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jacaerysgf · 10 hours

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chapter two Stuck in the middle

c.s: today is the day of the tourney and you are more than hopeful everyone will be better behaved today. But what happens when you are the one who does not behave. oh no, do you hold affections for both princes!?!?

w.c: 3.1k

a.n: a shorter one i know but i promise its all set up for the individual endings :33 love you guys i hope enjoy <3

fic masterlist

“Well someone looks grumpy this morning.” You grumble as you stab your fork into the array of fruits resting in your plate. “I am not grumpy.”

You are. You did not sleep well last night. Thoughts clouded your mind so heavily you are glad you even managed to fall asleep before sunrise.

You eat breakfast in silence while jeyne and jessamyn chat about the upcoming tourney.

“I think aemond will win” at the mention of his name your head shoots up and you narrow your eyes when you see they are already looking at you with a humorous look. “What?”

“Oh nothing. I simply wish to know your thoughts on the prince.” “He is fine.”

“oh maybe prince jacaerys is more to her taste.” “no it is certainly prince aemond you saw the way he looked at her and she spoke to him!” “are you blind? she was clearly fawning over prince jacaerys and he her!”

“will you both please stop talking about this?” You put your head in your hands as you feel a headache begin to grow. You are not ready to see both of them today you feel like you might die. Atleast they will not be together today for jacaerys will not be participating in the tourney but that also means you will be spending your time with him.

It is not that you do not like him. If anything you adore him you were so close as children but you cannot stand this strange stand off he’s been having with aemond and you pray it doesn’t spill over into today.

He has not come out by the time you arrive to the stands and sit down next to what you believe to be his chair with lucerys seated at your other side. You can see people from the stands below eyeing you and whispering to each other but you try to ignore it. Who cares about what they have to say? You do. You are squinting your eyes to try and see if you can read their lips.

You feel a hand touch your arm and you turn to lucerys who smiles at you. “Are you well dear sister?” “I am not your sister my prince.” A mischievous smile graces his face and you give him a confused look, “Not yet my lady.”

Before you can even ask him what he’s talking about jacaerys sits down beside you and you smile at him. You are always astounded by how gorgeous he truly is, grateful he has fully embraced the curls of his hair and has truly embraced his Targaryen ancestors, rarely being found without the sigil stitched onto his clothes. “Y/n Good day.” “Good day jace.”

He smiles warmly and readjusts himself in his chair. “I’d like to apologize to you. I had lost myself last night and acted inappropriately, acted before i had thought of how you would feel. I offer you my deepest and most sincere apologies.” You shake your head, How could you ever be upset at him? “I accept your apologies and i am glad you did apologize. Most men wouldn’t.”

A look of pride graces his face as he grins, “Thankfully i am not most men.” You find your fingers aimlessly playing with the cuff of his sleeve as you turn to face out at the crowd again, suddenly not caring about what those around you had been saying. “You certainly are not.” He looks down at your hand before he leans back in his chair, turning his wrist around and lacing your fingers with his. You can’t help but flush as his boldness but when you turn towards him and see he is not looking at you but a large grin can’t help but stay on his face.

Suddenly rhaenyra is giving a small speech before the events begin. You are much more invested than you thought you would be, leaning forwards out of your chair whenever the men would come riding out and find yourself gasping at the brutality. “Enjoying yourself?” You turn to jace and nod, “Of course! things like this never happen in the vale, it is rather boring but this is much fun.” You laugh and allow yourself to take a drink from you cup.

“You know we hold tourneys rather often in kings landing, ive grown to find them rather stale.” You tilt your head at him, “truly so often you could grow to find this boring?” “Everytime there is a nameday a tourney tends be thrown in their honor. It grows quite boring once it is your third one this year alone.” You chuckle, “I imagine you are quite miserable right now.” He shakes his head and looks at you with a glint in his eye, “Not quite. I am rather content now with my company i can find anything enjoyable.” You smack him on the shoulder and roll your eyes jokingly, “Shut up.” “Telling your prince to shut up? Do you have no regard for yourself? I am the heir!” “and you shall be buried if you continue with your nonsense.” “it is not nonsense if it is true. You truly are the loveliest company of them all.”

You hum and turn away as you try to calm your racing heart. Yet you find yourself imagining spending you life here. Getting to see these tourneys all the time, getting to feel this thrill, getting to be with jace. You turn to look at him and he is staring out into the crowd with a blank look, he must truly find these events boring. Yet when he turns to look at you you see his face light up and the sun catches his perfectly making him look like an angel. He tilts his head at you, “Is something wrong?” You turn and shakes your head, clutching the favor in your hand tightly.

The mood suddenly darkens as you see aemond finally ride up and you see him tense and you lean forward in your seat. He is dawned in armor that has dragon imagery all over it and graces with a helm which had dragon wings sticking out of the top of it. His face is covered but you’re sure he looks as glorious as ever. You watch as he stops his horse to face the royal box and you swear you can see him pointed in your direction.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, “were going to stand to greet the men this time, you wish to join us?” You look at jace who looks annoyed but does nothing to stop you as you stand and lace your arm with baela’s and walk towards the rail. You lean over and see a rather handsome man standing at the stands. “Is he dornish?” “oh god’s he’s dornish.”

“wyl sand, pleased to meet you.” He suddenly stands in front of you and looks up at you with a grin, “The beauty of the eyrie, you are truly beautiful my lady, if i could have your favor i am sure to bring you glory.”

You stare at him alarmed before your eyes look to aemond who sits frozen on his horse almost as if he is a statue. You turn your head back to jace and you swear you see his eye twitch as he looks at you blanky. you find yourself lost. What happens if you give it to him? will jacaerys and aemond be furious? You do realize you owe them no loyalty you are a free women to do as you please. You grip the favor tightly in your hands as you think to yourself, maybe this will settle the peace a little, if you gave your favor to aemond, who is sure to ask for it as he had asked yesterday, jace would surely be angry but if you gave it to a third party what is the worst to happen?

You hope nothing truly horrible as you toss down the favor and watch him catch it with a small smile. “I wish you well today, ser.” “I am sure to do well with your blesses and favor my lady.” You can’t help but glance at aemond quickly rides away into his starting position not even asking for a single favor. A pit forms in your stomach as you begin to get a bad feeling. “Something bad is going to happen.” You cannot agree more. You watch with weary eyes as the two men ready themselves and you can’t help but grip the rail tightly.

It happens in a flash the two ride past each other and you let out a breath of relief seeing as they both stayed on their horses. You lean forward as the words are called again and the two begin to ride towards each other once more your heart pounding. You barely believe your eyes as aemond falls of his horse and you gasp, covering your mouth with your hands. “Unbelievable!”

You begin to feel bad as if this had been your fault. You clutch over your heart as you watch him struggle to stand, a sickness takes over you as you watch wyl walk over to him and he seems to be saying something to him. “This cannot end well.”

It happens to quick you believe you had imagined it. Suddenly aemond is tackling wyl and punching him over and over beating him into the ground. The crowd errupts into a fever as you stumble back like you can’t believe what you’re watching. He suddenly stands after a couple long moments before reaching down and ripping something off of him.

Your favor.

You watch in horror as he ties it around his wrist as he walks over and poor wyl gets dragged off, you can barely even see his face beyond the blood that has laced it. You can’t breathe. Theres no way he did that because he was mad over the favor no? certainly not. There was no way, right? You turn around and see everyone look at you concerned or alarmed. No.

“I,,, need some air.” You quickly hurry out of the booth and away from the events. Jace stands up and goes to follow after you but rhaenyra places a hand on his shoulder and shakes her head at him. He sits back down but stares at the direction you had run off with a worried gaze.

You walk far enough away you can no longer hear the crowd, it is some walkway you believe, there is some benches and a small pond placed in the center. You find yourself sitting in one of the benches as you try and catch your breath. You place your hands on your knees as you try your best to clear your mind.

“It is not your fault” you remind yourself in a hushed whisper.

“It is certainly not.” You jump at his voice and look up at him alarmed.

Still dawned in his armor which you can now see has speckles of blood covering the torso and the shoulders up to his neck, you see he’s also taken off his gloves you do however notice he’s clutching your favor in his right hand. When you finally look at his face you notice he had some blood speckled all over his face but he had a particular large mark near his lips.

“My prince-” “aemond i beg of you call me aemond.” You freeze at his sudden interruption and notice he looks rather distraught. “Are you alright,, aemond?” you struggle with his name on your tongue before it actually comes out, not used to referring to him so casually. “You should not feel like it is your fault i assure you it is not. I acted with my anger not my head and i will punish myself for it. though i offer you my apologizes for everything.”

“why did you do it?” You look at his eye and he gazes into yours like you are the only women on earth. He pauses for a long long moment, allowing himself to savor the moment. “He had something i wanted.” “My favor? I’m sorry i knew you had asked for it-” “Your attention. The strength and the courage to go ask you for it.” You find yourself staring at the blood on his lips too often and bring your thumb to brush it off his lips and he lets out a couple shaky breaths. “Why did you not ask me for it?”

“I am ashamed to admit i was nervous. I am disfigured, i would not want you associated with me should you not wish it.” You shake your head as you feel your heart break at his words and expression. “I would have given it to you.” You do not mean for your words to crack but you can’t help it. You like aemond you do, though you don’t know him as well as you would wish too, your heart cant help but hurt for him as you think about the cruelty he must have faced through his life.

He says nothing but continues to stare at you. His hands come lightly to grip onto your cheeks the exchange between you is wordless. he places the lightest kiss against your lips before he pulls away, the two of you completely overwhelm with emotions, the two of your sharing battered breaths as he pulls you into kiss him again. This time it is full of fever, its sloppy due to inexperience yet it makes up in eagerness.

The two of you pull apart and attempt to catch your breaths, You find yourself letting a laugh and he smiles a light laugh escaping him as well. “What was that?” “I have no idea.”

“Aemond!” You two pull apart quickly and aemond turns around to see criston sprinting towards him, “The queen has asked for you.” Criston looks between you and aemond bewildered but a pleased look graces his face as you turn away from him, “Let us go.”

Aemond turns to you and smiles, “I shall see you, my lady.” “I shall see you, aemond.” He walks off with criston the smile staying on his face, You see the two enter a heated, well it is only really heated from criston while aemond seems to be remaining as calm as ever, discussion about something, criston turning back a couple times to look at you. You’re sure everyone will be talking about the fact that you were alone with aemond by nightfall. If you were not lucky criston could have caught on to what you were just doing and would tell everyone.

You decide you should head back, not knowing how long you had been out here. You attempt to calm yourself as you walk back to the tourney, the voices of the crowd growing louder and louder the closer and closer you get. yet they are not louder than the voices in your head

Did this mean you were courting? did you want to court him? what would happen to jacaerys? why were you thinking about jacaerys? why couldnt things just be easier?

You walk back up to your seat and smile as everyone welcomes you back, and thank everyone as you move to sit down next to jacaerys again.

“Are you alright y/n?” Your heart aches at the concern obvious on his face and you can’t help but feel you had betrayed him slight. “I am thank you.”

You turn away from him and try not to give into his burning gaze into the side of your face. You cannot get into the rest of the tourney and barely even clap your hands as some random knight wins.

When you stand to leave jacaerys stops you by grabbing your wrist and you turn to look at him, “May i walk you back to your room?” You nod your head unable to refuse him and he gives you a light smile as he offers you his arm as he lets go of your wrist. You grab it and say goodbye to the others as you walk off, not noticing the way alicent glares at the two of you while rhaenyra holds a pleased look.

He breaks the silence once the two of you were alone, walking through the empty keep halls “you are free to tell me if you are upset but i do not wish to push you-“ “he kissed me”

The two of you freeze. You realize that was not the best way to go about it but you had to tell him. It felt wrong not to. Thought you are not officially courting you knew it was inevitable. You look at him as he keeps his gaze forward unblinking as his jaw clenches.

suddenly he begins to walk again and you are shocked but attempt to keep up with his long strides. You feel awful as he continues to not gaze at you.

“I know we are nothing official nor are me and him anything official but i felt like i had to tell you, you are important to me-“

He suddenly pushes you against the wall and you gasp, staring at him with wide eyes. “jace-“

“do you wish for me to kiss you?”

What.

you should be furious. you should slap him across the face and tell him no. tell him to release you and walk away. his first thought when you tell him you kissed another man is to ask you to kiss him? Is he crazy?

but you do want him to kiss you. So maybe that makes you crazier than him.

“yes.”

The first thing you notice is his lips are softer than aemonds. The kiss is also a lot softer. Like he is in no rush, he has all the time in the world to worship you and press his lips against yours. He hums lightly as yours hands come up to his neck and play with the hairs on the back of his head. You slowly pull apart and he leaves a couple more pecks on your lips as you two smile.

“You are a wonder.” you laugh lightly at his praise. and shake your head. “You do not need to flatter me.” “It is not flattery it is simply the truth.”

you push against his chest and he stumbles back with laugh. he opens his mouth as if he is about to speak but a maid suddenly rounds the corner. “my prince. You are needed for a meeting with the council.” you watch as his face falls and he sighs, giving you a sad look. “I shall see you?” “i shall see you.” he grins at you before he walks off with the maid, not before glancing at you once more before rounding a corner.

you let out a long breath and lean your whole body weight on the wall until you slide down the wall onto the floor.

You were certainly in a lot of trouble.

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tomnookishot · 3 days

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although i feel i will most likely expand on it more in the future as i discover more about myself and the Aromantic Lifestyle, i think for now this might be my hatoful aro masterpost. this all has been on my mind for the past few weeks without me even recognising it and so i kinda just want to touch on uh. almost all of the main characters tbh.

when, a few years ago, i made those UGLY pride headcanon pieces (and yes i hate ALL of them now even yuuya and sakuya and i have considered remaking them but can't muster the willpower to do so) i think i was still weaning off of my inner asshole fandom gay who sat me down and told me "hey bitch. these fags better be AT LEAST bi or else you are homophobic. that's right you HOMOPHOBE i'll KILL YOU!!" as a baby gay i never felt like it was my place to say "hey i don't actually think these characters would be gay" or "i think the emotions projected onto them are not fully fleshed out or accurate to their personality" because i thought expressing a differing opinion made me an asshole, and in my defense there were and continue to be people who say that if you DON'T hc a character as queer, and queer in an acceptable way, then you are homophobic. but look at me now! i'm an asshole! and im defending the rights of aros everywhere 😤 (it's me it's literally just me im the only aro im defending). all of this is to say i have changed a lot of my opinions on the characters through my own exploration of them and through other people's inputs. and im here to tell YOU that you are AROPHOBIC if you don't hear me out and proceed to align all of your headcanons exactly with mine and then give me all of your money and you don't want to be aphobic now do you?

the character that i actually initially wanted to make an aro post about was my sweet normal-type trainer ryouta. i have to be honest with everyone. i actually think ryouta might be hetero. i honestly had no solid idea about his identity when i made my omni hc i genuinely just looked up a list of pride flags so i could say something interesting and im not fucking joking. it was a different time in my life. i actually don't think he would have an interest in men. i just don't read it in him. he admires male characters but that hardly goes beyond signs of genuine friendship. if anything i can see what people say about him after bbl with sakuya but like. is it inappropriate for me to say that i see it as. sometimes going through a traumatic experience with a friend and then having them want you to be safe could be a sign of platonic bonding and trust. i am not sure if ill bring this up more in this post but genuinely one of my least favorite things about internet fandom culture is having to defend yourself when saying a pair of characters might be friends. it so often devolves into arophobia and the devaluing of friendship when I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ROMANCE AND FRIENDSHIP in the FIRST PLACE. im not here to say you're WRONG for reading it as romantic. in fact i think in this case it's lowkey fair to do so. but not only is my reading different, i would like to ask an audience that doesn't agree to go into the rest of this post being mindful of the prejudices that are involved with being deeply defensive about romantic headcanons, and that it SUCKS being aromantic and having to add disclaimers like this about your ideas when most queer fandom spaces never expect you to have them for headcanons concerning most other LGBT identities.

anyway. what just happened i blacked out i take no responsibility for anything that i just said. what i wanted to say was that while i really don't read The Gay on ryouta, i think demiro RADIATES from him. i don't remember what it came from, it might've been the qna translation i did, but that time moa was like "if ryouta couldn't be with hiyoko he would probably just be okay being single forever" had me thinkin. i think the typical allo interpretation would probably be "oh so noble he would be so hung up on his old crush that he would never move on to someone new" but i think, when you red string bulletin board this quote across a couple other loose pieces of evidence you can see that it's pretty g-dang demi of him. his attraction to hiyoko stems almost exclusively from his connection with her. he hardly ever makes comments about her looks or how pretty she is. his ideal relationship with her is to just continue the things they've been doing forever, except now they're married i guess. he loves her for the way he's always thought of her, and for the fact that she's such a wonderful friend. she's ALWAYS been strong and supportive, he says. that's what makes ryouta admire her, he says.

he gets defensive when someone gets emotionally close with her. something that always stood out to me in his talk with yuuya on the holiday star was when he says something along the lines of "nageki knows a side of hiyoko that i don't." his fears come from someone knowing hiyoko in a similar intimate way that he does, and i think that's because that's the only way he might process romantic attraction coming to be. he also invalidates the way he believes yuuya sees attraction. in that same talk he throws jabs at how yuuya plays with girls and doesn't really come to know them, and again, besides coming from a society that is against casual sexuality, i think that would make a lot of sense within the context of ryouta seeing deep emotional connection as the only way you can have a "real" romantic love. i think ryouta doesn't really have a want or need to dig deeper into the implications of his attractions, which obviously results in him not even realising he has a crush on hiyoko, but i also think he just isn't. that concerned with figuring out where he stands in terms of romantic orientation. in a world where he is mlm, i think he would probably never recognise that or at least never label it, but regardless, if he's demi i think he would just never see that not everyone experiences attraction the way he does. i think he would be infinitely confused with the people who get married based on five months of dating after meeting on a dating app, which is what i do. honestly i just think ryouta is so accustomed to the status quo of being a young supportive straight guy that he sees his own demiromanticism as, if anything at all, just him being peak love story protagonist. so in conclusion i see ryouta as a hetero-demiromantic who doesn't KNOW that he's demiromantic.

as im trying to decide how i want to order this, i think i have to get someone out of the way. everyone knows i hate him with a passionate fury and i genuinely don't like thinking about him BUT. i have shoe eewahmeanay thoughts. im sorry. i have read what the shuu likers have to say about him. i have read the accursed pieces on his relationship to ryuuji. and your first assumption may be that i would read shuu as aromantic, because i am a freak. well it's not true. i actually DON'T see him as strictly aromantic. i think reading emotions through a clinical and cold view is very common to the aspec experience, especially to romance- and sex-repulsed people. putting yourself completely outside of the actions and experiences and just viewing them through a purely scientific this-is-what-social-creatures-in-A-Society-do-sometimes standpoint, you can find more ease and comfort in examining how other people view relationships. but im not here to argue that this is something that makes shuu aro (considering that is literally something he does), rather i would like to argue that this is something that stems from shuu being a general freak when it comes to Having Relationships. i kind of assume shuu might be somewhere on the arospectrum and as a certified shuu hater it's not my place to decide exactly where but i still see a possibility of attraction being an element of his actions. but it's fucked up™ attraction. i think more than anything being a little neglected boy already part of an upper class where genuine connection is discouraged is the biggest factor in iwamine's stunted social development, but he's also just. i don't think he was ever wired to desire or feel connection, not like most other people at least.

i will happily back the idea that isa was desperate for a well-rounded father figure, and that this is what lead him to becoming so deeply attached to ryuuji rather than him just having a gay crush. he is extremely fucking complicated and i know the shuu likers know that. im pretty sure most articulated shuu opinions will probably factor in the bad childhood and unhealthy dependencies into isa's view on ryuuji. i also think, though, that it is entirely too interesting to imagine that isa cannot comprehend the weight or meaning of his own emotions. i don't know if he's aromantic because on a fundamental level i cannot understand any attractions that i feel and it is extremely difficult to parse through different types of attraction. i think that is exactly the kind of compelling idea to play around with for shuu. i think he would sort through his feelings about ryuuji only after his passing, that being the critical trigger for him to do so and he would be unwilling to think too much about it otherwise, and if/when he did, it would still be in his patented narrow, clinical view. i don't think it's ridiculous to believe that there are unknown and involuntary brain fuck-ups going on that stem from attraction in that guy. of course shuu as an adult can only define his relationship to ryuuji through given societal standards, and i genuinely think there is something deeper than romantic intention there, but shuu may only come to the conclusion of "i'm a fucked up little freak boy who secretly liked being cared about but also i kinda thought he was attractive" (paraphrasing) due to the few words that our world gives us to define different relationships. really he just needs therapy.

um but my issue, the only one that really made me think about my arch nemesis this much, is the sheer amount of fluff that people write him into. it's INSANE. THOSE are the shuu likers who i don't think are as articulated as the ones i RESPECT. regardless of how shuu feels about ryuuji or what attraction he feels for him, shuu shows time and time again an inability to actually express his feelings about other people in any typical way. most of the time he just. y'know. expresses himself through violence and negativity. his interactions with ryuuji are usually dry and riddled with criticisms. shuu ends up carrying out his legacy through genocide. any friendship he could've conceived with tohri was always shut down because isa was always blunt with him, although i think isa didn't genuinely have any ill will towards tohri; tohri is just kind of an insecure guy who is very sensitive to criticism. with hiyoko the only way he can live with her is through actual murder. oh and did i say live i mean commit suicide. i don't know how he feels about hiyoko and to be honest im not terribly eager to figure it out but my point is that shuu only ever expresses positive emotions through negative means. i don't care if you think shuu just wants to be ryuuji's son or if you think shuu is a raging homosexual. he wouldn't be able to make it known either way. there is a post, and i don't have the will to dig it up because to my memory it was very crude but i found it funny nonetheless. i think it was tumblr user fluffyheretic who made a post saying something like "shuu iwamine would not be a hot daddy dom he would be googling 'how to kiss' on google dot com" and honestly yeah. i-- like-- how would that man ever be hot or god forbid fluffy in any other context than his chubby widdle partwidge cheeks. he would not be able to fathom a romantic relationship with the people he knows. he'd probably just like. idk. fantasize about dissecting their body and that would be the only thing he could imagine for days on end. and OH MY GOD. no he would not fucking plan a date. i am throwing shade to the fucks on ao3. this fag would not be cute or romantic at all. he would be off-putting and then you would leave. that would be the date. you might get a back-handed compliment. that's literally how he "courts" hiyoko. NOBODY LIKES HIM. in-game i mean. he is unlikeable. he is a dickhead. hiyoko and ryuuji are the only people to ever form a positive opinion of him because they are positive forces who love everyone. everyone else at the very least says mean shit about him behind his back. shuu iwamine aka isa souma aka utsuro ichijou is an aspec anomaly to me and it doesn't matter if he's aro or not. it's not like he could ever fucking land a date anyway.

transition to someone who is kind of that bitch's opposite: sakuya. or i guess really shuu's good parallel. that constitutes an entire post of its own tbh but. i think in general, even people who aren't that invested in aromanticism in hatoful could probably get down with grayro sakuya. to me at least, it kinda just makes sense on a basic level. he's not really invested in interpersonal relationships, even during his dating route which, need i mention, has its arc revolve around sakuya's personal growth and hardly is it ever implied he is attracted to hiyoko. the only time he ever begins to really feel exceptionally strongly about the people around him is coincidentally the same timeline in which yuuya tells him about their shared history: bbl. that's when he gains a sense of responsibility for his actions and feels a genuine care for his friends, and of course a painful regret for how he treated yuuya in particular his entire life. im almost tempted to call him straight up aromantic but ill let him be grayromantic as a treat. i think it compliments ryouta's demi-ness as the other part of the bbl pair. it also makes sense to me in the context of his very rare flattery in response to other people's praise, i think particularly hiyoko's. i find the thing he says in response to that one question about romantic types, the "someone who has acquired high-class refinement and etiquette. if one does not have those qualities, then they do not deserve to stand by my side," also kind of telling about sakuya's relationship to romance. obviously it's influenced by his role as a noblebirdie and the expectation he finds a partner as a political duty, but also notice how he says it in response to "who is your type?" and not something like "who do you see yourself marrying in the future?" it's not a description of personality or looks, it's a description of behavior. it's a detached response, implying that romance, to him, is not about what he finds attractive. romance is something that is EXPECTED of him. it could generally be assumed, i think, that if you actually did have a type in people, then regardless of if you were to be in an arranged marriage you would be happy to tell other people of that type. I'm sure the most common spin of this is just going to be that sakuya is really dedicated to the whole aristocrat bit but i think it reflects a lack of real interest in romantic relationships. if i were an aro prince thing and the press asked me what my type was, id probably also just respond with how my parents are going to decide who to set me up with. i'm not really looking for anything else, am i?

now. i have something controversial to say. i have gone. back and forth a hundred times on this boy and how i think he feels. and to be honest with everyone i think i might be a yuuya aromantic truther. i think yuuya is a very flirtatious aromantic little freak. and i know, right, he's like the most romantic guy in the entire cast. but it's very similar to the yuuya asexuality logic where flirting and romantic facades are simultaneously his only way of connecting to other people and yet also something that drives a wedge further between him and his connections. when he actually gets close to hiyoko, which is one of, if not the most intimate relationship he develops within the series, it's honestly not that romantic in nature. they're kinda just like. hangin out, but spy-type hangin out. like the entire post i wrote about hiyoko and yuuya's friendship. i know the whole partners-in-crime, two-of-us-against-the-world trope is usually a romantic one, but consider the beauty of the platonic version. consider the freedom. the commitment almost feels more intense when you drop the chains of romantic pressure to stay together. i think the best possible outcome of yuuya's dating route is tosakazaki qpr. besties but with COMMITMENT. besties but they love each other more than ANYTHING IN THE WORLD. the word queerplatonic has been ruined for me for various reasons but i just know they can reclaim it. i think yuuya might be so casual about romance and sex because he knows it's not in the cards for him. i can say your mom and i are in a committed relationship together with a completely straight face because i will never ACTUALLY be in a committed relationship with your mother. yuuya, similarly, can say he is in a committed relationship with everyone on the planet with a completely straight face because he knows he won't ever actually be in a committed relationship with anyone on the planet. it's so baller of him. i send kiss emojis to my friends and call them hot everyday but i would vomit if they got too close to me. maybe yuuya wouldn't be as touch-repulsed as the little freak i am but i think he would understand flirting as this somewhat rude way to compliment other people without getting too close. that's like. his entire thing.

ill be honest i have very little evidence for aro yuuya i just really WANT it to be real. yuuya- and hiyoko-type aromanticism is just very relatable to me. i relate to and love how they obsess over their friends, especially the way yuuya does it from a comfortable exaggerated distance that makes it clear he just wants to flatter you, and i just WANT it to be in an aro way. because i need more overtly flirtatious characters who just Do Not Want romance. because i need on a visceral level to normalise the presence of romantic elements in a completely platonic setting. making hiyoko and yuuya aromantic, to me, is my big fuck you. i will make these romantic characters aromantic and i will do it again. epic fuck you moment for the people who insist there are things that have to be romantic. epic fuck you moment for the people who claim things that don't involve them as a romantic scenario. my omnipotent level takes on these stupid bird characters are leagues ahead of your stupid baby "weah weh but he risked his life for her that's romance" incorrect IDIOT im literally living my life out of bounds and you're still debating on whether it's gay for a character to literally just CARE about another person.

okay okay i know that sounded like a conclusion but it wasn't fuck off. i'm only halfway through the main cast do you really think im done?

i think nageki is one of the characters i actually don't REALLY care about in terms of romantic identity but i've defaulted to aromantic as a defense mechanism against uncomfortable shit. i think it makes sense with his character (i love autism) and his storyline. but there's a lot of projection there too. and my feeling of protectiveness over a character i really love in such a personal way. i also think it meshes cutely with the fact that hiyoko and hitori, his SIBLINGS!! are aromantic themselves. so that's my headcanon, but honestly i don't feel THAT headstrong about it. i don't think it really makes sense in my head for him to be gay but i dont really care either way about other people's opinions on the matter. i think what bothers me is just that he's REALLY young and there is some Weird Shit that people put him in. sometimes i see him portrayed as. weirdly lustful??? or like uncomfortably obsessive? and not only is that sort of thing low-key weird as hell but like. did you play the game LMAO. clearly you don't know him like i do. sorry everybody part of being aromantic and bringing that into your favouwite tings is being PETTY AS HELL!!! that's my job here.

i thought i had more to say about nageki considering he's like. almost my oldest aro og but i kinda. don't. actually i spent an undisclosed amount of time tracking down a japanese playthrough of hatoful to see which version of "i love you" nageki used in his final speech but it honestly didn't clear very much up. and keep in mind the fact that nageki is talking from such a place of emptiness. he talks about how he fell numb to pain and hiyoko brought back feelings for him but mostly those negative ones. the ONLY positive light in his world is hiyoko. so an intense display of affection is KINDA warranted. and hypothetically it would also be possibly the most logical misunderstanding of one's own emotions in the game. idk sorry everyone hiyoko/nageki sibling dynamic for life. i've stayed in that mindset for so long that on occasion i raise an eyebrow when i see them paired together and then im like Oh. Shit. I'm Being Unreasonable Here. hey but what can you do. nageki love of my life, walking aromantic flag, please tread lightly in the scary waters of fandom spaces.

anghel higure freak of st pigeonation's high baja blast advertisement self-described martyr public-described weirdo someone id totally clock as a trans woman due to the fact that no cis man plays dungeons and dragons liberal user of eyeliner the goth asshole taking all of the GOOD chains from goodwill. an enigma of a person. when sheltered white gay people who ask "okay but are you afab or amab" say we need more weird queers they do NOT mean him. he would say something in his foreign language that roughly translates to "hey if you're a dude bangin dudes then have at em man im not gonna stop ya" and that may lead you to believe he is a straight ally but do NOT look at the yaoi in his sketchbook it reveals something about his mind. he's bisexual he's a little TOO gay he's looking up "homosexual tendencies" and clicking on sketchy medical advice websites he's a lesbian but he isn't a woman he probably isn't a man but non-binary rubs him the wrong way where's that book for parents of closeted children he's a pansexual imp who'll die happy he has no idea what pride is he thinks neopronouns are neat but has no idea how to communicate that in a way other people understand his parents keep hinting that they know he's not straight but he thinks he's keeping it under tight wraps maybe he is straight but he just doesn't FEEL straight he could never catch a date and he's happy about it he gets flattered once and catches feels the hero getting the girl in the end is too cliché but the doomed lone wolf story isn't but hypothetically his story might be cooler with a love interest how about everyone is the love interest this is his otome wait i thought he wasn't a woman and what about that pretty girl the next classroom over who is willing to larp with him is she technically a male love interest actually it's weird if he's going to date everyone how about instead everyone is attracted to him but as the accursed fallen angel he has a duty to never reciprocate he WILL puke if you hold his hand he's probably on the lgbt spectrum but honestly he doesn't care enough to figure it out right now he's got this sick cosplay project he's working on do you wanna see? yeah i don't know what anghel is. he can be aromantic if he wants. but he has to be a weird aromantic. he can be loveless or alloaro or romance favourable or fuck it he's romance repulsed or maybe he wants to kiss but that doesn't mean anything besides the fact that he likes it. it doesn't matter as long as he's weird about it. the minute he stops being weird about it he's fucked.

im sorry everybirdie i didn't realise i had so much to say about the other characters but so little about these last three. and now my transitions between subjects would be too much of a hassle to change so i could organise this into a more well-rounded balance of long rants and short tidbits. i wanted to save hitori for last because when i tried to talk about why he's aromantic i felt like the audience was more concerned with the fact that i was trashing on his popular ships than the fact that He Is Aromantic Guys I'm Being For Real He Told Me Himself. so i wanted to clarify my reasoning more thoroughly as the final character in the lineup, but im actually pretty sure that i WAS clear about why i think he's aromantic at the time, and now i don't have too much i want to say. so here's a list of bullets explaining why he's aromantic:

it makes the most sense with his storyline and character - hitori really is a character defined by his relationships to this around him, but like. in a way that he never has the spotlight. he's providing for his little siblings. he's providing support for his students. he's making it clear that hiyoko needs to learn about herself before she ever gets close with him. hell, he kills a man not out of bloodthirst or malice but as a sacrifice for his brother. he STRIVES to be alone. his baby siblings are his priority in his life and that doesn't change for a second, because like a baby bird (ha) he's made this imprint on the only people he truly associates with love and losing them was like losing what love MEANS to him. which is literally what he says himself. so like. not only does that mean other relationship archetypes are not in his field of vision, but treating his loved ones with that brotherly, somewhat overwhelming care is the only way he really knows HOW. it's how he treats kazuaki (til the end OOPS) and his students and hiyoko. and like i said. in the end of his story (as in. not mirror universe), his outcome is that he is alone without his children to look after. he goes along with hiyoko's confession in the end not because he's actually interested but because. i guess he just doesn't really have anything else to do. i don't even think he believes he can love again. i think hiyoko just goes "it's too sad that you don't want to love again :(" and then kazuaki goes "*sharp nose inhale, midwestern thigh pat* so anyway if you're still interested in that whole dating thing we can probably do that later if you want." i just really think inserting romantic love into his story after nageki is such a disservice to this entire key part of his character, that being that he REFUSES to love again after the loss of his brother. also it just feels kinda weird in a mirror scenario or whatever to make him get romantically involved with anyone SORRY i've heard that boyish charm in how he speaks i can only see confused innocence in his eyes my apologies

can you REALLY imagine him in a relationship or do you just see a generic anime guy and want to ship him with the closest twink

it makes the most sense within the themes of hatoful as a game - HELLO least romantic romance game EVER like please. this game is about appreciating the little things and learning to love life and yourself through grief THERE'S NO TIME WE'VE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE DROP THE SHIPS FUCK THE THEMES THEY'RE GETTING CLOSER HELP HEEEELLLLP OH NO I LOVE MY LIFE AND IM OKAY BEING ALONE EVEN THOUGH I LOST THE PEOPLE I LOVE FUCK IT'S LIKE SOMETHING THAT PENETEATES EVERY ROUTE GAHHHHHH

that thing he said in the character interview about "never really having thought about [his romantic type]"

it is objectively funny

a few years ago at a high school show choir showcase there was a solo about a girl who was insane and falling in love with a hot coffee barista but he actually didn't know what romance is

all of the fan content surrounding him and romance is So bad and out of character (or even half portraying him as not wanting it in the first place) that i literally cannot see him as anything but aromantic. you guys literally ruined it sorry.

women are gross and men are gross and he didn't know people could be other genders until he heard some more in-touch teenager talking about it and honestly he's still pretty confused he's supportive but it's not something he could be into even just for the fact that he's nervous about offending them

it would honestly be embarrassing if he ever got into a relationship like all of that "my siblings are everything to me" and for what. you have a girlfriend now? that's gay

speaking of which him being straight makes like a thousand times more sense than him liking men but also i hate straight people

it makes ME uncomfy so i get to have my favourite boy be aromantic because i hate everyone here

sometimes i feel like applying really specific queer labels to characters is doing them a disservice in itself, because some characters seem Weird enough to delve into niche queer spaces and find those labels, but a lot of characters don't even know what pansexual actually means and you know it. my ideal way of defining a character's orientation is by looking at what would make sense for them to be attracted to and then just saying that's what they're attracted to, rather than saying they're gay or they're straight or bi or whatever. anyway that's just what i've been trying the make clear over the course of this post besides the aromanticism of it all.

i'm writing an entirely new conclusion from the one i wrote back in january. i think that aromanticism has become more of a rebellion than anything else to me. in all facets of my life. sometimes it's just so goddamn hard to EXIST as a PERSON when it's like nobody even believes you as you are. i feel like i've lost a lot of autonomy to be anything except a memory or a story. and im not interested in being erased. but i don't think any place has ever made me feel as seen and validated and VINDICATED as the aromantic community. it's like. Fuck you. yeah im not part of any boxes you'd understand. i feel like i didn't feel such a sense of free will until i found myself here. hell. i can do WHATEVER i want. i never thought about that. literally nobody can stop me. aromanticism cuts so many ties from other people's realities and what they believe to be real. so many people HATE aromanticism or what it stands for even if they don't want to admit it. and that is everything to me.

but in a fandom space, where rules are so much more rigid than they appear, where you come to share your favourite things with other people and only find that everyone is trying to make it known that their opinion is the Most Correct One about your beloved series or franchise or whatever the hell, it's like. kinda really hard to exist. as an aromantic and as a member in general. the other day i saw a community post on youtube by this girl who got popular in a niche community and she was just really conflicted because on one hand she wanted to move on from the space and make things she actually was interested in but on the other hand she didn't want to give up what she loved about this game and she also didn't want to lose her audience. and man the amount of times i've seen that shit is pretty disheartening. it's really not an unfounded fear. i have SEEN people who do cool stuff die out because they got popular for something very specific. it's so draining to motivation for them and it's always a shame to see people you like give up because they just don't matter to very many others. my point by bringing this story up is to just give an example that i saw recently of how suffocating fandom is. people are mean, man. for a lot of people fan spaces are freeing and happy but i feel like sometimes we just forget that they'll never be as good as just having a group of friends in real life to discuss your favourite things with. because the internet is designed to divide and organise and if we're being honest i think a lot of people fall into the trap of feeding the cycle of trying to make fandom this Very Specific Thing when it's really just a bunch of guys. and god. people who participate in fandom. well by default they are already very online and so g-dang it they're kinda just pricks. and sometimes the sheer amount of mental disorder within these spaces it. y'know don't fuckin deny it man it adds to the assholeness sometimes.

so like. being such a small minority within fandom, as an aromantic, is also my rebellion here. fuck you. i'm not falling into the tropes assigned seemingly at random to force a dynamic between characters. i can see without the blurred lens of the Shipping Glasses™. i am pretty sure that being aromantic kinda makes the grasp on characterisation a little stronger because im not looking at things the same way some other people are. sorry to be on my high horse everyone. Enjoying your hobby vs. Joining the subreddit for that hobby. everything is aromantic. i have a beam for it. i'm sorry to all of the other aros who feel excluded from fan spaces because of the sheer invasiveness that comes with shipping culture and amatonormativity and just plain Assholes within fan spaces. just something i've been thinking about for like. fucking. a few years idk. all of the hatoful characters have that aro in them because i couldn't give less of a shit about bad takes (bad takes being They Are Not Aromantic). i've got good takes. this is aromanticism baby. okay i'm gonna go hang myself from a tree now bye bye.

#happy aromantic day of visibility everybirdie #hatoful boyfriend #aromantic #tidbits

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ghouly-boiiiii · 3 days

Text

My Name Is Cooper

Chapter 7 Just the Steam

(Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul)

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Tags: angst, fluff, romance, humor, banter, femdom, alcohol and drug use, masturbation, edging, eventual smut

In this chapter…

He looked down at himself. He hated looking at his body, let alone touching it. But something had awakened in him that was long dormant. Being around a beautiful woman for this long… it was like his instincts were kicking back in. And he couldn't do anything to control the tingling in his groin.

He breathed through his lips as he debated with himself. It felt a little weird, especially with the door open a crack, but the old man moaned and groaned and wheezed his way through every hour of the day. So, even if he did make noise, he doubted she would notice much of a difference, if she was even able to hear him over the water...

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,394

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers

No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man.

Inside the bathroom, The Ghoul leaned over the sink before getting into the shower, staring at himself in the mirror and resisting the urge to punch out the glass. His body was still lean and muscular, but the skin was as torn and tattered and as raggedy as the old duster he wore. Covered in tears and scars and bumps and holes. Whole chunks missing in places. It was disgusting.

He squinted a bit as he spotted something shiny protruding from his shoulder, recognizing it as the back end of a bullet. He reached up and pulled it out, then dropped it into the sink and watched the hole fill up and heal within seconds.

The bounty hunter turned his attention towards the shower and turned it on. The feel of the warm water felt nice over his hand when he reached in to check the temperature. And he couldn't help but quiver as it began to spill all over his old ass body.

He couldn't remember the last time he had a real, hot, clean shower. There was even soap.

As he washed, his mind wandered to places he didn't want it to go. Places that felt wrong and… inappropriate. Not that he was any pillar of morality, but… he still had some principals.

He looked down at himself. In all reality, masturbation had lost its appeal a long time ago. He hated looking at his body, let alone touching it. But something had awakened in him that was long dormant. Being around a beautiful woman for this long… it was like his instincts were kicking back in. And he couldn't do anything to control the tingling in his groin.

It still surprised him. Despite the wear and tear, and the loss of his nose, his hard cock was still thick and strong. He breathed through his lips as he debated with himself. It felt a little weird, especially with the door open a crack, but the old man moaned and groaned and wheezed his way through every hour of the day. So, even if he did make noise, he doubted she would notice much of a difference, if she was even able to hear him over the water.

Besides… he wasn’t sure when he’d even have the opportunity to do it again. When he’d have a moment alone, with privacy. And he thought… he should probably take care of it now. Lest it become a problem later.

Almost acting on its own, his hand reached down and wrapped around the head, rubbing the underside with his fingers. “Ssssss…” He hissed through his teeth as the sensation sent a rush of electricity through his body, awakening his senses. He felt his shoulders tense as he curled in on himself and placed his other hand on the shower wall.

He couldn't even remember the last time he did this.

The Ghoul’s body shook as he gently moved his hand up and down his cock, caressing the underside of the head with each stroke. His breaths began to come heavy, and his mind drifted to places it shouldn’t.

It felt wrong and depraved, but he couldn’t help but think about her… picturing what her body might look like. The pleasure on her face and the moans coming out of her as he thrust deep into her.

He grit his teeth together and his lips curved up into an amused half-grin. What a dirty old man, he thought to himself. Disgusting, perverted old fuck. What she would think, if she knew he was thinking about her like this. Oh, she’d run for the hills for sure.

“Ahhh…” A quiet moan escaped his lips. “Fuck…”

He squeezed hard, and moved his hand slowly, shivering with each stroke. He already felt like he was about to burst. As he kept going, he tried to control his breathing. But he couldn't help it. His breaths came heavy and hard.

He imagined her breasts. How perky and nice they must be. He imagined touching them and running his thumb over her hard nipples.

Suddenly, he stopped and bit his tongue, quivering while his cock twitched several times as he clung to the edge, begging for release. He dug his fingers into his thigh as he gasped and whimpered. It was too good. He didn't want it to be over just yet.

He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling where the tile had started to crumble, focused on the throbbing of his cock. Being so close, he knew all it would take is a few more strokes. But he enjoyed the feeling of being right at the brink of orgasm. It was torturous, but it felt so damn good.

He closed his eyes and brought images of her to his mind again. This time, he thought about her smiling at him as she spread her legs, offering him her cute, wet, pink pussy. He thought about touching her, teasing her sensitive little clit, then sliding his fingers inside her. He imagined making her moan and whimper and beg for more.

He couldn't help himself anymore. As he reached down to very lightly caress the head, he could feel the slipperiness of his precum mixing with the water. He gave it a few strokes, then hissed and stopped again, letting his cock begin another succession of orgasmless twitches.

“Lucy…” as he said her name, he let out a moan that was much louder than he intended, and immediately bit his lip.

Damn. Should probably get this over with, he thought.

Tightening his throat as to try not to make any more noise, he reached down and started to pump needily.

The bounty hunters' fingers curled and scratched against the shower wall. His brow furrowed deeply and he trembled and quivered, his breath shaking as he let out another soft moan, "Nnnn..." He leaned in, pressing his forehead against the wall. He was gasping at this point and couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer.

“Ah-ahh!” He whimpered as his cock exploded all over the shower wall, gushing a stream of cum that clung and slowly dripped down the tile. “Fuuuuckkk….” Again and again, it pulsed and twitched, pushing out more and more spurts until it dribbled from the tip. And even then, it kept pulsing.

He collapsed against the wall, still holding his dick, and tried to catch his breath.

“Hey… Asshole?”

Suddenly, he stopped breathing and his eyes shot open.

Oh, God… could she hear him? Did she know what he was doing…?

…Did she hear him say her name?

Fuck. It was over. He was done for. She’s probably gonna shoot him with his own gun, take all his vials and leave him to die. Yup, he was definitely dead.

He could only hope she’d learned so much by now, anyway...

“Hey!” She called again. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed hard and tried to quietly clear his throat, but it didn’t work out so well. “Uhh… a- HEM … urgh… Yeah… Why?”

“It just sounded like you were having trouble breathing…” She said concernedly. “Do you want me to bring you a vial?”

Suddenly, he felt his cheeks fill with blood. “Ahh… no… I… I’m alright. It’s, uh… it’s just the, uh… steam…”

“Oh, okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah… Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“Okie dokie. Well, just yell at me if you change your mind, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, I will.” He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Uh… thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

He took a deep breath, then rested his forehead against the wall. Jesus fucking Christ.

After taking a moment to gather himself, he made sure to rinse the mess he made off the wall… disposing of all evidence. When he turned off the water, he could hear music in the other room.

That made him scowl. Normally, that would be a good way to attract bad attention. But considering they were in a vault - presumably by themselves - he supposed it was okay. Still, he should probably give her a good talking to, he thought.

He dried himself off, threw the robe over him, and opened the door of the bathroom.

Outside, he saw Lucy dancing to the record player, the bottle of whisky in her hand. She was clearly drunk, stumbling and weaving around in the most uncoordinated version of The Madison he’d ever seen.

He shook his head. This wasn’t good.

To be continued...

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#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #the ghoul #lucy maclean #cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #my posts #ghouly-boi #my fanfiction #cooper howard x lucy maclean #cooper x lucy #ghoul x lucy #lucy maclean x cooper howard #lucy x cooper #lucy x the ghoul

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turtletaubwrites · 11 hours

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 25

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 4880

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: Dancing took a lot out of you, but maybe you can fit in a break before dinner starts. Wouldn't want to miss the party favors!

Author's Note: I am thoroughly enjoying all this uncle hatred. I wonder how you'll feel after the dance 🤔 !! CW REMINDER !! I hope y’all haven’t forgotten that the Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS!!

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! 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, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Grief, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

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Hope was forgotten when your uncle’s unforgiving grip forced you to obey.

Mihawk had carried you like a dream, like an artist holding his favorite brush.

Uncle Cedrick carried you like you were a beast to be tamed, a horse to be broken.

“I’m impressed, Y/N,” he lied, holding you close enough to choke you on his cedarwood cologne. “You have outdone yourself. At least you’ve proven that you’re tired of being bored.”

“Everything in your world is boring.”

Your voice couldn’t reach disinterest or disgust. Just that weak, childish retort that made him chuckle.

“I’ll be sure to let Kat know how you feel.”

He let out a tiny grunt when you stiffened, his cold fingers digging in while he fought to control you, to hold up that pretty picture for the sniveling crowd.

“What did you—“

“What did I do,” he laughed, keeping up the pleasant façade. “Your sister has been worried about you ever since you ran off with that homicidal clown. You can’t really blame her, can you?”

“She told you…”

“Of course, dear niece,” Uncle Cedrick soothed, cold fingers pretending to be less cruel for just a moment. “Kat knows that I’ll do anything to protect our family. You’re such a smart girl, Y/N. I’m sure you know that too.”

“Our CFO has some duties to attend to.”

“But, of course,” Uncle replied to that deadly voice, giving a nod to Crocodile. He placed your hand into that large, dangerous one that seemed to be vibrating. “I’m looking forward to our nightcap.”

You tugged on that hand like a leash when Crocodile looked ready to tear your uncle’s throat out any second.

He didn’t sell me…

“You needed me for something,” you asked, feeling foggy, lost.

“Need a break, sweetheart?”

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

Crocodile needed to break things.

Couldn’t think. Couldn’t stop to breathe, couldn’t leave a single moment of space in his mind for thinking.

He could only think of this shitty bar that he’d terrorized everyone out of.

Only this liquor.

Only broken tables, broken glasses. The wood, the floors, the ugly hanging lights. Everything broken.

I break everything.

“Gods, damn it,” he cursed, wondering how many things his voice could break.

Crocodile’s hook felt heavy today. He stared at it until he couldn’t take the sight of it anymore, smashing it through the wooden bar, useless splinters raining around him.

His hook.

There’d been blood on his hook. So much blood had been stolen by its sharp point. So much blood had coated the metal, dripping, dripping down.

But that blood...

Monster. He’d already known that. Crocodile had chosen to embrace his worst desires. He wanted to be a bad man.

He had always been a bad man.

Monster’s are untouchable. They shouldn’t care who they hurt. They shouldn’t care whose blood…

“Fuck!”

That blood had long since been cleaned from his hook, yet he could smell it now. Pouring liquor over the deadly weapon didn’t get the stench off. Shattering bottles around the tavern couldn’t take the image out of his mind.

“I didn’t mean to…”

The only thing that could stop this feeling was acceptance.

Get over yourself. You’re a fucking monster. That’s all you’ll ever be.

Crocodile tossed his cigar behind him as he left that unlucky tavern, letting the evidence of his regret go up in flames.

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

“Yes, please,” you nodded, keeping up a smile as Crocodile led you off the dancefloor. You assumed he’d take you to the bar, or to sit at a table, but your face went hot when you realized his destination. “Why…”

“You deserve a break, sweet girl. Let’s get you away from the leeches.”

Too many things. Too many things were happening.

Yet you still followed Crocodile to the conference room that you’d spent most of the dizzying morning in.

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Are you alright, sweetheart,” he urged, going to his knees to touch her hair, to see her face.

“I don’t…” Y/N looked at him as if she didn’t understand what he was saying, as if nothing made sense.

“All you gotta do is tell me what you want,” Crocodile rasped. She was the only thing that made sense now. “Tell me what you want me to do to him. Tell me what you need, please.”

I’ve done it again. Violence. All I know.

“You’re not lying,” she asked, her quivering lip causing him physical pain while he held himself back from pulling her against him, forcing her to believe him. “You promise you didn’t sell me?”

His own cruel words filled his mind as he let out a strained breath, head falling back to look at the ceiling before he could move through his shame enough to answer her.

“I promise,” he pleaded, surprised that he knew how to do it. “I wish I hadn’t been a monster to you. You’re everything to me, babygirl. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll kill every fucking leech at this stupid party. I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt you.”

He clenched his eyes shut, struggling to stop his violent heart. Fear gripped him when he looked back at his sweet girl, his breath catching at the sight of her shaking hands, her widened eyes.

She’s terrified of me.

This was defeat. This was what he’d sown, the pain he now reaped.

I’m just a monster.

“I want you to be happy,” Crocodile choked, letting her go. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I won’t force you to stay. I won’t ever force you again. If you wanna go—“

“Daddy!”

Crocodile couldn’t remember this feeling. Hadn’t known he could feel it.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft breath going ragged while she seemed to struggle against tears.

“Shh, babygirl,” he hummed, carrying her to lay across his lap as he sat against the wall, cautious with every touch to that pretty dress. “I’m right here. Daddy’s here. Just tell me what you want, it’s yours.”

It was true. He really would destroy everything just for her. Just for that beautiful spark that was returning to her eyes.

Those lovely eyes fluttered, and she let out a sigh when her body loosened in his hold.

“I want to forget,” she whispered, her unclear words sending tension through him. He couldn’t tell what she needed. “I want you to take care of me, Daddy. Please.”

Y/N reached for his hand, pressing his palm against her chest.

She’s hurting. She’s scared. That piece of shit is making my sweet girl sad.

“I want you to touch me, please.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart."

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

Crocodile seemed just as surprised as you were when you giggled while helping him navigate under your dress.

How could this frightening man feel so comforting, so soothing?

You shoved down the worries those thoughts dragged out. Shoved down the sound of your uncle’s voice, the fear that everything was over.

You shoved it all down, and let him take care of you.

“My sweet girl,” he purred, leaving a barely there kiss to your temple. His extra gentle touches to keep your hair and dress from mussing made you melt in his lap, melting even more when those large fingers teased along your inner thighs.

He was so cautious, searching for you without pulling or tugging at the lovely fabric.

“Just relax for me, babygirl,” Crocodile soothed. His fingertips were already wet after trailing them over your lace panties. “Daddy’ll take care of you. Is this what you want right now?”

“Please,” you begged weakly, needing this. Needing a fucking break.

“Good girl,” he rasped, pushing your panties aside to plunge one of his strong fingers inside of you.

“Gods…”

“Mm, there ya go, sweetheart.”

Trying so hard to be mindful of your appearance, you held yourself quiet, held in your movements, held in everything.

But nothing could hold in the pleasure Crocodile was giving you.

One finger turned into two, and his thumb teased your clit until you had to fight, failed to fight against twitching.

He hushed, and soothed, and praised, staring down at you like you were precious.

Crocodile used to look at you like you were precious. Treasure. His most prized possession.

This was different. There were no more cages, no more chains in those silver eyes. Whatever was there now made you shiver, until you were clenching your teeth to keep from screaming.

His fingers could reach so far, curling around the spot that made you forget. You forgot everything but his eyes, his fingers, and his praise. Everything but the pleasure that rocked through you, arching your back.

“Squeezing my fingers so fuckin’ tight. That’s it, babydoll, you’re doing so well for me. Let Daddy take it all for you. I’m right here.”

Blissful numbness. His warmth, his voice. You would have loved to fall asleep.

“Not yet, pretty girl,” he chuckled while he took out his pocket square. Humming, he cleaned you with that expensive cloth before tucking your mess into a hidden pocket. “Unless you’ll let me kill all the vultures so you can take a nap.”

Another small, but real laugh left your throat.

This isn’t safe. I shouldn’t feel safe.

Yet somehow, this villainous man always made you feel safe.

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

I have to keep her safe. I should send her away, as far from me as possible. I hurt her.

I need her.

Crocodile was a selfish man, and hearing her laugh again made him greedy. So fucking greedy for her.

He’d sworn to himself that he’d let her go, but he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t a good enough man to hold his tongue.

“Y/N?”

She looked up with fear in her eyes, so he shook his head, smiling softly at her need for comfort.

At his need to comfort her.

“Sorry, sweet girl. I just have something to tell you,” he breathed. A buzzing feeling pushed through his body when her eyes went soft again. It felt as though he were about to lose control, to fall into a million, tiny pieces, leaving his girl with nothing but sand.

“I’ll never be a good man,” he struggled with the truth. He couldn’t lie to her, but he hoped it would be enough. “I’m a terrible man, Y/N, but I wanna be a good man to you.”

The crease between her brows could have meant so many things. He’d pushed himself, straining through those words while he held her in his arms, wanting to hold her forever, never let her go.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Crocodile confessed, these new words slipping out as though they were always meant to, wrapping warmth around them both. “I didn’t know I could love. My heart was as dead and deadly as sand, but now I love you.”

He couldn’t resist touching her beautiful face now, his thumb tracing along her cheek. She didn’t seem to be breathing, but his words, now freed, couldn’t be stopped.

“I don’t know what you did, Y/N, but I’m yours. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always take care of my sweet girl, if you want—“

“Please excuse me for the interruption,” squeaked an usher through a crack in the door, their eyes going wide at the look of death on Crocodile’s face. “The dinner and show are starting, and President Buggy will be introducing you. Would you like…”

“I’d like you to get out of my sight.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

The terrified staff member let out a tiny yelp before closing the door, leaving Crocodile to help you up. He went over your dress, making sure everything was in place. You hoped he wasn’t lying when he reported that your face and hair were still presentable, if that’s what, “beautiful,” meant.

Luckily, it seemed that the presence of leeches had helped you regain your ability to hold in your tears.

Yet Crocodile had helped you let out that stress without any tears. Not all the stress though. Not even close.

He led you through the banquet hall while every eye was trained on you. The guests had all made it to their seats, and it felt like trudging through a swamp to keep that perfect smile going, holding it up while you joined Mihawk at the head table.

“Did you two have a relaxing break,” Mihawk purred when the lights went down.

“Behave,” Crocodile teased in a hoarse whisper, and the lightness between them made you shiver.

“Hello again, honored guests,” Buggy called, leaving his feet to hover above the stage. He lounged in the air, as though he were laying across that green, velvet couch.

Guests were already buzzing from this small act, and you saw that satisfied smile grow on your clown’s face.

“We have many mysterious and masterful performers here for you tonight. Please, enjoy your meal, enjoy the lovely company around you, and enjoy the delightful and dangerous show that the Cross Guild has prepared just for you.”

Applause began before he’d finished, and he bowed, taking it in before flying over the tables. The spotlight followed him, and he winked down at you before showing you all off.

“Let me begin by introducing my executives, whose names and reputations I’m sure you already know. You have to know, don’t you? Sir Crocodile, and Dracule Mihawk!”

They glared at the crowd, and you almost laughed.

“And most of you are already lucky enough to know our Chief Financial Officer, the lovely and talented, Miss Y/N Sylvad!”

A flood of memories of being announced at boring parties poured through your mind. Even through the spotlight, you could see those greedy faces. Your name was blood in the water, calling every shark to circle around you, just waiting to take their piece.

Crocodile patted your back, and you realized that you’d missed the end of Buggy’s speech, lost in your own mind.

You hated being lost in there.

Buggy sat on Mihawk’s other side, but he sent his hand behind the table until he found yours, squeezing until you gave him a small smile.

“Breathe, little rabbit,” Mihawk rasped, his voice already enough to make you sigh. “What can we do to help when you’re overwhelmed? It’s going to be a long night.”

“Hurt me,” you whispered, huffing a laugh at the disgruntled noises the three of them made before you explained. “Just enough to get me out of my head.”

You glanced at the swordsman, finding concern on his face that you didn’t want anyone else to see.

“You don’t happen to have a tiny sword you can poke me with if I space out, do you,” you joked, hoping to wipe that concern away.

“Actually, I do,” he chuckled, tapping a finger on the large cross pendant he wore.

“No,” you breathed, having to force your mouth to close instead of gaping at him. “That’s been a blade this whole time?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t hunt little rabbits with a cannon, now would I,” Mihawk teased, jerking his head toward Yoru. “I’ll help you stay in the moment, love.”

“Thank you,” you laughed, another real laugh. This one was cut short by the tension in Crocodile’s hushed words.

“Fuck, I forgot to tell you again,” he started, pulling away before reaching for you in front of the crowd. “We’re starting the bounties tonight, sweetheart. We’ve got—“

Music filled the space, though not too loud, as you still needed the guests to psych each other up. The sword swallowers and fire breathers alternated between hypnotic dancing, and making the crowd gasp with fear and awe at their dangerous talents.

“I know what we’re doing here,” you declared, eyes traveling over all the terrible people in the room. “People are going to die because of me. All for a few berries.”

“This isn’t just for berry, darling,” Mihawk assured, a cold anger in his voice that you could tell wasn’t for you. “The Marines have been abusing their power for far too long. They have declared war on the free of this world. That amount of unearned arrogance deserves to be punished.”

“What does earned arrogance deserve,” Buggy teased, breaking the tension, and allowing everyone to take a breath.

“Keep up the good work, and maybe you’ll find out, pretty clown.”

You had to look away from the pleased shock that took over Buggy’s face, the swordsman’s heated promise making even Crocodile chuckle.

The sight you landed on when you scanned through the crowd gave you a headache.

Shanks was grinning, leaning in close to Uncle Cedrick, those brown eyes far too soft.

What the fuck?

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The red haired pirate was sipping his fourth drink instead of downing it, waiting for his prey.

Waiting while his mind roared, Buggy’s voice echoed through his skull along with Y/N's, his lovely star. She wasn’t in the room when he'd left Buggy backstage again, and Shanks had to gulp down his panic.

Did I already fail?

There he was.

Cedrick Sylvad glided to his seat beside him, giving an annoyingly charming smile to everyone at the table.

Is that what I look like? Fucking–

“Red Haired Shanks, I presume? Or do you prefer your other title, Emper–”

“Call me, Shanks,” he grinned, taking Cedrick’s hand while he tried to exude that image of himself he’d believed in before he came to this cursed island. “You must be Mr. Sylvad.”

He gestured to the card on the table, that dangerous name too unexpected to have been etched onto shining metal like all the others.

“Cedrick is fine, thank you.”

Before Shanks could dig into the man’s brain, all eyes turned to her.

Y/N managed a feat that should have been impossible. She walked beside Sir Crocodile, a giant of a man, a frightening, fascinating monster, yet she was all anyone could stare at. Shanks smiled to himself at how graceful she looked compared to when she tried to dance.

Even as lost as she was, Y/N had something precious about her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Sylvad.”

“Please, call me Arbo.”

It was rare for someone’s voice to carry that much ease while a known pirate was sitting before them. The man’s eyes held a warmth that seemed to draw people in, even from behind his exquisite and domineering desk.

“How could I resist a meeting with the infamous Red Haired Shanks?”

The pirate’s breathing relaxed, sensing that the friendly banter from this lumber tycoon seemed to be genuine.

“I don’t know about infamous, yet,” he smirked, tilting his head back and forth. “But maybe you can help me with that.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t,” Arbo apologized, a wistful smile touching his lips.

“But I haven't told—“

“You want me to procure lumber from a Jewel Tree Adam so you can build yourself a new pirate ship, don’t you? Just like dear old dad did for Roger and Tom way back when?”

Shanks gave a shocked laugh, finding he was enjoying himself, even though his request had been declined so quickly.

“So, why can’t you follow in your dad’s footsteps? We can make it worth your while.”

Arbo shook his head, rubbing the pad of his thumb across some colored lines that marred the wood of his desk.

“My daughter has informed me that ‘the Adam Tree’s are precious, and only bad guys would chop one down,” he chuckled, his brows lifting when he met Shanks’ gaze again. “She can be very persuasive.”

No wonder Roger liked this family.

“Guess I’m out of luck then,” Shanks laughed, letting this tiny dream go with more ease than he’d expected. “Your daughter sounds very wise, how old is she?”

“Too young for pirates,” Arbo scolded with a smile, pouring amber liquid into two glasses. “But I’m not too old to hear a few pirate tales if you’d like a stay for a drink.”

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Why didn’t you get a fancy placard,” Shanks flirted, tapping his fork against the metal of his own nameplate. “If I know much about your family, you should have the fanciest one here.”

I can help them. I’ll help her.

“I don’t need the pomp and circumstance,” Cedrick laughed, a bit of satisfaction curling at his lips. “Seems we share that in common, Emperor.”

“If you’re making fun of my clothes, go right ahead,” Shanks smirked, smoothing his hand over the wrinkles of his nicest pants. “Although, if I make a few friends at this party, I might have more berry to spend on fancy suits.”

“There are only a handful of worthy ‘friends’ in this crowd,” he scoffed, his voice low. “Just what would a friendship with an Emperor of the Sea entail? The world is changing fast, and you—“

“Mr. Sylvad,” cooed a woman half buried in silks and furs. “I had no idea I’d be lucky enough to meet you at an event like this. Isn’t it fabulous? It’s about time something like this…”

The table attacked at that opening, pulling Y/N’s uncle into endless, simpering small talk that made Shanks want to haki the whole place just to shut them all up.

Fuck.

“In case we don’t get the opportunity to speak later,” Cedrick hushed as he pushed a card across the table, avoiding the ridiculous amount of silverware in the way. Shanks winked, tucking it away.

It's something.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

Your clown had inhaled what he could of his meal before flying down to lead the last performances. His voice, his energy, and his wit made even these judgmental assholes smile.

He looks so happy like this. Maybe… Maybe I don’t have to—

“Ow, fuck,” you startled, shaking your hand from the sharp pain. You rubbed a thumb over the back of your hand, the tiniest pinprick of blood showing on your skin.

“I’m sorry, love,” Mihawk rasped, his hands flexing as they stayed away. “You looked like you might cry, and you said—“

“Thank you, I’m okay,” you laughed, gasping softly when Crocodile touched your arm. Turning to your other side, his heavy eyes sent chills over your skin.

“It’s time,” he started, and you could hear the struggle in his words, even over the music and voices bouncing through the hall. You cut him off before he could continue.

“You’re going to be a monster,” you breathed, twisting your fingers on your lap. “But not to me. Never to me.”

An almost laugh left his throat, a tentative, but pleased smirk touching his lips.

“That’s my sweet girl.”

~~~

“Are we all sated? Or are we still ravenous for more?”

Buggy’s voice was twisted now, tempting and overwhelming. Crocodile had joined him on the stage, and the crowd went silent.

“Everyone in this room has at least one thing in common,” the clown noted, spinning a web of wicked words around the guests, pirates and leeches alike. “We all have a desire for more out of life, and we won’t let anyone stop us. No matter what kind of silly uniforms they wear.”

His gestures while he paced the stage were mesmerizing. Your shining star embodied this tantalizing image of what people wanted mania to be, and it was impossible to look away from.

This clown had the vultures eating right out of his gloved hand.

Buggy riled them up until they were practically frothing at the mouth before he tossed the reins to Crocodile.

“You are all people of influence,” he began with a hint of annoyance that faded as he got to work. “You know that times are changing, and we know that you’d like to keep making berry, no matter which way the wind blows.”

Crocodile was captivating in his own way, his deep voice almost taunting. Goading them into playing along, into giving him what he wanted.

“Hear, hear,” a man called out, raising his glass until everyone toasted to money. Always money.

Silver eyes found yours, and you chewed your lip at his little smirk. Crocodile had almost caught you rolling your eyes. You started to scold yourself for not being better at hiding, but it was getting harder to stamp it out the more you saw them, the more you heard their voices.

Maybe…

“Care to lend me a hand with the party favors, Mr. President?”

Buggy cackled, his floating hands snatching the roll of mock bounties from Crocodile’s grasp. Delicious, true laughter fell from your shocked lips, even more when he dropped a poster onto the table in front of you, sneakily tugging your ear before calling everyone’s attention back to the stage. Crocodile stood beside the wheel, using his hook to tear down the large sheet that had been covering it all night.

Buggy stood on the other side, grinning while he pointed his thumbs toward the enlarged poster that was plastered to the wood. A black and white photo of a marine’s face was frowning at the crowd, with question marks in place of a reward. The buzzing in the room grew serious, until silence fell once again when that golden hook tapped against the wheel.

“Captain Tront here has been causing quite a bit of trouble for some of you, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Damned ferret.”

“He’s been a nuisance! All that trade…”

“Honestly, I don’t know what they were thinking promoting—“

“Been costing you quite a bit of berry with his crackdown on your more refined shipping operations, hasn’t he?”

Crocodile looked smug, with Buggy basking in the glow, almost giddy.

What easy marks my old clients are turning out to be...

That name on the posters was one that you’d written down in your notes multiple times. You’d heard so many complaints about the strict Captain Tront, how he’d been cramping so much fun, keeping so much morally gray business from passing through his newly appointed territory.

More voices than you’d expected agreed with Crocodile, then gasped when Buggy floated above the stage again.

“If this little captain is gonna keep costing you all that berry, wouldn’t it make more sense to get him off the seas, and out of your hair? Or out of your wallets,” he suggested, his voice light, but coiled with sinful temptation.

More vicious excitement moved through the hall, the vultures salivating at the promise of more money and power to hoard for themselves.

“How much would you pay for someone to take care of this little problem for you,” Crocodile prodded, stoking the flames of their sick greed.

An auction of sorts began, a competition for who would be responsible, who would be the hero of the day, and take credit for destroying the nasty pest.

The ostentatious Mayor Kottley won out, a surprising contender until you remembered that he traded in bodies. That wasn’t a good that the World Government approved of, no matter how willing the bodies were.

The slaves that the nobles stole for themselves were the exception, of course.

As insufferable as he was, at least Kottley’s goods had chosen that line of work, and were said to be the best of the best. Not being able to send his employees out on their “business trips” had put a damper on his profits.

“Would anyone like to add to the bounty, an extra incentive if the Cross Guild provides express service?”

The fervor with which these pigs fought to pay for a man’s death was sickening to watch.

My work put that face on the board. I’m no better.

“Such forward thinkers,” Buggy praised, his hands floating the contracts down to be signed by the Cross Guild’s first official clients. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Crocodile scanned the signed documents before catching your eyes again, another moment of hesitation.

I’m a bad person too, Daddy.

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Please don’t be scared of me, sweetheart. Please don’t leave.

Crocodile couldn’t stall any longer, knocking loudly on the wheel once more.

“Alvida, bring out the real party favor.”

That gorgeous, wicked pirate smirked while she dragged a struggling body onto the stage, more bruised and bloodied than he’d been earlier. She must have had to keep him quiet while they waited in the wings.

There were shocked gasps, surprised laughter, and a smattering of impressed applause while the guests watched Captain Tront be strapped to the wheel.

She’s gonna hate me.

“Since tonight is a celebration of your generous support, we’ll be holding this execution in person to show our gratitude,” Crocodile announced, noting the gluttony on all those faces. Leeches did seem to be an appropriate word for this crowd. “If you’d rather not witness the dirty work, please follow the ushers to enjoy some after dinner drinks and music down the hall. We’ll try to keep it down in here.”

He chuckled, and the laughter was echoed throughout the banquet hall.

Not a single, wretched soul rose from their seats.

“Guess it's time for the finale,” he smirked, holding his hook to the marine’s throat.

Crocodile couldn’t stop himself. He had to look at her.

Y/N gave him a soft smile that filled him with equal parts shame and pride. A sick pleasure that he knew he should fight.

But he had always been a bad man.

Maybe my sweet girl can be a sweet, little monster with me…

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

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

a/n: Morals? Who needs 'em 🤷‍♀️

Part 26

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.

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artaxlivs · 12 hours

Text

Lie On My Front

“Lie to me.”

“What?” Stiles flails, rapping his knuckles painfully against the door jam as he spins to face Derek. “Why? Why would I do that?” He sticks the knuckles of his injured hand into his mouth, sucking at the pain, knowing it won’t help but the placebo of thinking it does being too well trained into him.

“Because I can’t go back to the way we were.” Derek growls, glaring at Stiles’ hand until he drops it from his mouth.

Oh.

“Because of the–”

“Yes,” Derek growls, cutting him off and taking a step away from Stiles. “Because of that.”

That.

That part of their day yesterday when Stiles and Derek had woken up, tied together in a crate that was clearly on or in a moving vehicle. A crate that was only wide enough for one person, only long enough for one and a half people and not nearly tall enough for two people to be stacked on top of each other.

That part where Stiles had woken up in the dark, a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth and rubbed his face into his pillow - a pillow that turned out to be Derek’s junk. He was facedown between Derek’s splayed legs, their forearms were bound tightly together Derek’s right arm to Stiles’ left, and vice versa, Derek’s splayed fingers cupping Stiles’ elbows. Not only was it a horribly awkward way to be tied together, it made it impossible to reach for anything because neither could bend their arms while the other was strapped to them.

“Stiles, get your face off of my–!” Derek growled but it was low and sounded pained.

Scoffing, Stiles said, “Sure thing, where- where do you want me to go?” He tried scooting away but pulling on Derek’s arms just caused a thunk in the dark where he must have hit his face off the ceiling of the crate.

“Ow, what are you–”

Stiles pushed himself upwards this time, trying to crawl so his face was on Derek’s washboard abs. Jesus, those washboard abs. Here he was, finally within licking range of them and he couldn’t even do it. Could he? No, no he couldn’t. Consent and all that. But god, Derek smelled so good. All clean sweat and musk. And Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to smell that no matter what Derek’s arguments to the contrary, he was turned on by having Stiles’ face in his lap. Which was definitely a revelation.

It wasn’t just the rush of earthy musk giving him away either, it was the growing bulge that brushed against Stiles cheek and jaw, even the tip of his nose, every time one of them attempted to adjust their position again.

Stiles was pretty fucking sure that he himself smelled of desperation and need. Which he probably used to smell like all the time, back in high school. But it’s been a long fucking time since he was a desperate bisexual virgin forced to watch the hottest man alive walk around shirtless all the time. No, over the past six years, he’d not only grown into his long arms and legs but he’d also learned to use his Bambi eyes and full mouth to his advantage so desperation and need were not something he experienced anymore. He was a card carrying queer now who had dated a full rainbow spectrum of people.

But.

Derek. This was Derek. It didn’t matter that Stiles was twenty-two years old, a college graduate, and got laid on the regular now. Put him in an awkward position with Derek freaking Hale and he was reduced to a bumbling horny teenager again. Stiles pressed his hips down against the wood of the crate, trying to gently crush the hopes and dreams of his inappropriate boner. Because hope was happening. Derek had kept Stiles at arms length for years. And Stiles had tucked his crush way down deep because he knew that Derek had *trauma* and he didn't want to step on his toes.

But.

Derek lied. He'd lied to himself and to Stiles. He was a lying liar who lied. On his back. And his front.

“Hey, did you know that only when you lie on your front is it actually called prone?”

Huffing, Derek mumbled, “Stiles, what the are you even talking about?”

“Supine. I’m actually talking about supine. That's what it's called when you lie on your back but Scott and I decided it’s a secret word for a werewolf STI, thoughts?”

“I think you’re an idiot.” Derek growled but it was fond.

“Oh hey! I have an idea,” Stiles exclaimed as it hit him. He tried to wriggle up a bit so he could rest his chin on Derek’s belt buckle. Derek whined, trying to pull his knees up to protect himself probably but only managed to squeeze Stiles between his thighs instead. Which, of course, was a wet dream come to life and Stiles’ boner completely ignored propriety and fattened up in his too tight jeans. Jesus fucking Christ.

Derek’s boner had the same idea apparently because it was currently pressed into the side of Stiles’ throat. It was actually pressing up against his jaw as well. Stiles gave an indelicate snort as he wondered how appropriate a monster cock joke right now would be.

Probably not very.

“Stiles.” Derek seethed through clenched teeth, squeezing the backs of Stiles’ elbows with his fingertips. Thankfully he was sans claws.

“Stop moving!” Stiles choked out, feeling the press of Derek’s bulge against his Adam’s apple.

“You stop!” Derek hissed, closing his legs around him until Stiles was forced to lay perfectly still.

“Okay, okay, listen - I’ll press my elbows together and you grow just your pinky claw out and try to carefully cut the binding off the other arm.”

They tried it. It didn’t go well. Stiles elbowed Derek in the dick trying to keep his face out of his crotch and Derek drew blood on the first attempt at cutting the binding.

“Dammit!” Derek cursed. “I can’t do this because I can’t see the angle well enough. I’m going to knick that artery in your elbow. You’ll have to direct my claw.”

“How do you propose I do that?” Stiles asked incredulously, “My hands are kind of,” he attempted a jazz hands maneuver which jostled both of them and Derek bucked up, hitting Stiles in the chin with his huge freaking dick, “...tied,” Stiles finished lamely.

Sighing, Derek got them back into position. “With your teeth,” He finally said, knowing full well that Stiles was going to laugh his ass off at the irony of that.

Barely, just barely, Stiles managed to avoid dropping his face into Derek’s lap to giggle like a schoolgirl over that. Turning his head, he pressed his face into his own bicep and stifled his laughter.

Still chortling a bit, Stiles groped around with his mouth in the dark until he found Derek’s bent pinky, he took the knuckle between his teeth and felt Derek’s claw slide out of the end. It’s slow going, made worse by their position and the heat of the small crate. It’s got small ventilation holes so they won’t suffocate but it’s doing nothing for the temperature. If only one of them wasn’t a freaking werewolf who wasn’t basically a giant furnace on legs.

Nice legs, muscular and hairy, currently closed around Stiles in a way that is definitely going to be featured in his Stiles’ time later. Above him, Derek keened and his hips made an aborted thrust up into Stiles throat. He bit down hard on Derek’s finger so as not to lose his grip on it and then Derek’s hips did roll up.

He tried not to but the hard cock pressing into his jugular made Stiles gag reflexively then he moaned and his eyes rolled back in his head. Jesus - he could just pull Derek’s zipper down with his teeth and see how much of that freaking monster he could in his throat instead of against it. Sixteen year old him would have been mortified and freaking out but now Stiles is more experienced at reading the body signals of other people. He knows that Derek is feeling the same thing and holy shit is that a turn on. Why are they even bothering to pretend otherwise?

“Stiles, the binding, cut it loose. Please.” Derek practically begged, all of his muscles tense like he’s a second away from saying fuck it and humping Stiles’ face. And Stiles is into that. He’s also very into Derek begging and finds himself wondering if Derek ever bottoms because honestly, it would be a travesty for no one to enjoy that ass. “Stiles!”

Stiles couldn't answer, his mouth was still clamped around Derek’s knuckle. He got back to it, using the claw like a tiny saw and it’s not as simple as he’d hoped. The binding isn’t ropes, it’s more like a sleeve wrapped and wrapped and tied in several places so it doesn’t just start to unravel when they cut through the first one finally.

They tried to pull their arms apart anyway but it didn't budge. Mother fucker. Whoever did this to them deserves props first because Stiles has never been tied up in a way that he can’t get out of alone and second, deserves a kick to the face because fuck them, seriously.

“Okay, let’s go again,” He told Derek as sweat pooled at his temples, on the ridge of his upper lip, the back of his neck and at the base of his spine. It’s hot and he’s got a raging boner. He wants a bottle of water and a bottle of lube, it doesn’t even have to be in that order.

They carefully shift around, adjusting their arms for the new angle. Stiles has to wedge himself around Derek’s hip to where he’s almost lying on his side so that he can be under their bound arms to get his teeth around Derek’s pinky again.

Everything got awkward much faster this time. Stiles bobs his head up and down, back and forth. Derek curled his hips toward Stiles to give him more room to get to the bindings but it also brought Derek’s junk into contact with the hollow of Stile’ throat and his collarbone. He moaned around the finger in his mouth, resisting the urge to bury his face in Derek’s crotch and let himself be ridden until his toes curl.

They’re through the next section of binding and they don’t stop this time by silent agreement. Stiles wriggled up a bit, adjusting his body deeper into the V of Derek’s legs. The heat of him there is almost burning through Stiles’ thin cotton T-shirt and he can feel the tight rounded swell of Derek’s balls as they tap against him with every jostle of the back and forth sawing motion.

Derek moaned through what sounded like closed lips, possibly over fangs. His other leg moved to clamp around Stiles and his hips rolled up, grinding his erection against Stiles’ chest. Stiles swallowed hard, closing his lips around Derek’s knuckle and unconsciously dragging his tongue along the back of the finger. Swallowing his own moan, his body rolled up to meet Derek’s and he sawed faster and harder, giving up any pretense that they weren’t dry humping their way to freedom.

Stiles could feel Derek’s hips straining to press his cock against Stiles for more friction but it’s become impossible with how he’s now pretzeled under their arms and still sawing away. There’s a ripping noise as they cut through the next section and finally Derek pulled, tearing the fabric bind to free that set of arms The binding was still unraveling even as Derek growled low in his throat, reached down to cup the back of Stiles’ nape and thrust his crotch into Stiles’ face.

Stiles didn’t mind at all. He gripped Derek’s hip with his blissfully free hand, pulling him closer as Derek humped against his cheeks and nose. His lips catch on the fabric of Derek’s jeans and he’s probably going to have rug burn but he doesn’t give a single fuck. He just breathed Derek in, mouthing at the huge bulge as he dry humped Derek’s knee where it’s trapped between his thighs.

His blood was beating to the rhythm of his own racing heartbeat in Stiles’ ears and he could hear Derek grunting and whimpering when suddenly Derek arched into him, let out a low pitched whine and came. Hips stuttering and bumping against Stiles through the aftershocks. It was hot and bitter in Stiles’ nose and mouth, made his eyes burn a little but the knowledge that Derek basically just came on his face sends him over the edge and he’s coming too, fingers dug into Derek’s hip and rutting against Derek’s leg as he grunted through his own orgasm.

He’d love to have lied there, sated and content in this warm enclosed space with Derek but Derek had other ideas apparently. They’re both still panting and sweating when he sliced the other bind open like butter, shoved hard enough at the lid of the crate that it exploded outward. Stiles doesn’t even have a chance to access their damage or location before Derek is throwing the roll up door up at the back and climbing up onto the roof.

There had been no chance to talk after Derek had dragged the driver out and figured out he was only a driver and knew nothing. Then they were too busy helping all the other supernaturals that had been trapped in their own crates in the back of the truck. The box truck had been headed to Los Angeles to the harbor but there’s no info in the truck about where it was going from there.

Stiles had shown up today, at Derek’s, ready to research the how and why and who with him but instead, Derek has decided to have a melt down apparently.

Stiles would be pissed about it but he knows Derek. He knows him really well after all these years. He’s probably blaming himself. Paige, Kate, Jennifer Blake - even Braedon who’s been a mutually agreed upon no-strings-attached booty-call - all of the people Derek has been with had ulterior motives or didn’t want an actual relationship with him.

Stiles has his work cut out for him. Because he’s pretty sure he and Derek have been slowly moving toward this since the day they met. Now, this idiot thinks he took advantage because he’s somehow unaware that Stiles’ isn’t still a sixteen year old kid. Well.

“It’s your fault.”

Derek’s face falls but he nods, “I’m sorry. If you–”

“No,” Stiles tells him, shaking his head like Derek doesn’t get it. “You said lie to me. So I did.”

“What?” But then he realizes what Stiles is doing. “No, I shouldn’t–”

“Have walked away from me afterward?” Stiles says. “Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

“No.” Derek growls. “Stiles, I used you to…to...”

Stiles rolls his eyes and crosses the room, pushing Derek until his shoulders hit the wall, “Derek, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a consenting adult and I consented - very enthusiastically. You’d know that if you’d stop punishing yourself.’

Crowding Derek further against the wall, Stiles lets one of his hands fall to Derek’s hip, pulling their bodies flush. The other hand is up on the wall next to Derek’s head, caging him in. It’s a callback to all the times Derek threw Stiles up against a wall or backed him into something. This time though, Stiles has the upper hand.

His nostrils flare and Derek breathes out, “Stiles, please.”

Groaning, Stiles leans in and brushes his lips against Derek’s softly because he was right, Derek begging is a thing of beauty. He wants to take him apart, soothe all the broken parts that other people left behind and then put him back together again. He wants Derek writhing and out of his mind with need just like yesterday, begging Stiles to let him come.

But he wants something else more.

“Please what?” Stiles taunts, squeezing Derek’s hips and dipping down to run his teeth along the tendon at Derek’s shoulder and neck.

Whimpering, knees almost buckling at the touch on such a vulnerable spot, Derek keens, “Please fuck me.”

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Stiles admits and when Derek’s shoulders stiffens and he tries to pull away, Stiles presses in, clarifying, “I want to love you,” he shrugs one shoulder and adds, “and fuck you. I want both.”

Derek snorts but relaxes into Stiles’ touch, “Is that all?”

Smirking as he leans in to capture Derek’s mouth, Stiles whispers, “That’s just the beginning.”

This fic can also be found on Ao3 at Lie On My Front.

Thanks @okdeannawrites from the prompt "Lie to Me" and the challenge to write something short just for fun. I needed to shake out some writer's block and this was the perfect exercise!

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #tumblr prompt

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