#time to sharpen up your game

[tenshiharmonia]

To be fair, Blitz did say in Seeing Stars that his dick is good ; he never said anything about his tongue…

[presiding]

you'll never guess which level we're up to in this dishonored 2 rewrite

[reasonsforhope]

By the way, you can improve your executive function. You can literally build it like a muscle.

Yes, even if you're neurodivergent. I don't have ADHD, but it is allegedly a thing with ADHD as well. And I am autistic, and after a bunch of nerve damage (severe enough that I was basically housebound for 6 months), I had to completely rebuild my ability to get my brain to Do Things from what felt like nearly scratch.

This is specifically from ADDitude magazine, so written specifically for ADHD (and while focused in large part on kids, also definitely includes adults and adult activities):

Here's a link on this for autism (though as an editor wow did that title need an editor lol):

Resources on this aren't great because they're mainly aimed at neurotypical therapists or parents of neurdivergent children. There's worksheets you can do that help a lot too or thought work you can do to sort of build the neuro-infrastructure for tasks.

But a lot of the stuff is just like. fun. Pulling from both the first article and my own experience:

Play games or video games where you have to make a lot of decisions. Literally go make a ton of picrews or do online dress-up dolls if you like. It helped me.

Art, especially forms of art that require patience, planning ahead, or in contrast improvisation

Listening to longform storytelling without visuals, e.g. just listening regularly to audiobooks or narrative podcasts, etc.

Meditation

Martial arts

Sports in general

Board games like chess or Catan (I actually found a big list of what board games are good for building what executive functioning skills here)

Woodworking

Cooking

If you're bad at time management play games or video games with a bunch of timers

Things can be easier. You might always have a disability around this (I certainly always will), but it can be easier. You do not have to be this stuck forever.

[gojoux]

𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta. Inumaki.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

Gojo certainly would notice if there is something ‘odd’ and won’t hesitate to point it out, “Is that hickey? I don’t remember leaving it there though.” He squints his eyes behind his blindfold as if his Six Eyes is lying to him. Indeed, he will always remember every mark he left on you, so he does become suspicious. He’d mock the appearance of the hickey once he catches on and plays into your game, “That can’t be mine. It’s too faint, look at that,” and with a cheeky grin, he’ll give you an actual hickey, big and noticeable.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

Geto is an attentive listener, he stays quiet and listens to you closely when you talk. When he notices the hickey, he stays silent and his expression doesn’t change. He decided it’s best to keep it to himself until you finish talking. “Is that hickey, love? I don’t remember leaving you any last night,” he’d ask, his tone somewhat passive-aggressive. He’d make a move by touching the spot with his thumb, smearing the made-up mark, and chuckle lightly afterward. “You’re naughty, sweetheart.”

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

Sukuna would notice right away when he sees you in sight. “What was that?” He’d ask with a raised brow with a commanding tone, he expected you to be honest with him. When you play dumb, he’d ask you again as he stands up from his seat, “I’m asking you. What is that.” He holds your nape, making you face him still. He’d analyze the mark properly before laughing shortly, “This looks so bad. Let me show you what a real hickey looks like.” He manages to fill your neck to your shoulder with his deep colored mark.

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Nanami has a sharp eye, he’d notice right away. He looks at it in silence with his usual stoic, serious face before he speaks calmly to the point, “You have a hickey, love. Who gave it to you?” Honestly, he’s already used to your antics, and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that the hickey doesn’t look like the usual ones he gave you. “If you want one, you should just ask me. No need to waste time and effort to make one yourself.” He knows, and he’s unbothered so he just flows along with it for you.

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

Choso would notice the hickey on your neck and the confusion would be written all over his face. He’ll double-check on your neck and at you, “There’s a mark... on your neck,” he looks at your skin. “Are you okay? Is it a bruise? Or is it from me?” He asks, genuinely curious and a bit concerned as he looks intently at the hickey with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He doesn’t want to touch it for some reason. He’ll let out a small “Oh...” when you admit it to him after how long he’s been staring at it.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji would be as nonchalant as ever. He doesn’t notice it at first, but the more he stares at you, the more he keeps looking at the hickey with the way his gaze sharpens every second as if he's analyzing the whole mark placed on that particular spot of your body. “That’s a terrible hickey, by the way. Whoever gave it to you suck ass, 'cause that’s not mine for sure,” he snickers. “Let me give you a good one,” he murmurs as he pulls you closer by the nape.

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

Megumi doesn’t want to point it out at first, deciding to just leave it for now, but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from the mark and he can’t help but be curious. “Hey, there’s a hickey there,” he points with his eyes. He’d then ask, “From where did you get it?” because he wants to hear it directly from you since he doesn’t remember leaving one on you recently. He’d take the initiative to touch it himself where he realizes it’s only makeup, not realizing that he just let out a small sigh of relief.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

Itadori wouldn’t even notice it’s fake. He thinks it’s the one he left behind since he tends to give you small hickeys of affection after he kissed you. “Looks like you still have the hickey I gave you,” he grins widely when points it out. He’d even show you off his own hickeys that you left for him and end up rambling about it, “Did you know I have a few too? You gave me this one yesterday, and this one three days ago, oh, I really like this one, the color looks nice, you did a really good job on that, and this one—”

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

Yuta would be a bit shy since it’s exposed so others would know that he left that on you but at the same time he just realized that he was not around you for a few days. He taps your shoulder gently to talk, beating around the bush at first since he doesn’t want to assume you’d go behind his back, he just doesn’t know to address it to you without the fear of offending your feelings. Once you’re done enjoying his flustered reaction, you finally reveal that it’s just a prank, and he’d let out a big sigh of relief, “Oh, wow, that looks real! How did you do that? Can I give you a real one instead?”

◈ — 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈

Inumaki glares at the hickey, looking at it and to your eyes in disapproval, waiting for you to take the hint that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. When you say that the hickey is from him, he immediately shakes his head and crosses his arms to deny it. When he looks more closely, he becomes suspicious at the ‘oddness’ and rubs it with his finger just to make sure it’s what he thinks it is. When the makeup smears on his fingers, he’ll smile smugly and smear it on your cheek just to make fun of you.

Looks like I need to warm up ☝️

[teamatsumu]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

48 / 1.1k / shark mermen Ghost and Soap + lionfish mermaid reader, courtesy of @porcelainpot :)

...

The moment you and Soap lock eyes, you push yourself up off the soft sea floor. Tendrils of sand, gold in the sun, trail after your tailfin all the way back into the tangle of reef coral you’ve claimed as your home.

Soap laughs behind you.

Why is he so obsessed with this? This stupid game he plays. Ghost—who rolls over near the sunny patch where you were just lazing together—doesn’t care when you’re around. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. But Soap won’t leave you alone. He all but ignores the clear warning signs all over your body—the auburn striping your tail; your bright, fanlike fins; the enormous fuckoff venom-coated spines running the length of your dorsal line, arms, and ear fins.  

You scowl. Every time you think he won’t find you when you venture out into the reef, every time you let yourself relax after the day’s hunting is done, he turns up. Watching you the same way he’s looking at you right now: too fucking closely. His eyes flash with mischief and lock onto your fins through the sparse gaps in your coral cave.

“Think she bites?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost grunts. “Most things do.”

“Saw her lookin’ at you like she might want to take a piece home.”

“Doubt it.”

“Doubt you’d feel it if she did. Could hardly kill a minnow with those wee teeth. Don’t know how she hunts with ‘em.”

You duck down back into the entrance of your cave with a flick of your lacy tail. He’s talking loudly enough for you to hear on purpose. “You’re never getting close enough to find out,” you snap.

Soap’s smirk stretches into a grin. You took the bait. “Can’t hide in your cage forever, can ya?”

Ghost rolls back over. “She’s got more sense than the ones who swim toward you.”

“Oh, piss off. Fleein’ from a predator is what prey fish do. It’s a natural response.”

You lurk a little further outside your cave. “I’m not prey. I’m just as much a predator as you sharks.”

This time, Ghost is the one who scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Soap swims up closer to your hiding spot, eyes roaming over your form. You bristle instinctively and raise your spines in warning as he drifts closer. But it doesn’t drive him away. If anything, it seems to draw his interest even more.

“Ya’ve got an impressive display, I’ll give it that,” he says. “But you’re a scrap compared to us.”

“So? I don’t need size to defend myself.” You fan your fins up higher, emboldened as you rise with the current.

Soap grins even wider at the threat display. You’re all barbed fins, colorful scales, and angry pout. His gaze reflects the challenge you’re issuing him. “Careful sayin’ that. I’ll chase you if you tease me.”

Ghost lets out an irritated growl at Soap’s flirtation, knowing very well Soap only says these things to get a rise out of you. “Those spines aren’t just for show, Soap. You know what lionfish venom feels like. Bet hers is worse. Might kill you. You think it's worth dying just to prove a point?"

“I think spines break as easy as they sting.”

Anger surges through your chest. “Brute,” you snap.

Soap laughs. You don’t seem to notice you’ve drifted some distance away from your hiding spot, but he has. Ghost shifts, side-eying both of you more closely.

“I’m just curious, gorgeous.” His senses sharpen with the thrill of your threat display and your anger. Of course he thinks it’s sexy. The more you insult him, the more he wants to see what it takes to earn more than just that sharp tongue of yours. “Think touchin’ you might be worth the sting.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“You’re cute when you’ve got a problem with me. Gnashin’ like a miniature barracuda.”

You puff up a little more, daring to swim closer. You’re smugly satisfied when he backs away a little in response.

“Try it,” you bluff.

Soap’s eyes drop down, tracing the length of your fins, and he grins. He’s just as aware of the lethality of any lionfish's wicked barbs as he is of their beauty, but he doesn’t seem particularly deterred by the threats of this particular mer wielding them. “Bet you wouldn’t bite me too hard.”

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice is calm, but a warning lurks in his tone. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap replies without looking away from you. “Bet those spines are brittle.” He reaches forward to touch one.

You hiss and whip your tail away on instinct, darting back. Your spines are still raised in defense. But your rational mind doesn’t want to risk him getting any closer. You don’t want him to know what happens if he's stung--that your venom is a faulty mimic of a true lionfish. He needs to think you're dangerous and keep his distance. And you need to keep your pride intact.

Soap hardly notices how upset you are. He’s thrilled to provoke an interesting new reaction out of you. Before he can reach out again, though, Ghost grabs his wrist and jerks him back, forcing him out of your personal space.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not fast enough to avoid a sting.”

“You’re no fun, Ghost.”

“Fuck off,” you snap. Your heart is pounding. He got too close, way too close.

You retreat while Ghost has ahold of him, slipping down into your small den and out of sight. Soap calls after you, but he’s not surprised when you don’t come back out.

Soap rips his wrist out of Ghost’s claws with a muttered curse. At Ghost’s hard look, he snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do it too.”

“That’s not the problem. She’s a pincushion. You go pissing her off too much, you’re going to wind up full of poison.

“Aye.”

“And it'll probably kill you. Hurt the whole time doing it. It’s all fun and games until you’re dying because you just couldn’t help but poke a pretty fish.”

Soap scoffs. “You’re exaggerating. No sting can kill me. It'll hurt a little an’ I’ll be fine.”

Ghost gives Soap an unimpressed glance. “And if you're wrong? You think you’re strong enough to fight off a neurotoxin.” He snorts. “You want to test that hypothesis?”

Soap glances back at your den with a frown.

“Keep your bloody distance,” Ghost mutters, giving Soap a shove back toward the center of the reef. “She’s no prize.”

Soap gives in and turns back toward the reef, turning a restless corkscrew in the water. Still, the smirk reappears on his face. “Aye. Little nightmare, isn’t she?” He sighs. “All bite and no kiss.”

...

[part 1 ] / part 2 by porcelainpot here!! <3

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist

[icanseethefuture333]

Asteroid Kitty (9563): your kitten like charm 🐈‍⬛

Asteroid kitty represents the duality of a person, it’s how people are seen as sexy and cute. Asteroid kitty can also show how mischievous or promiscuous a person can be towards their prey, especially when it comes to women using their feminine charm to get what they want.

“I’m the type of girl you wanna chew all of my bubblegum

I’m the type of girl you wanna take to ya mama house”

Kitty in the signs/houses:

Aries Kitty / in the 1st house

Aries Kitty / in the 1st house people are the embodiment of “cat pretty”, their eyes are often shaped like a feline’s, and they are I nown for being a leader. They don’t like to follow the rules and could be seen as rebellious by people. Kitty 1st housers may also hate having people in their personal space but could lack a sense of respect for others. When in a relationship, they see what belongs to their partner’s as theirs, and wouldn’t understand why they don’t want to share. They could also be drawn to cats and animals prints in general. These kittens like to play hard to get and enjoy playful pushing/smacking on the arm as a form of flirtation. If they were a cat, they would believe they are the master and their owner was their servant, similar to those wirehair cats. They are only affectionate with the people they care about and can look at you as if you’re crazy if you act like you know them. These kittens have an infectious laughter as well and their voice sounds like purring to the ears. They are also athletic and look damn good in their workout clothes. They can pick up dudes at the gym and they often find people trying to help them whenever they are lifting weights.

Taurus Kitty/in the 2nd house

Taurus Kitty / in the 2nd house people prioritize financial security and success over the approval of others. These kittens value comfort and stability, they could often take naps and be seen as “lazy”. They might also carry weight more than others or have a “fat cat” 👀. Taurus Kitty 2nd housers charm is their ability to make their home and their style fancy on a budget. If they were a cat, they’d be the fluffy white Persian ones with the diamond collar. These kittens love luxury and being pampered. These are the type of people who grew up spoiled by their family. In a relationship, they are the type to be given money for spa days and so they can get their claws sharpened. They are also stubborn when it comes to arguments but for others their temper can be seen as sexually enticing. Romantic suitors feel compelled to give them their money and assets. Touch is also a big turn on for them and being touched by them always feels so sensual. They are high maintenance and lack patience when it comes to other people’s ignorance.

Gemini Kitty / in the 3rd house

Ohhh what chatterboxes! These kittens are very vocal and outspoken, but their way of communicating is very endearing! The way Gemini Kitty / in the 3rd house people talk is so adorable, when they have a crush on someone they can be very cheeky, and like to play a game of “cat and mouse” with their romantic interest. If they were a cat, they’d be a Siamese cat 🗣️! They are also very observant and attentive to details, if you do something that they don’t like, then they get the ick immediately. They are also very hot and cold, they hate when people are constantly in their face and need to have their alone time. Gemini Kitty 3rd housers need mental stimulation and have to be intellectually engaged. They are bold when it comes to saying dirty things and can be very vocal in the bedroom.

Cancer Kitty / in the 4th house

Cancer Kitty / in the 4th house people are attuned to people’s emotions and are sensitive to their surroundings. They could be described as empathetic and homebodies. People see them as cute and loving, they could often be babied by people, even as they get older in age. These kittens are classy in the streets and a freak in the sheets, they could play a more submissive role in the bedroom. Cancer Kitty 4th housers are known for their glowing skin, sweet scent, and docile nature. They like to be nurturing towards their loved ones and may cry with them when upset. If they were a cat, they’d be a exotic shorthair 🧸. They are viewed as the girl/boy next door and some people dream of marrying them. People hate seeing them sad and would do anything to make them happy again, they could manipulate others’ emotions if they wanted and whenever they’re in trouble, they get away with it because of their innocent demeanor.

Leo Kitty in the 5th house

The definition of mischief! Leo Kitty 5th house people are playful and vivacious, they love to have fun! You can find them at a party dancing or playing video games on a Saturday night. These are the kittens that enjoy laser tag, they like anything bright and shiny. If they were a cat, they would be an orange cat 🐈 ! People could find their energetic personality uplifting and are appreciative of their positive attitude. They are optimistic when it comes to their goals and they believe in having a team spirit. Leo Kitty 5th housers could be loved by children and animals, they see them as a big kid as well. They might be the youngest of their family or was that child who was a “busy body”, always wanting to go outside. When in a relationship, they love physical touch and quality time, they just won’t get off their partners lol. They could also have a high sex drive and are always excited to try something new, they might even want to try something silly like spanking their partner’s butt when they are caught off guard.

Kitty in Virgo/6th house

Virgo / Kitty in the 6th house people require more care than others. They could often be prone to sickness and when they are feeling under the weather, people wish to tend to their every need. Self care is an important part of their daily routine, so you can catch them doing their yoga routine or doing skincare. They could also be allergic to pets as well even though they might want one to keep them company. Virgo / Kitty 6th housers can be quite critical to cheap materials and are picky to certain foods, they have a refined palette. If they were a cat, they’d be a Russian blue. Hygiene is important to them and they are often praised for their well kept appearance (“pussy tight pussy clean pussy fresh”). When in a relationship, they are more shy and prefer to show their love through acts of services. In order to feel comfortable sexually, they could need lots of foreplay and require a partner that has patience, it takes a while for these people to get in the mood. Lying on the green grass underneath the warm sun could be healing for these kittens. Being in nature allows them to unwind and release stress.

Libra Kitty / in the 7th house

Popular and pretty! Libra Kitty / In the 7th house people are admired by their peers and often attract attention without even trying. They have many romantic suitors and they like getting what they want. People could often be jealous of them because of how well liked they are. They could have a reputation of being a “home wrecker” but they don’t see it that way. They feel if the home was never secure in the first place, then it wasn’t their fault someone chased after them lol. Libra Kitty 7th housers can be superficial and most of their attraction is based on physical appearance. These kittens also value balance and have a steady workload. If they were a cat, they’d be a ragdoll. In the bedroom, they are likely to be a switch and enjoy giving and receiving. These people like to see their partner’s face so missionary or cowgirl would be their favorite position, as well as 69 for fairness.

Scorpio Kitty / in the 8th house

What mysterious little creatures. Scorpio Kitty / In the 8th house could prefer to be alone and dislike being forced to socialize. These kittens are often misunderstood by others and might have been outcasted in their youth. They go wherever they please and look good doing it. Scorpio Kitty 8th housers may be drawn to the dark and prefer taking walks out at night, they also wear a lot of black. If they were a cat, they’d be a Bombay cat 🐈‍⬛. When they are attracted to someone, they ooze sensuality and are very alluring without even trying, their mannerisms as well are attractive to people. These people could have supernatural experiences and might be highly intuitive as well. In their family dynamics, they could be protective of others and can sense danger before it happens. In the bedroom, they are flexible and able to place themselves in all types of positions. They enjoy the darker aspects of foreplay such as roughhousing, shibari, whips, and bdsm. Their goal during sex is to claim their partner as theirs, expect love bites and scratch marks from these felines.

Sagittarius Kitty / In the 9th house

These are the alley cats who have seen and experienced a lot of things. Sagittarius Kitty / in the 9th house people are wise and knowledge of various topics. To other people they could consider them a “know it all” and mature beyond their years, they might feel inferior to them when engaging in a conversation. These people enjoy adventure and freedom, they would be a stray cat that is known and loved by all in their neighborhood. These kittens would most likely have multiple homes and don’t like being tied down to one place. They enjoy a good sense of humor and are attracted to someone who is intelligent, when a person matches their energy that turns them on even more. In the bedroom, they like to are open to new experiences and wish to try different things, so they are likely to mess around with sex toys. Sagittarius Kitty 9th housers could value their education as well and may be a “teacher’s pet”. If they were a cat, they’d be a Bengal cat. Within their family, these people would be the carefree older sibling who has crazy stories of parties and drinking, they are mostly likely to remain single and would not want to get married. They spend their time traveling and enjoying different cuisines.

Capricorn Kitty / In the 10th house

Capricorn Kitty / in the 10th house are focused , responsible, and determined. They have a sharp wit and don’t tolerate nonsense. These kittens are often annoyed with people’s incompetence and it puts them in a bad mood when things are not handled properly. They admire individuals with a good work ethic and have a good head on their shoulder. It’s a major turn on for them when a partner is able to take the role of a provider and make them feel secure in a relationship. These kittens are the type to receive push presents and don’t accept anything less than they are worth. They prefer stability and assets over romantic infatuation. Capricorn Kitty / 10th housers are likely to be “trophy wives” and “wags” (wives and girlfriends of athletes). In the bedroom, they assert their dominance only as a form of punishment or a way to relieve stress. In general, they can be a brat and desire a partner that can tame them. They are very opinionated and will let you know if the sex was bad or not. Their style consists of expensive jewelry and casual business attire. If they were a cat, they’d be an Egyptian Mau.

Aquarius Kitty / In the 11th house

Aquarius Kitty / In the 11th house people catch on quickly to things and have a keen intellect. They are smart when it comes to technology and could have a solid social media following. Their pets would also be popular on social media or they could make money from them (E.G: placing them in pageants or competitions). They do well in modeling campaigns and could have been seen in commercials and catalogs. Their sense of fashion is unique and they could be referred to as a “trendsetter”. Aquarius Kitty / 11th housers are able to find sexual and romantic partners quite easily thanks to dating apps or having good luck when it comes to sliding in people’s DMs. They also enjoy cybersex, either on FaceTime or sending sexy texts to their crush. Their online presence is considered tempting and alluring. They could post pictures of themselves in risqué positions or thirst traps are often their go to on their story. I wouldn’t be surprised if they make money from having an OnlyFans as well. When it comes to relationships, they are most likely to prefer being single and value their freedom. The downside is people try to trap these kittens and try to turn them into a housewife (or spouse) when they know they are very independent and rebellious.

Pisces Kitty / In the 12th house

What gentle beings. Pisces Kitty / In The 12th house people have a healing presence and are in tuned with their senses. They could have a spiritual connection to cats and often receive signs from them. They are highly intuitive and have cat like reflexes, they can predict things before it even comes true. If they were a cat, they’d be a blue abyssian. They enjoy reading books, meditation, and anything that allows them a peace of mind. Pisces Kitty / 12th housers are likely to smoke weed or use some type of psychedelics. These are girls at Coachella that dress whimsical and colorful and just there to vibe and have a good time. These kittens believe in manifestation and are the type to leave crystals in their crush’s car/home. They believe they can seduce people with their mind and aura (which is honestly true). In the bedroom, they prefer to use as sex as an act of healing and creating a spiritual bond. They could also be in non traditional relationships and may be open to polyamorous relationships. They might have even had sex with more than one person at a time.

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[the-monkeies-girl]

Bitter Sweet. ( Five x Reader Oneshot. )

i have no explanation other than my babies are still alive and that season 4 never happened SEASON 4 NEVER HAPPENED---- Give me snarky, asshole, pragmatic five back before i die. Reblogs/likes/comments all appreciated, thank u.

Title: Bitter Sweet. Fandom: The Umbrella Academy. Pairing: Heavily Implied ! Five x Reader. Rating: T. ( Language, lol. ) Words: 1.2K+ Summary: ( Taking place in an AU after season 4, let me live in my fantasy that's what fanfics are FOR ). You knew how specific Five was about his coffee. You knew he would speak his mind regarding and it was too much fun to let go of.

════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ ════ 

Four cubes. 

No, no… Five felt his mouth part in astonishment, crystal clear green eyes peering in languid judgment as your plucked another sugar cube from a pristine porcelain bowl and plopped it right into the white coffee cup that was placed in front of you. It sploshed happily, absorbing the coffee and sweetening the deal for you to enjoy, but that was never the point in the grand scheme. You were ardently aware of how irritating it was, one cube after another. The quantity itself was deliberate and you knew… How you were able to feel his stare hell-bending holes into your face. He was unable to see the liquid despite trying with a narrow gaze but he was willing to bargain much of what he owned that it was pale in color, not even teetering towards tan but more towards plain white.

 A grimace was noticed by Klaus who bargained a chuckle as he looked towards you, seated beside him with raised eyebrows of acute amusement, “You’re desecrating whatever coffee you had, I think Five is going to lunge across the table and take you by the neck---” “Five can shove it.” The innocence that rode against your face was evident as the Hargreeves man  across from you scoffed under his breath at the juxtaposed expression coupled with the aggressive nature of your words. “It’s my cup, not his. We can’t all drink it b---”

“Black like my soul, right?” Five rolled his eyes, shoulders drawing themselves in some minor defense and you were able to see the tightness of which he held himself from the tailored nature of his suit. Five was lanky and skinny, but that didn't seek to say that he was without defined muscles against his sweeping collarbones and it was evident in certain motions that left you reeling back from the hardened words that he responded with.

“Get some original insults, (Name). You’re becoming way too predictable. Boring even---” His voice was incredulous, sticking towards monotonous but still held irate interest in speaking to you, only detectable around the edges and it sang against your ears. 

Flirtatious only to you, aggressive and leaned with hatred to others. A game of cat and mouse, though at times, you were unsure of which one you were playing. “I was going to say bitter just like your personality, but you know me. Predictable.” Klaus held a defensive hand up, grasping at his own cup and pretending he was beckoned elsewhere to avoid the confrontation that was inevitable coming in the way that Five cleared his throat, a hand raising and tightening the bundle of fabric where his tie rested against his throat. 

He straightened it, you noticed with acute mirth, but there was no need to. It was already perfectly placed, part of the morning ritual you imagined he held close to his chest after spending so long cultivating it. Five was… A creature of habit, to many extents. Needless to say, it was one of those simple actions that you enjoyed seeing none-the-less, fingers twitching in a finite need to deshevel the pin-black tie to further push the boundary of where you and Five so often tightroped. No solace was given to either party as his knuckles rubbed against the underside of his sharpened jaw. There was hostility tangling in with notes of attractive coyness as he snapped at you, “You’re a goddamn monster, you know that? Fuck---” “I’m not the one getting angry over how someone else makes their coffee.” You bit back without reserve and another sickly smile placed towards the brunette as you finally picked up your spoon and allowed it to sink into the cup. It scraped -- Horrid, Five felt a shiver run down his spine at the vibrations he could feel against the oak table from your simple movement. Like nails against a chalkboard. 

“Can you even call that coffee?” Five spliced and looked down at his own mug, half-emptied and his saliva still coating and drying where he had last taken a drink against the curve. “Did ya even put any in there? Any beans? Any espresso?” “There’s some in here.” There was a justification with a faux pout which Five remarked as being feverishly unfair. You were good at playing expressions, he was good at playing words. “I think….” You mused and lifted your cup up to your mouth and kissed the rim. Five swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing which was feasted upon by your eyes before you took a long sip. Control rested in your hands as you refused to let him look away from you. 

Five sneered, your eyes taking in the delectations of seeing his sharpened canines. “You’re going to lose all your teeth from all the shit you put in that. Creamer and then what? Five sugar cubes? Are you a horse? Want me to feed you them straight from my hand?” There was a rustling sound as Five leaned inwards, his suit jacket pulling up with the motion that was placed as he so graciously plucked a sugar cube from the bowl that had been nearly emptied by you and offered it in the palm of his hand. “C’mon, take it. Be a good little horse.” “”Ha-ha,” You laughed sarcastically, smacking his gesture away which sent the cube flying off to be cleaned up later. “I’ll bite your fingers clean off.” “Not if you don’t have any fucking teeth! I kind of hope you do lose them. Hell, take me to the dentist when you get them pulled, I’ll bring them home and make a necklace for you.”

“You DIY things, Five?” There was another laugh from you as you took a sip of your drink, “Never pegged you to be that crafty.” There was emphasis on the word ‘pegged’, Five catching hold of the implication which garnered you that shit-eating grin that was more than infamous at this point. “Just this once.” He smirked, giving you a dimpled smile of feigned innocence to rival the one you splayed for him earlier. Sitting up in his seat, it scooted against the floor below with a loud bellow and you watched with bated astonishment as he leaned against the table to bring his upper half closer to you. Face only inches apart now, you refused to relent eye contact with him and tried to desperately shove down the connotation that you were able to clearly smell the after-shave that he favored. Pinely in scent, you wanted to grasp at his chin and feel the stubble against your fingers but that wasn’t the point here. The point was to be the cat while Five was forced to be the mouse.

“Just for you, a nice necklace and some earrings. Bracelet, maybe? A matching set. You'd look like such a doll."

“I’ll wear the set to your funeral. Clutch them instead of my pearls as I sob, telling everyone what a wonderful ray of sunshine you were to be around before you so tragically died.”

“Is that a date?” 

Five huffed at you as you stood from your seat, his gawk watching the movement with hostility as you craned your body towards him and grasped the base of his tie. Enlightened with curiosity, the disgusting smile of attraction rose along his cheeks, quickly torn to shreds as you pulled the tie downwards, the knot coming undone without reserve. 

“With you six feet under? You bet your damn ass it is.”

[jamesmcalover]

Dreamwalking

First Class!Charles Xavier x Mutant!Reader

Warnings: a bit spicy i guess? but no actual smut. idk what happened here... not proof read

Summary: the reader has the ability to enter people's dreams and stumbles across the one of Charles Xavier

Until finding out that mutants existed, you've never thought of your ability as a mutation, it was more of a spiritual skill to you, maybe even a blessing.

"Dreamwalking" is it what you called it. The ability to visit someone's dream, appear in their unconscious mind, manipulate it, or your favourite activity – fuck with them. Since dreaming is such a mystery to the world, you can easily go unnoticed when entering someone's dream and creating loops, for example. One time, you trapped a person in a recurring loop, where they experienced the same scenario over and over again, believing they've woken up only to find themselves still in the dream. Of course you have never done this with cruel intentions, it was purely for your personal entertainment.

It was almost like a routine for you, that's what you had always done. Until the night you stumbled into Charles Xavier's dream by accident.

You weren’t looking for anyone in particular – just wandering through the usual sea of minds as you often did, seeking out a little mischief to keep yourself entertained. But then, out of nowhere, you found yourself in a dream unlike any you’d ever encountered. You were expecting to find the usual chaos of unconscious thoughts and memories. But what you encountered was something entirely different. A fortress of mental defenses, meticulously constructed, each layer more intricate than the last. It was structured, orderly, almost as if someone had consciously crafted it. Curiosity got the better of you, and you pushed further, expecting to uncover the secrets of some overly disciplined mind. Instead, you walked right into the mental landscape of Charles Xavier. The moment you realized whose dream you were in, a chill ran down your spine.

The infamous Professor X was no stranger to you. A man who could read minds and bend the will of others with a mere thought. You had encountered him a few times before in a bar that you regularly visited, spoke a few times with him, but nothing ever really happened between the two of you. Even if there was no doubt of attraction from both sides. The Professor had a certain charm to him, that was definitely no secret, you've watched him flirt many times.

You figured that toying with his mind would be your greatest challenge yet, the ultimate test of your abilities.

But it almost seemed as if Charles had been expecting you, waiting for you to make your move. You had no idea how you’d ended up there, but one thing was clear – this was no ordinary dream, and you were no longer the one in control.

His mind didn’t seem very unconscious; it was as if he were awake, fully aware of your presence. That shouldn't have been possible – you weren’t supposed to be able to enter the mind of someone who was awake. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of his dreamscape, feeling an eerie sensation creeping through your body. The dream was too lucid, too controlled, as if he were orchestrating every detail with precision. The air felt thick with anticipation, and the familiar sense of power you usually had in others’ dreams was absent, replaced by a gnawing unease.

You were the intruder, but it felt like he was the one who had allowed you in, as if he had opened the door to his mind on purpose. That realization made you shiver, because if he was aware of you, it meant he could see you, could sense you. And if he could sense you, he could stop you. For the first time, you wondered if maybe you’d wandered too far, if perhaps you’d finally met someone who could turn your favorite game against you.

As the unsettling realization dawned on you, the dreamscape around you shifted subtly, the edges sharpening as if the world itself was honing in on your presence. Then, out of the silence, a calm yet commanding voice resonated through the space, wrapping around you like a vise.

"I’ve been expecting you."

The voice was unmistakable – Charles Xavier’s, clear and deliberate, with a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His words weren’t a question but a statement, as though he had known you would find your way into his mind eventually.

"You’re talented, I’ll give you that," he continued, his tone measured and controlled, "but did you really think you could wander through my thoughts unnoticed? This isn’t a playground, and you’ve ventured into dangerous territory."

The dreamscape solidified further, and you felt the weight of his gaze even before you saw him. When he finally appeared before you, his expression was serene, but his eyes held a depth of understanding that made it clear – you have lost every last ounce of control you might still have had left in that moment.

As Charles appeared before you, his presence dominating the dreamscape, the environment around you began to shift, reacting to his will rather than yours. The walls of the dream narrowed, the colors dimming until everything seemed to fade into a muted gray. The ground beneath you felt unstable, like it could collapse at any moment, but Charles remained steady, his gaze unwavering.

"You're not here by accident," he said, stepping closer, his voice resonating with a calm authority. "Something drew you to me, whether you intended it or not."

You tried to push back, to exert some control over the dream, but it was like pressing against a brick wall. Your powers, usually so reliable, felt sluggish, ineffective under the weight of his mind. For the first time, you felt truly vulnerable, as if you were the one being manipulated.

Charles tilted his head slightly, as if considering his next words carefully. "You have potential, but your actions show a lack of direction, a misunderstanding of the responsibility that comes with your power."

Before you could respond, the dreamscape shifted again, this time to a familiar place—a room from your past, one you hadn’t thought of in years. The memories attached to it were private, intimate, yet here they were, laid bare before him.

Charles's gaze lingered on you as the dreamscape transformed into that intimate room from your past. The walls seemed to pulse with the echoes of your old memories, shadows flickering like half-remembered dreams. He stepped closer, the air charged with a tension that seemed to crackle with each movement.

"You're not just a curiosity to me," he said, his voice now soft, almost seductive. "There's something intriguing about you. Something that's far more than just your powers."

You felt a mix of frustration and an unexpected flutter of excitement.

This wasn't how you'd expected the encounter to go. The dream, once a playground for your mischief, now felt like a stage set for something far more intense. Charles's eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in this charged space.

"Do you really think you can understand me, just by manipulating me?" you challenged, your voice carrying a note of defiance. But even as you spoke, you could feel the heat between you growing, his presence so overwhelming it was almost tangible.

Charles's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to understand what drives you. And I think," he said, his tone dropping to a whisper, "that you might be more complicated than you let on."

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against your arm. The touch was electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

The warmth of his skin against yours was almost too real, and you could feel the pull of attraction despite the situation's inherent strangeness.

"Maybe we should explore this connection further," he suggested, his voice low and enticing. "There's a lot more to discover about your power."

Before you could respond, Charles closed the distance between you. His lips found yours in a kiss that was as intense as it was unexpected. The kiss was both a challenge and an invitation, a way to bridge the gap between the fierce intellect and raw attraction that had been building between you.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. But then, giving in to the magnetic pull between you, you deepened the kiss, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. The dreamscape around you seemed to blur as the kiss consumed you both, transforming the scene into a private cocoon of desire and exploration.

Charles's hands roamed over your back, drawing you into his embrace, the kiss growing more fervent, more urgent.

You responded in kind, matching his passion with your own, every touch and caress revealing a layer of the complex emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

"Tell me," Charles said softly, his voice almost gentle now, "what is it you truly seek? Power? Control? Or is there something else you’re running from?"

"I'm not running", you said confidently as you leaned back a little to look at him properly. His fingers were still dancing over your back and your body responded with goosebumps.

"Are you not?", he asked, his accent almost thicker as it usually was, "why are you doing this then? Manipulating so many dreams?"

You weren't sure what the answer to his question was. Why did you do it? Maybe you did seek a little power from time to time...

You shrugged your shoulders, tired of talking about your powers when there was a handsome man right in front of you to kiss. Your fingers toyed with the hair in his neck as he mustered you intensely. Then he kissed you again, this time, more forcefully. He grabbed your hips pulling you forward to meet his own hips. A moan escaped your mouth and Charles grunted. If it hadn't already been a dream, you would have thought it was one.

In this shared dream, the boundaries between control and surrender, power and vulnerability dissolved into a shared, heated connection. What began as a struggle for dominance had become a dance of passion and desire, where every touch, every whisper, spoke of a deeper, unspoken bond between you

[nadvs]

better off (part three) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you and rafe take time apart to try to get better for each other. it’s harder than both of you expected.

warnings toxic relationship, smut

» part one / part two

» masterlist

Rafe knew he’d see you around. He figured that he’d spot you at parties. After all, a party is where you two met.

And he knew it’d be hard to act like strangers. But not this hard.

It’s been almost a week since the day at the marina. As he watches you in the crowd across the room, he’s afraid of breaking some unwritten rule by starting a conversation with you.

You said to give it a few weeks, then you’d talk. It’s been just six days. And he’s losing his mind.

The month of silence after your break-up was hard enough. At least he was just angry then, numbing the pain. But this? Having you at an arm’s length, but leaving you alone for the sake of ‘getting better’?

He felt so stupid getting home after your conversation. He didn’t even know where to start. Staring at his ceiling. Wondering what the hell getting better even looked like.

His friends would laugh their asses off if they saw his search history. ‘How to be a good boyfriend’ has to be among the most embarrassing searches.

That stuff should just come naturally, but he’s been filling up the album named after you in his phone with screenshots. Now, piled up after his favorite photos of you are snippets from advice columns and articles.

Rafe has always felt a twinge deep in his core that he doesn’t measure up. He’s missing something that would deem him good enough. He knew from a young age from the way his anger consumed him that there was something off.

That’s why it felt like a dagger to his heart any time you told him there was something wrong with him. He hated the confirmation. And that’s why he’d say whatever he could to hurt you just as bad.

It always seemed to hit you the hardest when he said no other person would want to put up with you. You shut down whenever he said that. It gave him a sick sense of power. But that’s what he’s trying to get away from. Being sick.

It’s nerve-wracking. Knowing he’ll have to prove himself to you. Wondering if maybe after all this, you’ll come to the conclusion that you shouldn’t be together at all. You said you were bad for each other countless times throughout your relationship.

The anxiety flooding his body sharpens when he sees a guy start talking to you. And you actually start talking back.

Hot, urgent rage flares in his chest. Normally, if you were together, he’d waste no time rushing over there, pushing the idiot away and yelling at you for entertaining him for even a second.

But are you even together? While he wouldn’t be interested in talking to another girl right now, you don’t seem to feel the same way, looking pretty with a smile on your face while you talk to the stranger.

His anger is just getting worse. He needs to get the fuck out of here. He pushes past the crowds and finds himself in a bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He’s hunched over the sink and staring at the mirror, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. He has coke in his pocket. He wants to use it.

But it always just makes him more wired and paranoid. And he thinks part of getting better is not giving into these sorts of vices. It feels like his only option for some sort of release, though.

He stands up straight, the heels of his hands over his aching eyes as he paces back and forth over the tiled floor. Crying again. It’s all his body has been wanting to do since you broke up, but he usually can find a way to stop through a bottle or a line.

“Stop,” he whispers to himself. “You’re being a fucking pussy. Stop.”

Maybe that guy isn’t a stranger to you. Maybe you’ve been talking to him, planning to leave Rafe in your past. Maybe all this being healthy alone to be healthy together shit is a game you’re playing just to abandon him in the end.

Goddamn it. He’s spiralling.

A few rapid knocks on the door pull him out of his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” he shouts.

“Are you okay?”

He flattens his lips, his heart twisting once he realizes it’s you, the only person he’d open the door for right now.

He looks at his reflection. He turns on the tap to splash cold water on his face so you can’t tell he’s been crying. But in his haste, he wets the front of his shirt too, and lets out a frustrated groan.

He swings open the door. Your eyes are full of worry. And they’re beautiful and look like home. Six days is a fucking eternity.

“Hey,” you say, your brows furrowed. “Did I cross a line or something?“

“What?” Rafe says.

“Why’d you run off after I texted you?”

He feels for his phone in his pocket and pulls it out to see a text from you. Can you save me from this guy?

“I - I didn’t see this,” he stammers. He realizes this means you don’t have him blocked anymore.

“What happened?” you say, your eyes dropping to his chest, a dark, wet splotch spread across his t-shirt.

“Did he do something?” he asks at the same time.

“You first,” you say with a small smile.

“It’s just water,” he says, quick to shift the attention back onto you. “Did he?”

You look over your shoulder, back in the direction of the front room where the party is.

“No, he was just trying to hit on me and I wasn’t in the mood,” you say. You’re relieved Rafe didn’t purposely ditch you after you texted him, like you thought.

It feels so familiar, him being so protective over you. He’s thrown quite a few punches in the name of keeping you safe and claiming you as his.

Maybe it was toxic to like watching your boyfriend swing at guys who made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. Other girls would try to pull their boyfriends away from fights. You would watch yours with a smile on your face.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again. Even though you’re the one who told him you wouldn’t speak for a while, you were worried you messed something up by contacting him. But he looks anguished over missing a message from you.

For once, the struggle for dominance between you doesn’t feel like a struggle at all. He so obviously just wants to be good with you again. You hold all the power.

“Don’t stress. It’s fine,” you say sympathetically. “He finally left me alone.”

You don’t tell him you told the pushy guy you were going to look for your boyfriend. Because while you feel optimistic about what the future holds for you and Rafe, you can’t say you’re entirely confident you can both do this. And calling him your boyfriend again feels like too much right now.

The more you think about it, the more you realize just how broken you both are. You’ve been reading about how important it is to learn the underlying reasons for toxic behavior. And the two of you never liked facing your demons.

Rafe shuffles in place. It’s nice to be talking to him again, but by how stiff he seems, you’re doubting that he shares the sentiment.

“Why were you smiling at him?” he mutters.

The edge to his tone and the hard way he’s looking at you throw you right back to when you were dating. To the dread you’d feel when you knew an argument was starting.

“I was being polite,” you say.

“Polite,” he huffs. “If you want to keep your options open, you can just fucking say that.”

That. That’s what keeps you from allowing yourself to slip into the warm comfort of hope. You didn’t expect a change overnight, but this is the exact same man who left you on the marina.

Jealous. Domineering. Combative. No improvement at all.

“Are you hearing yourself?” you say, bitterness swirling in you. “I literally texted you asking you to rescue me.”

“You were giving him attention,” he says, “and then what, he said something you didn’t like and you decided to stop ‘being polite’? If you want to talk to other guys, own up to it.“

Frustration tenses through your muscles.

“I don’t want to talk to other guys,” you state. “I told you, I want to be healthy on my own first.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. You know this feeling all too well, the sense of betrayal when he dismisses you and acts like you’re making shit up.

“So, I’m lying?” you mutter.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says. He notices you flinch in embarrassment.

He’s still holding it over you, the way you let him believe you had someone new after you broke up.

You were wrong. The power struggle between you is still very much alive.

“This is exactly why we shouldn’t be talking,” you snap. The ugly impulse to be mean to him rises in you. “This is you trying to better yourself? Dick.”

You turn around to walk away. He hates himself for it. The fear of being left is such a powerful force, always taking him captive, always making him act possessively.

But he’s not wrong. You were smiling at that guy. And you have lied in the past.

He calls your name. You ignore him.

The next morning, you sit on your front porch with your phone in your hand. Rafe texted you early this morning.

Need to work on my jealousy. I know.

It’s weird, witnessing him admit to a wrongdoing. It’s not a sorry. But it’s something.

And despite your rash words, you’re proud of yourself for walking away last night. The old you would’ve stuck around for a screaming match. But you don’t want to be the old you anymore.

You finally reply: i shouldn’t have called you that.

He texts back: I deserved it.

You put your phone down. The exchange was stiff and almost formal, a far cry from how you’d normally speak to each other, but it feels like a step in the right direction.

Days pass. Rafe wishes you replied. He said he deserved it just so you’d say he didn’t.

But he used to do this a lot; saying or doing things just to get a specific reaction out of you. That might be part of what makes him sick.

The next weekend, you don’t see Rafe at your mutual friend’s beach party. It’s strange, considering he hardly ever misses an opportunity to get drunk with his buddies.

You look over to his group of friends for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s not there.

You were looking forward to seeing him. Maybe even talking to him. It’s been two weeks since you decided to try to better yourselves, and even though he hasn’t technically been your boyfriend for a month and a half now, missing him never gets easier.

You pull out your phone every so often, going back and forth between if you should text him. You check his social accounts, having unblocked him and refollowed him a few days ago, to see he hasn’t posted anything lately.

Step by step, you’re making space for him in your life again. Really, the space he once filled never went away. It’s just an empty void now.

This time apart idea is stupid.

You stop yourself from indulging in the thought. You did all the time back when you were dating - it becomes addictive to tell yourself whatever you were fighting over wasn’t a big deal. That you should just be happy to be with Rafe. That the issues don’t matter.

Maybe he didn’t ever really validate you, but you were bad at doing it for yourself, too. You need to remind yourself that this break is important.

But is it so bad to check up on him? Make sure he’s alright?

You pull out your phone and text him: You doing okay?

Your heart drops when the text immediately comes up as undelivered. He blocked you.

After every argument, if anyone blocked anyone, it always was you blocking him. He’d try to find other ways to contact you, sometimes even finding one of your friends on social media to ask to talk to you.

As you stand with your friends, you pretend to scroll through your phone, trying not to cry. One recurring theme in your relationship was that he always accused you of not really caring that much about him, at least not as much as he cared about you.

Your nasty habit of blocking him must be part of the reason why. Because this feeling of outright rejection, of someone clearly showing you they don’t want to hear whatever you want to say, stings.

You liked the power trip of when you blocked him because he always did whatever he could to talk to you again. And you realize just how fucked up that was.

You find an excuse to rush home, not wanting to even mention to your friends why you’re choked up. They’re already apprehensive about you and Rafe actually being able to have a healthy relationship.

You spend the rest of your night in your bed, crying because you and Rafe really did bring out the worst in each other. Because he might have decided he’s done with you and this idea of getting better for each other is not worth the effort.

Your pillow is wet with your tears by the time you finally fall asleep.

You try to spend the next day reading and journalling and imagining a life without Rafe. After the break-up, you were miserable, but you knew separating was what was best.

Now, after the promise you made each other to try to get better, it hurts so much more. You were hopeful. And he shattered that.

You’re desperate to feel the way you used to. When things were good. Your love could be bitter, but when it was sweet, it was incredible.

You once sat on the beach together well past midnight for hours, talking and laughing and cuddling as the waves crashed in front of you.

Now, every conversation turns into a fight. Why does this have to be so hard?

It’s a Thursday night when Rafe thinks about driving up to your spot. It’s a secluded, narrow trailhead that cars can’t get through.

You’d wrap your arms around him so tightly whenever he drove his motorcycle up the pathway. Once he reached the peak, which offers a vista of the island, boasting the beaches as well as the town, you’d sit on a blanket on the ground over the cliffside.

It was almost always quiet up there, a nice break from how loud things always feel for him. You two thought you were the only ones in the world who knew about the place, but other people have left pieces of their own memories there, empty beer bottles scattered around.

Thankfully, though, you’ve never run into anyone else up there.

He remembers one night, sitting next to you, thinking that he genuinely preferred you over everyone, even preferred you over being alone.

He realizes you never fought up there. Not once.

Rafe counts. It’s been eighteen days since your conversation at the marina. You said to take a few weeks. Almost three should be enough. He hopes.

He unblocks your number and texts you: Down to go to our spot? I can pick you up.

The anxiety as he waits for your response is almost paralyzing. Then, you reply: ok.

Holding Rafe again while on the back of his bike, smelling him, feeling his warmth, makes your chest tighten with the threat of tears.

You didn’t say much when you hopped on. You don’t say anything when you make it to the hill’s peak. You watch him grab the blanket he always carries in his bike’s rear trunk, bunched up in his big hands.

It’s all a fluid motion, working together how you always did before, flattening the blanket over the patches of dirt and grass and sand.

Rafe always got freaked out when you got too close to the edge, so you sit closer to the blanket’s far corner for his comfort.

He sits a foot away from you, his legs bent, arms resting on his knees. You haven’t looked at each other for longer than a second.

The sun is setting soon. The air is thick between you. It’s like you’re both afraid of breaking the silence.

You lick your lips, gazing out at the orange horizon of where sky meets sea. You see him look at you from your peripheral vision. You turn to meet his gaze.

You finally say what’s been turning over in your head for the past few days.

“Are we done?” you say weakly.

Rafe mournfully breathes your name, sounding defeated when he says, “You tell me.”

Normally, and probably aggressively, you’d ask him why he’s being difficult. But after so much time reflecting, you know he’s not trying to be. He actually thinks it’s on you.

Every time he muttered that you wouldn’t find someone who cared like he does. Every time he hounded you after you told him to stop talking to you. Every time he insinuated that you’re either considering cheating or have already cheated. It was his own poisonous way of trying to keep you.

Because now, you can see just how painfully insecure Rafe is. And it’s not on you to fix that. But it explains a lot.

And now, when he tells you that you’re the one who decides the fate of your relationship, you get why. He’s always been the one clinging onto you, but refusing to be vulnerable about it.

You hope he can be vulnerable now. And you’re willing to go first.

“How come you blocked me?” you say softly.

“You tried to text me?” He straightens. He looks genuinely surprised that you reached out first.

You get why. You never reached out first before.

“Yeah,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“It’s stupid,” he begins. “I wanted to text you but you said we can’t talk, so I blocked you and sent texts that couldn’t actually get to you.“

Your lips quirk in a sad smile. You did the same thing in your own way, writing down everything you wished you could say to him in your journal.

It was an exercise you read about online; saying what you want to say to your ex without committing to them actually hearing it. You wonder if he read that article, too.

“It’s not stupid,” you say. “Can I see them?”

“Some of them are…” Rafe looks away. “I was really pissed off when I wrote some of them.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Mine aren’t all nice, either.”

His forehead crinkles, clearly taken aback again by the fact that you wrote him messages, too.

“I wrote what I wanted to say to you in a notebook,” you explain. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“I can,” he offers. “Just don’t get mad at me.”

You can’t promise that, so you stay quiet when he pulls out his phone. He hands it to you and you tap in his passcode, still the same numbers, and open his texts.

You see a glimpse of a message from his friends’ group chat. Someone simply texted: sure. And even though it’s mundane, it’s still so weird not knowing about Rafe’s day and his life and his plans.

You open your conversation. There’s a string of undelivered texts. You scroll to the top and take a deep breath.

Friday, 5:46 pm

It sucks not talking to you.

Saturday, 3:01 am

You think youre so mmuch better than me and it oisses me the fuck k off

You can tell he was drunk writing that one.

Sunday, 12:11 pm

I would take back a lot of the shit I did if I could

“What would you take back?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Rafe says tensely. “A lot.”

Despite everything, you watch him through disappointed eyes. He would do this all the time as your boyfriend, act like an emotional conversation was corny and embarrassing.

He notices how sad you look. So, he pushes through for you.

“Like… I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

“I yelled at you, too,” you say, offering him anything you can during this moment of vulnerability.

“I scared you sometimes.” His eyes flit away. “You tried to act like you weren’t fazed, but I know I scared you. I’m sorry.”

The apology almost throws you off.

“Yeah,” you say after a beat. There’s no point in being dishonest.

You continue reading.

Sunday, 9:20 pm

I always fought to make this work and you never did. I always fucking cared more

Monday, 4:44 pm

I think about you every second. I’m going crazy

Tuesday, 9:57 am

I miss your laugh

Tuesday, 3:01 pm

I wonder if you noticed

You meet his eyes, immediately seeing the pink tinge on his cheeks, even though the sky is dark orange now that the sun is now seconds away from setting. He’s embarrassed, likely from how raw and exposed he must feel.

“If I noticed what?” you ask.

“That I wasn’t at that party last weekend,” he admits. He knew you were there because he asked his friends.

“I noticed,” you say. “That’s when I texted you. Where were you?”

“Home,” he says curtly as he reaches for his phone.

“I’m not done,” you say, looking back down at the screen. His body tightens in minor irritation. This just feels like humiliation now, especially if you’re not planning to stay with him.

Tuesday, 11:30 pm

Obviously I love you and it’s so annoying every time you say I don’t say it enough

Your brows pinch in sadness. Now that so much time has passed, you feel bad for every time you guilt-tripped him about not saying it back.

Yesterday, 1:20 pm

To be honest I would choose being sick together over being healthy alone because at least I’d have you

The next message is the last one.

Today, 10:22 am

I just wish I was good enough

You realize your eyes have started to burn with tears. Rafe’s not simply insecure. Now, you’re almost sure he feels a sense of inferiority.

It tracks. He likes to pretend he thinks he’s better than everyone, bragging all the time. But the more you think about it, the more it seems forced in retrospect.

He acts like he’s above people because deep down, he feels like he’s below them.

“You’re more than good enough,” you tell him. You give him back his phone. “I promise.”

Rafe nods, looking away, clearly tense and awkward.

You spent your whole relationship fighting each other for the upper hand, but now you’re trying to figure out how to give it to him so he’s not embarrassed.

“The last thing I wrote down was that I hope we find our way back,” you confess.

Blue eyes land on yours. His expression has softened.

“What else?” His voice is rough, almost strained.

“You want to know everything?”

“Yeah.”

You look out at the view again, crickets chirping, thinking about all that you’ve wanted to tell him. The breeze is gentle and the remaining sliver of the sun nestles into the horizon.

“I used to feel good about myself around you, and then at some point, I just… I really didn’t like who I was, Rafe.”

It makes everything in him hurt. But then, you continue.

“I blamed you and I shouldn’t have,” you continue. “We both fought unfairly, but you didn’t bring anything out of me that wasn’t already there. I’m sorry that I made it your fault when I was mean.”

He blinks, nodding, staring at your profile as you continue to speak.

“I didn’t like how controlling and jealous you could get,” you admit. “You didn’t trust me and it hurt. I never actually did anything to make you question my loyalty, did I?”

Rafe chews on his lip. Tears prick at his eyes.

“No,” he says.

“And we had a bad habit of, like… of trying to prove each other’s feelings wrong,” you say. “But if we hurt each other, we need to just accept it instead of arguing about it, you know?”

“I know.”

“We did bring out the worst in each other,” you say. “And I hope we can bring out the best. Because we were best friends before, remember? And then we just started trying to hurt each other. And I don’t want that for us.”

You feel the shift in the air between you immediately.

You meet Rafe’s gaze again in the dark summer air. Even though every other time he said this, it took effort, this time, he has to try not to say it. But why would he not say it?

“I love you,” he says.

Your lips part as you take in a short inhale of disbelief. It kills him to see how shocked you look to hear it.

But some things can never change and that includes how he prefers to show his love. He was always more action-oriented. So, he moves closer and gently cradles your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek.

“Please let me kiss you,” he mumbles.

You leaning forward is your invitation and when his lips press on yours, your body feels weightless. You can’t remember the last time you touched this tenderly.

It’s the polar opposite of when you had what you thought was break-up sex. Your contact isn’t rough and angry at all. It’s soft like it’s the first time.

Rafe pulls back, his forehead against yours when a tear finally drops off his chin.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. His features crease in relief. You can tell he wasn’t expecting you to say it back.

“And you don’t have to say it to me all the time,” you say. “You’ve proven it. You’ve really been trying to get better for me. I can tell.”

He kisses you again, more impatiently this time. He missed this, missed you so much that it’s like he was lost without any hope of getting back home but now, he can breathe. Really breathe.

When he feels your tongue against his, his entire body reacts, getting hot and tight and hungry. He can sense that you feel the same when a whimper escapes you.

Rafe shifts and plants his hot mouth on your neck, still embracing your cheek as you tilt your head to give him full access.

The air around you is cool and dark now and you wonder if he wants to go all the way like you do. You’d hear someone coming up the trail and would definitely see headlights, so you’re not afraid of being caught.

You’re not afraid of anything. Not when he holds you like this.

You run a hand over the back of his neck, gently scratching the way you know he likes. He can’t take it anymore.

Rafe guides you onto your back, hovering over you, blanketing you with his weight.

“Should I stop?” he asks, breaths shallow.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop.”

A rush rips through you when you feel his hard excitement against you.

He wants you completely bare, but he can’t risk being caught out here, so he shifts to take off only what he needs to.

When he sinks into you, you’re both breathless and kissing through his thrusts. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tilting your hips so he can fill you completely, be inside you as deep as possible.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispers against your mouth. “Just don’t leave again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “You’re everything I want, okay? You were always everything I wanted.”

Hearing that repairs the remaining cracks in his heart. He kisses you hard and for the first time in his life, he cries from happiness.

It’s slow and loving and the most gentle you’ve ever been with each other. Afterwards, he helps you get dressed again, kissing your skin wherever he can.

With your hearts still racing, you sit facing the view, his body curved behind yours as you lean with your back against his chest.

His fingers run over yours, stroking and rubbing and pinching, kissing your cheek again and again out of pure adoration under the moonlight.

“We won’t be perfect,” you tell him. “We’ll mess up. But I want to make sure you know I won’t give up.”

“Neither will I, baby,” he says. “I never did.”

Even though his methods weren’t always the healthiest, it’s true. He’s what kept you together, time and time again, as if he knew deep down that you two could be good together if you just tried.

You’ve never felt so solid with him before. You bring the back of his hand up to your mouth, kissing him.

It’s such a soft, loving gesture that Rafe has to tell himself not to cry again. It wasn’t a heat of the moment thing; he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you.

You own him. Completely. And he’s lucky that you want him back.

“I feel so lucky to have you,” you say.

“I was just thinking that,” he says with a chuckle.

You laugh and kiss the back of his hand again.

And you spend the next couple of hours talking and joking together just like that night on the beach months ago, except this time, you’re better people determined to get even better.

(the end) (alternate sad ending)

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[dadsbongos]

how to (unintentionally) drive away a suitor

5.4 k words / warnings - misunderstandings, you're manipulative but in a marriage-seeker way, lame ass exposition dump at the beginning sorry

summary - you go to The Island in hopes of finding a suitor better than what your parents picked, you meet Laios. disaster ensues.

posting while bleaching my hair send hlep ~~~

When you were five, your father’s first hunting dog died. Matilda. A hound mix he praised as if she were his firstborn, and that would sound neglectful if she didn’t feel like your eldest sister. When she died, a true member of the family died. Your child heart exploding out of your little chest with the mosaic of grief ripping you this way and that. It was so ugly, you hadn’t expected to feel that way until your parents or a human sister croaked on you.

It’d also inspired you to do better for yourself than what destiny had in mind. As the youngest in a long line of children, you had little hope of a large inheritance from your well-off father. Instead, you would marry rich and smart and handsome.

Leading you, with a throbbing disinterest in the suitor picked by your parents, to set for The Island in the year 510.

Where you met a very strange man named Laios Touden.

Denial

Month 1 - your first proposition

“We should celebrate with drinks,” you skim a finger along the waistline of his cuirass, “Another dive with no deaths.”

“Oh, yeah,” Laios nods, grinning blandly at you, “You think I could rope Shuro into sticking around this time? He usually skips nights out unless Falin asks.”

“I was thinking something a little more private. Just you and me, maybe?”

“Sure,” suddenly his brows furrow, a serious ridge setting across his lips, “Is there something you need? I know rent in the western part of The Island is starting to go up, do you live there?”

“Laios, I- “ you cut yourself off before reminding him you two live on the same street because a sudden idea strikes you. He’s doing this on purpose. Of course, he is. He’s the type of guy that wants you to actually ask for it, “I mean, if you really want then I guess everyone coming isn’t so bad.”

But two can play at that game.

“Okay, great! I’ll let the party know,” he gives you a thumbs up and turns towards the rest of your group as they pack for the surface.

You watch him wrap an arm around Toshiro and beam at the withdrawn man. You deduce that he’s the type that likes to be chased. Which you feel is a little beneath you, but you’re willing to play a long game as long as he makes it worth your time.

Month 2 - the time you take him to dinner

“This place is so quiet,” Laios murmurs, both hands splayed across the table.

You study his fingers, thick and red at the joints -- you bet a gold wedding band would glitter nicely on his hand. Candle light flickers suddenly, a shadow sharpening across his face as he looks around. This snags your attention, you lean forward and curl both arms on the table, chest pressing into the well.

“Well, it’s nice, right?”

“I guess,” he avoids looking you in the face, instead focusing on your painted lips before flitting to the table, “I just feel like it's more for couples, right?”

This is it!

“Huh, you think so?”

“Mhm,” his eyes settle between your own, observing the curve from your forehead to your nose.

“I bet we make a pretty couple, then.”

“Oh,” he nods slowly, mulling over the suggestion, “Probably. I’d say we’re both decently attractive people.”

Is this it?

Just as you go to ask what exactly he means by that, your food is ready and Laios starts rambling about how hungry he was regardless of the awkward atmosphere. It makes no sense, but he’s the next village chief of his hometown so you let it pass.

Month 6 - the time you two take a walk

“Thanks for accompanying me.”

Laios waves off your gratitude, “It was nice to find out we live on the same street anyway.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that he should already know this in favor of boldly wrapping an arm around his. A rehearsed yelp splices your throat; practiced stumble rocking you askew. Immediately, you set to memorizing the feel of his beefy bicep around yours, wondering how his waist feels. His thighs. His neck and calves and cheeks.

“I saw a rat,” the lie slips easily, spare hand coming up to coyly cup your own cheek.

“Really?” he peeks over your head, “Where?”

“Laios, that’s not important!”

“I didn’t hear any squeaking, do you think it was trying to be quiet?”

“Laios!” you pinch his arm, apologetically rubbing over the tender skin when he whines, “I hate rats…”

“They’re just- “ your sudden furrowing brows and massive scowl halts the rest of his sentence, “Sorry. Are you scared of them?” before you can respond, he spins you towards his other side -- arms still linked tightly, “If you heard it over here, it’s probably best I stay on this side.”

“Aww,” you tilt your head against his shoulder, “That’s actually so sweet, Laios. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” you’re too blinded by the gesture to notice his intense stare scavenging along the dark ground, if you did then you probably would’ve realized he just wanted to see a rat.

Month 11 - the time you find his gourmet guide

“Is this why you started a party?”

“No,” his face flushes rogue from forehead to collarbones, eyes darting away from you. Hands twitching to rip the book from your own.

“You’re an awful liar,” you wave the stained, peeling green book -- careful to not rip any of his carefully placed tabs or note cards in the swaying, “Why hide this? Everyone already knows you’re chock full of monster trivia.”

Laios sighs quietly, reaching out for the book, and he seems genuinely surprised with what little fight you put up. He smooths one of the curling edges of the cover under his thumb, “This book hasn’t gotten the best reception before. It's easier to just avoid people seeing it.”

Somewhere in your chest, there’s a twinge and ache before you’re speaking again -- for once no plan or motive to your words, “That’s terrible, Laios. You should be able to show it off.”

“You think so?” he grins.

Technically comforting him will only advance your plan to wed, but strangely you’re finding that you just… want to. You don’t want him to filter himself to live, that sounds cruel.

“You can talk to me about it anytime,” you don’t find monsters so fascinating -- to you they’re no different from a common beast, what does it matter that they’re eaten by Laios? Despite your own indifference, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios, “I’d love to hear about how they taste.”

And you’re not sure where that desire comes from.

“I haven’t been able to eat one yet, but I’m hoping to. I can’t find time to traverse the first few floors by myself.”

You just know that it feels right to see him excited.

“You don’t have to go by yourself now, I can join. You’ll be able to go deeper that way, right?” you laugh at his flaming cheeks, “And what luck: I’m a support mage, you couldn’t ask for a better setup.”

“I’ll have to see when our next rest period is, that way we won’t be exhausted before going on our own.”

And when you’re in bed alone later that night, you justify to yourself that having a secret between one another will lay good foundation for future intimacy. You pretend that was on your mind the entire time you made the offer.

Year 2 - the time you invite him into your home

“I have lychees. It’d be a shame to let them go bad, you know?”

“What are lychee?” Laios glances from your neck to your room door.

“You’re kidding,” you twist the knob and swing it open with the weight of your body, thudding against the wall to allow Laios entry, “They’re fruits! Imports from the Eastern Archipelago, I would’ve thought you’d hear about them since you pester Toshiro about the area all the time…”

Laios’ head is on a full axis swivel to find anything unfamiliar, ready to taste all your excitement about the fruits, “No, never came up,” he watches you stride past him to a cabinet, “By the way, whose Toshiro?”

Quietly, you laugh to yourself, pulling down a rocky, pinkish ball. Laios is too busy thinking about the damage it’s looking to do to his bare hand to process the fact you never answered his question.

(you thought he was joking)

“Consider this a gift for walking me home again.”

“You asked,” he shrugs, watching as you squeeze around the fruit until it cracks in the middle, then peeling the shell away, “Besides, we live on the same street so it’s not out of my way.”

You hope he says that because he remembered, rather than having ‘discovered’ it for the fourth time. To stop yourself from asking clarification, you slice the pearly fruit in two, plucking the dark seed before handing both halves to Laios.

“I’ve heard some people just pop the whole thing in their mouth, but I’ve never tried it that way,” you confess, watching him roll the fruit from one cheek to the other before chomping down.

Laios’ eyes flutter shut, a muted moan following, “That’s sweet.”

“I know, right?”

“But I still get hints of citrus.”

“I know, right?!”

He points to the other lychee in your palm, “Do you have more, or…?”

You don’t.

“Have it,” you peel and deseed the one in your hand to press against his lips, “Say ‘ahh’!”

He smiles faintly at the cooing, popping his mouth open for you to slide the fruit past his teeth and onto his tongue. A soft kiss tickles your fingertips as he mutters, “Thanks.”

“Uh, yeah,” you pull back slowly, tangling your fingers behind your back and rocking onto the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah, of course.”

You’ve never been nervous this way around a man before. You’ve felt fear and you’ve felt hatred and you’ve had crushes, but none of those have made your heart pound quite so hard.

It’ll be good to be attracted to your husband, you think, anybody can marry into power but it takes a real hunter to find power so handsome and polite.

Year 3 - the time you ask him to marry you

“We should get married,” you blurt, interrupting Laios as he ponders aloud the best way to safely boil a scorpion.

Laios darts up from his book, wide eyes unabashedly boring into your soul, “What?”

“You and me,” you’ve chased enough, now you’re ready for him to get serious -- you can’t live like this. Dangling just out of reach, only to be abruptly yanked at his whim. Your parents want to meet your fiance, the one you’ve abandoned home to find: the one you’re apparently certain is better than their choice for you. You need him to admit defeat before you go insane, “We should get married.”

“That’s what I thought you said, but I wasn’t sure,” he closes his beloved gourmet guide around a bookmark you crafted specially for him from braided yarn and beads. It had multiple tassels for slotting various spots through the guide simultaneously to more easily find sections he was currently occupied with rather than sort through tabs. He loves its practicality, and he loves it more when he thinks about how you made it with him in mind.

He thinks you’re nice. He thinks you’re charming. He likes spending time with you. You even already know about his monster obsession, and you’re on-board!

Which is basically the best he can get, right?

Dinners with his parents were silent, and the room’s temperature would sink to match their chilly demeanors.

Dinners with you would be warm, and the quiet moments would be comfortable.

“Sure,” he eventually answers, when he finds no protesting nausea bubbling in his gut he takes it as a good sign, “We can get married.”

Not the exact response you’d been hoping for. Though, you should’ve been more direct, Laios is stubbornly socially inept after all.

You’ll mark it as progress anyway, overjoyed Laios is baseline willing. Which is enough for you.

Definitely enough.

Definitely. Just. Enough.

Anger

Upon arrival to the dungeon three years ago, you found it difficult to acclimate to the fact that death was not the end down here. When you saw your first corpse on the second level, you were nigh inconsolable in the weary arms of Toshiro as he mumbled assurances in your ear.

Now, as a seasoned adventurer, you’re reasoning that coldblooded murder isn’t immoral in the dungeon.

(of course, it is, and also of course, you won’t murder anybody. but- )

You rather like the image of the woman flirting with Laios exploding

Honestly the longer he goes without refusing her, the more you like the image of him exploding too.

“Laios is an idiot,” Toshiro again is the one to comfort you, “It’s best not to watch.”

You’re sure he’s right. You’re also sure you want to keep watching -- which will entirely ruin your mood for the crawl ahead of your party. This is only your first day, on the first level, during the first meal before you all officially set off. And Laios is explaining to a strange, yet beautiful, woman the way a slime can seep out overhead and suffocate her to death. She isn’t even appreciating the knowledge, she’s just staring at his stupid pink lips.

“Once she hears what he’s saying, she’ll lose all interest,” Toshiro adds, then continuing as your glare fails to subside, “It isn’t like you two are actually married. She probably thinks he’s single.”

“He is single,” Chilchuck buds in, hands locked behind his head, “Inter-party relationships are bad news, you know? I’ve seen lots of people fall apart because of jealousy and cheating,” he shoots daggers at Toshiro briefly, “Pining is just the first step to an all out collapse.”

You gasp at the accusation. You are not pining!

“I don’t even like him that way. We should just get married for the land and wealth advantages!”

You entertain his monster fantasies for the money, you feed him lychees for the status, and you’re fiending to rip that woman away for the property expansion. That’s all! His being handsome is just a bonus, not a factor. His soft heart is a neat detail, not something you dream about holding.

Chilchuck doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think you believe yourself at this point either.

Depression

In the wake of Chilchuck’s ominous warning: you’ve been avoiding Laios. You’ve been avoiding most of your party, actually. First to lay and last to rise from your bedroll to most effectively close yourself off from nipping at Laios again.

He hadn’t even managed the nerve to ask what had you so perturbed following his conversation with the floozy on the first floor. He just strolls along, normal as he could hope to be while you languish in the back of the party with Toshiro. You wonder if Laios notices you’re not at his side, you wonder what precisely is going through his head. Did he notice she was flirting? Did he care? Is he still keen on marrying you?

Was he ever?

Toshiro catches the sudden exasperated huff you let out, you rub at your aching eyes. While he detests Laios’ clueless and overly familiar nature, he does feel grateful to work with you. He’d consider it a massive shame if you were to drop from the party because of emotional duress.

“Read any good books lately?”

Your hands lower, eyes blinking sluggishly until you’re staring at him with full inquisition, “What…?”

Maintaining a forward stare, Toshiro reaffirms his resolve, “Humor me.”

“Uh, well…” you comb through your brain for any answer other than the honest one, exhaustion and melancholy blurring your lying ability, “Just one.”

Eager to strengthen your bond and hopefully secure your stay in the party when this Laios fiasco fully explodes, Toshiro smiles softly at you, “Tell me about it.”

“It’s, well, old. Really old. A little gourmet guide…” you pout, “Laios and I read it together.”

“Oh,” Toshiro clears his throat, “Sorry.”

Bargaining

Laios could not seem to care less as the handsome dwarf perched at your side pays you yet another compliment. A shred of you feels terrible, terrible pity for the man as every other second your attention sears across the packed tavern to your party. To the blondie still in his armor; the blondie not even looking your way.

“Another drink, then?”

“Hm?” you beat ungracefully, forgetting you were meant to be charming the man.

“Would you like another drink?” he gestures to the barrels behind the bar, “On my coin, of course,” his tone falters, head shifting to follow yours, “I get the idea you need to forget this night.”

“Oh, I- no, it’s nothing…” you risk another peek at Laios, finding him somehow more disinterested in you than before -- thoroughly enjoying a one-sided conversation with Toshiro, “I’m not…”

“Better ways to get your mister’s attention than flirting.”

“Oh,” you’re embarrassed to be figured out like this, “I’m sorry. Really, I can’t- God- I’m sorry.”

“He’s lookin’ this way.”

Chancing it, you confirm that Laios is now looking at the both of you. His amber eyes flit from your face to the man beside you, to the floor. He returns all focus to Toshiro.

“Wow.”

From pitier to pitied at breakneck speed is more jarring than Laios’ carelessness.

“He said he wanted to marry me,” you reason.

“Did he now?” the dwarf so obviously disbelieves you, you’re sick just hearing his voice.

“Yeah!”

The dwarf nods slowly, a sarcastic lilt in his following words, “Seems like he meant it.”

“I’m not drinking anymore…” you slide off the bar stool, pausing when the man’s voice punches your gut once more.

“You should find someone more attentive to you.”

Racing away from the dwarf, you tug Laios away from your party’s table by his elbow. You’re glaring, you’re glaring so hard and so viciously that it genuinely startles him.

“Are you okay?” his neck cranes to gaze upon the dwarf, “You were talking to that guy, right? Did he freak you out?”

“So you knew I was with him?” you scoff, “Don’t you care at all?”

Laios shrugs, he didn’t see flirting -- he has no idea what you’re talking about, and he doesn’t want to seem like a nightmare boss, so… “Not really, I guess.”

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s not a crime for you to unwind at a bar. Besides, it isn’t like we belong to each other or something.”

You turn suddenly, back completely to him before charging out of the bar -- Laios chases, disliking how this conversation is slated to end. He slams into you at the edge of the street, and when he tries balancing you by the shoulders you knock his hands away.

“I thought- “ you circle back to stare at his face, “I thought we were… I was always on top of you, and we- I said- you said we should get married.”

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

Acceptance

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

“I never knew,” he blinks at you, and the most dreadful thing is you know he’s not bluffing. Laios is a terrible liar, you’ve prided yourself on plucking his fibs apart in the past, but this is not one of those times.

“You didn’t notice?” you’re lightheaded at his nonchalance, arms coiling around your waist as if to belt your insides right where they are, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No,” Laios’ pretty lips tear in a frown, “Should I have?”

He means it literally: are you terribly sad or can we start all over again?

You assume he’s being himself, oblivious and avoidant and so, so, so annoying.

“I’m…” you stumble back, face so hot you’re seconds away from blacking out with terror. Stretching out to steady you, Laios continues to play the kind leader, and it only makes your dinner lurch up your throat. Instinctually, you clasp a hand over your mouth, shaking your head and taking a step back toward the bustling dirt path, “I’m going home.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can- ”

You shush Laios, memories whacking you over the head every millisecond just to taunt how stupid you were. Indignity blinds you, eyes snapping shut, “I’m going home, Laios.”

Panicked, you stammer a goodbye before lugging yourself away. Laios watches you fade into silhouette, drowning under the clogging crowd by townsquare until not even your head is visible. His fists screw at his sides, knuckles burning white, his feet feel the phantom pummeling of a rush against the ground; urging him forward. That might scare you though, and you already seemed awfully upset, so Laios figures it better to let you sleep off tonight. The two of you can rekindle tomorrow.

Peeking over your shoulder, you spot no broad shoulders or sandy blonde hair looming over the rest of the townsfolk.

Call it melodramatic and frustrating, but you were hoping Laios would follow just to grab your hand and ask you to stay. Not that you should be surprised. More often than not recently, you’d felt a burden on the party. Perhaps Laios is content you’re removing yourself. Perhaps he’ll be relieved you’re no longer pestering him. Perhaps he’ll walk inside and out your feelings to the rest of the party for them to share a laugh over.

(you should know him better than that, but you’re not in your right mind: storming into your room, a teary-eyed mess, to throw your things into bags)

Laios feels a lithe hand dig nails into his arm, he squeals sharply at the sensation and rips back to see Marcille gaping up at him. She throws an arm out toward the dirt road, “What are you doing?!”

Falin gently pries the elf off from Laios before humming thoughtfully at her brother, “They seemed really distraught. What happened?”

“Where’d you two come from?” Laios twists toward the tavern door, “I didn’t hear you at all…”

Flustered at the questioning, Marcille scoffs and drags Laios inside toward their table, “This isn’t about us! Have you never read romance before?! That was terrible!”

“They were upset, they probably wanted space,” Laios reasons, slumping into his seat at the head of the table, “We’ll see them tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

“What’d you do now?” Chilchuck lifts a bottle of wine to his lips and tosses it back in a way that makes Toshiro cringe.

Namari quirks a brow at the man, waiting until he’s finished gulping to ask, “I thought you hated personal relationships and work?”

“I do, but if he just got rid of our other cleric then we should probably know about it.”

“I didn’t get rid of them!” Laios folds his arms with a sigh, “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when we’re well-rested.”

Toshiro debates even opening his mouth. Laios is a one-man paradox, somehow well-meaning and belligerent in one breath -- overbearing and entirely hands-off. Laios’ spot in Toshiro’s heart is a complicated one: at this very moment the spot is incredibly tender. Down to that part of a night out where Toshiro empathizes with how clueless the bumpkin is, and it's that part of his brain that chastises him. After all, if it were him and Falin, he would want someone to say something.

“They’re going home,” Toshiro mumbles.

“Huh?” Laios cocks his head at the input, “I know, buddy, she told me she was heading home.”

“No,” be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice, “Home off The Island. No returning to the dungeon.”

“How’d you get all that?” Marcille leans onto the table with both elbows, nervously brushing long flaxen locks behind her ears.

“When we first met, it was something we talked about,” Toshiro confesses, “If they couldn’t marry on The Island, they’d have to take the suitor arranged by their parents back home. This rejection must be the final one.”

With Falin around, he decides to bite back his next statement: I’m not sure why Laios caught their eye in the first place, though.

“Pretty ditzy of you, party leader,” Chilchuck’s jab echoes into the bottle already resettled against his lips.

Laios stands, unsure of why except for the fact he cannot take the news lightly. His heart is racing in protest, one word jamming another in his hurry to speak, until he finally stutters out, “So?”

So, what should I do?

So, why wouldn’t you mention that?

So, why did he let you walk home alone?

“So…” Falin jumps to respond first, settling a massassing hand on Marcille’s shoulder to subdue the fuming woman, “If you want to smooth things over, you should probably go.”

Laios charges from the tavern despite Namari’s scolding that tonight was supposed to be on his tab.

Quickly coming to terms with the fact you’re long gone, Laios heads straight for the inn he and Falin live above. Certain once on that road, the memory of which hostel you’re renting out of will flood back to him.

. . .

You’re jamming bags puffy to the clasp when overzealous knocks threaten to rattle your door from its hinges. The only reason you don’t flee via window to shake the banging madman is because you recognize his voice: Laios, calling your name.

You sigh, forfeiting, “Come in, Laios!”

Despite your own disinterest, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios. It seems that this is something you’ll let devour you.

Flinging the door open and shut behind him, Laios stares at you -- slack jawed and pupils eating away irises. He stares into your face.

“What is it, Lai- “

“We can actually get married!” he blurts, stunning you into utter bewilderment, “You don’t have to take a suitor, you can marry me for real! I don’t care much for inheriting the village, but we can tell your parents I do.”

“Laios…”

“I don’t have much to throw for a wedding, though, so it’ll have to be something quieter than you probably imagined.”

“Laios.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t marry you,” you turn away from his confused pinch, now sweeping a finger along the scratched edge of your nightstand, “You don’t get it.”

“So make me get it,” he says so casually, you almost believe it’s really that easy.

“I can’t marry you because I don’t care about your dad,” he’s struggling to hold in the confused puppy-head-tilt of questioning, you can sense it, “I stopped throwing myself at you for stupid titles a while ago. For a long time I did it genuinely. Because I wanted to.”

“Because you liked me.”

“Now he gets it,” you huff bitterly.

“I can hear you,” Laios steps bravely to be beside you, “Do you still like me?”

You laugh because that’s all you can think to do. The sun just asked a daisy if it enjoys photosynthesis. A rhino wonders if the oxpecker is well fed. A black cat curls around an orange one in a window sill. Weeds grow so tangled up they need to be ripped as a knot. Two moth-gnawed coats hanging in the back of a rich man’s closet. Stars scorching at one another, colliding lightyears ahead. Squiggly stick figures holding hands in a defaced oil painting. Two eagles clawing at one another as they plummet from the sky.

“I don’t know if there’s a plane where I don’t.”

His morbid fascination and tactless enjoyment of life have you in a chokehold, one so fatally unshakable you’re certain he’ll someday kill you. Eventually, he’ll say something so thoughtlessly true to himself, with so much excitement it oozes from his pores, that you’ll have a heart attack then and there.

“So, why not stay?”

One day, he’ll lead you so deep into the dungeon that you cannot escape.

“You know what you’re implying, right?” your voice catches behind chattering teeth, a nervous whisper all you can manage, “I couldn’t, not if you’re just saying this out of guilt.”

“I know what I’m saying, I want you to stay so we can be together,” his face flushes, “I know how selfish it is, but I don’t want you to go home and marry someone else for your family. I want us to marry each other because I like you.”

His abrupt and daring confession has you petrified. Only your jaw is capable of movement, and the most it can do is dumbly drop before you gargle out a stunted, “Okay.”

“Okay!” he excitedly flails out both arms before crushing you against his cuirass, intensely aggressive and deeply endearing at once, “Do I have to meet your parents now?”

“Yes, that’s kind of the reason they let me stay here, you know? To see who I’d find on The Island instead of home.”

“I hate meeting adults… they’re so… weird.”

You choose not to point out that he, as well as everyone he associates with, is an adult.

“Just be yourself,” a sudden, maybe minorly manipulative, plan roars behind your eyes, “You’ll impress them so much, they’ll leave me alone forever!”

Hope

“And since they’re slimes, if you poke their eyes they stay perfectly calm! Which is another good way to tell them from the human they’re mimicking,” your dad made the mistake of asking Laios what he studied, misinterpreting your use of ‘fascinated by nature’ to mean ‘biology scholar’. Laios immediately began ranting and neither of your parents had reawakened from their shock yet, “Succubi can also duplicate people, but that’s usually when taking the most desired form their target has. Which is mainly sex appeal, so for me it’d probably be, well you know!” he affectionately squeezes your hand in view of your parents. You watch a little more of your dad’s soul crumble within his eyes, “The strangest is probably mirror monsters though, since they reflect what they see. They rely on flattery and illusions to swap with humans. I’d love to meet one so I could see their lure techniques in real time.”

“Wow, honey,” you grin, peeking at your parents across the table, “Can you circle back to how the shapeshifters make their copies? I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d use memories instead of the real things!”

“Oh, so it’s actually pretty simple!” Laios devolves into another ramble, eyes alight with excitement.

You’re just as glad to be feeding his need to talk about monsters as you are to be terrifying your parents.

“And you have a village in the North?” your father finally coughs out, holding a hand up to silence Laios.

“It’s my father’s,” Laios glances at you through his peripherals, visibly unsure how to carry out the conversation. To his credit, he’d pestered you about what exactly you wanted him to say about his father, and you only brushed it off as something you’d take care of.

“You’re the eldest, right?” your mom chews her thumbnail nervously, “A son at that!”

“Yes, yes, he’s a firstborn son,” Dad looks to you, “It was in the letter!”

“I am,” Laios’ foot taps beneath the table. Again glancing at you for further prompting.

“We’re not moving from The Island anytime soon,” you return Laios’ previous hand-squeeze, hoping to ease his nerves. You sit up straight, “We want to keep exploring the dungeon.”

“Yes, but after that?” Dad’s eyes are wet with concern and dread, “You’ll have to settle down eventually.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. I’m fine living like this, I’ve had lots of fun -- I want to keep having fun. I’m excited to marry Laios, and he’s excited to marry me,” to add to your point, Laios nods enthusiastically, “I’m happy marrying for love, and I don’t care what it implies about me as your child.”

Meeting Laios was like striking gold. He’s different from anybody you grew up with, and you’re content to be with him as you continue to grow old.

“If you’re sure,” Mom lays a hand on your father’s back, as if to wrangle a dog before it bites, “Just visit more often, okay?” she catches how Laios perks up at the mention of more traveling, “And bring Laios, too. He’s very… interesting…”

You know. That’s why you courted (suffered) him for actual years.

[ro-is-struggling]

The Chase || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon: "reader constantly calling geralt the white wolf or just wolf during sexy time and him breeding his pups in her bcs of it???"

Summary: Geralt always tried to keep the wolf inside him caged in order to control his animalistic impulses, but with you that didn't seem to be required at all. 

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI! Porn without plot, public sex (technically since they’re in the woods), rough sex, penetrative sex, fear play? (not really, but Geralt does chase the reader through the woods so maybe? adding it just in case!), scent play, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, biting (like there’s so much it’s a warning in this fic), fingering, possessiveness, a little fluff at the end, fem!reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: This is definitely NOT inspired on THAT scene from beauty and the beast that has been going around twitter all week, nope, not at all

Geralt was used to being called 'wolf' or 'white wolf'. It was a nickname he'd had for most of his life and was constantly used by Vesemir and the other witchers. He never thought much about it, just like his own name, he had it so internalized that he automatically responded when someone called him by those nicknames.

That changed, however, when you came into his life. There was something in the way you pronounced those words that awakened a primal feeling in him. It was in the way you looked at him, eyes defiant and playful, waiting to spark a reaction from him. It was in the way your lips moved, always ending in a mischievous smile, and in the sound of your voice, sweet and seductive, inducing him to madness, pushing him to his limit. 

Everything about you awakened in him an urge to possess you, to mark you as his so that everyone who saw you would know you belonged to him. He had to make an effort to stop his needy hands to caress your skin, and contain the desperation of his lips to kiss your neck and mark it with his teeth. He didn't care if there were people around him, they all ceased to exist when you called him wolf. 

It didn't help his situation that you always played dumb, pretending not to understand the power you had over him. But Geralt knew it was all an act. He knew that you were well aware of the effect that the utterance of that nickname had on him. And you used it as a weapon, a way to get a response from him when you wanted to play. And today you were in a very playful mood.

"What is it? Is the wolf scared of losing?" you teased him, trying to persuade him to take the bet. It was a simple race through the woods, just get from point A to point B as fast as possible to win. Only you had no intention of winning. All you were looking for was the thrill of the chase.

Geralt gave you an unamused look, taking a deep breath to calm the revolt that your use of that nickname had awakened in him. But then, he sensed your perfume in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of your arousal. His look completely transformed, frown relaxing into a firm, intimidating expression. The game was on.

"Oh you don't want to play that game, bunny." He warned you, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Once the race started, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop. He could already feel his insides vibrating with anticipation, the chained wolf fighting to break free. He had been locked up for too long, his needs ignored and repressed, so when he let go there would be no turning back. He was hungry and you were offering yourself to him without hesitation. How could he refuse?

You approached him, taking the sword he was sharpening out of his hand and bending down so you could look him in the eye. Your movements were slow, sensual, captivating your lover's gaze. Geralt's eyes got lost in your cleavage for a moment, admiring the exposed skin of your neck and the valley of your breasts as he suddenly began to salivate with need. His pupils widened, staring at you with yellow eyes turned almost completely black with desire. He could barely contain himself and that only increased your arousal.

"I'm not afraid of you." you said, and Geralt held back the urge to tell you that you should be. "Are you, wolf?"

He stood up and suddenly his imposing figure towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head up so you could look at him. He was so much bigger than you, so much more agile, that it was ridiculous to even imagine you could beat him in a race. But, again, that's not what the game was about.

Geralt leaned in towards you, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "When you lose and you're on the ground begging for mercy, I just want you to remember that you asked for this." he whispered, defiantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

He looked at you and you knew it was time to run. He gave you a head start, knowing he could catch you without even trying —not only because he was faster than you, but also because you had no real intention of winning that bet. He watched you run through the trees, admiring the way your hair moved in the wind. Only when you disappeared over the horizon did he start to move. He walked at a slow pace at first, sharpening his hearing to follow the sound of your footsteps. But when he caught the scent of your arousal, he couldn't help but pick up his pace. It was like a drug to him, an intoxicating scent that messed with the hormones of the big, bad wolf he had set free.

Geralt let the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweet nectar hidden between your legs guide him towards you, an invisible force drawing him closer and closer to his prey. When he reached you, he found you hiding behind a tree, taking advantage of the moment to catch your breath. He heard you gasp as soon as you sensed his presence, holding your breath to avoid making your position known. Geralt smiled to himself, finding your small efforts to remain hidden adorable.

"You can't hide from me, bunny." He spoke, approaching you slowly. "I can hear the sound of your quickened breathing from miles away... smell the scent of your arousal... you want this, so why don't you come out and get this over with."

Geralt was offering you a truce, a chance for things not to escalate any further than they already had. Any sane person in your place would have taken it, it was the reasonable thing to do after taunting the wolf like that. But you were not just anyone. You wanted to face the consequences of your actions. You wanted to face the white wolf that Geralt tried so hard to keep in line. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was the point of the game in the first place.

You came out of hiding with your hands up in a feigned sign of surrender. Geralt walked a few steps towards you, eyeing you with suspicion. You held his gaze, trying to hide your true intentions. But in the end the smile on your lips betrayed you, letting him know that you didn't plan to give up easily before you had a chance to run.

You barely made it a couple of steps before you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you to keep you from escaping. You squirmed in his grip, trying to free your arms from his strong hold, but it was pointless. Geralt was much bigger and stronger than you, so you weren't going anywhere if he didn't want you to. He pressed you against him, pinning your back to his chest as his hands intertwined over your stomach, effectively imprisoning you against his body. You felt his nose against your neck, sniffing your scent with animalistic desperation. It made you tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your heart pounded with anticipation. You pressed the curve of your ass against the bulge growing in his pants in response and you felt Geralt’s chest vibrate with a repressed moan.

"I got you." he growled against your skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive area of your neck. "You're mine, bunny. Mine."

"I'm yours," you moaned, relaxing into his arms, tilting your head more so he could have better access to your neck. You wanted him to mark you. You wanted him to claim you as his own. "Please, take me." you begged. It was an airy whisper, but Geralt heard it with perfect clarity. And your consent was all he needed.

In a matter of seconds, your back was pressed against the grass as Geralt hovered over you. His hands were all over your body, lifting your skirt and unbuttoning the ties of your top to expose your breasts. His lips kissed every inch of exposed skin, but there was nothing romantic or sensual about it. It was rough, desperate, Geralt sucked your skin with the intention of leaving marks, sinking his teeth into your flesh as he growled that you belonged to him. It was too much and yet not enough. The pleasure coursing through your body was almost unbearable, but you needed more, you needed to feel all of him.

"You knew exactly what you were doing... calling me that name, making me chase you around." Geralt inserted a finger inside you without warning, earning a moan from you. You were so aroused, so desperate for his touch, that he had no trouble at all pushing deep into your core, moving his digit with ease and reaching up to brush against that sensitive part inside you that turned you into a moaning mess. "This is what you wanted, didn't you bunny? You wanted your big, bad wolf to chase you around and pin you down right in the middle of the woods, huh?"

"Y-yes, f-fuck." you managed to blurt out between moans and quickened breaths. Geralt inserted a second finger inside you and the air got stuck in your throat as the pleasure overwhelmed you. He increased the pace of his movements, showing you no mercy as his fingers moved in and out of you in desperate, almost aggressive movements. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"You awakened the wolf on purpose. This is exactly what you wanted, didn't you?" he growled in your ear, playfully biting your ear lobe. You could only reply with an incoherent moan, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure coursing through your body. But that wasn't enough for him, Geralt wanted to hear you say it. "Answer me!" he demanded and you were forced to open your eyes just by the authority in his voice.

"Yes! I-I wanted this, I-I wanted the wolf to fuck me. Please..." Geralt smiled showing his teeth and you couldn't help but think how much he resembled a real wolf when he looked at you like that. His lips were slightly swollen and covered with saliva after working on marking your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He was looking at you like a wolf looked at its prey, desperate to jump at you and devour his meal.

"Beg for it." He said through gritted teeth. He removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few seconds to process his words, too focused on the high you'd lost to let out anything more than whimpers of frustration. But that was exactly what Geralt wanted. He wanted to see you completely desperate, surrendered under his body, begging for his touch.

"Please, wolf, I need you... I need to feel you inside me, please." You begged him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He took his fingers covered with your sweet nectar into his mouth, sucking them clean as he moaned around them. It was the hottest image you had ever seen. He was so focused on the taste of your arousal touching his tongue that for a moment you feared he might not be able to hear your pleas for attention.

“I’m yours to take… please, wolf. I need you.”

The pathetic desperation in your voice was enough for Geralt. He wasted no time, freeing his cock from its confinement and thrusting it into you in one swift movement that left you breathless. He was big and even though your arousal was seeping down your thighs, it always took you a moment to get used to the way he stretched you. He showed you some mercy, giving you a few seconds to adjust while he enjoyed the way your walls closed around his cock. Nothing compared to the warm feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, pulling him inside you, inviting him to stay. It was the closest he had ever been to heaven, if there was such a thing.

Geralt let out a grunt as you began to move your hips against him, urging him to move. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively imprisoning you under his large, imposing figure. Then he gave you a sloppy, wet kiss, biting your lower lip before moving closer to your ear. "Just remember you asked for this." He whispered, sealing your fate.

The rhythm he set was fast and rough, his hips moving against yours desperately. The sheer force of his thrusts was such that you had to cling to his body to keep from sliding upward each time he entered you. It hurt a little, but in the most delicious way. He hit that special place inside you with every thrust of his hips, turning you into an incoherent moaning mess that could do nothing but dig your nails into his back in a desperate attempt to keep you grounded. Pure pleasure coursed through your veins as you felt Geralt pressing deep inside you, filling you and claiming you as his. Your sweat covered skin was on fire, only finding relief when the witcher's cold medallion that dangled over your face made contact with your body.

"Scream! I want to hear you, bunny. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Geralt demanded and your body instantly obeyed, as if he was the true owner of your mind. "That's it, don't hold back. No one is going to find us here, you can scream all you want. It's just me and you."

The forest filled with your moans and Geralt's animalistic grunts. He couldn't contain himself, seeing you underneath him with your tangled hair full of dry leaves and your watery eyes full of pleasure was too much for him. He couldn't stop the fast rhythm of his hips even if he wanted to. The wolf inside him wanted to ruin you completely, to mark you as his and make sure you were never satisfied with any other man but him. You belonged to him, now and forever. 

"You wanted this, you craved it... my little bunny, desperate to get fucked like a bitch in heat." He growled against the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive area below your ear.

"Yes! F-fuck, please... I'm so close." You begged him, feeling the familiar tingle spreading in your stomach as your toes curled. His fingers traveled to the little bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs, stroking it with rapid circular motions that increased your level of desperation. You were so close to your relief it was almost painful, but you wanted to wait, to hold back your pleasure so you could explode alongside Geralt.

"You want me to fill you up, mark you as mine, huh? Breed you with my pups so everyone knows you're mine?" It was an empty promise and you both knew it. Geralt was sterile and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not father a child. But that didn't make his words any less arousing. The idea of being his and having his child growing in your belly to prove it was so enticing that you couldn't help but entwine your legs around his waist as a way to make sure he didn't slip out from inside you.

"Yes, please! I'm yours, I always will be and I want everyone to know!"

"That's right, you are. And I'm yours." Geralt grunted, leaning his forehead against yours to look you in the eye as he quickened his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased the sweet relief. "Can you feel how deep inside you I am?" He took your hand and pressed it against your lower belly, where you could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. "I'm going to shoot my seed so deep into you, you'll carry it inside you until your belly starts to swell up with my pups inside it. Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Please, give it to me, wolf! I need to feel you, please." You begged with your last breath, almost bursting into tears from the intensity of the pleasure you felt.

Two more thrusts were all it took for Geralt to push you over the edge. You came with a cry of his name, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as your warm walls tightened around his cock, forcing him to stay inside you. That was enough to trigger his own relief, his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with pearly white ropes of cum. And yet, he continued to thrust inside you, making your body shake from the overstimulation. He wanted to make sure his seed stayed inside you. He wanted to be able to smell the mix of his relief and yours on you for the rest of the day.

When he finally pulled away you groaned, feeling empty. Geralt let out an airy chuckle as he dropped down next to you, struggling to catch his breath. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and resting your head on his chest. Even after all that, he still needed to hold you close, to feel the warmth of your body against his. 

You stayed like that until your breathing returned to normal, reveling in each other's closeness. You were so relaxed in his arms that you might well have fallen asleep if not for Geralt breaking the peaceful silence by clearing his throat.

"We should head back." he murmured, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the exposed skin of your arm.

"I would if I could move." You joked as you began to feel the pain in your tired muscles. You didn't regret anything, though.

"I'm sorry."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, giving him a smile to ease the guilt he might be feeling for hurting you. "Don't be, you did exactly what I wanted you to do." You reached up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, cupping your cheek with his free hand so he could deepen the kiss.

However, he pulled away faster than you expected. You whined again, but he ignored you, getting up from the floor and shaking the dirt off his clothes. "It's getting late, we need to go." He said and you huffed. You weren't ready to move yet.

"Geraaalt" you complained, pouting. He looked down at you, ready to scold you, but was distracted by the sight of his artwork in all its glory. Your sweat-covered skin glowed under the afternoon light, highlighting your beauty. Your body was covered in his teeth marks and a trail of reddened hickeys trailed from your neck to your breasts and disappeared under the fabric of your dress. You carried his scent on your body, his seed inside you and his teeth marks on your skin. That alone was enough to awaken the wolf inside him once again, though he held back.

"You look beautiful." He said, kneeling beside you to help you knot the ties in the front of your dress, hiding your breasts and the marks he had made behind the fabric.

The softness in Geralt's eyes was such that you felt the need to hide your face, feeling embarrassed and somehow more exposed than when you were having sex. However, he didn't give you time to react as he quickly pulled you into his arms and made his way back to the hut. You relaxed in his arms, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and snuggling against his shoulder. 

"I love you." you said in an almost inaudible whisper. It was as if you were speaking more to yourself than for Geralt to hear you. As if the words had escaped your lips as you were lost in thought.

But Geralt's hearing was exceptionally good. And he couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard those words.

[chuuyrr]

ᯓ YOU KNOW HOW TO BALL, I KNOW ARISTOTLE — NAKAHARA CHUUYA ⊹ ࣪ ˖

ᡣ𐭩 CW(s): f! reader, pre-med student reader x student athlete chuuya, 5.2k words, heavily inspired from a t.s. song

ᡣ𐭩 SYNOPSIS: in which an academic achiever finds an unexpected chemistry with an athlete at college

ᡣ𐭩 NOW PLAYING: so high school & the alchemy

ᡣ𐭩 A.N.: reblogs are appreciated ! hope u enjoy reading this <3

you clutch the strap of your backpack as your friends excitedly drags you along with them across the main campus building of where you attended your classes. you had just finished your chemistry lecture, when your friends brought up the ongoing goodwill games that were taking place in the gymnasium.

you never really had any fondness for sports. in fact, all of the sports courses you had taken up before, which weren't any majors, were not given any effort by you. just as those courses were labeled as such, they weren't majors, so they weren't your priorities.

you were all about the majors. the bigger, badder subjects. the chemistries. the laboratory classes. those were your a-games. 

but you smile along with your friends, it couldn't hurt to watch some sports taking place.

“gosh, be more a little excited, (nickname)!” one of your friends giggles and playfully nudges your elbow.

“i know right? the business administration third years are playing against our third years, and you know what that means!” your other friend chimes, all giddy. 

“of course i do. handsome guys..” you sigh, not really showing any interest as your two friends squealed at your answer regardless.

your two friends drag you inside the gymnasium. the sliding and thumping of rubber shoes against the court along with the words of a commentator resonated inside. you look around and there were already students by the bleachers ranging from lower to higher years, as well as high school students who were simply enjoying the match. 

as you join your friends in the bleachers, you catch sight of a certain redhead. he was from the opposing team, adorning a red and black jersey with the number twenty-nine and the name nakahara on his back. 

“hmm, nakahara..” you mutter softly to yourself.

your friends heard and giggled, playfully nudging your arm and side with a giddy smile. 

“fancying someone i see?” one of them asks.

“no! i'm just reading names.” you immediately say, your cheeks growing warm from embarrassment. 

“we heard you loud and clear, (nickname). you've been eyeing player twenty-nine.” your other friend points out.

“oh shut up.. err—maybe i was.” you shrug in a sheepish smile as the three of you watch the basketball match. 

“well, if you're interested. his name is nakahara chuuya. third year, so just a college year ahead of us.” your friend explains, a smirk following after, “confirmed to be single.”

“and how is the last part relevant?” you raise a brow, causing your friends to giggle. 

“just in case.” your friend shrugs with an innocent tone.

you playfully roll your eyes before you continue watching the game with an intent gaze, following the ball as it arcs in the air, passed skillfully by players. your focus sharpens when it finally lands in the hands of the player you've been eyeing before.

number twenty-nine. nakahara.

despite the intense attempts of the defenders from your side to intercept, chuuya skillfully catches the ball from his teammate on the opposite side of the court. your cheeks grew warm again, perhaps even warmer, when he moves with such fluid grace, dribbling the ball past his opponents, his eyes locked on the hoop. 

“damn, he's good..” you mutter to yourself as your friends, along with the crowd, start cheering the rising climax. 

you furrow your brow and your heart races as you watch chuuya on the court. the world appears to blend around you, and all you see is him. his determination is evident, and his eyes have a fierce glint as he prepares himself for the shot. he moves with natural ease, the ball an extension of his body.

he jumps in the air as time slows down. you watch breathlessly as the muscles in his arms flex, the light catching the sweat on his brow, and you feel a warm sensation run through your chest. the ball leaves his hands in a flawless arc in the air and the next thing you know—you've fallen for him.

the roar of the crowd diminishes, leaving only the hammering of your own heartbeat. the ball swishes through the net of the hoop, and his triumphant smile seals your fate.

fuck, you're in love.

his gaze darts through the crowd, waving his hands alongside his fellow athletes and scanning the faces, before landing on the bleachers where you sit. your breath caught when you felt his gaze on you. you are confident in your eye contact, and the warmth on your face increases. your cheeks burn, and you instinctively touch your face, feeling the heat radiating from your skin.

chuuya's gaze lingers on yours for a little longer, and a small, knowing smile tugs on the corner of his lips. the realization that he genuinely sees you sends shivers down your spine. the commotion of the crowd returns, but all you can think about is that shared look.

you lower your hand from your face, attempting to calm your pounding heart, knowing that something big has occurred between you.

“you good?” your friend raises a brow at you.

“oh damn, she's gushing!” your other friend gasps out dramatically. 

“oh my god, shut up! he's watching!” you cover your face now, your cheeks burning at this point as you tell your friends to zip it.

“oh.. oh.” they both mutter in unison.

the game progresses further and you were drawn to every move, pass, and shot, but none were more than those of number twenty-nine, and when the final whistles blow as the timer runs out, the game ends with chuuya's team emerging victorious.

the gymnasium roars with cheers and applause, and you watch your friends already clambering down the bleachers to get closer to the players, pulling you down the floor with them. you were hesitant and awkward about it, considering how they were cheering more towards the opposing team, chuuya's team, instead your own program's team.

you were insistent about it as they dragged you through the crowd of students, and as you weave through, you get separated from your friends so you decide to step aside, leaning against a wall to catch your breath and hopefully spot your friends somewhere in this sea of excited and hyped up students.

instead of your friends, you notice him again, and this time much closer and gazing around as if searching for someone.

your eyes widen, and you realize with surprise that he seems to be.. looking for you?

suddenly, he walks over to you, his steps determined but unhurried. your heart pounds in your chest as he approaches, his piercing blue eyes set on yours, and when he reaches you, he pauses with a smile.

“hey, you okay?” he asks first, noticing how you were all alone by a wall amongs the throng of students exiting the gymnasium after the match, “where are your friends?”

“huh? oh, uh, yeah. there's so many people that i lost sight of my friends, and i just needed to step aside a bit,” you stammer out, feeling quite overwhelmed.

“oh, i'm sorry to hear that. here, let's head over there.” he says, his hand holding your arm as he guides you somewhere where it was less crowded.

“you good now?” chuuya asks you with a friendly smile, “i saw you in the stands, and i know you're rooting for the pharmacy's team, but did you enjoy the game?”

“yeah,” you manage out, “my friends were even talking about you.”

“good things, i hope,” he says with a playful glint in his eye that made your heart leap.

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing, “yeah, good things.”

he now leans against the wall beside you as he asks, "do you come to these games often, or was today a special occasion?"

you shake your head in response, chuckling a bit, “i'm not really a fan of sports to be honest. my friends just dragged me here."

"well, i'm glad they did," he says, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest.

you find yourself captivated to chuuya's easy charm and genuine warmth as the discussion flows between you two. as you two converse, you notice the crowd of students thinning out and your friends who were looking for you, waving at you from the entrance, and maybe even gushing over you being with the athlete. (and you make a mental note to smack the hell outta your friends for sure.)

chuuya lifts his gaze and spots your friends, “oh hey, those are your friends right?”

“mhm, i gotta go,” you say immediately as you flash him a friendly yet albeit shy smile, “thanks for keeping me company.”

“no problem,” he nods with a smile. chuuya looked as if he still had something to say, but you already sprinted off to your friends at the entrance of the gymnasium.

chuuya stands there, unable to contain a laugh as he smiles at you, watching you crash in your friends, smacking one of them as they laugh and reunited with you.

he finds it nice to meet someone who's here for more than just the game. he could tell.

days have passed with your thoughts constantly returning to the gymnasium, to the moment the athlete's gaze met yours, the moment he talked to you and accompanied you.

your friends did in fact notice you daydreaming but thankfully don't press you about it but goodness, did it feel like you were back in high school, as if you weren't even at college, with him on your mind.

it is currently afternoon, and you find yourself walking towards the campus library to study some lessons by yourself as your friends have already left and went their own ways after class.

you grabbed your ID for scanning as you approached the entrance of the library, when you saw a familiar figure standing by the steps, seemingly engrossed in another conversation with another student.

however, your feet stop on their own, your heart skipping a beat the same way it did days ago as you recognize the redhead from the basketball match you watched with your friends—nakahara chuuya.

he was dressed casually today, and boy was it a stark contrast to the intense athlete you saw on the court.

you gulp to yourself, and considered turning back now, but your curiosity and determination kept you rooted in place. and so, you walk past him, at least attempt to as you clutched your tablet and bag with you, trying to come off as nonchalant and casual.

but you couldn't help but take just a single glance, and that was all it took for your knees to grow weak as chuuya's gaze averted and met yours. for a split second, neither of you move, and you swear he took your breath again as he flashes you a warm, and friendly smile.

your cheeks flush almost instantly with warmth. this is the first time you saw him this upclose and so you immediately duck into the library, mentally cursing yourself for acting like a flustered higher schooler who just saw her crush. you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and look for a table around the library, choosing a somewhat secluded area so you could begin studying.

you put down your tablet on the table and sit down, opening important files and notes but damnit was it hard to focus. the words on the screen blur together as you mind couldn't help but replay the brief encounter you just had just now.

minutes later into your studying, the chair beside yours shifted. you glance up and saw chuuya again, just right beside you as he placed down his own bag on the table you were occupying.

“hey,” he says softly, “mind if i join you?”

your heart pounds like crazy as your eyes widen. you nod, but immediately shake your head no as you realized, “no! not at all.”

he chuckles softly at your response as he takes a seat beside you, “i saw you at the game the other day.”

you nod softly, trying to find your voice as you fidgeted the pen of your tablet, “err, yeah. you were amazing on the court, by the way.”

“thank you, it's nice to always have support from the crowd. even if they aren't the same program as me,” chuuya says with another chuckle as scratched the nape of his neck.

god, was his presence calming and electrifying at the same time, and it was almost hard to believe he was right here, breathing in the same air as you.

“so, what are you studying?” he asks, glancing at your tablet's screen.

“oh, uh. chemistry.” you reply, trying to steady your voice as you look at him, “it's one of my major subs.”

chuuya raises a brow at you, and looks impressed, “that's an intense subject. i don't think i can handle that. i'm more of a mathematics kind of a guy to be honest, more on physics though.”

you giggle softly, feeling more at ease as you two continue talking, “that's okay. everyone has their own strengths, yeah?”

“yeah,” he agrees as he leans back into his chair and grin, “you know, i've never really been into academics, but clearly you are. that's why i play basketball.”

“but it works out for you, right?” you say softly as you recall the memory of him dominating the court once more, “you still need to keep up with your studies though.”

“mhm,” chuuya nods at your words, “yeah, but balancing both is a challenge to be honest. we have a GPA to maintain to stay on the team. so you could say it keeps me motivated to study.”

you're about to respond but chuuya's phone suddenly buzzes from the table. he glances at you with a cute sheepish yet frown on his face, “sorry, i need to take this. it's probably my coach.”

chuuya leaves you for a moment, leaving you to your thoughts but when he returns a few minutes later, he appears a little disoriented about something, but still attentive to you. “sorry about that, but my coach called to say we have practice again.”

your face falters into a look of disappointment, “oh, it's okay.”

“i'm really sorry,” chuuya says, feeling guilty to leave you so soon, but you couldn't help but feel your heart skip about this fact.

“thanks for sitting with me though. it was nice.. while it lasted,” you say, stifling a quiet giggle to lighten up the mood.

he smiles warmly now upon hearing your giggle, and gosh it sounded like chimes of bells in chuuya's ears, “yeah, it was. maybe we can do this again sometime?”

your eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment you were speechless. nakahara chuuya, number twenty-nine, one of the school athletes, is asking you to meet with him again?

you immediately nod, a bit too eager, but not that he minds at all, “i'd love to.”

“great!” chuuya chimes, laughing as he slings his backpack over his shoulder in a hurry, “well, i gotta run now before the coach makes me do 50 push-ups or something.”

“okay, okay. see you around?” you giggle at his antics, smiling widely now.

“yeah, see you aroun—” chuuya was about to run off when he immediately returned back to you, making your eyes widen again in surprise and confusion.

“your name,” chuuya says a bit too quickly. it was almost like he was rapping, “i forgot to ask your name.”

“(surname) (name), from pharmacy.”

“got it, you probably already know me, but chuuya. nakahara chuuya, from business ad.” he says with a wink before leaving a second time, and this time for good.

you watch him leave the library in a hurry, something that makes your heart flutter as you shake your head to yourself. you return your attention back to your tablet, and gosh, it becomes even more difficult to concentrate. you find yourself thinking about the brief encounter you've had with him again, every word exchanged, and the way his smile made your heart skip.

you really were feeling so high school again, and that's for sure.

the next few days were a flurry of lessons and brief visits to the gym, hoping to catch another glimpse of chuuya training. each time, your heart skips a beat, but you remind yourself to remain focused.

you do not want to appear too eager or desperate, but it was a fine line between expressing interest and coming over too strongly.

as you're packing your belongings at the library to head home after studying as per usual, a notification appears on your phone. it was a text from an unknown number.

you blink for a moment before you read the text in your mind, and your eyes slowly widen, “hi! it's chuuya, remember? from the court and library? i got your phone number from a friend. hope that's okay?”

you feel your heart race once more. (it was becoming a habit for your poor heart to be honest.) all you could think about was how chuuya got your number? and from whom? but a part of you already had an idea.

either way, you shake those questions away from your head as you text him back.

“hi, chuuya! it's ok with me. how are you? :)”

your phone buzzes as your text receives a reply.

“am good! just finished practice. wanted to see if you're free to grab a coffee with me?”

coffee. with chuuya. the mere thought sends a chill through you, but it was a good kind of thrill—one that made your tummy do flips and your face flush with warmth.

“sure, i'd love to! when and where if ever?”

chuuya's response was so immediate, “how about tomorrow afternoon? i don't have any classes tomorrow and there's a cafe near campus that you might like.”

“sounds good! my classes end at 1pm tomorrow.”

from then, the anticipation grows as you count down the hours until your coffee meeting with chuuya. you even spend a little extra time getting ready for tomorrow, ensuring that you look your best without going overboard.

and when you finally arrive at the café he texted you yesterday, you see him right away. chuuya was waiting at the entryway, casually clothed yet still looking effortlessly suave. he flashes you a smile and waves as you approach him, and you get that familiar flutter in your chest.

“you came! here, lemme get the door for ya’,” chuuya says with a smile, holding the door open for you.

the aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries is soothing, as you and chuuya pick a comfortable corner table to relax inside. you order your drinks and discuss everything from favorite books to future goals, and the conversation between you flows naturally.

everything feels natural, every smile, every laugh, and ever gaze, it was as if you've known one another for much longer than a few encounters, and you can't help but think about the slow burn of your feelings for chuuya, which was undeniable, and you wonder whether he feels the same way.

but for the time being, you're satisfied to enjoy his company, savoring each moment as you learn more about the athlete who has piqued your interest.

and it becomes even more evident when this simple coffee date becomes a constant between you two—he comes to wherever you are, whether you're in the library or at a cafe.

it was strange, but it was also comforting.

“mind if i join you, (nickname)?” he even calls you by your nickname now at this point as he stands by your table.

“sure,” you smile at him, trying to sound as casual as possible as you gesture at the empty seat across you.

chuuya sits down, and you notice he is clutching a physics book. he sees you staring at him and his book, and chuckles, "i have an exam coming up, so i thought i'd get some studying done.”

you nod, feeling a little more relaxed, “i feel you, but mine's chemistry.”

for the next hour, the two of you will sit together, exchanging a few words and smiles. there's a comfortable silence between you, broken only by the sounds of books turning and coffee cups clinking in the cafe.

you steal glances at him every now and then, seeing how focused he appears, and you can't help but appreciate his commitment to study regardless of being an athlete. it shows that he really values balancing both.

eventually, chuuya stretches his arms and leans back in his chair in a sigh, “damn, i think i’ve had enough of physics for today. how about you?”

“yeah, my brain feels like mush now to be honest,” you reply which makes him snicker.

“say, wanna leave the cafe and take a walk around campus? i could use some fresh air.” chuuya suggests, shoveling his textbook back in his backpack.

you both agree, and you leave the café together, going across the campus grounds and you find yourself laughing more than usual, and you notice how at ease you are around him.

as you two reach a quiet spot near the gates, chuuya pauses and looks at you, “you know, i’m really glad we met. it’s nice to talk to someone who’s not just about sports or partying.”

you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, “i feel the same way, chuuya.”

the days are another a blur of exams and studying, but your mind keeps returning to chuuya, and chuuya alone.

the warmth of your conversations and the fun every time you two studied and grabbed coffees remained in your memory, making it difficult to focus, making your heart constantly in a flutter that you now find yourself seeking for him around campus, hoping to meet him again, hoping to see him before you day starts and before it ends. it was an overwhelming feeling you couldn't help but long for.

as you’re leaving the classroom with your tote bag and tablet in hand you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“(name)!” you quickly turn around, already knowing and seeing chuuya jogging towards you, his face lighting up with that ever familiar, heart skipping genuine smile.

you smile back as you tilt your head to the side, “hey, chuuya! what’s up?”

he catches up to you, slightly out of breath as he breathes, “i.. i was hoping i’d run into you. thank god i did. do you have a minute?”

“sure. i have a few more minutes before my next class,” you say, curiosity piqued.

“great. perfect.” he pants out, catching his breath now this time.

you turn around for a second to see your friends silently gushing over you and chuuya which you shot them a glare for, making them quietly giggle and leave you two be as they headed to the next class.

with a quiet giggle, you return your attention back to chuuya and he seems a bit nervous now, which is unusual for him. after a brief moment of collecting his thoughts (and breath), he looks at you with a mixture of excitement and hesitation.

“okay, so we have another game coming up this weekend,” he begins, his eyes locking onto yours, “and it’s a pretty big one, as you know. we’re playing against one of the top teams in the league outside campus, against another university this time.”

“that sounds exciting,” you reply, genuinely interested, “i’m sure you’ll do great as always!”

chuuya chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze, “i hope so. but, uh, i was wondering if you’d come watch the game.”

“of course i'll watch! i only have classes in the morning.” you respond without hesitation, smiling widely, “i’d love to.”

however, chuuya stares down at his hands for a while, as if to gather his courage, before returning his gaze to you, his tone becoming sheepish, “but, i, um.. would prefer if you could come alone to watch this time without your friends.”

you blink in surprise taken aback by the request. just you? without your friends?

“huh? but, why?”

chuuya rubs the back of his neck awkwardly now, a sheepish grin appearing on his face, “i guess i just want to know you’re there, watching. look, i know it is kind of stupid, but i feel like having you there might give me that extra bit of confidence. and… i’d like to hang out with you after the game, just the two of us.”

your cheeks warm at his words, and a soft smile spreads across your face, “i see. well, i'd be more than happy to come, chuuya.”

chuuya's expression lights up, and you notice a mix of relief and something deeper in his eyes, “great! okay, so the game is this saturday at 3PM. i’ll save you a seat, and no need to pay anything. okay? i got it covered.”

“i’ll be there,” you promise, reaching for his arm as a form of reassurance, and he smiles before you scurry back to your friends who you whacked in the head for eavesdropping.

“stop eavesdropping at us!”

“you're watching a game without us?!”

eventually, the day of the game arrives, and you find yourself in the gymnasium without your friends, which makes you somewhat anxious since you're not used to watching a game, let alone without being your friends as you do.

as you head over to your seat which chuuya reserved for you, you scan the court and notice chuuya warming up, and gosh did your mouth become dry at the attractive sight of him stretching his muscular arms.

your cheeks grow warm and he catches your eye from across the gym and waves, his smile widening as he sees you. you wave back, nervous and excited, but also flustered as you wondered if he knew you were staring at him while he was warming up because that was one of the most attractive things you've ever seen in your life.

the game finally begins, and you watch nervously, holding your breath as chuuya moves across the court with the basketball. every dribble, pass, and shot appears to have a unique significance, as if he is motivated by the fact that you are watching him.

chuuya's presence on the court is already commanding from the moment the first whistle reverberates across the pavilion. the opposition team immediately realizes that stopping him will not be a simple feat. as the basketball game progresses, you marvel once again at how chuuya weaves among defenders with such ease.

chuuya’s first play is a tremendous display of such skill and he dominates the court as if he knows it like the back of his hand. he receives a pass from his teammate, fakes left, and then spins to the right, leaving his defender momentarily disoriented. and then, with a swift, fluid motion, he dribbles past two more opponents and makes a flawless layup.

the crowd goes wild in cheers, and you can’t help but cheer and clap along with the audience at the sheer precision of his moves, and chuuya's play just becomes more heated from there, because he can hear you loud and clear, he knows you're there for him.

it becomes even more swift and methodical, with each pass and dribble meticulously planned. he silently communicated with his teammates as if he had telepathy, meticulously scanning the court for openings and potential steals from the opposing team.

it was clear all of his moves were with deftness that only comes from hours of practice and a natural understanding of the game as chuuya steals the ball from an opponent with a well-timed swipe before fluidly transitioning into offense, leading a fast break that finishes in another successful basket.

the game eventually approaches its climax, and the tension across the court is now almost unbearable. chuuya’s team is up by a narrow margin, and every move now feels more critical than ever as you can hear the beat of the drums from the sides, which builds up in intensity.

with only a few mere seconds left on the clock, chuuya dribbles to the top of the key, sizing up his defender. the opposing team’s defense tightens around him, but chuuya remains calm, his focus unshakable. he makes a decisive move, spinning around his defender and launching a shot from beyond the arc.

you feel a rush of nostalgia through your veins as you recall the first time you ever saw him, back in the campus, as time seems to slow down—remembering everything like a flashback as the ball arcs through the air in a familiar way to you, and you hold your breath as it swishes through the basket, securing the victory for his team.

your heart leaps from your chest as the last whistle blows, echoing across the atmosphere and the gymnasium erupts with cheers and applause. chuuya's teammates all rush to congratulate him, carrying him onto their shoulders as the crowd roars in appreciation and you watch with a sense of pride and excitement.

as his team celebrates with their trophy and flashes of cameras, you initially expect chuuya to be absorbed in the aftermath of the game.

but then, you see him breaking away from the crowd, leaving his teammates behind, his eyes scanning the sea of faces in the audience and when he finally sees you, a look of determination crosses his face, and he starts making his way towards you, weaving through players across the court.

you heart races with familiarity as you realize he’s coming straight for you instead of the trophy that you involuntarily stand up from the seat chuuya reserved for you.

the noise of the crowd fades into the background as chuuya closes the distance between you, and when chuuya finally reaches you, he’s out of breath but smiling with an intensity as he exclaims excitedly, “there you are!”

before you can react, chuuya suddenly moves closer to you and, in an exciting and unexpected moment, leans in and slams his lips against yours.

the kiss is both gentle and passionate, taking you off guard but feeling perfectly natural, but it's as if all of your silent emotions were released in one beautiful moment, an exchange of silent 'i love you's' as his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace.

chuuya pulls back with both of you breathless and a bit dazed from the sudden kiss, his eyes are filled with a mixture of relief and affection while yours was of surprise and excitement, and he looks at you with a smile that makes your heart flutter.

“i’m really, really glad you’re here,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand reaching for the strand of hair on your face to tuck it behind your ear.

you nod, your cheeks flushed and a smile across your face, as you whisper back, “me too.”

despite the noise reverberating across the pavilion from the aftermath of the match, you and chuuya stand close together, breathless, having such an intimate and exhilarating moment like this, and you find it as the perfect finale to your growing slow-burn relationship, and looking into his eyes fills you with anticipation for what comes next.

“let's get outta here,” he whispers to your ear, his breath sending you tingles.

you ask as his hand drifts from your arm to your waist instead, a smile growing on your face, “but what about your team? or the trophy?”

“fuck the trophy, i've already got mine,” chuuya chuckles as he squeezes your waist as if to emphasize his words before he captures your lips in another kiss.

[weoris]

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! · enhypen | football player!riki x fem!reader · cw. kissing, soccer/football, hugging, 572 words.

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who was a timid and hostile person, and never paid attention to the giant crowds of girls fangirling over him — whom never really paid attention to the game and instead only on the player.. but how his attention always sharpened when you came to one of his games..

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who found you reading or doing your work at the park when he’d come by to practise, noticing how you took subtle glances at his direction. and how he gathered all his courage to ask you if you wanted to play..

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who taught you how to play properly, laughing at your annoyed reaction when you couldn’t kick as well as him. who proposed a little game and let you win each time. who kneeled down to you and teased you, patting your head and smiling down at your excited giggles.

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who walked you home at night, all the way to your doorstep as you looked up at him and smiled, pressing a little kiss to his cheeks and ruffling his hair. you chuckled through the door window at how his eyes widened, his face turned red and he stood frozen.

“Thanks for walking me home..” you looked up at him, and he smiled with a little nod. “I had fun today, thanks ki..” you smiled again, and before he could process the cute little nickname, you had put your hands on his shoulders and tiptoed, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. “See ya..” you chuckled. “I- uhm- yeah.. s-see.. see you t-too..” he gulped, freezing for a moment and finally leaving your doorstep.

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who tried to talk to you more after that day, but found it so difficult when he’d just freeze up and clear his throat, blushing furiously. what he didn’t know was that you found it ever so endearing.. how this hot-topic heartthrob was a stuttering mess around you.

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who gulped in nervousness at the start of the game.. but felt his nerves calm down when he saw your little smile and cheer in the crowd. who cheered loud when he scored the winning goal, turning more giddy when he saw your proud smile and claps in the crowd.

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who was drenched in sweat and was panting heavily, who saw you coming down the stairs of the bleachers in the midst of the cheers to give him your congratulatory pat on the back like usual..

HIGHSCHOOL ATHLETE RIKI! who knew that this time, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. so he passed the trophy to his teammate, wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in his arms and pressing his lips against yours immediately and sighing into the kiss. he furrowed his eyebrows and kept his hand on your back, blocking out the cheers and whistles from his friends.. and only focusing on your gentle surprised whimpers and how you kissed him back, playing with his hair softly.

He pulled away and looked down at you, caressing your jaw softly with one hand. “You.. you..” he stuttered, panting from both the game and kiss. you looked back at his friends teasing him and chuckled, making him turn back and laugh as well. Riki blushed and tucked his head into the crook of your neck as he hugged you and lifted you off your feet again. “I.. oh.. oh god..”

© weoris | tumblr.

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[ddarker-dreams]

Better The Devil You Know.

Yandere Chrollo x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, discussions of past minor character death, and descriptions of anxiety. Word count: 2.6k.

You awake to cold sheets and damp cheeks. 

It isn’t a peaceful transition into consciousness. You fight for each breath, a losing battle that swaddles your mind in thick fog. The vapors thin out as time drags along. It doesn’t dissipate in its entirety, preferring to linger and prolong your disorientation. 

You wipe at your face with your wrists, ignoring the sting accompanying the action. Hesitatingly, you appraise it in a ray of moonlight that snuck past the blinds. It’s clear, not crimson and thick. A normal product of a healthy body. You should feel relieved, you think. Every organ is as it should be. Your brain remains in your cranium, your lungs expand and contract, and your heart pumps, albeit at an alarming speed. 

It’s better than the chill of encroaching death. 

… 

You are alive, aren’t you? 

This question prompts an investigation. 

Nothing hurts. Your throat, maybe, but that’s a minor ache spurred from thirst. Your skin is warm and clammy. Peeling the comforter off, you squint, assessing your body’s condition. Weary eyes take in everything. Your socks, the lace trimming of your nightgown, its diaphanous midriff, then your chest. Everything appears in order.  

Would your incorporeal form accurately reflect your physical body? 

You shake your head. 

This can’t be heaven — no pantheon would be cruel enough to set the stage of your paradise with props from your captivity. 

It can’t be hell either. If it were, you wouldn’t be alone right now.

You blink.

You’re alone? 

Chrollo’s side of the bed is notably empty. He must’ve got up in a hurry, the sheets are in disarray. The adjoining restroom is dark and unoccupied, confirming he must be elsewhere. Your stomach churns. Determined to do away with this creeping anxiety, you get up, padding across the hardwood floor. 

The night gifts shivers and goosebumps. Wishing to ward off its unwanted advances, you wrap your arms around yourself. You pass through the door that connects to the common area. Although it’s dimly lit, you can tell he isn’t here. The attached balcony is similarly uninhabited. A quick foray into the study confirms your status; you’re truly by yourself. 

What should be a triumph or a relief delivers nothing but dread. 

You return to the common room to assess the situation. 

You’ve never been left alone before. Not without him telling you in advance, normally with a rough estimate of when he’ll return. There’s no way an important detail like that would slip your mind. At a loss, you dredge through your memories for some sign you may have missed. His voice pierces through your head like an arrow. You wince but ignore your body’s displeasure at anything associated with him. The unintelligible noises sharpen, forming consonants and vowels. 

The thrum of the air conditioner eases away. 

You’re left in absolute silence, until Chrollo’s voice fades away, replaced by another.

“... She was five or six, I think. Right around the age where you start losing baby teeth. There’d been this game she wanted and, y’know, kids aren’t rolling in cash. So she figured, what better way to pay for it than through the tooth fairy? I caught ‘er with my wrench, determined as anything, ready to speed up the process. It ended up being a little inside joke between us.”

Your lower lip trembles. 

“... That’s how she ended up getting identified. Her teeth, I mean. Wasn’t anything else left to go off of. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. A whole life she lived, sometimes getting into trouble, but mostly helping others outta theirs. And to have that— all that— reduced to just… just a couple, couple fuckin’— teeth? What kinda joke is that?”

You fill a glass with water until it overflows.  

“Hey, tell me. Has that fucker ever mentioned ‘er? … Probably not, right? Probably never knew she existed in the first place.” 

Head thrown back, you gulp down the liquid, fighting the lump that longs to form in your throat. 

“Who knows? Maybe I’m the one in the wrong ‘ere. Hell, you don’t look much older than her yourself. I don’t— don’t wanna hurt ya. But…” 

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. 

“There’s no other way to hurt him.” 

Someone’s beside you.

You can hear their voice, though it sounds like it’s coming from miles away, carried over by the wind. Warmth sears your bare shoulders. You smell the faint aroma of sandalwood and amber. It’s distinct, this cologne that serves as an ill-omen better than any blackbird or cracked mirror. You couldn’t scrub it from your memory if you tried. That, or the scent of old books, leather, coffee, and red wine. 

You dig your nails into something — fabric, perhaps — but nothing grounds you. It’s like you’ve been transported outside of space and time. Existing, yet far from alive. Your stomach falls while your head floats away. Up, up, up, lifting you higher and higher. From this impossible vantage point, you sway, your limbs gleefully ignoring every attempt to regain control. 

And there it is again. Your name echoes throughout the atmosphere, beckoning you to acknowledge the sound’s source. 

Maybe you should.

Even if you’ll come to regret it. 

When you first met Chrollo, his eyes stood out the most, like the universe itself deemed them worthy of veneration. You found the gray depths captivating. The undertone varied, you never could ascertain if they were a cool or warm shade. All you knew was that once they found you, they boasted a vitality siphoned at the expense of your own. 

Presently, they can’t. Their unwitting host has been exsanguinated. 

“Where were—” You silence yourself, aghast by the implication. 

You’d sought him out. So desperate for an anchor, you would’ve latched onto the culprit behind your drowning. There’s no doubt he’d find some twisted satisfaction in the accidental admission. You shrink away, but the solid counter presses against your spine, halting your retreat. He doesn’t advance, you’d barely created any distance. 

“There’d been something that required my immediate attention,” Chrollo answers your unfinished question. There’s no thinly veiled derision or curiosity in his voice. You miss the familiarity. “Does anything hurt?” 

It’s then that you recall your predicament. 

You’re on the kitchen floor, surrounded by scintillating shards of glass. A pool of water gathers to your right. Chrollo’s bent down before you, wearing a heavy coat and a tint of pink on his nose. He must’ve come from outside. He stares unblinkingly, awaiting your verdict, which you deliver by shaking your head. There’s a dull ache in your tailbone but you keep that to yourself. It’s awkward enough that he found you in this state. 

You’re sitting on the floor with one leg extended and the other bent at the knee, allowing your short nightgown to ride up. The compromising position stokes your embarrassment. You shuffle around to maintain some dignity. In doing so, you forget the pointed glass strewn about. Before you make contact, you’re hoisted up. Chrollo foresees your struggle and holds you tight enough to thwart its success. 

“You’re alright,” he reassures, his sincere gentleness unbecoming. "Everything's alright."

He places you down on the closest couch and sits beside you. While you regain your bearings, he shrugs off his jacket, then drapes it around your trembling form. His scent and warmth flood your senses. You consider throwing it off out of spite, only to decide against it. You’d be the one to suffer the most. Chrollo remains unusually silent as you cocoon yourself in the thick wool jacket. It’s big on you, but not big enough to swallow you whole like you’d prefer. 

“Should I grab your propranolol?” 

Another head shake.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Foreseeing your tepid response, he adds, “Verbally?” 

You clear your throat as quietly as you can. “I got thirsty.” 

“Hm.” 

You both know he isn’t convinced. It’d be easy for him to poke and prod until you revealed everything — intentionally or not — but his lips remain in a thin line. You shuffle in your seat. The fabric brushes against your wrists, eliciting a sharp inhale. The burn is short-lived yet the memories associated with it rage on. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He blinks, likely unused to the sound of his name on your lips. “Yes, love?” 

“If that man killed me, would it have hurt you?” 

A shadow falls over his visage, like a waxing crescent transitioning to a new moon. When you shiver, it isn’t from the cold. Dark hair frames a far darker expression. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to see you better, beyond your flesh, at the crux of your soul. You await whatever comes next, returning his stare with equal intensity. 

Finally, he slowly replies, “Yes, it would’ve.” 

“Then why was it so easy for you to kill his daughter?” You ask, the words weighing heavily upon you. “You might’ve liked her, if you’d gotten to know her.” 

The man revealed enough for you to feel like you knew her. Lana Ellis — a woman with an iron will, sharp tongue, and golden heart. She’d recently been hired to work as a waitress at a business that catered high-end events. Galas, celebrity birthdays and weddings, those sorts of things. It wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement. Lana planned to ditch the gig after saving up tuition money, where she’d then aim for a doctorate in veterinary medicine. According to him, he’d squandered her college fund after the unexpected death of her mother; his childhood sweetheart. He said he’d never forgive himself or the Troupe. 

“She wasn’t s’posed to have been there,” he wheezed. “She never should’ve been there…!” 

Chrollo shuts his eyes. “What are you getting at, dear?” 

His words come out light, though they’re anything but. 

“She could’ve been me.” 

“Yet she wasn’t.” 

“But—!” Your voice cracks, so you take a deep breath and try again. “You… you deprive the world of people you could’ve come to like, be friends with, whatever! All for stuff you eventually do away with. How is that… how can you…” 

Righteous anger suits you. It's a sword and shield that requires no skill to wield, reaching for the instruments have become second nature. Their effectiveness doesn't matter so long as you can hold onto something.

“You don’t need to understand.” 

This isn't a parry or pivot, he's disarmed you.

“Huh?” 

“Yes… if anything, it’s best if you don’t,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His eyes find yours again. “I can’t make sense of your empathy any more than you can grasp my lack of it. If I could, you’d no longer be yourself. Your self-limiting, bleeding heart should remain as is. It’s the one part of you I’ll leave untouched.” 

You don’t know what you were expecting. 

You slump back into your seat. “... Don’t you think you’re overestimating yourself?” 

“Hardly,” he replies. Then, in a softer voice, “You torment yourself, love. This—” 

He rests his hand over your heart.

“—Hurts you more than anything I’ve ever done. Yet you believe it unthinkable I’d do away with such an inconvenience.” 

“So you’re a coward,” you mumble. The insult is uninspired but it suits your purposes. “You can’t handle it, so you took the easy way out.” 

“Rationalize it anyway you'd like.” 

Chrollo reaches for your forearm and coaxes it into view. His fingers brush along your wrists, where the man’s restraints left rope burn behind. The irritated skin is slowly recovering. The deeper wounds, those without a cure, will linger after the surface heals. They’re etched into your bones. 

“Isn’t going against your morals worse than having none?" Chrollo queries. “That girl’s father knew you had no involvement in his daughter’s death. You’re an unwilling third party, same as she was. And he was ready to hurt you regardless."

Your mouth feels dry. “He didn't hurt me—” 

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, causing head to flood your cheeks.

“—All... that... much. I don’t think he was going to...?” 

“No, not until he was intoxicated enough to stomach it,” Chrollo retorts. “We’ll never know for certain, darling. Thankfully, I interrupted before it could get to that point."

That point, that point, that point...

What could that man have done to you?

Chrollo appraises you like he's yet to decide on something.

After a moment passes, he leans in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your muscles stiffen as he pulls you close. He exerts none of the force you know him to be capable of. The gesture's languid nature gives the impression you could wriggle free if you tried. You don't test this theory. Chrollo's mood seems pensive, not amorous, hence your hesitant compliance.

He speaks your name. Then, he asks, "What's really bothering you?"

Biting your lip, you turn your head away from him.

He doesn't relent. "You can tell me anything, you know."

If you weren't so utterly exhausted, you might've laughed.

"You wouldn't be my first choice for a heart-to-heart."

"How about your second?"

You look at him like he's just suggested the world is flat. He smiles softly, allowing you time to think.

It's weird.

This is weird.

The lack of verbal finesse, designed to extract any emotion or confession he desires. You're used to his cunning, his depravity, his unfiltered self. You've come to expect it, as one would the sunrise and sunset. Briefly, you search for it. The expedition is futile. His normal tells are gone.

Truly, you could almost forget the imbalanced nature of this dynamic and pretend it's normal.

It isn't, however.

So you'll need to keep your wits about you.

"Could... er..." you trail off, uncertain of the best parlance, "Will something like that... happen... again...?"

The claustrophobia of being shut in a trunk. Blindfolded, hands and feet bound, gagged by a rag. Terrified and sobbing. Unable to breathe, unable to scream.

You feel as small now as you did then.

The man told you his reasoning. It tugged on your heart. Wringed the organ for everything it was worth. He deserved justice. He deserved revenge. At that lone instance, the playing field was even. The immeasurable gap in strength between him and the Phantom Troupe's boss meant nothing if Chrollo wasn't physically present. There was a chance for this bereaved father to return the pain unfairly inflicted on him.

But why on you?

Why do you have to be cast into hell for the sins of another?

And why was it so tempting to forgive the devil's transgressions against you, if he provided salvation just this once?

You don't know when you began shaking, but you do know it won't be easy to stop.

"You must've been scared," he murmurs.

This observation makes your throat feel impossibly tight, as if a serpent coiled around your neck. His eyelashes flutter shut and he rests his forehead against yours. He contents himself on breathing in your air while you wrestle with the odd intimacy of it all; this simplicity untainted by needling or provocations.

"I never make the same mistake twice," Chrollo eventually says. "In light of recent events, I've made it clear that you are off limits. Those who still wish to try their luck, well..."

The air itself writhes like a malicious entity. The sensation is brief, but the impression lingers, chilling you on a primordial level. You're reminded that his control, while impressive, isn't flawless. Every surface can fissure, allowing the noxious contents contained within to break free. This concentration of ill-intent isn't even focused at you. To be on the receiving end must be to face the inevitably of death.

"... They can be made examples of too."

Curiosity nips at your heels, demanding satiation.

Your part your lips.

Then his eyes reopen. They're dull, lacking any illumination, like light itself felt the urge to flee.

It's an understandable sentiment.

For that reason, you decide some questions are better left unanswered.