#so it's like. '(name)! __________ ___________! ______. _____!' and like. there are no words but there is Emotional Meat

[leatherbookmark]

oh, but also, no poll because i can’t be arsed, but when you see abbreviations of the names of cnovel/cdrama characters -- like wwx, xy, jgy -- do you

a) read them as full names,

b) read them as acronyms (jay gee why?), or

c) other/it’s mixed? (i assume it’s easier to go ‘jay cee’ in your mind than jay gee why)

AND ALSO,

when you say characters’ names in your head (or outside of it?), do you

a) say them the way you’ve heard it in the drama (possibly even in a character’s voice) or ggl trans, with all tones present, all sounds correct, etc (or at least as correct as you possibly can)

b) say them in a roughly correct manner but like not stressing about it

c) your brain/mouth can’t really process those sounds/tones :(

d) other/it depends on the situation?

#i'm team a in the first question and team a/d in the second question #sometimes the way i 'read' the characters' names in my head is straight up the soundbites from the drama or at least Very similar #and sometimes its just like. yknow how it's annoying when fics preserve tones in all character names and titles and basically all #borrowed words? yeah it's also annoying in your own head. so when i'm 'reading out loud in my head' the narration has no tones #but in dialogue i'm sort of 'imagining' the characters saying it so the tones in the names are there even though obviously i can't #immediately convert the whole sentence in english to chinese #but i sort of... imagine the general emotional tone of the dialogue? as though i was imagining a drama version of the fic scene #so it's like. '(name)! __________ ___________! ______. _____!' and like. there are no words but there is Emotional Meat #this doesn't happen every time i read a fic but. yeah #I HOPE ITS NOT COMPLETE NONSENSE OTL #shrimp thoughts

[shockercoco]

Only Pleasure Remains

Feyd Rautha x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting, penetration, dirty talk, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, basically enemies to lovers

Word count - 3608

a/n - this was supposed to be posted over a week ago, but I kept procrastinating on finishing it. This is also my longest imagine so far lol. Disclaimer: I haven't read the books yet I've only seen the movies, but I just ordered the first one. I hope you enjoy :)

You’re currently pacing back and forth in one of the vip suites, waiting for the fight to start. It’s the fight that will determine whether or not you’ll have to marry the most deranged person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Feyd Rautha is known for being unhinged in and out of the arena. It could be because of his past that he lacks compassion, or he just has no regard for anyone other than himself. He’ll kill anyone in an instant without blinking an eye, but sometimes he’ll take his time to enjoy the moment.

You’ve never talked to Feyd and have only looked at him from a distance each time you visited the planet for your father to discuss business matters. When he would join the meetings you would avoid eye contact, but he would always watch you. When you guys would pass each other in the corridors you would keep your head down and walk faster, but you knew he was looking at you. You never knew if he was looking at you like a piece of meat or an actual human being. What really made you sick is that, despite his horrific personality, you still found him attractive.

Recently your father and Baron Harkonnen had a huge argument and couldn’t come to an agreement, and of course the only way to resolve the issue is with a battle with you as collateral. It wasn't completely out of the blue since  your father was somewhat close to the Baron, but it was a terrible proposition. Baron Harkonnen wants to make sure his bloodline is secure before he dies and Feyd takes control, but of all the women in the universe he had to pick you.

So now here you are a week later, along with the other citizens inside the arena, waiting to see the outcome of the fight. You already know what it will be though, everyone knows it, but you’re hoping that just this once the outcome will be different.

Eventually, you hear Feyd’s name being announced to the crowd followed by him strutting into the arena with no emotion on his face. You can’t bring yourself to watch the fight so you turn your back as soon as it starts, not even bothering to take a seat. The arena is dead silent once the fight starts, allowing you to hear the clashing of swords and the shouts coming from each man. 

It’s not long before Feyd’s announced as the winner, as usual, and the crowd erupts in cheers. You turn back around and catch sight of the dead bodies splayed around Feyd who's basking in the praise from the sea of people in the stands. Turning your head to your left you lock eyes with your father who gives you an apologetic smile, but you just shake your head not knowing what to say to him. You take one last look into the arena and at Feyd’s face, before leaving.

The guards already knew of the arrangement and wouldn’t let you stray too far from the grounds of the house. It didn’t take long for you to find out about the several lady’s maids you now had – more than back home – because they basically circled around you until you finally told them that you didn’t need them at the moment. One remained close behind you though.

When you were shown to your room, you were met with one that was far from small. You had a king size bed, a spacious bathroom with a walk-in shower, and a balcony that allowed you to look out into the distance at the skyline. You notice your knick knacks and personal items were scattered around the room on tables and shelves, and your clothes had already been unpacked and inside the closet.

They really don’t waste time here.

As beautiful as the room was, it couldn’t replace the one you had back home – the life you had back home.

Later that night after you bathed, you were about to call it a day and just crawl under the covers, but you decided against it. Luckily there was no one standing outside of your room or lurking in the hallway, but there was still a chance of you getting caught by one of the guards or by one of the Baron’s henchmen.

Even though you’ve been here many times, you have only gone to the places that were necessary: the throne room, restrooms, dining hall, and the room for meetings. As you walked you noticed that many of the rooms were either locked or empty. You did manage to find a room full of paintings and another resembling an armory that seemed to be for display only. 

Some of the items were tarnished, some looked extremely fragile, and some still had the blood on it from the time it was used. When you heard a pair of paced footsteps, you decided to make your way to the other side of the house to continue your exploration and to avoid being seen.

The other side gave you a completely different vibe, mainly because the corridors were barely lit. The main source of light came from the fireworks exploding outside, an applaud for Feyd. You started to wish you had brought a candle or anything that could grant you more light since the ceiling lights weren’t helping much. The farther you walked, you started to feel more and more uneasy. You felt like someone was watching you, which is ironic because this wasn’t the best lighting for seeing.

Feeling it was time to end the exploration, you turn around and start to head back but stop when you hear something. Or, at least you thought you heard something. It was dead silent except for the faint sounds of explosions. You were about to keep walking when you felt someone wrap their arm around and press a blade to your neck. The person’s scent is familiar though, reminding you of what you would smell every time you walked past Feyd.

Was he just casually hiding in the shadows?

“What are you doing here? How did you get past the guards?” you hear Feyd ask from behind you in his usual raspy voice, the rasp that you love but will never admit outloud.

You're relieved that it’s not a random person, but still a little fearful given the fact he could end your life at any second. The thought practically paralyzes you.

“I was just about to head back to my room,” your response is short.

“That doesn’t answer what I asked. No one’s allowed this way,” Feyd says as he circles around to stand in front of you with the edge of his blade still pressed to your neck. “Wait a minute, I’ve seen you around. Aren’t you that lord’s daughter, the one I’m so supposed to be marrying?”

You were about to just give him a simple nod, but then remember the blade pressed against your throat. “Yes.”

He waits a moment as he looks at you before moving his hand away and leaving it to hang by his side along with the blade. Despite being surrounded by darkness, his blade still manages to shine. You automatically take a step back.

“I could’ve killed you, why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t care too much.

“To be fair you had a blade pressed to my neck,” you answer as Feyd’s dark eyes stare into yours. He doesn’t reply right away as he looks you up and down. His stare makes you feel exposed considering you’re only wearing a thin nightgown covered by a robe. Unconsciously, you begin to play with your fingers behind your back. Feyd notices your fidgeting though.

“Are you scared of me?” he suddenly asks, and you’re not sure how to reply. Everyone is scared of him, but is he genuinely asking or is he trying to get a kick out of this?

“No,” you choose to say, and he smirks.

He starts to slowly walk around you as he continues speaking. “No? Do I just make you nervous then? It has to be something because you’ve always avoided eye contact with me, and I know how you would distance yourself from me on purpose. In fact, this is the first conversation we’ve had. Come on now, we’re going to be married soon, we should be able to talk to each other,” he smirks.

Well, what the hell am I supposed to say to that?

“Isn’t that how you want people around you to feel? Everyone has their weakness, what’s yours?” you question as he continues to circle you.

He doesn’t hesitate to say, “I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has one,” you pause as you think then say, “what about the women you always have around? Everyone knows you’re a playboy, that sounds like a weakness to me.”

He stops in front of you to look down at you and into your eyes with the smirk still on his face. “That sounds like jealousy to me.” 

“It’s simply an observation,” you shrug. 

“You know, I usually don’t let the women I sleep with talk to me like this,” he says with a tilt of the head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that for you I guess I will make an exception, given the fact you’re my bride and all,” he says before he circles behind you again to press his body up against yours. He leans into your ear to whisper, “but just this time.”

You wish you could stop the goosebumps from appearing on your skin or the shiver that works its way through your body. You thought Feyd wouldn’t notice, but he must’ve because he leans back with a light chuckle. Right now all you want to do is slap him across the face for his arrogance and yourself for the way your body reacted to his words. 

“I won’t sleep with you just yet, my darling, but it will happen soon because it’s obvious you can’t wait,” Feyd says as he slowly backs away from you. You turn around wanting to say something else, but before you get the chance he says, “run along now, it’s getting late.”

He keeps that smug look on his face as you give him one last look before leaving. Your mind tells you to hate him, but your body says otherwise as a warm feeling travels through your core as you walk back to your room.

You also hate how every night after part of you expects Feyd to walk through your bedroom door. He didn’t come the night after your encounter in his corridor. He didn’t come the next night either or the night after that. You knew it was foolish waiting for a man that has his own sex slaves – a man that you’re supposed to detest.

It isn’t until the fourth day that Feyd arrives at your door; little did you know Feyd was having his own internal conflict. He hadn’t used any of his slaves since that night he caught you in his corridor, not feeling the need for them. He also was not a fan of his feelings toward you.

You were standing out on your balcony enjoying the night breeze when you heard a knock on your door. You knew it could only be one of your lady’s maids at this time, so you didn’t hesitate to tell the person outside the door to come in as you took a couple steps back into your room. In walked a lady’s maid that you have grown quite fond of over the past couple of days.

“There’s a visitor here for you, would you like me to send them in,” she asks.

You wanted to say no given the current time, but you nodded anyway and watched as she walked back out. Not even a few seconds later, Feyd replaces her spot covered in a black robe, a stark contrast to his pale skin, and closes the bedroom door behind him.

Your body stiffens, nearly stuck to the ground, as you quickly try to figure out your emotions in your head. Feyd takes his time walking towards you as he looks around your room, and this gives you enough time to pull yourself together. You step back out onto the balcony as he gets closer and closer, and he follows you out there.

“Nice view don’t you think?” he asks as he stands next to you, looking out into the distance.

“Did you really come here to ask me about the view?” you look up at him.

“Straight to the point, I like it,” he smirks.

“Straight to what point?” you act dumb and put some space in between the two of you.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he tilts his head down at you.

“Apparently to talk about the view,” you reply in a joking manner and look out into the distance to avoid his gaze. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his jaw tighten.

“You’re making this hard.”

“What?” you ask, still not looking at him. You want him to hear him say outloud what he wants.

Except he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he quickly closes the distance between the two of you as he places his lips on yours and his hands on your cheeks. The force he uses startles you and pushes you back a couple steps, but you recover and grab onto his wrists as you begin kissing him back.

You wonder for a second if you’re giving in too easily, but the feeling of Feyd’s grip on you tosses the idea out of your mind.

Feyd hated how needy and desperate he felt as his lips attacked  yours. The kiss was rough, but Feyd was trying to hold himself back from going too far. Normally he wouldn’t care about how rough or gentle he was with a woman because his slaves never complained — not like they had a choice — and some of them even came to him first to satisfy their own needs. This time though, it was him coming to you.

Feyd deepens the kiss, keeping his hold on your face firm, as he starts to push you back into your bedroom. Once your legs hit the bed, he unties the knot on your robe before slowly peeling it off your shoulders leaving you nothing but your nightgown and undergarments. He breaks the kiss to push you back, and you scoot your body into the center of the bed.

 The way he focuses on you as he stands at the bottom of the bed makes you feel like one of Feyd’s opponents in the arena. The thought sends warmth between your legs.

He takes off his own robe leaving him in only his underwear before he starts to crawl on the bed, trailing a hand up one of your ankles up to your thigh, until he’s hovering above you. Your breathing is shallow and your heart races in anticipation for what’s to come. The only other person you've had sex with was one of your close friends back on your home planet, and you enjoyed it, but that friend wasn’t Feyd. He wasn’t a murderous maniac known for his sexual relations like Feyd was. Another wave of electricity passes through your body.

Feyd dips his head down and starts placing kisses on your neck from your ear to your collarbone,  making a low whine escape your lips. All the while, the hand gripping your thigh inches farther north until it reaches your panties and begins to touch you through them. It doesn’t take too long for a wet spot to appear on the fabric, and it’s obvious that Feyd notices too, seeing as how you can feel a smirk form on his lips. You squeeze your legs together wanting more from him, but Feyd pushes your legs back open and bites the skin on your neck.

You draw in a breath as he whispers into your ear, “be patient.” His voice may be light, but you can hear the firmness behind it.

He moves his face away from your neck and takes his time as he moves his body lower and lower until his face is between your thighs. He pulls your underwear down your legs before tossing them to the side, and helps you dispose of your nightgown revealing your bare body to him. You start to wish that your bedroom lights were off as you look down to see Feyd’s dark eyes taking all of you in.

A smile spreads across his face once he notices you shying up. “There’s no hiding from me now.”

He says nothing else and dives right into you. His movements are rough yet gentle as he eats you out, resembling hunger. The way he flicks his tongue over you like a snake has your back arching while you let out a consistent string of moans. You tightly grab hold of the blanket beneath you with both hands as you move your hips into his mouth. You can’t help but roll your eyes from the speed of his tongue.

Feyd places one hand onto your stomach before moving it up to one of your breasts to grab hold of, while his other hand joins his lips between your thighs. He wastes no time slipping a finger into you as he moves his mouth up to suck harshly on your clit.

“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. One of your hands lets go of the blanket to join Feyd’s on your breast.

The finger inside of you pumps into you at a measured pace before gradually getting faster. He decides to add another finger without letting up on his speed. You can tell that him pleasuring you gives him satisfaction, noticing the fact that he’s in his own world. Naturally, your body starts to move away from his mouth and your legs start to close as the pleasure becomes more intense.

Feyd releases his hold on your clit and lifts up his head to make eye contact with you. “I need you to stay still,” he tells you in more of a warning tone and pulls you back to his mouth before continuing, not waiting for you to answer.

Once you feel your orgasm nearing your moans get louder as they turn into whines. Feyd notices the way you become shaky and how you start writing around more so he moves his mouth away and pulls his fingers out of you. Your mouth falls open as you look down at him, the warmth previously building up in your stomach slowly starting to fade away. You’re about to say something when he looks into your eyes and shushes you.

He then moves his hand on your breast and places it on your stomach, gently adding pressure. You’re confused and you expect him to say something, but he doesn’t. 

Then suddenly you feel his fingers start to move inside you again, except this time at a different pace. He begins to quickly pump his fingers in and out of you, causing you to throw your head back as your back lifts off the bed. You feel yourself getting close to tumbling over the edge again, although this time it feels different. It’s unlike all the other times you have brought yourself to an orgasm.

Right as your orgasm hits you, you feel a gush of liquid squirt out of you. You cum with a loud cry, forgetting the fact that the doors to your balcony are still wide open. When the thought pops into your mind you don’t even care about anyone being able to hear you.

Feyd stops when you move your hands down to try and push him away. He looks down at his chest to see the mess you created and lets out a low laugh. As your body starts to relax, you look down to see Feyd standing at the bottom of the bed pulling down his underwear to reveal his hard length to you.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet,” he tells you as he positions himself between your legs.

He rubs the tip of his length up and down your slit spreading your arousal around. You let out a whine at his teasing and he says, “ready for another one, are we?”

He doesn’t stop right away, but when he finally glides into your soaked opening it pulls a moan out of both of you. He places his arms on either side of your head and leans down to connect his lips to yours. The kiss is rough and sloppy, and you tightly wrap your arms around his waist pulling him closer to you. You don’t even care if you seem desperate anymore.

You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but Feyd doesn’t care as he ruthlessly pounds into you. Once he finds the spot inside of you that makes you gasp, he makes a mental note of it as he repeatedly thrusts into it.

It doesn’t take long for your next orgasm to build up, releasing it with a silent cry as you unintentionally dig your fingers into Feyd’s back causing him to groan in your ear in pleasure. He keeps his thrusts consistent as you begin to leak around his cock and onto the blanket beneath you. There’s no doubt you’ll have to change the bedding later. 

With another smirk he firmly grips your jaw and says, “I hope you can take a few more, my darling.”

#austin butler x reader #austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha smut #feyd x reader #dune part 2 #smut

[zwhoreo]

Omg can you please write a scenario about Luffy asking Sanji for romantic advices because he wants to be a good boyfriend. After receiving a jealous kick from Sanji, he proceeds to help him.

luffy tries to follow Sanji’s advice but silly boy fails miserably but still Reader finds him cute and makes him feel better at the end.

(Girlie your tumblr it’s so good it hurts your writing is 🩷🩷🩷🩷)

this request is so cute!!! sorry for taking a little while on it, but it turned out well and it’s also my longest fic yet (hope that’s ok with you! just got excited about the prompt), hope you like it and tysm for the praise :’)

trying so hard - luffy x f!reader

fluff, very slight angst

summary in request, luffy tries very hard to be a good boyfriend to you, with a little advice from sanji which he fails at miserably. distressed, you comfort him and assure him that he’s the perfect partner

contains: some brief mentions of luffy being in emotional distress

words: 2.9k

_______________________________

He loves you. He wants you to know he loves you, so desperately, and what he knows best is touching, cuddling. He’s attached to you always, warm arms, gentle kisses, he sleeps with you every night all wrapped around your body with his face against yours. Luffy, at first, didn’t understand why he wanted to touch you so much. The feeling was overpowering, deep, he woke up every morning with his mind and soul in your arms, touch was forever, an ocean for him. But with that indescribable joy a hug can bring, there’s something else, it tugs at him, and with his kisses on your cheeks and your laughs and your smile he understands what he loves more than anything in the world.

He wants to make you happy.

He likes it when you smile, which is good because you often do that around him, but he wants to make you even happier like those princes in the books Robin reads to him, he wants to spoil you and get you gifts and be romantic and be a boyfriend from a fantasy, and he isn’t really sure if he knows how. He wants to marry you someday, he isn’t really sure what that means.

He knows, vaguely, that Sanji is an expert in these things, which Luffy finds mystifying. He’s heard Sanji talk about women all the time, a topic he doesn’t care about much. Luffy loves you, only you, he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world in a way he hasn’t thought about anyone else, ever. So he doesn’t understand Sanji’s lust and he finds the whole thing confusing and boring. But not when it’s about you, Luffy can talk about you for a million hours. Which Sanji hates, he’s happy for both of you but so, so jealous.

Luffy isn’t threatened by the way Sanji treats you, only amazed. Sanji does all these things that Luffy would never think to do, holding doors and cleaning for you and calling you such formal, flowery names. And food, that amazes him most of all.

Luffy is especially keen when it comes to food. He likes to watch Sanji make dinner, he likes to have meals with you and watch you eat. He doesn’t care about politeness or looking good around you when he eats, he just appreciates affection and closeness. But oh, Sanji makes you the most wonderful things. Perfectly arranged desserts, expensive and tastefully cut meats and cheeses, colorful drinks in decorated lacquerware that Luffy has never seen before. Past the jealousy of wanting this food for himself, Luffy recognizes how much these gestures mean to you. You’re so joyful. You thank him and you smile.

You smile.

Luffy wants to make you smile too.

So, now determined, Luffy fully believes that Sanji has every answer he needs about how to treat a girl, how to make a girl smile.

____________________________

Luffy is sitting on the counter and kicking his legs, watching Sanji fry some apples for dessert. And Sanji is a bit annoyed but he lets him, knowing Luffy loves this sort of thing so much, the smells and the fresh leftover batter he’ll get to eat, Sanji never has to worry about wasting food.

But this breathy humming means Luffy has something on his mind and doesn’t know how to say it. Kicking the cabinets aimlessly, picking at the silverware, he’s not good at words.

And after a few minutes and a quiet sigh from Sanji, Luffy finally blurts out, “hey, can ya teach me how to be a boyfriend?” and looks expectant, head tilted.

“For [name]-san? Huh, you’ve got a lot to learn.” Sanji’s voice is frustrated, quiet. “You don’t know how to treat a lady.”

“Yeah. I wanna be good at it.” And he sounds so genuine that Sanji has no choice but to help. He turns off the oven, turns to his captain, huffs and crosses his arms.

“You need to learn respect, Luffy, and politeness. Compliment her, give her gifts, kiss her-” Sanji’s eyes turn up a bit and he seems lost in a fantasy despite his upset, but before his extensive and endless list goes on forever he’s loudly interrupted.

“Ooh! I kiss her alll the time. She taught me how and we’re both so good at it-” Luffy’s smile grows bigger and bigger and now it’s Sanji’s turn to interrupt.

He shouts in jealousy and gives Luffy a swift kick, knocking him off the counter. He’s had enough, he doesn’t want to know this.

“Heyy! What didja do that for?” Luffy’s lack of self-awareness is not what Sanji needed, but it’s time to relent.

His anger isn’t enough to take over his instinct, to help this beautiful girl feel happy and respected. He’s going to help, his captain needs an expert teacher.

“Mmh, I like how you make her food, I can’t cook real good, though.” Luffy’s voice breaks through Sanji’s thoughts, he’s still looking up from where he’s sprawled on the ground, unswayed.

Another huff from Sanji, more determined. “I’ll make her meals, you’ll bring them to her.”

“Ohh, like my leftovers after I eat, cause I don’t got a lot of those but I can save some…”

Sanji is confused and exasperated at Luffy’s lack of simple understanding, snapping, “No! You don’t touch meals meant for a lady, it’s only for [name]-san, the worst thing you can do is touch a woman’s food.”

Disappointed, but trying so hard. “I can bring her those apples you’re makin’? Does she like apples?”

“Of course she does. She likes them with sugar and cinnamon, thinly sliced, stewed until soft. She enjoys a powdered sugar garnish, with drops of honey.”

“Wow. You know a lot, heh…” Luffy’s eyes are on the apples, they’re bubbling, he likes when they bubble. “They gonna be done soon?”

“Patience is a principle of good cooking.” Sanji seems a little drained, but hell, this day has now become [name]’s for him.

Smells so good. Especially at the end. Warm to the touch even though Sanji slaps his hand away and says Luffy isn’t allowed to put his fingers anywhere near those apples. And he can’t drop the plate. And he can’t let them get cold. And he can’t, no matter what, taste a single one, not the sugar, not the honey, nothing. Nothing is for him.

____________________________

You’re in the bathroom when Luffy finds you. You’re doing your hair for the day, very carefully because this is a nice day and you like to look good for nice days. But Luffy isn’t allowed in right now because he likes to touch your hair and mess it up and he burns his hands on the curling iron.

Even though Luffy is calling to you from outside the door and saying something about apples.

To which you’re kind, you tell him it won’t take long, he whines in frustration and sits down with the plate on his lap.

He fidgets. He’s impatient. He doesn’t know what to do right now but oh my god does he want to touch those apples.

He takes minutes of restraint. Ignoring the smell and looking out the porthole and biting his lip to occupy his mouth.

But a touch won’t hurt, right?

His hands are probably clean enough. They aren’t quite as sweaty today as normal, it’s alright.

They’re so smooth, so fun to touch, like a warm kitten or your cheeks when they’re hot from blushing.

But it makes him want to taste them and his stomach hurts so bad. One won’t hurt, right?

It’s more than one, in just a couple minutes. But guilt tugs at his heart, what did he do? Is this going to make you sad? It doesn’t taste so good anymore. He rubs his hands into the apples, squishing them, he’s trying to spread them out so it looks like there’s more on the plate. He knows he’s done something really bad. He’s stressed.

What would help? Probably an apple slice.

So when you come out of the bathroom Luffy’s head is down in embarrassment and there’s only one little slice left on the plate. And melted cinnamon on his hands and mouth.

“Sanji made you apples. I brought ‘em to ya.” His voice is small when you sit down next to him.

“That’s really nice Lu.” And then you laugh a little bit at him, but stop when you see he doesn’t feel good, you pet his hair and wipe his sticky lips with your thumb. You’re charmed by the thought, at least.

“That was nice of you guys.” You take the slice and eat it, making sure he sees you smile, and then you put your arms around him and pull him in for a kiss, which makes him happy.

He tastes like fried apples.

____________________________

So here he is again sitting on the kitchen counter, humming. Sanji can tell something happened.

“I brought the apples to her but I ate most of ‘em… I’m sorry,” Luffy admits.

Sanji gasps in indignation and slams down his spoon, turning, fire in his eyes. “You did the one thing, the only thing you weren’t supposed to do.”

Luffy’s so sad now.

“You don’t deserve her.” Sanji feels mean, dejected.

“I love her so much! Please, Sanji, please help me more! I’m gonna be better!” Luffy’s voice shakes a little and the poor, jealous Sanji can’t give up, he won’t.

“Bring her flowers. All ladies like flowers. We’re docking at an island for supplies, make a bouquet of flowers and give it to her, she likes white roses and baby’s-breath.”

Luffy doesn’t know what a bouquet is, or what baby’s-breath could possibly mean, but he’s seen Sanji give lots of girls flowers and it doesn’t seem so hard. He’s excited again.

____________________________

There’s lots of fields here which is paradise for Luffy because there must be so, so many flowers. Before dinner he’s going to pick you a lot and maybe tie them with a ribbon like Sanji does. He doesn’t know a lot about flowers but he thinks they’re real pretty things. He runs off to look as soon as his ship hits land.

He doesn’t know what to pick but, in clusters on top of a sunny hill, he sees the most perfect ones that you’ll love so much. They’re fluffy and white, delicate, he’s never seen anything quite so pretty. He picks as many as he can, cursing as they come apart in his clumsy hands, but soon they’re as good as they’ll get in a neat little bunch in his fist and he completes them with a blue ribbon, he doesn’t know how to tie a bow but he gets them together well enough.

You’re putting together your day bag when he finds you, catching you before you head into town for some food. Your name is yelled excitedly and here’s your Luffy coming towards you, holding something, so happy and confident.

“Hi, Lu! Do you have a present?” You’re too distracted by his eyes, too distracted to see all those “flowers.”

“Mhm! I was out all afternoon making a.. uh.. “bouquet,” right? And I thought these were so pretty and you can keep ‘em in your room!”

He shoves them at you and they burst into a thousand tiny seeds that dance in the air and come at you in waves and clouds and you cough, quickly covering your face, they’re sticking to your dress and your hair and falling into your bag, burying themselves in your blankets, permeating the room.

Luffy’s face falls. Your gift is all gone, he doesn’t understand what happened.

“Oh… dandelions.” You aren’t mad at him, this was so sweet, but you just swept your cabin yesterday and now look. Now it’s filled with little winged seeds.

“Sorry… I didn’t think they were gonna do that.” He’s trying to scoop up the white fluff, he wants you to get something pretty.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it.” You adjust his hat and hold his hand gently, “I was just about to go into town and get some dinner, you wanna come? We can eat and then go pick some flowers together, does that sound fun?”

“Oh, oh yeah!” He’s ginning again. “We can eat a lotta food and do ya think there’s gonna be more of those dandelion things out there?” He pulls your hand, he wants to go right now and have a fun day.

“Mhm! I think there’s… a lot of them out there.”

____________________________

Sanji is beyond frustration when he hears about the dandelions. Luffy gave a lady weeds, got seeds all over her bed, how could he be so clueless? How didn’t he know what he held?

“You’re hopeless!” He groans in near defeat. He’s done with his captain, who only means well but can’t do anything right. Sanji curses to himself and he’s lost in a little daydream about how much better he’d treat you if you were his, and he’s only snapped back to reality by Luffy coming in to give Sanji an apologetic, unwanted hug.

“God, Luffy, you smell bad! Have you been hugging [name]-san like that? When’s the last time you took a bath?”

“Don’t remember…” There he goes, trying to bury his face in Sanji’s chest and Sanji wants literally anything other than that right now. But even he sees how sweet your boyfriend is, how loving, how much he wants to make you happy.

“Listen, this is what you can do for her. Go take a bath. You can even… ugh… use my soap. It’s in the cabinet, rosemary. And make sure to clean yourself everywhere. But don’t you dare touch Nami-san’s bath products!”

“Heh, ok! [name]’s gonna like it if I smell real good? And this means I can cuddle her after, right?” His eyes are huge, hopeful.

“I guess so.” Sanji looks away. But he pats Luffy’s back, encouraging, thinking that it’s possible, Luffy could be a good boyfriend, he better be.

This is all Luffy needs to sprint to the bathroom.

____________________________

You’re out on the deck, it’s getting late, you’re watching the stars and wearing Nami’s night shirt. It’s so beautiful tonight, you’re hoping Luffy comes here soon, you love him.

And he’s coming. But he smells different, not that familiar musky scent. You think it’s Sanji at first he smells so much like him but wet sandals clack on the deck and he’s stumbling a little he’s so eager to get to you.

“Hey, [name], I took a bath, I smell good, huh? Can we please cuddle now?”

You see soaked hair and dripping clothes and before you have time to pull away you’re scooped into a tight, wet hug. A rosemary hug that soaks through Nami’s nice shirt and makes you cold against the night air.

He forgot to dry off, he was so excited to come hold you.

But god, that’s so sweet.

“Mhm, you smell really good! But you’re a little wet, hun…” you hug him back despite the discomfort.

He blushes in shame. He was, wasn’t he. How could he forget something so simple? How didn’t he notice? Was he making you cold and uncomfortable? His hold is loosening around your back, he’s almost holding back tears.

He just wants to be a good boyfriend. He just wants to show you how indescribably deep his love goes. He wants you to be happy and comfortable always and he doesn’t want you to be sad and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, ever.

And as his hug disappears, yours tightens, you’re not letting him get away. This is your baby. Hold him so he doesn’t cry.

“Shh… it’s ok, Lu. I said you smell good, didn’t I? It’s ok, please don’t worry.” You’re trying to rub his back and be as gentle as you can possibly be.

“I’m no good at this stuff.” A strained, little voice against your neck.

“At what? At being my boyfriend?”

“Yeah…”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” You wipe wet hair away from his eyes and hurriedly give him a hundred kisses on his cheek. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry, Luffy. “You’re the most perfect boyfriend in the whole world. Please don’t say that, ok?”

“Sanji told me I’m no good. I jus’ wanna make you happy…” he tries to lean away from your kisses but he likes them too much.

“Sanji doesn’t know anything.” You laugh, you imagine Luffy sitting there and getting advice from that jealous, idiot cook. “You make me happy every day. You know, you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I dream about you every night. I would hold you for the rest of my life if I could. I love you so, so much. Everything you do is perfect, you don’t need to do anything else, you make me happy by just… being in the world. You don’t need to change, I’m already gonna be in love forever.” And you kiss him, a long kiss as you cup his face and you feel his muscles release. He tastes a little like soap, did he wash his mouth, too? You try not to worry about that right now, you just want to kiss him.

And he smiles, kissing you back. “I love ya. You’re my everything, darlin’. Not gonna let you go, ‘kay?”

This sweetheart. You’re in his lap now, squeezed so hard. That breeze turns into wind, salt on your skin, adoring hands on your skin.

“Let’s go get you a towel and some warm clothes. Then we can see about that cuddling, sound good?”

He laughs and presses his nose against yours, overjoyed at just existing in this one moment and getting to touch you and taste your smile. “Yeah, c’mon.” He picks you up, cradling you, he isn’t letting you go for the world.

#luffy x reader fluff #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy fluff #one piece fluff #luffy x f!reader

[babybeel]

— violent

“shut the fuck up! you don’t know what you’re saying, shut up!”

your voice is thick with anger as it bounces off the walls, bitterness echoing through. mammon feels his blood boil before he can even see you, hoping for the best though fearing the worst. his talons have begun to peak through, sharp claws digging into the meat of his palms as his hands close into tight fists, and he feels his shoulder blades stiffen as his wings strain and ache against his shirt.

rounding the corner, the older brothers bear witness to you shouting at a group of lowly demons, teeth bared and gaze sharp. your pacts are glowing, piercing through the night as you let loose, emotions controlling you. beelzebub stands protectively in front of you, expression vicious though solemn, and belphegor holds a wary arm before you, though his tail whips behind him in similar anger. the brothers wonder with churning stomachs just what had been said.

“oh look,” one of the lesser demons dares to sneer, clearly thinking high of itself as a ugly smirk rises onto its face, having caught sight of the others, “maybe the avatar of greed isn’t so stupid after all, he can come when called. though, you better put him on a leash before he wanders off and fucks everything up again.”

the brothers don’t bother to hide their demon forms any longer, turning into a fearsome flurry of wings and fangs and claws. lucifer takes a furious stride forward, ready to quash anyone who insulted his younger brother and a terrifying aura rolls off of him in suffocating waves.

you beat him to it.

“sounds like you’re stupid, so thick you can’t even listen when someone tells you to shut your fucking mouth,” you snarl, entire body pushing against belphie’s arm, “you’ll never be worth a shred of what mammon is. he’s not an avatar for nothing. he’s reliable and dependable - he completes his duties, protects his brothers through everything and takes care of me too. you dare speak about mammon whilst you’re trying to amount to anything and i promise i’ll be there to stop you getting anywhere near his level.”

your breath is ragged when you finish, venomous threat weighing heavy in the air. you finally take a step back from belphie’s hold, decidedly having said enough. still, your expression doesn’t relax, eyes fierce and teeth on show.

the group of lesser demons begin to cower, shuffling uncomfortably as their ringleader swallows thickly, suddenly realising what it’d done as your severe words sink into its skin and the seven avatars of sin surround you. it opens and closes its mouth a handful of times, lower lip quivering as its earlier confidence abandons it. it’s only a second after that the demons scramble away, feet panicked as they slap against the floor. they’re slower than the avatars that follow them.

a call of your name dissolves the remaining tension, gentle and familiar and only just above a whisper.

“oh, mammon,” you turn, eyes softening at the only brother who remained with you. “oh, my mammon,” you murmur again, wrapping yourself around his torso, as tight as you possibly can. his open arms quickly return the hold, your body still trembling ever so slightly against his. but the anger soon gives way to relief and mammon lets out a sigh of his own as it floods through his pact.

“it’s ok,” mammon hushes, “i’m ok.”

against your every fibre, you pull back and the loss of your cheek against mammon’s chest leaves him uncomfortably cold. your hands snake up to cup his face, stark tenderness so blatant it’s hard to picture that you had been snarling and spitting a few minutes ago. “you sure?” you ask, staring straight into mammon’s eyes that glimmer gold at the contact.

mammon nods, taking the chance to lean into your touch, “course i am, you and my brothers look after me too. i’m your first man and you’re my first human.”

“you promise?” your tone is adamant and unrelenting, despite how mammon’s words had left you melty warm.

mammon lets the smile break onto his lips, lets your hands pull him downwards until your foreheads are pressed against each other. “promise,” he hums, “i’m ok as long as i’ve got you.”

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #om x reader #om x mc #mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me fluff #obey me angst #mammon fluff #mammon angst #obey me mammon #om mammon #obey me shall we date

[ichorai]

cheesepie ; miles morales.

pairing ; miles morales x gn!reader

synopsis ; miles was the warm kind of nostalgia, like playing video games at three in the morning while whisper-yelling insults at each other, or dyeing each other’s hair horrendous bright colors in his tiny bathroom with cheap dye from the drugstore down the street, or standing on his apartment’s rooftop to stargaze the light-polluted sky of brooklyn.

words ; 3.1k

themes ; childhood friends to kinda-lovers, fluff, mild angst, slice of life

warnings / includes ; cursing, miles' parents are adorable and i love them, lots of playful banter, a bit emotional near the end, let's pretend miles still lives at home with his parents and not at the prep school

main masterlist.

The tip of Miles’ tongue poked slightly out of the corner of his mouth as he cocked his hand back, a grape pinched between his pointer finger and thumb. “Lean back a little,” he told you, narrowing his eyes in concentration.

You did as he asked, jaw wide open, prepared to catch. 

He took another moment to readjust, and you rolled your eyes. 

Right as he tossed the grape, you barked out in frustration, “Just throw it already!”

The cold fruit bounced right off the side of your lips and landed on the floor with a quiet thud. You blinked in shock. 

Miles glared at you.

Then he smiled. 

“You’re a lousy catcher,” he said, boyish peals of laughter echoing from his chest. With a sigh, he collapsed into his bed, crossing his legs and propping his head up with both his arms. 

“Maybe you’re just a lousy thrower,” you replied easily, slinking across the room to sink into the mattress beside him, mimicking his position. 

The two of you were far too large for his small bed—his long, gangly limbs awkwardly knocked against yours and you had to bump your hip into his to scooch him further to the edge so you’d have more space.

“Stop hogging my bed,” Miles snarked with no real malice to his words—in fact, he was beaming goofily, watching you with amusement as you grumbled under your breath about how it wasn’t your fault his bed was so narrow. 

Your socked foot kicked him in the shin. He retaliated by elbowing you in the ribs. “When was the last time you changed your sheets?”

Miles stuck his tongue out at you. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Ew,” you said, but didn’t bother moving. “You’re gross.”

The boy laying beside you reached out to blindly ruffle your hair, nearly poking your eyes out in the process. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

A comfortable silence stretched over the two of you, and you couldn’t help but revel in the overwhelming sense of nostalgia that clawed up your throat. The warm kind of nostalgia, like playing video games at three in the morning while whisper-yelling insults at each other, or dyeing each other’s hair horrendous bright colors in his tiny bathroom with cheap dye from the drugstore down the street, or standing on his apartment’s rooftop to stargaze the light-polluted sky of Brooklyn and crown new constellations stupid names like ‘Snail Eating a Peanut Butter Sandwich’ or ‘Darth Vader Wearing Lady Gaga’s Meat Dress’. 

It was the kind of nostalgia that made you miss a time that wasn’t yet over.

“Miles,” you whispered, staring at the bumps of his popcorn ceiling. He hummed faintly in reply. “Do you think you’re going to stay here for the rest of your life?”

When he didn’t answer, you lolled your head to your side to look at him, brows furrowed. You were surprised to see that he was looking right at you with an indiscernible gaze, as if he was in a trance of some sort. 

“Miles?” 

He only snapped out of it when you flicked his forehead, and he balked forward, yelping out in half-shock, half-pain. A sheepish grin etched plainly across his lips.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Just say you weren’t listening to me and leave.” With a chortle of a laugh, you shoved your palm straight into his beaming face and pushed his head so he was forced to look away from you. “Nevermind, you idiot. It was nothing.”

You jogged up the narrow stairs to Miles’ apartment door, slightly out of breath, and rang the doorbell. No less than a minute later, his dad swung the door open, already dressed in his police uniform. A bagel was sandwiched between his teeth and his hat sat crooked on his head, which made you guess that he was probably late for work (Miles definitely had the same habit of being tardy), but he ruffled your hair nonetheless, smiling at you from around the bagel. 

“Hey, Mr. Davis,” you greeted with a mirroring grin. “Is the birthday boy home?”

He tried to speak around the food, but Mrs. Morales popped her head out from behind him, smacking his shoulder with a stern glare. “Jeff! That’s disgusting—don’t speak to them with food in your mouth!” She looked to you, her expression melting into one of affection. “Sorry about that, honey. Come on in, Miles is in his room. Wake him up if he’s still asleep, will you? I swear, that boy would snore right through a hurricane. Oh, and ask him if he wants cake or pie for his birthday dessert—and don’t take ‘I don’t really mind’ for an answer.”

“Will do, Mrs. Morales.”

Side-stepping the playfully bickering couple, you bid them adieu with a mock salute before marching straight to Miles’ room down the hall. 

You reached into your bag to pull out the can of silly string you bought from the corner store just beside school, biting into your lip with anticipation. You popped the bright red lid off before knocking on the door.

Just as it swung open to reveal Miles with mussed hair and droopy eyelids, you pressed the nozzle with a wide grin and damp pink strings shot out, covering his face entirely. He wasn’t fazed at all, going so far as to yawn when you enthusiastically yelled out, “SURPRISE! Happy birthday, dude!”

He blinked, swiping the limp strings away from his eyes. A hint of a smile cracked through his sleepy expression.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to at least pretend to be surprised.”

“This is, like, the fifth year in a row, Y/N.”

“You love it,” you crooned, before launching yourself forward to envelop him in a hug. Miles immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around you tightly, making sure to nuzzle extra hard into your shoulder so the pink gunk on his face would rub into your clothes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into you. “At least you didn’t launch those fake cockroaches at me again. That was a nightmare.”

A cackle fell from you as you pulled away, pinching his cheek fondly. “Noted. Saving that for next year, then. Here, I got you some things.”

He pushed his door open further so the two of you could amble in. You sat cross-legged on his bed, pulling your bag into your lap and rifling through its contents before you pulled out a cheap glittery card.

“Hope there’s money in here,” he quipped as he took it from you. Bits of blue glitter fell onto his comforter as he pried the card open, and he shot you a glare. It was clearly a card meant for a seven-year-old child, but in bright red sharpie, the number 1 was drawn in front of the 7, with a little heart and a smiley face below. If you hadn’t been watching him so intently, Miles was sure he would’ve teared up at the sweet gesture—despite you doing it every year for as long as he could remember. His voice cracked with unvocalized emotion when he croaked out, “There’s no money in here.”

You scoffed, punching his bicep weakly. “You’re an ass. Here, I made you this, too. Had to watch, like, a billion YouTube videos to learn how to crochet these. You’re welcome.”

Alright, maybe it was less than a billion, and a lot closer to five. But Miles didn’t need to know that.

Digging into your bag again, you fished out a long woolen scarf that had alternating black and vibrant purple stripes. You threw it straight into his face before pulling out yet another piece, which Miles noticed was a soft, lavender-hued beanie. 

“You made these for me?” Miles asked in surprise, his thumb running over the soft yarn of the scarf. 

“Duh doy,” you said, wrinkling your nose in amusement when he wrapped the scarf around his neck with a goofy grin. “Here—this is the last thing, I swear—but, I also got these for you. I know you’ve been wanting them for forever.”

With one final scrummage through your bag, you pulled out a pack of premium coloring pencils, which Miles scrambled to grab, his wide eyes darting between the colors and your fond gaze. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you got these for me. They’re so expensive, Y/N, you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well,” you said, slinging an arm around him, “I gotta support local artists, you know? And you are, by far, my favorite one.”

He placed the pencils down between you, and roped you into another proper hug, quietly murmuring his thanks into your hair. 

“Your mom wanted me to ask you if you wanted birthday cake or birthday pie this year,” you whispered into him, playing with the tassels at the end of his new scarf.

“I’m kinda feeling cheesecake this year.”

“Cheesecake is pie, Miles.”

“Then why isn’t it called cheesepie?”

“Because that sounds gross.”

“You sound gross.”

“You’re grosser.”

“You’re grosserer.”

“That’s not a word.”

Miles sighed into your hairline, tugging you closer. The two of you dropped your childish bickering as if it had never happened. “Thank you—for all this. I know I don’t tell you enough but, I… love you. Blegh. It’s so weird being sappy with you.”

He kept his hand to the back of your head so you wouldn’t be able to see his eyes tearing up. You heard him sniffling, so it was really pointless, anyway.

“I guess I love you, too. Idiot.”

“Smartass.”

“Nerd.”

The two of you laughed into each other.

“Happy birthday, Miles.”

A month passed by in a breeze. The two of you had rarely seen each other through the days because you had been loaded with work and Miles… Miles was busy. Apparently. You weren’t entirely sure with what exactly, but you didn’t really want to pry. He was a teenage boy—they were allowed to have their own little secrets if they wanted to. 

But it was the weekend, and you missed your best friend. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Miles’ dad greeted you as he swung the door open. He lifted a hand for a high five, and you playfully pressed your knuckles into his palm as if you were fist bumping him. He chuckled at your antics, before speaking again. “Miles is at school—some sort of art club, I think. Or maybe it was a science convention. I never know with him nowadays. Gonna have to ask him once he gets back. You can wait for him in his room—he should be back any minute now.”

“Alright,” you said, ambling down the hall. You waved to Mrs. Morales in the kitchen before slipping into his room, shutting the door behind you softly.

You kicked your shoes off as you crawled onto his bed, curling into a ball and brandished your phone out of your pocket, texting Miles. 

yo bitch wya ur dad said you were at a science convention? bfr ik ur lying

After hesitating for a moment, you sent another text.

i miss you

You sighed, tossing your phone somewhere beside you and stared up at his popcorn ceiling. Boredom eating you away, you reached over to his table to grab one of the haphazardly strewn comic books, aimlessly flipping through the colorful graphics. You were wondering why the story was so familiar until you realized that this was your comic book that Miles had swiped from your room nearly a month ago. 

A loose sheet of paper fell out the back, and you sat up against his headboard, tilting your head curiously. 

Oh. 

It was a drawing of you. 

Your eyebrows raised as you studied the colorful sketch—seemingly done with the nice pencils you’d given him for his birthday—and looked like it was done in a hurry, but it was effortlessly beautiful nonetheless.

You were smiling widely in the drawing, holding up a peace sign. Miles had somehow even remembered the small scar across your nose bridge from that time when he had accidentally thrown a basketball straight into your face a year ago. 

“Oh, Miles,” you whispered softly, tracing the intricate lines with a finger.

As if on cue, the window beside his desk slid open, and in crawled… Spider-Man?

But Spider-Man—Peter Parker—was dead. The two of you had gone to listen to MJ Parker’s remembrance speech together a couple years ago. And Spider-Man had a blue and red suit.

This wasn’t Spider-Man. At least, not the one that you knew. 

The figure, frozen halfway through the window, sported a sleek back and red spider suit. 

And, you recognized with wide eyes, the lavender beanie was pulled over his head, on top of the dark mask. 

You blinked, scrambling back on his bed. 

“Miles…?” you asked tentatively.

Your best friend, the one that you loved ever so dearly, slowly slid into his room, and shut the window behind him, before taking the mask off. His hair was rumpled and his features were slightly winded, but otherwise, he looked just the same.

Words failed to cohesively stick together as you struggled to ask him a proper question. “What are you… why are you…”

Miles pursed his lips. “I didn’t want you to know. Not this soon, at least.”

“Know what, Miles?”

He let out a long sigh, before backing up to the wall. He then proceeded to walk along his walls perfectly horizontal, as if his shoes were somehow suction-cupped to the plaster.

“What the fuck…” you whispered, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Miles, what the actual fuck? Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming.” He dropped back to the ground silently.

“So you’re… what? You’re Spider-Man, now?”

Miles shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You have powers?”

Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he nodded sheepishly. “Bitten by a radioactive spider a while ago.”

Hurt etched into your voice without you meaning to do so. “Why didn’t you tell me, Miles?”

“I didn’t…” he cut himself off, slumping into his chair. The brown of his eyes gleamed with inner conflict, unsure of what to tell you. “I didn’t want you to worry. So much has been happening, I just—I wanted you to be separate. I wanted you to be… away from all of that.”

The two of you were silent for a moment.

You squared your jaw.

“Okay.”

Miles looked up at you in surprise.

“Okay? What do you mean?”

“Okay as in—I’ll stay away from it all if you really want me to. Spider or not, you’re my best friend, Miles. Nothing will ever change that.” You pushed yourself off the bed to walk over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, then promptly changed your mind, winding your arms around his torso and tugging him into a warm embrace. “But if you die out there… I’ll actually kill you. I’ll do it, Miles, I will.”

He laughed slightly, winding his lanky arms around you to return the hug. “I believe you. Thank you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, chin resting on his suit-clad shoulder. “Things are changing for both of us, Miles. And I need you to stay in my life.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, rubbing comforting circles into your back with his palm. There was a knot in his chest, and a lump in his throat. He felt the strange need to cry build up within him, but he kept the tears at bay for you. “I love you, too, you know.”

You hummed against him, sniffling slightly. “I know.”

“I saw your text. I miss you, too.”

“I know.”

“I love you,” Miles repeated, voice faltering slightly.

“I know?” you parroted, mildly confused.

He grasped your shoulders to pull you away, holding you at an arm’s length. The expression that melded over his handsome features was suddenly deadly serious. The abrupt change was jarring—it scared you. “Maybe not in a friend way, though.”

“Oh,” you whispered. You could feel your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “I didn’t know that.”

A hot tear slipped down your cheek and your shoulders trembled as you staved off a hiccuping sob. Miles’ heart lurched, and he hurriedly swiped it away, afraid that he had completely ruined what the two of you had.

“Everything’s changing, Miles. You know I hate change. It’s all moving by too quickly.” Your expression crumpled as more tears began sliding down your face. “But I think I love you, too. Maybe not in a friend way. And that just… terrifies me.” 

Warmth from his palm radiated against your face even with the suit layered over his hand. He cupped your cheeks delicately, tilting his head as he studied you.

“Can I… can I try something? And if it doesn’t work out, we can just pretend it never happened and go back to being best friends. I promise.”

You weren’t stupid. You knew Miles wanted to kiss you.

“Okay,” you croaked.

And he did.

It wasn’t at all like how kisses were depicted in the movies. There were no fireworks, no explosive passion, and certainly no feverish desperation. Only bumping noses and gentle smiles and lips that tasted of salty tears. And it was perfect. 

“Hm. You’re a bad kisser,” Miles concluded in a joking tone, but dipped down to give you another kiss nonetheless.

You weren’t entirely sure where this left your relationship, and if you were being honest, you were a bit too scared to interrogate him for answers he probably also didn’t have. You didn’t want to ask for much—you were just happy to spend time with him and enjoy the last few precious remnants of teenagehood the two of you had left together. Miles meant the world to you, and you’d be damned if a radioactive spider got in the way of that.

Arching an eyebrow, you gestured to the looseleaf drawing you left on his bed. “And you’re a creep for drawing me without letting me know.”

Miles blanched. “I… hey! You were looking through my stuff?”

“It was in a comic book on the table. That you stole from me, remember?” Tugging him back to you, you leaned up to slant your lips onto his, smiling stupidly into the kiss. “Idiot.”

“Well, it takes one to know one,” he murmured against you, grinning so wide that it nearly split his face in two.

You shut him up by kissing him again.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman x reader #miles morales imagines #miles morales drabbles #miles morales angst #miles morales fluff #miles morales x you #miles morales imagine #spider-man across the spiderverse #marvel fanfiction

[rosemaryblossomworld]

Her Portrait

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚡 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚗 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝); 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚡 𝚈/𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗 (𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝).

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎! 𝚅𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔! 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚜𝚎. 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 (?). 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔! 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍. 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚝𝚢

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 (𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛, 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌.) 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗!

Floris was so nervous that her knees were shaking. Today she will marry Prince Aemond, who is steeped in madness. She was his fourth wife. The others had disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

She stood before the doors of the temple, where they would be pronounced husband and wife. She will say goodbye to her kin and goodbye to the Baratheon name.

Her father, who held her hand in his, smiled proudly, finally he will give his daughter to the ruling family and he will be inbred to the crown.

The door opened and the guests fell silent. They rose to greet the bride. At the end of the hall stood Prince Aemond, the current King, the Dowager Queen, and the High Septon. Floris glanced at the guests and saw the bored looks, the women whispering to each other and the men sneering or averting their eyes.

Floris understood the court, this was the fourth time they had gathered here and they expected a fifth. What the young girl had feared. She was afraid to look into her husband's eyes when her father took her into his arms. She was afraid of the Supreme Septon's calm and weary voice. The queen's look that said nothing. The contemptuous eyes of the young king. She wanted to run away, she turned her head slightly towards the hall where her father sat and met his stern eyes, which could be understood without words.

There was feasting, drinking and dancing, and the girl was left alone in the banquet hall. Her husband had disappeared after the vows. The queen sat next to her, her look radiating a kind of hostility and non-acceptance, it seemed to the girl. Only Floris couldn't figure out if it was because of her or the situation that was developing.

"I am glad you have become Aemond's wife. Your father praised you and your merits. It's rare to meet such an educated lady," Alicent elegantly cut off a small piece of meat and placed it in her mouth.

A grimace appeared on Floris' face for a second, her voice drenched in fake friendliness, as if she was holding back poison.

"I am also happy that my husband is the second prince. It is a great honor," Floris muttered.

"I would like to give you some advice," Alicent turned to the girl who had put down the cutlery.

"I will accept any instruction from you," the girl said respectfully.

"Do not force your feelings on him. And listen to him, if he tells you not to go out, you must not go out," her quiet voice was ominous.

"I realize that. My father raised me to be the kind of person a man might like. "Gentle and understanding," the current princess replied, and Alicent curled her lips.

"I hope so. But my son is not any man, he... has given his heart to another... and that is something even I could not fix," the queen turned away, indicating that she would not continue the conversation.

Floris swallowed. She knew of whom Her Majesty spoke. Everyone knew.

The current princess had personally met with this 'mysterious' girl. And their meeting had left her with conflicting emotions. Floris shook her head, avoiding the image that formed in her mind, azure eyes and white hair...

Several moons had passed since then, but the girl only saw her lord husband at family dinners. The rest of the time she was alone. Talking to the queen was a dead end, and talking to Princess Helena was difficult because she was in her own thoughts. So Floris preferred the company of the young ladies of the court, all the girls were her age and had one thing in common - gossip!

"I am so sorry for you, Princess," the red-haired lady murmured.

"Why?" Floris put the cup of tea on the saucer.

"How! You have tied your fate to a mad prince..." the lady continued conspiratorially.

"I don't want to talk about my husband," the princess did not like the subject, although she agreed with the ladies.

"I heard that after the death of Y/n Velaryon he fell into madness, in order to subdue him the queen married him, pity no girls were found after that," the lady in the green dress and the black hair giggled.

“I beg you," Floris tried to stop the lady, but it was too late.

"And I have heard from the servants that there is a room in the castle where the body of the dead princess lies. Prince Aemond couldn't bear to part with her, so he hid her from everyone," the lady in blue giggled strangely.

"What?" Floris was astonished.

"Goodness, my dear, have you not heard of this?" the lady in blue clarified.

"Could Y/n Velaryon's body not be found?" the princess inquired.

"Most likely, as soon as Prince Aemond learned of her death, he immediately appeared to retrieve her, which is why she wasn't found. She was killed by Green Faction assassins," the red-haired lady snickered, taking an obscenely loud sip of her tea.

Floris became uncomfortable and she changed the subject to the scandal that had recently occurred in court. The ladies immediately giggled and chattered, distracted from the subject of the prince. To them it was just another amusing rumor, but to the young princess it was a real tragedy at the cost of a life. The girl's gaze wandered until it caught a silhouette in a half-closed window that quickly passed him by, and only then did Floris realize that it was a tower window.

"The tower? How long has she been here?

Floris walked beside her lord husband while the Queen Dowager and Princess Helena walked ahead.

The queen insisted on a family walk where she dared not include the young king. Alicent knew that Aegor could ruin this peaceful walk with his lewd jokes.

Floris' palms were sweating and she held them in front of her, trying to escape the awkwardness that hung between her and the prince.

"What are you doing today, my prince?" the girl decided to start a conversation.

"I had a morning workout planned for today that had to be canceled. But I will take care of her when our walk is over," Aemond replied neutrally.

The young princess noticed that her husband did not ask about her affairs. In a way, the girl thought it was a good thing, because her plans were...boring.

The conversation was over, so the girl began to wander her eyes again, and again and again her gaze fell on the tower.

"I find this tower very mysterious," Floris began from a distance, Aemond looked in the same direction she was looking.

"Hmm," the prince nodded, and for a moment the girl saw his gentle gaze and how the corners of his lips lifted.

"What is this tower?" asked Floris.

"You will not be interested, my lady, it is used to store various... things," Aemond chose his words carefully.

"For garbage?" the girl clarified.

"No!" the prince replied a little irritated and abruptly.

"I'm sorry... "Floris hastened to answer.

"It's you I apologize to, I was too harsh and didn't explain it to you, these things are precious to someone, there's no rubbish in there and there never will be. Everything is stored there...it's just that someone doesn't like...clutter," Aemond's tone became calm again.

"To the queen?" the princess clarified.

"Oh...yes...to the queen," said the second prince more dreamily.

Floris staggered, not expecting such intonation and behavior from him, but soon Aemond came to his senses. He said nothing more and the young lady did not want to ask. Now she was curious. Ignoring the queen's words, which were heard in the background of the girl's mind, she decided to see what was inside the tower.

Quietly, the girl walked down the round stairs and looked around. A small room awaited her at the end, with a few boarded-up crates spread out on it, and then... there was a wall. A man-sized painting hung on the wall; in fact, Floris only assumed it was a painting because it was wrapped in a red cloth.

The princess listened to the noises and when she realized that no one was there, she pulled the canvas and froze in surprise.

Princess Y/n's azure eyes looked up at her, her blonde curls gathered into an intricate hairstyle, her blue cloak draped over her shoulder, indicating that she belonged to House Velaryon.

Floris reached up to touch the picture frame, trying to find a spot that would open the secret door hidden behind the painting. Even in her home castle there were hidden passages, and most of the time they were hidden behind the painting.

Suddenly the girl heard the sharp sound of a door slamming and hurried footsteps below. She threw the cloth back on and hurried to hide behind the drawers. She was ready to kiss the man who had left them here and put them so well that the girl was hidden from view, but she could see the wall, where part of the picture was visible.

The footsteps came closer and Floris held her breath. She peeked out from behind the drawers to see the man who had approached the painting.

Floris did not realize what she was feeling when she saw Aemond's back. She realized he was connected to this place, but deep in her heart she hoped it was someone else.

Aemond pulled down the canvas, admired the portrait for a few seconds, then reached out his hand from the right side of the painting, grabbed something, and pulled. The princess heard a mechanism work and the painting opened. The young man made his way into the hidden room, leaving a small slit behind him.

Floris sat behind the drawers and listened to the prince's footsteps, the rustling of papers, the rustle of cloth and the creak of a chair. Then the girl heard a soft whisper.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear," Aemond said.

Floris concentrated on the sounds.

"I'm sorry for leaving you for so long. You are angry, aren't you? Oh, my love, my sun and moon, forgive me," the young man cooed.

The young princess's heart fluttered; she had never heard Aemond speak to anyone so lovingly and enthusiastically.She probably had a chance to get away unnoticed, but the girl's curiosity was aroused.

Boldly, she approached the painting cautiously and peered into the silk. Floris saw the prince sitting on a chair, cradling the girl in his arms. The princess could not see the face, but she guessed who it might be. Floris put her palm to her mouth and tried to stifle the sound.

"It can't be...she's alive?"

Floris tried to get a closer look, she was alarmed by the way the girl was lying in Aemond's arms. The princess hurried back to hide behind the drawers as soon as she saw Aemond get up and walk toward the bed.

"I'm sorry, my love, my life, I have dinner with my family tonight, my mom doesn't want to separate us, but she would like to see me with... never mind" Aemond was taken aback and silent, there was the sound of a kiss and hurried footsteps.

Floris staggered to a halt. She heard her husband's footsteps and the door opening at the end, but she waited. The girl realized that she couldn't go into the room now and convince herself of her suspicion. They would be looking for her! For there was dinner tonight. And the princess ducked out of the tower to get ready for her family, thinking about how to sneak back in.

Just as the girl had thought, the dinner passed in the same tense atmosphere. Floris couldn't get used to it.

After dinner, she returned to her chambers.

"Ollie," the princess called to her faithful maid.

"Yes, my lady," Ollie left her business and ran to her hostess.

"Tell everyone tomorrow that I'm not feeling well, call the healer for me at first light, and then don't let anyone see me until evening," Floris explained, rising from her chair.

"Understood, but why?" the maid asked, concerned about the actions of her young mistress.

"I have to check on something, so I need a reason not to be at dinner," the girl explained.

"My lady, I have a bad feeling, perhaps you will give up the idea that has visited your beautiful head," the maid dropped to her knees at the princess's feet.

"It'll be all right, I'll be careful. But I need to be sure of something," Floris smiled and hurried to her bed.

In the morning, the healer came in, Floris acting like a theater actress portraying extreme fatigue and pain.

"You have a rapid pulse, most likely a common ailment, I will give you a decoction of herbs. And I will advise you to go to bed. And everything will be wonderful," the old man said, placing a bottle of decoction on the table.

Ollie let no one into the room, only stepping aside when it was necessary to give the queen information about the second princess's well-being. In the evening, under the cover of night, Floris left her room and went to the right place. Again, the guards were nowhere near the tower, and the young princess confirmed the theory that only the prince knew about this place.

The girl climbed the round stairs and found herself once again beside the portrait, this time uncovered. The princess listened to the sound, afraid that her husband was here, but only the hum of the wind met her.

Exhaling, Floris found the mechanism on the side of the painting and pulled it. The painting creaked, clicked, and opened. The girl's face crumpled, not because of the noise, but because of the smell that immediately filled the corridor. The smell was mixed: flowers, incense, fragrant oil, and... rotting flesh. The princess covered her nose and went into the chambers. They were small, the entire space filled by the bed on which the body lay, hidden behind a thick veil. It seemed to Floris that a body was moving.

"Excuse me?" the princess tried, but was met with silence. She approached the bed, the smell intensifying.

Floris already realized who she would see under the veil and in what form. But she reached out and pulled off the cloth, cringing at the sight of the disfigured face. She froze in surprise and fear as she watched the white hair fall from Y/n Velaryon's face.

Respectfully, the princess turned away from the horrible sight. The once noble beauty of the young princess was gone, the Stranger had taken her and would not bring her back. Floris had seen Y/n a long time ago, but had never ceased to marvel at the Dragonstone princess' attractiveness. All she could do now was cover her mouth and try to keep from gagging.

"What are you doing here?" came the prince's stern voice.

Floris' heart froze, stopped beating. And her breath caught. She slowly turned to face the prince. His crazed eye stared at her. Is this her death?

"Did I tell you not to come in here?" Aemond asked his question as coldly as ever.

"I...I..." the princess tried to make an excuse, but she failed. It's hard to think of something in a situation like this, where there's no way you could come in here by mistake!

"You're no different from them..."

Floris stepped aside after noticing that the prince had approached Y/N's body.

"Roughly pulling off her head veil like that... She doesn't like sudden movements," Aemond sighed heavily, gently stroking his beautiful princess's hair.

"I don't understand, my prince, how..." the dark-haired girl was confused.

Aemond moved closer to Y/N's face and kissed her on the lips. Floris turned away again holding back vomit.

"They were betrayed by people they trusted. Rhaenyra decided to hide Y/n in Dorne, and turned to a supportive family. During the crossing, the coachman killed the princess. The traitors rushed to us to show us the body and thus prove their loyalty. But as soon as they shook off the cloth and our Y/n's face appeared before their eyes, their heads flew to the ground. Mother cared deeply for the young princess, and she fell into grief. And for me, that was the end...There was a chance we could be together at the end. But what those things did..." Aemond snuggled against the girl's body again, his long hair falling down, warding off the world and Floris' eyes.

Now the princess knew the truth. The whole story. And Floris felt sorry for Aemond and Y/n, who loved each other but couldn't be together. And herself...for herself, she was afraid, what would happen now?

At that moment, the sound of heels was heard on the stairs, and the panting Queen Dowager burst into the room. She was horrified when she saw her sister-in-law and the prince lying on the bed.

"Aemond..." the queen said cautiously.

Floris was distracted by her and didn't hear the clash of sword metal. But she felt a sharp pain in her stomach, blood spurted from her mouth. She collapsed to the floor and looked shocked at her husband, who was wiping the blood from his sword with a cloth.

The princess thought that the queen would scream and call for a Healer. But she just sighed heavily and scolded her son.

"You could have restrained your fervor," Alicent said resentfully as she watched the young beauty's eyes fill with tears.

"I asked no one to come in here," the prince replied calmly.

The former queen looked sadly at Floris and crouched down beside the girl's body.

"I'm sorry, I hope the Stranger treats you warmly," Alicent folded her hands in front of her and said a short prayer.

Floris saw all this and she wanted to scream! She wanted to cry, to jump up and run away, but she was lying on the cold stone floor and life was draining from her body. Gods, what injustice is this? One last breath and another young princess left this world.

"How will I communicate with her father now?" the woman said unhappily.

"You always found ways, mother. I'll get someone to clean this place up," Aemond lovingly covered Y/n's body with a veil and left her alone.

Alicent looked at the painting, sighed heavily and left Sleeping Beauty's chambers, it seems she will leave her son alone this time.

A/N: this idea is three months old...I hope I don't get blocked for this. Well, they shouldn't, since they can post p&rn pics here.....

#hotd #house of the dragon #x reader #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd aemond

[mukumukunomi]

Not Alone. Never Alone. (part 1)

Luffy x Fem!Reader

cw: fluff, no smut, first love, implied semi-relationship, no manga spoilers, takes place just after East Blue's arc in live action, idiots in love

wc: 1,663

a/n: This is part one of a a short and sweet two parter. I'll be uploading it soon hopefully! Still thinking of more cute one-shots I can write as well. Part two will be linked below

Part Two (Luffy)

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

You tell him that getting involved would result in disaster.

But Luffy is a magnet for disaster. He’s chaos incarnate. Brutally honest to a flaw with a kindness that shatters ideals and shakes the foundation of the world. It’s as rare as it is maddening.

“I'm serious. It’s better if I go alone tonight instead of tomorrow.”

The words bite through the silence. It actually forces Luffy away from shoveling the food in his mouth as he eyes you up and down. 

“Where are we going?”

You sigh. He’s not listening to you. Not really. The words are going in but not processing. Luffy always does it when he hears something he doesn’t like. He simply states what he wants instead like the universe will bend itself to his will. 

Maybe it does.

“Not ‘we’. I am going to go to the island. Me. Not you.”

Luffy frowns. You know he doesn’t doubt your strength nor your character. But it’s the subtle narrowing of his eyes and the way he slowly chews his food that gives his emotions away. He’s annoyed, you think.

“I don’t want ya’ to go alone.”

You sigh dramatically. He’s like a petulant child. His reasoning confounds you. “I’ll be careful.”

He breaks gaze with you to take another huge bite of meat. It’s impressive how he manages to scarf it down in the span of two minutes before he’s once again berating you. “But I can be stealthy!”

You wipe a crumb from his cheek. His face is twisted, eyes avoiding you. He whistles a broken tune mainly because he’s terrible at whistling. Sweat drips down his face. All the tells convincing you that your captain would be terrible poker player. “Leave the lying to Usopp. It’s not your forte. And leave the stealthiness to me. It’s my forte.”

His concern isn’t unwarranted. You're sneaking into the lair of people who once held you as a short-time captive long ago. They’re not as fearsome as some of the pirates you and the crew have encountered, but nevertheless have connections to people you’d rather avoid.

You’re wanted in more waters than the prospective King of the Pirates beside you. The ties of your family and the status they have in this world make it so you’re looking over your shoulder at all times. You’ve never known freedom until the strange being named Monkey D. Luffy stumbled into your life. 

But you know the layout of this particular place, and it has something the crew requires. Without it they can’t continue their journey forward. And you’d be damned if you were the one holding them back. 

“It’ll be quick. In and out. They’ll never even know! I spent a lot of time there as a prisoner so-.”

Luffy slams the meat bone onto the plate in front of him. He calls Sanji for more. Sanji’s disgruntled reply echoes from the kitchen to your place on the deck. You almost think the thing is settled until Luffy’s blazing eyes meet yours again.

The words are harsh. “I’m going.”

“Luffy, we don’t need to waste time on something I can handle myse-”

“That’s an order from the captain.”

His voice holds no cheerfulness. He’s never used that tone with you before. It’s the tone of finality. It means that Luffy has heard you out and he’s overruling you. You’ve seen him use it on people.  You’ve never had it used on you before. The abruptness of it makes you stand.

Hurt flares in your chest. Did he not trust you? Did he actually think you were weak? The logical part of your brain screams ‘no!’ but it’s buried in the torrent of emotions. Here was a chance to prove just how useful you could be. Prove you belonged on this crew. Why did he have to be so difficult? 

Luffy’s attention diverts again. He settles back into his mantra of consuming whatever is in front of him as Sanji places another plate of meat down. You make eye contact with the cook, who simply shrugs at the mood the captain is in. You huff in anger and decide being anywhere else is better than talking to the brick wall with a straw hat.

Habit finds you in the main meeting area of the Going Merry. Besides the currently absent presence of Sanji in the small kitchen, the crew’s swordsman is dozing lazily in the corner of the common space. You can’t tell if he’s supposed to be sharpening his sword or is sneaking the booze supply. It surprises you to see him in cohabitation with Sanji in the same room at all.

You plop next to Zoro. You draw your knees up to your chest and rest your elbows on your knees. You let out a long, dragged out keening noise of frustration.

“He shut you down, huh?”

Without looking, you smack his shoulder. Zoro simply scoffs as he tries to get more comfortable against the wall. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You eye his form. “You said he’d be stubborn. Nami suggested I wait until he was eating to try to convince him.”

Zoro shifts the Wado Ichimonji on his hip. “Yeah, Nami’s right about that. He’s pretty susceptible when food’s on offer. You can convince him to do almost anything.”

The groan that is your reply is muffled by your arms. "Apparently not everything."

He taps the hilt of the blade on your head. “Problem wasn’t the timing. It was the subject.”

Your brows scrunch together. “The subject?”

“You.”

“You’re saying that I’m the problem.”

Zoro smirks. “Yup.”

You shove his shoulder at his shit-eating grin. Luffy and you care for each other. More than friendship. Not quite romantic. You're not sure if he even knows how to be. So you both settle for a comfortable in-between where labels are irrelevant. You’re free to explore this feeling between you two and see where it leads. Despite his naivete, there’s a quiet confidence in Luffy’s chaste kisses. In lingering touches and odd looks that make your heart rate elevate. There are moments where you wonder if he truly knows the effect he has on you.

You’re in love with him. So in love with him. You don’t know how deep his love for you runs. It terrifies you.

Your indignant snort reverberates the space. “I don’t understand.”

The moss-head rolls his eyes at you and takes a swig of a bottle. “If you don’t understand then you may be an even bigger idiot than he is.”

You decide that the room is more stuffy as you feel hot embarrassment at his remark. “At least I’m an idiot that can find my way around.”

The swordsman makes an interesting coughing noise as you get up and exit back onto the deck. 

Going Merry is docked at the north end of the inlet. It shrouds your little caravel just enough that you can still see the top of the fortress that lies beyond the hill to the south. You can see that the clouds are beginning to move eastward as a warm wind blows from the storm front to the west. Luffy is no longer where he was, but you can hear the echoes of his voice from below. Sanji passes you to return to the kitchen to clean up and lock the fridge, which will hopefully keep a certain pest (captain) away. You begin descending the stairs to the main deck as Sanji and Zoro’s voices start to hurl insults at each other from behind. 

The only one who remains on deck is Nami, who’s staring at a map of the island on the flat end of an upright barrel. An oil lamp burns beside her to give light. You rest your chin on her shoulder and hum at the layout. “That’s wrong.”

You point to the secret entrance Nami’s drawn. “It’s just to the west of the hill at the base. And that forest stretches all the way to the coastline too.”

Nami frowns and marks the correction with a pen. “Damn, I’ll have to redraw again at some point.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, voice turning bitter. “It’s not worth that kind of effort.”

You hope to never see this island again after this.

Nami simply raises an eyebrow. “You sound upset. What did Luffy say?”

You tend to forget how perceptive the navigator is. “He ordered me to let him come. Ordered! Like a captain! Can you believe that?”

“Ah. Well he is the captain.” Nami clicks her tongue, “Serious tone and all too?”

You nod. “Any chance of still changing his mind?”

The tangerine colored strands of her hair flow gently in the breeze as Nami laughs. “Absolutely not. But maybe it’s for the best. We both know how stubborn he can be.”

She snuffs the oil lamp out and folds the map to put in her pocket. Without the warm light, the ship is suddenly shrouded in an eerie darkness. The only light left is from the pale glow of the moon. Nami shifts her attention back to you. “Heading to bed. You?”

Usopp’s snores have already begun to resound across the ship. There are heavy footsteps below you from the men’s quarters. There’s a brief moment of loud talking and heavy things being thrown before peace once again returns to the Going Merry. 

You gaze up at the stars. “In a minute. I forgot something in the kitchen.”

The navigator yawns as she walks away. You watch her disappear below. There’s a heavy feeling in your gut as you move towards the ship’s railing. You peer over it, gazing at the strip of land alongside your ship.

Luffy could be stubborn. But so could you.

The warm air turns cold as you inhale shakily. You do a double take of the surroundings again to make sure you’re alone.

“Sorry, Luffy.”

You throw the rope ladder down and descend as quietly as possible.

#monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece #opla #monkey d. luffy #muku'sfics #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #one piece x reader

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: This chapter has no smut but still contains highly suggestive themes and sexual implications. Mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. fem!reader suffers with self-worth and bad memories, including past insults and abuse.

notes: After so long finally part 2!! EEEEEEEE I am so excited but also so nervous pls ;w; like if you want the first part can be read as a standalone and have a "happy ending" but now I am committed to the emotional roller coaster, A/B/O dynamics and LONG BURN PINING so yep >:3c hope this does justice to everyone's expectation tho. And hope you like it and accompany me on this tale hehe

As a lil sidenote brackets [] now indicate past actions/words and bad memories, regular italics for emphasis, inner thoughts or the little pinyin I sprinkled here (which btw is taken straight from genshin wiki so...).

<- Part 1 Part 3 ->

Being precious all of the sudden was… different.

Your hand subconsciously kept touching your bonding mark, as if to make sure it was still there, to soothe you.

After a quick meal just between Zhongli and you, consisting of some soft rice buns and delicious minced meat packaged inside a crispy pastry shell, you were then offered some new clothes. It was much more elaborate and certainly more layered than anything you’d worn before: a long skirt and flowy sleeves in a silky soft fabric, beautifully embroidered and hastily modified to make a hole for your tail to slip out. A sash keeping everything in place while accentuating your figure. You immediately loved it although it felt a little heavy and restricting.

Now, you quietly follow Zhongli as he leads you around the palace. He’s back to his former fully-human appearance, wearing an elegant attire, and everywhere you go, people bow at him and cast curious silent glances at you. It was rather unnerving.

It’s fine, you are used to being stared at, judged. You hold your tail up close for comfort.

The place is huge and you quickly get lost trying to map it out in your head, simply following along until you reach a large room with a few simple beds scattered around. Bookcases and cabinets stacked the walls, filled with all sorts of books, papers, jars and things. A pungent smell present in the air.

A green-haired man leans over a desk, glasses perched on his nose as he frantically scribbles some notes. What seems like powders and plants litter the space around him, along with a few more glass containers, incense, and a tea set with a steaming fresh cup.

“Baizhu.” Zhongli’s voice calls and you stiffen a little, hearing it again after a while of silence. It is still warm and deep but with a more reserved and regal tone like when he first met you.

The green-haired man (a Beta, you recognize) looks up and blinks in surprise, then smiles brightly and says some words you do not understand, you shuffle in place.

“Yes, this is her.” Zhongli replies. “I will ask you to speak in in common tongue so she can understand as well, I don’t want to unnecessarily unnerve her.”

Well, that is… very considerate. It eases you a little.

“Of course, your majesty.” He turns to you, his eyes were a bright amber, also with slitted pupils. Was it common in liyuens? “My name is Baizhu, the royal doctor and apothecary, pleased to meet you, empress.”

Empress?!

“E-Empress?!” You can’t help but blurt out.

“Why of courssse.” A high-pitched voice hisses and you almost jump when a white snake peaks her head from her coils at the desk, staring up at you. “You’re mated to hisss majesssty the emperor, sssso, it would be underssstood you’re now the empresssss.” Her split tongue flickers.

Baizhu chuckles. “Changsheng, be nice.”

You don’t know what to answer, mostly because you’re still reeling from the fact that you’re apparently now an empress, and because there’s a talking snake.

Liyue is weird…

“I decided to bring her here exactly because of that.” Zhongli turns to you and suddenly holds one of your hands, softly, staring at you with such affection it makes you melt. “Darling, would you let him check your bonding mark for a moment?”

You’re a little nervous, but it is not like you can refuse… right? You nod quietly.

Baizhu approaches and examines your neck and you fight the urge not to flinch or growl. No Omega likes it when a stranger is so close to such a sensitive spot. He hums and tilts his head but doesn’t touch you. “It seems it’s already healed due to her illuminated beast blood but the scar is present. I’d say the bond has been properly established, congratulations your majesty.” He smiles warmly.

A grateful bubbly feeling creeps up your chest. Properly established. So, it’s true.

You feel Zhongli’s hand squeeze yours lightly and look down at it, then back up at him. “Thank you, Baizhu. I will not keep you any longer. We still have a lot to do and I’m sure you do as well.”

Baizhu bows at him (at both of you, you realize) and then you’re on your way. Not before hearing the snake’s hissy whispers again

“A fine yin, hm…?”

--------------------------------------------

This is… your new home.

Zhongli shows you around some of the areas in what he called the “inner court” of the palace complex. Everything is so… large and open and lavish it has your head spinning, your eyes darting in every direction trying to take in all at once, walking fast on your new clothes. He guides you along the dining hall, a small temple, crosses through an enormous main hall where he explains audiences are held, and then a gorgeous outer garden that completely takes your breath away.

The wooden gilded architecture in golds and reds, the fresh wind and gentle sun. All sorts of new sounds and smells. The painted walls and high ceilings. The new plants and flowers. The chatters in a different language… everything is so distinct from the desert.

You soak in the new environment. Inhaling deeply.

It is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Finally, he guides you to another room, it looks similar to the nest room where you’d first been at, but larger. It is sparsely decorated with a large and comfy looking-bed, a desk, mirror and a small table with a couple chairs and a tea set. It smells nice enough.

You peek up at Zhongli.

“This will be your room.” He explains.

…What?

“We kept it simple for now but you are, of course, free to furnish and decorate it however you’d like. It’s close to my own room and anything you might need.”

Wait what?

Your ears lower down and you seem to deflate a little, disappointed. “H-Huh? But… I-I won’t be sleeping with you?” You ask softly.

Mated pairs sleep together, don’t they? They share living chambers and mix their scents together to symbolize their union. That’s what you’ve always been told. You are to always be near your Alpha, at his beck and call, warm up his bed and be ready to please.

Maybe things are different in Liyue? Or maybe it’s because he’s an emperor. Master didn’t tell you anything, so maybe you are just making a fool of yourself right now on your-

Zhongli clears his throat and looks at you a little surprised “I simply thought you’d be more comfortable having your own space, we… don’t really know each other very well yet, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Impose? As in order? But he’s your Alpha! “B-But I want to! Please! I-I mean… I thought that since we’re b-bonded…” You mumble shyly.

His cheeks turn a little pink, you like when that happens, he looks a lot less serious. He cups your cheek and you inhale looking up at those gorgeous golden eyes. “My dear dragoness. I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything you don’t want to. I know you were raised… differently, I cannot claim to understand your experiences, but listen to me: you are safe here.” He says the last part slowly, enunciating each word. “No one will scold you or punish you, least of all me. I want you to be free to speak and choose what you want.” He sighs. “Though I know it’ll be difficult...”

Furnish, impose, free… you don’t know any of those words.

But no punishment, to choose what you want, to be safe… it sounds surreal even.

What do you want?

His eyes soften at your nervous silence. “Let’s try this… do you really want to share my room, or would you like to stay here? I won’t be upset if you do.”

“I…” Your tail curls around you. “I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.” You mumble.

“Then it would be my honor, however, this room will stay ready if you change your mind, alright?” You glance around at the room again, and nod. “Now that that is settled, I have one last thing to do. I need to introduce you to a few very special people before I leave to-”

“Leave?!”

You didn’t mean to yelp like that.

“J-just to do my duties, I am not leaving you, I promise.” He corrects, a little taken aback. “I am sorry my dear, but as much as I’d like to spend every moment by your side right now, I have a few pressing matters to tend to. I know you’re nervous, everything is new and scary and overwhelming but I promise I’ll leave you in good hands and be back as soon as I can.”

You nod, now feeling a little embarrassed at the whole ordeal. You’d been feeling so at ease with his presence, showing you around, listening to his voice name and explain everything you saw that you’d almost forgotten. “You’re the emperor, I’m sure you’re very busy. No need to worry about me, I’ll behave, my lord.”

He frowns a little at that but says nothing, and you choose to say nothing else either.

Going back to the main hall, you immediately spot three people lined up looking at you with a mix of the already expected curiosity and excitement. One of them in particular immediately catches your attention, he’s an Alpha and you can’t help but feel a little nervous…

“Allow me to introduce you, these three are my most loyal and closest council members: Ping, Ganyu and Xiao.” Zhongli gestures at them and all three bow lightly. “Like you and I they all have the blood of xiānshòu, and you can ask them for anything should you need help or have questions. I hope you learn to trust them and feel at ease.”

You nod quietly, still a bit fixated on the other Alpha.

“Xiao, or general Alatus, is one of Liyue’s strongest, most resilient and skilled warriors. He usually keeps guard at the palace to ensure my wellbeing and now yours as well, if you ever feel danger call out his name and he’ll come.”

Ah, did they notice you were staring…?

With a gesture of his hand Xiao manifests a gorgeous Jade spear, crystalline green shards reflecting light as he taps it by his side, standing firm, you flinch in surprise. “My spear shall now serve you too, empress.” His eyes too are golden and sharp, filled with a certain rigidness and determination you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Thank you, Xiao, dismissed.”

Xiao hums quietly and promptly disappears in a burst of black and green smoke, you stand there a little startled, your hand clings to the brown fabric of Zhongli’s sleeve.

“He might be an Alpha as well, but I promise you he’ll cause you no harm.” Your alpha murmurs softly towards you.

“O-okay…” You squeak, a bit embarrassed.

“Ganyu here is one of the most reliable people in the palace, perhaps the entirety of Liyue. Everything of importance reaches her ears and passes through her eyes. She’s able to organize meetings, events, report, compile information and assist every negotiation and decision of this palace with stunning efficiency. She too will help you with anything you need and might be in charge of a little logistics regarding you settling in for the next few days.” Zhongli smiles.

The young woman with long blue hair and… horns? chuckles and blushes a little. “Your majesty, you're too kind, I merely love doing my job.” She puts her hands together and beams at you, sunset eyes bright. “I’m so honored to meet you, rest assured I’ll take care of anything you need. I hope you feel comfortable and welcome at the palace!”

That sounded like a lot. You weren’t used to people coddling you like this. You didn’t want to give anyone trouble or work. “T-that’s alright, thank you.”

“Now, Ping is probably going to spend the most time with you, she’s very knowledgeable in culture, history and the inner workings of the palace amongst other things. She has graciously offered to teach you liyuen and anything else you’d be interested in.”

Unlike the other two Ping has a certain calm aura to her, contrasting Xiao’s seriousness and Ganyu’s excited energy. You can tell she’s a gentle old soul as she approaches you with a soft wrinkled smile and graying hair.

“Don’t worry young empress, while Lord Morax here is regrettably busy with a work-packed schedule,” She gives him a playful side stare “You and I will have some fun. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” She takes your hand and pats it comfortingly. It’s kind of an awkward gesture for you, but you still welcome the warmth and good intentions.

Zhongli chuckles quietly. “In that case, I’ll leave you in her care and see you at night for dinner, alright?” He seems to hesitate for a moment but then cups your face in his hands and places a soft kiss at your forehead. The unexpected gesture has you blushing scarlet and your heart speeding up like crazy. His thumb brushes at the scales under your eyes, so affectionate in the smallest ways… “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be fine, yes?”

You stare at his golden eyes, the red lines, his handsome face framed with dark hair, his serene smile.

You don’t like this. You don’t want him to leave. The idea makes you uncomfortable.

But it’s not like you can say no.

You nod.

“Thank you, Ping.” Both of them exchange a glance and then he turns to the blue-haired woman still in the room. “Ganyu, if you will.”    

“Right away your majesty!” She scurries after him, talking quickly in foreign tongue while both walk away.

You stare after him for a moment longer.

“It’s a little difficult, isn’t it?”

You quickly turn back to Ping and then look down, ears folding back.

She laughs softly. “No need to be ashamed dear, it is understandable that you are unsure with all this, it’s a lot of changes for such a short time and you bond is still fresh, but let’s take it easy.”

Your hand brushes at Zhongli’s bonding mark again. “O-Okay…”

“Are you hungry? Tired? Perhaps you want to rest a little?”

You want to scurry away to your mate’s room and curl up there, that’s what you want, but…

“Um, aren’t you… going to train me?”

Ping blinks a little taken aback “Train? Oh! Teach?”

Same thing.

“Well, yes. I did offer, but only if you’re feeling up to it young empress. You can take your time, we don’t have to start right away. And like I said, take it easy, it's only your second day here.” She explains. “You won’t be absorbing any information if you are uncomfortable and jittery like this.”

“S-sorry-”

“No need to apologize at all. Now tell me, is there anything you’ve seen or heard today that you’re curious about, anything you want to do?”

What you want…

You think back a few hours earlier. The infirmary, the small temple, the grand hall, and…

“The garden.” You speak. “Can we go outside and see?”

Ping smiles brightly. “Of course! I’m sure there are a lot of things there that will catch your interest and cheer you up.”

Your tail sways a little after you as you follow the old lady along the corridors.

------------------------         

The garden is breathtaking.

More than a garden it feels like a whole different world. Bright and exciting and colorful, full of life. It reminds you of an Oasis, but just… more!

A grand pond with multicolored fishes and a couple of turtles sunbathing. Walk paths made of stone, plants everywhere you see: in trees with vibrant yellows, oranges and all shades of greens, in flowers with soft colors and small petals, in thick bushes. The light filters through the leaves and there’s the soft tweets of small birds.

“It’s… so pretty!” You exclaim happily.

“I’m glad you think so. Gardens like this are carefully cared for and preserved to impress, but they also represent beauty, abundance a sense of harmony.” Ping explains as she is now the one following after you, skipping along the path. “These trees you see are sandbearers, and that one is a ginkgo tree, you can tell the difference by the shapes of their leaves.” She points at each one and you follow with your gaze, picking a small leaf from the floor, golden and fan-shaped.

“Ooh…”

“See those smaller fishes? They’re goldfishes. The bigger ones are kois.” She gestures at the animals freely swimming around. Some of them are huge!

“What do they eat?” You blurt out.

“Well, usually algae and wheat. We can get some another day and you can feed them.”

“Really?!”

“Of course.”

“Oh! Is that a koi too? It’s so… long and pretty.”

“Ah, that one is a golden koi. Lord Morax has a few of them here. They are also called Jīnchì Jiǎlóng or ‘false dragons’ you know? For the small horns and long bodies. They do resemble your tail a little, don’t they?”

You move your tail forward and stare at it, then stare at the serpentine fish.     

“Yes, sort of… Jin chi… jia long.” You mumble.

“Here, I think you’ll like these ones. Come with me.” You eagerly follow after Ping as she rounds the pond and guides you towards a few red bushes. They’re dotted with pink round flowers. “These are silk flowers, Nícháng-huā, usually harvested to make clothes, but there are many special ornamental variants and between us both, your dear mate has a weak spot for these so he has quite the collection.” She chuckles.

“Orna…metal?”

“Ornamental, it means mostly for decoration.”

“Oh!” Suddenly you feel dumb, you’d thought for a second that was a liyuen word too. “I’m sorry… I don’t even know common tongue very well.” How could you even expect to learn liyuen?

“No worries, dear, learning a new language is a daunting task, it takes a bit of work every day. If you keep learning, using and practicing words, you’ll get there.”

You smiled softly. Ping was so… patient and supportive.

So much different from…

[You have to try harder.]

[Tch that is not good enough.]

[Are you stupid?!]

[Useless omega.]

You looked at the budding silk flowers and blinked. Once. Twice. Why was your vision blurry now? What was this feeling?

“Oh, oh young empress please don’t cry. It’s alright” Ping’s alarmed remark helps you understand. She fusses over you. “Are you ok?”

You wipe at your tears and smile, a genuine bright smile.

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you truly mean it.

----------------------------------------

After a rather fancy bath (the kind of like you used to take before being presented to Alphas, with bubbles and scented oils...) and a good dinner Zhongli and you headed over for his chambers for the night. You couldn’t help but be a little… nervous.

This is stupid. He’s your Alpha.

He’s been nothing but kind to you.

What if he wants to… d-do things?

Then you’ll do it. He’s your mate. It’s your obligation.

You were the one who chose this anyway.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, anxiety creeping up your chest. Were your fingers trembling? Was the room suddenly cold?

As expected, the bedroom was quite matching his style. Golds, browns and a bit of red and black here and there. Dragon imagery adorning some of the walls, a tea cabinet with a small table and shelves filled with all sorts of trinkets from precious stones and books to a beautiful fan and a tea set.

And then there was the bed.

A large canopy bed, enough to probably have your body and tail fully stretched across and still fit in the mattress, beautifully decorated and filled with fabrics and pillows.

The scent of Zhongli’s Alpha pheromones was definitely strong.

He yawns and runs a hand along his forehead, combing along his hair before pulling out the clip on it, letting his long dark locks spill free. He takes off his robe revealing his naked torso and you jolt.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.           

You undress as well into your light sleeping clothes and gingerly slip into his bed, curling up around his pillows, surrounded by his scent.

His.

You are his.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine-

“Darling, is everything alright? Are you uncomfortable?” He asks concerned, climbing on the bed as well and reaching out to touch your arm. You squeak. “You’re… terrified, what’s wrong?” Then Zhongli’s eyes widen a little. “Oh. The scent… I completely overlooked that, my apologies. Is it too strong? Are you ok? Should have given you some things earlier for you to scent and include them here. This is no good…” He rambles a bit to himself as he sits up and crosses his arms thoughtfully.

You stare at him, anxiety still surging through your veins but now mixed in with confusion.

“Would you like to sleep in the other room we prepared for you instead?” He sighs.

“I… t-this is… you… would just let me leave?”

Zhongli tilts his head slightly, now he looks confused.

“I promised you that the room would be available-”

“So, you don’t want to mate?”

Silence.

He stares at you for a moment as you grip at the bedsheets, still tense.

His eyes widen as realization settles in.

Ah. The pink dusting in his cheeks is back.

“Y-You thought that… no! My dear, no, no, no…” He coughs into his fist awkwardly. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong idea. A-As I said before I want you to be comfortable and feel safe. No Alpha will force you to do anything you don’t want. Not even me. And you don’t have to feel forced to do things you don’t want to, either.”

You look down. Although you feel slightly more relieved.

“I want to stay here. A-and if you want to, I’ll service you, my lord. I was just… nervous, sorry.”

“I assure you there is no need for any of that.” He says softly. “Here.”

He pulls the covers and slips them over you both, lying down facing you but still keeping a little distance. You do the same, curled up face to face with him.

He’s so effortlessly handsome.

And kind.

And you like him.

But he’s still an Alpha.

“Is this alright? We’re just going to sleep, I promise.” He brushes some hair away from your face.

You nod.

“Is there… anything you want to talk about or ask me?”

You... don’t know.

You shake your head.

“Hmmm. Want to share about your day? What were you up to with Ping?” He gives you a playful smile. Suddenly he feels less like an imposing strict emperor, or like a scary Alpha. He’s just your Zhongli.

“She… showed me the garden. I wanted to see.”

“Ah, the royal garden has many fascinating sights and it’s a beautiful landscape to retreat to and ease one’s mind. I had the feeling you’d be interested.”

“There were so many beautiful things. She taught me about the silk flowers, nícháng-huā. And all the trees and fishes and birds.”

“Oh? Are these your first words in liyuen, my dear?”

You giggle. “I… suppose they are. She also showed me your turtles Jiàn and Fù and told me what their names mean, they are so cute. Oh! And we saw the liúlí bah… bai… bǎihé! I sang to them and they bloomed! It was... amazing.”

“I see. Not everyone can achieve that, I’ll admit I’m quite hopeless at singing.” He chuckles “What more did you learn?”

Feeling much more content and at ease you continue retelling all the new things you had experienced and the vocabulary you had learned including how to introduce yourself and some greetings and basic words. Talking for what felt like hours until weariness and sleep claimed you both.

Zhongli simply listened and stared at you, captivated. He seemed content as well.

It made you happy.

------------------------------------------

For the next couple of months, you established a sort of routine.

You’d wake up early alongside Zhongli, even though you didn’t need to, you simply enjoyed having some morning tea and breakfast with him. Afterwards he’d go tend to some of his official duties and you’d stay with Ping Lǎolao, learning more and more each day. By now you could even follow some basic conversation (provided the other person didn’t speak too fast) although reading and writing was still extremely difficult.

You’d expressed interest in some gardening and even headed to the kitchens to prepare some food by yourself. The maids claimed there was no need for the empress to do such ‘menial tasks’ but as an Omega you pride yourself in certain things, and cooking for your Alpha was something you’d yearned to do.

You were overjoyed when Zhongli praised your Jade parcels.

You’d always have lunch with him and some days he’d accompany you for a stroll or you’d stay at his study for some leisure time, or even at some meetings. It had been a little unnerving at first but you also knew it was important to know others and be known in the council, as well as understand Liyue outside of the palace walls. After all, you are an empress now.

At night, you slept close to him. The initial awkwardness of sleeping at opposite sides of the bed soon traded for a much cuddlier approach, often with you curled up to Zhongli’s chest or him spooning you, tails often intertwined together. The bed and the entire room now have a mix of your combined scents, like true mates.

And so, life was good…

------------------------------------------  

You’re slowly pulled out of your sleep as Zhongli stirs in the bed. You grumble a little and yawn, already missing his warmth. It was so pleasant…

“Good morning, my dear dragoness.”

“Morning…” You mumble, not opening your eyes and instead blindly reaching for his pillow to hug and cling to. “Can we stay for longer?” You whine.

“You definitely can, but I have to go.” He kisses your forehead “Rest, my dear.”

You pout but say nothing. Squeezing at the pillow and burying your face in it.

It smells so good…

------------------------------------------  

“Hmm… is it warmer today?” You wonder aloud as the maids help you up with the layers of your hanfu. The clothes still hot and heavy in contrast to what you used to wear at the desert, but today seemingly more so… the sash feels more constricting than usual. “I-I think I’d like to wear something a little lighter… if possible.”

“Of course, your majesty, no problem.”

You smile at them, grateful.

 --------------------------------------------

Sitting at Zhongli’s study room you practice some basic liyuen calligraphy while he seemingly goes over some important documents. The silence is comfortable and a warm cup of Qixing tea steams at both desks. Yet, something keeps bothering you.

You huff lightly, scratching and picking at the scales of your tail, irritated with the uncomfortable feeling. Why is it so itchy? A couple of them fall off, revealing new glossy ones underneath.

“Ah…” So that means…

You stop for a moment. The feverish feeling, scents being stronger on your nose, the urge to nest and cling to your mate.

Hmm… part of you is a little excited. And yet, there is fear.

------------------------------------------  

“You have quite the appetite today, dear. Eat slowly, the food won’t go anywhere.” Ping chuckles as you practically pick a little of every dish while still trying to keep some modicum of elegance. Chopsticks weren’t that easy after all.

“Yes… I think… I think it’s my pre-heat hormones.” You sigh before munching on a shrimp ball.

Your heat…

Your first heat with Zhongli. With any Alpha to be honest. You’d always had to endure them on your own (Master couldn’t have you get pregnant) and they were excruciating and debilitating, crying out for days with your skin burning and itching, trying to sate yourself with your fingers and humping pillows. But now… you’re happily bonded.

Would it… feel good again?

Like, that first time you two mated…

You feel your cheeks heat up.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?”

You’re brought back to reality to see Ping staring at you seemingly a little alarmed.

“Pre-heat? Young empress, are you going into heat soon?”

“Y-yeah? Probably um, tonight…? Or tomorrow.” The onsets are always so quick, and your cycle has always been more or less stable.

The elder places her chopsticks down. “Have you told Lord Morax?”

“Um. N-No, not yet. But… m-maybe he already caught on...” You tilt your head.

…Right?

Then again even you took a couple of days to identify the signs, and now for sure you were at the brink of it. Maybe he’ll mate you tonight…

Hm… how will Zhongli react to your heat scent?

You have to do your best!

[Be a good omega.]

Ping stands up, her expression still gentle but with a sort of urgency to it, your instincts catch the feeling she’s worried about something.

“I have to inform about this, please stay here dear.”

Now you’re nervous. You nod slowly.

Why does it feel like you did something wrong…?

------------------------------------------

After that, things get… chaotic.

It’s only a while later that you find yourself at the infirmary. Ganyu and Zhongli are also there and everyone’s anxious pheromones in the air do not sit well with you (subtle as they are, your nose is hyperaware right now).

“I’m sorry the symptoms are already settled in. At this point it is simply not feasible to give her suppressants, she has to go through this heat.” Baizhu says, looking troubled.

Feasible? Suppressants? More unknown words but…

Is there something wrong with your heat?

Ganyu scurries off and Ping starts talking with Baizhu on the other side of the room. You cling to Zhongli’s robe, trying to soothe yourself with his presence but his scent is… agitated.

You whine to call out to him. You’re scared.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Zhongli pulls you close, cupping your face again, staring straight at you. “No… no my dear dragoness, of course you didn’t, it’s just…” He steels himself searching for the right words, it doesn’t ease you in the slightest. “We didn’t expect your heat so soon. I should have known, noticed… I’m sorry.”

Why is your alpha apologizing to you? That is ridiculous.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“It’s… not the right time.”

You’re so confused.

Don’t Alphas like it when Omegas are in heat? Soft, pliant, warm, needy and ready to breed.

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to do this…” He says. “And… you could trigger my rut, you could end up pregnant. I don’t want to… scare you, or hurt you. It’s much too soon for us to share your heat. I thought we’d have more time for you to get acclimated to Liyue or…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind. For the next few days you’ll be in a separate room, yes? No one will disturb you during your heat, I promise.”

“B-But then… I… what…?”

Alone?

“Usually omegas take suppressants, like a type of medicine, to stave off their heats so they don’t have to face these risks or suffer them alone, and then when they’re ready, when they want, they choose to share heats with their partners.” He explains.

“But I want to! I… I’ll be good!”

Zhongli sighs. “Darling you are good, you are precious to me. You don’t need to prove anything or do things because they are ‘expected’ of you.”

He’s not listening!

He asks you what you want. He says you can choose. But now that you tell him, ask him, beg him even… he denies you?

How come you’re always making the wrong choice?

Was it all a lie then?

“But I- T-then- Why-… YOU’RE CONFUSING ME!!” You yell, tears stinging in your eyes.

There are a few gasps and you see not only Baizhu and Ping, but Ganyu and some of the maids staring at you in shock. You cover your mouth, eyes wide at the sudden burst of fierceness and emotion.

You yelled at him.

You talked back.

You should be punished.

He stares at you, frozen like a statue for a few moments. You stare at him, pitiful, your eyes begging. A whimper leaves you and Zhongli lets out a shuddering breath.

Oh, your Alpha wants you, you know it.

"Please..." You mumble, voice so small.

"I'm sorry my dear, it's better this way." His hand moves towards you, to cup your face again or brush at your hair you're not sure, but he stops himself before you can find out. He sighs, averting his gaze and looking conflicted, and then turns around.

This is your punishment.

"It'll be just a few days, you'll be well-cared for. This is for the best." He says sternly, voice pinched.

And then he leaves.

Your heart shatters.

Everything is a blur after that. You’re gently guided along towards an empty nest room, the same one you'd first met him at, there are some things with both your scents on it but they feel sterile, washed anew.

Your hands start trembling. Your eyes start to water. Your lips quiver. Your throat feels tight, choked and dry. Your body feels feverish, hot and restless.

Zhongli rejected you.

“Your majesty please calm down."

[Useless.]

[Moron.]

[Whore.]

You could no longer breathe, hear nor see. You feel like you're drowning, unable to process what just happened. Your mate…your precious mate…he…he…

He abandoned you.

“Your majesty…?"

You scream.

#genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #crys writes #fem reader #LohK #just in case (?) #minors dni #c l i f f h a n g e r :))))) #I am in my evil era (?) #zgvcgjahbcajsncaj gods the emotions and issues here are so complex pls talk to me about the fic I will happily rant a lot #I love dragoness reader so much is2g #I want her to be happy #bit it'll be a journey until there #shoutout to honorary sisterwive guizhong speedwagon and her tiny husband for their cameos (????) #golden kois are my fav genshin fish can you tell? #also I decided on silk flowers and later remembering of all the variaties zl talks about during the archon quest and lmao #anyway ty all ILU byeeee

[sydnikov]

Fleeting || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov / fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.5k

Summary: Every moment with Andrei is fleeting.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), cheating(?), toxic relationship, alcoholic consumption, angst, cursing, no happy ending, Andrei-is-a-dick™

A/N: For those of you who have already been following me, you might remember this post—that’s what this is based on :) This is also the longest fic I’ve ever written so that’s insane, but sorry not sorry. Get ready, this one’s gonna hurt 🤭

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Andrei doesn’t love you.

It becomes clear for you months after you start fucking him on the side. His likeness for you is merely an obsession, something to have all to himself.

You’re his, or were his, and that’s how he saw you. Nothing more than that, or at least that’s the conclusion you’ve come to after months apart lets you reflect on your relationship with him.

Spending a lot of time in your head, you think. About him, his actions, why he couldn’t love you the way you love him.

He always held you close to him, one muscular arm curled around your waist while the other likely held a drink in his hand. He paraded you around like a prize, happy to show off the hot piece of meat he likely thought of you as at his side.

It was hard to reach him, literally and metaphorically. You had to stand up on your toes to reach his ear, and the power imbalance just by your height difference alone only made the whole thing hotter, merely one aspect of your relationship you never really could get over.

Every time you spoke it had him grinning in a way that made you think he knew something you didn’t. You’re already so shy, too, and it’s what made up your whole demeanor, what drew him to you in the first place.

He likes sweetness. Innocence, quiet—that way you couldn’t rebel. And he loved it when you doted on him. You did your best to be everything he wanted in a girl, too. Bold makeup, skimpy clothing, speaking only to him and him alone. Best of all, you didn’t question him. His actions, his decisions, why he’d sometimes go days without speaking to you but once he called you again, you would come running without hesitation.

It took you too long to realize that he only liked you because you were someone he could fall back on when the freedom of his escapades got too boring and he needed stability. The thing is that Andrei loved you being his, but he didn’t want to ever be yours.

And you know this now, you do. The moment you went no contact and left his apartment in tears, you were calling your best friend for support and to reinforce the fact that he is the asshole, not you.

Sometimes, though, you dream. Of his hands on you, his mouth on your neck, his thick cock pounding into you from behind. The toxicity of it all that, despite everything, felt so good because your emotions were always on overdrive when with him.

Mostly, you liked feeling desired. Nobody had ever pursued you the way he did, even if your body is all he really wanted from you to begin with.

It’s been months since you confessed your feelings for him and he told you to leave; months of you wallowing, going to work, meeting with friends for drinks as a shell of yourself because without Andrei, life suddenly seemed colorless.

You miss him. The excitement, the tension, the way he made you feel. And you pride yourself on being confident, but all self respect flies out the window the moment his name is brought up. It’s wrong, too, you swear you know this, and you imagine countless times telling him off, if you ever run into him again.

For treating you like a body to warm his dick, a soulless individual with no feeling… You’re reminded of the last conversation you had with him yet again, the one that ended everything. You’d been seeing each other for months when it occurred. Months full of Andrei and the rollercoaster of emotions he had you on.

To get to the end, though, you have to go back to the beginning.

It’s January of twenty twenty-three, and you’re freshly twenty-one and experiencing the world in a way you never could before. Riding the high of getting your first serious job in college, it took no convincing at all for you to let your best friend, Maria, convince you to go out on a Friday night to celebrate your blossoming lives.

“Who are we meeting there, again?” You ask, painting your lips a bright red in front of Maria’s full-body mirror. You’ve already started pregaming, and your head is starting to buzz in just the way you like it.

Your blonde friend is quickly curling her hair, despite the fact that she’s had hours to get ready and still procrastinated until you arrived at her apartment. “Some friends from work. You probably won’t know them,” She says offhandedly, finishing her hair in record timing before snatching up the two dresses she had previously laid out on her bed. “Should I wear this in black or red?”

Raising a brow, you question her wording. “Considering I don’t work with you, I doubt I would.” Laughing, you turn your head away from the mirror to examine the two dresses she’s holding up to her body. “Do the red one, it makes your eyes pop.”

Anything would look good on Maria, though. She has this timeless sort of beauty, a blonde, blue-eyed bombshell that has eyes turning her way wherever she goes. You’d be jealous if you didn’t mind her taking all the attention off of you, considering you’re nowhere near as bold as her.

It will especially come in handy tonight, too, since these co-workers of hers are ones you’ve never met before and you don’t exactly plan on getting too close to them.

“This is why I get ready with you,” Maria sighs happily, unceremoniously throwing the black dress back onto her bed. “Oh! I almost forgot, I have heels for you!” She’s then running back into her closet, ruffling through a box before emerging with a pair of bright red stilettos.

“What’s with the red theme tonight?” You giggle as she tosses the heels to you. They look expensive, a brand you don’t recognize written in cursive on the inside of the leather soles. Maria insisted you incorporate red into your outfit tonight, whether it be subtle or bold.

She eyes you from her position on the bed, somehow managing to zip up her dress one-handed. “You don’t watch sports by any chance, do you?”

Throwing back the last of a vodka shot, you wince before responding. “My dad made me watch baseball with him sometimes?”

Maria’s face lights up like she suddenly knows something you don’t. All she does is hum in response, biting her lip like she’s holding back from telling you something.

Or, you’re just drunk. You’ve always been a lightweight. “What?” You ask anyway, finally standing up as you adjust yourself.

The blonde walks over to you, fixes the creases in your little black dress and affixes you with an approving stare. “Don’t worry about it,” Suddenly, she’s whirling around to go back for her phone, which is laid faced down on the nightstand. “Ooh, I knew those heels were a good choice. You look so good!”

As she saunters back over, wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you into her side and poses for a picture, you forget all about the abrupt topic change and the fact that her red theme with questions of sports does mean something, after all.

Truthfully, you still can’t remember exactly how you got from her apartment and into a high-end bar you’ve only ever seen advertised online. Bits and pieces of an Uber ride along with downing more shots come to mind, but it’s all hazy.

You don’t really care to remember though, either, as Maria leads you through the crowded bar, arm linked through yours, with a purpose. The music is loud, so loud you think you can see the walls moving, but that’s also probably just your swimming vision.

“Here they are!” Maria is shouting over the noise, and you follow her gaze to a group of tall, imposing men surrounding two booths right by the bar.

“Those are you coworkers?” You ask, a little incredulous. Scratch that—very incredulous.

She sends you a mischievous grin. “I said friends, girl. Meet my friends!” That’s what gathers their attention, and you’re suddenly reminded that she’s just as tipsy as you right now, if not more.

Ah, fuck, you think as one of the men come over and pull Maria into a hug. He looks at you questioningly after they pull apart, and you send him a small, nervous smile.

Damn it, Maria.

“You must be the friend she mentioned,” He says, again looking to the blonde beside you for confirmation. “From college, yeah?”

That seems to snap Maria out of whatever stunned stupor she’d been in, and she tunes back into your conversation by, again, pulling you into her. “My best friend,” She swoons, and yeah. She’s definitely drunk now.

“Nice to meet you,” He’s chuckling, and seems to be familiar with her antics. “I’m Martin.”

You introduce yourself and shake his offered hand. “Any leftover shots, by any chance?” While taking the lead in conversation with people you’ve never met before might seem odd, you don’t think you can rely on Maria to socialize for you considering she’s already falling into your side.

“I can check, if you want to follow me—ah, shit,” Martin curses, suddenly, then quickly apologizes to the two of you before rushing over to a man with a mustache attempting to climb on top of a table.

“Interesting friends, Maria,” You say into her ear as you reluctantly follow him, keeping her close. “Who’s the one with the mustache?”

She seems to gain a little bit of her wits back to give you a description of all the guys within your eyesight. “The mustache is Seth, super friendly but also, uh… Super drunk. He’s Canadian.”

You’re not sure why you need to know his nationality, but she continues before you can ask.

“And you just met Martin, right? Yeah, he’s really nice. His girlfriend, Nykki, is gorgeous, they’re both from Czechia. Then there’s the really tall one, behind Seth? No, other side. Yeah, that’s Jesperi. A bit of a flirt even though we’re all pretty sure he has a girlfriend, but he still won’t admit it. He’s Finnish.”

Maria continues to describe a few of the others, but truthfully, you tune out after Jesperi because a man about the same height as the Finn is suddenly approaching the group, and looks to be the only one Seth listens to because that’s who gets him to crawl down from the table.

You don’t know why he catches your attention so suddenly, but something about him… He turns, and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Immediately, you come to find there’s no accurate word to describe him. His beauty simply transcends any compliment you could give; instead, you interrupt your friend from her spiel.

“Hey Mare, Mare—who’s that?” Slapping her arm, you point towards the now-laughing stranger. He’s looking around as he does so, which is when he makes contact with your starstruck eyes. He looks amused, then seems to recognize the blonde beside you, and then he’s cutting through the crowd to meet you.

Maria gives you a look before also spotting the approaching stranger, and a large smile lights up her face. It’s a smile you’re very familiar with, one that enraptures every man who catches a glimpse of her pearly whites.

You quickly come to the conclusion that this is why she was so eager to go out. She’s likely had her eye on him for a while, and you struggle to keep the disappointment from your face as she purrs his name.

“Hey, Andrei,” She says, a little giggly. “Great game today, you all played awesome.”

Andrei… You test the name silently, liking the way it feels on your tongue. He’s even taller up close, and you can see the muscle definition straining through the fabric of his shirt. He’s huge, and you feel incredibly small standing next to him.

“Thank you,” He replies, his voice deep. A little husky, definitely accented, but you’re not sure from where. “Who’s your friend?” He changes topic quickly, and those dark eyes are back on you once again.

Maria, as ditzy as she can be, does notice the subtle change in him. Andrei has never been overly flirty with her like she has with him, and she’d be an idiot not to notice the way his eyes were drawn to you the moment he spotted you.

She’s used to having all sorts of attention from the opposite sex, and the Russian hockey player is all sorts her type. It’s amusing though, watching how you melt under his gaze, thinks ‘me too’, and then decides to help you out.

“This is my friend from college,” She introduces you, says your name and watches as he takes it in like it’s very important information. Grabbing your hand from where it rests at your side, she holds it out to Andrei for you, snickers as you send her a glare. “And this is Andrei. He plays for the Carolina Hurricanes.”

This is why she asked you if you watch sports, you suddenly connect the dots. And why she was telling you where all these people are from. Her friends from work are actually sports players, and you understand why she didn’t say it outright.

These guys, they’re famous, right? Your stomach twists, and you suck in a breath as Andrei takes your hand. His palm envelops yours, and he brings it to his lips to press a heated kiss to your skin.

The greeting is outdated, but for whatever reason it suits him. You think the kiss is a promise, too, as his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

“That’s hockey, right?” You intend to ask Maria, but you’re unable to take your eyes off of Andrei as he slowly lets go of you, like the contact is riveting for him, too. “In the NHL?”

“Yes,” He answers. “You don’t watch?” You’re not a fan like he’d expect. Strangely enough, he likes that you don’t follow them. It makes you all the more interesting, someone new to pick apart for his pleasure.

You flush, turning red under his unrelenting gaze. Suddenly, you feel out of place with your lackluster hockey knowledge. “Not a huge sports girl, unfortunately.” You say slowly, but he catches your quiet words anyway.

He’s already tuned into you—has made you into a new game to win, in his mind.

“I can fix that.” Andrei grins, and it’s almost predatory as he smoothly slides his left arm around your waist. “Do you mind if I steal her?” He directs his question to Maria, but doesn’t really give her a chance to answer before pulling you  away.

Turning your head, you find her sending you a grin as she mouths something encouraging, holding up two thumbs-ups. She’s already decided that if she can’t have this sexy Russian, she wants you to instead.

“I like your heels,” His deep voice is in your ear, suddenly, and you take your eyes off of Maria to look up at Andrei, instead. “They’re the color of our jerseys.”

“Thank you,” You breathe, letting the warmth from his compliment wash over you. “Maria made me wear them.”

He clicks his tongue, like this information doesn’t surprise him. “She has good taste. Red is definitely your color.”

You flush again, finding that his eyes are already on you when you tilt your head up. Nobody has ever told you that before… Maria is always the one getting praise, not you.

The fast beating of your heart, shaky limbs and nervous breath, and you already know you’re falling for it. His charm, his looks, his confidence; it’s addicting, and you can’t force yourself to stop as you ever so slightly lean into him, letting his body envelop you.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the bar, and Andrei orders a drink over the loud bass that reverberates in your ears. It appears moments later - not fair - and then he’s sliding it towards you. You meet his eyes again as he smiles, raising a brow at your silence before he gestures to take it.

“For you,” He says. “Vodka cranberry. I have a feeling you like the fruity drinks, no?”

He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it. You’re not one for sipping hard, bitter liquor, even if it gets the job done. You’re not sure how you feel about him being able to read you so well, but you do like not having to carry the conversation.

“Am I that transparent?” You grin, though it’s laced with insecurity as you take a sip. It’s good, and helps calm your nerves.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, malyshka. It’s not a bad thing.”

You wouldn’t know it then, but he already began patronizing you the moment you met him. The Russian language is full of double-meanings, and malyshka, little one, is rather mocking. For him to know you so well already was a good thing for him, but for you? Not so much.

Andrei sees right through you, and he has from the very beginning.

“You’re not American, are you?” You change topic, suddenly, using the unfamiliar term he used as an excuse. “Your accent, it’s foreign.”

“Net—no, I’m not. Most of my teammates are out of country.” He replies. “I’m from Russia. Just here to play hockey.”

“Do you like it? Here in Raleigh?” You ask, a pitiful form of small talk to keep this sudden tension at bay.

“I do.” He replies. “I like it a whole lot more now that I’ve met you, though.” And then he’s smiling again, a grin rather feral as he looks at you like you’re his prey waiting to be devoured. He’s incredibly smooth as he puts his hands back on you, one sliding around the circumference of your waist while the other brings your hand holding the drink to his lips, taking a sip from the glass.

Your eyes go half-lidded at the motion, and Andrei knows he has you—hook, line, and sinker. He loves this game, but he thinks he likes you a little bit more than that, too.

Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“You just met me,” You blurt, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

Andrei, to his credit, takes your nervousness in stride. He finds it cute that he has that effect on you. “And I like you,” He counters, flashing a dazzling smile. “You’re cute. Small, like kisa.”

“Kisa?” You try out the unfamiliar word, your attempt at a Russian accent definitely not as sexy as his.

“Kitten,” He translates. “Will you purr for me?” It’s so disgustingly cheesy you can’t help but grimace, and Andrei laughs at the look on your face.

He steps closer, even more than he was before, and the way he looks down on you only makes the difference in height that much more noticeable. He’s so big… Normally you’d feel caged, but with him it feels safe, and that’s probably a red flag you won’t discover until much later.

You struggle finding something to say, but he beats you to it. “I’d like your number, if you’re willing to give it.” And he’s so smooth, so conniving with the way he asks it because he’s not demanding at all, letting you think you have all the power.

“Okay,” You breathe, eyes widening in awe as you don’t even have the chance to pull out your phone before he’s sliding his own into your hands. “You can add your contact.” He instructs, watching you type in your information.

It looks informal, your first and last name in his phone like you’re merely a coworker. You’ll blame it on you being tipsy later, but you add a smiley face at the end of your name, hoping it makes you stand out. You don’t know how many girls he has in his contacts but you’re not naive enough to think you’re the only one.

You lick your lips almost subconsciously as you hand Andrei his phone back, and he zeroes in on the motion. Suddenly, he has the urge to kiss you, and so he does just that. It catches you by surprise, but soon enough you’re melting into him as one large hand cradles your jaw, keeping you tilted up to him.

Andrei tastes like sin, like temptation and all things bad you were told to never get involved in as a kid. A forbidden fruit, perhaps, and there’s even hints of cranberry left on his tongue to cement that fact.

“Andrei…” You hum in surprise as he deepens the kiss, his lips soft and heavenly. It takes everything in you to pull back, to separate yourself from the addicting taste of him. “Wait, I don’t, um—”

You pause. Andrei looks confused, perhaps a little alarmed as his eyes flit over your face. “You don’t… Kiss anyone?”

“No! No,” You lower your voice, not wanting to attract any attention. “Of course I do. I just, I don’t hook up. For fun. Ever.”

He frowns, like he can’t fathom the idea that you don’t enjoy sex with no strings attached.

���Really,” he says, not quite a question. “You’re beautiful, though.” The charm comes back full force as his hand comes to brush away some of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Surely you have suitors, no?”

Your throat tightens, and suddenly your eyes are glassy as he looks at you with so much reassurance and affection. “Maria usually gets the ‘suitors’, not me.”

“I don’t believe that.” He responds immediately, and he looks so sure of himself as his head lowers, his eyes looking back and forth from yours to your lips, and you’re helpless to stop him as the hand moving your hair comes to rest on your cheek.

It’s all very convincing, the sudden care and adoration… You’ve never had a man treat you so delicate, like a prized possession, and you fall for it all too quickly.

“Let me take you out?” He soon asks, and there’s nothing you can really respond with other than yes.

Everything happens so quickly from here. Andrei becomes a centerpiece in your life, and you’re helpless to stop it as you fall for everything about him. You don’t truly become his ‘girlfriend’, but you are something more. Secret dates and midnight drives where no one can see you confirm that.

That’s why you think he’s finally turning serious about you when he shows up to your apartment at the beginning of March a few weeks before his playoffs start. He holds a large bouquet of roses, except your favorite flowers are gardenias because they remind you of your mom so your smile wobbles a little bit, but you let it slide for the romanticism of it all.

Andrei grins, the whites of his teeth blinding and he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. He asks you if you’ll come to his playoff games, wear a WAG jacket and act as if what you are is official. You think you truly mean something to him after this, even though he never actually confirms it.

Suddenly you’re Andrei’s girl (but not really) and it becomes your entire identity. You essentially live with him as the playoffs come around, taking care of his apartment while he’s on the road. He talks of getting a dog over the summer, and you’re enthusiastic in your encouragement because you’ll have a friend to keep you company while he’s on the road.

His injury happens, though, and he’s out for good, at least for the rest of the season. You don’t know how to comfort him because your ‘relationship’ is so new, and it’s hard for you to understand why the anger at himself cuts so deep.

Ultimately, you fix the rough patch with sex. Lots and lots of sex. He works through his frustrations by taking you long, hard, and deep, mostly with him on top holding your throat while you take it like the good girl he tells you you are.

“‘Drei, your leg,” You remember saying to him one time as he slams you onto his bed, rolling directly on top of you. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first, too busy laying kisses to your neck.

“I don’t care.” He eventually responds, looking at you so darkly it leaves you shivering. He eats you out afterwards, and, well—you don’t have any more protests after that.

They win the first series against the New York Islanders in six games, and the moment the final goal is scored in overtime you’re jumping out of your seat along with the other WAG’s at one of their houses.

It’s exhilarating, rooting for something with every ounce of your being. You do it for Andrei - who still isn’t playing, but he was there watching - but mostly for yourself because you love the feeling of belonging to a community so close.

The second series ends sooner than the first, a five game victory over the New Jersey Devils, and this time you are at that final game. You sit with Andrei in a private booth at the top of PNC Arena, gripping his arm that also holds onto your thigh with the same amount of intensity.

The moment the final goal is scored - also in overtime - you’re hunching over your seat releasing a long breath. Andrei attempts to rise, then likely remembers his leg which forces him to grip the arms of his chair in strained acceptance.

“They did it,” You hear him whisper, like he can’t believe they actually came out of this series alive. “They did it.” He repeats himself, louder and more confident. You’re still folded over yourself, letting the anxiety drain out of you when he grabs your hand and tangles your fingers together.

“My kisa,” He says, waiting for you to turn your head so he can smile brilliantly at you. “We did it.”

“Not we,” And you grin back, because there’s nothing else for you to do but match his ecstasy. “You did it.”

“I didn’t even play,” Andrei is laughing, soaking in your praise like a sponge. “But I was here, wasn’t I?”

“You mean more to them than you’ll ever know.” More to me than you’ll ever know, you want to say, but hold back on that particular vulnerability.

After he finishes the team meeting in the locker room, you take him back to his house. He still hasn’t been given the all clear to drive, so you’ve taken up caretaker duties along with his mother.

You don’t think she likes you very much, either, but Andrei just says it takes a while for her to warm up to new people. Thankfully, she’s never around when you are though, because as you close the front door to his house he gives you a look equating to a meal he wants to devour.

Andrei seems to forget all about his knee, again, when he moves into you, pushing you back against the front door. “You drive me crazy.” He mumbles into your lips, and you don’t think you’re meant to respond as he moves to your neck.

You wore his jersey tonight, hoping it would bring the team good luck. You also happen to like how possessive he gets when he sees you in his clothes, especially wearing his name. It’s a little ridiculous, but you can’t lie and say you don’t love the attention.

Biting into your jugular, he tastes your rapidly beating heart before moving on, addicted to the sound of the moan that chokes its way out of your throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He breathes, massaging his hands into your waist as he pulls you away from the door. “And you’re going to love it, aren’t you? Because you’re such a good girl. My good girl.” His raspy voice leaves you holding back a whimper, and it’s hard to speak as he begins to sneak his hands under your jersey.

When you don’t respond because you’re too distracted by his hands, his damn hands, trailing up your ribs, he digs his fingers harshly into your skin. Your eyes snap open to find him almost glaring.

“Yes,” You think he wants to hear you say. “I’m yours.” You babble as his fingers let up, moving to cup your breasts over your bra as he pinches your nipples into hard points.

“That’s right,” He hums almost mockingly, hands now back to your waist as he pulls you after him to the path of his room. “No one else can make you feel like I do, yeah?”

This time he doesn’t expect a response as he pushes his door open, turning you around as you fall into his bed. Your head spins as the jersey you’re wearing rides up and Andrei quickly does the rest, slipping it off you with ease.

“Fuck,” You think he says, but you could care less as his bare hands are back on you, kneading the soft skin of your stomach and trailing back up the length of your torso. “No shirt underneath?”

“It was too hot outside,” You reply, breathless as you attempt to tug his suit and tie off, but that quickly proves to be more difficult. He tsks, thankfully deciding to aid you as he rids himself of his jacket. “You’re lucky that jersey is so thick.” He says, moreso to himself as he begins unbuttoning his slacks.

All that’s left is his undershirt and boxers, meanwhile you’re still left in your bra, jeans, and panties. Andrei must realize this too as he kicks his slacks off somewhere behind him. “Strip,” He commands, but you don’t need the reminder as you’re already one step ahead of him.

Your jeans and panties come off quickly, but it’s harder to remove your bra lying down. You eye the delicious specimen of a man above you, reaching out your hand for his own. “Help me?” You ask, biting your bottom lip before rolling onto your stomach.

Andrei mutters something behind you, but it’s clearly appraisal as the first thing his hands land on is your bare ass. He spends a few moments appreciating the view before his fingers trail up your back, unclipping your bra much quicker than you ever could have.

“You, kisa, are dangerous,” He teases, lowering himself to where his solid chest is pressing down on your back. He loves taking you from behind, tangling his hands in your hair while you’re left to his mercy.

He noses his way past your hair to reach your neck, lightly nipping the skin as you sigh, your head melting to the side so he can continue his ministrations.

“Andrei, please,” You hiss, the wetness between your thighs now too prominent to ignore. You wiggle your hips tantalizingly, hoping to catch his attention.

He grins into your neck, doesn’t respond as he presses a final kiss to your pulse point before pulling back, his right hand sweeping the rest of your hair to the side.

“You need me to touch you?” He asks, smoothing his left hand over your hip before slipping it to the inside of your thighs. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it ever so lightly to feel you flinch with sensitivity underneath him.

You tremble underneath him as he continues stroking you, and your hips jerk upward when two of his fingers slip past your walls and curl. He’s laughing as your ears ring, and already you’re so close to coming when his thumb rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his hand.

Just like everything else about you, though, he knows; he knows and he pulls back before you even have the chance to swear because then the last layer of clothing between you is gone. His boxers are thrown somewhere behind him along with his undershirt, and now he wastes no time pulling your hips up, leaving your chest pressed into the bed.

So used to this familiar position, you look behind you in anticipation to find him stroking his cock, staring at your glistening pussy with barely contained arousal. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for, but then he’s sliding his free hand through your soaked lips to gather the wetness there, using it as lubricant.

“Shit,” He says, swearing more to himself before climbing atop you. It’s routine the way he grabs your hair, tangles it in his fingers while the other guides his swollen cock to your entrance. The bulbous head pushes into you with ease, finding no resistance as he sinks into you.

Andrei hisses, mutters something in Russian, then is lowering his head to press his lips to your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight. You just feel so good all the time, you know that, kisa?”

The only sound capable of coming out your mouth is a whimper as you bury your face into the sheets as his hips begin thrusting, hitting your sweet spot with bullseye accuracy each time.

The girth of him stretches you out deliciously, and it leaves your walls clenching and unclenching rhythmically in time with his movements. You mold to him like your body was made for him, like there’s no other way to exist without him taking you in such primal fashion.

Andrei’s head rests in the crook of your neck, murmuring indiscernible phrases while his hands trail up and down your body. His hips rut against your clit each time he thrusts forward, and if anything you get wetter at the thought of him fucking you so callously.

You feel like his most precious belonging sometimes, like an object. It can be disorienting when he talks to you like you’re a child, but when he fucks you it’s like that preciousness he views you with is amplified.

You flinch upward when his cock curves into you just right, and the way he coos into your ear to bring you back down only verifies that thought. He wants to take care of you, always—even if it demeans you.

Andrei suddenly rolls over onto his back, bringing you with him to where you’re the one on top with your back laying against his chest. He sits up, and now you’re in his lap, thighs spread to the side as he once again begins fucking into you.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream as your head rolls back onto his shoulder, the new angle forcing his cock into deeper lengths inside you, and it hurts but it hurts so good and why were you ever questioning how he treats you, again?

How has only one man ever been able to make you feel this good?

Euphoria floods your veins as his hands find purchase on your body, one taking your left tit and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other sneaks down to the junction of your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing over it mercilessly.

When your stomach starts clenching and your lower spine tingles, Andrei is right back at your ear whispering encouragement. “That’s it, angel,” He praises. “That’s it. You want to come, yeah? Do it. I’ve got you.”

His name leaves your mouth as a breathless whine, and you struggle not to flinch away from his touch when it becomes too much but also not enough, and somehow he knows this and just holds you tighter.

When his cock hits you so deliciously good while his thumb swipes over your clit, you fall. You fall hard, the walls of your cunt seizing around him as ecstasy takes over your body. Sparks fly across your skin, stars filling the empty blackness behind your closed eyes and you think you’re sobbing Andrei’s name but you can’t be sure. The only thing you can be sure of is him; his cock inside you, his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, his teeth on your neck as he approaches his high.

Yours lasts for longer than normal because he doesn’t stop moving—if anything, he goes faster, because the sight and feeling of sending you into a spiral only triggers his own release.

By now you’re motionless, unable to even lift your head as it remains lying against his shoulder. Andrei’s thrusts are frenzied, more sloppy and less precise, until he’s throwing his own back with a long, pleasure-filled groan.

Eventually, he stills. His chest is rising and falling behind you rapidly, attempting to collect himself now that his mind is back in the present. You sigh, quietly yet happy, as his cock softens inside you but doesn’t move, his release slowly trickling down your conjoined bodies.

You suddenly remember that he didn’t lose a condom, but then you remind yourself that you’d stopped using condoms weeks before. You were already on birth control, and he assured you this was exclusive.

You were a fool to believe him.

Andrei soon moves, his hands taking to your hips as he gently lifts you off of him. “I know,” He says when you hiss with sensitivity. “I’ve got you, good girl…” He lays you on your back, and you don’t move from your position even as he leaves the room.

Your eyes soon flutter shut, and you curl to the side as the minutes go by with no sign of return. It’s not regret that fills your mind, no, but another emotion, something stronger than just satisfaction at getting such a pleasurable release.

You don’t dare to think of the world ‘love’, but maybe something similar to that is what you’re feeling?

It doesn’t help that just as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, Andrei comes back to your naked form while he’s now adorned in sweatpants. You merely hum as he sits on the edge of his bed next to you, one of his hands reaching out to trail up your arm. When he reaches your face he brushes away the hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead from cooling sweat, letting your skin breathe.

He says something, so quiet it’s impossible to hear over the sound of your thundering heart, and you don’t have the energy to ask as you finally succumb to exhaustion.

Andrei cleans you up after, dries the inside of your legs and slides one of his t-shirts over you. He tucks you under his sheets and pulls you into his arms, letting your hair tickle his cheeks.

The Eastern Conference Final arrives far quicker than any of you are prepared for, and games one and two against the Florida Panthers are full of anxious nail-biting and frustrated cursing when the puck hits the goal post.

Both games end in overtime losses, and the team has to play games three and four in enemy territory, down by two.

Andrei, understandably, isn’t taking it well. It's hard for the players on the ice, of course, but even harder when he has to sit at the sidelines, hidden in a booth at the top of the arena with you doing your best to comfort him.

“Why can’t they just fucking score?” You remember him hissing before the end of regulation in game two, not angry at his teammates but at the situation instead.

And himself, too, because he is the injured one. He is the one who tore his ACL making it so that he couldn’t play. It isn’t his fault, but it is at the same time and that’s what’s truly getting to him.

As the timer hit zero, he’d leaned back in his chair and grabbed your hand without thought, squeezing your fingers to the point of strangulation.

You let him, though, because at that point you’d let him do anything.

“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes on him the entire time. It pained you to see him so miserable, and there was nothing you could do to make it better. “This isn’t your fault. It’s… Blame Bobrovsky, okay? He’s just too—”

You interrupted yourself, not wanting to say ‘good’ even if that’s true because you didn’t want to upset him with the implication that his teammates couldn’t be better.

Andrei, to give him credit, didn’t take offense. His eyes were on you the moment you started your ramble, and as you finally paused to gauge the look on his face you found amusement and unbridled affection in his gaze.

“Too good?” He finished your sentence, waiting for your meek nod of confirmation. Merely sighing, he only brought your intertwined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of your hand. “You’re right, kisa. He is too good.”

You stay back in Raleigh while the team, including Andrei, takes flight to Sunrise, Florida. Most of the WAG’s stay back too, the majority already anticipating the result of this series.

Hours after the team’s flight, Maria calls you late on the eve of game three.

“Hey, Mare!” You answer, lowering the volume of whatever show is on the television to better hear her. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl!” She chirps, and you can hear voices in the background so you assume she’s somewhere busy. “Just landed in Florida!”

“You flew to Florida?” You ask, choking slightly. “Since when?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you! The team needed extra people since we’re staying here for longer than a night.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Is all you say because you don’t, in fact, remember, and suddenly feel really guilty about it. You haven’t actually spoken to Maria face-to-face in weeks, having been caught up in everything Andrei-related.

You haven’t talked to lots of people you were close to before Andrei came into the picture, now that you think about it. It’s a problem you’re sure to reflect on when you’re done talking to your friend.

“...bunch of us are going out tonight since the game isn’t until later tomorrow night, including a lot of the team.”

Maria’s voice tunes back in, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts to catch-up. “Really?” You inquire, now suddenly interested. “Is Andrei going with them?”

You could ask him yourself, sure, but you don’t really talk about that stuff, what he does or what you do in your free time. It always felt invasive to ask because you weren’t quite sure if you even had the right to, considering the nature of your relationship.

You doubt he thinks about what you do when you’re not with him, anyway, so you always just assume you can live in the moment with him and have that be good enough.

“Dunno,” She replies. “Can’t you ask him yourself? You’re seeing the man, after all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice at the last sentence.

“Um,” You stall, because no, you can’t just ask. “He just got off the plane, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Mhm,” Maria hums, and you can’t tell if she’s suspicious or not by her tone alone. “True. I’ll just text you if anything interesting happens, okay? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” You can’t help but laugh at her sudden hastiness, and soon enough she’s hanging up the phone with the claim that the team bus is there to take her to the hotel.

As your call with Maria is in the early afternoon, you have a while to wait before all night life in Florida begins, so any updates will take time to roll in. You know this, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

Distracting yourself by shopping helps, as does meeting up with a few of the WAG’s for a late lunch. You’re able to put your anxiety in the back of your mind for the rest of the day, and as the sun sets you pull back up to Andrei’s house and let yourself in with the spare key given to you, mind at peace as you float around his living space in preparation for bed.

You almost considered his place your home now, rather than your actual apartment. You’ve been spending so much time here, with him and also alone as everything with him seems to be going so good… When you settle into his bed, wearing one of Andrei’s large t-shirts and boxers, you check your phone one last time for any updates.

There’s a few Instagram notifications, one or two emails from your university, only one message in the groupchat with the WAG’s, and a text from Andrei which is what you zero in on first.

Settled in the hotel now. Leg is hurting, so I’m going to bed early tonight. Text you tomorrow, okay?

There’s no silly emojis, no indication of any emotion in his text, and yet you read the message with a smile, insecurities officially gone. His teammates are going out tonight, not him, and you don’t have to worry about Maria texting you later because there would be nothing to update you on.

How could you have ever doubted him?

You fall asleep peacefully, unbeknownst to the fact that long after midnight, your phone begins blowing up with silent notifications from Maria. She does, in fact, send you updates of her night out, but not updates you’ll smile at when you wake up the next day.

Sunlight filtered through closed eyes is what has you slowly awakening to the world of consciousness, and you stretch your arms with a yawn before reaching for your phone first thing. It’s hot to the touch, and at first you attribute that to it being stuck under your pillow the entire night, but upon unlocking the screen you discover that that is not the case.

WTF did you and Andrei break up?????

He’s here with the rest of the guys and he’s highkey flirting with some randos???

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were done w/ him!

You’re prettier than them btw. I snuck a few pics

Several more messages from Maria have taken over your inbox, those are just the first you see. It takes your brain a minute to catch-up, but when it finally does you’re sitting up with bated breath as you tap on one of the images she sent.

It’s definitely Andrei—you’d know his face anywhere. He is, in fact, surrounded by girls in the picture, his arm wrapped around the waist of a gorgeous blonde with a drink in his other hand, and it’s so reminiscent of the way he holds you at clubs that you know, you know immediately that this is what you meant to him all along.

The affectionate name-calling, gentle hand-holding and constant touching… You thought he looked back at you like you hung the moon, but now you’re realizing that maybe you were just projecting the reflection of your own starstruck eyes instead.

You sit up in bed, hand pressed to your forehead as a sudden headache rips through your brain. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Remembering that you’re actually in this man’s house, in his clothes, too, has you jumping up like you’ve been burned, and you quickly exit the bedroom to collapse on the couch instead.

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief as you click through more of the images sent to you from last night. There’s no denying to yourself that he was with these women, all while supposedly having a significant other waiting for him at home.

There’s no one to witness the slow breakdown of your sanity, and you can’t even cry because you’re so in shock about what you’re seeing

Is this real? Are you real? Is this really happening?

It’s almost like a switch in your brain goes off, and very quickly you drop your phone. You take a deep breath, you bury your raging emotions, and you stand up from the couch to start your day.

You refuse to allow yourself to break down now. Not when you still haven’t spoken to him. At the very least you’ll wait until you have an explanation…

To confront him on your very strong feelings you’ve been doing your best to ignore until now, because they’re too real in the wake of this discovery to just vanish away like you’ve done before.

You need to know where you stand with him. Truly, because these pictures you can’t stop thinking about? It’s too much. You can’t pretend it doesn’t feel like thousands of little knives stabbing your heart repeatedly even if it all means nothing to him.

Everything goes back to normal. Everything is fine. You never saw those pictures, ignored Maria's continuing calls and acted as if your world wasn’t suddenly tilted on its axis.

Andrei doesn’t text you at all throughout the day, which can probably be attributed to preparation of game three, but all you can think about are the girls he might be texting.

Because he certainly isn’t texting you.

Game three results in a loss, a bad one, and it would pain you to see the reactions on their faces filtered through the television if you weren’t so numb.

He still doesn’t text you. Doesn’t call, either, and Maria eventually gives up on trying to reach you as game four approaches.

The impending doom of Andrei bares down on you like a vice, slowly strangling you in the screaming silence of his house you still remain in. Maybe this is something you should have seen coming because it isn’t the first time he’s gone radio silent, you just assumed he was busy—because that’s what he told you.

You’re starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have listened.

You love him though, right? That’s why you believed him? That’s what you’re feeling right now, why it’s like you can barely breathe when you think of his smile or the way he’s betrayed you so?

The Panthers sweep the Hurricanes, a complete four-game victory that sends Andrei and the rest of the team licking their wounds all the way back to North Carolina. You don’t watch the fourth game with anyone but yourself and a bottle of wine while catching up on homework for one of your classes.

Becoming so close to Andrei meant you became close to the rest of his teammates too, to the point where you’d consider some of them your good friends, so seeing their faces broadcasted live after the final goal is devastating to see.

Not as devastating as the text you receive, though, in the midst of trying to figure out what to say to him the moment he steps foot inside his house.

I won’t be home tonight, heading straight out with some of the younger guys. I will see you tomorrow

Well. You can’t say you’re surprised. You’re willing to bet money he’s out sleeping with some random girl whose name he won’t remember the next day. Instead of letting the anxiety take over, anger takes its place instead.

And boy do you run with it because anger is so much better than feeling powerless. It simmers in your blood, a wildfire settling low in your stomach until you’re practically shaking while waiting for Andrei to walk through the front door the next day.

When he finally does, you’re so mad you’re numb. Your anger has turned you into a ghost, an attempt at protecting your fragile heart from more heartbreak likely to fall upon you the moment he tries to charm you back into his good graces.

Once he spots you sitting on the couch, he smiles in greeting. It’s soft, and you’d like to say affectionate, but you no longer can tell how deep his feelings run for you.

Clearly, not deep enough.

“Kisa,” He says. “How are you? I’m sorry I was out late.”

“It’s fine,” You respond tightly. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice, merely nods before walking past you to the kitchen. You follow him silently, trying to figure out how to phrase your next words.

You end up settling on a subtle approach. “I’m sorry about the games… I know it must’ve sucked having to watch.”

He scoffs immediately, mutters something you don’t catch but still doesn’t turn around to face you as he rummages through his fridge. “It definitely was not fun to sit there, no.” He replies.

“Is that why you didn’t come back last night? You were coping with the loss?” You’re hoping your strong reference to his late-night escapades will spark something in him, but alas you still seem to be wrong and all he does is cast you a furtive glance before going back to his business.

God, you were just going to have to wring this out of him, weren’t you?

“Andrei,” You start, taking a deep breath. He still doesn’t stir. “Andrei, I know.”

Finally, he stops. Pauses mid-motion of whatever he’s doing, and his shoulders seem to tense in preparation of your foreboding words.

“There’s other girls, right? It’s not just me?” Your voice is already wobbling, and you’re glad he’s still refusing to face you because your eyes are slowly filling with tears, the agony of these last few days catching up to you.

This is when Andrei finally turns around. He meets your eyes last after scanning up and down your body; the clothes you’re wearing that aren’t his, your nails digging into your hands, and finally the bright flush of your face as you struggle not to explode.

“What do you mean?” Is what he says, looking at you calculatingly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Drei,” You whisper, invisible wires constricting around your throat as you force yourself to continue speaking. “Maria told me. She saw you. And you lied to me.”

Andrei doesn’t speak. He just stares, fingers clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide if he should approach you or not. After what seems like hours of silent battle, he replies, starting out by saying your name like a warning. “She… Maria had no right to tell you that.”

“Because I’m not actually your girlfriend, right?” Your response is immediate, and it hurts him if the flinch on his face is anything to go by. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a title, responsibility. You never promised me any of that so sleeping with other girls is perfectly okay.”

Everything you’re saying is true but it’s all wrong the way you’re looking at each other. Tears are now openly streaming down your cheeks and Andrei hasn’t moved since the moment you opened your mouth.

“Nothing to say?” It’s defeated, your entire demeanor as your shoulders sag and you fight the urge to collapse. “Yeah. I—I wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrei whispers, and he doesn’t fight you which makes it all the more devastating. Everything you’re saying is true and it’s still all so wrong but he isn’t fighting you and wow, you’re really about to lose him, aren’t you?

“I think the worst part of this for me is that I actually let myself fall in love with you.” It’s your last-ditch effort of getting something out of him, anything that proves this isn’t completely one-sided on your end.

Andrei looks gutted at that. But he steels his resolve, his eyes go cold and he clenches his jaw as you try, one last time, to reach him.

“Do you love me?”

He’s staring at the wall behind you. No words fall from the lips you’ve kissed a thousand times until they finally do, and this is when you come to the realization that you’re ruined. You won’t ever look at another man the same because Andrei will forever haunt you in everything that you are and what you do.

“No. I don’t.”

You don’t put up much of a fight after that. You wave your white flag and slip past him to grab the small bag you’d packed earlier in preparation.

Andrei doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen once. His face is tight, eyes dark and anguished as you drop his spare key on the counter. You look at him one last time, will him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

He never does—so you leave and you don’t look back.

It hurts worse because there really wasn’t a fight. There was no screaming, breaking glass, hurling insults at each other; it was a quiet acceptance of the end of a relationship that had no chance of lasting.

That’s what gets you. Not just because it’s over, but because he doesn’t love you like you love him.

You can’t believe you let yourself fall for it.

When you finally make it back to your apartment it feels like walking into an alternate reality, especially after an agonizing drive back full of nothing but silence and your thoughts.

You’ve practically lived with Andrei the last few months so much that you’ve forgotten you had a life before him. Maria comes to your mind immediately at that thought, and you can’t think of anything else you need more right now than your best friend.

Her phone only rings twice before she picks up. She says your name warily, likely because she hasn’t heard a word from you in two days.

“Hey,” You whimper, and you hate that you can tell how broken you sound. “Um, you were right. About Andrei. I… Talked to him about it. We’re done.”

There’s silence on the other end for several moments. Then:

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m coming over, and I’m bringing the fattest bottle of wine known to man, okay?”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears.

“Don’t respond, you can’t say no. I’ll see you in a few!”

And, well, you do nothing but let her hang up as you stare at your blank lock screen for a minute. Something possesses you to try and freshen up even though it’s just Maria, so you make your way to your bathroom.

Opening the door, your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror, your tear-stained eyes the same color red as the lipstick you wore the first time you met him. The same red of your heart, too, as you feel the shattering of it now more than ever.

It all goes back to him. Everything about you, your identity as ‘his girl’ reducing you to someone who doesn’t exist without him.

Fuck you, Andrei, you want to yell. Fuck you and fuck everything you put me through.

As you furiously rub your eyes, you realize you don’t know who you are anymore. You let yourself be molded into an unfamiliar version of yourself, into someone just for Andrei to want to keep around.

The tears start again, and you’re left sniffling in the suffocating silence of your bathroom. The only person who knew you, the you now, is gone.

And suddenly, you find yourself alone.

Well… Not totally alone. “Fuck him!” Maria shouts after she breaks into your apartment (she has your spare key) after you’d collapsed onto your couch and refused to open the door. “Seriously, fuck him. You’re way too good for him.”

“Weren’t you the one who convinced me to sleep with him in the first place?” Is your weak rebuttal, muffled and almost imperceptible as your head is burrowed in a pillow.

Your friend tsks, likely waving her arms around in that expressive way she does. “Yes, well. I never claimed to see the future. But now we know him for the piece of shit he is!”

Maria is your closest friend, yes, but you also know her to be someone who tells you what you want to hear. Right now, you’re feeling vengeful and angry, so she’s feeding into those emotions to make you feel better.

You know, in two months time or however long it takes you to process this, when you start missing him and tiptoe around the idea of calling him, she’ll support you then, too.

Which probably isn’t what you need, but, whatever. You’re just grateful you have someone on your side.

“I need…” You start, not quite sure how to phrase what you’re wanting. “I need to forget.”

“A one nightstand type of forget or get so drunk you pass out type of forget?”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought of sleeping with someone so soon. As much as you hate it, you don’t think you’ll ever stop craving Andrei’s body.

No man ever could make you feel that good…

“Get drunk,” You say, quirking a small smile at the whoop she lets out. “I can’t fuck someone right now. At least not yet.”

“Yeah,” The blonde agrees, sighing almost wistfully. “I’d feel the same if I knew what his dick felt like.”

“Maria!” You shriek, throwing a spare pillow as hard as you can her way. It misses, but does the job of lightening the mood and keeps you giggling the rest of the night.

She does her job in making you forget, though. Makes you put on one of your shortest dresses and gets you drink after drink until you’re hunched over a toilet in the back of some bar gagging your stomach out.

You wake up the next day with the worst hangover ever, but Maria is fairing the same and somehow you consider it worth it. Maybe you can live your life again without him.

You’ve done it before, right?

And really, it’s ridiculous when you let yourself think about how you’d only been seeing the man for five months and he completely managed to send your world careening in that timespan. So, you don’t let yourself think about it. Instead, you live.

For yourself, for your friends, for your heart that won’t ever be full but feels a little bit better every time you wake up each day without Andrei next to you.

You graduate university with your bachelor’s and get a job that’s even better than your last, and you make a really good group of friends at said-job without Maria’s help (though she’ll always be your best). The summer passes by with melancholy laughter and gentle healing, and while your first love always remains in the back of your mind, you think about him less.

So much less that you lose track of time, not even realizing that October of twenty twenty-three is here and the NHL season is starting back up. You haven’t spoken to any of the WAG’s since you broke it off with Andrei, assuming you would no longer be welcome in the ‘clique’ and preferring to separate yourself from a group associated with someone who brought you so much pain, so there haven’t been any reminders about the new season from them.

The memories of him are fleeting. They’ll come to you at random times, and now that you’ve lived in the past yet again, you can forget about the end where Andrei is a distant thought but every time his name is brought up it squeezes your heart so much you can’t breathe.

You’re doing better. Truly, you are. You’d stopped crying over him long ago, and you might have gone to class with swollen eyes and showed up to work despondent, but you’re working through it in your own way. Healing isn’t linear but you’re making progress slowly but surely.

One day, you wake up with a sudden determination to officially ‘get back out there’, per Maria’s words. There’s nothing spectacular about this day; it’s only mid-November, the weather in that awkward stage of autumn morphing into winter.

Maybe it’s because the night before you’d succumbed to the urge to search up the Hurricanes’ schedule, curious to when they’d be home and not.

It’s only a coincidence that they have a home game when you call your friends from work, asking if they’d like to go out after everyone gets off. It’s also a coincidence when you meet someone at said-bar you attend, and it’s absolutely insane how if you squint he kind of looks like Andrei.

Oh, but he’s so, so sweet… His name is Jack and he buys you and your friends drinks, keeps a respectful distance yet never strays far when you’re wrapped into another conversation. He asks for your number at the end of the night and you give it to him without hesitation, taking note of the way he creates your contact in his phone himself.

“You like cats?” He asks as he’s still typing away, and your breath catches in your throat because it’s a question that makes you think of the first night you met him. When you don’t respond, he gestures towards your keychain attached to the strap of your handbag.

“You have little kittens on your keychain. I think that’s what I’ll add to your name, yeah?” Jack laughs a little shyly, and it’s cute but you keep replaying kisa in your mind over and over in a Russian accent you never could quite imitate.

“Yeah, I do like cats,” You say, flushing at the sudden amusement in his eyes. “I like them a lot.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time texting you the next day, and the normalcy of it freaks you out a little. Where’s the anxiety? The stomach-dropping nerves that come with talking to someone new? The constant wondering if they like you or not?

It’s so safe and secure that it hurts, because it was never like that before.

Everyone in your life is so supportive, though, but that only makes it worse because they can see how good this man is for you, but why can’t you? You feel like pulling your hair out when he texts you good morning and goodnight and sick to your stomach when he shows up during your lunch break with flowers.

However, there’s no one is more enthusiastic about Jack's new presence in your life than Maria.

“He’s a dream guy, honestly,” She swoons, kicking her feet back on her ottoman. “You’re so lucky. I would kill for a guy I met at a bar to be so smitten with me he shows up to my job with flowers.”

You hum in agreement, unable to come up with something to say. “He… Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”

The blonde eyes you from where you’re curled up on her couch, deliberately avoiding her stare as you mindlessly watch whatever is on the TV. “You guess? He’s perfect!”

“On paper,” You retort, huffing slightly in frustration at yourself because why can’t you see what everyone else sees? “I don’t really know him.”

“Yet. You don’t really know him yet.” She helpfully points out. “Why don’t you want to give him a chance?”

“I… I do. I am giving him a chance. Maybe I’m just not feeling it.”

“He’s not Andrei, babe.”

You fight the powerful urge to scoff. I know, you want to scream. I know. That’s the problem.

Jack is too perfect for you. You want the ups and downs, the electrifying chemistry, the undeniable connection you’ve felt with no one else before. You crave the feeling of those past five months, of being with someone who lit you up to your very core.

It’s been almost eight months and you still can’t get him out of your head.

You give Jack a rightful chance, though, like everyone in your life is begging you to. You can’t bring yourself to end it because there really is nothing wrong, it’s a perfect getting-to-know-you stage which checks off all the boxes. It’s just that you don’t want normal because normal is boring.

You want chaos. And Andrei is chaos personified.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria is still very good friends with a lot of the WAG’s and talks about you when they ask. They miss you, it turns out, but your friend never tells you this in fear of sending you into a depressive spiral that tends to happen when they’re brought up. They’re ecstatic to hear that your life seems to be going so well after the breakup, especially after seeing Andrei’s reaction to it all.

This is something Maria doesn’t tell you, either. She’s such a good friend, protecting your heart like that. Andrei did not come out of his house after you ended it the same person; he was a little darker, a little angrier, frustrated in a way that suggested nothing could be done to fix it.

It doesn’t help that he couldn’t take it out by playing hockey, because he wasn’t cleared to play until the end of October, a month into the regular season.

He never admits his sour mood is partly to blame you for. Not that it’s your fault—he’s the one who fucked up, not you.

Never you.

Maria knows all of this and still gives him the cold shoulder for his treatment of you. None of the girls were very happy after finding out while his teammates just gave him awkward pats on the back. It doesn’t stop him from finding out about you, though, and what you’re up to.

The WAG’s talk. They’re gossip machines, and while normally he hates them for it because he always has to watch what he says around them, this time he’s thankful because they tell their husbands and boyfriends everything.

He’s at Martin and his girlfriend, Nykki’s, apartment watching their cavapoo, Gigi, when he finds out you’re seeing someone new. They’re heatedly talking about something when they walk in and don’t see him on the floor cuddling Gigi, so he doesn’t interrupt.

“I mean, I’m not surprised, but wow. It certainly took her a while to move on, didn’t it?”

He hears a smack, assumes Nykki has hit him on the arm like she typically does when he pisses her off. “She loved him, of course it took time!”

“Ow!” He hisses, though it’s clearly in jest. “Well, yeah, but like… It’s been months. And it’s not like she’s in contact with any of us anymore to remind her of him.” Andrei notes the sourness in his teammate’s voice, feels his heart drop because he thinks he knows who they’re talking about, now.

“Still,” Nykki replies. “I was so sad after my first heartbreak. They take a while to heal from, especially when it’s not a clean ending. It’s no secret how Andrei treated her.” She’s frowning when she continues. “I wish I could give her a hug, but I get it. I wouldn’t want to see any of us, either.”

Martin sighs. “I get it, too. I sure do miss the wine she’d bring though. She had the best fucking taste, ever.”

“Of course you only miss her for her alcohol.”

Andrei decides to clear his throat at this moment. When he does so, Martin and Nykki whip their heads towards him on the floor, surprise and guilt decorating their faces when they see him holding Gigi rather dejectedly.

He starts by saying your name, even surprises himself when it comes out biting and, dare he say it… Jealous? “She’s seeing someone?”

Martin and Nykki share a glance. Gigi chooses this as the time to leap up from his lap and run towards her parents where Martin happily picks her up. “I’m going to go take her out. Thanks for watching, ‘Drei!” He quickly flees the apartment, and Nykki says something under her breath as she glares after him.

They both know Andrei isn’t letting this go.

“Do you remember Maria, her friend? Works in the Hurricanes’ marketing department?” She eventually says, joining him on the floor.

“The blonde one? Yes,” He replies, and even though there are many blondes working for the team he knows exactly who she’s talking about. She’s your best friend, after all, and he knows everything about you.

Like how he knows you will never get over him. Conceited? Yes, but he had (has) you wrapped around his finger.

“Well, she talks to a lot of us still, despite everything that happened. And she tells us things.” Nykki pauses, almost like she’s scared to go on.

“Things like?” Andrei inquires. “How she is doing? Who she is doing?”

She glares at him then, eyes narrowing into slits. “Not that you really have a right to know, but yes.”

His fingers dig into his palms and his jaw cramps with how much he’s trying to keep from exploding.

“So, she’s seeing some guy now?” He scoffs like the very idea is incredulous. As if whatever pathetic excuse of a man you’re talking to could ever compare to him.

“She has a right to move on, Andrei. You should too. You ruined her.”

That fact remains true, but he still has no desire to ever let you go as he deliberately ignores her advice, well-meaning as it is.

How ruined could you really be if you’re already with somebody else?

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to run into you because you avoid him like the plague. You know everywhere he and his teammates frequent so you stopped showing up long ago, and he’s pretty sure you keep a several hundred-foot radius between you and PNC Arena at all times. He doesn’t blame you, but it pisses him off to know he can’t easily find you.

Christmas passes, you spend it with Jack and Andrei spends it with his Russian teammates. The New Year arrives just as quickly, and as he locks lips with some random girl at the party he’s at he thinks of you. Wonders who you’re with, if you’re kissing that guy Nykki told him about.

You actually flew back home to spend it with your parents, giving Jack some weak excuse about how you weren’t able to see them over the holidays.

North Carolina winter is in full force as February of twenty twenty-four rolls around, and your life remains inexplicably boring while Andrei’s picks up. The Hurricanes are finally having a redemption arc after their awful first-half of the season, and thus are heading out to celebrate far more often than normal.

They’re more daring in where they choose to go, too, wanting to branch out of their norms, because why not?

This is really unfortunate for you. Horrifying, actually, because you’re out with your friends, Jack, and his friends too when the team comes strolling in. Eyes instantly shoot their way, aweing at the miniature celebrities in their own right for finally bringing a good professional sports team to NC.

The moment Andrei steps foot in the establishment you know. Your skin catches fire, your ears ring, and your heart thunders inside your chest because only man can set off your senses so powerfully.

You look away from Jack - who thankfully doesn’t notice, he’s sucked into a conversation with one of his friends - and find Andrei approaching the bar with Martin and Seth. He hasn’t noticed you yet and you try to keep that from happening as you sink down into your seat, flashing your friends an exaggerated smile when they eye you curiously.

You’re unable to hide for long, though, when a song bursts from the speakers and sends everyone into an excited frenzy, your group included as they crowd the dance.

Luckily you’re able to escape that particular rally and wave Jack off when he asks you if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” You shout over the bass rattling your eardrums. “Just letting my drink settle a bit.”

He doesn’t question you, merely nods and smiles before disappearing somewhere with his friends. Now, you’re alone, and you can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing because now you have a perfect view of Andrei and his teammates leaning against the bar, looking far too good as they do so.

You can’t keep your eyes off him. You never could, especially can’t now as you soak up every little change your eyes can see. He has a scruff now, a sexy five o’clock shadow that you know firsthand how it feels between your thighs. His hair is a little longer, too—you wonder if it’s still as soft as you remember.

Jack suddenly appears from a break in the crowd and oh, yeah, fuck you can’t be thinking about your ex like this, can you? No, you aren’t officially with Jack, but it’s still wrong. He likes you so much, you know this, and you… Don’t hate him?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bemoan to yourself, torn between the angel on your left and the devil on your right that don’t give you the chance to decide because you feel eyes baring into your skull, begging you to notice them. Your entire being freezes, stuck in between some weird limbo as you lock eyes with Andrei for the first time in months.

There’s no one else but you and him as neither one of you refuses to break first, and you only lose eye contact when a group of people walks between you. When they’re gone and you’re able to freely look again, you realize he’s gone from his spot at the bar. All his teammates are still there, and they’ve now spotted you too.

Would it be wrong to call an uber and just tell Jack you felt sick?

Your name is suddenly being whispered into your ear, and you would have flinched if the sound of his voice didn’t have you relaxing back into your seat. You refuse to look up at first, because if you look at him so close to you again you’ll fold.

“Andrei,” You greet, quietly. “How are you?” You still aren’t looking at him, choosing to swirl around the drink in your hand instead.

“I’m good,” He replies, so close you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You lean into it almost subconsciously until he’s sliding into the booth next to you, pressing the two of you together. “How are you, my kisa?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You retort, finally meeting his eyes to cast him a withering glare.

“No?” Andrei reaches a hand up to brush some stray hairs from your face. So delicate his touch, he trails his hand down your cheek, your neck, and down your waist until landing on your thigh. You don’t stop him, either.

“That’s funny. I could have sworn that you’re mine.”

“I’m not,” You squirm under his touch, unable to push him away. “I haven’t been in months. Wasn’t ever ‘yours’ to begin with. You made sure of that.”

Andrei doesn’t appreciate the call out. The way his face twists is mean and you know whatever he’s going to say will hurt. “Right,” He scoffs, is snide with the way he tones it. “But you’re his?”

He gestures towards Jack, who thankfully is enraptured in a tense game of pool on the other side of the room. You don’t question how he already knows that’s who you’re with.

“I’m not anyone’s, Andrei.”

“Yes you are. You might have thought that because we haven’t seen each other we are just over?” He leans into you, doesn’t let you break eye contact as he gets so close your noses touch. “No. I bet me being so close to you right now has you soaked, and you want to know how I know that?”

Your throat is tight as you swallow. You can’t look away as you move to shake your head, but strange, because it comes out as a nod instead.

“You’re not ‘over me’, malyshka. You’ll never be over me. You love me.”

His grin is feral, his words biting as they cut through you at such a vulnerable level it has you flinching back from his touch immediately.

“Oh, fuck you, Andrei,” You hiss, an angry sheen of tears starting to gloss over your eyes. “Fuck you. I don’t love you anymore—especially not now.”

You move to slip around him but his arm shoots out and stops you in your tracks, leaving you frozen as he stands to tower over you.

“Careful,” He murmurs. “Your boy over there might think something’s wrong. Maybe I should introduce myself, make sure he knows I would never dare hurt you.”

“You don’t have to touch me to hurt me. You did that plenty without having to lift a finger.” You retort. “Now, get out of my way. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“But what if I want to talk to you?” You really hate the height difference between the two of you right now because it takes no effort at all for him to slide a muscular arm around your waist and keep you glued to his side. “Maybe I have missed you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” You mutter, but he ignores you as he begins to lead you away from the booth you were in before. “My friends will wonder where I am if I’m not at the booth when they get back.”

“Not worried about your boy?” He mocks, noting the way you don’t mention Jack at all. “They won’t have enough time to notice.”

You narrow your eyes at his insinuating words as he stops at the bar, waving down the bartender who comes immediately. “His name is Jack.” You mutter, thinking he can’t hear you. He continues talking, ignoring you, and you’re unable to hear him over the noise so you don’t bother trying to understand what he’s asking for.

Soon enough there’s a drink sliding across the bar counter and Andrei pushes it in front of you. You eye the glass, making note of the fact that the liquid is red. “Vodka cranberry,” He confirms what you’re already thinking.

You flash back to the night you first met and suddenly you want nothing to do with the drink in front of you. “No thanks, I don’t want it.” You say, trying to step away.

You don’t get far, though, because he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you rather harshly back to him. “Drink it,” He demands, watches your eyes and the way they dart from his face and back to the glass nervously. He sighs, then, like he’s realized something and lets go of your wrist only to land back on your hip. “It’s… Nothing is wrong with it. I didn’t touch it.”

He thinks you’re worried about being drugged? You almost laugh but manage to hold it back, because of course he doesn’t remember that this is the first drink he ever got you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you concede, finally picking up the drink and taking a tiny sip. He waits for your reaction like he’s the one who made it. “It’s good,” You finally say, licking the sweetness from your lips.

Andrei watches you, your eyes, your lips, everything about as time seems to stop and it’s just you and him, like it’s supposed to be.

You haven’t changed all that much, and you can tell he likes that. Your hair is a little shorter, you’re perhaps a little thinner now that you’re not on a college student diet, but you’re still you.

Andrei hasn’t changed either. You’re the same yet so different, and it’s incredibly difficult resisting the temptation to fall back into old habits.

“I’ve missed you,” He admits quietly, and you think it’s sincere this time. You wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t standing so close together.

Your heart thunders in your chest. You might be sweating out of nerves, or maybe it’s just the club. Your hands itch to touch him, and with more alcohol in you thanks to the cranberry you don’t stop Andrei as he succumbs to his urges first and uses one, large hand to cup your cheek.

You shudder as he caresses the skin, his thumb landing on your bottom lip and stroking it lightly. “Andrei,” You breathe, pupils blown wide. “You can’t—we can’t…”

He tilts his head, reminiscent of a dog. “Why not? You are not single?” He has you. He knows you know he does. You aren’t nearly as committed to Jack as much as you’d like yourself to be.

“I can’t do that to him,” You try weakly, already feeling your will bending to the persuasiveness of his touch.

His head lowers, hand remaining on your cheek as he brushes your lips together. You crave it, you realize, and move to fully push your mouths together but he’s pulling back before you get the chance.

“Go to the bathroom.” He says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Will you?” You ask, the double-meaning clear as you stare at each other, neither willing to break.

Andrei’s face is unreadable. You can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing as his hands land on your hips and he turns you around in the direction of the restrooms. “Go,” He taps your ass, nudging you forward. “I’ll be there.”

You give in this time. You’re aware of the astronomically bad decision you’re making as you cut the line, faking a sick stomach and whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again in your head as the nice ladies let you through.

When you close the door you immediately make your way to the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, and with mussed hair and smudged lipstick you should be feeling ashamed.

All you feel is anticipation, though. For Andrei’s hands on your body, for his mouth to kiss all the spots he’s missed.

Several minutes go by and the knocks on the bathroom door become more frequent. You think he’s bailed on you - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time - but then you hear his voice outside.

“Da, yes, she’s in there,” A pause. “She’s my girlfriend, she needs me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, turning to face the door as he knocks and can hear his voice more clearly.

Yes, you do need him.

“Kisa,” He says, slightly muffled but you feel the effect he has on you is all the same. “I’m here. Let me in?” He’s almost begging, and you quickly unlock the door as he pushes through.

His smile is mischievous as he closes the door behind him. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He purposefully raises his voice, shows faux concern and plays it up in case anyone is listening outside.

“You’re so dramatic,” You say, pulling him down to you by the collar of his shirt. Now that you’re alone you don’t bother pretending you don’t want him as much as you do. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Andrei relents immediately, closing the distance between the two of you. Both his hands come up to the sides of your head to keep you in place, tilting you in whatever way he likes. His lips are just as soft as you remember, and your bodies move together like they were never apart.

He’s demanding as he begins pushing you back, crowding you against the tiny bathroom wall. His words from outside come back to you suddenly, and you break the kiss to catch a breath as his lips begin a trail across your cheeks. “Girlfriend?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I had to get them to let me through somehow.” It’s not what you want to hear but you lose the urge to fight him on it as he reaches your neck and begins sucking little hickeys onto the sensitive skin. Your head falls back with a sigh, uncaring of your hair catching whatever germs might lie on the wall.

You let Andrei do what he wants to your neck for a few moments, then when the urge to taste his lips comes again you grab the back of his hair and pull him up to you. He goes willingly, and you moan into his mouth as he continues to push back against you so hard you can feel his dick through his jeans.

He pulls back much too soon for your taste, and you try to follow but suddenly one of the hands holding your head comes down to wrap around your throat, restricting your breath as he pushes you back. You go to speak, but his other hand is leaving your face to unbutton his jeans one-handed.

You watch, eyes heavy-lidded. “‘Drei?” The weight on your neck is comfortable, so you don’t bother moving as he shoves the rest of his jeans along with his boxers down his thick thighs.

“You want to talk to other guys?” He starts with a bite. “Then you can remember the taste of my cock in your mouth while you do it.”

Your blood pressure skyrockets as the hand on your throat leaves to pull your hair back out of your face, grasps it like a rope, and pushes you down to your knees.

You’re at eye-level with his cock as it bobs in front of you, angry and swollen with beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip. He stares down at you expectantly, has to hold back a groan at your wide-eyed gaze looking so innocent.

As your lips wrap around his tip he’s reminded of the fact that no, you are not innocent. He made you that way. Fucked you like no man ever could. Ruined you for everyone but him. His feelings for you are complicated, but he does understand one thing…

Andrei doesn’t want you, not really. But he hates to think about you with somebody else.

Your tongue is masterful in its work as it swirls around his head, and once you get comfortable you begin going down. His head falls back and this time he doesn’t hold back his noises as your warm, wet mouth envelopes him.

“Missed this mouth,” He grunts as you suck. “Like it much better when you can’t speak.”

It’s insulting and degrading, yet it doesn’t fail to turn you on as you squirm and rub your thighs together in hopes it’ll give you the friction you need.

His hand in your hair soon starts pulling, sliding your mouth forward and back in increasing motions as he gets closer. He’s unabashedly groaning now, and you can see his abs clench when you suck a certain way.

Suddenly, you have the urge to have him fall apart before you. Maybe it’s revenge, wanting to see him lose control for you like you’ve done for him so many times; you tilt your head, using your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his cock and that has him jerking into you.

“Fuck,” He hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” The praise goes directly to your clit, and you whimper as it throbs with no relief.

Despite being apart for almost a year, you still know what every twitch of his body means. You know he’s close because the hand in your hair is gripping you tighter, you can feel the steadily increasing tempo of his heartbeat through his pulsing cock, and his thighs are ever so slightly trembling underneath your hands.

You want him to come in your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more; your efforts increase and you dig your nails into his skin to hear him hiss and as his thrusts pick up he starts hitting the back of your throat.

Internally thanking your lacking gag reflex, you don’t flinch as he picks up speed, now blatantly using your mouth for his own pleasure with little regard for your comfort. “Shit, baby,” He blurts, desperate. “I’m gonna cum.” You hum in response, the vibrations of the sound finally throwing him over the edge.

Andrei throws his head back for a final time, one long groan emulating from his unfairly sculpted chest as his cum hits the back of your throat. You’ve always loved the taste of him and this time is no different as you suck him deeper, not wanting to waste a drop.

He takes a few moments to collect himself and in that timeframe your ears slowly stop ringing and you come back to reality, finding that your knees ache from being pressed into the floor and there are loud voices coming from outside the bathroom door.

As you move to stand, he too seems to remember where you’re at and uses both arms to pull you the rest of the way until you’re back to standing. You swipe your hair out of your face as his thumb comes to your lip, wiping away a stray drop of his release.

Despite the post-orgasmic clarity, he looks at you with softness and something else swimming in his dark eyes. “You’re still good at that,” He states. “Been sucking anyone else off?” His words are quiet but every bit threatening as you note the possessiveness in his tone.

“No,” You gasp as his thumb pushes its way into your mouth. “Just you. Only you,”

“That’s right,” He says. “Just me. Only me.” Then he’s spinning you around, fingers remaining pressed into your mouth while the other trails up your spine until he’s gripping the back of your neck. “Hear them outside?” He asks.

The ‘them’ he’s referring to, you realize, are the voices outside the bathroom. They’re much louder now, a few knocks mixed in, and you wonder with slight panic how a manager hasn’t come to unlock the door yet.

“They sound very angry, don’t they?” That same hand on the back of your neck strokes your skin, slowly working its way down to your waistband. “So we better make it quick. Hands on the wall, kisa,”

You know the moment he pulls down your pants he’ll find you to be unabashedly soaking. Despite claiming to be in a hurry, he takes his time working open the button of your jeans, grazing the skin above your panties before ever so slowly sliding them down your legs.

“Andrei,” You hiss, impatient. “Hurry up!” As the hand in your mouth retreats, you realize you’re both needy and nervous, an overwhelming combination.

He only laughs. “Someone is needy,” He mocks, holding your hips in place when you try wiggling against him. “Patience.” Leaning into your ear he murmurs this, staying this way as he fully slides your jeans past your knees.

Andrei sneaks his hand in between your thighs, something resembling a growl rumbling from his chest when his fingers find your dripping folds, feeling how you throb for him. “Missed this pussy even more,” He breathes, lubricating his fingers with your slick before slowly circling your clit. Your arms shake from where they hold you up and it’s a battle to keep yourself from collapsing.

“You are just made for me, aren’t you?”

You’re so wet you practically suck him in as he guides his dick to your entrance, and he wastes no preamble as he pushes in. If he thought your mouth was heaven after so much time apart, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him in so deep doesn’t even compare. His hands are digging into your hips as he ruts into you fully with one thrust, panting as your warmth contracts around him.

“Still so fucking tight,” He marvels like he can’t believe it, like it’s a dream you feel even better than when he replays the memories of you on repeat. “You been waiting for me?” He’s not expecting a response as his rhythm picks up, finding a familiar pace for the both of you that has him swearing under his breath and you struggling not to shout your pleasure to the rooftops.

“God,” You cry out when the head of his cock directly hits your g-spot, your hips jerking up so hard you would have fallen if it weren’t for Andrei holding you up. “Fuck, Andrei, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Andrei laughs, a sound that would have been more menacing if he also wasn’t gasping for air. “Already?” He mocks. “I barely touched you, baby,”

You don’t have to touch me, it’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to be blurted out. You don’t have to touch me for me to be on my knees for you. The words are ready, but instead all that comes out is a moan and maybe that’s for the best because he probably wouldn’t respond as well as he does in your dreams.

He’s unaware of your internal dilemma as he leans over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back. “Gotta be fast,” He reminds you, as if you’d forgotten. “You ready?”

“No, I—I can’t,” Because you don’t want this to be over. You don’t want to cum because he’ll follow you right after and then when clarity hits he’ll leave you again and you’ll be back to square one.

“Yes, you can” He croons. “I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you, I’m right here.” You want to sob as one of his hands leaves your hip and finds the junction of your bodies, gentle fingers prodding your pussy spread-wide around him until he finds your clit and rubs.

Your body is trembling and you can’t tell if you’re trying to move towards him or away, but it doesn’t matter anyways because he has you trapped between the wall and his body and the unrelenting pace of his hips slamming into you.

You have a sudden urge to look him in the eyes before you come undone by his cock and his fingers, so you crane your head to the side and watch him watch you. His hair is damp from sweat at the corners of his hairline, his lips slightly open as he pants and you think you spot him lick his lips when he catches you staring. You go to say something but he swoops down, catching your mouth with his own and promptly shuts you up.

Andrei doesn’t relent in his motions despite the uncomfortable position, not letting you break from his lips by removing his hand at your hip and gripping your face to keep you right here. He owns you, at this point, mind, body, and soul as your lungs beg for breath while your clit throbs beneath his fingers and oh, oh, there it is and you’re gone—

You feel the rough pads of his fingers bullying your clit but you don’t really focus on it until now, how the calloused ridges carelessly sweep over you with no semblance of relief and only when you body abruptly freezes does he part from you, but only slightly, leaving a hair’s width of space between your lips. “Beautiful,” He says, under his breath so quietly you don’t hear him as your bones catch fire and your brain short-circuits.

Heat sears you from the inside-out and you do nothing but endure as Andrei rocks you through it. There’s tears of ecstasy streaming down your face, you’re sure of it now, and you think he’s wiping them from your cheeks but you can’t open your eyes enough to check.

It takes a few minutes, but once your heart stops racing you can hear your favorite voice swearing behind you and only then do you comprehend him still moving inside you, but before you can whine at the sensitivity he’s stilling with a long, drawn-out groan.

You don’t dare speak first, nor are you the first to move. The air around you is stagnant with tension as you rest your head on your arms, breathing deeply to catch your breath. What does this mean? You’re spiraling already and it’s only been minutes since your desperate fuck in this bathroom.

Eventually, Andrei moves first. He slides his softened dick from you with a hiss and you feel his cum trickling out without him there to keep it plugged in. Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of having to walk around with wet inner thighs now, you slowly stand up as his hands fall from your body. You slide your panties and jeans back up the rest of your legs, ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity of being covered once again.

Neither of you speaks a word. You want to cry suddenly, and this time not from pleasure. “What did we just do?” You manage to choke out, your voice so hoarse you have to clear it. He’s clearly planning on just leaving without a word but you’re not going to let him.

You stare at him expectantly. He’s turned around so all you have in your view is his slide profile, clearly struggling with what to say as his jaw clenches tightly.

“Nothing,” He finally says, and he might as well just fucking stab you in the back. “We did nothing. You’re going to go back out there and pretend nothing happened because it didn’t.”

Oh, he makes you so angry. You can’t believe you’d forgotten that. “You’re serious?” You know he is but you don’t want to believe it.

Andrei meets your glassy eyes and you wish you could read him like he so easily can read you. He looks as conflicted as the day you walked out of his house for the last time, like he has so many words to say but refuses to let them fall from his lips. Just like then, you know this rendezvous means more to him than just a meaningless hookup.

If only he’d admit it…

He exhales a shaky breath as another loud knock disturbs you. “We need to go.” He dodges your question just like he dodges every issue in his life, especially in regards to you. “Come on, kisa.”

“You can’t just call me that, after—after this,” You hiss as he grabs your arm and pulls you towards the door. You panic on the inside as he unlocks it because once you leave this dirty sanctuary you know your problems will only get worse.

Strange, how Andrei manages to make everything worse despite making you feel so good.

As if your emotions don’t matter to him (they really don’t), he flashes you a grin as he drags you behind him, past the angry horde of people who, now that you think about it, definitely know you were fucking. “I know you like it.” Spoken so simply, so plain, you hate that he’s right.

You’ll always like it. Always love him. For as long as you’re hung up over him it will always come back to bite you in the ass and he knows this too.

It’s why, without shame, his arm is curled possessively around your waist as he leads you through the crowd of people. Your friends, Jack, don’t even cross your mind as he does so.

“Go find your friends,” He soon leans down to whisper in your ear. “Then find Jack. Tell him you felt sick and had to use the bathroom.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You snap, purposefully antagonizing him.

Andrei merely raises a brow at you. “You can always stay with me, with my cum dripping down your legs, and explain to everyone how you missed me so much you couldn’t stay away.”

You want to hit him. You almost do, but he continues before you actually go through with it.

“I wonder what Jack would say?” Of course he was listening to you earlier. He ignored you then, of course, but he listened.

And yeah, okay, you get it. Not a good idea to let everyone you know see you with him. He doesn’t want his friends to see him with you, either.

“Trying to get rid of me?” You ask, intending to sound sarcastic but it comes off as more insecure than you wanted it to.

You know he is, but you can’t help but ask for confirmation. Maybe it would help you move on to hear how little he actually cares for you.

“I don’t think I could get rid of you if I tried,” He replies. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “You’ll never get rid of me though.”

He’s right, again. You hate so much that he is because you both know you’ll be crawling back the moment he calls.

You want to cry again as his arm leaves your waist, the absence of his heat leaving you shivering.

Andrei looks at you for a long time, just appraising. He tilts his head like he doesn’t know what to think, but then he spots something behind you and starts backing up.

“I will see you again someday, kisa.” He winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Someone behind you taps your shoulder while speaking into your ear, a voice you recognize as one of the girls you came with. You should probably focus, banish Andrei from your mind, but you don’t.

You strain your neck, watching for him through the crowd. He’s back at the bar with his friends, his teammates you once knew.

He’s laughing at something one of them said. Like he wasn’t just with you, fucking you against the bathroom walls.

“Are you okay?” Your friend behind you asks, the one thing from her you do catch.

“Yeah,” You say, swallowing despite the dryness in your throat. Andrei is talking to more people now, girls that have approached him, you notice. “I’m fine.”

He looks gorgeous under the lights. You catch his brilliant smile, the glimmer of his eyes, and those lips you can never get enough of. You soon lose sight of him amidst the throng of people, but his fleeting allure forever lingers...

Like a steadfast reminder, a haunting echo of what can never be.

A/N: Well, that was fun. I hurt my own feelings writing this but it was worth it. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please remember to reblog & comment!!

────────────────────────────────

Taglist: @crazy4aho @poufsouffle21 @diary-of-jj @ayap4paya @bunting58 @fearfam69691 @jahmya17 @hughesnation @cixrosie

Add yourself to my 18- (SFW) Taglist here!

Add yourself to my 18+ (NSFW) Taglist here!

Remember being on my taglist? You likely filled out my 18- (SFW) taglist. If you'd like to be tagged in my upcoming 18+ (NSFW) works, please fill out my 18+ (NSFW) taglist :) thanks so much!

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov fanfiction #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagines #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes imagines #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes x reader #hurricanes #hurricanes imagine #canes lb #nhl hockey #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl writing #writing #fanfiction #'fleeting'

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 19

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 3885

Ao3 Link

Summary: You reveal your secret.

Author's Note: Thank you soo much for all of the support and encouragement, especially with the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one! 😭💜🙏🏼 (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, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Hair-Pulling, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“Can I have a drink?”

Four powerful pirates blinked at you. 

It was strange to be on this side of the coffee table. Buggy sat in your spot on the couch between the other leaders of the Guild, while Shanks had pulled up a chair beside Crocodile.

Your green, velvet chair felt like an examination table. Like you were under a microscope, about to get chopped into tiny pieces to be studied. 

Buggy had clung to you all morning, barely going a moment without touching you during breakfast. You were grateful he hadn’t tried to feed you any fruit. That thought sent your eyes flicking toward the red haired pirate, more bile climbing up your throat. Buggy’s floating hand rested on yours while they all stared, but you couldn’t get yourself to hold onto it. 

“What would you like to–”

“I’ll get it,” you jumped up, cutting Mihawk off, and leaving Buggy’s hand to float alone when you pushed it away to stand. The little bar felt like miles away, and you grabbed the first thing you could see. Crocodile’s stinky scotch in its pretty crystal bottle. You poured a heaping glass, vaguely hearing a reaction from the couch before you chugged the burning liquor.

“What the fuck, baby?”

“Y/N, stop!”

“Don’t— rabbit!”

The three of them surrounded you, snagging the bottle and empty glass from your hands too late while you coughed from that toxic, liquid fire. Crocodile got to you first, kneeling out from the sand at your feet to grab your flushed face, wiping away the stinging tears that you knew wouldn’t be the last. 

“Sweetheart, why–”

“Sweetheart,” you choked out, the sound a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Gods, I’m sorry, I– fuck.” 

The looks on their faces made you want to scream. You rubbed your eyes with the meat of your palms, trying to be less fucking pathetic. 

“Drink, love,” Mihawk soothed, holding a glass of water to your lips. 

“We’re right here, star,” Buggy whispered as he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“It’s okay,” Crocodile promised, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re our Numbers Girl, no matter what. Alright?”

Your body slumped, nodding as you let them guide you back under that microscope. Shanks was staring at you, but nothing meant anything anymore, so you didn’t bother to study his face. 

They let you sit there. Time was empty. It could have been minutes or years before you finally mustered up the energy to ruin everything.

“I’m fucking stupid,” you announced with a sharp laugh, feeling insane. 

Maybe I am. Maybe he did put me away. 

“Don’t talk like tha–”

“What do you mean, sweet girl?”

“You.” 

Growling at your scarred lover, confessions, and a suicidal accusation flowed through your body, spilling out through your eyes and lips. 

“You were going to kill us if I wasn’t useful. I could have been free, but I… I called those people for you.”

Crocodile’s face was as cold and unmoving as stone, a cliff you could leap off of. 

If only you could have stopped. No one said a word, but the energy was already rolling through you, destroying everything, your throat still raw from that fucking scotch. 

“I was an idiot. I was fucking kidding myself thinking I could wait, thinking I could have a few more days.” Your manic laughter turned to pain, a sob hitting your last words. 

Glancing up at the couch, you saw your three men clenching their jaws. Crocodile’s arm was wrapped around Buggy, that large hand digging into Mihawk’s shoulder, while Mihawk had grabbed Buggy’s floating hand, gripping it in his own lap before it could fly to you. 

“There’s no way I could hide it. Someone at the party will say it…”

“Say what,” Buggy rasped after a long moment. 

Your eyes poured over your men one more time before it was over. 

“My name.”

Everyone paused, and you remembered Shanks was there. His face was a mask, unreadable, and you were grateful for another reason to ignore it. 

“Are you saying that your name is a lie,” Crocodile asked in a dangerous purr. 

“No. None of you ever asked what my last name was,” you pointed out, then laughed as you looked between them. “I guess pirates don’t really care about last names.”

The laughter died in your throat, tears streaming now in your moment of defeat. 

“What’s your name,” Mihawk asked, his voice more gentle than you’d ever heard. 

It’s over. 

“Y/N Sylvad.”

…

…

…

“Like the wood company?”

You clamped your hands over your mouth, the shock of laughter that burst through you at Buggy’s confused face, his cute question, almost had you believing it would be alright. 

But the other men in the room shifted. Crocodile pulled his arm away from the other two to rest his elbows on his knees, leaning toward you while he answered his clown.

“Not a company. A fucking empire. Sylvad’s Lumber and Shipping. Is that what you’re telling us right now?”

“Yes,” you breathed, already watching their eyes change. Already watching them forget who you were. 

“Keep going,” he ordered, his words cold, ice building up around you. 

“It’s not mine,” you begged them to believe you. “Dad died and…”

You couldn’t. You didn’t know where to start, or if it even mattered now. 

“Arbo Sylvad was your dad,” Shanks murmured, sitting up a little straighter while he studied you. 

“You’re Sylvad’s heiress.”

“No, I'm not,” you snapped at Mihawk, not caring when his golden eyes flared at you. “Uncle Cedrick got everything. Dad always said it would go to… I was fifteen when he…”

Crocodile’s silver eyes were like molten metal, and you choked on your grief as you watched him stand. He walked to that giant desk of his, and when he returned to drop your thick notebook in your lap, you flinched, bracing for pain. 

“Unreliable,” he growled, tapping the notebook with his hook as he brought his eyes down to yours, his frightening face so close. 

“Everything I said was true,” you pleaded, mind blanking out with fear while Mihawk came to touch Crocodile’s shoulder. He didn’t budge, and though your mouth went dry, you forced yourself to explain. “Those people are unreliable! They'd talk to people that could cause problems for the Guild. People with connections to the Marine’s.”

“Like your Uncle?”

“What do you mean, boss,” Buggy tried to redirect, his hand on the hook that was digging into the back of the chair, his body leaning against the larger man’s shoulder. “They just sell trees and stuff, right?”

“Every single Marine ship on the fucking water right now was built with Sylvad wood,” Crocodile fumed, Mihawk’s hand stroking along his arm as you shrank beneath those silver eyes. “Hells, almost every ship that sails out of Water 7 is built with that lumber.”

“I don’t get it,” Shanks complained from his chair, though you couldn’t see him past the angry man in front of you. “If you’re the heiress of Sylvad’s, why were you working? You were an accountant or something, right?”

“Investment banker,” Buggy bragged, and you almost smiled that he remembered. “My girl’s a fancy financial advisor.”

“Let’s give our girl some breathing room, Crocodile. We don’t know everything yet.”

You only heard Mihawk’s whispered words because Crocodile was a hair's breadth away. He brought his thumb to rub along one of your cheeks, and the back of his hook to smooth along the other. 

“Tell daddy everything, alright, sweetheart?”

Your eyes fluttered shut until he pressed into your cheeks, slow tears falling from your eyes when you nodded for him. 

“Yes, daddy.”

The warm kiss he pressed to your temple made you want to disappear. Nothing. Nothing ever again. 

You were barely there as the words fell from your lips. Eyes unfocused, hanging loosely around the little table by Mihawk’s seat. You smiled to yourself when you realized it looked strange without a glass of wine on it. 

“Dad died on a business trip. Freak storm. Left everything to Uncle Cedrick. Kat and I got our trust funds for school. Mom got nothing.”

“I think we’ll need more than that, little rabbit,” Mihawk cautioned as he glanced over at Crocodile's stern face. 

“Can I have a drink fir–”

“No,” said the three men on the couch. 

Holding your head in your hands for a bit, you tried to figure out how to say the least amount of painful words to get them to leave you alone. 

“Uncle took us in. He was such a caring person, taking in his brother’s poor daughters, his lonely wife,” you spat, venom dripping from your lips. “I didn’t want to belong to him. My trust fund paid for the best education out there, but all my friends stopped… When they knew I had nothing to give them, they treated me like shit. I kept doing what I'm good at, and I got the fuck out. Went to go live that stupid, boring life.” 

Growling with the frustration of spilling this pathetic, entitled trash, you stood to pace behind your chair, waving your notebook around as if you could make it burst into flames with your will alone. 

“I am fucking amazing at my job, but most of these people just looove the thought of the poor little heiress helping them get richer. Most of them can’t wait to put me in their little collection. Add me to their fucking shelf. Just gotta ask Uncle how much his little niece– FUCK!”

The notebook went flying, skidding across the floor while you shoved the heavy chair over, yelling, raging, kicking that stupid green chair until your shoes fell off, your toes fucking hurt, until your clown stopped you.

“Baby, please,” he soothed, his upper body floating to keep your struggling form from reaching anything on the ground to hit. “It’s okay, star, I’m right here. Fuck those assholes, right? Who needs ‘em!”

Part of you felt guilty for not laughing at his sweet attempt, but the rest of you needed to fight or flee. 

Flee from these powerful men that were already using you to make money. 

“Put me down!”

Buggy’s whispered, “star,” hurt like hell. You held yourself still when he set you down gently, back in your spot as you faced the couch again, although your chair was kicked off to the side. 

“Wanna know how high to set the ransom,” you challenged, your clenched fists shaking at your sides. You couldn’t think clearly enough to read their darkened eyes, even Buggy’s as he took his place between them. “Just so you know, Uncle doesn’t like me that much. He’d probably be happier if you killed me. Or you could buy me, that’d make him extra hap–”

Sand. 

Sand flooded the space around you. It lifted you off the ground, and your breath caught as the coffee table got thrown to the side. You met those silver eyes just before you were in his arms, your legs stretched across the laps of the other men on the couch. 

“What…” you wondered, mind in a daze.

“You thought I’d sell my sweet girl,” Crocodile hummed, kissing the top off your head.

“You told me you would,” you reminded, your body and mind feeling distant, separate from whatever this strange world had become. “How much am I worth? Just keep being valuable, useful? You were already gonna sell me or kill me before you knew what a goldmine I was.”

The icy anger that laced your words made every hand on you go still. Crocodile froze as he started to rock you, and your body couldn’t choose between guilt at hurting them, or anger and fear at what they would do. 

“I think I’m drunk,” you whispered, wanting them to let you go, and wishing that they never would.

“No shit,” Buggy laughed, “I’m surprised you’re alive after that.”

His hands started massaging your legs on his lap, rubbing up and down nervously while you closed your eyes.

“Can I go lie down?”

“I’ll take you, star.”

Crocodile and Mihawk’s hands dragged along your skin as Buggy lifted you into the air, but neither stopped him from taking you. Neither stopped him from floating you away.

Neither called you pretty names as you left the room. 

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

“I’ve got you,” Buggy promised. 

Getting her onto that giant bed felt like a race. Something was right behind him. Something would stop him.

Something would take her away again. 

Finally there, he wrapped his arms around her, leaning against the headboard while her scotch scented breath warmed his chest. 

“Your breath stinks, baby.”

Maybe it was a laugh, but that choked sound made his chest tight, like a huge hand was crushing his ribcage. 

I can’t do anything. Fucking useless. Can’t help her.

“Buggy…”

“Shh, I’m right here, star,” he promised. The sound of his name on those quivering lips sent fire, rage, and guilt straight through him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He could never leave her. He could never leave her with them after this. Even if they…

Buggy kissed her temple, trying to be soothing while he waited for them to crash through the door.

Waited for them to take her from him.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Not a sound.

Not a sound filled the air as the men in the lounge sat with the news that their little lover was the heiress of Sylvad’s.

Not a sound from the two men on the couch as her accusations weighed on them, as though she hadn’t left their laps with those angry, frightened tears in her eyes. 

“That sure is something,” Shanks whistled softly. He stood to pick up Y/N’s chair, sitting across from them. “What are you gonna do with—“

“Find somewhere else to be,” Crocodile fumed, his body vibrating with the need to hurt something.

Shanks nodded, giving a crooked smile, before leaving them alone. Mihawk stared after his old friend, images of comfort he couldn’t provide burning behind his eyes.

He’s going to take them both. 

Serves us right.

Crocodile’s angry huff pulled Mihawk out of those thoughts, watching the man stomp toward the bar. The coffee table his sand had moved laid in his path, until it splintered and scattered from the touch of his vicious foot in that lovely shoe. 

The swordsman floated after him, still in a daze while the larger man imitated their girl, chugging a glass of scotch. 

Mihawk stared, but didn’t speak, didn’t touch.

Crocodile set the glass down before he shattered another one. 

“She lied—“

“Can you blame her,” Mihawk laughed coldly while the other man paced. Silver eyes shot like daggers, but Mihawk couldn’t seem to care about anything at the moment. “She told the truth, just not all—“

“She didn’t trust me.”

He sat again, staring at the floor after those stupid words had left him.

“I don’t…” Mihawk started, pushing himself to move, pushing himself to try. He sat down, and touched a hand to Crocodile’s shoulder, leaving it there after his scarred lover flinched. “We haven’t given her much reason to, have we?”

Not a sound after that. 

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Y/N! You can’t just leave,” Kat reasoned, pulling the clothes out of your hands before you could stuff them into your suitcase. “What about mom? What about the company?”

“Mom made her choices,” you growled, pulling the clothes back from your sister’s shaky hands. “And I don’t care about the fucking company. It’s not mine.”

“Not if—“ 

“It’s not mine. I’m sick of this fucking life. I’m getting out.”

“... What about me?”

That stopped you. But only for a moment. 

“I’m sure he’d let you come if—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now,” she shouted, pushing you toward your messy suitcases. “He’s a pirate! If he doesn’t hurt you before, what do you think he’ll do when he finds out who you are?”

“I don’t care,” you fumed as you stared your little sister down. “I'm bored of this stupid life.”

Kat’s mouth hung open, the hurt and pain in her eyes making you want to take it all back, to beg for forgiveness.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t waste this chance to be free. 

“You really have a death wish, you know that? That clown is going to get you killed,” Kat breathed, her voice growing colder as she turned to leave. She didn’t look back when she said her goodbye, just waved her hand over her shoulder. “I’ll look out for the ransom note.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Sleep?

Sleep.

Burning sleep, and stormy seas.

Dad’s voice calling for you. 

You could never find him before the ship went under, before all that Sylvad wood splintered beneath the raging waves.

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Buzz off, idiot,” Buggy ordered in a harsh whisper, Shanks’ smiling face peeking through the cracked door. Buggy had left his body on the bed to hold Y/N as she whimpered, nightmares ruining her scotch and stress induced nap. 

His head floated by the door, frowning at his old friend. 

“It’ll just be a second, Bugs, I swear.”

Shanks’ smile stretched even wider when Buggy agreed, floating his head out into the corridor.

“This better be good, asshat.”

Shanks felt it. This was it. He could have them both. 

He needed them both. 

“Let’s take her with us, Bugs.” 

Buggy’s look of shock was exaggerated by those red lips of his, and Shanks had to hold himself back from kissing them.

“But she… but it’s dangerous…”

Buggy wasn’t sure he’d actually heard those words, or if he’d fallen asleep, dreaming beside his star. Too many emotions rushed through him, but all he could think about was her. 

“Would you rather leave her here with them,” Shanks rasped, his eyes doing that heavy thing they do, although there wasn’t much of Buggy’s body to drag them down. “We can protect her. You and me, Bugs.”

The clown had to fight his body to stay still as he held her in the other room. The need to move, to fidget, to pace, made him dizzy. 

“What if she doesn’t wanna go,” Buggy wondered. Images of Y/N smiling, laughing, screaming, flew through his mind, each one making him doubt that he could ever make her as happy as she’d seemed once things had started to settle here. 

“I already asked her. I know she’ll say yes. She wants you to be happy, Bugs. Just like I do,” Shanks confessed, brushing a bit of blue hair out of Buggy’s face. He rubbed his thumb across those red, parted lips. 

So close to everything. 

“When did—“

“Buggy?”

Shanks watched his clown fly away from him, hopeful that it’d be the last time. 

Buggy flew away from his old friend, every confusing thought going blank besides the need to comfort that soft, scared voice. 

“Right here, got you, baby.”

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Buggy,” you whimpered as new tears fell. 

“Shh, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Painted lips covered your face, kissing your tears away until you shivered, his soothing hum blocking out everything else. 

His touch kept it all at bay. 

Every split second of memory was grief, so you curled against him, running your hand along his side. Your body writhed, whining for him as he stroked your hair and back, then pulled away.

“Hey, star, it’s o—“

“Please, touch me, Buggy,” you begged as you reached for him. “I need you so much, I need you…” 

Pathetic grief poured back in at the memory of what you’d witnessed last night, but you couldn’t fight your need for him. 

“Please, touch me.”

“Just tell me if it’s alright, okay, star," he breathed after pausing to study your face, tracing his fingers along your cheeks.

“Please,” you gasped, his lips on your neck were saving your life. Saving you from your mind. 

A touch against Mihawk’s tender bite mark brought the world back, but then Buggy was tearing you both out of your clothes, kissing down your arms, your chest, your stomach. Kissing every inch of your skin until you were crying with need instead of pain. 

Begging, begging for more. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll take care of you, star.”

“Bug—“

Breathy, desperate moans left your throat as his fingers plunged deep inside you, and he swallowed the rest of your sounds in a wild kiss. His tongue was eating, tasting, and you almost laughed into his mouth at the memory of scotch, until his free hand found your clit. 

The fingers inside you were perfect, knowing exactly what you needed. Finding that spot, giving you steady touches that built in pressure and speed until you were clenching around his fingers, body shaking with pleasure and gratitude. 

“So beautiful,” Buggy praised, his voice full of a quiet awe as he smiled down at you. “You okay, baby?”

“Fuck me, Buggy,” you pleaded as your weak arms failed to pull him closer. “I need you inside me. Need to feel you.”

His eyes were wide, concerned, but he smiled when he kissed you. 

Smiled when he gave you everything you needed. 

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

How?

How can she be real?

How can she want me this much?

Want me after everything…

Buggy pushed those thoughts aside as he smoothed his ungloved hands down her body. 

Hands that he felt safe letting her touch. Just like his bare face that he could let her see. 

He let out his own soft, needy noise as he watched her writhe and squirm, begging for him to touch her.

“Fuck,” he hissed, just the touch of her perfect, dripping pussy against his sensitive tip was too much. Too much as he lined himself up.

“Look at me, Buggy,” Y/N cried out, her watery eyes swallowing him whole, just as he sank his cock deeper and deeper. He couldn’t hold in his moans at the pure fucking bliss that she held inside her, that she let him feel. 

“Look at me, please.”

Buggy kept his eyes on hers, her request setting off alarm bells in his mind that he had to shut down, throw out. 

She wants to look at me like this. She wants to see my face. There’s only one per—

“Buggy! I’m close, please,” she panicked, reaching up into his hair, pulling gently as her breathing went ragged. “Need to feel you, want you so bad.”

“I want you too, star, I’m right— oh gods, baby. Fuck, you feel soo good…”

Y/N screamed his name.

His name. 

Over and over while he shoved his cock as far as he could go, claiming that sweet, warm pleasure she let him take. 

Y/N pulled him in, her body made to take his come, made to milk him, to drain him, to let him fuck it back into her while she babbled, while her eyes crossed, while that cute little tongue hung out of her perfect lips.

All for him. 

Still sunk deep inside her, Buggy soothed and calmed her frantic noises, kissing her temple.

“I love you so much. My shining star.”

What a feeling to say those words. What a feeling to mean them. To have someone to say them to. 

“I love you, Buggy. I love you so much.”

What a feeling.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

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

a/n: I've been so nervous to add anything new to this world. I hope you don't mind some back story. And some Buggy time 😭😭😭

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 | @mikisspeak

Part 20

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 #numbers game

[readingcoco]

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 5487

Ao3 Link

Summary: Arthur revisits Rhodes Parlour House, hoping to get information about the Braithwaite gold from working girl Ettie. He leaves with more questions than answers and a gift he wasn't expecting.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honour Arthur Morgan, angst, emotional smut.

Chapter Two - The Whore

[Chapter 1]

Arthur.

The air in Lemoyne is cloying. Sticky and thick like Molasses. He hates it here, hates waking up wet with sweat, bitten to an inch of his life by the mosquitos that swarm the lake behind his tent.  He’s never been this far south and would gladly leave soon as convenient, except for Dutch’s insistence that gold lies somewhere between the warring Gray and Braithwaite families. He’s less convinced but far from him to try to question Dutch once his mind is set on something. 

A high-pitched buzz by his left ear is met with the thwack of his open palm. Gotcha.

Something else is gnawing away at him, too, besides the mosquitos. A stirring in him, he thought, all but laid to rest after Mary, after— the kind that makes itself known only when he’s here, lying alone in his tent, staring up at the ceiling. 

Want. 

Fuck. He wants her so bad. Ettie, that working girl, up in Rhodes. With her daring eyes and smart mouth — her hands on him, days ago, in the parlour house. Bold as anything. God, if the very thought of her didn’t make a beeline straight down to his cock. He don't like it, don’t like it at all — what she does to him, how she makes him feel. Unarmed. Weak even. But also lighter.

He is appalled to admit he’s considered taking himself in hand more than once now to the thought of her breasts, her smile, the way she looked at him, full of doe-eyed devilment. He’s like some hapless kid. Should be ashamed. 

He’s not been with a whore since his 20s. There was that one Dutch paid for when he turned 17, a string of them after Mary ended things the first time around. Abigail? Once. The last time he lay with a woman was when he and Mary briefly came back together before she married. What was that 94… 95? Would he even remember what to do? Would he be able to last? As a whore she ought not to care, especially if he’s paying for the privilege. But he wants to please her. Wants to fill her smart mouth with sounds of pleasure. Watch those daring, teasing eyes roll back in her head as she comes undone for him. 

He’s stroking himself now. Her imagined sighs. His name on her lips—

Arthurrr—

“—ARTHUR!”

Dutch shouts him from outside his tent. Inescapable like the soupy Lemoyne air. Goddamnit, he hates it here. 

*

“Best I can stoop to is twenty.”

Arthur nods, weighing the expensive-looking silver bracelet loosely in his palm before handing it over. Hosea was better at knowing the worth of fine things, but the fence was on his way back to camp, and it didn’t make sense to make two trips. Still, twenty dollars wasn’t bad for an afternoon playing errand boy to two star-crossed lovers. Not quite the gold Dutch was hoping for, but something at least.

“Deputy.” The man flashes him a knowing wink, touching the brim of his hat. He winces before stiffly nodding back—damn badge. 

He won’t feel too bad about it; the Braithwaite girl, Penelope, had seemed more than content with just the letter, and neither family looked short on finary, as ill-gotten as it was. No, no harm done. 

The sun is at its hottest, leaving him half-blind as it beams punishingly up from the road ahead. Sweat pours from his brow, and he can barely see where he’s going when he finds himself steering Branwen right up the hill towards Rhodes rather than carrying on straight in the direction of camp. 

Only the stench of the butcher’s meat left out too long in the midday heat is enough to break him from his trance and acknowledge where he is. As though Branwen had been steering herself, with him merely passenger. 

Too late to turn around now, he concedes. Might as well carry on heading where he’s heading. 

He takes a long glug from his waterskin before dismounting. Hitching Branwen to the shadiest post of the parlour and making sure she has her fill from the water trough provided—a few extra sugar cubes for good measure. 

“Won’t be long, girl.” 

The heat was just as hard on the horses. 

He assures himself he’s here for reconnaissance— nothing more. If anyone’s likely to have information on the Grays and Braithwaites, it’s her. Probably had enough of them to pick something up the gang could find useful, what with her knack for seeing the stuff folk didn’t want seen. 

The twenty dollars burns a hole in his pocket. 

Ettie had seemed willing the last time, hadn’t she? Not put off or disgusted by him that he could make out. Maybe the badge had its uses, after all. 

Hell, maybe if he slept with her, got it out of his system, he could get on with the job at hand and stop all this silly early morning pining.

*

The parlour house is sleepy as he enters, too late for the lunchtime trade, too early for the field workers to have downed tools and made their way into town. His eyes skirt sheepishly across the bar. 

He’d found himself coming here quite a bit since the gang moved south, not just to avoid Pearson’s cooking but because it was one of the few places that offered solace from the outside sun, the thick leafy green curtains keeping out the worst of the rays. I was nicer than most places he tended to frequent, the white-clothed tables suggesting a level of expected cleanliness from its clientele. And though he’d made sure to kick the mud from his boots before entering, he now chose to stand on the hardwood rather than risk marking the floral rugs that lined the rest of the room.

He can’t see her. Not even sure she's started working yet. And though a couple of girls at the bar make him double-take, none of them are Ettie. 

He’s just about ready to skulk out, feeling old and feckless, when he hears her. Laughter carrying brightly from behind him, awakening the entire place from its slumber. He’d forgotten how alive she was. The rough sketch he’d drawn of her the night he’d got back to camp had barely captured her likeness, let alone her charm. 

She is sat in one of the wooden booths, perched on the lap of a stout-looking man, happy and light, head thrown back, though he’s certain the man at her seat did little to merit such pleasant sounds. 

He stalls for a moment, watching her work and is reminded of Hosea’s ability to tell a person exactly what they want to hear in order to rob them blind — except he isn’t sure who would be robbing who in the current circumstance. 

The stout man’s hand paws lecherously at Ettie’s waist, bouncing her on his knee as he ogles up at her. Surely, no amount could be worth the touch of a man like that. Is that how he had looked, too? Leering and pathetic? Sucked in by talk of sketching and paints. She had read him like a book, and he’d allowed it — a fool to think her interest was in anything other than the dollars in his pocket. 

Well, if money is all it will take to get her pretty face out of his waking thoughts, so be it.

“Miss White?” 

Ettie shifts to face him mid-conversation and grins impishly as though expecting his arrival.

“Hello, stranger.” 

But as he opens his mouth to respond, the words of solicitation stick in his throat, and he realises how unpracticed he is at this whole buisness. The man beneath her glares back, warning him off what’s his. Arthur swallows dryly, raising an arm to rest awkwardly on the booth’s divider, the other hooking into the buckle of his belt. 

“I believe— Last time I was here you—”

Ettie raises an eyebrow, choosing to watch him flounder rather than step to his salvation. 

So she’s toying with him. He sees how it is. Hadn’t acted quick enough the first time around and had her plucked from his side by the drunkard Leigh Gray. Now if he wants her, she’s expecting him to do the same to the dolt under her. He grits his jaw. The glint of his badge catches his eye, and he tries a different tack.

“I’ve heard word there’ve been dangerous men spotted in the area.”

Ettie scans the empty bar and looks back at him plainly.

“Everything seems fine from where I’m sittin’, Deputy.” She puts a playful hand on the stout man’s knee. “Wouldn’t you say so Ernest?” The man nods, wrapping his arm ever tighter around Ettie’s waist. 

“Would you just—I’d like it if—” He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he avoids meeting her eye and instead looks over his shoulder towards the central staircase. He speaks low, “Last time I was in, you asked to show me your work— but we was interrupted.”

A twinkle of recognition from Ettie. “Oh? You still interested?”

“Yes.” He sniffs. It’s out there now. Can’t take it back. 

She silently weighs up some mental calculation before placing a palm on Ernest’s chest. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. Would you mind terribly if you bought me a drink some other time? The Deputy and I have a prior arrangement.” 

He almost sympathises as he watches the man’s face shift from confusion to disappointment, but before it has a chance to twist into anger, Ettie kisses Ernest squarely on the mouth. “Wait right here. I’ve got someone who’ll know how to make it up to you.” She leaves with a wink and no room for protest, springing up and scurrying across to the bar. 

Arthur regards Ernest with an awkward salute, unsure what to say given the circumstances. At least when he robbed men at gunpoint, there was no pretence of polite conversation. 

It’s Ernest who is first to break their silence, “She’s a wily one, Deputy. Not as perky as some of the younger girls, but makes up for it with experience.” He slaps Arthur’s arm in a fashion far too familiar. It makes his skin crawl. “Clean, too.” 

“They’ll be cleanin' you off this floor if you speak about the Lady like that again. We understood?” He’d done his best not to raise his voice, Dutch’s instructions of keeping a low profile never far from his mind, but the man is still white as a sheet as Ettie arrives back at the booth. With her is a lofty-looking girl with ashy blonde hair, who regards Arthur with an amused up and down as she passes. She doesn’t bother to say hello, instead making a beeline straight to Ernest’s side. 

“A birdy told me you were in need of company since yours is being so rudely snatched away,” she says pointedly. 

Although Ettie rolls her eyes, it’s obvious she’s in on the bit. 

“Ernest, Ida’s going to take good care of you while I take the Deputy upstairs. Don’t have too much fun without me now.”

*

The walk up to Ettie’s room is long enough for the dread to start to kick in. He can feel his heart pumping in his throat and remembers why he stopped all this nonsense years ago, but then the warmth of her touch meets the small of his back, and she smiles at him gently from under her lashes.

 “I’ve been wantin' to get you away from prying eyes,” she says quietly, for his ears alone. “Here’s my room, first on the left.” 

As the door closes behind them, he can finally allow his shoulders to relax as he is greeted by the smell of lavender and something sweet he can’t quite place—chamomile, maybe? Her room is small, with sunny yellow walls and surfaces laden with bric-à-brac, the type which collects only once a space has been lived in for some time. Things that would be prone to getting lost or damaged travelling from pillar to post as he did, things he wanted to pick over and admire. 

A painting hung to his right catches his eye: a handsome-looking dark bay drinking from what looks like Flat Iron Lake. He moves towards it to inspect it up close.

“You wanna leave your gun by the door, Deputy?” Ettie says softly.

He looks down. Of course. And undoes his gun belt, wrapping it around itself before setting it on the side, along with his hat. He stands before her, disarmed, not quite sure what to make of the curious way she watches him or where to rest his twitching fingers without the cool metal of his buckle to anchor to. He folds his arms.

“That’s Burdock, my baby. I take him out ridin’ whenever I can.” Ettie says, gesturing to the painting that caught his attention. 

“You painted this?” 

She grins, sticking up her nose with pride. “I did!” Her lack of reticence surprising. 

“S’good.” 

He’d never been much of a smooth talker when it came to women. Even when first courting Mary it had taken months to build up to asking her for a kiss. But this wasn’t courting, and he’d do best to remember that. 

“As flattered as I am, I know you didn’t come up here just to look at my art.”

“Can a man not appreciate a paintin’?”

“They can,” she says, slinking up to him and running a trail of fire across his chest. Pressing herself flush against him. Her hair smells like rose water — not mud, or sweat, or blood. And it disturbs him to think that the last time he felt the heat from another’s body so close, his hands were wrapped around their neck. The tip of her nose aligns with his collarbone, and he could rest his chin on her crown if he felt bold. “But it would be an awful expensive trip just to look at a picture.” 

She steps back slowly to look at him, her absence leaving him cold. For a moment he fears she’s sensed the danger he’s sure he radiates — realising a beat too late, the expected next step of their dance. 

“How much do I owe you?” he says, flusteredly reaching into his satchel. 

“Five dollars. Anything ‘French’ is an additional two — Though considering I’m due payment from our little sweepstakes, I’d be happy to waive the fee for that on this occasion.” 

He’d almost forgotten about the bet placed on his head and wondered how often the women discussed what went on behind closed doors, how he would fair in comparison. He cringes at the thought and tries to push it to the back of his mind. 

“I ain’t expectin’ special treatment, don’t worry.”

He hands over five dollars, and with the money on the dresser, Ettie retakes her position. The plainness of the transaction and the affection it now entitled him to feeling implausible. 

“Relax a little,” her voice comes out like a breath, encouraging him to breathe deeply in time with her. “It’s okay. We’re gonna have fun.” She guides him over to the bed before stepping back to remove her shirtwaist and skirt, each button revealing new skin he now had permission to touch. 

As he stands there watching, something about the ungraceful practicality of her undressing fascinates him, how in contrast it felt to the choreographed movements of the rest of her performance. He wonders if this is her more natural state, all furrowed brows and uncoordinated limbs, and if so, what it took for her to keep up appearances. 

When down to her corset and underthings, Ettie faces the mirror to unpin the hair fixed neatly atop her head. He is silent as it falls like water, spilling over the ridge of her shoulders and pooling loosely at the base of her spine. 

“Your turn now.” She says, and he hardly has time to react before her nimble fingers are working open the buttons of his shirt. 

From this angle, he can see how the sun has caught the high points of her face, leaving behind a sprinkle of freckles lightly masked by powder. The slope of her neck is decorated by loose curls and a small silver locket that bobs up and down above her— He dares not gaze lower. Only as she begins to work at his fly does his sluggish brain arrive at the moment in hand.

“You ain’t taking this off?” His voice comes out hoarser than he expects, and for the first time, Ettie looks a little startled, stepping back to look at him hesitantly. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“I wasn’t planning on. My draws are split, and this unties. Look—” She pulls the ribbon at her shoulder. And he hates that it’s Ernest’s words that colour his view as the loosened cotton strap of her chemise falls away to expose a pretty breast, pushed up by the boning of her corset. Was the man blind? “It’s a little cumbersome to get on and off.” He aches to see her fully, to touch the skin still hidden from view, but he won’t push. 

Her hand dips back into his open fly, sliding between a gap in his union suit. He lets out a wince to feel the pads of her fingers making contact with the base of his dick. “That feel good?” she goads. His whole body gone rigid. Barely able to summon words. Nodding sharply in response, as she begins to ease him out. 

The pace in which she palms him feels foreign compared to his hand's efficient strokes, but she is responsive to each breath, learning him with every shudder and tense of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in the sensation of her experienced hands. Rare he is permitted such selfish pleasure. Rare anyone did anything for him without expectation of its return tenfold. And yet— The lopsidedness of the arrangement suddenly feels too much to bear. He needs to touch her, needs to make her feel as good as she’s making him. 

As her speed quickens, he moves a cautious hand to her breast, cradling her delicately before lightly skimming his thumb across her nipple. Testing. Her rhythm falters slightly, and he is rewarded with a small whimper that escapes half-bitten through her lips. That’s it. He circles the pebbled skin, harder this time, and delights to feel her swell under his touch. Confidence growing, he dips his head lower to taste her. She moans again, but this time unrestrained, head lolling back as he sucks. 

“Arthurrr—”

Her strokes hasten, and he needs to hear her keen for him again. Needs to touch her. He reaches down between them, between her legs, trying to find the source of her heat amongst rumpled cotton, but then she is pulling away. Stepping back. Straightening up. 

“Hey, this is about you. Don’t worry about me, okay.” She says.

“But—” 

“Shhhh, trust me,” Ettie whispers calmly and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. He worries that he has done something wrong, hurt her in some way he didn’t intend, too forceful, too coarse. But like she can read his mind—

“Stay put, I ain’t goin' nowhere.”

She’s good at that, he thinks, toeing the line between gentle and firm. Never going as far to bruise a man’s ego but not coming across as a pushover either. Had she always been that way, or had she learnt how to soothe a man, just as he’d learnt how to intimidate them? Through necessity. What was her natural temperament? What was his? 

Ettie walks over to the dresser and grabs a small glass jar, scooping out a little of the contents before returning to the bed. 

“You wanna get a little more comfortable?” She says, eyeing his half-open union suit and the jeans around his ankles with amusement. What a sight he must look. But if she was going to remain in her underthings, shouldn’t he? It didn’t seem proper to be exposed when she was not. He kicks off his jeans but leaves his Union suit open, but on. 

“What’s that?” He nods to the creamy concoction cupped in her hand.

“Just a little somethin’ for my comfort.” That playful look again. “You are quite… sizable. I wanna make sure I’m ready for you.”

His cheeks darken, her lack of arousal confirming his worst fears.

“Maybe if you let me touch you, you might enjoy it more.”

Her sigh is affectionate. “Who said I wasn’t enjoying myself? Anyone ever told you you worry too much?”

They face each other at the precipice of the bed. His toes curling whilst she slicks up his length with the salve in what feels like one continuous gliding motion, till he is rock hard and panting before her. She shifts herself to bend over the bed, guiding him behind her with a hand on his hip. She arches her back to rest with her forearms on the mattress. 

“You ready to show me what you can do, Deputy?”

“Arthur. Please.” He manages to huff out, unable to look away from the way she is presented so brazenly for him.

Ettie gives him a wry grin over her shoulder. “Arthur, I want you to show me what you’ve been dreamin’ on since we first met.” And he wants to show her, too. 

Swallowing thickly, he carves a hand between the slit of her draws, spreading them open to finally expose the supple flesh of her backside. The sight alone has his dick twitching in anticipation, helpless to prevent the full handful of her ass he takes in his grasp. 

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He croaks.

“Might have heard it mentioned.” 

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, steadying his breath, before aligning himself with her entrance. He is mindful not to push into her too quickly, and though the salve helps some, he hears her breath hitch in her chest as she takes him, inch by inch.

“Too much?” He asks, trying to mask his trepidation, but he is answered by an enthusiastic grind of her hips, which sheaths him fully inside. He stops breathing for a moment, caught by the clutch of her cunt. Senses all but lost to the sensation of her heat. His lids grow heavy, but the sight of his cock buried to the hilt has him straining to keep them open. Hypnotised by the way she encases him. 

He gently rocks himself backwards and then forward, shallow at first and then deeper, slowly increasing his pace with each slap of their hips.

“Ettie-”

“That feel good, Arthur?” So good. So good. And he wishes he could look into those teasing eyes as she spears herself back onto him. At first, matching his tempo and then provoking him to speed up, take her faster, harder. 

He won’t last much longer at this rate. And tries to bat away the sinking feeling that that might be something she wants. For this to be over quickly. She’s making all the right noises, but then again, he walked into this room with a badge on his chest, so honesty was hardly something he felt entitled to. 

He wants her closer, craving the reassurance only her face could bring. He arches down over her, carefully hooking an arm around her chest, drawing her up into him, until she kneels upright on the bed with him holding her weight from behind, bodies remaining locked. 

“This ok?” He huffs.

“Mhmmm” She nods back hazily.

From this position, he can see her better, the rise and fall of her chest, the growing flush that has spread from her cheeks down her neck, the way her eyes shutter when he reaches for her breast, his other seeking out her heat from below. She hums a little then, a sound so pure it answers all suspicions about the authenticity of those proceeding it. God how he wants to watch her come around him, if only he can last long enough to get her there. 

His fingers slip between her folds, spreading her open as he continues to fuck up into her, the slick of her cunt undeniably her own making now. Ettie’s back arches wildly as he begins to rub a tight ring around her clit, and she lets out a noise halfway between a shriek and a moan like she is surprised by the pleasure. But when he tries to continue, she is grasping his wrist, pulling it away from her core and bringing it up to her mouth to suck hard on his fingers. The debauched way she looks at him then almost sends him over the edge. 

“Come for me, Arthur.”

God, his name sounds like honey on her lips. 

“Just like that—”

 Surely she’s not inferring what he thinks she is? But he is near losing himself in the thought alone.

“So close—” She coos, “Just let go, fill me—” 

Fuck. Fuck—

He drags his erupting cock out of her just in time as he spills violently onto her ass and then the floor, staggering backwards, trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus! Jesus. I nearly— I’m sorry.” He babbles, feeling boorish and out of control. 

“Hey there. I know. I said you could.” She says, turning around to run her fingers through his ruffled hair. He looks back at her, confused, still out of breath. 

“Ain’t you worried about—” he stops, trying to find the correct phrasing but becoming aware of the fond, almost patronising look on Ettie’s face. 

“I ain’t worried, no.” She smiles gently, “Wouldn’t be much good at my job if I didn’t take precautions.” 

He nods sheepishly, though still not entirely at ease, before sitting back down at the edge of the bed, sighing deeply, struggling to enjoy the last twitches of his high. 

When his breath returns to normal, he grabs his jeans from the foot of the bed, trying not to cringe at the mess he’s made of her and her floor.  

“Don’t feel like you have to rush on account of me,” Ettie says, making her way to a small porcelain jug and basin in the corner of the room. She dampens a washcloth and wipes away all trace of his spend still marking her skin. 

“Want me to clean you up?” She approaches him cautiously.

“I’m alright.” He says. 

She raises a silent eyebrow. 

“I mean, I can manage for myself.” 

She nods and hands him over the rag. He’s not sure how to feel as he tidies himself up, but he's aware of her eyes on him, watching, trying to figure him out. Knowing he’s been read before she even opens her mouth. 

“When did you last lay with a woman, Deputy?” 

He pauses. That bluntness that throws his head through a loop. Dangerous. And he doesn’t know how to answer—what she’s wanting to hear— that it was likely five years since he’d been touched like that? That he’d touched someone else? Was she looking for an explanation for his rustiness or an apology? 

“Was it obvious?” he asks, unable to fully meet her gaze. 

“Well, you ain’t got a ring and—” She hesitates momentarily. “I shouldn’t say it,” The apples of her cheeks start to ripen uncontrollably until she breaks into laughter. “You fuck like you’ve somethin’ to prove.” 

He might be inclined to take such a comment to heart if it wasn’t for the pleasure he took in seeing her so genuinely amused, and before he knows it, he’s chuckling too.

“I just didn’t want it to be awful for you.” 

Ettie nudges him with her heel. “You paid me to make you feel good. So as long as you had fun, I did too.” 

She lights a cigarette and offers him one from her case: silver, engraved with the initials A.B. in an ornate filigree. He accepts and allows her to light the smoke from the tip of her own. He still doesn’t quite know how to make conversation but is relieved to have something to occupy his hands. 

“Still wanna see my paints?” She asks after a few moments quiet.

“That’s why I’m up here, ain’t it?” He says wryly. She scoffs before darting across the room, opening draws, rooting through cupboards, pulling things out left and right—a tornado, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake. 

When she returns, her arms are laden with supplies, and she settles down next to him cross-legged on the bed, spreading out her wares between them. She opens a battered-looking sketchbook and smooths out the page.

“See,” she says, stroking the paper and encouraging him to do the same. “Just like the paper in your journal—Oh, wait a second.” 

She stands abruptly before dashing off again, this time to the water jug. Her back turned, Arthur flicks through the pages and is rapt by a flurry of faces looking back at him. A few he recognises as girls from the parlour, but there are others too: an elderly woman in a bright feathered hat, a rakish-looking man in spectacles, a little girl with pigtails holding a ragdoll, each of them living and breathing on the page like she had rendered their very souls. 

“You snoopin’?” Ettie tuts in mock disapproval, though she doesn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. “And after all the grief you gave me for looking at your art.”

Art. 

Arthur had never thought about his sketches in that way before. Sure, he sometimes felt pride if he managed to capture something or someone’s likeness in a way that felt true, but he’d never had any training to consider what he did art. Not like the pretty pictures spread out in front of him now. These felt so full of life he swore he wouldn’t be surprised to see one of them moving.

“These are good,” he says as she settles beside him, her thigh resting lightly against his. 

She rolls her eyes, then nudges his arm. “Get your journal out— Don’t worry, I don’t wanna look at any of the drawings— Well, I do, but I’m not going to force you. Just want to show you something.” 

He relents and gets his journal from his satchel, handing it over suspiciously, realising only after it’s in her hands how reckless he’s being, and for what? He hadn’t asked her about the blood feud between Grays and Braithwaits, nothing about the gold. The only information gleaned was that his dick still worked, and even that had only served him.

Keeping to her word, Ettie opens the book to an untouched page and submerges her paintbrush into the jug, tapping off the excess water and swirling the tip into a square of dried paint. Her hand hovers over the blank page before gliding the brush across the paper in a flourish of crimson, blooming as it settled, like petals opening at dawn. 

“Here, you try.” 

She dips the brush back into the jug to clean it off before holding it out towards Arthur. Following her direction, he scrubs the brush into a dark green pan and brings his hand to the paper. His line comes out fainter than hers and less fluid, the brush strokes looking scratchy as he reaches the edge of the page. 

“Not enough paint. Got to get it saturated.” She smiles. “But look,” she flicks over the page, “it hasn’t gone through.” She starts to explain about wetting the paper before applying the paint, working in layers, letting stuff dry, getting more and more animated, that he starts to laugh. 

“You have to start adding colour to your work. I could—” She stops. “You planin’ on seein’ me again?” The question is abrupt, as though she realises she is getting ahead of herself and needs to square off the basics first. 

He hadn’t considered that this would be more than a one-time occurrence but he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the sense of relief that had spread throughout his body and mind in the past half hour. More settled than he’d been in months, maybe even years. Perhaps next time he could get some information out of her. Perhaps next time he could prove himself a less selfish lover.

“I’d like to if you’ll have me.”

“Marvellous! Here—” She thrusts a small wooden box into his hands.

“What’s—?”

***

“A watercolour set for travelling. Not amazing quality but perfect for a beginner or someone on the move.” She gives him a wry smile “You can borrow it and show me how you get on next time you see me.” 

She’s a whirlwind, and even as he’s riding Branwen back into camp he still feels bowled over. Not sure how he’s agreed to as much as he has, or if he’s being played, or if he cares to stop it.

Tag list: @redwritr, @twola, @ultraporcelainpig, @cassietrn & @milesology

If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list, just let me know! x

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #painted red

[armoricaroyalty]

Film Grammar for Simmers

What is film grammar?

"Film grammar" refers the unstated "rules" of editing used in movies and TV. Different types of shots have different associations and are used by editors to convey different types of information to the audience. Many of these principles were first described in the early 20th century by Soviet directors, but they're used consistently across genre, medium, and even language: Bollywood musicals, English period dramas, Korean horror movies, and American action blockbusters all use many of the same techniques.

Because these rules are so universal, virtually everyone has some internalized understanding of them. Even if they can’t name the different types of shots or explain how editors use images to construct meaning, the average person can tell when the “rules” are being broken. If you’ve ever thought a movie or episode of TV was confusing without being able to say why, there’s a good chance that there was something off with the editing.

Learning and applying the basics of film grammar can give your story a slicker and more-polished feel, without having to download shaders or spend hours in photoshop. It also has the bonus of enhancing readability by allowing your audience to use their knowledge of film and TV to understand what's happening in your story. You can use it to call attention to significant plot details and avoid introducing confusion through unclear visual language.

Best of all, it doesn't cost a dime.

The basics: types of shots

Shots are the basic building block of film. In Sims storytelling, a single shot is analogous to a single screenshot. In film, different types of shots are distinguished by the position of the camera relative to the subject. There are three big categories of shots, with some variation: long shots (LS), medium shots (MS), and close-ups (CU). This diagram, created by Daniel Chandler and hosted on visual-memory.co.uk illustrates the difference:

Source: The 'Grammar' of Television and Film, Daniel Chandler, visual-memory.co.uk. Link.

In film, scenes typically progress through the different types of shots in sequence: long shot, medium shot, close-up. When a new scene begins and the characters arrive in a new location, we typically begin with a wide establishing shot of the building’s exterior to show the audience where the scene will be taking place. Next comes a long shot of an interior space, which tells the where the characters are positioned relative to one another. The next shot is a medium shot of the characters conversing, and then finally, a close-up as the conversation reaches its emotional or informational climax. Insert shots are used judiciously throughout to establish themes or offer visual exposition.

Here's another visual guide to the different types of shots, illustrated with stills from Disney animated films.

This guide is almost 2,000 words long! To save your dash, I've put the meat of it under the cut.

Long shot and extreme long shots

A long shot (sometimes also called a wide shot) is one where the entire subject (usually a building, person, or group of people) is visible within the frame. The camera is positioned far away from the subject, prioritizing the details of the background over the details of the subject.

One of the most common uses of long shots and extreme long shots are establishing shots. An establishing shot is the first shot in a scene, and it sets the tone for the scene and is intended to give the viewer the information they’ll need to follow the scene: where a scene is taking place, who is in the scene, and where they are positioned in relation to one another. Without an establishing shot, a scene can feel ungrounded or “floaty.” Readers will have a harder time understanding what’s happening in the scene because on some level, they’ll be trying to puzzle out the answers to the who and where questions, distracting them from the most important questions: what is happening and why?

(I actually like to start my scenes with two establishing shots: an environmental shot focusing on the scenery, and then a second shot that establishes the characters and their position within the space.)

Long shots and extreme long shots have other uses, as well. Because the subject is small relative to their surroundings, they have an impersonal effect which can be used for comedy or tragedy.

In Fargo (1996) uses an extreme long shot to visually illustrate the main character’s sense of defeat after failing to secure funding for a business deal.The shot begins with a car in an empty parking lot, and then we see the protagonist make his way up from the bottom of the frame. He is alone in the shot, he is small, and the camera is positioned above him, looking down from a god-like perspective. All of these factors work together to convey his emotional state: he’s small, he’s alone, and in this moment, we are literally looking down on him. This shot effectively conveys how powerless he feels without any dialogue or even showing his face.

The same impersonal effect can also be used for comic purposes. If a character says something stupid or fails to impress other characters, cutting directly from a close-up to a long shot has a visual effect akin to chirping crickets. In this instance, a long shot serves as a visual “wait, what?” and invites the audience to laugh at the character rather than with them.

Medium Shots

Medium shots are “neutral” in filmmaking. Long shots and close-ups convey special meaning in their choice to focus on either the subject or the background, but a medium shot is balanced, giving equal focus to the character and their surroundings. In a medium shot, the character takes up 50% of the frame. They’re typically depicted from the waist-up and the audience can see both their face and hands, allowing the audience to see the character's facial expression and read their body-language, both important for interpreting meaning.

In most movies and TV shows, medium shots are the bread and butter of dialogue-heavy scenes, with close-ups, long shots, and inserts used for punctuation and emphasis. If you’re closely following the conventions of filmmaking, most of your dialogue scenes will be medium shots following the convention of shot-reverse shot:

To keep long conversations from feeling too visually monotonous, consider staging the scene as a walk-and-talk. Having two characters move through a space can add a lot of dynamism and visual interest to a scene that might otherwise feel boring or stiff.

Close Ups

Close-ups are close shots of a character’s face. The camera is positioned relatively near to the subject, showing just their head and shoulders. In a close-up, we don’t see any details of the background or the expressions of other characters.

In film, close-ups are used for emphasis. If a character is experiencing a strong emotion or delivering an important line of dialogue, a close-up underscores the importance of the moment by inviting the audience to focus only on the character and their emotion.

Close-ups don’t necessarily need to focus on the speaker. If the important thing about a line of dialogue is another character’s reaction to it, a close-up of the reaction is more effective than a close-up of the delivery.

One of the most iconic shots in Parasite (2019) is of the protagonist driving his employer around while she sits in the backseat, speaking on the phone. Even though she’s the one speaking, the details of her conversation matter less than the protagonist’s reaction to it. While she chatters obliviously in the background, we focus on the protagonist’s disgruntled, resentful response to her thoughtless words and behavior.

In my opinion, Simblr really overuses close-ups in dialogue. A lot of conversation scenes are framed entirely in close-ups, which has the same effect of highlighting an entire page in a textbook. The reader can’t actually tell what information is important, because the visuals are screaming that everything is important. Overusing close-ups also cuts the viewer off from the character’s body language and prevents them from learning anything about the character via their surroundings.

For example, a scene set in someone’s bedroom is a great opportunity for some subtle characterization—is it tidy or messy? what kind of decor have they chosen? do they have a gaming computer, a guitar, an overflowing bookshelf?—but if the author chooses to use only close-ups, we lose out on a chance to get to know the character via indirect means.

Inserts

An insert shot is when a shot of something other than a character’s face is inserted into a scene. Often, inserts are close-ups of a character’s hands or an object in the background. Insert shots can also be used to show us what a character is looking at or focusing on.

In rom-com The Prince & Me (2004) (see? I don’t just watch crime dramas…) the male lead is in an important meeting. We see him pick up a pen, look down at the papers in front of him, and apparently begin taking notes, but then we cut to an insert shot of his information packet. He’s doodling pictures of sports cars and is entirely disengaged from the conversation. Every other shot in the scene is an establishing shot or a medium shot or a close-up of someone speaking, but this insert gives us insight into the lead’s state of mind: he doesn’t want to be there and he isn’t paying attention.

Insert shots are, in my opinion, also used ineffectively on Simblr. A good insert gives us extra insight into what a character is thinking or focusing on, but a poorly-used insert feels…unfocused. A good insert might focus on pill bottles on a character’s desk to suggest a chemical dependency, on a family picture to suggest duty and loyalty, on a clock to suggest a time constraint, on a pile of dirty laundry or unanswered letters to suggest a character is struggling to keep up with their responsibilities. An ineffective insert shot might focus on the flowers in the background because they’re pretty, on a character’s hands because it seems artsy, on the place settings on a dining table because you spent forever placing each one individually and you’ll be damned if they don’t make it into the scene. These things might be lovely and they might break up a monotonous conversation and they might represent a lot of time and effort, but if they don’t contribute any meaning to a scene, consider cutting or repurposing them.

I want to emphasize: insert shots aren’t bad, but they should be carefully chosen to ensure they’re enhancing the meaning of the scene. Haphazard insert shots are distracting and can interfere with your reader’s ability to understand what is happening and why.

Putting it all together

One of the most basic principles of film theory is the Kuleshov effect, the idea that meaning in film comes from the interaction of two shots in sequence, and not from any single shot by itself. In the prototypical example, cutting from a close-up of a person’s neutral expression to a bowl of soup, children playing, or soldiers in a field suggests hunger, worry, or fear, respectively.

The Kuleshov effect is the essence of visual storytelling in a medium like Simblr. You can elevate your storytelling by thinking not only about each individual shot, but about the way they’ll interact and flow into one another.

Mastering the basics of film grammar is a great (free!) way to take your storytelling to the next level. To learn more, you can find tons of guides and explainers about film grammar for free online, and your local library doubtless has books that explain the same principles and offers additional analysis.

Happy simming!

#armorica tips #armorica ooc #i finally got off my ass to finish this guide which i started back in August right before I got extremely sick and ended up in the hospital #anyway....hope you enjoyed this post which was a veiled excuse for me to complain about how people overuse close-ups and inserts #and i can't tell what's happening in their stories ;fdsklsjadf;laksdf #Youtube

[shoverse]

— #25.08.98 : l.minho / love !

#01 — soonie, doongie and dori are quick to accept you. at your first meeting, they immediately decided that you were perfect for their father. every time you enter minho's house, you can hear the little footsteps of twelve padded paws speeding out to see you. you wonder if you'll be adopting them as your children soon.

#02 — minho has always thought he was hard to love. that is, until you made it seem so natural. even though he's not really all that great at expressing his emotions, he finds it easier with you. easy. it's easy to love you. he loves you.

#03 — minho finds it surprising how he can sit in silence with you for hours, but your presence there makes it perfect. he'll lay on your lap and he'll fall asleep as you curl his hair around your fingers.

#04 — minho can't help it, your touch is just so comforting to him. he loves when you trace your fingers along his skin, slip them into his hands. it calms him down, relaxes him. he loves when you bury your face into the crook of his neck, he loves when you wrap your arms around his waist and, oh, there's just so much you do.

#05 — minho takes care of you. whenever he's with you, he'll crack open crab legs, cook your meat at barbecues and get things off the tall shelves for you. acts of service, you could call it. well, he just likes to call it the way he loves.

#06 — minho noticed that you picked up the habit of his duck lips. he spots you subconsciously pushing out your lips to match his when you're just scrolling on your phone. he decides that they're just too inviting to not kiss.

#07 — minho loves when you remember things about him. he loves when he spots a pint of strawberry ice cream in the freezer with his name stuck on it, when he finds his clothes packed in bundles, when you do things because you know that he likes them.

#08 — around you, minho is transparent. his emotions are raw, true, unfiltered, and equally so passionate and soft. his words fall from his lips in a string, but sometimes you catch him breathless. he can only seem to tell the truth, and the truth is how much he loves you.

#09 — minho likes your reassurance. he likes when your eyes are bleary and your hair is messy and you whisper those three little words. or, not so little, considering how fast his heartbeat gets after hearing it. he thinks he'll fall in love again.

#10 — minho loves you. he loves you so much and he'll say it over and over again. minho loves you.

#ignore the camila references 😭😭 still haven't really gotten over romance #skz scenarios #skz x gn reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz imagines #minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines

[devourable]

➶ the butcher

sfw | tags ; nb!yandere butcher x gn reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), yandere behavior/tendencies, stalking, butchery (duh), violent imagery/ideation + implied violence

i dont see explicitly nonbinary yanderes much at all so im here to change that bc us offgendered mfs can be are crazy too 😌 sorry if this kinda sucks bc i finished this up while half asleep

you always felt there was something… off. about the 24 hour deli you always passed by.

it seemed to always be empty, aside from the butcher who was constantly at work inside. chopping meat, severing flesh from bone, every action executed with nearly clinical precision. did they ever do anything else? how were they always so busy with so little customers?

you could never understand. but as much as you were put off by the strange little store, curiosity gnawed at you with equal strength.

because of that, the day you entered the shop for the first time late one night, you left all of your concerns at the door.

unbeknownst to you, the butcher had been watching you long before you ever entered their deli. they always felt your eyes on them when you passed by their store — your gaze just felt so different from others. electrical, almost. they always knew when you were nearby. you must've felt it too, right? the connection you had?

but poor rhodes, they could never just approach you! you never stopped by and you didn't even know their name. they never had an opening to meet you formally. it'd be such a shame to scare you off...

thus, they were content with watching you from a distance. they ensured you never noticed their dark eyes following you, only daring to observe you passing in their peripherals or looking in your direction after you had walked far enough away. how wonderful your appearance was... a lovely sight that always brightened up the monotony of their work days. it was so fun to see you go about your life, it satisfied them enough to not mind your lack of connection.

though, sometimes... they couldn't help but imagine the animals they were tearing apart were the folk they occasionally saw you talking to. to tear their skin off of them, cut them into filets and send them far, far away from you... they ideated about it more times than they'd admit. why did you have to interact with others in front of them?

the day you actually entered their shop was a day they'd never forget. they thought they were dreaming when you walked in, shivering from the cold of the night seeking warmth and food in their establishment for the first time. you'd started a new job, see, and your shift ended well after everything else had closed. you were forced to forgo dinner and you were starved. so rhodes' butchery was the only place nearby you could visit.

you were intimidated by them, admittedly. their hulking frame, blank expression, and rough voice combined with the blood and gore constantly clinging to their apron was enough to put anyone on edge. but they couldn't be that bad, right?

their rampant emotions were hidden behind the unwaveringly neutral expression they always held, and you were none the wiser to their thudding heart and the slight tremble in their hands as they took your order.

the exchange was simple enough — you ordered a sandwich and something warm to drink, they made it for you, and you'd sit in one of the few chairs scattering the deli's entrance to enjoy your food and try to wind down after your shift.

and just like that, a routine was established.

you got to know rhodes as you continued to visit their place of work. they weren't scary, just awkward! or so you told yourself. but they were so easy to talk to — albeit not the best conversationalist, they were a superb listener. they'd devote their full attention to you every time you spoke to them, not daring to breathe a word so they wouldn't interrupt your lovely voice. they'd learn everything they could about you during your conversations. how you were gradually getting used to your new job, how it was a good thing they were open so late, how you were grateful for their work... things that they'd replay in their mind over and over again when you left.

you never really thought much of it when rhodes began giving you food on the house, using various excuses from not wanting to have to reopen the register to having conveniently already made your favorite sandwich earlier that day for a canceled order. you were friends now! of course they'd want to do you favors.

you also never really thought of it when the coworker who you'd complained about to them a few times stopped coming to work, either. they made an enemy out of so many people at your job, maybe they got fired? it wasn't any of your business.

rhodes had no clue how they'd get closer to you just yet. but now that you were seeing them regularly, they didn't mind settling for making your life a bit easier.

in any way they could.

after all, no one was going to question a butcher for having bloodied clothes.

#🥩 rhodes williams #lovesick | ocs #mine | fics #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #nonbinary yandere #nb yandere #t4t yandere #yandere oc #trans yandere

[maswritingblog]

The Arrangement - Part Six

Summary: Lucy navigates her emotions and Marcus has a surprise.

Warnings: Conversations about pregnancy, Smut (18+ ONLY), Emotions.

A/N: Surprise! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this posted. I realized today that part five was posted in December 2022 and that's absolutely insane. Thank you to everyone who has been waiting patiently for this, and to those who still engage with me and my content even as I haven't been posting. I appreciate you all, and I hope you enjoy.

A/N 2: This is a reader fic but I have chosen a random name for the reader as that is the way I like to write. I give no descriptions of the reader, so feel free to picture "Lucy" any way you want!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friends raising a kid together.

That was the deal.

And yet as Lucy sat in her car in Marcus’s driveway waiting for him to arrive, she found herself questioning everything. What happened next? Where did they stand now that she was pregnant? They’d agreed to an arrangement to conceive, and they had done so, but she hadn’t expected things to change so much in the process. Maybe it was foolish of her to assume that she would be able to sleep with her friend for several weeks without developing feelings; maybe it was foolish to assume she could get through this and come out on the other side the same.

Part of her wondered if Marcus felt any different about her. He tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve and get caught up in them easily, but somehow she wasn’t sure where she stood with him. Either he’d learned to hide his emotions better than he let on, or he didn’t feel anything new for her at all. Maybe he was better suited for this type of arrangement than she was, surprising as that may be.

The crunch of tires on the pavement alerted her to his arrival and she took a few deep breaths to pull herself together.

“Okay, you can do this, Luce,” she whispered to herself in the rearview mirror. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Sighing softly, she stepped out of her car and followed Marcus up the driveway to his front door. He held the takeout bag in one hand as he slid the key into the lock and opened the door. As much as she was looking forward to some pancakes to cure her sweets craving, part of her wanted to take the bag and leave before she had to have an awkward conversation.

She followed him inside, kicking off her shoes and hanging her jacket as she usually did. Marcus placed the food on the coffee table before taking off his own shoes and coat. Lucy went to the kitchen for plates and cutlery and brought them into the living room.

“I got those strawberries you like.” He commented as he sat on the couch, loosening his tie until he could pull it over his head, ruffling his hair in the process.

“Mmm, thank you.”

Lucy kneeled on the floor on the opposite side of the table and opened the takeout bag, the sweet smell of pancakes hitting her nose. Although it made her salivate, the smell of Marcus’s bacon that followed immediately made her stomach turn.

“Oh, god.” She gasped, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth.

Marcus’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What’s wrong? You okay?” he asked urgently.

Swallowing thickly, she nodded. “Sorry, I guess bacon is off limits now.”

Standing, he reached into the bag and pulled out the container with the offending meat and took it into the kitchen without a word. When he came back, he had a glass of water that he held out to her.

“Sorry,” she swallowed again, taking the water to wash down the taste of bile in her throat.

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I had a friend who couldn’t stand the smell of cooked meat when she was pregnant. We’ll just have to figure out what sets you off and what doesn’t.”

She should have known he’d be understanding; there was no universe where Marcus Pike wasn’t understanding and attentive to the ones he cared about. It was probably only going to be amplified now that she was pregnant. She wasn’t sure why that overwhelmed her.

“Pancakes still sound good?” He asked, reaching into the bag for the container. “Or I guess ‘smell good’?”

“Thankfully, yes.”

They ate in silence for a bit. Lucy wondered what was going through his mind, wondered if it was anything close to what she had been thinking about in the car. Did she even need to bring it up to him? Or was he under a completely different impression? She supposed the only way to find out was to ask, but that seemed so terrifying.

“What are you thinking about?” Marcus finally broke the silence.

Lucy hummed around her bite of pancake. “Hmm?”

He set his fork down in his empty take out container and gave her his full attention. “Luce, you’ve got your thinking face on. What’s up?”

Well, shit. She had hoped she could avoid any awkward conversation tonight, but she forgot how attentive he could be, how much he paid attention.

Maybe she could avoid talking about that though.

Shrugging, she pushed the last bite of pancake through the sticky syrup on the bottom of the container. “Big changes. Easy to have a lot on your mind.” She hoped the vague answer would be enough.

She should have known better. Marcus nodded slowly, eyes flickering over her face as he studied her closely. Finally, he leveled her with a soft yet serious stare. “Lucy.”

It was just her name, but she could tell he knew there was something more to it by the way he said it. She could feel anxiety bubbling inside her at the thought of explaining to him what was on her mind. But she knew she needed to behave like an actual adult and speak with him instead of keeping it bottled up.

When she didn’t respond right away, Marcus’s brow furrowed. “You’re not…you’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked, his voice small as if the thought terrified him.

Lucy’s eyes widened. That had never crossed her mind, there was no way she’d back out of this situation; she would never do that to him. Shaking her head, she rose from her spot on the floor and moved to sit beside him on the couch, her hands reaching out to grasp his arm.

“Marcus, no. No second thoughts, no regrets, nothing. I’m having this baby…we’re having this baby.” She reassured him, holding his gaze so he would know she meant every word.

His deep brown eyes softened as the worry lessened, but he wasn’t completely reassured. “Then what’s going on, Luce? You look like something is bothering you.”

She sighed. There was no way to avoid it…but how did she ease into the subject?

“It’s not bothering me, it’s just something I started thinking about after the appointment.”

He nodded slowly, listening intently like he always did.

“I was just thinking about what the pregnancy means…for us.”

His brow furrowed again. “For us?”

“Okay,” Sighing again, she rose from the couch and began to pace the space in front of the coffee table. “I don’t want to make this weird or uncomfortable. I mean, we’re going to be raising a kid together and I don’t want to make that harder…” she was rambling now. “It’s just…maybe I don’t want this to just be friends raising a kid together. And that’s something I have to think about, because I knew what the deal was when we started this, and just because I feel differently doesn’t mean you do.”

How had she gone from deciding to put up boundaries to protect herself from getting hurt to confessing her feelings to him? Had those pancakes been laced with truth serum or something? Or was it just looking into Marcus’s kind eyes that had her willing to spill all her secrets? Maybe it was the hormones.

And now she’d probably made things awkward. How would he react to her confession? Would he let her down gently in the way only Marcus Pike could, or would he not know what to say and she’d have to leave and hope he just let her pretend none of this happened?

When she turned to pace back towards the front door, Marcus was suddenly there with his hands on her shoulders. “Lucy, take a breath.” He spoke softly.

She nodded, inhaled slowly, and reminded herself that she wasn’t just one person anymore.

He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence. “Lucy, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Maybe she could play dumb her way out of this. “W-What do you think I’m saying?”

“That you have feelings for me.”

Well, nevermind.

She took in a deep breath before meeting his eyes, trying her best to not let her hormones get the best of her. Her eyes burned with unshed tears at the idea of him rejecting her, even if he did it nicely.

“Yeah, I think I do.” She whispered, feeling so small as she did so. “But…I understand that isn’t what you signed up for, so don’t worry about—”

“—Lucy,” he interrupted, his hands moving to cup her face. He let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head slowly. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I have been trying so hard to not let you see that this has changed things for me. I didn’t want to make you upset, but I think maybe I got in over my head with this arrangement. I don’t know why I thought that I could do this without falling more in love with you than I already was.”

She felt a lightening bolt shoot through her. “Y-You’re in love with me?” she gasped, the tears she had been fighting back prickling the corners of her eyes.

“I think since the moment I met you.” He murmured, thumb brushing back and forth on the apple of her cheek.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d been in love with her the entire time, and here she was trying to hide her feelings to spare him any awkwardness. She let out a small, surprised laugh before reaching up to grip the collar of his shirt to tug his lips down to hers.

His arms dropped to wind around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he deepened the kiss.

This had gone much better than she had expected and while they’d need to have an actual conversation about whatever they were at some point, she was more than happy to take this moment for what it was. Talk could come later; they had plenty of time for that.

She started backing towards the hallway, pulling him with her.

“What about your pancakes?” he chuckled, his mouth still pressed against hers like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go.

“Screw the pancakes.”

They stumbled down the hallway, Lucy’s fingers beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt and his began pulling her blouse from where it was tucked in her pants. As they reached his bedroom, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and then lifted her arms to allow him to pull hers over her head.

They both made quick work of their pants and then she’d barely gotten her bra off before he was kissing her again. He stepped forward, leading her back towards the bed like they were dancing. He broke away to pull the blankets back on the bed and then they tumbled onto the mattress as their legs tangled, both laughing in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled as he did his best to not land right on top of her.

Instead of responding, she pulled his mouth back down to hers and moving her legs to wrap them around his hips, letting out a soft moan as his hips met hers and she felt his hardness press against where she was already throbbing.

They’d had a lot of sex, but this felt different. Maybe it was because of her hormones, or maybe it was because they’d just confessed their love for each other. There was always something more special about being intimate with someone she cared deeply about, and knowing he cared for her just the same made it even more special.

He grinded against her and they moaned into each other’s mouths at the feeling. Lucy reached down to tug at his briefs and he propped himself up on one hand to help her push them down his hips. Once they were low enough he could kick them off, he sat up on his knees and helped her pull her underwear down her legs before slinging them over his shoulder to disappear somewhere across the room.

Lucy couldn’t hold in the giggle that came out at that, and she shook her head at him. Yeah, this was the man she had fallen in love with.

Marcus leaned down to press kisses to her stomach, lingering for a second on her lower abdomen before trailing kisses up the valley between her breasts. His lips found the spot he knew she liked behind her ear as his body slotted against hers.

Lucy’s hands trailed down his sides, nails raking his skin lightly the way she knew he liked. He groaned against her skin, hips involuntarily grinding against hers on reflex. She reached between their bodies and took ahold of him, turning her head to capture his mouth as he moaned. She took that moment to position him at her entrance, waiting for him to press his hips forward to press his tip in before she let go. Her hand came up to thread through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots as he slid deeper inside.

She could never get over the feeling of him, and she was grateful he didn’t want this to end; she was pretty sure he’d ruined her wanting any other man inside her.

They moaned into the kiss as he sheathed himself fully. She expected him to keep going, but then he pulled back to look down at her, his hips unmoving.

Her brow furrowed. “You okay?” she asked, still breathless from the feeling of being full.

Marcus’s hand came up to brush a strand of hair off her face, eyes softening as he studied her features.

“Marcus?”

His thumb brushed over her lower lip as he took a deep breath. “I love you.” He murmured softly, his voice thick.

Lucy’s heart skipped in her chest. It was one thing to hear him say he had fallen in love with her, and another to have him look deeply in her eyes and say those three little words. They hit her like a freight train. The hand that had been tangled in his hair moved to cup his jaw. “I love you, too.” She whispered.

He gave her that big grin she loved so much and leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips, pulling back only far enough to lock eyes with her, his nose brushing against hers.

He shifted his hips, eyes never leaving hers as he pulled out and then pushed back in slowly. This wasn’t like they had done before; this wasn’t just sex.

They were making love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I know this probably felt finite, but I promise this is not the end! I just felt like that was the perfect end to part six, but I have more parts planned!

Tag List: Strikethrough means it wouldn't let me tag you.

The Arrangement: @moonlightburned @rebel-fanfare @supernaturalgirl20 @thevoiceinyourheadx @prideandpascal @nicolethered @littlemousedroid @theamuz @missminkylove @what-iwish-you-knew @amb11 @vanemando15 @paige96 @cleverusername027 @emilianamason @diaryofkali @thirddeadlysin @pedr0swh0r3 @we-were-owls

All current & future fics: @absurdthirst @sherala007 @athalien @hopeamarsu @adancedivasmom @gooddaykate @hotchlover @amneris21 @harriedandharassed @gzzzla

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed on the tag list or change your username in my tag list by visiting this link!

#the arrangement #marcus pike #pedro pascal #marcus pike fic #marcus pike smut #pedro pascal smut #mywriting #pedro pascal fic #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader

[linpunny]

Okay but how would the other clones react to being called daddy 🩶

I was absolutly feral like the meter was at 100% when i started writing 😑 so I’ll indulge you nonnie! My bad this took literal years

Calling them daddy

Fem reader! no pronouns but reader has a kitty kat

Network: @enchantedforest-network

Cervix fucking, mentions of breeding daddy kink, blood play/kink

Sekido’s lips pull into a fanged smirk, blood red eyes glowing brightly with desire, pulse racing, face flushing from the way you moaned, calling him daddy. That word ignites a foreign emotion within him, something that made his core burn hotly with want. His dick pulsed inside your tight walls as he picked up the pace, his dick slamming into you without abandon as his claws locked around your hips keeping you in place. His lust filled eyes trailed down the expanse of your back stopping to admire the way your ass checks shook when he bottomed out, large tip pushing against your cervix with each rough thrust into your drenched pussy. One of his hands traced up your spine to the back of your sweaty nape gripping firmly as he pushed your head down further into the sheets beneath you, placing you into the perfect arch as the hand on your hip dug into the plump meat spilling crimson that he would lick away later. Forcing you to take him deeper until tears spilled from your eyes as Sekido thrusted deep enough for a bulge to disappear and reappear in your lower stomach as he jackhammered his thick fat dick into your tight cunt. The only thing he could think of was fucking you full of his cum until you were swollen and overstimulated from his touch.

“Did I give you permission to call me daddy? Did you think that I would slow down, become soft for you? Fuck you like I held affections?  You're just a hole, a cocksleeve for me to use until ive had my fill. Guess I need to show you what I mean, if you want to be treated like a dirty disgusting bitch then I’ll treat you like one. Ill have you screaming daddy till your throats raw, slut.”

Aizetsu has you caged underneath him, both of his hands on either side of your head fisted into the sheets so tightly , your legs locked around his waist as he slowly thrusts into your warm soft pussy. Your warmth was something that almost felt forbidden and he wanted to desperately indulge and keep himself  buried  inside you forever. It was unlike him  but the thought of not being wrapped so snugly by your gummy walls made his chest feel heavy and his sorrow only grew when he was away from you. He desired you in a way he didn’t understand but he knew that once you were under him, connected in the most sensual and intimate way possible with his lengthy dick softly kissing your cervix while you sang praises that he needed to hear into his ear-when he was with you everything felt so incredibly right. Tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks, which he caught with his tongue licking them up in between breathy whimpers’ and whispers of your name. His pointed ears perked at what fell from your mouth as he hit deeply into the soft spongy sweet spot that made him tremble and you moan out “Daddy!” loudly. He couldn’t believe what he heard, surely you weren’t calling him Daddy? He thrusted roughly into the same spot again, half expecting to hear something else but you cried out “Daddy s’deep!!” and something snapped deep within Aizetsu as he pressed the weight of his body into yours slamming his throbbing cock deeper than before, pushing past a tight ring of muscles that felt so fucking good.

“D-did you just call me Daddy? Pretty slayer, please tell me you meant it, say it again f’me….. I’ll feel sad if you dont, did you not mean to say it…? O-oh you..you want to call me Daddy, I want to hear you call me that for the rest of the night- Please? You doing such a good job taking all of me, such a good plaything for me. Wait! I’ll-ill cum if you keep looking at me while your calling me that.” And cum he did, stuffing you full of his thick ropes of white, your insides belonging to Aizetsu for the night.

Karaku threw both your legs over his shoulder, claws gripping the soft inner flesh of your thighs, pulling your pussy right back onto his warm awaiting pleasure kanji tattooed tongue, face so deep in your soaked folds that his nose rubbed against your clit every time he licked a sinfully slow stripe up through your lips and then back down again. He was dead set on edging you, sporadically dipping his long tongue into your heat to get a taste of your sweet cream that was mixed with the seed of his counterparts. Then the wet muscle would retreat as he licked back up to your throbbing clit to press wet sloppy kisses and harsh suckles over the sensitive little bud. He didn’t even care that the taste on his tongue wasn’t his own because Karaku knew that once his tongue lapped at the very last drop of the other’s cum you would let him fill you up with his cum, he would eat it out of you and the process would repeat until he was satisfied. He ravenously dug his tongue deeply into your pussy, the thick tip of the  muscle lapping at the large gush of juices, expertly drinking every single last drop, he couldn’t let your sweet honeyed taste go to waste. You whined out quietly, “Daddy~ R-right there please don’t…don’t stop.” For a second the loud slurping noises that were filling the room stopped as curious forest green eyes darted up from in between your legs, a delightful cackling laugh vibrated through your pussy before he pulled away to spread you wide open with his pointer and index fingers. 

“You’ve never called me Daddy before, do it again I liked the way it made my dick throb. Come on, ill wreck this sloppy pussy of yours if you say it again, fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t think straight. Only way i’ll continue is if you call me Daddy.  Now be a good little whore and scream Daddy while you cum on my dick. Fuck fuck fuck fuck! You’re squeezing Daddy so tight, you- youwant me to cum? Ha~! Can’t answer, did I fuck ya dumb already?”

Urogi’s talons dig into the plush of your hips, sharp claws breaking the skin causing a crimson stream to flow down your thighs swirling with the juices that were leaking out of your pussy as he pushes you even further down on his cock, stretching you out for what was to come. Calling him daddy was a mistake on your part but he would make sure you remembered what would happen the next time you dared to utter the word. He works you impatiently up and down on his length until his angry pulsing tip is kissing the entrance. the flesh of his knot swelling around your gummy walls as he pushes past the tight ring of muscles into the deepest part of your womb.  He’d never been so deep inside you before, so warm, so wet, so incredibly soft. His wings fluttered in response to the sweet melodic  moans of “daddy, deeper!” leaving your mouth, the soft feathers enclosing around your trembling body possessively. He cackled, pupils blown so wide that the yellow of his kanji eyes was barely noticeable as he looked down in bliss at you clinging to him so desperately. 

“Such a good litlle slut, womb takin all of me like that. You like being fucked so deep by Daddy~? Oh, come on, tell me how much you're enjoying this!  You getting shy now little slayer? Keep calling me daddy, say it more!! I want to hear you scream it! G-good girl, just like that. shit!! you feel so good, think ‘m aboutta cum and fill up this pussy. Want daddy to do that?”

© Linpunny 2023 All of the following works are fictional and belong to me. Please do not copy, edit, or steal any of my content. Do not advertise on any other social media.

#fuck me in a derogatory way if my laptop EVER starts working I’ll make this pretty but here ya go #sekido smut #aizetsu smut #karaku smut #Urogi smut #kny sekido #kny aizetsu #kny karaku #kny Urogi #demon slayer smut #demon slayer headcanons #sekido x reader #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #kny smut #rainbow support divider by @benkaibear #dessy’s tomes #dessy’s nonnie