#they were a dishevelled mess even before. barely presentable

[maxtermind]

“your opinion of me won't change, right?” + lando (who kinda has a fuckboy reputation but fell for the reader)

“your opinion of me won't change, right?”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where a fuckboy gets turned into a loverboy? ★:feat:: lando norris x reader ★:genre:: hurt/comfort

the knock on your door comes around midnight when you're almost going to bed. you don’t expect anyone, especially not him.

for a second, you stand still, unsure of what to do with heart thudding. but the persistent rapping doesn’t stop, and despite the days of silence between you two, you already know who it is.

when you swing the door open, lando stumbles in, his shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with alcohol and something darker. his hair is a mess, damp from the rain, and he reeks of whiskey and regret.

“y/n,” he breathes out, almost as if he’s relieved to see you. but you’re not relieved at all. you’re angry, confused, and hurt and looking at him really hit you so hard that you had to squeeze the ends of your his t-shirt to not stumble.

you close the door behind him, and he sways unsteadily. he’s drunk—drunker than you’ve ever seen him. his clothes are disheveled, his usual cool confidence replaced by something pitiful, something raw.

"lando, what the hell are you doing here?" your voice is sharp, meant to sting, because his presence alone already rips at the wounds that haven't even started healing yet.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you with those familiar blue eyes, the same ones that once made you weak in the knees, but now… they just bring back the pain. his lips tremble as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

"you—" lando slurs slightly, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "you weren't… supposed to leave. you—" it washed over you like a bucket of cold water and you're already moving away from his touch.

"don't." your voice cracks, and you hate how fragile you sound. you take another step back, putting more space between you two. "don’t come here like this again."

lando rubs his face, pacing around your small living room slowly, stumbling over air. he’s spiraling, trying to collect his thoughts, but the alcohol muddles his brain and you can see the struggle on his face.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want you to leave,” he mutters. he turns to you, desperation in his eyes. "i messed up, okay? i know that. but i… fuck, i’m trying, y/n."

you cross your arms, every muscle tense. "trying? you’re drunk, lando. that’s not trying."

his face crumples at your words, and he stumbles back, this time collapsing onto the couch like his legs can’t hold him up anymore. his hands run through his hair, pulling at it in frustration, in agony.

you vividly remember what happened a few nights ago when a girl texted him asking if he was up for 'another' great night. it wasn't easy being with someone while knowing he could have anyone in the entire world and with his past, you were already always on the edge of letting your insecurities out.

it just led to a bigger argument where instead of assuring you how you were the only one he ever wanted, he asked you to either start trusting him or leave.

so you left.

"do you know how much i fucking hate myself?" his voice is hoarse now, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it cuts through you like a knife as it brings you back to the present. "i tried to be better for you. i… i tried."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying to stay firm, but it’s hard. it's always been hard with him. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he lifts his head slowly, tears brimming in his eyes now, and the sight is enough to make your resolve crack just a little. you've never seen him cry before. not like this.

“your opinion of me won’t change, right?” his voice breaks, and you freeze. the vulnerability in his question sends a jolt of pain straight to your chest. he sounds small, defeated, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has finally crushed him.

“lando…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"because everyone else—" he pauses, taking in a shaky breath. "they all think they know me? that i’m just some… some asshole who doesn’t care, who’s not capable of… anything real? but i’m not. i’m not, y/n. you know that, right?"

the room feels heavy, like the air is thickening with every word. you want to say something, to tell him that you believed in him once, that you saw the good in him, the real lando, but it’s not that simple anymore.

"i fell for you," he says, voice trembling, eyes glistening as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that can save him. with the rapid blinking of his eyes, tears start to fall and so does your resolve. "i wish i didn’t put you through this, but i did. and i didn’t know how to be that guy… the one you deserved. but i tried. i’m still trying."

it’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of his ragged breathing and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you look at him, really look at him. his face is flushed from the alcohol and the tears, but beneath that, you see something more. he’s broken in ways you never let yourself see before.

all the cockiness, the bravado, the charm—it was all just a shield. he never thought he was good enough for you either, and maybe that’s why you left. you repeat it to yourself but it was a losing war.

the old lando wouldn’t be here, in front of you, crying and baring his soul. he wouldn’t have admitted any of this. isn't that reason enough to give him another chance?

he was selfish before, reckless, hiding behind his reputation as the playboy, the fun guy who never cared too deeply about anything. but now, now you see the cracks. you see the vulnerability he’s tried so hard to bury and it kills you to give in but the words leave you before you can stop yourself.

"i thought you didn’t care," you admit softly, feeling all your defenses start to crumble. "that’s why i left, lando. i didn’t think you could care."

"i fucking love you," he lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. not believing what you were saying at all. "i care too fucking much. i just… maybe i don’t know how to show it right."

you sigh, sitting down beside him on the couch, still keeping a little distance between you. "it’s not about showing it right. it’s about showing it at all."

he looks at you, his gaze softer now, more open. "i’m sorry. i know i’ve been… i know i fucked up. but i’m… i love you, y/n. i really fucking love you. and i didn’t know how much until you weren’t there."

his words hang in the air, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel anger or hurt. you just feel… sad. sad for him, sad for you, sad for all the misunderstandings that led you here.

you reach out, gently brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for your touch. he probably is because so are you.

"i’ve changed," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "i swear loving you has changed me."

you don’t respond right away. instead, you lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. his skin is warm beneath your lips, and the simple gesture feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared before.

when you pull back, lando looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. "i love you too," he mumbles, his voice barely audible, like he’s falling asleep or slipping into a dream where things are better, where you’re together again.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next, or if you can really fix what’s broken between you. but for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe… just maybe, you can try.

and maybe this time, it’ll be different.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[aeonstale]

JIAOQIU DRABBLE

summary. herbalist reader x jiaoqiu tw. fem!reader, cursing, some pov changes, art by hoki11. (the lack of jiaoqiu fic is criminal), not proof read.

"What got you so happy, JIAOQIU?" The lacking general question her retainer. He seemed happier than usual, his smile seeming more genuine.

Said foxian tilt his head in faux confusion at his boss' question, "Mmh? Do I now?"

"Yes. And it's unnerving since your cooking. Don't tell me you added more spice?" The shadow guard frown at the thought. He only saw his colleague smile this widely when he tricked the food.

Jiaoqiu gasped. Clasping his heart, he put on a hurt face while sighing dramatically, "How could you! And here I thought we were friends. You truly wound me Moze..."

"Cut it out." Moze deadpanned while Feixiao could only laugh.

Well, the two of them were right. Jiaoqiu was indeed happier than usual, he thank the sweet lady he met earlier this evening. He ponders when he should meet her again. Perhaps he should bring along a gift or two.

JIAOQIU wanders along the streets of the Luofu in search of a herbs-selling shop nearby. He has been wandering for a few system hours now. Yet none sold the plant he so desperately need. He sighed in defeat, deciding to retreat for now. Maybe he would find it some other time.

That was how it should've gone.

Until his eyes caught onto a discreet shop. 'Herbs & Help'. It seemed like he missed out on one shop, Jiaoqiu was sceptical. He had been searching for awhile, leaving with more disappointment one after the other. But he suppose one more wouldn't hurt him.

Opening the door, the scent of herbs and spices welcomed him. His ears twitched at the sounds coming from the backdoor. Murmurs and curses could be faintly heard. He stopped at the counter filled with bags each containing different herbs. Jiaoqiu looked at the shelf presented in front of him, searching for the herb he needs.

"Fucking aeons, the back gets messier the more I go back to it—" the voice stops as the sight of the healer settles into the shop owner's mind. "Oh..Oh! Hello! Welcome, um, I'm y/n, how can I help you today?"

The woman looked dishevelled. Leaves sticking to her hair, dirt smeared her cheeks and her outfit. Nonetheless, Jiaoqiu smiles at the lady. "Hello, I'm looking for a herb—Goldenseal? I was wondering if you had any in stocks." Jiaoqiu waited for the expected 'No, sorry' or 'we ran out'.

"Oh! Goldenseal? I think I have some left in stock let me see." the young lady perked up at the familiar name, nodding at the gentleman before going back into the mess that is the storing room.

To say the foxian healer was surprised would be an understatement. To think a barely noticeable shop was the end of his endless search was a welcomed surprised.

The fox hummed as he looked around. The shop seemed well kept. The herbs looking to be of high quality, he was right to stop by.

Just as he was inspecting the plants, a loud crash echoed from the back.

A moment pass before Jiaoqiu asks, "Is everything alright back there? Do you need help?" More crashes were heard —with the young man wincing at every sound— before the lady comes back.

"Sorry. it's a bit of a mess back there. Here is your herb Mister, er.."

"JIAOQIU." the doctor smiled.

You blinked at the man. 'Jiaoqiu...' you noticed it before, but the man was very attractive. Embarrassment crept up your neck as you recalled the state you were in. Quickly and discreetly (though you failed at the second part.), you tried to tidy yourself up. If the man noticed, he didn't say a word about it.

"Right, Mister JIAOQIU. Here are your herbs, I added extra as an apology for the disastrous meeting." you nervously chuckled. Jiaoqiu chuckled in response, you were cute.

"Won't it be bad for your business? Giving out freebies just because of a first meeting?" he tilted his head, awaiting your answer.

Not if it's for a pretty man like you.

"Why thank you." his tail was wagging slightly, his ears twitching slightly.

Your eyes widen as the realization struck you. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" The nod from the foxian was all you needed to start digging up a hole to crawl into. You melted into the floor, heat rushing to your cheeks, you only let your eyes peeking out from below the counter. "The herbs will be 3000 credits please."

Jiaoqiu was amused at your state. You were honestly so adorable. With your soft voice and your eyes looking anywhere but his. He was interested in you. (Or well your reactions.)

He put down the credits, leaning over the counter so he was towering you in your crouched position. "Thank you for the herbs, you really saved me." He opened his eyes to stare at your own, the both of you shared a moment before he winked and stood tall once again,

"See you around, cutie." And with that he left (Though the wagging of his tail told you he left in a content state.).

"Fuck his voice was hot."

While you were melting behind the counter, JIAOQIU was already looking forward to the next time he'll visit your shop.

EXTRA ;

"So will you tell us why you were so happy earlier?" Feixiao questioned once more. Her curiosity wouldn't be sated until she learns the true reason for her retainer's giddiness. The foxian could only hum, his hands expectedly prepping the ingredients for the hot pot, a smile seemingly forever etched in his face. "Well for one, I found the herb I've been looking for," ("The ones you looked all over the Luofu and Yaoqing for?" Moze inquired. He received a nod in return.) "and I may have met a cutie who saved me the hassle of searching all over again." Moze and Feixiao exchanged glances. Seemed like their healer was infatuated with someone. If the still wagging tail was any more of an obvious sign

©—jingyuqn. do not repost, translate or copy my work. 2024.

[a-killer-obsession]

Need [FTM!Killer x Kid]

Killer has a need, Kid helps.

CW: transmasc killer, pre-ts, degrading terms, rough sex, fingering, p in v sex, biting, blood

WC: 2.2k

Masterlist || A03

When Killer started on Testosterone, he knew there'd be some side effects. He'd heard about other trans men needing to jerk off all the time, but he didn't think it'd be that bad. He'd been presenting as a man for longer than most of the crew had known him, having had top surgery before the Kid Pirates were even formed - only Kid, Heat and Wire even knew he wasn't born with a dick. But it wasn't until Sabaody that he was finally able to start hormone therapy, and it'd only been a few months since then. He was thrilled with the way his muscles were already building, a small goatee starting to proudly grow and making him feel more like the man he knew he was born to be, but there were, in fact, side effects.

Namely, the one he'd been dreading. Killer had never been a very sexually charged person, and with his low confidence and anxiety around not having the equipment he was expected to have, he usually just solved any sexual frustration on his own. His periods had all but stopped since starting on T, but it seemed like when they did happen that they were always followed by a particularly heated ovulation. He was starting to feel like a bitch in heat the way he was craving dick, and this month was exceptionally bad. All the toys in his arsenal no longer seemed to be enough to satisfy him, and he felt like he couldn't concentrate on anything except the throbbing between his legs. He was thankful for his mask when he caught himself literally salivating over Kid working out on the deck - sweat dripping down his pale body, veins straining against thick muscle, thick thighs barely contained by his pants. It didn't help that Killer knew he had a nice thick cock too, they'd fooled around a few times when Killer was still in the closet. Not that Kid cared that Killer wasn't a woman, all Kid cared about was whether you had at least one hot hole for him to fuck.

Killer groaned in frustration as he tossed and turned in his bed, several orgasms in but still craving. He knew what he needed, knew it was just across the hall and more than willing, but he felt ashamed for wanting it. Images of Kid's muscular body swam around in his mind, followed by memories of Killer getting plowed by him, and his pussy clenched around nothing. Swearing and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he gave in and unwillingly trudged across the hall to Kid's door, banging on it with a closed fist until he heard an annoyed grumble on the other side.

“The fuck you want?” Kid growled as he opened the door, immediately taken aback by Killer's disheveled appearance. His black and white polka-dot shirt had been straining on his growing form for a while, and now hung loosely from his shoulders, unbuttoned and revealing the sweaty, well sculpted torso beneath and the faint top surgery scars Killer usually hid. His jeans were unfastened, sash missing, and his socks and shoes had long been thrown off. His mask was on, but his hair was a mess, Kid could tell he'd been tossing and turning for a while. “You good?” Kid asked in a more concerned tone.

“No, I'm not good,” Killer huffed, pushing Kid backwards into the room and slamming the door behind him so he could speak freely, “I'm horny as fuck and I feel like I'm going to fucking explode if I don't get railed properly.”

Kid was a little speechless, he was never one to say no to a hot lay but Killer wasn't the type to ever ask for it. The few times they'd done the horizontal tango had been after significant persuasion from Kid, and not since Killer had come out.

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” Killer growled, slipping out of his jeans before Kid could even answer. Kid could see the wet patch already staining Killer's briefs, and smell the pheromones coming off him. It made his dick twitch and his breath catch in his throat, and he forgot to say anything. “Oh for fucks sake,” Killer hissed, grabbing Kid's hand and shoving it down the front of his underwear, “stop acting like you're gonna say no and fuck me already, I’m going insane here.”

Killer's cunt was dripping as he held Kid's hand against it, grinding against it, his other hand gripping Kid's shoulder for support as he rubbed against Kid's fingers like it was just a toy, making desperate sounds Kid had never heard him make before. “Fuck, yer dripping Kil,” Kid groaned, curling his fingers to slip inside Killer, immediately able to sink two inside him and pumping him fast. Killer moaned and threw off his helmet, discarding it on the floor so he could grab Kid's hair and tilt his head to chew on his neck. His other hand slid down Kid's front, desperately seeking out the hard dick he knew he'd find and palming it through Kid's pants before slipping under the waistband to handle him properly. Kid’s free hand groped at Killer’s nice round ass, making him whine. He could hear how pathetically wet his cunt was, but he was too needy to be embarrassed.

Kid groaned as Killer squeezed his cock, making Kid swear under his breath before capturing Killer's mouth with his own and forcing his tongue into his mouth. Killer was more than willing to reciprocate, already close to cumming as Kid pushed a third finger inside him and curled them deliciously. It’d been years since they’d tasted each other and it only made Killer more desperate for more.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Killer pulled away from the kiss and sunk his nails into Kid's shoulders as his legs threated to clamp shut around Kid's hand. “I'm gonna, fuckkk,” he groaned as he came hard, almost collapsing as his legs shook. Kid made a feral growl as he pulled his hand from Killer's briefs, sucking the juices from his own digits as he locked eyes with the first mate, who made a small whine at the action. Kid pushed him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he fell back against it, Kid immediately yanking Killer's underwear off before stripping his own clothes, his needy erection bobbing as it was released.

“Fuck I missed the taste of that sweet cunt,” Kid purred as he climbed on top of Killer, “I bet its just as tight as I remember too.”

“Hurry up and find out,” Killer spat back, lifting his hips to grind his slippery cunt against Kid's erection.

“Needy slut,” Kid grunted, rutting against Killer a few times before lining himself up, “like a bitch in heat, take this cock then.”

Killer moaned and wrapped his legs around Kid as he was stretched by his girthy cock, filling Killer up quickly as Kid pushed straight to the hilt. Killer's eyes rolled back in satisfaction as he finally got what he was craving, and he pushed his heels against Kid's ass to beg him to move already. “Hold your fucking horses, fuck,” Kid complained, trying to get into a comfortable position. He lifted Killer's legs to rest over his shoulders then he dragged them upward and pushed forward, making Killer grunt as he was folded in half and Kid's dick reached impossibly deeper. “There you go,” Kid grinned, “now I can fuck you good and deep.”

Killer was about to make a snarky remark about how long it was taking but Kid forced the breath out of him with a heavy thrust as he started at a brutal pace, giving Killer no time to adjust or complain - exactly what Killer wanted. Kid didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know that Killer wasn't here for a gentle loving night, he was here for a hard fuck, so that's what Kid was gonna give him. “Oh fuck,” Killer groaned, “just like that, fuck.”

“That’s right, take it,” Kid grunted, gripping Killer’s thighs hard as he pumped him and the room filled with the wet squelches of Kid’s dick thrusting in and out of Killer’s greedy cunt. Killer gripped the sheets either side of him, balling them in his fists and untucking the edges of the sheets as he squirmed and groaned, the bed rocking and creaking with every hard thrust. “Fuck, your cunt is just as tight as it was,” Kid groaned, “bet it was just begging for my cock huh? Needy little slut, desperate for your captain’s cock.”

“Call me a slut one more time and I’ll bite it the fuck off,” Killer growled, reaching up and pulling Kid’s red locks, forcing his head to tilt. Kid growled and pulled Killer’s hair in return.

“I’d like to see you fucking try, slut,” Kid taunted. Killer growled and squeezed his thighs tight around Kid’s waist, flipping both of them so he was on top and sinking his teeth into Kid’s thick neck while he rode him. Kid’s nails dug into Killer’s back and drew blood, as did Killer’s teeth, dripping down Kid’s pale skin and staining the sheets beneath them. Kid pulled Killer’s hair hard until his head was forced away, and he captured Killer’s lips, tasting his own blood on his tongue as he sucked on it. He bit Killer’s lip and earned a deep growl in response. “You wanna play rough, let's play rough,” Kid snapped.

Pieces of metal flew at Killer, wrapping around his wrists and tugging his arms upwards, like he was hanging from a chain. “No fucking fair,” Killer grumbled as Kid slipped out of his cunt and climbed off the bed, standing behind Killer, his wild blonde hair running down his back, matting with the trails of blood from the marks Kid had made. Killer was on his knees on the bed, his back arched as his hands were held above him. Kid made a satisfied hum at Killer’s ass before kneeling on the bed behind him and forcing his cock back inside, Killer letting out a grunt at the action.

“You look good like this, Kil,” Kid teased, giving him a hard thrust, his painted fingers sinking into Killer’s hips, “maybe I’ll keep you bound in here more often, use you like a fleshlight whenever I want.” Killer wanted to complain at being treated like a doll, but his pussy was clenching at Kid’s dirty talk, and he pushed back to fuck himself on Kid’s dick. “Needy,” Kid commented, holding Killer’s hips tighter to stop him moving, making Killer whine. Kid pushed closer, holding Killer’s back against his chest, his mouth at Killer’s ear as he moved some of his blonde hair out of the way. “I’ll take good care of you baby,” Kid purred, nipping Killer’s ear, “you just sit pretty and take it.”

“I’m not pret- fuck,” Killer snapped as Kid bit into his neck and started fucking him hard again. His pelvis snapped against Killer’s ass with every thrust, reddening the skin and making Killer feel like he was being spanked. Kid’s hands ran up Killer’s front, pinching his sensitive nipples almost painfully, making Killer go brainless at the multiple angles of stimulation. The metal around his wrists released him as Kid’s teeth left his neck, leaving a bite mark to match the one he’d given Kid, and Kid pushed Killer’s head against the bedding with one hand while the other spanked him hard. Killer cried out, his orgasm close, and Kid brought down his hand again against his ass, leaving a bright red handprint.

“Fuck, I can feel you clenching around me Kil,” Kid groaned, “go on and cum for me, cum on your captain’s cock.”

Killer bit down on the sheets to muffle his scream as he came hard, gushing and saturating the front of Kid’s thighs and the sheets below. Kid worked him through it until Killer went boneless, before pulling out and jerking himself off over Killer’s ass, shooting ropes of cum over the red handprints. “F-fuckk,” Killer stuttered as he went limp against the sheets, finally sated and completely wiped out. Kid groaned and collapsed on his back next to him.

“Sorry for calling you a slut,” Kid mumbled, “and a bitch. Got sort of lost in it.”

“It’s fine,” Killer sighed, rolling to rest his head against Kid’s chest, “it was a good fuck anyway.”

“Mmm,” Kid agreed, “I missed you. It’s been a while”

“Yeah well,” Killer sighed, “it’s not just you, if that makes a difference. I haven’t fucked anyone.”

“For real?” Kid sat up, “you really haven’t gotten laid? Cos of… the change?”

“I just… haven’t felt confident,” Killer admitted, rolling away to hide his blush.

“Well, you can always come to me,” Kid laid back down and spooned him, getting some of his own cum on his tummy, “you’re my best mate Kil, you can always come to me, for anything.”

“I know Kid,” Killer pulled Kid’s arm to hold him a little tighter, “I know.”

“Don’t wait till you’re suffering next time, aye?” Kid laughed, “let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” Killer yawned, before pulling the blankets up over the two of them, too tired to clean up. It was already so late before he came in here. “Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

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[advisorykitty]

Hi! Its been a while since you posten but if everrrrr…. Could you write how a sleepover would be with randal? Please and thanks! Hope your doing well

Humble endings..

Sleep over with Randal

I haven't written in so long!!!! sowwy if its short );

You'd been dreading this moment all week. Your parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided that a sleepover at Randal Ivory's house would be a "great bonding experience." Never mind that Randal was the epitome of unsettling, with his ever-present grin and penchant for creeping people out. You had recently moved to Canada because of some corporate job your dad got and you had been forced to move as a whole family. Of course that meant you had to attend a new school... and well.. that of course ,meant you had to conveniently sit down next to the least sane person in the room and be forced to accept his invite for a sleep over. (how could your parents do such a thing..!!)

But here you were, standing at the doorstep of the Ivory household, overnight bag in hand, contemplating all the life choices that led you to this point.

The door creaked open before you could knock, revealing ..who exactly?? Lu.. Loofah??.. No wait.. you vaguely remember Randal mentioning his name.. Lu...Luther!! Randal's older brother. Tall, emotionless, and perpetually unblinking. Wait.. does that guy even have eyelid-

"Ah, Y/N," he intoned in his monotone voice, eyes wide and unexpressive. "Welcome. Please, come in."

You stepped inside, the air thick with an indescribable tension. The living room was a chaotic mess of dolls, some missing limbs, others with eyes that seemed to follow you. In the midst of it all sat Randal, his red hair disheveled, glasses askew, wearing what appeared to be a Japanese school uniform. He looked up from arranging his dolls in a circle, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Y/N! You're here!" he exclaimed, bounding over with an unsettling enthusiasm. "We're going to have so much fun!"

"Yeah, can't wait," you replied, forcing a smile and wondering if it was too late to feign a sudden illness.

Luther hovered nearby, holding a glass of water. "Hydration is essential," he stated, handing it to you. "Drink."

Not wanting to offend the towering figure, you took the glass and sipped. Luther nodded approvingly and disappeared into the kitchen, only to return moments later with another glass. "Drink," he repeated.

Umm... okay..

You downed the water in one go trying not to think about the metallic after taste.

The night had barely begun, and you were already wondering how you had ended up here. Again.

Luther stood by the doorway, holding yet another glass of water in his eerily steady hands. His piercing stare made it impossible to refuse, so you took it with a forced smile and downed it in one go. "Uh, thanks," you muttered, wiping your mouth. It was your third glass of the evening, and at this rate, you feared you might float away before the night was over.

Luther simply nodded, stepping back into the shadows like a sentry awaiting his next cue.

The moment he was gone, Randal clapped his hands together. "Now that hydration’s out of the way," he said, tone far too enthusiastic for your liking, "I think it’s time you met my children!"

You blinked. "Your what now?"

Randal skipped over to a large, antique-looking cabinet and swung the doors open with a dramatic flourish. Inside sat dozens of dolls, their glossy eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. Some were pristine, dressed in lace and ribbons. Others looked like they had survived a war—or caused one. One particularly scraggly doll had only one eye and what looked like bite marks on its hands.

Randal lifted it gently. "This is Mr. Snuffles. He’s a bit wary of newcomers, but don’t take it personally. He’s still getting over the whole... incident."

You didn’t ask. You just scooted slightly further away.

Before you could even process the growing list of reasons why this sleepover was a terrible idea, Luther reappeared, standing just as stiff as ever. "Dinner is ready."

Randal beamed. "Perfect timing! Let’s feast."

You followed them to the dining room, and upon seeing the spread, immediately regretted it. The table was covered in dishes that defied categorization—some looked like they had once been food, but had long since abandoned that identity. A charred roast sat in the center like a burnt offering, accompanied by unidentifiable side dishes that may or may not have still been alive. One bowl in particular emitted a smell so offensive that you instinctively leaned away.

"I’m not really hungry," you said quickly, hoping to escape whatever culinary nightmare Luther had concocted.

"Nonsense," Luther replied in that monotone voice of his, leaving no room for argument. "But if you insist, more water will suffice."

And so, the evening continued, with you steadily sipping glass after glass of water under Luther’s unblinking gaze while Randal regaled you with tales of his dolls’ adventures and his latest Neopets achievements.

At one point, he vanished behind the couch and reappeared with a Furby, cradling it like a sacred relic. "This is my spirit animal."

The Furby’s eyes flickered to life, and in the most cursed voice imaginable, it croaked, "Me love you."

You choked on your water.

"Ah, I forgot it does that." Randal patted the Furby’s head, unfazed. "Anyway, I challenge you to a game!"

"What kind of game?" you asked warily.

He grinned and pointed to a large, dust-covered machine in the corner. It was an old rhythm game—the kind where you had to stomp on the arrows in time with the music. The machine flickered on, bathing the room in neon light as the speakers blared an upbeat techno track.

You groaned. "Randal, no."

"Randal, yes."

He dragged you onto the platform, and the game began. Within seconds, you were in hell. The screen exploded with arrows in every direction, demanding footwork that only the most devoted arcade dwellers could master. Meanwhile, Randal danced beside you effortlessly, barely even looking at the screen as he cackled at your suffering.

"Step up, Y/N! Feel the rhythm!" he cheered.

"I am feeling the rhythm! And it’s kicking my ass!"

Your feet tripped over each other as you missed step after step, and Randal was absolutely thriving off your misery. At some point, Luther entered the room, watching the spectacle in complete silence. After a long pause, he handed you another glass of water.

By the time the game ended (with your defeat, of course), you were ready to collapse. Randal, completely unbothered, flopped onto the couch and patted the seat next to him. "You were terrible, but it was fun."

"Glad I could entertain you," you wheezed, wiping sweat from your forehead.

As night fell, Randal led you to his room, where a sleeping bag was laid out on the floor amidst more dolls and questionable artifacts. He plopped onto his bed, grinning at you with his usual unsettling enthusiasm.

"You know," he mused, "most people don’t last a night here. They get... uncomfortable."

You stared at the various porcelain faces surrounding you. "Can’t imagine why."

You reluctantly settled into the sleeping bag, praying for a swift and painless end to this ordeal. The night was filled with the sounds of creaking floorboards, whispering dolls (or maybe that was just your imagination), and Randal’s occasional giggles in the dark. At one point, you swore you saw a pair of glowing eyes peering at you from the shadows, only for them to vanish when you blinked.

Morning couldn’t come fast enough. The moment the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, you hastily gathered your things, eager to escape this madhouse with your sanity somewhat intact.

"Leaving so soon?" Randal pouted, hanging upside down off his bed, red hair cascading toward the floor.

"Yeah, gotta... walk my fish," you replied, inching toward the door.

Luther appeared once more, pressing yet another glass of water into your hands. "For the road."

With a resigned sigh, you chugged it down, just to appease him.

As you stepped outside, the fresh morning air was a welcome relief. You had survived the night, though barely. One thing was certain: next time your parents suggested a sleepover, you’d feign the plague if necessary. Or maybe yellow fever.

Behind you, the door creaked open slightly, and Randal’s voice floated out. "Come back anytime, Y/N. Mr. Snuffles misses you already."

You quickened your pace, vowing to invest in a good set of locks... and perhaps a therapist.

I COULDNT BE ASKED TO ADD SEBASTIAN !!!! lets just pretend he is his hotdog costume!!!!!!!

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute, Chapter 4 - Law

Source for the pic

Word Count: 4487 (these just keep getting bigger!)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, This is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

Notes: I'm really sorry if I messed up some medical expressions. I tried to Google everything first!

| Chapter 3 - Zoro | |Chapter 5 - Sanji|

Law:

Your dad's grunts and wails have been increasing both in volume and in intensity, so you let out a long breath of relief as you finally park the truck at the clinic’s - thankfully almost empty - parking space.��

“Hey, dad” you say softly as your heart clenches at the sight of your father’s sweaty face and scrunched up brows. “I'm going to grab you a wheelchair and some help, okay?”

You take his grunt as a positive answer and run inside the clinic, only noticing your dishevelled state as you catch sight of your reflection in the glass doors: your white top is not white anymore and there's a tear at the bottom; your shorts have dirt and oil all over them; you don't even want to get started on your knees and legs, which are bruised and scraped from kneeling on the dirt; and your once perfectly braided hair is no longer perfect and it is barely braided. 

You sigh as you enter the clinic and wince in pain as you step your foot wrong. You definitely sprained it when you were with Zoro. 

You drag yourself to the front desk and the blonde girl gasps as she looks at your state. “Oh, my!” She gets up hastily and goes around the desk to reach you. “Are you all right?”

You nod frantically. “I'm fine, I'm fine. I-... Kaya?”

The girl looks at you with a furrowed brow but it doesn't take her more than five seconds before her mouth turns into an ‘o’ and she exclaims your name happily. “You're back! It's been ages!”

You laugh and nod. “Yes, we should catch up. After we get my father inside. He hurt his back and-...”

“Again?” You swear this time your ears start fuming. This has happened more than once and this doctor keeps sending him home? Oh, he is going to get a piece of your mind. “Shachi, Penguin, can you be darlings and bring Mr. S. inside? He's had another incident.”

You cross your arms against your chest and frown as you watch two men go outside with a wheelchair to bring your father inside. 

“They'll take him to Dr. Trafalgar. How about you, sweetie, are you alright? You don't seem well.” Kaya was your friend from kindergarten to half of the middle school, until she went home to be home-schooled. You lost touch with her even before you left town, but she has always been such a nice friend that you actually find yourself sharing a soft smile with the blonde. 

“I've had a few mishaps with the car before getting here.” You sigh. “I'll go freshen up in the bathroom and then I'll meet my dad. Is that alright?”

She nods and points you to the ladies’ room. You stand in front of the mirror and, as you're passing your fingers through your hair, trying - and failing - to detangle its knots, you realise you should eat something. You discarded breakfast on account of that stupid asshole and his selfies, and you and your father didn't have a chance to eat lunch. 

But first, you let out a deep sigh at your appearance, you should try to make yourself presentable. You don't want to chew the doctor's ears out looking like a hobo. 

Washing up as best as you can, massaging your sprained ankle, and redoing your braid - there's nothing to be done about the state of your clothes - you deem yourself somewhat presentable and, as you leave the bathroom, you see your father being wheeled to a room so you follow him quickly. 

“Daddy!”

“Buuuuuug! The doc gave me the good stuff!” He slurs and guffaws, opening his arm and almost throwing himself off the chair to hug you. Then he turns his voice into a whisper. “He stabbed a needle in ma butt!” Shanks uses his hand to hide his cheeky laugh before he continues. “Imma stay here for a while because they'll put some more drugs in my arm. And then we can go.”

What? IV and an injection? That's the whole treatment? No. Not on your watch. 

“Yeah, that's good dad, rest.” You smile at him and then turn to the man with the brown hair who is wheeling him. “Hey, where's the doctor's office? I need to speak with him.”

“Er… I… Hum… Dr. Trafalgar doesn't like unannounced visitors…” He stutters but you silence him with an angry look. “But if you must know, it's that door.” He then chuckles nervously and wheels Shanks to a room. 

You take a deep breath and stomp towards the office the attendant pointed out to you. After one step, you stop stomping because your ankle hurts too much, but you still make it to your destination. You knock lightly on the door, because you're not a savage, but start to tap your foot on the floor when you don't get an immediate answer. 

As you raise your fist for a second round of angrier knocks, you hear a deep ‘come in’ from inside the office and you open the door, wearing a frown. 

Which is quickly turned into a stunned expression because you didn't quite know what to expect from the doctor you've been hearing about, but this was not it. 

He's hot. 

There's no other way to describe the man in front of you. His black hair is tousled to perfection and you have to swallow a lump when he fixes his amber gaze upon your own. The frown and the furrowed brows only add to his allure, as you notice the tattooed forearms and knuckles. What an interesting choice of tattoos for a doctor, you can't help but think. 

They spell DEATH. 

The rest of his arms are covered by his white coat but you can't help but wonder if he has more ink on them. But that wondering soon stops, because he's already asked you twice about what you need and you have been transfixed in the same spot, drooling at him. 

“Right, hi! My father. Shanks! He was just here.” You exclaim as if that explains everything. 

“Yes, I know. I'm his doctor.”

He stares at you. “Oh, it’s my turn.” You stumble with your words and, is that an amused smirk in the stoic doctor’s face? Couldn't be, since it disappeared as soon as it appeared. “What is wrong with him? I keep hearing that he needs to come to the clinic more than once a week because of his back. That's not normal.” You seem to regain your cool and remember that you are there to get some answers from this man. 

He leans back in his chair and gestures for you to sit but you're too wound up to stay still, so you decline and start pacing the office. You're having a hard time breathing, so you start to fan yourself with your hand. 

“You're right, it's not.”

“What is it, then?”

His fingers entwine with one another as his gaze follows your form. You're limping, fanning both of your hands now, and you look like shit. You must be quite a spectacle.

“Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Are you kidding me?” Does your voice usually sound so far away? Because everything seems super bright and all the sounds are blending together. You stop and grip the back of the chair tightly, your knuckles turning white from the strength. 

“I'm not. Your father is sane and, other than his back, of good health. I have discussed treatment plans with him. He knows what he has and he knows what he needs to do in order to recover. To you, I can't say anything without his explicit permission.” You see him tense up as he stares at you and your behaviour. His brows furrow further as he turns his body to the side, as if he's about to get up. 

“But I'm his daughter!” You let out a ridiculous whine and start to gasp for air. 

“And I'm his doctor.” He gets up and approaches you. “Sit. You're so pale I can almost see through you. When was the last time you ate and-...”

That's the last thing you remember before waking up in a bed next to your father. 

-*-

You blink as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and take shallow breaths. Your head is throbbing and the constant beeping noise from the machine is not helping you at all. You realise that the beeping machine is hooked to you through your finger, as well as an IV attached to your arm. 

You raise your torso with a grunt and see that the cuts and bruises on your legs have been tended to, and your ankle is now sporting a not-so-fashionable elastic bandage with a pack of ice sitting on it. 

“Bug! You’re up!” Your dad flails his arm in the bed next to you to get you to look at him. “Law! Kaya! Someone!”

Pressing your thumb and index finger against the bridge of your nose, you sigh deeply. “Dad, dad, there’s a button to call the nurse next to the bed, please don’t scream.”

But it’s not necessary to use the button because Kaya enters the room with a concerned smile and gravitates towards you. “Sweetie, how are you?” Her voice is so gentle and kind that it forces an immediate smile from your lips. 

“My head is killing me. What happened?”

“Well, Dr. Trafalgar said it’s probably hypoglycemia - low blood sugar - he had some blood tests done, the results should be in at any moment. Have you eaten anything today?”

You nod and are about to say yes, of course, but the words don’t leave your mouth because they are not true. You really haven’t eaten anything today. “No.”

“Then, that’s definitely it.” Kaya giggles. “I could hear you yelling at Dr. Trafalgar from where I was sitting. He looked kind of flustered when he opened the office door, carrying you in his arms.”

You blush as your eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, you were unconscious, so he carried you to the examination room.” She giggles again and lowers her voice so your father doesn’t hear the rest. “Sweetie, you two looked straight out of a romantic movie. He was carrying you bridal style with a look of concern and you looked rather frail all curled up against his strong frame.”

You keep feeling your face getting hotter as the beep from the machine next to you grows louder and faster. Kaya has always loved romantic movies, so it’s no wonder she would think something silly like this. For all you know, Dr. Trafalgar was dangling you by one arm and you banged your head on all the thresholds before reaching this room.

It would explain the throbbing headache. 

“Nurse Kaya, I do hope you’re questioning the patient about medical history and the possible cause of this incident and not engaging in idle gossiping?”

You gasp alongside Kaya as Dr. Trafalgar approaches you both, a scowl on his face and his brows scrunched. How is his forehead not permanently wrinkled from all the pouts and frowns?

“No, I was just gossiping. I’m sorry.” Kaya giggles as you gasp at her truthful response. Is she allowed to speak like this with her superior? His stare at Kaya is so intense that, after a moment, she excuses herself and leaves you two alone with your father on the other bed, seemingly distracted by a soap opera on TV, until he spots the doctor next to you.

“Oh, Law! How is my baby girl?”

“Don’t call me that, dad.” You whisper between clenched teeth. Law? Is that the doctor’s first name?

“I’m going to examine her now, Mr. S. You can watch your show.” Shanks mouths a droopy ‘okay’ and turns back to the TV. He is still pretty high on drugs, apparently. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” His amber eyes stare at yours and you feel compelled to look at his name tag, instead, but then you are staring at his chest, and is that more ink coming out from the neck of the shirt he is wearing? Does he have a chest piece?

The beeping becomes faster and you switch back to the piercing eyes. “No, I haven’t.” You say, trying to distract yourself. 

“It’s certainly hypoglycemia, then. I will observe you.”

You nod and he removes the stethoscope from his neck, pushing it against your exposed cleavage. “Breathe in.” You take a deep breath. “Now out.” You do. He takes a step forward and tells you to lean forward as he repeats the process on your back. “In. Out.” 

He reaches for a small pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and points it at your eyes. “Look up. Down. Now the other one, up. Down. Okay, that’s it.”

“That’s it? Aren't you going to say I'm a good girl?” You giggle for a second and then stop abruptly. Suddenly mortified as his eyes pierce into your own with an unreadable expression. “I'm sorry. That was stupid. Are there drugs here?” You point to the IV and as his stare doesn't waver, the beeping on the machine just keeps getting faster and louder. 

“That's just a dextrose and saline solution. No drugs. That was all you.”

The machine just beeps louder and louder and you grunt as you rip the monitor off of your finger, rendering the beeping into a continuous, even more annoying, beep.

“Stupid thing! I think that might be broken.” You snort, wail and hide your face in your hands. Can you be an even bigger idiot? Why are you acting like this? Aren't you supposed to be yelling at this doctor on account of your father? Where has all of your bravado gone? 

Out the window when you passed out and were carried like a princess by her knight in shining armour. As well as all your sane thoughts on feminism and women’s rights, apparently.

Crap. 

“Are you done?” He asks, deadpan as he turns off the monitor and the beeping stops. Now you’re frustrated again, but you simply pout and nod without making eye contact. 

He flips through some files and hums softly. “Your blood tests came out normal. This was a simple incident of low blood-sugar, next time try not to stay too long without eating anything, or, at least, if you’re going to fast, drink plenty of liquids, tea or water, preferably.”

“I wasn’t fasting.” You mumble between clenched teeth, your eyes locked on the chipped nail polish that had come out when you ripped the monitor that was attached to your finger. 

“Whatever weird diet you are on, then. Stop it. You look extremely healthy, you don’t need it.” Could that have been a veiled compliment?

“M’not on a diet.” Your mumble is even quieter.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not on any diet, or fasting, or anything. I just didn’t eat, that’s all.” This time you speak loud and cross your arms over your chest for emphasis.

“You didn’t eat the breakfast I cooked, bug? Is this still because of that jackass fiancé that cheated on you?” Shanks is literally screaming so you know that, by now, the entire clinic knows you’ve been cheated on. Yet you simply inhale, use the back of your hand to wipe away a stray tear and nod.

“I'm going to kill him.” Shanks simply declares as he tries to get up from the bed. “Law, help me kill him.”

You glimpse that amused smirk on the corner of his lips as he watches your father struggling with the bed covers. 

“I would really like to be your partner in crime, Mr. S. But, you see, I took an oath.”

That statement makes you giggle and he turns his gaze back at you, smirk still in place, and your heart does a weird thing that makes you catch your breath. 

“Shove that oath up your-... Ouch, dammit!” Shanks’ legs get tangled in the sheets and he almost falls as he tries to get up. 

“Mr. S. please calm down. We're not killing anyone today okay?” Dr. Trafalgar turns to you. “He seems pretty determined, maybe you should distract him with something less illegal?”

Is he funny as well? He seems so stoic and uptight but he's responding to your father's shenanigans with a dark humour that's making you laugh. 

“Daddy, lie back down on the bed, we will schedule another day to kill him, I promise.” You use your commanding tone and your father grunts before settling back down again. “Besides, since it's the three of us together, I would like to ask you, Shanks, what's the treatment that Dr. Trafalgar recommended for your back because the Dr. doesn't want to share that information with me.”

Your lips turn thin as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“That's a good lad, Law. Thank you.”

You glare at both of them but Dr. Trafalgar just raises his arms defensively. “Doctor/patient confidentiality!”

“Dad!” You huff at the same time as your father groans loudly.

“Just tell her, Law. Or I'll never hear the end of it. And I still have a murder to commit.” He mumbles. 

You turn your attention back to the doctor and try your best not to give him your ‘see you could've told me earlier and we would've avoided this whole situation’ look, but you definitely give him one of those. 

“Your father has a herniated disc in his spine. This occurs when the soft inner core of a disc between the vertebrae protrudes through the tough outer layer, putting pressure on nearby nerves.” 

Your brows tighten at all the medical jargon but you're understanding the essentials, so you nod for him to continue. 

“Mr. S. experiences stabbing pain that radiates along the path of the affected nerve and can lead to episodes of intense pain and sometimes a feeling of weakness or numbness in the affected area. Activities that cause strain on the spine can make it worse. Something like bending down or lifting stuff.”

You turn to your father with a glare in your gaze, your frown heavy and your eyes watery. “I told you you should rest!” Your words are but a sliver that escapes your lips. Dr. Trafalgar continues.

“When the medication hasn't provided enough relief, as it's your father’s case, surgery may be recommended. The procedure typically involves removing the herniated portion of the disc to relieve pressure on the nerves and alleviate symptoms.”

The silence stretches and evolves into a thick fog that encapsulates the three of you within. Your next words are measured carefully, but need to be asked. “Is it a complicated procedure?”

Of course it is! It's on the spine! 

“Each case is unique on its own. The complexity can vary based on factors such as the location and size of the herniation, as well as your father's overall health.”

“And the risks?” Your gaze alternates between the doctor’s professional stance and your father's slumped and defeated form.

“Like any surgery there are inherent risks of infections or allergic reactions. Specifically to this surgery, there's always the chance of the symptoms remaining or that another surgery might be necessary. There's also a more severe risk of nerve damage, which can cause temporary numbness or weakness. Yet, in this case, I would argue that the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

“Dad…” You start. 

“I don't want to discuss this right now.” He discards the use of your nickname and calls you by your birth name, declaring his seriousness of the matter. 

Your lower lip trembles and you nod at him letting out a very soft ‘okay’. Suddenly, realisation hits you. This was probably the reason why he had the horse riding incident. It was the cause not the consequence. 

Dr. Trafalgar places a very gentle hand over yours and you gasp at the shock of his touch. “I will send nurse Kaya to remove your IV and your father's so you can both be on your way and discuss this properly.” You nod. “If you have any questions, you can always call me or visit the clinic.” You nod again, suddenly exhausted as your body starts to complain of all the abuse it suffered today. 

He leaves calling out a ‘take care, Mr. S.’ to your father at the door. Silence permeates the room as you turn and let your feet dangle from the bed, your eyes focusing on the lying form of Shanks. 

“Dad,” you start. “I know you don't want to talk about this, and I will respect your wishes, but just hear my opinion, you don't have to say anything!” You add and your father takes a deep breath but doesn't say anything so you take that as consent for you to continue. “You're young and very active. These episodes keep you from living a normal, fulfilling life. Dr. Trafalgar said that the benefits are far more than the risks and I think you should consider the surgery.”

The door opens up and Kaya comes in with a bright hello and a smile. “Think about it, dad.” You finish as Kaya stands at your side with a tray of equipment to relieve you of all the paraphernalia attached to your body. 

“So, how are we feeling?” She asks you as she swiftly disconnects the empty IV from your arm. 

You sigh and give her a lopsided smile. “I'm feeling better, Kaya, thank you.”

“Aaaaaand?” She giggles at you and your brows scrunch at her. “Dr. Trafalgar?”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, even if you will them not to. “He's very competent. He explained to me everything about my father's condition. He's very professional. I'm impressed.” As you admit this, you realise that maybe you should apologise to him for your earlier behaviour but maybe he's with another patient now. 

“That's not where I was going.” She pouts at you. “He's single, you know?”

You wince as she takes out the needle in your vein and puts a bandaid over it. “That's… okay, I guess.” You don't really know what to say. Kaya seems to be trying to set you up, but you really don't want to think about men at this moment. 

“You're impossible!” She mutters your name as she shakes her head and removes the melted ice pack from your ankle. “There, you're done. I'll take care of your father and you both can leave.”

-*-

Penguin and Shachi insisted on taking your father to the car themselves and you were at the desk with Kaya, settling the payment and documents. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally. The news about Shanks had left you preoccupied and you were having trouble processing. 

As Kaya finished inserting some data on the computer, you sighed deeply and pressed the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb, closing your eyes and trying to suppress the growing throb in your head. 

Suddenly, you feel a presence on your side as a deep voice fills the air. “Are you feeling well?”

Opening your eyes and forcing a weary smile on your lips you slightly nod. “Just the culmination of all the exciting events of today, I guess. A throbbing headache.” You shrug. 

Dr. Trafalgar takes out a set of keys from his pocket and goes behind Kaya opening one of the cabinets and taking out two pills from one container. Then he goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup. 

“Give me your hand.” You open your palm as he sets the pills there, lightly brushing his long fingers against your skin. “Take them. It will relieve the pressure on your head.” You set the pills in your mouth. “Water.” He hands the cup to you and you drink it. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out a wrapped onigiri. “Then eat this.” You reply with a meek ‘okay’. “Good girl.”

He smirks and you nearly choke to death on another sip of water. Then you burst out laughing and you notice that the smirk is still adorning his lips. Surprisingly, he laughs along with you and you are forced to admit that the way his deep voice slurred with the words ‘good girl’ made your knees buckle and your body tingle in very unholy places. 

“I'm sorry.” You start, as soon as the laughter dies down. “For overreacting earlier.”

“It's alright. I will blame your reaction on your abnormal state.” He says cheekily and you smirk back at him. 

“By the way, do you carry all your fainting patients in bridal style?”

He scratches the back of his head and looks down, seemingly embarrassed. “Just the cute ones.” The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and you're left speechless. Where had the stoic doctor gone? There seemed to be a cheeky flirt in his stead, did he have a twin?

“Thank you, Dr. Trafalgar, for everything.” You decide to finish the conversation there since you're liking it way too much, which can turn very dangerous. 

He nods. “It's Law.” You raise your brow at him. “My name, call me Law.”

“Law. Thanks.” His smirk turns into a slight smile that traps your gaze as you breathe slowly. Single, right? How? 

Kaya’s soft harumph seems to wake you both from your trance and Law excuses himself with work he has to do. “Don't be a stranger.” He adds and then wishes you and your father well before leaving. You sigh as you turn to Kaya, who's watching you with a knowing look and a very silly smile. 

“This was rom/com happening in real life, I swear. Girl, I'm dying here. You need to go on a date with him!” She squeals. “I don't think I've ever heard him laugh!”

“I'm not going on any date, Kaya.” You say, deadpan as you accept the receipts she hands you. “I'm off men at the moment, thank you very much.”

“Yeah we all heard your father. Sorry about your fiancé thing… Though maybe it was better to find out before the wedding actually happened!”

You nod. You couldn't agree more, actually. “I'm going to go now. Dad and I both need rest.”

You and Kaya exchange phone numbers, not wanting to fall out of touch with her, and wave goodbye. The exhaustion is taking its toll on you and you still have to try and convince your father to agree to the surgery. Maybe you'll leave that fight to another day, though. 

As you walk to the truck you unwrap the onigiri and take a small bite. It tastes homemade. Delicious. 

As scrumptious as Dr. Trafalgar Law, actually. 

No, nope. Not gonna happen. You shake your head as you take your seat ready to face the challenge of driving with a stick yet again. And somehow, between driving with a stick and trying to avoid thinking about Dr. Law, the first one seems like an easier challenge.

[iloveboysinred]

Hiii, your keith hc where absolutely perfect, and I wanted to ask would it be able to get some fluffy hc or one-shot (whatever you prefer more) of keith kogane please ?, have a lovely day or night 💓💓

Hi anon! Thank you so much for your ask. I think i’ll make this a one shot if you dont mind, I’ve been writing lots of hcs lately and i’m already planning fluffy HCs for Keith to be posted later on this week! Hope you enjoy 💕

My home is with you[Keith Kogane]

Vld Keith x Gn reader

Synopsis: Keith has been gone for two weeks. You start to feel his absence, and the team feels it too. Soon enough, he comes back and takes you away to spend time with you in his own special way

Cw; fluffy Keith, brief and i mean briefff mention of intercourse. Sorta angst but not really? Just you being sad and missing Keith. Happy ending. Kinda lengthy i hope you dont mind. Not a lot of dialect!

Masterlist

To say you missed Keith was an understatement. Between saving conquered planets, keeping the castle stable, and even Keith’s marmora training, you had barely gotten the chance to really sit down and have a nice, quiet night with your boyfriend. Everything felt tense all the time. There was always a lingering sense of panic, never being able to fully relax while Zarkon, and now, Lotor still lurked. They were an ever present danger you never knew when they would strike next.

The one thing you missed the most about earth besides your family and friends was the sense of normalcy you once had. The routine you had set for your life. When you would come over to Keith’s house, an old, isolated and broken down shack in the desert, with creaky floors and dusty broken windows. The place needed some work, but that never mattered to you or Keith. The love that was brewing inside every single time you would pay him a visit is all you and Keith could care about. You missed the cool, quiet nights where you and Keith would sit on his roof, staring up at the very same constellations you’ve now flown by and seen up close. Talking about your dreams, sharing secrets. He would hold you close and you would kiss him, running your fingers through his dark hair, whispering soft words of affection to each other.

You loved waking up next to him after a night of passion, your body aching from the love you had made, every bite and mark on your skin fresh and still stinging. You would glance down at him, sleeping peacefully, hair a mess and adorning matching marks of his own, before getting up and fixing breakfast with whatever he had in the fridge, making a mental note to tell Shiro to take you grocery shopping for Keith later that day. While you cooked he would come up behind you, wearing an old, warn out pair of sweats, hair disheveled, eyes blinking tiredly, still low and half lidded from sleep, but he still looked as handsome as ever. You would sink into his embrace, swaying side to side as you tended to the food cooking on the stove.

Now you sat cold and alone in his room. You’d see Keith less and less as time went on, The Blade of Marmora taking up almost all his time. You understood how important this was to him, you were happy he found a group to belong to, and you know what he was doing was bigger than yourselves. But you’d also began to feel his absence, and it was taking its toll on you. You slept in his room and wore his clothes, those being the only comfort you had whenever Keith was gone for days, sometimes weeks on a mission. It was nothing compared to the feeling in your stomach when he would wrap his arms around you and bring you down to bed with him, the washed out smell of him on his clothes dulled in comparison to the lingering familiar scent of his shampoo, surrounding you every time he embraced you. Nothing could fill in for Keith, and everyone in the castle could see how much you missed him.

So when Keith came back to the castle (unbeknownst to you) Shiro sat him down to have a talk.

Shiro explained that he has known you for as long as he’s been taking care of him. He could tell you werent being yourself and he was concerned with Keith’s frequent absences. “The team needs you, Keith.” Shiro sighed, placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “But Y/n needs you the most. You’re the only piece of home they’ve got. Try to be here some more. If not for Voltron then do it for them.” Keith nodded to himself, looking down in shame. He missed you too, but he had been so wrapped up with the Blades that he barely had time to worry about how he felt, or even about how you felt. Guilt fell in his stomach as if he’d swallowed a stone. “I know Shiro, i’m gonna make it up to them, and you guys. I promise.”

You had been sitting in the dining hall chit chatting with Allura and Lance when he came in, you didnt notice at first, picking at your food goo and nodding here and there when Lance would try to include you in the conversation. Keith took your lack of awareness as a chance to study you. Your hair was messily tossed into a hair tie, just as he always loved it, and you were wearing one of his plain black shirts. Keith felt a swell of emotion in his chest when he’d seen your face. Uninterested and blank, missing the spark he’d always search for. He could see from here how he’s impacted you, and his heart felt like it would shatter into a million pieces.

“And then i was like what the quiznak- oh hey Keith! Youre back” Lance chirped, exchanging a knowing look with Allura. But Keith didnt respond, his eyes locked with yours as you whipped around, eyebrows almost raising into your hairline. “Keith! You’re here!” You cried as you launched yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into him. Keith smiled wrapping his arms around you to steady you. “Yeah I am..sorry I was gone for so-“ you didnt let him finish, pressing your lips to his and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to meet you. You kissed sweetly, melting into each other.

You barely noticed Allura and Lance snickering at you while they exited the room. Too concerned with eating your boyfriend’s face to care about the teasing you’re probably going to deal with later. After a few moments Keith pulled away, he held your wrists gently in his as he looked into your eyes with all the love he had for you, smiling softly at you. “I missed you so much. All I could think about was you. I- I brought you this.” He handed you a necklace, a small dog tag with your initials carved in the thin piece of metal, the other side had a messy shape you assumed was supposed to be a heart. “I engraved it myself. I found it while we were on a stake out mission. I hope you like it” he sounded so shy and nervous, it made your heart swell with emotion as you handed it back to him. “Can you help me put it on?” “Yeah” you turned your back towards him, beaming as he clicked the hatch for the necklace into place, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “I love it baby, thank you” you turned back around to hold grab his hand, eagerly dragging him down the hall. “Cmon, I dont want to waste a second with you- i’m not gonna lie i’ve made a mess of your room but I hope you don’t mind!” “Actually, I want to take you out somewhere.” You stopped in your tracks and looked back at Keith. “Where?” “You’ll see it when we go. Cmon, put on a suit and meet me at the black lion’s hangar.” You nodded before walking into his room anyway, quickly getting changed and running down to meet him.

You held on to his seat as he took off, telling you to hold on tight as you flew out of the castle. You flew for about an hour, passing by vibrant planets and constellations. Pointing out meteors and stars as you passed by. Keith still wouldn’t tell you where you were going until you entered a big, green planet’s atmosphere. You looked over at him quizzically as you landed, the planet had nothing but short, green grass. You couldn’t hear the sounds of any creature or civilization. It was almost as if you were here completely alone. “Keith, where are we?” “This is planet Ogoria. Me and the blades made camp here when i was on that mission. It’s completely unhabited. & I brought you here to see something.” He explained, leading you off the black lion and into the open. “Cmon, lets find somewhere to sit.” Keith had brought with him a big blanket and two pillows, walking a few feet away from the lion before setting the blanket down on a particularly soft patch of grass. He threw the pillows on before sitting down. You followed suit, sitting down next to him, leaning into his body as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Look y/n, i’m really sorry i’ve been gone so much lately. The blades and I- well we’re getting close to finding something great” he muttered, glancing over at you. You looked away from him for a second, thinking over your next words. “ I know Keith. I’m not upset with you- I just miss how things used to be you know? I miss home. I miss our life together.” You sighed, gaze locked on your intertwined hands. “ I know, hun. I miss earth too. But we’re here now and we gotta try to make the best of it. This will be over sooner than we think. I feel it.” You looked up into his eyes, and he never looked so assured. You gave him a weak smile, scooting closer to him and pressing a peck to his lips. “Well, you’d better be right about that, Keith. Or i’ll drag us all back to Earth by force.” You giggled at the snort he let out, burrowing yourself deeper into his side, closing your eyes and relishing in his warmth.

“Y/n, look up at the sky”

You blinked your eyes open, having begun to nod off on Keith. When you looked up you let out a gasp. The sky was full of stars, it was as if the whole galaxy was displayed right In front of you in one place. “Keith its..its beautiful!” You whispered, unable to tear your eyes away from the scenery. “I know its nothing like the roof back home, but i figured it’s pretty close.” You tore your gaze away just to meet his, your eyes shining. “Keith I- i dont know what to say…I mean this is incredible!” you saw him smile, glancing up at the stars himself. “Lets get comfortable.” You both leaned down, lying on the pillows and drinking in the sight before you in comfortable silence. “Y/n..” you turned to look at him, his eyes were soft, full of adoration as he looked you over, burning every feature on your face into his mind. “I love you.. thank you for sticking with me.” You brought your hand up to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I love you too Keith. I’ll always be with you, no matter what.” And so there you laid. Holding onto each other, catching up and telling each other dreams and secrets you harbored. It was nothing like how’d you been on Earth. But Keith made it special, and thats all that mattered to you.

Hopefully you enjoyed Anon! Thank you again for your submission. :> Notes and reblogs appreciated, asks and submissions welcome!! 💗💗

[knoepfl]

~A Night of Firsts~

Characters:

Arthur Fleck: A socially awkward, shy man who has been quietly crushing on you for a while. He’s nervous but hopeful about making a good impression on this first date.

Reader (You): The woman Arthur has admired from afar. You’ve noticed his kindness and vulnerability, and now, you’re curious to get to know him better.

Trigger Warnings:

None

Masterlist

Words: 1016

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Arthur’s hands trembled slightly as he straightened his tie in the dingy bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back at him—nervous eyes, pale skin, and that ever-present tension in his jaw. It wasn’t like this was his first time asking someone out, but it was the first time in a long while that someone had said yes. And not just anyone—you had said yes.

He had admired you from a distance for weeks, watching you on the bus or in the grocery store, always too shy to do more than offer a small, nervous smile. But you were different. You always smiled back, sometimes even said hello, and that simple gesture made his heart flutter.

Tonight, though, was the real test.

“Come on, Arthur,” he muttered to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. “You can do this. You just have to be yourself. Don’t mess this up.”

After a final glance in the mirror, he grabbed his worn jacket and headed out the door, rehearsing in his mind everything he wanted to say, trying to ignore the creeping doubt that whispered he wasn’t good enough.

You were sitting in the small, cozy diner where Arthur had suggested meeting. It wasn’t fancy or extravagant, but it had a warmth to it that felt comforting, much like Arthur himself. You had always noticed something special about him—a quiet kindness that drew you in, even though he kept to himself most of the time.

The bell above the door jingled, and you looked up to see him enter. He was a little disheveled, but he had made an effort—you could tell by the way he had combed his hair and carefully chosen his clothes. When he spotted you, his eyes lit up, though his posture was still tense, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

You gave him a warm smile, and his nervousness seemed to melt, if only slightly. “Hi, Arthur,” you greeted softly as he made his way over.

“H-hi,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat across from you. He fidgeted with his hands, glancing down for a moment before finally meeting your eyes. “You… you look really nice.”

“Thank you,” you replied, your smile widening. “You look good too.”

His face flushed, and he let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure what to wear… I didn’t want to overdress.”

“You’re perfect,” you reassured him, and you could see a hint of relief in his eyes.

The two of you settled into a somewhat awkward but endearing conversation. Arthur’s words were soft and hesitant at first, but the more you talked, the more he began to relax. You asked him about his day, about his work, and he opened up about his job as a clown for hire, explaining how he tried to bring joy to people, even if he often felt misunderstood.

“I guess I just… I want to make people smile,” he said, his voice tinged with both hope and sadness. “But sometimes it feels like… like no one notices.”

You listened intently, your heart aching for him. There was something so raw and vulnerable about Arthur, something that made you want to protect him from the harshness of the world.

“I notice, Arthur,” you said gently. “And I think you’re doing something really special. It takes a lot of courage to try to make people happy.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You really think so?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. “Absolutely.”

A soft, genuine smile spread across his face, and for the first time that night, he looked truly at ease.

As the evening went on, you could feel a shift between the two of you. The awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable warmth. Arthur’s shyness was still there, but now it was tinged with something else—something lighter, more hopeful.

After dinner, the two of you decided to take a walk through the city. The streets were quiet, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you strolled side by side. Arthur walked a little closer to you than he had earlier, though he still seemed unsure of himself, as if he didn’t want to make any sudden moves.

But when your hand brushed against his, he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he hesitated for a moment, glancing at you with wide eyes before carefully taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm and slightly rough, and when you smiled at him, he returned it with a shy, almost disbelieving grin.

For the first time, he didn’t feel like he had to hide behind a mask. You saw him—the real him—and you didn’t turn away.

As you reached the end of the street, you paused in front of a small park, the dim streetlights casting a soft glow on the trees. You both stopped, standing in the quiet, taking in the peaceful moment.

Arthur turned to face you, his eyes searching yours with a kind of cautious hope. “This… this was really nice,” he said, his voice low and a little shaky. “I… I didn’t think anyone would ever want to go out with me.”

You squeezed his hand gently, stepping a little closer. “I wanted to,” you said softly. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

He blinked, clearly stunned by your words, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But then, something shifted in his expression—a flicker of confidence, however small.

“I… I really like you,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart swelled at the vulnerability in his words, and without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his cheek.

Arthur’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he stood completely still, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. But then, slowly, a soft, genuine smile spread across his face—a smile that was just for you.

“I really like you too,” you whispered back.

---

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading this sweet and heartfelt first date between Arthur and his crush. I hope you enjoyed seeing a softer side of Arthur and watching him open up. If you have any feedback or suggestions, feel free to share!

[goblinpuppy35]

Out of Place Together

University Remus x Male Reader

(Previous Chapter) - Part 6 -(Next Chapter)

Summary: An academia-core themed story about the Marauders during their final year of university in the Muggle world. Soon after meeting each other  Remus begins to fall for one of Sirius' friends Y/N another shy student.

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As Y/N's eyes opened in a blur from the early morning light, he was amused to see him and Remus were in the exact same position from the night before. Facing one another, their foreheads touching while their arms draped over each others sides. Gazing up towards the window Y/N could see small dropets of condensation running down the panes. A blurry mixture of yellow and orange shone through the misty glass, bathing the curly head of Remus still sleeping next to him. He was incredibly still, only the faint fall and rising of his chest indicated he was alive, he had the appearance of an statue, with chips across the stone work, all over his body. Even while wearing pajama bottoms and a shirt the bare skin on display was littered with marks. Being of such close proximity now Y/N could even make out a faded scare etched in from his eyebrow  down across his eyelid. Y/N knew he was the most beautiful man he had ever met and now he was waking up for the second time in this man's bed. 

The night before had a dreamy haze to it as Y/N thought back. Though in contrast to his normal unconscious state, the nightmare at the start. At the pub. With all the humiliation. Subsided into the sweetest dreams of being saved by those closest to him and then being in Remus' bed. In his arms, feeling his hands on his jaw, asking Y/N to be with him.

"Your miles away!"

Y/Ns mind was instantly drawn away from the memory from two weeks ago and brought back to the present. Where he was standing out on the street of the Marauders shared house. Looking down next to him Y/N observed that a old suitcase whose strained laches on impact with the hard pavement only seconds ago had burst open, stilling the contents of stained bedding and unwashed clothes down the street right next to his feet. Down the street was a dishevel clump of boxes and half open bin bags full of household objects. In Y/Ns peaceful reflection he had noticed none of this while carrying his lunch he'd picked up from the local café.

Y/N looked up to the window of the house from where the plummeting suitcase had ascended from and he was met with the face of James. James smiled down at the puzzled looking Y/N, half because he was glad to see his friend and half out of relief the flying suitcase he had chucked had not knocked him down thus adding splattering of tea and sandwich fillings to the tapestry of mess currently down their street. Just then the front door opened and shut promptly, 'Ah there you are' Sirius called out to Y/N cheerly walking towards him. Sirius stood next to Y/N and stared down the street with his hands on his hips with a glow of pride around him. "He's finally gone.' Sirius said as he took Y/Ns cup of tea and started to drink it, an action Y/N has become well accustomed to when being around his beloved friend. He also knew that for a while Peter was expected to move out. Shortly after the outburst at the pub apparently there had been several more disagreements within the house, drugs in the house being the final straw which resulted in James having to give Peter a definative choice. Either get your act together or get out. He went with the latter. "Two nights ago he just fucks off. Didn't even say goodbye and leaves all his stuff still here. We are clearing it out now." Sirius said as another loud thump of a bin bag landing on the ground followed. A majority of Y/N still felt really bad about the situation. He knew Peter meant a lot to the others with all their shared history, but clearly things had been pushed to the very edge. Regardless of their multiple awkward interactions Y/N did hope that where ever Peter ended up he would be okay.

He then watched as James with some effort squeezed a large cardboard box out of the window. It landed with a crash. Several vinyl records made daring escape and began to roll down the street. 'That's the las of it' James heaved, hanging his upper body out of the window 'god im exhausted'. 'Here you go' called up Sirius taking Y/Ns half wrapped sandwich out of his hand and with surprising aim hauled it upwards. Before any other emotion Y/N was simply impressed the other Marauder was able to catch it.

"Can you stop stealing my lunch. Please!" Y/N explained extending out his now empty hands. "Causing trouble?" a charmingly low smooth voice asked from the front doorway, now open again. A warm feeling emitted from Y/Ns chest and his eyed softened as he saw Remus' tall figure resting against the frame. Due to coursework piling up in both of their subjects the pair had not see each other for a few days. The sense of relief their faces expressed to one another in this moment made clear that this was already too long of a separation. "We were just about to tell him!" Sirius exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on his heels as he gave back a practically empty cup of tea to Y/N. "Why don't we show him" called out James from above before disappearing back in through the open window into the room. Remus has a unusual smirk across his scared face as well which peaked Y/Ns curiosity further, he stared at him waiting for an explanation. All Remus uttered was 'Come inside' as he lifted himself off the door frame allowing the others to walk into the house. Sirius went ahead. While Y/N walked under Remus' outstretched arm he greeted him quietly, still unable to submerge his flushed face. "Hey" Remus whispered back before sinking down kissing Y/N tenderly on the lips before directing him to go upstairs. Even an everyday kiss from Remus made Y/Ns legs feel weak as he climbed up the stairs. He met James and Sirius on the landing next to Peter's rooms door.

Y/N slowly walked in then observed the room in front of him. It clearly had been emptied out recently with bluetac stains from posters still on the walls and several dark marks across the carpet. There was also an undeniable smell of beer lingering in the room, hence why the window was left open. Several fresh houseplants had been placed on the windowsill, they softly swayed in the morning breeze. On the opposite end of the room was a second hand wooden desk and chair which was were Y/Ns interested peaked for draping over the chair was a lose navy over shirt. It belong to him. He had left it in Remus' room the last time he was over and had intended to pick it up today. Walking over he lifted it off the chair and then stared back at the three guys crowded in the door way. James and Sirius looked as if they were about to burst with smug excitement. Remus while smiling was carefully watching Y/Ns face while he pulled at the end of his moustache. Remus then saw Y/N confused face grow shocked and white and then frown. 'There. He's figured it out' Remus thought.

'Wait guys..' Y/N trailed off holding his shirt tightly in his hands. 'Before you say anything its completely perfect!' blurted out Sirius marching into the room. 'We are walking distance to the theatre and university library and split between all of us the rent will be the same as what you were paying before and you get the spectacular bonus of not having brain dead obnoxious housemates anymore'. 'Well maybe just one' James chimes in grinning towards Sirius. As Sirius continued to list all the benefits of the room and the house Y/N only half listening scanned the rest of the room. On the floor near the window was a large spacious single mattress with some bedding thrown over it.

"I figured you'd like your own space" Remus' low voice came from behind, his fingers delicately brushing up Y/Ns arm, 'Though I hope this wont deter you from sleeping in my bed. I've grown very fond of it', the taller man's hands brushed up to Y/N's shoulders and rested upon them, his head craned down and lightly kissed the curve of Y/N's neck. Y/N instant response was the smile from the contact however his mind felt as of it was in a sinking hole. "Are you guys sure about this" he finally murmured. "We talked about this weeks ago actually" James explained "Just took a fucking ages to get Peter to leave. Your one of our favourite people Y/N and that's not just Mooney's opinion so of course we'd love you to move in with us'. At last the words were said out loud and Y/N felt his chest rise and then instantly dip. He then become horribly aware that the others were all looking at him expectantly. 'I ... I will need to think it over' and without missing a beat Y/N escaped out of the door way to the bedroom. This took James and Sirius by surprised, staring at each other for a moment Sirius then started to try and follow Y/N. 'Don't.' declared Remus, not looking at either of his friends but looking off into a vague section of the door. He was pulling on the edge of his moustache again, 'give him a minute'.

Y/N had made his escape out of the kitchen door into the houses small back garden. The cold air against his skin was reassuring. A few moments later the same door was carefully opened again. He knew it was Remus. 'Your panicking' Remus stated in a matter of fact tone, 'no I'm not' Y/N replied unconvincingly. The fact that Remus could always to deduce how Y/N felt would annoy him if it wasn't one of his still new boyfriend many wonderful qualities. 'Do you not like the room?' Remus asked, 'no' replied Y/N sharply, 'because we've tried everything to get rid of that smell, i think it will just go in time'. 'No. I mean the room is perfect' Y/N explained disheartened. After a short pause Y/N sighed.

"I'm worried we haven't thought this through." Y/N finally huffed out as he continued to pass around the small patio, too tense to venture out into the grass. Remus rested his tall frame against the open door way and watched him. " What if you don't like me!" Y/Ns question made Remus laugh lightly "but I do." "Sure, but we've known each other for a few weeks and now your asking me to move in, you know nothing about me. What I'm like. How I act on a day to day basis." Y/N was struggling to pull out a cigarette out of its packet as he paced. "I like what I've seen so far." Remus replied calmly. "I'm a terrible morning person. I leave half drunk mugs everywhere. I make a complete mess in the kitchen when I cook. I snore if I've been drinking the night before". " I know." Remus couldn't help but smirk as he pulled out his own cigarette. Y/N wished he could glare at him but that curve across his face made him look so handsome. "I can be jealous and insecure over little things. I can be a mixture of indecisive and hyper fixated all at once. My self esteem is six feet under the ground we stand on". "We better get digging then" Remus said as he blew out a cloud of smoke upwards and then smiled kindly at Y/Ns stressed face. Taking a short intake of his own cigarette Y/N huffed rather then exhaled, "Are you just going to be fine with anything I say here?". "Well it's working so far." Remus' causal demeaner was starting to get to Y/N, "Seriously Remus". The werewolf took a moment to stare at his boyfriend. Small specs of rain highlighted against the lit window and doorway around him. "Do you think it's possible you are trying to find a reason for this to not work because you don't think you deserve it?" Remus' question was met with an even longer pause from Y/N. He has been about to put his almost finished cigarette to his quivering lip but then stopped. Stood very still before resting against the brick wall and along with a long sigh slide down the wall until he was sitting on the stone floor.

Even in this moment of uncertainty Y/N greatly cherished how he knew Remus' silence at this time was simple him patiently waiting for him to figure out where his mind was and find the right words. "I worry that I worry too much." another one of Remus' husky chuckles escaped his pressed lips "there's a statement". Annoyed Y/N found himself smirking too before he resumed his line of thought. "I worry that I'll worry so much about whether this is the right thing and whether I'm right for you that I will eventually ruin this honest to god perfect situation I've stumbled into with you. I'm worried I'll lose it." Finishing his cigarette Remus stamped it out and then walked out of the door way. Standing in front of Y/Ns folded up body his lowered himself into a squad in front of him. "Instead of worrying about losing it. Be happy in the now because we have it. And why is this all on you. I  want you to like me just as much" Remus said softly, taking his hand and running it through Y/Ns Y/H/C hair, "I know I can be quiet and in my own world most of the time, I just hope I can let you see that you truly are the centre of my world. Everything I promised you before is still true. I still pray to very corner of the universe I am able to maintain them so I don't lose you." Y/n leaned into the hand now pressing against his cheek. The rain left shining droplets across the tops of their heads.

Suddenly Y/N started laughing to himself, looking down at the floor before back up at Remus. He couldn't believe what he was about the say, 'A are we in love?'. Resting his head on Y/Ns forehead and Remus smiled and then chuckled back, "yeah I think we are".

'So are you joining our insane household or not!' came an unceremonious cry from above. Both men tilted their heads up the back wall of the house to see Sirius leaning out of the window now belonging to Y/Ns new room. "Well if you can't beat them join them.

[topazs-stuff]

living planets < I >

"Don’t worry, dear... yeah, yeah, I ate—promise. Really, don’t worry about me. I’ve got it covered. Yes, I’ll take my medication, and I’ll take care of myself. It’s just... I need to compile these findings—try to make sense of it all, maybe form a theory, a hypothesis. I’ll send it to you once it’s ready so you can read it, okay? Yeah... yeah, I promise. Alright. Take care, love. Bye."

As he hangs up the call, he lets out a weary sigh, his hand instinctively brushing across the cluttered desk. Data sheets, charts, and geological samples—spanning from 6000 BCE to the present day—are scattered in a chaotic mess. He picks up a report, scanning it with furrowed brows, then tosses it aside with a frustrated grunt. “This shit doesn’t make any sense... How can a volcano erupt with no buildup? No seismic activity, no pressure changes—nothing.” He mutters to himself, flipping through more pages. “And four times? Four times, across millennia? If it were just one, I could’ve ignored it. Coincidence. Statistical anomaly.”

His hands shake slightly as he fishes a pill bottle from the edge of the desk, popping the cap open with practiced ease. “This is truly a headache,” he sighs, swallowing the pill dry. His eyes drift back to the data, unwilling to let it go. Something about it gnaws at the edges of his mind, refusing to let him rest. Massaging his temples, he slumps into the creaking chair, his mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. With trembling fingers, he boots up the simulation software. "One more," he mutters under his breath. "Just one more. I just need at least one case where everything goes... normally. If there’s a god—oh mighty—make sense of this data." His voice cracks slightly, betraying the mounting unease.

He hits the start button and leans in, his gaze fixed intently on the screen as the simulation begins to run. His other hand fidgets with a pen, spinning it between his fingers with increasing agitation. Every flick of his wrist, every tap of the keyboard, carries the weight of his desperation. His lips move silently as numbers and graphs play out before him. "Please," he whispers, barely audible. "Please no... not again." His eyes dart across the results, scanning for anomalies, for patterns, for anything. The pen slips from his fingers, clattering onto the desk. He freezes. The simulation’s outcome becomes unmistakable. The same eerie conclusion as before.

"It fucking happened again," he hisses, his voice sharp and trembling. His fists clench, gripping the edge of the desk as if trying to steady himself. "I can’t even blame my software. I’ve run this on two other systems—double-checked every variable." He exhales sharply, his breaths shallow and rapid. "It has to be the data. The data must be wrong."

He grabs his phone with shaky hands, dialing a number with practiced urgency. As soon as the line connects, he doesn’t wait for pleasantries. “The geological record we’ve been using is wrong. There’s no doubt about it,” he snaps.

A muffled voice on the other end responds, but whatever they’re saying only fuels his irritation. “What do you mean I’m crazy?” he cuts in, his tone sharp and incredulous. “Oh, so you’re telling me the data—showing that a volcano exploded and wiped out an entire region—when that volcano had no geological possibility of erupting for another thousand years, is accurate? Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The voice tries to counter, but he’s too far gone. Sarcasm drips from his words. “Oh, of course, I’m the fucking idiot here. Yeah. Sure. Great talk.” Without another word, he hangs up, slamming the phone onto the desk. “Fucking hell,” Alex mutters, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy. And this data—this damn data—is driving me insane. Why me?” He groans, slumping back in his chair.

With a frustrated sigh, he picks up the phone he’d thrown moments ago, brushing off the dust as if that would also wipe away his exasperation. His eyes dart to a business card lying amidst the chaos of his desk. "Why don’t I call him?" he mumbles to himself. "He might have an idea—or at least know something."

He grabs the card, carefully dialing the number etched into its surface. The phone rings twice before a calm, unfamiliar voice answers.

“Uh, hello? Mister Ishu? This is Alex—Alex Martin. We met during the G20 Summit back in 2034? You gave me your card.” His voice wavers slightly, unsure if the man even remembers him. “I know, I know—it’s been three years. But, um... I’ve been studying Earth’s geological data, and, uh, the explosion of Mount Vesuvius? It’s—it’s very peculiar, to say the least.”

The voice on the other end pauses, then responds. Alex’s eyes widen slightly at the words. “Wait—you’re also looking into it?” His breath catches. “So, it’s not just me. You find it weird too. That’s... that’s a relief, I guess.”

He leans forward, pen tapping anxiously against his desk. “Do you have any idea what might’ve caused it?” A longer pause. When the reply comes, Alex stiffens, repeating the words aloud as if they’re incomprehensible. “You... you’ve started to consider Earth as a living thing?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “I mean—it’s a planet. A rock. How could it possibly be alive? I didn’t study much biology, but a creature like this shouldn’t even be... possible. Should it?”

The voice on the other end says something else—calm, measured, almost cryptic. Alex nods absently, even though they can’t see him. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh—I’ll call you later. Thank you, Mister Ishu, for your time.”

He ends the call and stares at the phone in his hand, his mind racing. The idea lingers, impossible yet... it was explaining everything.

[mollyrosaria]

Nightsky cursed to fall into obscurity as he’s sent one hundred million years back into the past, nobody will remember him, he’ll be more lonely than ever. He’ll die soon after like enough. Climate shock for one, and his stomach woudlnt be able to handle any food he may find there. And who knows about the fucming water. How long has the earth been around again lmaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoaoao Nightsky’s going to die. :( The only ones who will remember him will remember him in a bitter malice.

I really. Don’t want to make this canon in my canon. Like. At all. Unless he can somehow make it back to the present?

cursed to die 100 million years in the past of a world that’s not your own. Alone. Starving. Dying. Cold. Dying. Dehydrated. Dying. Decomposing. Dying. Why were you even here? What even happened? Why continue? Why go on? He’d proabably try his best to find a way out as much as he could at first until he exhausts himself so badly he can barely move anymore.

and woudlnt it be so cruel if the time traveling made him immortal?

sorry, no. I’m not over the fact HE WAS SWNT TO DIE ONE HUNDRED MILLION YEARS IN THE PAST. AFTER FIGHTING SO HARD. AFTER LOSING EVERYTHING HE’D EVER KNOWN. HE FOUGHT SO HARD. HE WENT THROUGH SO MUCH. AND FOR WHAT. TO BE TOSSED AWAY AND FORGOTTEN LIKE A PIECE OF GARBAGE????????, NO!!,!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!”!!!!! WHY!!!!!!!!!!,!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i need Nightsky to come back disheveled and fucming on the brink of dying and jsut wobbling towards Mikey with such a deadly anger in his eyes as he tries to kill him again. Woudlnt it be so cruel if Mikey thought it was funny and he just sent him back again! And Nightsky jsut kept coming back and back again and Mikey jsut kept sending him back and back again in an endless game of torture for Nightsky. Mikey im going to kill you die die die die die seid Eid ie

MIKEY WOULD NEVER.

I’m going to maim someone

let me kiss him on the lips

anyways

A WHOLE GARDEN OF FLOWERS AND MY NAME ETCHED ONA. RCOK. ALL THIC COULDVE BEEN AVOIDED ALL I WANTED WAS TO TALK……………

How will Mikey feel knowing now he has blood on his hands? How he deal with the overwhelming guilt of taking the life of another! Did it really even matter if he didn’t belong in this reality? Was he even alive? Doesn’t it even count as murder? How does Mikey feel? That he killed someone? Even if they were trying to kill him first? You can’t tell me he didn’t fall to his knees in exhaustion and pain after sending Nightsky back in time. You think he’d try and visit him? And find his disheveled mess of an almost dead body on the ground and jsut… stare at him? Nightksy woduktn even have the energy to do anything aside from glare. Even then he woudlnt be able to do it for long. Lifting his head would take too much energy.

would Mikey take him home? Or leave him to die? Would he watch him die? What would he do? Would he try speaking with him? Would he try negotiating? Would he just grab him off the ground with no explanation and take him back with him? Or try to get a few words out of him first? Only to realise he can’t speak and is jsut a shell of himself even more than he already was. Would Mikey feel guilty? Would he feel vindicated? What would he do? Or would he try to negotiate with him before taking his silence from his throat being too dry to speak as refusal of cooperation and just leave him to die alone. All his Pokémon are fainted too, and god knows he doesn’t know any natural revives in this time period. Or does Mikey just stare at Nightsky before leaving him to die? I don’t think Nightsky would be surprised. He’d have so much bitter anger and malice inside of him after seeing Mikey, the man who did all of this to him. Ruined him. I think he’d want to try and fight Mikey’s hands off of him if Mikey takes him home, but his energy would be too low he couldn’t even twitch a muscle.

Di you think If Mikey just let him die/didn’t go back to try and find him he’d be haunted in his Nightmares akin to how Nightsky was haunted by nightmares of his past self back in his home? How would Mikey even live with himself after that? He wouldn’t.

[luckylockjaw]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Somewhere in town™ PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Ariadne (@ariadnewhitlock) SUMMARY: Wyatt accosts an innocent stranger during a bird-related freak out. This stranger, Ariadne, gives him some information on the existence of mares that he desperately needed. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

—

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent night’s sleep. If it wasn’t the nightmares, it was the insomnia, developed because of the nightmares. He was afraid to sleep, though he wanted (and needed) it, and in the Pit his delirium was no longer serving him well. Panic often bubbled just below the surface, searing hot and easily melting away the thin layer of control he still clung to like a life raft, boiling over and sending him into a sort of frenzied state.

He’d never been a particularly calm or collected fighter, but his matches the past few weeks were ending in more and more brutal fashions. One opponent he actually ate, grievously injured but still alive. Right there in front of god and everyone, putting himself at risk for the sluggish way he crawled back to the locker rooms to wait out the digestive process. The crowd had loved it, of course, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth both literally and figuratively, once he realized what he’d done. And this was to say nothing of how he’d recently snapped and murdered his friend, Samir, during a fight. He'd never felt such guilt before, and it haunted him.

The lack of sleep showed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his gaze was half-lidded and not entirely present. His manicured look had grown more disheveled, his hair a curly mess atop his head instead of the usual slicked-back look. Even the way he walked, a far cry from the confident stride he normally had, told a silent story of a man barely holding on to consciousness. He wasn’t even sure where he was at the moment, the sinking darkness of the evening turning to night changing how all looked and getting him thoroughly lost. He’d even left home without his phone, dazed as he was, and for what purpose he’d come out into the night he couldn’t recall. But he was here now, averting his gaze whenever he felt someone look at him, stumbling along with no destination in mind and no real way of getting himself home. Damned be whatever had set him off here in the first place, for it was long absent from his disjointed thoughts. 

But then a sound met his ears, one that set itself apart from the mumbling of people and rumbling of vehicles, the dings of shop bells and swish of their doors as they opened and closed. It was a quick sound, and altogether innocuous, if you were anyone other than Wyatt Barlow. But he was he, and he was terrified. His body stiffened and he came to a sudden halt, the person walking behind him nearly running into him as a result. His gaze was trained upward to the lightpost overhead, where sat a lone black bird, which stared back at him. 

It cawed, its voice gravely and low, and Wyatt sucked in a sharp breath. “Get outta here, you piece of shit,” he snapped at the animal, forgetting everyone around him.

—

She remembered how things had felt before she’d died. She didn’t like to remember that, but it was pretty damn hard to avoid. So much so that she even cursed at the thought of it – if damn counted as a curse, and Ariadne figured that it had to. At least in this circumstance. It was evening now and she was out, because she had to be. Not because she wanted to be. Being tortured without sleep quickly led to no longer needing sleep and she missed it desperately. Not just because the thought of actually sleeping next to Wynne was one that she so very much wanted to make real, but also because she somehow still found herself tired, even though Celene had said something about them being higher beings because they didn’t need sleep. But how did that work when you still craved it, much in the same way that you craved nightmares? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t ask Celene, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask Leila or Inge. Even though she knew (or at least was fairly sure) that she could ask either of them anything she wanted, there was still a big, gnawing part of her thoughts that forbade her from doing so.

Because that wasn’t an area she wanted to examine, and if she avoided asking questions about it, then it could be all pretend. “All pretend” in that it would become something that she didn’t have to think about. It was easier this way, to play the game of avoidance and deny any of the complicated and twisted up feelings that she had. Ones that consumed her in a way she’d never wanted, but ones that she couldn’t so easily talk to with just anyone, and so ignoring and trying to be good was all that she could really hope for, in the end.

There weren’t tons of people out right now. Which Ariadne knew. She’d become far too accustomed to the habits of people at night, but at least it was peaceful. There were no men with vans around (as far as she could tell) and she had Inge’s knife with her, which did put her more at ease.

A bird sat atop a lightpost, and Ariadne held her breath – an unnecessary action – in hopes that maybe it wouldn’t make any noise. Still, it did, and she heard a voice that made her jump. “It’s – it’s just a bird.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I – sorry. If I scared you.” Her voice was hesitant and unsure. “It – do you want – I – it’ll go away soon, probably.” 

—

Wyatt whipped around to face the voice chastising him for being afraid of a bird, not hearing the apology that followed, too focused on the continued caws of that feathered menace. He looked wild, wide-eyed, and angry. “Just a bird!” he hollered at the girl, throwing his arms into the air. “Hah! Yeah! Just a fuckin’ bird! You’re probably right, I bet that’s why there’s fuckin’ bird legs comin’ out of the ground! Yeah, I bet you’re fuckin’ right! It’s nothin’! I’m just fuckin’ losin’ it!” There he went again, going mental on women in public again. At least there wasn’t a crowd this time, but he had enough sense to drop his voice to a snarling whisper before someone came to tackle him to the fucking ground. “You’re stupid if you think it’s just a bird. None of ‘em are just birds. Minions of… of whatever the hell is goin’ on in this town. Evil. They’re evil.” Anger dissipated into fear and Wyatt lifted his hands to his messy hair, shrinking away from the lamp post as the crow clacked its beak at them curiously, shaking itself out and tilting its head this way and that. 

“You should—girl, you should get out of here,” he warned, backing himself up against the nearest building and sinking to the ground. His eyes—yellow, now—stared up at the crow. It stared back, unbothered. 

“What?!” he shouted at the animal. “What d’you want?!” His voice was strained. The crow cawed again, and his hands flew to his ears.

—

She wanted to shrink into herself at his words. Ariadne couldn’t understand why he was yelling at her. But maybe he was scared, and maybe she shouldn’t dismiss things like that so easily. In the past two years, ever since becoming what she was, a part of her seemed to have forgotten just how afraid people could be of animals. Which was selfish. Just because she would’ve done anything for any animal to like her didn’t mean that other people weren’t afraid of them. “I – uh, I don’t think you’re losing it.” She gulped. Her lip wobbled, and she looked up at the crow and it looked at her and she didn’t know a thing about animal language but she could’ve sworn the crow was asking why she was around and that hurt almost more than when Jade and Clare had called her all but worthless. “I– I’m sorry. Also. For uh, like, uh – for thinking it’s just a bird. But I really do think that it’s not much.” Another pause. “I – yeah. At least to me.” Which now probably sounded stuck up or something like that. Which, yikes, big time.

“I – do you want me to leave?” She questioned, picking at her nail beds. “I can go, it’s – maybe the crow’s mad at me. For like, whatever perfume I’m wearing. That’s what I get for following TikTok trends, right?” Ariadne giggled, but it sounded hollow even to her.

—

The flare of rage had fully been extinguished as he sat there on the sidewalk near some girl who hadn’t asked for him to flip out on her, meanwhile another crow joined the first on the lamp post. He was no longer angry, but terrified. This was another nightmare. 

“It’d be a lot more helpful if you could scare ‘em off,” Wyatt groaned, squinting his reptilian eyes closed. “With your perfume or throwin’ somethin’ at ‘em, whatever works better for you.” Not that it would matter, not really. This would end with him waking up wherever he’d passed out, probably in a fucking gutter somewhere while wandering around town trying to stay awake, and he’d have another panic attack. Might shift in front of whoever was around to see if his current tenuous grasp on his human form was anything to go by. The ghost, as he called the other people in his dreams, could spook away as many birds as she saw fit to help the idiot on the ground beside her, but it wouldn’t make a difference. They’d swarm him like they so often did, and he’d feel every gouge they made with their beaks and talons, just like he always did.

Wyatt kicked off a boot, pushing it toward her with his foot. “Here. Please.” Their caws were grating, and he could still hear too much through the cups he’d made over his ears. “Shut ‘em up. Please. Before there’s trouble.”

—

“I – I can, I think.” How could she further explain that without telling him that she was a literal nightmare? How would that work itself out? Ariadne figured he probably wouldn’t believe her, and if he did, what if he was a hunter and just waiting for her to out herself? “I don’t wanna throw stuff at them, though – I don’t like hurting animals.” Even though she did it each and every day. She couldn’t even babysit Wynne’s cat because she’d scare it terribly. So she just bought it a lot of toys and told Wynne to make sure they told the cat how much Ariadne loved it. Thankfully, Wynne understood her and what she was and still loved her for it.

“Oh, I don't – I’ve never gotten them to uh, go away.” Okay, Ariadne, backtrack. “What happened that’s got you so scared of crows? I mean, they can be loud and stuff and a group of them doesn’t have the cutest name, but I – sorry.” She picked up the boot, turned it over and over in her hands before she set it back on the ground. “Would moving – like, going for a walk, help? We could go find ice cream or iced tea or pizza?” She wasn’t sure if any of that would solve any sort of problem, but the fear from the man was almost palpable and she wanted some sort of a distraction from that, desperately so.

—

This was getting him nowhere. A third crow joined the other two on the lightpost and Wyatt fought to maintain his composure, or… whatever was left of it. The ghost refused to help (because why would she) and he was left to fix it himself. And by fix, all he could really muster was trying to get the fuck out of there. “They’re just goin’ to follow me,” he muttered, snatching his boot back up and shoving it on his foot before getting back to his feet. The crows flapped their wings and cawed in response to the sudden movement, and the shifter moved quickly away from them, turning away so as to not draw their ire by staring at them. 

Her question rattled around in his head for a moment before he spoke up, noting that she had fallen in step beside him. “They keep killin’ me in my dreams. Was never scared of ‘em before, just… happened a few months back. Had one nightmare n’ it all started to unravel from there. Can’t sleep anymore. Except I’m pretty sure I am right now…” He glanced back over his shoulder to see the birds still perched in their spot and shuddered. “Sometimes they got teeth. Claws. Sometimes they’re massive. Sometimes they look like people.” Like her. “You ever have somethin’ like that? A fear that just… comes up outta nowhere? Haunts you all the fuckin’ time?” It was a stupid thing to ask, but he wasn’t feeling his most coherent at the moment. Really, he didn’t even know why he was still talking to this girl, this ghost… either it was helping keep him awake, or he was already asleep and it was just delaying the inevitable.

—

“Maybe they won’t.” Ariadne wanted to sound comforting but she couldn’t help but worry that it came out sounding far more patronizing instead (if that was the right word), because maybe she just sounded like some sort of stuck up kid telling off a grown up, which was very much not the sort of person who she was. But maybe it was coming off in that sort of way, and that made her stomach twist itself into knots.

In his dreams. She felt her mouth drop open, agape, at the comment. “I – yeah. I – yeah.” The fear out of nowhere she was far (far) too familiar with. “A couple years ago, yeah. It was bad. Not birds, but yeah.” Ariadne picked at her fingernails again. “I – it’s bad. You should try to get help. Not like – oh god, sorry, I didn’t mean – I just mean, like, it’s valid and you should pay attention to it ‘cause there’s things – monsters,” because she was a monster no matter what others said, especially in this context, “that eat nightmares. So that – it – you. Might be working with that.”

—

Wyatt was surprised with her answer, eyebrows raised as he turned to look at her. “You—really?” His heartbeat quickened. “Monsters that eat them?” It was nothing he’d ever heard of before, but that was hardly saying anything. “What do I do? How do I get it to stop?” He found himself filled with a sickeningly sweet hope, the dark cloud that’d been dangling over his head for months suddenly thinning out as the realization that this might be something he could fight against broke through it like the rays of the sun. “What are they called?”

—

“I - uh. Yeah.” Ariadne was regretting her words more and more by the minute. “Yes, and um, salt. Like around your bed. They can’t go past salt. They also don’t do well when flashed with bright lights.” She felt like she was betraying herself, betraying Leila, Inge, even Celene of all people. She was out here giving away ways to hurt her kind. She might have loathed what she was, but it didn’t feel as though it justified this.

“Mares.” She bit down on her tongue. But it was too late to go back now. “Like, uh, nightmares. Animals aren’t usually big on them, either.” Her gaze flicked up to the crow. “So if you got a dog, or borrowed a friend’s dog or cat or something, then you could have that in your house and that’ll alert you if one shows up.” She fiddled with the ends of her hair. “Just – make sure you do so soon, ‘cause if you have it go on for too much time then you die.” Ariadne winced. “Or so I’ve heard.”

—

Salt. Lights. A dog. Fantastic. All easily attainable. And he had a name for the thing—that woman he’d seen, she must have been a mare, right? If she was real, and she was in his nightmares? The joy Wyatt was experiencing came to an abrupt stop when she mentioned death, however. 

“... oh. Well… okay. That makes sense. I mean I’ve hardly felt alive for months, so…” Fuck, he needed to get started on this immediately. He shook his head, looking up and down the street they were on. “I gotta… go. I gotta go get some fuckin’ salt and take me a goddamn fuckin’ nap,” he breathed, deciding that he was awake after all. This girl wasn’t a ghost, she couldn’t be a part of his dream, because he needed this to be true. He’d confirm the information with someone who might know before making any huge assumptions, but salt couldn’t fucking hurt, right? “Thank you,” he breathed, looking back at the girl. He seemed uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he could trust her, but desperately wanted to. 

—

“I’m sorry.” Because Ariadne knew exactly how it felt to feel hardly alive, and sometimes it was even worse than how she felt now that she was actually dead. “You gotta… Yeah. Of course.” At least he wasn’t thinking she was a monster, which was a big win. Huge. Though she figured maybe most people wouldn’t just auto-assume that she was evil.

“Of course.” She nodded her head. “You can go, yeah. I mean – I – I’m not like, in charge of you, but I just mean that I support you getting a head start on this.” Ariadne realized that she hadn't given her name, but that was fine. She didn’t know the man’s name either, and in case he did decide she was no good, him not having her name was better.

“I hope things get better soon.” She offered a wavering smile. Somewhat fake, but mostly genuine. Ariadne knew that she wanted to get away from the crow, too. More for the bird’s sake than her own, but still. It deserved something good, and most of all, it didn’t deserve to go on in a state of constant high-alert and panic. “See you around, maybe?”

[melishade]

Damn it! I have to write something for this! Even though I headcanon that holoform hair can’t grow but this is a sweet thought!

This is non canon. But if it was, this would probably take place after chapter 78 and before chapter 85.

“You look tired,” Armin remarked at the former warlord. Megatron grunted in response and merely adjusted his position on the couch in the Hizuru manor. He rested on his stomach, with his scarred face resting on the pillow. The hood of the holoform jacket barely covered his head, and he used his arms to cover his face.

“Can I get you anything?” Armin decided to offer.

“No,” Megatron groaned in response.

“You…do you have any leads on-!”

“No.” Megatron growled this time.

“S-sorry,” Armin apologized, “I…I know your working really hard to find Eren-!”

“Armin, leave me alone before I do something brash,” Megatron warned him with a pointed finger.

Armin should have taken that as a sign to leave and save his own neck, but…much had happened between him the ex-con. Megatron was actively trying to change his behavior. Sure it didn’t seem like much now, but the pieces were there. It was just going to take time.

Armin then noticed something as Megatron’s arm slumped over the couch and his fingers grazed the floor. Megatron’s hair…it…it got longer? How? He thought that the holoforms couldn’t change appearances like that, but the long hair was proof of that. He could also tell that the long hair seemed to be bothering the former warlord, as he tried to swat it out of the way.

“Your…your hair is longer,” Armin spoke up once more.

Megatron didn’t reply with a snide remark. He merely grabbed some strands of hair and pulled on it to see it’s appearance. “It would seem so.”

“You should probably get it fixed,” Armin advised.

“Why bother?” Megatron challenged, “This isn’t even my actual form. It’s a disguise. And a useless one at that, since I’ve practically completed my infiltration mission in Marley.”

“Sure, but don’t you always talk about the importance of presentation, and how one’s appearance can strike fear into the hearts of your opponents?” Armin challenged.

“Get to the point,” Megatron ordered.

“Megatron…you look like a mess,” Armin declared bluntly.

“Bold of you.” Megatron wasn’t fazed by the insult.

“You should fix your hair,” Armin advised.

“No,” Megatron shot down.

“I think it’d be good for you,” Armin reasoned.

“I’m tired and I want to rest,” Megatron proclaimed.

“But your hair keeps getting in the way,” Armin reasoned.

“You keep getting in the way with your rambling!” Megatron hissed as he sat up, but his disheveled head only proved Armin’s point even more.

“Do you want me to fix your hair for you?” Armin offered.

Megatron tensed up at that. Armin could tell Megatron wasn’t comfortable with the idea. It was letting another person touch him, even if he was in a fake form. In a world of violence and cruelty like Megatron, it would no doubt be hard to put his trust in anyone like that. But…

“You said that you trusted me,” Armin reminded Megatron, “So much so you gave me your original name. If you trust me that much, then you’d know that I wouldn’t betray you over something as simple as this.”

Megatron didn’t like having his words thrown back at him. Despite protocol screaming at him to not engage and leave this alone, part of him knew that he could trust Armin’s word. The thought made him feel…squeamish.

“Be quick,” Megatron ordered, sitting correctly upright on the couch with his back facing Armin, “I don’t want anyone else seeing me in a ridiculous state.”

Armin couldn't help but be excited at the thought, but...also nervous. He's remembered seeing the way Megatron reacted to anyone touching him. Armin approached Megatron slowly before being close enough to examine his hair. It didn't look like it needed a comb, so he could just braid it.

"Okay, I'm going to start." Armin reached out and managed to grab most of Megatron's hair before pulling it back. He saw a few strands of hair still out, but Armin elected to leave them alone. He was certain grabbing what was left would require touching Megatron's face and even tricking his vision. He didn't want to get hit on reflex by mistake.

"I'm surprised you didn't bother to learn how to fix this," Armin remarked as he separated his hair into three.

"Why bother? I just let it be on the holoform's default settings," Megatron explained.

"So, it was always tied up," Armin concluded, "So why wasn't it tied up now?"

"...I suppose I am too tired to maintain it," Megatron muttered.

Armin couldn't help but laugh a little. "There's nothing wrong in asking for help with this."

"It's pointless compared to other objectives I needed to handle," Megatron retorted, "And again, this form is fake."

"I guess," Armin sighed as he began braiding Megatron's hair, "I guess it's different for us since this is the only form we have. I've had to learn how to braid in order to help out Mikasa when we were younger. It was a good way for the two of us to bond."

Armin continued braiding downward. "I don't think I've ever asked Optimus this, but how do Cybertronians maintain their appearances?"

"...Armor detailing, armor cleaning, oil baths,” Megatron quietly listed.

“We’re you ever able to try them?” Armin asked.

“Not frequently. It wasn’t available very often to lower class,” Megatron explained, “And over time, I learned to take pride in my scars. It shows I’ve survived.”

“I guess there’s pride in showing that your able to overcome struggles,” Armin agreed as he reached the end of the braid, “But there’s nothing wrong with taking time in something like this.”

Megatron was confused when he felt a slight tug, and glanced back to see Armin tying the end of his hair with a rubber band.

“It shows you still care about yourself and your health,” Armin declared as he finished tying it, “But that’s it. You should be able to sleep a little bit better now.”

Megatron stared at the holoform’s braided hair before pulling the hood over his head. He lied back down on the couch, electing to rest on his side.

“I’m gonna go back to training. I’ll tell no one to bother you if they ask,” Armin informed.

“…Thank you,” Megatron mumbled so that Armin could hear. Armin was surprised but didn’t say much else as he left the room.

(This might be a little OOC, but I feel like this scenario would only happen during a time where Megatron is finally trusting Armin, or post-redemption Megatron. Or Peaceful Timeline Megatron. That would have been fun.

But still, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!!)

WIP! Megs and Armin braiding!

I’m posting a WIP cus my drawing skills have officially ran dry 🥲

I like to think Megatron made his hair automatically ‘grow’ to fit in when he was in Marley and Armin braids his hair when he’s feeling particularly amicable. I drew Armin with short hair bc… idk, I liked it better

[kaylawritesfics]

Could we get a Peter Ballard x fem!reader fanfic where they fall asleep cuddling in her bed and Peter accidentally forgets to go back to his own room so they get found out by Brenner? With Peter being all protective and ‘don’t touch her’ over the reader and like trying to take all the blame and hiding her behind him to try and keep her safe? Fluffy ending please. Sorry I know it’s pretty detailed lol

71. “You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!”

summary: after he spends the night in your room, your secret relationship with peter is discovered.

pairing: peter ballard x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, slight torture?

note: this is a little long i will add a read more tag to it tomorrow !!

You woke to the soft sounds of Peter’s delicate breathing. His messy, blonde hair was sprawled across your pillows and his head was tucked into the crook of your neck. His arms were wrapped loosely around your waist and below the white blanket that was covering the two of you, your legs were intertwined, creating a mess of limbs.

You slowly turned your body to face him, dragging a single finger down the bridge of his nose and across his lips. His face was illuminated only by the small stream of light coming in through the blinds of your window. You studied the details of his face; the way his lips were a little chapped, the way his long eyelashes fell gently onto his cheeks, and the redness of his nose, which indicated the winter weather could be felt even from inside the lab. A small smile made its way onto his face, giving away his awakening. “You’re staring,” he whispered, his eyes still closed as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “You’re so beautiful, Peter,” you whispered back, continuing to draw little shapes across his face with your index finger. His nose scrunched as you found a ticklish point near the base of his ear.

Quick, constant footsteps throughout the hallway outside you room alerted both of you to the time. It was well past the time Peter would usually sneak away back to his own room. A pit of anxiety began to grow in your stomach as Peter’s eyes fluttered open and he held a finger to his lips, signaling you to remain quiet. He calmly placed a soothing kiss to the crown of your head, untangling himself from you and standing up. He had fallen asleep in his work clothes, which were now wrinkled and he looked quite disheveled. Doing his best to make himself seem more presentable, he placed an ear against your door, listening intently for any sign of approaching footsteps. When he concluded that it was safe, he cracked the door open, peering out. Before exiting, he sent you a grin and a promise to see you later.

The rainbow room was your favorite in the entire building. The children were allowed to play and explore using their talents and you were allowed more time with Peter, who often patrolled the room with you. You noticed that he looked far more presentable than he did that morning, his hair was neatly fixed and he had changed his clothes, opting for an outfit with less wrinkles. To preserve the secrecy of your relationship, the two of you chose not to interact very much in front of the children, however, the lingering glances spoke enough for the both of you. From his place next to 011, Peter caught your stare, sending you a barely noticeable wave and a tight smile.

The sound of a door opening caught the attention of everyone in the room. Dr. Brenner entered the room, eyeing each of the children before his eyes finally landed on you. “Miss Y/L/N and Mr Ballard, I need to see both of you in my office,” the tone of his voice frightened you and you sent a worried glance towards Peter, who kept his eyes on Brenner. The two of you followed Dr. Brenner out of the rainbow room and down the scarily white hallways of the lab.

Brenner’s office was a place you had visited very rarely. The walls were white and decorated only by various awards he’d won over the years. Everything seemed to have a specific place and was organized neatly. Two guards stood menacingly on either side of the room and you gulped as you suspected what this was about. Brenner took a seat behind his desk, motioning for you and Peter to take the two chairs across from him. “I suspect the two of you know what this is about,” Brenner leaned forehead, intertwining his fingers on top of his desk. “Perhaps you should blame Mr. Ballard’s blatant ignorance and disregard for security cameras,” Brenner’s dark eyes fell on you as he spoke, his tone becoming more hostile as he continued. When neither you not Peter responded, Brenner motioned the guards forward. “Take them to the electric shock room,” he demanded, standing and casually stretching his limbs.

Peter’s chair created a loud screeching noise that captured the attention of the room as he abruptly stood up. He struggled against the guard’s grip, thrashing about as he tried to free himself. The other guard quickly grabbed you by the arms, dragging you slightly. “Don’t touch her!” Peter’s unusually gruff voice rang through the air as he tried to reach for you. “It was my fault! Please, she didn’t do anything!” He begged, tears filling his waterline as he attempted once more to free himself. “You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!” Brenner seemed to perk up at Peter’s words and emotions, holding up a hand to stop the guard from dragging you from the room. “If Mr. Ballard wants to take the blame for this, we’ll let him. Escort Miss Y/L/N to her room and take Mr. Ballard to the electric shock room.” Peter’s eyes never left yours as he was violently dragged from the room and down the hall.

You didn’t see Peter for the rest of the day, choosing to lock yourself into your room and hide in your bed instead. As night fell, your room became too dark to see, however, as your door knob rattled and turned, a bright light filled the room from the hall. You peaked up over your blanket, watching as Peter made his way slowly into your room, softly closing the door behind him. A groan escaped his lips as he sat down on your bed, pain evident on his face. “Peter?” You mumbled, crawling over to him and wrapping your arms around his back, resting your head on his back. “Hi, darling,” he greeted, visibly relaxing at your touch. You gently pulled him down to lay beside you, your hand finding his hair. “Why’d you take the blame?” You inquired, running a hand through soft, blonde locks. He smiled wryly, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hands tugging through his hair.

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

[runningthroughthegarden]

sometimes friends fall out for the right reasons pt2 - rowan laslow

Summary: After a quick love confession both of your lives begin to crash down. Until you both realize being together will always fix everything. Well almost everything.

Word count: 971

It's been a couple days since your fight with Rowan. 

You've spent the last two days at school completely ignoring him. You couldn’t bear to see him. Your eyes were constantly puffy. Hair a mess. You barely even spoke. Everyone around you knew something was wrong but they had no idea what happened. 

What you didn't know was that Rowan was going through the same thing.

Rowan’s pov - 3 days ago

As I rush down the steps of the Nightshade library, I can hear my mother's voice ringing through my head. I have to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this Wednesday girl is going to do. I'm going to be the one to save this school.

I quickly rip out the page I've been desperately searching for.

I'm already forming my plan as I exit the library, carefully planning my next move.

I look up to sky, noticing the stars. Fuck.

I know I was supposed to me y/n but I was finally putting together the missing pieces of the puzzle. Right now, this is the most important thing. This school needs a hero and it's me.

-

I wake up to find Xavier already gone. Thank God. I can't stand to be around anyone right now and I need to figure out when I'm going to kill Wednesday. A couple hours go by, and I start to realize how difficult this is going to be. But who said being a hero was easy.

I feel like I'm going crazy. My powers are out of control, and I can't even control my emotions. All I can think about are my mother's words.

I hear a knock at the door and quickly hide the papers scattered across the floor.

I open the door to see y/n. She angrily pushes past me asking why I didn't meet up with her. No one can know what I'm doing so I use the same excuse.

I stand there silently as my best friend yells at me. I seriously can't take this shit right now. I have so many other things to worry about and this isn't one of them.

Something in me finally snaps and I start yelling back.

"Jesus Christ, I don't need this right now y/n!! You have no fucking idea what I've been going through. I'm SO sorry I missed our stupid little date, but I have actual shit I need to get done. And I don't need you following me around like a lost puppy. Just leave me the hell alone" I yell.

The next she says changes everything.

"And to think I was in love with you" she sighs scoffs.

I feel my whole body weaken at that simple sentence. I feel my eyes soften. I have waited for this moment for so long.

That's when my mother's words replay in my head. I can't.

I snap back. I back her into the wall just to feel close to her one last time.

"Forget about your stupid little crush and get out of my room. I don't need you"

She rushes out of my room. I throw myself against my bed. "It had to be done" I think.

Present day

I am going to kill Wednesday the night of the festival.

It's taken the past couple of days to figure out but I'm ready.

I've noticed how horrible y/n looks. A part of me feels terrible but I know it was the right thing to do. I had to cut off ties with her at some point. The love confession was sort of a setback. But I don't need this right now. She hates me, which is perfect. Now she won't get hurt. I can only protect her in that way.

y/n pov

The rest of the week was shit. It went the same as previous days, crying and ignoring Rowan. It's Friday night and I'm spending it in bed watching sad romcoms.

I was just about to fall asleep when I hear a frantic knocking at my door.

I open it to see an even more disheveled Rowan. Before I can say anything, he walks through the door, pacing around my room. He's hyperventilating with tears in his eyes.

"Rowan what the hell is wrong with you?!?" You questioned with concern.

"I'm going crazy" he says stopping in front of you.

"What do you mean Row?" you say confused.

"My mom. And the book. and the school. and Wednesday." He says pulling at his hair.

"Row please just calm down for a second" you say resting your two hands on his cheeks.

You stare into his eyes while his breathing slows down.

He looks like he's having a battle inside his head. Thinking of what to say or do next.

"I'm in love with you" he confesses.

You stand there in shock, still holding his face in your hands. "What?" you question.

He stays silent, moving his hands to cup your own.

"But-but at your dorm you told me to get out and. and you. you said all those-"

You were quickly cutoff by Rowan smashing his lips against yours. Every ounce of emotion was put into this one kiss. Years of secretly longing for each other. You both began to smile into the kiss.

"I've loved you for a long time" Rowan says, resting his forehead against yours.

"Me too" you whisper.

"I'm sorry I said all those things. I don't know what's been going on with me. But I know whenever when I'm with you, my troubles don't seem so significant. Will you go the festival with me tomorrow?" he questions.

"Of course" you respond with a soft smile.

And there you two were. Two teenagers in love. Hands cupping each other. Foreheads gently resting against each other.

You don't know what tomorrow has in store... but you can only hope for the best.

A/N spoiler!! tomorrow has absolutely NOT the best in store.

tag list! @akikoslippers @stxrg4zer @theesuckerforthe80s @starrypoti0ns @kota-log @pennyluvr @ilikefictionmen @ykyouluvme @yy4ngj @oprvah @ify0useethisn0youdidn0t @wrmmi @seenit

[somemydayy]

Dope Lovers

Sanzu enjoyed the view, of you in a skin tight floor length dress, with exposed shoulders, and a half pinup, half loose hair style resting sideways against your right shoulder. The way your necklace pressed up against your collar bones, and peaking down your cleavage. The way your earrings dangled down your ears, laid a striking complement against the apple of your rosy cheeks. The way your eyelashes framed your dazzling eyes, and the way a striking shade of crimson was cast across your lips. You were the literal impediment of elegance, and refinement and somehow Sanzu just wanted to stain you, corrupt you, ruin you, taint all of you. Ruin that ideal you do desperately wanted to preserve. Have you a moaning mess under him, as you whimpered, and stammered out screams of ecstasy. Have his way with you on top of his office desk, in your high rise furnished apartment your parents paid for, but especially on his bed, with nothing clasp across your bare body but that same necklace that many guests and business associates gusted over at Boten’s annual Christmas banquet. And that thought alone consumed him whole. But at this current place and time you were unattainable, for your family was a long time associate of Mikey’s.

Sanzu knew all to well the importance to be on his best behavior, it was important he didn’t mess with the business relations Mikey oh so painstakingly forged. Plus your father was scary enough, he heard all about the last past few years before he had his business dealings with Mikey, your father was tangled up with the yakuza, a long time childhood friend and associate of the current head of the most notorious criminal syndicate in Japan. Sanzu was indeed fascinated, obsessed with you but he knew better than to act on those dark impulses for if he did, his head would be placed upon a stake on display in Tokyo’s busiest street. But even if he produced this to be true, Sanzu couldn’t completely give up on his fascination with you.

But as time went on, Sanzu would often than not graze his hand against yours as you walked past him. He enjoyed the way you became a blushing mess whenever he looked at you, complimented you, touched you. At first he found any excuse to. Pushing your chair in for you whenever you were present during meetings, the way he specifically ordered extra creamer in your coffee just how you liked it. Or offer you something sweet as you waited as your father talked one-on-one with Mikey. He thoroughly enjoyed the look of your face as it contorted in pure bliss as you took a bite of the strawberry cake he so desperately searched to acquire. But most of all he thoroughly enjoyed the very sight of you. But his hunger was growing, he knew this to be undisputed when he witnessed your disheveled and soaked white shirt and knee length skirt as you rushed into the office with heavy breathing one stormy night.

He was entranced, for you were his newest addiction, and he so desperately needed more, a higher dose of. At first it was a coincidence, that he showed up at your apartment. Sanzu was bloody and beaten. You attended to his injuries one late afternoon, but as the night progressed the subtle touches of your finger tips started to burn his skin, so in desperation sanzu striped out of his clothes. His cheeks were a beat red, and his chest frantically pulsated. His fingers linger across his stray locks as if trying to escape his current predicament.

As you place a hand against his forehead to check his temperature your met with a firm grasp around your wrist, and another around your waist. A sly smirk spreads across his features as you take in his sly grin of his lips. When suddenly he placed his knee flush against the middle of your legs. A whimper leaves your quivering lips as Sanzu licks his own in hunger.

He takes you than and there. He wasn’t your lover, oh no he was just someone you shared a bed with, plain and simple. Sanzu was addictive like a drug, he was your addiction. One you kept going back to even if you knew you needed to stop.

© Somemydayy 2022 | Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform.

[babyjakes]

prize of the tail-end.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2021

prompt | anal play

summary | curtis prepares you for a new kind of torment.

pairing | dark!captor!curtis everett x reader

warnings | curtis has captured/“claimed” reader as his, dark!curtis (noncon), kinda soft!dark tho? idk, heavy use of petnames, crying, gagging, restraints, butt play (just fingers), fingering, forced orgasm, cum play?, mentions of previous forced vaginal penetration, implied forced anal penetration

word count | 1,036

an | this one turned out a lot darker than i planned, but i’m truly not complaining! i love a little sick&twisted curtis, especially with something like breaking in a virgin asshole, he wants to be careful but oh he’s so hungry for it– hope you guys like this one! also i feel like these blurbs are ending up much longer than originally anticipated but oh well! i forgive myself

The bare bones of your back ache relentlessly as they rattle against the wooden bench beneath you; with your hands tied above your head and your legs suspended in the air to spread you open like the wings of a bird, all you can do is sniffle down your sobs and hope, hope so desperately that you’ll be gifted some time to rest before your heartless captor returns from attending to his normal business organizing the tail-end.

To your complete horror, though, it’s only moments later that you hear rustling outside of the small cubby you’re tucked into, Curtis’ own personal quarters he earned when taking control of the cabin. More tears build in your eyes as you watch the doorknob only feet from your face twist from the intrusion of a key, and before you can even blink, the man himself has appeared in front of you, his expression imitating a sympathetic frown. “Oh angel, what’s the matter?” he asks, a tinge of hurt present in his voice. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Please,” you beg hoarsely, watching as Curtis removes his coat in front of you, tossing it in the corner on top of his disheveled pile of clothes. “Please, just let me go- I-I promise not to cause you any trouble, I-”

“No, no, no, none of that,” his strong yet sensitive voice cuts you off as tears begin rolling down your cheeks. “Remember what I told you, sweetheart? You’re not goin’ anywhere; you’re mine now. I earned you. There’s no need to work yourself up over something non-negotiable like that; you’re only making this harder for yourself,” he dismisses, walking up to approach you before bending down to level his face with your exposed cunt, still swollen and agitated from his last round of abuse.

“Look at that, still dripping with my cum,” Curtis marvels at the sight of your glistening folds. As you suck in a breath to prepare another round of pleading, the man reaches down to find your discarded panties on the floor, wadding them up into a ball and raising them to your lips. “Open wide for me, pretty girl. ’m gettin’ sick of all your whining, and I don’t think you’d like what else I have to shove down your throat.”

Eyes as wide as saucers, you shake your head pleadingly, sobbing, “No, please-” But opening your mouth to speak is soon proven to be a mistake as the fabric’s shoved forcefully between your lips; now unable to make much more than a mutter, you cry heavily into the gag, but Curtis pays no mind to it. He’s much more focused on the mess between your legs.

“Come on, babydoll. Remember how good it felt last time?” Your cheeks burn with humiliation as you do your best not to think about the torture you were forced to endure, and how despite your best efforts, Curtis was able to play your body like a skilled instrument, ripping away every last drop of your dignity through his selfish chase of gratification. “Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt,” the sick man groans, his voice hazy with lust as he brings a calloused hand up to dip into your cream-filled cunt, working one finger gently against your aching walls. “But I bet you have something even tighter for me, don’t you, princess?”

A horrified cry of protest rises through your throat only to be muffled by the makeshift gag as you put meaning to his words, your entire body jerking against your bonds as Curtis’ finger sinks down to rub over your puckered rosebud. A fresh round of tears overflows down your cheeks as his steady voice mutters, “Shhh, just relax for me, angel. We’ll get you nice and warmed up for me, don’t you worry. Wouldn’t wanna hurt my sweet baby, my perfect prize.”

Your gut burns brutally in shame and anger as your tiny hole is gradually coaxed open, a low groan escaping your body as Curtis starts forcing his digit inside of you. Though there’s plenty of slick to aid in the process, the sensation is still entirely overwhelming and terrible, a horrible sense of fullness overcoming you as the entire finger is eventually worked into your virgin bottom. “Look at that, takin’ me so well,” your captor praises, his encouragement completely unwanted as he starts building up the speed of his movements. “Bet that feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart? See, nothing to cry about.”

His words only make you cry harder as your sensitive walls burn at the intrusion, a light chuckle rising out of Curtis as he brings his other hand up to begin working your clit, earning a pathetic sob as his intentions have now been made clear. No, you plead inside your head, not again, but as a second finger’s added to pump forcefully into your quivering hole while tight circles are rubbed over your throbbing bundle of nerves, there’s nothing you can do to stop the warmth building up deep inside your belly. “There, that’s it,” the man grins before you, the hunger laced in his voice suggesting he sees right through you, sensing your approaching climax. “Don’t hold back for me, pretty girl; I can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

You shake your head frantically, but you know you’re not fooling anyone. With your clit on fire from such intense stimulation and a mortifying burn of pleasure building deep inside your gut from such profane penetrative measures, before long, you’re stumbling over the edge entirely, a gutted cry forcing its way through your fabric-stuffed lips as you clench down on Curtis’ forceful fingers, a triumphant laugh coming from his crooked smile as he cheers, “There you go, good girl. Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ hard- god. Don’t think I’ll last long at all with you squeezin’ my cock like this.”

When your high finally dies away, you’re left limp in your bindings, contact now blissfully lost from Curtis as he stands over you, beginning to work at the zipper of his pants. “Stay with me sweetheart,” he mutters as he pulls his shirt off over his head. “C'mon, need you awake for this part. I’m nowhere near finished with you.”