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Sapsorrow Chapter 8

Masterlist Here, Sapsorrow Masterlist Here

Word Count: 10,700+

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it" Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

Starlight

(Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/462322717990096069/)

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood @jaguarthecat @marsbars09 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Oh, boy. This is a big chapter. Next chapter will be MDNI, 18+. Thank you for your patience with me working at this. Two more chapters to go!

Song Suggestions: Young and Beautiful - Je suis Parte & Por Una Cabeza - Carlos Gardel

The ship swayed over the cloudy swell of darkened waves, shepherding the vessel away from the Kuraigana port and to a location your captain deemed appropriate for a newlywed bride to be hidden away from her husband.

Captain Buggy D Clown was not one to shy away from anything, especially not when something as interesting as causing drama and theatrics at the expense of Lord Dracule Mihawk was present. He was eager to present this challenge, whether you or Mihawk were also eager was a completely different tale entirely.

Within the Captain’s quarters aboard the Big-Top, you struggled with the back of your dress: uncinching the rigging your ward managed to tie for you to keep your body contained within its material. A huffed and agitated smile awoke on your face, picturing this struggle in comparison to the one to come after your starlight ensemble. If the moon was as difficult to rid from your body, you could not imagine how taxing the sun would be over your skin and concealing you from your husband.

Husband. You have a husband now. A husband that would be more than agitated to know you were now out to open seas and venturing to unknown horizons, away from the celebration he carefully curated for you.

“-Everything alright in here, Starlight?” the nasally crack of Buggy’s voice cut through the wooden door, “‘Ya need help?” You chuckled darkly, attempting to pry the material from you to no avail.

“Actually, Captain,” your voice held a frantic wave within its tone, “I think I do. The back is snagged, and I can’t get the damn thing off of me.” The door slowly creaked open, after a gentle rap alerted you he was to do so. You turned yourself away to conceal your exasperation from him, the stutter in your hands giving away your agitation as you continued to fumble over the ribbons at the rear of your dress.

“Do you trust me, Doll?” you heard his voice alarmingly close to your body, enough to cause a hitch in your throat. You glanced over your shoulder, witnessing Buggy’s teal eyes glancing up through his eyelashes and lips parting in concern.

“Considering you have robbed me of my wedding night with my beau,” your warning tone cut through the air as swift as a guillotine, “Spirited me away from the unity celebrations, and-,” you huffed, turning back around and glaring out of the bay window, “Confined me to spend this time alone and isolated from all those I hold most dear: I hardly deem you worthy of my trust presently, Captain.”

Buggy’s gasp was melodical and pitched up two octaves higher than his usual cadence. You could feel the waves of anxiety rising within his shoulders and expressed through several strangled breaths.

“I-I’m sorry, Lady Dracule. I didn’t think of it from your perspective and how my actions would-.” Whatever else Captain Buggy D Clown spoke after the first four words meant very little to you. Your mind looped them repetitively, the call and roll of the words felt both surreal and magical, you could hardly think about anything else.

“-Would’ve rather stayed on shore, it would be less flashy and make the chase all the less desperate. We could turn back if-,” Buggy’s words halted as he glanced back into your eyes, noticing the distant expression with a melancholy sorrow eclipsing your painted features. “...-Are you alright, my Lady Dracule?” he asked you.

“Lady Dracule,” you repeated, your brows forming a pillar at the center of your forehead and causing a small swell to mist your eyes, “I’m Lady Dracule, now.” Buggy took a moment to glance over your features, noticing this shift of emotion permeating through your stance.

Apprehensively, he reached his hand forward and gently caressed your shoulder. The gentle squeeze broke you out of your circulating mind, looking down and meeting the eyes of the cerulean-haired captain.

“Can I help you out of this dress and into the assortment I crafted for you, my lady?” Buggy asked softly, watching as you nodded in affirmation for his fingers to set to work.

“I’ll get this off in just a minute,” he whispered, his index fingers hooking through the loops in your back and slowly releasing the garment’s hold over your body, “And then we can think about your hair, and retouch your makeup. I’ll get Cabaji to bring us a bottle of the wine we swiped from the reception, too.”

You allowed a soft giggle to fall from your parted lips, the relief from being rid of the tightness of your dress while knowing you were in capable hands. As Buggy’s fingers aided you in being free from your garment, while respectfully aiding you into the new dress, your mind wandered to your husband and what he was doing in this moment. Did he notice your departure, or was he enjoying your joint celebrations in solitude?

“Where,” Mihawk’s yellow eyes glared accusingly around the guests through narrowed lenses, “Is,” he advanced, Yoru drawn with the pointed tip threatening the jugular of the Captain of the Red-Force, “My wife.”

Lord Dracule Mihawk, distracted momentarily by his guests and acquaintances upon exiting the ceremony space, sought out your hand to claim within his. He blindly reached beside him, outstretching his desperate hands to shepherd you to his side, his fingers brushing nothing but air in its wake.

He noticed your absence immediately.

“Easy now, mate,” Shanks raised his arms, noticing several members of his crew withdrew their concealed weaponry and aimed it at the enraged former warlord, “Easy, easy. She’s safe, I swear this to you.”

“Where is she?” Mihawk spat, his feet sliding into an assaulting stance, interweaving his body to draw closer to the red-head’s teasing face, “What have you done with her?”

“She’s with Buggy- Oi, relax,” Mihawk’s pupils narrowed, his eyes wide and wild at the knowledge departing from Shanks’ lips, “She’s safe, it’s all a part of appeasing the tradition.” Shanks attempted to soothe over the growing temper Mihawk was steadily elevating, gesturing for his crew to holster their weaponry.

“What tradition?” Mihawk barked, pressing the sharpened tip of Yoru deeper into Shanks’ neck, not quite puncturing the skin.

“We just wanted it to be perfect, Hawk-Eyes,” Shanks’ hazelnut eyes bore with no utterance of mistruth within his orbs, “And you’re a native to Kuraigana, born and raised here. This is us following your traditions to the absolute letter: crossed ‘t’s and dotted ‘i’s, mate.”

“Y-You’ve,” Mihawk stumbled over his words, darting his frantic eyes between Shanks’, “You’ve kidnapped my bride?”

“You want the map to her, Lord Mihawk?” the rational voice of Shanks’ first mate rumbled through the tense air, “I had the clown make one up, for all our sakes.” Mihawk snapped his eyes away from Shanks’ to bear into the soul of Benn Beckman. As their eyes met, Beckman fished out the tanned envelope and offered it out gruffly towards the broody and aggravated newlywed groom.

“And, are you all to just sit here and wait until I bring back my bride?” He barked at the Red-Hair crew, “Or are you coming to witness me suffer through this act of degrading humiliation?” Mihawk growled, eagerly searching through the crowd to see any contenders to refute his beckoning challenge.

“You should take your wards,” Shanks suggested, weaving his body away from the steely tip of Yoru’s point, “Your two witnesses to view your wooing.”

Zoro leant down into Perona’s ear, his brow knit with puzzlement and concern.

“I don’t follow, what is going on? Where’s our governess now?” Zoro quietly grunted into Perona’s ear, a giggle arising with her retort.

“Are you truly not following, or are you just saying that to be an imbecile?” Perona smirked, glancing up into Zoro’s serious eyes, “O-Oh, you’re serious? Okay!” Zoro patiently awaited his promised explanation, Perona thinking of the simplified version of this complex tradition to relay to him.

“In Kuraigana culture, the bride is either stolen or whisked away at a point in the evening - generally after the reception feast so the food doesn’t get cold. It looks like it’ll be a while yet before we get something to eat-,” Perona’s train of thought was broken with a growl from the green-haired apprentice.

“-Get on with it, Perona,” Zoro’s voice cut through the air gruffly, his eyes darting the surroundings for a clue of his governess’ whereabouts.

“Oh, alright. Sorry, Zoro,” Perona giggled, shaking her head and preparing her words to present once again, “The bride is then hunted by the groom and they share a moment where he must perform a task or a demonstration of artistic skill to woo and entertain his new bride. Considering she is no longer under the shroud of her own family name, but a whole new person in this case: Lady Dracule, he must win her heart under this new banner and usher her into her new life with him.”

“So, what? Is he gonna dance or something?” Zoro asked, puzzled and taken aback by the absurdity of the tradition, “Or is he gonna challenge her to a sword fight? What can he do that would woo her?”

“Zoro-...” Perona again giggled, shaking her head with a warm smile drawing her cheeks up beneath its radiance, “...-Mihawk sings.”

“Mihawk sings?” Zoro snapped his eyes over to Dracule Mihawk, watching as the lord of Kuraigana’s lips curled into a sinister snarl and brows furrowed deeper into rage.

“Two witnesses, no more,” Mihawk growled, placing the mighty blade upon his back and rolling his neck, “And we shall return within the hour.”

“Only if she’ll have you, mate,” Shanks’ grin playfully split his face, “You have to woo her. Humble yourself before her. This is your opportunity to actively pursue her,” the redhead stepped forward, clapping his right hand over Mihawk’s left shoulder.

“You never got the chance. Use this time to show her how much you want her, and then,” Shanks’ grin turned sly, glancing at Beckman who shook his head and fished out a cigarette from his breast pocket, “That’s when we can show you how radiant she is, all wrapped in sunlight.”

Mihawk’s rumbled growl cut through the air, turning on his boot heels and gesturing to Perona and Zoro with his index finger, “You two, with me. Let us depart and reclaim my bride.”

“Aye, sir,” Perona and Zoro spoke in unison, immediately springing into action and readying themselves for a short journey to find, woo and claim you with your title as Lady Dracule.

Mihawk’s fuming rage catapulted him into a near frenzy, working with haste to unroll the sails and weigh anchor, using the tide to carry his small ship and snarling at the crudely crafted map.

“This better be accurate for your sake, clown,” Dracule Mihawk spat, scrunching the map and thrusting it into his shirt pocket with his left hand. Upon withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he hovered it above his face, staring at how delicately the band of unity was glimmering under the light of dusk.

It felt balanced, as if this broad band was awaiting the day he would finally wield it atop his finger. As if his life was waiting for this moment to start, for this new role and purpose for his life to fulfill. He hardened his resolve, throwing off his outer coat and withdrawing his sleeves to his elbows. He will find you, and find you quickly.

And when he does, he will woo you.

If the moon-dress was the prelude to a masterpiece in composition, this dress would be a symphony to stand the test of time. Material as pastel as the celestial rocks littering the night sky sporadically danced across the midnight material depicting the sky at nightfall. In the dim light within the cave Buggy had chaperoned you into, the dress almost looked as if it was producing its own light.

“This is the most extravagant thing I have ever done with my life,” Buggy huffed a chuckle through his comment, “And that’s truly saying something, my lady. I’ve never done anything like this, and I’m almost jealous that I won’t be the one wearing it.”

“You’re more than welcome to borrow it for a performance, Captain,” you giggled, looking down at your arms that had been ornately decorated with chained droplets of beaded glass, “It is simply breathtaking.”

Glancing over at yourself in the reflective walls of the cave you had found yourself in, your hair was now softly falling in waterfalls against your back and your makeup retouched by the clown and his enthusiastic crew. You could hardly recognise the woman gazing back at you.

“As breathtaking as you are, my lady,” Buggy whispered while adjusting your hair over your shoulders, “And hopefully enough to get me back into your good graces?” He shifted his eyebrow upwards, glancing hopefully over your shoulder with widened eyes and fluttering eyelashes.

“You’re not out of the thick of it yet, dear captain,” you playfully taunted him, nose scrunched and smile growing, “It’s not only I you need to appease.”

As if on queue, a small commotion was occurring outside the cave. Elevated voices, a shuffling of feet and the clang of harsh metal meeting rock reverberated within the cave mouth: silence following such an abrasive sound.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Buggy repeated hurriedly, excitement and anxiety dancing in a dangerous fight for dominion over his cadence, “You take a seat on your throne and look all pretty,” he gestured with his hands flailing outwards, “I’ll finish lighting the candles,and then I’m gonna flee as fast my legs can carry me to give you two some privacy.”

You laughed at his excitement, turning and drawing up your heavy skirts to fan out atop the velvet-covered throne Buggy had placed down for you. Frantic clicks of flint and steel, a string of nasally curses, and a shifting of boot-heels tripping over themselves as Buggy set the final elements of his role in the ruse awaiting your spouse.

“Okay, I’m gonna-... woah,” Buggy’s words halted as he turned to view you on your throne, sitting with the elegance and radiancy that you had drilled into your many students over your career as a governess.

“‘Woah’, what, Captain Buggy?” you huffed out a small laugh, watching his eyes shifting over each element of your ensemble.

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, shifting his feet as if under the spell of hypnosis, “You’re not technically married if you haven’t consummated your union. You can always run away with me if you want to-.”

“Buggy,” you scolded him, your laughter now falling unwithheld from your lips, “For one: I am not cut out for a path of traveling piracy,” your smile continued to decorate your lips with its radiancy, “And two: I am in love with Dracule Mihawk, my husband.” That final confession shocked you, not admitting those words aloud to yourself or another before this very moment.

“Right, right, of course,” he laughed at himself, studying his handiwork as your skirts pooled over your feet and down the slight elevation over the rocks. The voices within the mouth of the cave continued to draw ever nearer, the agitation and anger almost tangibly felt the closer they came.

“This is where I take my leave, my lady,” he nervously chuckled, looking to the cave mouth with his lips split into a straight wincing line, “If I stay, the broody asshole will likely attempt to take my head and throw me into the sea.”

“In that case,” you smiled, bowing your head low to the clown, “This is where I thank you for the part you played in ensuring this day was a possibility.” Buggy gasped at your bow, taking a final moment to study you as you rose from your seated curtsey.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he whispered, bowing to you before turning on his heels and uttering a final sentence before picking up his sprint, “Congratulations on your successful ceremony. Save me a dance at your reception.”

Chuckling at his fleeing form, you were left in only a butterfly’s wing of solitude before three figures almost stampeded within the decorated hollow of the cave. Each of them halted, eyes wide and jaws slack as they took in their surroundings.

The ground was littered with candelabras, all lengthy wicks lit. Lighting a pathway towards the throne, tealights scattered the floor beside a long stretch of the softest white carpet. Upon the edge of the carpet, the material of your skirts pooled and the unnatural light of several stones attached to the hem illuminated the floor. Dark material shifts into soft lights at each subtle movement from your body, the stones on your arms providing a small ringing melody as you offer them a small, coy wave.

Perona’s smile rose on her cheeks, recovering the fastest of the three as she offered you a similar wave in return for your own. Zoro snapped his lips shut, smirking as he glanced between you and your beau who continued to be stupefied beneath this new radiant presentation.

“I have found you,” Mihawk whispered after taking a small moment to recover, “My bride, my beloved.” You smiled wider, taking a moment to study your husband as he began taking small and intentional steps towards you.

Perona hastily and quietly ushered Zoro over to the side, taking a seat on a large boulder and tapping the surface beside her in a gesture for Zoro to sit beside her. Without removing his eyes from the scene unfolding before him, he quickly sat on the stone and awaited Mihawk’s every chosen moment.

Electing to remain silent, you watched and hung onto every movement, utterance and breath produced as he continued on towards you. Before he fell within your proximity, he halted and inhaled a shaken breath as he humbly knelt with both knees on the floor, his hands laced and placed within his lap. Your breath hitched, eyes darted between his honey-coloured eyes which then immediately snapped shut.

He deeply inhaled a breath, his eyes remaining closed as he focussed on his movements. He lilted a rumbled hum, a tune unfamiliar to you produced from his nose and serenading you with its melody. Mihawk was singing, and he was singing for you.

“Never I’ve known love like this,

As vibrant as the seas.

I’ll sheathe my blade, and disarm my shield,

For a chance just to please.”

His eyes remained shut, lips almost cautiously relaying the lyrics as he produced them. After the small verse produced, his words waved more confidently through his lips and enunciated each spoken lyric.

Perona attempted to silence her elation by slapping her hand over her lips, her other hand finding Zoro’s knee and giving it a firm squeeze to express her excitement physically. Zoro was not faring much better, his own shock written on his face he could barely notice Perona’s hand on his knee as he gripped his thighs to stifle his surprise at Mihawk’s skillful melody.

“The way your lips summon me,

The way your eyes hold promise,

May your bed never be empty,

Should dawn be upon us.”

Mihawk’s eyes opened, his breath hitching as he witnessed the longing gaze you were offering to him. Your eyes swelled with emotions, lips parting and drawing up in a melancholy smile. Mihawk offered you a small, bashful smile as he continued to sing to you.

Your eyes never left Mihawk for a minute, watching as he knit his brows together and continued to utter promises through melody towards you.

“I will share my days with you,

For this to you I swear.

Nightfall I be by your side,

For it’s not yours alone to bear.”

He rose his knee from his kneeling into a lunge, bowing his head down and removing his hat from his head. A final promise uttered lyrically from within his skilled melody, you holding onto each word.

“The seas and sword were my first love,

The training alone be vast.

Although you were not my first to love,

May we both be each's last.”

Mihawk sucked in a baited breath, awaiting a small reprimand or disciplinary comment regarding his abilities. He was no singer nor composer, the lyrics produced alongside the melody were spur of the moment. His skills were of the sword, not of poetry and lyricism.

“Do my words and melody please you?” Mihawk whispered, his eyes holding firm to the floor as his dark curls bobbed to a lower bow, “Will you allow me the luxury of my heart, my body and my soul joining with yours, Lady Dracule?”

He elevated his head, his eyes softening and rapidly blinking to stifle the rising beat of his heart as he remained in his humility. A man such as he was not accustomed to humbling himself before anyone, doing precisely as he pleased and when he pleased to do it. With you, this was uncharted and untested waters. He was in love, and would spend the rest of his days romancing you should you ask it of him.

Truthfully, he was prepared to offer his adoration, praises and romance to you at all hours whether you asked it of him or not.

“You may have me, I am yours,” you answered him after several moments of pregnant pause, rising to your feet and offering him your right hand to take with his left, “Just as you are mine.” Mihawk released a breath he did not know he was withholding from his chest, the weight rolling off his shoulders and having him relax beneath your admission.

He took this moment to study your carefully painted lashes, noticing the subtle hints in tints and hues decorating your skin at the hands of the genius jester. The stars were reflected in your eyes, the pigments complimenting the change in darkened material pooling over your dress.

“C-Can I,” he fell over his words, closing his eyes and mentally scolding himself for his stumble, “Can I kiss you, my lady?” A small squeak from the corner of the room had you both break from your illusion that this corner of reality was not yours alone to share. You also had two witnesses.

Mihawk snapped his eyes over to the two words sitting happily on the boulder beside the decorated floor, scolding them with a single pointed look. At his momentary shift of focus, you used the opportunity to rise from your sitting position on the throne Buggy sourced for you and stooped down to collect Mihawk’s chin between your index finger and thumb.

You shifted his face back, witnessing the momentary shock as he gazed into your eyes. With a soft smile, you lowered your face and collected his lips with your own. Although he was kneeling, Mihawk was a tall individual. This position did not have your neck aching at its stoop, but was comfortable as you slowly pressed more of yourself against the former warlord.

Mihawk wrapped his arms around your waist, bunching the fabric within his hands and holding you firmly pressed against him. He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip as he squeezed your hips within his wide fingers. You hummed against his lips, your fingers raking over his beard to entangle within his curled locks. He smiled into the kiss, rising from the floor and fully bracing himself against you with his forearms circling your waist.

The ruffles of the skirts below you illuminated several of the rocks littering the material, a gasp fleeing from Perona the longer she stared at the balled objects adoring the fabric.

“The rocks light up when they move!” she hushed her whisper to Zoro who waved his hand to silence her as he witnessed the loving embrace between his lord and lady. Although Zoro would never admit it aloud, he was enjoying every minute of witnessing such joy between two people he held most dear.

Breaking from the kiss, your eyes half lidded as they gazed up at your husband. His expression mirrored your own, gazing lovingly down at you with a soft smile gently creasing the corners of his eyes.

“Let’s go home,” Mihawk whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead and hovering his lips over your skin as he cradled your head against his chest, “I hope Shanks and his crew have left as some wine.”

“I’m more concerned about the food,” you giggled, prompting Mihawk to break away from your forehead and smooth his hands over your hair, “All I’ve had to eat and drink today is that single piece of honeycomb, a glass of wine for breakfast, that small sip of unity wine shared with you, and a glass of wine with the clown when he prepared me in this ensemble.” His eyes widened, looking into your smiling face in shock. You laughed up at him, raising your hand up to caress his cheek.

“You’ve only had wine and honeycomb for the whole day, my beloved?” his tone held a small air of caution within.

“Yes, my heart,” you huffed out a small sigh of laughter at witnessing his agitation. Although his anger never left, the small twitch of his lip and hitch in his breath indicated his pleasure of receiving such a high honor of that title.

“Well that will simply not do,” he growled, shifting you in his grip to slip his arm around your waist and usher you through the cave mouth, “I have some sourdough and salted butter on the ship. We’ll break into that before we partake in the reception feast.” You smiled up at your husband, watching as he wordlessly gestured for your two wards to follow behind you.

Where Perona could not stop staring at your dress, the only thing within Zoro’s focus was how you looked up at Mihawk, and how Mihawk looked down at you. The love you held for each other within that expression alone had a pang sound within his heart, and caused soft doubts to shift his perspective.

Whether spoken aloud to you or not, Zoro’s quest in becoming the world's greatest swordsman would one day rip this fresh union apart. He would kill Mihawk to claim that title, and that would surely mean the destruction of your happiness.

As you made your way through the sandy coast and onto Mihawk’s vessel, Zoro continued to seek out different ways to achieve his goals and leave you both to thrive in your happiness.

From the peaceful drift into the Kuraigana port, to the reunification with your guests, Mihawk would not allow you a moment to break away from him. Hollars and cheers at your arrival were quickly silenced as they took in the next aspect of your ensemble.

Now exposed under the light of the moon, at each small movement of your legs beneath the dark skirt, the illumination of bioluminescent rocks shook and roared to life. The fanning material danced at your feet, the weight of the many layers of broad skirts heavy upon each footstep. You truly appreciated Mihawk’s presence at your side to enable you to lean against him for support each time the gown pulled at your waist and hips.

Your bodice was encrusted with similar trails of glassy stones, the overlaying chains from your neck to your waist forming the unity of constellations between both yours and Mihawk’s birth signs. Buggy had put an excessive amount of thought into such a piece, pooling all his knowledge to provide you the best reiteration of starlight he could truly muster.

The outdoor reception space was littered with soft strings of light, a circular wooden floor elevated a step up as a makeshift dance area. Several clusters of seats were available off to the sides of the wooden floor they were standing on, where a small quartet of musicians lay off to the side of the area and softly painting the air with their melodical portraiture.

Mihawk paid his guests little mind, other than a curt nod or a subtle smile to your former students. The many staff continued to present platters of bite-sized ensembles, each small taste of food attuned to both yours and Mihawk’s refined palates. Each time a tray was presented to you, you would break your conversation away from your guests and thank the staff with a warm smile on your face.

As he showcased you to his guests, he watched as the fatigue of the day was slowly catching up with you. The little stumble of your feet under the weight of the dress, the small waver in your smile when you assumed none were watching, the way you clung to his side: he was observant of your every moment and there at your side to catch you should you fall. He was yours to do with what you will, clay awaiting molding into the husband you desired him to be.

Music began to play at a more elevated volume, the guests encouraging you with a soft cheer to get you to open the dance floor together. Mihawk looked subtly off to you, noticing you were struggling beneath the layers of your skirts. No matter how vast your training in becoming a debutant yourself, nothing could have prepared you to carry the amount of weight from rocks of various shapes and sizes.

“Beloved, are you-,” Mihawk began, his short question being stolen from him by the nasally interruption of Captain Buggy D Clown.

“-If I may, my lady Dracule,” Buggy’s broad, painted smile laid brilliantly over his lips, “I have a small surprise for you.”

“Oh?” you asked, brows elevating up your forehead in curiosity.

“Your resume presented to the world government several years back indicated you were an excellent dancer, trained the best of them attending here today, in fact,” he complimented you bowing in a low and crouched stoop.

“I am a competent dancer, yes,” you admitted, eyeing him curiously as he picked at your hem with his gloveless fingers, “And I do enjoy the movement when the moment is called upon.”

“Then it would be such a shame should the moment be taken from you under the weight of this dress, my lady,” Buggy smirked up at you, a silver object playfully juggling between his fingertips. Before you realized what the object was, Buggy precautioned both you and Mihawk, “Bird-Boy, stand back. My lady, close your eyes and hold your breath.”

Immediately doing what you were told, you heard the ignition of a flint-lighter and the warm flash of open flame illuminating your eyelids to a deep crimson color. Gasps and screams from your guests informed you of all you needed to comprehend at this moment.

Captain Buggy D Clown had lit your dress on fire.

A wild rush of heat expanded over the base of your skirt, the tongues of blaze lapping at your skin and immediately cooled with bursts of icey air. As you felt the rising warmth begin to die down, you opened your eyes to witness the small, illuminant rocks burst and break to soothe over the licks of flame. Upon each burst of impact, the color of your dress would change to a crisp white, to a warm blue, down to a dark hue of red, all the way to a dim purple.

At the last burst of rock sparking and spurting over the gown, the arrangement that remained was a softer, pale dress that halted just below your knees. The slit from the hem on your left side tastefully elevated to just below the angle your thigh met at the curvature of your hips. The dress fanned out, dipping in at your waist and cinching in your bust. There were no remaining rocks nor combustive fabric on your body, much to your delight.

After you adjusted to your new weight distribution, feeling lighter and more energetic already, the picture you were left with standing before you was Buggy’s throat being impaled on the smaller blade formerly hung around your husband’s neck. Your eyes widened and your body moved faster than your mind did to halt the scene unfolding before you.

“First you kidnap my wife, now you light her on fire?” Mihawk barked, slashing at his throat while Buggy stuttered over his words, “It seems as if you are trying so desperately to get me to kill you, Clown. I should have you flogged and cast into the seas for your idiocy-.”

“-My heart, I am unharmed,” your voice broke him away from his heavy threats, his hands immediately withdrawing from the clown to cradle your cheeks within his palms. You kept your face calm, reassuring him with your expression alone that you remained unaltered and unharmed.

He floated his eyes between yours, briefly dipping to your lips before withdrawing back up to your eyes. You nodded within his hands in an act to reassure him further, your smile never faltering. After a hushed moment’s pause, Mihawk could no longer contain himself.

Hastily, he dipped his face down, lips colliding with yours and drawing several cheers from your guests. He hungrily consumed your lips, molding and shaping them beneath his with the desperation you were yet to see its equal. He swooped his hands behind your head, collecting the soft waves Buggy had created for you in fistfuls as he desperately joined his lips with yours. You slowly raked your hands over his waist, holding him close and reassuring him with soft circles against his body with your thumbs.

Squeaking against his lips at a small tug of your hair, Mihawk immediately loosened his aggressive grasping of your against you, and softly traced his fingertips over your jaw and set to cradle the scruff of your neck. The world faded from existence the longer Mihawk held you against his lips, folding himself against you and holding you in momentary blissful stasis.

Withdrawing his lips from yours, he gazed into your eyes while briefly panting to catch his breath. Shock eclipsed your features the exact moment you broke away, the cheers from your guests ignited the silence within the ringing of your ears.

“That was a good ‘en, Hawkie!” Shanks swayed in his speech as he slurred in his stupor, “Do it again!”

“Quiet down, Captain,” Beckman grunted, gently clapping Shanks on the shoulder, “That’s our exterminator you’re talking about. She deserves a little more respect than you’re offering the both of them presently.”

“Right, right. I’ll switch to water for a bit, Becks,” Shanks nodded, looking over at his crew and gesturing to the water barrels with his tankard. Mihawk never strayed his eyes from your features, constantly ensuring you were unharmed from the prior blaze.

“May I dance with you, my beloved?” Mihawk quietly offered, removing his hand from your neck and apprehensively outstretching his hands to you. You smiled at his soft gesture, immediately placing your right hand within his left and allowed him to chaperone you onto the dance floor.

At the swell of music, you hastily pressed your right hand against Mihawk’s left shoulder while he elevated your right hand to extend to the side. His left hand found the middle of your waist and pulled you against himself.

You carefully extended your left knee over Mihawk’s leg, the slit withdrawing itself tastefully to reveal your thigh to your guests. At that gesture, Mihawk immediately readjusted his stance: shifting to claim the base of your thigh within his hands as he awaited the appropriate rhythm to dictate his momentum.

“The Clown read your resume,” Mihawk smirked down at you, beginning to shift and maneuver you effortlessly within his arms, “But alas, I have not.” He nudged you with his left hand, following his lead by twirling your body within his arms and releasing his hold over you.

Both legs now firmly on the ground, you shifted your hips and began to rhythmically follow the melody rising with your feet. Holding your arms perpendicular to the ground, Mihawk collected your left hand and pressed a small kiss atop your wrist before raking his digits over your forearm.

“You never read my resume before you hired me?” You called over your shoulder, as he raised your left hand to cradle his neck behind you.

“Never,” Mihawk smiled, placing his right hand over your right and his left over your stomach. He began ushering you both with a rapid sway of his steps, a maneuver you flawlessly followed with each stride. He twirled you away, holding contact with your right arm before reclaiming it in his left hand.

“Then,” your puzzled expression remained atop your features as you once again faced Mihawk, “Why was I hired here? What drew you to me?” Your beau’s smile elevated, his eyes cracking at the corners as his nose scrunched upwards.

“Truthfully, my beloved,” he confessed, leaning forwards to indicate for you to fall backwards in your steps, “I am not certain what drew me to you. A feeling, I suppose.”

“A feeling?” you elevated your eyebrow and smirked up at him, “Something as simple as a feeling?”

Mihawk chuckled, twirling you away from him and catching your forearms within his grip, ushering your back to meet his chest. You huffed out a small exasperated breath, shaking your head and swaying with him to the rhythm.

“A feeling,” you repeated in a whisper, attempting to not allow your disdain from presenting too prominently against your features. Mihawk released your right arm, leaning forward and collecting your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Allow me the luxury of rephrasing, my beloved,” Mihawk whispered, drawing your forehead to press against his while he moved his body from behind yours to face you once more.

Drawing up his left hand, he collected your right and his right hand found your back once more. His smile continued to highlight his face, a smile you had come to adore painted on his face beneath his mustache.

“From the moment I met you all those years ago, I adored you as a skilled governess,” he confessed, stepping backwards while you followed with your forward step, “The way you managed a variety of individuals: debutants, gentlemen and all those in between. Even the witless marines-.”

“-Mihawk,” your warning tone was broken with a small laugh, your smirking reprimand forming a smile over your lips, “Be kind.”

“Apologies, my beloved,” he snickered out a small chuckle, ushering for you to step outwards before hooking you back into his arms, “I never assumed you would accept a job at such short notice in the first place.”

“I had a lull in my waiting list,” you shrugged, turning to face him with a broader smile on your face, “And the stuttering scribbles were intriguing.” Mihawk laughed at your reference to his original summons for you to begin your tutelage of the two wards under his care.

As the melody swelled, he sighed out a breath, once again placing your forehead against his own and furrowing his brows. In a low whisper, he relayed his final confession to you. There was no room for humor, nor was there a place for the utterance of a lie within his breath.

“Before there was a possibility of joining with you in matrimony, I simply thought: ‘that was that. Time to live my life as an unmarried swordsman until the next generation rises up to claim that title from me’,” he smiled, halting his movement as the music ended its swell, “I never thought I would be training that aforementioned generation to take my life, nor did I imagine this twist of circumstances leading you to be within my arms now.”

You smiled a melancholy smile, only half elevated on your face at his confession. Trailing your hand over his shoulder, you extended it up to collect his whiskered cheek within your palm, soothing over his bottom lip with your thumb.

“And is this the life you wanted for yourself, Mihawk?” you whispered up at your beloved, searching his eyes for more truth within, “To live in momentary matrimonial peace before Zoro claims your title alongside your life?”

“This is the life that I have forged for myself,” he whispered against your thumb, pressing a kiss against the padded tip, “And I will hold onto it with every breath I still use to sustain my lungs. I love you, my wife. I am yours, and you are mine, for as long as we both shall live,” he withdrew your hand from his lips and circled it over his neck, “And for whatever comes next.”

“For whatever comes next,” you mirrored back with closed eyes and lips parted, “Sounds like an awfully exciting adventure, my heart.” Reopening your eyes, you witnessed the smile once again return to Mihawk’s lips.

At the music’s end, he swooped down to claim another kiss from you. Applause rang through the air, prompting you to part from the oscillation as hastily as you had it begin. The Red-Hair pirate crew and the Buggy-Pirates had begun offering each other their outstretched hands to lead them onto the dance floor.

You felt a small tap on your shoulder at the exact moment a soft, pale hand with pink-polished fingernails brushed with Mihawk’s own shoulder. You shook your head, confused as you were ushered into the awaiting arms and broad shoulders of Roronoa Zoro.

His smile was shallow, his mind plagued behind it with the smog of heavy thoughts. Extending out his hand, you took it and curtseyed as he bowed with you. Ushering you to circle the floor with a practiced waltz, Zoro continued to twirl you in silence.

“You have gotten much better, Zoro,” you complimented him, met with only a single hum in acknowledgement. You furrowed your brows, glancing between his bourbon-hued orbs while he refused to draw his gaze up to meet yours.

“Did you enjoy the drinks? I have yet to sample the wine presented at the reception-,” you were cut off as Zoro’s thoughts spoke atop your own.

“-I am going to claim his life from him, do you understand?” he gruffly commented, glaring over at Perona and Mihawk as he spun her within his arms with a broad grin and her unwithheld smile mirroring in return, “I intend to kill lord Dracule Mihawk.” You almost stumbled in your dance, recovering quickly as he continued to twirl you.

After taking a moment to collect your rapidly lashing thoughts, you inhaled a large gulp of breath and extended your exhale slowly through your lips.

“If that is what your destiny is leading you to fulfill,” you reached up your hand and collected his cheek, turning him to meet your eyes, “It is not for me to understand, nor is it my desire to halt you from achieving your goal.” He gasped at your words, stumbling over his feet and barely recovering.

“You won’t ask me not to?” Zoro’s breath hitched on his exhale, searching your eyes for any cause for further stumble, “You won’t plead for me to find a new goal? To settle for being second best and remain that way until we’re all cracked and graying?”

Giggling at his comment, you extended your arm out and circled it over his head: twirling the conflicted man within your arms.

“I married the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’, Dear,” you noted, your smile never wavering as you rejoined him within your arms, “It is an occupational hazard.”

Zoro’s surprise lingered on his features, his eyes misting over with the swell of emotions he did not prepare himself to express this night.

“And between us-,” you leant up to his ear, using this opportunity to draw him into a warm and encumbering embrace, “-I would rather it be you. You are someone we both trust,” you withdrew him from your arms and smiled whimsically up at him, “Someone who will grant him the luxury of a swift and merciful departure from this life, should you both be ready to take that step.”

Where you assumed he would grunt out a gruff groan, you were shocked when he leant further into your arms and circled his forearms around your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, his shoulders beginning to sink against the weight of his confliction.

“You trust me?” he choked within his soft whisper, “You trust me to give him an honorable death?” His shoulders shuddered within your arms, you immediately drew your hands up to caress his moss-coloured locks.

“Of course I trust you, Zoro. Just, if you were to grant me one simple favor,” he withdrew from your embrace, continuing to hold your waist as he stared down and awaited further instruction, “Please don’t kill him tonight?” Zoro’s laughter cut through the air, drawing many eyes over to your location as you joined him in his unbridled laughter.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady,” he chuckled, briefly joining his forehead against your own and scrunching his nose with his smile.

“Good boy,” you complimented him with a single tap on his shoulder, “And your dancing really has improved.” You nodded to his feet, noticing how effortlessly he was shepherding you throughout the movements.

“I learnt from the best, my lady,” he winked down at you, his golden drooped earrings glinting within the refraction of the lights.

As the melody crescendoed from one song into the next, you twirled from within Zoro’s arms and immediately met your right hand against a cool piece of metal, curving beneath your fingertips.

“If I may, my lady,” the cool rumble of Sir Crocodile reverberated within your chest and shot a tingle up your spine. Although no malice was withheld in his tone, the danger was always present with a man such as he.

“Sir Crocodile,” you nodded, focussing your body on allowing him to lead you throughout the floor, “I would like to take the opportunity to thank you for your beautiful dress you crafted for me.”

“I do plan on collecting that debt from the both of you, my lady,” he smirked down at you with a broad grin. His eyes held a bored malice within his purple orbs, hunching down to claim your body within his arms. The impressive height he towered over you had you feeling smaller within his grasp, an advantage you planned on gaining back from him with your wit.

“And what would you ask of me, Sir?” you smiled up at him, twirling within his arms and circling your body around his back. You drew your fingers over his flesh, watching the visible shudder arising beneath the movement, “I am a simple governess-.”

“-You are Lady Dracule, now,” he retorted, gazing down at you through the corner of his eyes, “A lady who has sway and leverage over a lord. A lady who holds the heart of such a man as he, the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’. A lady who-.” You hastily pressed your fingers atop the golden hook, your eyes baring dangerously into his own.

“-Who was and forever will be-,” your low tone had Crocodile taken aback at your statement, “-A simple governess.”

“And what would a simple governess be able to offer me?” his amused grin parted his lips and elevated his brows. The silvery mark over his cheeks and nose had the purple hues holding more danger within their orbs, “Music and dance lessons, I have hardly a use for.”

“A governess who has done all a governess could do here,” you smiled up at him, leading him into a twirl, your spin prompting almost a laugh to fall from his lips, “Tamed and trained two unruly youths, along with having one of the world’s most powerful men fall to their knees and beg to claim me as their own.”

The smirk of Sir Crocodile rose on his lips, his words beginning to form behind his teeth only to be halted by a final word of warning from you.

“Whenever you desire such a woman to perform such an impossible and improbable task as this,” you silenced him with your words, “You know where I will be.”

At that, you bowed a low curtsey to him and attempted to flee from his arms, only for the hook to catch the crook of your elbow and tug you back into his arms for his final words.

“An expert tamer of unruly individuals,” he whispered in your ear, the ghost of his last cigar lingering on his lips as his breath met with the shell of your ear, “I shall keep you in mind for when such a purpose arises.” Unclasping your arm from within his hook, Sir Crocodile took his leave of you with a final bow.

You shook off his words, the next partner finding themselves within your arms whipped their cerulean hair against your cheek as they spun you on your toes three times in a circle.

“I truly am sorry about the kidnapping, my lady,” Buggy uttered with a warm smile, “And I am only partly apologetic for the glorious blaze.” Although you had met both Buggy and Sir Crocodile at the same time, you felt much more comfortable being wielded within his arms than the experience prior.

Buggy released you, clapped his hands three times and stomped his feet rhythmically to the music. You laughed, mirroring his posture and his rhythm back at him. His eyes widened, heart swelling at you matching his exaggerated movements and prompting him to produce some far more elaborate motions.

He was a joy to dance with, his own starlight shining within his teal eyes and reflecting back onto his various assortment of formal attire. Although no longer wearing a frill-neck collar, his cravat had just as many ruffles fluffing at his jaw.

“I am not sorry in the slightest for either,” you admitted, your own nod and spin on your toes keeping Buggy mirroring your movements first before stepping in again to claim you in his arms.

“Not even the kidnapping?” he winced out a small apprehensive grin.

“No, it was an enjoyable experience,” you confessed, laughing in his arms as he assumed the waltz position and stepped in time to the swell of music, “I especially enjoyed the wine.”

“Then you have found the perfect match in Mihawk,” he nodded, scrunching up his nose at the thought, “Personally, I don’t know how you both drink that vinegary piss. I prefer the sweets to compliment and mask my saltiness. Rum is best.”

“I thank you for your compliments, captain,” you smiled at him.

“About the vinegary piss?” his brows furrowed in confusion, his smile scrunching into a soft pout. You laughed at his comment, shaking your head at him.

“About the perfect match,” you confessed, feeling the end of the music calling to you. Buggy chuckled, offering you a small bow before dismissively waving his hand at you and uncharacteristically turning on his heel.

You were puzzled at that final gesture, not understanding where such an expression was necessary before you felt a hand clasp around your waist.

“‘S not you, love,” the voice of a red-haired captain uttered beside you, “He still is hung up on our old childhood rivalry.”

“Ah,” you gasped in understanding with a curt nod, turning in his arm to face him. Dancing with Shanks was an occurrence you were privy to experiencing from time to time aboard the Red-Force with his crew. His attitude was always playful and light with you, always a gentleman.

“You truly look spectacular tonight, Vile Exterminator,” he complimented you, shifting his dancing position to usher you with his right hand in light of his missing left hand. Joining now both of your right hands, you both stepped in and out before twirling under his arm.

“Thank you, Red-Haired Rat,” you smirked at him, feeling a pair of eyes watching you dance within Shanks’ arms.

“I think the big man wants a word,” Shanks confirmed your suspicions, nodding over to his steel-haired first mate, extinguishing his cigarette with his boot heel against the gravel road beside the dancefloor. Shanks twirled you twice more before you were flung from his arm and into the awaiting and ill-practiced hands of Benn Beckman.

“Sorry, my lady,” he uttered, his legs awkwardly swaying him from side to side with you within his arms, “I’m no good at this formal dancin’. I don’t do this.”

“I know, Benn,” you smiled at him with a soft, close-lipped grin, “But I do appreciate the effort.” He hummed with a curt cough in response, truly feeling out of place with this genre of dance.

“About what’s to come,” he gruffly coughed, attempting to spin you on the dancefloor as easily as he could ask his body to perform such a skill, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You sighed out a small huff of breath, shaking your head at him as he continued to explain to you.

“There’s a lot of knots,” he confessed with a winced, grimacing smile, “I mean, a lot of knots.”

“I trust you,” you shrugged, feeling his tension rising in his shoulders and stance. You halted the elaborate dance, ushering him off to the side of the dancefloor and opting to sway with him to the beat while he aired his concerns.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with the experience,” he confessed, the gray tint of his eyes holding you firmly within his vision, “Some of the knots are in-... -a few key places.”

Your rapid and unwavering blink told Beckman all he needed to know regarding his apprehension.

“It was my own fault for asking this in the first place, Benn,” you confessed again with a shrug, “And, I reiterate: I trust you. We’ve known each other for years, and of all those aboard the Red-Force,” you feigned a small hum of deep thought, before smiling up at the burly first-mate, “I do trust you the most.”

“I hope your trust isn’t misguided, my lady,” he grunted, your left hand being claimed by a presence at your side. The small, almost invisible smile, from Beckman informed you that the Rat was once again at your side.

“And, she’s mine again,” Shank’s playful tone cut in, peeling you away from Beckman and onto the dancefloor once more. He ushered you into a skilled twirl, your smile once again returning to your face as the swell of music reached the peak and began its crescendo towards the final.

As Shanks made to draw you into another embrace at his chest, you felt the tug of your waist pull you back within familiar and comfortable arms. A warm smile and a flush rose to your cheeks, humming as you lent into his chest.

“Missed me, beloved?” the man behind you held an air of confidence, turning you within his arms as you looked up at him through half-hooded eyes.

“Always, my heart,” you retorted, elevating your arms to seek out the nape of his neck. He hummed at your confession, mirroring your adoration down at you, “Shall we have a rest? Enjoy some mead and begin the fire?”

“A fire?” the elated voice of the cerulean-haired clown-captain called out in joy, “We’re having a fire like the good old days?” Shanks hesitantly walked beside Buggy, offering him a small smile and confirming with him.

“Just like the old days,” Shanks nodded, looking between Buggy and Mihawk, “Back when Roger made us collect the wood, but wouldn’t let us near the flint and steel.”

“And look who’s got the spark now, boys!” Buggy’s crackled cackle and his powerful stance prompted laughs to rise among the guests. Beckman shook his head, wordlessly directing the Red-Hair crew to begin building a fire for you and your husband to enjoy.

You nuzzled into the warm and exposed chest of your husband, feeling the weight shift from you against him as he slightly elevated you off your feet.

“I think sitting down is a good idea,” you confessed, looking down at your worn shoes and rapidly swelling feet from the elaborate dancing and carrying the weighty dress.

“Then that is what we will do, my beloved,” Mihawk smiled softly down at you, pressing his forehead against your own as he enjoyed the feeling of holding you in his arms once again.

Sitting within the arms of your husband, the crackle of the fire illuminated the guests that remained behind at the castle, some setting up bedrolls and pitching tents within the surroundings.

Mihawk hooked his arm around your shoulder, drawing you against himself and pressing soft kisses against your temple while whispering sweet phrases and poetry within your ear. His beard tickled at each short utterance, prompting a giggle to fall from not only the words, but the feeling of his beard against your skin.

Shanks was the first to notice the small lull in atmosphere, a fiendish grin finding purchase against his lips as he refilled his tankard from the barrel of mead.

“Alright, you lot. According to the customs of Kuraigana,” Shank’s stumbling and partially inebriated voice slurred, “We all know what comes next for you two. We’ve ‘gotta follow all of the traditions of the land. You know, so the ghostly hag is happy.”

“What are you implying, Red-Hair,” Mihawk’s prior warm tone cracked under its now icey exterior, “Surely you don’t mean-.”

“-Why the ‘Bedding Ceremony’ of course!” Shanks attempted to rise to his feet, stumbling backwards and momentarily sitting upon the lap of his first mate, who apprehensively caught him. “Thanks big man,” he mumbled, rising successfully to his feet and thrusting out his tankard, “You go up there with your Sunshine bride, and we wait out here and make as much noise as we can while you perform your husbandly duties.”

A warm flush rose to your cheeks, littering your face with the warmth of blood swelling to the tips of your ears. You could feel the rapid pulse beating in your eardrums, your heart stampeding your racing mind of all thoughts of what was yet to come.

“Then you come and rejoin us as one flesh,” Shanks concluded, saluting Mihawk with his broad tankard, “And we drink to the happy couple, and carry off our celebrations into the wee hours of the morn.”

“Is this truly a custom of this land, my heart?” you uttered quietly to the broody bearded man at your side, his attention snapping over towards you. His eyes softened as his heart swelled, lips parting while drawing up his right hand to caress your cheek.

“Unfortunately it is, my beloved,” he whispered with a half-smile, “And a custom we need not adhere to should you find discomfort in such a feat.”

You allowed a small giggle to fall from your lips, leaning into Mihawk’s gentle caress and pressing a soft kiss on the heel of his palm.

“It could be worse,” you allowed the giggle to rise in volume as your smile broadened, “In Germa-Kingdom, the guests watch the act while they throw sugar-coated almonds at the newlyweds in the hopes it will aid in producing male offspring.” You placed your hand over Mihawk’s, his still holding your cheek as his smile mirrored your own.

“I suppose this custom is not so bad, then,” Mihawk chuckled, rising to his feet and offering you out his hand, “Shall we, my beloved?”

“I suppose it is time,” you smiled in return, placing your hand within his and allowing him to hoist you up from your position on the log. Mihawk’s brows creased, mild agitation forming at the center of his forehead. Before you could ask him what was bothering him, he turned his head to Beckman: who was already rising to stand.

The blush returned as your eyes widened, almost forgetting what you had requested of the cursed moss-agate ring on your unity finger.

“Beckman,” Mihawk’s agitation growing in depth as the hoarse growl rumbled in his throat, “In light of the fact this is part of the covenant pact forged with the ring-.”

“-I would not lay a single finger unnecessarily on your wife, lord Mihawk,” Beckman’s whiskey voice hummed as he inhaled his cigarette to the filter end, “Would you prefer it be Shanks in his current stupor using his right hand and teeth?”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk barked at the suggestion.

“Then I will make it quick and precise,” Beckman reassured him with a curt nod, “Follow up in twenty minutes, and your bride will be awaiting you to unwrap her within your marriage bed.”

Beckman outstretched the crook of his elbow, a satchel containing what you presumed to be your sun-dress shrugged over his shoulder. You apprehensively withdrew your hand from Mihawk’s, giving him one more longing look before you allowed yourself to be ushered into the halls of Castle Kuraigana.

You both walked in silence, unsure of what words needed to be spoken between you before you engaged in this next aspect of your night together. The silence was peaceful, the soft tranquility you had not experienced since beginning this venture of matrimony. You were almost thankful this moment was granted to you to share with one of your most respected acquaintances in your time as a governess.

He chaperoned you into the halls, finding the door that led into the suite allocated to both you and Mihawk as the lord and lady of Kuraigana. In the wake of the soft tranquility, anxiety at the anticipation of what’s to come awoke within your chest. Your heart elevated its rhythmic thundering, your mind beginning to swirl and race as the anticipation only grew.

“Take a moment, my lady,” Beckman’s soothing voice hummed at you, “All the time you need, alright? It’s a lot of changes to adjust to, and I would never dream of rushing you.”

“Thank you, Benn,” you exhaled, rolling your neck and attempting to stifle the rise in your anxious thoughts. After a few small breaths, you reopened your eyes and smiled to yourself as you felt finally ‘ready’ to begin this new chapter of your life.

The door shut behind the first-mate of the Red-Hair pirates, you made your way behind the dressing screen. You silently thanked Buggy for ensuring this garment was easier for you to remove than the one prior, but anticipation rose in your chest as Beckman revealed a satchel to you.

“This is going to be extremely difficult to do whilst blindfolded, my lady,” he gruffly chuckled, retrieving several golden strands of linked chains from within the canvas bag, “Are you certain this is adhering to the covenant you made with the aetherial pest?”

“To quote my own words, Benn,” you shook your head and straightened your shoulders, “‘Sunlight: a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its purpose. A dress so scantily designed that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance’.” Your voice mocked your own recollection, prompting Beckman to chuckle at your tone.

“Well then, there may be a small hiccup in our plan,” he shrugged, taking out a strip of lengthy material and beginning to fold it in half. Upon measuring the half-width, Beckman used his canine teeth to puncture the fabric and tear it into two, thick strips.

“What do you mean, Benn?” your eyes followed his movements with both intrigue and curiosity.

“For his eyes alone,” he quoted back at you, chuckling as he handed you one of the strips, “Looks like I won’t be the only one experiencing sensory deprivation in this little encounter, my lady.” Taking the fabric from his outstretched hands, your brows knit together before the realization hit you.

“You’ll have to wear a blindfold too.”

210 notes · View notes

billskeis · 2 months

Note

HEASIAIZIA HAI

CAN YOU MAKE LIKE BILL BEING A POLICE OFFICER AND THE READER DOING SOME STUFF THAT COULD GET HER IN JAIL BUT LIKE ok LISTEN she does the "everybody knows that im a good girl officer" thing (song by Lana del rey playing dangerous) and he lets her go but like the next day they meet again and go on a date and HOOKUP but he punishes her for doing that stuff (perhaps if it could be spraying on like stores if you get me) like punishes her not letting her release TYING HER WITH THE HANDCUFFS UGHHHHahhshshsHAJDSJS

ᡣ𐭩 police officer bill

police lights flash behind as you attempt to catch your breath in an alleyway. on the run, you’re currently hiding from the police as they’ve caught onto you and a couple of fiends vandalizing public buildings with vulgar graffitis.

as you hide your body behind a garbage chute, you kneel down to make yourself less known to the open world.

shouts boom across the street seeming as though a few of the cops have already caught onto your other friends.

bless the heavens that you weren’t caught.. yet.

“haah.. phew..! i think, i think i made it out alive!” speaking to yourself as somebody else was there.

“i don’t exactly think so, schatz.”

“oh sh—”

in your feeble escape, you try to make a run for it until a pair of arms latch onto your shoulders and push your body up against theirs.

“fuck! ow..”

“you really thought that you could get away..?”

you turn to look at the body that’s pressed up against yours. he was tall, and really pretty, actually you wondered why he didn’t just work as a model instead of being a police officer.

black locs adorned his face, with an eyebrow piercing accompanying his right, are they allowed to wear those on duty?

whatever, it makes him look hot.

“well.. i’ve been such a good girl officer.”

“my ass, you’ve been vandalizing the streets and these buildings for weeks and you know it.”

“it adds a little.. character! what can i say, this city could use a little colour to it.”

“as much as i love art, princess, what you’re doing is ILLEGAL.”

“no, what’s illegal is how hard you have this gun pressed into my backside, it hurts.”

“..?”

“um hello?? officer—”

you turn to find his name tag attached to the right side of his uniform. bill. officer bill.

“officer bill, can you at least move your gun to—i don’t know—the side more??”

“oh my sweet little thing.. that isn’t a gun.”

…

“oh.”

your eyes meet his, dark brown irises highlighted in the sunny light, his lips curled into a downward smile although his voice stern. it seems as though this police officer enjoys having you up against him.

you feel a rush of heat go to your cheeks, so you turn your body around. embarrassed, why? fuck if you’d know..

well maybe it’s the fact that the officer that currently has you captive in the back of an alleyway is not only super fucking gorgeous but he’s PACKING.

“i.. i—”

“i’m going to let you go.”

he releases his grip on you and you turn your full body to meet him once more, truly relishing in how tall and slim fit his figure is built. you have to look up at him to make eye contact.

“although under one condition,”

“and that is?”

“you go on a date with me,”

“fuck no. i’d rather be caught dead than go on a date with a police officer.”

truth be told, you did wanna go on this date, but your stubborn nature wouldn’t allow you to say yes so easily. you really wanted to test the waters and see how persistent bill was in getting that date.

“fine then, i am obligated to then turn you in.”

“waitwaitwait nevermind i’ll go on that date with you.”

fuck yourself for being this easy..

this little shit, how dare he pull the authority card on you after you had done something illegal and he do his job?? his face once emotionless now held a smirk on his lips before he slipped you a small paper.

“good girl. now stay here for a little longer, i’ll let the others know i couldn’t find you.“

“..kay, but i’m expecting a lot from you just so y’know..”

you wave him off goodbye as you see his figure disappear from away the alleyway. hearing voices chatter, you can only assume he came up with an excuse to let you off the hook in exchange for a date with you.

“oh trust me princess, i will exceed those expectations.”

“i—um..”

“use your words f’me princess,”

“how is this a date!?”

you’re currently on his bed, the tight little number that you wore is currently riding up your thighs as you clench them together.

prior to this, bill took you out to a restaurant that was AMAZING, and insisted that you go back to his house to drink a bit more.

to your naivety, bill had other intentions underlying his silver tongue words.

with your cunt hovering right above the tip of his dick, you cannot find the words to speak. how is this even possible?? how dumb could you be to sleep with a cop?? stupid stupid y/n.

with each hand on the side of your waist, the soft pads of bill’s fingertips graze over your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“you’re leaking onto me schatzi, sure you don’t want this?”

“shut up..”

with a harsh slam, bill pulls your hips flush to his, bottoming out. you let out a surprised squeak as your walls molds to his shape.

now you’ve had sex before but not with someone this big, the stretch is something you gotta get used to.

if you were to fuck him again.

“you better watch your mouth, maus.”

“f-fuck.. a little warning would be nice, no?”

“hm, nah..”

bill uses his hands to grasp each side of your ass before lifting you up to slide you up and down his length, the stretch burning a bit but it quickly subsides as he makes you ride him.

electricity sparks from within your body and you feel your stomach starting to clench. every time he brings your butt down to touch his thigh your clit rubs his abdomen momentarily.

with your orgasm coming close, you don’t even care about the noises that fall out of your mouth. you sound like a total slut. not that bill even cares.

“i-i’m close..”

he stops.

“bill..!”

“i don’t think you deserve to come yet.”

you grind your hips in circles in an attempts to release but he brings a hand to spank your ass.

“o-ow..”

“gimme a reason to let you release, hm? you been acting up for weeks, plus the multiple warnings the force has given you just hasn’t stopped you from committing crimes has it..?”

you bite your lip in a remains of silence. no way in hell were you going to beg bill to let you come.

he wraps his arms around your waist to bring your torso closer to his, now bringing his mouth to your bare chest to lick a stripe up from in between your breasts.

a moan in approval slips out of bill’s mouth as he then brings his tongue to lick around your right nipple swirling his tongue around it.

he bites on the bud eliciting a wince out of you. your hips still on his, an achy feeling still felt in your cunt as you yearn for more.

“so? what’s it gonna be maus?”

“please..”

“please what?”

“let me come.. bill,”

“okay, but i have another condition for you.”

you cock your head to the side in confusion, wondering what he’s up to now. that is until he releases an arm off you to reach for something on the bedside table.

oh fuck no.

“you kinky shit, handcuffs?”

“it’s apart of my get-up what can i say?”

“n-no.. i’m not wearing those.”

“well then i guess you can’t cum! i can sit and wait here all night baby.”

tears begin to well from your eyes, all you want is the sweet bliss of release and the man who wanted a date with you in the first place clearly isn’t give it to you unless you put your pride aside.

well, fuck it.

you present your wrists pressed together in front of bill, looking around the room in shame. a smirk falling down on his face as he clicks the metal gadget around your limbs now connected with one another.

“good girl.”

again with no warning, bill pistons his hips up into you at a harsh and fast pace. without falter, he keeps his rhythm to which you cannot catch up to.

choking on your words, all you can do is hold onto him for stability, the pressure brought to your g spot by his tip feels amazing.

“b-bill..”

“gonna be good f’me?”

“yes..!”

your legs begin to shake and quiver as your orgasm washes down on you but bill is nowhere near done with you, never stopping his hips.

“shit, looking at how you’re sucking me in..”

“gonna cause more trouble for me and my friends?”

you’re panting so hard and your brain and legs have become so mushy only small whimpers and whines fall out of your mouth. bill clearly isn’t satisfied with your behaviour, biting into your shoulders.

��answer me.”

“ung! n-no! ‘m sorry. hic ‘m so sorry billy i won’t c-cause you anymore trouble just—hic—please slow down..!”

your cunt all sensitive and sloppy, only squelching noises can be heard in bill’s bedroom as be fucks his dick into you. body so sensitive and overstimulated you let him do you as he pleases.

he leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck and chest calling you dirty names but you can’t help but clench around him even more, milking his cock as if its asking for his seed.

your words fall onto deaf ears, clearly, as all bill does is go even faster at an inhumane pace you didn’t even know was possible.

“a-ah.. i can’t.. ‘m done, bill.. no more..”

“almost done baby, okay? just be a good girl for me and let me do the work..”

“a-ah nooo..”

it hurts. the pressure hurts. but its hurts so good.. with a final thrust, bill finally comes, releasing into your walls with his dick all nice and pressed up into your cervix.

“s-shit, coming..”

his moans are low and nasally. mouth agape and hands still on your hips with a grip so tight his nails dig into your skin leaving a trail of red marks.

your tummy feels warm and full, and bill’s thrusts in riding out his orgasm becomes all sloppy and sticky with how wet your cunt was.

you’re a hot mess, hair falling everywhere and body all sweaty. mouth lolled out as your head rest atop bill’s shoulder drool falling out.

he taps your shoulder and you raise your head to look at him, unable to open your eyes with how bill fucked the energy out of you.

“you okay maus?”

“mhm..” you nod at him as he places a sweet and gentle kiss onto your lips. all you can do is blush and smile, taking in how pretty bill is for a cop.

he shifts while still inside you, grabbing a key to unlock the handcuffs that left little marks of bruising on your wrist.

you rub your hands to smooth over the irritation. bill taking note of this swiftly grabs them and places a kiss on top of the marks. your cheeks burn red as he burn a gaze into your eyes, not looking away.

“did so damn good schatz, hope i fucked all that crime committing business outta ya.”

a/n : i hate this. i’m so sorry anon i feel like i disappointed you 😔😔😔

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp

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under-the-dirt · 4 months

Note

I came back for some Christmas stuff. How would the boys react if reader got this for them? (It's $700 at Kohls)

ok this one’s gonna b a bit dif but we’re doing 141 + könig (i don’t understand y ppl b bootyfaces and replace gazzypoo w könig!) lmaooo plus that dino is so fucking cute im in love omghgjgjejssj

pairing: tf141 + könig x gn!reader

tags: fluff!!!! <333 i intended this to be read as if ur dating them and living w them UNDER 13 DNI YOU WILL BE BOILED!!

When you saw the giant dinosaur stuffy at the store, (with a little santa hat!!!), you knew it’d be the perfect gift for your favorite boy!! So, naturally, you bought it and surprised him with it Christmas morning!!

-Price-

Oh how adorable you were. Surprising him with a massive dinosaur stuffed animal, with a little santa hat! You looked so excited, big, wide grin on your face as you sat beside him, stuffed animal beside you.

“And how much was this, sweetheart?” He asks, looking over at you with a smirk.

“You don’t ask how much a gift cost!!”

“Alright then. What should we name him?”

“Hm… John!!” You giggle.

“After me?”

“Of course!!” You squeal, laughing softly. “Do you like it?”

“I love anything from you, darling,” He responds, opening his arm for a hug, which you quickly oblige. Albeit not without tugging the dinosaur down between you both.

-Simon “Ghost” Riley-

”You like it, Sisi?” You giggle, looking up at him with excited, happy eyes.

He glances at you with a smirk and love in his eyes at your adorable, albeit shit-eating grin.

“A dinosaur?” He teases with a chuckle.

“Yes!!” You giggle, pushing it towards him.

“Don’t you think you have enough stuffed animals?”

“Noo!! It’s for you!” You whine, bouncing on the bed.

“You’re too cute, love,” He chuckles, pulling you in and kissing your forehead. You were truly adorable, how did he end up with such a sweet darling?

-John “Soap” Mactavish-

He had no doubt that waking up with you by his side was the best part of his day, but today you were already awake, sitting on your knees beside him with a giant grin on your face. Looking up, he saw a very large dinosaur stuffed animal with a santa hat.

“Oh, what’s this hen?” He coos, sitting up onto his elbows.

“It’s a dinosaur! For you!!”

“Oh, fer me?” He chuckles.

“Yup!” You giggle. God you were adorable. He couldn’t resist just pulling you in for a kiss. You giggled as you braced your hands on his bare chest to kiss him gently, before pulling up and pushing the dinosaur onto him and making smooching noises.

“Hmm.. I much prefer you,” Johnny chuckles, pulling you back to his chest.

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick-

He loved seeing you, his sweet girl, each morning. Today was a real treat, as you were already awake, a massive grin on your face as you sat next to a huge dinosaur plush with a santa hat.

“How cute,” He chuckles, sitting up with a smile. “For me?”

“Yup!!”

“Aww.. An’ what are we namin’ ‘im?” He asks with a warm smile, making you pause and think.

“Kyle!!” You giggle, crawling over to him and laying down in the crook of his arm. “You like it?”

“I love it, baby,” He smiles, gently kissing the top of your head. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

-König-

You were always so adorable, especially now so as you sat beside him with a large dinosaur plush, practically the size of you, and a massive grin on your sweet face.

“Ah, what is this, schatz?”

“A dino!! It’s a christmas gift for you!!”

“For me?”

“Yes!!”

“All cute like you, yes?” He teases, causing you to giggle and blush.

“Do you like it?”

“Very much, mein hase.” He smiles, pulling you to his larger body and kissing your head gently.

“Can I name him king, like you?” You ask sweetly, looking up at him.

“Of course,” He replies with a chuckle, causing you to giggle and smile warmly.

AHHHH this was sm fun!!! imagining them comforting me helps me feel better when everything hurts (istg i have the body of an old man on the inside) BUT anyway i hope you like it!! also, if anyone has any tips on how to write gaz, alejandro, rudy, kreuger, keegan, etc. please tell meeeeeee i wanted to add them (except for gaz i put him in there bc he’s in the task force) BUTTTT i have no idea how to write them

and another thing i love when ppl who speak other languages and have an accent r talking and they say “blah blah blah, yes?” HGAHAHSHSHHDHSH KISS ME anywya uwu ily ghostly

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suicide-with-dazai · 6 months

Text

"Diluc fluff scenarios"

tw: none !

tags: diluc x reader , esablished relashionship , 100% fluff <3

contrary to popular belief , dilucs heart isnt all that cold . sure , he lives for battle and revenge and the succession of his own industry, however , only you are aware that diluc has a soft side , a warm side . a side that climbs into bed next to your sleeping frame; whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he strokes your hair .

he may seem like a dangerous man to some - but you know hes far from it !

"luc...im cold..." you shiver as you toss and turn in bed , the window is shut but the freezing air attacks mondstadt like a vicious hound , biting at your fingertips and turning your lips blue .

"come, sweet girl~" he whispers deeply and softly as he wraps his toned arms around your body , kissing your forehead and making your heart flutter .

"i think you look really cute in that one~" he sits back on the dressing room chair , arms crossed and eyeing your figure as you try on a dress he picked out for you . a satin one , wine red ruffles hugging your waist and long panels of soft fabric flowing all the way down to the floor . you look ... perfect , you can tell by the way your boyfriend adjusts himself on the chair , trying not to stare too long .

you had been walking for about half an hour , and the sun was setting , he told you that he was going to show you something beautiful . the two of you reached a peaceful looking spot , with a large tree and a pond , just on the outskirts of mondstadt .

"soo... whats the beautiful thing you were going to show me ?" you sit down by the water , confused .

diluc kneels infront of you and softly says , "look in the pond."

you oblige , expecting to see a pretty lotus or a koi , but you see nothing... apart from your reflection . the moonlit starry sky behind you illuminating the ripples as you look into your own eyes for a moment .

you almost shed a tear , as youve been feeling a little insecure lately and you throw your arms around your kneeling boyfriend , his arms already out .

"isnt she pretty~?"

you nod , sniffling and resting your head in the crook of his neck . archons , he always knows how to charm you and make you feel like a nervous teenager all over again .

diluc treats your hands like glass , like theyre made of silk and holds them like a precious artifact .

"my treasure~" he whispers while he strokes and kisses the back of your hand .

its after hours in the Angels Share , and youre sat across from diluc , who is only slightly tipsy yet completely lovestruck . he intertwines his fingers with yours and brushes his thumb over your hand .

"i.... think i have a crush on you ..." he jokingly says .

you notice him blush and squeeze your hand tighter while he giggles like a child .

sat alone at home , you decide take a nap . gods , since dilucs been away on a business trip the house just feel so ... empty . you start to settle down , having nobody to cuddle you from behind .

but suddenly , you hear something slip through the letterbox . with a sigh you walk over to retrieve it .

'To my love ,

From Diluc Ragnvindr'

the envelope reads .

you quickly rush back to bed to open it :

'My baby , you have no idea how much i miss you , how lost i am without you , and how cold these nights get without someone to hold .

I hope youre okay , and coping well . Ill be back in a week , i promise , and ill give you the biggest kiss and cuddle youve ever had . Im eager to return to you , however this business trip could be a life changer for us - just know that i really love you , and i miss you darling .

- Luc ♡'

your eyes prick as you fold the letter back up , holding it in your arms as you drift off to sleep.

reblogs welcome <3 check out my pinned post i worked really hard on it :')

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astermath · 11 months

Text

sweet like you🍓pt. 2

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen helps you out with perfecting your pastries to present them to your boss. you spend time getting to know each other in the place he knows best; the kitchen. things take a slight turn when you get back to your apartment.

word count: 3.1K

PART 1

notes: I really enjoy writing carmen tbh, I guess writing him is my way to giving his character some peace outside of his usually extremely stressful life. this got suuuper long im so sorry sdfgshj i got kinda carried away. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

warnings: mentions of suicide/death, addiction, use of alcohol, cursing

Carmen hated nights.

At least during the day, he was forced to do things, be productive, talk to people, keep his mind occupied. But at night, it was just him. Alone with his thoughts. The only thing keeping him company his cynical mind and deranged dreams.

That night was no different.

Carmen woke up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at his chest as he sat up. He nearly gasped for air, and upon noticing how shaky he was, got up to splash his face with cold water. That didn’t help much either, so he went to his balcony (if one could even call it that), and lit a cigarette. The sun was already coming up, and he knew he wasn’t getting much sleep again feeling like this.

He sighed, smoke emitting from his nose as he pulled out his phone. You’d replied already, even given a time. Reading your words made him feel slightly more at ease, slightly more... Real. A reminder of his obligations to the people around him, but also, and he’d never admit this, something to look forward to.

[carmen]: absolutely, see you then

Your next shift went by smoothly, as per usual. The French themed café you worked at had become such a big part of your life, not that you minded, you were in love with it. And as much as she’d deny it, you could tell the owner had taken a liking to you. You heard from the barista that most waitresses would get fired within a month or so, but you’d stuck around for three now.

“She said you have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’... I think you remind her of her younger self.” Your colleague said while pouring out a cup of coffee.

“Right,” you took a tray and readied another order. “You sure you didn’t imagine that? I don’t remember Odette ever saying something nice to me before.”

“Not to your face, no.” She grinned, putting the cup on your tray. “I’m sure you’ll get her to put some of your stuff on the menu, she just has to warm up to it.”

“Yeah, just,” you grabbed the tray, balancing it with ease. “Give me a few decades to work her through that.” You both chuckled as you walked off to continue your work.

Carmen stood across the street, looking through the window of the café. Shit, he was way too early, and that wasn’t even usually like him. He’d left the Beef over to Sydney while he was gone, telling her he had something important to take care of. And although that wasn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t sure she’d agree if she found out he was hanging out at some café.

He slipped into the place rather sneakily, deciding that if he was gonna have to wait, he might as well do it in there. It had been a while since he’d been inside, usually just to get a quick coffee or something, and he’d never paid much attention to the décor before. He was kind of impressed, despite being smack dab in the middle of Chicago, the café had a true Parisian feel too it. Sure, he’d never been to Paris, but he could imagine this was pretty close.

He sat down at a booth near a window and stared outside. He felt a bit uneasy just... waiting. There were so many things he still had to do, so many debts to pay off, things to consider, to change--

“Carmen? Is that you?”

Your voice snapped him out his train of thoughts, it almost felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. He turned and saw you holding a menu, dressed in a cute dress and an apron.

“Yeah, I uh... Got here a bit too early, my bad.” He gave an apologetic, halfhearted smile.

“It’s no worries,” you handed him the menu. “You can just enjoy a coffee or something while you wait! What would you like?” You pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“Oh, uh... Christ...” His eyes squinted as he scanned the laminated menu. “Am I goin’ crazy or is this all in French?”

“Nope,” You chuckled. “It is. When I told you the menu hadn’t changed, I meant really, nothing has changed.”

“Fuck, alright, uhm... Just a regular coffee then.” He handed the menu back. “Please.”

“Comin’ right up!” You chirped, and he watched you make your merry way back into the kitchen. He could’ve sworn you damn near floated by how excited you seemed. He didn’t really understand it. You worked a waitress job where you weren’t allowed to change anything, you had to work early on Saturdays to help your family out and he could have guessed you probably still had time to maintain a healthy social life. It almost annoyed him how well balanced you seemed.

But someone as cute as you couldn’t possibly annoy him.

He received his coffee not long after, thanking you and admiring the porcelain for a moment. The more he noticed about this place, the more... Uneasy he felt. He didn’t realize why, and he kept mulling it over until long after he’d finished his drink.

Ah.

Because the Beef looked like a garbage dump compared to this.

And he owned that garbage dump.

He hated himself a little for comparing the two, they weren’t comparable at all besides both serving food and drinks, but the fact that you were only two blocks away didn’t help. And he was about to be helping you too, his competition.

The crew would kill him if they knew where he was at.

You worked on closing up, cleaning a few last cups and arranging them neatly before walking back to Carmen’s table. “Hope you enjoyed your coffee my good sir, but I must request you to join me in the kitchen, for I have prepared a mighty array of desserts for thou.” You grinned.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He got up, ready to follow. “Don’t I gotta pay for that coffee?”

“S’on the house. Come on, we’ve got pastries to try!”

The kitchen closely resembled the rest of the establishment, although much more homely. It was small, doable, but just a little cramped.

You pulled out two stools for the two of you to sit on, before going to the fridge and taking out a tray. “Alright, so...” You put it down on the counter. “Here we’ve got classic cheesecake with a cinnamon cookie crust,” you pointed at each dessert, “a cream strawberry tart, and last but not least,” your fingers fluttered in a ‘jazz hands’ way, “tiramisu topped with fresh strawberries.”

Carmen scanned the tray before him. The presentation was immaculate, but he found that often with these types of desserts the looks were better than the taste. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

You sat across him, more nervous than you initially expected to be, as he tried each of the desserts. He had some notes about each one, as expected, you were just an amateur cook, but you could tell his eyes lit up a little when he tried the tiramisu.

“Mm,” He hummed, putting his spoon back in for another bite. “Shit, that’s fire chef...”

“Chef?” You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever called you that before.

“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Freudian slip, my bad.”

You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t mind... The tiramisu is a family recipe, actually. My nana used to make it all the time.” A nostalgic smile graced your face.

“Those are usually the best.” He thinks back at the food him and Mikey used to make when they were younger, and somehow, it makes the tiramisu taste even better. “So, anything else you wanna add?”

“Oh!” You were a little caught off guard by his question. “Uhm, well... Now that you mention it, I’d love to add macarons, to play into the French theme of the café. I’ve just never been able to get them right, and trust me, I’ve tried.”

Carmen puts away the empty glass cup. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Huh?” You were sure you misunderstood at first, but the look he gave you was telling you he was at least expecting an answer. “Uh... Sure, yeah! I’d love to! I think we still have all the ingredients here from my last attempt too.”

“Great.” He got up, clasping his hands together. “Let’s get to bakin’, chef.”

The two of you stood next to each other at the counter. His jacket was off, now replaced with a baby pink frilly apron, supposedly the only one you had. You’d been relatively quiet, mostly focusing on taking his advice and following instructions. But as he was sifting almond powder, and you were beating egg whites, he had this strange urge to fill the silence. It was weird, usually he preferred working quietly, but it was almost strange to hear you not talking when you were there.

“So... You’re not from Chicago, are you?” He kept his eyes on the sifter.

You grinned, still whisking away. “What gave it away?”

“You smile a lot,” he took the bowl from you and held it upside down to check the consistency of the egg whites, “and I haven’t seen you light a single cigarette.” He put the bowl back and started weighing off some sugar. “So either you’re not from here, or I want whatever drugs you’re taking.”

You chuckled at his remark, finding his self deprecating humor quite amusing. “No, you’re right. I grew up on my parents’ farm, though it’s not too far from here, I never really came close to the city. Moved here about three months ago, so I haven’t explored much.” You took the sugar from him and gradually started adding it to the egg whites. “What about you? Born and raised?”

“What gave it away?” He joked back. “Born, raised, moved away for culinary school, worked in New York, now I’m back.” He sighed. Being back in Chicago was... Strange. Because after not having seen his brother for literal years, he was now constantly confronted with everything that reminded him of Mikey. Including his business.

“Interesting.” You started working together the mixture, sneaking glances at his face every now and then to gage his reaction. “So... What brought you back?”

A longer silence followed your question, and you could tell his hands even stopped moving for a moment. Suddenly he seemed tense, and you worried if your question had struck a cord.

He swallowed, eyes fixated on the ingredients before him. “My brother.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure he’s happy to see you back.” You offered a kind smile.

“Yeah, I uh... I’m not sure he would be.” He glanced at you, eyes quickly darting back to the vanilla extract he was measuring out, uncomfortable with eye contact when he talked about Mikey. “He died.” His eyebrow twitched slightly. “Suicide.”

You stop whisking for a moment to look at him, and you can tell his face had reddened. You feel awful for pressing him on such a sensitive subject, but you had no idea.

The two of you continue to prepare the batter in complete silence for a good minute. Both of you feel bad. Him, for dumping this information on you, and you, for even asking about it.

“I’m sorry,” you speak up, filling up a piping bag with batter, “I had no idea.”

“S’okay,” He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous tic, almost. “I’ve been trying to talk more about it. Especially since I kinda run his business now.”

“Well, if it counts for anything,” You give him another sweet smile, and this time, it does actually make him feel a little better. Silently, he wished they could put the feeling your smiles gave in pills, so he could take those instead. “I think he’d be proud of you.”

He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know what Mikey would think, and from what he’s heard from Richie, he’s not even sure if he would recognize the person his brother had become through his addiction. But the possibility is there, and you reminding him of it was enough. For now, at least.

He noticed you struggling with the piping bag and got behind you, hands sneaking over yours to help you hold it correctly. “There we go.”

Carmen doesn’t seem to notice how close he is to you. Or how warm your face had gotten. Or how the way he smelled was distracting you from listening to what he was saying. Cigarettes, coffee and sandalwood... A strange, but not unappealing mix of scents.

You turn your head just a slight bit and catch a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were so bright, piercing almost, but they held such a profound sadness behind them. You wondered what else they held, what other stories he struggled to talk about.

Carmen noticed you weren’t watching what you were doing and looked up, accidentally meeting your eyes now. And then he realized how close he was, cheeks growing flushed like a teenage boy as he let go of your hands and took a step back, clearing his throat. “Shit, uh... My bad.”

You chuckled nervously. “It’s fine, I appreciate the help.” You leaned down to preheat the oven.

“Yeah… Anytime.”

A while after, the two of you were presented with perfect, pink tinted macarons. You smile proudly, hands on your hips as you admire the final product in front of you. “Man, we really nailed those, huh?”

Carmen smiles, a little sleepily. It was starting to get dark outside and he hadn’t even had dinner yet, but he felt bad about having to interrupt your baking session. Usually when he was in the kitchen he was focused, collected, he was making a product that he had to be proud of. But he’d been open to you, he’d laughed, he almost felt… Relaxed. Maybe that’s why he was feeling sleepy.

That, or the insane lack of sleep was catching up to him once more.

You looked outside and noticed that the sun was going down. “Shit, how long have we been here?” You checked the time on your phone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it already got this late... Uh, if you want I’ll drive you home?”

“Yeah, that would be--” His sentence got cut off by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment as Carmen put a hand over his abdomen, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I uh... I haven’t eaten anything today besides those desserts earlier.”

Now you really felt guilty. Not only had you kept him at the café for way longer than you should have, but you were nearly making the poor guy starve. “Tell ya what,” You handed him his jacket and took off your apron. “How ‘bout you come back to my apartment and I’ll make us both dinner. I’m no expert chef like you, but I can cook a mean pasta!”

He hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t been to someone else’s apartment in so long, let alone someone he was interested in. But he supposed it was better than being alone in his apartment again, probably heating up a shitty frozen meal because he was too tired to cook.

Your apartment was nice. Well, nicer than his at least, although that probably didn’t mean much. For only having lived there for three months, he could tell you’d really added your own touch to the place.

“Welcome to mi casa!” You playfully bowed, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind you two. You tossed your keys onto the counter and took off your coat, ready to get to cooking. “You can settle on the couch, put something on, I got Netflix if you want. I’ll have dinner made in just a sec!”

Carmen moved with caution. This was... Unknown territory. He knew you were probably just being friendly, but this was a pretty big step for him. He had his boundaries, his walls firmly set, and you were jumping over them like it was nothing. It was just... Easier with you, somehow. To open up, to talk.

Not long after he’d chosen something to watch, you arrived with two deep plates of pesto pasta with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. “There we go, I always make this when I don’t feel like cooking.” You handed him a plate and a fork, before settling down next to him. Your couch wasn’t that big, so your shoulders were touching the entire time.

The two of you were watching a cooking competition, something you didn’t realize would revitalize Carmen so much. Not because he liked it so much, but because he was so focused on the mistakes the contestants were making, and felt the need to point every single one of them out to you. Your two plates stood empty on the coffee table, along with a bottle of red wine and two, very empty glasses.

“Now, see this,” he pointed at the TV, “can’t believe they’re even allowed to air this, this is a disgrace to cooking. The fuckin’ idiot hasn’t touched a single spice this entire episode!”

The both of you were both kind of tipsy, and you were leaning against him now, smiling to yourself as you tried to withhold laughter from every serious comment he made.

“And now--” He looked at you and realized you were hanging on for dear life not to break out in giggles. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a grin.

“N-Nothing, nothing!” You chuckled, leaning away from him so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“Ah, so now we’re shy!” He poked your side, the wine doing wonders for his confidence. “Come on, let’s hear those laughs then!” He continued poking you, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. You grabbed his arm and pulled it away from your abdomen, making him fall forward onto the couch. He caught himself, hand resting on the armrest, now leaning over you.

You looked up at him, and god, maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you swore he’d never looked hotter. Leaned over you, curls framing his face, strong arms surrounding you. His gorgeous blue eyes staring down into yours, tension growing between the two of you.

So you couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his head to pull him in further.

He froze, eyes only fluttering shut after a few seconds, melting into the kiss as his hand came down to rest on your waist. His mind ran blank, nothing plaguing his mind anymore, all besides one thought;

“Damn. She tastes even sweeter than those strawberries.”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill

#aster writes the bear #carmenmath #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white imagine

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girlylukehughes · 10 months

Text

peace

part three of the folklore hockey fic!

warnings: implied smut(no real smut)

part one, part two. part three, part four

y/nhughes just posted!

liked by markestapa and 334,635 others

y/nhughes: But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm, if your cascade, ocean wave blues come."

tagged: markestapa

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_quinnhughes: i feel like i missed something.

—y/nhughes: quinn when he doesn't use instagram or read the family groupchat

——_quinnhughes: …

_quinnhughes: anyways... happy for you ig!

—y/nhughes: thanks quinnifer😁

markestapa: we’re so cute

—y/nhughes: the cutest

——lhughes06: im gonna vomit

———y/nhughes: vomit butterflies and rainbows right? because we are sooooo cute

————lhughes06: no.

user1: the way he looks at her i'm on the floor

edwards.73: still no photo creds i see how it is. next time i'm posting incriminating evidence.

—y/nhughes: markestapa should we be scared?

——markestapa: i don't think so????

———edwards.73: y/nhughes markestapa yes.

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markestapa just posted!

liked by y/nhughes and 446,728 others

markestapa: And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild, give you a child — give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other.

tagged: y/nhughes

load comments...

lhughes: MY EYES WHAT THE FUCK

lhughes: GET THIS OFF MY SCREEN

dylanduke25: luke is sitting with his head between his knees and is pulling his hair out

—y/nhughes: send pics

———markestapa: please do

jackhughes: WOAH WOAH WOAH BACK THE FUCK UP

—y/nhughes: go away

y/nhughes: when he listens to folklore and gets it >>>>

—markestapa: only for you

——y/nhughes: mwah mwah mwah mwah

_quinnhughes: jackhughes never send me this shit again i need to go bleach my eyes and call my therapist.

_quinnhughes: also y/hughes i will call mom.

—y/nhughes: mom follows both of us she's already seen it. ur threat = empty

——_quinnhughes: i hate you.

edwards.73: my final straw. incriminating evidence being posted in 5 minutes.

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edwards.73 just posted!

liked by dylanduke25 and 346,879 others

edwards.73: here's an explanation for each photo:

pic 1: y/nhughes and markestapa fucked up by not giving me photo creds

pic 2: video footage from the ring doorbell after their first date(luke learn to check the cameras) y/n actually ended up kicking mark in the face on accident. mark told the team he got jumped.

pic 3: y/n stole these from lhughes06 closet at the lake house and made us break into the park.

pic 4: me and y/nbff helping y/n break into marks room at the soph house. once again, luke learn how to check the cameras.

pic 5: y/n asked mark if she could do his make up. he happily obliged and got mad when i didn't say he was pretty.

pic 6: y/n and mark plotting how mark is going to get out of the lake house before me and luke got back because he wasn't supposed to be there for another day. luke i swear to god look at your surroundings.

pic 7: this one i'll probs get in trouble for, but, this how i found out about y/n and mark. he came back from their "tutoring session" like this. y/n girl, cut your nails.

pic 8: peace out bitches. give me photo creds next time there's more where this came from.

load comments...

y/nhughes: what the actual fuck

—y/nhughes: markestapa i think we have a stalker

——markestapa: jesus christ ethan

y/nhughes: also no i will not cut my nails mark likes them

lhughes06: this is MY last straw. how long have they been together for fucks sake.

dylanduke25: holy shit he actually did it

rutgermcgroarty: ethan i think you have a problem

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masterlist

#mark estapa #umich hockey #folklore hockey fic!#mark estapa x reader #umich fic #umich imagine

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splaede · 1 year

Text

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 3)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER THREE. armin's transformation

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Armin takes you out.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: very subtle gaslighting

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

You were mid-home-from-work routine when you received a text from Armin. As you unloaded your belongings from your bag, you picked up your phone from the table.

Lately, it seemed as if Armin had been talking to you quite a lot—more than he already did, no less.

Armin: Are you free later?

Ah, typical question. Since it was summer, the time spent with your friends was no longer limited to the weekends, minus the time spent outside of class hours and whenever your schedules didn't conflict. Even with your job, you were much more available compared to the academic year.

Despite having seen Armin almost every day for the last decade of your life, you never hesitated when it came to seeing more of your friends.

You: im free

just got home from work

Armin: Okay, sounds great

Do you want to hang out?

I want to take you somewhere

You: of course i do

where?

Armin: It’s a surprise

It’s really important and I need your help

I’d like for you to come along

You: armin this is really suspicious

but sure

surprise me

Armin: I swear it's nothing suspicious

You: is eren or mikasa coming?

Armin: No

Just you and me

I’ll pick you up from your house

Maybe sometime in the next hour?

You: okay sounds great

and whats the dress code?

Armin: Dress code is very casual

Please don't worry too much about it

You: i trust you armin...

see you

ill start getting ready

Armin: Tell me when you're ready!

See you!

Just the two of you? Just what was he up to? Not that you guys hadn't hung out alone before, but it was almost always the four of you as a group. With recent light of his insecurities and crush on Annie, you began to think it had something to do with that.

Then where could he possibly take you? Where would you even fit to benefit him in this situation?

You remembered the conversation from last night. He probably just wanted to finish it. After all, you were the one that offered to continue. But it felt like a hefty job, and you were unsure if you were suited for the task.

It wasn't as if you were obligated to help him. Still, you just couldn't help but want to—you felt like you needed to. It was hard to come by people like Armin, who was nothing but kind and considerate towards you. Now that your most dedicated pillar of support had finally come to you for help, it was time to repay the favor. You were afraid to fail him when he had already done so much for you.

Still, part of you was excited. You would do anything in your power to win over his crush.

You'd brush it off for now, though, since you needed to get ready.

Armin's car had been parked within a short walking distance. From your door to his, there was only the scuttle of your shoes on the cracked pavement and the distant sound of whirring cars.

"Hey." He flashed you a welcoming, warm smile.

You scooted into the passenger seat, mirroring his smile. "Hey, Armin."

As you shut the door, you couldn't help but breathe in the familiarity of his car. It was the usual: light air conditioning, quiet music, and that friendly fragrance of his car seats. A mix of something woody and rosy—his cologne—and the minty-ness of the cup container filled with that gum he seemed to always chew.

Armin was never unkempt, always clean, and smelled of his body wash, a warm vanilla scent—a scent that reminded you of home.

You mentally backtracked. You were glad he wasn't a mind reader, or else he'd find out you had been shamelessly smelling him and his car.

"Is that Eren's sweater?"

His voice broke you out of your thoughts, and he shot you a long glance as you buckled your seatbelt.

You looked down.

Oh.

You nearly forgot. The centerpiece of your outfit was none other than one of Eren's sweaters that he had given you yesterday. How could you have forgotten? The sweater hanging off your body was a blatant reminder of your sort-of feelings for him, which you couldn’t help but convince yourself were platonic rather than romantic.

Despite the hot weather, you threw it on, determined to wear it even if you suffered from heatstroke.

"Maybe it is,” you replied with a shrug, tone teasing.

Armin only responded with an airy chuckle. The car was moving now, a subtle reminder that he had brought you here for a reason. Before you could even ask, a notification on your phone chimed, ringing loud throughout the quiet interior.

Texts from your group chat.

Eren: mikasa and i are getting something to drink right now

you guys wanna join?

you can come meet us there

i'll send the address

we're also getting dinner later so come along

i'm paying

You blinked, rereading the text.

Mikasa and I are getting something to drink right now.

Mikasa and I.

Right now.

Oh.

Had they been making plans in private, only deciding to ask the group chat as a last-minute decision? The two seemed to already be together, after all. You knew that not everything had to be a four-person activity, but knowing that the two were alone together felt strange. You couldn't shake off your uneasiness.

No, no, you were thinking too hard about it. In fact, you were alone with Armin right now. Eren and Mikasa had their own lives and their own choices, and it was all just in your head. This was normal—you had done the same before.

Were you jealous?

You watched the front window view slow from moving buildings to lone traffic lights as yellow flickered into red. You then looked at Armin, who was swooping back his long hair and adjusting his glasses.

"Eren just texted. He and Mikasa are getting something to drink right now and dinner later. He wants to know if we can join,” you finally said.

Armin's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, drinks...? Eren and Mikasa are...?" He paused, trailing off.

…Together?

Armin spared you a pitying glance, and despite your effort to mask it, he read the disappointment from your expression.

"Don't worry, Y/N, it's the usual. We always go get milkshakes together. All four of us. Maybe Eren was already texting her, or maybe he was driving near her place and decided to drop by. He's done this before with all of us." Armin extended his hand over the console to yours, where he placed his fingers on your wrist and rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb. "Don't think too much into it, okay? It could just be all in your head."

You nodded.

"We might not be able to get drinks right now, but we can catch them at dinner if that's okay with you." He smiled reassuringly.

You thought it was ironic. The thought of Eren and Mikasa off on their own and leaving you and Armin out worried you, but here you were, alone with Armin and heading off to who knows where. You could only laugh at yourself.

Speaking of which...

"Armin, you haven't told me where we're going."

A cherry, tantalizing smile inched up his face.

"Sorry, you're right. I haven't."

Armin tilted his head towards you, turning ever so slightly until you could see his pretty blue-eyed smile.

"We're going to a barber shop."

You waited for him to finish, raising a brow.

"I'm going to get a haircut."

Your eyes widened.

"You're—what?"

Instantly, your eyes darted to his hair—long and clean and fair on his shoulders. Never once was it tangled or dirty, only silky and faultless as it always seemed. You suddenly found yourself threading your fingers through his locks.

"Wait, are you serious?"

All of this suspense, only to find out you two were going to a barbershop. Even as you pondered the reasoning behind the dramatic wait, you couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of it.

"Yeah! I am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I just wanted to tell you in person rather than through text." Armin replied, bashfully craning his neck away from your hand that was still in his hair. "Hey, that tickles."

You retracted your hand, laughing, but your thoughts were still swarming with the fact that Armin Arlert wanted his hair cut. Armin Arlert, whose blonde tresses had always framed his face and neck.

"I can't believe it. What type of haircut are you getting?"

One of his hands left the wheel and clumsily felt for his plugged-in phone on the console, handing it to you. You took it without a thought.

"I saved some pictures on my phone if you want to look. You know my password, right?"

You hummed in response, pressed in the digits of his phone password, and swiped around until you found his camera roll. His recent photos consisted of various sunset shots (or sunrise, since you knew Armin was an early bird) that were taken from his bedroom window and the aforementioned hairstyle pictures. A good handful of them, too, all in different angles and lighting.

Wow, Armin sure was thorough for one simple haircut.

"I want an undercut, but I want to keep my hair up to my ears. Kinda like—"

"Kinda like Levi?" You smirked. You eyed him shrewdly, and if you weren't so caught up in your joke, you would've seen him mirthfully roll his eyes with a childish smile.

Armin paused to consider his words, and after chuckling, he spoke. "I've been thinking about getting a haircut for a while now, but I didn't decide until last night. I searched around for some references this morning, and you were talking about him yesterday. You said...you said he was hot."

An easy, brief smile made its way to your lips. "His hair is only one of the many things that make him hot."

You found it cute that Armin had remembered your banter about Professor Ackerman last night.

Speaking of last night, you wondered if he was going to mention your conversation—hopefully regarding how he wanted you to help him. Right now would be a fitting time, wouldn't it? You and Armin, alone in his car. He poured his feelings out once here, so maybe he'd do it twice.

"If you think his hair looks good, then I hope it’ll suit me, too. I just...want a change for once. I'm sure a lot of people would agree."

You almost frowned at that. Growing up, Armin rarely came out of his soft shell, known as the small-framed and timid boy who was overshadowed by his best friend's tenacity when his brains were the only asset at his disposal. Although he seemingly had long grown out of that shell and pushed past that shadow, you knew better.

"Are you doing this for Annie? Armin, I know I've said this before, but don't ever feel like you need to change for somebody."

Him changing himself to fit someone else felt wrong.

"I know, but this is for me. It's only a haircut, nothing big."

Despite the guise of a smile he put on, despite the way he'd brushed it off, deep down, he was still the insecure boy you grew up with. But if he truly was as honest as he sounded and wanted this for himself, then you wanted it, too.

"If you say so. Then I guess you're right. Either way, I think you're going to look great. Annie is definitely going to notice how amazing you look."

When you turned to him, you didn't realize he was already staring at you. He hurriedly shook his head and shied away from your stare with a soft chuckle. His lips parted to say something, but you didn't give him the chance before you butted in.

"I still can't believe it. No more long hair. It was practically a part of you." You eyed him, or rather, his hair. "This is a big deal."

He let his fingers run through his locks, twisting and brushing the strands away. "Yeah. Everyone will be so surprised."

It seemed as if he wanted to say more, but you butted in again. "And thanks for always driving me, by the way. You're always picking me up, even if I have a car."

His one hand came to frantically wave you off while the other fumbled with turning the wheel. "No, it's okay. I'm always the one asking you to pick you up, anyway. I like driving you." He smiled.

Before you could thank him, it was his turn to cut you off.

"We're here."

All of your previous doubts about Eren and Mikasa and the initial shock of Armin's announcement flew out the window and into the sunny skies.

The anticipation was unbearable. The two of you were now parked in front of the barbershop, and Armin was about to get his haircut.

You were going to be the first to witness it.

All you registered when you walked in was the sound of the bell’s chime, and you then found yourself sitting knee-to-knee with Armin as you waited for his appointment, looking down at his phone while he swiped back and forth on his screen.

Armin stilled and tilted his phone towards you. "Do you think I should go with this photo?"

"Yeah, it looks good. Or better yet, you could show them a pic of Professor Ackerman."

His expression became a mix of what seemed like embarrassment and bewilderment before he stammered, "What?! No—no way, I'm going to look like a fool. Professor Ackerman is practically known by everyo—"

You gasped and instantly slapped your hand against his shoulder, or rather, what you thought was his shoulder, but instead, you smacked him square in the face. He jolted back in shock and didn't have time to blink before you redirected his head. "Look! Your barber is ready for you."

Armin stood up, glancing back and shooting you an incredulous look. You only sheepishly mouthed sorry to him in return.

You waited until he sat down before you took your eyes off him. Armin Arlert was about to cut his hair to the shortest length it's ever been.

Now, all there was to do was to wait some more.

In the meantime, you needed to text Eren back, which you had forgotten to do earlier. You saw that Armin had already replied, likely sometime after you walked in and before you two sat down.

Armin: Sorry, I was driving

I’m with y/n right now

We can't make it for drinks, but dinner sounds nice!

You: eren whats the address?

we’ll be there for sure

Hopefully, you would. Free dinner, right?

Minutes later, Eren responded.

Eren: [Current Location]

It looked like they were there already.

You quickly tapped on the link to his location and a restaurant named "Trost's Kitchen" came into view. You had only ever eaten there twice in your life: one time as a child with your family and the second time as a high school student to tease Jean at his part-time waiter job.

If Armin's session went by fast, then you'd be able to drive there with just enough spare time to eat before Eren and Mikasa finish their meals. You amused yourself with how they would react to Armin's hair. Shocked? Confused? Hell, you hadn’t even seen it yourself yet.

For the next few minutes, all you did on your phone was text and scroll.

No, scratch that, you had fallen asleep.

Someone tapped you.

You didn't realize how much time had already passed. Definitely more than those measly few minutes that you spent texting and mindlessly scrolling.

After groggily blinking, your eyes trailed up to find the culprit.

Before you stood a new man.

What was once silky, smooth hair down his neck was now a sleek undercut and cropped short to his ears—just how he wanted, and you could now see his jawline and the innocent skin of his neck. He still kept his bangs, though, which were blonde and neat on his forehead.

You must've been staring too long because Armin nervously looked to the side.

His hand suddenly went up to his face, clasping around your wrist. You didn't even realize that it was there. It had just subconsciously occurred to you that you should reach up and softly intertwine your fingers with his golden locks.

You never noticed how round his cheekbones were, how softened his cheeks looked, or how much of a sharp jawline he had.

Hair really could change a person, huh.

And to your surprise, you had overlooked something even bigger than his new hair. As you followed the undercut to the curve of his ears, you narrowed your eyes at the empty space. He wasn't wearing his glasses. Nothing sat on the ridges of his ears. No thick, black-rimmed lenses around his eyes—nothing but his wispy, blonde lashes that fluttered with each blink. He must've taken them off during the haircut.

Armin seemed to have worked up a ripe, dusky blush with the way you were gently caressing him. His ears flushed a sweet shade of pink, too, just like his cheeks.

"God, you look so good." Your hand withdrew from his head. "You're really attractive, Armin."

You took one more thorough look at his face.

He looked mature.

He looked...hot.

Armin couldn’t seem to decide between meeting your eyes or looking away as you gazed at him. His face reddened when he lopsidedly smiled and squeaked out, "Thank you."

Your hand interlaced with his and you beamed brightly. "Let's go. Have you paid?"

He nodded with a smile.

Then you two were out the door, and when you looked back, his glasses were already back on.

"So...why did I have to come again?"

His eyes flitted to his hand, enclosed by yours. "Um, moral support, I guess...? I don't know. I just felt like you should be the first to see it. I wanted you to be here because it made sense with our... agreement ."

The sky had become a myriad of pretty oranges and yellows, but the blues barely peeked out from behind gray clouds. It made the sunset a little too murky, too pitiless, and too sullen for a summer evening.

"About our agreement..." By now, you two were fastened into your seats and out of the parking lot. "How did you want me to help you?"

He spared you a glance. "Truthfully, I'm not sure. I know you have experience, so however your past lovers got you to like them, apply that to me and Annie."

"So, are you and Annie close?"

"No, we're not that close."

"Do you at least talk to her like you talk to me?"

Lines between his brows formed as he drew them together, his vivid blue eyes flickering aside in confusion. "What do you mean...?"

You shook your head and dismissed him with a wave. "Nevermind."

Surprisingly, Armin didn't press on. You didn't, either. Instead, you turned to your phone.

You: on our way

It wasn't long until you reached Trost's Kitchen. It only took a couple of minutes that had passed by way too fast because you were busy jamming out to songs after he gave you the aux.

The two of you stepped out. It was warmer than you expected, especially after the comfort of the car's air conditioning, and the sunset had long faded away into the night.

You: we're here

Neither you nor Armin exchanged any words on your stroll into the restaurant and merely enjoyed the comfortable silence that you two always seemed to slip into. You were met with the shade of the portico and the chime of bells as Armin opened the door for you.

The bustle of conversation and clank of silverware greeted you at once. You briefly raked your eyes over the rows and rows of tables.

"Okay, wow, it's really busy here," you muttered.

You wanted to send one last text before you deemed yourself too clingy. By now, Eren would've already replied like he usually did on outings like these. Even if he did frequently ignore your messages, you knew that he wouldn't put his phone down until everyone had arrived.

You: please tell me you got a table for four

As soon as you sent that text, Armin nudged your shoulder.

"Y/N? Look..."

In a far corner of the dining space, you saw a woman with short, black hair that you knew all too well and a man with messily tied up brown hair that you knew even better.

Mikasa and Eren. At a two-seater table.

What was only a downward tug on your lips deepened into a frown when you watched them get touchy and enjoy themselves. Had they always been this touchy?

"Kinda looks like they're on a date," you noted.

Armin’s eyes didn’t stray from them when he asked, "You okay, Y/N?"

"Yeah. Let's just get a table."

To your luck, there weren't any available tables near them. At this rate, it'd be a miracle that you'd be seated anytime soon. With the line of people in the reception area and the rows of occupied tables, you almost considered eating somewhere else.

"You might just be overthinking it. It's okay, Y/N, I promise. It just...looks like what you think it looks like."

You gave Eren and Mikasa's general direction one more gander before you allowed Armin your full attention. "Nah, I don't think you're seeing what I'm seeing."

His lips pursed into a thin line. "No, I see. I'm sorry. Do you want to go to a different place, then? I'll pay."

You thought about the texts you had just sent. Wouldn't it be weird to just disappear? You were disappointed, but you didn't feel like interrupting the two at the table. Not that you had much of a choice, anyway—not with packed guests and the long wait.

"I don't know. We came all this way and I told Eren we'd come." you sighed. "But it's better if we find another place. We can tell the others later."

Before you, Armin extends his hand, and all it's doing is insinuating you should leave. "Okay. I'll make it up to you. Let's go, then."

He was all honeyed words and lopsided smiles, so you didn't hesitate, not even a bit, to take his hand. As you're leaving and talking, you let him draw you closer to the sound of his calming voice.

Under the ghostly evening lights of the restaurant front, you clutched onto the sleeve of Eren's sweater with your free hand as Armin pulled you away with the other.

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

☰ taglist: ✩⭒｡ @rinsie @tengensgirlfriend @ela-dahe @his-brats-fantasies @genderfluid-anime-goth

#armin x reader #armin x you #aot #snk #armin arlert x reader #armin smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #armin arlert smut #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #armin arlert #eren yeager #aot smut #angst #nerd armin #attack on titan x reader

591 notes · View notes

corporatefrog · 1 year

Text

꒦‧₊ ꒷ HEADCANNONS: team craig with a rich friend!✧.*

✧.* tags: college au, ✧.* Characters: craig tucker, tweek tweek, jimmy valmer, clyde donovan, tolkien black a/n: this just made me want to be rich so that's what im doing. you'll never hear from me again because im only getting those gains (jk im working minimum wage rn ;-;)

masterlist

Tolkien

You guys are BALLING together

You literally SPARKLE when you walk down the street

He probably loves having someone else to talk to about like,, idk rich people stuff?

When his dad buys the farm across the street from the marsh’s he literally comes to stay at your palace

No fucking way are those cuticles getting ruined by working on a fucking weedfarm

“Then he starts using this ridiculous voice just to piss off Stan’s dad”

“No. fucking. Way.”

“Yes way, and now he’s actually selling the shit to other people”

“That’s actually rancid”

Clyde

He thinks he was meant to be born rich

Another one who will do lit rally whatever for some cash

Not because he needs the money

Just because he has zero self respect

He's the type of person to say yes to anything for the experience

definitely a "do it for the vine" type of person

and you happily oblige

"are you free saturday?"

"well i had a work shift"

"I'll give you $300 to skydive with me"

"quitting my job rn brb"

Craig

He does not give a fuck

He enjoys watching you boss cartman around though

He’ll make loud suggestions that he knows you’ll hear so cartman will do something stupid

“Wow it sure is snowing out there. That would really ruin a pair of limited edition suede steve madden boots”

“Oh no! I’m wearing my limited edition suede steve madden boots!”

“That’s a shame. If only there were a way to plow the snow off all of the sidewalks and parking lot you could get to your car without ruining them”

“IM ON IT”

Cue cartman slipping on icey pavement for the next 3 hours

Tweek

Large sums of money freak him out so much

You spend more than $200 at once and he’s SCREAMING

“WHAT WILL YOU DO FOR RETIREMENT FUNDS?!”

“What’s a retirement fund? I have a piggy bank that my daddy puts all the interest from my birthday money into”

“WHAT HOW ARE YOU USING A PIGGY BANK FOR ALL YOUR MONEY THAT’S SO UNSAFE!!”

“It’s a metaphorical piggy bank duh! You can’t fit 15 million in a piggy bank silly”

“15 MILLION?!”

He was out of commission for the rest of the day trying to figure out how many hours of work it would be to make 15 million dollars

Jimmy

You think he’s so fucking funny

He’s a funny little guy!

You are his perfect audience

He loves to make you laugh! And you love to laugh! So it’s perfect

You probably end up bringing him to a charity dinner or something and having him tell stand up

Aka his DREAM

Imagine him sitting in a private jet or something with a nametag that just says "funny man" on it

and he's loving every second of it

#south park #south park x reader #south park headcanons #corporatefrog #tolkien black #jimmy valmer #clyde donovan #craig tucker #tweek

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asa-do-your-thing · 4 months

Text

Sleigh Ride

Merry early Christmas @gefionne <3

Sansa Stark x Sandor Clegane 18+ MINORS DNI WC: 3,3k Warnings / Tags: fluff, christmassy theme, canon times, massage, sex, breeding king, pregnancy, no beta reads no checks no nothing im sorry

The bells on the horses' harness collars jingled merrily as they kept their calm pace, puffs of hot steam coming out of their nostrils. The sleigh continued its peaceful journey through the snow-covered forests of the North. Sansa snuggled deeper into her furs, sighing contentedly. Despite the bitter cold, she felt warm and safe next to Sandor. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, guiding the horses along the narrow path. Sansa studied his face in profile, the ruined side she once feared now so dear to her. She smiled, remembering how reluctant he'd been to don the red Father Sevenmas hat she'd playfully plopped on his head before they set out.

"Bloody hells," he'd grumbled. But he wore it still - if Sansa asked, who was he to say no to his little bird?

Up ahead, the trees opened up into a wide clearing. "Look!" Sansa gasped. A snow castle rose in the center of the field, its turrets shimmering in the dimming light. As they approached, the gates swung open and a jubilant group of children streamed out, bundled in furs and warm fabrics. They were all from Castle Cerwyn, and as the Lady of the North, Sansa had made a promise to her people to bring joy to their lives after enduring war, harrying, and famine.

Sansa beamed at Sandor. "Your little admirers await."

He harrumphed, but she caught the twitch of his mouth that meant he was pleased. When the sleigh halted, the children swarmed forward, young voices rising excitedly.

"Father Sevenmas! Father Sevenmas!"

Sandor's eyes softened as he reached into his bag and began handing out gifts - simple things such as nuts, dried fruits and small mittens and scarves. Sansa's heart swelled watching him interact so gently with the babes. Despite his gruff exterior, he had much goodness in him. She took his hand and squeezed it fondly. This was a perfect Sevemmas, indeed. It wouldn't be long until he could be their child's father chrismas, she thought with a smile.

Sansa gazed affectionately at Sandor as he handed out gifts to the delighted children. She placed a hand on her still-flat belly, imagining him one day doing the same for their babe.

After the gifts were distributed, the children begged for a story. With a gruff chuckle, Sandor obliged, his raspy voice spinning a tale of adventure and heroism. The children listened, enraptured, as if Sevenmas had come early. Too soon, the short winter day faded into dusk. Sandor wrapped up his story and helped the sleepy children back inside the gates of their snow castle. As the gates closed behind the last child, he turned to Sansa with a rare, soft smile.

"Well, little bird? How did I fare at playing Father Sevenmas?"

Sansa wrapped her arms around his broad chest. "Wonderfully. I owe you something."

He stroked her hair, his touch infinitely gentle. "No, Sansa, I... I did it for you, you don't owe me anything."

Reluctantly, Sandor helped Sansa back into the sleigh and flicked the reins. The horses began the journey home, back to Winterfell. Sansa nestled against Sandor's side, thinking of the life growing within her.

Sansa gazed up at the night sky as they traveled, the stars twinkling like a thousand candles. She thought of all she and Sandor had endured to find their way here, to this place of quiet contentment. The path had not been easy, but she had no regrets.

"What are you thinking about, little bird?" Sandor asked in his raspy voice.

Sansa smiled. "The future. Our future." She took his hand and brought it to her lips.

Sandor's brow furrowed. "Sansa..."

"I have news," she blurted out. "Wonderful news. I'm with child."

Sandor froze, staring at her. The sleigh slid to a stop. "Truly?" he finally asked.

Sansa nodded, her eyes bright. Sandor let out a shuddering breath and pulled her into his arms.

"You've made me the happiest man in the seven kingdoms," he said gruffly. He tilted her chin up and kissed her deeply.

When they finally broke apart, Sansa laughed. "I believe you were already the happiest man before."

Sandor's eyes shone. "Aye. But now..." He placed a gentle hand on her belly. "Now I'm the luckiest bloody man in the world."

As they glided past towering pines and old oaks draped with icicles that glistened in the setting sun, the soft crunch of snow beneath the skids filled the air. The scent of fresh evergreen needles and frosty breath hung in the frigid night, mingling with the spiced cider from a flask Sandor passed to her earlier; she took a sip, feeling it warm her insides.

"I love you so much, there's nothing I would've loved doing more today than this, seeing children having fun and... well, telling you about our little one. But it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise, seeing as we... did enjoy ourselves a lot as of late," she said contentenly, resting her small, gloved hand on his muscular thigh. Gods, she thought and blushed, how nice it had felt to sit on top of him, their bare bodies touching each other, his thick member buried deep within her heat.

Sansa watched her big, rough-looking protector – but he was so much more than that now – as he kept his eyes fixed ahead, guiding the horses along the narrow path as he blushed and cleared his throat. "Don't tease me, little bird, or soon you'll have a second, third and fourth babe on the way."

To this, Sansa blushed as much as he did and grinned happily.

Sandor looked over at Sansa and couldn't help but smile when she rested her hand on his thigh. He'd always loved the way she blushed when they talked about their intimate moments together. It made something inside him warm up and he felt protective of her, like he always had.

He squeezed her hand gently, his own rough calloused one contrasting with her soft gloved one. "You're an absolute flirt, you know that?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

As they continued down the path through the snow-covered forest, the air was filled with the sound of jingling bells and the crunch of shifting snow beneath the sleigh runners. The trees towered above them, their branches heavy with ice and snow that clung to every bough. The sun was setting fast now, casting long shadows across the landscape as they traveled deeper into the woods.

The sweet scent of pine needles filled the air as they rode along, occasionally a gust of chilled wind rustling them, sending a shiver down Sansa's spine. She looked up at the starlit sky and leaned against Sandor, enjoying the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. The crunching sound of snow under the horses' hooves was like music to her ears. The warmth of his hand holding hers was a welcome contrast to the icy air nipping at her cheeks.

Suddenly, Sansa noticed a small cabin in the distance, lit up by a single candlelight flickering through the window. It was nestled amidst towering evergreens and snowdrifts that reached almost as high as the roof. "Is that our destination?" she asked softly, feeling her stomach grumble with anticipation for some hot food after their long day.

Sandor nodded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Aye, Little Bird. We'll rest there for the night and get some hot food inside us." He guided the horses towards the cabin, their hooves thundering on the frozen ground beneath them. They stopped outside a small hut, its door creaking open as they approached.

A faint scent of smoke wafted out, filling their nostrils with warmth and comfort.

Sansa's eyes lit up as she gently took a step closer. "Sandor... I... That wasn't necessary!"

He, in turn, gave her a small smile and gently kissed her forehead. "Merry Sevenmas, my dear."

As Sansa entered the cozy cabin, she shivered slightly from the cold that seeped through her thick coat. The warmth of the fireplace instantly enveloped her shivering body, and she let out a sigh of relief as her cheeks became rosy from the heat. The scent of wood smoke and freshly baked bread filled her nostrils, making her mouth water. It was soothing to her senses after their long day traveling through the frosty night.

Sandor helped Sansa remove her gloves and coat, hanging them by the door, before leading her over to a small table where a steaming pot sat. There was fresh bread, drizzled with honey and some sort of sweet preserve she didn't recognize, and a bowl of steaming rabbit stew. The juices sizzled and popped as he dished out two big helpings onto plates for them both.

"This is lovely," Sansa breathed out, taking a mouthful of the warm food that melted on her tongue like velvet. She closed her eyes in contentment at the taste – rich broth with tender pieces of meat infused with aromatic spices and vegetables. Sandor watched as she savored every bite, his eyes glowing with pride.

"I'm glad you like it," he grunted between mouthfuls of his own meal. "The old caretaker left some provisions for us." He gestured to a basket near the fire, which looked like it had been brought over by one of Winterfell's servants rather than an old caretaker, yet Sansa didn't care.

As she sank into a worn wooden chair by the fireplace, her fingers lazily tracing the carvings on its backrest while Sandor took his own seat across from her, she let out a contented sigh. She watched as he tore off chunks of warm bread and dunked them into the hearty stew, his cheeks hollowing as he savored each bite. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows on his rough-hewn features, turning them almost angelic in their playful dance. The smell of smoke and wood mixing with the savory scent of the soup made her stomach grumble appreciatively.

"Sandor, this is delicious," she murmured between bites, her voice soft and reverent. "I can't believe how good it tastes after such a long day." Each spoonful filled her mouth with warmth and comfort, melting away any lingering chill from their journey. She leaned back in her chair, watching as he did the same, thinking that perhaps this was their best Sevenmas yet - warm food, a cozy cabin, each other's company.

He nodded in agreement, wiping his beard-stubbled chin with the back of his hand before reaching over to take her smaller one in his large palm. "Aye, Lady Sansa. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a meal like this." His eyes met hers for a moment too long before looking back down at their empty bowls. "Go lie down on the bed, my sweet, I've something for you, something I think you'll love even more than the stew."

As Sandor spoke, Sansa's heart began to race with anticipation. She placed her spoon down gently and stood up from her chair, swaying a bit as she walked over to him. Her stomach churned with both excitement and fear, wondering what he could possibly have planned for her next. He escorted her to a small bed in the corner of the cabin, made up with soft furs that smelled faintly of woodsmoke and evergreen.

She felt his warmth behind her as he helped her undress, feeling his calloused hands move up and down her skin, sending shivers through every inch of her being. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he undid the ties on her bodice, letting it fall to the floor. His fingers brushed against her bare skin slowly, teasingly, causing goosebumps to form in their wake.

Her breath hitched as he pulled off her stockings and pushed her down onto the bed, watching as he collected some sort of thick oil from a small chest near the fireplace. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on his rugged features as he walked back over to the bedside. Sansa bit her bottom lip nervously, not sure what was about to happen but ready for whatever it was.

Sandor poured some of the hot oil into his hands and began to massage Sansa's shoulders, kneading out the tension she hadn't even realized was there. The scent of spices filled the air and made her moan softly.

As Sansa lay down on the soft furs, feeling the warmth seep into her bones, she felt Sandor begin to massage her tense shoulders. His big hands moved with a deftness that belied his rough exterior, kneading away the knots and kinks that had built up during their day-long journey. With each passing moment, her body relaxed more under his skilled touch. The scent of spiced oil filled the air, mingling with that of sweat and leather from his clothes.

Her heart raced as he trailed his hands down her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh in just the right way to relieve all the tension. He moved lower, kneading her stomach and hips before slowly working his way back up to her thighs. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she felt one of his rough hands glide between them, teasingly brushing against her folds beneath her shift. He paused for a moment, looking into her eyes as he saw the desire there.

She parted her legs slightly, inviting him in, feeling a hot pulse of arousal course through her veins as he rubbed small circles over her most sensitive spot. His touch was feather-light at first, but grew bolder by the moment. The fire crackled and popped in the background, echoing their deepening breaths as he expertly worked his magic on her nerves.

Sansa arched her back into his touch, moaning softly as he continued to pleasure her, his warm, oily hands making her feel things she's rarely ever felt before. Every stroke sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins, making her arch back into him and gasp for breath. His rough fingers teased and prodded until she couldn't help but whimper for more.

"Please," she whispered hoarsely, her voice catching in her throat. "I... I want you to bury yourself in me, oh..."

Sandor moved his hands to the buttons of her dress as he knelt between her spread thighs, eyes hungrily devouring her body. The sight of her supple flesh in the soft light of the fire sent a shiver down his spine. His rough fingers fumbled with the buttons, undoing them one by one until they fell open, revealing her creamy white skin to his greedy gaze.

She was breathtakingly beautiful in this moment, her nipples standing at attention under the thin fabric of her shift. He gently pushed it aside, exposing her perfect breasts to the warmth of the firelight's caress. He took one in his mouth, sucking on it hungrily as he ran his free hand down to cup her slick folds.

Her pussy was wet and ready for him; she was soaked with desire, begging to be taken. He rubbed her clit as he sucked harder on her nipple, causing shivers to race through her body. Sansa moaned loudly, her legs shaking as she felt the onslaught of pleasure coursing through her veins.

Sandor couldn't believe how much he enjoyed hearing those sounds escape from her perfect lips, how she trusted him enough to let him touch and taste every inch of her beautiful body. It drove him wild with love and lust.

Without further ado, he lifted himself up and positioned himself at her entrance, his cock already hard as a rock. Nodding needily, Sansa rubbed her soaked heat over the tip of his cock and gasped as he quickly inserted it, filling her up to the brim. Lifting her perfect, delicate legs over his shoulders, he groaned as she rolled back her eyes and squeezed herself around him.

As their hips met and he slowly began to move within her, Sansa's back arched off the bed, a primal cry escaping her throat. The roughness of his skin against hers only made the sensation more intense, and she felt herself grow wetter for him with each thrust. He was pumping into her steadily now, hitting her sweet spot with each powerful stroke.

She reached up to clutch at his shoulders, digging her nails into the toughened flesh as he took her harder and faster. His growls of pleasure echoed in the small space as he took what he wanted; it turned her on more than anything else. Lifting a leg to wrap around him tighter, Sansa dug her heel into his side, begging for more friction.

The cabin filled with their moans and grunts as they moved together, lost in each other's rhythm. The scent of sweat and sex mingled with that of the firewood, creating an intoxicating aroma that fueled their passion. Sandor's rough hands roamed over her supple body, feeling every curve and indent as he slammed into her from behind. He leaned down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, sucking hard as she cried out in delight beneath him.

As Sandor slammed into her with a growl, Sansa's head thrashed back and forth, her long hair spreading out behind her like a waterfall of fire. Her eyes were slits, filled with desire and need, as she looked up into the his reddened face. She felt him hitting her deep and hard, drawing out exquisite moans from deep within her. His rough hands roamed over her body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

One hand found its way between them, rubbing her clit just right as the other cupped the weight of one of her plump breasts. She arched her back, pressing herself against his hand while his cock pounded into her from above. The bed groaned beneath them as they moved together in perfect unison. It was raw and primal, driving each other to new heights of pleasure they had never experienced before.

The oil they used earlier on their skin slickened their bodies as they moved together; it created an almost musical symphony that echoed throughout the tiny space.

Sandor's mouth found its way to her neck, his teeth scraping gently against her skin while he thrust harder and faster inside her. He growled low in his throat, "That's it, my sweet girl," he breathed against her skin. "Take it all from me."

His hips bucked fiercely against her and just as he felt her cunny fluttering and clenching around him, he felt his own release nearing. Sandor's muscular body tensed, and his lips curled into a sharp snarl as he felt his imminent climax approaching, a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat.

His hips jerked violently against Sansa's tight, wet cunny, his cock pulsing with the force of his desire for her. Her walls clenched around him, milking the last drops of pleasure from his rigid shaft, begging him to fill her completely. He bit down on her neck softly, just hard enough to leave a mark, claiming her as his own.

Sansa whimpered softly, arching her back as she felt him pulsing inside her, filling her up with his seed. She clenched around him one last time, milking what remained of his orgasm before he pulled out with a harsh groan.

Their sweat-slicked bodies slid against each other, their breaths still ragged and fast. He stayed buried deep inside her for a moment longer before pulling out and collapsing beside her on the small bed. She lay next to him, their chests heaving in unison as she let out a shaky sigh.

"You're mine," he murmured against her neck, planting a kiss there with a roughness that made her shiver in delight. "You always have been. Merry Sevenmas, my little bird."

#sansansecretsanta2023 #asas fics #sansa stark #sansan #sandor clegane #sansa x sandor #sansa stark smut #sandor clegane smut #sansa stark fluff #fluff #sandor clegane fluff #the hound #got #asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire

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