#I’ve just been eating and sleeping and trying not to kill myself

[disasterhimbo]

Something that doesn’t get talked about enough I think is that when you’re in survival mode for an extended period of time, when you try to get out, it’s extra hard because you haven’t been building yourself a future gradually and continuously like you normally would, and now you have to try to do a lot of it all at once when you’re already tired and struggling.

[saturdaymournings]

Fuck EVERYONE who ever taught me to hate myself. I was never like this before and I never deserved to feel this way about myself. The hardest part of this is the fact that I know it’s just been instilled in me! I could have been different. Fuck, I was different! I was happy to just exist as myself. I didn’t care what other people thought. Now I’m just like you. Fuck you for taking that away from me

[astrronomemes]

HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings for when your muse needs a little TLC. change & alter as needed.

THE HURT:

“Nah, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t think I can walk that far... or at all.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

“Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“I don’t need a break. I’m okay.”

“It was my fault. It was all my fault.”

“I think I need help.”

“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but... I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.”

“Is the room spinning right now, or is that just me?”

“No, I’m okay, I just... I hit my head. Really hard. I’ll be okay, just give me a second.”

“I’m not sick! I’m fine!”

“No, I don’t think any of my bones are broken, or anything like that. Just bad bruises.”

“Yeah, but you should see the other guy.”

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”

“I’ve got a headache.”

“Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!”

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.”

“Please tell me I don’t look as bad as I feel.”

“I think I’m running a fever.”

“So, what’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?”

“Stop fussing over me! I’m not a baby!”

“Can I stay with you tonight? I just... really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

“I... can’t actually remember the last time I had something to eat.”

“You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get sick, too.”

THE COMFORT:

“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I think you’d better take a break.”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You did everything you could.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Don’t ever let yourself believe that there is.”

“You really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you?”

“If you’re not going to take care of yourself, at least let me do it for you!”

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

“Let’s get you some food.”

“You’re dead on your feet, poor thing. Come on, you need some sleep.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Tell me where it hurts.”

“How many times have I told you to be more careful?!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.”

“Oh, honey, you’re safe now. I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Go ahead and take a shower. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“What happened to you, baby?”

“I’ll kill that bastard. I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”

“You look like shit, man.”

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy! You got pretty banged up back there, and you don’t want to go making yourself worse.”

“I’m not trying to baby you. It’s called taking care of my friends.”

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?”

[cosmicdahlias]

What You Deserve

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

read part 2 here!

Ford and you both like each other, but he’s too afraid to go for it so Bill does him a favor.

warnings: HEAVY NONCON, smut, possession

i really went wild on this one i hope y’all enjoy

Ford has been worrying you lately. His sleep schedule is erratic, he barely eats, and it seems like he’s always talking to someone that isn’t there. But there is someone, you’ve come to know him as Bill.

In Ford’s words Bill is his muse, his inspiration. You hadn’t questioned it at first, it kept him so driven. But now things were different, Ford wasn’t quite the same as when you first met him.

You’ve never spoken directly to Bill, only when he speaks through Ford via possession. You never let Ford know but it terrifies you to see Ford so unlike himself. He turns wild, dangerous, unpredictable. Sometimes disappearing for days at a time and returning with no recollection of what transpired. One time coming back sporting a tattoo that he had no memory of getting, but a tattoo was the least of your worries.

You’ve started to hate Bill for what he’s done to your partner. You fear the day that you turn on the news and see that the local mysterious scientist in the woods has turned up dead.

You secretly love him too. He captivated you, perhaps that’s why you cared so much. If he was just your coworker it wouldn’t keep you up as often as it did. You wanted to take him away from all of this, to just kiss him and tell him that there was more to life than being Bill’s puppet.

These thoughts consumed your mind as you sat at your desk going over your research notes. You were so in your head that you didn’t sense the looming presence behind you.

A hand grasped your shoulder, you jumped nearly a foot out of your chair. It was Ford.

“JESUS Christ, Ford. A little warning next time?” You gasped.

He released his hand. “Oh dear I’m sorry I hadn’t realized I’d scare you like that, you just looked so wrapped up in your own thoughts. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You huffed. “Yeah, it’s just… I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Oh? Perhaps I can take your mind off things.”

“How so?” You asked.

“Well for starters sweetheart I can rip off those clothes.” He cooed.

“What?” You stammered.

“You heard me.”

You blushed, this was so unlike him. “Ford are you feeling okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never felt more like myself.”

It was then you noticed his eyes, the yellow tint and catlike pupils. Your heart sank. Bill.

“I know it’s you Bill. What do you want?” You spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m just doing old sixer here a favor. I’ve seen inside his mind and I know what he thinks about you. Thing is, he’s too damn shy to just go for it. So I figured, why not do it for him?”

You felt like a rock just sank to the pit of your stomach, you knew what that meant. Your thoughts quickly screamed at you to defend yourself. You knew you had a small knife in the drawer of your desk, but could you grab it before Ford, rather, Bill reached you?

You decided to take the risk, you shot up and darted your hand to the drawer, pulling it open. You quickly grabbed the knife and held it out in front of you. Your hands trembled.

Bill laughed coldly “That’s cute of you, but here’s the thing, you try hurting me and you’re just gonna kill Fordsy. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?”

Before you could say anything Ford descended on you, coming up behind you his hands gripping your wrists and wrestling the knife out of your grasp.

“Now listen to me toots, we’re gonna have some fun on behalf of my good old pal here. You can struggle all you want, but I think you and I both know he’s a lot bigger and stronger than you.” He said, running the knife against your throat.

You felt his teeth sink into your neck, rough kisses left at every bite mark, his hands traveling up and down your body. He hooked the knife underneath your clothes and began to tear away at the fabric, leaving your top half exposed.

You wanted to run, to scream, to cry, but you knew it would be in vain. Where would you run? To whom would you scream or cry to? You were all alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods with a man possessed by a twisted demon.

The knife slowly cut away at your skirt, next your bra and panties. Ford kept a hand on your waist, the other still holding a knife to your throat.

“Now,” he said, his fingers massaging your breasts “I’m going to have my way with you.” His voice sent a cold chill down your spine.

In one quick motion Ford spun you around and forced you to the floor, hands holding down your wrists.

“But first, I think Ford deserves a good look at my work, don’t you?”

As you looked up at Ford you saw his eyes return to their normal whites and rounded pupils. He looked down at you, confused, then the horror set in.

“Y/n, what are you- oh god no, Bill what have you done?”

Before he could even remove his hands from your wrists his head snapped back violently, when he returned his gaze to you it was with the same terrifying look, Bill had retaken control.

Keeping a hand on your wrist he began to wrestle with his belt.

“I’ll never understand you humans and your complicated clothing.”

He slipped his pants low enough to reveal his cock, which was dripping with precum. You tried hard to fight against him but your efforts were in vain, Bill was right, Ford was stronger.

Sharply and violently he slid himself into you all the way to the base. You screamed from the pain and Ford let out a loud groan. He began to thrust hard and fast, growling and breathing heavily into the crook of your neck.

“Ah fuck, now I see why sixer wanted this so bad.” He hissed.

You felt your will begin to fade, you were stuck like this, there was nothing you could do, no one was coming to save you.

“I think Ford should feel this too, I never know if he feels anything I’m doing.”

His eyes reverted again, they widened.

“No no no, dear god, make it stop. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Ford tried to fight it, he struggled to get himself off of you but Bill began to take hold again.

“Fordsy might be sorry, but I’m not. Quite frankly I always feel like you’re getting in the way of things, perhaps this will teach you to stay away.”

He resumed his brutal pace, the loud slapping echoing through the lab accompanied by his grunts and your whimpers. All you could see was his yellow eyes and wicked smile. This was pure hell, you wanted Ford, but not like this, never like this.

He could feel himself getting close, he grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your calves.

“Hahhh, hahhhh. I’m going to… make you regret ever agreeing to work with Ford. You’re gonna… keep your distance. You hear me?”

Tears began to stream down your face, you started to hope that Bill would just kill you after he was done.

Ford was fucking you at a punishing speed, as he forced a hand to your throat Bill released him right as he began to cum. Ford let out a deafening moan and his whole body shook. Everything went white for a few seconds, when his vision returned he was greeted with a frightening visual beneath him.

Ford let you go and backed up against the wall, he had to focus all of his attention on not vomiting.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

All you could do was lay on the floor, nothing felt real. Ford took off his trench coat and wrapped you in it. Tears began to fall down his face.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I never meant to hurt you.”

~~~

click here to go to part 2!

[angelicsoka]

MAKE A PART 2 OF THE HUGHES SISTER X TREVOR I NEEDDDD TO KNOW HOW HED REACT

LITTLE TALKS, t. zegras 

part one <3

word count | 1.3k

pairings | trevor zegras x fem!hughes!reader, platonic!luke hughes x sister!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x sister!reader, platonic!jack hughes x sister!reader, 

summary | the youngest hughes sibling begins to amend her relationships

warnings | mentions of self-harm and depression. not proofread. based loosely on the song little talks by of monsters and men. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended. uses of the nicknames for reader include: sunshine, love, pretty girl, & babe. i think that's it??

a/n | i’ve been on a writing SPREE, so here’s this <3 

i don't like walking around this old and empty house

so hold my hand, i'll walk with you, my dear

the stairs creak as you sleep

it's keeping me awake

it's the house telling you to close your eyes

and some days i can't even dress myself

it's killing me to see you this way

she looked in the mirror, an exhausted look on her face. her hair was greasy and disheveled, her eyes held bags under them. she sighed at the pathetic sight that was her, tears welling in her eyes. she had barely slept and when she did it was for long periods of times. her clothes were wrinkled and clearly worn, and she knew she smelt. yet, it took so much effort just to get up and take a shower. 

her brothers had been trying to get her to go out with them, and when that didn’t work they tried to start with simple stuff: quinn would cook her favorite meals to get her to eat with them. jack would set up games and movies for them, and luke helped her clean up her room. most of the time, however, she was in her room either sleeping or trying to sleep. but today she had to be up, she had to shower. 

she broke her gaze from the mirror, turning to run the shower. she discarded her clothes, ignoring the scars that littered her body. she stepped in, her body relaxing against the hot water. it stung, but she didn’t even seem to notice. she was stuck in her head, worried about seeing trevor; about talking to him.

time passed faster than she would’ve liked. the water had begun to run cold, forcing her to finish up and turn off the shower. she began to towel dry herself, taking her time to avoid seeing him. she sighed as she put on her clean clothes, the feeling of finally being clean made her feel just slightly better. she exited the bathroom into her room, throwing the clothes in the hamper as she passed. she heard voices coming from the living room, one voice she could always pick out: trevor zegras. 

for a moment she contemplated how she could get out unnoticed. maybe she could sneak out through the backdoor when he wasn't looking or jump out her bedroom window, although the fall would probably cripple her. she sighed once more, deciding that she needed to talk to him, to explain; he deserved that much.

she reached for her doorknob, panicking internally as she twisted it open. it had been months since she had seen him in person, but he looked no different from the last time she had seen him to now. she saw him sitting on the couch with jack, the two of them catching up. she slowly walked down the stairs, a creak catching their attention. trevor’s head whipped toward her direction, an unreadable look on his face. she wanted nothing more than to fold into herself, to get his eyes off of her. 

“hey, sunshine.” jack broke the silence, smiling at his baby sister. she held a small smile, continuing down the stairs. neither her nor trevor said a word. “how ya feeling?”

“okay.” she spoke softly, unlike the person trevor knew. he watched as she moved slowly, how she didn't smile and when she did it seemed forced. he felt a pang in his heart seeing her like this, so unlike herself. 

beside him, jack began to make very obviously fake ringing noises, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “sorry, gotta take this.” he jumped up, running out of the living area and out the front door.

“did he just…” trevor trailed off, looking to his ex with a confused look.

“make fake ringing noises so that he could leave? yeah, yeah he did.” she laughed softly, almost inaudibly. for a moment, she seemed like her old self, but her face dropped quickly. 

there's an old voice in my head

that's holding me back

well, tell her that i miss our little talks

soon it will be over and buried with our past

we used to play outside when we were young

and full of life and full of love

some days i don't know if i am wrong or right

your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

“so, uh, how have you been?” trevor cleared his throat, looking to the hughes sister. she was curled up on the other end of the couch as she bit at her finger nails. she looked over to him, the anxiety clear on her face. she shrugged, looking back down to her fingers. he couldn’t see it, but he knew her like the back of his hand, and right now she was holding back tears. he stood up, walking over to where she sat, taking a seat beside her. “talk to me, love.” the pet name simply slipped out, but it brought her over the edge. her shoulders shook as she began to sob, trevor pulling her to his chest. “shh, shh, it's okay. it's okay.”

“i’m so sorry, trev. i’m so fucking sorry.” she cried, gripping his torso as if her life depended on it.

“babe, why are you apologizing?” he asked, looking down at her. he tilted her chin up, ignoring the pain he felt at the sight of her teary, tired eyes. he cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen down. “you don’t need to apologize.”

“yes, i do. i left you, i hurt you.” she hiccupped continuously, rushing her words.

“shh, slow down. it’s okay, i’m okay.” she tried to continue but her breath caught in her throat. she began to panic, her breathing turning short and quick. “look at me, love. breathe with me.” trevor began to take deep breaths, the youngest hughes following. it brought back the memories of trevor comforting her through her anxiety and panic attacks; he would always drop what he was doing to help her. once she had calmed down, trevor pulled her into a hug, placing a tender kiss on her temple.

“i hate myself, trev. i hate everything about myself, and i hate feeling like this.” his heart broke with every word she spoke. “how can i love you if i can’t love myself?” she sniffled, looking up at him.

“i love you so much, sunshine, and it is killing me to see you like this.” she wiped at the tear that fell, “i wish you could see yourself the way that i see you. you are perfect, love, in every way. i could be the most mad i’ve ever been and one smile from you could change that in an instant. i love the way your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you love, the way you can keep up with my energy.” she smiled softly, “i may be biased but i just so happen to think you are the most beautiful girl in the world. i love you, pretty girl.”

“i love you, trev, so goddamn much.” she smiled once again, tracing her fingers along his jaw. “can we try this again?” 

“absolutely, love.” he lent down, gently kissing her. she was nowhere near perfectly happy, but they would be okay, and that's all that matters.  

[asimpwithfreetime]

Mr. Steal your girl (Tsu’tey x fem!reader / Jake Sully x Neytiri)

Summary: Tsu’tey tries to make Jake mad by dating his mate (He doesn’t know that you are not Jake’s human mate but his sister)

This fic is way looooonger than I expected.

Kind of a fluffy one-shot

Warnings: none I could think of.

Let’s pretend that Tsu’tey didn’t die, okay?

Also, I wrote this at 6 am in the morning and I have to wake up at seven, this might be the longest sleep deprived rant I’ve done.

English is not my first language

[ Reader’s POV ]

Jake has been acting strange since he became an avatar user, he barely sleeps o eats. He is always with Dr. Grace talking about Na’vis and their culture. I’ve also heard him talk about a woman, Neytiri I think.

Sometimes I wish I could go have adventures with him, running around Pandora freely. Not being small enough to be eaten by almost EVERYTHING.

Once the war with the sky people, no longer our workmates, started, I chose to fight on the side of the Na’vis, even though, none of them knew me.

I got injured during the battle. My brother, in his avatar form, picked me up, biding goodbye to his mate and bringing me back to our base to let Norm patch me up. I almost didn’t notice the freezing cold gaze that fell upon me.

[ Tsu’tey’s POV ]

So the demon with a fake body already had a mate with the sky people. She looks extremely weak. And he just PICKED HER UP in such a loving and caring way!? In front of Neytiri, as if nothing was wrong.

I walked towards Neytiri, but she didn’t seem upset. Okay, I’ll need to figure this out.

[ Few days after ]

[ Y/n’ POV ]

I was almost cured enough to go outside again. Even if I needed an oxygen mask to breath outside, it felt so freeing to see Pandora.

I didn’t want to wait any longer, so when Jake and Norm were distracted, I went out, into the forest. At first, I felt lost, but soon I found my way around it. Nature was beautiful here and we had stopped its destruction.

Stepping though the forest, I found a small lake and I walked up to it to see my reflexion. Standing closely to it I could see myself, but when I looked closely I could see the tree branches. In one of them there was a Na’vi, his bow was prepared to shoot me and he didn’t seem very happy.

[ Tsu’tey’s POV ]

I thought all humans were forced to leave the other day, except for some of Jakesully’s friends. I didn’t see any human women between them. I MUST kill her.

I followed her around the forest, I tried to be as silent as possible. She looked weak. Suddenly I remembered myself thinking the exact same thing. THIS IS JAKESULLY’S MATE. He didn’t show her to us because he wanted her all for himself while still having Neytiri. That bastard!

If I killed her, Jakesully would have to tell the truth right? Or maybe he would get so mad he would go back to his stupid dying planet.

I prepared my bow, pointing the arrow directly at her. She was so relaxed here, she wouldn’t expect this. But, she was looking into a lake, I couldn’t see it properly but I knew something was up when she tensed up. She turned around looking directly at me. For a split of a second I felt bad. I looked at her, her face soft and beautiful. Wait! Did I just though this human piece of meat was beautiful?

I tensed my bow a little bit more to scare her. She pulled her hands up in the air and said “Don’t kill me please!”. I thought about it. She was so weak she didn’t seem like a problem. But she was still Jakesully’s mate.

My mind raced, maybe Jake was being unfaithful to both of them and she wasn’t the one to fault. I brought my bow down and jumped from the tree. She was so small compared to me. From up close I could she her poor body shaking while she looked at me with a pleading look en her eyes.

When we were close enough I said, trying to sound strong even though my accent was not very good. “I am not going to kill you, sky demon”. She looked at me, still doubting it. I was about to tell her to go off to her base and never come back here, but an idea crossed my mind. What if I steal Jakesully’s mate?

Mine died, then her parents promised me Neytiri, I did like her, even though she wasn’t my real mate. Then Jakesully had to come and ruin it, once again sky people broke my chances of being happy. I almost died in the fight and lost all my privileges I would get for being the clan’s chief. I was degraded just for a sky demon in a Na’vi flesh disguise.

I waited for three and a half years, Jakesully did it in one week. I looked at her when my idea seemed perfect. If a human stole my Na’vi mate, a Na’vi will steal his human mate. Perfect.

Just as I was thinking that, a woodsprite fell onto her head. Was Eywa saying that I should do it? Was Ewya giving me back what’s fair?

I smiled mischievously. The woman looked terrified.

[ Y/n’s POV ]

He was smiling at me just right after he was aiming at me with a bow and arrow. “Are you okay?”

He seemed to snap out if his trance. He pulled his bow and arrow to his side, not shooting it. “Who are you? Why are you here? You weren’t with the scientists that would stay here” his words were accusing, but his accent was adorable, I couldn’t help but giggle to myself.

“I am Y/n. Y/n Sully” his face darkened at the saying of my surname.

[ Tsu’tey’s POV ]

I knew she was his mate. Humans give each other their supernames? Subnames? Sournames? Whatever!

I knew she had to be with him.

[ 3rd Person POV ]

For the next couple of days, Tsu’tey began the Na’vi courting with Y/n. Sometimes she blushed at his advances, something that made him really proud. But other times she was oblivious to them.

Once he was close enough he kissed her, copying how Jake kissed Neytiri. Just with a smaller figure. He had taken off her mask for a second, kissing her roughly. She was red as a tomato.

Tsu’tey should admit that he began doing that to annoy Jakesully and to steal his mate as a revenge. But now he did want to steal her.

[ A month later or so ]

Tsu’tey felt nervous, he didn’t know how the mating would go as they would need help of the Tsa’hìk. He went to look for Jake. “Jake I am going to mate your human mate” he said, in English.

“Tsu’tey, brother, I think you might have messed up the sentence” Jake thought that the Na’vi had said something wrong because of the language.

He repeated the same words, now in Na’vi and Jake was as dumbfounded as before.

“Y/n, I am talking about Y/n” Tsu’tey explained. Jake started laughing. “What’s so funny? I courted her better than you could every imagine” Tsu’tey felt that laugh as a taunt to his pride.

“Y/n isn’t my mate” Jake hollered between laughs. “But she has your sourname!” Tsu’tey said.

“She is my sister!” Jake began laughing again. Tsu’tey felt his face loosing color. He looked dumbfounded. He still loved Y/n but now he felt like a fool.

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 7

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,255

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited

A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.

if I missed something, please let me know

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.

“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”

I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.

“”“”“”“”“”

The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.

Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-

Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.

He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.

“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”

I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”

He meant it.

I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…

But here we are.

“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”

He’s rambling, I love it.

I love him.

“”“”“”“”“”

it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.

It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.

It’s always the same:

-It starts with tossing and turning

-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)

-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake

-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.

He doesn’t have to.

I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.

I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.

I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.

“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.

he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.

I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.

“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”

“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.

“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.

“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.

“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”

“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.

“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”

“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.

“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.

“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”

I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.

“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.

Then I’m crying.

And Matt is holding me while we both cry.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi

[svtyandere]

omggg hi i’m so excited this is exactly what i’ve been waiting for 🥹

can i request a yandere jeonghan imagine where he continually cheats on y/n to try and make her jealous but it only causes her to hate him more. like i want her to turn cold towards him and he ends up breaking down because she can’t look at him the same anymore.

yk maybe turn a little crazy hehehe 🤭

and thank you! i can’t wait for your future writings!! 🤍🤍🤍

TW: threats of self-harm, mentions of murder, yandere behaviour

Doormat. That’s what your friends accused you of being. And that’s what you were every time Jeonghan walked out the front door. You knew what he was doing, anyone with half a brain knew. And honestly, you were fed up. 

Jeonghan stumbled through the door, the imprint of lips pushed onto his collar and breath reeking of alcohol. A greasy, “hey baby”, crawled out of his throat. Yet you paid him no mind, completely immersed in eating your dinner. Dragging his gaze up, he frowns as he realises there is only one plate on the table, yours. "What's up, huh? Why'd y'not make food for me?" He pouts and slumps against your back. Biting back an anguished scream, you lift your plate and carry it toward the kitchen. Jeonghan however, almost falls over due to the abruptness of your actions.

Jeonghan looks like he’s praying. His hands grasping at the skin of your soft thighs and his knees bare against the hard cold floor, is the greatest juxtaposition, he thinks. "Baby please, I love you more than anything in the world. I only did it for your attention, I'm so desperate for it. I need it! I need you!", he whimpers, pushing his face further into your thighs. Slap! As soon as his pleading eyes meet your own cold ones, you raise your hand and strike. The moan he lets out is downright sinful. This sound, however, furthers your hatred. "You're fucking disgusting. Going around and sleeping with other women. I hate you." At this, tears, which previously have been pooling in the corners of his eyes, stream down his face. Jeonghan wails, "No please! They mean nothing to me! Nothing! You are all that matters, they're worthless!" At this, he pauses, considering. Gently, he reaches for your chin, twisting it to face him. "All of those women I flirted and slept with, every single one... is dead. I killed them all. Taking me away from you and causing you to hate me was a crime punishable by death. I can show you if you'd like? Prove my love for you? Or maybe you should punish me? I've definitely been a bad boy... and bad boys need to be punished. If not by you... then I'll do it myself." As he finishes his speech, he leaps up. Positioning a knife at his wrist, he pleads to you, "Take me back baby, I know I've been bad... I just missed you so much. If you don't love me... pay attention to me... I don't think I can live."

[wispscribbles]

Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)

Hiii. So

As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol

I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.

I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.

So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.

Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.

I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.

I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.

So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.

And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.

Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.

I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh

The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.

I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.

But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.

Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3

Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)

[ithebookhoarder]

Javier Peña req (and Steve as bestie). Y/n is their partner and is feeling extremely burnt out; running on empty, coffee, cigarettes and not much else. She’s barely sleeping or eating and constantly has a tight chest and racing heart. They both know something is up with her but she just shrugs it off until one day, Javi is out on a raid and she reaches her breaking point. Steve manages to get her home but can’t reach Javi until he gets back to the embassy etc. Also, please could you throw in a little Carrillo cause😍

Burned Out (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A/N: I’ve missed Narcos and my DEA boys, so thank you for this prompt, whoever sent this in. I really appreciate it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump recently with writing for this blog, so it’s great to have something to focus on and pour myself in to - hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, alcohol, reference to depressive / self destructive behaviour, description of a panic attack, mild smut, canon-typical violence, death, reference to drugs / overdosing. 

Masterlist

You knew exactly when it started. When you began to feel yourself beginning to sink downwards into the quicksand that was your life. 

It was a bad day… well, a worse day, if you were being honest, given that life in general in Bogota was hard and full of bad days that left you feeling numb inside. Whereas you were normally able to banish the darkness by spending time with the friends you had collected since your arrival to the city, not even Javi’s gentle kisses or Steve’s dirty jokes or Connie’s homemade deserts could do the trick. 

The day had been bad for many reasons.

One, you’d lost a contact with direct links to Escobar, that you’d spent weeks working on. 

Two, you had lost them in a drive-by shooting that had killed not only them but countless civilians too. 

Three, some of your asshole colleagues decided to spill coffee all over your files meaning you were forced to work late to re-type them up for a briefing the following morning. Even though you had got it done, you knew you had likely missed some details, the ink far too smudge to even begin to try and understand what had previously been written. 

However, that day had only been the start of it. The start of the downwards spiral you found yourself tumbling into. 

Sure, the others had noticed there was a change about you. Yet, it wasn’t as if they knew what was causing it or how to fix it. 

Javi especially knew what you were like - you were like him after all. Spilling your guts wasn’t your natural reaction to handling things. You kept your emotions bottled up inside of you, cramming more and more in, forcing that lid to remain firmly screwed in place even as the pressure began to build. 

And if the lid did threaten to pop off? Well then, you lost yourself in him. In the love that existed between you, and the intimate knowledge you shared of one another. After all, Javi had said it himself, “who needed therapy when you had sex and good whiskey?” 

A night of passionate fucking was all it took to take the edge off… to let a little pressure escape, delaying your inevitable eruption… But that was just it; you would erupt. It was inevitable. There was no way on earth you could sustain the relentless routine of long hours spent at work, with coffee doing its best to act as a replacement for your bed. 

Hell, you could feel the toll it was taking on you both mentally and physically, from the way your hands shook slightly, to the way your chest felt too tight to breathe sometimes. Then there was the fact your clothes were starting to get baggy, whereas they’d once clung to your frame like they’d been tailored for you. 

“Here,” Javi had smiled one afternoon. You could smell the sandwich in his hand before he even set it down on the desk in front of you, accompanied by a packet of chips and a can of your favourite soda. “Grabbed that for you on our way back. Figured you’d forget lunch - again.” 

A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the kind gesture. “Thanks, Javi.” 

“Anytime, hermosa.” He said it so calmly and easily that you felt your heart skip a beat as you realised how lucky you were to have someone who cared about you so deeply. It was why you made sure to tear a corner off of the sandwich and pop it in your mouth. 

The relieved nod Javi granted you told you it was the reaction he’d been waiting for, as he took a step back to let you finish eating and working in peace. 

You knew he’d be back to check you’d finished it in a matter of minutes. So, you were quick to chuck the rest of his lunch in the waste paper bin behind you, burying it further under a pile of discarded documents you’d already finished looking through. 

It was fine. You’d eat later. Maybe you’d even try and cook dinner for you and Javi… an apology for being so distant lately… 

Somehow, despite lacking the gift of prophecy, you knew deep down that that was unlikely to happen. Just as you knew it was unlikely Javi would even make it home tonight. For the last week straight, both he and Steve had been called out on some last minute, late night errands by Carillo - not that you minded all that much. 

Not having Javi’s arms to fall into meant you felt less guilty about working late yourself. About only making it back to your empty apartment long enough for a quick shower and a power nap each night. 

It was ironic to think of Carillo, though, given that your brief conversations with the Colonel in question had been the closest you’d come to finally releasing some of the hurt and the pain inside of you. 

You didn't know what it was about him, but somehow, the Colonel had an ability to draw you out. To make you open up and share things you would never otherwise dream of. 

Maybe it was his candour? You’d noticed that about him since you'd started working together; he had a blunt demeanour, saying what he thought regardless of the affect it could have on another person. 

Now, it wasn't done with malice, per say, but rather as the result of a man who had the weight of an entire army on his shoulders and an impossible task. He just didn't have the time to bullshit anyone - especially when you both lived in a city full of people all too willing to lie and cheat. 

It also came from a weird sense of respect, of seeing people as equals, deserving of the truth just as he expected the same in return. No matter how painful it may be.

Needless to say, it was one of the reasons you'd grown to respect the man - and dare you even say, like. 

Still, when he decided to loiter on the other side of your desk, late one night, you felt yourself stiffen, as if suddenly all too aware of every little gesture your body made and what it gave away.

The Colonel missed nothing.  

“You look like shit.”

Wow. Don’t beat around the bush. 

“Jeez, your wife married a charmer, Colonel,” you scoffed, dragging on your cigarette, sparing him a fleeting glance. “Speaking of, doesn’t she want you back home? Or do you prefer my company that much that you’d rather stand at my desk at 11 o’clock at night?” 

“She’s out of the city, visiting her parents,” he rebuffed, clearly not taking the bait as he dropped into the empty seat opposite. In fact, he decided to reach across and steal one of the cigarettes from the packet on your desk, lighting it for himself in a gesture that made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere for now.  

“Good for her.”

“Yes, it is. I think time away from this place is good for everyone.” 

You could feel the accusation lacing his words, as well as the heat from his continuous stare. “Then why didn’t you go with her? Not enough vacation days?” 

He scoffed, a bitter smirk twisting his lips upwards. “You’re funny; I can see why Peña likes you so much. Like calls to like, as they say, even if you try and hide it behind that smile of yours.” 

You bit back a laugh. “What can I say? I lucked out in that department and got my Mom’s smile. My sister was not so fortunate. She always had my dad’s features - meaning she looked more often than not like she was sucking on a lemon.” 

“This is the sister that died from an overdose, correct?”

“Yes.” 

“The anniversary is this week, is it not?” 

He asked it so calmly and casually that anyone would have thought he’d asked you what the weather was like outside, or what your favourite record to listen to was. 

At least his concern now made sense. It was the kind of detail he would remember, and you were honestly more surprised by the fact it had taken until now for him to bring it up. 

He’d probably been itching to ask you about it all day, aware of the date even if your two partners were not. Well, they might have been, but neither had said anything which was your preference if you were being honest. Hence your rapidly cooling demeanour towards your colleague. 

“I’m fine, if that’s what you're trying to fish about for, Colonel,” you sighed, staring back down at your desk again in an attempt to dismiss him. “You don't have to worry about me. I’m good. Thanks. So can I get back to work in peace? Or did you have some other question for me?” 

Carillo sighed, simply choosing to smoke his cigarette, letting the tension linger along with the steadily growing haze around you both. 

He didn't need to say the words aloud; his actions did all the talking for him as he reached over and helped himself to a file off of you desk. 

He didn't buy this ‘calm, cool, and collected’ act you were pedalling. Not for a second - something his stare alone gave away, even if he refused to say it. Instead, he chose to read, and work, and smoke along side you so that you would not be alone. 

He had his eyes on you... watching and waiting for the moment that your carefully constructed walls came crashing down... the only question was would they crush you in the process?

It was about a month later that the inevitable happened; that you finally hit rock bottom. 

It had just been a causal remark that did it, of all things. A casual remark that sent you tipping over the edge. 

You had just returned from lunch and hadn’t even sat back down at your desk yet when you noticed that someone was missing.  

“Yo, Steve?” you queried, quickly glancing up at the empty seat next to you. “Where did Javi go?” 

Now, you couldn't be a hundred percent certain what Steve said next but you knew he’d said something about Carillo, a lead, and a raid ... 

“What?”

“I said, Javier went with him,” Steve repeated, staring at you with growing concern. You realised he must have already repeated himself. “What? Why? What is it?” 

“Javi went too? He… he’s there? On that raid?” 

“Yes, y/n, that’s what I just said - hey! Where you going?” 

You didn’t even realise your feet had started moving, not until you heard Steve’s confusion as he yelled after you. 

But you didn't stop.

You couldn’t stop, not until you were outside - not until you were far enough from that place that you could actually stop and fucking breathe. 

When did it become so hard to breathe? 

When had the room become so small? 

Why did your mind suddenly feel the need to go to the darkest place possible? 

It was just a raid... one of hundreds Javi had gone on since arriving here in the country, just as you had also gone on your fair share. So why was your head suddenly picturing him... lying there... injured, or worse... dead. 

The number of bodies you’d stared at, lying in the streets in a macabre tableau that had become all too familiar by now - all part of this fucking job. A job you signed up for, hoping to vanquish the bastards who had taken so much from you and those you loved… yet, every day, it seemed you had failed as more and more innocent people suffered… and to think, that Javi - the man you loved more than anything - who you had neglected terribly to the point you couldn't actually remember the last time you’d woken up next to each other - could be amongst them… 

It brought you to your knees. 

“Whoah, y/n. Easy. What’s wrong?” 

Steve’s voice sounded distant, as if you have been submerged beneath water. Yet, you could tell he was beside you, dropping down onto the kerb before hauling you close. The warmth of his touch was enough to tether you to him, to reality, as everything around you seemed to spin in dizzying circles.

You could feel it as his hands rose, cupping your cheeks, turning your head and trying to get you to look at him. 

When you finally did, he could see immediately that your eyes were glassy, like you weren’t really seeing or hearing him. 

He knew that look. 

“Y/N,” Steve murmured in a soothing voice. “Y/N, look at me. Look at me.” 

He paused, waiting until your eyes trained themselves on his face, some of the cloudiness starting to dissipate. 

“Good, that’s good. Now breathe. Just breathe,” he instructed, taking a few deep breaths himself to show you how.

It took you a moment or two, but you eventually became fully aware of your surroundings and what your friend was telling you to do. 

Following his lead, you took a few shuddering breaths, then a few more. You kept breathing until you could feel the racing of your heart slow and the fear that had felt crippling just moments before begin to ease.

You were exhausted.

Wiping at your face, you tried to banish the tears that had left a salty trail burning down your cheek.

Steve doesn't say anything for a long minute, instead choosing to pull you into his side and light up a cigarette, which he was quick to offer you.

“T... thank you.”

You sat like that for a while... just watching people and cars passing by, smoking like two people on a perfectly ordinary break.

No one bothered to stop and ask you two questions. Hell, no one even shot a glance in your direction, everyone too busy with their own business to stop and give a shit about yours.

So you sat. 

And smoked. 

And said nothing... not until the cigarette was nothing more than a stub.

Steve was quick to take it from you, before it could burn your fingers. Tossing it aside, it had clearly served its purpose. 

He stood and offered you a hand. 

His face left no room for debate as he stated calmly, “Come on, I’m taking you home. Now.” 

“Come on. A couple more steps, Y/N,” Steve urged, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment. 

His hand was warm, firm even, as it pressed against your lower back. 

He’d been like this since the moment you’d left the embassy, steering you and hovering over you like he expected you to simply topple over at the slightest breeze. 

It was touching, yet irritating all at once - a sentiment you were too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other to even attempt to unpack. You were also just too goddamn tired. 

“Here we are.” Steve’s words startled you. “Home sweet home.” 

You didn’t remember giving him the keys, but you must have as he opened the door a second later and herded you inside. 

There was emotion in your throat - threatening to spill from you. You were holding on by a thread and he knew it. Just as Carillo knew it, and possibly Connie too - 

Wait, Connie?

You blinked as you realised that at some point the woman had also entered your home, most likely having been summoned by Steve on the drive home. 

You wanted to feel guilty at the thought of her being dragged into your mess, but you were honestly too tired to feel anything other than grateful as she hurried over to you, offering you a cup of what you assumed was tea, as well as two pills. 

To help take the edge off, she explained, urging you to take them. Doctor’s orders. 

It was impossible to miss the way that they were both staring at each other - sharing anxious glances as you swallowed the tablets and dutifully sipped the tea. 

They were worried about you. Hell, you were worried about you, and Javi, and Steve, and everyone else you loved and cared about - that was what had got you in this mess in the first place. 

Damn it.

You heard them say as much as you marched yourself to your bedroom, claiming you were going to try and get some rest whilst you waited for news. 

If they bought it, you couldn’t tell, but neither protested as you left them. 

They simply let you go, allowing you the space and privacy to crawl into your bedroom, bury yourself in the unmade sheets, and lie down for a while. The medication had clearly started to work as you felt heavy... tired... 

Lying there, you could hear their voices... faint murmurs drifting down the hall. 

You caught only snippets as they tried and failed to keep their voices down, just as your parents had once done when you were just a kid. Still, despite their efforts, you caught enough to know that there was still no word from Javi, or about the raid he went on. 

“-called Javi- no reply.”

“Carillo - try again -”

“-worried about her - stressed.” 

Eventually, the words began to fade away, replaced instead by your body's sudden need to sleep. It was pointless to fight the drugs now in your system, or the comfort of being wrapped in the bed sheets that still smelled of Javi... not even you were strong enough to fight it as you felt yourself drifting off into sweet oblivion.

"Sweetheart?"

You must have still been dreaming - that was the thought that crossed your mind as you swore you heard Javi's voice.

"Javi?" you moaned, fighting against the grogginess that greeted you as you tried to open your eyes.

Despite the fact it was clearly now dark out, you could easily make out the face in front of you, illuminated from behind by the bedside lamp. The sight was almost angelic - as if some divine being had deigned to answer your prayers and return the love of your life back in to your arms.

“It's ok, I'm here, sweetheart,” Javi purred again, brushing your hair back behind your ear and pulling you close. “I’m right here, ok? In one piece - promise. The raid went off without a hitch. Even snagged ourselves a new asset for you to take a crack at.”

Your eyes shimmered with tears as you quickly burrowed into his chest. You didn't really hear what he was saying, too busy focusing on the fact that he was here to say it at all - here - alive - in your arms. 

The reality hit you as you began to let it pour out of you: how relieved you were, how much you loved him. You also grumbled something about fucking telling you when he next decided to run off on a raid without so much as 'goodbye' - else you’d shoot him yourself. 

“I’m sorry, carino. I am.”

And you believed him. 

"I love you, Javi. So much."

"I love you too," he purred, "and I'm so sorry, I knew you were struggling, but when Steve told me-"

He didn't get to finish whatever the hell he'd been about to say. You didn't let him.

Instead, your lips surged hungrily towards his and as only Javi could, he kissed you back, soft and slow... as if desperate to reassure you through actions alone.

You felt him chuckle into your mouth as you grew impatient, grinding your hips against him in a silent plea for him to fill you. To join you. To bury himself, and the day you'd both had, in a moment of bliss.  

It was a special kind of neediness, reserved for just him, and one that was only sated once he had fully joined with you, as one being. Safe. Whole.

Yes, in an ideal world he would have waited until after talking to you to lose himself in such a way. After all, Steve and Connie had filled him in on the troubling turn of events that his absence today had triggered - and he'd be lying if he said the idea didn't scare him shitless, that you had broken down so completely...

He could only thank God that Steve had been there for you - especially when he couldn't be himself.

But he was here now... and you had time to start trying to make sense of this mess. Together. Carillo had assured him of that, informing him in no uncertain terms that you both had the next few days off from work. He didn't want to see either one of you back in the office until you'd begun to sort through the mountain of shit you were buried under.

So, yes. If you wanted to lose yourself for tonight, to use him to forget the world outside for a perfect moment, then he was only too happy to oblige.

He’d wait until the morning to have a proper conversation. 

He’d go down and whip you up some breakfast before trying to get you to open up to him about everything that had happened today… about the worries and concerns you’d been keeping locked away inside of you. 

Then, after you’d fallen in to pieces in his arms, he could try and start to put you back together again. As a team.

[lovergiirlsblog]

Deep end

Summary: Y/N who’s struggling with infertility started to distance herself from Mason. How will the Chelsea boy react ? Will they work It out in the end, or have they already fallen into the deep end ?

Warnings: Mention of infertility, a lot of angst

Note: This made feel so emotional. Hope you like it. Also I might make a part 2 of it.

Please listen to this song while reading

Negative.

Once again, negative.

I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror: red rims around my puffy,bloodshot eyes , rosy nose and cheeks. I’ve been crying for an hour now. I sighed and unlocked the bathroom door after throwing the pregnancy test in the bin. Mason and I have been trying to have a baby for a year now but every single test we did turned negative. And I’d be lying if I say that this whole situation hasn’t affected our relationship . We’re not who we used to be, and I don’t know if we can ever go back to the couple that we used to be.

I grabbed my phone to find a text from Mason.

From Mason:

Stacey is home. I invited her and the whole family :)

To Mason:

Of course. I’ll prepare dinner.

I no longer tell him about the test results. It’s something that I’ve decided because what’s the point of telling someone over and over again that he won’t be a father?That he won’t have a kid to teach how to play football. He always plays tough when he’s around me but I know it’s killing him too. I,once,heard him gasp from crying when he thought he was alone at home. And honestly,I don’t want him to be torn every time. I kept the grief to myself.

When Mason is around I always try to act occupied with work or sleep early just to avoid him. I don’t know why but I often find myself refusing his sex offers,thankfully he was understanding and never forced me to do something that I don’t want to.To me making love isn’t about having fun with the man you love anymore, it’s just a procedure to get pregnant… but will always end with disappointment.

Sometimes I look at him and think: Won’t he be happier with someone else ? Won’t someone else give him what he needs whenever he wants to ?

“Hi” he whispered when he walked in the kitchen.Hi, good morning, good night is all that we say to each other lately. “Hi” i greeted him without making eye contact. I can’t look at him. His eyes remind me of my failure. Uncomfortable silence filled the room. How the hell did we turn into strangers that live together? “ I, um, I’ll be upstairs. They should be here in an hour” he mumbled awkwardly,scratching the back of his head. I nodded and watched him disappear upstairs. I finished dinner and changed minutes before the doorbell rang. When I went back downstairs I found Mason opening the door. Summer,Poppy and Harley jogged towards him and wrapped their tiny arms around his legs. He lifted them one by one to plant a kiss on their cheeks.

“Aren’t you going to greet us Y/N” I didn’t realise that I was staring at Mason and the kids when Lewis joked. I hugged him tightly and explained” I’m sorry. I blacked out. Hello everyone please come in” I squeezed all of them and we all went to the living room. I grabbed some drinks and snacks and sat next to Mason who had Summer on his lap. They were both laughing. Every laugh breaks my heart a little bit more.

“ Since you’re home now,will you come to Stamford bridge and watch me play ?” He addressed to Stacy who was wiping Poppy’a mouth with a napkin. His arm wrapped around my shoulder-just like the old days- and it’s the first physical touch we had in a while. I didn’t push his arm away actually, it was the first time that I feel comfortable with him touching me. Maybe because we weren’t alone?

“Of course I’ll come to watch my baby brother”

An hour later,I,with the help of Lewis and Stacey,set up the dinner table. And we started eating.

“So how are you two,love birds?” Mine and Mason’s gaze landed on Stacey and we both faked a smile “We’re okay” we said at the same time.

“Are you staying in England for a long time ?” I tried to have a conversation with her to break the awkward silence and be a good host.

“I’ll leave right after New Year’s Eve. By the way the food is so delicious.”

“I know right. She makes the best food. Mason is a lucky bastard.” Lewis quipped.

“I know I am“ I glanced at him and frowned my eyebrows.

“Thank you guys.I’m glad you liked it”

The kids finished first and wanted to play with Mason while Debbie insisted that she will clean the table. We watched as Summer covered Mason’s eyes from behind and innocently asked him to guess who’s behind him. “Um.. I’m not sure.Is it Lewis?” He played along making them giggle so hard “ No.Uncle Mase it’s me Summer”.

I found myself smiling so big, but I looked away when my eyes met his.

“He’s so good with kids. I’m sure he’ll make a great father one day.” Stacey rested her head on my shoulder”Are you considering having kids ?” I looked down at her,her gaze was still on Mason and the kids.

“I-I can’t-“ I didn’t know what to say but thankfully Jasmine unintentionally saved me “ Can we go home ? I’m so tired and sleepy”. We said our goodbyes and they immediately went home leaving us alone,again. After closing the door,Mason approached me ,wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close without any warning. “Mason-“ I tried to gently push him away “Mason please”. He stopped and looked in my eyes. His eyes were full of hurt and devastation. “I can’t even hug you now ? Great. That’s great!” He laughed in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you tell your family ?” I ignored his sentence.

“ tell them what ?” He frowned.

“ That I can’t conceive.. that I can’t give them what they want. That I can’t give YOU what you want” my voice cracked.

“ Why do they need to know ? » he sighed « We’re young Y/N and we can always try again if that’s what you really want.I still have hope.”

“Hope?” I laughed “Hope is the most devastating thing. Hope is cruel.”

Would I be this shattered if I didn’t have hope ?

“ Kids aren’t what I want anymore. You know what I badly want ? I want my wife back. Yes I would be happy if we had a child but I would be happier if i still had the old Y/N.Whoever is standing in front of me right now isn’t the girl that I loved. I feel like I don’t know you anymore Y/N. Are we together just to have kids ? What about love ? What about you and I Y/N ?” He ran a hand through is hair” how did we end up like this ?” His voice was full of hurt. I looked down at my feet and mumbled”The girl that you loved won’t come back. I’m sorry.” I stared off into the distance,trying so hard to hold back my tears.

“That’s all you got huh ? I want to help you Y/N, but you keep pushing me away. Do you think I didn’t notice you crying in the bathroom whenever you think I’m asleep ? I didn’t want to force you into talking about it I wanted you to willingly open up to me so we can work it out together but you never did. And I can’t take this anymore. I’m so sick of you treating me like a stranger.”

He shouted,fist pushing the wall and walked out of the house leaving me sobbing with my head in my hands. Of course he’ll get sick of this. But he’ll never understand how worthless I feel when he slightly touches me. I don’t know why he has never lost hope or why he has never given up on me.

Four hours passed since he left and I was starting to worry. Has something bad happened to him ?

To Declan:

Hi sorry for bothering you but I wonder is Mason at yours ?

From Declan:

No he’s not here. Is everything alright ?

To Declan:

Yes. Don’t worry. Good night Dec !

I put my phone on the sofa when I heard the sound of keys in front of the door and rushed to open it and reveal a very drunk Mason leaning on Ben. His eyes were so tipsy, I’ve never seen him this drunk before. After putting him on the bed and going back downstairs Ben stated” Look Y/N, I don’t know what’s going on between you both but Mason isn’t okay at all. He has been playing like shit lately if you haven’t realised it yet. Also he usually never drinks when we have training the next day but look at him now.. Potter is going to scold him so bad tomorrow” I bit my nails titling my head down and nodding “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry Ben. Thanks for telling me”

I grabbed a glass of water,and walked to the bedroom where he was laying on his back and staring at the ceiling “Here drink this it might help” I handed him the cup.”Y/N?” He called”Why don’t you love me anymore ?” His words hit me like knives,straight in the heart.Did I really cause all this damage? He doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. He deserves so much better. So much better“ I still love you”

He chuckled taking a sip from the cup of water “weird way of showing it” I helped him take off his shoes and change into something more comfortable. “You need to rest Mason. We’ll have this conversation tomorrow when you’re sober enough”

“You don’t even look into my eyes when I’m sober enough” he wiped his eyes” I’m trying to help you heal Y/N. I can’t lose you. If you need space I’ll give it to you, just please don’t leave me” his voice became weaker and weaker as he shut his eyes. His soft snores were heard minutes later. I pulled the blanket to his chest and pushed the hair that fell on his sweaty forehead. “I’m so sorry for burning us down” a tear fell from my eyes and landed on his cheek.

I put my luggage in my car as soon as the sun rose and left a letter on the nightstand next to Mason.

Dear Mason,

I’m sorry I left without telling you. But it’s honesty what I needed. I wanted space so I can figure out our future together. Unfortunately, I couldn’t accept the fact that I am infertile, and it makes me feel less of a woman and I’m deeply sorry for treating you that way, I let my selfishness take the best of me. Every time that you try to get closer, I get flashbacks of how I felt the last time that we tried and had a negative result. You, my dear Mason, are the most important person in my life and I can’t thank you enough for trying to help me but no one can help me except myself in this situation. I promise I’ll be back weather as the old Y/N that you knew or with divorce papers. You don’t deserve to go through this Mason,so if I will still feel the same, I’m afraid I’ll let you go. You can be happy with someone else and start a family. Until then, I love you more than life. Please try to understand and don’t be mad.

PS: I left some painkillers on the nightstand x

Yours sincerely,Y/N.

[sicily-cece]

She died so I died with her

Description: when Mc’s best friend had died, a part of Mc had died with her.

TW: death, cussing, comfort? (If that really is a tw)

Obey me Lucifer x fem! reader

_____________________________________

Mc’s pov:

I’m losing myself; I can’t bring myself to eat, sleep, or move in general.

I haven’t looked in the mirror but I can imagine what I looked like. Messy hair tossed and knotted and every which way, eyebags, and lifeless eyes.

I’ve been staring at my blank white wall for days that bragged on longer than normal. The brothers would knock on my door to tell me that dinner is ready.

They never asked me if I was okay because they knew that I wasnt. My best friend had died and I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.

And worst of all; I had to hear it from Lucifer rather than her family. Vivian was her name, but we all called her vivi.

she was the most gorgeous girl; Black hair that went down her back, ocean blue eyes that would light up when she got excited over little stuff, and she was extremely kind and sweet to overs. Too bad they weren’t kind to her back.

She had a shit life since we were kids. Her dad was always yelling and screaming with the occasional throwing stuff, Her mom didn’t like her as a person, but loved her because that was her daughter.

We had everything planned out since we were 15. We would change our identities when we turned 18 and move countries and disappear. Well I disappeared to hell, while she had her life disappear.

I haven’t been myself. When vivi died a piece of me died with her. I didn’t strive to live anymore but didn’t have the strength to kill myself; So I survived.

_____________________________________

I heard a knock on my door, I didn’t move and I didn’t say anything. I knew that it was my boyfriend, Lucifer but I couldn’t seem to care.

I was so focused on the picture of me and vivi before I left for hell. When we were 19, I saw a glimpse of what could have happened if I wasn’t dragged to hell for a stupid exchanged program.

I heard Lucifer sigh and open my door. I left the worry linger in his stare, I knew he was sitting at his desk worring about me.

He didn’t say anything, he just sat at the foot of my bed. He looked at me like I was glass that was about to break.

I could hear the brothers from my room. they’ve been loud and normally I’m loud with them but I can’t stand it; not while I’m grieving the loss of my best friend.

He knew the noise was bothering me, it was like he could read my mind. He knew me like the back of his hand. Her gently picked me and the blanket up.

I didn’t protest, I didn’t move, I just let him carry me. But the familiar scent of my boyfriend was comforting at the very least.

I heard the brothers quiet down when Lucifer carried me down the stairs. I felt the pain that they felt, the worry to know if I’m okay. I couldn’t see their facial expressions since my face was in Lucifer’s chest.

I knew asmo, beel, and mammon are on the verge of crying for me, satan was probably frowning with a worried look, belphie looked like he didn’t care but if you looked in his eyes, you’ll know that he feels my pain. Levi was internally freaking out and it shows.

Lucifer nor I said anything to them as he walked past. He opened the door and sat me on his bed. It familiar room, cursed records that produced soft music, the overall look of his room was so comforting to me but not comforting enough.

He slid next to me and held me tightly like I was going to disappear. I knew I was safe, I knew that I could cry and scream as loud as I wanted and he wouldn’t judge.

So I did, I cried. I was sobbing,my throat hurt, my eyes are all puffy and red, I’m grabbing onto his shirt like if I let go then he would disappear too.

And he made a ‘sh’ sound while rubbing my back, the only way he knew of comforting me.

It worked, I was still crying but I wasn’t sobbing, hiccuping, or trying to breath because it felt like my lungs aren’t getting enough oxygen.

I eventually fell asleep and Lucifer never left. I knew that we I left this room, I would be bombarded with questions and concerns by the other 6 brothers. But I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about how grateful I am for a loving boyfriend.————————————————————————————————————

This is my first fanfic that I’ve ever made so I’m sorry if it’s trash but I hoped you enjoyed the angst 😋🫶🏻 

[fairycosmos]

i’m going to kill myself tonight but i wanted to say i’ve always loved your blog and your my favourite tumblr person :)

hey, not sure if anything i can say can change your mind but please please consider calling a hotline or reaching out to a friend/family member if that's an option. i won't pretend i know the type of pain you're in, or much about the situation you're in, and i hope this doesn't come across as me saying it's easy to keep going because it's absolutely not. whether you're feeling numb, whether your thoughts are totally chaotic. it's a type of hell either way. i know things are unbearably painful so much of the time. you deserve so much better and i just don't think doing this is going to give you that. i'm not trained in all the right and wrong things to say to someone who's going through this and i know that when i'm in this place myself, there's very little anyone can do or say to get me out of it. but i do come out of it. even if i'm not happy, the pressing urge to harm myself is so strong that by its own nature it's unsustainable. it's the hardest thing in the world to bear it and i'm so sorry you're going through it. it's so fucking exhausting. and at the same time it always somewhat dies down and there is always another day to try again.

please, please get yourself to a physically safe space. if you need to cry, break down, sleep for 72 hours, take a shower, eat something, put your face in cold water, rip up a million pieces of paper to get the rage out - it's okay. whatever you need is okay. you don't have to think about what you're going to do tomorrow or next week or next month or in the next 5 years. you just have to focus on getting through today, minute by minute. if that feels like too much, second by second. and you can keep breaking it down like that until it stops feeling like some insurmountable mountain. i know words are not enough to change anything about how much despair and hopelessness you're feeling in this moment. i just want you to attempt to treat yourself the way you'd treat a friend going through something like this. even just for the next 30 minutes. i'm going to leave some resources linked below that have helped me when i've been in a similar spot. they're not solutions and they're not cures. they're just going to allow you to see other perspectives beyond your suicidality. you are so, so worth that. please reach out to a loved one, the authorities or a hotline if you can. it is not going to be as scary as your mind is building it up to be. i would seriously hate to think of you doing something to harm yourself. you have a right to feel how you feel, but you don’t have to give these thoughts the power to actually dictate your reality. i'm really, really glad you're alive and i genuinely hope you're able to get to the point where you are too. you're the one who can really bring yourself back from the edge. what happens next is all in your hands, not in the grip of your negative thoughts, urges, or feelings. please, please do what you know is right for your safety and wellbeing. even if it's the hardest choice in the world to make. please, please stick around for today at the very least. just focus on getting through the now, no matter how unbearable. that's more than good enough, and it's all anyone can ask of you. i'm sending you so, so much love.

international suicide hotlines / guidance for creating a safety plan / coping with suicidal thoughts pdf / download a how to cope factsheet / coping with suicidal thoughts right now / 10+ coping skills worksheets for adults / the coping skills toolbox / how do you stop suicidal thoughts?

[metallicaislife]

Overworked

Requested by: @dallysnecklace

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,610

Warnings: Feelings of self-doubt, depressive behavior, anxiety

“Hey babe! It’s me, Kirk. You rushed off after the photoshoot today so I wanted to check in with you since I didn’t get to talk to you after. Maybe we could get dinner and hang out. Call me back, love you. Bye.” The machine beeped after playing the message. I deleted it.

I just got home from one of my other photography gigs. I primarily work for Metallica, but I take pictures for other bands as well. It can get a little hectic, and honestly I’m starting to feel burnt out. I don’t know if I can keep up with the rigorous schedule I’ve been keeping. Feeling absolutely empty I decided I wouldn’t call Kirk back. I laid in bed, not even having the energy to change my clothes. Photography is my entire life, what if I’m not cut out for it though? There are so many others who would kill for the job I have, and here I am not able to manage it. What an absolute failure. I began crying as I spiraled.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until the phone started ringing. I looked at my alarm clock, it was 2PM. I must have slept through the night and well into the next day. I didn’t bother getting up to answer it. 

“I’m not available right now, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Hey, it’s me, Kirk, again. You didn’t get back to me last night. What are you up to today? The guys and I are getting ready to go out to eat. Do you want to come with us? Please call me back, even if you don’t want to go. I just want to hear your voice and know you’re okay. All right, love you, bye.” Kirk’s voice came over the voicemail machine. 

I sighed and curled up further beneath my blankets. The beeping of the machine indicating I had a message was bothering me, so I forced myself to get up. I deleted the message and took the phone off the receiver. I made myself take a shower then curled up in my bed again drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

-

“Hey Peter, have you heard from Y/N?” I asked as I approached our manager. He looked up from his paper. 

“No, she isn’t scheduled for another shoot with you guys until next week.” He replied and turned his attention back to his paperwork. 

“Oh, okay, thank you.” I said and sulked away. 

Since I met Y/N, we didn’t go long periods of time without talking to one another. I haven’t seen or heard from her since our last photoshoot. When I try calling, it gives the busy tone now and I’m getting worried, but if she doesn’t want to see me, I don’t want to bother her. 

I ran into the house to avoid getting drenched by the rain. Cliff was with Lars and James in the living room. 

“Hey.” I greeted them and sat on the couch. 

“Where is Y/N?” Lars asked. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t been able to get a hold of her for the past couple days.” I said folding my arms feeling uneasy. 

“Still?” Cliff asked, a worried expression on his face. 

“Yeah.” I sighed. 

“I wonder what’s going on.” James said thoughtfully. 

“She knows she can come to us if there is something wrong.” Lars added. 

“We should go out and look for her.” Cliff suggested. 

My heart warmed seeing my friends band together, worried about my girlfriend. 

“I’ll go to her place, but you guys really don’t have to go out.” I said standing up to get my jacket. 

“Of course we do, she’s one of us.” James said. 

Just as I was going to open the door, there was a soft knock. I flung it open and my heart broke. 

Y/N stood in front of me. She was drenched from head to toe. Her eyes were red and puffy. 

“Are you okay?” I asked her. Her bottom lip wobbled as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. I reached out, pulling her into my arms. 

“Stop, I don’t want to get you wet.” She wailed. 

“I don’t care.” I said holding her tightly. She continued to cry. The guys stood around, they looked sad at the sight. 

“My mom’s making dinner tonight. Let’s go.” Cliff said. James and Lars followed him out, closing the door. I know they were relieved to see her, but I was grateful they were giving us space. I continued holding her until her sobs softened. I pulled away and grabbed her hand taking her to my room. I handed her some clothes to change into. 

“Go take a hot shower. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” I told her, she nodded and started off for the bathroom. She paused and turned back to me. 

“Will you hold me after?” She asked, her voice was croaky.. I stepped closer to her and kissed her forehead. 

“Of course.” I said. She went into the bathroom, closing the door. 

I went to the kitchen and made her a cup of herbal tea. She didn’t take too long and I met her in my bedroom. She handed me her clothes and I put them in the washing machine. She sipped on her tea as she sat on the edge of my bed. Her eyes still rimmed red. She placed the cup on my bedside table and scooted back on the bed. I laid next to her pulling her into my arms. 

“Where were you?” I asked petting her hair. 

“Home.” She replied softly. 

“What’s going on? I was really worried about you.” I asked rubbing soft circles on her back. 

“I’m sorry I disappeared. I’ve been so overwhelmed with work, I feel so burnt out. I didn’t want to disappoint you because you’re not just my boyfriend, you’re also my client.” She said, I gave her a squeeze.

“Girlfriend first, photographer second, okay? What’s overwhelming?” She buried her face in my chest. 

“It’s not you guys at all, that’s my favorite part.” She whispered, then pulled away to look up at me. “It’s rushing from gig to gig, worried I’ll be late. I think I’ve overbooked myself.” She said, “but if I don’t have the work, I don’t get paid and I can’t afford to cut back.” Her brow furrowed. I rubbed the lines in between her eyebrows. 

“What can I do to help relieve your stress?” I asked her. She thought for a few minutes. 

“I really don’t know.” She shrugged, looking a bit frustrated. 

“Well, what if we talk to Peter? See about making you Metallica exclusive. Then you don’t have to worry about the other gigs.” I offered. 

“What if I just wasn’t meant for this kind of work.” She said, tears filled her eyes. I wiped them as they fell.

“You have to do what’s best for you. And whatever that is, I’ll support you. I know the guys will too. We don’t have to figure it out right now.” I told her, bringing her back into my embrace. She nuzzled her face in my chest. 

“Can I just spend the next couple days with you and the guys?” She asked. 

“Of course.” I said and kissed the top of her head. She drifted off to sleep, I did as well soon after comforted by her breathing and steady heartbeat. 

-

As I came to, I was really toasty. Wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and Kirk’s arms. He was snoring softly. I carefully got out of bed not waking him up. I went to the bathroom then made my way to the living room unable to sleep anymore. Cliff was sitting on the couch, he looked up and smiled, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“There’s our girl.” He stood up putting his cigarette in the ashtray, and opened his arms. I wrapped my arms around his middle as he engulfed me in a hug. We sat on the couch. Lars wandered in and without any words hugged my head. I laughed, and pushed him back a bit so I could stand and give him a proper hug. 

“Saving the best for last?” James grinned as he came in. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I teased as he gave me a bear hug. Kirk came sprinting in. 

“Oh good, you’re still here.” He said putting his hand over his heart. I frowned. I feel bad I had made him feel that way. I hugged him tightly. He kissed the top of my head. 

I sat on the couch in between Cliff and Kirk. 

“I’m sorry I went radio silent for a few days. Next time if I need space, I’ll give you a heads up.” I said looking down at my hands. Kirk reached over and interlocked his fingers with mine. 

“As long as you’re safe, that’s all we care about.” Lars said. 

“Are you okay?” James asked. 

I relayed to them what I told Kirk last night. 

“All I have to say is I appreciate you letting me be me in your photos.” Cliff said. I laughed knowing he was a photographer's nightmare since he hated posing properly for pictures. “But you have to do what’s best for you. You’ve always got us in your corner.” He said. Tears pricked my eyes, they weren’t the ones of sadness and frustration I’d been shedding over the past few days. My heart was warm knowing I had a loving boyfriend and sweet friends who truly cared about me. 

No matter what I decided, I knew they’d have my back

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Nine

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Spitfire

I’m going to kill Law.

No, really, I’m planning his demise.

Nami’s fingers gently interlock through my dark and unruly hair, neatly braiding two symmetrical strips across my head - but all that’s running under that brewing scalp of mine is how I can make Law pay for what he’s done.

Last night was the worst. With Zoro’s snoring and his random mutterings in his sleep, I was practically left wide awake, strewn across the open-spaced crumbling floor, my eye twitching in unbridled irritation.

And with my hand being otherwise occupied, I woke up like a mess. Dishevelled and barbaric, my hair kept slipping over my eyes and I was left there with no way of helping myself. At one point, I considered shaving my head clean - but before I could grab a sharp scrap of metal to de-hair myself, Nami had walked to the firepit of where Zoro and I sat like furious toddlers. She took one pitiful long look at me, and then had decided she had to intervene with my appearance.

“Hey, it’s not so bad,” she lightly says in my ear, her fingers looping through another dark brown lock into another. Her other hand pats my head, her orange hair entangling around my shoulders in a sign of solidarity. “Maybe… I don’t know, maybe it’ll make you two learn to tolerate each other more?”

“But he sucks!” I whine out, stamping my free hand against the rocky ground. “He sucks at sleeping, Nami! You know what he so lovingly said in his sleep last night? Into my ear? ‘I’m going cut you down. I’m going to bury all your limbs in different places, so that even in your death you won’t be honoured.’ I was fucking horrified. I couldn’t sleep.”

Robin’s rich laugh echoes throughout the cave, her deep blue eyes fixed on mine. She tilts her head as if considering a thought, a finger pressed beneath her mouth. “I wonder how he’d cut you down with only one hand free to him.”

I gape at Robin and give her a thanks for adding more fuel to my nightmare spout; not to mention, I can feel Nami behind me with a massive grin on her face as she sprays a mist of water against my matted hair.

“It’s not funny.” I pout, eyeing the hot breakfast that Sanji’s so lovingly cooked up, all encircling deliciously around the firepit. “I’m not even in the mood to eat anymore. Zoro eats the size for two fucking orcs, anyway.”

Robin amusedly looks at me as she pointedly lays her book on the floor. She places her chin in the palm of her hand, which in turn makes me raise a brow.

Not knowing why, I hesitate for a second. “What?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Raya, but I can’t help find this a little entertaining,” she smiles, her eyes flicking to the area next to me. “Especially when Zoro’s sitting right next to you.”

I turn and for the first time in the entire morning, I realise that Zoro is indeed sat right next to me. As if he could even be anywhere else.

I slowly turn, meeting the gaze of someone who’s been pointedly glaring at me for a lot longer than I’ve realised, his bewildered look searing into me as if I’ve just insulted him.

My face falls.

Oh. I did just insult him.

“Really?” Zoro grumbles out, his mouth full of sausage and bread. He instantly drops the rest of his breakfast onto the plate, as if hurt by what I said, and, in a tantrum, wipes the grease on his trousers.

“We have napkins,” Nami quietly mutters out, judgement written all over her face.

My face contorts from guilt to irritation in an instant. “Well, excuse me for trying to have some girl time, Zoro,” I blurt out and eye him with disdain. “I need a way to get through this… imprisonment, somehow.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t we talk about how you accidentally flashed me when you were taking a bath?” Zoro grins with spite, a brow raised at me in challenge. My face falls, heat growing across my cheeks. Oh, gods. “One second you make me crouch on the floor to get you in the water, and the next second you try to get out, tackling me down all wet and n—"

I clamp my other hand over his mouth shut – sealed tight, air-locked – as I hiss, “It was an accident!”

Nami and Robin burst out laughing, moving their heads between Zoro and I as if witnessing a legendary sword-fighting match.

“Yeah, never mind what I said before; looks like you two are really getting to know each other without my help,” Nami impishly says, making us chained folk both roll our eyes and Robin chuckle louder.

For a moment, Nami hesitates, and before she sits in the empty space besides me, she takes the perfect moment to scruffle Zoro’s mossy hair, making him grumble and helplessly attempt to duck away from her looming hand. Nami only smirks and twirls a few of his green strands in her fingers, eyes glinting at Zoro with the slightest inkling of hope. “You need a hairdresser too, princess?”

“No.”

A kiss of teeth. “You suck.”

“Go bother the cook,” a muffle from a mouthful of sausage and bread quips back. Suddenly, a slow smirk rises on one side of Zoro’s mouth as he takes a moment to look at Nami in the eyes. “Talkin’ about that, didn’t I see you and him gettin’ all tolerant with each other yesterday?”

I look up in surprise, but Robin only smirks with her usual goddamn omniscient look in her eyes. Nami’s face has fallen as if Zoro’s just struck a knife in her face before a terrifying appearance of fury crosses her. A beat passes before Nami and I both shout out at the same time.

“What?” I gasp in betrayal, accusingly stabbing a finger at Zoro’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me anything!”

“I’m going to pummel you in the face,” Nami grits out through clenched teeth, her legs tensing as she prepares to lunge at Zoro. Instinctively, Zoro raises his free arm to block the incoming blow, bracing himself for impact. But the strike never comes.

Zoro hesitates, slightly opening his eye, puzzled by the sudden stillness. His confusion mirrors my own as I glance at Nami, expecting her fury to have landed by now. But instead of following through with her threat, she’s frozen, her gaze lifted to the ceiling, eyes wide with something that almost looks like awe.

My curiosity piqued, I follow her line of sight, craning my neck to see what has captured her attention. There, in the distance, my eyes lock onto a familiar beady-eyed beast.

Of course, I think, suppressing a wry smile. Great timing.

A silhouette of an unnaturally immense-sized dragon beats its wings in equal movements, with three tiny sized passengers scrambling on his stern – one of them clasping his straw hat on his head with a flimsy arm. Luffy’s screams bounce on any available wall, floor, and ceiling throughout the gaping tunnel, making Aragnus huff out through his snout in impatience.  

I don’t know whether to grin or to snarl at the view – in one sense, I have some gripe with Aragnus, from outing me as some sort of deathstalker in the worst way possible. In another sense, he did what he had to do to keep me alive. I wouldn’t be here, curse-free and, more importantly, without any metallic shrapnel thorning throughout my body.

In any case, he’s not the prey of my fury today. No, that all goes to a certain doctor on board.

Luffy cheers again, his squawky voice reverberating through all our ears. I amusedly smile as I watch both Zoro and Aragnus unintentionally breathe out a resolute sigh at the same time.

Your brother has given me much discomfort this morning, Aragnus hisses through my head, his voice tinged with slight weariness. He has tested my restraint more than once. I’ve considered reducing him to ashes.

For half a second, my eyes widen after hearing his words. Brother. Luffy, my… brother? Not biologically, but I suppose… cosmically?

I push the thought aside and glance up at the massive dragon. Our eyes meet, and I can’t resist flashing him a mischievous grin.

Having a little servant-master bonding time? I didn’t know your courtesy also extends to Luffy.

Aragnus sassily huffs and looks away from me, as if trying to hide the non-existent embarrassment on his face. I serve you, and by extension, those that share your line. It is nothing more than so.

I snort and watch him soar closer and closer to our camp, his wings riding on the fresh breeze coming in within the interconnecting tunnels to each cavern. Yeah, right, I think to myself. If this old grump doesn’t like Luffy, he wouldn’t be soaring around right now, doing so many ostentatious mid-air tricks in effort of gaining his approval.

When Aragnus’s paws gently scrape against the claw-marked ground in landing, Usopp’s the first to slink off his back and onto the floor like quivering jelly.

“I… I’m…” Usopp mumbles out, unable to form a coherent sentence. Sanji curiously strolls over to him and pokes his pale corpse with the tip of his shoe.  

“I told you to eat breakfast before going on that joyride, dumbass,” Sanji grumbles, his tone thick with disapproval. He then turns to Aragnus, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “Care to do me a favour, dragon?”

Aragnus responds with a low, unintelligible hiss, his beady eyes narrowing as he shifts his gaze to me.

What have I become? A mere trick-performing dog for your pitiful little camp? he grumbles in my mind.

I suppress a snicker, raising my brows in mock chastisement. You heard him, Aragnus.

With an exasperated flick of his wings, Aragnus allows Chopper and Luffy to slide off his arm before lazily turning back toward Sanji. Without warning, a tiny jet of flame shoots from Aragnus's snout, aimed directly at the chef.

“Shit!” Sanji yelps, jerking back as a small burn forms on one of his fingers. He shoots a furious glare at Aragnus, waving his hand to cool the sting. “What the hell was that for, you scaly bastard?”

Aragnus shifts his gaze from Sanji to me, a smug glint in his eyes. Sanji, still nursing his singed finger, turns to me with a frown, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief, like a scolded child.

Go on, Aragnus urges, his tone almost playful. Tell him what I said.

I sigh, shaking my head in resignation. “Aragnus says, ‘Oops.’”

Expecting Sanji to blow up at Aragnus’s evident sarcasm, I quickly pull out a plaster from one of my work bags and wave it at him as a distraction, making Sanji instantly zip his mouth shut and stare at me with a terrifying amount of adoration.

“How can you be so... so...” he whispers, taken by my seemingly incredible act of generosity.

“RAAAAYYAAAAAA!” Luffy screams, one of his arms locking around Aragnus’s paw, the other swinging maddeningly like a baseball pitcher until it blurs into only colour and no limb.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, my eyes widening in sheer terror with knowing what’s coming.

Bracing myself, I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing there’s no escape from the chaos that’s about to ensue. In a flash, Zoro reacts, twisting his body and pulling me into him, my head colliding with his warm chest just as Luffy releases his grip on Aragnus and catapults himself in our direction.

Luffy lets out a startled yelp as he crashes into Zoro’s back, his momentum abruptly halted. He bounces off and lands on the ground, immediately pouting as he looks up at us.

“Zoroooo!” he whines, clearly disappointed. “I was trying to surprise her!”

Zoro, now being sandwiched in between two cosmic-bound forces, grunts out a laboured huff.

“You were about to knock her head off clean,” Zoro pointedly says. He looks back at me for a beat and our gazes lock. An inscrutable look washes over him before realisation hits him. His arm disappears from my waist, the warmth of his touch instantly going as quick as it came – and for a brief moment, I wanted to yank his arm and place it back where it was. He peels Luffy off his back like a sticker, depositing him in front of us.

Luffy blinks for a moment as Zoro sorts him out, but when his eyes finally find mine, he grins wildly and twists his arms around me.

“Man, today’s a great day!” Luffy sings, adoringly squeezing me along with all the breath I have. “I have another sis’! Who woulda’ known?!”

“In a weird way, yeah,” I say, an unconscious tiny smile creeping on my mouth. I think the realisation just hit me now, with Luffy saying those words, that we are indeed in some way or another… family.

Zoro watches us, his eyebrows raised in surprise. His eyes flick between me and Luffy, clearly processing the unexpected bond. I just shake my head slightly at him, knowing he’ll probably bring it up later. It’s not like I can avoid the conversation—there’s no running away from him now.

“I wish I was the one who’s cuffed with you, Raya! It’s no fair Zoro’s the one who can spend all the time with you.”

“Trust me, it’s not fun,” Zoro says.

I elbow Zoro and glare at him. In turn, he only looks down at me and teasingly offers a smirk.

As we all begin to sit down, Sanji drags in a humongous tray into our cavern with steaming animal carcasses piled on it. With a swift kick, the tray gracefully twirls and slides, landing perfectly in front of Aragnus’s sat down body.

Aragnus growls out a hum of approval as he begins to dig in, but I look at Sanji with surprise. Sanji shrugs when he notices my questioning stare, a cigarette softly placed between his lips. The end of the cigarette slowly glows with glowing embers in sync to Sanji’s expanding chest.

“Can’t let these dragons starve - else they’d eat us for dinner, my love,” he says. In a hasty effort to change the subject, he nods at the glowing cuff between Zoro and me. “How did that happen?”

“I did it,” a measured masculine voice resounds in the corner. I turn to the sound, and only grit my teeth when my eyes lock onto Law’s. He offers a smirk when he sees my furious expression while coolly walking towards our campfire. The rest of his crew disperse from behind him, eagerly joining us with big grins; Bepo catches my gaze and gives me a sympathetic, yet uncertain, smile.

Sanji frowns at the surplus of Heart members, eyeing them as they begin digging in. “Didn’t know we were having guests.”

Luffy ignores Sanji’s comment, his eyes widening at Law. He shoves his wrist into Law’s face, making the latter scowl and bat his arm away. “Really? Can you cuff me too, Torao? Cuff me!”

“You’re not getting cuffed, Mugiwara. Get away.”

Luffy pouts and crosses his arms. “Why’dya even do it if you’re not gonna do it to me? I wanna join in on the fun.”

“Because,” Law enunciates, brushing past my captain and sitting intentionally right across from me, his eyes glinting at me with a certain kind of mischief, “They were getting on my nerves. I decided to give them a sweet taste of my revenge.”

His lie catches me off guard, and I give him a strange look. I was almost certain this would be the moment he'd spill everything—my true identity, the dark history behind my newly awakened power. But he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes it off as a simple prank, leaving me confused and a little suspicious. Is he planning something, or was this just an unexpected act of kindness? The way the lie slides off his tongue so effortlessly makes me narrow my eyes at him, unsure how to interpret his intentions. The double entendre in his words doesn’t go unnoticed either.

“So, you decided to bind them together?” Robin raises a brow.

Law shrugs, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth. “A harmless prank.”

“Harmless, my ass,” I mutter to myself, making Zoro snort out loud.

Law only smugly cocks his head at me in tandem to biting a piece of toast. A wave of anger pierces through me, seeing him act so nonchalant and unworried. If only I could just sink my teeth into him the same way he’s taking those bites of food.

I shiver aggressively, shaking my head as if trying to throw those awful intrusive thoughts away. What the fuck is happening to me? My own mind is coaxing me to submit to murder.

Zoro, in the corner of his eye, watches me with a frown on his face. I don’t know how long he’s been monitoring me, but it only hits me now that he’s intently keeping an eye on my reactions. But not once this morning have I seen him sheathe his swords to his hip; his hand hasn’t moved from his plate or his thighs and this makes me feel incredibly… out of sorts.

“Where are your weapons?” I mumble quietly, pretending to look at the rest of the camp and the members animatedly talking within it.

I intently watch his face to see if he makes any minute expression on it, but Zoro only shrugs in response. His lashes flutter and shadow over his tan cheeks as he looks down to his empty plate, his calloused fingers stretching across his thigh in idleness.

“I don’t eat with my swords,” he says, giving me a sarcastic eyebrow raise. I scoff at him.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He pauses and looks at me, his gaze firm and absolute. “I told you before, Raya. I’m not scared of you.” He leans in slightly, his voice lowering as he continues. “But I have this feeling you’re taking what I’m saying the wrong way, the way you always do.”

Instantly, I take in a sharp breath. My mouth opens and closes, determining on how I should respond to him, and for some reason, I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I hold his immovable stare.

Before I can respond, Luffy’s boisterous laughter cuts through the silence. He’s already engrossed in conversation with Usopp, who has finally found his voice after the dragon ride. Their lively banter echoes through the cavern, but Zoro's words still linger in my mind.

“You’re always like this,” Zoro continues, his voice softer now, almost like he’s trying to reason with me. “You overthink things. Sometimes it’s not that deep.”

I scowl at him, the defensiveness rising up before I can stop it. “I’m not overthinking anything,” I retort, but even I can hear how unconvincing I sound.

“Sure,” Zoro replies with a lazy smirk, leaning back slightly. “Whatever you say.”

I turn my head away from Zoro, staring straight in front of me out of pettiness, but instead, my eyes accidentally lock with Law’s, making all of those repressed feelings within me start to coil tighter.

Revenge, another unwanted thought brushes against my mind. No, not revenge – justice. Attack him, fight him, terrify him for your freedom. That’s what I want. That’s what will sate my fury.

Law doesn’t miss my gaze darkening for even a second. He leans his torso over slightly, taking me in, tracking me with those troubled yet sharp eyes.

“I think you and I should talk,” Law steadily says, quiet enough so that it drowns in the midst of other peoples’ animated conversations. I think you and I should talk, before you do something that you’ll regret, he means. Before I fall victim to these vicious thoughts that only appeared when my true form was awakened.

I purse my lips and nod once, but intentionally, I eye the rest of the crew as a reminder that this area isn’t private enough. Law nods, standing up as he brushes crumbs from his jacket, whispering something unintelligible to Bepo before he coolly walks towards the other side of the cavern.

I look at Zoro and, in front of the others, obnoxiously say, “Well, I guess we should go and do some sword stuff.”

The end of his mouth twitches amusedly as he looks at me with a deadpan look. “Yeah. Totally. Can’t wait to do some sword stuff.”

Zoro rises to his knees with a deliberate calm, his eyes not leaving mine as he offers a hand to help me up. I take it, trying not to focus on the warmth of his grip or the way his rough skin contrasts with mine. Once I’m up, he releases me almost immediately, his hand dropping back to his side with a casualness that irritates me more than it should.

We begin walking toward the edge of the cavern, and I can feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on us. Nami and Robin, no doubt amused by the exchange, Luffy probably still sulking about not being involved, and Sanji… well, Sanji is always watching with that intensity he tries to disguise as casual interest. But I don’t dare glance back to confirm; I’m too focused on keeping my composure as we head toward Law.

Law, standing in the shadows at the far end of the cavern, watches our approach with an unreadable expression. The usual smirk he wears is absent, replaced by something more serious. It makes my nerves prickle, a sense of foreboding settling into the pit of my stomach.

I glare at him. “So, are you going to explain what you did to us?” 

Law takes a moment to sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before taking a moment to fully look at the chain that bounds Zoro and I together.

“I wasn’t lying last night. Roronoa, you did fuck up,” Law mutters, taking a step forward to examine the damage. His fingers gently trace over the linkage as he looks up at me. “I was supposed to be bound to you – not to him.”

I laugh out loud, because that’s the only way I can react to hearing this piece of information. “Please, tell me, where did your logic disappear off to when you were brewing up this idiotic plan?”

He glares at me. “Answer me honestly, Raya. If you weren’t bound to Roronoa right now, would you have run away and disappeared from your crew just so that you didn’t have to face your possible doom?”

My laughter dies in my throat, replaced by a cold silence as I stare at Law. His question hangs in the air, heavy and unyielding. It’s as if he’s reached into my mind and pulled out the one thing I’ve been trying to ignore—the gnawing fear that if given the chance, I might just run. Disappear into the shadows to avoid facing whatever monstrous power has awakened inside me.

“Thought so,” Law says quietly, his tone less confrontational and more understanding than I expected. He steps back, giving me space, but the weight of his question still presses down on me.

“That,” an inked finger points at my cuff, “weakens your powers. It keeps you in check, meaning we won’t have accidental God outbursts whenever something mildly unpleasant happens to you. Until I do some more research on your powers and how we can help you from turning into another Tyr, that’s going to stay there as a precaution.”

I glare at him. “So, you’ve basically imprisoned me.”

“If that’s how you want to see it, sure.”

I bristle at this slightly. “Don’t you think you’re being a little bit too dramatic?”

“If you’re volatile now, what would you be like if your full powers are unleashed?” Law counters. There’s a pause where I shift from one foot to another, unsure of how to respond. He continues, frustration evident in his face. “Look, if either of you have any other solutions, then I’m happy to hear them.”

“Could you then at least unbind me?” Zoro intervenes, pointedly looking at the cuff encircling his wrist. “I don’t get why I’m roped into this.”

“You’re roped into this because you decided you couldn’t keep your sticky fingers away while I was in mid-incantation,” Law snaps, his eyes narrowing on Zoro. “I’m not redoing my work, Roronoa. It’s not a permanent spell, and it’d actually be helpful if you could keep an eye on things. Just give me a few days to learn more about Kozuki’s awakening, and all of this will be done and dusted.”

Before Zoro can open his mouth, Law turns his attention to me, his gaze piercing me with sincerity. “One of Tyr’s evident mistakes was not learning of his bloodline, of where all his power even originated from. It’d be wise if you did some research on your past, though I know that idea pains you. But the faster we figure this out, the easier you’ll have it.”

I narrow my eyes at Law, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy shroud. Research on my past? The idea of delving into that unknown, murky territory is as appealing as walking barefoot on shards of glass. But the reality of the situation is unavoidable—if I don’t take control of this power, it will control me, and I’ll be no better than the monsters we’ve been fighting against.

“I hate that you’re right,” I admit, the bitterness in my voice unmistakable. “But I’ll do it. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m okay with being treated like a ticking time bomb.”

Law nods, his expression softening slightly. “I don’t like it either, Kozuki. But this is the safest way for now. I’ll do everything I can to help you figure this out.”

Zoro, still looking less than thrilled with the situation, tries to cross his arms but tugs me aggressively to his chest. Flustered, he steps away from me, ignoring my irritated expression, and gives Law a hard stare. “Look, just make sure you follow through, Torao. I’m not interested in playing babysitter any longer than I should.”

Law rolls his eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Believe me, I’m as eager as you are to resolve this.”

I look between the two of them, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and irritation. As much as they’re both insufferable in their own ways, I know they’re trying to help. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need their help.

“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter, turning to leave. I tug on my wrist connecting to Zoro's, making him grumble out a string of curses. Law watches us go, his expression unreadable, but I can sense the wheels turning in his mind. He’s not done with whatever plan he’s concocting, and that thought makes me uneasy.

But then, I pause in my footsteps without thinking; Zoro yelps and only barely steps away before he collides into me. I turn around and look at Law, my face set very serious.

“Law,” I mumble. He looks up from his thoughts and raises a questioning brow. I clear my throat, averting my gaze. “Thank you… for, um… not outing me to the group today. You could’ve done that and made it a lot easier for yourself, but you didn’t. I… appreciate it.”

Law’s expression softens, and he gives a slight nod, his usual cocky demeanour tempered by a rare glimpse of sincerity. “I’m not here to make your life harder, Raya,” he says quietly. “I just want to make sure we all get through this in one piece.”

I hold his gaze for a moment longer, then turn away, pulling Zoro along with me.

“Kozuki,” Zoro suddenly bites out. I look up, surprised in hearing the tenseness in his voice.

“What is it?” I stare at him, noticing the way his brows are furrowed and his mouth pursed deeply into a frown. I sigh and look down at our cuffs. “It’ll be temporary, Roronoa. It’s shitty, I know—"

“It’s not that,” he quickly cuts me off, his gaze locked on me with dead seriousness. “I need to piss.”

*

It’s the afternoon – and a hell of an afternoon it is. The clanking of metal against stone fills another cavern, a steady rhythm as Zoro sets up his gym equipment. The dumbbells, barbells, and various other heavy objects he loves to train with are neatly laid out, but the usual calm of his workout space is anything but. I sigh internally and feel Zoro unintentionally yank on my wrist again, almost toppling me over to the floor.

“Do you have to do this right now?” I hiss through gritted teeth, frustration already bubbling over me as Zoro on me tugs once again, making me almost dive headfirst into the cement. “I’m not really in the mood to be amputated today, you know.”

“If I don’t, I’ll lose my edge,” Zoro replies, his tone dismissive as he grabs a dumbbell with his free hand. His muscles flex, the veins in his forearm standing out as he starts his reps. It’s a sight that would have been impressive—if it wasn’t so fucking inconvenient.

I try to remain still, but every time Zoro moves, the chain binding us jerks taut, sending a sharp jolt through my arm and pulling me slightly off balance. It’s as if the chain has a life of its own, tugging me this way and that with every flex of his muscles. The constant, unpredictable yanking makes it impossible to find any sense of equilibrium, and the frustration builds inside me like a kettle about to boil over. Each time he lifts the dumbbell, I’m dragged along in a clumsy dance, my patience wearing thin as I fight the urge to scream and knock the weight out of his hands.

“Do you always have to be so intense?” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably as Zoro reaches for a heavier weight, his muscles straining with the effort.

He doesn’t even look at me, his gaze locked on some invisible point ahead as he methodically lifts the dumbbell, his biceps bulging with each slow, controlled movement. The sheer focus in his eyes is almost intimidating, as if nothing exists except the iron in his hand and the sweat on his brow.

“Can’t you just stand still for an hour?” he finally replies, his voice steady, barely winded, as if he’s unaware of—or perhaps indifferent to—how much he’s disrupting my balance with every lift.

“Easier said than done,” I grumble under my breath, struggling to find my footing as Zoro powers through his routine. His focus is unbreakable, each lift executed with precise control, his muscles flexing and unflexing with mechanical efficiency. Meanwhile, I’m left to wrestle with the constant tugging of the chain, the metal links clinking with every one of his movements.

I grit my teeth, determined to stay as still as possible, but it’s like trying to stand on shifting sand. Every time Zoro hoists the weight, the force of it sends a jolt through the chain, yanking me off balance. My feet shuffle awkwardly, trying to keep up with the relentless push and pull, but it’s no use. The more I fight it, the more my frustration builds, the irritation bubbling under my skin like a pot about to boil over.

Seconds stretch into minutes, each one dragging on longer than the last, my irritation growing with every lift, every clink of the chain, every muscle that Zoro flexes without a care in the world. I can feel my temper fraying, the last threads of patience snapping one by one until finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“Would you just stop!” I snap, my voice echoing off the cavern walls, the words bursting out of me with all the pent-up anger I’ve been trying to hold back. I yank my arm back in a futile attempt to steady myself. Zoro grunts at me pulling away from him, his torso ever so slightly being pulled towards my direction, yet not enough where I could make a convincing point.

Zoro pauses, lowering the weights with a huff. He looks up and glares at me. “If you keep complaining, this is going to take forever. Just deal with it.”

I narrow my eyes at him, mocking his condescending tone. “Maybe if you weren’t so damn single-minded about this, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

Zoro’s eyes finally meet mine, and there’s a flicker of something dangerous in them, a darkness pooling in his grey iris. The sweat across his tan skin reacts with his mossy green hair, allowing it to lay matted and wet across his forehead. I can’t help it – I can’t look away from him, the way the muscles in his jaw tense as his gaze darkens, locking on me with such intensity.

A bitter smirk curls at the corner of his lips, a teasing glint in his eye as he slowly lifts his free arm. The movement is deliberate, almost taunting, and I can’t help but watch as his biceps flex with effortless strength. His rough, calloused fingers rake through his hair, pushing the damp strands back into place with a careless grace.

“You’re really pushing it, Kozuki.”

“No, you’re pushing it,” I childishly bite out.

“C’mon. You haven’t even seen half of it.”

I scoff out and raise my brow at him. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

Zoro’s smirk is slow and deliberate, curving with a dangerous edge that sends a shiver through me. His gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch, a look so charged it silences any retort I had prepared. “You really want to know?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost taunting.

Before I can respond, Zoro drops the weight with a resounding thud, the sound reverberating through the cavern. His movements are fluid, every gesture calculated as he turns toward me. In one swift motion, his arm wraps around my waist, and suddenly, I’m lifted off the ground, my breath hitching in surprise as I’m drawn tightly against his chest.

“Wait, what the fuck—” I gasp, my hand instinctively reaching out to steady myself, fingers clutching at the firm muscle of his shoulder. But Zoro doesn’t hesitate, his grip strong and steady as he shifts me effortlessly, pulling me closer until my feet leave the ground completely. The way he holds me with such ease and power leaves me momentarily speechless, my pulse racing as the reality of our proximity sinks in.

“So eager to complain,” he teases, his voice a deep, rich rumble that seems to resonate through my entire body. “I figured I’d put you to good use.” His words are laced with amusement, but there’s a challenge in his tone, one that stirs something inside me I hadn’t anticipated. He begins to lift me higher, his muscles flexing with every powerful movement. The sensation of being pushed upward, with him guiding me so effortlessly, is dizzying. Then, just as smoothly, he draws me back down, bringing my face dangerously close to his. The warmth of his breath grazes my skin, the closeness of him overwhelming, almost intoxicating.

“You’re such a brute,” I hiss, trying to muster some irritation, but my voice betrays me, coming out softer and more breathless than I intended. Zoro’s smirk deepens, his eyes gleaming with a knowing amusement as he senses my wavering resolve. He lifts me again with the same ease, his hold unyielding. Sweat glistens on his skin, tracing shimmering paths over the defined contours of his muscles as he moves. His gaze remains fixed on mine, a playful light in his eyes as he watches me struggle to maintain composure.

Realising I’m outmatched, I allow my body to relax, surrendering to his strength. He manoeuvres me with such confidence, as though I weigh nothing, and the way he handles me sends a thrill through me, awakening something deep within that I can’t quite explain.

Without warning, Zoro pulls me back toward him, his movement gentle yet firm, until our faces are just millimetres apart. His breath brushes against my cheeks, warm and teasing, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. His eyes, sharp and focused, flick from my lips back to my eyes, mischief dancing in his gaze. “You’re a lot lighter than my usual weights,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that wraps around me like a caress. “Maybe I should add some difficulty.”

With that, his fingers begin a slow, deliberate exploration of my waist, tracing the curves of my body as if committing each one to memory. His touch is light but intentional, his hands gliding over my hips with a lingering caress before he suddenly shifts his grip. A surprised yelp escapes me as his arm slides lower, his strong fingers gripping my thigh as he lifts me higher against him. The movement pulls me flush against his chest, the solid strength of his body pressing into mine, and I can’t help the way my breath quickens in response. My legs dangle helplessly for a moment before instinct takes over, and I wrap them around his waist, desperate for balance and a semblance of control that seems to be slipping away.

“Put me down, or so help me Gods,” I snap, but my voice betrays me, a sultry edge creeping into my words that I know he can hear. His smirk widens, the satisfaction clear on his face as his voice drops to an intimate whisper. He pushes me upward, positioning my midriff against his face, his calloused fingers tracing the tender skin beneath my thighs with a touch that is both possessive and gentle.

“Why?” he murmurs, his breath warm against me. “You’re finally being useful. Besides, you seem to be enjoying this.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate the way my body reacts to his touch, the way my pulse quickens as his muscles shift and flex beneath my hands. The way he holds me, the firm yet tender strength of his grip, the heat radiating from his body—it’s all doing something to me that makes it hard to think, let alone protest.

“I-I’m not…” I stammer, but the tremor in my voice reveals the truth, the unsteady rhythm of my words making it clear. I clear my throat, struggling to keep my expression neutral, to fight against the overwhelming sensations that have taken hold of me. “I’m not feeling anything.”

Zoro chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through his chest and into me, connecting us in a way that feels almost tangible. He pulls me down again, this time bringing his face so close to mine that I can see the faint flecks of darkness in his stormy grey eye. The intensity in his gaze is almost too much to bear, a magnetic pull that draws me in even as I try to resist. “Liar,” he whispers, his breath mingling with mine, a quiet challenge that sends another shiver down my spine.

His hand slides up my back, his fingers pressing into the small of my spine, urging me even closer until the space between us is nearly non-existent. The heat of his body seeps into mine, his presence overwhelming in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything but him. I can feel every inch of him now, every subtle shift of his muscles, every breath he takes. It’s overpowering, this closeness, this connection that seems to vibrate in the very air around us.

“You’re such an ass,” I mutter, but the words lack any real force. My pulse pounds in my ears as I take in the details of his face—the way the scar over his closed eye stands out in a lighter shade against his golden skin, the sweat that glistens on his neck, tracing elegant lines down over his defined collarbones and disappearing beneath the dark fabric of his shirt. His presence is magnetic, impossible to ignore, and I can feel myself being drawn deeper into his pull, unable to resist.

Zoro’s grip on me tightens, the possessiveness in his touch growing as his breath hitches slightly when I shift against him. My fingers dig into his shoulder, gripping him as firmly as he holds me, as if we’re both clinging to each other, caught up in a moment that feels charged with energy.

“Are you done complaining now?” he murmurs, his voice rougher than before, a low growl that sends a thrill through me. His breath fans across my face as he speaks, the closeness amplifying every sensation, every emotion swirling between us. He tilts his head towards me, his lips only a mere fraction away from mine. “’Cause I can deal a lot more damage if you push me.”

I open my mouth to retort, but the words falter as I feel his grip tighten just a fraction more, his body pressing closer to mine, enveloping me in his warmth. The room around us seems to shrink in size, filled with an unbreathable heat that consumes us both whole.

But just as quickly as it began, Zoro suddenly releases me, lowering me back to the ground with a smoothness that leaves me stunned. The absence of his touch is startling, a cold shock to my system, and I have to fight the powerful urge to reach out, to pull him back and demand an explanation for the storm he’s just stirred within me.

“Let’s get back to training,” he says, his tone more controlled now, though there’s still a hint of that dangerous edge lingering in his voice. He averts his gaze away from me, staring at a spot in the wall across from him.

I silently nod, trying to ignore the lingering heat in my veins as we return to his workout routine. But as Zoro picks up his weights again, I can’t help but feel like something has shifted between us—something that can’t be easily ignored.

And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not entirely sure I want to ignore it anymore.

I try to shake off the feeling, to push away the frankly baffling mix of sensations swirling inside me. The irritation, the heat, the connection that seems to hang between us like a thick fog. I know I should just let it go, move on, and pretend that nothing happened. But I can’t. Not with the way Zoro’s gaze flickers toward me every so often, not with the way his muscles tense with each movement as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

An hour later, the clanking of weights eventually slows, then stops altogether. I look over to see Zoro wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his eyes still glued to the floor in that usual contemplative way of his. I can’t help but notice the slight tremor in his hand as he sets the dumbbells down, the brief pause as if he’s weighing something in his mind.

“Alright,” Zoro finally says, breaking the silence with a gruffness that belies the uncertainty I can see in his eyes. “I’m done for now. Let’s find a place to crash.

I nod, grateful for the chance to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the cavern. The chain between us rattles as we gather our things, the sound a constant reminder of the bond that keeps us tethered—both literally and figuratively. We move through the dimly lit tunnels in silence, our footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Neither of us speaks, but the quiet isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s more like an uneasy truce, a temporary pause in the ongoing battle of wills.

The small cubby hole barely has enough room for the two of us. The walls feel like they’re closing in, every breath of mine echoing against the stone as we awkwardly settle in for the night. The chain binding us together makes the situation even more uncomfortable, the metal links clinking with every slight movement.

Zoro lies beside me, his eyes open and his body tense, as if ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. The silence between us is heavy, filled with the unuttered sentiments we’ve exchanged in glares and scowls. But despite the discomfort, there’s no real anger left—just an odd sense of acceptance that this is our reality now.

I shift slightly, trying to find a position that doesn’t strain my wrist or press me too closely against Zoro. He’s warm – too fucking warm, actually – his presence a steady reassurance even as it irritates me. The silence stretches on, but it’s not uncomfortable. We’ve said too many apologies in the past, and if I’m being honest, they’ve lost their meaning; now, it’s just about getting through this without driving each other insane.

I’m trying to find sleep, but it eludes me. My mind keeps replaying the events of the day—Law’s words, his insistence on me having to comb through my bitter past, makes me less tired and more agitated.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Zoro murmurs, his voice low and rough from fatigue.

I turn my head slightly to meet his gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, but there’s an alertness in them that tells me he’s not as close to sleep as he appears.

“Hard not to,” I mutter, shifting slightly to ease the stiffness in my neck. “It’s been a long day. And having to sleep like this isn’t helping. In fact, this whole setup's fucking ridiculous.”

“I mean, you’re making it worse by moving around so much,” Zoro grunts, his voice rough with fatigue.

“I can’t help it,” I retort, frustration bubbling up as I try to wiggle free. “You’re taking up all the space.”

“There’s only so much space to take,” he bites back.

I huff, annoyed but also too tired to keep arguing. Instead, I settle for glaring at the darkness, my body tense as I try to find some semblance of comfort. The silence stretches on, thick and heavy, but I can feel Zoro’s presence beside me like a physical weight.

After what feels like an eternity, Zoro finally breaks the silence, his voice low and rough from disuse. “You ever think about your family?”

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. Family isn’t something I talk about often, and certainly not with someone like Zoro. But there’s something in his tone that makes me pause, makes me consider answering honestly.

I turn to him. “Why the question?”

“I would’ve told you earlier, but I didn’t know you were a Kozuki for a while. I’ve met some of your family, you know.”

I purse my lips and search his gaze, but he doesn’t offer me any sort of reaction. I huff and look up at the dark ceiling, my free hand resting across my chest, fingers thrumming out of agitation.

“Law did mention that you met them,” I say. He doesn’t respond; instead, he closely watches me, as if wordlessly telling me to continue. I clear my throat. “Hiyori gave you the Enma, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did,” Zoro admits.

I purse my lips and train my eyes on the ceiling. Hiyori. The sole reason I regret leaving Wano; the girl who gave me reason to keep on living whilst I was back in that confined world with their confined beliefs of what women can do with their lives. My heart pulses sourly; thinking of what she must feel like, what she’s doing… Would I ever see her again? Even now, with my unpredictable awakening, those chances are growing slimmer by the moment.

“She…” My voice cracks slightly, making me quickly clear my throat as if to cover up the poor blunder within my defences. “She must have trusted you very much to give you a piece of our heritage.”

Zoro remains silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches me wrestle with my thoughts. I can tell he’s not the type to pry, but there’s a genuine curiosity in his eyes, a need to understand. When he finally speaks, his voice is gentler, lacking the usual roughness.

“Hiyori’s strong,” he says simply. “She didn’t just give me Enma because she trusted me. She did it because she believed it was the right thing to do, to protect Wano.”

I nod, my thoughts drifting back to my time home. The memories are hazy, but they’re laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. I can still see Hiyori’s determined face, the way she carried herself with grace despite the weight of her responsibilities. It’s strange to think that she’s still there, carrying on the legacy of our family, while I’m here, far from home and bound by chains—both literal and metaphorical.

“She’s always been strong,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “Stronger than I ever was. I admired that about her. She would stay, even if it meant she would fuck up her life and her dreams along with it. I… Well, I run away from things a lot.”

“Oden ran away a lot,” Zoro mentions. “That’s what I heard, anyway.”

I laugh out loud. “See, I’d normally be upset with a comparison to Oden, but I guess that’s pretty accurate.”

I pause and look at him, a thought flashing across my mind. Enma’s still broken into bits; that being completely my fault. “I promise I’ll get Enma fixed soon, though… I think facing that sword had been a nightmare of mine for a while. She holds a lot of…bad memories, but I think that she might be the key to finding more about my past.”

Zoro purses his lips and looks down as if he’s about to say something. He hesitates for a moment longer before finally opening his mouth. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I don’t think I can face that sword right now, anyway.”

I raise a brow and look at him, completely taken off guard. Zoro’s not the type to just admit something like that. “What? What do you mean?”

He sighs and avoids my gaze, shifting his head toward the black ceiling.

“Sometimes… I feel like Enma brings the worst out of me. It feels like if I slip up in my mental defences, I could be consumed by her power and then… turn into someone… really evil.”

Zoro’s admission catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for words. The Zoro I’ve come to know is so sure of himself, so unyielding in his strength and resolve, that hearing him express doubt—especially about something as significant as Enma—is jarring.

“I didn’t think you’d ever admit something like that,” I finally say, my voice softening despite myself. “I guess even you have your limits.”

His gaze flickers to mine, a shadow of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he masks it with his usual stoicism. “Everyone does,” he replies gruffly. “Even someone like me. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna give up. I just need to get stronger—to control it, not let it control me.”

I nod, understanding more than I’d like to admit. The fear of being consumed by power is something I’m all too familiar with. “It’s not easy, is it? Facing something that could potentially destroy you.”

“No, it’s not,” Zoro agrees, his voice low. “But it’s the only way. If I let fear hold me back, I’ll never achieve my goals. And I can’t afford that.”

For a few minutes, we both remain silent, both savouring the words the other has said, our minds beating against the dark shadows that try to consume us within the night.

A realisation crosses my mind, and before thinking about it, I turn to Zoro.

“You’ve never told me about your family, you know,” I quietly mention. I look at him hesitantly. “Is there a reason?”

Zoro's expression shifts slightly, his gaze turning inward as if he's considering something he's not used to sharing. For a moment, I think he might brush off the question, but then he speaks, his voice low and measured.

“I don’t really have much of a family,” he begins, his eyes still focused somewhere distant. “At least, not in the way most people think of it. I grew up in a dojo. My sensei, he took me in when I was a kid. And obviously Kuina.”

My lips curl upwards in hearing that familiar name. Obviously Kuina. She was the rock that supported us both; she was there for us in two entirely different ways, yet, still, she had made such a similar impact.

“Obviously Kuina,” I repeat with a smile. I curiously search for his eyes within the deep darkness of the cavern. “So… you had no other family?”

Zoro hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering between mine and the darkness of the cavern. It’s clear that this is a topic he doesn’t delve into often—if ever. Finally, he sighs, as if deciding that there’s no point in hiding it from me.

“No,” he says quietly. “Not really. My parents died when I was young. Too young to even remember their faces. After that, I was on my own for a while. I don’t really remember how long, just that I had to survive.”

I listen in silence, my chest heavy with the weight of his words. His story is all too similar to mine. While I had more family than him, I left Wano all too quickly. I only had Gramps and Kuina. Only two strong currents in my life, one of them having passed away far too quickly.

My throat grows thicker as I think about Gramps. That old man – that loveable pain in my ass… who would’ve known he would’ve been the target of something so sinister. I hope he’s okay. Gods, I just hope he’s still alive.

I clear my throat, shaking those dark thoughts away. I take in Zoro’s softened appearance, his gaze taking me in like a wide-eyed German Shepherd who only just remembered how to become vulnerable.

“And now you’re here; ‘Pirate Hunter Zoro.’”

“I guess.”

“Don’t you think that nickname’s a little too outdated for you? I mean, you’re part of a pirate crew.”

He shrugs, flexing his sore arm. “I never really cared about all of that.”

I scoff. “You should! I’ve got some killer nicknames for you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro smirks, his gaze lingering on mine for a little longer than it should. “Give me a list, then. I’m interested.”

“Okay, so the first one’s Marimo,” I say with a straight face.

Zoro’s face falls into a scowl, tugging on his cuff so that I’m instantly pulled towards him. “Ha ha ha, you’re so funny, Raya. You should turn into a part time clown.”

“And then the next one’s Sword-mouth. Get it? Cause you have a sword—”

“That’s fucking bad.”

“Okay, okay, what about Bullhead? That’s my favourite.”

“Bullhead?” Zoro repeats with a sceptical raise of his brow. “You’re really reaching with that one.”

I smirk, feeling a surge of playful energy course through me. “Oh, come on, it suits you. Stubborn, always charging headfirst into things… It’s perfect.”

Zoro rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze. “You really like pushing my buttons, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admit with a mischievous grin. “It’s just so easy to get a rise out of you. You’re like a bull seeing red. Maybe I should consider making a red cape for you.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re asking for it, Kozuki.”

“Oh, am I?” I say, leaning in just a little closer, my tone teasing. “And what are you gonna do about it, Bullhead?”

Zoro’s eyes narrow, the playful glint in them taking on a sharper edge. He doesn’t respond immediately, instead, he lets the silence stretch, the tension between us growing thicker with each passing second. Then, in one swift movement, he grabs my wrist—the one bound to his by the cuff—and yanks me toward him.

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls me down onto the makeshift bed, his grip on my wrist firm but not painful. He’s over me in an instant, his body hovering just above mine, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. The chain between us clinks softly, the only sound besides the rapid beating of my heart.

“You’ve been pushing me all day,” Zoro murmurs, his voice low and rough. His eyes, darkening with something far more intense than irritation, lock onto mine. “I’m thinking maybe it’s time you see what happens when I push back.”

But before I can respond, Zoro shifts his grip, grabbing my other hand and pinning it above my head along with the chained one. His strength is undeniable, and the way he’s holding me down, with just enough pressure to make it clear that he’s in control, sends a thrill through me that I can’t quite explain.

He lowers his head, his breath hot against my neck as he murmurs, “Why don’t we think of nicknames for you, huh?”

My pulse quickens, a heat rising in my chest that has nothing to do with the close quarters we’re in. I can feel the roughness of the stone bed beneath me, the coolness of the air on my skin, but all of it fades into the background compared to the weight of Zoro hovering above me, his presence completely overwhelming.

"Nicknames for me?" I murmur, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts to keep it steady. I try to inject a bit of the usual sarcasm into my tone, but it falls really flat – embarrassingly so. I swallow down my pride as I defiantly look into his gaze. "Like what?"

Zoro smirks, but it’s not the usual cocky grin; this one’s intense, more primal, and it makes me hold in a small breath. His eyes flicker over my face, taking in every detail, every reaction, as if he’s cataloguing it all for some future purpose.

"I’m thinking…" He pauses, his grip on my wrists tightening slightly, just enough to make me aware of the power he holds over me right now. "Something that suits you. Something that captures that fiery temper of yours. Maybe… ‘Spitfire’?"

I scoff, trying to sound unimpressed, but there’s a flutter in my chest at the name. "Spitfire? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?"

He chuckles, the sound low and rough, and it sends a wave of heat through me. "It’s fitting. You’re always spitting fire, whether it’s with your words or your actions. You’ve got somethin’ that could burn anyone who gets too close."

He gently picks up my hand that’s tethered to his, carefully eyeing the bruises that have formed beneath and around the cuff that’s so tightly linked over my skin. “Or… The Whining Witch? Since you love to scream my head off.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s an awful name.”

“Really? I think it’s pretty good.”

“Stick to Spitfire, buddy—"

Without warning, Zoro lowers his head, his lips grazing the bruised skin of my wrist with a feather-light touch. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture catches me off guard, making me bite down on my lower lip to keep from gasping.

His tongue flicks out, tracing the bruise with agonizing slowness, and I feel my legs tense in response. The sensation is electric—a tantalizing blend of pain and pleasure that causes my breath to hitch in my throat. Throughout, his eyes remain locked on mine, never breaking contact, as if he's studying every flicker of emotion, every reaction his touch elicits.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady, to mask the effect he's having on me.

Zoro doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he continues his deliberate exploration, his tongue tracing the marks left by the cuffs with a maddening precision. It's as if he’s soothing the pain, but there's something more in the way he touches me—an unspoken claim that lingers beneath the surface, making it clear this is about more than just concern.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes have darkened, filled with a heat that mirrors the burning sensation spreading through my chest.

His voice, a low, rough murmur, breaks the silence. "I'm making sure you remember who you're dealing with, Spitfire."

The way he says it, the way the nickname rolls off his tongue, sends a jolt of something intense through me. My pulse pounds in my ears, my heart hammering in my chest as his calloused fingers gently stroke the tender spots on my wrist. A part of me wants to push back, to reclaim some measure of control, but another part—a larger, more insistent part—is drawn in by this side of him, captivated by his raw intensity.

Then, without warning, his mouth is on me again, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of my neck. I gasp, my back arching instinctively as he trails his mouth lower, his teeth grazing just enough to leave me on edge, caught between anticipation and desire.

“Zoro—” I start, but my voice cuts off as his tongue flicks out, teasing the pulse point at the base of my throat. I groan out without the ability to restrain myself, squirming under him, but he holds me steady, his grip unyielding.

“You talk too much,” he whispers, his breath fanning against the wet column of my throat. “Maybe I should find a way to keep that mouth of yours busy.”

His breath is so warm against my skin, his lips so close to mine that I can almost taste him, yet he doesn’t close the distance. Instead, he continues to toy with me, his fingers tracing patterns along my side, his touch light and provokingly slow. His hand slides up, brushing against the curve of my waist, and I can feel the heat pooling in my stomach, desperate for it to be released. Zoro’s eyes are locked on mine, powerful and filled with something that makes it hard to breathe.

He leans in, his mouth hovering just above my collarbone, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, goosebumps bubbling all over my body in anticipation. My fingers dig into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me, but he only smirks, his lips ghosting over my skin without making contact.

“You’re torturing me,” I manage to whisper, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

“Am I?” he replies, his voice a low, teasing rumble. His hand slides up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer. “Or are you just not used to someone who knows how to play the game?”

“You’re such a—” I hiss, yet again, but the words die in my throat as his hand slides up, under my shirt, and his rough fingers brush against the bare skin of my stomach. He smirks against my neck, clearly pleased with the reaction he’s pulling from me. His fingers trail higher, exploring, tracing patterns on my skin that leave me trembling. I should be pushing him away, but all I can think about is how much I want more.

“Calm down, Spitfire,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “You’ve gotta learn to be patient.”

And just when I think I can’t take it anymore, when the bound coil between us is so tight it feels like it might snap, something shifts. There’s a soft, metallic clink, a sound that breaks through the haze of desire and pulls me back to reality. Zoro freezes, his head lifting as his eyes flicker down to the source of the sound.

I follow his gaze, my breath catching in my throat as I see it—the Kozuki Coin, the last gift Gramps ever gave me before he was taken away, rattling out of my pocket and onto the ground. The sight of it is like a bucket of cold water, dousing the fire that had been burning so brightly just moments before.

“Oh,” I say, my voice cracking in a mixture of surprise and grief. “That’s…”

The golden coin glints in the dim light, its intricate design catching the eye, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The weight of what it represents settles over me like a heavy shroud, pulling me back from the edge of the precipice I’d been teetering on.

Zoro’s grip on me loosens, his gaze lingering on the coin for a long moment before he looks back at me. The darkness in his eyes has softened, replaced by something more contemplative, more grounded.

I reach down, my fingers brushing against the cool metal as I pick up the coin. The weight of it in my hand is familiar, comforting in a way that nothing else is. I turn it over, tracing the intricate designs with my thumb, and for a moment, I’m lost in the memories it holds.

But then, as my fingers continue to brush over the face of the Kozuki coin, a sharp sensation travels through my hand, as though the coin itself has a pulse—one that syncs with my own heartbeat. My mind starts to blur, the world around me melting away as a tingling sensation runs down my spine.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic clink echoes through the cavern, jerking me back to the present. Before I can process what’s happening, an explosion rips through the air. The blast is so powerful that it sends a shockwave through the small cubbyhole we’re hiding in, causing the walls to shudder and dust to rain down from the ceiling. My heart lurches as I realize it came from my backpack, which had been lying just in front of the cubbyhole.

“What the fuck just happened?” Zoro hisses, wide-eyed and looking alert, his fingers brushing over the empty spot at his hip where his swords usually are. He curses to himself and hastily begins to look around for his weapons, wherever they might be.

But my eyes catch onto something. My fingers reach for the back of Zoro’s hand, trying to pull him back into the moment. “Wait, look,” I whisper.

The force of the explosion knocks the backpack back against the wall, tearing it apart. My belongings scatter across the ground, torn fabric and charred remnants of supplies I’d packed now little more than useless debris. Smoke curls up from the remains, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning.

I stare at the tattered remains in shock, my pulse pounding in my ears. Amidst the destruction, something catches my eye. There, in the centre of the wreckage, untouched by the blast, lies Gramps' forgotten logbook.

The worn leather cover is surprisingly intact, its edges barely singed, standing out starkly against the charred ruins of everything else. My hands tremble as I reach out to pick it up, the familiar weight of it grounding me.

“How?” Zoro mutters in surprise.

“I don’t know…”

With a mixture of confusion and disbelief, I open the book, flipping through the pages. Not a single word is smudged; the ink remains sharp and clear. Even the delicate, brittle paper seems unaffected by the explosion. I turn page after page, searching for any sign of damage, but it’s as if the logbook has been preserved by some kind of magic.

As I continue to flip through, a sudden sharp pain lances through my finger. I yelp, more out of surprise than actual pain, and look down to see a thin cut on the tip of my finger. Blood wells up and smears across the page.

Before I can react, the blood starts to seep into the paper, spreading out in thin, crimson lines. The words on the page blur, shifting and twisting as though they’re being rewritten in blood. The entire page begins to change, darkening until it’s completely red. Then, as if the logbook itself is alive, the transformation spreads like wildfire, turning every page into a deep, dark crimson.

The leather cover follows suit, its familiar texture shifting beneath my fingers. The logbook vibrates in my hands, the edges of the pages curling as they harden, morphing into something else entirely. My eyes widen in shock as the logbook twists and reshapes itself, the leather stretching and smoothing until it forms a hilt—a weapon’s hilt.

My breath catches as I realize what I’m holding. The logbook is no more, replaced by the unmistakable handle of a sword. The leather is supple yet firm under my grip, perfectly fitted to my hand. Etched into the base of the hilt, just where my thumb rests, are the words:

“You weren’t ever much of a reader. Clumsy oaf.”

I stare at the inscription, a lump forming in my throat. Gramps’ familiar scrawl brings a flood of memories crashing down on me, his voice echoing in my mind, teasing and affectionate. But before I can fully process the message, my eyes are drawn to the top of the hilt, where a hollowed-out coin holder gleams in the dim light. The metal is polished, almost as if it’s waiting—waiting for something specific to complete it.

The Kozuki coin in my hand suddenly feels heavy, as if it’s pulling me toward the hilt. Without thinking, I lift the coin and set it into the holder. It clicks into place with a satisfying snap, the metal fitting perfectly as though it was always meant to be there.

The moment the coin settles, the entire hilt seems to come alive. The face of the golden coin begins to shift, the once-familiar emblem of the Kozuki clan dissolving like liquid metal. In its place, a new symbol emerges—a silver emblem of a helmet with a star etched across its screen, gleaming with a cold, almost ethereal light.

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, the coin begins to melt, the silver flowing down the hilt like molten steel. It moves with a purpose, cascading down in shimmering waves, shaping itself into a blade. The transformation is mesmerizing, the metal expanding and stretching, forming into a massive, two-handed longsword.

The sword is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. The blade is a brilliant gold, the metal glowing with an otherworldly light that seems to pulse with energy. It’s enormous, easily as long as I am tall, yet perfectly balanced in my grip. The edge gleams razor-sharp, catching the light and reflecting it in a dazzling array of colours.

I stand there, the sword heavy in my hands, the weight of it grounding me as the realization of what has just happened sinks in. This is no ordinary weapon. It’s a piece of my heritage, a manifestation of the power that’s been lying dormant within me, waiting to be awakened.

Zoro stares at the blade, his eyes wide with shock and something else—something like respect. He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face says it all. This is a weapon worthy of a warrior, and in this moment, I feel the weight of that responsibility settle on my shoulders.

The sword hums with power, the energy coursing through it resonating with something deep inside me. It’s as if the blade is an extension of my own soul, forged from the very essence of my being. I can feel it, a connection so strong it’s almost overwhelming, and I know, without a doubt, that this weapon was meant for me.

The metal blade hums, its resonance vibrating deep within the recesses of my mind. The sound is a low, pulsing thrum, like the distant rumble of thunder or the echo of a heartbeat. It’s an ancient sound, carrying with it the weight of countless generations, the whispers of those who have come before me. It vibrates through the sword, through my arm, and into my very bones, a steady rhythm that matches the rapid beat of my heart.

At first, the noise is nothing more than unintelligible static, a jumbled mess of sounds that scrape against the edges of my consciousness. It’s like trying to tune an old radio, the signal crackling and popping as it searches for the right frequency. The noise grows louder, more insistent, until it drowns out everything else—the distant echoes of the cavern, the sound of Zoro’s breathing, the pounding of my own heart. All of it fades into the background, swallowed by the static that floods my mind.

And then, through the chaos, I begin to hear something—someone. A voice, distorted and faint, like it’s coming from a great distance or through a wall of water. It’s a voice I’d know anywhere, no matter how garbled or distant it might be.

It’s Gramps.

“Raya—” The word is drawn out, his voice cracking as it forces its way through the noise. There’s a slur to his speech, as if he’s struggling to form the words, like he’s fighting against something—pain, exhaustion, maybe even fear. The sound of it makes my chest tighten, my breath catching in my throat.

“Gramps?” I whisper, my voice trembling as I clutch the hilt of the sword tighter. “Gramps, is that you?”

“Raya… oh gods, Raya!” His voice is raw, frantic, and filled with a desperation that sends a chill down my spine. It’s like he’s drowning, each word a struggle to the surface before being pulled back under. “They… they got me… they… the ink… it’s—”

His words come out in a jumbled mess, fragmented, and broken, as if he’s fighting to stay coherent. The pain in his voice is palpable, and I can hear the faint sound of sobbing, choked, and muffled as though he’s trying to hold it back but failing.

“Gramps, where are you? What’s happening?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it wavers, betraying the panic that’s beginning to creep in. The connection between us feels tenuous, fragile, like a thread that could snap at any moment. I need to hear him, to understand what’s happening, but the words are slipping through my fingers like sand.

“Find Trafalgar Law—” Gramps croaks out, his voice faltering. There’s a long, agonizing pause, and for a moment, I think I’ve lost him, that the connection has been severed. But then he speaks again, his voice weaker, more strained. “Gods, oh Gods, Tell… tell Luffy, too… they’re… they’re all—"

And then it cuts out.

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Dazai's a jerk when he's sick.

From last year's Sicktember prompts.

Chuuya's Perspective:

Something slams into me and I jolt awake. I sit up and look around but the room is dark and the only other person around is my partner, and he’s fast asleep. Damn brat must’ve kicked me!

The clock says there’s still an hour before I need to be awake, but once I’ve been woken I don’t fall easily asleep again so I might as well get ready, while I can still have my coffee in peace before Osamu wakes up.

Before I can finish it though my stomach starts growling fiercely. Normally as soon as we get up Osamu starts making breakfast, but today he’s still asleep.

Huffing I walk back into our bedroom to wake my husband, I do feel a little bit guilty for waking him early but I need food.

I shake his shoulders, but he stays perfectly still. I do it again, but still nothing. It’s strange, because of his insomnia, he’s always easy to wake up.

Finally, I resort to yanking the covers off. He wakes immediately. 

“WHAT?” His voice positively drips with annoyance and anger, he glares daggers at me. It catches me off guard and I don’t answer. “Oh, so you just woke me up for nothing, is that it?”  He takes the duvet from the floor and begins to lay back down.

At last, I unfreeze, whatever guilt I had before gone, “Hey! Asshole, wake up, I need breakfast, and you owe me because you kicked me out of bed!” The words come out harsh, my tone matching his.

“I don’t care.” is all he says his eyes not even open.

We go back and forth for a while before I end up dragging him out of bed and into the kitchen.

“I can’t cook, it’s too cold in here.”

“It is not! It’s 22 degrees, you’re fine, now please hurry up, I’m starving.”

“I’m not hungry, why should I cook if I’m not going to eat?”

“Osamu, stop being a lazy bastard, we’re going to be late.” The words are exasperated more than angry.

“Hmph!”

With a sigh that sounds suspiciously like the word slug, he starts cooking. Breakfast takes way longer than usual and is a little burnt but I’m hungry so it’ll do. True to his word, Osamu doesn’t eat with me, opting instead to go back to bed. Maybe whatever grumpy monster possessed him this morning will have left his body when I wake him up next.

While he sleeps I dress and ready myself for work, when I look presentable I go to poke the beast.

-

I thought he might be less of a demon after a bit more sleep but, apparently not.

When I shake him this time he wakes immediately.

“Can’t even a dumb Chibi like you see that I’m trying to sleep!”

“What did you just say?” annoyance boils under my skin, I don’t want to do this again.

“I said you’re dumb,” he says curling back up.

I yank away the duvet and extra blanket he added, “Say that again, I dare you?”

“Chibi is dumb, as in stupid, and clearly has hearing problems, now go away and let me sleep!” His voice is cold, it ticks me off.

“You have to wake up. You have a job you know. I mean I don’t know how they haven’t fired you yet, but you at least need to go in.” 

“Leave me alone, Chuuya.” his tone is the same one I use when I’m warning an enemy not to try me. What’s with him today? I mean, he’s always kind of a disrespectful dick but, damn.

I make my tone just as cutting, “Well I can’t leave you here, you’ll probably burn down the house and kill yourself or something. Now get up and get dressed, you’re late.”

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE, CHUUYA!!!” his voice sounds like a roar, so loud it scares me.

“Jesus, Osamu, what’s with you today, it’s unlike you to be this shitty? You know what, don’t answer, it’s fine. I don’t even care, go to sleep and die, that’ll make me really happy. I’m going to go to work like a contributing member of society.” and with that I walk out, locking the door behind me.

—

When I get back the house is completely silent, Osamu must be out in the river or wherever he plans to stage his latest attempt on his life. My words from this morning come back to me, I told him he should just die. . . . No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t take that seriously. He knows how much I love him, right? It’s fine, he knows I didn’t mean it. The self-assurance doesn’t work very well.

I start to get up to go look for him when I hear loud coughing and then a thud of something human-sized hitting the floor. I run towards the origin of the sound, our bedroom, and throw open the door.

Osamu lays on the floor, on his back, looking rather disoriented. He must’ve coughed so hard he fell.

“Huh?” he sees me, “Oh, Chuuya, how long have you been here, are you going to help me, or not?” His voice is still bitter but the scratchiness of it cuts down the intimidation factor. . . and then he breaks into a coughing fit, and it doesn’t stop the coughing continues and continues a seemingly endless supply of wet hacking coughs bursting out of him so quickly it even looks painful.

I rub his back, my anger long forgotten.

When the fit finally ends his nose is runny and he scrubs it on his sleeve. I can practically feel the heat from his pale body by just being next to him, but I put my hand on his forehead anyway. He’s burning. 

Guilt sweeps through me, when I shook him and when I yanked him out of bed he’d felt warm but I’d assumed that it was just from the blankets.

“You’re sick.”

“No, really?” he croaks

“Come on, let’s get you something for that cough.”

“No, I don’t wanna move.”

“Fine. What have you taken today? Have you even eaten anything today?”

“You think I’ve been able to get out of bed like this?” his sarcasm remains strong even as his voice slowly crackles out.

I ignore it, knowing an argument is the last thing he needs right now. “Okay, I’ll take it that’s a no. Well, you need medicine as quickly as possible so, I know it isn’t really ‘sick person food’ but can you eat some tonkatsu? It’s all we have in the fridge, and you gotta eat something before I give you medicine. Your stomach’s okay, right?”

He nods, I think his voice must be completely gone now.

He pokes at the breading of the pork, slightly soggy from being in the fridge, and pouts, shoving it away.

“Well, sorry, Your Royal Highness, shopping day is tomorrow and I didn’t have much to work with.” I huff, trying not to get annoyed.

With a scowl, he pulls the plate back towards him and begins to peel the breading off.

-

When he’s finally finished, (I swear he ate so slowly just to annoy me, his hatred for medicine aside) he pouts again.

“You’ve gotta take this. You’re warm as hell, this isn’t just something you can sleep off.”

He shakes his head. His voice is long gone, but I can read his lips: “Nu-uh.”

“Yuh-huh. Open up. And don’t you dare act like this is the most disgusting thing you’ve tasted, I‘ve seen you eat year-old canned crab.”

He narrows his eyes, testing me. At last, he huffs, nodding sharply and holding up a finger. One.

“Yeah, just one big sip. I’ll make coffee after, kay.”

He takes the cup, sniffs it then mock gags. 

“Arse.”

-

Five minutes of convincing later, the cup is empty. I groan, my anklebone sore from sitting on the hardwood floor like that for so long.

“You’re a jerk when you’re sick, you know that.”

He nods again, then waves me off towards the kitchen, muttering, “Coffee.”

-

When I return he’s fast asleep.

I can’t help but laugh. “Jerk,” I whisper to no one.