#interesting that all but one are from the first game. and THAT one is still set in ! era

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

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(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them?  Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

 You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

 The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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Thanks for reading! If you'd like read the last part of Isla a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon(X)!

#my writing #the hero and hope #fantasy writing #writeblr

[bbydoll18xx]

Pet Names And Airplanes

When a very sleepy Paige lets out some interesting noises, you find that the lines of your friendship have blurred considerably.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Based on this request: I have a request but it's not fully thought out but all the traveling she's been doing has got me thinking. Basically Paige x friend where there's some tension emotionally and physically but neither of them know it rlly. Paige is groggy bc they had to catch an early flight to go somewhere and while sitting next to each other on the plane, her mind starts wandering and she accidentally says smthg dirty out loud to the reader which obviously leads to a build of tension on their flight that they end up having to deal with. How they deal w it and such can be up to you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: friends to lovers, one bed trope!, slightly inappropriate behavior

I'm thinking about doing a second part to this.

Please send more requests, you guys always have the best ideas omg

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If there was one thing undeniable about Paige Bueckers, it was that she really loved her friends. Some in different ways than others, as you would come to learn. 

Growing tired of Paige’s incessant whining about missing Nika, who was now in Seattle playing for the Seattle Storm, you had purchased tickets to a game for her.

You had surprised the tall blonde one evening when the two of you were lounging on her couch, absentmindedly watching a random romcom. Paige was tracing small circles on the soft skin of your forearm, and you had figured it was as good of a time as any to break the news. 

“Paigey,” you murmured, grabbing her attention from the screen. “I know you’ve been missing Nika, so I got us tickets to go see her play in Seattle on Saturday.”

Before you can go into details, Paige is launching herself into you, and whispering thanks over and over again into the crook of your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over, as you feel the warmth breath of her gratitude fan against your skin. 

“We’re leaving Friday morning. It’s an early flight, so you better get your ass to bed early that night,” you say with fake mockery. Paige could not wake up early to save her life, whilst you typically preferred to be in bed by 11. 

“You’re the fuckin’ best, princess,” Paige mumbles, her face reddened by more than just your teasing. She is still hiding in your presence, and the closeness makes your heart speed up. This wasn’t the first time, and it surely would not be the last. 

Paige just had that effect on you.

~

Thursday evening rolls around, and you decide it would make more sense to spend the night at Paige’s apartment to save time in the morning before catching your flight. You stroll through the door and your gaze is immediately drawn to chaos. The apartment was in ruins with shit scattered everywhere. 

“P!” You call out, trying to figure out where your friend was hiding. “This place is a fucking disaster. What happened?”

Paige emerges from her room with a sheepish smile on her face. “Couldn’t figure out what to wear,” she shrugs nonchalantly. 

“You need to clean this shit up. I’ll pack.” Your voice is laced with disapproval, but the fond smile on your face gives you away. 

“Thanks, princess,” Paige beams, and your heart falters once more.

That nickname would be the cause of a future arrhythmia, and it was not going away. Paige had called you ‘princess’ one evening while she was drunk. And it had just stuck. She rarely called you by your name anymore, and you were so okay with that. The term of endearment was now the object of all of your fantasies. You had spent an embarrassing amount of nights in your bed with a hand between your legs, imagining Paige on top of you whispering that name in your ear. 

You feel yourself heat up at your reveries, and you clear your throat in an attempt to dissuade the longingness you felt. Paige was just a friend. That’s all she’d ever be to you. 

Once the mess was cleaned up and Paige’s suitcase was packed to perfection by your type-A ass, you fell into bed next to the blonde girl. It was early, and while you were eager to go to bed in order to get a few solid hours of sleep, Paige was bustling with energy.

“Stop actin’ like a grandma and talk to me,” Paige whines, while bouncing obnoxiously on the plush mattress.

“Go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the mornin’,” you respond sleepily, eyes already closed with a fierce determination to ignore Paige’s childish antics. 

Paige doesn’t respond, but chooses to pout in faux indignation. 

Her pouting keeps her up for three more hours. And as your shrill alarm bit through the silence of her dark room, waking you both up, you knew Paige was about to be a real problem. 

She groans at the piercing noise, hiding her head under the blankets.

“C’mon, Paigey. Wakey, wakey,” you giggle as you tickle her writhing figure in an attempt to get her ass out of bed. 

She ultimately relents at the promise of breakfast on the way to the airport. Even as you pull her through the bright airport, Paige is trying to do anything in her power to close her eyes for a few precious seconds of shut eye. It was so like her, and her refusal to admit that you were right should have made you annoyed. But Paige could never really do anything to actually annoy you.

Standing protectively behind you in the TSA line, you feel her eyes trailing your figure in a way that makes you feel hot and slightly insecure. You had thrown on a pair of leggings and an oversized UCONN basketball t-shirt, and the shirt had ridden up. Paige had a perfect view of your backside. Turning around to talk to her, you notice her gaze is directed at your ass, and your cheeks are suddenly ablaze at the shameless ogling. 

Paige was always flirty with you, but lately it had been weaved with something more. 

Finally, the two of you are able to board, and Paige slumps into her seat with a loud groan of exhaustion. You roll your eyes and get yourself situated for the long ride to Seattle. You had already mentally prepared for the fact that Paige would spend most of the flight using you as a pillow. However, you were less than prepared for the noises that would soon come out of your best friend’s sleeping mouth.

The television attached to the seat in front of you showed that plane was flying over Montana when you were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by several small noises coming out of Paige’s mouth. The first one was quiet but fucking guttural. The second one is followed by whining. The last one makes your heart stop. A tiny moan of “princess” slips out, and your legs involuntarily clench at the sound. 

Was she dreaming about you?

Fuck no. That was impossible, and you refused to get even the smallest of hopes up.

Until your name slips out in a faint whimper, and there is no denying that you were the object of her dream.

Shit. 

Before she could get any louder and attract some unwanted attention, you jostle her ever so slightly, waking her up. Her eyes are bleary, and she looks around for a second, as if she has forgotten where she was. Her gaze settles on yours briefly before she is tearing it away to stare down at her hands. She is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and it makes you wonder if she had recalled any part of her little dream. Not wanting to embarrass her, you drop it, instead informing her that you’d be landing in an hour. 

Paige doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to her lips, as your bottom one is caught between your teeth in a bruising bite. There was always sexual tension between the two of you. Always a ‘what if’ and a ‘if only’ after each interaction, but you had both ignored it in favor of protecting the delicacy of your friendship. 

~

Soon enough, you and Paige are stepping out of the elevator of your hotel. With the time change, it was still morning, and you had promised Paige that you’d let her take a nap before going out to explore and meet up with Nika. Paige was desperate for sleep now, and you don’t miss the bruised look of her under eyes. 

You open the door to the room, eyes immediately drawn to the large single bed placed right in the center of the room. Shit, you thought you had requested two beds. Looking warily over at Paige, you notice her tongue peaking out to slowly trace across her bottom lip in a subtle display of want. Maybe sharing a bed after all this wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. 

Once all your stuff is placed neatly away, and Paige haphazardly throws her stuff onto the empty desk in the corner, you settle onto the soft bed with a small moan of content. Your body sinks into the soft sheets and plush pillows, and Paige’s warm body next to you beckons you to scooch closer into her. It felt blissful, and it did not take long before you were both enveloped in the welcoming nothingness of sleep. 

Several hours slipped by before you wake up, suddenly feeling sticky from both the sleep and the hot body pressed up against you. Paige had nuzzled into your neck, a long muscular arm thrown around your waist, caging you in deliciously. 

As she lets out a puff of air against your throat, a tiny whine escapes your mouth, similarly to the noises Paige had been making on the airplane. As quiet as you thought you were, Paige wakes with a startle, and her bright blue eyes are peering curiously into yours. 

“You okay, princess?” She asks, a small smirk on her face, as if she knew what you were thinking. 

“Course.” You affirm, eyes flitting back and forth between those eyes and her lips. You were no longer hiding the want in your own eyes. 

Paige chuckles, and the noise goes straight between your legs, reverberating through your entire body. The effect she had on you was maddening. 

Before you can even begin to overthink, Paige is bringing her face even closer to yours. You can feel her breath fan over your mouth, and you hold your breath for a second, afraid that if you let out any air, she would pull away and retreat. 

Paige searches your face for a sign of reluctance but she finds nothing, and she presses her lips against yours. A moan leaves her mouth as your lips connect, and you can feel the already blurry lines of your friendship completely entangle. 

You did not care, though. Because Paige’s mouth was on yours and everything else seemed to fade away into nothingness.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige x reader #paige #paige bueckers x you #friends to lovers

[iamasaddie]

tired

paring: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: explicit warnings: explicit sexual content, unspecified age gap, reader has hair that you can run your fingers through, no use of Y/N, UNEDITED a/n: fully inspired by this post @bonezone44 dared to put out so i thank them for basically punching me out of the no-writing period of my life <3 and also thank you to people who've been tagging me in multiple wip challenges and fic games, especially @milla-frenchy and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog <3 you reminded me that i was indeed an author a million years ago word count: 2.6k masterlist

Joel was tired. His back was hurting from helping Tommy fix up his roof, his knees were aching from climbing up and down that goddamn ladder that he could swore was ready to break at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a night where he could just relax. Throw his body somewhere in his house and have someone take care of it. 

Now that Ellie was building her adult life with Dina, their place - his place - now felt like just a roof over his head, all the homeyness gone with the girl that almost single-handedly owned his sharp and rusty heart.  

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, dry fingertips running over the lids. He did not want to go home and fall asleep on the couch, cursing everything the world stands on the next morning when he needs to fight the tears of pain with every back spasm he gets. No, he needed someone to take care of him, to give him something good, god knows he’s given these people more than enough over these past years. But, Joel sighed to himself, scrunching his nose as his eyes fell on the dirty knees of his jeans, he was not in shape of wining and dining women tonight. 

That’s what you need casual connections for, old idiot, he chuckled to himself, remembering a few times he had to spell it out for some ladies that he wasn’t interested.

You practically jumped on a stool next to him while he was still considering his options.

“Hey, Joel, long night?” 

Of course you’d be the first to ask about his day. Little miss sunshine. Well, at least that’s what he thought at first, before seeing you mercilessly killing a couple of infected villagers that weren’t careful enough on the patrol. Still, you were as syrupy sweet as honey on a fresh batch of pancakes when it came to him. The only one who didn’t cringe when he said his firm “no, thanks”. The only one who didn’t actually take his no for an answer.

You never actually threw yourself at him, but Joel learned what desire looks like and you were too young to learn how to mask it properly. 

“Hey, kid.” He nodded, he knew how much you hated the nickname because it put even a bigger barrier between the two of you.

“Told you not to call me that, I’m only—“

“Twenty something years younger than me? Yeah.”

He saw your lips hiding in a thin line, your unbreakable spirit was too fragile when it came to him. Joel must’ve gone soft, or insane, because he nudged your shoulder with his, making you lift your head up and look him in the eyes.

“Tommy’s roof’s been a pain in the ass to fix. It’d be easier to burn that place down and build a new one, but my brother is as stubborn as them mules he’s been dreaming to have.”

You huffed a laugh, palm squeezing the slippery glass that was now empty a little too hard. “You know,” you started, shyness verging with hope that you tried to sheath with a nonchalant tone. Joel knew. And for the first time in years he actually contemplated, nodding to you to continue. “I could help you relax, I sometimes give massages in the hospital. It can really help with back pain.”

He purposefully kept silent, looking you in the eyes and trying to make you go back on your proposal. But as he knew already, you were no less stubborn than his little brother. It was karma or something that the only people that were semi-constant in his life were the ones who’d rather kiss an infected than give up. 

Joel wasn’t exactly tortured with his conscience, he didn’t seduce you, and most of the old world morals have died already, so the age gap the size of an adult child didn’t bother him either. He was almost glad you tried again, he just needs to make sure you know it’s not something it isn’t. 

“Yeah, my back’s been hurtin’ pretty bad today.” He finished his drink not tearing his eyes off you, and then he slowly let them trace your lips, the naked expanse of your neck that you showed off by unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your shirt. He looked lower, noticing your breasts rise and fall faster under his unmasked gaze. 

“Wanna go now?” Your voice was breathless like you’d just ran a marathon. He wondered how you’d sound later tonight. 

“Sure, darlin’. Lead the way.”

You never said anything when Joel strode past the hospital shack, not even slowing his pace. He was saying something about the roof again but it was hard to understand through the blood pumping jungle beats in your ears. 

You kept nodding and humming in agreement, though you couldn’t quite process the words. As you followed him, the anticipation gnawed at you, every step closer tightening the knot in your stomach. You knew he was taking you home, well, he was taking you to his house, and you went too slow for the amount of times that you dreamed to step over his doorstep. Joel's house was small and dimly lit, for some reason it was exactly how you imagined it: homey in spite of the circumstances. Joel took off his jacket silently, the faint smell of cedar and something musky filled the air, mingling with his earthy scent. He turned to face you, those piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“You gonna give me a massage wearing this?” He pointed at the warm coat you put on in a hurry as you were leaving the bar. Your fingers stumbled over each other as you tried to open the buttons of the damn thing. You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks under his scrutiny.

Your fingers touched as you gave him your coat, but there was no electricity, his fingers were rough and scratched your skin, your palm became sweaty and you hurried to wipe it on your jeans when he didn’t look.

“Let’s go, bedroom’s upstairs,” his voice was low and calm, somehow its vibrations helped you settle, grounded you. You gave him a quick smile and followed his broad figure. Every stair squeaked under his heavy footsteps, you looked like a mouse that was chasing a bear. Willingly. The bedroom door creaked open to reveal a space just as humble as the rest of the house. A couple of drawings in handmade frames, a chair with a pair of pants on it, and the bed. Your eyes were glued to it. The bed and its tangled sheets seemed inviting, though a wave of nerves prickled your spine. ‘You’re here to give him a massage, don’t get ahead of yourself’ you thought, teeth sinking in your lower lip. You weren’t too young or naive to think that a massage was all this night would end with, but such a quick change of heart in Joel made you doubt your every breath. 

When you brought your eyes back to the man you saw him studying you, you could swear a nervous tick clenched his jaw but you didn’t let yourself ponder on it.

“I’m gonna rip the bandaid off and say it as it is, okay, pretty girl?”

Your breath hitched. Joel stepped closer, his eyes steadily holding yours. You nodded, not trusting your voice. His gaze was intense, making your heart hammer loudly enough to be heard.

"Massage ain’t exactly the thing I took ya here for,” Joel admitted, eyes dark, voice raw with honesty. “If you catch my drift.”

“I…” You cleared your throat, you wanted to look confident, or at least not scared. You’ve wanted to get into this man’s bed for months now, imagined how and when and what, and now that it happens you can barely squeeze out a, “yeah, of course I do.”

Joel smiled, one of his hands flying to cup your jaw as he brought his lips closer to yours and you closed your eyes in anticipation of his soft skin on yours. “Good girl,” the remnants of his wet breath stained your lips.

As quickly as he came at you, he left. His pace was languid when he worked on taking off his jeans, leaving himself in a ridiculous attire of a flannel shirt, a t-shirt underneath and simple cotton boxers.

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle at the sight. His eyes snagged on your smile, sharpening with mischief. Joel raised an eyebrow, catching your amusement. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” your cheeks felt extra hot and you were glad for the poor lighting in the bedroom. “Lay on your back, please. As I said before, I’d like to help you relax.”

Joel held your gaze for a hot minute, but then silently followed your order. “I’d maybe argue any other day, but not now, sweetheart. Today I’ll take all the care I can get,” he smiled, but you missed the warm gesture. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, long curls that he had left to grow splayed around the back of his head. You were too focused, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt and the years of safer life that he was hiding underneath had grown out brushing against the fabric. You moved your fingers lightly over his chest, watching his eyes flutter closed.

His hands blindly found yours, hardened blisters of his palms scraped your soft skin, and he pushed your hands lower, somewhere you didn’t dare look for too long.

“Don’t be shy, babygirl,” he muttered with his eyes still closed. You let him guide you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the rigidity slowly melting away under your touch. 

You remembered him talking about ripping a bandage off, so you followed his philosophy, hooking your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tugging the material down. As the cool air grazed his skin, he released a slow, shuddering breath. It felt like something forced you to lift your head up, you met his gaze and saw a flicker of softness and gratefulness in his eyes.

“This okay?” You whispered, hands already exploring the places your eyes were too shy to inspect.

“More than,” Joel’s voice was calm, breathing barely indicating the intimate setting you were in. His eyes fell shut again and a part of you thought that was only to give you more freedom, save you from his scrutiny. You noticed the slight hitch in his breath with each new touch, his body responding to your feathery strokes.

When your fingertips grazed the hot skin covered in coarse hair you couldn’t help but look. Even in half darkness it was easy to see that Joel was well-endowed and eager. His cock laid on the pillow of his pubic hair, the shaft slightly curved. Pink tip was glistening with precum and you wondered if you got him excited or the promise of future pleasure. Your left hand was resting on his hip when as if hypnotized you traced your index finger from his tip to where his base was covered in sparse graying curls.

Joel’s cock jumped to attention, twitching under your light touch, prompting you to close your fist around it which you immediately did. With the first tug on the velvety soft skin both of you released a moan.

“Spit on it, baby, make it wet,” Joel’s voice was relaxed, as if you put your hand on a muscle that was aching for days and relieved the pain.

Your short nails dug into his hip when you started contemplating how to do it. You weren’t completely innocent, far from it, but somehow you could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times you needed to spit during sex. Deciding against spitting in your own palm, you took a different position, scooting lower down the bed and hunching over Joel’s waiting cock. The moment the smell of his skin and sweat hit your nose it was like you were intoxicated. Your lips closed around his flushed tip, tongue diving to get more of his taste. Both of your hands settled on his hips, either to hold him down or find balance. You abandoned the idea of spitting, the thought of not having his cock in your mouth almost pained you. It was like this was the grand finale of your romantic labor. Here, on your knees between the legs of a man who was holding you at arm's length for the longest time. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. Taking care of him, even in this basic, primal way, felt like taking care of yourself.

Your wet mouth slid further down, the thick shaft of Joel’s cock stretching your lips. It took you a moment to realize Joel’s hands were in your hair. For a moment you thought he wanted you to stop, you even started to lift off, but the firm pressure of his hand on your head made it clear that he wasn’t against this turn of events. You let yourself build up to a comfortable taste, exploring each centimeter of his skin in your mouth, the way a couple of veins bulged under your tongue, the ridge of the head pushing further in your throat. You didn’t hurry and neither did he. You savored the slow rhythm of push and pull, letting him go deeper with every thrust.

One of his hands left your head and you raised your eyes to Joel’s face, mouth still very occupied with his cock. He must have felt it, because he barely lifted his head off the pillow, stray curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and you could swear you saw him wink at you before he laid his head back, using the freed hand to tuck away long strands of hair behind his ear.

The picture of this man, always so rough and guarded, finally relaxing under your touch and shedding the years of hostility made you drunker than any booze Tommy could’ve offered. Your movements became faster, saliva dripping down his cock and making it glisten. You felt Joel’s hips tense under your palms and you didn’t even need to hear the shameless moans drowned by your excitement and the sloppy wet sounds to know he was close.

“Doin’ good for me, baby, doin’ real good,” he groaned as you felt the tip of his cock punch the back of your throat repeatedly. Your eyes watered, but you admitted to yourself that you would rather suffocate and die than let the cock of this man out of your mouth. Your jaw was aching, the pleasurable pain that said how good of a job you did. 

The shaft under your tongue felt even harder, a loaded gun pressing on your tongue and you couldn’t wait for it to shoot.

Both of Joel’s hands returned to your head pressing you into his skin so hard that little hairs tickled your nose and your vision started to go blurry.

His load was salty and thick, you felt it slide down your throat like lava, burning you from the inside. Barely catching your breath you sat straight, watching closely how Joel’s chest rose and fell following his erratic breathing. There was an indecent amount of wetness gathered in the gusset of your panties and by the look on Joel’s face you knew you’d have to handle it yourself.

“Feeling good?” Your voice sounded weird, hoarse and raspy in the gritty silence of the room.

“You’re really good at massage, darlin’, I’m more relaxed than the day I was born,” Joel held his gaze on you, using his shoulder to scratch the underside of his jaw. You took it as your key to leave, after all, you never agreed to anything more.

Joel’s voice stopped you with one foot over the doorstep.

“Maybe I could return the favor some time.”

#iamasaddie fic #joel miller x reader #Joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you

[ladylannisterxo]

... the one where spence takes an interest

Pairings; Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Words; 0.6k

Warnings; one use of Y/N but this was written back before I stopped using it lol but other than that, none, just fluff!

Summary; {requested} "Not to pester you, I had this thought and wanted to share is all, but could you imagine talking to Spencer about something you're really excited about (like a movie/tv show/game or something) and the next day he starts talking to you in length about it, and it turns out he went home that night and read/watched everything he could on the subject."

A/N; goodness, I wrote this years ago on another blog and since I've been rewatching Criminal Minds, I figured I'd go ahead and post it again (cause why not?)... the one and only thing I ever wrote for Dr. Spencer Reid ajdhsakdshak

{ masterlist }

You didn't plan this. Really, you didn't. But you know how it goes when you start binging a new tv series: just one more episode... and then before you know it, it's 2:00am.

Now you're sitting in the bullpen. It's 8:00am and you're constantly rubbing at your tired eyes and chugging coffee like your life depends on it.

And Spencer is wearing a curious expression, already extrapolating possibilities as to what could have kept you awake last night.

But he doesn't mention it. Not when the team is discussing the new case, not even on the jet en route to your destination. He waits until it's just you and him, paired off to go talk to the medical examiner about the latest victim.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little tired."

He smiles warmly, offering you an amused glance before fixing his eyes back on the road. "I gathered. What kept you up?"

"You know, I just..."

But then you realize you don't want to tell him, not really. To you, staying up super late to watch a tv show seems embarrassing when compared to how he most likely spent his night.

You imagine that he read around six books, most of which were probably in a language you didn't understand. Or maybe he called his mom to check in with her. Or maybe he had nightmares himself and so he thinks that's exactly what happened with you...

Any scenario you think of infinitely sounds better than oh, you know, I just stayed up super late watching some trashy guilty pleasure tv show because I have no self control.

"Nothing really," you settle on, "it's dumb."

"Try me."

So you cave, mostly because you're too tired to fight. He listens intently as you tell him about the new show you found, how it's completely ridiculous but it allows you to step out of your life for a bit and relax.

He doesn't say much, just nods along as you talk and before you know it, you've arrived at your destination and it's back to work.

Spencer actually doesn't mention your conversation again for the remainder of the case and finally, the unsub is in custody and the team is back home to enjoy a nice, long weekend.

You don't see or hear from Spencer during this time but first thing Monday morning, he's greeting you as you step off the elevator with a cup of coffee and a bright smile.

... and then he tells you he spent the weekend watching the first season of the show you mentioned and to his surprise, he really enjoyed it.

To say you're confused is an understatement but you listen as he discusses every character and what he thinks of the current story arc.

"Spencer," you laugh, resting your hand on his arm and halting his speech. "Not that I'm not thrilled to talk about this but I really wasn't expecting you to go home and watch an entire season of a show just because I mentioned it."

He smiles sheepishly, eyes lingering on where your hand still rests on his arm.

"You were really excited about it though."

"And?"

"And it seemed important to you... so it's important to me."

A smile pulls itself across your face and you open your mouth to respond when you're both interrupted by Garcia letting you know there's another case.

"Hold that thought," you inquire.

"It's impossible for me to forget it."

And just like that, you're discussing trashy tv with Dr. Spencer Reid during any downtime that you're granted. You gush about your favorite character and he theorizes future story arcs while simultaneously pointing out behavioral inaccuracies.

"People do not speak like that in that kind of situation, Y/N."

"It's tv, Spence, it's supposed to be unrealistic. That's what makes it fun."

+ Bonus: if it's a series that is currently airing, you both come into the office the next morning and excitedly discuss every single thing that happened and then theorize on what could possibly happen next.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #writing by 's'

[alotofpockets]

Just like Mama | Alexia Putellas x Reader

Where your daughter wants to be just like her mama

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

-----

“Mama scored!” Your daughter Talia jumped up from the couch and ran a celebratory lap around the coffee table, ending her lap in your arms. 

“Yes she did! Did you see that she did your celebration, Carinyo?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Mama scored for me.” You kiss her on her cheek. “She always does.” Talia cuddles back into your side, as the match plays on.

Since Talia had started pre-school you weren’t able to go see her Mama play as often as you used to. You went to all the home games, but away games that involve travelling, were less practical now that your baby was growing. Despite not always being able to go watch your wife’s matches live, you and Talia never missed a match. 

Alexia had been nervous about not being related to your daughter by blood, when you were still pregnant, but while Talia was biologically yours, she was a carbon copy of your wife. They shared the same passion for football, the same big heart, the same shyness, and the characteristics were uncanny. 

“Mommy?” You hear the sadness laced into your daughter’s voice, and are fast to her side. “What’s wrong, Carinyo?” With big sad eyes she tells you that she misses her Mama. “I miss her too. Do you know what I like to do when I miss Mama?” Your four year old shakes her head, but you could tell in her eyes that you had piqued her interest. 

You grab your phone out of your pocket. “I like to look at pictures of Mama, and think about the memories I have from those moments. Would you like to give it a try?” You took Talia crawling into your lap as a yes and got the first picture ready on your phone.

“Hey, we have that one at home!” Talia instantly recognised the Ballon d’Or trophy that sat on the shelves of your home office. “Yeah, that’s right. Mama won two of these trophies, they’re called Ballon d’Or’s. This was the first time she won it, and it means that she was the best footballer that season.” Talia nodded with a content smile, “Mama is the best.”

“Do you know who that is, Carinyo?” Talia observes the next image. Alexia holding a baby in her arms. “Is that me, Mommy?” You nod with a smile on your face. “It is! That’s the day that Mama and I got to bring you home from the hospital for the first time.” The memory brings a smile to your face. Bringing Talia home for the first time had been both scary and amazing. It was your and Alexia’s first time being alone with Talia, no more doctors around to help you as the first time parents that you were. But also the moment the reality of your family expanding started to feel real. No longer just the two of you at home, but now a family of three.

“This one isn’t from too long ago. Remember Mama’s birthday?” Talia thought for a moment before exclaiming, “We had cake!” You chuckle at the part of the day she remembered, but she wasn’t wrong. “That’s right, we did have cake.”

The next picture on your phone brings an instant smile to your face, it’s an image of your wife posing on a bridge over the canals of Amsterdam. “This is when I took Mama on a little weekend trip to Amsterdam. It was a very special trip, do you know why?” Talia shakes her head. “Why Mommy?” You place a loving kiss onto her head. “I’ll tell you why, Carinyo. I told Mama we were going to have a baby on this trip, that we were pregnant with you.” Talia seems deep in thought for a moment. “Mommy, have I been to Amsterdam?” 

“Well only when you were still a tiny baby growing in my tummy.” With a determined look she turned your way. “Can we go now that I’m a big girl?” 

You loved your little girl with all your heart, and yes to you she would always be your little girl, no matter how often she would say she’s a big girl now. “Yeah, Carinyo, I think we can take a little trip as a family when Mama has some time off next.” Content with that answer, Talia requested the next picture.

“In this one Mama had just won the World Cup, and that’s you celebrating with her on the field.” Talia was too young to remember the moment, but it would forever be one you’d hold close to your heart. Your wife accomplished something incredible and for the first time she was able to celebrate a trophy with her daughter. 

While your mind went back to 2023 and the moment the final whistle blew, watching the girls win, your daughter’s mind was focussed on something else. “Mama had pink hair.” You remember Ale coming home from running errands with her hair dyed a bright pink a few days before leaving for the World Cup. To say you were surprised was an understatement, sure Alexia dyed her hair every now and then, but usually they had been neutral colours. You loved her with any hair colour though, even the pink looked amazing on her.

“Can I have pink hair like Mama, please?” You were hesitant at first, but the many pleas that followed after with the best puppy dog eyes Talia could manage, you caved. “Alright, why not. Let’s surprise Mama with it.” 

Talia was overjoyed with her new hair, and walked around saying “Just like Mama.” every time she saw herself in a reflection. 

Clad in her FC Barcelona kit, you took her to pick up your wife. The moment she saw Ale she ran towards her Mama. First she ran in for a hug, cause she missed her so much, but after she stepped back and proudly showed off her hair. “Look Mama, just like you!” Alexia took in the look, and smiled at her daughter, “Just like Mama, I like it. You look very pretty.” 

She picked up Talia and walked to your side. “Surprising me like I surprised you before the World Cup?” She smirked.

You raise your hand in surrender, “It was all her idea, I just provided the hair dye.” She pecked your lips and hugged you with Talia still in her arms. “Let’s go home. I’ve missed cuddling with my favourite girls.”

----- 💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barca women #fcbfemeni #fcb femení #espwnt #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader

[ericshoney]

Protective ~ Sturniolo triplets

You had thought that your Saturday was going to be a dull one. Not having any plans, you thought to just chill, game and probably watch movies all day. That was until Matt had messaged you asking if you wanted to spend the day with him, Chris and Nick. You agreed and said you'd head to their place soon.

As it was quite hot out, you slipped on a pair of light blue denim shorts, along with a white crop top and your trainers. You were happy with your outfit as you knew it wasn't only just simple and stylish, but would keep you cool too.

You then walked to the triplets place, which was luckily around the corner from your apartment. When you arrived, you walked in as the door was already unlocked waiting your arrival.

"Hey guys!" You greeted as you saw the trio sat on the sofa waiting for you, their heads buried in their phones.

"Hey, looking good!" Chris responded first.

"Thank you." You replied with a smile.

"Where are we going?" You then asked, as the brothers pulled away from their phones.

"We thought about the mall." Matt said, making you nod.

"Alright let's go!" Nick exclaimed.

You laughed at his sudden excitement as you headed to the car. You got in the back with Nick, as he started showing you some random TikToks as Matt drove and Chris played some music.

When you all arrived, you walked in seeing it wasn't too busy. You walked in the middle of Matt and Nick, Chris on Matt's left.

"Where to first?" Nick questioned.

"There!" You exclaimed, pointing to a store that had a sale on.

You headed off a bit before the guys, starting to look around at everything. Your eyes landed on some cool shirts that were half price.

"Hey beautiful~"

You looked over and saw a random guy standing next to you. You looked around and saw it was only you and him.

"Uh hey." You mumbled.

"That's a cool shirt, would look good on you." He said.

You remained silent, hoping if you ignored him, he'd leave, but he wasn't having it.

"How about I get your number, I'll buy you that shirt and take you on a date." He carried on.

"Who?" Nick called, suddenly appearing, along with Chris and Matt.

"Who...what?" The stranger questioned.

"Who the fuck are you." Nick replied.

"Just asking a pretty girl out, none of your business." He responded.

"She's not interested." Matt said, as Chris wrapped his arm around your shoulder, knowing you were uncomfortable.

"So fuck off." Nick said, waving his hands to send the stranger away.

The guy scoffed and walked off, as you sighed in relief.

"What a weirdo." Matt mumbled.

"You okay?" Chris asked softly.

"Yeah, thanks for showing up suddenly." You answered, giving the three a smile.

"Of course." Nick said, as Matt and Chris nodded.

You four then looked around all getting some stuff you liked, before heading to grab some food. As you headed to the food court, you noticed it was really busy. The guys noticed how uncomfortable you suddenly felt with so many people around, as they shared a look, all suddenly thinking the same thing.

"Drive thru." They said at the same time.

You all then headed back to the car, Chris' arm still wrapped around your shoulder in comfort as Nick and Matt walked in front of you.

After arriving back at the car, the four of you settled on McDonalds, Matt driving there and going through the drive thru as Nick ordered for all of you.

"You wanna head back to our place?" Matt suggested, looking back at you.

"Yeah, I don't want to deal with anymore strangers." You said with a small giggle.

"That I can agree on." Matt replied.

"That guy was a total creep though." Chris said.

"Totally. His approach was all wrong." Nick agreed.

"Maybe next time, wear jeans." Matt said jokingly.

"Whatever." You grumbled, making the boys laugh.

"But in all seriousness, we're here to save you from the creeps, the heartbreaks and the fashion disasters." Nick said.

"Your all just protective, but I love you all for it." You responded.

The three smiled as you headed on home, happy you had them by your side.

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #oneshot #sturniolo triplets oneshot #sturniolo triplets fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #platonic #platonic relationships #fluff #protective #supportive

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 18

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 9508

Ao3 Link

Summary: Old friends reconnect, Buggy shows off his work, and you feel time moving by too fast. How can you enjoy the day when your world is falling apart?

Author's Note: This is the first chapter where I still think a lot of you will hate it, but I don't care as much because I'm super proud of it, lol. Although I realllyyy hope you like it!!! It's a rollercoaster 😵 (BIG DRAMA & EMOTIONS WARNING)

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Flashbacks from Reader's Past | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | (These symbols will bracket sections to denote the POV shift)

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Biting, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-Pulling, Cunnilingus, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“You know, I can’t help but be curious,” Shanks wondered aloud, taking a sip of black coffee. He smirked at you from the newly added table on the balcony, the single round one wasn't nearly large enough for the appetites, or the sheer space that all these pirates demanded. 

“What’s that they say about cats,” Crocodile grumbled, tossing a napkin onto his empty plate before snagging the paper from Mihawk to flatten out on the table. He stared down at the page, giving the air of not caring whether the red headed guest lived or died, let alone replied.

Buggy floated his hand toward you from the second table. His body was so close to his old friend, but his smile was on you while he kept feeding you bits of fruit as he had all morning, his thumb rubbing over your lips when sweet juice would spill. 

Crocodile and Mihawk said nothing about it. 

But Shanks had too much to say.

“It just seems silly to me,” he continued, those brown eyes holding you in place, “that Miss Mystery Girl is keeping secrets from her lovers. Especially since they’ll be forced out of you after the party anyway. Why not share before then?”

“Leave her alone, shitbrain,” Buggy ordered, but there was no real bite in his voice. 

Your mouth went dry, the Emperor’s prodding words had twisted at your growing anxiety, even dipped in that friendly charm.

He’s right. It’ll be worse if I wait.

“Aren’t all the party guests your friends, Y/N? Do they know your little secret?”

“I think that’s enough curiosity for the day, Shanks,” Mihawk drawled as he rested a hand on the hook that had started scraping across the table.

“No worries,” Shanks winked, letting out a relaxed sigh as he stretched his arm toward the morning sun. “Your sweet, little bunny is just so darn interesting.”

“And you’re so darn annoying,” Buggy mocked, earning a playful smile from Shanks’ lips when he met those pretty, brown eyes.

“Alright, President,” Crocodile cut in while the red haired pirate leaned his face closer to your clown. Buggy perked up at the title of his position as their figurehead, his eyes a bit wide as he looked away from Shanks’ gaze. The dreamy look on his old friend’s face didn’t fade when Crocodile went on. “I’d like for us to sit in on your rehearsal this evening. Party’s in two days, we need to know what to expect.”

“Uh, sure, boss,” Buggy straightened up. You smiled to yourself as you caught his gloved fingers tapping and walking up and down his own thigh. “Let’s do dinner and a show!”

“Lovely,” Mihawk said dryly, although his eyes lingered on Buggy longer than usual before looking toward you. “I’m sure our clown will be busy preparing. Why don’t you all join me for a walk?”

“Got your garden set up yet?”

“Not at all,” Mihawk sighed at Shanks’ question, looking up at Crocodile after the larger man had huffed a laugh.

“Too busy building a cat palace, and terrorizing your other pets?”

“I have many fulfilling hobbies,” Mihawk smirked back, before narrowing his eyes at the rest of you. You and Buggy looked away quickly, while Shanks beamed at them. 

“Let’s have a tour then! I’d love to go play in the dirt,” Shanks laughed, his wicked eyes burning into you.

“Miss Y/N and I have some work to take care of,” Crocodile ordered, resting his arm across the back of your chair. If these men were slightly less terrifying, you might have laughed at their antics.

Shanks laughed for you, a low chuckle that sent shivers over your skin, still tingling after Mihawk led him away.

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

Shanks whistled softly, a comforting tune to keep his steps light as he followed his golden eyed friend outside this castle disguised as a circus tent.

That thought made his steps light.

Mihawk stayed silent, not a hint of lightness in his gait, except for his predator’s grace. He avoided glancing toward the source of that whistled tune he’d been humming lately until they were hidden away in the empty, walled garden, free from prying eyes.

“What exactly are you doing here, Red Hair?”

Shanks ignored the hidden threat under Mihawk’s bored voice as he chose one of the empty beds to inspect. Fisting into the soil, he let the dirt slip through his fingers, taking in the scent. 

“Think you’ll be here long enough for grapes,” Shanks rasped, standing as he tilted his head toward the other man. He wiped his hand on his thigh, huffing a laugh when Mihawk frowned at the stain of dirt on his pants. “You never change, old friend. Wanna hose me down before we go back inside? I’d hate to dirty up your shiny, new dollhouse.”

Shanks was one of the only people in the world that could notice the shift in Mihawk’s expression, his face almost sinking deeper into that lazy mask.

“You’ll never match me with cutting words, Shanks, just like you’ll never best me with a sword,” he reasoned, an unexpected tightness in his chest that he discarded, letting his body be nothing but air in this charged moment. “I’d rather not stand here all–”

“Come on, you ol’ son of a gun,” Shanks laughed, stepping across an invisible line of comfort Mihawk had drawn, touching his shoulder. “Don’t be a sourpuss. I told you I could use a little vacation, and I–”

“And you saw Buggy’s poster,” Mihawk noted, brushing that dirty hand away to wipe the evidence off of his coat. 

“You all looked real cute,” Shanks breathed, his eyes leaving heat as he dragged them down Mihawk’s skin. His lips parted into a cocky smile as he admired the column of Mihawk’s throat, and that chest covered in so many pretty scars. He smirked as he searched for some of his own making. 

“So that’s all you’re here for, then,” Mihawk asked, slipping into stillness under Shanks' hungry gaze. “Just drinking, and fucking as usual? Or just to steal our clown away?”

His hand flexed just slightly. He hadn’t meant to say those words quite like that. And the shadow that grew across Shanks’ face confirmed that he should have reined that question in. 

“Didn’t you used to call him my clown,” Shanks countered, gesturing to himself as he stepped even closer. “You know, back when you would give me shit for talking about him?”

“I…”

“Dracule Mihawk is speechless,” Shanks laughed, the sound jarring compared to the way laughter normally poured out of him. He stepped away, but only to pace in front of the swordsman, spitting words like daggers at his feet. “Always got something to say, except for now, huh? You’ve said so many things. Ooh, how about when you said I only liked my pathetic clown because of his powers, and that I’d be better off with a pretty, blue dildo? That’s definitely in my top ten. Or what about–”

“I’m sorry.”

Mihawk choked on those words, but he found himself in stillness for a different reason. A different danger.

Shanks stared, his mouth held open as if waiting to catch whatever word had been left forgotten from the shock. 

“What,” he growled, watching those glittering eyes for any hint of a feint.

“I’m sorry,” Mihawk confessed again, realizing that it was true. “I didn’t plan on–”

“Didn’t plan on fucking your best friend’s ex,” Shanks fumed, voice echoing a bit in the walled garden. “Keeping my clown as a toy? Have you used him as a fucking dildo yet, or are you still pretending to care about anyone besides your fucking cats?”

Mihawk cringed, taking each blow like a sword across his flesh. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this affected by words. 

Not words. 

Guilt. 

“I’m–”

“So how’d it happen then, old friend,” Shanks dared, anger still radiating off his skin, the air getting a little harder to breathe. “If you didn’t plan on it, did you just run around with your cock out until it landed in something?”

Mihawk tried to turn his surprised laugh into a cough, but Shanks’ eyes went manic at the sound.

“Who knew all my stoic friend needed to make him laugh was to fucking betray me. I can’t believe I’m surprised.”

“Shanks, wait–”

“Fuck off,” Shanks warned as he dodged Mihawk’s grasping hand, walking toward the exit. 

“Crocodile was going to kill him,” Mihawk called, hoping his friend would stop moving since he couldn’t seem to start. Shanks slowed, stopping to look over his shoulder, silent and waiting. “I suggested we keep him alive as our figurehead. I knew how you… I wouldn’t let him die.”

They faced off as they had countless times before, taking in every detail, every movement the other made. Shanks caught what looked like pain in those golden eyes, and his jaw clenched at the sight.

“That’s a pretty low bar for a friendship.”

After a heavy pause, Mihawk lowered his predator’s eyes, nodding as he looked toward Shanks’ feet. The swordsman was truly speechless now, nothing coming through until he braved looking back up when his friend broke the silence. 

“Are you gonna let me take him?”

“Of course,” he breathed, watching Shanks build up his walls again.

“What about Crocodile,” Shanks questioned. His lungs burned from it all, but his breathing slowed, still not sure what to feel about Mihawk’s words, about the emotion in those emotionless eyes. 

“He will. We promised Y/N,” Mihawk rasped. Shanks furrowed his brows, about to ask for more, so he continued. “She doesn’t want us to force him to stay if he wants to go, and we’ll honor that.”

Shanks tilted his head back, a heavy sigh forced out of him. Mihawk tried again, but he knew that none of the words that flew through his mind would help this moment. This guilt. 

“So it’s up to Buggy,” Shanks whispered before walking away, leaving Mihawk with his empty dirt. 

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

“Want me to drain the life out of him,” Crocodile grumbled as he opened the door to the lounge. True laughter let your lips now, and you took in a deep breath as you hugged his waist. The pleased hum that rumbled through him felt almost too comforting as he brushed your hair from your face. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Crocodile’s desk was comically large, and you wondered if he could hide a person in the bottom drawer. He stole your focus again, offering you a seat on his lap.

Work…

It was ridiculous how eager you were, how much you craved his attention. 

“Top drawer, darlin,” he rasped, not reaching down to meet your lips as you leaned into him. 

“Okay,” you blinked, stuck for a moment before you obeyed. The heavy wood slid open, revealing your notebook with all of your contacts, and their details. Your blood chilled when you set it on the desk, his voice taking too long to question you, leaving you in the discomfort.

“Do these people know your secret?”

Your body slumped at his question, his voice not cold or angry, but still not the way you wanted him to talk to you.

He’s never going to talk to me that way again. It’s over.

Heat built up in your throat as the grief and fear you’d been ignoring all this time crashed over you. 

“Hey,” he soothed, guiding your weak body to sit on the desk, your feet dangling between his legs as he studied you. The back of his golden hook lifted your chin. That hook you knew you should still be afraid of, but instead made you sigh, savoring its cool touch. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, babydoll,” he urged, and his sweetness brought a tiny choked sob from your throat. Then the sweetness was replaced with a steady calm, a voice that could tip either way. “I promised you that you could tell us after, but I need your word, Y/N. Give me your word that your secret won’t cause any problems at the party. If you can’t do that–”

“I’ll tell you,” you gave in, tears already racing down your cheeks, sobs too heavy to swallow were ripped from you until he pulled you to him.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl,” Crocodile whispered, only making your cries more painful. He held you as you ruined his silk vest, falling to pieces in his arms.

“I don’t want it to be over,” you finally managed, hating yourself for crying, for thinking you could have this. You met his eyes, wanting to shrivel up, and disappear from the concern and questions they held. “Can I… can I please have one more day?”

His pause felt like more weight tied to your limbs, dragging you under.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, carrying you to the couch to stroke your hair, and call you pretty things while you tried to stuff all those tears back inside. 

~~~~~~

Crocodile stayed with you, the bandage on his palm tickling your skin as he left soothing touches on your arms and back while you cleaned yourself up. 

“How did you get hurt,” you choked, searching for anything that would get your mind off of it. “I thought you couldn’t…”

Regretting the question, you cowered under that frightening stare through the mirror. 

“I have a secret too,” he rasped, his breath slowing as he stared through you. “Can I trust you, sweetheart? Since you’re sharing yours…”

“I—” you started, body humming, tingling with fear and something else from the intensity in that deep voice. “I promise. I’ll keep your secret.”

Crocodile leaned over you, enveloping you to turn on the faucet. 

“Try to punch my hand, sweetheart.”

Questions filled you, but you obeyed, fascinated at the sight of his flesh turning to sand to avoid the blow. He reached lower, letting water rush over his fingers, coating the back of his hand. 

“Again.”

No hesitation as you followed his addictive voice, you gasped as your fist connected with the center of his palm, punching straight into the center of the bandage. 

“What—“

He went to his knees, turning you to face him, gripping your hand in his.

“Sand doesn’t flow when it’s wet,” he whispered, the dangers of what he was sharing sending chills through you. “I can’t protect you as well when liquid touches my skin. Remember that, sweetheart, but never speak of it.”

“Never,” you vowed, wanting to cry again from his trust in you. “I promise, daddy.”

~~~~~~

Your attempts to clean your grief away didn’t matter. Every other lover clocked the evidence in your eyes when lunch rolled around.

“Pretty star, you okay, baby?”

“I’ll be okay,” you probably lied, wondering if Crocodile would punish you if it never came true. Buggy wrapped his arms around you, trapping you in place as you caught Shanks’ gaze behind him. The crease between his brows could have been for anything, and you didn’t have the energy to guess what he was thinking.

“What happened,” Mihawk asked, an unfamiliar strain in that liquid voice as he sat you down beside him. He held your face, studying you so intensely it felt like your skin would go raw. 

“Y/N’s going to tell us her secret tomorrow instead of after the party, but we can discuss that in the morning,” Crocodile ordered as leaned back to blow smoke away from the group. “Let’s enjoy the day, the next few are bound to be hectic.”

Avoiding so many eyes ruined any appetite you might have had, but you did accept a few more pieces of fruit from your clown, his eyes going soft when you smiled.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

“How the fuck am I supposed to work like this,” Buggy snapped to no one in particular, pacing as he reviewed his plans, needing everything to be perfect. 

All he could think about were Y/N’s red eyes.

And before he’d seen her like that, all he could think about was that stupid red hair. 

He checked every light, barked at every musician until they were all in tune, and snapped at the kitchen staff to coordinate dinner with the show. The clown went over every single detail until a light sheen of sweat coated his skin, making his greasepaint too shiny under the stage lights. 

Now and then, Buggy would remember that this wasn’t just a show. This was it. 

His one chance to prove that he wasn’t a worthless piece of shit.

“Which idiot left this fucking table here,” he spat, focusing on anything else. Anything but the way his pretty star had seen him bleeding on the floor, useless to protect her. Anything but the tears she must have cried today. Anything but that thing he refused to think about.

Anything but that stupid red hair.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Shanks purred, lounging on a loveseat while he watched you twirl for Mihawk, still deciding what you should wear. “I think I’m–”

“An asshole,” you quipped, trying not to gloat as Crocodile’s pleased laughter floated through the suite. Mihawk just cleared his throat, fetching another dress. 

“Jealous,” Shanks confessed, eyes shining with amusement even as his voice went serious. “I’ve been a jealous brat, and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out for a long moment. The air was thick with the silence of the other men in the room. 

“A jealous brat, and an asshole,” you finally teased, the air shifting again as if time had reset itself. “Don’t forget that part.”

A shocked, yet playful grin hit his parted lips, then his eyes trailed down your body until you shivered. It hadn’t felt strange to stand there in lingerie until this moment, until the subtle bite he gave to his bottom lip before meeting your eyes again. 

“How could I forget, when I’ve got such a sweet little bunny to remind me?”

“Not yours,” Crocodile warned. 

“Of course,” Shanks conceded with a nod toward the larger man, though he never stopped watching you. 

Mihawk kissed your shoulder while he pulled you into another dress, and a bit of tension returned to your body as his silence continued. The instinctual fear that silence meant someone was mad at you made your stomach flip, but you couldn’t handle any more stress at the moment, so you shoved yet another feeling as far away as you could. 

You were grateful that his hands still touched you, even though his wicked voice was absent.

Shanks hopped up from the couch, his informal attire switched out for slightly less informal attire that suited him well. Darker fabrics, with no trace of sand, made his skin gleam as he sauntered over to you. He took your hand gently, leaning down as he gave you that disarming smile you’d seen when he first walked into your world.  

“Think you can forgive this jealous, bratty, asshole, Miss Y/N?,” he charmed, the force of it hitting you like a lovely ton of bricks. 

“Maybe,” you managed, unable to hold onto that bite in your voice. 

“I’ll take maybe,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before Crocodile pulled your hand away. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he prodded before leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Let’s go see our clown.”

~~~~~~

“What do you think, rabbit,” Mihawk checked in, pulling your eyes from the stage. “Will those boring, wealthy clients of yours enjoy this little show?”

Buggy was tossing daggers at his empty wheel. There was no poor soul strapped on for a spin, so Buggy called out parts of the Marine’s symbol that was freshly painted across the wood, landing every shot. Performers and dancers took turns on the small stage, music and lights bringing everything to life.

You knew Buggy was nervous, but as soon as the spotlight touched him, he was in another world. 

Your shining star. 

He led the show before and during the lavish meal, until it would be time for him to hand over the reins, time to drain as many berries as possible from the guests. His speech was the perfect amount of charming and frightening that any of those guests would be craving for their little adventure, their little holiday getaway. 

Crocodile grumbled when Buggy urged him and Mihawk to stand from their place at the long, head table beside you, shaking his head when the clown announced them as his “Executives.”

“And let’s give a round of applause for our Chief Financial Officer, the stunning and talented, Miss Y/N!”

Choking on a sip of wine, you caught Buggy’s exaggerated wink, your coughs turning to laughs as Mihawk pulled you to stand. You smiled at empty tables, pride followed by emptiness when you remembered your promise for tomorrow. 

“Sorry we didn’t have time to find a promotion gift for you, sweetheart,” Crocodile rasped as he kissed your cheek. 

“I have some ideas,” Mihawk purred, his breath teasing along your ear after he kissed your other cheek.

“Are you serious,” you laughed, your body tingling as Buggy’s head flew toward you, stealing a kiss. “I don’t need anything, this is…”

Shanks interrupted your almost tears, lifting his glass up with a shout.

“To Y/N! Buggy, can the band stick around for a bit? Your C.F.O. deserves a party!”

Buggy obeyed without a thought, and soon the air was filled with joyful music, your body starting to sway.

“May I have the first dance,” Shanks grinned, stepping around Mihawk to offer you his hand.

You could almost feel it as the bodies around you went stiff. 

“I’m a terrible dancer,” you said softly, though you couldn’t stop swaying.

“Who cares,” the Emperor laughed, the infectious sound pulling you in. “Let’s go see how much fun we can have with three hands, and three left feet.”

Your hand was in his before you realized you’d moved, and he whisked you away. No one stopped you, and soon you were giggling too much to think about why they would.

“Are you this bad too, or are you just trying to make me feel better about myself?”

“You’ll have to keep dancing to find out,” he teased before grabbing your waist, pressing his hips against you. “Maybe we just need a different dance.”

Already breathless, you stopped breathing completely when he stared down at you, pressing his hand into your lower back. You swore you could feel his pulse against your skin as you swayed together.

“I love how happy he is,” Shanks whispered, guiding you closer to the stage, the music louder with every inch. “That’s your doing, isn’t it, bunny?”

Shanks’ eyes flicked back to you from over your shoulder, and he rotated your bodies so you could look for yourself. You’d already seen Buggy laying across the table in front of Crocodile and Mihawk, alternating between watching and cheering you on, and animatedly talking to his “Executives” about the show. Now you noticed Mihawk massaging Buggy’s disconnected hand the way he always does for you when you’re sitting beside him. A tentative warmth surged through your chest, even though Mihawk dropped Buggy’s hand when he caught you looking.

“You’re running from something, aren’t you?”

The heat in his almost silent voice, and the way he guided your body against his confused the icy fear that those words shot through you. You gasped, almost moaning when he flipped you around, his knees bent a bit as he rubbed against you from behind. His fingers dug into your hip with such strength and control that your body ached to feel them inside you right there on the dancefloor. 

He leaned down, breathing against your ear, the music vibrating through you with so much force that you could barely hear him. 

“There’s no better place to run than the sea. You can be free, Y/N, and we can make him happy together. We can live his dre–”

“Mind if I cut in?”

A voice as sharp as a blade chilled your blood, but Shanks didn’t let you go just yet. He hugged you to him, kissing your cheek, and you could feel a smile on his lips before he released you. His thumb rubbed over your fingers as he lifted your hand to place into Mihawk’s, who held his outstretched while he watched Shanks’ every move.

What happened? Why are they so–

“Hello, darling,” Mihawk purred, interrupting your thoughts as he pulled your body against his. You smiled up at him weakly, moving how his hands pushed and pulled. 

“What’s wrong, pet?”

Shaking out of your daze, you blinked up into those golden, searching eyes.

“Noth–”

Fingers like daggers pressed into your back, pulling away in an instant, your gasp lasting longer than the pain. Those eyes were wide now as he scanned your face, and you held your breath.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, the words sounding strange, as if he’d just learned them. “I’d hate to tattle on you, rabbit. Although I must confess, I am morbidly curious to see what daddy does to liars.”

A nervous laugh left your throat, and he gave you a few moments to breathe as he guided your steps around the gleaming floor. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried,” you managed, knowing that wouldn’t be enough. His stare confirmed it, so you tried to find a way to hide without lying. 

I can’t tell them. What if they’re angry? What if they fight, or kick him out? What if Buggy can't live his dream because of me?

What if I want to—

You shut down your thoughts, the sound of Buggy’s joyful voice pulling your eyes away.

“I’m worried about what’s gonna happen with…”

Mihawk followed your line of sight, catching the old lovers laughing. Shanks’ hand rested on Buggy’s thigh while he listened to the clown’s stories, the adoration on his face so vivid it was almost funny.

Almost funny, if not for the fact that the look on Buggy’s face was starting to match it more with each passing minute in the red haired pirate’s company. 

“Is my old friend hurting you, love?”

Mihawk had stopped dancing you, tilting your chin up toward him.

“Only by existing,” you laughed, not sure if you were dizzy from dancing, or from the chaos of emotions that Shanks had made you feel since he’d invaded your life the day before. 

“Come on, Miss C.F.O.” Shanks beamed. His eyes were obscured by Buggy’s extravagant hat, sitting askew on that pretty red hair. “It’s afterparty time!”

The two of them dragged you along, almost pulling you into your old suite before other hands pulled you back into the hallway. 

“You wanna sleep in there again,” Crocodile asked, and you almost felt fear as his frustration with your guest had seemed to build and build. But all you had to do was tell him what you wanted. 

“I do,” you breathed, going on tiptoes even though you’d never be able to reach his lips on your own. “Goodnight, daddy.”

His annoyed huff held a bit of satisfaction after your words, and you melted into the kiss he gave you. 

“I’m right next door, sweet girl.”

Mihawk pulled you aside, and you waited for evil, filthy words as he pressed you against the wall of the corridor, everyone else already in their chosen suites. It was hard to tell on his bored face that he’d worn most of the day, but he seemed to be frowning at you as he ran his fingers through your hair before cradling your face. 

He didn’t say anything for too long, until you flinched at the burst of laughter from the middle suite. 

“You are not a pet.”

“W-what–”

“You are not a toy,” Mihawk continued, those whispered words sounding vicious, speeding your pulse. “Do you understand?”

You lied with a nod, not knowing what else to say to those burning, golden eyes. 

“May I kiss you,” he breathed after staring at you some more. He tasted your lips as soon as you gave another nod. 

“Mmn,” you moaned into his mouth, eyes rolling back as he kissed you with all that wicked passion you crave from him. His fingers curled into your hair, and he bit your lip before letting his tongue claim you again. 

You were whimpering, whining now, gasping as he lifted you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lost yourself as he growled against your lips, grinding himself against your core.

“Mihawk…”

His teeth were on your neck, biting deep, biting until your body tightened with need. That sharp, growing pain was its own pleasure, and you pulled at his soft, black hair until he moaned around your skin. Slick was smearing over his leather pants, your dress hiking up until your drenched cunt rubbed over the fabric, nothing but lace panties in the way.

“Always so greedy,” Shanks purred, leaning against the doorframe. His voice was light, a friendly tease, but the hallway felt sickeningly heavy, like gravity had increased, and you’d all be crushed to the floor.

Mihawk released your neck from his teeth, but pressed his forehead against the wall for a few seconds, leaving you to stare at Shanks, then Buggy over his shoulder, and then Crocodile who opened the other door to scowl at the scene. The swordsman lowered you gently, smoothing your dress into place, and whispering in your ear while he fixed your mussed hair. 

“Just say my name,” he breathed before turning around, failing to fix his own mussed up hair.

“The little rabbit and I were just saying goodnight,” he brushed off, heading toward the door. “See you all in the morning.”

Everyone stared as he left, until Crocodile frowned at you. You gave a weak smile and a shrug, and he narrowed his eyes, but let Buggy pull you along. 

Two doors shut, leaving that heavy air to fester in the corridor.

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

“What the fuck was that about?”

Mihawk didn’t reply, refusing any thoughts until he had a glass of wine. Something to sip, something to hold, something to stare at.

“Hawk Eyes,” Crocodile growled, moving to loom over the man who’d just gulped down a glass of wine he’d normally savor before pouring another. “What happened? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the world’s greatest swordsman is throwing a tantrum.”

Mihawk barked a laugh, walking away from the larger man without looking up to meet his eyes. 

“You may be right,” he said wistfully, wandering through the suite until he stopped at the heavy trunks they hadn’t finished unpacking. He lifted one of the lids, revealing the pile of fantasy books Crocodile had gifted Y/N. 

Mihawk frowned at the colorful covers, thinking about his own gift. He’d remembered that she said she loved cats.

But he would have gotten Adam for himself anyway. 

Crocodile’s body was on edge, waiting for danger as he observed the man before him. It was still Mihawk, still powerful, graceful, yet his usual faces of boredom or vicious glee were dulled, and Crocodile did not fucking like it. 

Mihawk ran his fingers over one of the covers, tracing the shape of a dragon before he snatched the book up. He could feel the other man’s steely eyes as he plopped onto the loveseat by that connecting wall, a new one brought in since the scotch covered sofa had stunk up the whole suite.

Crocodile sat beside him, still watching, still waiting as Mihawk sipped his wine, and tried to read about dragons and heroes.

“Should I just guess what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

A brief exhale, and an almost smile left the man who turned a page he hadn’t read. Still, he put it all away. Put everything away.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need, little bird.”

Golden eyes shot up toward Crocodile, as if he’d offered a threat instead of whatever those words were. 

Crocodile bit his tongue, refusing to look away, and reveal the discomfort he felt as those words slipped past his better judgment. 

Mihawk had never had a day like this. A day when sharp words wouldn’t leave his lips, when sharp blades could do nothing for him. A day filled with so much guilt it made him unsteady. There were plenty of guilty days to forget or regret, but this one felt violent, urgent, and he didn’t know what to do with it all. 

What to do with Y/N.

The words, “Shanks is right,” played on a loop, until his mind was sick of everything but wine. 

“I don’t like the silent treatment.”

There wasn’t real danger, Mihawk’s body didn’t register it. Yet Crocodile fisted his hair, yanking his neck back to expose his throat until that sharp point kissed it, cold metal ready to spill red.

Mihawk had dropped the book onto his lap, though never dropped a glass of precious wine, especially over his clothes. His lips parted, forgetting everything in his mind for just a moment as that scarred face lowered over his.

“Are you gonna tell daddy what’s wrong, or do I need to tear it out of you?”

The swordsman’s body went loose, his eyes rolling back as Crocodile pressed their cheeks together, rubbing along his skin as he breathed in the scent of him. 

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Crocodile released him, brushing his thumb over those pretty lips while Mihawk caught his breath. The satisfaction that pulsed through Crocodile at the other man’s fluttering eyes was intense, piercing, and he had to hold himself still. 

Had to remind himself that he needed to know what the fuck was going on.

Mihawk hated how much he missed the touch of that hand when it was removed from his skin. Hated how needy, how fucking weak he was. Hated that no matter what he did, he would be betraying someone. Hated having to decide who it would be. 

Hated the sick wish that he could stop caring again, that he could treat everything as meaningless. 

That was how he ended up here in the first place. 

Finally, he took another large swig of wine, choosing to side with the friend that would never forgive him. Even though he might lose everything. 

“I have come to the unpleasant realization that I am a bad person,” Mihawk drawled, his voice almost perfect as he straightened up.

The deep, overwhelming laughter of the man beside him made him forget the world again, shock and annoyance pouring through him. 

“I didn’t realize my existential crisis would be so amusing to–”

“Where do you think you are,” Crocodile choked out, still laughing as he wiped a bit of moisture from his eyes. He gestured to the suite, to himself, shaking his head. “Did you forget what this fucking Guild is for? We are all very bad people.”

Mihawk’s mouth hung slack for a moment, until his head fell back. Laughter, thick as honey, filled the air between them, until his hand grazed the book in his lap, tracing over that colorful dragon. 

Crocodile couldn’t shake the feeling that the swordsman was holding things back. He wanted to pull until he got the whole truth, but there was something in Mihawk’s eyes that made him quiet, made him want to see the man with that wicked smile again first.

“Come on, little prince,” Crocodile soothed as he stood, holding out his hand. “Wanna show me what a bad person you are?”

A tiny version of that smile graced those lips, and Crocodile inhaled pride as he stared down at his little prince. 

His breath caught at the thought, at all these dangerous, stupid, distracting thoughts. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Mihawk purred, his voice breathy as he held himself under his mountain of guilt. “But I had hoped to rest and listen tonight, if that’s alright?”

Crocodile nodded, unease flooding his veins again. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing. 

“How are they doing in there,” he asked softly, wanting to shake the man, but not wanting to push their new arrangement too far. 

“Oh, they’re having a wonderful time,” Mihawk reported. The words that would have been tasty the night before were like ashes on his tongue, and he went to pour himself another glass so he could stomach listening. 

Mihawk just brought the bottle with him, drowning while he listened to Shanks steal away both of his shiny new toys.

Hoping that Crocodile wouldn’t hate him for letting it happen.

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

“Afterparty,” Buggy yelled, pressing that sexy music tone dial before floating you through the air. Giggling, you reached for him, pulling his hair loose to flow around you both. 

“You were amazing, Bugs,” you grinned, the tension of the hallway forgotten when he looked at you. 

“Of course I was,” he agreed, making you gasp when he connected with his lower body to press you onto the bed. His weight was such a perfect relief from every worried thought you wanted to burn. 

Shanks sat on the corner of the bed, but Buggy distracted you, kissing across your face, your chest, humming until you squirmed beneath him. He went still, his face hovering above yours with one of your favorite smiles. Soft and sweet, his crystal blue eyes dancing over your features as if needing to catch every slight movement, every piece of you. 

“Bug–”

“You’re my shining star, Y/N,” he confessed, a reverent tone in his voice that made you shake your head, twisting under him. 

“I thought you were the shining star,” you purred, struggling as he trapped your arms, holding your body down. “You’re the shining star of the show, and I’m the pretty star by your side, helping you shine.”

Buggy’s eyes looked down as he quirked his fading red lips, and your cheerful tease felt wrong. Anxiety started to fill you until he met your eyes again. He kissed you slowly, deep and thorough, savoring every bit of you until you whimpered, then you tasted his smile before he pulled back. 

“You’re my shining star, baby,” he whispered, squeezing your cheeks before kissing your puckered lips. “You’re my everything.”

Joy was everywhere as Buggy kissed your lips, then down your neck and shoulders, both of you laughing as you pulled him to you. 

You went cold when you remembered what the morning held, desperate to hang onto this feeling for as long as you could. Your head relaxed to the side as you tried to breathe out those thoughts, and you found Shanks observing you. You felt bare before him, like he could see through every uncomfortable feeling you tried to shove down. 

“She’s your star, huh, Buggy,” he purred, trailing his hand through Buggy’s hair until he stopped kissing your neck to look at the red haired man. 

“Of course she is,” Buggy bragged, tracing a gloved finger around your face. “Just look at her.”

His name left your lips in nothing more than a whimper, and you loved the way it made him straighten, his chin raising slightly as if your voice could lift him up. 

“I watched you feeding her fruit all day,” Shanks’ voice shifted, moving his hand down Buggy’s arm to his wrist before pulling those gloved fingers up to kiss his knuckles. “You were getting her ready for me, weren’t you? Want me to taste your shining star? Make her scream for you?”

Buggy lifted off of you, sitting back on his heels. His hungry eyes looked back and forth between you and his old friend, and you knew it was true. 

“Mm, I knew it,” Shanks rasped, now pulling your hand up for a kiss, staring heat into your skin. “Buggy wants me to taste you. Can I please taste you, little bunny?”

The weight of both of their stares tore you free from the world. You had to say yes. 

“Please.”

“Such a good girl,” Shanks praised, moving between your legs as Buggy helped you out of your dress, your bra, stopping there when Shanks reached out. “Hold on, friend. These are too pretty to get rid of so soon.”

He followed that order by pressing his hand down over the top of your thigh, and rubbing his thumb up and down over your lace covered clit. 

“Please,” you gasped, back arching when Buggy pinned your wrists. He sat behind your head, facing Shanks across your body, and you could see his breathing shift while he stared at the other man.

“Bunny’s being so polite,” Shanks taunted, his voice laced with danger that had your heart racing, “but if you don’t tell me what you’re begging for, I’ll just have to guess.”

He emphasized his threat by pressing his thumb into your desperate, clothed cunt, the lace panties straining under the pressure of his touch. 

“Please, taste me,” you choked out, catching Buggy’s face above you as he scraped his lip though his teeth. 

“My pleasure,” Shanks teased, tugging that fabric down your hips until Buggy’s hands floated down to help. “You know what she likes. Gonna teach me, Buggy?”

“Fuck,” Buggy breathed whiled he watched Shanks setting himself up between your legs. “Fuck yeah. Kiss her clit first, Shanks. Lick and suck her like candy.”

“Anything you say, Bugs,” Shanks agreed, pressing that charming mouth to your core, and your mind couldn’t decide which name to moan, mixing sounds together. “Gods, she’s so sweet for me, Buggy.”

“Quit talking, and make my girl come,” Buggy demanded, grinning at you when his words made you moan. He kept giving Shanks commands, until you were shaking, and those brown eyes stared up at you with so much focus, it made you dizzy before you screamed, coming all over that charming face. 

“Pretty bunny,” Shanks hummed as he moved up your body. He kissed the taste of you into your mouth before leaning toward Buggy. They kissed above you, the sight making your whine. 

“Looks like she needs some more attention," Shanks whispered at Buggy, until they both smirked down at you. “Wanna teach me how to finger your pretty girl now? I bet you know her pretty pussy so well, huh? Know just how to make her scream?”

“Buggy…”

“You hear that, star,” Buggy bragged, kissing along your ear. “I’m gonna do a magic trick. Make you come without even touching my pretty girl. You want that, baby?”

“Yes, ple–”

“Shove two fingers inside her right now,” he ordered, and you cried out when his words came true. “Spread her out. You feel that perfect cunt, Shanks?”

“Fuck, yes, Buggy,” Shanks rasped while he scissored those fingers inside you, spreading and feeling around, exploring. “She feels–”

“Wreck her. Make her scream,” Buggy growled. 

Buggy sent one hand to trap both of yours, and pressed the other down on your lower stomach. You glanced down just in time to see the spark in Shanks’ eyes when Buggy commanded him, and then his fingers were so fucking deep. 

“You heard him, bunny,” Shanks taunted, a wicked laugh as his strong fingers fucked you until you forgot your name. “You gonna scream for him now, or do I need to shove my whole fist into this sweet, little pussy?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, then screamed as his fingers curled inside you, his thumb attacking your clit. Buggy laughed before kissing you, inhaling your screams until you twitched all the way through that pleasure, twitched until it was too much. 

“Bugs, did we kill your star,” Shanks teased in mock horror, lifting and dropping your limp arm.��

“Nuh uh, my baby can go all night, huh,” Buggy praised, kissing your cheek while you tried, and failed to move. “She just needs a little break.”

“Breaks are nice,” the red haired pirate hummed. He laid next to you, trailing his hand along your body, and you sighed as Buggy laid on your other side. Their bodies, their voices, their heat, everything helped. Everything was good. 

“I know you like to watch,” Shanks rasped, speaking to Buggy before directing his voice, and his wicked gaze to you. “But how about you, Y/N? Do you like to watch your shining star?”

“I–”

“Yeah, she does,” Buggy bragged, interrupting you before kissing your cheek. “You got in soo much trouble. Remember, baby? You couldn’t take your eyes off of me and Mihawk.”

You almost missed it when your eyes fluttered at the memory, but Shanks’ jaw clenched at Buggy’s playful words, his fingers pressing into your skin for a moment. 

“Do you wanna watch us, bunny? Watch me make your shining star feel good?”

Shanks’ request sounded light, sounded like fun, but you felt it. You felt the pain in him, and you watched him blink and move his eyes around, trying to hide it. He failed, those brown eyes heavy on yours until you smiled. 

“I wanna watch.”

~~~🔴🤡🔴🤡~~~

Y/N’s voice was so sweet, so sweet when she said those words. 

And now Shanks was crawling over him, and Buggy stopped thinking. 

This couldn’t be real.

Shanks stared down at his old friend, his old lover, wanting to kiss Y/N again for giving consent. For giving permission for this moment right now. 

“Can I make you scream now, Bugs,” Shanks asked, tracing his fingers around Buggy’s face, his jaw. 

“You can try,” Buggy taunted back, but his hands had already flown away to grab a towel and lube, dropping them in front of Shanks with a grin. 

“Come here,” the red head growled, lunging forward to grab that beautiful blue hair. Kissing Buggy almost hurt from how unreal it felt. Years and years poured into each other, and Shanks straddled his old friend, uselessly pinning one of his wrists above his head. 

Dizzy. 

So fucking dizzy. 

Buggy knew he hadn’t drank enough tonight to feel like this. His gloved hands were shaking as they ran over Shanks’ bare skin beneath his loose shirt, and he couldn’t think clearly. Every time he almost had a thought, a hungry noise from his old friend’s throat would make him frantic. 

“Can I help you out of these,” Shanks purred, his eyes sparkling with old laughter as he sat back to grab one of Buggy’s hands. 

Buggy’s eyes flicked to Y/N, and her gorgeous smile made everything alright. 

“Mhm,” Buggy nodded as he tugged one of his gloves off with his teeth. Shanks did the same with the other hand, biting down, and pulling at the fabric.

“There’s my Bugs,” he breathed, kissing those bare fingers. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

A hint of ice flashed across Buggy’s face, and though the clown caught and killed it, giving a smile to cover it up, Shanks felt that ice slide down into his gut. 

“I’m—“

“Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing right now, shithead,” Buggy stopped him with a laugh, tracing along his waistband. “Or are you here to break more promises?”

“Take your clothes off, clown,” Shanks ordered, heat and happiness in his voice. The two of them stood, almost stumbling off the bed with a laugh while their hands searched and freed each other's bodies. Buggy turned to do a silly strip tease for Y/N, earning another beautiful smile as she bit her lip. 

Buggy almost leapt for her, but strong fingers fisted into his hair again, pulling him into another chaotic kiss. 

“Lie on your back. I wanna see your face when you make all those pretty noises for me.”

Shanks’ whispered command burned along his skin, making Buggy’s knees weak. Shanks used that opening to shove him onto the bed, finding his way between those thighs. The red haired pirate sat back on his heels as he watched Buggy’s chest heaving, his body already writhing. Smeared red lips, and sparkling, hungry eyes made the breath catch in his throat. 

This moment was frozen, crystallized in Shanks’ mind. A moment of elation and gratitude, shot through with grief that it would be the last. He swallowed that fear, refusing to believe it. 

Refusing to lose him again. 

“Well,” Buggy prodded, breathless as he gave an impatient face.

“Lube,” Shanks smirked as he held out his hand. Buggy’s floating hands filled his palm, then dropped the bottle as Shanks grabbed Buggy’s swollen cock instead of his own. “Couldn’t resist. You’ve got the prettiest clown dick I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck yo–” Buggy started, his words cut off by his own gasping moan when Shanks massaged a lubed finger around his asshole before pushing it inside him, slowly adding another. 

“Don’t worry, Bugs,” Shanks taunted as he watched Buggy’s face go desperate. “Help me get ready, I’ll give you what you need.”

The clown sent his hands to rub lube onto that veiny cock, just the touch of it making his eyes roll back. Thoughts kept trying to roll in now, to ruin this, but he shoved everything away. Right now their bodies were together, their bodies were taking pleasure, giving pleasure, and it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but those soft, and dangerous eyes. 

No more words. No more teasing. 

Buggy held his thighs aside easily, all that circus flexibility having so many benefits, and helped Shanks line himself up. The touch of him, barely any pressure yet, was too much, not enough.

Shanks caught Buggy’s eyes as he sank into him inch by inch. He didn’t have to say it. Buggy kept those eyes on his, and Shanks felt the pleasure of watching Buggy fight not to break eye contact. The look of frantic, painful need on his clown’s face felt even better than that perfect tight pressure around his cock.

“You feel so fucking good, Buggy,” Shanks praised, falling forward onto his hand so he could be closer while he started to move, to fuck, to make Buggy moan. He was thrusting harder, more desperate with every breath. “How’s that feel, baby? Needed my cock, didn’t you?”

“Fuck, ye– fuck, please.”

“Please,” Shanks purred, slowing to smile down, noticing the matching sheens of sweat on their skin. “I want you, Buggy. I want you inside me right–”

Buggy’s cock floated out from between their bodies, his hands going so fast as he lubed himself up, then shoved fingers into Shanks ass while he laughed and moaned, still fucking into him. 

“Oh gods, yes,” Shanks breathed, pausing his movements while Buggy started filling him, taking him, fucking him. Shanks' eyes rolled white, throwing his head back as he started his rhythm again. 

Nothing could compare to this.

Not when he looked down into those perfect eyes, tears forming at the corners while his moans got louder with every rough thrust. Not when he lost himself inside Buggy’s body, while Buggy took and gave it all to him too. 

“Come inside me, Buggy, I need to feel you,” Shanks begged as his body fell apart, almost there, but not wanting it to end. “Gods, I missed you so fucking much, baby.”

“Shanks…” Buggy whined, feeling the insane moment of pleasure when they came inside each other, the heat and force of their come bringing wild, needy moans from their throats. 

Dripping with sweat now, they relearned how to breathe, still twitching inside each other. Buggy started to move, but Shanks dropped from his hand to his elbow beside Buggy’s head, pausing to look at him before he lowered his sweaty face down, kissing those faded red lips. 

Neither had any thoughts in that moment. They finally won that battle in their minds, that battle to enjoy this moment for what it was. Whatever it was. 

That kiss was the only thing in the world. 

~~~🔴🤡🔴🤡~~~

You weren’t breathing. You had no idea when you’d stopped, or if you’d ever start again. You might die on the edge of that bed, suffocating without ever making a sound. 

They wouldn’t even notice I died.

Bile rose up your throat at that hateful thought. 

It didn’t make sense. You felt so fucking selfish, so disgusting. What gave you the right to feel jealous? After everything Buggy went through, everything you put him through… 

They still haven’t noticed me. 

Entitled. Stupid. Ungrateful bitch. 

So many words and emotions flew through your mind, the speed and chaos of them only making your nausea worse. Anger, jealousy, self pity. 

You fought to keep your face neutral in case they remembered you were there, but your lip quivered, replaying every beautiful fucking moment. 

They love each other so much. 

Swallowing a sob, you dug your nails into your palms. 

I can’t have love. I can never have love.

All you wanted to do was disappear. 

“How’s my star,” Buggy asked, his voice shaky as he pulled away from his lover. 

“Beautiful, that’s how,” Shanks praised, mirroring Buggy as they moved in to kiss your cheeks. 

Liar. I’m a liar. 

Your practiced smile, your fake happiness that was trained into you since childhood lifted your lips, and you filled your eyes with as much of the truth as you could. You were happy for them. 

Part of you was, at least. 

Yawning instead of speaking, you let Buggy kiss you, giggling as he carried you to the shower. You felt lost, empty, trapped in an echoey room, only vaguely aware of the world outside. 

Buggy laid you on the soft carpet while they struggled to change the sheets, laughter, and insults, and deep, heated kisses kept interrupting their task until you wanted to scream. 

I just want to disappear. 

“Mihawk,” you breathed, hoping he could hear you over their laughter and moans as Shanks kissed along Buggy’s neck. 

“May I come in?”

The room froze at the knock, and the cold voice on the other side of the door. The lovers stepped away from each other before Buggy sent his hand to the doorknob. 

“What is it,” Shanks asked, his own voice drained of all the mirth it had held tonight. 

“Sir Crocodile,” Mihawk cleared his throat before his eyes found yours. “He’s tired of sleeping without his sweet girl. Would you mind, darling? You know how cranky he gets.”

“O-okay…”

Buggy came to your side, helping you up since your wobbly limbs didn’t seem to work anymore. 

“Thank you,” Shanks breathed into your ear before Buggy carried you to your golden eyed lover. “You’re amazing, Y/N.”

His sweet words brought back the bile in your throat, and you thought you might explode if you had to hold up that performative happiness any longer. 

Get me out of here.

“Goodnight, my shining star,” Buggy hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple before placing you in Mihawk’s arms. He smiled at you, but didn’t wait for you to say anything in return before closing the door. 

“Shh,” Mihawk soothed, almost silent while you started to shake in his arms. 

It was just a few steps to the other door, which flew open as Crocodile stood waiting, anger radiating off of him. 

“What the fuck happened? Get out of my–”

“They didn’t hurt her, Crocodile,” Mihawk sighed, walking into the room, and softly kicking the door shut behind him. “At least not on purpose. You’re okay, right, love?”

You were gone now, everything was foggy, and nothing mattered. It was nice.

“Why do you smell like four different wines?”

Both of them paused before Crocodile sat on the edge of the bed, deep, belly laughs filling the air. Mihawk looked half annoyed, and half pleased, eyes dancing over your face. 

“Five actually, but I’m impressed. My lovely, little bloodhound,” he purred as he laid you in the center of that giant bed. Stroking your hair, he whispered the words that finally broke you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

It was a silent, choked nothing at first, your body almost heaving as it tried to fight. Heat built and rolled through your throat until burning tears finally fell, and it felt like the bile would soon follow.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Crocodile calmed, sliding in beside you until they both touched your skin, both watched you struggle to breath around tears that made you sick. “Tell me what you need, Y/N. Anything for my sweet girl.”

You almost begged for them to make the night end, but knew the morning would bring fresh, new pain. Your last night before it was over, and you spent it twitching with pathetic, quiet sobs, unable to ask these men for help. Their comfort only made it worse, and after tomorrow, they would never look at you this way again. 

Would they still care if you cried? Would they use you just like everyone else?

Would they send you back?

They held you now as you lived in this torture of a night you needed to end, and a morning you needed to never begin. 

Somehow sleep ripped you from the world, shoving you back onto stormy seas. You hung on for dear life, waiting for that voice to call your name. 

That voice didn’t call tonight. 

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: Writing this chapter was such a blast! Helped me through a tough week, and pushed me to write outside of my comfort zone. I would be eternally grateful if you tell me how you felt about the drama! I've been going nuts holding all this in 😅 Also, sorry about the big pile of emotions!! 😭

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki

Part 19

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

#cross guild smut #mihawk smut #sir crocodile smut #buggy smut #one piece smut #cross guild x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #buggy x reader #crocodile x reader #cross guild polycule #shuggy smut #shanks smut #shanks x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece fanfic #buggy fanfiction #dracule mihawk x reader #crochawk smut #crocodile x mihawk #cw blood #dark content #smut #use of y/n #turtletaub fics

[vickyvicarious]

Jonathan's decision to play along today was very difficult to make. But, in the end, it was the right move. He set aside his anger and impulse to rebel... perhaps as much or more out of fear rather than just logic, but we do see his reasoning and it makes sense.

And honestly, I think he pushed his luck nearly to the limit anyways. Look at how Dracula asked. First, he waited a few days after everything that went down with the vampire ladies, perhaps to see if Jonathan would bring up the topic. If Jonathan does, maybe he had plans to lie to him again, to gaslight him about either never sleeping outside of his room, or about Dracula finding him dreaming somewhere else and helping him back to his own bed. Still, Jonathan's reaction to such a lie could very easily force an end to all this pretending. But since he never brings it up at all, Dracula knows he can continue his game. In fact, Jonathan is proving to be a very resilient player, one who has just enough struggle in him to make it more interesting, without being too unmanageable or ever close to actually get away.

Dracula gives Jonathan this 'request' "in the suavest tones" - he's really emphasizing his charm here, being extra friendly as he tries to make Jonathan feel even worse. But then, contrary to what he's seen thus far, Jonathan hesitates.

I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new suspicion.

I think he must have been sitting there making these arguments to himself in real time. Wrestling with his fear and his outrage and possibly losing most of his control over his expression and body language as he did so. And at first, this is fun for Dracula. He wants Jonathan to struggle like this. It's fun to watch. But then, the longer it goes on, the more real becomes the possibility that this will be Jonathan's breaking point. And if it is, if he outright says "no" even this once, then Dracula's entire game is ruined. He's just committed to wanting to keep Jonathan around for another full month. Jonathan passed the test with the other vampires. Dracula has been looking forward to this. How dare he spoil this -

Dracula's rage rises as he finds himself forces to make excuses and be convincing when he likely assumed he no longer needed to put in that much effort. Jonathan finally does agree, but he didn't do so right away. And it's a very fine line, because continuing to do this does in fact make him more interesting and fun in the long run, and thus perhaps allow him to live longer. Maybe after they separate for the evening (morning, being nocturnal) Dracula would actually look back on this moment with indulgent enjoyment. He pushed perhaps right up to the limit of what Dracula would tolerate, but he didn't quite cross it, so the game can continue. But at the same time, pushing like this (or rather, resisting being pushed before giving in) is extremely dangerous in the moment - because in the moment, there's still a chance Jonathan could cross the line. Dracula has a temper and he will take it out on Jonathan if he decides he's had enough.

It's that tightrope again. More of the same. But I just... love imagining this moment. Dracula's sickly-sweet smugness at the start, his utter confidence in his victory once again. And Jonathan - pausing. Saying nothing in response. Thinking it over, taking so long to do so, trying so hard to keep a neutral face but not fully succeeding, maybe keeping his head bowed so his expression can't be seen. Dracula's anger building along with almost a sort of desperation, as he lays out all this bullshit reasoning, maybe losing control of his own tone somewhat as he gets more aggressively vehement. The absolute tension rising, up and up right until the moment Jonathan looks up and agrees, when it suddenly dissipates. But the aftermath lingers, even in Dracula's victory. Even as Jonathan writes the three letters, one after another under Dracula's watchful eye. Dracula takes them from his hand, squeezes his shoulder in ostensible thanks, but such a clear threat. Jonathan's face twitching, a little spasm of fear and despair, at the contact.

It could be SUCH a good scene in an adaptation that emphasized the abusive dynamic here.

#dracula daily #count dracula #jonathan harker #dracula's version of will-they-won't-they except what's in question is if jonathan will break the pretence

[ponett]

while its tempting to ask you about the latest sonic twitter drama involving the opinions of teenagers ill instead ask if youve seen the "Sonic The Hedgehog from my persective"thing Ken put up on his blog? its mostly just details from her personal life and otherwise pretty well known stuff about how the production of the comic went as a product alongside SatAM but one thing he brings up is apparently there was a bunch of support from SEGA on the Sally Miniseries because according to him a SALLY GAME in Development they were promoting at an NYC Toyfare show.

which as someone who considered himself pretty knowledgeable about obscure Sonic stuff is news to me. the only thing close if that SatAM based game that got at most a proof of concept animation.

(link to the blog post)

"This was probably because Archie kept pushing back the release of the mini-series. as they never wanted to do it in the first place, but SEGA pushed for it. What SEGA probably never told Archie was that they were entertaining releasing a PRINCESS SALLY video game, which they were promoting at the 1995 Toyfare in New York City."

There's a LOT of great info in this (that I will absolutely be citing in my big video lmao), but yeah, that Sally game stuff... It's fascinating to hear about this from him, but I think this is something we knew about? There had long been the rumor that the Princess Sally comic miniseries existed in part because Sega wanted to gauge interest in the character, with the potential for a Sally game. I said as much when I covered that miniseries on TKP a decade ago. But it's nice to have a definitive quote about it from Penders that isn't on a long-dead forum or something, so I know that isn't just a rumor fans made up

Granted, I have no idea how serious Sega actually was about the idea of a Sally game. This is coming from Penders, the same guy who overstates how possible it was that his Sonic movie pitch would ever get made. It's entirely possible that one of the Sega licensing guys was floating the idea at Toy Fair just to gauge interest, but nothing was ever seriously in development. I also wouldn't be at all surprised if this was purely a Sega of America idea that SoJ had nothing to do with

Still, crazy to think how differently things could have gone

#anon #ask

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Yandere Aventurine hc's

Obviously tw for toxic relationship dynamic and so on, but it's really mostly fluff tbh

It's not the moment that he lays eyes on you, nor the first time he hears your lovely voice, that sparks his interest

It's later, after a few interactions, that he's left wondering why exactly do your eyes look like that in the sunlight, why can't he help thinking about the last words you said to him, and why on earth does he want to remember how your palms feel against his...

It's annoying, a stupid little weakness that's he's really hoping fizzles out with the rest of his long lost desires

It's even more annoying when it doesn't...

He wants to be around you, to see you happy and content... Wants to be the one that causes that

He tries to appease his little crush in subtle ways

Buying you gifts, taking you out, reluctantly opening up, all hoping for a reaction that would kill that desire, just any emotion that would convince him you weren't the perfect person he's built you up to be

All for not... Every little reaction just grows his want, multiplies his need to have more of you

After fully coming to terms with that, he'll try courting you casually, playing up his charm, his nonchalance

As if his emotionally distant performance can cover the fact that he's only getting more desperate

He's lying to himself, trying to convince his own heart that he doesn't need you

That he doesn't spend every waking second imagining you right beside him, all the pretty expressions you'd make and amusing remarks that'd pull a genuine smile from his lips

It's a coping mechanism, but a poor one in comparison with really have you there

And why can't you be there...?

Texting becomes much more common

Various pictures and paragraphs meticulously detailing where he is and what he's doing, in the hopes that you might choose to show up of your own accord

Silly little good morning or good night texts played off as a joke, as if he isn't anxiously awaiting confirmation that you're still happy and well

He's always been good at reading people, a skill of his trade really, so your emotions are like an open book

Anyone you want him to be, he'll play the part flawlessly

A rich flirty playboy? An impulsive and fearless gambler? Maybe a doting attentive lover? All of those are masks he will happily adorn

You'll know something's up when the gift giving starts to get a little heavy handed

Gorgeous expensive bouquets with his calling card, very pretty jewelry (most of which includes a familiar looking green gemstone), and really a variety of other small gifts that fit in line with interests you told him about in passing

He'll claim complete ignorance to the amount, stating he's only buying what reminds him of you (which is pretty much every little thing he sees—)

And "Oh don't worry, dear friend. Consider it a token of good will! Can't have you forgetting about me.~"

He'll make himself quite a nuisance if you don't eventually give in to his little games

Though his work schedule keeps him from actively stalking you, it's not uncommon for suspicious looking IPC personal to be seen whenever you're out in public

He's just paranoid, really, that's all it is...

He couldn't live with himself if his darling went and got themself hurt

When officially together, you're probably going to spend a lot of time with him...

He'll make his office more accommodating for you! You can decorate your space however you desire, nothing is too good for his love

It generally helps his morale to have you around at work too

He's not nearly as stressed and short tempered with his beautiful perfect love always at arms length, read to be scooped up and showered in affection when he needs a break

"Oh come onnnn... It'd be so boring without you. You wouldn't leave me all alone, right...?" He coos, gently pulling you by your waist closer to him with a needy grin, eyes shining slightly as he tilts his head, pressing a soft little kiss to your wrist before glancing up at your eyes.

It's enough of a difference that the IPC might actually start giving you a paycheck under the title of "emotional support employee" simply to avoid having to deal with him when you're not around

He'll make it up to you by taking you out to fancy lunches, and dinners... and occasional breakfasts—

There's actually a good handful of days that he simply refuses to come in because he woke up with you laying on him and would physically rather die than move

His jealousy issues are a little more pronounced now, too...

He's hates having to get violent, really, but he has absolutely no qualms with calling out and publicly humiliating anybody for staring to long or being passively rude

But if anybody is being outright aggressive towards you, it's a completely different story

Don't they know who you belong to? How easily he could ruin their entire livelihood with a single phone call?

His eyes will narrow, his smile getting a little wider as his grip on you tightens, memorizing the persons face as it drops in realization, oh what a thrill~

He'll be an obsessive possessive mess, but there are worse things than being the sole focus of an attentive and devoted man...

Ignoring how he'd rather suffocate than see you smile so genuinely at anyone else with those perfect lips he just adores, of course

#honkai star rail #my hcs #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #I hope you know I'm picking these prompts by spinning a wheel

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

#if you're wondering why i didn't include the wfc trilogy it's because those shows fucking suck and i hate them LMAO #transformers #maccadams #megop #edited after the fact to include the new comics lol

[aclassitag]

Announcing Krem Week!

#kremweek2024 — 22-28 July 2024

background art credit: @freischutz [link to original post]

*text prompt list under the readmore

This year will mark 10 years since the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition! In celebration of that anniversary and the game that gave us our first trans character, here is a prompt list - and dates - for any who would like to participate! All sorts of creative content is accepted so long as they are not A/I generated. (See examples below)

*If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead, that is also fine!

Please read the guidelines!

If you have any questions, reply to this post and I will do my best to answer :)

Prompt list:

1 — Anniversary 2 — Euphoria / Expression 3 — Casual / Formal 4 — Family / Love 5 — Respite / Fight 6 — Play / Satiate 7 — (Free space!)

Guidelines:

Use the tag: #kremweek2024 (@ this blog is fine too) — If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead of Krem, that is also welcome! Please @ me so I can rb :) For non-Tumblr folks that somehow got here: You may post submissions, please link your socials. You may choose one of two prompts in a day or do both. You may also combine as many prompts as you want from any or all of the days into a single work, just mention it somewhere.

Types of content allowed:

Illustration and writing are the most obvious forms of art allowed, but they're not the only ones! Literary arts fanfics, drabbles, poetry, plays, lengthy headcanon/meta posts (for headcanon and meta posts, minimum of 100 words+) Visual arts doodles, paintings, graphic design, photoshop memes, photography, animation, tiktok skits, abstract, fiber arts (embroidery, knitting, etc), ceramics Audio art fanmixes(curated playlists), original or cover songs Other crafts are also welcome! e.g. culinary, resin, woodworking, etc etc ..essentially, whatever type of art it is, I'll accept it so long as it falls within rules and is related to Krem or Maevaris :) For things that are more abstract, do include an explanation of your thought process on how it relates to Krem. E.g. you made Krem's Seheron Fish Wrap or Rice Pudding, take photos of your cooking, and post that (with the explanation that it is Krem's recipes) - that's an acceptable submission! You're allowed to explore different mediums everyday! You don't have to stick to one form of art for the whole week. I will be attempting to schedule reblogs in the 'prime time' for engagement, and in the interest of fairness, things like headcanon posts, fanmixes, and WIPs will not take priority in that time slot over fully rendered illustrations or complete fanfics. They will still be reblogged, but scheduled for other time slots.

Content Rules:

No A/I generated content. (Specifically GenAI content) As above, any and all forms of art is welcome. It must be human made, and by you. The whole point of working off a prompt is to explore a creative process, anyway - do yourself a favour and just enjoy making something! It doesn't have to be pretty! No reposting of other people's works. This must be your own creation. Obviously, no transphobic content. No harrassing others over their specific headcanons - be it in regards to any trait or quirks that come with being a person. People come in all sorts of wonderful variety, please respect that. In addition to above: No whitewashing, racism etc. Please note that Krem is not pale-skinned in canon, and I will not be reblogging content of him being portrayed as pale. 18+ works need to be labelled. On this blog, its tagged as "#adult art". Please add content warnings as appropriate. (E.g. portrayal of binding with bandages should have a warning label of "cw: unsafe binding", etc.) If your post/submission is lengthy, please insert a read more. This helps readability on the dashboard. Progress / WIPs are fine too!

General tips:

First and foremost, do what you are able to! Don't feel pressured to complete a full week if you need to take care of yourself first. Some people work on the prompts before the week even begins, and only post it day of. You are not required to do this, but if you really want to fill something for each day, this helps reduce stress day of.

Mod things:

The mod isn't from the Americas, so due to timezone differences, there may be a delay in reblogging people's works. Either way I will not reblog the moment that it's posted in order to screen properly. Posts will be queued between 30mins-1hr apart, if there are multiple entries being submitted at the same time. All submissions will also be requeued after a week for later perusal :)

#cremisius aclassi #kremweek2024 #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #bull's chargers #iron bull #also i am. running out of krem posts. help #krem aclassi

[otomiyaa]

Traveler's Training

Aether & Sethos

A/N: Today is also the bday of the lovely @eliankrios!!! Happy birthday Elian! This one is for you^^ I hope you have a wonderful wonderful day!

Summary: Aether and Sethos spend some quality time and end up training for, well yes, the next time Sethos will challenge Cyno. Aether knows just the way to beat him... (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.2K

"Wow, wow, wow!"

Aether smirked proudly. That was already the 3rd time he heard such amazed and excited cries. He watched Sethos run around, look around, explore, cheer, and come back to him with sparkling eyes.

"Amazing, huh?" Aether said.

It wasn't his intention to, well yeah, turn Sethos' attention away from Sumeru's rainforest only to brag about his beautiful Realm Within, but it kind of happened when Cyno and Tighnari left them alone for some business they had to attend to.

Introducing Sethos to the Serenitea Pot Realm was possibly the best way of entertaining him in the meantime. Without Tighnari and Cyno by his side, Aether wasn't too confident about guiding him around Sumeru after all.

"We entered that thing, and -?" Sethos admired the vast exteriors and looked around the realm inside the magical teapot.

"Yes. When I'm not out camping or staying at inns and spare rooms, this is my home," Aether said with a proud smile.

"It's amazing, woah!" Sethos ended up dropping himself in the grass, and he looked up at the sky.

"All this, in that small teapot," he sighed. Aether sat down next to him and smiled fondly.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. And also that you and Cyno have been getting along well, lately!"

Sethos glanced at him and nodded slowly. "Me too. It's a breath of fresh air to hang around him, and Tighnari. I still hope to beat Cyno sometime, though."

"Hmm?" Aether cocked his head. Sethos blushed a little when he noticed him staring.

"What? He beat me in a duel, of course I wouldn't forget that, even though we became friends."

Aether smiled fondly. He had grown pretty close to Sethos in a short time. For him to be this honest with him, it was quite sweet.

"I know," Aether said.

Sethos frowned. "Know what?"

"I know a way to beat Cyno in a duel. In a different kind of duel I mean," he explained.

Sethos gave a sigh. "I hope you don't mean that card game. I tried it once and he just completely..." Sethos kicked with his foot into the air.

"Beat my ass."

Aether laughed, poor Sethos was so new to everything! How could Cyno be so merciless with Genius Invokation TCG! Give the guy a break.

"Hehehe, yes Cyno is indeed quite the die-hard card player. But no I didn't mean that. I meant..." Aether rolled over and reached out.

"This!" He tickled Sethos' side which was perfectly exposed since he was relaxing comfortably in the grass while resting his head in his arms.

"HUUUU!" Aether jolted as well at the funny sound that left him. Sethos jumped up like a cat that had its tail stepped on.

"What, what?" Sethos cried. "Why did you tickle me? It really tickled."

Aether snickered and covered his mouth. "Did you not ever have a tickle fight? It's like a duel, but with tickling."

Sethos sighed and shook his head. "I know about tickling, yes. I'm pretty ticklish. But to use it in combat? Hmmm."

The way he talked about it made Aether laugh even more.

"It's the kind of technique I think you could use to beat Cyno. He is... rather ticklish. Even I beat him once... no, twice," Aether said, remembering that second time which actually wasn't really a tickle fight. Just Tighnari holding Cyno down, and Aether having the time of his life teasing and tickling him. Good memories.

"Really?" Sethos sounded genuinely interested. Aether nodded

"Would you like to practice? I can give you a personal training. I tickle you, you try to tickle me back. After some practice, you'll have some good chances of beating Cyno if you use this technique."

Sethos nodded. "Alright then." But without giving him a heads-up, and without getting in position first, Aether already tickled him again, this time with two hands.

Flailing his arms and legs, Sethos let out a hysterical cackle and he threw his head back.

"Hohoho hahahang ohohon I wahahasn't reheheady! Wahaaaaah!" he cried out. Aether chuckled and wiggled his fingers rapidly all over his sides and tummy.

"Then I'd get ready if I were you! Cyno may be ticklish, but he's also quite fast and strong, so I think you'd want to follow this training well," Aether said, clawing at the ticklish guy's torso without mercy.

"Buhuhut! Wahahah! Noooo!" Sethos howled, and his hysterical movements allowed him to turn himself over onto his stomach. Not that it stopped Aether. Pinning him face-down in the grass, he climbed on top of him and attacked his ribs from behind.

"Eyaaaahaha!" Sethos squealed, trying to wriggle himself free. Aether started to wonder if Sethos could ever beat Cyno in a tickle fight. The poor guy really was too ticklish!

"Alright, alright. I'll give you a chance. Tickle me back!" Aether exclaimed and he jumped up and watched Sethos pick himself up on all fours.

Breathing heavily, he stood on his legs and reached out with his hands formed into claws, But Aether simply dodged, caught both his hands and pulled him forward, then threw him back down in the grass and resumed the tickle attack on him.

"You missed!" he sang.

"Waaaahahaha that wahahasn't fahahair!" Sethos cackled. Aether gave him two or three more chances like that. But one time Sethos only tickled him once before Aether easily turned the tables. The second time, Sethos was a little too hesistant, so Aether tickled him before he could even strike.

And the third time, heh. Sethos already started laughing before he even tried, seemingly anticipating Aether's counter attack.

"I wasn't doing anything yet," Aether said as he watched Sethos flinch and giggle.

"I know - but! Waahhh!" Aether tackled him down again and decided to tickle him until he begged for mercy, just to teach him how tickle fights like this could work.

"Do you surrender?" he asked, but Sethos shook his head and laughed hysterically.

"Nohohooo! I dohohon't!"

Laughing along with him, Aether tickled him some more, wiggling his fingers under his arms, against his sides, all over his tummy and even behind his knees, finding the sweetest tickle spots to make Sethos squeal and giggle.

Before Sethos surrendered, they were already interrupted by the arrival of Tighnari and Cyno.

"What is going on here?" Tighnari asked. Aether moved off Sethos, and the latter also got surprisingly well back on his feet with ease, his cheeks a little flushed and his hair messy.

"U-uh ah... I was getting some of the, eh, Traveler's training," he explained tiredly.

"Training?" Cyno asked. Aether signaled to Sethos not to say more; he still had a long way to go before he could beat Cyno successfully in a tickle fight.

"Y-yeah you know. We were just playing around. So, shall we go on or would you like to rest here first?" he asked Tighnari and Cyno. They smiled.

"It's nice here, let's stay for a bit longer," Cyno said.

"I agree," Tighnari said. "Do you have any tea at home?"

"I do," Aether said, and they followed them into his home. Meanwhile he patted Sethos on his back.

"We can practice again next time. Until then, let's keep this training a secret," he whispered. Sethos nodded.

"U-understood. I'll do better next time." Smiling, Aether thought he actually couldn't wait. He was having that much fun!

#genshin impact #sethos #aether #tickling #tickle fic #lee!sethos #otomiya!writes #cyno #tighnari

[sunananaa]

I'M NOT INTERESTED!!

八 - take a shot

wc: ~1.1k

note: not proofread!!

once the bell rang dismissing everyone and signalling the end of the day, you sprinted out of your 2-B classroom and down the corridor to find yoichi and meguru.

the two of them were luckily in the same class. as you approached the classroom doors of 2-C you saw them both already making their way out.

“hey (y/n)!” meguru called, giving you a wave once he caught sight of you.

"meguru! yoichi! who's ready to play some football?" you said enthusiastically.

"i thought you were joking..." yoichi replied looking somewhat concerned as you waved him off.

"of course not, itoshi sae is waiting..!" you said clasping your hands together to which yoichi rolled his eyes, the three of you making your way to where the first year classrooms were.

"you do realise there isn't a single girl that attends football club, right?" yoichi mentioned, meguru had found his way next to your right and looped an arm around your own.

"well, yoichi. there's a first for everything." you argued nudging his side with your free arm, the three of you coming to a stop in front of the 1-A classroom.

"plus, it's just football. a little kick here and a little kick there, how hard can it be?" you smiled confidently.

"very for someone like you, you're the most unathletic person i know." rin piped up coming out of his classroom and walking ahead of you guys. you were not appreciating his unwanted opinion.

"oh yeah? well you're the bitchiest person i know." you shot back catching up to him as all four of you walked off to the changing rooms.

----

you came out your changing room later than the other three. a lot more people turned up to football club than you had anticipated. the stands on the side of the school field were filled with all sorts of people watching.

the field itself didn't have many people and you were able to recognise a few other second years there. specifically nagi and reo from your class. the sight of the latter making you gag slightly.

your eyes also fell upon meguru, yoichi and rin, all supposedly warming up together, behind them you also caught a glimpse of some reddish brown hair making you feel giddy. you were about to make your way on the field as well until one of the coaches came up to you.

"sorry, no fans allowed on the field during practice." he said blowing your path, you looked up at him unimpressed.

"uh, hello? i'm no fan, i came here to play." you said putting your arms on your hips.

the coach blinked, looking down at you as if you were some joke before speaking up again, "even still, club today is an internal practice match between players who are on the team."

you glared at him, grumbling something underneath your breath before turning around and heading to the crowded stands to watch from the sidelines.

——————————

you slumped in your chair sat down on the side, watching as the head coach split them into two teams to play a match. you had really wanted to play, not only to show itoshi sae you're skills but also because playing football with your friends would've been fun.

a pout formed on your lips and your chin rested in the palm of your hands, the whistle commencing the start of the game. even with your lack of football knowledge, observing the match itself proved to be quite exciting, even if it was just a practice.

meguru was quite skilled with the ball, weaving through multiple players without losing any speed. rin, despite being the only first year on the pitch, was better than most of the people there as much as you hated to admit it. isagi also managed to score a goal at one point

however the one who stood out to you the most was itoshi sae. since the start of the game he had managed to score three goals and done so effortlessly, he had still yet to break a sweat.

your eyes were glued to him for the majority of the game, unable to look anywhere else. absorbed in his movements as if the game revolved around him, he made it all look so easy.

once the match was over and the head coach had finished giving them a final word, you rushed out of the stands and towards the fields to meet your three friends.

"guys! you were all so good!" you said excitedly as you sat down next to the them on the grass a few meters away from the penalty box.

the three of them were all sweating, panting slightly and drinking from their water bottles.

your eyes wandered to itoshi sae, stretching and warming down at the corner, the right side of the goal.

even when he's doing the bare minimum he still looks so...

you gulped nervously at the way his muscles flexed before drifting your eyes elsewhere to a ball not too far away.

yoichi must've noticed your gaze on the ball as he proceeded to ask, "are you thinking of trying to shoot?"

"yeah! take a shot (y/n)!" meguru cheered.

"I'll give it a try." you smiled walking over to the ball at the edge of the box.

i hope itoshi sae is watching.

you set the ball down at the top of the box in front of you on the penalty spot, stepping back before kicking with your left foot and missing the ball itself completely.

never mind, i hope he did not see that

you glanced at said boy occupying your mind who seemed fully focused on his stretches with his back turned to you. you let out a brief sigh before slowly turning round to meet your friends' expressions.

meguru and isagi immediately burst out laughing at your failed shot as rin simply sat staring at you judgementally which seemed to speak louder than the other two's reactions.

"shut up! i'm trying to copy what you guys were doing." you said ignoring meguru's giggles as you backed up from the ball ready to take another shot.

you took a little jog up to the ball, planting your left foot down and bringing your right foot to come straight forward and, this time, in contact with the ball.

you weren't too sure what you did, but the ball zoomed forward flying at an angle just like you had seen the others do earlier. your face lit up in delight, that was until you noticed that your shot was completely off target.

the delighted expression once upon your face fell, and the feeling of your heart sinking in your chest began to grow watching the ball aim far towards the right...

"hey- look out!"

...striking none other than itoshi sae in the back of the head.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY: in which 2nd-year y/n l/n one day turns up at their high school and falls heads over heels with a certain 3rd-year, one who has a strict ‘no-dating’ policy.

taglist: @bluerskiees @ilovechuuyaa @bloombb @silly-ez @urdesaintess @saeswifeeee @kiopanxp @azharyy @winterpein @sarah-saystuff @krnsluvvie @biaonww @morgyyyyyyy @simpingmyassoff @sereniteav @gigiiiiislife @localgirlywithnolife

#blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock smau #sae is bbg #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #bllk x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk sae itoshi #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #bllk smau #bllk x y/n

[jq37]

I'm like genuinely interested as someone who thinks a lot about the craft of critique and fandoms the ways in which the current Rat Grinders discourse shows why you can't really apply the same lens you use to critique a pre written story vs an improvised actual play show by a bunch of comedians who are first and foremost concerned with committing to the bit. Like Porter's a great example of this, he went from a nothingburher to secretly evil with a whole lore and backstory!

In the same vein the Rat Grinders probably could have turned out to be not as culpable in all of this had the Bad Kids really tried to bond with them, but instead they focused on other things with the way downtime was structured! And because they did that they could pass the Last Stand, and are safe from Porter's rage thing! Like legitimately I really liked the mechanics of downtime this season, it just also came at the cost of developing the Rat Grinders!

(Though to be entirely fair, the BKs did try to engage with Oisin, Ivy, and Ruben and then Oisin launched the house, Ivy was racist, and Ruben still attacked Wanda so)

I think it's really fascinating from a storytelling/game design perspective! The downside is the Discourse is so tiring

Yeah it's interesting. I covered some of this in other asks so I'm gonna hit on the stuff I haven't yet.

If you're telling a story that is based partially on user input, it's not entirely fair to be like, "This subplot was underdeveloped" if the reason for that was that the players didn't make choices to facilitate that development. When DM's push hard for the players to care about things they're not interested in, they get hit with railroading accusations.

And even outside of the player choices, there are also the rolls. A BIG part of D&D is the randomness of the dice. Even if the players care about something, it doesn't mean they'll get it. I'll mention again that Kristen tried to roll Insight on Buddy before the final fight and got a Nat 1. What is she supposed to do? Roll again until she gets a good read on him? That's not how that works. If the dice aren't cooperating, there's not much you can do. And you can make sure your big story beats don't rely on dice but at the end of the day they *will* shape your story in ways you can't control.

Another key thing about the medium, as you pointed out, is things can change on the fly. The confluence of high rolls and serious interest can change things that were behind the screen canon in an instant. In Burrow's End, Aabria planned for Bennet to have a family but as soon as Tula/Brennan expressed interest in romancing him, she Thanos snapped that family out of existence. I don't know how much Brennan wanted the Rat Grinders to be recruitable but even if he'd planned them all to just be foils and evil and nothing else, I can totally see him flipping one if they'd really wanted to and it would have made for a good story beat.

Anyway, yeah! Interesting stuff to think about. Even though D20 often feels like a TV show, it's important to remember that it's a different beast in many ways.

#i do wonder how much brennan wanted the rat grinders to just be people for them to have fun hating #bc if he wanted kristen to clock s/t in buddy he easily could have given her advantage #or let her use her passive wisdom #there's a roll this season where he let her roll like 4 times for the same thing #and then adaine and fig ALSO got to roll #but this it was like nat 1 moving on #that plus the fact that none of their investigations have turned up anything very sympathetic doesn't really scream 'TRY TO REDEEM THEM' #asks #a-salty-alto #fantasy high #d20 #dimension 20 #and yeahhh that's why I don't engage in discourse #i just answer asks #I pay taxes I can't be arguing w/ ppl online about fictional teenagers

[vigilskeep]

hi! ive seen you talk about your surana a bunch but i dont know if ive seen her full story. what were some of the pivotal decisions she made? i love hearing you talk about your ocs, theyre always so in depth and thought out!

oh thank you!! :) my surana is my Eldest Daughter from my very first full playthrough of a dragon age game, so i think a lot of people newer to the blog (like... from less than a year and a half ago probably lmao) have less of the context in complete form. so i will attempt to summarise!! it may be... long...

minerva surana is a manipulative, driven elven circle mage, heart-breakingly willing to sacrifice whatever she believes is necessary for her Grand Goals, who is often so busy playing 5d chess she forgets she’s a twenty-one year old with no experience of the world outside the tower

okay it did turn out fucking long the rest is under the cut its like 9 bulky paragraphs enjoy

her family were tevinter liberati, elven slaves who had devoted themselves to buying their way out and very recently succeeded. her parents were desperate to see her and her elder sibling grow up knowing only freedom, and sent their children south with another part of the family while they remained to pay off the last of their debts. the journey was long and difficult, and they had little left when they ended up in the denerim alienage. in a twist of bitter irony, magic that might have made minerva someone of value in the imperium saw her freedom once more revoked in the south. minerva remembers nothing of tevinter, and only a few fragments of what came next: of light through the vhenadahl’s branches glinting on a templar’s blade, of her sibling fighting them and being knocked to the ground, terribly still, with blood in their hair, and of her grandmother saying what she might have said many times on that long journey south: we can survive anything, as long as we never look back. ironically, minerva often took that to heart by denying all memory prior to the circle.

young apprentice minerva was a sullen child, with few friends; karl thekla took an elder brother’s interest, and jowan clung to her talent. she only really flourished when, after her terror of her natural gift for spirit magic saw her self-hatred turn dangerous in her early teens, first enchanter irving took an interest. he was a father figure to her, and he showed her how to channel her power into control, and her distress into ambition. newfound devotion to elemental magic saw her hailed as a prodigy, and surely a future first enchanter with irving’s tutelage. (only irving considered her too headstrong for the role. he never told her, fostering the drive he had cultivated, both fearful for the state she might return to if he didn’t, and curious as to what else she might become.) she grew up arrogant and beautiful and deeply loyal to the circle, learning that it was only the weak and the defiant who would fail to thrive there, and convinced she was neither. many of her peers wanted to be her, and few of them wanted to spend much time in her company. except jowan, still the little brother hiding in her shadow, and halliserre amell, a rebellious rival with a winning smile, who made up for their lack of her discipline and raw power with sheer brilliance, and whose heated arguments eventually developed into... ah, something else heated.

not long before the start of the game, amell told her they were going to accept tranquillity. it didn’t matter how clever they were; with their weak magic, they would die in the harrowing. they’d only been so defiant of the circle before because, having accepted their fate, the risks were nothing to them. furious and unable to admit it was because she was in love, the last thing minerva ever said to them when they were whole was that they were a coward not to try. when jowan told her he feared he too would be made tranquil, minerva was still recovering from the loss, not to mention flushed with even more arrogance than normal from her own successful harrowing. she had been the perfect circle mage all her life, twice as good as everyone else to make up for every rumour about where she was from. surely she had earned one defiance. surely she could save this one thing, her oldest friend. and she is a loyal person, in her way, emotion powering her fierce drive, incapable of abandoning what she has set her heart on. irving, from whom she had learned everything, was ahead of her every step of the way. he arranged for her to be taken in by the grey wardens. she had proved herself as headstrong and unsuitable as he had feared—and she was shocked and bitterly betrayed to finally see that—but he also believed this might bring her to where she would truly belong.

as a grey warden, minerva’s highest concern is perception. when the stakes of the game are revealed, she has enough hubris to see it as a chance to not just save but change the world. defeating the archdemon isn’t enough. she needs to be seen defeating the archdemon, at the forefront, as an elven mage; she has enough idealism to believe it will really matter for her and people like her, and enough shrewd cynicism to consider what she may have to sacrifice to achieve it. mostly she approaches problems with the skill for diplomacy and management that irving taught her, with that good good Master Coercion skill. she gets many of the “better” and certainly more peaceful quest outcomes, not always motivated by altruism, but determined to be remembered well when she leaves each faction behind. her one great sacrifice of this goal to be seen as the perfect mage is when she takes up blood magic, determined after she sees its power that she alone can handle it, to get the job done and keep what’s hers alive fight after fight. but that only makes her more dedicated to her actions elsewhere

the real test and most pivotal moment of her arc is at the landsmeet. she has arranged anora’s marriage to an alistair hardened for the role (once more following irving’s example, learning to teach ambition as he had taught hers. is there love in that, or just selfishness? she doesn’t know). all that matters is that the joint rule neatly fulfils her desire for compromise to please all parties. but then she struggles between two aspects of her goal: she wants to be seen, personally, as the victor; she does not want every noble in ferelden to see her kill the hero of river dane with magic. she knows how that scene will be remembered, in the end. when riordan suggests recruiting him instead, it seems the perfect solution to everything, the salvation of the day. and then she realises she’s broken alistair’s heart, just when he’s breaking hers. she is incapable of backing down in front of them all (it’s only to alistair, her alistair, but she can’t do it—not to a human, and not to someone part of her will always see as a templar—not when everything she wants was so close.) he abandons her for the throne she taught him to want. she goes on with loghain in the party, and eventually—unable to let loghain snatch the final sacrifice from her grasp, and realising she does want to win and live, after it all—convinces him to do the dark ritual.

in terms of her most important relationships with companions: minerva traditionally romances zevran, who is in many ways uniquely her match having learned the same bitter lessons with the crows that she learned from the circle, and who is so dear to her and capable of lightening her heart when no-one else can. i’ve also experimented with the idea of her romancing alistair, to really dramatise the Landsmeet Divorce and capitalise on future political shenanigans where she could one day be his mistress, but more traditionally they are simply an extremely closely trauma-bonded pair of people who are incapable, at least that year, of really understanding each other deep down. it falls into a pattern where she loves someone with all that fierce drive, enough to die for them, but she will always prioritise what she thinks they need over what they are saying and what they want, often with misjudgements and terrible consequences for them both. it was true with amell, it’s true for many others

she has something very intense and homoerotic going on with morrigan, she has a strained relationship with leliana and wynne, and she has respect and comradeship and a fair bit of fundamental disagreement with sten and loghain. the awakening squad are the people she will consider family for life, most notably nathaniel who she started out not liking at all and is now her work wife, her right hand, can finish her sentences, etc.; anders, who remembers her as karl’s annoying teacher’s pet telltale little sister and is still sometimes baffled by who she’s become; velanna, who makes minerva her most genuine self by having regular screaming matches with her as a sign of affection; and oghren who tried to quit drinking at the same time she tried to quit blood magic, leading to many conversations that deeply baffled everyone around them.

the “current” minerva surana is a sharp-tongued leader who was born for the role of warden-commander, who loves her work and that it matters, who has a truer confidence that is less blindly arrogant and more willing to admit to mistakes, who has worked her breathless way up to h*lding h*ands in public with someone she loves, who has finally learned the hard lesson that the world needs more than an heroic example who followed all the rules to truly be bettered... and who, as rebellion brews, has never been one to sit back and watch while others changed the world

#minerva surana #i THINK thats everything major... it must be #minerva enjoyers who im sure remember more of my posts than me tell me if i missed anything crucial writing this in one sitting #shes my babygirl. thats crucial. #i didnt cover the exact details of her quest decisions bc i think abt changing them a lot #def bringing the sides together in nature of the beast. bhelen supporter and she rlly cultivates that alliance she loves orzammar #ive never played it but in retrospect i believe she wouldve killed connor #and. saved the circle. given that the other option is [checks notes] murdering her dad for the crime of [checks notes again] being tortured