#Chapter 2 is a bit longer than I wanted it to be but the split point that'd make sense is not only cliffhanger-y | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 1 month ago

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needy pt.1

chapter summary: You're Scott's younger sister and for months you've been secretly dating Logan. How much longer can you and him keep the secret?

word count: 8.3k+ (19.3k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: don't ask how or why this is so long, it was meant to be be less than 10k words but it just kept going. i was having a lot of fun writing this, and if people want to see a continuation or some other part of the story with these two, don't be afraid to ask! for now, enjoy cause there are like 3 smut scenes

there are two parts! tumblr has a word limit so i had to split it up!

warnings/tags: smut, unprotected piv, slight exhibitionism, slight pain kink, creampie, age gap (that's obvi), oral (f!receiving), slight praise kink, fingering, secret relationship, jealously, some possessiveness, peter maximoff being a little shit, fluff, slight angst

❀ part 2 ❀

“That’s it sweetheart.” Logan drawled, his body hovering over yours while slowly thrusting into you. “Doin’ so good for me.”

Your hands clawed at his shoulders, nail indents healing immediately.

Logan let out a low, rough chuckle against your throat. "Feisty, huh?" His voice was thick with heat, lips dragging along your pulse as he thrust deeper. "Go on, doll, mark me up all you want. Ain't like it'll stick—but I like feelin' you try."

Your breath hitched, legs tightening around his waist. "Shut up and move, Logan."

His smirk was all teeth. "Bossy." But he gave you what you wanted, picking up the pace, the bed rocking under both of you.

Knock. Knock.

Your body stiffened instantly. Logan froze too, just for a second, before his head snapped toward the door.

"Y/N?"

Scott.

Your stomach flipped. Logan's grip on your hip tightened. "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath.

"Shut up," you hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly amused despite the situation.

Scott knocked again. "You in there?"

You scrambled for an excuse, trying to keep your voice normal. "Uh—yeah! What do you want?"

Logan leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Think he knows his baby sister's gettin' fucked dumb by the big bad Wolverine?"

You smacked his shoulder. "You're not helping."

Scott sighed on the other side of the door. "Jean said you weren’t in your room, and you missed training this morning. You okay?"

Shit. "Yeah! I'm fine! I just—I was asleep."

Logan stifled a laugh against your neck. "Not a total lie," he murmured, nipping at your jaw.

You shoved at his chest. "Stop it," you mouthed.

Scott hesitated. "You sure?"

Logan's hips rolled, and you barely bit back a moan. "Positive," you choked out. "Just… tired. Can we talk later?"

A pause. Then: "Alright. Just checkin'." His footsteps retreated down the hall.

Logan didn’t wait. The second Scott’s footsteps faded down the hall, he was back on you—mouth hot, breath rough, hands greedy.

"You shoulda heard yourself," he murmured, lips dragging along your jaw. "Tryin’ to sound all innocent when I got you stuffed full like this."

Your nails dug into his back again, legs still locked tight around his waist. "And whose fault is that?"

His smirk was downright filthy. "Mine. And I ain't even a little sorry."

He moved again—slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping against his shoulder. You bit down on his skin, just to keep quiet, and he groaned low in his chest. "Fuck, doll, do that again."

You did, dragging your teeth over his collarbone, then licking over the mark like an apology. His pace stuttered for half a second before he pressed you deeper into the mattress, forearm braced next to your head.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" His voice was a growl now, rough as gravel. "You're gonna be real sorry 'bout that."

And then he set a punishing rhythm—hips slamming into yours, his body pressed so tight to you that you could feel the heat of him everywhere.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Every drag, every thrust had you unraveling under him, nails clawing at his arms, his back, his shoulders—anything to ground yourself.

"Logan," you gasped.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Yeah, sweetheart, I know. I got you."

His breath was hot against your skin, his weight solid, grounding. But there was nothing slow or sweet about the way he moved now—his hips drove into yours with an intensity that made your nails sink even deeper into his back.

"Fuck, Logan," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, rough and dark. "S'what I like to hear," he muttered, dragging his teeth along the side of your throat. "All those little noises—only I get to hear ‘em, huh?"

Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking just enough to make him grunt. "Maybe if you'd shut up and—oh, shit—keep going—"

Logan didn't need more encouragement. He pressed you further into the mattress, keeping you pinned beneath him, his pace relentless. Every roll of his hips sent a sharp, toe-curling heat through you, your pulse thudding loud in your ears.

Then—his mouth was at your ear again. "You still think Scott bought that bullshit excuse?"

Your stomach tightened, pleasure warring with panic. "Shut up," you hissed.

His smirk was pure sin. "Nah. Kinda fun knowin’ he was just outside while I had you like this—"

"Logan," you warned, biting back a moan.

He just hummed like the idea amused him. "Bet he'd lose his fuckin’ mind if he knew, huh? His sweet, innocent baby sister—" His hips slammed into yours, forcing out a sharp, breathless gasp. "—gettin' wrecked by the guy he hates most."

You slapped a hand over his mouth again, eyes flashing. "Do you want us to get caught?"

Logan just huffed against your palm, but his eyes burned with something darker. Amused. Possessive. A challenge.

Then, just as quickly, he shifted, dragging your hand away and pinning it above your head, his fingers laced through yours. "Nah, I like keepin’ you all to myself," he murmured against your lips before claiming them in a kiss—deep, messy, all tongue and teeth and heat.

The knock at the door had long since faded into silence, but the risk still lingered—your brother was right there, just down the hall. The thought alone made something coil tighter in your gut.

"Logan," you whispered, half warning, half plea.

"Shh," he muttered, his free hand slipping down your body, gripping tight at your waist as he drove into you again. "Just focus on me, sweetheart. Nothin’ else matters."

And for now, with his body pressing you deeper into the sheets, his breath ragged against your skin, and his hands branding you in ways that would never fade—he was right.

---

Dinner was already a disaster, and you hadn’t even sat down yet. Scott was in full big-brother mode, still eyeing you like he wasn’t convinced by your excuse from earlier. Jean had that look too—like she could hear your heart rate spike every time Scott brought it up. And Rogue? She was the worst of them all, smirking every time you so much as shifted in your seat.

“So,” Scott started, arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “You sure you’re okay?”

You grabbed a plate, keeping your expression neutral. “Yeah, Scott. Just tired. I overslept.”

Scott frowned, clearly skeptical. “You never oversleep.”

Rogue snorted into her drink. “Maybe she had a long night,” she said innocently, then flicked her gaze toward you with way too much amusement.

Your stomach dropped. You shot her a glare, but she just smirked over the rim of her cup.

“Long night doing what?” Scott asked.

Jean sighed. “Scott.”

“No, seriously. She missed training. That’s not like her.”

“Maybe she was busy,” Rogue said, taking a slow sip. “Real busy.”

You swore you were going to kill her. Right here. At the dinner table.

Scott’s frown deepened. “Doing what?”

Before Rogue could dig your grave any deeper, Logan walked in like he owned the place, rolling his shoulders and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He barely spared you a glance, but you knew he was enjoying this way too much.

“Doin’ what, Summers?” Logan popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig, looking entirely unbothered.

Scott gestured toward you. “She missed training this morning. Said she was sleeping, but she never oversleeps.”

Logan shrugged. “Guess she needed it.”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think that’s weird?”

Logan leaned against the counter, looking unimpressed. “What’s weird is you interrogatin’ her like she committed a crime.”

Rogue let out a cough that sounded a hell of a lot like a laugh.

Jean, who had been watching the entire thing unfold, finally spoke up. “Scott, drop it. If she says she was tired, she was tired.”

Scott exhaled sharply, clearly still unconvinced but finally letting it go. “Fine.” He grabbed his plate and moved to sit down.

Logan smirked over the rim of his beer before taking another sip. You didn’t even have to look at him to know exactly what was going through his head.

As soon as Scott turned away, Rogue leaned over and muttered under her breath, “You’re lucky Jean shut him up.”

You kicked her under the table. She just grinned.

---

Later that night you were in your bedroom reading a book when someone knocked on your door. “It’s open!” you called out. You knew it wouldn’t be Logan, not when it was only 9 pm.

Rogue plopped down beside you, stretching her legs out and giving you a shit-eating grin.

"So," she drawled, nudging your shoulder. "How's your nap?"

You groaned, already regretting not locking your door. "Not you too."

"Oh, especially me," she said, grinning. "C'mon, sugar, I deserve some details after helpin’ cover your ass at dinner."

You shot her a glare. "You almost got me caught."

"Please," she scoffed. "Scott's dense as hell when it comes to you. If Jean weren’t there, he’d still be tryin’ to figure out what was ‘off’ about you today." She smirked. "Meanwhile, I know exactly what was off."

You grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it. Rogue just laughed. "Hey, I ain't judgin’! I just think it’s funny how not subtle you two are."

You gave her a look. "We are subtle."

"Uh-huh. Sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "So subtle that I had to watch Logan barely contain his smug-ass smirk at dinner. You realize you got played, right? Scott started pushin’, and Logan shut it down in, like, two sentences."

You frowned. "That wasn’t playing me—that was helping me."

Rogue snorted. "Girl, Logan lives for this. He’s gettin’ off on the fact that he’s sneakin’ around with Scott Summers' baby sister."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You hated that she was probably right.

Rogue grinned. "Bet he’s got a real nice ego boost right now."

You sighed, flopping back against your pillows. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," she said cheerfully. "But you do love makin’ bad decisions."

"Logan is not a bad decision." She raised an eyebrow. You crossed your arms. "He’s not."

Rogue just smirked. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, sugar."

You groaned. "Are you done?"

"Not even close," she said, kicking her feet up on your bed. "But I’ll give you a break—for now."

"Gee, thanks."

She chuckled, then eyed you for a moment before her smirk softened just a little. "You really like him, huh?"

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. I do."

Rogue nodded, like she already knew. "Then I guess I’ll keep coverin’ for you."

You smiled. "Thanks."

"Don’t thank me yet," she said, grinning. "If you two do get caught, I wanna be front row for Scott’s meltdown."

---

A few nights later, you barely made it two steps into your room before a rough hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside. The door shut behind you with a quiet click.

“Jesus—Logan!” You turned, ready to shove him off, but the moment you saw the look in his eyes, your stomach flipped.

His hands were already on your waist, pushing you back until your spine hit the door. His body was flush against yours, heat radiating from him.

“You’ve been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy all day,” he muttered, voice low, rough. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place like he needed to. “Sittin’ across from me at dinner, actin’ all innocent, while I’m still thinkin’ ‘bout the way you came on my cock the other night.”

Your breath hitched, pulse spiking. “Logan—”

“Could barely keep my hands to myself,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, your throat. “You think Scott noticed how damn quiet I was?”

You swallowed hard, hands clutching at his arms. “You were quiet?”

Logan chuckled against your skin. “See? You weren’t payin’ attention either.” He pressed closer, one thigh slotting between yours, and you felt him—hot, hard, ready.

“Logan,” you breathed, your fingers twisting in his shirt.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” His lips brushed your ear, teasing. “Tell me what you want.”

A sharp knock made you both freeze. Again? Your stomach dropped as Logan exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Y/N?” Scott’s voice.

You shut your eyes, biting back a groan. Logan’s forehead dropped against your shoulder, his whole body tense.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he whispered.

You shoved at his chest, mouthing move. He just smirked, staying right where he was.

Scott knocked again. “You in there?”

Logan's smirk widened, eyes gleaming with something smug. You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to sound normal. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Open up.”

Panic shot through you. Logan just raised an eyebrow, amused. You shoved at his chest harder, whispering, “hide.”

He grinned. “No.”

Your glare was sharp. “Logan.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes before finally stepping back. “Fine.” He moved toward your closet, muttering, “This is fuckin’ humiliatin’,” under his breath.

You didn’t have time to argue. The moment he was out of sight, you exhaled hard and cracked the door open.

Scott frowned down at you. “Why’d that take so long?”

You forced a casual shrug. “I was getting ready for bed.”

Scott squinted at you, then looked over your shoulder, like he expected to find some kind of evidence of your lies. “You sure?”

Your heart pounded. “Yes, Scott,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Why are you here?”

Scott still looked unconvinced, but finally said, “I wanted to see if you wanted to train in the morning. Just us.”

You blinked. “Uh… sure?”

“Cool. Early morning session. Don’t be late.” He gave you another suspicious look before stepping back. “Night, Y/N.”

You gave him the fakest smile you could muster. “Night.”

The second the door shut, Logan was out of the closet, shaking his head. “You owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, poor you. Hiding for thirty seconds.”

He stepped close again, hands sliding back onto your waist. “Not the hidin’ part that pissed me off,” he muttered, pressing his mouth to your throat. “It’s the part where I didn’t get to finish what I started.”

Heat curled in your stomach. “Then finish it,” you whispered.

Logan’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the door, his body flush against yours. Heat radiated off him in waves, thick and consuming.

"Thought you'd never ask," he murmured, his voice all gravel and dark amusement. His lips traced a slow path along your jaw before dragging down to your throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, desperate to hold onto something as his hands moved—one sliding up your side, under your shirt, rough fingers splaying against bare skin. You sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed his thigh between yours, the pressure making your head spin.

"Logan—"

"You were teasin' me all damn day," he muttered against your skin. "All wide eyes and sweet little smiles like you weren’t sittin’ there with my fuckin’ marks still on you."

Your breath hitched. His teeth caught on the spot where your shoulder met your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp. "Not my fault you left them," you whispered, your own hands slipping under his shirt, tracing over the hard muscle of his stomach.

Logan chuckled—low, dangerous. "Oh, it was on purpose, sweetheart. Wanted you rememberin' exactly where my mouth was."

His lips skimmed your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin as he worked his way lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat. His hands were firm, fingers digging into your waist, holding you against him like he needed you there.

"You should've finished before Scott interrupted," you muttered, breathless, trying to keep some semblance of control.

Logan chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. "Sweetheart, you really think I’m the kinda guy to rush this?" His teeth scraped over the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "Nah. You started this game, now you gotta deal with the consequences."

His hands moved—one slipping beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your ribs, rough and warm. The other slid lower, down the curve of your hip, before gripping the back of your thigh and hauling it up against his side. The movement sent you pressing closer, heat meeting heat, and you gasped.

"You feel that?" His voice was a low growl. "Been hard all damn day because of you."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him even closer. "Then do something about it."

His smirk was pure arrogance. "Oh, you got some fire tonight, huh?" His hand on your thigh tightened, his other sliding higher beneath your shirt, grazing the underside of your breast. "I like that."

Before you could snap back, he kissed you—hard. No hesitation, no teasing. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he was claiming you, like he'd been waiting for this all day. And maybe he had.

Your back hit the door harder as he pressed into you, deepening the kiss, swallowing the quiet moan that slipped from your throat. His hands were everywhere—roaming, gripping, pulling.

Then, with no warning, he lifted you. You gasped against his lips, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he turned, carrying you toward the bed like you weighed nothing.

"You just gonna manhandle me now?" you teased, breathless.

Logan smirked, dropping you onto the mattress with a bounce. "Damn right I am."

Before you could recover, he was on you—hands braced on either side of your head, knee pressing between your thighs. His lips were back on yours, insistent, hungry. He kissed like he fought—relentless, determined, and utterly in control.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and the growl he let out sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, dragging it up, his knuckles grazing heated skin as he peeled it over your head. The second it was gone, his mouth was everywhere—kissing, nipping, sucking at the newly exposed skin like he had something to prove.

"Logan—" Your voice hitched as his teeth scraped over your collarbone.

"Shh," he murmured against your skin, lips moving lower. "Let me enjoy this."

His hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with far too much ease, his lips still moving, still teasing. You barely had time to process the cool air against your skin before his hands were on your thighs, spreading you open.

He looked up at you, eyes dark, heated, hungry. "You are gonna be real quiet for me, right?" His voice was nothing but rough gravel and amusement. "Wouldn't want your brother to come knockin' again."

You should've had a smart-ass response ready, but the moment his mouth was on you, your brain short-circuited. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his tongue dragged slow and deliberate, a teasing flick before he sealed his lips around you and sucked. Your fingers shot to his hair, tangling in the thick mess, your back arching off the bed before you even realized it.

"Logan—"

He growled against you, the vibration sending a shock straight through your system. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"Quiet, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging his mouth away just enough to speak. His lips were slick, his voice dark with amusement.

You clenched your jaw, the reminder making your face burn—but not enough to stop you from tugging his hair, shoving him back down where he belonged. Logan chuckled, but didn’t argue.

He buried himself between your thighs again, tongue pressing, curling, teasing. Every flick sent heat pooling deep in your stomach, every slow, deliberate movement dragging you higher and higher, the tension coiling tight.

Your breathing turned uneven, fingers clutching at the sheets. "Logan," you gasped, your thighs threatening to clamp shut.

He didn’t let you. His hands flexed, holding you open as he devoured you, his pace slow and maddening, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"You’re close," he muttered, voice muffled against your skin. He pressed a kiss right where you needed him most, almost gentle. "I can feel it."

You bit down hard on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging. But Logan had other plans. He sucked, hard and sudden, and your whole body jerked.

A sharp cry broke from your throat, your hands flying to muffle yourself as heat crashed through you. The tension snapped, pleasure rolling through you in shuddering waves, your body trembling beneath his hold.

He groaned against you, like he was savoring every second, like he lived for this.

Only when you finally slumped back against the sheets, breathless and spent, did he pull away, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Sweetheart," he muttered, his voice thick with heat and satisfaction. "You taste so fuckin’ sweet when you come for me."

Your face burned, but you still shot him a glare. "Cocky."

Logan smirked. "Damn right."

Then he was on you again, lips crashing against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His body pressed flush against yours, his jeans rough against your bare skin, and—

Yeah. He was still hard as hell.

"You got yours," you murmured against his mouth, reaching between you. "Now let me return the favor."

His breath stuttered as your fingers brushed against the hard length straining behind his zipper, but before you could do anything else, his hand caught your wrist.

"Not yet." His voice was rough, strained. "I need to be inside you first."

Your stomach flipped. He reached down, making quick work of his belt, his jeans, shoving them down just enough. You caught the briefest glimpse of him before he was lining himself up, the heat of him pressing against you.

"Fuck," he groaned as he pushed inside, slow, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.

Your mouth parted, a soft, breathless moan slipping free at the feeling of him—full, deep, overwhelming in the best way.

Logan shuddered. "You feel so fuckin’ good, doll," he rasped against your ear.

Then he moved. A slow, deliberate pull before thrusting back in, setting a steady, deep rhythm. Every movement sent sparks through your system, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your breath coming in soft gasps.

Logan groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Fuckin’ hell, I missed this."

You clung to him, your body tightening around him in response. His pace faltered for half a second before he growled—and snapped his hips into you. A sharp cry tore from your throat, and Logan grinned. "That’s what I thought."

Then he really started moving. Deep, rough thrusts, dragging you higher and higher, your nails raking down his back as pleasure coiled tight again, building faster this time.

"Logan—"

"I got you," he muttered, voice wrecked. "Come on, sweetheart, let go for me."

You did. The pleasure crashed through you, your body trembling as you came around him, his name falling from your lips in a breathless moan.

Logan groaned, his thrusts turning erratic before he buried himself deep, his whole body tensing as he followed you over the edge.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just tangled together, catching your breath.

"You’re heavy," you muttered, pushing weakly at his chest.

Logan huffed a laugh but finally rolled onto his side, dragging you with him.

"You love it," he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You snorted. "You wish."

He just grinned, pulling you closer.

---

You and Logan rarely have date nights. It was hard to find a quiet, empty space in the mansion that you knew no one was going to go into.

Let alone Scott letting you go out at night, even if you were 25.

But, tonight, you had a way around that. Rogue had already gone out with Bobby to the carnival that was in town which gave you a perfect excuse to leave the mansion.

You walked to the front door and barely put your hand on the doorknob when Scott’s voice rang out.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You froze, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral before turning around. "Carnival. Rogue and Bobby already went, so I figured I’d go check it out."

Scott crossed his arms, eyeing you suspiciously. "Since when do you like carnivals?"

You shrugged. "Since now." Scott frowned like he was trying to figure out what was off. You didn’t give him a chance to ask more questions. "You gonna let me go, or are we really about to have a whole interrogation over funnel cakes and rigged games?"

Before Scott could answer, Logan came strolling down the hallway, clearly on his way somewhere—until Scott turned to him.

"Logan, drive her."

Logan blinked. "What?"

Scott gestured toward you. "She’s going to the carnival. Drive her."

Your stomach flipped. You had to fight to keep the surprise off your face. This was perfect.

Logan’s expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to catch the slight twitch of amusement in his eyes. "Why?"

Scott gave Logan a flat look. "Because I don’t want her going alone."

"I can handle myself," you said quickly.

Scott ignored you, still looking at Logan. "Just drop her off and make sure she actually goes inside. Then pick her up when she’s ready to leave."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I’m twenty-five, Scott. Not fifteen."

"And yet, you’re still my little sister," he shot back.

Logan sighed like this whole conversation was exhausting. "Fine. C’mon, kid," he said, jerking his head toward the door.

You clenched your jaw at the nickname, knowing exactly why he used it in front of Scott. But you didn’t argue. Instead, you grabbed your jacket and walked past them, ignoring the smug look Scott gave you like he’d just ensured your safety for the night.

The second you and Logan stepped outside, he let out a low chuckle. "Well, ain’t this convenient?"

You shot him a look. "Don’t be smug."

"Too late."

---

The drive was quiet at first, just the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of Logan shifting gears. You knew Scott had probably expected Logan to drop you off, watch you go inside, then leave. But instead, Logan was taking the scenic route, driving further away from the carnival.

"You know, if Scott ever finds out about us, he’s gonna kill you," you said, watching the streetlights blur past.

Logan smirked, eyes still on the road. "Nah. He’s gonna try."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading in your chest betrayed you.

After a few minutes, Logan pulled into a small lot near a bar you both knew was usually quiet on weekdays. He killed the engine and turned to you. "So, what’s the plan, doll? We head in, grab a drink, then pretend you spent the whole night winnin’ stuffed animals?"

You smirked. "Something like that."

Logan leaned in slightly, eyes darkening. "Or… we could skip the drinks and find somethin’ else to do."

Your breath hitched, heart pounding. "Temptin’."

His smirk widened, but he didn’t push. Instead, he just reached for his door handle. "C’mon, let’s make this date look real."

You followed him inside, the warmth of the bar a stark contrast to the cool night air. It wasn’t crowded—just a few regulars, a couple playing pool in the corner, and a bartender who barely looked up as you both walked in.

Logan led you to a booth near the back, out of the way, and slid in across from you.

"So," he drawled, resting his arms on the table, "you gonna let me win you a giant teddy bear later?"

You snorted. "You? Win a carnival game? Please."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "You doubtin’ me, sweetheart?"

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips. "I’m just saying… those games take skill. Precision. A soft touch. You’re more of a… smash things and ask questions later kind of guy."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "You got a real smart mouth, you know that?"

"Yeah, and you love it."

He smirked. "Damn right I do."

The bartender came by, and you both ordered drinks. Logan, of course, got whiskey. You opted for something lighter. As soon as the bartender walked away, Logan reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

"Been wantin’ to do that all day," he muttered.

Your heart flipped. You curled your fingers around Logan’s, warmth spreading from the simple touch. He never did this at the mansion—not where anyone could see. But here, away from prying eyes, he was different.

"Yeah?" you murmured, teasing, but your voice was softer than you intended.

Logan’s thumb traced lazy circles against your skin. "Yeah." His eyes flicked up, locking onto yours, something unreadable in them. "Kinda hate sneakin’ around all the time."

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the weight behind his words. "I know."

He didn’t push, didn’t say anything else—just held your hand, like that was enough for now. And maybe it was.

The bartender dropped off your drinks, barely sparing either of you a glance. Logan finally let go, but not before giving your fingers one last squeeze.

You picked up your drink, taking a sip. "So, you actually gonna win me that teddy bear later, or were you just talking shit?"

Logan smirked, reaching for his whiskey. "Sweetheart, I ain’t losin’ to a rigged game."

"You sound awfully confident for someone who doesn’t exactly scream ‘hand-eye coordination.’"

Logan huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"You’re the one dating me."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, but the smirk tugging at his lips said he didn’t mind one bit.

The two of you sat there, drinking, talking, stealing quick touches when no one was looking. It felt easy—like it was supposed to be like this all the time.

You didn’t know how long you stayed, but eventually, Logan leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms across the seat. "Time to make this date look real."

You raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning we go to the damn carnival, you let me win somethin’, and we make sure Summers doesn’t think you were out doin’ somethin’ reckless."

You smirked. "Technically, I am."

Logan snorted, throwing some cash on the table before standing up. "C’mon, trouble. Let’s get you a prize."

---

The carnival was packed, neon lights casting everything in a bright, chaotic glow. The scent of fried food, sugar, and asphalt filled the air, mixing with the hum of laughter and the occasional shriek from a nearby ride.

You walked beside Logan, your fingers grazing his every few steps, but neither of you reached out. Not here.

"Alright, hotshot," you said, stopping in front of a shooting game. "Let’s see if you’re actually as good as you claim."

Logan stepped up to the booth, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. "You doubtin’ me?"

You crossed your arms, smirking. "I don’t doubt that you’re good at a lot of things, but precision? Patience? Not exactly your strong suit."

Logan just grunted, dropping some cash onto the counter. The guy running the booth handed him a plastic rifle, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"You gotta hit all five targets," the guy drawled, popping gum in his mouth. "You miss one, you lose."

Logan spun the rifle in his hand like it was nothing, raising an eyebrow at you. "Watch and learn, sweetheart."

You huffed a laugh, but then—

Crack.

The first target dropped.

Then the second.

Then the third, fourth, fifth—so fast the guy running the booth barely had time to register it before the last one clattered down.

Logan set the rifle down with a smirk. "Told ya."

You blinked. "Okay. That was… impressive."

"You're damn right it was." He turned to the booth guy, jerking his head toward the line of stuffed animals. "Pick whichever one she wants."

You looked at the rows of plush toys, pretending to think before pointing at the most obnoxious, oversized teddy bear in sight.

Logan’s smirk faltered. "Really?"

"You said I could pick," you reminded him, grinning.

He muttered something under his breath but took the giant bear when the guy handed it over, tossing it at you. "Happy now?"

You hugged the ridiculous thing to your chest. "Very."

Logan shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You’re gonna be the death of me, doll."

You grinned, looping your arm through his as you walked. "Yeah, but what a way to go."

---

By the time you got back to the mansion, it was late. The house was mostly quiet, save for the faint murmur of the TV in the common room.

Logan parked in the driveway, shutting off the engine. Neither of you moved right away.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "You know we can’t keep this up forever."

Your chest tightened. "I know."

Silence stretched between you for a beat. Then he spoke, "you worth the trouble, sweetheart?" Logan’s voice was softer, rough in a different way.

You turned to him, meeting his gaze. "You tell me."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached over, curling a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a slow, deliberate kiss.

It was different from earlier—less teasing, less rushed. Just warm, steady, like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a second before he exhaled and pulled away completely. "Go on. Before Summers comes lookin’."

You rolled your eyes but grabbed the stupidly large teddy bear and climbed out. As you walked inside, you didn’t have to look back to know Logan was watching.

---

"Jesus, sugar. That’s a big teddy bear," Rogue said, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed, smirking.

You flopped onto your bed, the ridiculous oversized bear landing beside you. "Yeah, well, I earned it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you? ‘Cause I got a feelin’ Logan earned it, and you just picked the biggest, most obnoxious thing you could outta spite."

You grinned, not even trying to deny it. "He said I could pick."

Rogue let out a snort and stepped inside, flopping down next to the bear and poking its fluffy face. "So, how was date night with our favorite bad decision?"

"Great, actually," you admitted, hugging a pillow to your chest. "We got drinks, he won me this monstrosity, and Scott still thinks I was eating funnel cake and riding the Ferris wheel all night."

Rogue let out a dramatic sigh. "That boy is so clueless, it’s almost sad." Then she shot you a look. "But you know he’s gonna find out eventually, right?"

Your stomach twisted, but you shrugged. "I know."

She tilted her head. "And?"

"And… we’ll deal with it when we have to."

Rogue studied you for a moment, then smirked. "You’re fallin’ for him."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, you grabbed the teddy bear and smacked her in the face with it.

She cackled, shoving it away. "Oh, sugar, you are so screwed."

"Shut up."

"Nah, I love this," she teased. "Big, bad Wolverine gettin’ all soft for little ol’ you. It’s cute."

"He is not—" You stopped yourself, because… yeah. He kind of was. At least with you.

Rogue grinned, smug as hell. "I bet he’s outside your window right now, just sittin’ there, all broody, waitin’ for me to leave so he can sneak in."

You rolled your eyes. "He’s not that predictable."

A faint tap at your window made you both freeze. Rogue's eyes went wide before she burst out laughing, smacking your arm. "No fuckin’ way."

You shot her a glare before pushing off the bed, crossing the room, and pulling the curtain back.

Sure enough, Logan stood outside, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. You cracked the window open just enough to whisper, "Are you serious?"

Logan just smirked. "You gonna let me in, or what?"

Rogue was still laughing behind you. "Oh, sugar, I’m never lettin’ you live this down."

---

“Where’d you get that necklace?” Jean asked, looking over the rim of her coffee mug.

You barely paused as you stirred sugar into your coffee. "Bought it for myself," you said, keeping your tone casual.

Jean hummed, watching you for a second longer before taking a sip. "It’s nice. Simple."

You nodded, fingers brushing over the small silver Earth pendant. "Yeah. Thought so too."

Across the table, Rogue smirked into her cup but said nothing. You could feel her amusement radiating off of her, but you refused to look at her. If you did, you’d probably give yourself away.

Jean, thankfully, didn’t press. She just shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "Well, good for you. You don’t usually wear jewelry."

You forced a small smile. "Guess I’m changing things up."

Rogue let out a quiet snort. You kicked her under the table.

Jean’s gaze flicked between the two of you, like she was debating whether or not to ask what that was about, but before she could, Scott walked in, yawning as he grabbed a cup of coffee.

"You training today?" he asked you, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yeah," you said. "After breakfast."

Scott nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. He didn’t seem to notice the way Rogue was still fighting laughter or how Jean kept glancing at your necklace.

You exhaled quietly, focusing on your coffee. Crisis averted. For now.

---

Later that day, you found Logan in the garage, leaning against his bike, arms crossed as he watched you approach.

"You know," you said, stopping in front of him, "Jean noticed the necklace."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You tell her?"

"Nope," you said, rocking back on your heels. "Said I bought it for myself."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Smart girl."

You smirked. "I try."

Logan reached out, hooking a finger under the chain and tugging you closer. "Y’could’ve just told her the truth."

You gave him a look. "Oh, sure. ‘Hey Jean, thanks for noticing! My secret boyfriend who my brother would literally kill bought it for me. Cool, right?’"

Logan smirked. "I’d pay to see the look on Summers’ face if you ever actually said that."

You rolled your eyes. "You just wanna see him lose his shit."

"Maybe," he admitted, voice full of amusement.

You sighed, shaking your head. "You are such a menace."

Logan’s grip on the necklace tightened for a second before he let it go, letting his fingers trail lightly over your collarbone. "You still wearin’ it, though."

Your breath hitched slightly at the touch, but you kept your expression neutral. "Yeah. I like it."

His smirk softened, just a little. "Good."

For a second, you just stood there, his fingers still ghosting over your skin, the garage quiet except for the distant hum of voices from the mansion.

"You gonna let me take you somewhere tonight?" Logan asked, tilting his head slightly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Somewhere like…?"

Logan shrugged. "Just a ride. No missions, no Scott breathin’ down your neck. Just us."

Your stomach flipped. You hadn’t had much alone time with him outside of stolen moments in your room or hidden corners of the mansion.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. Alright."

Logan’s smirk widened. "Good girl."

Your face heated, but you ignored it, turning on your heel before he could say anything else. "I’ll meet you out here at eleven," you called over your shoulder.

"Don’t be late, sweetheart," he said, and you didn’t have to look back to know he was grinning.

---

The night air was cool against your skin as you stepped off the mansion’s back porch, your pulse quickening with every quiet step. You stuck to the shadows, moving with practiced ease—this wasn’t your first time sneaking out. But it was always a gamble. Always a risk.

Still, that didn’t stop the thrill from curling low in your stomach.

Logan was already waiting by his bike, leaning against it with his arms crossed, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. He exhaled, watching you with that familiar smirk—half amused, half something darker.

"Took you long enough," he muttered, flicking the cigar away.

“I said eleven," you shot back, coming to a stop in front of him. "It’s eleven."

Logan glanced at his watch like he didn’t believe you, then shrugged. "Close enough."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, he grabbed the helmet from the handlebars and held it out. You hesitated for half a second before taking it, slipping it on as Logan swung a leg over the bike.

"Hop on, doll."

You did, settling in behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist automatically. He was warm, solid beneath your touch, the scent of leather and faint cigar smoke clinging to him.

"You gonna tell me where we're going?" you asked, voice slightly muffled behind the visor.

Logan reached down, gripping your thigh just enough to make you feel it. "Nope."

Your stomach flipped. Before you could push for an answer, the engine roared to life beneath you, and then you were moving—tearing down the quiet backroads, the wind rushing past, the world blurring into streaks of light and shadow.

You didn’t ask again. You just held on tighter.

---

Logan didn’t stop until you were well outside of town, pulling off onto a secluded dirt path surrounded by thick trees. The headlights cast long shadows against the trunks as he killed the engine. The night settled around you, quiet except for the faint hum of crickets and the cooling tick of the bike.

You pulled off the helmet, shaking out your hair before looking around. "This is either really romantic or the start of a horror movie."

Logan snorted, stepping off the bike. "Guess that depends on your definition of romantic."

You smirked, handing him the helmet as you stood. "So? What’s the plan, tough guy? You bringin’ me out here to bury a body?"

He huffed a laugh. "Nah. Just figured we could use some real privacy for once." He jerked his head toward a break in the trees. "C’mon."

You followed him down a small path, stepping carefully over the uneven ground. After a few minutes, the trees thinned out, revealing a stretch of open sky and a lake shimmering under the moonlight.

Your breath caught for half a second. You hadn't expected this.

Logan glanced at you, catching the look on your face. "Not bad, huh?"

You crossed your arms, pretending to consider. "It’s alright, I guess."

He smirked. "Brat."

You grinned but didn’t argue. Instead, you kicked off your shoes and stepped onto the wooden dock that stretched over the water, feeling the worn planks creak under your weight. Logan followed, hands in his pockets as he leaned against one of the wooden posts.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The air was crisp, the reflection of the stars rippling over the water’s surface. It was quiet. Peaceful. Something you didn’t get much of at the mansion.

Then Logan’s voice broke the silence. "You ever think about leavin’?"

You blinked, turning to him. "What?"

He kept his eyes on the water. "The mansion. The team. All of it."

You frowned. "Why would I?"

Logan let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Dunno. Just seems like sometimes you’re tryin’ to be somethin’ you ain’t."

You stared at him, caught off guard. "And what exactly do you think I am?"

Logan’s eyes finally met yours, something unreadable in them. "Someone who don’t belong in a cage. No matter how nice they make it look."

Your stomach twisted. You knew what he meant. The mansion was safe, sure. But it was also rules, expectations, eyes always watching. You’d built a life there. A good one. But was it really yours? Or was it just the one Scott expected you to have?

You swallowed, looking away. "And what about you?"

Logan tilted his head slightly. "What about me?"

"Do you ever think about leaving?" You asked.

A pause. "All the damn time."

Something about the way he said it made your chest ache.

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. Logan let you take it, his fingers curling around yours automatically.

"You don’t have to stay, you know," you murmured. "If you really wanted to go."

Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, doll. I do."

Your throat tightened. You knew what he meant. He wasn’t staying for the team.

He was staying for you.

For a moment, you just stood there, his hand warm in yours, the lake stretching out endless and quiet beneath the stars.

Then, finally, Logan smirked. "This is gettin’ a little too sentimental. You wanna go for a swim or somethin’?"

You snorted, shaking your head. "It’s freezing."

"So?"

You rolled your eyes. "You go first, tough guy."

Logan didn’t hesitate. He kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his jacket, and before you could even process what was happening—

Splash.

You gasped as water sprayed onto the dock, the surface rippling wildly where Logan had disappeared. You stared at the disturbance for half a second before Logan popped back up, slicking his hair back with both hands. "Water’s fine."

"You’re a liar," you laughed.

Logan grinned, then suddenly shot out an arm—grabbing your ankle.

"Logan—!"

Too late.

You yelped as he yanked, throwing you completely off balance. The last thing you saw before you hit the water was his smug, grinning face. The cold was a shock—freezing against your skin, stealing the breath from your lungs as you surfaced, gasping.

"You asshole!" you sputtered, shoving wet hair out of your face.

Logan just laughed, the deep sound echoing across the water. "You deserved it," he said, treading water.

"You’re dead," you threatened, lunging at him.

Logan dodged easily, still grinning. "Gotta catch me first, doll."

Oh, it was on now.

You lunged again, cutting through the water as fast as you could, but Logan was quick—too quick. He moved just out of reach every time, smirking like the smug bastard he was.

"That the best you got?" he taunted, backstroking away like he had all the time in the world.

You narrowed your eyes. "You realize I have powers, right?"

Logan’s smirk widened. "Then use ‘em, sweetheart. Let’s see what you got."

Oh, he was asking for it. You didn’t hesitate. You focused, letting energy pulse through your limbs, giving yourself a boost as you surged forward. Logan’s eyes barely had time to widen before you tackled him, sending both of you under the water.

Bubbles rushed around you, the muffled sound of movement filling your ears as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, dragging him down with you. You knew he could hold his breath longer than you, but you weren’t planning on letting this turn into a real fight.

Instead, you twisted, using the momentum to flip him over so you were the one pinning him, hands braced against his shoulders. Even underwater, his smirk was there—amused, challenging.

You rolled your eyes and pushed off, breaking the surface first.

A second later, Logan popped up in front of you, shaking water from his hair. "Not bad," he admitted, voice rougher than usual from the cold. "Didn’t think you had it in you."

"Yeah, well, you underestimate me a lot," you shot back, treading water.

Logan’s smirk softened just a little. "Never."

Your breath hitched, pulse stuttering for a second, but before you could dwell on it, Logan moved—closing the distance between you in one smooth motion. His hands found your waist under the water, steady, warm despite the chill.

"You’re shivering," he murmured.

You rolled your eyes. "Because you threw me in a freezing lake, dumbass."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, but instead of teasing you again, he just pulled you closer. The warmth of him was instant, the solid weight of his body pressing against yours. His hands slid up, fingers tracing along your ribs, your back. You swallowed, heartbeat thudding as his lips brushed against your temple, then down to the edge of your jaw.

"You wanna get out?" he murmured, voice low.

You nodded, but neither of you moved. Instead, Logan dipped his head, lips ghosting over yours, slow and teasing, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. Like he wanted you to.

But you didn’t. You closed the space, pressing your mouth against his, your fingers slipping into his wet hair as he kissed you back—deep, slow, like he had all the time in the world.

The water rocked around you, your bodies drifting, the night air cool against your skin. It was dangerous, reckless—standing there like this, kissing in the open where anyone could find you.

But you didn’t care.

Not tonight.

Eventually, Logan pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you warmed up."

His smirk was back, but there was something else in his eyes now—something softer, something real.

You exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. Okay."

Logan didn’t let you go as he led you back toward the shore, his grip firm, steady. Like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

a few things - one, reader's powers are energy manipulation. two, i think it's in the next part, but reader has a degree in something nature/environmental related. it's not heavily described though. anyways, enjoy part 2!

❀ part 2 ❀

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine smut

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shoyoist · 3 months ago

Text

── 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 : VI.

content: 2.2k words ! fem reader, pit fighter!vi, fwb dynamic. sapphic content. part 2 to my series linked below! each chapter can be read as a standalone. top vi, edging, dirty talk, vi calls you 'princess', a little choking, one mention of hair pulling; fingering, cunnilingus, a bit of manhandling, some inner monologuing and angst. brief mention of past sex work. flashback to how they met.

SERIES MASTERLIST. part 1: home time.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you've been needing vi since you first laid eyes on her.

the first time you’d laid eyes on vi, she’d looked more wounded animal than woman to you.

it was your first night at the pit. you sat a good distance away, clinking glasses with a couple of friends who all enjoyed watching brutes throw each other around way more than they should. when the renowned new regular stepped up for the next match, your friends had grunted, “oh here’s that bitch again. she makes these so boring.” “hmm? hey, i think her winning streak’s pretty hot.” “well, it’d be hotter if she played around with her prey a bit more.”

you weren’t really that interested, but the change in atmosphere was significant enough that you had to look up. through the fog of cigarette smoke and hookah fumes, you could see the fighting ring — illuminated brightly by a dozen, dazzling headlights.

and there vi was. she was walking the perimeter of the ring with a quick, light-footed pace like her hackles were raised, teeth bared and grit like she was going to use them to win.

with her back to you, you could see the complex patterns inked from her nape to the end of her spine, and when she raised her arms and braced for the signal to start, you saw how her muscles tensed and tightened. you weren’t able to look away till the fight was over and she was out of the ring — cold blue eyes holding no hint of pride in victory within them, busted nose dripping a stream of blood down her lip, flecks of red across her neck and on the swell of her breasts.

you started showing up again and again, after that.

vi interested you, and though you tried to remain nonchalant about it, you kept coming back to see her. watching her fight became a regular pastime to you. not even just a pastime. a sort of guilty pleasure. an obsession. you even stayed for the afterparty that followed the fights. you’d hang around with the other women who were there just to watch or to try themselves out on the dancefloor.

you eventually figured vi was here to fight just as much as she was here to make ends meet. in between watching her as she beat people bloody and swaying your hips for her to see, you mulled over the little information you had on her. you’d heard of all the stories of her, of course. one of the survivors of the clash between silco and vander. elder sister of the one and only jinx. was recently entangled with an enforcer, joined topside. betrayed all of zaun. bit the hand that had fed her all her life. got fucked over and thrown back into the pit. and here she was.

she fought with bare fists, hair and lips inked the same shade of black, some of it streaking her forehead with sweat, getting worse whenever she wiped her face. the skin over her muscles red with impact and pumping blood, her eyes full of a dead sort of rage. and she kept winning her fights. one after the other, she sent men to the ground. and she looked fucking good doing it.

you heard the other stories too. how she only fucked women. how she fucked them good.

and somehow, you started getting impatient. you wanted vi to notice you. you kept trying to figure something out. devise a way for you to stand out from the crowd; to really catch her eye.

but fuck, it was hard. like a wounded animal, vi seemed to be paralyzed by something that no longer existed. she fought, ate, drank, got lugged home by some fucker. she split her knuckles, spat blood, screamed. and she just didn’t fucking approach you. it was like she was trapped in a cycle. like you had to lure her out, with elaborately laid out traps.

piece after piece of meat for the hungry, wounded and angry, dead-eyed beast.

you told your friends you just wanted a good fuck. you told them you wanted a feel of what she’s got. and it was true! there was nothing emotional here. you didn’t know vi, vi didn’t know you — and you didn’t particularly want someone who’d been lusting after a fucking piltie anyway.

but that was what was nagging you. the thing that annoyed you more than anything was that a woman who’d gotten dumped by a topsider was somehow too far out of your reach. you felt you were better than that.

and as the weeks blurred, you started needing her to need you.

you didn’t consider yourself anything like a revolutionary. you weren’t a genius and you weren’t necessarily fueled by the desire to somehow avenge the undercity.

but you’d gone through much. perhaps not stillwater, but you knew that it didn’t only take years in a stone box to drive a woman crazy. your own life full of fuck-overs and hardships had put a good pint of patriotism and dignity in you. and somehow, the fact that someone like vi who had arguably suffered so much worse than you had, was so enamoured by a topsider — an enforcer, of all topsiders — filled you with rage.

you saw vi as a powerful asset. not a herald or a beacon like jinx was, but something. something for zaun that was definitely not for piltover to craftily thieve away. there was a certain hint of betrayal that everyone tasted in their mouths when they looked at vi. it was strange to acknowledge how you felt — but you suppose you wanted to reclaim vi.

and as you watched vi fight, memorizing her moves, lost in the way she sucked spittle back through her teeth as she got up from the painted concrete, you saw her as what she really was. a weapon, carved out of zaunite stone with the loving hands of piltover’s cruelty.

she was gorgeous. a piltie could never see her the way you saw her. and you wanted her to see that.

your efforts are not without eventual success, though it was an arduous affair to get to that point. one night, after a barely-there win, vi finally makes her way to you at the end of the night.

“hey.”

you blink up at her, discreetly aware that your friends are fleeing their spots at the table you were sharing with them. “. . . yes?”

“mind if i sit here?” vi says, already pulling a chair out to take a seat right next to you. you’d raised a cracked cup of water to your lips, and you watched her from over the rim as she sits and rubs a bandaged palm at her chin, wiping blood off. she’s caked with sweat and grime, and her left eye is darkening with a bruise. she smells of beer already, and now that she’s up close to you, you catch the scent of cheap dye — something like ink or paint.

you can suddenly hear your pulse in your ears. oh. she's so hot.

“so, you here for the dancefloor or for me?” she breaks the momentary silence.

you don’t remember how the conversation went from there, really. all you remember is that eventually, vi had come back with you to your place. and you’d helped her clean up a bit — sudsy water and your last clean rag on her, half a roll of bandages for her split knuckles — before you were on each other.

vi pressed you to your sheets and ate you up like she was starved.

your clothes are all off within minutes, pulled off by vi’s wandering hands. she’s stripped bare, too, only gauze and bandages covering her. her mouth searches you, your arms pinned to your sides by her unyielding grip on your wrists.

she kisses you up and down, sometimes soft and sometimes harsh, taking deep breath after breath of your skin into her lungs. she does this till you’re jittery, edging you till you’re so sensitive that you’re ready to explode. kissing, biting, nose nudging at your folds and tongue licking at your softer spots. covering you in inky kiss marks. rubbing it on your sheets.

you moan for her, whine her name, too embarrassed to just ask her to hurry the fuck up and make you cum — and you lay there and let her eat you up. you blush when she tells you how she knows you’ve been staring at her. you want to sink into your squeaky mattress and hide when she tells you you’ve got a lot of princess attitude, waiting so patiently till vi came up to you herself.

“i’ve seen the way you look at me. y’ into me, princess?” she hisses into your chest, strong fingers wrapped around your throat. her other hand cupping your pussy, she slowly coaxes the air out of your lungs. gets you to beg for her before she slips her fingers in you.

this wasn't how you had planned for it to go. you'd wanted to do more. you had wanted to do the fucking. you wanted her to feel good at your hands.

you’re embarrassed by how easily she makes you fold, but she’s so hot. she's too fucking good at this. and she’s giving you exactly what you want. what’s a lonely, touch-starved bitch to do? “vi, fuck.”

“you’ve been wantin’ me for a while, huh?” she taps your cheek, one hand squeezing the plush of your right tit while the other toys with your cunt. “mhm,” you whimper. “weeks.”

and the lidded look she gives you as she increases the pressure of her thumb on your clit is enough to make you see white.

that’s how it had started. a dance of nothing and nothing between you and vi. nothing as in, you didn’t know what it was, really. and nothing as in, you didn’t know what you wanted it to be.

your intention had been to claim vi for yourself. to show her that pretty things existed down here in zaun, too — that she should see how piltover has fucked her over. to convince her to stay down here where people were her family and places were her home. but as time went on, and as the number of entanglements between you and vi kept increasing, it started feeling more and more like vi had claimed you for herself instead.

vi was erratic. it would feel as if you were fixing her — like she was finally moving on from whatever had happened to her up there; then she would disappear for days. and she would come back battered, worse. sometimes she would sleep in your bed and it would make you happy, till she mutters a name alien to you in her sleep. “caitlyn. cait.”

and it makes you see red. you tell yourself you don’t love this woman. you tell yourself you just want her to forget that bullshit. you tell yourself this is your own little way of keeping your home and its people safely away from the ignorant, cruel toying of the luxurious topside. but as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, you can’t deny yourself of it anymore.

vi makes you soft. she makes you want.

sometimes she’s weak in your arms. sometimes, right after she’s done fucking you and done pulling your hair while you eat her out, she’ll be sighing into your chest, muscled arms wrapped around your waist as she sleeps on top of you. she makes you feel like you belong. like you have something here. which is fucking funny, because that’s how you want to make her feel. but you doubt you’re doing it successfully. you feel like the tables have been turned on you.

it’s fucking annoying.

you keep telling yourself that this won’t end well for you. you keep wondering if you should just ask vi to pay up. you remember clear as day, how you used to turn sex into a source of income. you remember how you made anything into a job. how you scavenged, leeched, fucked, killed, whatever — but that was when you needed money for a place to live in. when you needed food and water and clothes and a bed and you had nothing and no one and no means.

you just really hated the thought of being used. and you didn’t know what made you feel it worse — letting vi come and go like this for nothing, or to ask her to pay you like you’re someone up for hire.

“what do you think of me?” you ask vi, as the two of you lay together, mouths close enough to exchange breath. “i think you’re good, princess.” vi says, like it’s easy for her. “real good to me.”

and somehow, that was good enough for you to keep going. you were good to her. became her pretty princess. her good girl. her distraction, her safe place, her home. whenever she wanted it, you laid her head on your chest and lulled her into a dreamless sleep with the beat of your heart. you traced the tattoos on her back with your fingertips, kissed her hair, told her she has nothing to fear. you told her you would never leave.

“promise?” “promise.”

until of course.

one night, vi just up and left. you had asked her if she would come again. and she had said she probably would. so, like a loyal little dog, you waited for her — a sinking feeling in your heart telling you that she was gone. that you’d failed, that your stupid little feelings were for nothing and did nothing.

and of course, she didn’t come. you heard of some news here and there. vi was with jinx again. vi was doing some crazy shit. vi had gone back to piltover. it made you so angry. so, so fucking angry.

zaun nearly came apart at the seams. there was a revolution. like a storm that floods the trenches and takes everything with it. leaving the land bare, clean, up for restoration.

you, lost. alone. heartbroken and seething with humiliation and disappointment. left to pick up your pieces and rebuild yourself.

and the next time you saw vi, she was entirely changed. and the sight of her made you sick to your stomach like nothing ever did before.

send me an ask to be tagged in the next part!

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punkshort · 1 year ago

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i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @less-chaotic-brain @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #my writing

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loafysainz · 4 months ago

Text

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction, remake, and this chapter lil bit longer

chap 1, chap 2, chap 3, chap 4, chap 5

PART 4 THE RIPPED PHOTO

All the campers marched like soldiers along the long forest path. Matheo and Mattia, the two boys facing “punishment,” trudged behind, clearly over it. At least the sun wasn’t blazing through the pine trees.

“Alright, everyone else can get back to your activities!” Mr. Hamilton yelled into his megaphone.

The campers cheered and bolted down the road. Mattia and Matheo stayed behind, exchanging annoyed looks as Mr. Hamilton pointed to their destination: a creaky old cabin that looked one strong wind away from collapse.

“Isolation cabin,” Mr. Hamilton declared.

“This place better not have ghosts,” Mattia muttered, adjusting his sunglasses.

Matheo rolled his eyes. “If there are ghosts, they’ll probably be more fun than you.”

***

The cabin creaked ominously as the boys settled in. Matheo unpacked with exaggerated flair, sticking Real Madrid posters on the walls. Mattia ignored him, focused on his card game.

“What are you even playing?” Matheo asked, squinting at the cards.

“Uno. Against myself. I’m winning,” Mattia replied without looking up.

Matheo rolled his eyes, then moved to open the window. A strong wind blew in, scattering his posters everywhere.

“Ugh, help me close this!” Matheo groaned.

Mattia stood, reluctantly helping. Together, they managed to shut the window.

“Thanks,” Matheo mumbled.

“No problem,” Mattia replied, sitting back down.

As they gathered Matheo’s scattered posters, Mattia raised an eyebrow at a particular one.

“What is that?”

“It’s Real Madrid merch,” Matheo said, clutching the poster protectively. “And this guy is Kylian Mbappe. He is my favorite player. Don’t judge.”

Mattia smirked. “Whatever makes you happy, buddy.”

Later, Matheo rummaged through his bag and pulled out a snack.

“Want some chips?”

Mattia shook his head. “I only eat chips with Nutella. You wouldn’t understand.”

Matheo froze. “Excuse me? I eat everything with Nutella. Even fries.”

“No way,” Mattia said, his jaw dropping.

Matheo grabbed a jar from his drawer triumphantly. “Believe it.”

Mattia stared. “Okay, now I trust you a little more. Just a little.”

The two laughed, dunking chips into Nutella like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Whats your dad like? I mean, is he the kind of father you can talk to or is he one of those workaholic types, who says I'll talk to you later, honey. But you know never really does. Well i hate that" Matheo asked casually with his expressive face and eating his chip.

Mattia chuckle a bit seeing Matheo face,

"I don't have a father, actually." he said with a bit bitter face.

"I mean, I had one once, I suppose. But my parents divorce since I was baby. My mom never even mentioned it. It's like he evaporated into thin air or something." Mattia said it with his voice getting quieter.

Matheo face shocked, his eyes widen, and his posture straightening, "Scary the way nobody stays together anymore."

"Tell me about it."

"How old are you?" Matheo asked.

“I'll be 10 on December 15th,” Mattia replied. “Why?”

Matheo froze. “That’s my birthday.”

Mattia raised an eyebrow. “Weird.”

***

The rain finally stopped, leaving behind that fresh, post-storm vibe. Matheo leaned against the cabin door, his hair slightly damp from the drizzle earlier. “Oh, hey, it stopped raining. Want to get a popsicle or something?” he asked casually, glancing at Mattia, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, lost in thought.

“What’s the matter?” Matheo pressed, noticing the faraway look in Mattia’s eyes.

Mattia sighed, tilting her head back. “What’s your mother like?” he asked suddenly.

Matheo blinked, caught off guard. “I never met her. She and my dad split up when I was a baby. Maybe even before—I’m not sure. He doesn’t like to talk about her.” He paused, fidgeting with his hands. “But I know she was really, really beautiful.”

Mattia squinted at him. “How do you know that?”

“Well,” Matheo said with a sheepish smile, “my dad had old picture of her hidden on his room. I’d always look at it, like, all the time. He finally caught me and just gave it to me.”

"Look, I’m thirsty. Sure you don’t want to hit the mess hall and grab something to drink?”

Mattia frowned, folding his arms. “Will you stop thinking about your stomach at a time like this?”

Matheo scoffed, hands on his hips. “A time like what?”

Matheo’s eyes widened. “Don’t you realize what’s happening?”

Matheo rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, Mattia, please tell me.”

Matheo hesitated, then shook his head, changing the subject. "Listen, I only have a mother, and you only have a father. You've never seen your mom, and I've never seen my dad. You have one old picture of your mom, and I have one old picture of my dad. But at least yours is probably a whole picture. Mine's a pathetic little thing, all crinkled and ripped right down the middle, and...

Matheo stood in stunned silence, the coincidence weighing heavily in the air.

“What are you doing in your trunk for?” Mattia asked, voice curious but edged with disbelief.

Wordlessly, the other pulled out a crinkled photograph, holding it up with trembling hands. “This... it’s a picture of my mum. And it’s ripped, too. Right down the middle.”

The first stared at the photo, their breath catching in their throat. Their voice was a whisper now. “Right down the middle.”

“Okay, this is freaky,” they said, their tone shaky. “On the count of three, we’ll hold them together. Deal?”

The other nodded, their hands still trembling. “Deal.”

“One... two... three.”

As the halves of the photos came together, the ripped edges fit perfectly. The faded image revealed a couple smiling brightly—Matheo’s father and Mattia’s mother. The realization hit them like a thunderbolt.

“That’s... my mom,” Mattia said, his voice barely audible.

“And thats my old man,” Mattia replied, unable to look away.

Their eyes locked, the truth settling in like a jigsaw finally completed.

#cs55 #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic

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rusalka52 · 2 months ago

Text

Tell me I’m pretty

↝completed

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Once news about your upcoming date with Sirius hits Hogwarts every one of your friends seems to be against it. The morning of your date is here and you can’t seem to calm down.

cw: Sirius is a bit of a liar, blood-purist attitudes, mention of period typical homophobia

4.3k words

A/N: This chapter was meant to be them going on the date but I realised it was going to become way too long so I decided to split it into two parts. I’m halfway done with the next part but I wasn’t going to be able to finish it all today and I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting any longer. I hope you guys enjoy this (slight filler) chapter and don't forget to like, reblog, comments etc. etc. and let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list!!!!

You have witnessed Regulus Arcturus Black scream a total of two times throughout your seven years at Hogwarts. The first time was when he was knocked off his broom by a bludger sent his way by the Hufflepuff team’s beater. You heard him scream as he hit the ground with a loud thud as his broom was knocked out from under him, sending him plunging down. He ended up fracturing his arm in two places. The other time was while you, him and a couple of your mutual friends were sitting under the big oak tree in the courtyard. Regulus’ ear piercing shriek filled the peaceful air as he jumped out of his seat in a panic frantically patting himself. A little spider had landed on his sleeve.

You are about to bear witness to the third time that Regulus will raise his voice.

“YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE WITH WHO?” He screeches, flinging the door to your dorm room open and making you jump in fear. You were sure he was going to rip the door off its hinges from how sudden and rapid his movements were.

“Merlin, Regulus! Can you at least knock!?” You exclaim, staring at him wide eyed, clutching your heart. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“Please, for the love of Salazar, tell me that this Ravenclaw girl was chatting shit and you’re NOT going on a date with my brother.” He says, closing his eyes, rubbing his temples and seemingly doing breathing exercises to calm himself down.

“How did you even get up here?” You ask, ignoring the question.

“I let him in!” Pandora announces coming up behind him and flopping down on her bed, watching the scene unfold in front of her as if it’s a film.

“Ugh Doraaa…” You whine, looking over at the blonde who just smiles in return.

“Sorry, someone has to talk some sense into you.” She shrugs, apologising, very insincerely!

“Mate, please tell me it’s not true. Please!” Regulus begs, grabbing your attention again. You gaze up at him. He was still standing in the doorway of the dorm, white-knuckling the door knob. You take a moment to study him. He definitely looked related to Sirius. Their resting faces always betrayed their arrogance and haughtiness that seemed to almost be innate to all pure-blood families. Despite their similarities, moles littering their faces reminiscent of constellations, grey eyes, raven hair, there were plenty of differences that set them apart. Sirius was taller, slightly more handsome and his hair was a few inches longer, reaching below his shoulders with a tighter curl pattern than his brother. His hair care routine is definitely more detailed and convoluted than his brother’s. His teeth were slightly sharper and his eyes more expressive. Regulus had acne scars staining his cheeks from the amount of time he picked his face and his nails were perpetually bitten, both an obvious symptom of anxiety. His shoulders permanently tensed.

“Well?” He looks at you expectantly.

“It’s… umm, not not true!” You try to reason, averting your gaze, suddenly your overgrown cuticles and chipped nail polish became a hundred times more interesting.

“I hate you!” His voice comes out muffled as he buries his face in his hands. He closes the dorm door and sits on the bed across from yours. Regulus grips your hands in his.

“Listen to me.” You peel your eyes away from your nails and look at the boy in front of you.

“You’re a smart girl but I need to offer you some insight regarding my brother.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “He doesn’t wash his socks, he sleeps in the same dirty, disgusting, sleeveless, cropped New York Dolls shirt and boxers -most nights, sometimes NO boxers-, our poor house elf has to physically drag him away to change his sweaty sheets, and even then he yells at him, so Salazar knows how often he changes them here! Did you also know that he blasts his shitty rock music really loud every day and night? Merlin, how could I forget!? He also has pictures and posters of that ridiculous Harley motorcycle AND half naked muggle ladies all over his walls back home! That Infuriates mother because he used a bloody permanent sticking charm on them! Can you believe the twat!” The boy in front of you takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, another trait he shares with his brother, before continuing his tirade. “He will just use you to get what he wants and then leave you, you must know that! Or, even worse, he might not even show up to the date and mock you the next day. Or, Merlin forbid, you two go to that damned date at Hogsmeade and he will surely get distracted by that ridiculous group of his and he ends up ditching you in favour of hanging out with his bloody mates!!!” Regulus rants growing more and more disgusted with every word. “In conclusion, Sirius is just a repulsive, lustful teenage boy and you should not, under any circumstance, go out with him!” He finishes, getting up and leaving your dorm, not wanting to hear another word from you.

You’ve known and been friends with Regulus since second year so you were well aware that this action meant ‘do whatever you want, but just so you know, I’m right’ but you were truly hoping that this wouldn’t be the case and that Sirius would not prove his brother right.

“HE’S GOING ON A DATE WITH WHO?” Marlene exclaims in shock as she walks through the portrait hole, Dorcas, the tattle-tale, trailing behind her. Everyone who was in the Gryffindor common room had turned to look at the two girls waiting to find out who is going on a date with who. Marlene started scanning the room, her eyes finally locking on her target -Sirius- and making a beeline towards him.

Sirius was sitting on the windowsill next to the open window blowing smoke out of it, his cropped Stooges shirt riding up to reveal his happy trail and v line, while James was lounging next to him on one of the sofas, playing with his golden snitch and pretending to pay attention to whatever the History of Magic textbook was analysing. Marlene marched right up to Sirius and stood with her hands on her hips staring daggers at him.

“If you and your little girlfriend want cigarettes, go ask Remus, I'm not giving you anymore of mine.” Sirius says flippantly, not even sparing a glance at the ticked off blonde in front of him. Until she punches him in the stomach.

“What in the bloody hell was that for!?” He exclaims clutching his stomach and bending over as James snickers beside him. Marlene knew that her punch didn’t hurt, Sirius just had a flair for the dramatic.

“Why are people saying you're going on a date with that Slytherin chick?”

“Well, you’re also dating a Slytherin chick but you’re not seeing me throwing punches left and right!”

“So it IS true!? You are unbelievable, Black.” Marlene shakes her head at her friend.

“Gosh, Marlene, why can’t a boy have some fun nowadays!” He exclaims in an over exaggerated tone, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Need I remind you of how horribly you treated her in the hallways the other day? I mean frankly, I just don’t understand why she even agreed to go out with you…”

“Dearest Marlene, you’ll be pleased to find out that she asked, nay, practically begged, to go on a date with me! I am nothing short of a gentleman so, of course, I decided to indulge her.” Sirius, of course, was well aware that what he said was not true; images of him yesterday, on his knees in front of her, kissing her fingers, coming to the forefront of his mind, but the others didn’t need to know that.

“Did she actually?” Dorcas spoke up for the first time, slowly approaching the group from behind Marlene.

“Oh, she speaks! Who would’ve thought!” James comments, giggling, as he and Sirius share a mocking look. Marlene, in defence of her girlfriend, slaps him over the head, promptly shutting the taunting boy up. Dorcas always felt uncomfortable in the Gryffindor tower. She tried to keep her relationship with Marlene low-key -it being the 70s and all-, but she couldn’t help but take notice of people’s judgemental stares when they walked hand in hand, even though they could play it off as just being friends. People could always tell. It didn’t help that she was a Slytherin so there was always an underlying hatred being pointed towards her on the basis of her house. No matter how many times she visited their common room with Marlene she would always hear a hushed “what’s the snake doing here..?” always said in annoyance and disgust. Therefore, Dorcas learned to ignore all the taunting remarks

“Yeah, she practically pleaded like a puppy during detention yesterday. It was quite adorable really.” Sirius shrugs, putting out his cigarette on the cobblestone walls and tossing the butt in a trash can nearby. And this is how easily rumours and misinformation spread through the Hogwarts castle.

“Mate, do you actually even fancy her?” Peter asks Sirius later in the boys dorm, munching on a chocolate frog. Remus, the quiet but very necessary voice of reason, was out for the night, curtains drawn and already snoring. The full moon being a few days away always caused him to become lethargic and need more sleep than usual.

“Yeah, Pads, why are you even interested in going out with her?” James questions in a low voice so as not to wake up Remus. “I mean I understand when you just wanted to snog her at the concert, and you got your wish, but a date seems a bit too far, no?”

“Well, she’s completely obsessed with me, so I decided to give the poor girl a chance.” Sirius tries to play it off.

“But wasn’t she the one refusing you the other day, how come she changed her mind so quickly?” Peter wonders.

“Besides, you never even told us what happened at detention yesterday.” James remarks.

“I-uh, well you see,” Sirius stammers, “a true gentleman would never kiss and tell!” He briskly regains his composure trying to not expose his lie. “I just see her as a sort of challenge, you know! It would also be fun to mess with her a bit…” He continues, hoping that the boys would just drop it. Sirius is so thankful for the full moon approaching or else Remus would have definitely noticed his lie and asked him about it later. What Sirius had said wasn’t a complete lie, it was the truth, only slightly bent to fit his needs, and with a few embellishments added to conclude his bad-boy charm.

This was the first time that Sirius had ever even considered dating a pureblood Slytherin, so of course he was slightly on edge. It was something that would totally conform to everything his parents would have wanted for him to do, find a nice pureblood Slytherin girl to date, then marry, then produce an heir for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and this annoyed Sirius to no end, so of course he had to pretend that she was obsessed with him and not the other way around. How could he, the black sheep and rebel of his family, the first Black to ever be sorted into Gryffindor, the one who ran away to stay with a “blood traitor’s” family, possibly want to do something that would appease his family, maybe even make them proud? It was making his head spin.

Next morning at breakfast you take a seat next to Regulus who has seemingly cooled off from last day’s diatribe.

“Good morning, have you changed your mind?” He asks, flipping the page of this morning’s Daily Prophet.

You place some pancakes on your plate. “No.”

“Hm, that’s a shame.” And that’s where your riveting conversation ended. He was still bitter because of yesterday it seems.

You two eat in awkward silence for approximately fifteen minutes until your vision suddenly goes black and someone’s dirty hands are covering your eyes.

“Guess who?” You hear Barty laugh obnoxiously behind you.

“Not in the mood, mate.” You shake the brunette off and he sits next to you. Regulus’ coldness had evidently rubbed off on you making you completely disinterested in Barty’s antics. Barty, naturally, saw that as a challenge to cheer you up.

“You’ll never guess what ridiculously laughable rumour I heard this morning by some airhead Hufflepuff girls in the hallway. That you, of all people in this damn castle, asked Sirius Black, the blood-traitor, out on a date to Hogsmeade. As if!” He laughs next to you.

You and Regulus freeze up, the tension in the air, which Barty was seemingly oblivious to, could be cut with a butter knife.

“Oh Salazar, you asked him?” Regulus whines like a petulant child, burying his face in his hands.

“Wait, WHAT?” Barty exclaims, placing his hands around your shoulders and shaking you. “Tell me you’re not actually going and that you're going to stand him up!”

“Erm, well, you see…”

“Merlin, mate… Out of everyone in this castle you chose him!?” At Barty’s exacerbated sigh the three of you peer over at the Gryffindor table. You immediately spot the Marauders, which wasn’t all that difficult seeing as Peter was trying to shoot blueberries in James’ mouth, who in turn hissed and groaned, yelling at the other boy’s poor aim, every time he missed. At 8 o’clock in the morning. Remus, who was sitting next to Peter, was flipping through his copy of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms while sipping on his morning tea; he appeared far too exhausted to deal with the boys’ hijinks. And Sirius…well, he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them at all.

His gaze was already fixed on you when your eyes landed on him, and he flashed a blithe grin your way that instantly sent heat rushing to your cheeks and neck. He raises his arm to wave at you and you can't help but take notice of your pink hair tie still wrapped around his wrist. Despite your best efforts to resist, even biting your cheek to distract yourself, Sirius’ smile was too infectious. It wasn’t your fault, you thought defensively. How could a person possibly not return his smile? The way his sharp teeth flashed, the sincerity in his grey eyes, the-

“Oh Salazar, you did ask him…” Regulus buries his head deeper in his hands.

“You are unbelievable!” Barty barks a laugh, slinging an arm around your shoulder teasingly. You're just praying at this point that the earth opens up to swallow you whole.

“Well, seeing as these two love birds will no doubt start courting soon, we should establish some ground rules, don't you agree Reggie?” Barty carries on, talking about you as if you're not even there.

“Don’t talk to me.” Regulus takes a sip of his lukewarm tea and turns his body away from you two.

“Rule number one: You two must keep the public displays of affection to a minimum in our presence, especially in front of poor ol’ Reggie over there, he might have an aneurysm if he sees anything beyond hand holding!” The brunette turns to address you. You do your best to ignore him, biting down on your pancakes.

“Rule number two: Don’t you dare start hanging out with those Gryffindor bellends and inviting them over to our hangouts over the summer. My house has a strict ‘No Gryffindors allowed policy’ as you know.” You hum in mock agreement, a poor attempt of getting him to go back to the Ravenclaw table.

“And now most important rule of all, rule number three: We should under no circumstances leave the two of you unattended for too long, the future heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black simply cannot be born out of wedlock! Walburga, or I suppose your mother-in-law now, would have a fit! Although I’m sure a nerd like Regulus is bound to know a few contraceptive potions to help his brother-dearest out.” Regulus and you grimace and Barty in turn just grins wider.

“You alright, mate? You're going to break the fork in half.” James laughs at the way his friend next to him is subconsciously white-knuckling the blameless kitchen utensil in his hand.

“I just don’t like the way his arm has been around her for that long, that’s all.” Sirius says, sucking his teeth and relaxing his grip. “That Crouch boy is nothing but trouble, you know. I’ve seen him hanging around Mulciber, Avery, Rosier and that sort.”

“And here I thought you didn’t fancy this lass that much.” James drawls.

“I don’t.”

“Mhm…” Remus hums in response avoiding the raven haired boy’s burning gaze.

“I would just prefer it that the girl I’m going on a date with isn’t fraternising with to-be death eaters! “

“So you’re not jealous that his arm is wrapped around her?”

“No, Wormtail, I am not jealous.” Sirius makes sure his disagreement is noticed by accentuating his response with a hard kick to Peter’s shin.

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, spent in one of three locations; the classrooms, studying in the library, or sleeping in your dorm. And it was now Saturday and your morning alarm was ringing. The morning of your date with Sirius Black. Now that was a sentence you couldn’t believe you were saying. After ruminating on your clothes all week, on Friday you finally managed to pick out an outfit from your wardrobe that you liked and that was weather appropriate. You made sure last night to carefully lay out the clothes on your trunk at the end of your bed so as not to get them wrinkly and to keep them clean. The only thing that remained was to pick out your jewelry and take care of your hair and makeup. Nothing too extravagant you don’t want him thinking that you care too much about this date. He probably doesn’t, anyway.

You finally sit up from your bed and the sight in front of you makes your eyes bulge out of your skull.

“DORCAS!” You scream, effectively waking up every girl in the dorm, maybe even in the entire Slytherin dungeon.

“I hate your bloody cat so much, look at what it’s done!” The cat in question yawns, does a big stretch all over your clean clothes and jumps off your trunk with a meow, her tail flicking behind her. “You have to train the damn thing!”

“Don’t yell at Trixie!” Pandora chastises, rolling over in her bed and covering her head with the pillow.

You sit on the corner of your bed and shake your head.

“I can’t wear this now! My clothes are ruined, there are cat hairs all over them and look at how wrinkly your wretched beast made them!” You look up at your friend, tears nearly brimming your eyes. This date was making you go insane, this was not normal behaviour.

“Dear Salazar, mate, stop being hysterical, here.” Dorcas says, flicking her wand and making your clothes appear good as new. She takes a seat next to you.

“Is everything alright with you..?” Dorcas questions, patting your thigh soothingly. You take a deep breath.

“Yes.” You stand up. “Yes, everything is fine, I need to brush my teeth.” You slam the bathroom door behind you and immediately wash your face. You were working yourself up into a frenzy for no reason, for something that should not even matter to you. Just breathe.

You go on with your morning routine, finishing your makeup and hair, and you put on your outfit.

“Okay girls, how do I look?” You do a spin in front of all your dorm mates, who were sitting in a line on one of the unmade beds. They all clap.

“Wowww.”

“Beautiful.”

“Outstanding!”

You hear their voices chorus in front of you.

“Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that because we’re friends?” You ask them fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“Merlin, why are you so worried about this date? It should be Black who should be nervous, going out with a bird like you!” Dorcas responds reassuringly.

“You’re right, you’re right. Now someone please help me with the clasp of this necklace. I can’t get it closed.” In reality, on every other occasion, you could put the necklace on quite easily, but your sweaty palms were preventing you today. Your body was betraying your anxiety for this date and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Your hands were involuntarily fidgeting with the end of your skirt on your way out from the Slytherin dungeons.

“Mate, you really need to calm down.” Dorcas grabs your upper arm and squeezes it, trying to get you to relax.

“Fuck, I know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t even like him that much, he’s just a stupid boy!” You close your eyes taking, what seemed to be, the thousandth deep breath of the day.

“It’s natural to be nervous about a first date. I remember the first time I went out with Marlene I nearly threw up on the coach ride to Hogsmeade!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. But don’t worry it’s not like I’m seeing the future, I’m shite at divination, you know that.” She giggles. You two continue walking in comfortable silence until you reach the entrance to the castle.

“Everything will go great, don’t sweat it.” Dorcas hugs you.

“I know.” You reply, your answer muffled by your face being buried in her shoulder, and the pair of you walk outside.

As you make your way towards the gate leading to the path towards Hogsmeade you spot Marlene sitting on one of the benches. The moment she spots her girlfriend a smile lights up her face and she rises from the bench, walking towards you. Your eyes begin to scan the rest of the benches looking for Sirius as the two girls hug and greet each other.

“Hi, Marlene!” You wave at the blonde. “Have you, umm, seen Sirius around?”

“No, love, sorry, but I’m sure he’ll get here soon. The entire Gryffindor tower has had to listen to him wax poetics about you all week, it’s been driving everyone up a wall.”

“Really?” You question, unsure as to whether she’s saying that just to make you feel better or because it’s the truth.

“Yeah! He tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing for the first day but after that he’s been raving about you non-stop! It’s always ‘Oh Marls, have you seen how pretty and soft hair looks today and how her lipstick accentuates her plump lips, isn’t she just ravishing!? Marls, did you notice how quickly she completed her potion first today, and it was perfectly done too, she’s so smart!’ Absolute madman! I started getting sick of you -no offence- but after the twentieth compliment in a row, it becomes a lot, you know.” Heat starts rising to your cheeks. You weren’t aware Sirius was that into you.

“He was borderline worse than how Potter was with Lily, and that’s saying a lot! It was making me want to punch him in the face. But don’t tell him I told you that, he made me promise to not let anyone know” Marlene goes on, frowning and pointing her finger in your face to threaten you jokingly.

“Do you want us to wait with you until he gets here?” Dorcas asks as she looks around trying to spot the boy.

“Oh no, no, there’s no need, I don’t want to keep you two waiting, go have your fun!” You offer the girls a tight lipped smile waving them off with your hand. Marlene’s words had eased your anxiety a bit, but there was still a small voice in the back of your head that was making you squirm. Your palms begin to sweat as the pair leaves.

Your heart drops and a pit begins to form in your stomach as you glance at your watch. He is five minutes late. You agreed to meet at 11:00 and it’s now 11:05. You couldn’t help your racing thoughts. “Regulus was right, he’s not even going to show up, or maybe he’s hiding behind some tree with his mates, ready to jump out and mock me. Salazar, what is wrong with me? I was such a bloody idiot to think that he would want to be seen outside with me. I should just turn around and head back to the castle to save face and I’ll just tell people I felt ill.”

As you do a 180° turn, planning to storm back to your dorm, you run right into someone who is fastly approaching. You gasp and go to step back but you end up missing your footing and you’re about to tumble down when the person’s hand grips your own and his other arm snakes around your waist. You regain your composure standing up now face-to-face with Sirius and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry for being late, love, James is a cock and he couldn’t remember where he put my favourite cologne. And I’m sorry for spooking you.”

“I- umm, it’s alright don’t worry about it.” You just now notice that his arms are still securely wrapped around your waist, as yours are placed against his biceps, and you pull away from him.

“Shall we go?” You nod your head towards Hogsmeade, avoiding his gaze.

“Mhm.” He hums. “Let’s go.”

tags: @gastroentred @beekeepingageissome @is-it-better-to-speak-or-todie @lolalleins @azure-drag0ness

Likes and reblogs help a lot! If anyone wants to be added to tag list for the last part just let me know!!

Requests: open :D

#the last chapter will be up next Saturday promise!!!#marauders #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #peter pettigrew #sirius black x y/n #regulus black #barty crouch jr #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #dorlene #sirius black x you

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 3 months ago

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The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost. After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life. His newfound PTSD is severe. His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give. His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with. He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Warnings: mentions of physical assault, violence, being taken prisoner; sexual assault/r@pe; PTSD/anxiety/depression/panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares; suicide/minor character death; eventual smut

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TRIGGER WARNING

His eyes stung as the sand in the wind whipped against his face. He was dragged into a small room, cuffed to the farthest wall and searched. He could hear screams in the distance, and a strange clapping sound that he soon recognized as skin against skin. He cringed when realization hit of what was happening, shutting his eyes tight.

He was questioned for hours. He couldn’t understand them except for a few words here and there, and they became angrier the longer he stayed silent or kept repeating, “I don’t know.” The pain from the blows raining down on him seemed never ending, bruises blooming and his skin splitting after particularly sharp hits, his blood staining his clothes, his hair, and the sandy ground around him.

It went on for days. They would feed him bowls of some kind of goopy liquid that made him want to throw up, splash water on him that he would try to drink so he could keep his strength. His team would find him, they had to. He would go home. This will end soon…

The clapping sounds went on for hours each day, mixed with the disgusting grunts and groans of the men who captured him and the screams and pained noises from the women. Then one of the men came alone into his room…

“Bucky! Bucky wake up!”

“Pretty American boy,” the man leered at him.

“Wake up, honey, come on!”

He tried not to scream as the man hurt him, pulling his hair roughly from behind.

“You’re here! You’re safe! BUCKY!”

Bucky jerked awake, panting as his throat burned. His light was on, blinding him momentarily. He felt a body that was hovering over him, pushing at his shoulders and panicked. He twisted them, pinning them to the mattress, his hand wrapped around their throat and he squeezed before something bit him, making him yelp and pull away. When he focused back on the person his mind finally caught up and he recognized her.

“Y/N?” Bucky gasped. He flung himself away from her and tumbled off the bed, scurrying into a corner of the room, folding in on himself to be as small as possible. Y/N gasped for a moment, her hand massaging her throat before she quickly got up and followed Bucky. “I’m sorry,” he cried, heavy tears falling from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” Y/N said, crouching down in front of him but keeping herself a foot away. “It’s just me. I’m okay. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare. It’s not happening to you now.” She inched forward and her hand reached for his elbow closest to her. When her fingers touched him he flinched and his wide eyes watched her. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine,” Y/N said more firmly. She sat down in front of him on the floor, inching forward just a little more. Bucky’s eyes looked down at her throat, seeing a slight red ring where his hand had squeezed and he shut his eyes tight.

He felt a cold nose sniff his hair and looked at Teddy who was whining softly and started licking his tears. Bucky sighed heavily, his body slightly relaxing against the wall. Y/N’s hand moved from his elbow slowly to his hand, not making him move but squeezing it from the position it was in. “You’re at Mama’s House. You’re safe. No one here is going to hurt you. It was a bad memory, it’s not happening to you now.” She reassured him again, gently running a finger over his knuckles. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky didn’t know what came over him at that moment. He had pushed away physical contact with people as much as he could since he got home, only letting his family or people like Steve or Sam be close to him. But right then, in the middle of the night, after another nightmare reliving the worst days of his life, he just wanted…needed comfort. Bucky’s hands shot forward and gripped Y/N’s wrists and pulled her toward him. She made a surprised sound, followed by a soft “oof” as he pulled her into a hug. Her legs straddled his lap as he wound his arms behind her back, holding her tightly against him as his face rested against her chest and he cried even more. His sobs were heavy and painful to hear, and he heard Y/N’s breath stutter as she fought back her own tears as she recognized his first real, big cry since coming home. Bucky needed someone to just hold him, like how his father used to hold him when he was little. Y/N’s hands softly ran through his hair. He stiffened around her when she got to the back of his head and she stopped, her fingers moving back up his head and then down the sides of his neck to avoid the area. He focused on her heart beat, letting himself settle down and breathe along with her rising and falling chest.

“I’ve got you,” Y/N whispered into his hair.

***

TRIGGER WARNING

After that first night Bucky felt better about opening up to Y/N more. His first appointment with her for the comfy building was coming up and he was wondering if she’d tell him her experience. She had been nothing but kind and open with him, so he had no reason to think she wouldn’t. The first week at the home had been good. The other veterans were all kind and understanding without being pushy, and he appreciated how much freedom he had to do whatever felt right for him outside of the schedule he was assigned. His therapist, Dr. Strange, seemed knowledgeable and no-nonsense, which he liked. He was eagle-eyed in spotting trauma points and helped Bucky work through some major issues in that first session.

On that Friday night Bucky headed toward the comfy building, feeling trepidation mixed with anticipation. As much as that hug they shared had been for his own sanity, he secretly enjoyed it, and wondered what tonight would bring.

He stepped in and smiled at the fairy lights around the top of the walls that were turned on in place of the regular overhead lights, the smell of lavender and tea tree in the air from the candle burning on a table nearby. In one corner on a large couch sat Y/N, watching a show on the TV across the way from her. She looked over at him as he entered and smiled.

“Hey Buck,” she greeted him, pausing the show and standing. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Bucky said.

Y/N huffed a laugh at him and led him to the walled off room. She sat at the couch and gestured for him to sit on the bed across from her. Bucky sat at the edge and waited. “You wanna get comfortable?” she asked. “You can lay down, take your shoes off, relax.”

Bucky took his shoes off and set them aside while pulling his jacket off. “I’ll just sit for now,” he said quietly.

“Alright. Well, honestly I’m not sure where to start with you,” Y/N said, looking at him warily.

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“Well, last week you seemed okay with me touching you, and I thought that was going to take time. Or was that just a spur of the moment kinda deal?” she said teasingly.

Bucky smiled then sighed. “I’m honestly not sure,” he said quietly.

“Can I make an observation?” she asked. Bucky nodded. “You didn’t like me touching the back of your head.” Bucky now eyed her warily, then slowly nodded. “Care to tell me why? Or would you rather I guess?”

Bucky breathed in deeply. “You said you knew how I felt. More than I could imagine. Care to tell me why?” he countered, trying to take the focus off of himself.

Y/N smirked at his candor. “I’ll tell you my deep dark secrets if you tell me yours.”

“Deal,” Bucky said quickly.

Y/N’s smirk fell from her face and she looked down, her fingers intertwining. “I’m sure while you were going through special ops torture training that you were taught about the 9 Lost Girls?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, thinking back. “The 9 women that were captured and tortured after their base was attacked.” Y/N nodded and gave him a look, her eyebrow raising. Bucky stared at her for a moment until he finally understood. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly. “No…”

“Yes,” Y/N confirmed. “I was one of them. One of the last ones still alive, actually,” she said, her voice softening as she looked away again. She motioned to her back. “I’m sure you saw my lovely scars the day you got here.” Bucky nodded. “I was an assistant, I didn’t have any information, but they didn’t care,” she sighed heavily. “They beat us, whipped us, then when they got bored with that they raped us for days. Of course they don’t talk about that part as much in training,” Y/N said, a sarcastic tone to her voice.

Bucky’s eyes felt hot as he fought off tears. She did know how he felt, had it even worse than he did. He couldn’t tell whether that comforted or horrified him more. “I was…raped,” Bucky said. It was the first time he fully admitted it, and it hurt, his heart pounding and his ears ringing. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes conveying nothing but understanding and sadness for him. “The rest of it I could take. The punches, kicks, I’d rather eat that shit they force fed me for the rest of my life than feel that again,” he said, his voice getting louder and his breathing becoming ragged. Getting it all off his chest, off his heart, as much as it hurt, was incredibly freeing. “They were raping women all the time…I could hear them,” he said, and Y/N’s eyes closed, a look of mourning on her face. “Then one of them came to me, alone, and he…he pulled my pants down,” he couldn’t seem to stop talking, his tears falling finally and he stood, pacing back and forth in front of her. “He started touching me and I just froze. He put something on my ass, like lube or something, and then he…” Bucky’s hands gripped his hair as his face screwed up in pain. “He just shoved it in. It hurt so fucking bad,” he turned to Y/N who stood and approached him with her hands held out. He reached out and took her outstretched hands, grounding himself. She pulled him towards the bed but he couldn’t make it, his knees giving out. He kneeled down as she sat on the bed in front of him. “He left me there like that, with his…jizz leaking out of me, my pants around my feet, that’s how the team found me!” he yelled as Y/N cupped his face, making him look at her. “The looks on their faces? It was…humiliating,” he cried, his hands gripping her thighs. He cried against her like he did the week before, his head resting in her lap, but this time it was louder, filled with despair, a full wailing as he tried not to go into a full panic attack.

“He yanked your hair?” Y/N asked quietly.

Bucky nodded as he cried harder, remembering how it felt as his head was wrenched back, nearly ripping his hair out. “He called me ‘pretty American boy’,” Bucky grunted. “I…didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction. Didn’t make any noise. But it hurt…it hurt so bad.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” Y/N whispered, petting his hair with one hand and the other rubbing his back as she leaned over him. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You didn’t deserve that, no one does,” she said. He could hear her sniffling as she cried with him.

Y/N then pulled his head up. She cupped his face again and swiped some of his tears away with her thumbs. She made him look at her and he saw her eyes red-rimmed and tears streaked down her face. “Can you trust me?” Y/N asked. Bucky sniffed, his eyes searching hers, but ultimately nodded. Y/N gave him a reassuring smile then her fingers reached up into his hair. “Keep your eyes on me,” she said quietly. Bucky nodded again, as focusing on the task was helping him start to relax. She started to run her fingers through his hair slowly, scratching his scalp. After going in circles around his head she moved towards the back of his head. Bucky tensed up and blinked rapidly. “It’s just me,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you. I’ve got you.” Bucky inhaled deeply, keeping his gaze on her face. Y/N waited until he slowly relaxed and then scratched her way to the back of his head. She moved her fingers in small circles, then gripped his locks softly. She didn’t pull, just held his hair in between her fingers. Bucky sighed as her soft touch seemed to help that small part of him heal slowly, replacing the ripping feeling with something soft, caring, loving, and gentle.

“Please,” Bucky whispered. He didn’t know what he was asking for, practically begging for, but Y/N understood. She released his hair, gave the back of his head a short scratch, then she gripped his hair again and slowly started to tug. Y/N was slow, careful, and gentle, the tugging feeling more like a massage. Bucky’s eyes closed, more tears falling as for the first time in over a year he felt safe, an overwhelming feeling of peace oozing through his body.

“I’ve got you,” Y/N whispered again. “He’s gone. They’re gone. They’re dead, and you’re here. You’re home, safe, right here and now. Just you and me here,” she rattled off, her forehead resting on his forehead. “Thank you for telling me. I know how hard that was for you.”

Bucky exhaled and licked his lips, sniffing hard as he tried to collect himself. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For helping me.” He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Y/N slowly pulled away, and he was sad to have her hands leave his hair. “And for telling me your deepest, darkest secrets,” he half smiled.

“No problem.” She leaned back and smirked. “Can I hug you?” Bucky nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward to hug her, his arms wrapping around her torso and resting his head against her chest as she held him close. Y/N held him for a long time before taking a deep breath, Bucky copying her. Their collective, heavy exhale felt like a release. “So, will I see you next week for another session?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered immediately.

“Good.”

@wintrsoldrluvr @isitbiorisitlesbian @starfly-nicole @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 2 #pow!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #curvy reader #trauma

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existentialcrisis-9-5 · 1 year ago

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DCA Subnautica AU

Version #2 of the designs, including the bioluminescence! + fun tidbits on each of the goobers and a visual on Y/N!

(Edit: it’s out now! Check my bio for the link)

Eclipse is up first!

Theirs was the first design I drew out in any detail (as shown in the crude MS Paint drawing), so it's the one that needed the most work. Even after making the more detailed version with the lights, I still ended up changing things as I got a better grasp on what direction I wanted to head in. Fun lore tidbit! Eclipse is a freak of nature and should not look like that! They're properly split down the middle between day and night. Also I messed it up in the drawing because I was tired when I made it, but they're also covered in scars and bite marks.

Sun !!

I did Sun next, and here I had a better idea for what I was going for. There were still a few problems with this design though, which got changed. This is also where I started drawing the pattern on the tail, which I felt looked weird in this picture. Fun tidbit! Sun has an inability to express his feelings in the appropriate fish mermaid way, leading to much confusion.

Moon !!

Moon was done last. Once again, I learned from this drawing and changed Moon's design to match, however Moon is the one that remains the most unchanged! I knew what I was going for by the time I got to him each time, so I guess that helped. Something I did alter, however, were some of the lights. I found that they either blended together too much or weren't as visible as I would have liked. Fun tidbit! This is pose actually based on a scene in one of the chapters. It was actually one of the earliest written scenes.

Y/N, my beloved <3

I did 2 versions of Y/N, one with longer hair and one with shorter. It was important for me, when writing the story, that I kept the person I'm imagining as vague as possible, with the only physical descriptions being "physically fit" and having a few scars (for plot reasons), so this is only for me and whatever drawings I do. As a result of trying to keep it vague, I ended up going with the shorter hair (though in the final reference I made it a bit longer than shown here). Fun tidbit! The green is because whenever I'm sketching, I have 4 colours I sketch in to differentiate parts of the picture (usually background vs foreground or different people), and green was the one I used here (red, blue and purple were taken, I'm sure you can understand why). It ended up sticking, since I didn't want to go with the orange that's on Ryley's suit in order to avoid possible confusion.

That's it for now! At some point, I'll post the full references for each of them, but until then, the next thing I post will probably be chapter 1!

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eureka-its-zico · 2 years ago

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Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 5

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 15.7+

A/N: This chapter got waaaaaay ahead of me. It got longer and longer without me realizing it. So, I apologize for the length in advance and if this isn't any good. In the anime, Nami has some wild outfits and I wanted to sort of bring that to this adaptation a little. Nothing too crazy, but still Nami anime-esque. Also, don’t shoot me but I had a little creative liberty with something in here it’s not canon so yeaaaaaa…please just indulge me for the story lol. Also, this has another Zoro POV, and from here on out things will be very angsty, because I am the proclaimed mayor of Angstville, courtesy of @chans-room and it is my duty to bring a little to the next few chapters. As always, thank you, guys, for all the love and support. For always being so kind and loving it as much as you do. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Previous Next

“Hey Nami?”

You hoped the widespread dread you were beginning to feel wasn’t that apparent in your tone as you spoke. You did one last check in the mirror before turning to her reply of, “Hmmm?”

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but-“

“But?”

God, she looked amused.

“Is this supposed to be so…short?”

There was no denying Nami liked clothes. Gold. Berry. Okay, so Nami likes shiny things and things that could also buy her the shiny things. She also seemed to have a flair for fashion. Unfortunately, that fashion was intended to be worn on someone with a bit more confidence than you had. For once, you’d wished you’d paid attention to other things outside of just the components of what made up a plant.

“You don’t like what I picked.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you stuttered out. “But this skirt is definitely…short.”

In one smooth move, Nami uncrossed her legs and got up from her seat. When she reached you, her hands grabbed your shoulders and gently turned you back to the mirror. Your reflections showed one woman questioning her whole existence because of a skirt with a corset style top, and one who looked confident in everything she did.

This time you were definitely not the latter.

“You look hot.”

“I look ridiculous and I’m afraid to bend over.”

Nami rolled her eyes so hard for a split second all that you saw was white. The hands that were on your shoulders now forcing you to turn from your reflected look of terror to her. Nami’s eyes shown bright with a determination to make you confident in walking out of her room and heading into the restaurant.

“Doc, do we need to do an affirmation together.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I need you to shake off whatever thoughts you’re having and realize that you are hot. Be confident in your own body.”

To send her words home, Nami clapped her hands against your shoulders and gave them one last shake before releasing you. You weren’t sure what to do or say after that so you just stood…staring back at her.

“Are you going to blink?”

“Sorry,” you hummed, shaking your head. “I was still trying to understand why you get a whole shirt and I get this.”

While her pink and tan outfit was tight and showed a good amount, her small eyelet cut out on her shirt barely showed, if any, cleavage. You felt like a bakery with the amount of buns you were selling.

There was that eye roll again.

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. “You are impossible.”

Nami appeared to be tired of trying and turned on her heel to go over to a drawer. You weren’t sure what she was doing - or grabbing - but instead of watching her, you found your eyes drifting back to the mirror. You didn’t look bad just…different. You weren’t used to looking hot, as Nami put it but also so exposed. You reached over and grabbed your satchel and placed it over your shoulder, using it like a security blanket. All it did was make you feel more exposed than before, like a fraud wearing your face but dressed as someone more confident than you’d felt.

The sound of a drawer shutting hard brought you out of your thoughts and back into the present. It didn’t keep your hands from wringing the strap on your satchel.

Fuck it

“Hey, Nami do you think-“

“Zoro is going to like it? Yeah. I think he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

You felt like the air had been stripped from your lungs. Your eyes no doubt were large and showing your surprise as you struggled to make words formulate on your tongue.

“Okay, that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“It wasn’t?” She teased.

“You know damn well I was going to ask something else.”

Why does she look so smug?

No. You were not frowning.

“Okay, then tell me: what were you going to ask?”

“I suddenly can no longer recall.”

Nami’s smile was joined seconds later with laughter that followed behind you as you tried to make your escape. The sound of very happy feet following closely behind at your heels. You were tempted to look back just to see if she was skipping, but her next teasing words sent you up the stairs two at a time.

“Sure you don’t.”

“You can’t prove it,” you shot back just as you cleared the stairs.

The sun was a welcome warmth on your skin after days of being covered in the mist of the fog. The sounds of happy banter between Usopp and Luffy sent you walking towards the main belly of the ship. You could see Usopp dressed in a pirate hat, a leather jacket sans the shirt, and matching pants. A pair of circle sunglasses adorned his face and you had to admit he looked pretty cool. Luffy just made you want to reach over and gently pinch his cheeks.

How is anyone supposed to take him seriously…

He was wearing overalls, for Christ sakes. Luffy looked absolutely adorable.

At the sound of your approach the guys turned towards you and the reaction you received made you want to throttle Nami. Luffy’s smile faltered ever slightly and Usopp wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

“Hey Doc, you look-ugh different.”

“Gee, thanks Usopp,” you grumbled.

“Are you guys done playing dress up so we can get a drink?”

Of course he was more interested in a drink than food. Of course, Zoro sounded like his usual grumpy self, as well. The problem? He didn’t look like his usual grumpy self.

While Zoro had been wearing t-shirts and jeans - things that looked comfy and regular the past few days - it was replaced with something dangerous. The hue of his kimono style shirt was a blue so deep it could’ve come from the ocean itself.

The most dangerous part about the shirt wasn’t just that it left a devilish window of skin on his chest available to torment your eyes. It was that same v-shaped window indicated the indent of a sculpted chest and collarbones, but the fabric at his arms hugged the muscles tight. The same strong arms you’d watch do repeated reps with weights and push-ups. Muscles that moved with ease under the skin as he skillfully practiced with his swords.

The dangerous part, after all of this, was that it mimicked a gi. The fabric folded over each other telling you that it would only take a slight tug from your hand to release the tucked material from his pants, from the safety of his sashed belt to leave his chest exposed to your hands and-

God, focus on something else.

But you couldn’t focus on anything else. How could you with the way he was looking at you?

Zoro’s eyes scanned over your body and every inch his gaze lingered caused your skin to flush. You fought the urge to fidget with the strap of your satchel but couldn’t stop your teeth from pulling in your bottom lip. Zoro’s eyes caught the movement and honed in on it. Your breath hitched in your throat and you could’ve sworn Zoro noticed that too.

You were supposed to dislike him. He was an asshole. A drunk. A pain in the ass with a smart mouth. God, it didn’t stop you from wanting him so bad your body ached. From the way he was watching you, you could’ve sworn maybe it felt the same for him. It was a nice thought until he opened his mouth.

“You’re going to wear that?”

And just like that, whatever witchcraft was in the air to make you think of doing anything other than annoying the shit out of him was gone.

“I think she looks good.”

Nami came to stand beside you and tore Zoro’s eyes from you to her.

“Yeah she does,” Usopp agreed from behind you, “but Naan would have a fit if she saw you dressed like this.”

A groan exhaled from your lips as you turned and started for the ramp. No, you were not stomping your feet. You just needed to get off this damn boat and away from all the idiot men aboard.

“Good thing Naan isn’t here, then,” you huffed.

You could practically feel Usopp shrug his shoulders, his hands up in question as he yelled after you, “I was just being honest. Naan would tell her it wasn’t practical.”

You weren’t sure who he said the last part too and you didn’t care. You were already stepping over the side of the Merry and heading towards the ramp when you felt a presence behind you. You expected it to be Nami and what you got was the shock of seeing Moss colored hair and the glint of three gold earrings.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m walking. What does it look like?”

But why must you do it next to me?

The question hung on the back of your tongue. You weren’t brave enough to ask it, because you could already hear the question of, “Why?”. Why did it matter if Zoro chose to walk beside, in front, or behind you? It shouldn’t matter what he chose to do, but it did matter because the way he looked at you just now was forever burned into your frontal lobe.

“Just this once you couldn’t just leave the swords on the ship?”

“Wherever I go the Wado Ichimonji goes.”

Of course it does

You expected him to do his usual of falling back to stand with Luffy. It’s what he usually did. Today was apparently shaping up to be an unusual one. Not only did he not stop walking with you, he continued to follow close behind you as you entered into the Baratie. His presence was hard to miss since when you stopped inside the foray of the restaurant Zoro was mere inches from your back.

“Must you stand so damn close to me?”

Each word was uttered through clenched teeth. You didn’t want to turn around and look at him. You didn’t need eyes in the back of your head to know if you did you would come fast first to the exposed skin of his chest.

“Why’d you bring your satchel in here? Are you worried someone is going to stub their toe?”

“Can you for two seconds-“

The words had come out as a growl. Your skin bristled with a heated irritation to rip into him, and tell him that he was being his infamous asshole self. Cool points went to you for not completely falling apart when you caught sight of him.

Zoro was too damn close looking how he looked with his chest exposed like that. His hands in their rightful place of one in his pocket and the other resting casually on his sword. The darkness of his eyes appeared so endless you were certain the moon could call them home. Maybe she already had and that’s why they sparked to life every time he looked at you.

Just like now.

One minute, Zoro’s face held its usual emotionless stare and the next you watched as his eyes lit up like fireworks in the night sky; celebrating an event you once again missed. A soft tug on the corner of his lip lifted just enough you could’ve called it a smirk.

When did he start looking at you like this?

That wasn’t even the biggest question. The biggest question was, when did you start to fall for it?

You felt your tongue involuntarily flick out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and to your horror Zoro’s eyes lazily watched the movement. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Oh god, you should’ve stayed on the boat.

You watched Nami come through the double doors entrance and the way her face lit up as her eyes roamed between the both of you instantly sent your eyes rolling. You were never going to hear the end of this. You let out a deep breath, your eyes scanning one last time in his direction, before you walked over to join Nami.

The Baratie was a thing of beauty. You’d never seen a building like it. While the outside was made of boards of broken down ships in the style of an actual fish, red siding and white ashwood for those fishy lips, the inside was a well thought out piece of beauty. The foray split open to a staircase of cherry wood that led down to a tiled floor of checkered black and white. It should’ve looked ridiculous, but only the center was made with these tiles. The rest was made with the continued us of the cherry wood that led up to an intricate painting on the ceiling. Sections of the fish's belly were carved out into long booths that looked like they could comfortably seat a party of eight.

Also, the smell of the food was making you almost willing to grovel to get a plate because there was no way-

“Welcome to Baratie. How may I help you?”

The fishman was polite enough with his semi-warm smile. It was the smile of a man forced to be approachable and nice all day, and not one that he meant.

“Hi. Where do we eat?”

Luffy’s smile on the other hand could make a rainbow weep.

“Do you have a reservation, sir?”

Yup. There was no way you guys could afford a place like this or apparently even have the chance to get in. You could feel your shoulders deflate as you walked over to the railing and leaned your arms against it. All the people dining - all the pirates - didn’t appear the least bit phased at your staring. Luffy pressed himself shoulder-to-shoulder with you with the two of you taking in the fancy scene before you.

To be fair, with food like what they were being served you wouldn’t care who watched you stuff your face either.

“Do we need one?”

Your forehead had already relocated itself to the cool wood of the rail. Your knees meeting the metal as you tried not to laugh at how cluelessly innocent Luffy was.

“We are very full today. I could put you on the waiting list. It’s three weeks out.”

“Maybe you want to check your book again.” Usopp walked forward, as confident as ever, and leaned himself against the hostess podium. You were expecting one of his smooth stories and instead wanted to throw yourself over the side of the railing as he finished. “You wouldn’t want to turn away the future King of the Pirates, would you?”

“And who is that supposed to be, sir?”

“Monkey D. Luffy. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Based on the heavy sigh that came from the hostess you could tell his patience was wearing thin. So was his pleasantness.

“Well, in that case, I suppose we could find you a table. In three weeks.”

Usopp came to stand beside you with a smile as big as the ocean blue on his face. He was so proud, like he’d accomplished something major. Usopp had both the ability to create bullshit from thin air, and the ability to believe others would believe what he said without question. That’s why he was giving you the finger gun of celebration without noticing the look on the hostess face - or the mumbled words.

“Even out here, Doc I still got it.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

You noticed Nami move forward as Luffy conjoined himself to your other available side. You were now perfectly sandwiched between your Captain and your best friend. Both of them jumping in giddy excitement at the idea of sitting down at any minute and eating.

“What are you going to eat, Doc?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, yet. I didn’t think we’d get past the front door.”

“Why is that?”

“She’s always been a little cynical ever since we were kids.”

You balked at Usopp’s admission and if you could’ve scoffed any louder it would’ve turned into a cough.

“I am not cynical!”

“You are literally one of the most cynical people I’ve ever met.”

“That’s because I’m one of the few people you’ve ever met who still talks to you,” you grumbled.

“See? That cynicism is turning its ugly little head right now. It’s okay, Doc. I forgive you.”

Your mouth was open, a reply stationed on your tongue, when you heard something shocking behind you. The hostess was advising Nami to follow after him and when you glanced at her as she smiled at Zoro, you wondered what had been said. All it took was for Usopp to see him beckoning for them to follow for his ego to be boosted. His hands clapping happily against yours and Luffy’s shoulders as he giggled out, “See, I told you it would work.”

You peeled yourself from the railing and headed to follow the rest of the crew when, once again, you realized Zoro was waiting at the stairs edge. He wasn’t looking at you while he waited, however, for his eyes were glued to the many possibilities of would be threats in the room.

As soon as your feet touched down on the burgundy runner that ran the length of the stairs Zoro followed after. It wasn’t like the last time when you could feel him practically right on your heels. A switch had turned on in his head and Zoro was on high alert.

Luffy took the last step in a loud double-footed jump that finally brought the attention of most of the tables to your descent. While up top, looking down from the foray, the space in the booth’s had looked massive. It still was, but a startling realization that you could end up next to Zoro left you scrambling for some space.

“I have to pee.”

You’d just gotten to the tables edge and it felt like the only thing to say to save yourself. Everyone froze for all of a few seconds before they continued scooting into the booth.

“Okay, Doc. Go to the bathroom,” Nami stated.

She looked so relaxed that you felt incredibly jealous. You wish you could be that cool, calm, and collected all the time. Except, obviously, when Luffy was testing her patience.

You turned to ask the host where it could be located when the sound of Zoro’s swords thrashing around turned your head in his direction. For a split second, he looked a little flushed. His eyes scanning the room to see if anyone had watched him try and fail, very badly, at getting his swords to go inside the booth.

“Just take them off,” you huffed at him in passing.

“I’ve got this.”

Zoro’s eyes were still trained on the room, on every pair of eyes that dared to stare back, as he moved to the other side with Nami. Even then you watched him struggle to move his swords into the alcove between the pillar and the seat.

“If you still need to use the facilities Miss, they will be right this way.”

You gave the table with Luffy and your crew mates one last look before you followed the host closely to the safety behind a locked door.

Did locking the door seem a bit much when there were four available stalls inside? Yes. When you say you needed to hear that click to signify that you were completely alone to ease some of the growing tension in your shoulders, you meant it.

You rushed over to the sink and found your hands grabbing at the porcelain to help center yourself. Your head was dizzy from the mental whiplash that seemed to be your relationship with Zoro. One minute, you couldn’t stand him and he seemed equally annoyed with your very existence. The next, he was helping you with your sea sickness or inadvertently doing things around the ship to make your life a little easier. Now, he was looking at you differently. Zoro was acting strange, but honestly, when wasn’t he?

You glanced up at your reflection in the mirror. The words falling automatically from your lips.

“So are you.”

It wasn’t all him. It never was. Cause and effect. One couldn’t exist without the other, and maybe that was why you felt the way you did gazing at your reflection. You’d been trying to deny the gravitational pull that you were hopelessly fighting against ever since you met him. Before you’d ever seen his face your soul seemed to say, “Oh, there you are.”

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t scientific and yet here you were locked inside of a bathroom all because the thought of sitting next to him made your heart feel like it would try and flee your chest.

You allowed yourself a couple more minutes to boost yourself back up. You could do this. It was just a guy. A guy who’d tucked a flower behind your ear and looked at you like you’d both strung up the stars and drank the last bottle of his rum.

A knock on the bathroom door brought you crashing back to reality. You quickly moved over to the door to release the latch. You’d barely had any time to move back before a woman came barreling through looking not too pleased with you locking the door. You mouthed a, “sorry,” in a way of apology before you made yourself scarce and walked back out to the table.

The minute you stepped back into the main dining room you got the sense you’d missed something. Your eyes searched over the tables. You found a pair of shoes that belonged to a pair of legs that was attached to a man lying lifelessly still on the floor.

Yup. You’d most definitely missed something.

The doctor in you immediately wanted to go to the man and make sure he wasn’t dead. You could practically feel your toes point in the direction for the rest of your body to follow. You just weren’t sure if it was something you should do in a room full of pirates. Plus, no one else seemed particularly worried that he wasn’t breathing so that should be good enough for you.

You were bouncing on your feet. You wanted to go check so badly. It almost happened to where you were going to say fuck it and just go check when you noticed your waiter at your table. He was tall, strong build set inside a stylish suit with stark white hair that appeared to reach his cheeks. He didn’t look happy to be there until his eyes spotted Nami and a smile as smooth as sin slid across his face.

He is handsome.

Nami looked unimpressed and a part of you was dying to know what the hell was happening. Luckily for you, you were about to find out.

As you approached the table Zoro’s eyes that had narrowed in on their waiter flicked to your oncoming approach and…did he look worried? The annoyance that had hardened his eyes noticeably softened, his back sitting up straighter in his seat while he continued to watch you come to the table. He had his arms crossed over his chest and you wanted to scream. Everything was flexing at you and it just felt like the universe was incredibly unfair.

“Sorry guys. Uhm have you guys noticed the ugh guy just laying there on the floor” you stated.

You were looking. Again.

You were standing next to the waiter who turned to greet you, his hands tucked in his pockets - fuckin great another one. The smile had wilted at the edges until his eyes fell on you and instantly he flashed a set of pretty teeth.

“They’re alright, madam. Just a couple of men who needed to be reminded of the rules of the house. My name is Sanji and I’ll be your waiter for this evening. Is there anything that I can get you to start? Appetizers? A drink, perhaps?”

Sanji was incredibly polite and his accent was as smooth as the rest of him. His eyes were impossibly blue. While Nami’s appeared almost gray at times, especially when she became upset and the color darkened like storm clouds, Sanji’s reminded you of azure aster’s in the spring.

“What is the strongest thing you have?”

You really could use that drink. You were in the middle of taking your satchel from across your body, eyes scoping to see where you would sit, when Sanji’s reply stopped you died in your tracks.

“That would be me, sweetheart.”

Did he just wink at you?

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“I think he just does that.” Nami cut in sending your eyes to travel to where she sat inside the booth. “It’s like an involuntary tick or something.”

“Oh. Explains a lot.”

You knew Sanji could tell you were both taking the piss out of him, but there was no denying he was a good sport about it.

“Not a tick. Just a show of appreciation for two lovely ladies, such as yourselves.”

“Okay. I’ve heard enough.”

A soft yelp of surprise came from you as you felt a soft, yet calloused hand grab at your wrist and, not so gently, pull you to their side. Zoro’s side. He had just magically removed himself from the booth and was pulling you to the now open section. The section that would put you next to Nami, but also him.

“Oy, women don’t like to be manhandled like that,” Sanji interjected.

“This one likes to be manhandled quite often. We don’t need your concern.”

Usopp’s water sprayed across the table and you were willing to bet that would’ve been your very own reaction if you didn’t have a mouthful of words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You blanched back at him.

Zoro’s attention wasn’t directed at you. He and the waiter seemed to be in a battle of…something. Even as he sat back down, his legs spread broad and arms crossed back over his chest, Zoro oozed two simple words: “Try me.”

“See, that’s your problem right there. Women don’t like to be manhandled-“

“Sometimes we do,” Nami mumbled and you had to hide your smirk with your hand.

“They like to be treated like queen’s and with respect.”

“I thought a waiter’s job was to bring food to the table. I don’t see any food.”

The tension that rose around you was palpable. The two of them acted like they were caught in a verbal pissing match. Nervously, you glanced around the table to find Usopp playing with his napkin while peeking out to look at both the men. Luffy just looked genuinely lost.

Same.

You imagined there was a chance you would never get that drink, or any food, with how this evening was turning out. Finally, with an irritated roll of his tongue along his jaw Sanji turned to the rest of the table and tried to apply that same easy going smile as before.

“I’ll be right back with your order. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get you ladies.”

“They’re fine.”

With one last glance in Zoro’s direction Sanji left and headed back into what you assumed must be the kitchen. When you were sure he was gone you turned and smacked Zoro in his arm. He didn’t even look phased.

“What?”

“‘What?’” You mimicked back at him. That earned you a stare. “What in the hell was that?”

“Seems to me like somebody was jealous.”

Usopp teased and for once when Zoro’s eyes narrowed in on him, Usopp didn’t even flinch.

“I’m not jealous of a waiter.”

“Your actions say otherwise,” Nami reminded him.

In usual Zoro fashion he didn’t respond right away. His arms tightened a little more on his chest as he situated his back higher against the back of the booth. His jaw ticking like a time bomb refusing to respond to any of your prodding.

You wanted answers. You wanted him to explain what the hell that was all about, because your skin was still burning where his hand had latched on to you. It felt possessive; a man reaching out to claim something that was his.

The world around you might as well have gone by in a blur. You knew at some point the drinks and food had been deposited on the table. You could smell the delicious food sitting in front of you; the appetizers everyone was sharing around the table. The only thing you were able to focus on was tracing the place of where his fingers had wrapped around your wrist. Your mind felt like it was held prisoner, unable to let go and it wasn’t until you felt someone’s presence leaning closer to you in the booth that you finally broke free.

“Are you not going to eat?”

Nami’s question whispered against your neck and you had to fight to suppress the shiver that threatened to move down your spine. When had she gotten so close? Nami was looking at you like you’d given her reason to worry.

How long had you been sitting there staring off into space? Your eyes drifted to glance around the table - Luffy noticeably with his mouth full - and the drink sitting in front of you.

“Oh, thank god. Booze,” you mumbled, as you reached out to take the glass.

It took you less than a minute to bring the rim to your lips and down it in two very audible gulps. You tried not to make a face as the liquor hit the back of your throat. When you’d told Sanji you wanted something strong, he’d delivered.

“Well, at least you did something other than stare off into space.”

“You know, it might not be any of my business-“

“I don’t think a sentence started that way leads to anything good.”

Usopp didn’t seem the least bit deterred by Zoro’s words. He continued to trim a piece of the meat off his steak while he glanced around the table. While you didn’t know what it was Usopp was about to say or ask, you knew one thing was for sure. You needed more-

“Beer! Yes!”

God, help you, but you were giggling from excitement of finding more alcohol. Just as you reached out to grab it, Zoro’s voice came bombarding through your good time.

“That’s mine.”

You were sure Zoro was expecting you to set the bottle back down. To not uncap the top and stare him down as you bring the bottle up to your lips and take a long, slow pull. When you finished you set your now claimed beer down in front of you.

“It was yours.”

“I was wondering, Zoro, how you got that bruise on your face?”

Usopp motioned to the exact spot where the bruise in question used to be with the hand that held his steak knife. You cringed at the idea of him hurting himself, and could feel the words of caution bubbling up on your tongue.

“I don’t have a bruise.”

“You did, though,” Luffy offered up in between his next bit. “It was on your left cheek.”

“That was me.”

Why were you raising your hand? Quickly, you set it back down in your lap. The smile that spread across your lips, however, stayed.

“Doc, let’s not go around telling tall-tales, okay,” Usopp chuckled.

“Usopp, you are the king of tall-tales. Mine is very much real,” you beamed.

Nami looked between the two of you. Her eyes got brighter with each passing second as she realized you weren’t lying.

“Oh my god,” she chuckled. “It is true, isn’t it.”

“Yup.”

You popped the p at the end for dramatic effect. Your hand grabbing a hold of your new bottle of beer that you quickly took a sip of.

“You seem way too happy about this,” Zoro grumbled, his food now forgotten.

You couldn’t deny you were enjoying retelling this moment. The way everyone else acted, it’s as if you’d taken on a giant and everyone was surprised you’d survived. If that was the case, you would have to take a page out of Usopp’s book and embellish the story just a little.

“So, there I was racing back to get to Kaya’s to save you guys, when I heard a lot of strange grunting coming from the well.”

“The one you hate?”

“Yes, Usopp, that exact one. I was going to pass by when the sounds got even worse - someone was indeed stuck inside the well. When I went over to peer across the ledge a wild Moss-haired idiot appeared from the side.”

“I’m going to have to object to this retelling.”

You waved Zoro’s words off and fought the urge to shush him.

“No interruptions, please. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah the Moss-haired idiot who came over the side-“

“And instead of helping me this psycho decided to punch me and almost send me back down the well.”

“Psycho?” You balked.

“Yeah, a psycho. What kind of person sees someone struggling to get out of a well and, instead of helping them, tries to send them back down?”

“Why are you guys always like this,” Nami cut in.

“Like what?”

“You guys act like you can’t say one nice thing to each other or it’s going to be the end of the world.”

“I can too say something nice.”

You were not going to pout. Nami’s brows raised upwards like you’d told her there was no such thing as the West Blue and that fish could fly. You crossed your arms to try and ward her off, but there was no getting away from it.

“Can I just say, this food is so good? I don’t know if I can take another bite - but I’m gonna.”

You allowed them to comment about the food. The food you still hadn’t tried. While you’d sat in silence, stewing over thoughts filled with questions and not enough answers everyone had eaten.

“Oh, man you said it.”

“I’m not going to be able to eat for a week,” Nami agreed.

“Should we get dessert?”

“I have all I need right here,” Zoro stated, his thumb flicking the top off his beer before he took a drink.

You could feel a smart ass remark sitting in the back of your throat. You wanted to say it - to see that flash of irritation darken his eyes. You liked the idea of getting under his skin, because whether you wanted to admit it or not, Zoro was definitely under yours. Maybe it would’ve been simpler if you’d stayed at Syrup Village.

“Mmm! That reminds me. We should make a toast! Everyone grab your glasses. To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory. Yeah!”

Luffy grabbed his glass of milk and held it up. His happiness is enough to get most of you to join him in raising a glass. Hell, it was enough to get Usopp to clink his beer against Luffy’s milk.

Beside you, Zoro smiled and took a drink from his bottle and you never wanted to be an alcoholic beverage more in your life. You needed to get out of this booth. You seriously needed to go back to the ship and think about your life choices.

“No, I’m sorry. What victory exactly?”

Nami didn’t try to make her tone flat or hide the question off her face. She was genuinely perplexed, while the rest of you were eager for any reason just to drink.

“Our victory against the marines. It was our very first battle and we crushed them.”

“I don’t know how many naval battles you guys have been a part of-“

“Two dozen, at least.”

Why did Usopp’s response not surprise you in the slightest.

“But that was a disaster,” Nami continued without missing a beat. “We were unprepared, uncoordinated. By all rights, we should be at the bottom of the sea.”

“We’re not though. Luffy saved us.”

For a split second, this Nami you were seeing was different from the one you’d spent the last few days aboard the Merry. Sure, at times she could have a prickly exterior, but never like this. Usopp defending Luffy triggered something inside her - something rage-filled and dangerous. Something born from desperation.

“Are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room right now?”

Luffy was smiling like he usually did. Unable to follow wherever Nami was leading you all, but you could sense it. You weren’t sure what drove you to try and play peacekeeper. Why you spoke her name softly between you and tried to reach out to her, only for her to pull away like you’d stung her.

“You failed to mention that your grandfather was a marine. And not just any marine, but a Vice-Admiral, at that! I don’t know about you three, but I didn’t sign up for that.”

Zoro had been listening to her through closed eyes. You weren’t sure if he was truly trying to listen or dismiss what she had to say, but it surprised you when he stepped in. His first instinct was to stick up for Luffy, something you hadn’t been expecting.

“You raided a marine base. Of course that’ll make you a target.”

“I’m sorry what?”

If you had been drinking or eating, you would’ve choked. Neither of them seemed to pay you any mind.

“If I stole the map, no one would’ve known I was there, as opposed to wrecking a base commander’s office.”

Yes, you could vaguely recall Luffy’s speech to Kaya about all the marvelous things they’d done in the few days they’d known each other. Did you necessarily believe him at the time? Not really. But now…

Before a fresh wave of thoughts could wash up in your brain, Sanji magically appeared placing the bill on the table.

“Your bill, sir.”

Luffy looked around at all of you, a soft smile playing at his lips, as he held up his finger for all of you to wait. He quickly signed the receipt and handed it back.

“Thank you, my good man.”

Sanji took the bill back, his eyebrow quirked up as he read whatever Luffy had signed at the bottom. Whatever it was sent a grin wider than the East Blue to brighten up his face.

“No, sir. Thank you.”

Luffy waited for Sanji to leave the table before he looked back at you all. For once, he wasn’t all smiles. All that care-free energy was contained and replaced with a seriousness you weren’t sure you liked.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them that they can’t just roll over us. This crew, our crew, can handle anything.”

It would’ve been a riveting Captain's speech if it wasn’t interrupted the second he finished speaking.

“Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?”

The voice that rang across the Baratie was thick with age. You didn’t have to look far to know it belonged to the older gentleman who stood at the entrance to what you could only assume was the kitchen. His peg leg made clunking noises off the tile as he made his way towards the table.

How did he know where to go? Luffy was just leaning out the side of the booth waving ever so-slightly with his smile back on his face. “Here.”

“You seem to be confused about the rules of the house, but Baratie doesn’t offer credit. You eat, you pay.”

How much is the food?

You only had thirty-three Berry to your name. You started to reach inside your bag when Luffy waved you to stop. The older Chef looked from you and back to Luffy who placed his hands together like he was about to pray.

“I think you’re confused. The meal has already been paid for. I just haven’t given you the money yet.”

“Yeah, and how’s that?”

“You can add it to my treasure tab.”

Your forehead hit the edge of the table so fast you weren’t even sure it actually hurt.

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

“I may not look like a big deal yet, but you’re talking to the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I’m going to come back, pay this bill in full, and with interest.”

At least the Chef had the decency to chuckle before he lurched down and grabbed Luffy by the front of his overalls.

“I got a better idea.”

You watched as he placed Luffy in front of him with a controlling hand held on to his shoulder. A way to keep him from running, if he tried, but you knew Luffy would go without a fight. You glanced around the table to find no one making a move to follow.

“You guys are seriously just going to sit here,” you huffed.

Nami leaned her head back against the booth. Her eyes looking up at the ceiling and refusing to look anywhere else.

“I need a drink.”

“Yeah,” Zoro chuckled as he grabbed a hold of what was left of his beer. “Now you’re talking.”

You’d waited until they all removed themselves from the booth before you slipped away. You were sure the three of them wouldn’t miss your presence as you made your way towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until you’d passed the last pillar before the kitchen that you felt the familiar touch of calloused fingers wrap themselves lazily around your wrist.

The tug you felt this time was softer - a plea for your attention instead of forcing it. You weren’t sure what you expected when you turned around. If Zoro would be his usual unreadable smoothness like stone or if the corner of his eyes would be tinged with annoyance. There were only a few possibilities that you’d grown accustomed to and all of them were nothing of what you got.

When you turned to meet him, Zoro didn’t look like he usually did. The hardness that kept him unreadable was replaced with something softer. His lips parted as he searched your face with your wrist still held loosely in his hand.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to help, Luffy.”

“Luffy, can handle himself.”

“Zoro-“

You weren’t sure why your tone had come off saying his name as breathy as it did. As if you were both tucked inside the alcove of a church hiding to keep from being caught doing something forbidden. You also couldn’t explain why when he dropped your wrist from his hand you’d chosen to place it on his chest. It wasn’t until you’d done that you realized just how close you both were.

“I’m not going to leave him to do dishes by himself until he tells me too.”

“How do you know he’s doing dishes?”

“Why the hell else would he take him into the kitchen?”

“Good point.”

You removed your hand from his chest and, for a split second, you thought you saw a glint of loss.

“You guys head to the bar and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Zoro made no move to leave. He stood there looking every bit as intimidating as a man with three swords could be, while also looking seemingly lost. He appeared to be thinking something over - a debate in his mind about whether or not he should even say whatever was weighing heavily there.

You almost told him to just spit it out, but he looked like he would rather chew on razor blades than say whatever it was. When Zoro finally got it off his chest it sounded like he’d choked.

“What about the waiter?”

Confusion clouded your features as you replied, “What about him? Do you need me to find him for you or-“

Zoro waved you off. He looked more awkward now than you’d ever seen him. All the cool confidence that he’d oozed seemingly gone in the blink of an eye, and replaced with a hand behind his neck and eyes that refused to meet yours.

“No. I mean be careful of the waiter?”

“I’m confused.” That was an understatement. “Is there something I’m missing about this waiter?”

“No - it's - never mind. I’ll just see you when you finish doing whatever it is you plan to do.”

“Okay.”

“What are you planning to do?”

Your head was metaphorically and literally spinning from the conversation. One second, Zoro looked ready to follow after Usopp and Nami who were no doubt already at a table with drink in hand. The next, he seemed uncharacteristically bashful.

You didn’t want to smile. What if it ruined the moment?

“I plan on helping Luffy by helping the Chef.”

“I’m going to pretend that makes sense.”

When you gave him a thumbs up in response you wished lightning would’ve come down and burnt you to a crisp. What made it worse? From the smile that was beginning to work its way at the corners of Zoro’s lips, you could practically hear what he was going to say.

“You really are masterful with replies.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go in there now,” you stated. Your body slowly backed away from him and the heart stopping smile that was only growing wider.

When did he start smiling at you like that?

You were almost to the swinging double doors when someone came rushing through and collided immediately with your back. The sound of dishes crashing sent your eyes wide and finally tore you away from the swordsman in front of you.

“Fuck.”

“Oi, what’s going on out here?”

Double fuck.

You stooped down to help the waiter pick up the pieces of plates that had shattered on the ground and the food right along with it.

“What the bloody hell is going on ‘ere?”

Looking up from your crouched position on the floor, you were greeted by the same Chef who had pulled Luffy into the back. Without thinking you jolted to stand upright to face him with your hands struggling to keep the pieces of broken plate from dropping.

“I came to help my Captain in your kitchen.”

As the words left your mouth, so too did a couple pieces of a plate.

“No.”

It was abrupt. It was harsh and it was final. He didn’t even give you a chance to try and change his mind. The hard sound of his peg leg turning back into the kitchen cutting off whatever your next sentence might have been.

“Hey! I can help!”

You pushed through the double doors and narrowly missed a cook passing by with a flaming piece of meat sautéing in the pan. You pulled a face and quickly moved away. This time you were watching closely where you were going and playing extra close attention to the fast pace movements happening around you.

For someone so large, the Chef made his way with ease around the kitchen. You weren’t sure if he was just light on his feet or if everyone in the kitchen just learned to work around him.

“No.” He sounded like he’d smoked two packs of smokes a day and finished it off by gargling with a cigar. “What you can do is get out of my kitchen before you make more of a mess.”

“Hey Doc!” Luffy waved from his place in the corner. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help you.”

And to show how helpful you were, you placed the broken pieces of plate down on the table. The old man regarded him momentarily before looking back at you.

“You’re with him?”

“Yeah I am.”

The old man turned back to Luffy, a large thumb pointed back to you as he spoke, “She broke a couple plates outside. That’s also added to your tab.”

“Oh, okay wait!” You came around the corner of a cutting station, arms still out in front of you like you were warding off a bear. “That’s why I'm here. I have a service I think would benefit you.”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

You put on your brightest smile and flared your arms out in front of you like you were a prize to behold.

“I’m a doctor.”

You expected a different reaction. A completely different reaction to him looking like he was about to make you fish food.

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“Did you hear me-“

“I heard you just fine, girl. What I need is for you to get out of my kitchen.”

The way he called you girl reminded you of Naan. It was the same tone that was used to tell you that you were in the way. You weren’t helping. You were just being a pain in the ass. There were more than a handful of times that you’d told Naan you could help; you knew enough to assist with minor surgeries. To help with childbirth when the women came in hollering and screaming like their body was being broken and molded anew.

You’d spent your whole life learning how to forage and create and heal. You knew you could help - that you could ease this man’s pain.

“No.”

When crystal blue eyes honed in on your position you refused to bend. You stared back at him and for the first time ever you squared your own shoulders in defiance.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Your stump - I bet it hurts you something awful. The problem with prosthetics is that they still rub the skin - can bruise. What if I tell you that I can make you a salve that can alleviate that for you?”

He’d placed his hands on his hips somehow making him appear broader. He was trying to intimidate you, but he had nothing on a little old lady and her cane.

“She is really the best doctor in all of the East Blue. If your leg really does hurt you, why not let Doc try and see if it helps?”

He looked from Luffy and back to you - his eyes showing how undecided he was. You thought you were going to have to try again when he finally replied, “You got one hour before the second dinner. If it isn’t as good as you say I’m doubling what he owes me.”

The joy you felt at winning something was quickly taken from you as you resisted the urge to chase after him.

“Wait what?!”

The old man wasn’t going to answer you. He was too busy walking away, off to see something about food. You didn’t even get a chance to ask him for a pot or if he had any mortars in his kitchen. You glanced over at Luffy who was giving you two thumbs up and smiling his usual smile.

At least one of you believed in you.

You were about to remind him that you were left with nothing to use when the waiter from earlier, Zoro’s best friend, magically appeared. His jacket was now missing and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to expose his forearms.

“I’m assuming you’re in need of some assistance.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding released from you in a soft laugh of gratitude.

“Yes, please! I need a pot and mortar and pestle. If you can direct me where to get them-“

“No, I can get them for you. I live to serve.”

Sanji spared you one last parting smile before he moved swiftly around the kitchen collecting what you’d asked. Everything else you either already had in your satchel or you could easily run back to the ship to get. Somewhere in the back of your mind, when Sanji came back to hand you your requested items and winked, you swore you could hear Zoro’s teeth grinding in irritation.

Zeff, as you later learned from Sanji, had given you all of one hour to make your salve. You’d finished in forty minutes.

The kitchen had been cleared out and empty, which you learned was the usual between the break up in the first, second, and third dinner. It also meant it gave you ample time to look over Zeff’s leg. Not that the old man looked the least bit thrilled about it.

His rough exterior was making it hard for you not to be a little jumpy. Add in the extra audience of both Luffy and Sanji who seemed to be fascinated just from you removing the old man’s boot a little harder to work.

The minute you’d removed the wooden prosthetic from his knee you immediately could see the bruising. The hard rashes that bleed across the skin leaving angry marks that almost threatened to make the skin weep. You couldn’t keep the air from hissing between your teeth as you took in a sharp breath.

You could hear Zeff too. The way he tried to swallow back down a groan that threatened to become something close to a cry of pain. Gently, you set it aside and started getting to work. Your hands pull out clean linen and wrap from your satchel and the green chiterra you’d just harvested.

You got up from where you sat and poured warm water into a bowl Luffy just cleaned. Immediately, you placed a clean cloth inside until it was completely soaked and rung it out before you gently placed it on his stump. You could hear the whistle of pain flash between his teeth, but you didn’t look to see if he was glaring at you still. You continued to smash up the chiterra until it made a paste.

Once you knew everything was ready, you gently began to clean the skin; exposing the places where the rash had torn skin. In those areas you placed the chiterra and in the areas where no broken skin showed you deposited the salve. The minty scent enveloped the space and as you began to wrap up Zeff’s leg, you dared to peek at him.

“What is that smell? Mint?”

“Aloe Vera. It helps with burns and irritations on the skin. I figured it would help soothe your skin. Give you some relief.”

“Hmmm.”

It was a sound you’d grown up with. Naan made the same kind when she was unsure of what to say. When she wasn’t ready to admit you were right or that you’d proven yourself capable.

“There.” You huffed as you put the prosthetic back on. “Make sure you wash it at least once a day. The salve can be put on two to three times daily. Don’t be scared to be generous with it and-“ you pulled the piece of paper you’d written the measurements and ingredients on. Your fingers waving it back and forth in front of him just to make sure you had his attention. “I’ll give you the recipe if you knock off more than half of what Luffy owes you. Deal?”

“You really think your fancy medicine is worth more than my food?”

“Is it worth more than your comfort? You tell me: how does your leg feel now?”

You tried to hide your growing smile as you could see the battle Zeff was warring on in his head. While he was old and stubborn, you knew relief from pain of any kind was usually the path most took.

With a heavy sigh, Zeff put his hand out for the paper and you knew you had him. This time you did allow a cheeky smile to celebrate.

“Your Naan teach you to be a pain in the ass like this too?”

“Nope. That I’ve learned all on my own.”

“Sounds about right.”

You leaned back on the stool and watched as Zeff began to get up. The caution his body had grown accustomed too every time he moved was noticeable in his slow movements.

“I told you she was the best in all of the East Blue.”

Luffy looked so proud. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the amount of pride he radiated was something new to you. Sure, you’d had Naan tell you that you did good but it wasn’t the same. There was something about the way Luffy looked at people - really looked - to the point for the first time you felt seen.

Luffy didn’t just say he thought you were the best because he was trying to talk you up. He believed in you and what you could do.

“Yeah, that may be so, but you still owe me some clean dishes.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

He smacked the top of the chair he’d been sitting in as he got up. He didn’t argue or call for a rest. Luffy simply headed back towards the sink to finish on the load of dishes he’d left as they’d watched you work. The idea of him still slaving away in the space while you were all out there enjoying yourselves didn’t feel right.

“You should be able to go out with the rest of us and have a drink.”

“I’ll be alright here. You go on ahead and meet the rest of the crew. I’ll be with you guys soon enough.”

How soon? It didn’t feel right to leave him there. Even worse to bring over dishes you’d gotten dirty for him to wash in the end.

“At least let me wash these, Luffy.”

He’d opened his mouth to tell - what? To tell you to go again, most likely but you never actually heard him say it. Right when he was about to speak, Sanji was just there. His hands gently taking the dishes out of yours and walking over to place them beside the sink.

“How about I do these dishes for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

Sanji glanced away from you for a moment. His eyes focusing in on a memory, maybe. Whatever it was memory or thought, his eyes went into a thousand yard stare. One that was untouchable as the clouds. Finally, he turned to look at you and a touch of a smile was back.

“Zeff is cantankerous old shit bag but-“

“But he’s your cantankerous old shit bag. I get it.”

And you did. Naan and Zeff had a lot in common, specifically in their not-so-great parenting that wasn’t parenting skills. Even more so in the way they tried to make it seem like any help you tried to give wasn’t going to be good enough. You’d just come to realize that, while at first you’d hated Naan for always telling you it just wasn’t good enough, whatever you did, you realized as you got older it was because she knew you could do better. Would you have preferred a hug? A lighter lesson sharing a cup of hot chocolate? Hell yeah you would’ve but…this was okay too.

The closed smile Sanji wore cracked a little as you finished his sentence. A smile of realizing someone else understood seemed to make the tension ease from his shoulders just a bit.

“I’ll wash these up for you and let’s say, in return, you have a drink with me later.”

He’d remove the dish towel from his shoulders; his right hand tightened inside the fabric as he used it to prop himself up just a little. He was leaning against the counter with that soft, inviting smile still barely showing any teeth. You realized as you considered his offer you liked it better when he was smiling just a little too wide; all the flirting making him happier than he seemed now.

Fuck you wondered what Zoro would do if he knew what you were about to say? What did it matter anyways? It wasn’t like you belonged to each other or had feelings or…you know…whatever.

It was your turn to take your head out of the clouds and look back over at Sanji. He wasn’t being pushy. You were sure if you told him no he would be a gentleman about it. So, taking a deep breath you finally gave him your response.

“A drink would be good.”

What in the absolute hell’s were you doing?

In a matter of a millisecond, Sanji brightened up and it made your chastising fall short. It couldn’t be that big of a deal if it made him this happy, it could it?

“Great. I’ll finish up here and find you at the bar.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll see you in a bit then.”

You replaced your satchel over your shoulder and started to make your way towards the back door. You weren’t even sure where the bar was. Wherever it was you knew a certain Moss-haired swordsman would be there with the others.

“Good. It’s a date.”

You whirled around so fast the vertigo almost threatened to topple you over.

“Ugh, it is not a date.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Sanji teased, his hand flipping the dish towel back over his shoulder.

He looked so smug. Why were all the men you were running into either smug, attractive, and a pain in the ass? Well, besides Luffy, that is. He was becoming your sunshine son whether he agreed or not.

“It sounds like a drink,” you responded.

Your feet were still carrying you to the back door, but you honestly couldn’t get there fast enough.

“A drink under the stars and hushed conversation.”

“To have a hushed conversation you have to be like this close,” using your hands you indicate the amount of space necessary to make that even a remote possibility, “and it’s in a crowded place, which means yelling.”

“You’re adorable you know when you’re all flushed like that.”

“Excuse me while I go throw myself overboard.”

“Doc! Make sure Nami or Usopp get you out!” Luffy called after you. “I won’t be able to go in.”

You weren’t going to tell him it was a figure of speech. He seemed so genuinely concerned that you would just throw yourself off that you kind of didn’t want to ruin the moment. One last glance at Sanji before you left out the back door, and you debated whether you were joking or not.

You weren’t exactly sure where you were heading, you just knew that there was the sound of music. Music usually meant very few things. Either someone was having a dinner party with music playing in the background, highly unlikely, or you were headed directly for the bar.

The bar where your crew mates were at. The bar that Zoro was at and the same bar Sanji would come looking for you at later. God, how soon was later? The thought made each new step you took sound more pronounced, louder than the last as you practically dragged yourself into the fish’s mouth.

It wasn’t an incredibly large space. It was pretty crowded already, and if it wasn’t for its size you would’ve worried you wouldn’t have been able to find them. Luckily for you, Usopp spotted you first and waved you over to the table they’d claimed right at the edge of the fish’s lip.

While Nami and Zoro were nursing a beer and whiskey, respectfully, Usopp apparently found a punch bowl. By the looks of said punch bowl and the glossy look hollowing out Usopp’s eyes, you knew you were going to need one just as big.

“Where did you get that fish bowl and do they have more?” You asked, removing your satchel and sitting down next to Nami.

“Nice of you to finally join us.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to be missed.”

You clutched your hands dramatically to your chest causing Nami to bump into you playfully in response.

“In all seriousness though, I’m going to need one of those fish bowls. ASAP.”

“I don’t know if you want one, Doc,” Usopp replied before taking another long pull from his straw. “It tastes just like candy. I don’t even think there is any liquor in this.”

“Pace yourself.” Zoro warned. “Last time I said that I ended up face down underneath a table.”

You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the small table, as you cupped your chin in your hands. You tried for cute and tried to smile that ended up squished between cheeks and hands.

“What were you doing under the table?”

“Napping,” he replied curtly.

“No one chooses to nap under a table in a bar.”

“I’ve napped in the crow’s nest on the Merry a few times.”

Yup. There was definitely liquor in that fishbowl.

“By the way, if you see Sanji let me know. I inadvertently may have slightly agreed to have a drink with him.”

“Nami’s boyfriend?”

“Nami’s what?”

“The waiter?!”

“He is not my boyfriend,” Nami protested a finger up to signify to Usopp to make a point, “and what is happening?”

“He asked after I fixed up Zeff’s - the big angry Chef - leg. I made a little salve for him to help take the pain away when he wore the prosthetic.”

“And somehow that led to you being asked for a drink?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“Man, I gotta try that,” Usopp mumbled as he took another long sip through his straws.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Your eyes panned over to Zoro. His arms painfully tight across his chest and his jaw wasn’t faring any better. It looked painful. You wanted to remind him it was possible to get lockjaw just from grinding your teeth into dust.

“Well, I’m going to go get me a fishbowl.”

You remove yourself from your newly claimed spot and walk over towards the bar. The bartender himself seemed easy enough, happy to take your money, and even happier to take a tip as he handed over your drink. It was so heavy that you thought it would take you half a decade just to get it back to the table without spilling it. So, the best way to combat spillage was by starting to drink some down.

Usopp was right. They did taste exactly like candy.

When you arrived back at the table, it was noticeably more quiet. Nami’s eyes focused on her now empty glass that she swirled around in her hand. Zoro wasn’t looking at you, as per usual, as if you’d done something wrong and Usopp was busy finishing off his drink. You weren’t sure how to inject yourself back into a conversation that had grown stagnant. You weren’t born with the ease of conversation; not like Nami who always seemed to know what to do. When to smile and the right words to make someone open up. You’d only take a couple of sips of your drink when Zoro’s gruff voice sliced into the silence.

“What are you holding onto that is so heavy?”

He took a drink from his own glass as he waited for Nami to speak. To lift her head up or show any signs that she’d heard him.

“You guys seriously don’t think what Luffy did was messed up?”

You weren’t following. You were too busy taking another drink, eyes darting between the two of them. You felt silly. Obviously, whatever was bothering Nami wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t something she was holding close to ruin you all later, but whatever it was that weighed on her she felt Luffy had done something detrimental. Almost.

Zoro regarded her evenly before he set his glass back down on his thigh. His gaze looked away from her as he replied, “Yeah. He should’ve told us. But if you haven’t noticed we’ve been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho clowns, killer butlers: what are the Marines going to do?”

“You don’t understand. I can’t get caught not when I’m so close-“

Nami looked ready to break. The tears of panic that edged at the corners of her eyes made all the earlier playfulness disappear. The sharpness of words you threatened to say to defend Luffy losing their edge as you watched her stare into her glass like it would be able to give her all the answers. To tell her it would all be okay.

Zoro looked between you and Usopp, who was doing his best to not be a part of this particular conversation. His lips wrapped around the straws buried deep in his drink and refused to let go.

Men.

You were about to reach out to her, to ask her if she was okay, really okay, not just the kind you pretend to be through words when a mask of a smile was back on her face. She set down her glass and gave a quick glance around the table before clapping her hands down on her bare legs and lifting up out of her seat.

“Who wants a drink? It’s on me.”

“That’s my favorite kind.”

“Of course it is.”

You ignored Zoro’s stare as Nami removed herself from the booth - from all of you. She was more than halfway to the bar when you reached over and smacked Zoro’s shoulder. He looked surprised for all of a second before he looked from his shoulder and back to you.

“‘That’s my favorite kind.’” You mimicked. “God, who says that?”

“Someone who likes free drinks?” Usopp offered up.

“You are both -“

“Impossible. We know.”

Shaking your head, you shimmied out of the booth and started making your way through the groups of people. You could barely see Nami up ahead with an older gentleman speaking to her. A spindle of curiosity began to weave its way inside your belly and filled your head with questions. He didn’t seem to be flirting with her or trying. No, they seemed to be discussing business.

“Nami.”

You spoke her name lightly the way you would an animal that was skittish. The hand you’d reached out to tap her shoulder falling short as she turned halfway to face you.

“Hey, Doc, what are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.”

Nami pulled a face, her shoulders shrugging just enough to brush off your words.

“I promise you, I’m just fine. I don’t need a check-up or anything like that.”

The bartender chose at that moment to set down a bottle of rum and four shot glasses, which Nami grabbed immediately. She thanked him with a smile and turned to head back to the table forcing you to practically run after her.

“Nami- Nami, wait!”

“What do you want?!”

The anger of her words forced you to take a step back. Your hands raised just to let her know you meant her no harm.

“Do you remember when I told you that you had a friend in Syrup village?”

“What about it?”

“While I didn’t stay in the village, I’m still your friend and while I may not be able to protect you like Zoro, or be full of sunshine and stretchy like Luffy, or hell, be as sharp as Usopp with a slingshot I’m still here for you. Does that make sense?”

“I think?”

“I Just- okay look I’m not good at this either. My only friend I had was Usopp and I’m not sure how to say this but if you need to talk or if anything is bothering you, you can tell me. I’m not going to judge you or you know…”

It all felt like it was going good in your head and then you breathed, started talking, and for some reason panicked. Bless Nami for finding it all vaguely amusing, from what you could tell, because the smile that graced her lips was the one you’d come to expect. Bright and full of the youth sometimes you feel like she’d missed.

“Why do you get so awkward at the end of long speeches?”

Her words were light and airy; full of the laughter that flowed through each one. You allowed her go wrap her arm around your shoulders as you both moved back to the table. Your own laughter threatening to burst at any minute.

“I don’t get awkward.”

You could hear the eye roll she gave as you both began to release one another. You wouldn’t fit in the booth this way if you didn’t.

“Every time. Without fail. You start off so strong.”

“I just get nervous that I’m not making any sense, especially when you’re saying things that matter.”

“What you said back there matters?”

She’d placed the rum and glasses down on the table. Usopp’s fishbowl long since emptied and Zoro was moving towards the bottle at Lightning speed, as if he couldn’t wait to meet oblivion. Before Nami disappeared back into the booth you gently grabbed her hand to stop her making sure she faced you completely before you spoke low enough for only her to hear.

“It matters because you matter to me, Nami. All jokes aside, just don’t forget I’m here for you.”

Her eyes pricked with the edge of tears but she quickly nodded and turned away from you. The only proof you’d gotten she heard you was the soft squeeze of her hand in yours just before she let you go.

“God, I don’t know which one of them is worse. Can that even be classified as dancing?”

Nami’s soft laughter filtered over to him and Zoro couldn’t help but respond with a smile. At some point, you’d dived head first into too many of the giant fishbowls, deciding not to heed his warning, and come out the other side completely and utterly shit faced. So, when Usopp asked you to join him out on the dance floor, you didn't hesitate. For the last hour, Zoro wished there was a camera around just to hold this moment hostage from time.

He watched as you did moves he was willing to bet, if you were sober, would flush your cheeks in the rosy hue he’d found himself becoming obsessed with ever since he’d placed that snowdrop behind your ear. Another moment that time had taken he’d hoped to have burned into his memory. The way you’d looked up at him shifted something inside him, and Zoro wasn’t sure if he could ever get it back, or if he even cared it was gone.

You were in the middle of your next move - one arm behind your head while the other was close to your side. Your shoulder rotating in strange circles as your body bounced off beat. Usopp had gone back to doing a shuffle beside you that broke you out of your dance and into his.

Zoro could feel a smile threatening to burst its way on to his lips. Quickly, he brought his beer up and took a long pull from the glass.

“You’re different with her.” Every word was punctuated. Slow. As if Nami was afraid saying it too fast would spook him.

He took the glass from his lips and set it back on his thigh. His hand still wrapped around the cool mug as he finally regarded Nami.

“I’m not different with anybody.”

“Well, that’s not true. You’re different with Luffy; with us. I’m betting you don’t look at us the way you look at her, though.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It’s nothing.

God, he wanted it to be true. Even now, however, he could feel his neck straining to stay facing Nami’s direction. He wanted to look back and see what you were doing. To make sure you were safe.

And that waiter hadn’t magically appeared.

Nami must have known he was lying. She may have been a thief, but Zoro had come to realize her bullshit calling meter was the best he’d ever seen. She regarded him coolly with her brows raised in mock shock.

“I have eyes, Zoro. Unless you’re looking at me the same way when I’m not looking - it’s different.”

If he played it cool, kept his face free of emotion, and didn’t react he could still call her a liar. It was a solid plan that would’ve worked if his jaw hadn’t ticked in annoyance. Zoro wasn’t annoyed with Nami. He was annoyed at himself for being caught wanting something -someone - besides his goal.

He looked down into the safety of the amber liquid in his glass. Unsure of what - how - to begin to deny you hadn’t snuck in and taken a piece of him and called it yours. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Look,” Nami sighed. “I know you’ve got your own thing going on. Who doesn’t.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming,” he grumbled.

“But it’s okay to still want other things too.”

Zoro allowed himself to look up from the safety of the glass and willed himself to appear emotionless as he considered her. His mind was still mulling over her words and what Nami could possibly be trying to get at.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like her.”

No.

In a flash, Zoro could see how simple it would be to have you. His imagination ran in a million directions, in a trillion scenarios of a life that held a path for you to walk with him. He almost gave in and allowed the warmth of the idea of touching you, knowing you, to consume him until a clash of swords resonated in his mind.

As fast as it was created, it was destroyed. He found himself back in the woods standing in front of Kuina, so full of fire and life. The determination lit a fire in her eyes until he could’ve sworn he’d be consumed.

“Until one of us is the greatest swordsman who ever lived.”

It was his goal then just like she had been his goal - and it had remained his goal even now. Zoro couldn’t allow himself to lose sight of that. It was his dream to be the world’s greatest swordsman, but it had also been hers.

Kuina.

Zoro could still see her there waiting for him. Dead and dried leaves crunching under her feet as she waited for him to meet her in the clearing, her eyes brimming with challenge.

Zoro could almost feel his muscles taut and ready to go to her. His thumb playing at the hilt of his sword, to pull it out in one smooth motion and come forward those last few feet in a class of steel. He could feel his feet moving and the sound of the leaves crunching under his weight. He was almost to her when the sound of laughter floating through the breeze like a wind chime forced him to stop. He didn’t know who or what it was, or why his first thought was you, but when he turned to glance behind him he felt his heart stop.

He was suddenly standing back in the lavender fields at Irkhaven. Zoro’s eyes scanned around until you were there, like Kuina, standing just out of reach. You were surrounded by a sea of purple and sunlight that only seemed to brighten as you smiled in his direction. It was the smile that warmed him down to his bones and made his chest ache for once with something other than sadness and guilt. Zoro wouldn’t dare think it - risk saying it - in case this was some kind of spell.

You spoke his name - beckoning him to follow you - just like Kuina. Underneath all of your softness you held your own fire, your own determination, that made you appear wild. The wind whipping at your hair and turning you ethereal amongst all the life that you held within your eyes.

Zoro could feel himself stuck between the place where he began and the place where he was going. Where you were waiting with Luffy, Usopp, and Nami. A place he never imagined his life would take him and yet…

The sound of Nami almost shouting his name shook him out of his thoughts and the sound of cracking glass filtered through moments later. He could feel the glass in his hand fracturing; dangerously close to collapsing inward if he squeezed harder. He set the weeping glass down and spared a glance to Nami as he removed himself from the seat.

“Hey, Zoro, are you okay?”

He hated how he could see the concern was etched into every crease of her features. The way she pretended to care. He made sure his hand was secured on the Wado Ichimonji before he stood to his full height. His eyes glancing over at you and Usopp now entrenched in a dance battle.

Suddenly, being inside the mouth of a fish made him feel like he was being swallowed whole. He couldn’t be near you - couldn’t risk confessing in the heat of a drunken moment that you had consumed him, mind and soul, and he wasn’t sure if he cared.

“I gotta go back to the Merry. Forgot something.”

“Forgot what? Zoro? Zoro!”

He didn’t look behind him to see what Nami was doing. Their earlier game of “guess my trauma,” officially over as he rushed towards the next dock. The pounding of his heart reminding him of the dangers of caring; of allowing yourself to get wrapped up in other people.

To this day, Zoro could still feel the ice that pierced his heart when he was told Kuina was gone. The way the world seemed to shift into madness and somehow remain the same. It was his mind that could no longer make sense of a world where she no longer resided. Zoro would’ve gone to the gates of hell to get her back if he could and with the searing vision of your smile, head whipped back in joy, Zoro felt that same exact emotion he’d felt over seven years ago.

He would tear the world apart to keep you in it and that was a confession he couldn’t afford to say.

For the last hour Zoro had been able to sit in the stillness of the ship and enjoy the silence. The only intrusive sound was that of things moving below the water and the of the wet stone sliding across the Wado Ichimonji.

It’d taken him longer than he’d ever admit to collect himself. His meditation hadn’t been able to clear his mind the way it usually did, and it wasn’t until he’d begun to take care of Kuina’s blade that his thoughts had ceased.

Of course, all good things were meant to come crashing down.

“How long do you think you’re going to hide out here and pout?”

Zoro’s wrist stopped mid-motion down the sword. His eyes unable to tear away from the moonlight gleaming on the blade just in case looking at you sent him reeling over the edge again.

Being alone with you on the Merry was about the worst thing that could happen to him. At least at the bar he would have continued to play twenty questions with Nami and been surrounded by plenty of sound to help drown out whatever was going on with him.

You aren’t focused.

But he was, wasn’t he? In the last seven years, Zoro had devoted himself to his training. To become stronger. Faster. The only swordsman to use three swords and earn the name of The Demon. With every waking hour Zoro was closer to becoming who he - who she - dreamed of being.

The sound of your footsteps drawing closer almost made him delirious. His hand tightening down on the wet stone before he set it down beside him. His eyes turned out to look once more into the endless midnight in front of him.

“Who says I’m hiding?”

His voice sounded rough, like it hadn’t been used in months. He picked up the rum he’d taken from his room and took a swig to clear his throat and his senses. By the time he finished taking his drink, you were standing beside where he sat on the crate. Your arms wrapped around your middle with your hip cocked looking like you were ready to give him hell.

I am hiding.

It was the only clear thought he had as his eyes adjusted to your presence. Your eyes were glassy from the alcohol even though you were trying to make it seem like you were sober, he guessed. But Zoro could tell you were tipsy with the way you swayed along with each push of the ocean’s wave against the ship.

He and Nami were going to have a talk about dressing you next time. Every part of you felt exposed to him and yet, it wasn’t enough. It was all just a game, teasing him constantly no matter what angle he looked at it. What was even worse was how the moon highlighted you in light and half in shadow.

“I say you are and we both know I’m usually right.”

A sly smile slid across his lips before he could stop it. His eyes transfixed while you took the finishing steps until you stood before him. With your arms back down at your side you felt more open to him, vulnerable somehow. It was the look in your eyes that told him why.

Maybe he wasn’t just imagining it too but what did it prove? You were both idiots on a sinking ship. Looking up at you now, the way you shamelessly devoured every inch the moonlight provided your eyes he knew you’d both happily drown.

“Is that so?”

“It’s the new unwritten rule on the ship.”

“Guess I’m going to have to have a talk with Luffy about that.”

“He’s still in the kitchen finishing up dishes if you want to be a good first mate and help him.”

“I should go help him.”

“The waiters in there with him, though.”

“He doesn’t need my help that bad.”

Zoro wasn’t sure what it was that made your head fall back the way it did. What it was that caused you to laugh the way you did with your hand covering your mouth as if it was enough to silence it. He didn’t know what he did, but he swore he would do it again just to see you like this.

“Is that why you are hiding out on the ship? Afraid of some competition?”

You went to sit down next to him and his hand reached out to grab you by your hip to stop you. It was meant to be a gesture to get you to stop. Instead, his hand slid under the fabric of the corset and he could hear the audible sharp whistle as you sucked in a breath. He wondered if you would let him keep it there, if you’d let him pull you closer until you were perfectly positioned between his legs.

As fast as his hand and touched you it retreated and it was his turn to stand.

“Let’s cut the chit chat. I have something better in mind.

“You seriously think now is a good time to train?”

You couldn’t believe it. Your brain was still a mess from seconds ago when his hand somehow found its way under your clothes. The way he’d looked up at you, you half expected him to pull you closer. The hunger that flashed in obsidian eyes was enough to make you think you were about to find out just how plush his lips might actually be.

As fast as it happened it ended and the disappointment was raw in your chest. Zoro, on the other hand, looked right at home.

“Why not? Did you have something else in mind?”

Yes.

“No,” you grumbled.

You were most definitely not pouting.

“Good. First, you have to fix your stance.”

“Okay, how should I be-“

A scream of shock left you as you nearly jumped out of your skin. You turned just in time to see him slide the handle of a sword back inside the sheath. The same one that he’d used mere seconds ago to smack against your bare thigh.

“Did you just spank me with your sword?”

God, he looked too pleased with himself.

“I could do it again, if you like.”

You could feel your mouth opening and closing. You didn’t know what to say. Yes, please do? That felt too desperate and yelling at him would do nothing but prove you did like it in some weird way.

Shit. Your cheeks were burning.

“How about we just direct me, verbally, like a normal sensei would do.”

“You could also call me master, instead of sensei, if you like.”

Zoro had stepped close to you - close enough if you leaned back just an inch you would be against him. His words were dripped heavily with teasing, but the way the husk of his tone whispered along your skin like a caress threatened to make your knees buckle.

This was supposed to be training for god sake. Clearing your throat, you dared to lean your head back just enough it rested on his chest. Your eyes batting up at him as you replied, “Or I can just call you an asshole.”

A heavy sigh blew through his nose as he stepped away from you, almost sending you falling on your ass.

“Do you even have a weapon?”

“There are pots in the kitchen,” you deadpanned.

Zoro looked at you like he would throw you over the side of the ship at any minute.

“I mean a real weapon.”

“My knife is in my satchel.”

You both stood there staring at one another. You weren’t sure what he was expecting you to do. If you were just magically supposed to make your satchel appear or leave to go get it. Zoro wasn’t saying much. He was just standing there one hand on his sword and a thumb tucked into his sash.

“Are you going to keep staring at me all night or are you going to go get it?”

Whatever tension that had been brimming between you, unspoken words, or anything else was instantly gone. All of it exploded by his usual rigid posture and dead-eye stare that only moments ago made you believe that maybe, just maybe, your drunken mind wasn’t as delusional as you thought.

“When I come back you better be ready to get your ass kicked,” you seethed.

You went to turn on your booted heel when a strong wave rocked the ship and almost sent you toppling forward. You’d braced yourself for impact; your knees colliding once again with the wood or possible scraps to your hands and bare legs.

Instead, your back collided with a warm body with a forearm locked around your middle keeping you impossibly tight against them. The scent of sandalwood and skin melded together flooding your scenes until your brain was in overload.

You looked back and found his face mere inches from yours. So close you could feel the heat of his breath along your jaw tempting you to close those last few inches. For a brief moment you thought you’d unlocked some new form of drunken bravery inside of you, but all of it came crashing down when Zoro let go and stepped away.

“Maybe I should walk back with you. You don’t seem like you’re able to walk.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t know what else to say. Should you tell him to come close again? Should you tell him that while he was equally the most infuriating human on the planet you somehow couldn’t imagine a space where he wasn’t in it?

How could knowing someone for only a short while turn into…this.

You knew you wouldn’t say any of it. Not even enough liquor in the world could get you to tell Roronoa Zoro, The Demon, that you had a crush on him just as deadly as he was.

So, you turned on your heel and headed back towards the giant mouth of the fish. The steady sounds of Zoro’s heavy footsteps right behind you until you finally made it back into the bar. You’d only gotten a few steps to the table when you realized something was wrong. A man in a trench coat and large hat with a feather was standing in front of Nami and Usopp. They didn’t appear frightened but…why was he there?

“Oh, hey guys! This is my new best friend-“ Usopp stated.

Nami softly smacked him on his chest as she cut in, “This is not our friend.”

The man in question turned to stare at Zoro and you. His eyes sunflower yellow with swirls like a bullseye within making you almost take a step back from him. You bummed back into Zoro and this time when you looked at him he no longer looked unreadable. He was looking at this man like he was a godsend - a dream come true in the form of curled mustaches and oversized feathers.

“You’re Dracule Mihawk.”

“I have business with your captain. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hand him over.”

“Well, we don’t know anyone named Luffy, do we guys? Zoro?”

You’d been so enamored by Mihawk’s appearance you hadn’t realized Zoro had moved around you. His eyes still fastened to him as he moved around to face him.

“I’ve been following your career since I was a child. It��s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Mihawk looked bored out of his skull.

“Which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow you’re going to die.”

“Wait, what?”

“What the actual fuck…”

Your words came out as an uttered whisper. You were too shell shocked to say more - do more. It felt like you were watching this whole interaction through the lense of a telescope on a distant island where idiots roamed free.

“I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel to the death.”

“What the actual fuck! Zoro!”

This time you were loud. Much louder than you wanted with every syllable ringing out your panic like a dinner bell.

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“They call me the Demon Pirate Hunter. But my lifelong dream is to best you in single combat and become the greatest swordsman in the world.”

“You’re serious.”

“Accept my challenge and I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Very well. Tomorrow at dawn and when I’m done with you Pirate Hunter I’ll take your captain.”

No. No. No - “No.”

Your head was still ringing out with the word. Unable to comprehend what in the actual hell had just happened. You’d come back to get your small cutting knife. He was supposed to be training you right now back on the deck of the Merry. This was wrong. All wrong.

Nami leaned forward from her seat. Her own worry was bleeding into her eyes, her voice, as she asked, “What in the hell did you just do?”

You were still trying to figure that out when Zoro turned and walked away leaving dread the size of a crater to worm its way inside your chest.

As always, thank you all so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

____________

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 years ago

Text

Fire and Ice

Hi guys!

Yes I know it's me again! I got a request for a story with Leah, so here is a story with Leah.

I'm open to request btw :)

I hope this story will please you, I tried to stick as much as possible to the way I imagine Leah’s dynamique.

Part 2 is HERE :) and the chapter bonus HERE.

Thanks everyone ♥

____________________________________________________________

New to Arsenal, you’ve only been part of this team since this summer. You left Bayern Munich at the end of you contract and after some hesitation between different clubs, you finally chose Arsenal. Lyon would have loved to hire you too, but you felt that English football was probably better if you wanted to continue to evolve in your career. You're only 21 and hopefully, many years ahead of you.

You were scared at first to be honest, you know the team had a lot of players who already know themselves. But Lia was particularly welcoming to you, playing the role of a little mother. Frida, who is also your teammate in the Norway team, decided to show you her favorite places in London and Alessia who arrived at the same time as you quickly offered to do the exercises in training together.

In reality, your arrival at Arsenal was very smooth even if some personalities continue to impress you a little. For example Leah, Beth or Katie. As a result, you have very little interactions with them, as Leah’s injury has not helped to create a special bond with her. Even if she was present on the day of your presentation to the rest of the group, wanted to welcome you like the others.

You do, however, enjoy evenings organized by your teammates and you go regularly. Far from your family, you don’t know anyone here and it makes you feel less alone.

So here you are, in Leah's appartment with some of the Arsenal girls. You hesitated to come since Frida wasn't here, but Alessia is and hasn’t given you much choice to do otherwise. Leah was in charge of the cocktails and only gave Lia a smirk when she asked her what she put in it. You took the time to discreetly sniff the mixture before bringing it to your lips, pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of the drink. A little misleading though, because after two or three drinks, getting up to go to the toilet took a little longer than usual.

When you came back, you drop on the couch next to Alessia, trying to get back into the conversation. You became bit uncomfortable when you realize that the discussion has turned on the girls being in couple or those who are not. You are single obviously, finding it particularly difficult to have a long-distance relationship, or with one of your teammates. In the case of a breakup, you were always afraid that it would be too complicated for you to handle.

So you say nothing, hoping that hiding behind your glass will save you from possible questions. You are very naive.

"And you, Y/N? You never mention anyone, I guess you're single?"

Beth’s question makes you grimace and you find yourself nervously biting the edge of your plastic glass before answering a simple "Yes".

"Why that?" asks Beth and you just shrugs.

"We should make her up with someone" Katie decide and you can't help but laugh a little.

"I’m a little demanding about my partner"

"Not a problem"

You roll your eyes before taking a new sip of your drink, crossing Leah’s gaze. She seems lost in her thoughts, twirling her glass in her hand. Your eyes cross a split second and you hurry to report it to Katie when she speaks again.

"We should make you profil though. Like in a dating app"

"OMG yes, I going to take something to write!"

Alessia chuckles next to you and you can't help but smile too. You don’t really take this seriously, given everyone’s blood alcohol levels, you’re sure that half of this evening will be forgotten by tomorrow morning. So you decide to play the game with a smile.

"Ok, first question" Beth begin with a notepad and a pen. "What is your house in Hogwarts?"

"How is that even a question?" Katie answers with a disgusting face.

"It's not because you don't like Harry Potter than it's the same for everyone, McCabe"

************

You let the two girls ask you questions for twenty minutes, ignoring the departure of several of your teammates. Now it’s just you, Katie, Lotte, Beth, Leah and Alessia.

"Are you a good kisser?" Beth asked, looking over her sheet.

"How am I even supposed to know that?" you ask, giggling.

"I don't know, it's your kissing skills, not mine."

You roll your eyes before answering.

"I've never received any complaints"

"Does it count?" Katie asked while looking at Beth.

"Not really. Is there anyone in this room who can testify to that?"

"What? No!" you laugh softly.

You, in reality, only have two relationship in your life and both didn't end really well. Football keeping you very busy, you maybe weren't a great girlfriend. But that doesn’t mean your first girlfriend’s infidelity should be excused, in your opinion. Anyway, the next sentence coming from Beth's mouth take you back in the reality.

"Maybe we need a sincere testimony from someone we trust…" Katie said thoughtfully.

"Maybe we can make her kiss someone here, now?" Beth answers with the same tone.

"Excuse me?" you ask with a certain concern.

But the two women didn't seem to give it the slightest care, continuing in their dialogue which makes you slightly think of Dupont and Dupond in Tintin.

"Leah is definitely the most experienced of us, she has a hunt board longer than the number of goals scored by Alexia Putellas at FC Barcelona."

"What the fuck?"

This is the first time of the evening that you hear Leah's voice, who had been content until then to make cocktails and dance in the kitchen with Lia and Caitlin. Both of Beth and Katie laugh at her offended face, finally out of their common monologue.

"Come on Leah, you have to kiss Y/N to help her finding love"

"Don't I have any say in this?" you say softly.

Beth’s gaze makes you realize that you don’t really have much of a say, but it’s especially Leah’s piercing gaze that you feel on you that electrifies you. Leah is a very beautiful woman and you must admit that if you hadn't been teammates, maybe you would have thought of her differently. But there is also her assertive and confident personality that can sometimes confuse you, you who is rather quiet and discreet, you are a bit like fire and ice.

But tonight, your eyes meet a few seconds and for once you don't look away. It's even finally Leah who looks away to look at Beth.

"Ok" Leah answers before getting up "But I'm not doing it in front of everyone. Close all your damn pretty eyes"

They all agreed without saying any word, Alessia swaping place with Leah on the couches. The captain waits patiently for everyone to close their eyes, before looking at you.

"You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, right? You're sure you want to?" she asks softly.

So softly that it surprises you at first. And you almost immediately feel overwhelmed by a wave of guilt, after all you are very well placed to know that Leah knows how to take care of the people around her. She showed it to you several times as captain of her team.

"I am" you simply answer, before adding "And you?"

"Hey don't worry about me. Go on" she gives you a smirk of her own and you smile back.

You feel particularly nervous though, becoming a little aware of the situation you’re in. Leah doesn’t seem particularly drunk, but you’re hoping she won’t be mad at you tomorrow when she realizes things. You wait a few more seconds, detailing her face and eyes looking for a trace of hesitation. But you find nothing and you finally decide to break the physical distance between you two.

Your eyes left hers and you look at her lips for a few moments, certainly looking at them for the first time. It doesn't last long however. Like a second after that, you close your eyes, your lips gently touching hers. At this distance, you can smell her perfume and shampoo. Her lips are soft and have the flavor of the cocktail she has prepared for you all evening.

But that’s not what’s calling you.

What's calling you is the way your whole body seems to react to a simple peck with Leah Williamson.

You feel like every part of your body is burning up and asking for more of Leah’s. And that's scared the shit out of you. That’s why you step back after a few seconds, wide-eyed, looking for an explanation on Leah’s face. But you can’t find anything and you can’t even determine the emotion in her eyes.

"Tell us when you're finished" Katie points.

Of course, you forgot about them. Everything that didn’t concern Leah directly had been completely zapped by your brain.

"Shut up. We haven’t even started"

Leah answers for both of you and you hardly swallow, not at all recovering from the emotions you felt. That you still feel. A second later, Leah grabs your face with both hands before kissing you. You don't lose a second before responding to her kiss, your lips moving together with an ease you have never felt before.

It's easy for you to get lost in this kiss, the sensations mixing so much that you completely lose the notion of things. Your hands slide over Leah’s hips and you find yourself sitting on her, your legs on either side of hers.

That doesn’t seem to bother her though, her tong easily finding access to yours. Your lips only separate for a few seconds, until you get enough air to start your dance again. And again.

You could have sincerely spent the rest of the evening - the night - kissing her, but one of them had to realize that you were going to get the attention of your teammates. It was Leah who put an end to the kiss first, snatching from your embrace as breathless as you. You don’t look away this time either when she looks at you, before gently pushing you away so that you find your original place on the couch.

You could have taken this as a gesture of reject, but the smile and wink she offers you when she gets up seems to be there only to reassure you that it’s not. You follow her with your eyes as she discreetly go behind the couch, leaning on her backrest, above where she was sitting until now.

"How is it possible that it lasts so long?" Alessia wines and you smile when you hear Leah's laugh.

The other girls open their eyes and the surprise appears on almost every face by discovering your positioning.

"Did you really think I was going to kiss someone to please you? Well everyone out now, I need my beauty sleep."

Rolling their eyes or grumbling, your teammates obeyed quickly. After exchanging greetings, you follow Alessia who promised to take you home. Still disturbed by these kisses, you can’t help but turn around while closing the front door hoping to meet Leah’s gaze.

You succeed, while she leaned against the central island of her kitchen. The same look as the one she used to look at you earlier appears on her face, but you can’t study it as long as you would like since you feel Alessia’s hand grab your arm, suddenly eager to find her bed.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine

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smusherina · 1 year ago

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yard work - chapter 5 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): homophobia is still a theme. another dead relative mentioned. smoking cigarettes.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 6

You'd decided to do nothing about Cady's infiltration for now. Or, well, Regina had told you she'd figure it out and given firm instruction to not do anything.

You didn't exactly like that. Then again, you didn't have any better ideas. Obviously, you wanted her to not be around Regina. It was wrong that she was friends with her under the pretence that she was looking for reasons to stab her in the back. Then again, she didn't need reasons. Regina had provided plenty already.

As September dragged along and eventually turned to October, it felt as if day by day your mind split into an exponentially growing number of pieces. Your desire to protect Regina battled with the fact that she had been wrong so many times, had really hurt people. Didn't they deserve some reparation? Didn't Regina deserve forgiveness? Was any of that for you to decide?

You would have to pick a side and make your stance known, eventually. You'd have to plant your feet firmly on the territory you really believed in. Only, you dreaded that you didn't have as much agency as you'd have liked.

Were you weak or strong for always sticking by someone? What would become of you if you didn't stand up for what you thought was right and wrong? Where was the line?

You didn't want to side with Janis and her lackeys. The more you looked at it, the parallel between them—Janis and Regina—started to become obvious. Janis and Regina weren't that different at all.

What did you even want? What could you want? You didn't have answers to those questions.

The weather was getting colder, so you'd shuffled your wardrobe quite a bit. Short-sleeved flannels and tee shirts were replaced by cotton undershirts and grandpa sweaters. Literal grandpa sweaters. You'd gotten the majority of them from your grandfather's closet, which he had left for you in his will. It was a joke you two had shared, that you looked better in his clothes than he did.

Regina certainly didn't think so.

"Those sweaters are fucking ugly." She put it bluntly, chewing on some gum as she surfed channels on your TV. She'd taken to spending a lot of time at yours recently. You guessed it had to do with her dad being home and her friends no longer being trustworthy.

"They were my gramps'." You pouted and slumped onto the couch next to her. Since your first sleepover, the distance between your bodies had gotten smaller each time. Your knees almost touched.

"The emotional baggage makes them even frumpier." She glanced at you before looking back at the TV. "You'd be better off framing them."

"I like them, Reg." You settled back and turned your attention to the screen as well. "I don't tell you what to wear."

"If you did we wouldn't be friends." She quipped, finally settling on just shutting the thing off. "Now, what's up with you?"

"Nothing." You didn't want to talk about it. You doubted you could talk about something like that and both remain calm. You hated shouting. It always made you cry, no matter the situation. You could've been the angriest you'd ever been, not sad at all, and still cry.

"Fine. Be stubborn." She huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to Aaron's Halloween Party."

"Are you?" You turned and blinked at her. "Cool, I guess."

"You know how everybody, like, dresses sexy? It's like the whole point of Halloween, yeah? Cady's from Kenya. She doesn't know that. She thinks Halloween's supposed to be scary."

"Isn't it, though?"

"Ugh, for kids it is. We're practically adults. Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it." Regina recited as if from a book. "Karen's words."

"She's very wise, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is." Regina mused.

"You ever told her that?"

"No, she'd get a big head."

"Karen Shetty would get a big head." You said, disbelieving.

"They want what I have so bad," Regina said. "I have to keep them on their toes."

"Are they even your friends? Or do you keep them close to control them?" You sat up straighter, some dots connecting. "Is that why you got Cady to join you? Because she was too pretty to go unchecked?"

"So you think she's pretty." Regina shifted closer, your knees really touching now. You tried to contain your excitement.

"I feel that's pretty obvious." You leaned in also, almost without noticing yourself. She was like a magnet.

"She had potential. If she were to realize it, who knows what she would've gotten up to."

"You made her realize that. That's a self-fulfilling prophecy if I've ever heard one."

"What do you know about prophecies?"

"I know that if I scoped a threat, I wouldn't make them stronger." You licked your lips nervously. "Keeping an eye on her is one thing, but you've made her an enemy."

"Fine, sure, whatever. Now, I'm gonna bring her down. She's gonna humiliate herself by showing up to the party all scary-looking, and then I'm gonna kiss Aaron Samuels." She grinned and blew a bubble. The thin pink of the bubblegum complimented her eyes.

"Why? To make her jealous? Because she wants something you had?"

"To establish dominance."

"I dunno, Reg." You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face. "You're making an enemy."

"It's what I do best, jorts. Just watch." She got up and headed for the kitchen. Hated to see her leave, loved to watch her go.

So, you watched. You watched her hatch her plans, how she deliberately kept Karen from talking to Cady about high school Halloween party etiquette, which seemed like a challenging task indeed, and how her leash on Gretchen tightened to an impossible degree.

You sat alone in the computer room the night of the party, trying to build a profitable amusement park and failing miserably. Your heart wasn't in it. Not even gaming could take your mind off of Regina.

She was probably kissing Aaron Samuels right now. Right now, their lips were sealed together in a nasty French kiss that surely repulsed anybody close enough to hear the slurping and suckling that came from the union. Aaron was probably on her, touching her everywhere he could get his grubby paws, shamelessly licking at the roof of her mouth like a dog.

While the thought of the jock being a bad kisser soothed you somewhat, it didn't cure the clenching in your chest. Fuck, it was stupid that this hurt you. It wasn't even real, she was using him to get to Cady, but the mere thought of them like that made you want to puke.

You watched the chaos unfold the next morning. At lunch, Janis herded you to their table near the back. You were barely listening, too busy glowering in the general direction of the jock table. Cady was officially on board now, you were told. Regina had officially gone too far for her and now their real plans could commence.

"Hey, dude, are you even listening?" Janis punched you on the shoulder. You glared and punched back.

"No. Yes, I- what did you say? Something about Homecoming."

"Yes!" Janis practically hissed, looking a little manic. You looked at Damien, who was eyeing you suspiciously. "We're spraying water on her when she's inevitably crowned Homecoming queen. Cady's also replacing her moisturizer with lard. Can you think of anything?"

What, you were supposed to contribute to bringing Regina down? She was kidding, right? She continued to stare holes in you.

"Uh..." You swallowed. "I'm not really an ideas guy. I can help in other ways?" You squeaked, desperately wanting out of this whole thing.

"Ugh, you're boring." Janis groaned, slumping against Damien.

"Good talk." You said hastily as you got up. "I'm going to smoke a cigarette now." So acutely uncomfortable, you talked like a robot.

"Can you gimme one?" Janis perked up.

"No, she can't." Damien cast a look at Janis. "We agreed, remember? Smoking only at the garage."

You took that opportunity to skedaddle. They bickered like an old married couple. Though there was no romantic chemistry between them, they were obviously a solid duo.

Janis didn't seem so bitter when she was with Damien. Sure, now that they were planning revenge their focus was on Regina, but they often strayed off track. Why couldn't she just let go? She was clearly doing better now.

As you rounded the building and made it across the lawn towards the bleachers, you spotted a couple making out. The boy had the girl pinned to the wall. You were quite far away and you could hear their lips smacking.

You didn't want to look too close, because gross, but the varsity jacket and pink ensemble were hard to ignore.

You gritted your teeth and pulled out the pack of Marlboros you had on hand. Regina and Aaron fucking Samuels. You lit up and inhaled before you were even properly concealed under the bleachers.

God, you were such a hypocrite. If you weren't over what Regina did to you in middle school, then why should she be? She'd had it worse, too. You couldn't even imagine the consequences of something like that.

If people knew you liked girls, it'd be over. Even if it was sort of like an open secret, because nobody ever asked you about boys or stuff like that, to have it confirmed would ruin you beyond repair.

If people knew you liked Regina, it'd be even worse.

"Hey, why're you sulking under there?"

"Regina, I'm not in the mood to talk."

"Uh, grumpy much?"

"Leave me alone."

You leaned your head back against the steel, looking up at Regina as she stood over you. She was in all pink. A pink, fuzzy sweater, white skinnies, and Uggs. You had a blue, old Carhartt jacket, denim jeans and scuffed Converse.

You matched with her way better than Aaron. You could probably kiss better too. Not that you'd had any practice. But you'd at least have the sense to not slobber all over the one you were kissing.

Unless Regina liked sloppy kisses. As if you'd get to find out.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

I like you. I like you too much and it's hard to think. I can't tell wrong from right.

"It's nothing." You took another drag. "Janis and Damien are plotting. It just makes me mad." Not entirely untrue. You were lying by omission, though.

"What kinda plots?"

You hesitated. How could you? "Nothing concrete yet." Now you were really lying. It sunk like a stone down your gullet, hitting your heart on the way down, and dropped heavily into your stomach. It nearly punched a hole clean through.

"Keep me updated." She lingered and you kept looking at her. What would she look like as Homecoming queen, soaked down to her bones up on a stage? What would she look like after smearing lard on her face?

Not ethereal in the sunlight like this, probably. Though you reckoned ruined mascara and pimples wouldn't do anything to shake off this stupid crush.

"For sure." You just nodded and looked down. You couldn't keep your eyes on her when guilt gnawed at your insides.

"Can I have one?" She hopped over your legs and sat down on the grass next to you.

"A cigarette?" You baulked. "A cigarette for Regina George?"

"Yes, you doof." She laughed and reached for your pockets. "Where's the pack?" She kept patting down your body. Your heart sped up, your palms sweated, and a stupid grin split your face.

"Only one." You turned your face as stern as you could make it. "I'm not ruining your beautiful singing voice."

"You think my voice is beautiful?" When she asked questions like that and looked so small waiting for your answer, you didn't quite know what to do with yourself.

"Yeah," You breathed, sounding a little too sincere, too reverent. "You sang at the talent show in middle school that one year. I think it was a Celine Dion song? Captivating."

"That was so embarrassing. I had such shit breath control." She rested her hand on your thigh, casually, and the other behind your back. Your faces were so close. "C'mon, jorts. Now."

"Nobody complained. Everybody loved it." You reached into your pocket and handed her a cig. She put it between her lips and looked at you expectantly.

If you'd been feeling bold, you would've touched the tip of your lit one to hers. Yours was more than halfway done, so you'd have gotten real close. Maybe in your dreams.

You flicked the lighter to life and held the fire for her. "Suck. Yup, you got it."

She inhaled and let the smoke out of her mouth. You took a drag to keep from laughing. "When you've got the smoke in your mouth, inhale it."

She did as you told and started coughing violently. This time, you couldn't keep the laughter in. She shoved you and you laughed harder.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69

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#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2004 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #mean girls x reader #wlw #wlw yearning #no use of y/n #fic: yard work

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 2 years ago

Note

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

#opla #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk #fanfic #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #fluff #mihawk x reader #smut

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lucid-loves · 6 months ago

Text

Black Blood Red Kiss ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley ~ Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x vampire!reader (fem!reader, 141!reader, callsign “Fangs”)

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, biting, teasing, kisses, grinding, dry humping, office sex.

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Being turned into a vampire never stopped you from joining the military. In fact, it only made it easier for you with new strength, stamina, reflexes, and precision. The only challenge you now faced was keeping your true nature a secret. This is incredibly difficult to do when your new teammate, Ghost, smells so delicious. What will happen to your relationship with him once you both get a dangerous taste of each other?

Chapter Synopsis: Hoping that Ghost would forget about the bite, you've been dodging all of his efforts to talk to you. With an acute sense of his scent, it has been easy. Ghost finds a way to corner you, though, and things quickly get heated in more ways than one. (SMUT ALERT)

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3

Damn it, how much longer was he going to tail you? Ever since you bit him, Ghost has been trying to talk about it with you. You knew based on how he tried to approach you. Purposeful. Urgent. Each step he took said he was a man on a mission.

And you have been doing your best to completely avoid him.

Since the night you tore away on your motorcycle after drinking his blood, your mind has been scrambled. Horny, hungry, and anxious. You didn't mean to bite him. Instinct to satiate your hunger just took over. And now your whole life was in jeopardy if Ghost put the pieces together.

That's probably what he wanted to confirm with you.

Ignoring his sharp gazes, walking off before he could speak, and changing directions once you smelled him has helped you avoid the confrontation. Yeah, the boys thought you hated his guts, but it was better than having to explain that you were secretly a vampire.

Fighting maddening arousal too since you had to leave yourself hanging.

“That's all. Meeting adjourned.” Captain Price dismissed everyone after a rather long, agonizingly boring meeting. General overviews always had you feeling bored out of your mind. Besides the fact that this was a mandatory meeting, Ghost was also driving you nuts by sitting next to you the entire time.

He was sure to catch you this time.

Yet, as soon as Price dismissed the team, you bolted right out of the room. Before anyone even stood up, you were gone. At this point, Ghost was getting pissed. He's been chasing you all week.

When you dined and dashed on him, it left him stunned and unbelievably excited. He was so startled that he didn't stick around with the boys at the bar. All he did was say goodbye and head home. There wasn't a single second where his mind wasn't on you.

Aside from wanting an explanation on what happened that night, he's been dying to get some of your attention again.

But all he got from you was the cold shoulder.

Soap gave a small chuckle to lighten the mood. “You make her angry or something, L.T? It looks like she’s been avoiding you like the plague.”

“Kinda spooky how she knows when he’s coming too. One moment, I’m talking to her. The next, she’s out the door. Then just a second later, Ghost is in her place.” Gaz chimed in, his own nosiness coming through.

All Ghost did was give a curt grunt. He didn’t have a good answer for them. Were you angry at him? No, probably not. How could he explain that you drank his blood though? This was between you and him.

Price, noticing the growing tension, waved Soap and Gaz away to talk to Ghost in private. Like the observant captain that he is, he has realized that you were completely avoiding his lieutenant unless it was mandatory to be with him. At this point, he was concerned that something was splitting his team apart. “You didn’t get into a fight with Fangs, did you?”

Ghost looked away and crossed his arms. “Not exactly.”

“Then what? We are supposed to be a team. I’m not saying that you are at fault here since I don’t have the full context, but that’s exactly what I’m trying to understand. Can you give me anything that could help patch things up between the both of you?” Captain urged, taking this as seriously as a combat zone.

“To be honest, Captain. Even I don’t know the full context. I’m still figuring it out.”

“Well, figure it out soon if you can. We can’t have this strain during a mission.”

With those final orders, Ghost left the conference room with a heavy heart. That was it. He was going to talk to you now, whether you liked it or not.

Jesus, fucking finally! You have been around the entire base hiding from Ghost, and he finally disappeared. You had better speed and stamina as a vampire, but anyone would be exhausted trying to avoid a very stubborn man. You have barely gotten any work done all day since working at your desk was a no-go. You had no choice but to hang out in the ammo closet within the shooting range, laptop in hand to get what you could done. Unless you wanted to play the reverse bloodhound game with him again, it was gunpowder city for you.

After working for several hours to catch up, it was close to midnight when everyone should be done with work, asleep, or heading home. There was no way in hell Ghost should still be looking for you. Any sane person would have called it a night. With this benefit of the doubt, you exited the closet, returned your laptop to your desk, and began gathering your things.

You didn’t even notice him standing within the shadow near the door.

When the door closed, you jumped, startled that he could sneak up on you like this. Damn ammo closet probably clogged your sense of smell with the metallic scent of gunpowder. It didn’t help that Ghost always seemed to vaguely smell of it too. You cursed under your breath and attempted to take your leather jacket off from your desk chair.

A large hand held it down in place. “Talk to me, Fangs. What happened that night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s forget it ever happened.” You tried to brush off, avoiding eye-contact as much as you could.

Ghost wasn’t ready to let up. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all week about it. You’re not avoiding this.”

You scoffed and tugged the jacket out from under his grip. “It’s personal.”

“Yeah, it is fucking personal.” He agreed in his own way, before taking your wrists in his hands. Firm so you couldn’t escape like you always did, but gentle enough not to hurt you. To stop you from pushing and pulling, he stood extremely close to you. With your back against the desk and your chest facing his, you were pinned.

Even now, as irritated as you were, you were still so beautiful. “Tell me, Fangs. That’s an order.”

He had you now. You took your job so seriously that you wouldn’t dare disobey a direct order. Being on your best behavior made people less suspicious of your real identity. This habit still stuck. Clicking your tongue, you prepared to say goodbye to the life you worked hard to build.

“Isn’t it obvious? I drank your blood because I’m a hungry vampire. I hadn’t eaten in a while and you were a meal right in front of me. Anything else, Lieutenant?” You confessed with venom, hoping to somehow hurt him before he could hurt you.

The tension between the two of you was heated. Thick. Ghost had never heard you be so aggressively defensive before. So insulting with your tone. However, he knew you spoke the truth, as much as it sounded hard to believe. If you didn’t bite him that night, he probably wouldn’t have believed you.

Ghost wasn’t done yet. There was another pressing matter he needed to get closure on. The matter that did make all of this really personal. “When you bit me, it didn’t feel painful. Quite the opposite. Why?”

You finally met his eyes and blinked a few times incredulously. Was that really important right now? Was he really asking you why he was hard for you?! Your cheeks rapidly grew red with his blunt questions. The gunpowder stench that lingered on your nose was beginning to fade, allowing that sweet and spicy scent of Ghost to make your heart race.

Fuck, why did he have to smell so fucking good?! Why did his eyes have to be so blue?!

Ghost was feeling the pull too. It happened when he first saw your vulnerable side and it was happening now. His heart beat loudly in his chest as you became flustered. Brows furrowing in both frustration and embarrassment. Cheeks turning a cute rosy hue. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried not to lose the cool everyone knew you as.

Without even getting bitten first, Ghost wanted to fuck you right on your desk.

“Bite me.”

“Wh-What?!” You stuttered, unsure if you heard him right.

Ghost leaned forward closer to speak directly into your reddening ears. His voice became husky as he lifted up some balaclava to reveal a smooth neck. “Bite me, Fangs. That’s an order.”

Reacting on a mix of vampire and soldier instinct, you bit into him to taste his delicious blood. Electricity zipped on your tongue as you drank, the energy traveling all throughout your body. Power. Arousal. Fuck, this was good.

With a burst of strength, you broke out of his grasp and put him in yours instead. It was so sudden that Ghost had to brace his hands on the desk, papers and mugs shaking from the force. Sharp nails dug into his skin, tugged at his shirt, pulled him closer. Pressing your bodies together, you moaned, sending vibrations through Ghost that had him hiss from the sudden pleasure.

Of course, he was as hard as a rock. His cock pressed tight against his pants almost painfully. The bite didn’t even hurt with how strong the aphrodisiac effect was. But he was still unaware if you felt it too. To test this, his hands went to your waist to lift you onto the desk. Now in between your legs, he pressed his clothed erection into your covered, dripping cunt. Just for a second.

That second was enough. Your body tensed and you moaned sharply. Dizziness overcame you so bad from your lost breath that you had to stop drinking. Panting hard, you tried to regain some control.

Ghost lost all of his, though.

Without a second thought, he took your hips into his hands and grinded into you some more. You gasped and released a melodic moan that just made Ghost more eager. Damnit, if there weren’t any fucking clothes in the way he would take you now.

For now, he wanted to make you cum just like this. Not that you were going to stop him at this point. You wanted to cum so badly too. Ever since last week you’ve wanted him to make you cum. His grip on you, the lingering taste of him, and bated breaths only heightened the feeling. The teasing. Your panties were hot and soaked for him. A dark, wet spot was starting to spread through the fabric of your pants.

“F-Fuck!” You whimpered, brows furrowing and back arching in hopes to make more pleasurable friction. Legs began to tremble as the pleasure spread. Drool began to drip down the corner of your mouth with how much you were salivating. Fuck, just a little bit more!

You weren’t the only one that was going crazy. Ghost was struggling to not tear your clothes apart with his bare hands. Miraculously, he was close to cumming just from the clothed grinding too. It was like you were a drug. A sexy, beautiful, blood-thirsty one. He couldn’t get enough of the way you cursed within your moans. How you moved your hips in-sync with his for more.

Your toes curled as you teetered right on the edge of orgasm. The feverish friction on your clit, against your folds, all of your wetness spreading around was getting too much. Noticing how close you were, Ghost grinded harder. Even if you squirmed, you weren’t going anywhere. Not again.

Eyes fluttered closed as the feeling overtook you. Before you knew it, you were screaming it all out, pussy tightening around nothing. You wished that his cock was buried deep inside you so badly that it almost hurt. The grip you had on his shirt was sure to stretch the fabric out. Not that Ghost cared. All he could focus on was how fucking hot it was to watch you climax which triggered his own.

You felt the pressure of his hands on you to keep you still. You noticed how he froze and held his breath before choking out a groan. Witnessing how much your lieutenant could fall apart in pleasure turned you on.

But, you were done. The both of you were. For now, at least. As you both tried to catch your breath, sweat dripping down your temples, you got back on the ground to be on your feet. Every nerve in your body felt like jelly, but at least some of the pent-up arousal you’ve been holding in all week was relieved. Not only that, you were recovering faster from the recent meal.

Out of habit, you began to put on your jacket to leave. Yet, Ghost wasn’t ready to let you go. His voice sounded deeper and strained when he spoke. “Wait. We’re not done talking.”

You sighed, exhaustion now a thing of the past for you. “You plan on telling everyone what I really am?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.” He replied resolutely, startling you. There wasn’t a shred of dishonesty in his blues that told you otherwise.

It didn’t make sense on why he would keep this secret for you, but you weren’t going to question it. You didn’t want to give him second thoughts. “Then what? What else needs to be said?”

Ghost felt a sting in his heart from your curtness. Making you cum didn’t seem to soften your edges at all.

He wanted to fix that. Taking your hand gently in his, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m your Lieutenant. Rely on me more.”

Your heart skipped a beat from this gentle and confident side of his. The desire to kiss him passed through you for a moment. You haven’t even seen his face yet, but you knew that Ghost would be your undoing if you weren’t careful.

Pulling your hand back, you headed towards the door. With your back still turned to him, you paused at the doorway. “I’ll let you know when I’m hungry.”

“And I’ll feed you. Promise.”

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slutt4ellie · 11 months ago

Text

Hearts Over Hierarchy

PT4 - Forgiveness Or Farewell

Loser!Ellie x Popular!Reader

masterslist

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Do opposites really attract?

Summery - Ellie has the least bit of concern of rekindling what you broke, and on the other hand you and Emily haven’t talked about what happened.

Warnings -> Miscommunication / THIS CHAPTER IS MESSY NGL. / Sexual themes mentions / Cut off sex 🤨 / Reader is PROBLEMATIC / feelings are heavily disregarded / brief mentions of Skater!Ellie / (Lmk if I missed anything else.)

WC: 5.1k

(Not proofread)

You’ve tried again and again to get Ellie to talk to you.

She just won’t, she’s blocked your number, has avoided you through campus, and it almost feels like before you knew Ellie.

She just hardly made an acknowledgment she even fucking existed. And that you hated.

Because now since Ellie’s entered your life, picturing her not in it seemed impossible.

And it’s been only a week since Ellie saw you swapping spit with someone you assured her was just your “friend”.

And you genuinely feel like you’re going crazy.

Because if you can’t last a week without her, you don’t know how you’re going to last any longer. It just fucking sucked.

You wanted everything to just sink into the ground and forget any of this happened.

You especially wanted to forget everything that happened with Emily.

Despite you saying you were going to talk to Emily you haven’t got around to it.

Not because you didn’t want to, but the night after the party she had family stuff she had to do. It was planned before everything between the two of you happened, so it couldn’t be avoided.

At least that’s what she’s been telling you.

You’ve texted her a lot, it feels like a parallel with you and Ellie almost, you guys both haven’t discussed what you are, or what is even happening between you two but again it seems oddly romantic.

And that’s just through texting.

Another thing that you’ve been blocking is what happened the night of the party. The one where you and Emily kissed. The drive home was almost silent. Just you and Emily reminiscing in silence both trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

But what unfolded once you reached inside the comforts and privacy of the sorority was something you could have probably gone without.

Because not only did you and Emily kiss once you reached inside, but it resulted in you waking up in her bed.

So yeah. You fucked up.

You’re whole life seems like it’s been thrown for a curveball and you’re just desperately trying to have it be stable.

You don’t know what you want right now.

Or more so who you want.

Emily’s been there for so long of your life, and do you really want to break that simply because you can’t choose between her or Ellie.

No..

You just can’t wrap your head around why it felt like the kiss between you two was something that had to happen, rather than you wanting it to happen. The same when you guys slept together.

Every time you kissed Ellie you didn’t once feel obligated.

So with that knowledge the answer should be easy?

With one person you feel forced, and compelled, and with the second person it feels almost natural.

Fuck if only it was that easy.

After thinking for a solid 5 seconds you decided to make a split decision, that sulking in bed for any longer then you already had wasn’t going to settle anything.

So you groaned as you lifted your body getting a good glance at your bedroom.

Ellie’s skateboard.

Right! She left it in your car after that night.

All you have to do is give it back? You know where her dorm is.

That can give you two a proper chance of actually talking, no Emily, no one near you two. Just you and Ellie.

All you can hope is that she’ll hear you out. That’s all you need.

So that’s what you did.

You put on some clothes looking a bit overly dressed for a simple return of a skateboard but you wanted to look nice…for yourself..?

Because this really isn’t about Ellie finding you attractive it’s about her forgiving you, maybe even rebuilding a possible friendship.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Because as soon as you got out of your car 10 minutes off campus you see the student dorms.

It’s been a little bit since you’ve been to Ellie’s dorm but you had it memorized. So it really didn’t take long.

Because soon you were faced with her door.

It should be as simple as just knocking, but you’re choked up.

Which is weird because you never usually feel yourself get extremely nervous, while interacting with a girl.

But It’s not really just a girl.

It’s Ellie.

You look at her skateboard and quickly remind as to why you’re actually here.

And with that you knock.

It didn’t take long till you were hearing a trail of footsteps coming from the opposite side of the door.

A voice who’s is not Ellie’s saying “I’ll get it El..”

Fuck- fuck is she with a girl right now?

Now you’re wondering why you even came here because is Ellie hooking up with someone? and your looking fucking desperate on the other end with a stupid skateboard and a shitty apology.

But no. Ellie wasn’t hooking up with someone.

It was just Dina.

Dina was the first to hear about what transpired that night. She knows because Ellie called her immediately after the matter.

She was sobbing and her voice was incoherent.

Just a shit ton of hiccups and desperate attempts to get back air she was losing due to your actions. She was really on the brim of a full blown panic attack but some how she managed to keep that factor under wraps.

Dina pulled up a good 5 minutes after, she wasn’t stupid and knew something happened, but she just didn’t except the site which she pulled up on.

Ellie was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk head deep in her palms fully sobbing.

She hated how she was crying because of you.

It made her feel dumb that you got her in a position that resembled a toddler getting told no.

Either way once she felt a hand on her shoulder and Dina’s voice coming through soft she knew it was over.

Because then more tears were coming through and she stood up with the intent to get into Dina’s car. Try to ignore the awkward question.

Basically just not trying to talk or let the thought of you flow freely through her mind any longer.

“Ellie..?” Dina hugs her softly.

Ellie’s arms wrap out Dina instantly and her head goes deep in her shoulder.

A attempt to hide the fact she was bawling. Which was not thought through, yet did give Ellie comfort.

“What happened.” Dina says pulling back to wipe Ellie’s tears.

Ellie just shakes her head and let’s out a out of breath. “Her..”

There’s only one “her” Dina thought of and it was you.

And yet she didn’t know the story at that moment it’s all she needed to hear that you were cut out of Ellie’s life.

Because not once in their 10+ years of friendship has she ever seen Ellie like that.

Ellie’s had meltdowns, like literally everyone in her life. But even when Cat broke up with Ellie her girlfriend of a year she didn’t have a reaction like this one.

She didn’t completely understand what you could have done to get Ellie in this position but she knows it has to be bad.

“You need to leave.” Dina says, her eyes seem mad and directed to you.

“I just want to talk.? Please.” You beg out desperately.

“Leave.” Dina shakes her head once again.

“I have her skateboard..” You hold out allowing Dina’s gaze to trail off of you and onto the skateboard.

Dina reaches out her palm. A flat surface so you can easily give it to her.

“D-dina can I just talk to her..?” You ask again. Not yet handing the skateboard to her.

Dina’s wants to laugh in your face, because it’s ironic how you ended up kissing someone, yet you’re outside acting like you could cry.

“Are you fucking joking?” Dina says now stepping out of the dorm shutting the door gently trying not to have Ellie assume somethings happening.

“W-what?” You say.

And now Dina does laugh, making you feel like an idiot for even coming.

“You weren’t the fucking one who picked up Ellie after she saw you!-” Dina emphasized on the you by pushing her finger right in the middle of your collarbone. “Fucking kissing Emily or whatever the fuck her name is!”

“I know-I know I fucked up.” You shake your head.

“Is that supposed to offer comfort?” Dina says.

“But it’s not like that?!” You try, but it goes ignored by Dina.

“Are you trying to justify it or some shit?” Dina says.

“W-what no!” You shake your head really fast.

“I’m not! I know what I did- was insanely fucked up! And if I could take it back I would?” You say.

“Well you can’t.” Dina says.

“Stop trying?” She continues.

“Just leave Ellie alone. It’s over and you made that decision..” Dina sighs out.

You look her up and down. Trying to think of anything so Dina won’t walk out just yet.

“..You block me or her?” You spit out nervously. You really don’t know why you’re asking that. It just feels like you should try to talk as much as you can. Maybe Dina will see you actually do care.

“Does it matter?” Dina rubs her hand down her face, a result of being annoyed by you.

“Yeah?” You look up at her.

“Me.” Dina says shaking her head.

“You’re not good for her.” Dina says looking at you.

“I’ve never seen Ellie like that before.” Dina try’s to explain.

She doesn’t like you, or thinks you deserve any sort of explanation, but she thinks you do deserve to realize how much you actually did hurt Ellie.

“As in.?” You questioned.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dina shakes her head slowly going back to Ellie’s dorm door.

“It does!?” You say desperately. About to get another word out.

But both of you gazes are turned at the door when you hear a click signalling it opened.

Ellie has a grey hoodie and baggy jeans on. Her eyes are red.

You know she’s been crying.

Before seeing you in front of Dina’s body she talks. “Dina why are you just fucking out her-“

Ellie gets her voice cut off because she’s looking at you.

Her frown comes back, and her eyes are glossy once again.

You don’t say anything, neither does Dina, and obviously Ellie.

So now the whole hallway is filled with a shit ton of awkward silence..

Dina decides to break it first.

“I was just sending her off.” Dina says turning to look at Ellie.

Ellie hardly responds her gaze pierced on the floor. “Ah..”

“Can we talk?” You say and Dina sighs, she knows Ellie’s going to say yes..

Ever since Ellie sobered up and her anger partially subsided she wanted to reach out to you first.

Dina told her nothing good is going to come from it, and since your number was now blocked on Ellie’s phone she couldn’t really so much.

Dina’s been glued to Ellie’s side so it made it impossible to even see you.

“Yeah.” Ellie immediately responds before looking at Dina.

“I’ll be fine.” She offers a comforting smile.

Dina groans but nods, she knows she can’t fight it. Because Ellie seems to stick to things when her minds focused on it.

So she complied telling Ellie she’ll grab the two of them some food.

And soon you’re in Ellie’s dorm, somewhere where you haven’t been in about 2 weeks.

“S-sorry it’s messy.” Ellie finally pulls down her hood sitting on the edge of her single bed..

“It-it’s fine really..”

Ellie out of nervousness subconsciously start’s fidgeting with her two fingers before spitting out some that feels like fire on her tongue.

“Are you and Emily dating..” Ellie clears her throat as tears again are brewing.

“No.” You say fast shaking you head.

As you feel a singular tear fall down your left cheek you wipe it off. Ellie notices and looks at you.

“I-I don’t even know why I kissed her.” You say.

Ellie doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to forgive you, she just doesn’t really want to see you crying, despite the state you had her in a week ago.

“Okay..” Ellie says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do with that information.” It came out cold, but right now she couldn’t act like she was happy.

“I’m not waiting for you to fucking figure out who you want.” Ellie says having you quickly cut her off.

“It’s not like that?” You shake your head.

“Mhm..” Ellie sighs.

“Did you guys-“ Ellie starts but you cut her off.

“Ellie?..” You don’t want to answer it, because the only thing you could reply with would be the truth. That being yes.

“It’s literally a yes or no question.” Ellie presses.

But when no response comes from you, she got her answer.

“Dina was right- you should just leave.”

“Ellie-“ You sigh out.

“No you need to leave.” She says standing up. Clearly her throat so her voice appears as more full.

“I-I can’t..” You say looking at her also standing up.

“Please just leave.” Ellie looks down now tearing up. Her walls feel like their crumbling all over again. The last thing she wants to do is cry in front of you.

You hesitantly move your hand to her cheek.

Ellie’s eyes close and she leans into your touch.

“Do you like me.” Ellie ask.

“Yes..” You say not hesitating.

“Do you like her.” Ellie ask.

“Ellie she’s my best friend.” You say.

Ellie sighs and pulls back opening her eyes. The lights again were just turned on. “Yeah well she clearly fucking loves you?”

Ellie feels like she’s growing crazy the more she talks to you. It’s like everyone but you sees it.

“Dina’s my best friend and i’ve never wanted to make out with her?! Fuck let alone sleep with her!?” She says.

“You don’t get it Ellie!” You yell.

“Then fucking explaining dude!” Ellie yells back.

“Am I a fucking joke to you?” Ellie ask.

“What..” You say looking at her.

“Am I a FUCKING joke.” Ellie yells right in your face. Something that you’re unfortunately getting used to..

Neither of you willing to admit that yelling about it isn’t going to fix shit.

After a long pause you finally talk.

“Would you be my friend if I hypothetically started dating Emily.” You say it like your tired. And to be fair you are.

Ellie doesn’t respond, she just looks down embarrassed. Her anger fading.

Because no.

She wouldn’t be.

And you know she wouldn’t be. Just by the fact Ellie’s eyes can’t meet yours and her teeth are slotted in her bottom lip are a clear sign she wouldn’t be.

Her mannerisms made that clear.

“Exactly.” You say.

“I doubt Emily would want to be friends either.” You clear your throat.

Ellie looks at you.

She doesn’t know what to do, because now she’s currently feeling multiple emotions. It feels like everything is flowing through her mind and she can’t control it.

That she hates.

Because she doesn’t like feeling anger when she looks at you. It’s shitty.

So she takes a step forward and literally just hugs you.

You instantly wrap your arms around Ellie falling into her embrace which grants you in warmth. It’s been a bit since you’ve guys been physical but it wasn’t off.

I guess something you didn’t anticipate is the light kiss on your forehead which followed. But either way you didn’t mention it. It’s literally only been a week and before everything went down with Emily you and Ellie were obviously often being physically. That including kissing.

So even though she hasn’t kissed you in awhile the kiss to your head wasn’t shocking.

“I would never make you pick.” Ellie sighs pulling back.

“Y-you know that.” Ellie smiles lightly. It’s more to comfort you. Because even though she doesn’t want to make you pick she doesn’t want to face you with someone else.

“I just- I don’t think I could be your friend if you dated her.” She looks down.

“And that’s not even fucking supposed to persuade you. I just- like couldn’t.” Ellie says her arms still wrapped around you.

Yours eyes met and it feels again like you again, have a decision. She moves her hand to your cheek and tucks a strand behind your ear.

Ellie’s eyes glance to your lips and she internally leans in.

You also lean in.

You don’t really know who kissed who. But once your lips met the two of you both started making out hungrily.

There was little pants as Ellie’s lips moved to the side of your lips, meeting your jaw, then neck. She sucks accompanied with a bite which is going to leave a mark. You know that and she does too, that reason being Emily, she’s the only reason why she even felt the need to leave a hickey..

She wanted it to be known.

“Fuck..” Ellie pants out moving the both of you to the bed sliding off her hoodie in the process.

It doesn’t take long till Ellie’s pressed on top of you refusing to break the kiss.

Her hands slip on the hoodie out of pure nervousness but she eventually gets it off.

It leaves her in just her sports bra while she’s desperately trying not to break the kiss between you two.

Your hands hastily find Ellie’s jean button and you don’t waste time to unbutton them..

While her jean button is getting undone her hands go under your shirt squeezing your boobs, again still not breaking the kiss.

It happened fast, because the moment went from making out to your hand inside Ellie’s jeans cuffing Ellie’s pussy.

As you’re rubbing light circles on Ellie’s clit feeling the wetness through her boxers there’s a consecutive number of knocks.

Ellie’s whole face turns red and she starts to pull back from you as your remove you hand from her jeans.

You guys are both just silently looking at each other wondering if there really was a knock. Or if it was your mind playing tri-

There’s another knock and Dina’s voice talks. “Yo- can one of you grab the door my hands are full”

Ellie scrambles and helps you off the bed first before standing up and buckling back up her jeans.

She watches you slowly walk to the door straightening you clothes in the process.

As you walk to her dorm door you see Ellie’s now back in her grey hoodie giving a signal you can open the door.

Even though you can you hesitate having your hand shadow the door handle, hesitating to open it.

But after swallowing a big chunk of air you do. You see Dina’s gaze travel back and forth between you and Ellie.

Based on Ellie’s flushed cheeks, and how she’s purposefully avoiding Dina’s gaze, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that’s the fuck was happening.

Or what was going to happen?

“You two were gonna fuck!” Dina accuses putting the food on Ellie’s studying table.

“W-what no!” Ellie shakes her head nervously.

“W-we weren’t!” Ellie talks.

“I was gone for like 13 minutes??” Dina then turns to look directly at you.

“Fuck Ellie you fold so fast?” Dina groans.

“No I don’t??” Ellie says embarrassed walking towards Dina falling right beside you.

“Yeah sure you don’t?” Dina looks back at Ellie rolling her eyes.

“So you two didn’t kiss?” Dina questions tilting her head.

Ellie just groans and grabs your hand out of instinct, again like always she doesn’t really think. She just does it.

“You’re so weird?.” Ellie sighs.

Dina nods and rolls her eyes. “You two literally were about to fuck after I was gone for like 5 minutes, but you know! i’m weird..” Dina mutters.

“We weren’t!” Ellie says putting her head in her free hand.

Emily was coming back to the sorority today. And you were nervous.

And if you’re being honest with yourself that was an understatement, you didn’t know what the fuck to do.

It was late and you’ve been staring at your ceiling for what feels like a few hours.

After you and Ellie kissed, you decided to stay the night. Where you guys did end up sleeping together..

And the rest of that night was filled with kissing, cuddling, staying in each others arms all night, and a few hickeys which you now needed to cover.

But then again after that moment with Ellie it became ultimately clear that with Ellie it wasn’t forced..

And with Emily it was.

You hated yourself for feeling that way and there’s a part of you that wishes maybe those feelings could be reciprocated.

Because then everything would be easy.

But no.

You’ve only ever seen Emily as a friend.

And that’s something you had to face.

So when you hear the door open and the other girls greeting Emily you knew she was back.

And you knew you had to talk to her,

As much as you wanted to run away.

You had to..You had to face an awkward ass conversation.

So reluctantly that’s what you did, you turned over getting off your bed, putting on some makeup to cover the few hickeys, and sucked up any nervous feelings, making your way down the stairs.

It didn’t take long till your eyes meeting blue ones.

That’s when the guilt struck. Because you haven’t told Emily what the fuck happened while she was gone, and it’s dawning that you again led another person on. It was Ellie first and now her.

Emily smiles and walks to the end of the stairs where you were coming down.

“Hey!” Emily says hugging you.

“Hi..!” You’re arms wrapped around Emily as she hug you, the thing was you couldn’t hide that your voice was off. Having Emily pick up on it.

Like she always done.

“What’s up.?” Emily uses one hand to cuff your cheek.

“Can we talk.” You clear your throat.

Emily nods and smiles trying to cover her nervousness.

She didn’t understand what could have happened to have you want to talk to her immediately?

“Yeah..course..!” Emily frowns then covers it quickly plastering on an obvious fake smile.

Which you ignored.

With that you and Emily trail to your bedroom.

Once the door is closed Emily sits on your bed and you’re nervously looking down on her.

“W-what’s up?” Emily says.

You look at her for a few seconds. You don’t know how to say it? How to tell her that just a few days after you left you and Ellie kissed? Then slept together.

“I-Em i’m so sorry..” You tear up.

“What..?” Emily frowns again.

Emily stands up and holds your cheeks.

She’s obviously still oblivious, she’s not sure what could have happened to have to freak out so fast?

“What happened..” Emily kisses your nose.

You close your eyes and finally spit out the words that were longing on your tongue..

“Emily me and Ellie we-“

Emily doesn’t even let you finish you sentence before she pulls back.

“Emily..” You reach out and she looks at her.

“I’m not doing this..anymore.” Emily shakes her head tearing up.

You look at her. “Emily you know I love you so much” You nod.

“I just-“ You try to talk.

“You love Ellie..don’t you?” Emily shakes her head running her hand down her face.

“I-I don’t kn-“ You can’t spit it out.

“You guys deserve each other. Don’t worry. You really do.” Emily puts on a fake smile before clearing her throat.

“I’m not gonna fucking beg for your love anymore.” Emily says.

“Emily-“ You try but she just shakes her head.

“It’s fine really.” Emily nods.

“You’ve never begging for my love?” You say again stepping forward which just leads her to step back once again.

“I do love you- you’re my best friend.” You wipes you own tears.

“Exactly!- you don’t fucking..you don’t see me like that. So i’m done” Emily says her voice choking up in the middle.

And it’s true, she was done. She was done.

So now you’re just alone with your thoughts, finally letting it dawn on you what the fuck has happened..

You lost Emily.

The girl who you’ve known for years, left your room on the brink of tears and now it’s starting to feel like you just permanently closed a chapter.

Now no longer being able to open it.

You don’t know what to do. And to be honest that really scares you.

You go back and forth between a decision for a few seconds..

You finally grab your phone out of your pocket, shaky hands and nervousness coursing through your body.

You hesitate to click Ellie’s contact but you do.

Right now you only have one person and that’s her.

Emily was a person you could always go to. whether it be serious or stupid she was always there.

But this time it was about her? And you didn’t know how to handle it without any reassurance.

Leaving Ellie as the next option.

It rang for a few seconds before Ellie’s voice came through. She sounds like she’s been sleeping since you notice a rasp and tired tone.

“Hi?” Ellie says yawning.

“Hi.” Your tone is shaking and you sound like your about to cry. Ellie notices that.

“What’s up?” You can already hear sounds of Ellie standing up probably deciding whether or not you need help or something.

“Where you at?” Ellie questions.

“I’m okay- just wanted to talk?” You don’t want her to go out of her way to come all the way to the sorority.

Ellie didn’t have a car and it was late. You didn’t want her outside.

“Yeah we can talk when I get there? You just home.?” Ellie ask as you hear shuffles only assuming she was putting on her shoes.

“Ellie-“ You sigh choking back a shit ton of tears.

Even though you didn’t explicitly tell Ellie that you’re home she assumed. She could hear a few girls in the background talking so she just took that as a sign.

Ellie talks again. Opening her dorm room door. “It’s okay i’ll be over in like 10 minutes bab-“

Ellie hung up before she could even finish her sentence and now you’re again left with your thoughts.

And that’s when you finally come to the conclusion.

You’re 100% the problem.

You’ve taken Emily and Ellie’s feelings for granted and it’s showing.

You lost Emily and you’re not exactly sure why Ellie sticks around. It doesn’t feel fair to hold both of them by a thread and it was proven when Emily’s broke.

Now it was only time till Ellie’s did.

At least that’s what you were starting to believe.

“Baby..” Ellie sighs leaning into hug you. Putting her skateboard to the side.

You can only respond by hugging her back tears now starting to fall.

“What happened?” Ellie ask pulling back and wiping your tears accompanied with light kisses to the nose.

“Emily..you don’t have to worry about her anymore-“ You clear your and rub your eyes.

“I don’t think we’re friends anymore.” You say trying to plaster a fake smile. Causing Ellie to frown.

Ellie could honestly care less if Emily left, it’s the state that she sees your left in which hurts.

Your hands are shaking when they wrap around her, tears are flowing, and the confident tone she can distinct you for, is gone?

It feels like you’re leaving her, pushing back.

“I’m so sorry-“ Ellie try’s but you wave your hand dismissively.

“No-it’s fine. Really.” You say.

“Why’d she leave.” Ellie ask.

“I told her we-“ You start.

Ellie cuts you off with yet another hug. You can feel her shake her head on your shoulder.

She doesn’t need an explanation. She can use context clues to understand why Emily decided to leave.

But that’s when you finally spit it out.

What’s been going through your mind.

“I can’t do this Ellie.”

You look straight at her.

“What do you mean you can’t do this..?” Ellie now ask.

“You need someone who is good for you. Dina said it and she was right..i’m not good for you?..” You say.

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie looks straight at you.

“What-?” You breathlessly sigh.

“I’m not doing this with you again?” Ellie shakes her head.

And when she said that, you assumed she’d leave. Ending two relationships you had in just one night.

Even though on the contrary it seemed like this would be the worst thing to ever happen for you it gave comfort.

Because with no one around you can’t hurt anyone else…hypothetically at least..?

But Ellie doesn’t leave she just keeps going, and now it feels like her mouth and thoughts might just not stop.

Like she can’t control it.

“Why-why can’t you just understand I don’t fucking want anyone else?” Ellie’s at this point was begging.

Begging for you to understand.

“I’ll leave you alone- if you really do want me too.” Ellie says.

“But since we kissed it’s like the only thing I think about.” She needs you to get that she doesn’t want someone else.

She just wants you.

It’s the reason she’s been going through thick and thin for you. She just needs you to understand.

“I love you..?” It sounded more like a question then a statement.

Because Ellie hesitated to say it even though she meant it.

Plus it being the first time Ellie had ever said that to you made the whole situation all that more intense.

Because you don’t know if you can mentally accept the fact you just might love her back.

So you just look at her.

And now Ellie’s embarrassed.

Because never would she ever want you to feel forced to say it? I guess that’s why it hurt when you didn’t say it back.

Because if you’re not forced and you seemed to have no interest in saying it. You really didn’t love her the way she loved you. That hurt?

Because it put into reality you and Ellie truly weren’t on the same page.

That maybe she was imagining it-

Ellie probably didn’t notice that you conflicted gaze turned more into a determined one as she spaced out.

Because..

Your lips are suddenly on Ellie’s.

Ellie can only respond by pushing her lips hardly back on yours holding you cheeks not leaving room for her to pull back.

And with that, you finally something that’s been longing.

“I love you too.” You say into her mouth.

That’s all Ellie needed to hear to realize it wasn’t some fling.

You loved her.

And she wasn’t letting that go.

A/N -> I KNOW THIS IS BAD.

I DONT WANNA TALK ABT IT.

I literally had zero fucking clue how to end this shit so everything happens extremely fast.

(mainly because I was making the plot as I got to it! 🌚)

BUT! I was gonna do a sad ending where the reader ends up alone so be happy I didn’t stick with that. 🙂

Honestly I was just trying to close off this story so I can put my main focus on Fated Hearts Start With Fire since I have SOO much planned with that 🙏

But I hope you guys enjoyed reading because despite it being ass it is the last one for this series.

(Like and reblogs are always appreciated!)

Taglist : @bready101 @onlinelesbo @amberputh @seraphicsentences @a-little-bit-of-everybody @zoehxnji @graviewaviee @i-feel-violated @elliesexual @macaroni676 @liasxeatt @m4rshm3ll0

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