lets out a chuckle, watching you closely.

“Dude, it’s just a bug,” she laughs. You notice she’s taken off her shirt, now in only a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra. To your surprise her arms seem to be big and strong, shoulders much wider than you expected. Realising your staring, your eyes flutter away as your cheeks turn red.

“Why is there a spider in the bathroom?” You groan.

Paige chuckles. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. This ain’t the last spider you’re gonna see.”

With a chill you let out a heavy sigh, your head spinning. The blonde looks at you, grabs a magazine and a cup and returns to the bathroom. “I got it,” she mumbles, small squeals coming out of her mouth as she takes the spider outside.

You hated it. She just called you a princess not more than 15 minutes ago and already you were proving her right. It’s true that you were more of a city girl, but this annoying stranger you were forced to spend your summer with didn’t have to know that.

“All done princess,” she grins as she enters the cabin, closing the door behind her. You want to tell her to stop calling you that, but somehow you knew it would only encourage her.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone and curl into bed. No Wifi. Great. Curling to your side, you bury your face into the flat pillow. This would be a long month.

Little did you know it only got worse.  

Within the first week you were enlightened to the fact that you were more of a city girl than you ever realised. Paige, to your demise, seemed to have picked up on this very faster than you. The blonde seemed to find every moment to point this out - not with words necessarily but with that smug grin and always offering her help when she saw you struggling. You knew it wasn’t out of kindness. She liked how humiliated you felt. How your ears turned burning red at the nicknames, and how you huffed when she asked that God forbidden question.

“You need some help, princess?” 

You’re standing in the middle of what the others called a “path” in the woods, winding in two different directions. One leading to the lake, the other to the cabins. The tall trees surrounded you, every rock looked the same. Truthfully, you had no idea which direction to take and the sleep deprivation wasn’t helping.

Turns out the woods were loud, even at night. The birds woke up inhumanely early and of course, Paige snored. Not loudly, but enough to keep you up. On top of everything, you had a surprise intervention at 3am the previous night with a group of girls who had decided to sneak out and go for a night swim. All you wanted was to get to your cabin and go to sleep on your thin, uncomfortable bed.

“Are you following me?” You huff frustratedly, watching Paige swat her leg at a mosquito. She lets out a hearty laugh, walking past you without answering.

“Hello? I’m talking to you,” you repeat, crossing your arms over your chest. She turns around to face you. that oh so familiar grin on her face that said she’s got you right where she wanted - frustrated.

“I heard,” she answers, raising her brows. “You look lost.”

“I’m not.” A complete lie. 

“Suit yourself,” she grins, pulling up her hood and striding towards the path curving right.

“Where are you going?” You ask, thinking of any sneaky way you could figure out which was the right path to the cabins. 

“To the lake,” Paige shrugs. “Kids wanna go rowing so I’ma take them.”

“After last night?” You exclaim. Another problem you had ran into - you and Paige had entirely different counseling styles, forcing you to be the fussy, strict one allowing her to be the fun one. All the kids adored her, basically ran after like puppies to get to spend time with her. Much like the other counselors. You weren’t buying the act though.

“Whatchu mean?”

You roll your eyes. “They sneaked out and you’re rewarding them?”

“Oh trust, there was nothing rewarding about that speech you gave em,” she groans.

“Paige!” You complain, “seriously?”

”Oh come on,” she grins, nodding her head towards the direction of the lake. ”Come with us.”

”No thank you,” you groan without even considering, and turn to the path on the left hoping it’ll take you to the cabins.

”Fine, go mope around like you have all week,” Paige yells after you, Frustrated, you stomp all the way to the door of your shared room, fuming. She’s so infuriating. Worst of all, she is so damn charming she had everybody wrapped around her fingers. 

You slam the door behind yourself, throwing yourself onto the bed, hitting your toe on the frame. Groaning out loud, a sharp pain shoots through your body only angering you more. Every little word she said made you livid. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her hoarse voice, that laugh, those blue eyes. Paige Bueckers made you furious.

But you couldn’t let her win. No way. She doesn’t get to. How dare she suggest you’ve been moping around? Changing into a bikini and throwing a pair of denim shorts and a sweater on you hurry out. That’ll show her.

Before thinking it through, you’re jogging through the woods towards the lake (or at least you hoped so). The smell of the water hit you first, and you knew you were close when you heard Paige making the group of kids laugh on the shore, helping them push two row boats into the water.

”Don’t forget your life vests,” you remind the group as you emerge from the woods, swatting mosquitoes off your arms. ”And I brought bug spray.”

To your shock Paige’s eyes widen, and then sparkle excitedly in the late afternoon sun, still warm on your skin.

”Yeah, she’s right. Go get the vests y’all,” Paige smiles, pointing the kids to the sheds. She’s left standing in the shallow water, holding onto the rowboats.

”You came,” she says with a tone of surprise.

You walk by her, shoulder touching hers as you do. An immediate spark, felt by you both according to the way your eyes meet for just a moment.

”I’m not moping,” you tell her matter of factly, and hop into the rowboat. Leaving the girl grinning, the kids pile into them as well. Paige takes a seat next to you in the middle and grabs the rows.

”You wanna try?” She asks you, offering them to you. ”I can teach you.”

”What makes you think I don’t know how to row?”

She looks you up and down, meeting your eyes. ”I can tell.”

”How?” You ask as she begins to row the boat toward deeper waters, taking her time. You can’t ignore the way her jaw clenches, and how the muscles on her arms grow more prominent as she does so. You’re not sure why it made your stomach stir.

”I just can tell you didn’t grow up on a lake,” she says like it means something else but you’re not sure what. Either way, you’re a little offended. Though she’s right.

”I’m more of a pool girl,” you admit, reaching over and running your fingers along the water. It’s surprisingly cold, goosebumps rising on your skin as result. Or maybe because your bare leg brushes against Paige’s.

”’Course you did princess.”

Before you can protest the nickname, the three boys in your boat point at the girls, about 10 feet ahead.

”Paige!! They’re winning!!” One of them, Caleb, complains.

”We’re so cooked, we’re losing,” the other groans, shaking his head.

The girls in the second boat giggle, waving at us. You laugh too, noticing a spark in Paige’s eye.

”Ain’t no way,” she chuckles, beginning to row furiously. ”That I’m losing to some ten year olds!”

Her voice echoes around the lake, making the girls squeal and row more furiously. 

”We’re twelve!”

”Big difference!” You yell after them as you gain speed, Paige huffing and sweat trickling down her neck as she rows faster.

-

”I can’t believe we lost,” Caleb mumbles, jumping off the boat back onto the shore. You’re still sitting on the boat as Paige pulls it onto the sand and offers you a hand to help you out. Stubborn as you are, you ignore it, jumping out without help and nearly falling face first into the water. Cheeks red, you watch that stupid arrogant grin spread onto the blonde’s face once more.

The sun has begun to set, painting the sky orange and pink. But the kids seem far from tired, splashing the water all over each other.

“Can we swim just for a bit. Pleaseeeee,” One of the kids, Clara, pleads with you and Paige. Glancing at each other, the blonde pulls off her hoodie to reveal a black bikini top underneath.

“I could go for a swim, I’m sweaty as fuck- oh I mean frick.”

The kids all laugh, and for the first time in a week you chuckle too. This seems to take the blonde by surprise, but she doesn’t comment or push. Simply looks at you.

“Okay, go swim,” you smile. “But shower after everyone. I don’t wanna find beds full of sand.”

With laughter, the kids run in the water, taking turns jumping off the pier. Paige does too, taking turns throwing them into the lake. You watch the horizon as the sun sets, the golden light engraving the memory into your brain. Paige’s hair dripping water down her muscular back, the black swim trunks hanging low on her hips.

Suddenly the blonde is walking towards you, holding her long arms out. By the smile on her face you can already tell what she’s thinking.

“Nuh uh, not happening,” you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“C’mon, live a little,” she complains. “I thought you weren’t moping hm?”

That does it. In seconds, you’ve pulled off your clothes and are walking on the pier in your pink bikini with the blonde at your heels.

“Look! Look!” Ryan, one of the boys screams before doing a backflip into the water. You laugh, dipping your toes in. 

“It’s so cold,” you whine. “And murky, what if there’s sharks. Or big fish.”

But as you turn to Paige, you notice her blue eyes scanning your body, and you swear she was staring at your ass. You must’ve imagined it.

“Paige?”

“Uh- what? Uh sharks. No sharks,” she mumbles, quickly averting her eyes.

“I dunno, it’s cold,” you complain.

“As frick?” Caleb asks. Everyone laughs.

“You can swim right?” Paige asks.

“Of course I can sw-”

Before you can finish your sentence, her clammy hands have pushed you in. The shock of the water hits you, but it’s not nearly as cold as you thought it would be. Rising back above the surface, you hear laughter surrounding you.

“I’m gonna kill you Bueckers,” you scream, brushing your wet hair back.

“Oh bet,” she chuckles before jumping after you, causing a big splash which wets your face again.

“Oh my gosh,” you squeal, wiping your face. Beginning to swim towards the shore, Paige follows after you, splashing you with water. “Stop!”

“Make me,” she grins. You splash her too, but she dodges. Frustrated, you do it again and this time it hits her face perfectly. As you’re about to slam the water again, she dives into the murky water, disappearing from sight.

You look around for any sign of Paige, only to let out a scream when her big hands come to your waist, surprising you and squeezing.

“Stop,” you giggle, your toes finally reaching the sandy floor.

“Tell me I win,” she smirks, tickling your sides.

Laughing, you push her by her chest but she won’t budge. She’s far too strong, holding onto you with ease.

“Okay, fine, fine, you win,” you say breathlessly, and she finally stops squeezing your sensitive sides. Her hands however linger for longer than necessary, running down to your hips before letting go, leaving you tingling.

“You,” you start, still trying to catch your breath. “Are the most annoying person I ever met.”

“I’ll take it,” she shrugs easily.

-

Slowly, as time went on you learned to tolerate Paige. You bickered like an old married couple, sure. She really knew how to push your buttons, getting some sort of sick satisfaction from getting on your nerves. It’s not like you liked her, but you were starting to see why she had everyone so charmed.

“How much longer?” One of the girls complains, swinging her water bottle. 

“Ana, we’ve been walking for twenty minutes,” Jess, one of the other counselors laughs. Today’s activity was a hike, which had not been a hit with the kids. The point was for them to identify as many plants, bugs, birds and trees as they could on the way up the mountain trail. 

“Can we take a break?” Caleb whines, walking beside Paige and holding a stick.

“I had a lil more faith in y’all,” Paige chuckles ruffling the young boy’s hair affectionately. You walk a little behind, eyes on the blonde’s low ponytail swinging in the breeze. It was the perfect day for a hike. A little cloudy, the sun peeking out here and there to greet yoy just to disappear again. 

Falling behind a little bit, you hurry toward the girl, eyes locked on her when, as if out of nowhere, a thick root emerges from the ground and as result you take a misstep.

“Ow!” A yelp leaves your lips, making everyone snap their heads toward your direction. A sharp pain makes your eyes squeeze shut, as you hop onto a large rock, hissing with pain each time you put any weight on your right ankle.

“You okay?” Paige is the first to ask, rushing over. She kneels in front of you, brows furrowed and eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” you hiss, though the pain persists. The girl holds your ankle with caring hands, moving it around until a sharp jolt shoots through your body and you yelp once more. 

“She rolled her ankle,” she tells the others as you attempt to stand back up.

“I’m fine,” you mumble stubbornly, but immediately stumble trying to put weight on it. Paige grabs hold of you. Great. Not only would you not be able to hike, but there was no way you were making it back on your own.

“I’ma take her back,” Paige asks as if reading your mind, without consulting you. As always.

Some of the kids let out disappointed groans. Paige was definitely the favourite even with the kids.

“No,” you resist, sitting back down on the rock. “I’ll wait here. It’s fine.”

Paige snorts, shaking her head. “It’s an eight hour hike. Prolly closer to ten with these ones. I’m taking you back.”

“But-”

“I’m taking you back. End of story.”

And that’s the conversation done. You could see it in her eyes, determined and feisty. Without asking, she wraps your arm around her shoulders, helping you up. The blush on your cheeks forces your eyes to flicker down, not needing her to see the effect her touch had on you. Her skin felt smooth and sticky with sunscreen, arms strong as you both wave bye to the group.

“That better?” She asks, her fingers digging into your side. With each step she carries your weight, bringing relief to your ankle that was beginning to swell.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumble, embarrassed. You feel awkward and clumsy, pressed into her side like this. It was the damn woods. It was bringing out the worst in you. Part of you wished you had met Paige back home, where you were graceful and pleasant. Not here, amongst the mosquitoes and the pine trees and the spiders and no wifi. It made you irritated and moody. It felt bothersome that she couldn’t see you in your element, just as charming as she was. Though you weren’t sure why it bothered you so much.

“You don’t like the woods much huh?” She asks, helping you limp down the trail slow as snails.

“Nope,” you hiss, wanting to curse every single tree and rock in this entire forest.

Paige chuckles, her blue eyes boring into you. “Then why’d you even come here if you’re so miserable?”

Feeling bashful under her gaze, you had no other chance but to be honest. “My scholarship. It was either this or picking up trash. Guess I picked wrong.”

“Oh it’s not that bad,” she says. “You got to meet me.”

“How could I forget,” you answer dryly, making Paige laugh. 

“I’m not that bad,” she mumbles, smiling down at you. The limping was becoming increasingly difficult, even the lightest step making you hiss in pain.

“Hurts that much huh?” She asks. You merely nod, trying to focus on the destination rather than how long the trip down would take. “Alright, c’mon.”

With that, she scoops you up into her arms like you weigh nothing. Butterflies erupt deep in your abdomen, your arm wrapping around the back of her neck.

“Paige,” you complain. “I weigh too much.”

“You’re kidding, have some faith in me,” she laughs, carrying you down the trail with ease. “Light as a feather.”

The rest of the way you spend in silence, only interrupted by the birds fluttering from one tree to another, chirping as they do. Most of it because you’re unable to talk, far too flustered and confused by the feelings stirring inside you as she carries you in her strong, sure arms all the way to your shared room.

“There you go princess,” her breath is hot, tickling in your neck as she lowers you onto the bed, so carefully as if you’re made of porcelain. 

“Thank you Paige,” you murmur, watching closely as she fusses around you. Suddenly your ankle is raised on two pillows and her hoodie, a bag of ice pressed onto the swollen muscle. The condensation drips down your leg, onto her clothes. But she doesn’t seem to mind, bringing you water and a can of Sprite.

“Paige, I’m good,” you stop her as she keeps fluffing the pillows and checking on your ankle. “You’ve done too much.”

“Does it hurt?” She asks, face filled with concern.

“Not really,” you mumble, leaning back on the bed. “Just a little sore.”

“You need anything? More water? Another pillow? A snac-”

“Paige. I’m good. Sit your ass down,” you say sternly. Before you think of it further, you pat the space next to you on the bed, just barely enough space for the girl. She, however, doesn’t hesitate, carefully scooting onto the mattress. She’s so close to you, your legs and arms are pressed against one another. You wonder if she feels it too. The tingling, the electricity.

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?” She asks, turning her blue eyes to you. Your faces are merely inches apart, her breath smelling like mint from the gum she’s been chewing.

“I’m sure,” you whisper, your voice surprisingly shaky. “Thank you.”

Paige grins, but not in that arrogant way that irked you. No, this was more genuine, meaningful.

“Why d’you not like me?” She asks suddenly, a certain vulnerability in her eyes.

Surprised by her honesty, you look away. “I do like you Paige,” you answer. “Honestly, I thought you hated me.”

“What?” She chuckles gently, throwing her arm behind your shoulders with ease. You lean into her even just an inch, making you feel lightheaded. “No way, I just like getting on your nerves.”

“I can tell,” you roll your eyes. “Hollup, why would you think I don’t like you?”

“Cause,” she shrugs, now her turn to look bashful. “You’re like the only one here not laughing at my jokes… Or giving me attention.”

You can’t help but snort, turning to her. Her nose is nearly touching yours, the heat of her face tingling against you. Suddenly the air shifts. She swallows loud. You lick your lips. The irritation and annoyance that had grown the past couple weeks suddenly bursting into nothing but attraction.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeat, voice barely a whisper. Her fingertips hesitate, but come to brush a strand of hair off your face, behind your ear. It takes almost all your strength for your eyes not to flutter shut.

Before you comprehend what’s happening, she begins to lean in, inching closer and closer. And suddenly you’re dying to taste her, mind wrapped around what her lips might feel on yours. It’s too fast. Too much. Overwhelmed, you turn your head away, clearing your throat.

“Actually, I think I’m a little hungry,” you murmur weakly, Paige quickly pulling back.

“Uh, yeah, course,” she answers, face red and flushed. Her weight lifts off the bed and silently, she walks to the door, stopping as she opens it.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you picked the camp and not the trash,” she says with more confidence, before disappearing and closing the door behind her.

-

It had been a week since your near kiss, and things had been awkward. She seemed to be more careful around you, watchful of every word and action. You’d be lying if it didn’t bother you. You missed it, even when she was getting on your nerves. 

“Haven’t you had enough s’mores?” You ask Ryan, watching as he pokes yet another marshmallow onto his stick.

“Never enough,” the boys grin, positively on their tenth s’more. Paige sits on the opposite side of the fire, poking it and laughing at something Jess was telling her. A jolt of jealousy ran through you - not that you had any right to be jealous. 

“Is your ankle better?” Clara asks, her sweet eyes gleaming with worry. 

“It is! Thanks for asking,” you smile, handing her your s’more. “It doesn’t hurt no more.”

“Paige was so strong carrying you back,” she says in awe, glancing towards her.

You do too, remembering the way her arms felt wrapped around you. Regretting the way you looked away.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Alright y’all, bed time. Everyone in their tents,” Paige claps her hands together, beginning to shoo the kids away from the fire. We were only 15 minutes away from the cabins, but the illusion of a real campsite was there. Large tents up everywhere, and smaller ones for the counselors to share - one for you and Paige.

“This is a lot smaller than I imagined,” you chuckle as you step into the tent, barely enough space for two sleeping bags. 

“Oh shit,” she murmurs awkwardly. You both set up the sleeping bags in silence, the tight space making the tension even more uneasy. You try to look away, but can’t help the way my eyes flicker towards her as she pulls off her shirt, letting her wavy hair down from the two dutch braids. A jolt runs down your spine, straight to your core as her arms flex, biceps prominent and beautiful.

“Damn, I gotta go check that the kids are in bed,” she murmurs, rubbing her face sleepily.

Your eyes drag from her torso to her face. “I can do it,” you answer, eager to get out of this tight space.

The summer night is warm, the campsite illuminated by the stars above as you peek into each tent one by one. 

“Go to bed,” you tell the girls still giggling underneath their blankets knowing full well they won’t. The rest seemed to have fallen asleep after the long day. But you’re still not ready to return to that tiny tent, filled with tension and electricity. No, fuck this. Why was she so bashful now? So distant? You wouldn’t let her win. She needed to fix her attitude.

With a new found confidence, you make your way into the tent to find Paige sitting up with a book in her hand, pushing her glasses up her nose bridge. You zip up the tent carefully behind you.

“They asleep-”

But she quiets down the moment you grab the book from her hands, placing it somewhere beside her. You crawl into her lap, straddling her. Perhaps this was stupid, but you were over how she was acting.

Paige opens her mouth to speak, but you bring your finger to her lips. “Shh,” you shush the girl, pulling her glasses off. She’s trembling, chest heaving as her breathing turns labored and purposeful. 

And slowly, then all at once you press your lips against hers. Her mouth opens as she kisses you back, hands quickly finding the back of your head to pull you closer. You whimper, hands gripping her shoulders, lips sliding against hers - slick, hungry and desperate.

She lets out a heavy exhale through her nostrils, another hand slipping down your back along your spine, until it ends up on your ass. Grabbing greedily, she kneads the skin, getting you to moan into her mouth.

Paige takes this chance to slip her tongue into your mouth and to meet yours. Saliva covers both your lips as you fight for dominance, but it’s no use. She has already won.

Your teeth bite down on her plump bottom lip to tug on it hard enough to make the blonde hiss. She pulls back, pupils blown out as she looks at your swollen mouth.

“You fuckin’ tease,” she hisses, soaked lips attacking your neck. “Got me thinking you don’t want me.”

You let out a moan as Paige’s lips suck on the crook of your neck, the skin there sensitive and tender. Your hands tuck on her wavy, silky hair, hips grinding down into her for any kind of friction. It’s not enough.

“Goddamn,” she hisses, kneading your ass harshly to make you grind down harder. “Bet you’re soaked right now.”

“Fuck you,” you say, voice shaking with need.

“Gotta be nicer to me if you want me to princess,” she grins against your neck, tugging at the flimsy tank top you’re wearing. Before you can process, her mouth is biting and kissing your chest through your satin bra, nipples hardening fast. She’s right. You are soaked, your underwear turning more and more damp each second. If you thought this would be the time for you to claim back power you were mistaken, your body already putty in her hands.

Desperately, your hands find the band of her shorts, fingertips gliding along it teasingly. The blonde groans, bucking her hips. A gash of wetness drips out of you, the thought of how soaked she is making you dizzy.

”That’s what I thought,” you murmur, glad to find she needed you just as bad. Painfully slowly, your hand slides the shorts down her legs. Your movements are clumsy in the small tent, but neither of you could care less. The heat between you two was far too great.

Paige’s hands wrap around you, reaching back and unclasping your bra. Her eyes widen with awe as your tits fall out, nipples hard and perked up just for her.

”Fucking shit,” she whimpers, not wasting any time to latch on. Her tongue circles and then sucks, warm and wet against your cool skin. A high pitched hiss leaves your lips as she bites down on the nipple ever so gently.

”Gotta be a lil more quiet,” Paige says hoarsely against your chest. 

”Mhm, yeah, I can do that,” you whimper, willing to say anything to keep her going. The blonde keeps sucking, the sensation driving you insane. You felt her everywhere, yet it wasn’t enough.

Paige seemed to think likewise, her own hand dipping between her legs and rubbing harsh circles over the black boxers as she works your breast, fingers coming to grope the other one, rolling your hard nipple between them.

You can’t help it, your hand replacing hers at once. She’s damp through the soft cotton, biting down on your nipple trying not to moan. With your free hand you tuck on her hair and guide her swollen, plump pink lips to yours. The kiss is raw and filthy, tongues clashing, spit everywhere. A string of saliva connects you two as you pull back, beginning your descent.

You want to take your time, kissing her neck and chest downwards. But Paige has other plans. Her hands grab a hold of your shoulders, pushing you down with so much force and urgency you couldn’t dare deny her.

Once you’re between her legs, she doesn’t waste time to pull her own boxers off. The sight is overwhelming. Even in the dim tent you can see that her cunt is soaked, glistening in the darkness. Immediately, your mouth is watering for her.

”Shit,” you whisper, leaning down and kissing on her inner thighs as she spreads her legs for you. ”You’re so wet.” 

Paige isn’t having any of your teasing, her hands finding their way straight into your hair and gripping hard. Suddenly she’s guiding you right where she wants you, your mouth filling with the taste of her.

”Mmph,” you whimper against her soaked folds, pressing open mouthed kisses along her slit. She tastes like heaven, quickly wetting your chin and nose too.

”God,” she grunts, lifting her head to look down at you. Your eyes dart up to her face - mouth ajar, heavy lids, cheeks flushed. She looks beautiful, already drowning in ecstasy.

”I love how you taste,” you mumble, licking along her slit and letting her wetness cover your tongue. Paige lets out a guttural moan, bucking her hips impossibly closer.

”Shh,” you remind her as you pull back, face glistening with her juices. ”Quiet, remember?”

”Just fuck, keep going,” she hums frustratedly, pulling you back to her soaked cunt roughly. You keep your eyes locked on her expression, quickly finding what drives her crazy as your lips tongue swirls against her clit.

”You’re so good at that,” she whispers. Her voice shakes, the grip in your hair tightening. ”Keep going baby.”

Her words encourage you enough, making you forget all about the strain on your jaw. The sounds filling the tent turn filthy and wet as you lie your tongue flat against her, shaking your head. This does it, making Paige grab hold of you even tighter, guiding you where she wanted.

”Mhm, taste so good,” you moan quietly. ”I love your pussy.” 

She’s whimpering, trying to stay quiet by biting down on her lip. 

”Want your tongue out,” she groans. ”Need to fuck your face.” 

You do as she tells you, her hands pulling you closer and quite literally bucking her hips and grinding her pussy against your tongue. 

”Just like that,” she praises, her entire body shaking. The way she’s clinging onto you and throwing her head back tells you she’s nearly there. ”Fuck, you’re so good princess.”

A gush of wetness drips out of you, soaking the fabric of your thin panties. Paige keeps fucking your face, spreading herself all over you as your tongue rubs against that sensitive bud, bringing her to the edge.

”Look at me, sh- please,” she cries out, both hands pulling on your hair. ”I’m gonna cum.”

At the exact right moment, your eyes snap open. They meet hers just as her thighs clench around you, and her climax takes over. It drives you insane to see her like this, under your control, whining and whimpering all because of you.

”Ohh, shit,” she mewls, eyes rolling back as her movements turn sloppy and desperate. You coax her through it, watching the way her face twists in pleasure. Finally, she lets go of you, panting hard.

”Wow,” you sigh, climbing up her body. She’s trying to catch her breath, chuckling softly.

”Tell me about it,” she gleams, pulling you into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. Your teeth nearly clank together from the hunger, tongue darting out to taste herself on your lips.

Suddenly, with no time to rest, Paige flips you over to your back. The ground is hard underneath you, only softened slightly by the sleeping bags underneath you two. In that moment you know you’ve lost your upper hand.

Paige doesn’t hesitate, beginning to kiss down your body with a single destination in mind. But she’s taking forever to get there, getting distracted by your breasts, sucking on the peaks. Her hands glide down against your sides over each rib painfully slowly. In a moment of great need you try to push her down much like she did with you. But she doesn’t budge, merely grabbing your wrists and pushing them away.

”You okay beautiful?” She asks, kissing down your abdomen and glancing up at you. 

”Mmhm,” you whine, bucking your hips in desperation. It’s obvious what you want. Still she makes you work for it, loving to see you humiliated and needy.

”What’s wrong?” She asks menacingly, her voice sadistic and teasing. 

”Paige,” you complain.

”Whatchu want princess?” She asks, fingertips toying with the laces on your shorts. You might die before she actually touches you. ”Are you wet?”

Eagerly you nod, looking down at her. 

”Oh I bet,” she grins, finally tugging your shorts down all the way, bringing your panties with them. ”Lemme see that shit.”

With that, you spread your legs wide. Paige lets out a hungry groan when her eyes meet your pussy, gushing and glistening.

”That’s all for me?” She asks, fingertips spreading your lips apart ever so carefully, studying you. 

”Mhm,” you whine, chest heaving with the knowledge that soon she’d be touching you right where you needed.

”Fuck baby, you throbbing,” she hisses, leaning down and dipping a finger into your entrance. It glistens as she pulls it back and wraps her mouth around it, letting it go with a pop. ”And taste so damn good.”

”Please,” you complain, completely lost control over yourself now, willing to do pretty much anything for some relief.

”Say that shit again,” she groans, hot breath tingling against your wet cunt.

”Please Paige,” you whimper even more desperate. That seems to do it as she finally leans down and with a loud slurp, licks up your slick.

”Aw fuck,” you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and grabbing the sleeping bags underneath.

”Shut up,” she reminds you, the mean tone of her voice only making you gush again. Her tongue licks up and down, dipping in your entrance menacingly. You cover your own mouth, muffling the gasps spilling uncontrollably from your lips.

”Attagirl,” she whispers against your pussy, the vibrations causing your back to arch. Paige moans at the taste of you, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as if she was the one being fucked.

”Oh God,” you cry out as she spreads your lips further apart, burying her face into your cunt. She’s so skillful, so precise yet sloppy and desperate. The sounds of her mouth lapping you up are so loud it makes your head spin. She’s got you right where she wanted.

”You got the prettiest pussy huh? Pretty pussy for a pretty girl,” she praises, admiring you for a second before diving straight back in, sucking on your sensitive bud that’s grown puffy and swollen.

”So fucking pretty,” she murmurs against you, her hands coming up to roll your rock hard nipples between her fingertips. 

”But you know that huh? Know how fucking pretty you are? Know I was obsessed the moment I saw you?” She mumbles in between licks along your dripping folds. You barely hear her, squirming and bucking your hips against her mouth.

”Tell me,” she whispers breathlessly, grabbing hold of your jaw and forcing eye contact. She looks so beautiful between your legs, staring up at you under her long, black lashes. ”Tell me you’re pretty.”

You feel flustered, face turning red. Your core gushes, gushing with each throb. Embarrassed and needy for more, you grab her hair and try to guide her back to your pussy. But she won’t, not until you’ve bent to her will.

”Fucking tell me,” she commands, voice hoarse.

”I-I’m pretty,” you whisper, willing to do anything just for her to keep going.

”So fucking pretty, princess,” she groans, spitting on your cunt and leaning back in. Her tongue is unbelievably fast and strong, moving from left to right, flicking your clit. She was getting you to the edge, quickly.

”Been needing to get in this shit since I saw you,” she grunts, bringing both her hands back down to your pussy and spreading it wide open.

”But you knew that, walking around half naked, driving me fucking crazy,” Paige moans, and licks around your entrance.

”Fuck, Paige, don’t stop,” you gasp, legs shaking uncontrollably. ”Don’t fucking stop.”

With that, her tongue slips inside you with the sound of a loud squelch. Paige whimpers, feeling the way your cunt squeezes and throbs around her tongue, her sharp nose nudging against your clit as she slides it in and out.

”Oh f- oh-” you gasp for air, chest heaving as your back arches off the ground. You cover your mouth again, legs trembling as Paige pushes you to the edge simply with her mouth.

”That’s it,” she coos, continuing her motions, holding your squirming hips down as you ride out your climax, gushing around her tongue

”Stop, stop,” you squirm as she kisses her way up through your slick folds to your sensitive bud, finally wiping her face on your thigh and looking back. There’s that smug grin again that made you want to slap it off her face.

”Sorry to tell you but you’re a mess,” she smirks, satisfied. She didn’t have to, you could feel it. Your thighs felt sticky and your core still slick and soaked.

”You sure nobody heard?,” you ask, embarrassed now that you were coming down.

”Nah,” she smiles easily, coming up to kiss you - tender and caring rather than the rough, hungry way in which she did earlier.

”You okay to walk?” She asks, brushing your hair back.

”Oh yeah, we better go shower,” you mumble, beginning to dress. Paige chuckles, a spark in her eye.

”But they’re so far away,” she says. ”Let’s just go to the lake.”

-

The night is still as warm as the day, a slight breeze running through your body as you follow a narrow path through the woods with Paige. She leads you to a smaller beach, covered by trees and shrubbery, holding your hand the entire way.

The moon above the horizon illuminates the lake, gentle waves hitting the rocks on the shore. Paige’s skin is luminescent and milky in the moonlight, and you can barely tear your eyes away.

Before you can think it through, she pulls off her clothes, walking into the water in only her boxers.

”C’mon princess,” she smiles, nodding you over. Her confidence gives you courage, and you do the same, following after her in only your panties.

The water is cold by your ankles, goosebumps rising all over your body. Paige takes her time admiring you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you deeper.

”You’re so damn beautiful,” she sighs, blue eyes scanning you up and down. With flushed cheeks, you let the taller girl guide you.

”It’s cold,” you giggle as the gentle waves tickle your abdomen. Paige laughs, splashing your breasts with the water, making you let out a squeal.

”Stop!” You gasp, splashing her back. But before you can, she’s diving in, swimming deeper, emerging from beneath the surface further away now

”You coming or not?” She asks, a grin on her face. You can’t resist it. With a gasp you emerge yourself into the water, swimming to her.

”There we go,” she smiles, pulling you into her and kissing you breathless. Your legs wrap around her waist as you hold onto her shoulders, licking along her lower lip. She smirks into the kiss, her hands holding you up by your thighs, squeezing.

You can feel her nipples hardening against you, the knot she just took care of suddenly tightening deep in your abdomen again.

Like reading your mind, she drags her hand from your thighs to your ass, groping harshly. You whimper into the kiss, throwing your head back. Every touch was setting you on fire, burning on your skin.

The blonde drags her open, hot mouth along your neck. Her hand grips your ass so tightly that her fingertips brush against your clothed core. Still sensitive, you shiver. Paige groans in response as your nails dig into her skin.

”Shit,” she hisses, reaching her hands from behind you and rubbing her fingers against your clit through the sheer fabric. ”Need you again.”

You can only nod, gripping onto the blonde and letting out soft whimpers into her ear. Her hand circles around your clit but it’s not enough.

”More,” you moan quietly.

”What’s that princess?”

”Fuck me Paige,” you plead, wide eyes looking up at the girl. She can’t resist, the need on your face overwhelming.

”Whatchu want baby?” She asks with a gentle voice, brows furrowed. ”Tell me.”

But instead of telling, you decide to show. Reaching down you pull your panties to the side, and guiding Paige’s hand by her wrist to your cunt.

Without warning, she slips two fingers inside you. With a gasp, you grip onto her harder. Paige groans.

”You this wet again?” She murmurs, pressing her cheek onto your forehead as she curls her fingers against you. They are so much longer and bigger than yours could be, reaching the soft tissue inside you better than you ever could imagine.

”Mmhm,” you moan, scratching at her broad shoulders.

”That’s my girl,” she growls, ”you a little slut aren’t you princess?”

”Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, voice whiny and needy. It’s not very convincing. Still, she abides.

”Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, her fingers pumping inside your slick, tight pussy. She groans, feeling the way you stretch around her. They move with such strength and pace it takes everything in you not to scream out.

Biting down onto her shoulder, you muffle your own moans, wrapping your legs around her waist tighter.

”Bounce on em, c’mon,” she tells you, free hand gripping your ass underwater. Entire body trembling, you grip onto her and grind your hips into her fingers, sighing every time they intrude into you. 

”Oh God,” you whimper, movements turning erratic and sloppy as you chase your high on her fingers. 

”Good girl,” she whimpers. ”Fuck you so sexy.”

Paige leans down, kissing and sucking on your neck, nibbling your earlobes.

”P-Paige,” you gasp, legs beginning to shake too bad.

”I gotchu baby,” she whispers, grabbing hold of you as she adds a third finger, slamming them inside you.

”Oh-” you cry out, but she kisses you hungrily, muffling her moans. Paige holds you still with her free hand.

”So tight,” she hisses against your lips, fingers pumping inside you, stretching you out. Your cunt is sucking her in, gripping onto her tightly.

”I’m cl-”

”I can feel it,” she moans, the way your pussy is pulsing around her making your nearing orgasm obvious. The knot deep inside your stomach tightens and tightens, causing you to grip onto her.

”You gon’ cum for me?” Paige asks, panting, curling her fingers against your g-spot.

Like clockwork, your body obeys. With desperate nods, Paige kisses you, pumping even faster, stretching out your dripping cunt, driving you to the edge until-

”I’m cumming!” You whimper into her mouth. She's breathless, groaning as if she was the one getting off.

”C’mon princess. Feel so good. Be a good girl.”

With her words, and the stretch she’s causing, your legs clasp around her and the knot finally snaps.

Desperate moans are muffled by Paige’s mouth, pleasure washing over you in waves. She guides you through your orgasm, holding you close the entire time.

”God,” you exhale, finally pulling back as she pulls her fingers out of you.

Paige laughs gently, blue eyes scanning your face in the moonlight. She looks breathtaking, and the feeling seems to be mutual. The blonde leans in and presses her lips onto your forehead. 

”We should prolly head back.”

Paige carries you out of the water and helps you dress. You make your way back to the campsite hand in hand. Thankfully everyone still seems to be asleep.

In comfortable silence, you two climb into your tent that suddenly doesn’t seem as small. As you begin to set up your sleeping bag, Paige scooches into hers, staring at you.

”You know, we could just share.”

Glancing up, you find the blonde patting the spot beside her in her purple sleeping bag. You can’t resist the twinkle of her blue eyes.

It’s tight, that’s for sure, but it feels surprisingly natural to rest your head on Paige’s chest. She presses sweet kisses to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair that surely smelled like bug spray.

”You believe I don’t hate you now princess?” She whispers, hand rubbing up and down your back.

You let out a gentle laugh, letting your eyes fall shut - heavy with tiredness. ”I don’t hate you either,” you murmur, quickly drifting to sleep in her arms. The woods weren’t that bad after all.

-

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