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zara-renata · 2 days ago

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So I had one holiday prompt that I couldn't include in the big holiday prompt fic I posted last week, and I also have been receiving some really sweet and cute ideas that weren't exactly requests, but the ideas were so nice that I wanted to write something for them. I've gathered them into one story that I hope isn't disappointing. I had intended to do separate, cute little drabbles, but I had a bad day the other day and somehow uh, really dark angst happened, and then I used the ideas people sent for the comfort half of the fic? So please forgive me for just... taking it as dark as you can go before including the sweet, cute ideas that people requested. I hope you like the result anyway, although please read the content warnings. Several of the people who sent requests/ideas apologized for doing so, as if sending the ideas was 'too much', but you don't have to apologize for sending asks. My requests are open, and I like seeing everyone's ideas even if I don't end up being able to write for them, or if I tweak them a little to make them work for the story that comes out of my brain despite my best laid plans to stick to an outline.

The river | ao3 | masterlist

It's Christmas Eve, you're at the end of your rope after an absolutely awful year, and you decide to end it all after pushing everyone in your life away. Sylus pulls you from the brink and convinces you to keep going.

Sylus x fem reader, Sylus x mc, hurt/comfort, angst, grief, banter, fluff. CW: attempted suicide, depressed thoughts, NSFW, Sylus penetrating reader (this is not sex ed, do not follow these idiots' example, no discussion of condom or birth control, this is fantasy and we're not going to worry about that in the fic)

Ask #1 You asked to keep sending silly little ideas for you to write so I thought I'd give my own request! After Caleb and Gran (supposedly) die it's pretty much canon that MC refuses help from their friends and isolates themself in certain ways. I always imagine MC sometimes sees Sylus as "the only one they have left" since he is the only one who goes out of his way to check up on MC. But MC kinda grows to resent this and has a moment when their drunk/really going through it and basically ask Sylus why he doesn't leave them be so they can just rot away in peace. Sorry if this is too lengthy or I'm overstepping! Brain worms are getting to me

Ask #2 Okay, so random thoughts here, but do you know that superstition that’s like, “the places where you have moles on your body show where your lover kissed you in a past life”? But like… can you imagine what it would be like if MC had a mole in the exact spot where Sylus bit her during Abyssal Mark (cus I have one there lol) and then that superstition randomly gets brought up, only for MC to show him that mole and Sylus is just s h o o k??? N e way that’s my random thoughts lol (sorry if this is a lot 💀)

Ask #3 I love the way you write the MC and I find myself relating to them at least 99% of the time. Sometimes I just imagine them giving Sylus one of those "Do you like me? Circle yes or no!" Love letters to Sylus because they are terrified of rejection -> i wrote the MC in this story really, really depressed, so if this didn't hit the spot for you in terms of fear of rejection, let me know, and I can include your prompt in another story idea I had before this one that's a lot lighter and sweeter before I got hit by the angst truck that this fic turned out to be. just let me know!

Ask #4 the last holiday prompt! -> idk if anyone sent it yet but from the xmas prompt list, i would love to see what you do with number 8 -> I'm so sorry that this is what I did with it, I hope you like it anyway😭

Thank you everyone who has sent me ideas! If you've sent me a request and I haven't answered it yet, it's because I'm still intending to do something with it.

Here you are. Again.

At the end of a long day. A long week. A long year.

A long rope.

It’s the dark, this time of year.

Maybe.

You’re restless. You’ve passed through the Deepspace Hunters Association doors for the last time this year. Empty days of leave stretch before you.

Normally, it would still be light out, leaving this early. But not now, this deep into the year—it’s already full night, as you leave work early.

The bright lights of the building pour over your upturned face as you look back, just once. You don’t know what for. You’ve successfully severed most of the ties you had built before.

Before everything.

Tara, Xavier. After Caleb, Josephine—they reached out, over and over, and you bit their outstretched hands with your sharp, sharp teeth.

You snapped enough times that they keep their distance, now.

They’re still kind.

Tara still comes, sits on your desk, shares tidbits of gossip during the workday. But she no longer invites you along to karaoke, to after-work drinks with other coworkers.

You and Xav work in sync, as you eliminate wanderers. He walks you to your door at the end of the day. But he no longer offers to lend you books. No longer invites you to the bookstore, or to try new restaurants.

You watch his broad back as he walks away from you, down your apartment building’s hallway. He feels as far away as a star in the velvet night sky.

It’s not their fault. You did this.

You wanted this.

You turn away from the warm light beaming from the Association as you leave early, the Christmas lights glittering in the windows, the holiday party you’re skipping still in full swing in the open, sleek company restaurant area on the ground floor. A division-wide shindig, to celebrate the end of the year, the holidays.

The night is cold. Fairy lights, nets of bright pinpricks in the dark night, cover the trees lining the sidewalk. Decorative light displays stretch across the busy road at periodic intervals, over the canals that parallel the streets, the gondolas and tour-boats festive under their own lights, red ribbons flapping in the cold winter wind.

You think about how they never recovered a body.

Only Josephine’s ashes fill an urn, sitting in a cold niche of a quiet columbarium. Caleb’s urn is empty.

You start walking, fast, along the busy sidewalk. People are out shopping, scurrying to tie up last minute errands before the city shuts down for the holiday tomorrow.

You want to unzip your coat. Unzip your uniform. Unzip your skin, your ribcage. Leave all these pieces of yourself behind, for others to puzzle over. To sweep up with the rest of the refuse left over from festive party goers on the street. You want to dissipate in the cold winter air like your breath with each cursed inhale, exhale.

You settle for beginning to jog to the metro station, your feet carrying you faster, faster, your boots heavy on the sidewalk. You see it lit in the distance, but you can’t stand the thought of being underground right now. Buried alive, with all the other people. You sprint past it.

You’re graceful enough to duck and weave, not disturb anyone else, until the crowds thin.

You’re running, running, the city is streaming past, like the tears from your eyes. Wet from the cold, because you haven’t cried since waking up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s silver chain glittering in the firelight on the walk up to your grandmother’s burning house.

Tears won’t bring a body back.

You don’t know how much longer you can stand this.

The days, one after another. Alarm, moving through the dark to get to work. Moving through the dark to get back to your apartment at the end of the day.

The pain—your only constant, now. The only thing you expect, have to look forward to, day after blurred day.

An echoing emptiness, like an urn without ashes. An emptiness that feels so full that your skin could burst with it.

You think about your apartment. The festive city outside its windows. The half-opened bottle of wine in the fridge, the only thing in it.

You veer from your neighborhood. Keep running. You’re sweating under your winter coat, your heavy Hunter uniform. It doesn’t matter.

You run, and run, and run, until you run out of streets, sidewalk.

Just the river, wide and black. There is a bridge, soaring over the water, in the distance. Its lights reflected in the water, along with the urban nightscape. Stars above, stars below.

You could drown in them.

You look at the bridge.

You could drown in it all.

There’s no one left, after all.

Who will miss you?

You slow. Stop.

Your breath is heavy in the quiet air. Fairy lights sparkle here, too. Pretty swooping light displays top each lamppost along the river path.

You would have gone to identify the body, as you did with Gran. She didn’t look like herself. Not even a sleeping version of herself. They did their best, reconstructing her face. But it wasn’t the stitches, the bruising. It was that she simply wasn’t there anymore. Like a stranger’s body on display. An empty house after the residents have been forced to flee in a night of unimaginable violence.

But running your hands through her hair, one last time. It soothed something in you. Enough that you could breathe in the cold mortuary air. Could nod. Could watch as they covered her again. As they escorted you out into the bustling hospital hallways, to stand under cold fluorescent lights. To stare vacantly at the wall, until you felt a strange, familiar feeling. You looked up, saw Zayne watching you, at the end of the long hallway. You stared at him, memorizing his beautiful face. His dark hair. His severe, cold loveliness. You let yourself look one last time, and he let you. Through the people filling the hallway, each walking with purpose, they were a blur and he was across the world, across time, a part of your past that should never have reappeared in your present. It hurt too much, to look at his beautiful, distant face. He left you behind, once. He should have stayed gone. You can’t stand to experience the loss again, the loss you felt every time he listened to your heart, expressionless, a stranger with a beautiful, familiar face from your past, a past in which Caleb was still alive.

You looked at Zayne one last time, across a bustling hallway in a place full of life, of death, and he let you. You then turned, headed to the reception desk. You switched doctors, hospitals.

You blocked his number, so you’ll never know if he sent you a text, tried to call and ask why, after. He let you walk out. Which is as it should be.

You wanted this.

The water churns under the whipping wind, the fast current. It looks so cold. Cold enough to numb. Cold enough to finally put out the fire that’s been burning in you, ever since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace shimmering in the flames.

You think of running your hands through his hair. Something the fire robbed you of—it would have been your first time, your last time. He would pat your head. Call you pipsqueak. Ignore your protests to not mess up your hair, to not treat you like a little kid. But he would always duck out of the way anytime you tried to return the favor, tease him, tousle his hair. His pretty brunette hair that always looked so soft. Now you’ll never know how soft it really was.

You look at the water. You look at the bridge. The car headlights meteors streaking along their guardrail-gated orbit.

You think about going home. Waking up tomorrow, Christmas Day. The silence. You think about going back to work. Killing wanderer after wanderer. Wondering which one will be the one to finally kill you.

The days blur. The constant emptiness echoing inside your apartment, inside your ribcage.

You look at the water. You look at the bridge. You imagine running your hands through Caleb’s hair for the first, the last time. A tender goodbye you’ll never have, because they never found his body.

There’s no one left to miss you.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You fish it out.

Rafayel no longer calls, or texts you words. He just sends photos, every once in a while. Mundane details of everyday life, rendered extraordinary through his artist’s eye. Paintings he’s working on. A foreign landscape. Leaves glistening with dew. The moon, waxing full.

You haven’t answered in months. You look at each one, tuck your phone back in your pocket.

You look back at the water. Think about taking a photo of the reflected stars, the thin crescent moon in the black waves, think of sending him one last response. But even you’re not that cruel. You don’t want him to realize later, that he was the last one to say anything to you.

You don’t open his text. You block his number. Tuck the phone back into your pocket.

You start to walk toward the bridge. As you walk, you keep your eyes on the path, its edges. Decorative, smooth stones line the walkway along the river embankment. You pick them up, here and there, as you walk. Slip them into your coat pockets.

Eventually you run out of room in your coat pockets, add more to your pants pockets.

You turn your eyes back to the bridge, looming now.

You think of your empty fridge. Josephine’s empty face. An empty urn.

You’re ready to scoop out what’s left of you, leave it behind on the sidewalk, smoldering as the cold night finally smothers the endless fire, the only thing left inside you. Maybe it will warm someone else, in passing. A last good deed, from you to someone in the world.

A metal staircase, leading up, up, into the black sky, mirroring the dark river, your heavy boots echoing. The cars are loud. If you close your eyes, they could be the rushing waves of an ocean, instead of a river of traffic, above a river of water.

You keep your eyes open. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not doing what you’re doing, now. You’re not at the ocean, its pure salt air drifting through your hair, now whipping around your face. You’re on a busy, exhaust- and oil-stained commuter bridge on the night before Christmas, having cut your ties with everyone you have always known never wanted or needed you in the first place. What’s the difference if a wanderer kills you tomorrow, or if something kills you today? Just empty time, blurry days, photo frames without pictures.

The guardrail isn’t so high as one would guess. It’s an easy step up. An easy step over. You stand, looking back over the city where you were raised. The city that contains all the past versions of yourself, from the moment you were pulled screaming into life from a mother whose face you’ll never know, through to now, an empty shell of a person. If your fellow hunters could see inside you, they’d mistake you for a wanderer and put you down, like the scientists who experimented on you, your own grandmother, did years ago.

Since learning that Gran was one of the people who fucked with your heart, you have often resented that she and her colleagues weren’t successful in finishing the job years ago, when they had the chance.

But now you wonder, standing over a dark, freezing river that reflects what’s inside you now, maybe they did finish it. You just didn’t realize it. Not till tonight, as you look down in the mirror of the rushing water, far below.

Even now, the tears won’t come.

What use are tears, when they can’t bring a body back. When they can’t wash it clean. When they can’t lovingly touch it, one last time, soft strands of hair under your fingers.

Your tears, your heart, your suffering, your existence—useless, for the entirety of a life you can only half remember.

You wonder if it’s the dark, tonight. Why tonight, and not yesterday? Why not six months ago?

Because it took that long to sever the ties binding you here?

Now you are assured, no one will miss you. It will take days before anyone even notices your absence because of your holiday leave.

You hope that they’ll assume it was a wanderer. Bad luck. Wrong time, wrong place. A modest little plaque on the wall of heroes, even though you know you’re no hero.

In the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s tonight, and not any other night.

No need to be dramatic, pretending there’s meaning in the meaningless.

You put your hands on the guardrail, the metal colder than your freezing hands. You lift a heavy booted foot. Take a deep breath.

It’s so cold. It will be over before you know it. You’ve read that from this height, it’s the impact, and not the drowning.

You’ve always had dreams of flying.

You lift your other foot, arms thrown wide for balance, just for a moment. The world feels so big, here at the end. The stars above, the stars below, the doubled crescent moon. You’re ready to drown in it all.

You only have one hope.

I don’t want to be reborn.

You breathe, empty your mind of Tara’s earnest smile, Xavier’s soft laughter, Zayne’s steady hands, Rafayel’s flashing violet eyes. Josephine’s empty face. Caleb’s soft, untouchable hair.

You let yourself fall.

You’re flying. Your heart is soaring. Your heart is seizing. The relief, the terror, mingle. You can’t scream, even if you wanted to.

You’re flying and it’s everything you ever dreamt, until it’s not.

Your body jerks, abruptly. Your hair whips down, lashes your face. You grunt with the impact against… nothing. You’re suspended over the water, drifting in the air. The wind tugs at your stone-weighted coat.

You twist away from the water, craning your neck to look up, up, back at the bridge.

You have withstood the uselessness of tears for almost a year now. But now, you want to cry so badly the pain of the need steals your breath.

You knew he was cruel. You knew he was merciless. You knew that he hated you. You just didn’t realize how much, until now.

You hang suspended over a dark, rushing river, wrapped in scarlet and ink tendrils, looking up into the sneering face of the one person you refused to think about as you made your final decision tonight, at the end of your desolate, half-remembered life.

His evol begins to lift you, away from the merciful impact, the numbing water. You, your past, your heart, the memories and despair and stones filling your pockets seem weightless, wrapped in his power.

His usual mask of bored indifference is gone. He is finally showing you his true face, what he must always feel when he looks at you—fury and disgust.

He says nothing, as he pulls you from the depths, back into the world. As he sets you gently back on your heavy feet on the sidewalk in front of him. His evol evaporates, winter breath in the wind.

He looks at your face with his wine-dark eyes. Looks at the water. Flicks his gaze back to your face.

You will not cry in front of this man. This man who hates you so much he won’t even let you seek the peace of death. Death, which has always been too good for you, but not for the people you loved the most.

You clench your jaw as the fire re-ignites in your chest. The flames you had tried so hard to scoop out, to leave behind.

You don’t want to feel this much anymore.

If you speak, you know you’ll cry. You can’t stand it.

Maybe, with enough repetition, he’ll get bored. He gets bored so easily, after all.

You turn, try to launch yourself over the guardrail again.

This time, it’s not his evol, but his arms that wrap around you, pull you back from the fall.

You struggle, throwing your elbows, kicking, throwing your head back, hoping to catch his perfect nose, break it under the hardness of your stupid, useless skull.

He says nothing, just holds you tighter, wraps one arm around your waist, the other over your chest, his big hand cradling the side of your face, pressing your head back into his own chest, as he hunches over you, an immovable wall of warmth. As you fight to break free of his hold, you are wrapped in his scent—cloves, gun oil.

Sylus.

Eventually, you tire yourself out—despite all of your strength, it is no match for his. He holds you against himself easily, as you pant, lungs burning with the effort, the sweat warm once again under your Hunter’s uniform. You become aware of a whimpering, the keening of a wounded animal.

It’s coming from your throat. Your eyes burn. You go limp in his arms.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. A voice like warm liquor in your veins. You think he’ll let you go. You prepare, hoping you can get to the guardrail again. Maybe this time he won't be so fast. But instead of releasing you, getting away from you as fast as he can, the arm around your waist moves up, cradling your upper back. He scoops his other arm under your legs, holds you against himself like you’re a delicate princess, if you were anyone else. But because it’s you, he’s probably just holding you like a useless sack of shit that would be too annoying to drop. He begins to walk, his stride steady, brisk.

He looks down into your face. “I bought a dress for you. Silk. A design like stars over a flowing river. That’s the only river you’re allowed in tonight, kitten.”

You stare at him. His breath puffs white in the cold air. The face of disgusted fury is replaced by his usual bored mask.

Why is he doing this to you? He wanted to kill you, just a few months ago. Why not let you do the job for him?

He is the only person in your life who didn’t take the hint. Who kept showing up, after you made it clear that you didn’t want their presence anymore. That you couldn’t handle the ties, because ties become nooses, snapping your neck when the other person leaves you behind.

When he showed up where you were, in a ‘coincidental’ meeting on the street, on a jog, you would turn, move in the other direction. He would match your stride, doggedly pestering you with questions, asking you about your evening or weekend plans, telling you silly stories from the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran’s latest antics. Sometimes he’d just walk in contemplative silence, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, or jog quietly next to you, never losing his breath, never complaining about the pace.

When you would routinely see him at various restaurants you were headed to in order to pick up takeout, you’d leave your food, immediately turning and hurrying away. When the same food was delivered to your door half an hour later, you’d refuse to answer, letting the confused and irritated delivery man leave. A half hour after that, the same man would be back, yell through the door that he had instructions to leave the food even if no one answered, and then he’d make good on his promise. You were faced with the choice of either letting the food go to waste, or eating it guiltily at your kitchen island.

No matter how many times you told the delivery person of the almost daily packages you received with no return address that you didn’t want to accept delivery, they would always insist that their instructions were to deliver regardless of recipient response. You were welcome to bin the items after receipt, but if you didn’t accept, the packages would just pile so high outside of your door that you couldn’t reach your apartment anymore.

You would accept, and then donate whatever exquisite item was inside to women’s shelters, children’s homes, university museums, soup kitchens, fundraiser auctions. No matter how clear it was that you wouldn’t accept anything from him, Sylus never stopped sending you gifts.

When you were sick, he’d show up personally, barge into your apartment when you were too tired to look at the doorbell camera before answering, a duffel bag gripped in his big hand filled with fever reducing medicine, homemade soup from his home chef, painkillers, hot water bottles, cooling pads, muscle pads, vitamins. He’d lounge on your couch, manspreading, insisting that he wouldn’t leave until he saw you swallow the pills and drink a gigantic glass of water.

He’d wait until you lay back down on your messy bed, until you fell asleep. He’d be gone when you woke again, but your apartment would be clean and your fridge and freezer would be stuffed full of healthy pre-prepared food.

You were half-convinced he was just buttering, fattening his prey before getting bored and mercifully ending its life.

Tonight, you are now fully convinced.

“Did your tongue freeze in your mouth?” he asks, descending the stairs you had just walked up, thinking it was your last time ascending them. “Do you need mouth-to-mouth to warm it up again?”

You scowl at him, at how appealing the idea of Sylus’s tongue in your mouth is, even now. You hate yourself, your traitorous body for being drawn to him, even now. “What’s the point of talking, when you never listen?” you grind out, your throat sore. You hadn’t realized how much your animal wailing had wrecked your throat. At least the tears are no longer so close to the surface that they’re threatening to spill.

“I listen to every word out of your beautiful mouth,” he counters serenely, with that same inexplicable kindness that makes your heart hurt. So at odds with how you know he must really feel about you. “I just listen to more than your mouth in order to hear what you’re really saying.”

“What?” You stare at his beautiful face, the way the lamplight illuminates its sharp features for a brief moment, before the night swallows it again as he moves between lampposts on his way… somewhere. Back the way you just came from.

He spares you a glance. “Your mouth says one thing, while the rest of you is screaming something else.”

You feel the blood draining from your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

One corner of his beautiful mouth lifts. “Don’t play dumb, kitten. You’re too smart for it to be convincing.”

You were just falling into the river. You were just about to be free. How did you get here again? In this man’s arms, his smug, roguish smile filling you with the unease of being seen.

“I mean, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more honest about the fact that you want people to fight for you, right?”

You begin to struggle again, shame lancing through you, making your body unbearable to be in. You know it’s weak, to have wanted so desperately that the people you were carving from your life would see what you were doing and stop you, place their hands over yours holding the cleaver, gently push it down, down, until it dropped from your grasp—how desperately you wanted them to step into your space, hold you tightly, just like this man who sees right through you is holding you now. You wanted Tara to keep inviting you out with your ridiculous colleagues, to sing your heart out at shitty karaoke clubs, to forcibly drag you to sleepovers and arcade nights. You wanted Xavier to push himself into your apartment, try to bake something horrible in your oven, sheepishly offer to go to the bakery with you instead when the fire alarm inevitably went off. You wanted Zayne to walk through the crowd to reach you at the other end of the hallway after you identified Josephine’s body, to ask to take your hand, to ask how you were doing, even though you knew you wouldn’t have been able to answer. You wanted Rafayel to keep inventing excuses for you to visit his studio, to keep insisting that he needed you to accompany him to expositions and fancy lunches as his bodyguard.

But none of them did in the end, and that’s okay. You kept pushing them away, because your terror of their leaving was apparently bigger than your need for their presence in your life, and at least if they were already gone, as they inevitably would be, you’d finally be free.

But the last person you would want to see this utterly humiliating need inside you, exposing you like this, is the one looking down at you right now with deceptively soft, all-seeing eyes.

You know the feeling, this need, of pulling away and pulling away and then being heartbroken when people finally let you is weak, and pathetic.

You may experience weak and pathetic feelings, but you��re not weak or pathetic. Not at your core. You were prepared to do what was necessary, to save yourself from the pain of your emptiness, the fire raging inside your chest. You weren’t asking anything of anyone. You were doing it all on your own.

Not a burden.

Never a fucking burden.

You clench your teeth, buck in Sylus’s arms.

He just holds you tightly, a straightjacket for the insanity that you’re feeling, the insanity of this man, out of all the people in your life, stripping you of your masks, flaying you so that all of your most tender, shameful parts are exposed to both him and yourself.

“Stop that. You’re just going to tire yourself further, when I need you tonight.”

Of course. The quid pro quo. He helped you with the auction, the Aether Core. Now you owe him. He doesn’t give a fuck if you live or die—he just can’t let one of his assets destroy itself before it fulfills his purpose.

You go limp in his arms. Turn your head away from him.

He continues his train of thought. “No, it wouldn’t kill you to tell the truth to your friends, so you decided to take matters into your own hands, huh? Telling the people in your life that you actually need them wouldn’t kill you, so why bother, right, when you can just jump off of a fucking bridge?” His voice sounds like the night you met him. Controlled anger. Disgust. Accusation.

Then there’s something wrong with her.

You thought you had killed everything inside of you already. The yearning for human connection. The kindness of a friend. Family holding you in their arms. You thought you had scooped out most of it, even as some of it rekindled when he pulled you back from the fall.

But the way you’re hurting now, at the memory of his hate, the reminder that the people you love won’t fight for you even if it would be fighting against you, and that this man, for all of his false generosity, never cared for you from the beginning, that his gifts and his visits were all what you knew them to be, all along—a bored predator toying with its prey before using it and consuming it.

You let your thoughts drift back to the bridge, push your pain away. Feed it to the fire. When he’s done with you, maybe you won’t even have to jump.

“Just shut up, Sylus. I’ll help you with your problem tonight. Just promise me you’ll toss me over yourself, when you’re done with me,” you tell the night, because you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

He stops walking. The wind is so cold against your face. You wish he’d snap your neck, right now. You’re so fucking tired.

“Look at me.” His voice is low. Menacing.

You watch the water. Wonder how long it would take if you just walked out into it, without jumping. Just walk in with your stone-weighted coat and let the cold paralyze you, the current pull you under.

“Look at me, my heart,” he whispers. The change in his tone, his bizarre endearment, has you turning your head, looking up into his face. “That is one promise I can never make you.” He looks like he’s in pain. You don’t know why. He leans down, rests his forehead against yours, hunching his big shoulders, lifting your body in his arms so he can meet you. His breath is warm against your lips. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

You want to snort. It’s rich, coming from him—the same man who is telling you not to tell him to shut up, after all the things he said to you as he starved you, strangled you.

“Please don’t tell me to kill you. To hurt you. That hurts me.”

You stare up into his face. See the sincerity in his eyes. The wind whips your hair. He wasn’t upset that you told him to shut up, but that you asked him to kill you? “What does it matter? Aren’t you going to, in the end?”

“Why would I stop you tonight, if I wanted you to die?”

Of course he won’t answer outright. When has Sylus Qin ever answered a direct question?

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Why bother stopping me, unless you just need to use me and then be done with me? I can’t be that irreplaceable. Just get someone else to put on the dress, and let me get on with my fucking life. Someone who you can train to say just the right things, at just the right time, who’ll look good in whatever fancy shit you want to put her in. There’s gotta be easier idiots than me to serve your purpose.”

He closes his eyes, breathes in the cold night air. When he opens them, you have to look away. You can’t handle whatever is in them. “I know I hurt you, when we first met. That I said cruel things to you. I’m sorry.”

You laugh, even as your heart wrenches at this strange apology. Of course he doesn’t explain what offended him so much about your existence at the beginning. Why he treated you exactly how you deserved. Probably just whatever he saw when he used his Aether Core on you. He saw the echoing chambers of your empty, fucked up heart and was enraged that it was you, and not someone worthy, who would absorb the Aether Core. “There’s never been any need to varnish the truth, Sylus. You almost choked me to death the day we met. You should have fucking finished what you started,” you sneer. “Why does no one ever finish what they start?” You think of Josephine, her researcher cronies. Think of Caleb, his promise to return, the last text he ever sent you. Your fucking parents, who you will never know.

You don’t expect an answer.

And yet, you’re surprised when Sylus wordlessly releases his hold on you. Lets you slip from his arms, sets you back on your feet. You settle in your heavy boots, the weight of your coat, the stones in your pockets, grounding you to the earth.

The lamplight shines in his silver-sheened, wind-tousled hair. His cheeks are red from the cold.

Of course. Of course.

No tool is irreplaceable.

You’re not irreplaceable.

You finally said the right thing, to push him away.

This is it. This is it. This is it.

Your mind returns to the bridge. Your hand is holding the cleaver, dripping with the blood from the last unwelcome tether to your life.

You try to memorize his face, just as you did Zayne’s, but for some reason looking at Sylus’s face hurts you so much more despite having known him for so little time. Just a sigh, in the timeline of your life. The warm glow of his irises. The softness of his lower lip. The pride in his shoulders, his nose.

Maybe you didn’t want to think of him before jumping because you had fallen in love with him, despite the fact that any affection he offered was counterfeit—the steady way he breathed next to you on a jog, the way he spread out on your couch, his dry humor, his intelligence, his piercing gaze, his kindness that was actually more cruel than if he had just tossed you out and never bothered to look for you again after the auction.

You knew it was fake. You knew it was calculated. You knew that the reality was, because he had told you from the very beginning—

Don’t tell me that you like me. Is this all so you can get my attention?

Clearly you’ve read too many fairytales.

And yet you had believed, in the bright moments of receiving his kind attention, in the fairytale. Just for a heartbeat. A raindrop, splattering on the ground.

You thought that you couldn’t bear to see what it looks like when Sylus finally tires of you pushing him away, and stops reaching out, as everyone else has.

But with just a few words, you’ve finally managed to do it. He set the burden of you down, and now he’ll walk away, replace you with some other beautiful, breathing tool.

You learn in this moment that you actually can bear it. You can bear anything, as long as you know that very soon, you won’t have to bear anything at all.

“You wanted the truth?” you say, suddenly, the relief flooding through you that the worst has happened, that you’re now actually free. You think of the fabric of the dress, liquid stars over a night river, and wonder whose body it will caress, with Sylus’s big hand on her waist, his gentle fingers drifting across her collarbone, his forehead pressed against hers, for whatever ruse he needs to run tonight, on Christmas Eve.

He grows still. Watches you carefully, as if searching your face for a trick. You look back at him steadily, scooping everything inside you out, letting it splatter onto the sidewalk, here along this dark riverbank.

“Will you give it to me?” he finally asks.

“As a parting thank you gift, for cutting me loose.” You nod. Take a shuddering breath of the frigid air. “Here is me telling you the truth: you should treat the woman who ends up wearing the dress you got with more gentleness than you did me at the beginning. You could have the world eating out of the palm of your hand, if you skip the cruelty at the beginning and just treat people the way you treated me in the last few months. She’ll do anything for you, I think, if you do. Because somehow you made me love you, despite our beginning. I could bear to cut everyone else loose but you.” You laugh, and the sound is like icicles snapping, shattering on the ground. “Thank you for doing it for me, instead. It’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

You smile at him.

You don’t know why you’re surprised that he just frowns deeply, brow furrowing.

Well. That’s okay. You never expected him to be pleased to see your face, smiling or not.

“Good luck, Sylus.”

You turn, begin to walk back the way you came, for the second time tonight. Your thoughts are already at the bridge. You’ve been falling for months now. Soon you’ll finally hit the crystal water and shatter.

You hope you won’t be reborn.

“You said you love me.” His deep, low voice is carried by the wind.

You stop, turn your head. “Stupid, huh?” you ask, wondering if he wants to pour salt into the wound you just willingly exposed to him.

“Why would you love someone who treated you the way I did?”

You turn fully, face him across the night, one last time. “You’re so fucking funny. I’ve always appreciated men who can make me laugh.” You shrug. “And I’m a pathetic fool. You pretended to be kind, and I lapped it up like the thirsty dog I am.”

He tilts his head, takes a step towards you. “That’s all?”

You take a step back. You don’t need him and his pretty face, his delicious scent any closer to torment you.

You offer him more truth. “Of course not.”

“What else?”

You sigh. “What does it matter? We’ll never see each other again.”

He shakes his head. “Indulge me.”

So salt, it is. You press your fingers into the most tender part of yourself, peel yourself wide open. “Your cleverness. How sweet you can be when you want something—strangely pliant, for such a big, powerful man. The self confidence you have. I could say, do anything and you did so well pretending to never be embarrassed of me. You made me believe, very briefly, that you really wanted to be with me, do anything, go anywhere, just because I was there. It’s quite impressive, really. I can see why you’re so good at business. You’re competent. You’re beautiful to look at.” You pause, shake your head in turn. “But you already know all that. You know why you’re loveable. You made me feel cherished in a way that no one ever has, even as I was pushing you away. But honestly, those are just parts of you. They don’t fully cover what it is about you that makes my heart ache when I look at you. I love you because you’re you. Even hearing your name makes my heart race. Seeing your shoes in my foyer, because they were on your feet. The curve of your wrist, because it belongs to you. I know it’s pathetic, and stupid.” You shrug again. “Can’t help it, though.”

He stares at you.

You prod him. “Is that enough?”

“How can you ask if that’s enough, when it’s everything?”

You look at him in confusion. “Huh?”

He takes a step towards you, frowning. “Are you only telling me all this because you think I’ve finally given up and allowed you to push me away, because I set you back on your feet?”

You take a step back, as he takes another step forward.“What do you mean ‘I think’ you’ve given up?” You squint at him.

“Did you only tell me all this because you’re going straight back to the bridge to try again?”

You take another step back at the intensity of his face, his question. “What does it matter? You don’t have to worry about what happens to me after this.”

He takes two steps. “You tell me you love everything about me, and then you plan to fuck off and leave me alone again?”

Okay, this was a mistake. You don’t know why he’s mad, but he’s mad again. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what else to say. You’ve been sorry your whole life. This is yet another miscalculation. You should have just left. What did you think would happen if you told him how you feel? That he’d be happy about your pathetic heart bleeding pitifully for him?

He strides over to you, his long legs outpacing your own. “If you’re sorry, don’t fucking do it.”

“What?”

He looks down into your face, so close you can smell him again, you can see the fine lines around his eyes as he frowns. “If you’re really sorry for loving me, for ever meeting me—which are the only things you have to be sorry for, then make it up to me by staying. Don’t leave me. Don’t push me away anymore. Just stay, and love me.”

You huff. “Are you really that desperate for help tonight?”

He lifts his hands, places his palms on your cheeks, his long fingers dipping into your hair. “No, I’m desperate for you tonight. It’s Christmas—I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do. I want to spend it with you. You made me watch you jump off of a goddamned bridge. What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?” He sounds so upset. You’ve never seen him like this. The fear is naked on his lovely face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What does it matter? You said you could get someone else for the dress, for tonight.” You’re so confused. Why is he acting like this?

“I didn’t say any of that. You suggested that I replace you with someone else, I set you on the ground to make sure you were looking at my face, that you were listening to my words when I told you that you’re irreplaceable. That no one else will do. That after watching you almost die, I can’t continue being cautious and trying not to frighten you away anymore.”

“You… what?”

“You love me. Right? You weren’t lying?” he looks uncertain, like he can’t quite believe it.

You can’t bring yourself to lie. The truth is out. You’re witnessing the fallout. There’s no point in backpedaling. “Yeah.”

He nods, once, decisively. “Okay. That’s enough.”

You sigh in relief. Maybe he’ll let you go, finally, finally.

He checks his chunky watch, the platinum flashing in the lamplight. “There’s still time.”

“Time for what?”

“For my plans tonight. Come.” He closes the distance, sweeps you into his arms again, cradles your body against him like something fragile.

“What plans? Listen—” you start to argue.

“No. Now it’s my turn to speak, and for you to listen.” he squeezes you tightly. “Today was the last day you spend alone. If you can’t live for yourself, then you can live for me, until you remember why you want to live for yourself again. No matter what you say, or what you do to get rid of me, it’s not going to work.”

You can’t even process what is happening. “What are you—?” you begin, but he cuts you off again.

His voice is strained, rough. “You love me. So you have to take responsibility. You have to stay.”

You don’t know what to say.

I’m desperate for you tonight.

You can’t believe this. He hates you. He has hated you from the beginning. He was so kind to you because he wanted to use you for something he never bothered explaining to you. He needs you for your resonance, your amplification of his powers.

You’re irreplaceable. No one else will do.

Because of your resonance?

I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do.

He carries you along the wind-swept riverbank, through the frigid night. Stars above, stars below.

You made me watch you jump off a goddamned bridge.

You didn’t think anyone was left to care.

You were so careful, severing ties like arteries, so that you wouldn’t leave the world with more pain than you found it. It was already bleeding so much.

You just were so tired of bleeding with it.

As if sensing the turn of your thoughts, Sylus carries you to the edge of the river’ embankment, where the concrete falls away, drops into the water.

He sets you down again, but doesn’t let you go. His big hands slide down the outside of your coat, dip into your pockets.

He pulls out a smooth stone. Turns it in his hands.

“I’ll never understand how someone so light can weigh so heavily in me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.”

His ember eyes flick back to yours. He hands you the stone.

“This is your conviction that the world won’t miss you, if you’re gone. You will hold it in your hand, one last time. And then you will throw it in the water.” He wraps your cold fingers around the stone. Somehow, his fingers are still warm.

You grasp it, look up into his face. You see yourself in them. It hurts, to be seen so clearly. You’re so ashamed. “How did you know?”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head a little. Opens them. “I looked into your soul, the day we met. I know you’re too soft-hearted in this life to kill yourself if you thought it would hurt someone else. You don’t carry that spite, anymore.”

In this life.

Anymore.

You can’t bring yourself to ask him what he means. You only know that once again, Sylus Qin has seen inside you, has seen you, in a way no one else ever has.

“But I don’t think anyone would miss me. I made sure of it.”

He huffs. “You’re a fool, if you actually believe that. The people you’ve pushed away still love you. But if you can’t believe that yet, then you can’t pretend to yourself that you’re disposable anymore, if for no other reason than I’m standing here now, telling you that I would miss you.”

You think of Tara, sitting on your desk, nudging a steaming latte she got for you on her way to work toward you, asking if you’ve heard the latest about Simone and Andrew.

You think of Xavier, walking you to your door at the end of a nasty wanderer encounter, reaching out, brushing a bit of mud off your cheek, then smearing it across his own cheek. See, we match now.

You think of Zayne, waiting across a busy hallway, patient, letting you choose to approach him, and respecting you by letting you walk away.

You think of Raf, the beauty he shares with you with every photo, the funny strings of emoji that don’t demand an answer.

“How do you know, that they would miss me?” you ask Sylus quietly.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, sweetie. Do you think I haven’t seen your friends’ faces when you walk away from them?”

You clutch the stone in your hand. “I don’t think I can change my thoughts, my conviction, just like that.”

“You love me, so you have to try. Throw it. Every time you try to drag it back up, I’ll remind you that you threw it away, and you can let it stay at the bottom of the river.” He reaches up, caresses your cheek with his fingertips.

You want to cry. You want to cry, because you’re so afraid. If you let yourself believe that people love you, you have to stay, for them. You have to feel, every day, the weight of grief, of existence, the pain of being alive, of being inside yourself, your body. The hollowness will return, even with your friends, even with Sylus filling most of it.

It’s like he can read your thoughts as his eyes devour your face, as his fingers tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I won’t let you pretend, anymore. You love me, and I will not survive if you aren’t here with me. So you have to stay. We don’t have to accept that life is a curse. We can fight back. Make it something better.”

“I’m scared,” you say.

His eyes are so tender, as he watches your mouth form your biggest truth, set it free in the night. “I will protect you, until you can protect yourself again. There’s nothing to be afraid of, if we’re together.”

You want to believe him. Your heart beats painfully behind your ribs. The moon is a sharp crescent in the sky.

But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.

“You’ll really stay?”

He finally smiles, a faint Sylus smile that feels like a grin. “I told you. Today was the last day you’ll ever be alone. You can’t get rid of me now, no matter what you do, or say.”

You turn, holding the stone in your cold hands. You think of all the lies you’ve been telling yourself, about your friends, your place in their lives, because you were so tired of living with an unnameable grief, one you carried inside you long before Caleb and Josephine died, but whose loss compounded, made unbearable the original sorrow.

And I will not survive if you aren’t here with me.

You don’t know why he feels this way. Does he love you too? He hasn’t said so. Can he even love you, in the way you love him?

Does it matter?

It’s enough, that he says he’ll stay. That he wants you to stay alive. That he’ll help remind you, when the whispers drift back in your mind, telling you that you’re just a burden, that no one actually loves you, would miss you when you’re gone. When the hollowness echoes so loudly it’s all you can hear.

You lean back, lift the stone, throw it as hard as you can, as far as you can, into the rushing river.

You don’t hear its splash over the wind.

You turn back to Sylus.

He dips into your pocket again. Pulls out another stone. “Your guilt, for having lived. For having been born.”

You take it from him. Let your mind drift. Feel along the contours of your memories, the jagged, missing pieces, all the way back to when it fades to black. You throw the stone.

You don’t see it sink to the riverbed.

He dips into your pocket again. “Your shame, for needing others. For being human, and imperfect. For not being able to do it all alone. For wanting to be loved.”

You take the stone. “Is it really okay?” you ask, helplessly. There’s no point pretending everything he is saying isn’t true. “To want these things, when I haven’t earned them?”

He steps closer to you. Places his hands on your shoulders, draws you in. “There is no okay, or not okay. There is no crime and punishment, no transgression, no sin. How can it be shameful, to want what you were born to want? Why does love have to be earned, instead of just given?”

You lean into him, press your face into his chest, his thick wool coat soft against your skin.

“I don’t know.”

He reaches into your pocket, places a stone in your other hand. “One for your shame, one for the idea that love must be earned. Throw them.”

You lean back again, and it’s already too far away from him. But you throw each stone, and they disappear under the cold water.

“That’s enough, for now. We’ll take the rest home.” He draws you back into his arms. Lifts you without effort, stone-filled pockets and all. The weight of all of you. “When you have thoughts of shame, of guilt, of not being loved, we’ll come back. You’ll throw them again. Until they’re all gone. We’ll gather other stones, when other feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.”

Sylus carries you along the path back to the road that snakes along the river. His motorcycle gleams under a bright lamppost.

He settles a helmet on your head, checks to make sure it’s secure. Puts his own on. You sit behind him, cling to him. Rest your head against his broad back, close your eyes. The motorcycle is loud, and he drives it carefully through the busy, holiday bustling streets, until he reaches your apartment building. He holds your hand as he leads you through the front doors, as he stands quietly beside you in the elevator, his red, warm eyes never leaving your face in the elevator mirrors. He leads you to your front door, waits patiently while you unlock it with your cold finger.

In the hallway, he kneels at your feet, unlaces your tall boots while you look down at him, the soft fall of his silver hair, his big, nimble fingers working the laces.

He then removes his own boots. His coat. He’s wearing a garishly bright Christmas sweater, with prancing reindeer. He hangs his coat on a peg in the wall. He turns, slowly unzips yours. Eyes flicking between the zipper and your face. He gently lifts it from your body, again like it’s weightless, even though it’s still filled with stones. He pulls it from your arms, hangs it next to his.

He pulls you further into your place.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. It’s so warm, like someone came in while you were gone and turned on the heating.

The next thing you notice is the Christmas tree. The one you didn’t get this year, because the thought of the holidays without Caleb and your grandmother was unbearable.

Beautifully, tastefully decorated. Silver and gold, twinkling lights. Its pine scent fills your place.

Sylus moves to a record player on one of the cabinets along your living room wall. A record player that wasn’t here before you went to work today. He fiddles with the arm, and suddenly Joni Mitchell’s River fills your house.

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

He walks back to you. “Is this okay?”

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Whoa I wish I had a river I could skate away on

The music flows around you, paralyzing you. You stare into his face, into the warm glow of his eyes. How could you have missed this? The way he’s looking at you now? Through all the long months since the auction?

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

The words wash over you, through you. The scent of pine warms you, memories without form filling you with the sense of home, safety, love.

I made my baby cry

I'm so hard to handle

I'm selfish and I'm sad

Now I've gone and lost the best baby

That I ever had

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

He takes your hands in his, thumbs across your skin. “Is it too much?”

You think of how cold it was, standing on the guardrail of the bridge.

You were running toward the bridge, while Sylus was filling your home with warmth.

What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?

You think of him spreading out on your couch, as a fever raged through your body. You think of your freezer, filled with food. You think of the takeout boxes, still steaming, sitting in front of your closed door.

You think of him hanging delicate ornaments on a fragrant tree.

I made my baby cry

You shake your head, the enormity of what almost happened filling you. The enormity of the choice you made, that you enacted, until Sylus pulled you back from the rushing dark.

You start to shake.

“Kitten?”

“It’s not too much,” you say, teeth chattering. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He stares down at you, seems to make a decision. “Shower. Now.”

You nod, moving away from him, but he follows.

Inside your small bathroom, he takes up the entire space. He peels off your hunter’s uniform, tosses it beyond the open bathroom door. His gaze flicks from your undershirt, your underwear, to your face. “Do you want me to leave?”

You think of the dark water, an impact that never came. Sylus plugging in the record player, choosing a record with one of your favorite Christmas songs on it. Placing it delicately on the turntable.

“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again.”

He smiles a little. “I mean, leave the bathroom.”

“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again,” you repeat.

He stares into your eyes. Nods. Lifts your undershirt. He reaches behind you, unhooks your bra with the same agility that he unlaced your boots. He lifts it from your body, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales.

You shiver.

He tosses the bra behind him. Kneels. Pulls your underwear from your hips, down your legs. You step out of them. He stands again.

He leans over, his ridiculous, festive sweater soft against your cheek, as he reaches past you to turn on the shower faucet. As he messes with the knobs until steam begins to fill the small space. He nudges you forward, past the sliding glass door and into the small shower cabin, letting the hot water pour over you. You turn, watch him through the clear glass. He picks up your underwear, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales as he did with your bra. His eyes close for a moment, and then open. He tucks the little slip of fabric into his pants pocket, sits on the closed toilet, rests his elbows on his knees, and continues to watch you.

You let the hot water flow over your tired, cold body. You stare at Sylus’s face, let it fill your vision, blot out the rushing river, the impact that never came, the idea of everything you would have missed, if he hadn’t pulled you out. Everything you would have missed, in such a short amount of time. What else would you miss, if he hadn’t caught you? If he could give you so much within an hour, how much would you have missed in a day? In a week?

What have you been fighting, this whole time?

Just yourself.

You think of the stones at the bottom of the riverbed, instead of your body. Your conviction that you’re not loved, your guilt, your shame, instead of you.

You stare at the man who handed you each one, and told you to get rid of them, instead of yourself. The man sitting in your tiny bathroom, filling it with his big body, his even bigger presence, staring at you, staring at him.

You stop shaking.

Reach for the body wash, lather your hands. Run your hands along your body, under your armpits. He frowns, eyes on your hands. You palm your breasts, dip between your legs.

He lowers his head, eyes still on your hands, rests his full lips on his long steepled fingers.

You finish lathering your body, let the water wash it away. He’s too far away, even this close, on the other side of the glass.

As you turn off the water, he stands, lifts one of your towels from the rack. Holds it out for you. You step into it, him, let him wrap it around you. He turns you both, so that you’re looking in the bathroom mirror, which is mostly fogged.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod, soaking in his warmth at your back, the steam of the bathroom.

You have a question, a question you can’t bring yourself to say out loud yet.

You reach out with one hand. Trace a finger through the fogged mirror.

Sylus watches you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Letters, a question.

Do you like me? Circle yes or no

Sylus smiles again, lifts an eyebrow. He reaches out, takes your hand in his. He circles no with your finger.

You frown, heart sinking, but Sylus just whispers, “Patience, kitten,” and flattens your palm across like. Guides your finger again, just above the erased like, drags it through the moisture in an elegant script.

love

He then gently sets your hand down. Lifts his own, circles with one long finger, yes.

He watches your reaction in the mirror.

You had no idea.

This whole time, you had no idea, even though he was showing you, with every ‘chance’ encounter, his pestering you with questions about work, life, his silly stories about the N109 Zone. His packages at your door. Fever medication, a big glass of water shoved into your hands.

You think of the rushing water, what almost happened. What you almost missed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe you still hated me?”

He looks down at you now, away from your reflection in the mirror. His eyes trail your face, down your curved neck. He palms the back of your neck, his thumb drifting along the side, over a mole there.

“Have you heard of the myth that where we have moles is where someone kissed us in a past life?”

Even if so much has changed between you in just the last few hours, you’re reassured that Sylus Qin still can’t answer a straightforward question with a straightforward answer.

You shake your head. “No, I had never heard of that.”

Sylus smiles, and it looks a little sad. He leans down, presses the softest of kisses against your skin, the mole there. “Like most human legends, it’s a pretty lie. Not quite true.”

You laugh. “I could have guessed as much.” You tilt your neck, enjoying the press of his warm lips on your skin for the first time.

He opens his mouth, runs his teeth over where he just kissed you. Bites, gently.

You shiver again. Press your neck into, instead of away from his teeth.

He bites harder.

You gasp.

“I was afraid I’d frighten you with the enormity of my feelings for you, when in your mind, we’d only just met,” he murmurs against your neck, his saliva, the indentation of his teeth hot on your skin.

He bites again, presses himself into your ass through the towel. You realize he’s hard.

You forget about the last part of his sentence. Had you not only just met?

You lift your hands, let the towel unfurl from around your body, let it drop to the floor.

You almost died tonight.

What have you been fighting this whole time?

Just yourself.

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

You turn in his arms. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink.

“You love me?”

He closes his eyes. Opens them. Shakes his head. “Love isn’t intense enough.”

“Adore me?” You lift your arms, wrap them around his neck. Pull his face closer to your own.

He shakes his head again. “Still not enough.”

“You won’t survive without me?” You lift on your toes, his soft sweater almost unbearable against your sensitive nipples.

He nods. “You’re getting closer. Can’t breathe without you. When I saw you jump…” He swallows, thickly. “You might as well have pulled me down with you, beloved. If it ever gets to be too much again, take me with you. I’ll never leave you alone again. Promise me the same,” he demands, big, calloused hands running up your naked sides, the fabric of his dark jeans rough against your body, where your thighs meet, as he helplessly nudges against you again with his hips, his hard dick behind his zipper.

I'm so hard to handle

I'm selfish and I'm sad

“I wouldn’t have known, unless you told me,” you breathe against his lips. “Promise that you’ll tell me how you’re feeling from now on, and I’ll promise to take you with me if I can’t leave the stones in the riverbed, even with you here.”

His voice is deep, rough like the fabric of his pants against your sensitive skin. “Deal.” He closes the distance, presses his soft lips to yours. Licks into your mouth.

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

His hands drift down your sides as his tongue dips into your throat, as he swallows your noises of pleasure, just from kissing him, his hands on you. He grips your ass, urges your legs around his waist. He carries you out of the tiny, steaming bathroom, manages not to knock you against the doorway, or into any furniture on the way to your bedroom, even as he continues to kiss you, as your hands in his soft hair probably block his peripheral view. He lays you down on your bed, the puff of your duvet. It’s so warm in your place that you’re not even shivering. You watch as he pulls his cheerful sweater and undershirt over his head, tosses them to the floor. As he unzips himself, hastily yanks down his pants and boxers, his socks. He blankets you with his big body.

You wrap your arms around him, pull him tightly to you, arch your breasts into his chest. He leans down, runs his nose along your cheek, inhales the scent of your hair at your temple. You just feel each other, for a long stretch of time. His soft chest hair against your skin, the silken skin of his dick between your thighs where he just leisurely rubs himself against you, as your palms run down the muscles of his back, the line of his spine. You’ve refused to think of him like this, ever since he wrapped his hand around your throat. You couldn’t bear his beauty, through all the long months that followed. You fled, every time your heart raced at the flash of silver as he approached you, met you where you were, over and over and over.

But now he says he has loved you, through it all. That he’ll never leave you alone again.

You let yourself feel him, under your hands, under your tongue, as you lick into his ear, feel him shiver. As you squeeze your thighs together, offering him a tight, snug space for him to keep pleasuring himself, as you feel your own wetness begin to coat your inner thighs, his cock, the longer you feel him on top of you, inhale the scent of his skin, the ever-present gun oil, the cloves, his clean sweat underneath it all.

After a lifetime, or only a few minutes, he leans down, says softly into your ear. “I want you. Tell me you want me too.”

“Can’t you tell?” you ask, bucking a little, squeezing him with your legs again.

He makes a low, pleasured sound in his throat. “I want to hear you say it. You’ve gone through a lot tonight. I need to know you actually want this. That you’re not just—” his breath hitches, as you move your hips again, as his dick slips between your wet, soft places. “That you’re not too tired to say otherwise, not thinking straight.”

“Use your Aether Core on me. Then you’ll know that my body is telling you what my mouth would, if I said the words.” You smile at him, teasing.

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

You had wanted to fly. You had settled for flying for a brief moment, before shattering.

But Sylus is offering you constant flight, under, over, along his crow’s wings.

You think of the rushing water. The tide of cars behind you, the wind whipping your hair. You almost missed this. You don’t want to waste any more time.

He lowers his forehead to yours, breathes, speaks against your saliva-slick lips with his own. “I don’t want to use my Aether Core on you. I want the words in your mouth, in your heart. I want your free will, your freely given consent. I almost lost you because I tried to force you, at the beginning. You believed I hated you, this whole time. Don’t ask me to force you again, my heart.”

You understand. You accept his request, his demand. “I want you, Sylus.”

He exhales, shifts above you, slips his wet cock between your legs, slides into your body with gentle, firm, graceful waves of his hips.

You whine, the feeling of fullness layering into the pleasure of the warmth of his skin, the taste of his tongue. For once, the feelings inside you threatening to burst out of your skin are so good, instead of painful, so pleasurable, that you can barely stand it.

He kisses you, his velvet tongue big, heavy in your mouth. You suck, whine again as he lifts a hand, palms your breast, begins to thrust into you.

You are filled with him. His warmth. The size of him.

You widen your legs, wrap them around his thick ass. Urge him with your own body to move faster, to fuck you harder. He gives you everything you want. Just the pressure of his body against yours has you coming, the release bright, sudden—you shake with it.

Your pleasure seems to trigger his. He grunts, roots into you, buries his teeth in your neck, bites where he bit you before, over the mole on your neck. The sting makes you clench, and he whimpers, groans, comes with a jerk of his hips.

He slows, still filling you, still pleasuring you, as he lifts his head to look into your eyes.

You stare at each other, breath mingling, warm between you.

You smile at him.

He smiles at you. Nudges your nose with his.

“Can we do that again?” you ask.

He laughs, low and surprised. “Yeah,” he says, kissing you softly. “Just tell me, and I’m yours, anytime, anyplace.”

“I’m telling you.” You move your hips, feel his cum drip drown your ass. Feel him gasp at your movement.

“Now?” He’s surprised again.

“Problem?” you grin at him.

“Fuck no.” He kisses you, hard. Slips out of you. Flips you over, lifts your hips with one big hand, pressing his other between your shoulder blades.

He presses his cock back between your legs, the slide easy and wet, and fucks you until you come again, until he blankets your back with his sweat-slicked, matted-hair chest.

“Was that enough, your highness?” he teases.

“I’m telling you,” you pant, wondering what he’ll do.

“As you wish,” he murmurs, before flipping you again. Before watching your face as he slowly, leisurely works himself, his cum into you, makes you come again.

In the morning, the sky through your windows is heavy, dark, gray. You wake slowly. Turn your head, find Sylus’s sleeping face next to yours on the pillow. He’s lying on his stomach. You take in the dark sweep of his lashes, his generous mouth, slightly parted.

You slip out of the bed, use the bathroom. You wander into the living room, gaze at the Christmas tree, its twinkling lights.

It’s Christmas.

Caleb and your grandmother are dead.

But you’re still alive.

Your body aches from Sylus’s efforts, but it feels good. For once, it feels good to be inside your body. To breathe deeply.

You think of riverstones, sinking deep in the riverbed.

You know that the feelings tied to them will try to rise, clawing to the surface again.

We’ll gather other stones, when your feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.

Your eyes drift to the top of the Christmas tree. It’s empty.

“I thought we should finish it together.” Sylus’s warm arms wrap around you from behind. He leans over your shoulder, kisses your cheek softly. “Do you want to do the honors?”

You smile, wrapping your hands over his forearms around your waist. “You’re taller.”

“Use me as much as you like, kitten.” He turns, grabs a pretty golden glass tree-topper from your kitchen table, hands it to you. He lifts you up onto one shoulder, easily, and you fit it gently over the highest point of the tree. He holds you against him, as he lowers you. You slide along his body, until he sets you gently on your feet again.

You both stand, admiring it for a moment. It’s beautiful, like the rest of the decorations.

You hug him, look up into his face.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles down at you, ruby eyes twinkling with reflected light from the tree.

You would have missed this moment, and all the moments like it, if Sylus hadn’t stopped you last night. You shudder, hug him more tightly.

You know your feelings will return. That no one person can solve a lifetime of wounds. But you promised him that you’d try. That you’d stay. You can only do your best.

You hear your phone vibrating, reluctantly pull away from him, head to your coat in the hallway where you thought you left it last night, but Sylus stops you. He points at your kitchen island. Your phone is lying on the counter. You look at him in confusion, but go to check it.

You’re shocked at how many missed texts you have.

From Tara.

Xavier.

Your eyes widen.

Zayne, who you thought you had blocked, months ago.

Rafayel, who you’re sure you blocked last night.

Each one is a response from a text you never sent. Telling them Merry Christmas. Telling them you love them. Telling them you hope to spend time with them soon.

None of them shame you, call you out on your behavior of the last year. Even Zayne simply suggests that you try a new bakery, that you’ve been in his thoughts, that he’s relieved you felt comfortable enough to reach out. Rafayel sends a bunch of firework emojis, suggests blowing shit up on the beach for New Year’s.

You turn to Sylus.

He looks steadily back at you, silver hair sleep-tousled, wine-bright eyes glowing.

Your eyes feel hot, and you realize you’re crying, the tears fat on your cheeks, dripping down your neck.

This is the first time you’ve cried since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace bright in the reflected fire.

Sylus walks over to you. Leans down, licks the tears from your cheeks with his warm tongue, one after the other. He kisses you, ignoring your suddenly snotty nose, your morning breath.

“If it’s too much, we can take it slow. We can throw more stones in the river. But please answer your friends. You need them. And you’re a fool, if you can’t see that they need you too, if that makes you feel better about your own need.”

You continue to cry as you wrap your arms around Sylus’s neck. As he gently sways with you, to music that isn’t playing. He hums, and you think it’s Joni Mitchell’s The River, but you can’t be sure. You smile against his chest.

A thought occurs to you.

“Last night, you said there was still time. That you had plans for us, a pretty dress for me. What did we miss?”

Sylus sighs, holds you closer against himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

You stop, look up into his face. “What did you have planned, Sylus? Are you sorry we missed it?”

He smiles at you. “Oh yes, so sorry I got to spend all night fucking you instead of going to a holiday concert featuring the organ.” His voice drips sarcasm. “But we can go tonight, if you’d like to make it up to me.”

You laugh, bury your face back into his chest. “And here I had planned to suck your cock while watching a black and white Christmas film marathon tonight,” you say forlornly. You smile into his chest as he chokes. “Oh well, the concert it is.”

He just laughs, rich and deep, and continues to sway you slowly in your living room.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Sylus says against your hair, in your pine scented apartment, as snow begins to fall outside your windows, as your phone continues to vibrate, filled with the love of your friends.

Here you are. Again.

You’re so grateful, to be here, again.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #my fanfic

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elikajinnie · 1 day ago

Text

#sendbiceps with hyungline

a/n: i was bored... i dont know xD

Warnings: Suggestive Content? Crack fic, Humor.

(thanks to @aceheexx for helping me with input <3)

Lee Heeseung

You: I feel so bad rn. Send biceps to cheer me up 😩

The three dots appear almost immediately, and you settle into the couch, waiting for his response.

Heeseung: What biceps?

You blink, rereading the text. What biceps? Was he serious right now?

Annoyance bubbles up, and without a second thought, you leave him on read. You toss your phone aside and cross your arms, stewing in the silence. He knows exactly what you mean, but he just has to joke around.

Minutes crawl by, and your phone stays stubbornly silent. Heeseung, apparently, isn’t in a rush to make amends.

Then, just as you’re about to grab your phone and tell him off properly, it buzzes. One notification.

You open it, and there it is. A gym mirror selfie, Heeseung’s arm flexed just enough to emphasize the curve of his bicep. His black shirt’s sleeve is slightly rolled up, and the smirk on his face tells you he knows he looks good.

Your irritation dissolves into something warm. Before you can even think about responding, your fingers are already hitting "Save to Camera Roll."

A second notification pops up.

Heeseung: You better be smiling now

You: I was never mad 😌

Sim Jake

The dull ache in your head has been your unwanted companion for hours now. You’re sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly to distract yourself. But even that’s failing. Feeling both bored and miserable, you shoot Jake a text.

You: I feel so bad rn. Send biceps to cheer me up 🥺

The dots appear almost immediately, and you wait, hoping for a quick pick-me-up. Instead, his response makes your headache throb harder.

Jake: I feel bad too. Send tits?

You stare at your screen, narrowing your eyes as if he can sense your disbelief through the phone. “Seriously?” you mutter to yourself, massaging your temples.

You: Are you kidding me right now? My head hurts, and you’re making it worse

Jake: I’m just saying... fair trade, no?

You contemplate leaving him on read, but he sends another message before you can decide.

Jake: Fine, fine. Ladies first, though

You groan, mostly out of exasperation, but also because your headache refuses to give you a break. Against your better judgment, you snap a quick shot—not anything too revealing, just enough to satisfy his ridiculous request. You send it with an eye-roll emoji for good measure.

Seconds later, his response lands.

Jake: Now that’s what I’m talking about

Before you can scold him, another text comes through:

Jake: Alright, biceps incoming. Don’t say I never did anything for you

And then, right on cue, a photo of his flexed bicep arrives. It’s angled just right, the definition in his arm making you pause despite your lingering annoyance.

Your headache doesn’t magically disappear, but for a brief moment, you forget all about it.

You: You’re insufferable

Jake: And yet, you saved that pic, didn’t you?

Touché.

Park Sunghoon

Work has completely drained you. You’re sprawled on your bed, still in your outdoor clothes, the ache in your legs matching the exhaustion in your mind. With a sigh, you grab your phone and text Sunghoon, hoping for something to brighten your mood.

You: I feel so bad rn. Send biceps 😩

He replies quicker than you expect, but his response isn’t what you were hoping for.

Sunghoon: What? Why?

You blink at the screen, then groan. Of course, he’s going to make you explain.

You: Because I’m exhausted, Sunghoon! Work was a nightmare, my feet hurt, my boss wouldn’t stop hovering, and I haven’t even had dinner yet! Plus, I feel like crying, and seeing your biceps would literally make my day better. Is that too much to ask for?? 😤

The typing dots disappear for a moment, and you wonder if you scared him off with your mini-rant. Then they reappear, and after a pause, your phone buzzes with a notification.

It’s a photo.

You open it, and your breath catches. Sunghoon’s in a tank top, his arm raised as he flexes just enough to show off his toned biceps. His other hand is holding the phone, and his expression is so open and cute, it makes your heart skip a beat.

A squeal escapes you before you can stop it, and you bury your face in your pillow, giggling like a lovestruck teenager. Kicking your feet, you glance at the photo again, unable to stop the wide grin spreading across your face.

Without thinking, you hit "Save to Camera Roll." Then, as you sit there, still staring at the screen, you wipe at the corner of your mouth, realizing you were actually drooling.

You: I love you so much, Sunghoon

Sunghoon: ...So it worked?

You: Of course it did. You’re the best boyfriend ever

Sunghoon: Good. Now go eat dinner before you faint or something

You giggle again, hugging your phone. Drained or not, Sunghoon always knows how to make you feel better.

Park Jongseong

The TV screen blinks off with a frustrated click, the remote abandoned on the couch next to you. You’d spent the past half hour scrolling aimlessly through movies and shows, but nothing seemed remotely interesting. Boredom gnawed at you, and with a groan, you grabbed your phone.

You: I feel bad rn. Send biceps 🥺

The reply came a minute later.

Jay: Why would biceps make you feel better?

You chuckled at the response, already picturing the way he was probably furrowing his brows in confusion.

Jay: If you feel bad, shouldn’t you do something else? Like eat ice cream or take a nap?

Your smile widened as you started typing, determined to wear him down.

You: Nope. Only biceps will cure me. Please, Jay, I’m begging you. Just one🥺🙏

The dots appeared and disappeared, then appeared again, and you could almost see him debating with himself. Finally, your phone buzzed.

It was a photo.

You opened it, and a giggle immediately bubbled out of you. Jay had taken a mirror selfie, his arm flexed in a way that made you pause for a moment, thoroughly appreciating the definition. He was wearing a baseball cap, pulled low over his face, but the telltale flush creeping up his neck and cheeks was impossible to miss.

It was adorable.

You: OMG, you’re blushing!

Jay: Shut up. You begged for this. And don’t screenshot it!

But it was already too late—you’d saved the picture to your camera roll the second you saw it. Hugging your phone to your chest, you kicked your feet, your earlier boredom completely forgotten.

You: I love you! You’re the best!

Jay: You’re such a handful. But… I love you too

a/n: who loves biceps? hands up!!

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r0-boat · 2 days ago

Note

🪶 anon here! Can I request headcanons for ZZZ Lighter, Billy, Anton, Ben Bigger, Wise, and Lycaon reacting to being under a mistletoe with his gn crush please?

Oh my God Oh my God I'm so late.

Pretend it's Christmas! just pretend! shut up!!

ZZZ Boys react being under the mistletoe

You smiled and chatted with a little group of your friends, the managers at random play hosted a Christmas party in their parking lot and who are you to decline your best friends! With a few chairs and tables Christmas lights and even a giant projector playing classic Christmas movies it quickly became very lively Even some of the people running the shop next door brought homemade food and treats, and some alcohol. After a drink or two and introducing yourself to a few people, You somehow made your way under a familiar green plant with someone you knew.

Lighter Lorenz

He'll try to act like he wasn't the one who tried so hard to look so casual standing close enough between you and the mistletoe. He'd been trying to get you underneath all night, And now that you're right next to him he had to hold back how much he was smiling as all he did was look up.

"Well, would you look at that... I'm not too familiar with the rules, are you?" The big fat liar said, letting a little curve of a smile grace his freshly moisturized lips from the chapstick he had used earlier. He was already sneaking his arms around your waist pulling you closer to kiss him. You decided to not call him out for his blatant lie as he almost completely took the lead and kissed you.

Billy Kid

He generally thought mistletoe was a myth, a myth that someone like him would never be under a plant like that. He didn't even know that The plant actually was a real life plant until Nicole had to explain to him what he was underneath. And once everything hits him all at once.

Billy.exe stopped working

He doesn't care if he can't feel your soft lips, the fact that you kissed him counts. But damn it was one of those days where he really wish he could feel maybe he should get that skin sensation update. It's expensive but any price he would pay to feel your lips again.

Anton Ivanov

The most chill out of everyone. "Oh I'm just giving you a kiss? Sure!" As he goes in to kiss you. Using the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you has him fist bumping the air.

Anton is the kind of guy who makes his feelings for you known. He's also so blatant with his feelings that you think he's joking. If it was anywhere else on that mistletoe, he would have kissed them on the cheek or something, but no, for you. He makes sure to kiss you where it counts. He'll even ask "do you want more?"please say yes he would like that.

Ben Bigger

Poor bear he's practically shaking. Despite being twice your size He scared that he might hurt you or nip you on accident with his sharp teeth. "You don't have to if you don't want to... You can just kiss me right here." He says with a smile His claw pointing to his cheek. He could never accept a kiss from your lips. It's not the right time!

He'll make sure to bend to your height. His eyes closed, bracing for your soft lips. He could hear his heart pounding so loud that it drowned out everyone else. He hopes no one is looking. He might die from embarrassment or cardiac arrest, whichever one comes first.

You surprise him by touching his cute face and kissing his little nose. He hopes that you can't see his blushing face through his brown fur, but he's not helping to hide how he feels with his paws covering his face.

Wise

Damn it! He told his sister not to hang up that thing! And when trying to take it down you just so happen to bump into him. His eyes went wide as his heart jumped in his throat instantly forgetting what he was doing. His voice cracks as you point out the mistletoe that he's trying to reach for.

"Y-yeah That's there... Um... So listen you don't have to if you-" You were done hearing it as you kissed him on the lips. Thanking his self-restraint that day for swallowing his internal screaming. But he couldn't do much to hide the blush on his face as he smiled. "Forward aren't you... Save some for me." Four words that he will be regretting for the rest of his life.

Fine, the mistletoe can stay... For now, he'll have to thank his sister later.

Von Lycaon

To him a mistletoe is childish, Even as a younger pup He thought it was a little stupid. But with that bright smile on your face how could he refuse. Why spoil your fun? You look so happy to see him and you're cute face always makes his tail wag.

"where would you like my lips to lay?" He asks. When you appoint to your lips his eyebrows flick up for just a second before his smile widens. "Who am I to turn down such a request." He can't help but give you a little extra pressing his nose against your hand before moving to kiss your lips. Now he definitely understands the appeal of mistletoe.

Asaba Harumasa

He would probably take the mistletoe that is tied to the ceiling and bring it over to you. He taps your shoulder and jiggles it in his hand with a smug smile. He will regret this for the rest of his life, but who cares? He has a little alcohol in his system, and you're right there. His heart could burst when he felt your lips against his. He wanted more so badly. He tried to pull you in closer. His eyes were half-lit as if he were under a spell.

He had to stop himself from going in for another kiss. Your lips were so perfect. He wished he could do more than a quick peck, but with people watching, he couldn't just slip his tongue in your mouth.

202 notes · View notes

misctf · 2 days ago

Note

I just love your twink stories so much, just overall cockshrink stories of yours are immaculate. Thank you so much!

Of course! I hope you enjoy this one too!

New Year New Me

Derek grinned as his boyfriend kissed his cheek and rubbed his hand against his chest. Despite dating for two years, the passion was still there. And Derek couldn’t think of a better way to spend the New Year than with his boyfriend at a couple’s resort nestled away in the woods.

“I love you babe.” Derek kissed his boyfriend, his hands caressing his lover’s cheek.

Paul was perfect. Besides being one of the nicest and funniest guys he’d ever dated, the physical attraction was certainly there. Not to mention they were totally compatible. Derek being a total top, while Paul was a strict bottom. He loved how desperate Paul could be too- always the more submissive of the two. And as they got into bed, Derek instinctively goes to be the big spoon.

“Hey babe,” Paul says, “Would you mind if I try being the big spoon tonight?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “You want to be big spoon tonight?” He smirks, “What’s gotten into you?” He jokes and Paul smiles deviously.

“You’re always the big spoon, I kinda wanna try it out.” He chuckles, “New Year, new me?” Derek looked at Paul with amusement, but also a hint of curiosity.

“Alright babe, we can give it a shot.”

He said with a grin, scooting over to let Paul take position behind him. As soon as their bodies made contact, Derek felt a strange tingling sensation wash over him. His skin prickled and he shivered slightly.

“What's up?”

Paul asked, noticing the change in his boyfriend's demeanor. Derek tried to shake off the feeling, attributing it to the unusual positioning. But the sensations intensified. He tried his best to ignore them.

“Nothing, I’m good.” Derek mumbled, blinking his eyes a few times.

Derek's mind began to fog slightly as the tingling spread through his body. His thoughts grew hazy and his vision blurred at the edges. Paul's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Derek felt himself melting into his boyfriend's embrace.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Paul whispered in his ear, his breath hot against Derek's skin.

The words sent a thrill through Derek, but it wasn't just arousal. Something deeper, more primal, was stirring within him. Derek nodded, thinking it odd how Paul's voice took on a somewhat lower tenure. Not to mention the confidence. Usually he liked more submissive guys. But Paul's sudden confidence made his dick stir.

“So good.” He replied, nestling closer to his boyfriend. Derek's cock hardened fully, straining against his boxers as a new kind of desperation seized him. He wanted to be held, worshipped, fucked...hard, “Mmm, I love you so much, Paul.” Derek slurred, his voice taking on a higher, more nasally tone, “You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pressed back against his boyfriend, grinding his ass against Paul's crotch.

“Fuck babe...” Paul grunted.

Derek moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he felt Paul's hardening bulge press insistently against his ass.

“Oh god, Paul, please...” Derek whimpered, his hips bucking back against his boyfriend's hips in a needy rhythm.

His once strong, toned body started to soften. The light dusting of chest hairs beginning to fall away, leaving him smooth. Meanwhile, Derek couldn't help but notice that Paul's arms seemed bigger somehow. The mountainous biceps that bulged as Paul held him closer seemed... wrong. But as he felt Paul's ever more prominent bulge against his ass, he simply moaned. Paul's grip tightened around Derek's waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he ground his throbbing erection against his boyfriend's pliant ass. Derek gasped, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure coursing through his veins.

“I'm going to make you mine, baby.” Paul growled, his voice low and rough with desire, “Every inch of you belongs to me now.”

As if in response, Derek's body began to shift further. His broad shoulders narrowed, his powerful muscles atrophying to reveal a leaner, more delicate frame. His hair, once dark and neatly styled, turned a bright platinum blonde and fell in messy waves across his forehead. A sweet, innocent face emerged, dominated by large, expressive blue eyes and full, pouty lips.

With each passing moment, Derek felt himself becoming less like his former self and more like a naive, dim-witted pretty boy. His once sharp intellect dulled, replaced by a vacuous, lustful haze. And yet, emotions like fear, despair, and anger dulled. He gazed up at Paul with wide, trusting eyes, his mouth slack and drooling slightly.

“Y-you're so big and strong, Paul.” he cooed, reaching back to fondle the massive bulge tenting his boyfriend's pants, “Can you please fuck me? I need it so bad...”

“Not with an ass like that.” Paul grunted, scratching at the hairs that sprouted from his increasingly larger pecs, “And what kinda fuckin' twink has a package like that? Paul groped Derek's proud bulge.

“But babe... please...” Derek pouted, “I.... oh gawd!”

As Paul's touch lingered on Derek's groin, the young man's erection began to shrink, growing smaller and softer until it dwindled to a mere nub between his thighs. At the same time, his once muscular ass flared outward, ballooning into an obscenely large, juicy bubble butt. Paul chuckled cruelly, enjoying the sight of his boyfriend's pathetic, diminished manhood. He reached down and gave Derek's swollen rump a harsh slap, watching with satisfaction as the tender flesh jiggled and quivered.

“You're such a fucking cumslut now, aren't you, babe?” Paul sneered, rubbing his thumb over the red imprint left on Derek's cheek. “Just begging to get your tight little hole filled with my cock.”

Derek whined pitifully, squirming under Paul's scornful gaze.

“P-please, Paul... I'll do anything... just use me...” He reached back to part his cheeks.

That was all Paul needed. Paul set a relentless pace, pounding into Derek's ass with savage abandon. Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through the young man's core, making him clench and unclench around his boyfriend's invading length. Derek's cries degenerated into incoherent moans and whimpers, his mind consumed by the overwhelming sensations. Any thought of being anything other than a sex toy for his bigger, stronger, boyfriend evaporating from his increasingly duller mind.

“Harder, Paul! Fuck me harder!” Derek begged shamelessly, his voice high and breathy. “Make me your slutty little cumdump!”

As the night wore on, Paul continued to use Derek's willing body for his pleasure, fucking him relentlessly until both men collapsed in exhaustion. Now, as morning dawned outside, Derek lay curled up on Paul's chest, his small frame barely filling the expanse of his boyfriend's broad shoulders.

Despite the lingering soreness between his legs, Derek felt a deep sense of contentment and belonging. In this moment, he knew without a doubt that he was meant to serve and submit to Paul's dominance. Groggily, Derek opened his eyes to find Paul staring down at him with a mix of affection and superiority. Paul gently stroked Derek's hair, his fingertips grazing the delicate features of his boyfriend's face.

“You did so well last night, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “Such a good little slut for me.” Derek blushed at the praise, his heart swelling with pride and devotion.

“Thank you, Paul.” he whispered, nuzzling into his boyfriend's warm embrace, “I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Paul chuckled, leaning down to capture Derek's lips in a dominating kiss. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the room, both Derek and Paul knew something had changed. But neither would be complaining all too much.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #twink tf

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azziesbattybaddie · 2 days ago

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Shadows and Snow Angels

Chapter 1 - A little bundle

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.3k

💕 💔

Requested: Sorta. This prompt wasn't requested to me per se, but I saw @romantasyreader28 made a post wanting someone to write it and it inspired me.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

Author's note: I just wanted to say that this prompt pulled me out of a really bad writing slump after my co-writer/biscuit making master childhood kitty unfortunately passed about 2 months ago. So thank you @romantasyreader28, this story really helped me get back into writing and I hope you really enjoy it. It did deviate slightly from your original prompt but I hope that the fact that this will be a series makes up for it. Enjoy!

Author's note 2: hey so I lied, I got a boost of energy and actually finished this early, so I'm only 1 day late. I'm going to try and put a fic or drabble out every Friday but please be aware I'm in the middle of moving so if I miss a day or am late, it's probably for good reason.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of past child abandonment, non explicit memories of child abuse, brief mention of being pregnant, implied SA, some cursing but not much.

See normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to be mad, it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

"Please don't be upset, Devlon said that if someone didn't take him then he was going to send him off to another camp and he would end up just like Cass... I couldn't just leave him like that." His Shadows reached out to you invitingly, curling and spinning like they were excited. "Love, please say something..."

Your mate never rambled, it wasn't in his nature and that's what shocked you the most to be honest. So you sat where you were on the couch, mid bite of pizza, trying to figure out if he actually adopted a baby without telling you, or if he just decided to babysit Nyx for the night and is pranking you. No, no he definitely adopted a baby and didn't tell you, that sounds about right for him.

"Azriel, tell me that this is a prank and that, THAT little boy is just our nephew in a table cloth..." You set down your plate of food and walked over to your mate, Shadows now running up your back and sitting on your shoulders calmly. You knew, you just had a feeling in your gut that he was not just joking around.

Azriel was clutching the small bundle to his chest as if it would disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. You came and pulled back the fabric to see a small Illyrian infant tightly wrapped in a tattered excuse of a baby blanket. You gasped and clapped a hand over your mouth as you saw the most precious little thing, he had no clothes but the blanket. A lithe inky Shadow jumped from your hand and into the little boy. It nuzzled his cheek lovingly before returning to rest under your mates wing.

You scooped the baby up out of Azriels arms before he could react and headed upstairs to the nursery. You quickly set him on the changing table, and unfurled the raggy fabric. The poor thing didn't even have a diaper just mess of fabric pinned against him. You didn't have to even leave the changing station seeing as the shadows that followed you up the stairs had a clean garment waiting right next to you. As you were changing him into a fresh, actual diaper, you heard Azriel's footsteps coming up the stairs behind you.

"Babe, I know that you have a perfectly reasonable explanation but your timing is kind of horrible Azzie..." You said only half joking as you handed him the baby back gently and grabbed the nearest actual blanket to wrap around him snuggly. You quickly ran to dress your sleeping baby girl is some warm clothes and a blanket too. Barely 2 weeks old and the little Astrid was already mixed into the family drama.

"Where are we going?" Azriel asked tentatively. He was holding the baby like a statue, only holding him right because of how you handed him over. Azriel's Shadows swarmed Astrid the moment you set her down to go nuzzle and love on her. You had taught them to be careful to not completely smother her. It was said that a Shadowsinger's Shadows would only listen to their master. Maybe it was the mating bond, maybe they just liked you but sometimes it seemed that the inky void that shrouds your mate, liked you better.

"Az, you know how to hold a baby, you know cuz your and Uncle... And a Father..." You set your still daughter back in her crib for a moment and padded over and cradle your mates face in your hand, your other intertwined with his scared flesh. "I'm not mad at you. Just, you do realize that we've only had Astrid for a couple of weeks and now we have two, right?"

"I know, and I'm sorry for not telling you. I was afraid if I didn't bring him home, Devlon would have sent him off before I could get back." Azriels shoulders seemed to finally relax a shadow falling from his mess of curls to sit around his neck calming. His grip on the swaddled little one became natural again. "You still didn't tell me where we are going, it past 1 in the morning."

You picked up Astrid, shooing away the inky void that doted on her constantly and walked to your bed room to grab your shoes and your coat. Azriel stood in the hallway that lead back downstairs, waiting for you patiently. He was bouncing the little boy in his arms gently, this parental instincts finally coming back to him when the little one started to cry.

"Feyre always said that we could head over to the river house in a time of emergency and I'm detailing 'we just adopted a little boy with no clothes or anything we need to take care for of a second baby,' an emergency. She probably still has some clothes that is too small for Nyx laying around, for now at least."

You both decided to walk the short distance to you home to the giant river house. Your daughters wings fluttered at the feel of snowflakes melting on the every so often. You both walked close together, as you usually did, babys in arms, the quiet of velaris washed over the two of you like a blanket. You could feel Azriel's Shadows almost climbing up your legs and coming to rest on your shoulders to admire their masters daughter.

"Ok..." You said slowly your head clearing with the fresh chilled air. "I'm not upset. But I'm going to ask some questions and I need better than 'I don't know', ok?" You needed to hear what happened, as much as it happens, it's rare for a baby to end up with no one and you wanted to know everything about this little life that you were about to add to your family.

Azriel nodded his head, his eyes trailed over the white city. As tense as he always looked, Azriel's Shadows curled up under his wings comfortably. He cradled the infant tightly to his chest, scarred fingers gently played with the edge of the blanket as you both walked. Normally the Shadows would flock to you when you had Astrid but they seemed to have divided, wanting to look over and cuddle both babys.

"Does he have a name?" You start with. As you cross the Sidra you can smell the food coming from the rainbow, you could even hear the faint sound of music booming, Rita's not being far away. You still can't believe that days of going out and partying until sunrise with your family wouldn't be an option for a long, long while.

"Not that I know of." He shrugged, adjusting the blanket so the infants wings fan out comfortably after he started to fuss. The boy seemed to be a calm baby so far but you would be taking him to madja bright and early tomorrow just to make sure nothing was wrong.

"How old is he?"

"Devlon said he's not more than 6 months old, he didn't know specifics. He just said that his father was killed in the blood rite this year and his mother was... Like I said, he would have been just another Cass..." He bounced the little boy in his arms, more to soothe himself than the baby.

Your blood boiled in your veins, and you had to take multiple deep breaths to keep from crying. You loved your mate dearly, and his brothers were your family, the best you could have asked for but Illyrians in general made you so angry most of the time! They treat females like property and they steal them just the same. Then the female gets shamed for being pregnant, without a husband. If he really was like Cass, you prayed to the Cauldron that his mother had a peaceful second life after what she no doubt endured.

"Well, if we're going to keep him, he's going to need a name." You said with a smile as you neared the side walk that lead up to the river house. Your mate had the biggest heart and the kindest soul, you didn't care what anyone said, you knew him best. This male brought home countless animals so he could nurse them back to health. He always made sure that nothing bad happened to those animals, and if they didn't make it, they earned a spot in your backyard with the other rainbow pets, as Azriel likes to call them. If the Mother sent him a baby then she meant for us to be the ones to love him. Azriel thought for a bit. He only looked up once we stood at the front door of his brother's home.

"What about Rhain?" A shadow flew up and wrapped around the door knocker, knocking loudly before returning to your mates shoulder.

"Why Rhain?" You asked before knocking again louder this time before you saw a light turn on inside meaning you got somes attention.

Azriel shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with the smallest smile coming to rest over his face. He looked down at the bundled little baby with a fondness you only seen him show to your daughter. You head shuffling on the other side of the door and smiled at your mate before your brother in law opened the door, looking very much worse for wear.

"Rhain it is."

FYI Rhain, pronounced Rain or Rine, either is fine means strength, power, resistance, and potential. It also means 'the spear' in Welsh.

If you want to be added to the tag list or would like to be added to the tag list for the series masterlist plz comment or dm me and I'll add you.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67

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7seas-of-ryy · 2 days ago

Text

Crestfallen - Part 4

Author’s Note: I'm hoping to make the next part longer, hoping I'll have more time tonight to write. Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! Your likes, comments, reblogs, and follows truly mean the world to me!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 4 Summary: After your body and soul have gone through so much, how likely is it you'll survive?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"The combination of these plants can lead to some serious complications." Madja informed Rhys and Az.

All of the color drained from the spymaster's face.

"I believe the venom in the cut was from her mission. I would have found it sooner if I had done her check up." Madja muttered, ashamed.

"This is not your fault. It is mine for not seeing Clara for who she actually is sooner." Az responded.

"Now is not the time to take blame. Y/N needs us. What can we do now?" Rhys added.

Madja looked over you, taking a second to think.

"Well, the powder probably just sped up the venom which caused it to attack her powers quickly. It is like an infection, I will treat her with some medicine for that. But I believe there is a power inside of her that she is not aware of." Madja explained, "it might be the reason she is still alive right now."

Azriel walked closer to you, kneeling next to the bed. He laid his right hand over yours and used his left to push some hair off of your face.

"What about the complications you mentioned earlier?" Rhys asked.

"I have never seen the combination of Spitfire Aconite, Vamire, and Aldirin used where it didn't immediately kill the fae once it entered their system. Those three plants combined are deadly, perhaps the mystery inside of her is what saved her. I am not sure yet, I will treat her infection for now and we will figure out the rest as we go." Madja spoke definitively.

She began rummaging through her things to find the medicines. She pulled out some liquids, a salve, and bandages. Dropping some of the mixes in your mouth, she could tell your fever was already dropping.

"We need to flip her onto her stomach so I can access her cut." The healer told them.

"I'll do it." Az jumped up.

He gently rolled you over and went to take the salve from Madja who gave him a look.

"Please." Azriel begged, needing to help you in any way he could.

She nodded at him and gave him the necessary equipment. She pulled Rhys with her out of the room, leaving you in the shadowsinger's hands.

He coated your cut with the cream and bandaged it snugly. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he sat and watched over you.

Rhys and Madja made their way down to the rest of the group.

"I will go figure out some treatments we can try. In the meantime, I think you need to deal with Clara." Madja spoke up to the High Lord.

He gave her a nod, a steely look already in his eyes thinking about what she did to you. Entering the living area, he sent out a surge of his power so everyone felt it. He walked straight to Clara but she refused to make eye contact with the male.

"I gave you a chance here at the Night Court, to be a part of something bigger and this is how you repay me? You have caused damage to my friend that I do not know can be undone." He growled out.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Mor whispered, afraid of his answer.

"We don't know if we will be able to help Y/N. Clara here used a deadly combination of herbs on her but I'm sure she didn't expect Y/N to be so strong. Isn't that right?" He demanded.

"Wh...What? No I...I just...it wasn't supposed to kill her. It was j...just supposed to heighten her symptoms so I could then fix her. I swear. I didn't think it would do any true h...harm." She stuttered out, realizing the extent of her actions.

"Hmm so you're not a killer? Just stupid." Rhys spit out, "Nesta. Cassian. I trust you two can take care of her while I try to find a fix for Y/N?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Cassian spoke, his voice rumbling.

Nesta didn't verbally respond, just held the icy gaze she had on Clara.

"What? You can't do that!!" The female began to plead, terrified to be punished at the hands of those two.

Before anyone could respond, Nesta and Cassian winnowed away with her. Mor looked to Rhys, they shared a sorrowful look. Feeling like they betrayed you, they knew they needed to make it right. But first, they would have to help you survive.

-----

All of the venom, plants, herbs, antidots, and serums that were inside you weren't enough to knock you out fully.

You were awake through it all, fighting with everything you had inside your mind. You had felt Rhys enter your mind, tried to control your light for him but it was so strong.

Once Azriel's shadows entered protecting Rhys, you knew you had to fight harder. But you could feel everything. You could feel Madja unweaving the venom from your very soul. It was not only the worst pain physically but it made you feel so vulnerable and weak as well.

You felt another energy inside of you, something you never felt before. You tried to explore it, but the venom was controlling it and you didn't have enough strength anymore.

With Rhys and Az in your mind and Madja deep in your soul, you had never felt so bare before.

Once they finished and the venom was completely removed, you needed to rest. Knowing you couldn't fight it anymore, you succumbed to sleep.

------

After a while, you woke up. Well, your mind was awake but your body wasn't. Your power seemed to be back in your control, at least it wasn't attacking you from the inside out anymore.

You felt like you could hear something calling out deep inside of you. You couldn't ignore it, it was as if you were hypnotized, following the sound.

There was nothing physically there, at least you couldn't see anything but you could certainly feel it. It was power, antsy to get out. You reached your hand toward it and it was as if it noticed you there finally. It latched onto you and energy shot through you.

It was a feeling you had never experienced before, consuming every cell in your body. You could feel it working its way through you, waking up your physical form.

Suddenly you sat straight up in bed, gasping, no longer trapped in your mind.

"You're awake!" Azriel spoke, his eyes wide in shock.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll @chelsiemp @romantasyreader28

@kissesfromnovalie @plants-w0rld @halo-mystic @bookishbishhh

#acotar #acotar imagine #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel imagine #a court of thorns and roses #crestfallen

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familyetafandyousef · 16 hours ago

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🚨 We Need Your Kindness to Survive 🚨

Hello, I am etaf, a Palestinian living now in Egypt with my family after we managed to escape from Gaza when all our property was destroyed, and we returned from scratch in this life. When we escaped to Egypt, we did not think of anything other than feeling safe from the fear we were facing in Gaza, but unfortunately I did not expect that life would become this difficult, after we left with nothing, no home, no money, no clothes, no family, we are facing something beyond human imagination. When I ask for help, I cry a lot because we are not used to that. We used to live in beautiful palaces, have a job, and a beautiful life, and now we have become nothing!💔

Our source of income was destroyed and the new merchandise was burned. 💔

We are now facing daily challenges to survive—things that most people take for granted, 💔 Lost Stability: The war has left us without work or a stable source of income. 🍞 Basic Needs: Food and Children's needs, rent, education, and other basic living requirements. are becoming harder to afford with rising prices .

📚 Dreams on Hold: Loss of family and loved ones Like so many here, my family’s dreams have been replaced by the need to simply survive. 😢

How You Can Help:🌹🫶

I’m sharing our story with the hope that someone out there might care. Even $5 can make a big difference for us, and if you’re unable to donate, just reblogging this post can help spread the word.Your kindness, no matter how small, is something we’ll never forget.

What This Means to Us:

Your support is not about changing our entire situation—it’s about giving us a little relief, a little hope, and a way to keep going. We are not asking for much, and we understand if you can’t donate. Sharing our story is just as valuable to us as a donation.

Thank you for reading this far. It means the world to us to know that someone is listening. Your kindness gives us strength and helps us believe in a better tomorrow.

With all our gratitude, Etaf Al-Qataa and Family ❤️

✅️ Vetted by ✅️

@gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #88 )✅️

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters

@neechees @butchniqabi @ @fluoresensitivearchived @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinn96 @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @strangeauthor @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzyclown @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshurtyo @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @waskuyecaozu @lapithae @ryo-yamada @opencommunion @paper-mario-wiki @many-sparrows @mahgck @palestine29 @disciple-of-frost @dream-in-hearts

@janzoo @someguywithaname-blog

#free gaza #free palestine #please help #donations

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captain-huggy-bear · 16 hours ago

Note

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

#huggy bear writes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes/reader #nhl x reader #nhl imagine

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shrimpybbq · 2 days ago

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how would rafe deal with charlies tantrums? cause i feel like he’s at an age where thats common 😭 and reader taking care of emmy cant really do both at the same time

"Hey, c'mon bud,"

"You're ok, I'll give it back in a sec, a'ight?"

"It's ok, just stop crying please Charlie, please buddy,"

As high school gf!reader walked into the kitchen, those were the words echoing off the walls, intermingled with the shrill screams of Charlie. She had been out for lunch with Sarah, only to come home and hear Rafe's exclamations. Charlie's piercing cries made her cringe as the little boy wailed so hard his face begun to redden. He had been playing with Rafe's phone and watching his favourite cartoon, only for Rafe to need to make a call quickly. Alas, he had not been able to make that call as his son began to cry as soon as the phone left his chubby little hands.

Rafe looked up as he heard his wife enter the room, seeing her holding Emmy in her arms. His eyes rolled at the sight of the smile breaking across her face, unable to hide the humour she found in watching Rafe be on the receiving end of the boy's tantrums for once. Charlie was a daddy's boy - never crying or throwing tantrums, always seeking to spend time with his father. It didn't help that he was a carbon copy of his Rafe as a toddler either. She found some joy in her husband finally understanding what it was like to deal with a crying toddler.

"Hey! Stop laughing at me, m'kay. Can't you just make him stop crying or something?" Rafe pleaded as Charlie began to cry louder, his panic seeping over. High school gf!reader sighed, taking pity on her husband.

"You need to give him something else to distract him. That or put him in front of the tv," she stated. Rafe watched as she moved towards him, coming to his side, "Go pick him up and sit with him for a bit. He'll calm down pretty quick."

She watched as Rafe and Charlie made their way over to the couch, the boy's favourite cartoon filling the screen once more. Rafe was mumbling lowly to Charlie as he buried his face into his father's chest, and high school gf!reader could only smile at the sound of his squeals once more, though this time they were clearly happy and joyous. Rafe had resorted to tickling the boy when he wouldn't look at him.

"Are you gonna be good for me now buddy? No more tantrums?" Rafe queried, a pleased smile spreading across his face as Charlie nodded. Of course he was going to be good, he was a daddy's boy.

"Ugh, you make it look so easy. I hate you," she whined at the sight.

Again, Rafe rolled his eyes. "Hey, c'mere. Come sit with us," he commanded. "Should mommy come sit with us?" he directed at Charlie this time.

High school gf!reader felt herself nodding in agreement and slowly ambled over to the couch. As she settled into the plush fabric Charlie turned to face her, eagerly reaching out to his sister.

"She's still tired, baby. Why don't we watch your show and then after you can play?" she suggested, bringing her son under her arm. Wrapped up in her warm embrace he agreed, a small "ok mama" leaving him.

Rafe just grinned at his little family, sighing and tossing his head back as he slumped further into the couch. Charlie had tired him out, and he had only been watching him for a few hours. He needed to get his wife a gift soon as something to say thank you, he thought determinedly. To show her how much he appreciated her and how much she had invested into their family.

i've been missing high school gf so i managed to answer one of the asks in my inbox finally! hope you enjoy this cute family moment anon!

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that-student-that-has-homework · 2 days ago

Text

Pulse - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

CW: trauma, mentions of death, and slightly suggestive teasing, kinda proofread? I got tired :/ | wc: 15,671 🫠 SPOILERS: Amazon Lily / Marineford / Post Marineford Y'all can thank @captainportgasdace for this. as agreed upon previously, @silentgravesdontexist you're tagged for this piece MasterList (linked at bottom too)

There had always been a somewhat wistful quality to Ace.

It wasn’t always apparent, but it was there, lurking, much like the many sea kings of the Calm Belt. The Calm Belt…you huffed a little, you could liken Ace to that stretch of sea - so much lurking beneath the surface.

If you looked at him hard enough you’d be able to see the large shadows swimming not too far away. Though today, or rather, following the first anniversary of his very close call with death, the summit war, you couldn’t help but feel those shadows had migrated closer to the surface. Large, dark, intimidating - moments from attacking.

That needn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you could finally take them down. Maybe he’d even let you help.

Or so you hoped.

No mind. You had patience to spare. Especially when it involved your loved ones.

You studied your dear friend from afar, starting from his head - his hair had grown longer over the course of the year or so he’d been recuperating for. A trim was in order - if only to remove the bottoms and promote healthy hair growth. Regardless of your skill with scissors, he’d probably let you trim it for him if you asked him to. Anywho, he sat cross-legged on the sand, his shoulders hunched slightly forward as he hugged his knees. Your eyes were immediately pulled down to the marred skin of his back.

Where his back was once crowned with the mark of the strongest man on the seas, there was now an empty patch of scarred skin: a testament to the void left by the loss of a father. It was still the same back though. The same back that had stood between you and adversaries unthinkingly: raising both morale and wrapping you in security. It was the same back, just…missing a little something.

You couldn’t help the way the sand crunched under your feet, still you tried your best not to disturb his reverie. He did little more than glance over to confirm you weren’t a threat, before silently turning his gaze back to the sea that he would no doubt be taking to soon enough. He would be much like a child returning to the embrace of his parents in a sense…as he was “a child of the sea.”

There really had always been a somewhat wistful quality to Ace.

You had to tear your eyes away from him. Quite the feat when the sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow upon your friend - who was already beautiful enough under the dingy lights of pirate ship cabins, let alone during this golden hour. You knew well enough that you’d give yourself away if you kept staring at him. While it wasn’t wise to wait, you also knew that confessing to a person in the midst of grief was insensitive. And, you had patience to spare. Especially when it involved your loved ones.

You instead took a moment to trace his line of sight, attempting to follow it with your own gaze. You soon took a seat beside him, sitting cross-legged much like he was, only that you opted to hold your hands within your lap, rather than hug your knees.

It had been a while since you’d both come to this island after all that had happened. While walks on the beach were regular, and you did leave the house, it had been a while since you’d really taken the time to admire the vastness of the water. It had been a while since you’d really focused on the way the breeze felt as it tousled your hair tenderly. It had been a while since you’d really dug your feet into the sand and enjoyed the little poking sensations of the sand under your toes.

“Y’think I can get my back tattooed again?”

You blinked yourself back from your thoughts, turning to look at the man to your side, his brows furrowed as he continued to look out to the sea. In the time it took you to process his question and consider how to respond, he’d already found his answer: “I can’t, can I?”

“I think it would be better not to,” you agreed nodding slowly, “were you considering getting another back tattoo?”

His grip on his arms tightened as he hugged himself tighter, gaze finally moving away from the sea, falling onto the sand instead, taking your heart with it. You leaned back to study his back once again, contemplating.

“There’s always your lower back,” you rocked forward to try and capture his attention, “or your butt.”

The incredulous look he gave you had your eyes crinkling in mirth. Though you did find yourself looking away soon enough, your embarrassment catching up to you. It went down a little bit-kind of…when you heard him give a quiet, but amused chuckle, “nah my butt won’t work!”

You glanced his way, and the instant that he recognized you were looking at him, he continued, “unless you’re suggesting I go around with my ass cheeks out.”

“Ace!” You groaned, your hands immediately going to cover your face, your whole body hunching forward in embarrassment as he erupted into boisterous laughter.

After a moment, and through the scalding heat of your cheeks, you asked, “would you wear a shirt to compensate for having your bottom half exposed?”

When you heard him hum, you braved a peek through your fingers to see his brows raised into a thoughtful expression, brown eyes reflecting the warm pinks and oranges of the sunset. You looked away the moment his eyes met yours, cheeks burning yet again.

“Y’know what?” You looked up again, and he grinned, teeth glistening in the light as he answered you. “Nope! I wouldn’t.”

When you hid your face all over again, you were entreated to even more of his beloved hearty laughter. You could feel the way his shoulders shook beside you, despite not being in contact. Your pride battled against your satisfaction trying to force you to be upset even though you’d invited this kind of teasing, and enjoyed the effect it was having on him.

Though laughter right now was mostly just an anesthesia: it numbs things, but doesn’t really address the cause.

When his laughter died down, he let out a long breath, “I remember pops had it on his back.”

You turned to look at him again, he was more relaxed now, one arm resting on a bent knee, the other behind him as a support with his other leg stretched out in front of him. Looking down at his chest, he placed a hand on it, “guess my chest wouldn’t be a good idea either.”

At his suggestion you found yourself staring at the terrifying mark marring his front. You gulped, seeing the crimson of the past. The crimson that had finally become a warm peach. A warm peach that rose and fell rhythmically with the breaths he took. A closed, covered, mostly healed warm peach.

“Hey! Hey! Breathe!” He poked at you.

You shook your head, blinked violently, and took in a deep gulp of air. Snapping your eyes to his face you were treated to his raised brow and remorsefully awkward grin. You pursed your lips petulantly. Looking away you answered, “I think we should avoid,” you paused, “tender areas.”

“Tender, huh?” He looked back at the great blue.

“I’m so grateful you’re still here,” you let it slip out as you too looked out at the sea.

He chuckled humorlessly, “you say that a lot.”

“It’s because I am,” you stood firmly by your opinion.

“I must’ve given you a real scare,” you hated how guilty he sounded.

“Marco told you, didn’t he?” You mumbled, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Yeah, he told me you wouldn’t stop crying unless you fell asleep,” he huffed out, “something about you not eating well either too.”

“I’m so grateful you’re still here,” you reiterated, looking at him, taking him in.

“You already said that,” he raised a brow at you, a corner of his lips upturning slightly.

“Just let me count my blessings Ace,” you rested your head on your knees.

He didn’t respond, but you could hear him shift a bit beside you. Turning your head you saw that wistful quality of his resurface on his face, the pretty features relaxing once again. You pondered on what he’d said…

“Hey Ace,” you raised your head and he turned to look at you, “what if you got it tattooed on your pulse?”

“Huh?”

You raised your arm up to reveal your wrist, pointing to the area you mentioned, “it’s one of the places you can check for a heartbeat.”

He stared at you, the gears in his head turning, “it’s a little less obvious than your back, and much smaller,” you continued, “but it’s still readily visible,” you looked down, “and it’s got something to do with the heart too.”

He was in your space immediately, “that’s a great idea!” You looked up at him, his eyes glimmering pools of molten chocolate. “You’re so smart! Thanks!”

“Happy to help,” you smiled back at him, and he pulled back a little, staring at you for a moment too long - ah, “what’re you thinking about?”

Much like you had earlier, the pirate blinked himself back to attention with a shake of his head. He looked away for a moment, scratching at the back of his head, a sheepish smile taking his features as his eyes flickered back to you, “‘s nothin’.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, “I’ll help you find a tattoo artist and get the design down if you’d like.”

“You would?” He lit up some more, sparks of his old vigor reigniting.

“Of course.”

-_-

It hadn’t taken more than a week or two to find a tattoo artist on the island. There were a couple and Ace found himself liking the older lady artist more, so you went on over to her with Whitebeard’s jolly roger proudly etched on a paper. The fiery man had burst into full-bodied laughter at the offended scolding she’d given the two of you: of course she knew Whitebeard’s jolly roger! The…late…Emperor had come and established a sort of peace over their quaint little island a decade ago or so, even going so far as to chase off some thugs from her little shop.

The former division commander was grinning from ear to ear when the artist sang his father’s praises. She did not withhold any of her opinions about how manly and handsome he appeared to her either. There was a small prickling in the back of your eyes, but you managed to keep it together, especially as a warm hand came to rest its weight between your shoulder blades. Turning to Ace, you were greeted with an equally warm grin as he excitedly told you he had a great feeling about this lady.

Oh! And that you did an amazing job finding her, “leave it to you to find such great people!” He beamed.

“I’m so grateful I found you too,” you stressed, returning his grin with a smile of your own.

Your delightful buddy froze momentarily before coming back to his senses, “thank you.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“Not just for finding the lady.”

“No thanks needed.”

“Though if I remember things,” he thought aloud, “didn’t I find you?”

You rolled your eyes, “oh no, a very good person found me.”

He chuckled lightly at your sarcastic tone, before your attention was required by the tattoo artist.

She did a truly spectacular job with the tattoo, and even provided the ointment he’d need to help promote faster healing. Over the course of tattooing the young man she seemed to realize you’d probably remember the aftercare instructions better than he would.

She wasn’t wrong about that.

Ace felt like his tattoo was mostly healed by the end of the following month. The old lady had mentioned that given the location, it would take a while to heal fully though, so…You were the one worrying most days. Especially as Ace began to make the necessary preparations to embark back out on the seas again - he was healed enough for it, per the instructions and information Marco had left you with.

It was a great deal of fun though, working on building your small ship together, you were just constantly worried he’d scrape himself and get the tattoo infected or something. He often shrugged it off, reminding you that he was made of fire after all, and could avoid scratches.

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “you’re hot in the literal sense.”

He burst out laughing again. He did seem significantly more lively these days. Especially following the tattoo. Though you weren’t sure if he’d slain some of the beasts within, or if the shadows had simply chosen to recede from the surface.

You got a glimpse of the answer one night as the two of you sat in front of the fire he’d started up, staring at the tattoo on his wrist while waiting for the fish and veggies you’d caught and scavenged earlier to cook. Your dear friend’s wistful quality resurfaced from the unfathomable depths that made him up, though with a tinge of nostalgia this time. There was a very small, very deeply fond, uplift to the line of his mouth.

You marched over to his side, plopping yourself down beside him, a basket of fruit and a knife in hand. He looked up at you, eyes reflecting the warmth of the fire beside him…or perhaps the warmth of the fire within. He was always so warm.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he grinned and you could feel the warmth of domesticity mix in with his naturally warm aura and creep up on you.

Looking back at the basket of fruits in your lap, you picked up a pineapple, “well a little snack before won’t completely ruin our appetites,” you were about to begin cutting into it when he took it out of your hands.

“Here, lemme show you a neat trick,” he proceeded to twist the top of the pineapple off, hit the bottom of it on his knee, and forcefully roll it between his hands, “now you can pull out each piece, no knife needed!” He grinned, pulled a piece out and handed it to you.

You took it, impressed with the new piece of information, “that is neat!”

Silences had become increasingly common between the two of you. Tonight was no different, the two of you sat side by side, snacking on a pineapple, he did have to hand it over to you to switch out fish and vegetable skewers. At which point you decided to poke at the corner of his mouth with a piece of the fruit and he opened to eat it without thinking twice. Given how your relationship had transformed over the course of his healing period, this level of closeness had also become commonplace between you two.

It didn’t mean anything though. It could be likened to the way you’d feed any of your close friends.

You were trying not to fault yourself for wanting something more though. It wasn’t as if this feeling was new. Ace always burned so bright, and was so warm-and you weren’t unique in these feelings. What was unique about you, was the situation you were afforded. Again: it didn’t feel right to burden him with your feelings while he was essentially fighting for his life in a whirlpool of turmoil trying to drown him.

“What’cha thinkin’ about there?” He asked as he passed you a skewer of cooked fish.

You shook your head. You were a coward. You’d think almost losing him would push you to reveal just how important he was to you. Verbally reveal it that is.

“Don’t wanna talk about it?” He nodded, understanding as ever. “Got it.”

“So you’re going to be setting off soon huh?” You chose to change the topic.

He hummed, stoked the fire a bit, and paused. He turned to look at you, brow furrowed.

“I’m going to be setting off soon?” He reiterated, confused. “You’re not coming?”

“Would you want me to?” You looked at him. “I mean, I remember you were upset over me staying with you when you were relegated to bedrest.”

“That was because you had better things to do than take care of me,” he bit back.

“If I wasn’t actively caring for you I might have gone insane though,” you worked to remove the skin from the fish, “it helped me.”

“You,” he tore into his fish with an aggressive bite, chewing in frustration, “you have your own dreams and adventures, and you wasted a whole year here with me though, the least-”

“Time spent with you is never wasted,” you cut in, effectively stopping his mouth from moving, “time spent with you, is never time wasted,” you repeated again meeting his gaze as he stared at you.

He just continued staring at you, with nothing but the crackling of the fire and the soft rolling of the waves filling the space between you.

He remembered to finish chewing and swallow his food soon enough though, blinking himself back to reality as he did so and looking at the fire he confirmed, “you’re coming with me,” his tone was firm with his conviction, “we’re setting sail, together.”

“Okay,” you nodded, nibbling into your fish, “I’m glad.”

He muttered something, or perhaps he whispered it, the words were stolen away by the breeze before you could make out what he said though. “What is it?”

“I wouldn’t leave you here on this island by yourself,” he shook his head, “not after everything you’ve done for me.”

“I did all that because I wanted to,” you drilled into him, “you don’t owe me a thing.”

Your brow pinched, your displeasure making itself evident on your face, “if you’re just going to befriend me out of obligation and guilt,” it was your turn to bite into your fish aggressively, “then leave me here.”

“I never said that!” He shot back. “We were friends before all this, and I’d rather die than lose you.”

“Please don’t talk about dying,” it was a quick, breathless, desperate request.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head, “no no I’m sorry,” your appetite was vanishing rapidly, “what you went - what you’re probably still going through - is worse than,” you swallowed thickly, tears welling up, “than me just watching it happen.”

“Hey,” you tried to wipe away the tears, fish skewer still in hand, “hey, look at me,” you turned to face your dear one - his intensity entrapping you.

He took your skewer from your hand, stabbing it in the sand next to his own. His larger palm enveloped your own as he pulled the appendage towards his chest pressing it right above his heart. You found your face warming inordinately-and it wasn’t because of your proximity to the fire. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he took deep breath after deep breath, felt the rhythmic - kind of quick - pounding of his heart.

“I’m alive,” he reminded you, “I’m still here.”

You nodded, bottom lip trembling, “I’m so grateful you are.”

He opened his mouth, about to say something, then looked away with a huff. His brows pushed down on his eyes, “I want to take you off this island with me.”

You nodded at him, hand still held above his chest, where you could feel his heart rapidly pumping blood to the rest of him - intact. Alive.

“I want to leave this island together,” you agreed.

“Then it’s set!” He grinned, and released your hand leaving it to fall limply to your side as he grabbed the skewers and handed you yours again.

That was also when he remembered the food he was still cooking. Seems he’d almost burnt the remaining fish, but they were thankfully saved just in time.

-_-

Ace clearly loved being at sea again.

It suited him so well. Surrounded by blue on all sides, blazing his own path - own course through the waters.

A child of the sea come home.

You could see it in the way light seemed to dance off of him every instant of the day: the ethereal glow of dawn upon his defined features, the halo that the afternoon sun drew on his head, the gleam of the sunset on his back, or even the twinkling of the stars in his eyes. You could see how at home he was out on the restless waters.

Perhaps he was so at home on the restless waters was because he could actually see the restlessness? Maybe that was why when the sea calmed, you would catch him glancing back at his newest tattoo from time to time.

One of the times, he’d been laying down on one of your small sailboat’s little benches, his head resting near your own, as you sat on the floor of the deck beside him. He raised his hand up, staring at his wrist under the blanket of stars in the sky. You couldn’t help but notice, looking away from one beauty to another.

You weren’t too sure what possessed you in that moment, but you reached out a finger and began to trace the iconic crossbones and mustache embedded within your dear friend’s skin. It was as your finger finished dragging along the mustache that he maneuvered his hand so that his fingers could clamp down upon yours.

The first time he’d done this (held your hand) after the…after the war, you’d both been gripping each other’s hands like you were both on the edge of a cliff, afraid the other would fall to their demise if you let go. Though the first time he’d gently held your hand, you’d startled and he’d let go soon after. Of course since then, you’ve held him and been held by him as the grief of it all washed over you in waves.

So anyway, hand holding didn’t mean anything.

His thumb pressed down on the vein in your wrist, making you more aware of how fast your heart was beating. It didn’t really mean anything though - what he was doing right now.

No matter how much you wanted it to.

When he stopped pressing down on your pulse, choosing instead to rub circles into your skin, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze as he gave you yet another of those bright smiles, leaving the heat to crawl up your chest and squeeze it.

-_-

When you arrived at the island the pose was pointing to the following day, Ace once again took your hand - to help you disembark. You spent the day scouring the place for new information, trying out the local dishes (with Ace falling asleep mid bite), and taking in the local sites. It involved a lot of you being dragged from corner to corner, your hand clutched firmly within his own as he led you around. By the time the evening fell, you both found yourselves on a beach front again, your narcoleptic buddy’s head on your shoulder as he snored away.

Hmm…you’d probably camp out somewhere near your Mini Moby tonight. Your brain couldn’t help but wander about as you played with the thick waves of Ace’s hair. You’d decided to do honest work for the time that the former Division Commander was healing. The reality was you’d been thrust into piracy due to your…”scholarly” pursuits, so of course you’d be doing honest work. It hadn’t paid much is all. After all, the island that Marco had left the two of you at was a quaint, quiet place that wasn’t too far from Saobody, and friendly to Whitebeard pirates.

You had to admire his wisdom in choosing the place. It had both mountain and beach environments and a lot of greenery, so it would be soothing to the mind as well as the body. The local doctor was also very adept, and there was an extremely talented apothecary there as well. Marco had thought of everything.

You could hear your friend’s usual grumble, moan, and whine that he made whenever he woke up from one of his spells. The weight on your shoulder lifted, as his inky tresses slipped past your fingers as he sat up.

“Good morning,” you hummed jokingly.

“Morning?” He yawned, stretching out. “Did I sleep that long?” He was squinting at his surroundings.

“Nope,” you rolled out your shoulders, “I was thinking of setting up camp near the Mini Moby.”

He blinked at you, “food first,” and grabbed your hand to pull you up with him.

How he was so awake already was beyond you. Perhaps it was a consequence of having to deal with this regularly.

“Usually you ask if the person is hungry first,” you huffed, working to steady yourself on your feet after being sat for a while.

“You aren’t hungry?” He blinked at you.

Truly it was fascinating how this man before you managed to be fierce, fiery, and beautiful one moment, and then absolutely boyishly adorable the next. “I am,” you nodded, your mouth pulling itself up and pushing your eyes into a smile.

Your dear friend stared at you in silence for a bit, before tugging you by your conjoined hands with a loud declaration of, “then let’s eat!”

And eat, you did. On the house too. Thanks to Ace’s battle prowess he managed to stop the restaurant from getting looted at gunpoint. It wasn’t some casual dine and dash, this guy was threatening the cook’s life!

Though Ace likely cost the owner the same amount as what he’d have lost from the looting with how much the commander ate. The old man didn’t mind though.

His daughter definitely didn’t either. You noticed her sneaking glances the pirate’s way the whole evening. You couldn’t blame her, even if you didn’t look directly at the sun, it was still impossible to ignore.

It seems that the personified sunshine in question didn’t notice her longing gazes as he, once again, took your hand to lead you out when you were both done. He was talking your ear off about Luffy again, just like he used to before…

…before everything happened.

The only difference was the way he was holding on to you this time. You found yourself squeezing his palm and watched as he stood at attention and turned to you with a curious expression, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I’m just happy.”

You were greeted with a warm silence following your layered confession. Soon enough he was squeezing your hand as well, “me too.”

You didn’t get to see his face as he began pulling you along again.

-_-

On the next island, your friend once again dealt with an issue. Well he dealt with it prior to you even getting there. Due to some Marine’s negligence, there were sea kings terrorizing the locals of said island. Three sea kings to be exact. You found that out when you were greeted with cheers as you docked right after helping Ace take them out so you could arrive safely. Free food, free lodging, among other things were offered to the two of you.

Given you had contributed somewhat, you didn’t mind, the food was going to be made from the Sea King meat anyway. You also didn’t mind much when all the joy resulted in a revelry with your companion at the center of it all.

You sat, a mug of spicy cocoa in one hand, your cheek pressed into the other as you watched him, arm in arm with other men, children, and the occasional lady: smiling, laughing, celebrating.

Were the shadows lingering deep within the waters? Or were they on the verge of bursting forth from just beneath the surface you wondered.

There was no denying you loved seeing this side of your beloved friend. Joy suited him well. You just couldn’t help but be concerned that it wasn’t unburdened.

Oh! He was looking at you now.

He waved you over with an excited smile, to which you raised your mug of cocoa. That made him furrow his brow. Before you knew it he was marching over to you, snatching your hand again, and dragging you to join him. He was kind enough to wait for you to chug your cocoa…well…kinda. He chugged a bunch of it for you when you couldn’t get through it fast enough.

After attempting to do the local dance with him, and laughing along with the crowd at your miserable failure to do so, you were invited to eat some more. In true Ace manner, he fell asleep mid bite, causing everyone to panic. You on the other hand simply chuckled and did your part: lifting his head, wiping his face and his bangs, before gently placing his cleaned head on the table and adjusting his hair a bit. You then unpacked your shawl and transformed it into a makeshift pillow, before sliding it under your unconscious companion’s head.

It would seem that display resulted in some misunderstandings as the lodging you were offered subsequently was a single room with a bed of a moderate size meant to be shared. You were too embarrassed to ask for a change given they’d given you this room out of their own generosity. The man to your side didn’t seem bothered by it though. Well, it wouldn’t be all that bad really.

Or so you thought.

Because the former commander was not a peaceful sleeper. You woke up as you’d fallen asleep for the most part. If you’d shifted while sleeping then it wasn’t anything too drastic. Ace on the other hand was a complete starfish. His forearm was on your neck, one of his legs bent over your stomach, with his head off his pillow and a hair’s breadth away from rolling off the bed.

And when his head did inevitably roll off, while you were trying to figure out how and if you even wanted to untangle yourself or not, it took the rest of him with it. As anyone who grew up the way he did would, his instincts kicked in and you found yourself being dragged across the bed while he crashed onto the ground loudly - groaning as he did. You’d ended up tightly tangled in the covers now, with part of Ace’s weight pulling it taut and making it difficult to roll out of the cocoon it had wrapped around you.

When you asked him to get off of your cover, he began apologizing, “ah jeez, did I wake you?” You hated the guilt seeping into every word. “Sorry.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, still tightly bound in the covers, “I woke up right before the disaster struck.”

He didn’t look completely convinced that was the case, so you decided to elaborate: “I was trying to figure out how to get up without disturbing your sleep, when you rolled off.”

He raised a brow at you, and you shot him a pointed look of your own, pursing your lips to further solidify your stance in this staring war. Seems like it paid off because soon enough his shoulders shook with his chuckles. You soon found yourself chuckling along, which of course reminded you that you were still stuck.

“Uh Ace,” you wiggled about, tugging at the cover still under his bottom, “a little help.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” He was grinning as he moved aside this time, going so far as to clamber up onto the bed again and help unroll your burrito self. He chuckled at your bedhead when you finally got free, his eyes crinkling and his dimples popping up as he looked at your disheveled appearance.

It was weird.

Feeling at ease and self-conscious all at once that is. He’d seen you in worse states, yet you still wanted to look pretty in front of him.

Though as his calloused hands came to pat down the mess your head had gotten itself into to help you get it under control, the emotional pendulum swung more towards being at ease.

“Y’know,” he hummed as he continued to pat and play with your hair, “I think I like this look on you!”

Just like that you were slung straight back into unease, the heat clambering up your face. You groaned and covered your face, pulling away from him-and receiving a little complaint-as you threw yourself back on the pillows.

“What’s with that reaction?”

You turned away from him, still covering your face. “Oi!” His hand was on your arm turning you back towards him. “Don’t hide from me.”

You decided to peek out from behind your hands, “you know most people don’t say ridiculous bedheads look good.”

“Well yours does!” He grinned, ruffling your hair without any regard for how difficult it may be to style.

You huffed, lips gently curving upwards. You were blanketed by a gentle warmth, and it wasn’t from the sun. No this warmth could only be achieved in the presence of the man beside you. You let yourself look at him as you smiled - and he mirrored your expression.

-_-

After that first day on the island you started to feel bad about not paying for things, so you decided to offer labor in exchange given the islanders wouldn’t take your berries. At the bath house you fixed a few things around the lady’s home, then bathed. When it came to the food, you washed some dishes in the back including all of the dishes both you and Ace ate out of. He helped of course.

The rest of your day was spent wandering around, reading newspapers and picking up information from conversations. At one point the two of you separated to explore different areas. You found a cute little shop where you could make things out of wood. When its artisans noticed you staring, they invited you inside. They’d even taught you some basics before leaving you to your own devices with your own small slab of wood.

You became completely absorbed within the atmosphere the shop had to offer, completely losing track of time with the family of artisans as you all worked with gentle conversation flowing. You hadn’t fully realized just how much time had passed until you heard the breathless voice of your traveling companion, frantically inquiring if they’d seen you. Of course he noticed you soon enough, given you’d turned to look at him.

“There you are!” He beamed, relieved to see you, before his expression flipped into something frustrated.

“Oh my!” The voice of a lady, who’d been patiently teaching you how to whittle, cut into your conversation. “Dear, we had so much fun we didn’t realize we’d worked ourselves well into the evening!”

Sure enough when you turned to the clock it was nearing 10:30 in the evening. The sun had set at least three hours ago. Oh. Looking back to Ace, you paid closer attention to the fact that he was still breathing heavily.

He’d been worried.

But why? It wasn’t that late. What had he come across during his time wandering on his own?

Hmmm…you could empathize with his concern, though that wasn’t enough to completely appease you. After all it wasn’t like he didn’t go missing for hours on end. You still remember the panic of going about searching the island for him: especially when he was still in bandages!

“Seems like now you know how I feel when you go missing,” you stood up, patting the wood shavings from your project off your lap, and taking off the apron.

“You!” You could almost see the little flickers of flames coming off of his barely clothed shoulders. “I thought something happened to you!”

The father of the little family of artisans began laughing loudly, standing up to give Ace a pat on the shoulder, “now now, I know you’re frustrated,” then he leaned up and whispered something into the former commander’s ear.

Ace’s eyes met yours for an instant before his face and shoulders turned red, his eyes going as wide as saucers, and a little flame flared out from his head. When the older man laughed some more, the pirate tore his gaze away and put on his hat so it covered his face, grumbling, “thanks for the advice.”

Looking back up at you-face still pink-he announced, “we need to get going.”

“Just a moment, I need to sweep away my wood shavings,” you responded.

“Why don’t the two of you stay for dinner?” It was the elder lady - the grandmother of this quaint family - that offered.

You smiled and shook your head, “I appreciate the offer,” then you jabbed a thumb at your companion, “but this man can eat twice or even three times his weight in food.”

“Hey!”

You turned to him, your smile cheeky, “I’m glad you can.”

That took the wind out of his sails entirely. It was a bit unfair of you, but you really were glad that he could eat like he used to. The whole event was settled and you were promptly shooed out, your shavings left on the floor, as they intended to work some more and there was no point in you sweeping before they finished.

“Come back tomorrow to finish your work, alright sweetie?” Was the parting they gave you, and you agreed to return the following day.

Ace took your hand the moment you were outside the little family shop, grip tight on yours as he led you through the dimly lit streets. “I got us a room with two beds this time,” he said, eyes forward, “it’s at a different inn though.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, “are you - are you okay?” You squeezed his hand in yours. “I was a little insensitive earlier.”

The action made him halt altogether, his shoulders dropping the tension they were holding as he breathed out.

“I saw some Marines,” oh. That explained his earlier outrage.

“What’re they here for?” You sped up a little to look at his face. “Do you know?”

“Remember those sea kings we took down?”

“They’re here to finally deal with them?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “now they’re just staying here because the island folk are mad at them for ignoring them for months.”

“Urgh.”

The corruption and hypocrisy of the Marines was something you had always been critical of. Of course this meant you were also privy to the hypocrisy and hegemony of the World Government (more like World’s Ratified Mafia). And of course such knowledge and attitudes were absolutely intolerable under their dictatorship so soon enough you had a humble bounty on your head.

Justice.

They had gone and assumed themselves infallible deities: justifying all their behavior through the abuse of the word, they’d completely perverted the concept of justice.

Urgh the sheer egotism.

Disgusting.

“I saw them not too far from the Mini Moby when I went there looking for you,” he broke you out of your angry reverie, “then I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

You squeezed his hand, “thank you for worrying about me.”

He squeezed your hand back, a silent “you’re welcome.”

“Good thing my bounty doesn’t have a photo right?”

The marines could never get a clear shot of you for some reason…

“The most they had was a really awful looking drawing, like Blackleg from the Straw Hats!”

Ace’s lips pulled into a massive, very amused grin.

You still remembered the way he’d laughed himself to the ground, little tears forming in the corners of his eyes when he first saw the wanted poster. Even Marco and…Thatch…had gotten a laugh out of it.

“It looks nothing like you!”

“What do you mean?” You grinned holding the paper up to your face. “You mean my nose doesn’t look like a carrot?”

And they’d laughed some more. Ace’s laugh was especially memorable, his strong shoulders shaking, his freckled face completely consumed by unbridled mirth. You never stood a chance - sweet, with a smile like that?

You never stood a chance.

“They didn’t see you right?” After all, his wanted poster was much clearer than yours.

“Nope,” he shook his head, “I’m keeping a low profile until we get back to the New World,” he winked at you, “like we agreed.”

“Good!” You squeezed his hand again.

Later, you’d squeeze his shoulder as you shook him awake.

Nightmares.

You moved out of the way just in time as he gasped himself awake, chest heaving as he panted for air. He looked around frantically as you soothed him. Which was when he finally turned to look at you. You’d barely gotten a sentence out before he’d tugged at you, crushing you into his embrace.

Your nose was essentially being crushed against his right pectoral muscle. It hurt a bit, so you pat his back while squirming to liberate your nose. He loosened his hold for a moment and you quickly adjusted to be in a more comfortable position, before you were once again being crushed into him.

You held him back of course.

But not before he could readjust his hold so that his head rested on your chest-more specifically his ear.

Oh.

You began tracing your fingers along his scalp as they weaved through his thick locks. Had his nightmare featured you this time? His grip on you only tightened, a shiver wracking through him before you heard a shuddering breath.

“Ace,” you hummed in an attempt to soothe him again, “Ace, I’m okay,” you tried to keep your tone soft, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, but continued clutching you, body trembling under trapped his emotions within it. You on the other hand continued to run your fingers through his hair, with him gradually getting heavier and heavier in your hold. His grip loosened slightly as his consciousness slipped - if you waited a bit you’d be able to slip out and back into your own bed.

Looking at him, you could see the remnants of his tears sparkle on his lashes. You wished he’d just let himself cry more openly, rather than fight to bottle it up.

A quiet sigh left you as you looked at the man in your hold, people really were as beautiful as their souls. You continued to play with his hair, basking in the relative silence.

You ought to tell him that to his face really. Your lips softly pulled upwards as you gently brushed his bangs from his face.

You wouldn’t have dared to even consider doing that when you first met him: back when he’d convinced you his bravado was confidence. You knew better now though.

He’d probably still tease you if you did. His teasing made him just about intolerable to you initially.

Yeah…your road to friendship hadn’t been the smoothest. You grinned at the memory, tenderly poking at the little furrow in his brow - coaxing him to relax. He’d very much made you regret your efforts to be kind(er) to him initially with his insufferable teasing. You were reconsidering altogether when he showed up and made amends after realizing he’d gone too far. The teasing remarks soon became playful jabs…which soon became thoughtful discussion when no one else was around.

You smiled at your dear-incredibly dear-friend, and readjusted yourself slightly thinking maybe you could go back to your own bed now. Of course no sooner had you started to consider that, than his grip on you tightened. You’d rather wait a little bit longer to make sure he was definitely asleep enough.

-_-

It was warm.

Too warm.

You found yourself regaining consciousness with a strain of agitation at the temperature your body had achieved while you were resting. You tried to kick off the covers in hopes of revealing your feet and cooling down, however you found that they were much heavier than they ought to be. It wasn’t until you heard a very familiar groan echo throughout the bones of your body that your eyes flew open.

Well…you’d figured out why it was warm.

Soon enough your friend’s eyes also opened, an absolutely criminal pout on his lips. You’d curse Ace’s luck with his genes if they weren’t why he suffered so much all his life. Though you didn’t get to admire him for long as he blinked himself back to the conscious realm, slowly realizing the position he was in, the position you were both in. At which point, a similar kind of alarm found its way onto his expression as he looked up at you.

“Good morning?” You tried.

That was all it took for him to hurriedly grant you freedom from his clutches…and some relief from the heat. Once you were both seated a respectable distance apart, though still on the bed, he shot you a sheepish look, “guess we didn’t need that second bed after all.”

You found yourself snickering at his comment, him joining in soon after, and with that any and all tension was cast away. You went back to your bed, slipped under the cool sheets and slept for a little longer too. So there was a use for the bed after all.

-_-

The rest of the day went well after the initial surprise and awkwardness. You went back to the wood whittling shop and Ace…well he went about doing his own thing. He came back to find you around night time, he’d already stocked the ship up, and set up camp as this time you’d be camping around the Mini Moby. The pose would reset as of dawn of the following day after all.

Bidding farewell to the quaint little family, you couldn’t help but think back to your own, way back on your home island. You did your best not to let your emotions choke you up. Though it was particularly difficult to hold them all in while you were hugging the lady who was old enough to be your aunt and then the grandmother. It was a pleasant surprise when the lovely family invited you to spend the night chatting until it would be time to leave.

“Hey! I can go catch us some wild animal,” your companion raised a brow at you with a smug little grin pulling at the corner of his lips, so you don’t have to worry about how much we eat, was the part he left unsaid.

“Would that be okay with everyone?” You turned to the homey family, who had absolutely no qualms with the suggestion.

The evening zoomed by: you had a fun dinner, exchanged stories over tea and biscuits, and even played some fun family games. It was after the elderly had retired, and your companion had, true to his nature, fallen asleep mid-bite again, that the more sensitive questions were brought up. In true auntie nature, the auntie-aged lady asked about your “husband,” especially given your lack of wedding bands.

You smiled at the auntie while heating up. She wasn’t wrong in her assumption. Prior to letting you escape with the then-captain of the Spade Pirates, your parents had you and Ace sign a marriage contract.

You appreciated him deeply for going along with it. That your parents would let you marry a wanted man though, even if it was supposedly just on paper, even if it was just for the sake of preserving your honor and dignity, showed just how dire and desperate a situation it had been. That he’d gone along with it though…and was remaining true to the agreements made with your family too…

For a pirate, he was an honorable and trustworthy man.

Then again…even the fearsome Whitebeard had more honor than the allegedly just marines.

So anyway, you didn’t correct the auntie, instead nodding and saying how you two were currently sailing together. She seemed relieved that you didn’t correct her on your relationship status, but she didn’t need to know that it was just a marriage on paper.

-_-

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” was the greeting you’d gotten when you’d exited the singular cabin on the Mini Moby.

Squinting at the light, you rubbed your eyes and grumbled, “there’s no way it’s still morning.”

“You’re right,” you blinked blearily at your companion as he agreed with you, “it's afternoon.”

Which earned a tired groan from you. Which in turn drew an amused laugh from Ace as he continued adjusting the sails.

“You had fun talking with them didn’t you?”

You hummed in agreement as you shrunk back into the cabin.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Water, I need water,” you croaked, opening the door and re-entering the darker environment.

It felt nice not needing to squint anymore.

When you made your way back out you were assaulted with another question, “how did they figure out we were ‘married’?” He asked you.

“I mean if you look at them, they seem marriage oriented and traditional,” you shrugged, “it could be a case of them just getting lucky we were in line with their hopes.”

“No wonder you got along with them so well,” he approached you from the helm, “I had a feeling they reminded you of your family.”

“They did,” you nodded, taking a seat on one of the benches on the small deck.

“I remember your folks giving me a hard time when we just needed to get you off the island before the navy got to you,” he recounted.

“I’m relieved they didn’t arrest any of my family members,” you exhaled deeply.

“You got lucky that it was Smoker that responded to the call,” Ace grinned.

“My mother said the same,” you agreed, “in her letter she said that what Smoker lacked in fashion sense he made up for in reasonability and honor.”

“She’d absolutely hate my sense of fashion then,” he laughed.

“She does,” you deadpanned, earning an even more boisterous laugh from him, “but I think she’d appreciate knowing you kept your promise.”

He raised a brow at you, “you mean the one about not laying a hand on you?” He made a show of taking a moment to think, then, “hmm but I forced you to share a bed with me just the other night.”

“Ace!”

He burst into even more boisterous laughter, “I broke that promise almost immediately while we were on the Spadine!” He was clearly relishing in teasing you, “I was always laying hands on you.”

“You know what they meant by that,” you groaned, “and you only ‘lay hands on me,’” you huffed, “to save me from going overboard and keep me out of trouble! That’s the whole reason we insisted on the contract prior to letting me board the Spadine,” you stoof gesturing to him and then the boat you were currently on, “they knew that you’d need to grab me for my own safety.”

As if to prove your point the ship lurched and you almost went overboard. Luckily Ace had the muscle to pull you onto the deck-or well onto him really, as you came crashing into his chest…which was…still clothed! Seems he’d forgotten to take his shirt off - which was currently to your benefit, so you weren’t complaining.

Looking up at him as he held you to him, you gave him a dry look, “see what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at you, readjusting his hold on you as another wave rocked the ship, “but, I’ve been pretty handsy this last year,” he cocked an eyebrow up, “wouldn’t you say?”

You found yourself heating up. What was he trying to achieve teasing you like this? You instead sent him your most unimpressed stare and he laughed some more.

“Everyone needs a hug sometimes,” you grumbled, “I wouldn’t call that being handsy.”

You could feel his chuckles from where he held you, you could hear them loud and clear through his chest. You needed to get some space between you. Though you couldn’t even begin to move away before the waves threw you onto him again.

The sooner the two of you regrouped with Marco, the better. You needed to get yourself under control. Having Marco around would help. Probably. You tried not to touch him any more than necessary as you gingerly removed yourself from his grasp and moved away a bit looking for a way to make yourself helpful.

“I think the island after this is Saobody,” Ace grinned tugging on the ropes for the sail as he deftly maneuvered your small vessel, “after that we can get to the New World.”

“Well we’d have to go to Ryuguu first,” you corrected, “I wonder how Madame Sharly is doing.”

“Madame Sharly?” He glanced away from the waters to raise a brow at you. “I thought you didn’t agree with her fortune telling.”

“I don’t,” you approached him to help where you could, “but there’s no denying she’s gorgeous,” you took a rope, “and soothing to listen to.”

“So I’m competing with a mermaid?” He shook his head.

“Competing how?” Was he trying to be the most soothing presence in your life or something?

Ace looked startled by your question, furthering your confusion. He blinked at you silently once before sheepishly scratching the back of his head, “it’s…nothing.”

“But how would you be competing with a mermai-” you found yourself nearly thrown off again by the ship lurching yet again. Your work on the ropes came undone as you held onto them for dear life. It wasn’t a moment and a large, warm hand helped pull you back up and helped you regain your footing.

You couldn’t help but notice the ink on your friend’s wrist as he gently pried the ropes out of your hands and secured them himself. You stood there for a moment watching as he deftly tied them up before shaking yourself out of your reverie and making your way to the helm instead.

-_-

You actually ended up at Saobody Archipelago. Which was convenient. Now it was just a process of trying to get your little ship coated. Oh and to avoid marines and all that.

Unfortunately the “friendly neighborhood ship coater Ray-san” wasn’t available. Only that made sense. He was with Luffy, training him. His partner was manning the joint though. You weren’t sure of their relationship status but, “if I were Mr. Rayleigh I’d make sure to at least attempt to propose to you.”

That earned you a chuckle from the lovely lady, “mmm some men can be cowardly in the romantic arena,” she was grinning.

Which was when you heard choking to your left - it was Ace, thankfully he’d started coughing. You immediately began patting his back, and then turned back to the lady, “So um Ms. Shakky, would you happen to know how to coat a ship?”

“Nope,” Shakky took a puff of her cigarette, “I run the bar. Rayleigh runs the coating service.”

And he’s the most trustworthy man to coat the ship on the archipelago. Well…

“Can you suggest any other coating services?” You tried.

She hummed as she took a drag off her cigarette, before elegantly tapping out some ashes into an ashtray. Breathing out she grinned at you, “I don’t think you have to bother with looking for anyone else.”

Well that had the potential to be ominous.

“Are you saying he’ll be back soon?” It was Ace who was asking the question through his coughs.

“Oh did he say he’s on his way back?”

“No, just my intuition,” her expression looked fairly amused before it settled into something more cheshire.

She was humming as she studied you, “I have to say you do have a way of making a woman feel appreciated dear,” she threw a wink your way.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” you sheepishly returned her smile, “my friends and I used to ‘flirt’ with each other all the time to express our love for one another and y’know?” you shrugged. “Boost each other’s confidence, all that.”

Shakky rested her cheek on her palm as she chuckled at you, “it didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, it’s very cute,” she looked over to your side, “wouldn’t you say so Porto-chan?”

He sputtered, almost choking on his drink again, “way to put a guy on the spot huh Shakky?”

She giggled at him,before turning back to you, “I’m sure this was only between you and your girl friends, given Porto-chan’s reaction here.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to give any guys the wrong idea,” you shrugged.

“True,” Shakky tapped out some more ashes, once again glancing to your side.

-_-

True to what Shakky had said, Rayleigh came back not three days later. When you mentioned that she had really strong intuition he’d let out an amused whistle and, “women’s intuition can be scary,” before regaling you all with the tale of how Shakky’d been on the mark with something else.

The Pirate Empress, The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, Boa Hancock herself, had fallen in love, and fallen pretty hard. You heard the beautiful woman whose presence you were currently in giggle with, “see, I told you Monkey-chan was pretty good looking.”

“Scary,” Rayleigh grinned as he breathed the word, “you women and your intuition are scary.”

“Eh?!” Ace was the one to vocally react. “She’s in love with Luffy?!”

Somehow his surprise was what had you laughing. “He’s a real charmer that Luffy, isn’t he?” You beamed at his older brother who looked like a mix of surprised, proud, and disbelieving all at once…maybe even a tinge jealous? “He takes after his brother.”

His owlish stare turned to you, and you saw a little lick of fire escape off his shoulders. All the while you simply shot him a lopsided grin given one cheek was smushed into your first.

You’d briefly met Luffy while with Ace in Arabasta. He reminded you of Ace in some ways: bright, bombastic, straightforward…reckless…and…very loving. There was one thing about Luffy though: you could say he was more honest about his feelings and less prone to prejudice - oh! Though you’d also say that while Luffy was dependable, Ace felt more responsible, which made sense given he was the older one of the two. You wondered what sort of kindness Luffy extended to the Pirate Empress that she fell for him.

“Whatcha thinking about there?” You blinked yourself out of your trance as you felt a warm finger poke at your forehead.

You looked up into your dear (oh so dear) companion’s eyes and felt yourself melt at the warmth they held, “I’m wondering which of Luffy’s traits caused the Pirate Empress to fall.”

He huffed, and you found yourself following the corner of his lip as it curled upwards, “he’s always had a way with people, that kid brother of mine.”

His gaze was distant, as though he was looking at something very far in the past. Or perhaps not that far away really, these descriptors could be relative.

“So how is Luffy?” You turned to Rayleigh. “Is he doing well?”

The old man’s expression could be described in a singular word: proud. “He’s got another six months of training by himself, but I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he turned his gaze to another person in the room, “he’s real excited to see his crew, and his brother again.”

The beaming smile on Ace’s face said more than words ever could.

-_-

The evening before you would depart for Fishman Island, you’d gone to take a stroll alongside your dear friend. The tree canopies got in the way of you being able to see the stars, but the bubbles twinkled in their stead.

You turned to study your beloved’s form yet again. Your hands squeezed the straps of your pack, soon enough the world would know about him - that he’d survived. They’d be back to hunting him down, only with twice as much zeal. Marines and enemies of his late father alike.

“What?” He glanced at you, raising his eyebrow. “Do I still have salsa on my face or something?”

You shook your head quickly looking away, “I was just thinking about how, soon enough, you’ll be back to being hunted.”

“Are you worried?” You could hear his amusement, and he even had the gall to laugh when you scowled up at him. “Dumb question, of course you are.”

“Very dumb question,” you grumbled and he laughed some more.

“Hey! I’m pretty strong!”

“I still don’t want to see you get hurt,” you let out a long, tired breath, “when you’re back to officially being a wanted man.”

“Wanted huh?” He was again looking out into the distance, mumbling. “Wanted by everyone but the person I want.”

The person he wanted?

“Who would that be?” You found yourself asking despite yourself.

Despite the way your heart hammered at you begging you to remain silent. Despite the way your extremities lost heat. Despite the clammy feeling in your palms as they all but squeezed the straps they held. Despite the ringing in your ears. Despite the way your stomach sloshed as though you’d swallowed a sea storm.

It was such a dangerous question to ask. He’d just said with certainty that the person he wants doesn’t want him - that rules you out. For some reason your thoughts jumped to the Pirate Empress. He mentioned getting to see her while he was stuck in Impel Down.

You watched, your head feeling as though it was full of cotton, as his Adam's apple bobbed with a thick swallow. “Can I…” he wasn’t looking at you as he asked, “can I hold your hands?”

Did he know? Was he trying to hold your hands to let you down slowly? Ace was always a little clumsy with these kinds of things…or was he? He was kind regardless. You had to repay this kindness, so you plastered on whatever smile you could.

If Ace had found someone to love, even if it wasn’t you, you’d be happy for him.You could be heartbroken later, but happy for him now.

You nodded, feeling the pain in your joints as you unclenched them. Your hands were slightly trembling and cold as he held them in his own larger, warmer ones - oh this was a horrible idea! Your hands were starting to get sweaty! Instinctively you started pulling away, “wait my hands - sweat - they’re sweaty!”

“I don’t care,” he tightened his hold on your hands, and as he spoke you noticed, “so are mine.”

He looked at you, and he seemed absolutely convinced of something. You kept up your little smile.

“I,” he swallowed again, bringing your hands closer to his chest, “I don’t think I can keep my promise to your parents,” a little flame escaped his shoulder as he said that, “I-” he pulled your hands even closer to him, “I want to be real.”

What?

“I mean I want our relationship-er-marriage to be real!” He rushed to correct himself. “I want to be with you! But in a real relationship! Not just on paper! I want you - ah!” More flames escaped his shoulders as he got louder. “No! Not like that! I mean yes like that- but not just like that! I mean I want - can I?”

He threw his head back, a loud groan of frustration leaving him, meanwhile you just stared at him, brain abuzz as it tried to process what he was saying. He looked at you again, determined expression back full force, “can I be your husband? Your real husband? Can I be,” he glanced away before mumbling, “yours?”

Your mouth had opened slightly to let some air in. The world was almost spinning - save for Ace. The warmth that was flooding your body was practically dizzying. Something stuck out to you - well two things as your legs gave out and Ace lunged to soften your landing and crouch in front of you, in that silly way he always did, still holding your hands.

“You can’t keep your promise to my parents?” You blinked at him.

“That’s what you heard?” He groaned.

“No I heard it all Ace,” your breaths were heavy, “my brain’s struggling to keep up,” you gulped, “give me a minute to catch up.”

“No, I don’t think I can,” he shook his head, cheeks fully flush as he looked away from you, “I want our relationship to be real… and my promise-it wasn’t a problem back then-but now..”

He trailed off, struggling to make eye contact with you as he admitted, “now, it’s a major problem,” he shook his head at you seriously, “I can’t keep it. I want to have a real relationship - I’d regret not trying to have a real relationship with you.”

He did not shy away as he concluded his confession, “the promise gets in the way.”

You blinked at him, finding the air suddenly too warm.

“Can,” you gulped, head still full of static and the sound of the heavy thumping of your heart, “can you ask me to be yours?”

He blinked at you confused by the response, so you pressed on, “instead of - instead of,” your bottom lip was trembling and you could feel heat radiate from your cheeks, “asking to be mine,” was this a dream?

Your heart did some kinda fancy somersault at the way Ace straightened at your last word, much like he would whenever he was excited about something.

“Are you asking me to call you mine, like that?” He leaned into your space.

You couldn’t help the way your whole body was zapped to attention at the giddiness that consumed it when the word: “mine,” left Ace’s lips.

He looked at you with an equal amount of giddiness upon comprehending what your question implied, and his bravado seemed to find him again - but more than that, it was hope that pulled his lips into a massive, luminous grin as he asked, “then, will you be mine?”

When your lips wobbled into a smile, he decided to continue on, “y’know be my wife? My real wife?”

Your head was moving up and down in agreement before you were fully aware of it, “yes.”

You barely registered the pure unadulterated joy, and maybe even the glimmer of liquid in your…husband’s eyes before he was pulling you into a tight hug, gurgled chuckles leaving him. You weren’t any better, you were practically clinging to him as you began to sob, the salty blobs washing away the maelstrom of emotions with liquid relief. You might have felt some wetness on your own shirt.

You probably had, with how he sounded wobbly when asking, “did I make you cry, darlin’?”

Which of course made your tears worse, as you gulped and tried to force yourself to be calm, “I’m just happy it was me.”

He chuckled, “who else could it be?”

Who else - well…wait.

“But, are you sure?” You let go to look at him, his brow furrowed and lips pursed in confusion. “Are you sure this isn’t just because of the past year and a half where all we had was each other?”

His frown deepened for a moment before it relaxed into something sheepish, “I think I started feeling this way since,” he paused to think about it, “maybe even before Pops took me in.”

“You mean when you were still captain of the Spades?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he chuckled some of his nerves out, “you’re a real catch y’know?” He raised a brow at you. “I even had to play the husband card a few times back then.”

“Really?” You paused to think about it. “I remember us arguing most of the time back then.”

“Yeah, I remember I used to complain to Deuce about that,” he let out a hearty laugh, “but remember that time when everyone was celebrating-”

“And I found you sitting by yourself in the crow’s nest when I went up to hide from everyone?”

“Yeah,” it was there - the wistful quality to Ace, “that was probably when this all started.”

“Wasn’t I just talking about why I had a bounty on my head back then?” You tried to remember.

“Yeah,” he sighed out, “you were really passionate about it too,” there was a dopey quality to his smile, “and I couldn’t help it - you reminded me of my brother and I thought you were really smart.”

“Sabo?” You asked tentatively.

He nodded, “in the beginning it was because of that - I just wanted to be by you and hear everything you had to say, it made me feel like my brother was alive again.”

“That explains the way you kept nagging me back then.”

“Nagging?”

“That’s how it felt to me back then.”

He shrugged, “when we were on the Moby Dick though - I stopped thinking of Sabo, I just wanted to know what you had to say.”

“Really?” He chuckled as you lit up. You wondered if he realized how deeply his confession touched you.

“Really!” He grinned at you, and you felt a warmth wrap around you like a warm blanket.

He looked so boyish as he shrugged, “ anyway, Marco tried to push me to confess to you after I woke up,” he grabbed your hand, tracing your knuckles with his thumb, “he told me all about how much I made you worry,” he turned your hand over in his, “but I was too scared to believe it meant anything.”

“Marco knew about it?” You asked when he was done.

“Everyone knew!” He chuckled. “Heck even Pops knew,” he grinned now looking at the tattoo that sat on his pulse, “of course they knew, I pulled out the husband card on some swabbies.”

He burst out laughing, “you should’ve seen their faces!” He calmed down. “It wasn’t so funny when the commanders heard me though-” he grimaced, but smiled soon enough.

“I’m glad they did though,” he went back to rubbing warm circles into your skin, “forced me to reckon with myself,” he looked into your eyes, “put a name to what I was feeling.”

“Put a name to what you were feeling?” You breathed out - head as light as ever. “What did you come up with?”

You watched his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he took, as though steeling himself again. There was a ferocity in his gaze as it locked onto yours, “I was jealous,” he brought the hand he held to his lips letting them carve his answer into your skin, “whenever I saw someone else trying to win you over,” his hand squeezed yours as yet another wave of heat crashed over you, “I felt jealous and gross because it wasn’t like you were really my wife.”

“I’m not good enough for you,” what was he- “but your parents told me to protect you. And I would -will, and not because they asked me to. I just want to.”

“Ace,” you felt the warmth foment into wrath instead, “you’re confusing me,” you frowned, yanking your hand back, “what do you want from me?”

You saw it then, a flicker of the shadows of the monsters beneath the waters.

You loved Ace. You knew this. You knew that it made you lenient towards him at times. But right now…no. You needed clarity.You weren’t about to enter this new stage on shaky foundations. Because you loved him you couldn’t afford to be lenient about this.

“You ask to be mine,” you couldn’t help the way the fear seeped into your words, “then tell me you aren’t good enough for me,” you looked away with a frown, “I know you don’t have the best idea about yourself, but…just…” you were struggling to put words to it, “what are you trying to achieve?”

When you looked at him again, his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly ajar. He probably didn’t expect things to go like this. Especially given you could have said they’d been going well initially, until you ruined things with your overthinking…but still…you didn’t want some kind of accidental or pity romance. You didn’t want Ace to feel indebted to you, or make decisions while confused or vulnerable.

Though as you looked at him, all the shock left his body, his singular brow arching in that unique way it did with him, while his lips curved up. “Hey, can I hold your hand again?”

“O-kay?” Where was he going with this?

He took your hand again, carefully spread out your fingers, and then pressed it to chest, right above his heart, like he had back when you’d started hyperventilating. He held it there and you could feel the rabid, slightly erratic pattern it was taking, “y’feel that?”

You nodded.

“You’re right,” he was sheepish, “telling you I’m jealous, and that I want you to be mine, and that I can’t keep a promise to keep my hands off of you makes it sound like I’m really horny, huh?”

He was laughing as you sputtered in embarrassment, and held your palm firm to his chest, “to be honest with ya, I really like having your hand on my chest here - kinda wish I wasn’t wearing a shirt really.”

“Ace!” You barely garbled out.

“I think you’re amazing,” he continued, holding firm - and you could feel his heart pounding under your palm, “and like you said, I hate the cursed blood I carry.”

“It’s not-”

“But you know how I said I want to live a life without regrets?” You stopped struggling. “I’m not good enough, never will be, not for you,” his hand squeezed yours, pushing it further against his chest, “but, I’d regret not trying to be good enough, I’d regret not shooting my shot.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” You frowned. “What if I’m not good enough for you?”

“What’s that thing you like to say?” He hummed. “It’s my opinion?”

“I hate your opinion.”

He guffawed. “I’m a coward,” he confessed as he calmed down, “and a selfish bastard,” his smile rivaled the sun, “but I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not worthy.”

“You are,” you glared at him.

His expression went back to that charmingly confused one. “I’ve deemed you worthy,” you huffed - genuinely upset with how he was speaking about himself, “regardless of all this worthy-worthy talk, you’re the one I want to spend my life with too.”

You genuinely could not find it in you to care how cute his grin was right now, “and that’s the worst proposal I could receive!” You were fuming. “I hate it when you insult yourself like that!”

“I’m below you, but please accept me,” you scowled, “well no can do!”

His face fell at your rant. “I want an equal Ace,” you gestured with your free hand, “I want a partner, not an indentured servant! I don’t want to be put on a pedestal! If my husband isn’t willing to be on equal footing with me then-”

“Hey that wasn’t what I meant!” The object of your fury (and affections?) argued. “I’m just saying you’re out of my league!”

“That’s one thing to say,” you were rather animatedly ranting now, “and we’ll have to agree to disagree on that-because hot stuff you’re within a league of your own,” you continued what was likely years worth of frustration with his self-deprecation leaving you, “and for argument’s sake, let’s say you weren’t - that sounds like an excuse not to work hard to become worthy once I accept you!”

“I didn’t mean that at all!” He cut into your rant. “‘Sides I already said I’m gonna bust my ass trying to be good enough for you!”

“Well that’s all any girl would ask for! You absolute dumbass!” You yelled back at him. “No one wants to hear their loved ones talk smack about themselves the way you do!”

“Just imagine we had kids one day and they hear their father talking about himself in such an awful way!” Seriously, where did this idiot come from? Talking about himself in such a terrible way. “What kind of lessons would you be teaching them? What kind of example are you setting? They’d learn to-”

“Kids?” He blinked owlishly at you - oh.

Ohhh…

Ohhhh nnnoooooo.

If he wasn’t holding your hand to his chest, you’d have put more distance between you two, but for now you’d have to settle for covering your face with one hand while looking away. It was silent for a long minute…was it a minute? You weren’t sure, but you felt Ace’s chest vibrate with a series of chuckles and braced yourself.

“You’re a real difficult woman to please, y’know?” You met his amused stare with your own unamused one.

“I don’t want to start our relationship on anything but a solid foundation,” you muttered, “if you don’t feel worthy, then put in the effort to feel worthy.”

His grin only widened, “y’know I’d take that to mean you want me the same way I want you.”

“I think that fact is pretty well established by this point,” you grumbled.

“If I understood everything,” oh he looked so smug right now, “then if I wanna tell you I love you, I can’t say anything about how you’re out of my league?”

“You think I’m out of your league.”

“Oh that’s right, because I’m hot stuff.”

He laughed some more when you rolled your eyes. His laughs died immediately when you said, “you are hot stuff.”

“Because…I’m made of fire?” He gulped.

“No.”

“I forgot how assertive you could get,” he blushed, stunned, “it’s been a while since I pissed you off huh?”

Your embarrassment was beginning to catch up to you, as you adjusted yourself to be able to rest your cheek on your palm. You were avoiding looking at him, even if he was essentially burning a hole into you with how he was unabashedly looking at you.

“That bit about our future kids…I never wanted any, but I’m starting to like the idea,” he was being such a tease.

“Yeah? Well, I want kids!” You huffed, still not looking at him.

“Mmm, even if they’re mine?”

“Especially if they’re yours!” You huffed. “You and the idiots in the World Government are the only people with such a weird fixation on Gold Roger’s blood.”

“Darlin’ you’re being really bold right now,” he was grinning, “how mad at me are you?”

“I’m livid,” you finally turned to glare at him, “you’ve been saying absolutely awful things about my d-dear darling husband! It’s-it’s unforgivable!”

One corner of his lips curled upwards at the way you stuttered, but the little flickers of flames popping off his shoulders revealed he was just as embarrassed as you were. “Sounds like,” he swallowed thickly, “sounds like you really like this husband of yours.”

You swallowed as you looked him in the eyes, “I love him.”

His eyes widened, then he scowled, “hey! I wanted to say it first!”

“Well, be faster next time!” You stuck your tongue out at him - wait. “You did though.”

“Ah! So you did hear me!” He pointed a finger at you, finally releasing your hand, letting it drop from his chest.

“Yeah,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, “but you were being mean to yourself, so I had more important things to deal with.”

“More important than me telling you I love you?” He looked at you incredulously. “For the first time?”

“Well maybe if you didn’t put yourself down right after,” you poked his nose with your index finger, “I would have focused on the ‘I love you’ part more!”

His eye twitched for all but a moment, expression indignant, “you’re really hot when you’re assertive y’know?”

You sputtered at that and looked away to maintain some semblance of composure. You didn’t see that coming. He called for you and you looked at him again, “you asked me if I was sure about this.”

You nodded at him, frustration finally cooling down.

“I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life,” he declared, “I want you by my side, I want to be by yours, I want to spend the rest of our lives together until we’re nothing but skeletons in a grave.”

“I love you,” he stated it like it was as factual as the sea being blue, “even when you’re mad and yelling at me for confessing to you badly,” his grin settled for something more solemn as he asked, “what about you? Are you sure?”

“I am,” you nodded, “I want to build a life together. With you.”

“I love you,” he breathed it out like a prayer then, and you couldn’t help but describe his expression as reverent.

“I love you too,” you responded firmly as though it were an irrefutable fact, and you could feel your smile threaten to split your face in two.

“Satisfied?” He asked. “Is this ground solid enough for us?”

“I think so,” you nodded, “I want nothing but success for our relationship.”

“Me too,” he grinned as he ruffled through his pockets, from which he pulled out two velvet boxes. “I got these with-what did you call it again?” He grinned. “Honest money?”

You simply stared at the boxes in shock, then back up at your husband, then back down at the boxes. “What?” There was an amused lilt to his speech. “Y’didn’t think I would confess to you unprepared now did ya?”

You guessed you did, with the surprise you were feeling, as you tentatively reached for one of the boxes and opened it up. To your greatest fortune the silver band was clearly meant for a groom. Your eyes widened when you looked over and saw the ring he’d picked out for you, raising a brow at him you couldn’t help but wonder, “how did you get the funds for this?”

“I did some work around that island we were on,” he beamed, “and sold some of the gifts they gave us when we beat those sea kings.”

“It’s so pretty,” you admired what was going to be your ring, it reminded you a little of fire, the ruby red gem was cut in a teardrop shape however the surrounding gems were arranged in such a way that it looked like a flame, you giggled your shoulders relaxing, “it reminds me of you.”

“That right?” He smiled, removed the ring and packed the box up in his pocket, as he took your left hand in his, “I kinda wanted it to,” he admitted as he slid the ring on your finger.

While you were admiring your finger, Ace tried to grab the other box from you, however you pulled it out of his grasp, “ah ah ahh,” you tutted, “I’ll be the one to do the honors!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I really like it when you’re assertive.”

He laughed at you as you pointedly avoided his waggling brows until you had the ring ready. He already had his hand out for you to slide the ring into, seemingly more than happy to wear that symbol that seemed so silly to him…until now, you supposed as you slid the band onto his finger.

“Should we say vows?” You asked. “Wait, didn’t they say the vows before the rings?”

Ace hooked his pinky with yours, “I promise - er - vow, to…” he gulped and you could feel him heat up, “love…you…uh until I die - for as long as I live?” He slacked. “I’m not great at this poetic stuff.”

“Then don’t be poetic,” you smiled at him, “just say what you want to say.”

“Then,” he tightened his pinky, “I’m gonna work hard every day to be a man worthy of being by your side,” he looked you dead in the eyes, “it’s true that it’s due to pure luck I even got the chance to get to know you, but I won’t ever let this opportunity go. I’ll love you to the day I die, and even beyond that if I can.”

“You already said that,” you smiled at him, “maybe we didn’t need to do vows.”

“I’ll say it every day if you want me to.”

Somehow…somehow…now that you had a ring on your finger, and with your pinky linked to his, and with him reiterating how strongly he felt…somehow…

All you could do was blink at him.

This was really happening.

The last remnants of indignation flickered away into the breeze that toyed with the waves of your beloved’s hair.

Oh.

This was…you were…Ace was…you blinked up at him, “is this real life, or am I dreaming right now?”

His determined expression was wiped off with one that was very unamused, “I’m out here pouring my heart to you - wait you dream about me?”

“Maybe once or twice?” You continued to gape at him. Noticing his own surprised expression, you shook yourself out of your trance, and pulled at your joined pinkies. “Oh-yeah, my-my turn.”

His gaze carried that same softness you’d seen for a while now as he waited to hear your vows, “I know it won’t always be easy, the same way painting a masterpiece isn’t easy, but,” you paused your joy teasing your lips, “I am determined to spend the rest of my life here with you,” you looked him straight in the eyes, “you’re worth every bit of love I have to give, and I’ll prove it through my efforts and commitment, I’ll work hard so you’ll never regret choosing me.”

“Never,” he affirmed.

“Using a negative term…feels rather…negative, don’t you think?” You thought aloud.

“Then,” he shook your pinky-linked hands, “I’m going to work hard every day to make sure you’re always happy you married me.”

“And I’m going to make sure you’re always happy you chose me.”

“Always,” he affirmed again, the two of you laughing at the repetition of the pattern.

“Pops was right,” he let go of your pinky.

“About?”

“He kept telling everyone to calm down and stop meddling because our relationship would happen in its own time,” he sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck, “though he did tell me not to wait forever after a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“A few months?”

“Oh pops,” you chuckled as you reached for his tattooed wrist tracing the mark of your late captain, “Marco found out about my feelings for you from Thatch.”

“From Thatch?” He looked surprised. “Marco knew?”

There was betrayal written all over his expression.

“That’s probably why he was pushing you to confess after the war,” you continued to trace his tattoo even as he shuddered, “Marco tried to get me to confess too.”

“He did?”

“It felt wrong,” you shook your head, looking up at him, “you’d nearly died, pops had died, I was a mess mentally, I figured you’d be a mess mentally,” you continued to shake your head as your breathing shallowed, “I told him as much, and he stopped trying to convince me.”

“How’d Thatch find out?”

“Teased me about hosting a wedding banquet given we didn’t have one because y’know?” Your smile was gentle as you remembered the late Fourth Division Commander, your finger resuming its path along the inked mustache. “I told him not to joke about that - and he figured it out immediately.”

“Then he went and told Marco?” Ace guessed. “Wait, I remember there being a day when you were chasing after Thatch on the deck, looking really desperate about something.”

“Yepp,” you nodded, taking in a deep inhale you traced the crossbones on your husband’s skin again, “got him to promise not to tell anyone else after I found out he’d told Marco.”

“Y’know, at that point I was already a goner for you,” he confessed, “and the crew already knew about me.”

A silence passed over the two of you, as you continued to play with the mark on his skin.

“To think…you liked me too?” He scratched the back of his head with the hand not currently in your clutches. “I mean back then!”

“Is it really that surprising?” You pressed down on his pulse a little.

“It’s just,” you looked up at him, “darlin’,” there was that sweet, sweet adage again, “you ended up on my ship due to pure dumb luck,” his hand moved to grab your own that was still tracing his tattoo, “you’re practically a princess in comparison to a pirate like me.”

You scoffed at that, “please, I am far from being a princess.”

“To me you are,” this might be the softest you’ve ever seen your friend, “and this isn’t me talking down about myself,” he poked you in the forehead, “you’re smart, you’ve got a family that wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me dead if I ever tried anything funny-”

You laughed at that bit, “my cousin especially.”

“She was more than ready to have my head and I hadn’t even done anything yet,” he laughed alongside you, “‘the only reason I’m letting you take her is because I have to! Who knows what they’ll do to her in the marine prisons.’ was what she said before threatening to hunt me down.”

You both laughed at that, “if she sees you keep me safe and make me happy she’ll love you, you know?”

“Love me like that?” He raised a brow at you.

“Maybe!” You shrugged.

“You see?” He gently poked your cheek with his knuckle, “you’re royalty. Way out of my league.”

“Technically you’re royalty,” you flicked his forehead.

“How?” His confused expression was absolutely adorable.

“Pops was an Emperor!” You beamed. “You’re a pirate prince.”

The two of you shared a laugh, the ridiculousness of the notion amusing both of you until, “oh that’s right!”

“What is?” Ace startled as you suddenly straightened up, shoving your hand into your own pocket, and pulling out a small wooden plaque attached to an adjustable black cable.

Upon further inspection it became apparent that it was a bracelet - one you’d whittled back at the little family’s shop. On the main plaque there was Whitebeard’s jolly roger, and it was surrounded by two wooden “beads” - could you call them that? One was a flame shape and the other a spade, you’d had to make sure they were thick enough that you could put a hole through either one.

“This is for you!” You beamed at him as you offered it to him.

“Did you make this?” He stared between you and the bracelet.

“Yeah!” You grinned. “I tried making your happy and sad faces, but it didn’t work out, so I made a spade and little flame instead!”

“You sure know how to make a man feel loved,” he gently traced at the jolly roger etched in the wood.

“I hope you always feel loved in my presence,” you beamed.

“I do,” he grinned at you, “so much it’s almost scary,” he held out the bracelet to you, “will you do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” you took the trinket out of his hands and slid it onto his bare, right wrist.

He barked out a laugh, when you went straight back to playing with the tattoo on his pulse. “What’s so funny?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “I’m just thinking about how we could have been real years ago.”

“In that case weren’t we technically a real couple at that point? If everybody knew?” You rubbed your thumb along his tattooed pulse point. “Except for us, that is.”

“Mmm but I wanted to do, coupley things with you,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, relishing in how that seemed to make you shy.

Though, it seemed like you weren’t one to simply let him have the last say. You weren’t looking at him as you took his tattooed pulse and brought it to your lips. He jolted at the sensation, heart leaping. Little flames flickering out of his shoulders as you made eye contact with him afterwards, “how’s that for coupley things?”

He was quick to grab and tug you into him, relishing in your mild surprise, “don’t you know better than to play with fire?” He grinned at you as he readjusted the hand that had found its way to your waist.

“I remember being told I have to ask a lady for permission to kiss her,” he nodded his chin at your lips, “may I?”

You were too embarrassed to say yes, instead choosing to cover your face with your hands. “Ace!” You whined. “Have mercy on me.”

“I didn’t realize you were this shy,” he was chuckling, “where’d your bold attitude go?”

He guffawed when you let out an embarrassed screech at the reminder, “I was absolutely shameless earlier, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t think so,” oh you could hear the smug grin on his face, “you felt more fierce to me,” he sounded closer, “it’s a real turn on, y’know?”

“Ace!” You garbled out.

He chose to press a little kiss to your forehead instead, “I’m not gonna push you, just teasing you a little is all.”

True to his word, he readjusted his hold, and repositioned the two of you so that he could hug you from behind. He was kinda like a koala bear in that regard.

“Hey Ace?” He gave a small hum in response. “Can I see your tattoo again?”

“You sure like playing with it huh?” He asked as he handed his hand over to you and you turned slightly in his hold.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pressed your thumbs into it, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. Once again, you brought his wrist to gently brush your lips against it, and felt him jolt. Finally you brought his pulse to your forehead, “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

When you turned to face him again, his cheeks were bright, dusted in those freckles you adored, as he smiled, not a shadow in sight, “me too.”

As always I am OPEN TO CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, and would like to know if anyone seemed out of character. Please and thank you! Reblogs and comments appreciated!

Want more Ace stuff? Check out my MasterList

#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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uncle-fruity · 2 days ago

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I've been the white person getting called racist and not understanding why, and I know how easy it is to feel defensive or flustered or guilty, but what the folks above are saying is 100% true. I've got an anecdote that I hope might be helpful for some fellow white folks to hear.

I was once at a house show and a black woman complimented my eyes, which are a very bright blue. I get that compliment a lot, and I get tired of hearing it but I also understand that people are just being nice, so I sought to amuse myself by responding with a joke. When this black woman complimented my eyes, I said, "Thank you! I'm borrowing them from a witch!" I'd only just started using this joke response in the last couple months. Just a little attempt at fantasy humor. Well, this woman got angry and called me racist in response. I was baffled, and she didn't really elaborate except to say something about witches and white people. I didn't understand, but I said sorry and let her be, as she did not seem interested in talking about it. I felt bad, and even worse that my gut reaction was, "How was that racist?"

Well, I never found out. I went home, I looked it up, I couldn't find anything. Google gave me nothing of use. I asked some friends I had, but they were just as confused as me. Even though nothing was coming up, I've more or less stopped using that joke just in case I'm missing something -- until I get more insight, at least. If anyone knows what she might have been reacting to, I would seriously appreciate a source for the information.

But I bring this up because this was one of those moments where I had to accept that I might just be the racist jerk at the house show in her mind forever, that she had a right to be mad about any perceived racism, and that I had to be okay with that. It isn't her job to unpack whether I'm actually a good person who's really trying my best. It isn't her job to get me up to speed, especially if she feels like I was trying to make a jab at her when she was just saying something nice. There are already a million and one white jerks who will ask black folks to defend their reasons for calling someone racist and demand an academic level contextualization, as if they're on trial and need proof, and not nearly enough of us who take the initiative to learn it ourselves.

There are academic papers. There are books. There are video essays. There are historical documents directly representing the sentiments & racist narratives of the time they came from. There are non-white people who have been writing and speaking about their experiences with racism for years and years and years and years. And there are people talking about it today, on this very website, and it's okay to just read & listen and to look things up if they confuse you or you need more context. A variety of sources will help you see the issue more fully.

Because the truth is that a lot of things that white people consider just part of "regular society" are baked in racism. The more you learn about racism and the history of racism and the ways racism has manifested over the years, the more you realize how much of that racism is embedded in our culture even in unassuming, casual ways. If you take time to learn about what racism really looks like, you can be more confident in your ability to avoid acts of racism. So if not wanting to be The Racist or not wanting to feel guilty about a Racist Action You Did is a real concern, the best remedy is to learn about it and try to see the ways you might be prone to perpetuating it. And when in doubt? Assume that a person of color knows more about what racism looks and feels like than you do. Reduce harm by resisting making defensive arguments to explain racism away, and just keep pursuing answers for your questions and discomfort by listening.

I highly recommend reading Ibram X. Kendi's work as a starting point, because he lays out the foundational stuff really well. I read How to Raise an Antiracist, but he also wrote a book targeted at adult learning called How to Be an Antiracist. One thing from his work that was helpful for me to internalize was that antiracism is an action, as is racism. No one is born A Racist -- it is not inherent to anyone. It is not an identity. It is learned and it is acted upon. Just so, antiracist is not an identity, but rather an action. If you care about being seen as One Of The Good White People, you will need to do the work to become one, and by the time you've done the work to become one, you will realize that that's not how it works. There is always work to do and how antiracist you are depends on what antiracist actions you take, not how antiracist your intentions were. You cannot simply say that you believe in racial equality without showing up for it. Racism is an action you take. Antiracism is an action you take. Doing nothing is still a choice, and it is a choice that tends to favor racism in practice. Learning more about racism as a topic and especially going out of your way to reflect when you've been called racist -- how you're going to better understand and better your actions -- are two very good antiracist actions that you can do for free.

And while you learn, just, know that it'll be uncomfortable and take some effort to unlearn everything. You might feel some kind of way about stuff -- parts of culture that you connected with and are only just now realize have racist tones. It's bad. It's really bad and a lot of our family members present & past do or did terribly racist things. You have probably done something racist. It's possible that you're going to do something racist in the future. It's uncomfortable to acknowledge, but we will never change if we can't accept that we need to put in the effort and do better. And we can't know how to do better or look out for non-white folks if we don't actively learn.

Sorry this got so long. I hope it is a productive addition to the conversation.

listen. white people. LISTEN to me. if a person of color yells you that you did or said something racist the appropriate response is to go "oh shit, sorry" and maybe MAYBE a follow up of "can you elaborate" if you dont understand why and thats. IT. we do not need elaborate prose about how sorry you are or how grateful you are for us telling you or how youre working on unlearning it or whatever. JUST SAY SORRY AND DONT DO IT AGAIN THATS IT ❤️

#racism #important #psa

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bunnithechubs · 3 days ago

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transcript:

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA] yesterday V: Good Morning, Blue. Ami I finally going to get a response from you? R: SimPay $250 NAILS V: Can I at least get a pic of your nails??? Today 10:15 AM V: Morning, Blue. hope you enjoyed your nail appointment. Think we can grab coffee soon?

V: What's for lunch today, Dad? A: Salmon stew. How was your work out, Papi? V: Pretty good. I was actually able to increase my reps. A: That's good! Go on and eat. I'll meet you after I make my espresso. V: Alright, thanks for the food dad.

A: By the way, your brother said he wanted to come visit. V: sighs You mean he wants to come here to lecture me. A: He just misses you and he’s even bringing Mae with him. Dad, you don’t have to lie. V: I know he’s mad at me partying. A: If he is he has not said anything to me. I think he just missed us while he was in Henford. V: Riiiiight. A: Go up and shower. I’ll clean up, Papi. He’ll be here soon.

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA CONT.] 11:30 AM V: Blue. just let me follow you, damn.

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA CONT.] 12: 06 PM V: I will literally give you whatever you want if you let me follow you. R: SimPay $1.5K PICTURE

[TEXT THREAD W. REINA CONT.] 12:10 PM V: I really wanna be vulgar to you right now, but I'm trying to stay on your good side. R: ?? V: ... your boobs + my face = dream come true 12:30 PM V: Alright Reina. I'm tired of the thirsting over you. I'm making reservations for dinner. I want to take you on a date. Saturday night, I'll send you a car at 7:30 pm. R: See you, Satursday. R: I will not be seein gyou clubbing or seeing women, correct? V: No you will not, Reina.

A: You’ve been on your phone a lot lately. Did you finally get through to Jennifer? V: No. Jennifer blocked me a while ago. I met someone new and I’m going to take her out Saturday. A: Who is this new girl who has my son smiling and texting so much? [doorbell rings] V: We’ll have to save that for another time dad.

C: Hey Vin- V: Hand her over! sighs C: Nice to see you too. coos V: You missed your Uncle Vinny huh? Man she’s getting so big. Last time I saw her she barely had any hair. C: Don’t remind me, I wish I could keep her that small forever. She loved the bear you got her for Winterfest by the way. V: I knew she would. See that’s why Uncle Vinny is your favorite- right?

A: There’s my hijo. How was the trip here? C: Hey dad, smooth. The roads here are clearer than in Newcrest. A: No Kitty today? Nope just Mae and me. C: Kitty had a deposition for work. She sends her love though. A: How’s she doing with the pregnancy? C: It’s been pretty rough for her so I’m convinced it’s a boy. A: Do you want me to come by more often to give her a break? C: That would help out a lot actually. A: I’ll pack a bag and stay a few nights. Give Vinny some time alone.

A: She must have been up the whole car ride with how quickly she went down. C: Oh yeah, she babbled at me the whole drive. She definitely got that from her mother. A: Soon she will have a little sibling babbling with her. C: Yeah, I hope they are best friends. A: You boys were close as kids. I’m sure they will be too. Do you think she will be jealous with there being a new baby? C: I don’t think so but I’m sure we will handle it if it comes up.

C: So, Vinny- V: I’m fine, Cain. C: You expect me to believe that? V: I expect you to act like my brother and trust me when I say I’m fine. C: There is no world where going out every night and sleeping with multiple women in a week is fine, Vinny. V: You’re one to talk. Need I remind you of where I learned this from? C: Exactly. I wasn’t fine when I was doing the same shit you were. So want to try this again but with honesty?

V: I am being honest- I’m fine. C: So Jen having a new boyfriend doesn’t bother you? V: No and why do we even need to bring her up? She broke up with me, remember? C: Vinny, she asked for space and you said- V: I knew she reached out to you. C: She did and for good reason. V: Look, I’m fine. I found a new girl and I actually like her. Ask dad I haven’t been out this week and I haven’t been seeing anyone. A: He’s not lying. C: Dude, a girl is not going to fix what’s eating at you inside.

V: This is why we never talk anymore. You’re too damn nosey. If I want to sleep with all of the women in San Myshuno then I will. Right now I really like this girl and I’m on my best behavior. Maybe you should send her a thank you card or something. C: What’s her name- maybe I will? V: I’m not telling your nosey ass one more thing. C: You really like her? V: I do. C: Then I hope it works out for the best Vinny. I just want to see you happy. That’s all. V: Start with bringing Mae around more and hanging out with me. C: I can do that.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 edit #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 edit #current household #slate #slate gp #LOL #vinny texting her and reina just sending him money requests #shes so iconic #he's got that picture saved in his phone #it's probably the background on his phone tbh

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petermorwood · 3 days ago

Note

Hello, Mr. Morwood! I've been a long time follower! Came for the great posts about swords and history and stayed because of your staunch adherence to Caturday 💖

I was hoping that, in the spirit of Caturday, you would answer this post publicly or reblog the post below. That's one of my cat's, Professor Juniper, biggest videos on Tumblr that has brought joy to so many people with an update about her status right now.

https://www.tumblr.com/desidesidesi/771622362769686528/donate-to-help-save-professor-junipers-life?source=share

You see: Juniper, had a strange medical emergency on New Year's Day and we're trying our best to raise money for her care. I came home from a New Year's Eve party to find her struggling to breathe. We rushed her to the emergency vet where they took 300ml of liquid off of her chest. When their diagnostic ability ran out, we transferred to her to one of the best vet hospitals in my state. She's stable, but the underlying cause is still a bit of a mystery, so we'll need as much funds as we can get to get her the help she needs.

If you don't feel comfortable sharing any of this, I absolutely understand. Please know that I only thought to ask because.... Because I'm just afraid for my kitten. She's only 2 years old and deserves a shot at life.

Thank you, no matter what, please have a good evening.

Sick kitty and vet bills at that tight post-holidays time of year.

REBLOG and SIGNAL BOOST

#sick cat #veterinary bills #vet bills #signal boost #reblog #fundraiser

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tortillamastersblog · 2 days ago

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Back To You - Part 9 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“You didn’t!” Tara laughs happily and continues unwrapping the gift I got her which is a vintage video camera.

I figured she’d like it because she wants to be a film major and judging by her reaction, she does.

She woke me a couple of minutes ago by literally sitting on me, wishing me a Merry Christmas before shoving a present for me in my face.

I haven’t opened it yet because I wanted to see her reaction to my present first, and also because I want Sam to be there when I open it because it’s from both of them.

Tara finishes unwrapping and takes the camera out of its box, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is so cool.”

She inspects it from all angles and turns it on while I watch, happy that she likes it.

“You guys started without me?”

Sam’s voice makes me look over my shoulder and when I see her standing in the doorway of her room with a pout and sleep mussed hair, I smile and get up, stretching.

“Tara did, but don’t worry. You haven’t missed much so far.”

Sam huffs, but I can tell she’s not really annoyed. She makes her way over to us and plops down on the couch, running her fingers through her tangled hair in an attempt to tame it a little.

It looks like she’s still half asleep and I can’t help but think how adorable she looks like this, wearing faded gray sweatpants and an oversized black shirt.

The memory of her putting a blanket over me last night is still fresh in my mind, and I make a mental note to finally talk to her once we’re alone.

Tara fumbles around with the camera and moves to her sister’s side to show her what I got her. Sam seems impressed and she asks Tara to try and film something and while the two of them are busy figuring out how the camera works I pull off my hoodie.

I’ve been hot since I woke up, but I haven’t had a chance to take it off until now.

“Damn, Y/N,” Tara comments.

I raise an eyebrow as I pull my shirt, which rode up, back down over my stomach. “Huh?”

The camera momentarily forgotten in her hands, Tara wiggles her eyebrows suggestively while gesturing at me. “Someone’s been working out.”

My eyes widen in surprise before embarrassment washes over me.

It’s true, I’ve been working out like crazy since getting back on my feet, and I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been now that playing hockey is my literal job, but I usually don’t like to show it off and I really didn’t mean to expose myself like that just now.

“I mean, do they feed you steroids in Boston, or what?” Tara teases with a smirk.

“No they don’t, shut up,” I fire back weakly, tossing the hoodie at her face.

She catches it in time before it hits her and puts it down next to her, her smirk still present. “I’m just sayin’.”

I roll my eyes and scratch the back of my neck, hoping my cheeks aren’t all too red. “Yeah, whatever. Thanks.”

Tara chuckles and I go to take a seat on the couch next to her when I notice the way Sam’s uncharacteristically quiet.

I glance at her, worried that something might be wrong, but what I see makes my heart swoop in my chest instead.

Her eyes are trained on her fumbling hands in her lap, the tips of her ears are red, and she keeps swallowing thickly. In short, she’s flustered and the fact that it’s because my shirt rode up makes my heart beat faster and makes me feel like it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Not wanting to embarrass her though, I don’t comment on it and take a seat, gesturing for Tara to hand me the other gift on top of my bag.

“This one’s for you,” I say to Sam once Tara has given it to me and the way Sam’s brown eyes widen in surprise makes me chuckle softly. “What? You thought I wouldn’t get you anything?”

“N-No, I just— That’s not,” she stammers, clearing her throat and looking down for a moment before looking back up with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I hand it to her and try not to let it show that a shiver runs up my spine when her finger brush against mine.

Tara puts her camera down and together we watch Sam unwrap the flat, palm-sized box. She shoots me a questioning look, realizing it’s a black jewlery box, but I don’t say anything. I just smile and encourage her to open it with a wave of my hand.

Tara looks at me with a knowing smile and I smile back, loving the way Sam gasps in disbelief when her eyes land on the gold necklace on display inside the box.

“Do you like it?” I ask and the way Sam’s eyes shine when she looks up is answer enough.

Even so, she nods vigorously, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the necklace. “I love it, b-but how did you—?”

I shrug, feigning ignorance, and Tara does her best to hide her smile by busying herself with her camera again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “I just saw this and thought you’d like it.”

Sam chuckles incredulously and a, “Liar” slips past her lips, but she doesn’t ask how I knew about it again. Instead she looks back at the necklace, her finger brushing over the sun symbol engraved in the round pendant before taking it out and turning to me with a vulnerable expression. “Put it on me?”

I nod timidly, suddenly feeling shy and doing my best to ignore the questioning look Tara shoots at me before taking the necklace from Sam.

She shifts on the couch so her back is turned to me, and gathers her hair in a ponytail, exposing her neck to me.

I force myself to breathe normally at the sight, wanting nothing more than to press a kiss to it, and put the necklace around her neck.

“Thank you.” Sam lets go of her hair again and turns back around, touching the pendant for a moment before hugging me.

I hug her back and this time I don’t stop myself from pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. It makes her tighten her arms around my neck before pulling back.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Tara says, grabbing my present and throwing it in my lap.

I chuckle and shoot Sam one last smile, getting to work on unwrapping my own present.

It’s turns out to be a jewelry box as well, but it’s smaller than Sam’s and when I open it and see what’s inside, I immediately feel tears prick my eyes.

It’s a gold bracelet with my parents’ initials engraved in it in their handwriting.

I swallow thickly and look up to find Sam and Tara watching me hopefully.

“Guys. . . This is—“ I clear my throat and blink my tears away, “—This is beautiful. Thank you.”

The two sisters exhale, relieved, and Tara is quick to climb over Sam to put the bracelet on my wrist.

“There. . . Now you’ll always have a part of your parents with you,” she says, adding, “It was Sam’s idea.”

I rub my eyes to get rid of any more tears and kiss the top of her head before looking at Sam over her shoulder. “Thank you. Really. It means a lot to me.”

I love it. I absolutely love it, but the fact that it was Sam’s idea makes it extra special.

The two of them really are my family, and I just know that if my parents could see us now they’d be glad that we all found our way back to each other.

“So, how are Liam and Paige?” Tara asks over breakfast.

After we exchanged a few more presents we all got ready for the day and made breakfast together. Sam did most of the cooking since she decided we were having pancakes, but Tara and I l cut some fruits, made coffee, and set the table.

“Good.” I say after swallowing the sip of coffee I just took. “Liam just moved to New York and Paige moved to Portland, but they’re both here for the holidays to visit their parents.”

“Paige moved to Portland?” Tara asks with a raised eyebrow. “Why not New York, like Liam?”

Sam hums in agreement and I take another bite of my pancakes before answering, “Because her girlfriend lives in Portland. They’ve been doing long distance for over two years and they were sick of never seeing each other, so they decided to move in together.”

“Hmm, alright. Makes sense,” Tara says, ready to move on, but Sam snorts and stabs a piece of strawberry with her fork, saying, “Yeah, good for them. . . I’d never do long distance.”

I freeze, but no one notices and Sam goes on, unfazed. “I mean, only being able to see each other five or six times a year, maybe even less? Yeah, no thank you.”

Tara shrugs, obviously not caring, but I stay still, feeling like the rug’s just been pulled out from under me.

I live in Boston and Sam lives here. . . Even if she had feelings for me, she’d never want to be in a relationship with me. She just made that perfectly clear.

The realization feels like a punch to my stomach and I no longer feel like eating, completely drowning out Tara’s voice when she changes the subject.

Sam will never be with me, so it doesn’t matter how she feels about me. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her.

I set down my fork and get up, feeling like I’m in a trance.

Tara and Sam stop talking at the abruptness of my movement, their eyebrows furrowing, and before they can ask what I’m doing I mumble, “I’m going to take a shower, I’m a little cold.“

I’m neither cold, nor do I need a shower, but I need a moment to control my emotions and hide how much what Sam just said hurt me, so I go to my bag to grab a fresh set of clothes.

“Y/N. . .?” Tara asks hesitantly, but I don’t answer. I just go to the bathroom, lock the door behind me and get into the shower.

Sam doesn’t owe me anything. I know that, but what she said hurt and made me realize that the hope I had of ever being with her was futile.

All along, it was futile. We’ll never be together and she’ll never see me the way I see her.

Maybe I should try to move on. . .

A tear rolls down my cheek and I don’t bother wiping it away because the stream of the shower washes it away a moment later.

When I get out of the bathroom, the apartment is quiet and at first I think no one’s home, but then I sport Tara on the couch, figuring out how to work her new camera.

Sam is nowhere to be seen, but the table has been cleared and the dishwasher is running so she can’t be far.

“Hey, Sprout,” I say quietly, taking a seat next to her. “You good?”

Tara looks up and the way her eyes soften at the sight of me makes me wonder if my inner turmoil is really that obvious.

“Sam went out to get some snacks for when Mindy and Chad come over,” she says which makes me frown.

“I. . . didn’t ask,” I say tentatively, not wanting to offend her.

Tara just sighs and puts the camera down, turning to me with her lips pulled into a frown. “No, you didn’t, but I know you.”

That makes me smile nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Tara’s shoulders sag and she wordlessly moves to my side, resting her head on my shoulder and hugging my arm to her chest. “I know you like Sam, Y/N. I’ve known since the day she left. You weren’t just sad because your best friend left. . . You were heartbroken.”

I swallow thickly. I’ve always made it a point not to lie to Tara, so I’m not going to start now by denying anything. I don’t know what to say though, so I stay silent and sink back into the couch, letting my cheek rest against the top of her head.

“I know what she said about the whole long distance thing really bummed you out, but I don’t think she even realizes what it meant to you when she said it,” Tara whispers. “She can be a little. . . insensitive sometimes, but. . . I see the way she looks at you, Y/N, and all I can ask of you is that you don’t give up on her just yet.”

I sigh and nudge Tara’s knee with my own. “Easier said than done, Sprout.”

Tara sighs as well and squeezes my arm. “I know.”

Silence settles over us for a couple of moments until I remember something I’ve been meaning to tell Tara for a while now.

“Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“While we’re being honest I just want to say I’m sorry for how things turned out with you and Amber. I know you liked her.”

Like me, she doesn’t deny anything. She just holds my arm tighter and plays with the fabric of my sleeve.

_______________________________________________

Very short chapter, but it was necessary before we dive into the plot of the sixth movie next chapter.

Hope you all enjoyed it!

Next chapter is definitely going to be longer, I promise, but it’s going to take some time to write.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

#x reader #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter #scream

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mister0ctopus · 3 days ago

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apart-mental issues part 3

mini series - jeon jungkook (ongoing)

Pairings: Neighbor JK x Reader

Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook. This story has three parts.

I LIED. put your clothes back on. this story doesn't have 3 parts. I realized it's going to be too long to fit into just one chapter. I'll probably make it into 4 or 5 chapters, idk idk. Hehehe!!!

PART 3 i want to be a stone in my next life i can’t keep up let me in

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbors, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Slow Burn (?)

Word Count: 2.9K

a/n: inspired by when i moved to my new apartment and my next door neighbor wasnt jungkook :(

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe

apart-mental issues part 1 apart-mental issues part 2 apart-mental issues part 3

🗿i want to be a stone in my next life

“A stone.”

“That’s what you want to be in your next life?” Sean asked again, giving you a look like you’d just said the earth is flat.

“Yeah, this life is so tiring. I just wanna chill in the next one,” you justified, fingers flying over your keyboard as you edited your case study due this Friday.

Your dining table was a mess of open textbooks, half-empty coffee mugs, and sticky notes plastered everywhere.

You had been working on this project for days, spending countless hours in the university library with your classmate and case study partner, Sean.

However, today, with only online classes on your schedule, Sean offered to come over to your apartment to save you the hassle of commuting to the university. It was thoughtful of him, knowing you had a shift later at work.

Your eyes strained from staring at the screen too long, and the sleep deprivation didn’t help.

A knock on the door startled you.

“I hope that’s food because I’m starving,” Sean said without looking up.

“I didn’t order anything, but... let me check,” you muttered, standing up.

You opened the door to find Jungkook standing there, holding two large containers. A kiss on your forehead and his usual smirk greeted you. “Hey, you should take a break.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of warmth and guilt washing over you. You hadn’t seen him in almost a week because of your packed schedule. You missed him so much. You couldn’t wait for this case study to be over so you could breathe again.

“Thank you, baby,” you said, smiling as you widened the door. But before he could step inside, his eyes flicked over your shoulder, landing on Sean, hunched over his laptop at the dining table.

“Oh, that’s Sean” you added quickly. “Remember? My partner for the case study.”

“Yeah, you mentioned him before” Jungkook nodded, his expression unreadable.

Then you noticed something. “Wait, why aren’t you at work? You should be at work right now.”

He gave you a soft smile, scrunching his nose and sniffing the way he always did when he tried to downplay his feelings. “It’s our company’s anniversary. We got the day off? You haven’t been reading my texts, have you?”

Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t—again. You haven’t been the best at reading and replying to his messages. You didn’t mean to. Not intentionally. It was just you’d been so focused on your case study. Your phone, where even was your phone—

“Baby?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah... I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’ve just been so busy, and I forgot to check…”

“S’okay,” he cut you off, his voice calm and gentle, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know you’re busy.” He shifted slightly, adjusting the containers in his hands before holding them out to you. “I just dropped off some food, but I’m heading out now. I’m meeting the guys and Tae’s family for lunch.”

“Oh! Why? What’s the occasion?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

Jungkook gave you tight smile, his eyes lingered on the floor. “It’s Tae’s birthday.”

Oh, right. Now you remember. He told you last week. He even asked you to choose a color for the hat he bought as a gift. You chose brown over black. You groaned, shutting your eyes as the realization hit.

“I’m so sorry!” You rubbed your temples in frustration with yourself.

“Hey it’s ok” he said, giving your shoulder a light squeeze.

Your thoughts raced, mentally kicking yourself. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Thank you for the food.” You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“See you tonight after work?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, see you tonight!” you replied with a giggle. “Tell Tae happy birthday. I’m sorry for my fault,” you added, your tone light as you referenced an inside joke he’d shared with you.

He nodded and chuckled softly but didn’t respond, holding your door so you could get back inside while holding the containers.

You turned back inside, placing the containers on the counter as Sean looked up, wide-eyed. “Holy shit, that’s a lot! Who’s that from?”

“Oh, my… next door neighbor,” you said absentmindedly, guilt gnawing at your chest.

“Sweet,” Sean mumbled, obviously distracted and unaware of his surroundings, already back to typing.

Grabbing your phone from under a pile of papers, you unlocked it to find a string of unread messages from Jungkook.

nextdoor<3: [7:15 AM] good morning my beautiful baby 😘 youre just home this morning for online class right? [7:45 AM] baby? still asleep? I don’t want to bother you.. but just reminding you I’m home this morning [8:16 AM] heyyy.. can I come over during your lecture? just want to see you 🥹 [8:32 AM] do you have company? I heard noise.. [9:36 AM] I’m coming over, made you some food.

You stared at the messages, your chest tightening. He’d sent them hours ago. God, hours.

You hadn’t even noticed. It always happened when things got overwhelming, everything else outside the chaos just faded into the background.

You groaned softly, burying your face in your hands.

“You got that chart we made last week?” Sean’s voice pulled you back from your spiraling thoughts.

“Uh… yeah, one sec,” you muttered, rifling through a stack of papers.

Fuck, I can’t keep up.

☠️ i can’t keep up

"YN, can you cover the closing shift?" Your manager’s voice sliced through your foggy mind like a knife. You barely had time to register her words before she continued, practically pleading, "I'm so sorry, Amy and Lia called in sick, and I can’t leave it to the new girl."

"Seems like I don’t have a choice, do I?" You smiled through the pain, already knowing the answer.

Her face lit up with relief as she gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry! I promise you’ll get an extra day off once they’re back.” She hurried off to greet a table that had just walked in, leaving you to mentally prepare for the hours ahead.

This week had felt like it dragged on forever, maybe the longest, most exhausting one of your life.

You had to put a pause on your case study with Sean this morning when you rushed off to work, and now, coming in to an understaffed shift.

You caught Rosie’s eye, one of your friends and fellow servers, as she wiped down a table.

Both of you exchanged a pained look, her exhausted expression saying it all. She pulled a disgusted face before storming off to the kitchen.

Normally, your shift ended at 10 PM, and you should’ve been home before 11, but tonight you’d be staying until last call, closing down the bar, and prepping the floor for the next day.

The place was buzzing, and you barely had a second to breathe between clearing tables and taking orders, clearing tables and taking orders, clearing tables and taking orders…

Hours passed, and exhaustion slowly crept in. You heard your manager yelling at someone in the kitchen, a table throwing a fit because their negroni was too bitter...

Balancing a tray of drinks, you weaved through the loud, chaotic room. Most of the crowd was tipsy or drunk, their voices blending into a dull roar that made it hard to think straight. Your focus shifted between navigating the tables and keeping the drinks steady, until someone caught your eye.

Sitting in the corner booth was Jungkook.

You hadn’t seen him come in, but there he was, scrolling through his phone.

And that’s when it hit you—like a punch to your gut—you didn’t text him! Again.

You were supposed to let him know you’d be late, but of course, you got distracted. Again.

You meant to send a quick message earlier, but one thing led to another, customers needing refills, tables to bus, orders to run…and you forgot.

Again.

You were supposed to see him tonight. How long had he been waiting for you at home? And why was he here?

You dropped off the tray of empty glasses at the station and hurried over to him, your stomach twisting with guilt.

He looked up when you approached, his expression calm, but there was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten.

It wasn’t disappointment—not the sharp sting of frustration you’d seen in others when you forgot something important.

No, this was worse.

Hurt.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” you started, words tumbling out in a rushed mess. “I didn’t mean to not text you, but I had to cover tonight…” Your voice cracked as the guilt clawed its way up your throat.

“It’s okay,” he said, his tone calm, though there was a tightness to his smile. “I figured something came up. I’m here to pick you up. It’s late, and I know you’re tired."

Your eyes darted to the table, where a half-finished root beer float sat. “How long have you been here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Not long,” he replied, leaning back in the booth and fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie.

You opened your mouth to apologize again, but before you could, a loud crash pulled your attention to a table where a drink had seemingly toppled over, or perhaps fallen, as the guests waved frantically to catch your attention.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumbled, giving him an apologetic look before hurrying off. You felt his eyes follow you as you crossed the room, the weight of his gaze lingering even as you focused on taking the group’s order.

After tending to the mess and getting refills, you made your way to the kitchen when Rosie grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side.

“Confess,” Rosie said firmly, narrowing her eyes at you like she was interrogating a suspect.

“Confess what?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

“Who’s the guy in the corner booth? Boyfriend? Situationship? Secret fling? Because he’s been staring at you since he got here!” She gestured wildly toward Jungkook’s direction.

“We’re…He’s…” You trailed off, your thoughts tangling. What was he? Someone who deserved better than you forgetting things.

“Girl, I swear, I thought you were single as hell this whole time!”

“Well, I am! I mean… we’re not officially together.” You sighed. Does he even want you still?

Rosie slapped her forehead dramatically. “Well, girl??? Secure the bag? Are you kidding? He’s hot!” She groaned loudly, fanning herself with exaggerated flair as she walked away. “Oh my God.”

You shook your head, laughing softly at her antics, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

You forced yourself back into the flow of the bustling crowd.

Jungkook patiently waited for you in the booth, and you both shared quick glances from time to time.

You closed at 2 am. Every muscle in your body throbbed with exhaustion, your eyelids heavy with the weight of fatigue. Even the thought of changing out of your work clothes felt like climbing a mountain. Instead, you grabbed the t-shirt you’d come in with and pulled it over your crop top. You just want to go home.

Mentally and physically, all you wanted to do was collapse.

↪️ let me in

As you stepped out of the bar, you saw Jungkook standing near the back door, hands in his pockets, waiting.

The dim glow of the streetlights cast soft shadows over his face, but his sharp gaze was unmistakable as it immediately found yours the moment the door creaked open.

The gloomy sky loomed overhead, thick with the promise of rain. The chilly air bit at your bare legs as you walked towards him, your steps sluggish, dragged.

When suddenly, you felt him shuffle beside you, and his familiar scent enveloped you as he draped his unzipped hoodie over your shoulders.

“It’s freezing, baby,” he said softly, his voice warm against the crisp night air. He adjusted his hoodie to make sure it covered you snugly.

The pang of guilt in your chest weighed heavier than the exhaustion in your bones.

“Thank you,” you murmured, offering a tired yet genuine smile as your eyes traced his familiar features.

His hair had grown longer, the ends curling softly. Instinctively, your fingers reached up, brushing through the strands. And as you did, he closed his eyes as he leaned closer to you. A quiet, contented sigh escaped him, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

Without a word, he took your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. His other hand found yours, fingers naturally intertwining, offering additional warmth aside from his hoodie draped over you.

The two of you walked to his car in silence, the sound of your footsteps filling the stillness of the night.

You slid into the passenger seat, the car door clicking shut with a soft thud.

It's deafening, the silence.

Jungkook glanced with a soft smile before starting the engine. His focus was on the road, but the tension in the air between you felt palpable.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting tonight…and the other nights. I should’ve texted. And I haven’t been present for you these past weeks. It’s not fair to you…”

Jungkook’s gaze flickered to you for a moment. He didn’t look angry, but tired. And that made your heart ache even more.

What if this time, the tiredness in his eyes wasn’t from the long wait, but from you?

“I’m not mad at you.” he said, his voice is steady and warm. “I know you’ve been busy, and things get hectic.”

“But…” you hesitated, unsure if you could even finish the thought. His patience has to have limits, right?

Jungkook’s hand slid over to yours, his fingers gently squeezing, as if he could already feel the weight of your thoughts. "What’s going on in that head of yours?" he asked softly, his voice gentle, coaxing you to open up.

You looked down at his hand on yours, feeling small and fragile under the gravity of your own insecurities.

You hated the thought that maybe, just maybe, if he looked too closely, he’d see the mess, the noise, the chaos inside you. And then he’d walk away.

Your walls had been crushed, but as you felt the rush of vulnerability wash over you, the temptation to rebuild them surged.

“I just feel really bad, everything is just so overwhelming right now. Sorry for making this hard.” you exhaled a shaky breath.

“Hey,” he says, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I know you didn’t mean to forget. I’m just relieved to see you at work tonight…I just thought something happened.” His words trail off, but his worry lingers in his eyes.

“When I don’t hear from you, my mind goes all over the place. I worry about you. But I didn’t want to press, because I feel like maybe I’m bothering you.” He continues, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

It’s harder to speak now, but you managed to force the words out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to explain it… It’s like… my brain gets so tangled, and I can only focus on what’s right in front of me. Everything else… it just slips away.”

You held his hand tighter, hoping to somehow communicate the mess in your head, make it simpler, make it easier to understand. “I’ll try harder.”

He slowed down, glancing at you with such tenderness that it made all your broken pieces feel whole again.

“Baby…” he started, his voice soft but steady. “I know how much you’re juggling, and I’m not here to add to that. I don’t need all your time. I just want to know I’m part of your world, not an afterthought.”

He reached over, his hand gently caressing your face. You leaned into his touch.

“And you don’t need to try harder for me. I just wish you’d tell me how I can help. Let me in. That’s all I want.”

“Then I’ll try my best to tell you…”

“I would like that very much.”

——

The moment you entered Jungkook’s apartment, a wave of relief washed over you. It was always so comforting here, his presence in every corner, making the space feel like home. But tonight, your body screamed for rest, and you barely had the energy to sit down, let alone do anything else.

You saw the table already set, two plates waiting idly, a silent testament to the meal he had prepared for you before deciding to come to your work when you didn’t come home on time.

Fuck.

You both quietly ate, your mind silent, but guilt lingered.

After finishing your meal, you were too tired to go back to your apartment. Moving on autopilot, you showered quickly and changed into one of his shirts, the one you usually wear when you stay over. When you stepped out of the shower, you saw he had just finished washing the dishes and was heading straight for the shower himself.

You couldn’t help but sink into his bed, the soft sheets smelling like him, embracing you like an old friend. You wanted to wait for him, to wrap yourself in his warmth, and kiss him until your worries and weariness melted away, but your body had other plans. You curled up under the blanket, and before you knew it, sleep claimed you.

When you woke up the next morning, he’s already gone for work and you were alone in his bed.

His spot is now cold, but the meal on the table is warm.

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a/n: Thanks for reading as always. Happy New Year beautiful people! ITS BANGTAN YEAR!!! Here's to 2025!!! <3

-🐙

taglist: @goldietigers294 @ericawantstoescape @kyljjk @daskewl @the-immortal-dreamer

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