#the screams i had to hold in when seeing this……

[darkbluekies]

P.O.V 2025 ver

Yandere!mafia boss x reader x mafia!boss enemy

Summary: To get Silas to keep his end of an agreement, a hostage is taken, someone known to be very dear to him.

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, nsfw mentions, torture, blowing people up, murder, guns, gore, blackmailing, darling breaking, self guilt, angst, humiliation, and probably more along those lines!

Word count: 5.6k

“Let me go!” you scream as you struggle, for nothing, against the rugged men pulling you left and right. 

“Be silent”, one of them replies in a sharp, rude tone, “or I'll cut your tongue.”

You're pushed down on your knees on a polished, wood floor that seem to be out of place. You run your eyes around the room, scanning anything and everything. The room is dim, with a big desk, armchairs and a decorative carpet. Your heart hammers in your chest, to the point of nausea. Just an hour ago you were in the backseat of Silas’s ar, waiting for him to be done with a mission. You had been left alone with two trusted drivers. They had been shot, quick and easy, as if someone had rehearsed it. And you had been snatched by the two men holding you.

A man sits in the big chair behind the desk. He smirks at you. Hes about Silas’s age with dark hair, dimples and piercing, blue eyes that shrinks you.

“So this is Silas’s little playmate”, he says, voice full of amusement, and leans forward in his chair to get a better look at you. 

He stands up and walks around the desk, walks over to you and crouches down. He takes a grip on your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your neck strains painfully. The man snickers and touches your lip with his thumb, as if wanting to open your mouth—which you refuse. If he forces his thump past your lips, you're going to bite him. Hard. 

“You're a pretty, little thing, aren't you?” the man mumbles and caresses your cheek.

You swallow. You remember how scared you had been the first time you met Silas, how you barely dared dared to move, but that wasn't nothing compared to this. You knew more about this world by now, know just what kind of things that could be done to people. But you also know what happens if you don't do anything—you get married to a mob boss. You slap the man's hand away. He raises his eyebrows in shock, and amusement.

“Feisty too?” he asks and tilts his head. “You'll regret that.”

“What do you want?” you spit. “I haven't done anything!”

The man laughs, a genuine one that doesn't sound taunting. You caught him by surprise.

“You're cute”, he says. “‘You'? What the fuck could someone like you do to me? This is about Silas, your husband.”

“Then get him, what the fuck am i doing here?!” you screech.

“It's simple. You're here as a trading prop.”

“What?”

“Me and Silas had an agreement and your husband hasn't fulfilled his part. I, personally, have much patience, but even i get tired of waiting. You are here in hopes of making him fulfill his part.”

“That’s not fair …”

“That’s how this world works, didn't you know?”

You glare at him.

“You don't know?” he asks, his small smile growing. “If I want something from him, I have to take something he holds dearly to get what I want, because that son of a bitch is as slippery as an eel.”

You glare at him. The man graces your cheek, staring into your eyes. You take a deep breath and keep it in your throat. You just have to keep out until Silas comes and gets you. Everything will be okay.

“And I know for a fact that Silas holds you very dearly”, he says. “The fact that I even have you here is a miracle. There are some who don’t even believe that you exist because of how protective Silas is of you. He is skilled at keeping you hidden.”

“He will kill you for this …”, you mumble and avoid eye contact.�� 

He’s killed people for less when it comes to you. 

“I’m going to get those papers if it’s the last thing I do”, the man mutters and stands up. “And if I have to do something like this to get them, I will. I’m tired of Silas seeing me as a joke. I’m in the mood to … kid around, a little.” He looks down at you and then at one of his men. “Send him one of his little playmate’s fingers.”

You gasp, letting out the breath kept in your throat. Before you’ve realized it, you’ve stumbled up from the floor and thrown yourself towards the double doors, in hopes of saving yourself of losing limbs, but they’re faster. They grab your arms and drag you back to the spot you left. You scream, kick and fight. When they let you go, the force makes you fly into the opposite wall, hitting your elbow and head in the process. A sharp, colorful pain fills your body. A faint ringing noise in your ear. You ignore it as you crawl together, hugging your trembling body and wishing nothing more than to become one with the wall.

The man snickers and watches you from afar.

“I thought you’d be more brave”, he admits and strolls over to you. “Aren’t you married to a mob boss? Haven’t you already seen all the horrible stuff he does? Hasn’t he done them to you? Or is he the type of man to hide it all from his sweet, little innocent darling? Just like he hides you from us?”

You don’t answer. Silas has put you through stuff, you can’t deny that. He’s been mean and scary, been your worst nightmare. But he’s always made sure that you were aware that he could be much, much worse.

“Answer.”

“He doesn’t show”, you whisper and swallow air. 

“Well, I am going to. I am going to ruin you for him. If he wants you all innocent and pure, I’m going to make sure he gets a tainted wife/husband back. He won’t even be able to recognise you. That will make him second guess trying to trick me in the future.”

You’re sure that your heart has stopped and sunk down to your stomach. If there's something you could have Silas to thank for, it’s the fact that he’s shielded you from all the morbid things he does. 

“Don’t look so scared”, the man smiles. “I’m not going to kill you. You will go back to Silas—you have my word. I’m just going to … roughen you up a little. Show you a different side of the world you live in.”

You try not to show how scared you really are, but you’re sure that you’re as open as a book. The man walks back to his desk and sits down. 

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay there”, he says. “Like a passed out alcoholic.”

The men who had kidnapped you leave the room, leaving you alone with the man who’s going to destroy you. You look around, searching for something to help you, but remain still. You have to get out somehow, have to escape!

Time seem to have stopped, but when the man looks up from the computer, your legs have gone numb. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. “Silas is a clever bastard, hiding your identity. Don’t even bother with any type of lying, I will know.”

You don’t answer. 

“Give me your name or I will rip your fingernails one by one”, he says threateningly and crouches down in front of you. “Do you get that?”

“Yes …”, you gulp. 

“What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

He looks at you, studies your face for traces of lies, until he nods and stands up again. What would you have done if he hadn’t believed you?

“Y/N Achilleos”, he says, tasting your name on his tongue. “Interesting. Nice ring you have there, by the way, must have cost a ton.”

“Why do you want to know my name?” you ask. 

“No reason, really. Just curious. I know so little about you. You’re interesting, whether one likes you or not.” 

“What’s your name?”

He stays silent for a few seconds. “You can call me Tony. You weren’t involved in this world before, were you?”

“How could you tell?” 

The man scoffs with a smile. “I get what Silas sees in you.”

He stands up and walks over to you, pulling you up and dragging your numb legs over to the desk. He sits you down on his chair, in front of the computer. He stands behind you, holding his muscular arms on either side of you, trapping you. You glance towards the video on his computer. The thumbnail is enough to make you sick. You can’t tell what it is, exactly, but there’s enough blood for you to question if it’s real or not. Someone’s tied to a chair. 

“No”, you breathe out, shaking your head. “I don’t want to.”

“You’re going to watch every single video I show you, is that clear?” Tony hisses in your ear. “Or else I’m really going to cut one of your fingers and send it to Silas. I’m not kidding.”

He reaches for the mouse. 

“Please, don’t”, you beg. 

“Why? Are you afraid to see the truth of what your boyfriend is doing?”

You grow cold and turn your eyes back to the thumbnail. 

“I-Is it Silas in the video?” you stutter. 

“No. He’s not dumb enough to film his things, but I know for a fact that he does this kind of stuff too. Watch now, or else I’ll bring out the knife.”

He grabs the mouse and moves the pointer to the play button. The first you hear are echoes of sobs and painful moans. The entire screen is filled by a man with missing limbs. Two masked men are torturing him beyond what a human body should be able to handle. You clench your eyes shut and feel how Yony grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. your neck cracks. 

“I told you to watch”, he hisses. “So watch.”

He throws your head back. Whiplash is hitting you in the tightest places of your neck and you hold a hand over your throat. You continue to watch the video with tears running down your cheeks, and the man hovering above you. You can feel how the image in front of you burns into your brain and you know that it’ll never go away. 

“I must say, watching a video isn’t the same as actually experiencing it, don’t you think?” the man smirks once the video is over. 

You feel sick. 

“Just get Silas!” you almost shout. “Get him so I can leave! I watched your fucking video!”

“Did you think that we were done?” Tony asks. “No, not yet, dear. I’m not done. I’m going to taint you like you’ve never been tainted before. Better yet, I think I’ll break you.”

All his words makes you want to cry, throw up and melt into a puddle. All at the same time. Tony grabs your arm and pulls you up from the chair. He drags you out of the room, through a pair of dimly lit corridors and down a flight of stairs. You stumble in his harsh grip, still on uneasy feet. The room you stumble into reminds you of the worst of Silas’s basement, mixed with that video you just saw. The large room is divided into different parts woty invisible walls. Casino tables, machines made for pleasure you never want to experience, a bar and blood—a lot of it. A hedonistic paradise. The air is thick, hard to breathe, and smells of sex, drugs and blood.

“Trust me, spend ten minutes down here and you will be a new person”, Tony laughs. 

You don't look at him. Your eyes are fixated down on the floor, which is the only place where you don't see anything you don't want to. You can't remember the last time you've been this scared. Your body has stopped reacting to the trial your brain is sending.

Silas, please. Help me. I will never take you for granted again, just please save me.

You’ve never wanted Silas to find you as badly as you want now. It’s ironic, in a morbid way, because usually you want him far away as possible. 

“Let's go make some introductions”, Tony says and pulls you with him to one of the bar tables.

You stumble in front of a group of people sitting with drinks in front of them. You hit your knees on the stone floor, which sends lighting of pain up your thighs.

“Oh my, look at this little thing”, a seductive, slurred woman’s voice coos. “What a cutie, already on their hands and knees for us. Way too easy.”

You’re quick to sit back down and glare at the woman. She’s dolled up in old, torn clothing that once must have cost a fortune. 

“Look at that innocent sparkle in their teary eyes”, another woman says, smiling. “It’s not often you get to see that here.”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, weighing you down like a stone. 

“This is Silas Achilleos’s husband/wife”, you hear the man above you smirk. 

The group of drunk people raise their eyebrows and lean forward to get a better look at you. 

“Silas, hm?” a man asks and get oss his bar stool. “This is a bit too perfect, Tony.”

“He must be pissed that you took them”, the first woman laughs. “I’d pay to watch his face right now.”

You look around to see something else than their mocking, dissecting looks. Instead, you’re forced to watch all kinds of horrors. It all belongs in a nightmare. One you wish you could wake up from. 

Silas, please … oh, God. 

You feel how sobs build up in your chest and pushes up your throat. Your eyes fill with blurry tears. Oh, how badly you want to wake up. 

“Yes, that’s it”, Tonny coos. “Cry for us.”

He pulls out his phone and films you. You try to hide your face in your hands. The woman who had taunted you crawl over and put their sticky hands on you, trying to pry them off. 

“Let me go!” you scream and fight them off, voice breaking. “Don’t touch me!”

“See something you recognize, Silas?” you hear Tony murmur. “Y/N, turn around and tell your dear husband how badly you want him to save you.”

You feel sick to your stomach. There’s no way you’ll willingly give in to the man’s humiliating request. You have never been less dignified in your life, and never been this terrified. The women grab your face, their long nails poking into your skin, and forcefully turn your head towards the phone’s camera. 

“Come on, Y/N”, one of them whispers in your ear, a sugar sweet slurring that makes you want to throw up. “Do it. Show him.”

You shake your head vigorously. They tug at your arms with their gnarly hands, twisting and pulling on you. Their nails sink painfully into your skin, drawing blood. 

“Stop it!” you scream in agony. 

“Beg your husband to save you”, Tony grins. “Let him know how scared you are.”

I hope Silas kills you.

“Silas, please”, you choke out and avoid looking into the camera. “Please help me. Please.”

You hear them chuckle around you. Tony cuts off the video and fiddles with his phone, most likely sending it to Silas. The woman let you go and you curl up, hugging yourself tightly. 

Just a few minutes later, the same phone that recorded you rings. Tony smirks and presses ‘accept’, putting it on speaker. 

“Only the Gods know what the fuck I’m going to do to you for this!” you hear Silas scream on the other side of the line, even before Tony has had time to say something. “And you better fucking pray that your mother will recognise your sorry ass after I’m done with you!”

Tony chuckles. 

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you had fulfilled your end of the agreement, Silas”, he says, calmly. “I want my papers, and you’re going to give them to me if you want Y/N back.”

“Fine, you can have your papers, you disgusting filth! Tell me when and where and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, not now. I’m too busy. How about tomorrow at five pm?”

“No, now!”

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible. I’m not done with your darling yet. I have so much more to show them.”

Silas’s voice is venomous. “Show what? What are you doing to them?”

“If you’re going to bring Y/N into this world, why be so stupid to not show them what you’ve forced them into?”

A few seconds of silence pass. You can see in front of you how Silas exchanges a look with his second in command, both of them trying to see if the other one knows what’s going on. 

“You can’t!” Silas shouts. “You have no fucking right!”

“Stop me then, but I have to let you know that I’ve already started here.”

“If you touch a single hair on my wife’s/husband’s head, I’m going to cut off your cock and make you eat it. Believe me!”

You have never heard Silas this mad before. He really does care for you.

“I’m not going to hurt them, Silas”, Tony says. “That isn’t why I’ve taken them. Hurting them doesn’t help me in the slightest. I’m just letting them see the truth that you hide from them. The lies you tell. Meet me at the old warehouse by the highway tomorrow at five pm. Bring only two men and I will do the same. No weapons, no tricks.”

“I don’t need weapons to kill you. You’ll pay for this.”

Tony smirks and hangs up. He turns to you and pulls you up from the floor. 

“Tomorrow at five you’ll be free”, he says and drags you out of the basement. 

He says it in a way that makes it sounds like a promise, but to you it is nothing more than a reminder of the time he has left to taint you. 

It’s the third man he’s beaten to death this evening. Silas hands are throbbing in pain and he’s not sure if the blood he’s drenched in is his own or theirs—probably both. But he’s not done yet. His body is trembling with anger. He sees red. Silas is sure that even the devil would be afraid of him if he saw him now. 

“Silas”, SIC breathes out behind him, letting his eyes wander over Silas with sadness. 

“Not a word”, Silas hisses, holding his hand back to silence him. “I’ll kill you too And I know I’ll regret that, so stay quiet.”

SIC licks his lips nervously and looks down at his hands, staying silent. Silas breathes out heavily and lets his shoulders slump. He wants to scream, but his voice has gotten stuck in his throat. 

“Do you want to know the worst thing?” he asks without turning around to look at SIC. 

“What?” he wonders. 

“The worst thing isn’t that they’re gone from me. Y/N’s escaped before and I always manage to find them. I know how they behave once I get them back. No, the worst thing is that, this time, i can’t do anything to help them. I have no other choice but to wait for Tony to give them back to me. And until he does, he can do whatever he wants to them.”

SIC lowers his eyes. 

“And I’m scared what state they’ll be in once I do get them back”, Silas says quietly. “I’ve done my best—I’ve worked my ass off, day and night—to make sure that Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on around me. I know that they shouldn’t be in this world and that it’s my fucking fault for dragging them in … but I’ve done everything in my power to make the best of the situation. All of this hard work, for nothing.”

“He could be lying”, SIC says. “Maybe he just said that to scare you.”

“No. I know him. He has shown Y/N filthy stuff. Worse than what they saw on that USB that brought us together. That’s the worst thing.”

SIC swallowed. Silas turns around and looks at him. His black eyes were red around the corners, tears in the bottom. 

“I’d rather have my brother take them again”, he hisses. “Because I know Ares. I grew up with him. I know exactly how he thinks and how he acts. But I don’t know Tony, not like that. I don’t know how far he’s willing to go … no, that might be the worst thing, actually. Fuck!”

He screams out in pure anger and SIC flinches. Silas stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall, where he sinks down on the floor with his sweaty head in his bloody hands. Every ell in his body has lost adrenaline, leaving him aching and hurting in a way he’s never felt before. He can feel his heart breaking into pieces, feel it leaking blood into his lungs. SIC walks over to the wall and sits down in front of him. 

“Y/N’s stronger than you think”, he says softly. “They’ve survived your basement more times than any of your enemies.”

“That’s because I go easy on them.” Silas’s voice has lost any power it had and is now nothing more than a whisper. “I know where their breaking point is and I don’t go further than that. Tony won’t go easy on them. Won’t care about them … even if they scream, or cry, or beg.” He leans his head back against the wall. “I should never have left Y/N in the car. I shouldn’t have brought them at all.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have foreseen it. I knew I had fucked up once I saw the dead drivers. But it was already too late. How could I let someone take them?”

“You tried to shield them by letting them stay in the car. Otherwise they’d seen you kill someone.”

Silas rolls his eyes tiredly. “Seems like they’ll have to watch that anyway.”

SIC sighs. 

“I’m going to kill that pathetic little insect”, Silas growls. I’m going to make sure his mother doesn’t recognise his disgusting corpse.”

“I’ll help you”, SIC says.

Silas looks at him. 

“I will do whatever you want me to do”, SIC says. “Just say what, and I will do it. I will always stand behind you.”

Silas nods and hugs him. SIC hugs him back, petting his back. 

“Let’s give that motherfucker butterflies in his stomach”, he says. 

The night seems to never end. The hours have dragged by. You’ve seen more than you ever could have anticipated. Video after video. It never seemed to end. Tony has made sure that you have seen everything possible before five pm. You’re exhausted. The person you were yesterday seem to be so distant, so … different. 

“Very well”, you hear him, “time to wrap up our little visit and send you back to your husband.”

“What if he doesn’t come?” you whisper, mortified by your own words. 

What if Silas doesn’t want you anymore now that you’re not the person he wants you to be? 

“If he doesn’t come to pick you up, I’ll keep you”, Tony replies. “You’ll be my own little guinea pig. I’ll force you to watch everything until your fragile brain breaks. Get up now, we have to leave.”

You stand up, slowly, to not activate the nauseating volcano in your stomach. The images of the night’s horror videos still visible in front of your eyes. They never had to touch you, never had to harm a hair on your head. They could break you, anyway.

You’re forced out of the building, feet dragged behind you. Placed in the backseat of a gray car, pressed between two men— “Bring only two men and I will do the same”. You keep your head down, eyes in your lap, for the entirety of the bumpy ride. You’re exhausted, hungry and broken. Even if Silas comes to get you, he’ll be too late. 

When the car stops, you’re forced out and into an old warehouse. The cold, damp air is hard to breathe. Tony’s grip on your arm is bruising, painful. 

“Now, let’s wait”, he says in a cocky tone. “Silas will be here soon enough.”

Not even five minutes later, you can hear the screeching of a car’s breaks. Your heart stops. Despite wanting nothing more than for Silas to come save you, you’re ashamed to let him see who you’ve allowed yourself to become. 

The sight of him storming into the warehouse with SIC and another of his men makes your heart ache and your eyes to tear up. You’re so relieved to see that he came to get you, and so ashamed. You’ve never seen him this mad before. His black eyes seem to burn, his body language animalistic. His jaw is tightly clenched. He’s wearing his long, dark coat, his hands buried in his pockets. SIC holds a yellow paper file in his hands. Silas gives you a quick look, and all you can see is fury. 

“One word out of you and I’m going to rip your eyes out”, he says coldly and takes the paper file out of SIC’s hands. “Give me what’s mine.”

“The papers first”, Tony replies and shakes you, “and then I’ll return your toy.”

Silas’s reply is short. “Don’t call them that.”

“They’re in my hands. I get to call them what I want.”

Silas eyes are enough to murder. 

“The papers”, Tony says, raising his eyebrows. 

Silas throws the paper file on the dirty, stone floor. One of Tony’s men walks over and picks it up. It takes everything in Silas’s power to not throw himself over him. As soon as the man has returned to Tony, you’re let go. For a second you look around, trying to confirm if you’re really free or if it’s just a test. 

“Little thing, come”, Silas says and gesticulates for you to come.

You don’t need more convincing. Your legs move and before you have the time to register it, you’ve reached Silas’s open arms, a man you didn’t want anything to do with twenty four hours earlier. You’ve never been so happy to see him. You crash into his firm body and feel how he wraps his arms around you. He holds you tight, hiding your face into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay”, he whispers. “It’s okay, little thing, you’re safe now.”

You break out in heavy tears, causing his heart to bleed thickly. You breathe in Silas’s familiar scent, happy to smell something else than the metallic scent of blood. He holds you firmly, mortified of having you slip away from him again. He searches for something to say to comfort you, tries his best to find the right words, but there’s nothing he can say to erase whatever happened to you. Silas glances towards Tony who is busy looking through the file.  He wants to do something, something much worse than what that man did to you, but he won’t let you see anymore horrors. 

“What did he do to you?” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me.”

“He forced me to watch videos of people … o-of people …” 

You can’t repeat it, but you don’t have to. Silas understands.

“Did he touch you?” he whispers, trying his best to stay calm. 

You shake your head without lifting your head out of his chest. He breathes out in relief.

“SIC”, he says over his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Bring Y/N out to the car. I don’t want them to see what I am going to do.”

SIC nodded and took you out of Silas’s arms. His grip on you is softer than you’ve ever felt him be before. SIC walks out to the black car with you. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks and sits you don in the backseat. 

“More nauseous”, you admit quietly. 

“Perfect, then you can drink some juice.”

He opens a bottle of sugary apple juice and gives it to you. You hold it in your hands, contemplating. 

“I’m bruised”, you mumble. “What will Silas say?”

“I thought that you said that they didn’t hurt you?” SIC asks. “Did you lie to him?”

“I fought back when they dragged me around. Silas won’t like it.”

“He’s not mad at you, Y/N. He’s pissed at himself. I will cover all the mirrors for you, if you prefer that.”

“Thank you.”

“Now sit here and wait for Silas to come back. Drink your juice.”

Silas pulls up a gun from his pocket. 

“We said no weapons!” Tony reminds him. 

“You broke the rules by taking my husband/wife”, Silas smiles. “I’m just making it even.”

He’s quick to shoot the two men he had brought with him. They fall down dead beside him, their bodies leaking blood onto the stone floor. Tony’s terrified. Silas drinks it in. He gives the gun to his remaining man. 

“I’m not going to shoot you”, he says and removes his coat, rolling up his sleeves. “I want to feel you die under my hands.”

He runs forward and throws himself over him. Tony’s knocked to the ground. He tries fighting back, but Silas’s anger makes him quicker, stronger. He sees your distraught face in front of him for every punch and wishes that he could kill him over and over again. How could he hurt you? An angel? Silas grabs his head in his hands and slams it into the stone floor, over and over again, until the man’s head shatters. 

“Done”, he breathes out and stumbles away from them. 

He grabs the yellow file and walks out to the car, wiping his hands with his handkerchief on the way. SIC looks at him, eyes asking if it’s time. Silas nods. SIC switches places with Silas and hurries into the warehouse. 

“Hi, baby”, Silas smiles and hugs you. “How are you feeling? Did he make you drink some juice?”

“I’m not feeling like drinking juice”, you say. “But I appreciate it … i’m sorry, Silas.”

His eyes glow with worry. “Why are you sorry?”

“I should have been stronger.”

“You are so incredibly strong, my darling, don’t say that!”

“I tried to fight back.”

“I’m so proud of you. You’re safe now. I’m here now and you don’t have to fight anymore. I have already done that for you.”

“Is he dead?”

“Like a mammoth.”

Silas cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead softly. 

“This is my fault”, he says. “And I will do everything to make things better. I shouldn’t have left you in the car. I shouldn’t have brought you at all. The car has been upgraded, no one will ever manage to break in again. Not that I will ever leave you alone in it again, but …”

He takes your hand in his and lifts it to his lips, kissing desperately. He’s never felt a guilt this strong before. It’s a piercing feeling cutting through his heart. You have a long road to go to feel better, and he will stay with you every step of the way.

“I hate to see you upset … tell me what I can do to make you feel better”, he pleads and hugs your hand. “I will give you anything you want. Nothing is too much. I will buy you anything. I will take you wherever you want to go. Do you want to meet your parents? We can go there, I’m serious.”

“I just want to sleep”, you sob and shake your head. “I can’t think …”

You want to escape this living nightmare in hopes of finding it easier in dreamland. Silas nodded and scooched in beside you, hugging you to his body. 

“Just sleep”, he says softly. “Sleep on my shoulder. I’m right beside you.”

“I’m safe with you … aren’t I?”

“As safe as you can be.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. Just rest. I love you. I’m so sorry for this. I will take care of you, whatever you need, I’ll get you.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes slowly. He holds his muscular arm around your shoulders to keep you close and wraps his coat around the two of you. His lips never leaves your face as he fights back tears. It grows like a bowling ball in his throat, but he refuses to cry. you are safe and that filth is dead, he tells himself. It’s all over, but his rage is still ravenous. 

SIC walks into the warehouse and takes a quick look at the three dead bodies on the floor, in pools of their own blood. He walks over to the most gruesome one, not needing to see his clothes to know that it’s Tony. His broken skull is enough. SIC takes out a cylinder out of his blazer, a stick of dynamite he’s been waiting for years to use. He lights it and places it in Tony’s mouth before hurrying out of the warehouse. He hears the explosion behind him and smiles. 

“Is it done?” Silas asks as he returns. 

“Let’s say that he’s a hard puzzle now”, SIC laughs. “A thousand pieces isn’t enough to describe how many pieces I blew him into.”

“Thank you, SIC.”

“Of course. The one that messes with Y/N messes with you, and in turn with me. I told you that I would do whatever you wanted.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care of Y/N now. I will clean up.”

Silas nods and hugs you closer. You cling onto him.

“Thank you”, you whisper and meet SIC’s eyes. 

“Of course”, he replies and closes the car door. 

Silas hugs you and kisses your forehead. He has only two people in this world he cares about, and he will kill anyone that dares to come close to either of them.

[spiderb00]

ONLY MINE

Sophia Laforteza x reader 

“the only thing that made the party interesting for Sophia, was you” 

Genre – fluff    Warnings – none  (Request)

Now playing – Drinks or coffee, by ROSÉ 

The party was on fire, loud music could be heard from afar, and people were dancing and drinking like crazy. With all the responsibilities weighing on her shoulders, Sophia had never been to a party again, but when her friends stepped up and threw an insane birthday/new year's party for her, Sophia couldn't say no.  

Leaving the duties of leader for one night, all the Filipina wanted to do was have fun, she greeted everyone who was in her field of vision, hoping that each person she passed was a specific person. To tell you the truth, Sophia liked all people, but at that moment, she only wanted you.   

You and Sophia studied together, when you both finished high school, Filipina went after her dreams, and you went after yours. When you met in Los Angeles, Sophia couldn't believe she was seeing you in front of her again. Talking to you, she found out that you followed your dream in music, and now you were simply Olivia Rodrigo's newest guitarist.   

You came closer again, and it was as if nothing had changed. You were still the same clumsy nerd as always, while Sophia was still that focused and confident woman, as she always was. Sophia knew that you were not very fond of parties, preferring the company of musical instruments to anyone else. But she thought for her birthday it would be different, and you'd swallow the shame and social anxiety for her.   

Sophia's friends spoke to her, they said that you would possibly not show up, not wanting to let the Filipina create false expectations. For a second, Sophia even wanted to believe it, but she couldn't, something inside her created hope that you would appear in the crowd, just because of her.   

When you parked your car in front of the house where the party was taking place, you immediately saw several drunk people, having fun, some arguing and couples making out. When you entered the house, you could hear sighs and whispers, people were talking about you.   

Tonight, you were feeling more confident, your head screaming that Sophia's birthday was too special an occasion for you to wear only sweatshirts. With that in mind, you wore a different outfit, still thinking about comfort, you just changed your hoodie for a black tank top, putting on jeans, your favorite sneakers and some accessories. The tattoos on your arm drew attention, and it was the first time people noticed you and your body.   

Quickly walking past the people and trying to get rid of the stares everyone was giving you, you finally got close to Sophia. The Filipina also looked at you with a look that was hard to decipher, and for a moment you wondered if you should have really come to this party.   

"Happy birthday, Laforteza!" You said, reaching over and making the shorter woman pull you into a tight hug.   

"I thought you wouldn't come." The black-haired woman said, her face buried in your neck.   

"Hey." You walked away, holding both of Sophia's hands. "I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything." Leaning in, you gave Sophia a kiss on the forehead.   

Sophia enjoyed the moment with you before being interrupted by one of your friends, the man quickly approaching and stopping next to you.   

"Wow, YN..." He looked you up and down. "I've never seen you so hot! You're getting everyone's attention at the party."   

When he said that, something clicked in Sophia's head, looking around, she saw that it was true, you had caught the attention of the whole party, and now, half the girls there were looking at you in a way that Sophia didn't like at all.   

"Sophia, who is your kitty friend?" One of Sophia's friends asked, getting close to more of you, according to Sophia.   

"Oh, that's Yn. We went to high school together." Sophia says, coming closer to you and grabbing your biceps, to keep a distance between you and the girl.   

"Well, they always say that the pretty ones end up in Los Angeles." Sophia's friend said, winking at you and bringing the bottle of beer to her mouth. "So, Yn. Are you with anyone?"   

"Oh, I-"  

Before you could answer, Sophia stepped in front, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away, only telling the woman who was trying to flirt with you that she would be back soon. Entering one of the rooms of the house, Sophia finally let go of your wrist, practically throwing her way in as she closed and locked the door.   

"Sophia, are you okay?" You asked, genuinely concerned about the Filipino's strange attitude.   

"I should ask you that, I mean, she was flirting with you shamelessly!" Sophia said, running her hands through her hair. It was as if the Filipina was nervous about something you didn't know.  

 "Oh, I didn't know she was flirting with me..." You say, looking at Sophia afterwards. "Does she have a girlfriend?" Sophia's eyes seem to turn red when you ask this question.  

"Why do you want to know? Are you interested in her?" Sophia asks, by her tone of voice, if someone from the outside saw the two of you, they would be sure you were a couple of girlfriends fighting.    

"No. But the way you're talking, it sounds like she was doing something very wrong in flirting with me..." You said, waiting for a response from the Filipina.   

"She wasn't doing anything wrong." Sophia said, her voice getting lower and lower. "I just got jealous." Sophia said, raising her head and looking in your direction.   

A little surprised by the words of the woman in front of you, you pointed to yourself, wanting to confirm that you had heard it right.   

"You." Your finger pointed toward Sophia. "You're jealous" You continued. "Of me?!" Pointing to your chest you saw Sophia shake her head in confirmation.   

You swore you would faint, your crush has always been saying that he was jealous of a girl flirting with you.   

"I like you, Yn." Sophia said, coming closer to you and making your heart race. "Do you like me?"   

Sophia had pithy eyes, she moved the back of your neck, caressing your hair. When you nodded, Sophia tilted her head to the left.   

"Use words, baby..." Sophia said, her lower lip protruding forward, pouting.   

"I like you too, Sophia." You said, putting your hands on her waist awkwardly.   

"Good girl."  

It was the only thing Sophia said before connecting her lips with yours. The kiss made you feel like you were in free fall, electricity passing through the bodies of the two of you. Sophia's lips were soft and you wanted to kiss her for the rest of your life. 

Slowly moving away, Sophia left small kisses on your lips, until she moved away completely and admired your dirty mouth with her lipstick and lip gloss.   

"Only mine." 

Hello guys, I wanted to post something for Sophia's birthday, and since I was already writing this request, so here it is.

I haven't reviewed it yet, but I think I'll do it tomorrow. Sorry if I have typos, I'm sleepy and a little drunk.

HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS

xoxo, spider.

[demonic0angel]

hasn't slept in a week dead tired Jason knocking on his neighbors door: hey Jazz would you mind watching Robin and Superboy for me so I can sleep? *holds out a scruffed Damian and Jon very much in civis* Thanks, I'll be back in an hour *stumbles back to his place*

Jon and Damian: 😮 Watch who? Who did he say you have to watch

“… we’re not Superboy or Robin,” Jon said nervously.

Jazz just blinked. Then she nodded slowly and said, “Yes. I would guess not, since you two don’t have flying powers, right?”

“Us two?” Damian said, very tense.

Jazz nodded and shrugged. “Yes. Since Robin and Superboy can both fly, right? I’ve never seen them in person, so I have no idea.”

Damian and Jon shared a look and then nodded at her, clearly not wanting to push it. Jazz just smiled idly and said, “Well, I can’t watch over you two here, so how about I take you to Arkham Asylum?”

“…you’re taking us to Arkham? Arkham Asylum?” Damian said, sounding appalled.

Jazz blinked and nodded. “I still have work. Would you two like to come with me to tour? I don’t have any meetings with any of the more… volatile patients for today. I can bring you around and you two can volunteer and help around.”

Jon looked eagerly at Damian, who glanced at his overexcited friend and then at Jazz. She smiled encouragingly and said with a smile, “I have a gun that I can use to protect you two, and I can fight. If it makes you feel better.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at her and then nodded once. He held Jon’s hand determinedly, which made Jazz’s lips twitch before she smoothed her face over in a flash.

Jazz beamed. “Great! Let’s go!”

————

Jason blinked. “Damn. They’re absolutely knocked out.”

Both Damian and Jon were completely and utterly worn out from the day they had. Usually, at this time, they’d be bouncing and nagging and screaming for patrol or excitement or games, but whatever sacrifice Jazz must’ve killed in order for peace must’ve been extremely valuable and to a very agreeable god.

“What did you do?” Jason asked, in awe.

She giggled and kissed him on the cheek. “Just brought them around. They were so sweet! Although, I do want to tell you that Damian isn’t getting the amount of sleep that he needs for his age, and don’t look at me like that, I know what your nighttime job is, he still needs sleep. You should encourage him by making him associate bedtime with rewards, and I think that’ll make him less grumpy. He was very cute though! And Jon is an absolute sweetheart, I don’t mind watching them again if you’d like.”

Jason just smiled as he picked the two kids up in his arms. “I’ll give your advice to Dick and B. Thanks. Sorry for just dumping them on your doorstep.”

“You’re tired from the case, I get it. I don’t mind, but next time, I’d like a warning, okay?”

“Sure thing, Princess. Thank you again. I’ll cook dinner for us on Thursday?”

She nodded. Then she paused and said, “Also, you called them Robin and Superboy when you brought them here. Did you know that?”

Jason froze and then cursed to himself. “Damn! I knew I was forgetting something. Sorry, Princess, I forgot to tell them that you knew my identity so—”

“Hmm, yes, I figured, since they seemed really wary of me at first. It’s okay though, we had fun in the end and I think they like me a little now.” She giggled and then said, “I have to get back to my papers, but I’ll see you tonight, dearest!”

With another kiss, she ushered him out the door and waved goodbye before she left.

Jason smiled dreamily after her before bringing the kids to his bike, where he held them carefully as he drove though Gotham streets.

Damian woke up at some point, rubbing his eyes and yawning. At these times, Jason could kind of understand why Dick seemed to think he was the cutest thing in the universe. “Did you have a good rest, sleeping beauty?” He teased.

Damian nodded and said, “Next time Father wants you to babysit, don’t bother. Just bring us to your girlfriend and leave.”

Jason almost swerved. Damian hissed and held onto Jon, who grumbled and nearly knocked Jason off of his bike with his sleepy headbutt. “What! Damn, what the hell did she do for you to like her so much?!”

Damian smirked. “She has guts, smarts, skill, and compassion for the poor and unfortunate. You have chosen well for a sister-in-law and I expect you to marry in less than 3 years, understand?”

Jason looked at him like he was crazy. He appreciated the support, but he was starting to feel like Jazz might’ve replaced his brother with someone else. “… what did you three do all day?”

Damian smiled with all of his teeth. “She brought us to Arkham Asylum to shadow her work and then she defended us when one of the inmates broke out. She can perform a magnificent takedown with no hands.“

Jon also spoke up, blinking sleepy eyes, “She also let us meet Killer Croc! And we also met Poison Ivy! It was cool!”

“You should also tell her the truth at some point. We told her that you have horrific, delusional dreams because you can’t sleep and that’s why you lied about our identities.”

Jason just stared.

Yeah, that last part was definitely the usual Damian.

[jjenthusee]

Enthusiasm

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the most intimidating can be the most tender.

A/N: HAPPYYY NEW YEAR i give u soft Jason 😌 i’ve been on and off (so sorry about that) but im excited to see what stories will be posted to this account this upcoming year :D so much has happened to end December, but i powered through and i wanted to finish something that was sitting in my drafts. so please ENJOY :) comment if you’re comfortable, reblog if you like the story, and have some flowers 💐

Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, i just wanna kiss his beautiful face fr, reader and jason are in competition of who can out fluff the other

Word Count: 2.5k

previous work linked here

The smell was strong.

Gunpowder and soaked clothes. Jason felt like a wet dog coming home with his tail between his legs. Holding onto the door frames, trying to not bump into the walls.

He had hoped the rain would have washed away most of the blood and burnt smell that radiated from his skin, but no matter how much he tried to rub it off, it was still there. Lingering after his every step, after every breath he took.

Each step into your apartment felt like he was contaminating more of the air, that he was diminishing the warmth you exuded so effortlessly.

His fingertips burned as he tried to grab a dry shirt and some sweats to change into, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

His mind raced and raced as he couldn’t focus enough to grab a single hanger in the closet. He already felt like he was standing underneath a beacon of light from the single bulb illuminating the entire closet and he couldn’t afford to wake you up now, you might smell him and you would find him disgusting until he would beg and beg that he could strip all the smell away.

Jason felt dizzy at the thought of you leaving. He had imagined many scenarios, all kinds of ways you would be gone. Tortured, kidnapped, or you simply walking out the door as he watched because you didn’t want to love him anymore.

It sickened him. A kind of bile that stuck to his throat when he tortured himself with the thought of you leaving him. He rubbed his face, feeling his calloused hands scratch against his skin as he tried to rub more of the smell away.

He could imagine the sound of your voice, screaming his name in fear or even quietly fading as you faded from his arms.

Sometimes the hallucinations felt so real, like you actually left until he found you at home. Living your life, perfectly fine.

“—on. Jason.”

He instinctively grabbed the knife from his utility belt, so quickly and efficiently that it felt like breathing for Jason.

He was still dizzy, but parts of your face were slowly focusing through his lashes, readjusting until your entire face was clear in his vision. He saw your wide eyes, opened because of the suddenness of him aiming a knife to your neck, but what made him feel even more sick to his stomach was the worried look on your face despite the survival instinct overpowering his brain.

It screamed how much you cared about him. The same man that pointed a blade at you.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jason, it’s me. I’m right here.” You stood still. Watching the intense adrenaline rush from Jason. It had been a while since you’ve seen him escalate this badly.

“No, no. I‘m—you’re not real.” He pleaded, talking more to himself than at you.

“You’re home. You’re back home.” You tried to reach out with your words, giving him something to metaphorically grab onto.

“Please go away.”

Your heart pinched at his broken words.

“Everything is okay. I’m okay. I am right here.” You repeated.

As adamant as Jason was about stopping his hallucination, he couldn’t raise his voice. He was quietly whispering his pleas as you stood at arms length, confusing his reality and mental images. You didn’t waver to call out to him because he felt more wary of you than you did of him.

The blade he held to you was something he hadn’t done before and as frightened as you were in that moment, you stayed calm. Not for yourself, but from how much he shook and his disheveled appearance, Jason was just scared.

You continued to speak to him, giving him tender reassurances, explaining and truthfully telling him how safe he was and how he could relax from the anxiety plaguing him.

Jason’s eyes were relaxing as he listened to your voice, his muscles were loosening his grip from the blade the more in tune he felt with reality, and he suddenly felt all the exhaustion weigh on him. His knife felt so heavy. Every second he was growing more tired as he realized he was safe enough to finally let it go, so he threw it to the side.

The blade bounced to the floor, reflecting and shining the light from the closet back into the dark bedroom.

You took a deep breath watching the blade leave Jason’s hand, then you looked back to him, seeing his soaked hair stick to his face. His armor caked with dirt and blood blending into the fabric.

As much as you wanted to call Alfred, Jason was in no condition to see another person right now.

As you analyzed him, you saw, physically, how much the night had roughed him up. Jason’s hands were limp at his side, his head hung to your feet as you stepped closer to him, testing how close he was willing to let you get.

“Jay? You’re still in your armor, we need to get you out of your soaked clothes.” You gently spoke.

He said nothing to you, focusing on pacing his breaths in a way that didn’t cause him more anxiety. He kept his eyes closed.

“Do you need my help? I can help, but if you want to do it yourself—“

He grabbed one of your fingers, his frozen hand stinging your warm one that absorbed the heat from your blankets not too long ago. His large hand held onto your singular finger, feeling your smooth skin, trying to sink into the soothing feeling of physical touch.

You patiently waited, letting him go at his own pace to grasp that he was safe enough to ask for this much from you.

“I’m glad you made it home.” You spoke. Feeling Jason’s skin trace your knuckles and veins in your hand like he was memorizing and analyzing the living being he cared so much for.

As he continued his small rubs, he eased his touch to a feather light hover over your arm. Feeling up to press his thumb underneath the fabric of your shirt sleeve, mentally talking to himself about the feel of the fabric and its color.

You let him ground himself, taking note of how still you kept your body. All control was in Jason’s hands like a puppeteer over your entire self. He wanted to scream out to himself that he was selfishly touching you, but he was walking a very thin line of losing his mind any second and the feel of you was keeping him focused on something other than his racing head.

He was so tired that he grasp his hand onto your shoulder to gently pull you toward him, resting his head into your hair, smelling how familiar you were.

He thought you smelt so much better than the gunpowder and burning flesh from his body.

He rested his hand behind your back, slowly feeling up to cusp behind your neck, letting his fingers settle onto your pulse. Counting the thumps and feeling the repeated rhythm he memorized numerous times to fall asleep to.

Jason brought you in closer, matching his breaths to yours because if he felt like passing out, he reasoned to himself that it should be completely because he wanted to be one with you.

You settled your forehead onto his neck, taking a deep breath into his skin.

Jason flinched, feeling his skin tingle to your warm breath exhaling to his hair. He hummed before he was about to pull away from you, remembering his stench.

“I’m sorry, I…stink.” Jason apologized, fighting against himself to release you, but also grip you harder.

You pulled him back to you by his neck and arm, leaning his damp hair onto your head.

“You don’t need to apologize. Besides, I love your smell. I think I stink ‘cause I haven’t showered ever since I got back from work.” You lazily smiled up at Jason, appreciating that he was talking to you.

“You don’t smell.” He emphasized, whispering his sincerity into the small space between your bodies.

“I was sweating a lot today, so we can be stinky together if that’s what you’re worried about.” You comforted him, reaching up to cusp his cheeks. Soothing the redness on his face from his harsh rubs. “We can wash up together if you want to. It’s also okay if you want to do it by yourself. I’m always open to what you tell me, no matter what I’ll be right here until you let me know.”

Jason felt the ease in his shoulders, the voice in his head calming. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was a little quieter when you were speaking so gently to him.

“Can we wash up together?” He asked into your palm, rubbing his nose into your warm hand.

“Of course we can. I can get the water ready while you get out of your gear.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed into your touch.

“I won’t make the water too hot. I also got a new shampoo yesterday and I haven’t used it yet, so we can smell like eucalyptus together.” You could feel Jason’s frozen nose on your hands. “Hon, you’re freezing.”

Your worries were unanswered, leaving you to only furrow your brow at the man in front of you. Jason could only look up from your hands, clearly having nothing to say, but patiently waiting for you to give in to his tender gaze.

He knew you would give in, you always did and he wanted to use it to his advantage to not speak about his night.

He removed his gloves and you heard the slightly damp fabric being pulled from his fingers. With free hands, Jason reached out to rub off the furrowed look on your face, in attempt to cover his tired appearance.

“You’re lucky I’m going to be nice about this. I was about one call away to summoning Alfred or I would’ve drove your motorcycle all the way there if I had to.”

Jason chuckled as he kept kneading the line between your eyebrows. Listening to your stubborn worries that felt like music to his ears as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Threatening me now?” Jason asked. Amused, but willing to listen to your voice continuously. The way his voice teased you made your heart tingle, enough to distract you for a moment to look at the way his hair fell onto his face. His features were carved by wavy hair, elegantly placed hair strands that made you waver between frustrated and enamored, but unable to stop your heartfelt lecture.

“Maybe you can distract me, but Alfred is too experienced to even consider hesitating with you.” You tried to go move your eyebrows in defiance against Jason’s thumb, not backing down just yet. “I was about to haul you on my shoulders and dump you onto the back of your motorcycle. I didn’t go through all those lessons with you to not use it against you.“

“I knew it, you were always too excited to take it out for a drive. Can’t believe my own student was actually plotting against me all along.” Jason held onto your face, shaking his head as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

“It’s called “enthusiasm,” Jason.” You started to feel for the zippers of his jacket, moving your fingers against the leather as you slowly took it off his shoulders, carefully watching his body language to ensure you weren’t making him uncomfortable.

“Enthusiasm.” Jason repeated. In the same tone you always swooned at, hearing the familiar low roughness in his voice that was only reserved for you. A dangerous combo as he touched your face so affectionately, you could feel your face heat in the dim closet light. “I know all about enthusiasm.”

He leaned in to slightly peck your bottom lip, feeling his own lips barely touch yours. He felt how dry his lips were, but yours were soft enough to drown out his other worries and insecurities. Enough to feel the intimacy, but not enough to solidify something more.

You smiled, clearly won over by Jason’s charm. In one swoop you pulled the jacket off Jason, leaving him in his usual patrol skintight top with his emblem reflecting what little light was in the room.

You couldn’t imagine the fear that red bat symbol brought to the bad people lingering at night, realizing the bad shit they brought on themselves because that emblem was the last thing they would remember.

But you always liked what was beneath it, what it tried to protect. The part of Jason that he relentlessly tried to hide and you had the patience to slowly unveil every bit of it.

“Save that enthusiasm because we might not be able to wash up if you kiss me one more time.” You rubbed your hands into the back of his neck, feeling the tense muscles and wanting to help him relax for a bit with some warm water and rubbing some shampoo into his hair to hopefully allow him to sleep a little tonight. “Clean your gear in the morning, I wanna warm up with a shower and you can help me dry my hair.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed as he kept rubbing your lips with his thumb. You felt accomplished as you felt his hands slowly warming from your physical touch.

“I’ll get us some fresh towels. Grab the new shampoo after you remove your gear.” You released yourself from Jason and made your way to the bathroom. “It should be in the bag by the bed. I forgot to take it out.”

With some soreness, Jason removed his utility belt and picked up the thrown knife to safely secure it back in its place. He felt the weight in his eyelids as he made his way to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on.

When he pushed the door open silently, he watched the way you moved. Adjusting the heat of the water, placing freshly dried towels on the counter, and the way you were so perfectly domestic.

Jason didn’t want to disturb you, soothing himself to the sight of you after he exhausted himself from the repeated torture his mind put himself through.

When you looked back, the look you gave him almost made him melt to the tile floor. That it was unreal he was allowed this.

You pulled him into the bathroom, much like the other ways you introduced him to various simplicities he started to enjoy in his life.

He didn’t want to admit it to you, in case you would be offended, but he cherished how mundane you were. That he could feel as close to ordinary next to you. That the scars that littered him weren’t going to drive you away.

Piece by piece, clothing were removed from the two of you. It was comfortable to bare yourself, to share this intimate experience of bathing together. Washing and holding each other under warm water. Massaging and lathering soap.

The steam was filling the bathroom, slight humidity relaxing your skin and your shared scent radiating off each other.

The night was turning into dawn, but you dried each others hair. You gently laid into the bed to slowly rub at Jason’s head, easing him and yourself into another slumber.

[thef1diary]

Thinking about ghost!max teasing and edging tf out of reader (im talking vibrators, fingers, his mouth… the whole 9 yards) while she tries to get ready for a NYE party… he has her panting and crying for a release he will ONLY give her if she stays home… essentially he wants reader to ring in the new years with his cock burried deep in her pussy.

Anyways whore house hours while at work 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

-❄️

— hi nonnie!! So glad to see you back in my inbox <3 whore house is open 24/7 🤭 this is sooo ghost!max, but how dare you even think of leaving him alone on nye of all days? 18+ content below

The short black dress clung to your body like a second skin, paired with shimmering gold heels that sparkled in the soft glow of your vanity lights. New Year’s Eve promised glamour, champagne, and laughter. You were almost ready—almost—if only Max wasn’t tormenting you.

The vibrator tucked into your panties buzzed mercilessly against your clit, its rhythm relentless yet carefully orchestrated to pull you back from the edge every time you got too close. A familiar cool draft curled around you, despite the lack of an open window, sending a chill down your spine.

“Max,” you hissed, gripping the vanity’s edge as your reflection blurred in the soft glow. “Stop playing games.”

Nearby, the spirit box on your dresser crackled to life, faint static filling the room before his voice filtered through. “Stop playing games?” The box repeated his words in fragmented bursts, mocking your plea as his shadowy presence sharpened behind you in the mirror. “Why would I stop when you’re this perfect? A trembling, desperate little mess for me.”

You could barely see him—just a faint, smoky outline, more suggestion than substance. Yet his touch was undeniable as cold fingers trailed down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Two fingers slid in your pussy, curling against that sensitive spot inside. You gasped, your knees buckling as his invisible hand held you steady, keeping you pressed against the vanity.

Your constant moans filled the room as he pumped his fingers inside you, his presence looming, the faint scent of gasoline and something slightly woodsy wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“You’re not leaving tonight,” he murmured through the spirit box, the sound enough to make you shiver. “Not when you should be here, screaming my name into the new year.”

Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, only amplifying the torment of the vibrator on your clit causing slick arousal to pool in your panties. You were teetering on the brink, your pussy clenching desperately around his fingers, your moans growing louder as release hovered just within reach.

But just as you were about to reach your orgasm, his fingers stilled, his voice from the spirit box cutting through the haze. “Not yet.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling, and as he slid your panties down your legs, the buzz of the vibrator moved away with an almost mocking finality. “Max,” you groaned, but he only chuckled, the sound resonating around the room like a ripple of cold air.

Before you could protest further, he dropped to his knees, his outline barely visible in the faint glow of the vanity light. His mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue cold but relentless as it worked you over. The spirit box crackled again, his voice threading through the air in between the sounds of your desperate moans.

“Stay home,” he whispered, interspersed with static. “Let me fuck you.”

His hands—more firm and defined than his ghostly form—gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue licked and sucked in a rhythm that had you sobbing. Your fingers scrambled on the vanity, searching for a way to ground yourself, your nails scraping against the polished surface as your knees threatened to give out.

“Say it,” he growled against your folds. The vibration of his voice hit your pussy yet the sound came from the spirit box, sending jolts of pleasure and slight confusion straight through you. “Say you’ll stay.”

“I—I can’t,” you stammered, your resolve crumbling with every flick of his tongue.

He pulled away just long enough to speak, and you could make out an outline of his form looking up at you from between your legs. “Then you’ll be starting the new year with a punishment. You don’t want that do you, schatje?”

When his mouth descended on your cunt again, it was too much. You broke, sobbing out your surrender. “Fine! I’ll stay! Please, Max, I’ll stay!”

A satisfied moan echoed through the spirit box, and his shadowy form rose behind you, pressing you against the vanity as he guided you to bend over. You barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed into you, stretching you to the hilt in one slow, deliberate thrust.

Soon, it was nearing midnight, and he had you exactly where he wanted—pliant, desperate, and utterly ruined. The once-neat dress you’d planned to wear to the party was crumpled somewhere on the floor, forgotten hours ago when he’d pushed you down onto the bed.

Your loud, almost pornographic moans blended with the rhythmic sounds of skin meeting skin, the slick slide of his cock driving into you while he had finally let you to cum over and over again.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned, his faint outline shifting above you as he kissed down your neck. “So fucking perfect when you’re like this. All mine.”

You whimpered as he thrust into you harder, deeper, his cock hitting that devastating spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. The spirit box in the corner crackled again, faint words lost in static, a hauntingly intimate sound that only heightened your arousal.

When the chime of midnight echoed through the room, paired with fireworks happening outside your house, Max gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts quickening. “Cum for me,” he commanded, his voice a growl of pure possession. “Now, schat. Scream my name.”

Your body obeyed, the orgasm ripping through you with high intensity. You screamed his name, your voice hoarse and raw as he continued to move inside you, drawing out every wave of pleasure.

As the last aftershocks left you trembling, Max leaned down, his lips brushing your ear in a ghostly kiss.

“Happy new year,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His presence lingered, a cold yet comforting press against your skin as you lay there, completely undone.

This year, you thought hazily, you wouldn’t need a resolution. You already had everything you wanted right here.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[copilot-crashout]

Anyway, I wanted to ask how the tulpar crew would react to reader style. Is gyaru that includes heavy makeup, long nails , a short skirt, etc? In which, they always think she’s a bitch for her style but is the most sweetest person ever? Please and thank you if you have the time!!

Pairing: Tulpar crew x fem!reader

Content Warning: Jimmy's part has brief mentions of misogynistic ideology and language. ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; )

[A/N]: This was a really fun ask. Thank you! o(≧▽≦)o I like your pfp also, I love ALNST!! Happy New Year to everyone reading!

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> As a kid, the first lesson he was taught was to never judge a book by its cover. No matter how extravagant it was. The same applies to you, and he's so thankful for it.

-> If you ever want to take pictures of your outfits, he'll be the best cameraman ever. He'll tell you where to stand and take multiple pictures before returning your phone. He'll take them from different angles, asking you to move slightly to get better lighting. Back home, he'll steal your phone, sending himself all the photos he had taken as keepsakes, grinning like a fool. Yeah, he really is lucky to have you.

-> Definitely buys you clothing to match your style! He wants to support your hobbies as much as he can, noting what he sees you wearing the most often! Takes you out on dates to try and find different pieces for both of you. He has you sitting outside his dressing room before stepping out in a simple low-cut shirt and khaki pants you swore he had at home. He does a little spin, walking slightly to test the fit of his trousers before he faces you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"What do you think, honey? You're the fashionista out of the two of us."

-> Bless his heart, the man really is clueless. He'd be happy to learn from you, though! Ask to dress him up in a similar style and he's hesitant. He's comfortable with what he knows. He'd much rather spend it on you, to see you smile in those gorgeous outfits.

DAISUKE:

-> He thinks it's so cool! He's not one to judge right off the bat, especially as to someone's style. However, his mood dampers once he's aware not everyone thinks like that. He hears the curt answers people give you, the whispers behind your back and the harsh stares he quickly returns when you're not looking. You're not scary at all! How come he's the only one to see that?

-> He'll take you outfit shopping but it's more for him! He rocks with the cardigans you wear so hard. He starts looking around for different styles that he might like. Daisuke loves the way you're dressed and wants to seem as cool as you did when you first met. He leans to more colourful outfits, saving different fit inspirations that he scrolls past on Instagram. He's inspired by those accounts that post couple fits, wanting to do the same with your style.

"This is cute but it looks waaayyy better on you!"

-> He's swapping accessories with you! Daisuke steals some of your hairclips and you snatch his jewellery to wear with your fits. His heart wells up with pride when he sees you wearing something of his. He must've done a good job picking it out. Daisuke kicks his feet and giggles whenever you compliment him on his outfits. You? Of all people!? Like his outfit!?! He's hit the jackpot!

ANYA:

-> Initially, Anya is intimidated. However, it easily melts away at how kind you are! Instead, she's quickly charmed by your confidence to wear gyaru fashion when it's not very conventional.

-> Supports it fully! She does extensive research into the subculture. Dedicates her time to learning about the different types of Gyaru styles and its history - the whole nine yards!

-> She likely won't dress up in that style, but you have inspired her to focus more on fashion. Those socks and sandals may be good for work, but not the best for streetwear style. She doesn't wear extremely alternative outfits but is drawn to simpler and neutral outfits that still scream fashionable.

-> Anya holds onto one of your hairpins when she works! It's a sweet reminder of you and her patients compliment her for it. It's a win-win!

-> While you're preparing for a date with her, she'll walk into the bathroom, observing how you do your make-up and taking note of your routine. Eventually, she builds up the courage to ask if she could do it for you, promising with a grin that it'll look great.

-> You're sitting in the bedroom, nimble hands cupping your face as Anya draws your eyeliner on, tongue sticking out in concentration as she works on keeping it even on both sides. All you can focus on is the proximity between you both, the gentle warmth radiating from her hands. She gently tilts your face as she applies your blush before leaning down and pressing a swift kiss to your glossed lips.

"There. You look gorgeous, starlight. Ready to head off?"

JIMMY:

-> Hates it at first. It's obnoxious, loud, and only makes you look intimidating. Pretty girls like you should be dolled up but only in the way he deems appropriate.

-> He's... Weirdly envious. Not at the clothes you wear (although being able to afford a style like that seems like an unneeded expense) but more so at what it means. You don't care for others' opinions, wearing what you like because it makes you happy. No matter how much he wants to deny it, Jimmy thrives off the opinions of others. He looks like an everyman. The most average man you could conceive of. Not like anyone important. How could you stand out next to him? You look like someone worth remembering and it pisses him off.

-> If you're in a relationship, I could see him warming up to it. He'd still prefer it if you didn't wear it but if it makes you happy... Plus, having a cute girl like you on his arm is certainly an ego booster. He buys you a skirt or two, smirking when you notice its shortness compared to your usual ones.

"What? Don't like it? I thought this sorta thing was up your alleyway? You'd look sexy in it anyway, doll."

SWANSEA:

"This isn't one of those fads, is it?"

-> Swansea can only sigh. This isn't his first rodeo with self-expression. His kids have done it all, including driving him up the wall as they explore their identity through their fashion. It doesn't make him any less confused, unfortunately.

-> It's more... out there than he was expecting. It's not one he's seen before. Rather than researching in his own time, he'd much prefer to get a first-hand account of it all. He asks questions in that fatherly way. It seems like he's judging but he is genuinely curious.

-> He doesn't think he could ever wrap his head around it but that doesn't mean he won't support you. Instead of buying you clothes, he'll pay for your nail appointments, muttering how "you kids are always runnin' me dry."

-> For all his grumbles, seeing you happy is his #1 priority, and the grin on your face when you show him your outfit is enough to make it all worth it.

[kneazle]

Might not be as good as the first part but here's a little more 😊 thank you to everyone who showed it some love 💕

I've tagged people who showed interest under the cut, but let me know if you wanna be removed! (Or added if I write more for this)

Continuation of this post

Tommy breathed heavily and grit his teeth, muscles burning and a sharp pain in his leg that screamed with every movement. He held onto the metal beam, ignoring everything in his body that wanted him to stop and sink. Not while he clutched an eerily quiet Jee to him, not when he felt her trembling and her breath against his neck where she kept her face hidden. 

It took every ounce of strength he had to keep hold of her, to keep her afloat as much as he could. He barely remembered telling her to hold her breath like she does in her swim classes, telling her to hold on. 

He would keep going for Jee. No matter how much his body fought against him.

Around them was silent except for the sounds of the water. No yelling, no screams. Dread filled the pit of Tommy's stomach. Was anyone else alive?

During his stock of everything around them he spotted it, a little ways away was a steady platform sticking out of the water, high enough from the water but not too high he couldn't get Jee on top of it. 

Tommy swallowed hard. "Jee? We're going to get out of the water but I need you to do something for me okay?"

She made a noise against his neck like a whimper but nodded.

"I need you to move yourself to my back okay, like when Uncle Buck gives you piggyback rides, alright? Then I want you to hang on really tight."

Jee was shaking and it wasn't hard to see her tears even with her face wet, but she did as he said. Tommy's heart broke for her, guilt clawing its way up but now wasn't the time. Jee was being brave, much like her parents and Evan, and he would be brave for her. 

"Okay Jee, I'm going to start swimming to get us out of the water to rest, so you need to hold on extra tight."

He waited until her grip tightened. Terror filled him as he swam, that she would lose her grip and he'd lose her, he pushed himself harder. 

Tommy wanted to cry in relief when he reached the platform meaning she was safe from getting swept away by the water or drowning, he wasted no time getting her on top of it. 

It was a struggle to get on, his body exhausted and in pain from going against the rushing water trying to sweep Jee away from him and hold on himself. It wasn't until he laid on top of it catching his breath that he found another reason why his body hurt so much, which logically made more sense then just the water. 

"Uncle Tommy?" Jee's voice was small and trembled. "You're hurt."

Tommy looked down at where she was pointing. His pants were cut in half at the leg, revealing blood and mangled flesh. He winced and breathed in sharply. Fuck.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @klutzygirl @todd-harper @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng

[cameronwillow]

Talk to me

Rafe Cameron x fem reader hurt comfort blurb.

You and Rafe have been dating over six months. But your mental state is preventing him from getting closer to you. And he can’t hold it in.

CW: Angst with comforting ending. Dialogue/actions by reader depicting depression and borderline personality disorder. Drawn from my own feelings and experience. Non graphic descriptions of self inflicted bruises and other things.

Rafe hadn’t dealt with anything like this and it was apparent. He knew of his own suffering, seen it in his father and sisters with his mom’s death. You had been dating for over six months but Rafe still felt like he couldn’t get completely close to you.

As much of an asshole as it made him, Rafe hadn’t been around a woman who wasn’t expressive like others. You pulled back. Became…cold and distant.

It hurt to see you like that. Compared to the moments where you were so full of life, when you smiled or laughed. Rafe was scared to admit he loved you, had fallen for you quickly. It was selfish but he hadn’t told you yet either.

He hadn’t heard from you all day. Rafe constantly checked his phone, paranoid that maybe he’d miss a text message but nothing. He was very worried. You were spiraling. He’d even seen you get so angry that you slammed a glass table and broke it.

Rafe sped to your apartment, broke a speeding law but he didn’t care. He did a barely decent parking job as he let himself in with a key. And the code to the security system because you armed the house like you were in mission impossible.

It was dark and you weren’t in the living room. He called out your name but stopped when he saw the bedroom door cracked.

Rafe saw you in bed, seeing your hair in the midst of messy blankets. It was almost seven pm. And it didn’t look like you left much.

“Baby,” He called out and you stirred. He walked over and sat next to you. His hand gently shaking your shoulder.

You groaned and sat up. Your hair was messy and you rubbed your eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry have you been here long?”

“Nah, just got here. You haven’t answered me. Have you been asleep all day?” Rafe didn’t intend on sounding angry but it came out. You bristled and put your hair up.

“Mostly yes. I’m sorry. I was so tired. Even now I could sleep.”

“Well sorry to disrupt you. You couldn’t pick up the phone just once and tell me?” Rafe crossed his arms and he was shocked when you rolled your eyes.

“God, Rafe, for one day I’m too tired and you’re biting my head off. I wasn’t ignoring you, I was asleep.”

“You’re just rotting away lately. All you’ve been doing this week has been-less than normal. You barely eat when I take you out and I’m pretty sure that’s the only time you even do. You’re pushing me away and I don’t know why.”

“Rafe. I slept today. I didn’t fucking commit a crime. Get off my back.” You snapped at him and got up. Rafe gasped sharply when he saw your exposed skin.

Bruises, scabs and other things he couldn’t see quick enough because you turned away from him. You wore an oversized sweatshirt, long enough to reach your knees and Rafe got up too.

“Why are you covered in bruises?” You swatted his hand but Rafe was stronger and saw the split knuckles on your hand. He gripped your wrist and pulled it closer. His eyes were wide in horror.

Rafe then noticed your dresser. The top drawer was cracked.

“Did you punch that?! Give yourself bloody knuckles? Did you do all this on purpose?” Rafe took your clenched jaw and lack of response as a yes. “God, why the hell would you do this? You do that instead of calling me?”

With a surprising amount of strength, you jerked your arm away and started to walk away. But he was quick to step in front of you.

“no, stop avoiding this! Just talk to me, why won’t you just talk to me? I’m right here!”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You ground out and Rafe sighed in frustration.

“Okay we’ll do it for me-“

“This isn’t fucking about you, Rafe Cameron!” You screamed and Rafe flinched back. You’d never raised your voice in front of him or at him. You looked furious and you were breathing heavily. “I’m. Fucking. Tired. I’m tired of breathing. I’m tired of eating. I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of not feeling at all. And I’m tired of myself. I stay up all night looking at the goddamn ceiling wishing for anyone to take away all this pain and shit memories I live with!” You were so loud that Rafe’s ears hurt but he was silent.

“How am I supposed to call you and say anything when I don’t have the energy to move? How am I supposed to burden you more than you already are? Oh yeah, Rafe I’m gonna call you up and whine, cry and ask you to help me. Are you kidding? No one has ever given me mercy. Any compassion and I’m not gonna put myself in that position ever again. Everything hurts. Everyday hurts. I don’t want to be awake. I don’t want to look at myself.” You took a deep breath as the mask started to come again.

“So, it’s better to just take it out on myself, sleep whenever I’m able to, suck it up and keep moving. And the last thing I need is you yelling at me when I’m just trying to survive!”

Rafe blinked as you trembled with suppressed emotion and he wanted to kick himself. He was such a dick. He felt awful and he wanted to fucking grovel. It was so unbelievably hard to hear you talk like that. And he didn’t know what to say.

He crushed you into a hug, his arms around you fiercely tight. His head leaned against yours and he pressed kisses against your head. You were still.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you just-“ Rafe pulled back and cupped your face. He kissed you, hard and deeply. You made a noise of surprise and he lifted you into his arms.

Rafe set you down on the bed. He knelt in front of you. He set his hands on your marred skin, as if not concerned at all as you shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m shit at this. Everyone thinks im a fucking idiot and sometimes I am. But I’m sorry. For being an asshole and…” Rafe brought your knuckles up and kissed the skin. “I’m gonna get you patched up. I’ve had to do it myself a fair amount. Princess, I love you. And I want to be here. I don’t want you to push me away.”

His sincerity moved you and you gave him a small smile. “I love you too.” Rafe enjoyed it for a second and cupped the back of your head.

“Cmon, baby. Let’s get you at least…physically okay and then we’ll go from there, alright?”

Tagging @bloodibambiidoll @cxrrodedcoffin @sturnioloshacker @starkeysbabygirl @evansroses @marchsfreakshow @stillwjk-channie-lixie @rafesheaven @rafeyscurtainbangs @redhead1180 @oceanblvd111 @oceandriveab

[jakedustry]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 - 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐍

Jeonghan x fem!reader

in which Jeonghan screams trouble every time you look at him, you knew that from the start. Still, you let yourself fall for him, and now you regret it as you watch him kiss a different woman on the New Year's party you both attended. Thankfully, New Year means new chance, and Jeonghan will do anything to prove you how much he cares about you.

wc 2.5k

warnings SMUT, fwb, Jeonghan kissed another girl (not on the lips), they are drunk but it's not implied much, arguing, missionary, unprotected sex, pull-out method, hickeys/marks, hair pulling (his hair), oral (f. receiving), fingering, petnames, praise, lmk if I missed anything!

↪ izzy adds... okay, I know it's already the second day of 2025 but I wanted to write a new year's special for seventeen too and had no time until now. But!! It's here now!! Not proofread!

It takes you a moment before you can breathe again, the smell of alcohol around you making you dizzy. You’re not sure how much you had so far, but honestly, you are more worried about your friends, who are currently doing another round of shots. You frown only at the thought of the taste of vodka on your tongue. 

“One more! One more! One more!” The chant makes your head hurt. You squeeze your eyes shut before looking around the room to find an escape. “Hey, are you okay?” The familiar voice makes you sigh, and you turn your head to face him. “Better than ever, so leave me alone.” He frowns when your breath reaches him, and he steps closer to help you stand up from the floor. At this point, someone will step on you. “Come with me, I’ll call you an Uber,” he offers, reaching his hand out to you. You push his hand away, though, scoffing at his sudden nice guy act. “I said I’m okay here,” you repeat, making him sigh. Before you can protest more, his arms wrap around you, and he lifts you up from the floor. “Let go of me, Han,” you protest, but he doesn’t care, letting you stand on your own feet only for him to hold your hand tightly so you wouldn’t run away. 

“Happy?” You ask when you finally step outside, the cold air helping you calm down. “No. Drink this first,” Jeonghan says, handing you a water bottle. You don’t forget to glare at him as you take the bottle from him, but he pays it no attention. “Why are you so mad? I’m just trying to help you out.” His words echo in your ears, the anger in you building up the more he speaks. “Since you’ve made it so clear you have your own life, I’m just trying to live mine too.” — “You’d make it a lot easier for me if you didn’t keep bothering me.” 

“What are you talking about?” He asks confusedly, running his fingers through his hair. “You think I’m that stupid?” Your voice gets louder as you face him again. He knows you want to look strong, and that’s why you’re yelling, but your eyes give you away. You look broken, like you’re about to cry. “I’ve never said that.” 

You groan, irritated by him. “This is not about what you say, but what you do!” You burst out at him, opening your mouth again to yell at him when he only stares back at you confusedly. No words leave your mouth, though, and you’re turning around once more to run away from him. “Explain things further, and don’t just run away,” he grasps your wrist, turning you around again with one swift pull. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You hate how innocent his eyes look. If you hadn’t seen him yourself, you might have even believed him that he never did anything wrong. But you were there, still sober, when it happened: his arms on another woman, his lips on her neck, and her fingers in his hair. You had enough of his bullshit. You weren’t exclusive, so you shouldn’t be feeling like this about seeing him with another woman, but you just couldn’t help it. If he wanted to fuck around, he shouldn’t have ever made you believe he felt something more towards you. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know anything,” you hiss at him, your fingernails digging into your palm to focus your pain onto something else. You don’t want to break down in front of him, but the more you gaze into his eyes, the more you doubt how much longer you can hold your emotions bottled up. 

“But I don’t!” He argues. “What did I do?” He sounds desperate, and you hate that part of you believes him. “Then ask the blond you seemed to be so close to before! I bet she knows!” You yell into his face, trying to get out of his grip. Jeonghan falls silent, unable to say anything in his defense. He doesn’t let go of you, though. He can’t. Your name leaves his lips, and it feels like a knife being ripped out of your chest. 

“No,” you stop him before he can say anything, still trying to shake him off of you. “I don’t want to hear any of your ‘You’re all I care about’ bullshit. You’ve proven I shouldn’t believe a word that comes out of your stupid mouth.” 

His eyes fall, and you watch him bite his bottom lip as he rethinks what he should say. When his eyes meet yours again, you think you’re about to cry. “It’s not how you think it is,” he proclaims, and his lame excuse makes you scoff. “Yeah, because licking someone’s neck can be portrayed in so many ways,” you roll your eyes at him. “Let go of me. I’m done with this, Han.” 

His grip only tightens. “It was a stupid dare Mingyu came up with. It didn’t mean anything. If you had been there, I would have licked your entire body.” You frown at his comment. “No, thanks. I’m done with this,” you repeat your words.

“You can’t–” he tries to talk you out of it, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance. “I can do whatever the fuck I want as far as I’m aware. And I’m sure you can find a different fuck buddy if you really can’t stay without sex for a while.” 

“You know damn well we haven’t been about sex for some time now,” his voice is strong, sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I don’t even know her name, baby. I don’t care about her or any other girl there. This whole time, I kept thinking about what you were doing and if you were okay.” 

“I don’t believe you,” your voice sounds weak compared to his. You have to gulp down as you watch him, doubting your ability to resist him when he is this close to you. 

It’s been half a year since you agreed on this little friends-with-benefits thing with him, and it was great until you started to develop feelings for him. You thought you could push them aside and live your life freely, but your plan fell apart when he started giving you hope, showing up in your apartment after work just to watch a movie with you, taking you out to dinners without any reason, and then, just a week ago, the L bomb that slipped past his lips on accident. 

You thought that was finally your chance at happiness, but he just had to ruin it again tonight. 

“I don’t want to go into the New Year with my heart on you when I don’t know what you’ll do when I turn around and don’t watch you for a bit.” 

“That was a one-time mistake,” he argues, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I don’t want to go into the New Year without you.” 

You hate him. You hate how he makes you feel, but most importantly, you hate how easily you forgive him. 

“Let me make it up to you, prove that you’re the only woman I think about, the only one I am in love with.” Jeonghan had promised himself he wouldn’t ever tell you again unless he knew you felt the same way about him after the first time it managed to escape his lips, but now that he was so close to losing you, he didn’t care about his stupid resolution. He needed you to know he meant those words. 

“I hate you,” you mumble, hitting him in the chest weakly. “I know, I’m the worst,” he nods, his thumb stroking your cheek. “But I want to be the best for you.” Whatever fight your brain and heart were fighting seconds ago stops, and you don’t care anymore what the right decision is. You need him, and you don’t care if he hurts you anymore. 

Your lips crash with his, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer. He finally lets go of your wrist and moves his hand on your waist, giving it a tight squeeze as he keeps you close to himself. “You better mean everything you said,” you warn him, pushing him to the wall behind him before you connect your lips again. He smirks, tugging your hair behind your ear so it won’t get in the way. “Swear on my family,” he mumbles, the taste of your lipstick driving him crazy. “Should we go home?” He offers, a groan escaping his lips when your hips crash with his. “Or should I take you right here?” His hand slides between your bodies, moving down to reach the bottom of your skirt. The grin on his face as his fingers find your clothed clit is insufferable. 

“I’m going to bite your dick off,” you hiss, squirming away from him. You pull away when he doesn’t stop touching you, your finger in the middle of his chest as you glare at him. “What? You were just getting wet,” he smirks as he sees the blush creep up your face. “I swear I will kill you one day,” you promise him, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him off the wall. He stumbles for a second but finds his balance again and sends you a teasing wink before he walks towards the parking lot, already calling an Uber. 

♡⸝⸝ 

The kisses you share when you walk into his apartment are heated, and the taste of everything you’ve drank tonight mixes with the liquor he had. His mouth moves to kiss your collarbone as he kicks the door of his room open, not bothered enough to close it again as he takes you to his bed, the same bed you’ve been a regular in for months now. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, moving down to kiss your right breast through your top. Your breath shakes as your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan. He rolls your top up, and you help him remove it while he cups your boobs in both of his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Only for you,” you moan out, rubbing your thighs together. “Only for me,” he repeats after you, smirking as he licks your right nipple while his left hand takes care of the other one. 

“No one else.” — “No one else,” you agree, nodding as he sucks on your sensitive nipple. “God, Jeonghan,” you moan as his lips move lower, tracing wet kisses on your stomach until he reaches your skirt, slowly pulling it down as he kisses the hem of your panties. It’s embarrassing how wet you are just from that. He hums in response, hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them down with ease. “What does my girl need?” He asks, his tongue sliding between your folds. The feeling of his tongue on your clit makes your head spin, and your fingers find his hair again. He sucks on your clit, his fingers teasing your needy entrance. “Jeong–” your voice breaks as he thrusts two of his fingers into you, and you pull on his hair. 

It wasn’t the first time he had gone down on you like this, but each time, it caught you off guard just like the first time. The praises that leave his lips send a shiver down your spine as he continues making out with your cunt, and you finally know what he meant by making it up to you. He doesn’t budge as you pull on his hair, saying it’s too much for you. He knows not to listen to you at moments like these. 

It’s not much longer that your thighs shake around his head, and you finish on his tongue. He smirks against your pussy, his nose pressed against your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

“Please, Hannie, please,” after your begs, it doesn’t take much longer for him to pull down his pants, his shirt still on. You tug on the material covering his upper body, and he smirks. “My baby wants to see more of me?” He teases, still rubbing slow circles on your clit. You nod, your eyes falling to his soaked fingers. God. 

“Oh?” He taunts, dragging his fingers down to your clenching hole. “I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers, and had it been a different situation, you’d remind him not to get too egoist. But this time, you can’t say anything to him. It’s true. His cock wasn’t even close to touching you, and you had already finished once. It was only a matter of time before he’d take you to your second orgasm. 

“Please,” you cry, and as he takes down his shirt, he positions his tip at your cunt. “Is this what you want?” You nod rapidly, reaching for his hand. He only pushes the tip in as he intertwines his fingers with yours, cooing sweet nothings into your ear. 

He moans as you clench around him, his thrusts slowly becoming steady. Your vision blurs and all you can pay attention to are his moans that fill your ears. You could swear he had the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard. 

The room is loud, your whines mixing with his as they fill up the otherwise quiet place. Each one of his thrusts hits the right spot, and you know that at this point, you’ll cum before he can even get close to his orgasm. “Don’t– ngh,” you grasp his hand when you see him moving it down to your already overstimulated bud of nerves again, stopping him. “‘S too much,” you whine, but it only causes him to smirk. “It’s alright,” he coos, pinning your hands behind your head with his left hand, followed by one harsh thrust of his hips, while his right-hand rubs circles on your clit despite your protests. “You can cum as many—fuck—times you want,” he says, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes watch his cock disappear in your hole. 

His thrusts get harsher after that, and you’re confident you’ll have bruises on your ass in the morning from how his hips slam against you. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your moans in his mouth as your lips connect. “‘M close,” you cry, and he nods. “Just a bit. I’m almost, god, there, too.” 

There are marks all over your neck and shoulders when he pulls out of you, stroking his cock a few more times before he finishes on your stomach. There is a sense of emptiness you feel as his cock leaves you, but you stop thinking about it soon after when he kisses you again. This time, it’s less needy but full of love instead. 

As he falls down next to you, you use up the moment and change your position, sitting on his stomach while he looks up at you. You smirk, leaning down to his collarbone and leaving a hickey there, too. He can’t be the only one marking what’s his.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @liaatiny @bamgeutsz @cherrylovescheol ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

[cinnamanz]

# DARLING, I — chapter forty-four!

when new york city’s widely-known spider-woman's life becomes unknowingly entwined with a member of the rising global girl group katseye, she learns that juggling superhero duties, university, and a sudden crush may or may not just be the downfall of her. but hey, at least she's helping people, right?

OH SHIT

fiddling with a— wait, is that snoopy bouquet? focus, y/n. — manon stood under a tree awkwardly, sending her a sheepish smile and a tense wave as she approached, leaves cracking beneath her soles.

“you’re early.” y/n had murmured, eyes raking over the ghanaian’s outfit casually like it was nothing and didn't cause a zoo to bloom in her stomach, and the other couldn’t guess if it was a good or a bad sign. “a tad too eager to see me, huh?” y/n couldn’t help but tease, slightly easing the tense atmosphere that surrounded the two.

“ah, yeah.” manon replied, lips pressed into a thin line as she had an internal breakdown, inhaling and exhaling deeply to compose her crumbling resolve, practically shoving the snoopy bouquet to y/n’s chest in a flurry of panicked movement. “um, for you. since every time we’d meet, you’d get me flowers. thought i might do it this time.”

y/n’s eyes crinkled into slight crescents at the sight of the plushies squished in the bouquet, a small, amused chuckle ripped from her throat as she ran the pads of her fingers over the soft fabric of the plushie. “that’s cute. thank you.” is this who she’s supposed to be angry at?

manon fights the urge to jump around and scream at the reaction she was given, smile widening as she looks absolutely proud of her gift. “yeah? i saw your um, tweet about wanting a snoopy plushie. so, i thought i’d get it for you.”

“that so?” y/n nods, recalling what tweet the latter meant, humming softly as she shifts on her spot to look for an empty bench, spotting one that was sitting underneath a tree and overlooking the lake. “let’s actually talk about what we’re here for, hm?”

manon followed the taller to the mentioned spot anxiously, going through her plan in her head with furrowed brows, though finding it hard to do so with the woman she was unbelievably attracted to gesturing for her to come sit next to her, a small, welcoming smile plastered on her face despite everything that went down. 

“so?”

“i like you, y/n.” hold on. HOLD ON.

wide eyes and a gasp. and oh shit, this was not how this was supposed to go.

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[professionalranter31]

“Ani?” Padme called out as she and Bail walked into the throne room for the Zygerrian Queen. She had put so much together to be able to tear apart the queen’s slave empire, while still being polite and giving them a seat in the senate. She could faintly hear Jar Jar gasp at Anakin’s current state but she couldn’t really hear much of anything given all the blood rushing through her ears right now.

“Padme!” But of course his voice could cut through the haze. He always had that power, to help center her when she was spiraling, not even needing the force he just talked to her. “Padme I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” He stumbled over his feet as he ran to her and is that a shock collar?

There was a shock collar around her husband’s neck, and small burns around it as well. That’s not right, the only marks that should be there are the hickies she leaves on his neck so she can see him in turtlenecks. “She doesn’t mean anything to me I swear, you’re all that matters to me,” He’s crying. Why is he apologizing, why is he defending himself? Is this what Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and their two legions have been working on since rescuing the Togrutas? Is that why they gave her those looks when she informed them of this meeting?

Queen Miraj pressed and button and the collar activated. Anakin let out a scream, “Remember your place.”

Hate, hate, hate, hate! She hates it all, all of this! Padme took a deep breath, “Bail, call Master Obi-Wan and Padwan Tano down to the surface. Jar Jar, hold this,” She took off her wig and handed it to the Gungan. “Now, hands off my husband you bitch!” She launched herself at the Queen, going right for the eyes. The only one who gets to see Anakin dressed like that is her an no one else!

The funniest (saddest, twisted, concerning) thing ever about that "The Zygerrian arc went different and the Queen didn't die so Padme took matters herself" AU concept, is that Anakin would absolutely panic and act like he just got caught cheating, he would act like in your average sit com "guy got caught cheating".

He would feel all of his blood leaving his head and go onto his feet to start running because he would be like "HONEY, I CAN EXPLAIN, is not what you think, no wait i'm so sorry i'm sorry she's nothing to me I swear"

And everyone else, like, even Miraj are side eying, everyone but Anakin is tremendously aware of The Horrifying Situation, even fucking Jar Jar would be like "Anakin yousaa wearin a damnsa shock collar, what the hell yousaa talking about"

But nope, Anakin is there fighting for his life trying to keep his marriage and insisting it's sacred for him. All while Padme and whoever else she dragged there (is it Bail? Surely it was Bail) are trying to politically slap Miraj.

And then, of course it becomes a fight and Padme is ready for murder because she always is anyways, but Anakin is there still going like "Is not what it looked like", as he's saving Bail from a falling chandelier.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: put your hand on my heart

pairing: micheal townsend x reader

synopsis: you know you’re panicking but you can’t stop it and nothing is helping. the last person you want to see you like this turns out to be your saviour

warnings: panic attack, overwhelming anxiety, dark thoughts

a/n: thanks for reading 🤍🤍

taglist: @inmyheaddd @midiosaamor @lyrakanefanatic @aleatorio1234 @maybe-dj124 @book-nerd-emi @maybxlle @foreverwinter22 @sweetreveriee @hermesenthusiast @shattered-glass-roses @gandergaal @sheisntyou @arias-archive @lila-77 @downrightbooks

Please, please, please. Not again. Not this again. I stumble into the bathroom making sure the door shuts behind me, hastily trying to reach a source of water. My finger shake as I turn on the bathroom tap, they can barely grasp the metal. I wait for the cold water to run before splashing my face three times. It’s meant to be a shock tactic, it’s meant to pull me together, it’s meant to help, but it isn’t doing what it’s meant to, it isn’t doing anything. It never does anything.

I try to swallow but it feels like I’ve forgotten how. It feels like my trachea is slowly constricting, the walls on either side slowly closing in creating a claustrophobe’s nightmare. My throat aches as my mouth fills with saliva that I’m desperate to get rid of. I touch my neck, my fingers scraping against the skin. I want to pry it open. Maybe then I’ll be able to breathe, be able to swallow.

I glance up at myself in the mirror and don’t recognise the girl staring back at me. Her eyes are rimmed with thick black smears, her lips are dry and cracked, there are red streaks of art winding down her neck and her face is a sickly pale colour. I’m but living in the shell of body that used to be mine. The things that made me myself are long gone, a ghost of a whisper living somewhere deep within my veins. I don’t know what parasite has infiltrated my body, all I know is I want it out. I want it gone.

But some things you can never kill, so long as they live in your mind, you’ll never truly be rid of them.

Panic wraps bony fingers around my ankles and yanks me into murky waters, Fear holds my head under and makes sure I can’t scream for help. Is this how you felt mum? Is this how you felt when they drowned you? My lungs burn, scream, beg but I already know I won’t ever get to grace them with oxygen again. My hands and feet are bound with thick rope that cuts deep into my flesh. They tied you up too mum. Why? Did you even fight it? I glance at my captors with pleading eyes, they only laugh. Amused by the emotions that fed them running riot through my soul. Did you look at them like me mum? We always had the same eyes, that’s what everyone said. Did they laugh at you too mum?

I feel my body grow weak, I watch as the world spins and I grow dizzy. I’m lost in a state between life and death, beneath this ocean of panic. My body is still trying to fight for survival even though I want to give up. You never wanted to give up, did you mum? But you had to, they forced you to. Panic gives me one last gift, placing something heavy on my chest. It crushes my rib cage but there’s nothing left in me to cry out. No one would hear anyway, I was underwater. No one heard you, mum. I didn’t hear you either. The weight pushes me down further and further from the surface and slowly, slowly it all grows black. Is this what you saw mum? When your body sunk to the bottom? Were you plunged into the darkness the same way I am?

I’m gasping and spluttering. My chest is in agony, red hot pain prickles over my torso. I want to rip my skin off, claw every inch away with my nails. I throw my sweatshirt over my head so the cotton of my shirt was the only thing touching my upper body. I look back to the stranger in the mirror and prod my face with unfamiliar fingers. The veins under my skin throb, almost like my pulse is so fast it might burst them altogether. Part of me hopes they might, at least I’d be rid of these feelings.

My heart thumps loudly through my ears, each boom more demeaning than the last. It feels like the organ pulsating out of my chest each time it beats. A torturous, monotonous thunderstorm that I can’t avoid.

“I don’t like the thunder,” I tremble in my mother’s arms, clinging to the soft fabric of her shirt as if my life depends on it.

“It can’t hurt you little one,” she whispers, stroking my hair with her tender touch, “but don’t fret, you’re safe, I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’m here.”

I don’t like thunderstorms. I never have. But my mother’s arms aren’t here to be my refuge, all I have are these four bathroom walls.

I try and will myself to cry but there are no tears. My face isn’t damp and my eyes don’t water. They refuse, my mind too stubborn to give me an outlet for my pain. I should be crying, I know I should, it’s unnatural not to, it’s not normal.

But I’m not normal.

I feel the dreaded panic attack me again. It’s like a million tiny bullets are being fired at my body all at once. I can’t avoid a single one, I’m stood in no man’s land. And yet despite being shot so many times, I don’t seem to be able to die. Only writhe in my own agony.

My breathing quickens still, which by now I’d thought might be medically impossible. I wish for Sloane to be here to give me a statistic about breathing or wallabies, I wish for Lia to tell me the lie that I would be okay a thousand times over, I wish for Cassie to hold me until I stop shaking looking at me with her kind eyes, I wish for Dean to help me understand why I’m like this and I wish for Micheal to never, ever see me like this.

My wishes don’t come true. Wishes usually don’t for girls like me.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have control of my own body, of my own mind, thoughts and feelings. They’re constantly hijacked by a stronger power. A power that comes dressed in black hood and carries weapons of destruction. Though he doesn’t always use them, not straight away. He presents them first, the fear of the threat. Then at the moment of his choosing - the middle of the night, when I’m out shopping, the early morning, in the middle of a case - he would use them.

I have become a prisoner to the man in my mind.

He remembers everything. My mother. He knows all. She was kind and smart and funny and passionate and bold. The details I wanted to forget. Her cold dead body, hauled from the bottom of a lake. Blue skin, closed eyes, hair plastered to her forehead. The things I’d left in the past. She used to tell me I could do anything, be anything. That I was something. That I was special. Brighter than the stars. All that I’d blocked out. The killers that I couldn’t find, that I’d failed to find.

Another overbearing wave of panic crashes into me and my legs begin to feel unsure of themselves adopting an unnatural wobble. Sure I might fall, I sink to the floor in a helpless heap of heavy breathing and blurred thoughts. The cold tiles that press against the back of my thighs are the only thing to remind me that I can feel.

I need five things. What can I see? What can I touch? What can I hear? What can I smell? What can I taste?

I pry my eyes back open. I can see the bathroom door, it’s white with a golden handle. Two towels hang on a hook from the back of it. They’ve been recently used and are still a little damp. The smile on my mum’s face.

I can touch the fabric of my shirt. I play with it between my fingers. It’s soft, it’s smooth, it can’t hurt me. Her fingers weaving a braid through my hair.

I can hear my heart. No, I have to hear past it. I strain my ears. Talking, I can hear my friends talking in the room next door. Sloane, Cassie, Lia, Dean and Michael. I can hear Sloane’s voice most immediately, then Lia’s. The words are blurred, a soup of sound, too overwhelmed by the pounding in my chest. The hum of her sweet song, the one she wrote just for my name.

I can smell bleach. It’s strong and sterile. The bathroom has been recently cleaned. Rose water and buttermilk. She always smelt of rose water and buttermilk. As long as I could remember.

I can taste nothing. My throat is dry, my lips are dry, my tongue is so dry it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth. The honey sweet syrupy liquid she often gave me before I slept.

I lean back further into the wall and close my eyes again. Is it working? Is it helping? I’ve listed the five things, my task is done. Why do I still feel the same? I shouldn’t still feel the same. It’s not working, it never works, I don’t know why this time I thought it might. I’m an idiot. I always have been.

“y/n? Are you in there?”

I know that voice and I know I don’t want him anywhere near the door. I know I’ve forgotten to lock it and I can’t move from the position I’m in. I know I need to tell him I’m fine, that it’s okay. I know that I should then explain I need Lia to get me a tampon to scare him away.

But I can’t speak, I can’t answer him. When I try I end up gasping for air like a fish out of water. I grip the side of the sink, my knuckles going white, trying to hoist myself up. He can’t see me like this, out of everyone it can’t be him. The moment I get myself to stand, my legs give way and I fall back to the floor. They’re too weak to support me anymore.

I’m too weak.

I land with a crash, sending a shooting pain up my back. I wince and make some sort of strangled sound, a scream but with no breath to make it sound like a scream. Immediately he bursts in, uninvited in classic Micheal style. Though he might be the emotion reader of the two of us, I see the worry on his face, through his eyes. I try to glare at him but can’t even muster that. I know there’s no getting out of this now, the moment he lays eyes on me he knows exactly how I feel. Even if I were Lia I don’t believe there’d be any lie good enough to cover up my situation.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he rushes, dropping to his knees immediately, “hey, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

My mother’s words echo through my mind. His hand settles on my thigh. I don’t need you here’ I wanted to scream. I need Sloane, Lia, Cassie, Dean, Judd, heck even Briggs just anyone but him. He shouldn’t know that this is the real me, that this is the kind of relationship he is really getting into.

He sees it. He sees my fear, my desperation, my panic, my worry, my pain, my anger. He sees it all in technicolour.

Micheal takes my face between to soft palms, “breathe with me, sweetheart,” he says very slowly, “I need you to breathe with me.”

I can’t even talk. I try to reply, but I physically can’t.

“Don’t try to talk,” he tells me gently, “it’s not going to help you. I need you to try and breathe with me.”

I can barely hear him over the sound of my heart raging through my ears yet manage to shake my head vigorously. I need to explain to him that it won’t work, that it never works.

“Try,” he murmurs, understanding, “with me. In… and out…”

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Nothing overtly complicated. Yet it feels like the most difficult task I’ve ever had to do in my life.

“In…” he guides me, steadily, “…and out.”

One. I do it once.

My breathing is still rapid, I am panting like a dog but I did it. Once. He sits down beside me, interlocking his hand into mine. A constant, a rock, he’s telling me he isn’t leaving. His back is up against the cool tiled wall. Gently he puts his hands on my hips. I don’t shy away from his touch, I don’t flinch, I don’t slap him away. I want his hands on me. I want him to distract me.

He pulls me between his legs. I lean on him pressing my back up against his firm chest. I need to feel something, someone, anyone. I need to know that I’m not alone. I want his lips to transport me somewhere else, I want his hands to make me forget everything. I tilt my head so ours eyes meet. I plead silently. I know he can read what I want, what I need. I know he can see it all displayed on my face.

“You have to get your heart rate and breathing back to normal,” he says, “a distraction won’t help that.”

“Need,” I choke, through loud gulps of air.

He presses a kiss to my temple, “breathe, my love, you’re safe, I’ve got you.”

“You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

I see my mum’s face. I roughly grab onto his legs, clawing at the material of his trousers, digging my fingernails in, like some sort of scared animal. I feel his hands on my waist as my chest heaves up and down, still uncontrollable. The untameable beast in my brain still a torrent of darkness.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he repeats, his voice so smooth, so soothing. I want to believe him, “focus on me…”

I do. I’m focusing on his breath I can feel tickling the back of my neck and his outstretched legs I can see in front of me. I’m focussing on the shade of blue the sweatshirt is and how he smells of that fancy cologne he insists on buying. I’m focussing on the tingling sensation his lips let behind on my temple and the warmth of his body against mine.

“My voice…”

It’s low and even. Steady and constant. The words he says are sweet and soothing and kind. He wants to help me. He cares enough. They’re said softly, gently, tenderly, calmly. He wants me to know I’m safe. He wants to fight the man in my head as much as I do.

“My touch…”

His fingers are delicately wrapped around my waist, but one hand is drawing slow, light circles on my stomach. I feel the shape spiralling in and then back out again. The muscles in his upper arms are against the muscles of my upper arms, they brush together. His heart is beating a little faster than usual against my back.

I think about Micheal. I focus on what he tells me to. Each time I take in oxygen it gets the slightest bit easier. I inhale and I exhale. He waits and he listens and he draws circles on my belly. Sometimes he talks and sometimes he stays silent. But we stay like this until my breathing is only a little worse than normal. The breaths are still short and jagged but they’re less of a gasp, less of a prayer for air.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, “I’ve got you, you’re safe, I’m here.”

I twist my neck to meet his eyes. He looks like he’s in pain. I never meant to cause him pain.

“I’ve got you. Can you feel me?” he whispers, “I’ve got you in my arms. That means you’re safe.”

Safe. Would I ever really be safe when my biggest enemy lived in my own mind?

“I… need… touch…” I tell him, through little breaths.

I haven’t heard the man in my head since Micheal got here. I know this will help. I know I need it. He can make things go away, he can help me, he can keep me safe. He’s got me in his arms. That means I’m safe.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His hand slowly moves from the tight grip on my waist to the bottom of my shirt. It slips under the material, slowly trailing up the bare skin of my stomach. His fingertips skim over my bra and find their way to just below my collarbone on the left side on my chest. He flattens his hand against my heart, pressing down firmly. It’s warm in contrast to the coolness of my skin.

“Breathe again love,” Micheal says in my ear, his voice in the back of his throat, “breathe for me.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again. It’s getting easier. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Do it again. It’s getting easier. It’s getting easier.

I can feel him, only him. Micheal Alexander Thomas Townsend. My heart thumps against his palm. I close my eyes and rest my head back onto him. I feel it, as he presses the lightest of kisses onto my face, first my forehead, my nose, then my lips. Him, it’s all him. He can take this away, this darkness, this sickness, this disease in my mind. He can make it leave.

After what feels like a while, I’m somewhat what I was before. I can’t say things are back to normal because I am not normal. But I can breathe again, my chest doesn’t hurt, my heart isn’t the only thing I can hear and the man in my head has left. For now.

I realise for the first time how Micheal has seen me. This isn’t the me he’s used to. I take his hand from my shirt and move away from his touch. I stand up shakily and he’s quick to follow, ready to catch me should I fall. I lean against the sink, breathing deeply in and out. I can’t rely on him,I can’t afford to. The last person I relied on was my mother and look where that got me.

“You weren’t meant to see that,” I say, my back still towards him. I can’t bear to look him in the eye, not even for a second.

“It’s not a crime to panic,” he tells me slowly, there’s something tentative in his tone.

I turn around to face him, “yes. It is.”

I’m no emotion reader but something in his face looks scared. I had been taught long ago that I had to stay in control. That if anyone saw me out of control, unnatural, disobedient to the requirements set, that I would be less of a person. A nothing in this world. I’m not going to let this make me nothing. Not after I’d been something for so long.

Something to my mother. Something at school. Something to Briggs and his colleagues. Something to the Naturals program. Something to the friends I’d made here. Something… something to Micheal.

“I’m strong Micheal,” I say trying to steady my shaky voice, “I’m strong, I don’t break,” I falter as tears fill my eyes, I haven’t cried in so long, “I’m not like this, it’s not me.”

I meet his eyes again. He can see all of it, the emotions I show him and even the ones I’m holding back. I’m like a naked body in a room full of mirrors.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, reaching out to take me in his arms once more.

And as much as I want to, crave to, yearn to, I don’t. I jerk away from his quickly, hitting my hip on the corner of the sink. The porcelain sends a sharp jolt of pain through my body. There will be a bruise tomorrow. He immediately backs away, a concern I’m not used to seeing rippling through his features. He could hide it if he wanted but he’s choosing to show me. He’s showing me he cares.

“Don’t pity me Micheal,” I try to snap but instead my voice strains and instead sounds like I’m in pain, “please.”

‘I’m not pitying you’ the unspoken words hang in the air but never reach his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks instead.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, fumbling over my words, “I don’t know.”

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms again. This time not reaching out for me, this time letting me choose to come towards him.

And I do.

I fall into his arms and melt into his touch. When I feel him around me, everything falls silent, the noise, the stress, the expectation. It’s only him and me. Him and me.

“You are still strong, even after breaking,” he says into my ear, such power in his words but gentleness in his voice, “because you haven’t broken completely, you’re still here,” he murmurs, “and that’s the strongest thing someone can ever do.”

There isn’t any words to reply and he knows that. I let him hold me for a long while before finally, finally I let myself cry.

ahhhh this is my first naturals fic so I’m lowkey nervous… i try and avoid y/n at all costs but I felt like it was sort of needed here. anyways i hoped you liked it and let me know if you want to be on the taglist :))

the natural’s masterlist

[accio-victuuri]

now it’s time for me to scream and cry about the lrlg post. it’s been so long! and the fact that it came to us in the new year, welcoming 2025 with good vibes! this is the perfect start. even if the conversations are random ( as they usually are ), it’s so comforting to read about. even if just for the sake of fiction. this is fitting cause earlier today, there was a screenshot going around of another celebrity’s assistant and she was using a bjyx related merch (nye show). so it’s either this person is a bxg or they know someone who is and they borrowed the bag. so yeah. we may have people who see and hear things. that was the point of the fake rumors from the start, those who know stuff can share.

which leads us to lrlg. my fave tho is the visibility of yibo’s staff. some are even assigning who’s who based on the nye photo that was shared. this is his inner circle and per the convos, they are also close to xz. to those who are confused, in the original text his staff are assigned different emojis. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

we have talked before about how important it is that their staff is coordinated. i really like how wyb is able to just leave xz with them and he can hold his own. it’s crucial that they can be open to a certain group of people and just be themselves.

• the part about accessories and reimbursement & the latest model didn’t make sense to me when i first read it. but then fans explained it as WYB gave each staff member a latest top-end iPhone (should be 16) and asked them to choose the accessories themselves and all the parts would be reimbursed. wow. such a generous boss! i mean, that’s usual for WYB. can i please apply? lol.

• this part. it’s so sweet i wanna slap them! how xz wouldn’t eat without wyb. it’s such a normal thing to do, but so important for them.

🟢 "Why aren't you eating yet?"

🔴 "It's only five minutes, you should be back in fifteen minutes."

and how yibo was like, why don’t you eat and he joked that it’s different when you are with your family member.

• how he was calling yibo dog because when he fed him his “gloves” were bitten through. how he also called him a pig ( which has it’s own lore ) . lol. they really love to clown each other. but yibo is his puppy tho, gouzaizai! and the fact that xz is feeding him. it’s not enough that xz will wait for him to eat together. he will also hand feed wang yibo. i mean. i hate it here. 🥹🥹🥹🥹

• there was mention of puppy printed pants and some are saying it could be this. well, let’s see who will wear something similar first.

• wyb asking if they ordered fruits, most likely for xz. he knows that xz loves it! he is so attentive!

• i was very interested in what they were eating. a fan said it’s most likely beijing roast duck. and it makes sense why xz had to wash his hands, why he was wrapping the food and feeding it to yibo. making sure they eat well is still a top priority on both sides.

• at the start of the convo, wyb was talking about buying gold jewelry for xz and it’s funny cause fans are saying it’s a fitting gift. we all know xz is the god of money and he is someone that seems to be very aware of finances. so the gift is not only in a romantic sense, but also practical. wyb knows this and it’s why he chose that.

i saw someone say it may be this. the gold is real.

• the part when wyb’s staff said xz is his (wyb’s) boss 😂😂😂😂 it reminded us of that cpn, when wyb’s bodyguards are looking and guarding xz instead of him.

• this ⬇️⬇️⬇️

🟢 "I'll pick you up in the afternoon"

🔴 "No need to worry about what time I'll be back"

🟢 "Call me when you're done"

yibo is so boyfriend i wanna cry. this is such a normal thing to do considering they have all the resources. but yibo still wants to do it himself. yibo the driver is here!!!!!

that’s all. maybe i missed some stuff and we may understand some of these better as the days go by. depending on the other clues that will be available to us in the future. again, you don’t need to believe any of this. don’t take it too seriously. bjyxszd. 💕

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

4

Y/N

Parties don’t tend to be my forte. The music’s always a beat too fast, the air’s sticky with perfume and sweat, and someone, more often than not, intoxicated beyond belief, is screaming something utterly incomprehensible.

But, despite my distaste for these kinds of events, I’m a supportive friend. Cait’s always had a certain aversion to her parents’ rules, and tonight, her defiance has manifested in a party at their lakehouse.

The lakehouse, like the rest of the Kiramman estates, is, simply put, stunning. There's these massive arches open out onto the lake, which is dotted with groups of teenagers, all holding some kind of beer like it’s a rite of passage. The bar has been commandeered by a group of four boys, all laughing so hard they can barely catch their breath, completely lost in their own world.

Ultimately, my dislike for the event has me curled up on the deck, my heels tossed aside, and my feet dangling in the lake. The noise from inside feels like it belongs to another world now. I crack open Wuthering Heights—my escape for the night—and lose myself in the pages. It’s just me, the quiet night, and my book, away from all the noise and chaos that I’m definitely not in the mood for.

The soft ripples of the lake reflect the moonlight, shimmering like liquid silver. I let my toes skim the surface, the cool water a soothing balm against the buzz of the evening I left behind. The book rests open on my lap, but my eyes linger on the lake, lost in its quiet rhythm.

Out here, away from the noise and the people, the world feels gentler—like it’s finally giving me room to breathe. Wuthering Heights is only half my escape; the other half is the stillness, the way the night wraps around me like a comforting cloak.

But even in the solitude, there’s an itch in the back of my mind, a weight I can’t quite shake. Maybe it’s guilt—leaving the others behind when they’d begged me to come in the first place. Maybe it’s something else. Either way, the lake offers no answers, only silence.

My mind can't help drifting to her. Jinx.

Class was so peculiar the other day, i haven't heard from her about the assignment since, no surprise there, but it was bizzare. She made me smile, laugh even and - oh my gosh! Was that flirting?

I slam my book shut, full attention now on the lake.

Her laugh echoes in my mind, the way it did in class. It wasn’t loud or unhinged, like she often is—it was softer, more personal, like we were ten again and she’d let me in on some secret.

I pull my knees tightly to my chest, my gaze fixed on the shimmering lake. The motion tugs at my tights, tiny runs spidering through the fabric, but I don’t care. My heart flutters unevenly, like it’s stumbling over something fragile—something it doesn’t know how to hold.

Something I don’t know how to hold.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

It’s not like I usually grace these exclusive parties thrown by Caitlyn Kiramman, the classist bitch, with my loving presence.

But of course, Y/N was guaranteed to be there—because, you know, her Piltie friend, sorry, fiend, was throwing the thing.

And I just had to drop by after our absolutely delightful chat in class.

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

And had to swing by to check in on dear old sis too.

Can’t believe TWO people I know are somehow tangled up with the Kirammans. Ugh, seriously? Bleh.

Last time I talked to Vi, she actually referred to Caitlyn as cupcake. Are you kidding me?

A cupcake full of cyanide, maybe.

Anyway, now I’m crouched behind Y/N, like a total creep.

She’s got her feet in the lake, all zen and shit, but I can see her back. It’s all stiff, like she’s trying not to break or something.

I must've made some kind of noise because suddenly—boom—Miss Perfect jumps, spins around, all quick like she’s been caught.

And there it is on her face—annoyance? Shock?

It’s cute.

She probably wants to say something, but I can tell she’s not sure if she should yell at me or pretend like she didn’t just nearly lose her shit.

Instead, her voice goes all soft. Like in class. Like she thinks I’ll bolt.

“Jinx?” she breathes.

And it’s so weird. Like, what? Why? Soft? With me? Is this a joke? Did I miss the punchline?

I just stare at her, head tilted like, What the hell are you doing, Y/N? Say something else, scream, anything.

This soft crap? It’s messing with me.

Her eyes are wide, and she’s got this look, like she’s staring at a wild animal that might bite.

“Why are you here?” she whispers, still in that soft, careful voice.

I laugh—short, sharp, more like a bark.

“Why am I here? Hell, why are you here? What, did your Piltie conscience drag you to this classy dumpster fire?” I grin, sharp and mocking.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Just stares at me with those big, stupid doe eyes, like I’m some puzzle she can solve.

Fucking whatever.

I drop down, two feet away, cross-legged like a little kid at story-time, and pull a pre-rolled joint from my bra.

Because, yeah, I’m classy like that.

“Don’t mind me,” I say, holding it up like it’s the Holy Grail. “Just here to elevate the vibe.”

But she doesn’t give me that usual Y/N reaction.

No scolding look, no narrowing of her eyes, no I can't believe you're doing this.

Instead, she looks… almost curious. Like she’s actually thinking about it.

I catch that look. The way her gaze flickers to the joint in my hand, then back to me.

Huh.

I know she’s wondering. Should I? Should she just try it? One little drag, that’s all.

I hold it out to her, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What? Never had one?” I say, dragging it out like it’s some big reveal.

“It’s not that bad.”

She doesn’t say anything. She’s just staring at the joint like it might bite her.

But I see it. I see the hesitation, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to take it, just to see what it feels like.

I blow out a puff of smoke, letting it hang between us. “You’re curious, aren’t you?” I almost dare her to say no.

And for a second? She almost does. But she doesn’t.

And then, she does it. She takes the joint.

It’s like everything slows down for a second.

Her fingers brush mine, and I almost can’t believe it.

She just took it.

I can’t help it. I laugh, soft, like I won. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Y/N.”

That fucking small smile.

It appears again, just like it did yesterday in class.

It’s barely there.

Just a little twitch of her lips, but I see it.

"Shut up Jinx,"

The joint hovers in her hand, her fingers gripping it a little tighter now.

She breathes in, and I swear the air feels different.

She’s never looked so fucking real before.

She hesitates.

Just a second.

Her fingers twitch, like she doesn't really know what to do with the damn thing.

I watch her, leaning in a little, waiting for the moment—and then, she does it.

She takes a hit.

But it's messy, wrong.

Her hand’s too stiff, her grip awkward.

She’s never done this before.

I can see it.

It’s in the way she doesn't know how to pull it in, like she’s holding her breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

She sucks in. Her face scrunches up. She holds it.

Then there's the typical first timer reaction, coughing, hacking, eyes watering, and I can’t hold back the laugh that bursts out.

"Real smooth toots,"

And fuck the weed must've hit her hard and fast because she giggles.

Fucking giggles at me.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Y/N

I don’t know what makes me take it. Curiosity, maybe? Or the lingering weight of our encounter in class. The joint feels strange in my hand, almost alien. I’ve held pens, pencils, and books a thousand times, but this—this is unfamiliar. I don't feel myself with it in-between my fingers, i feel freer?

The first inhale is awful. I cough so hard I think I might throw up, my eyes watering as smoke claws its way out of my lungs. Jinx, of course, laughs.

“Real smooth, toots,” she says, her grin practically dripping with amusement.

The sound catches me off guard—light, breathy, like it’s coming from someone else entirely. Jinx’s grin widens, like she’s just won some unspoken bet.

“See? Told you it’s not all bad,” she says, leaning back on her elbows, watching me like I’m her personal entertainment for the night. I glance at the joint again, still smoldering between my fingers. The smoke curls upward in delicate tendrils, twisting into shapes that disappear before I can name them.

Curiosity wins out, or maybe it’s the lingering haze already softening the edges of my thoughts. I bring it to my lips again, slower this time, trying to mimic what I’ve read. The second inhale isn’t as harsh. The burn in my throat is still there, but it’s manageable now, almost... warm. And then it hits me.

It’s like a switch flips in my brain. My limbs feel heavy, like they’re sinking into the earth, but my mind feels lighter than air. Thoughts drift in and out, unbound by the usual rules.

“You’re the worst influence,” I giggle, holding the joint like it’s a fragile artifact. “What even is this?”

“Magic,” she says, wiggling her fingers dramatically. “Welcome to the dark side, toots.”

I snort, the sound louder and less composed than I’d ever let slip normally. The lake ripples in front of us, and I swear it looks like it’s shimmering just for me.

“This feels... weird,” I say, biting my lip to keep from laughing again. “Like… everything’s in slow motion, but also, like, my brain is bouncing.”

“Congrats, nerd. You’re high,” Jinx says, taking the joint from me like she’s proud of her work. She takes a drag and exhales, the smoke curling around her like a halo. “And you’re, like, giggle high. This is great.”

“I am not!” I protest, even as another laugh escapes me. “I’m... perfectly composed. Completely in control.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m a model citizen,” she fires back, smirking.

The stars above us seem closer, like I could reach out and grab one. I tilt my head back, giggling again at the thought of catching a star and keeping it in my pocket.

“Why are the stars so… shiny?” I ask, my voice dreamy and distracted.

“Because they’re stars, genius,” Jinx says, but her tone is lighter, almost fond.

It’s quiet between us for a moment, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like the air is waiting for something to fill it. The stars above blur slightly, soft pinpricks of light swimming in the haze of my vision. Everything feels loose and strange, my thoughts slipping out before I can catch them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words surprising even me as they tumble out, unfiltered and raw. “For abandoning you. After… everything.”

The silence that follows feels like a held breath, like the universe is leaning in to hear what comes next. I focus on the rippling surface of the lake instead of looking at her. My chest tightens, that familiar pang of guilt twisting sharply.

“You’re high,” she says finally, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade, though it’s not as sharp as it could be.

A giggle escapes me—high-pitched and ridiculous—and I immediately want to take it back. “I am. But I mean it,” I say, my words spilling out in a rush, like I need her to believe me before the moment dissolves. “I really do.”

Her knee bounces slightly, and I can feel her gaze flicking toward me and then away again, restless.

“You didn’t abandon me,” she mutters, her tone light, but there’s something heavy beneath it, something that doesn’t quite fit. “You just… did what you thought you had to.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” I counter, my voice wobbling. “I should have stayed. Tried harder. Done… something.”

Her laugh is sharp, almost bitter, but not entirely unkind. “What were you gonna do, Y/N? Save me? Fix me?” She waves the joint vaguely in the air, the ember glowing faintly. “That’s not how it works.”

“I could’ve tried,” I whisper, and the words feel small, fragile, as if they might shatter the moment.

She exhales a long plume of smoke, her shoulders slumping slightly. “You would’ve drowned,” she says, her tone even, like she’s stating a fact instead of something that makes my stomach twist.

I look at her then, her face bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. There’s no mocking grin, no sharp retort. Just something tired, something that looks far too old for her.

“But I didn’t even jump in,” I say softly, almost to myself.

Her lips twitch into a wry smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

The words settle between us, not exactly forgiveness, but not rejection either. Something tentative, a thread stretched thin but not yet breaking.

The lake ripples, the stars shimmer, and for the first time in years, it feels like we’re both sitting still.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hope you enjoyed the slight reconciliation:) but theres more heartbreak coming!

please like and reblog!

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (ace x reader) [pt1]

a/n: here it is,, on 1st Jan 2025,,, the first part of my childhood friend!reader x ace series! :D i honestly have no concrete plan going forward but i’m rly excited to work on this so i hope you guys enjoy reading it as well <3

contents: fem!reader, descriptions of drowning, very pining!Ace, lowkey jealous!Ace, some angst, protective dad!Whitebeard

wc. 3k

wanna be on my taglist?

i. 

the salty ocean water was frigid, nearly sending your flailing body into shock purely from the sudden cold. as you struggled to keep your head above water, the waves crashed mercilessly against each other, leaving you as merely collateral damage.

you could faintly hear the cries of the boy you left home with. 

he screamed your name, his panicked voice intermingling with the sound of thunder and pouring rain. every now and then you could feel his calloused yet slippery hand brush against yours in a futile attempt to pull you aboard the tiny fishing boat you’d set sail on weeks ago.

you wake up with a start, body jolting upward as your foggy mind takes its time separating the dream of your past from your present. you feel the faint bobbing of the Moby Dick and realise your crew must’ve docked while you were still asleep. 

rubbing your sleepy eyes, you struggle to remember what Marco had told you last night–something about a rookie pirate crew causing trouble for Jinbei. however, before you can recall all the details, you hear a knock on your door.

“come in,” you groan as you crawl out of bed whilst your visitor swings open the door. speak of the devil, you think to yourself as the Phoenix himself greets you a good morning.

his was the first face you saw when you came to. the unfamiliar man was gentle and patient even when you tried your hardest to punch him in the face out of panic. you were in a room–an infirmary?–that you’d never seen before in your life with wires and tubes of all kinds attached to your body.

a simple glance down at your clothes made your face heat up when you realised someone must’ve changed them for you while you were unconscious. the shame of the revelation was short-lived, however, when the only door in the room swung open to reveal someone you never thought you’d meet in your whole life.

“there’s someone you might want to see,” your closest crewmate announces without any further elaboration. “i’ll wait for you in the infirmary.” Marco shoots you a smile before heading off, not bothering to wait for a response.

curiosity getting the better of you, you quickly wash up and change your clothes before exiting your room. your crewmates greet you good morning as you speed past them, your legs moving on autopilot towards the place you spend the most time in–second only to your own personal quarters. just a few steps away from the infirmary door, you hear muffled yelling followed by the deep toned voice you’d come to love and cherish.

before you stood Whitebeard himself, the strongest man alive. just his mere presence was enough to both render you speechless and freeze you in place as you stared unblinkingly up at the man who was so tall his head nearly brushed the ceiling. the first man you saw, meanwhile, simply stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, an oddly relaxed smile on his face.

“you’re lucky to be alive, little one,” Whitebeard said, his voice so deep you swore the entire room trembled. “we aren’t holding you captive so stop making a fuss. you may leave whenever you wish.”

“i have nowhere else to go.” you couldn’t help the tears as they welled up in your eyes, the shock of your near-death experience hitting you suddenly all at once. digging your fingers into your scalp, you hung your head and cried. “all i remember was falling out of the boat my friend and i were on during a storm. i don’t even know if he’s alive anymore. i don’t know what to do!”

the two men watched in silence as you sobbed but even then you could tell there was no judgement on their end. you felt no shame or embarrassment as you cried in their presence, only an odd sense of comfort.

“then be my daughter,” Whitebeard said simply, “and live your life as you wish.”

before you can even reach out your hand to grab the door knob, the entire door flies off its hinges. it shoots past your face, barely grazing your nose, and hits the deck railing before falling overboard entirely, hitting the sea below with a splash… and a sizzle?

your initial shock morphs into annoyance and anger, your heart clearly not pleased to be tested in such a way so soon after waking. you turn to face the infirmary doorway–now missing the whole door–and mentally prepare yourself to use your Devil Fruit ability in the case of an intruder.

a tall silhouette emerges from the smoke flooding the room but before you can see their face, you spot a ball of fire appearing where their hand should be. then, the person runs straight towards you.

“(Y/N)!” you hear some of your crewmates cry out in surprise as the intruder bodyslams you into the railing. the both of you still engulfed by the smoke exiting the infirmary, you’re unable to make out the stranger’s face as they reach out to grab your neck with their other hand reeled back, flames still dancing on their fingertips. gripping the hand that continues to grasp your throat, you struggle to pry yourself free.

“st–” you feel the familiar numbing sensation spread across your throat and tongue as you activate your Devil Fruit ability. however, before you can complete the command, the remaining smoke clears to reveal the face of your assailant and your eyes widen in recognition.

“Ace?” you gasp, your heart, already beating rapidly from the shock of the attack, races even faster. it pounds fiercely within the confines of your ribcage, almost threatening to burst free from your body entirely as you stare up at the boy you never thought you’d see again.

“you’re alive?” Ace murmurs, the flames wrapped around his curled fist dissipating into nothingness as he lets go of your throat quickly–as though you were the one set ablaze and he’d been burnt. “you’re alive!” he repeats breathlessly before he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

you feel a wetness on your skin as the boy begins to tremble, hands gripping onto your clothes for dear life whilst he slowly sinks to his knees, pulling you down with him. you’re quick to return the hug, your teary eyes fluttering shut as you bask in the long-forgotten feeling of being hugged by Portgas D. Ace.

ii. 

you’re so pretty.

sitting cross-legged on your bed, Ace watches you silently as you move about your room, tidying up loose clothes and random belongings scattered about. seemingly too focused on cleaning up, you fail to realise how intently he stares. his eyes stay pinned to your face, occasionally trailing down to the rest of you but always going back to your face–the face he’d spent countless sleepless nights trying his hardest to never forget; the face that haunted him in his dreams.

he wanted badly to tell you how he felt. although, he considered himself lucky enough you hadn’t caught on yet yourself, considering how red his face must’ve looked–especially right now as he watched Luffy swing amongst the trees with you clinging onto his back.

his younger brother laughed with little restraint while you screamed, almost on the verge of tears; and yet you never asked to be put back down on the ground. all three of you knew how much you loved adrenaline rushes.

Ace simply watched as he laid on the grass, the upper half of his body propped up by his arms. it was a hot day on Dawn Island but he was mostly protected from the sun’s rays by the shade provided by the same trees his brother and you played on.

just then you’d let out yet another yelp of surprise–the result of a particularly sharp drop, courtesy of Luffy–and Ace swore his heart stopped for just a second. he’d felt his arms and legs twitch on their own accord, as though instinctively prepared to catch you if you fell.

“Ace?” your voice snaps him out of his reverie. it’s older now, just a bit more mature than how he’d remembered it. you look older, as well, though you hadn’t grown any much taller. he recalls how for the first few years of your friendship, you loved reminding him how much taller you were–only to watch helplessly as he easily outgrew you in your mid-teens. “Ace?” you call his name again, this time waving your hand in front of his face.

“yeah?” he blinks a couple of times as though grounding himself back to reality. you’re leaning over slightly now, face hovering close enough to his own that he can feel the faint wisps of your breath. Ace feels his own face grow warm and hopes you don’t think too much of it. 

“Pops said you can stay in my room so i asked Marco to lend me some of his old clothes in case you want to change into something else.”

“who says i’m staying?” the words slip out before Ace can even process their meaning. in all honesty, he wants nothing more than to be by your side again but the thought of pledging any kind of allegiance to Whitebeard makes his blood run hot.

“oh.” you don’t try very hard to hide the disappointment on your face and almost immediately Ace wishes he can take it all back. “sorry, i guess i just assumed you were going to join us.” you shoot him a halfhearted smile before turning to walk away to pick up some books you’d left scattered on the floor nearby.

us? when was the last time you and i were separate ‘us’s?

“(Y/N), i–” he tries to speak without thinking about what he wants to say, hoping only to somehow salvage the conversation.

“no, it’s fine.” you cut him off and Ace can tell from the tone of your voice that you mean what you’re about to say with full sincerity. “you have your own crew now, right? the Spade Pirates? i like that name.” you turn to look at him again, this time with a much less forced smile. “both you and Luffy always wanted to be captains so i understand.”

you can come with me.

“i’m here to kill Whitebeard.” 

“i know.”

“you’re not gonna try to stop me?”

“she doesn’t have to,” a third voice intervenes from the open door of your quarters. Ace’s head snaps sharply in the direction of the intruder, sparks already flying from his fingertips as he glares at who he recognises as the man who had apparently nursed him back to health.

Marco merely smiles at Ace before entering your room fully with an arm full of clothes. Ace watches as the older man stands close to you, even ducking his head slightly to say something just out of earshot. you reply with your own whispered murmurs, clearly not wanting Ace to listen in on any part of the conversation.

the thought alone makes his heart sink. he can’t remember the last time you’d left him out on something.

iii.

although he’s curious, Ace doesn’t bother asking Marco what he’d meant when he said you “didn’t have to” stop him. simply chalking it up to some vague attempt at subtly reminding him of the Whitebeard crew’s overwhelming manpower. much to his chagrin, though, he finds himself constantly presented with the opportunity to clarify his doubts with the crew’s doctor since it seems like you work closely with him.

“he’s following you around like a puppy,” Marco comments as the two of you make your way to the dining room with Ace trailing closely behind, his hand holding loosely onto the free-hanging excess of your belt. you simply laugh in response, shooting a quick glance at him before returning your attention to your crewmate. as much as he’s tempted to throw a punch at the older man for the perceived slight, he holds himself back for your sake.

“join me tomorrow. let’s set sail together.” his eyes shone brightly even under the cover of night. Ace grabbed your hands, engulfing them in his own larger ones as he pulled you closer. “we can start our own crew and you’ll be my first mate.”

your lack of response lasted for a minute that felt far too uncomfortable, so much so that he’d almost started second-guessing himself. maybe he’d assumed too much thinking you’d want to follow someone like him.

“what makes you think you won’t be my first mate?” you laughed, unaware of how with just a few words you’d lifted an enormous weight off his shoulders. “what if i wanna be captain? will you take back your offer?”

“i might consider it.”

“consider uninviting me?” you gasped in an exaggerated manner.

“nope. i might consider letting you be captain. no guarantees, though.” you knew he’d said it as a joke���which it was–but a small part of Ace knew, if it really came down to it, he wouldn’t mind being your first mate.

dinner is incredibly uncomfortable–for Ace, at least. for some reason you’d chosen to sit right across from Whitebeard himself while Marco opted to sit beside his captain and, thusly, directly across from Ace.

the first few minutes of eating go without any conversation with your table being the only one that remains completely silent. meanwhile, the rest of the crew that had chosen to also eat in the room instead of out on the deck go about chatting animatedly–at the very least, the endless noise makes for a good distraction from the fact that the man Ace so desperately wants to kill is sitting right in front of him.

“i hear you refuse to join my crew,” Whitebeard finally says, looking directly into Ace’s eyes with the calmness one would not find in a man speaking to his wannabe-assassin.

“i won’t need to join you once i kill you.” out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shooting him a look but he’s far too busy gritting his teeth and keeping it together to break eye contact. 

“very well,” Whitebeard chuckles heartily, “feel free to keep trying.” Marco smirks at his captain’s response and it takes all of Ace’s willpower not to start a fight right then and there. “in that case, though, i won’t let you share (Y/N)’s room.”

“Pops!” you whined in protest. “it’s fine, i trust Ace. he can stay with me.”

“there’s no way i’m risking my beloved daughter’s life. you may trust him but i don’t. not yet, at least.”

without considering that his actions might just prove Whitebeard right, Ace swings his fist at the older man as he lunges across the table. all he can see in that moment is red, his heart pounding his burning blood through the veins in his body.

“don’t tell (Y/N) what she can or can’t do,” Ace barks, “she was my friend before she became your daughter!” as his fiery fist nears Whitebeard’s face, the younger man takes a split second to realise no one’s reacting, not even the target himself.

“stop!” your voice rings out throughout the room but it sounds different somehow. though you said but a single word, Ace feels it linger in the air far longer than any noise should, the sound itself almost feeling as though it’s piercing his brain through his ears. the onlookers all wince in response but none of them look nearly as affected as he does.

it’s right then he realises: he can’t move. 

his now-extinguished fist remains midair, his knuckles just a few centimetres from Whitebeard’s nose, as his body stays frozen and lunged across the table. his mind is still clearly in his control, Ace can tell at the very least, but he’s physically unable to move at all. he screams at himself internally to do something, anything, to break free but it’s as though something somewhere deep in his subconscious is stopping him from doing what he wants. 

“release.” you command before Ace’s body slumps like a ragdoll onto the dining table, his face slamming directly into the aged wood. he hears the sound of ceramic and metal hitting the ground as he groans, suddenly feeling an overwhelming wave of exhaustion wash over him.

“i’m so sorry,” you say frantically as he feels your warm hands pull him off the table and back into a sitting position beside you. “you left me no choice, Ace.” with one hand cupping his face, turning his head to look at you, the other combs through his wavy hair and he nearly shudders from the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp.

as you continue to fuss over him, even going so far as to grab a few napkins to clean up his face and clothes, Ace remains in a daze. he can hear Whitebeard and Marco conversing from across the table but their words fly over his head as he keeps his eyes pinned on you. he still feels a tad breathless, though now he’s unsure if it’s because of what you’d done to him just a moment ago, or rather because you’re taking care of him.

Ace grabs the hand you have cupping his face and holds it there, basking in its warmth which used to be familiar. allowing his eyes to flutter closed, he nuzzles his face into your palm, uncaring of the stares undoubtedly being pointed his way. 

he realises, slowly, how much you’ve grown and changed. how different you are from the girl he grew up with; and yet everything about you still feels the same. the warmth of your hand, the way you smell, the inflections in your voice. feeling a pang in his chest, it dawns on Ace that, at some point, he’ll have to choose between his goal of killing Whitebeard and being with you. 

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